Legends of Dimmingwood 02:Betrayal of Thieves Page 10

  “It doesn’t bother me,” I said. “Incantations and spells all sound very interesting. What exactly can you do with Trained magic that you can’t do with the Natural, anyway? Is it stronger?”

  Hadrian scowled. “Neither is greater in strength, but the Natural talent is our birthright and the Trained skills are a foul distortion of what ought to be. There is no question which power is best and which is to be loathed.”

  “Very much loathed,” I agreed, although I couldn’t see what he was getting so fired up about. “But of this unspeakably evil form of magic, what would you say might be its advantages?”

  Maybe he caught a sense of my intent or maybe he just didn’t like this line of questioning, because he said firmly, “You will never dabble in the Trained arts, Ilan.”

  “Never,” I agreed soothingly.

  He appeared not to have heard. “If I should ever discover you doing anything of the kind…” His voice trailed off ominously and he took a long breath as if to get a grip on his emotions.

  “I will not instruct you in such things,” he then continued, more calmly. “You would be hard pressed to find anyone who will. Even so, I’ll require one thing from you before my tutorage progresses any farther. I’ve no mind to teach you in the ways of magic, merely to see you use it for selfish purposes, and I don’t like to imagine the amount of power that could come of a corrupt blending of the two forms of magic. That kind of strength should not belong to any one person.”

  His words quickened my heartbeat, but not in the way he doubtless intended. The word “power” kept ringing in my ears until it seemed it had imprinted itself on my brain. A familiar presence nearby echoed my excitement and with one hand I reached out absently to stroke my bow.

  Hadrian was still speaking. “The price required in exchange for my instruction is this. You will give me your oath never to delve into any form of magic beyond the bounds of your Natural talent.”

  I tensed when he spoke of price but relaxed now. I had no money, but an oath I could handle.

  “Very well,” I said. “I give my word on it, as an outlaw of the band of the Red Hand.”

  Hadrian’s mouth turned up at my relief. “Your word as an outlaw means very little to me, my young friend, and swearing on the honor of that scoundrel Rideon means even less. I want you to swear by something precious to you. Swear by Brig, that outlaw you were so fond of, and I will believe you then.”

  He had me there. My mouth tightened and I heard how strained my voice came out, but I spoke loudly. “I swear on the memory of Brig that I’ll never explore any area of magic not first approved by you.”

  He looked satisfied with that. His gaze became sympathetic. “I know it was painful for you to have your old friend brought up like that,” he said apologetically. “But it is for the best, for now I can trust you wholeheartedly.”

  He stood and briskly changed the subject. “I think we’ve had enough of a lesson for one day. How would you like to come out and learn how the river folk load the stone from the quarry to ferry to the island? We’ll take a raft out to the lakeshore and maybe lend them a hand. What do you say?”

  I followed willingly enough, but my thoughts were occupied elsewhere, and I spent the remainder of the day trying to figure out a loophole around my oath.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The following morning I awoke to find Hadrian missing. He had left no message, at least none that Seephinia woman would relate to me, and had said nothing of going anyplace the night before. Still, I told myself as I stepped out of the hut, there was nothing to worry about. I was confident that, unlike the still unaccounted for Fleet, the priest was fully capable of avoiding trouble.

  As if my thoughts had conjured him up, I found the street thief out behind the hut, soaking his feet in the lake. He told me he had already exchanged words with Hadrian, who had left at the dawn on a mysterious mission ashore, leaving no word of when he meant to return. Fleet thought it likely to be a while.

  I fumed at the news. How would we ever find Terrac if everyone kept running off on personal errands? That reminded me of Fleet’s laxness of the day before, and I set about taking a full report of his activities now. As is turned out, his findings were nonexistent, unless you counted as progress a purse of purloined coins and a jade ring he had lifted straight from a merchant’s finger.

  Disgusted, I went back inside, where I consumed a peculiar looking purple fruit I found set out on the table. I took a few gulps of lake water to wash down the stickiness, trying to ignore the brownish tint the water took on after sitting in a pitcher overnight.

  Then, to make use of the free time I had on my hands, I stripped down and bathed myself off one side of the barge. It wasn’t easy finding a secluded spot for this and in the end, I had to settle for a very partial sort of privacy. But the effort was worth it, because when I pulled myself back onto the deck, the lake water running off me had a decidedly murky cast. Of course the lake hadn’t been so clean even before I crawled into it, despite its emerald appearance.

  I dressed hastily, not caring that my skin was still damp as I pulled my clothes on. It wasn’t really that I expected Hadrian to return while I was occupied, but a spirit of expectancy hung over me that morning. I felt some development in our efforts must take place very soon. Besides, dark clouds had gathered from nowhere to blot out the warm sun, and I clearly didn’t have much time left to get inside before the clouds opened up.

  I collected Fleet, whom I had posted as a not particularly trustworthy lookout, and together we returned to the shelter of the hut. Within the hour, a downpour began and the wild gale churned the usually calm waters of the lake until our barge was bobbing on the choppy surface. Cold drafts found their way through the cracks between the reeds making up our little shelter, and the howling wind whipped at the canvas sheets over the doorways until I tied them down.

  We made an uncomfortable little gathering. Even Seephinia wouldn’t go out to work on the floats in such a storm but remained inside with us, mending a heap of stinking fish nets and stringing up more of the little shell ornaments she often sold on the docks. Her presence contributed to the tension of the atmosphere, for she didn’t like me and I didn’t like her, and Fleet did like her, but she disdained him, and so it was an unpleasant situation all around. I was relieved when she finally disappeared behind that curtained off partition of the hut and didn’t emerge again.

  Even then, matters were not greatly improved. Poor Fleet soon succumbed to his old water sickness, brought about by the unsteady motion of the heaving barge, and he turned out to be an irritable companion when suffering. Naturally, he couldn’t leave the barge in this weather and so took over my sleeping cot.

  Left to myself, I snooped around the hut, examining the jars and baskets and whatnots on the shelves along the walls as I could not when Hadrian and the river woman were watching. I found nothing of interest and my curiosity soon wore out, replaced by a returning impatience. Where was Hadrian? It was intolerable that he was out roaming free in the city while I was stuck in this drafty little hut on the lake. My impatience to be on with the task of finding Terrac weighed on me more heavily than ever that afternoon.

  Eventually, I reined in my pacing and forced myself to settle down just inside the doorway, where I kept an eye on the worsening storm and sharpened my knives on a whetstone I discovered on one of the shelves. With the sense of urgency hanging over me today, I felt I would need them soon.

  Hadrian never returned all that day. Seephinia eventually left her curtained alcove to light the lanterns, as the interior of the hut grew dark. She and I shared an uncomfortable meal of chowder and seacakes, which the afflicted Fleet couldn’t be persuaded to share in. The meal was a silent affair and when it was over, the evening stretched long before us.

  Night fell and still there was no sign of the priest. This was to be expected, as it would have been foolish for him to attempt crossing the lake in this storm. It would be far wiser to remain in the city and pass the nigh
t in an inn. No, there was no call to worry about Hadrian. But I did anyway, up until the hour I finally followed Fleet’s example and went to bed. I sensed the river woman wished to be left alone in her vigil.

  ***

  The first thing I became aware of on waking the following morning was Hadrian’s presence. The priest had returned. He slept through half the morning, and Seephinia wouldn’t allow him to be disturbed until he was ready to wake on his own. Frustrated, I went out on the deck where I sat and watched a lot of river children, who were splashing and wrestling with a ball that was somehow made to float atop the water. If there were particular rules to their game I couldn’t discern them.

  A feeling of premonition was still on me. I couldn’t say whether it was my magic or a more basic, human intuition that alerted me to events to come. Whatever it was, it made me anxious, and I felt it was connected to Hadrian.

  I was relieved when he shortly sought me out, for I had horrible visions of this day being as long and drawn out as the last. In the harsh morning light, Hadrian looked older, his face haggard, his eyes red-rimmed as if he hadn’t slept much the night before. When he sat down beside me, I caught a strong whiff of what on anyone but a priest I would have thought were ale fumes. He wore his gray robes today, the first I had seen of them in a long time, and he slicked his usually wild hair into a tidy tail down the back of his neck. Before sinking down next to me, he had to rearrange his sword, which he wore belted at his hip once more. All these changes signaled something to come, but I didn’t know what.

  “Good morning, Ilan,” he greeted me.

  “Priest.” I struggled to hold in the questions that wanted to pour out of me, and by the way one side of his mouth twitched, he knew it.

  “I can feel that something happened the other day in the city,” I said. “You’re entirely too pleased with yourself not to have succeeded. Well, I don’t plan to drag the news out of you one piece at time, so spill it.”

  “You grow more confident every day,” he said. “There are instances where that’s a good thing, but when it comes to magic, it almost never is. Overconfidence is one the greatest dangers a magicker can face.”

  “Hadrian,” I warned.

  “Very well, no lessons today,” he conceded. “You want information and here it is. I spent most of yesterday and the entirety of last night in a wretched smoke-filled tavern in the lowest portion of the common district, playing dice with a retired knight of my order, a few strangers of no consequence, and who else was there? Ah yes, a lieutenant of the Praetor’s Iron Fists.”

  “A Fist!” I said. “What did you learn from him? Did you ask about Terrac?”

  Hadrian snorted and said dryly, “Your subtlety does you credit. One hardly comes out and asks one of the Praetor’s men if he’s apprehended any good criminals lately.”

  “So did you learn anything or didn’t you?” I demanded.

  “I learned never to buy drinks for a Fist again. They consume more than any three horses. Also, that old comrades in arms, even former Blades of Justice, cheat at dice like anyone else. Next time I’ll lure them into a game of sticks and stones to make up my losses.”

  At my aggravated sigh, he gave way. “All right then, cultivate a little patience, child,” he said. “It took me the better part of the night, combined with the contrived loss of a great deal of coin to keep the lieutenant at the table, but I eventually worked the conversation around to related topics. It was a blind shot that if I shook the dice cup something good would come out, but luck was with us this time. The lieutenant spoke of a circumstance that had arisen lately, involving the capture of a young man believed to be a follower of that notorious brigand Rideon the Red Hand.”

  He hesitated and I wondered how bad the news must be if he was reluctant to relate it. Remembering he was probably aware of my feelings through his magic, I tried to pull my shaken emotions more tightly into myself.

  “Go on,” I said, my words coming out steadier than I expected. “Just tell me if Terrac lives. Yes or no.”

  “He lives.”

  “But?” I prompted.

  “But nothing,” Hadrian said. “He has been fairly treated from all I heard and seems to be sound of health and limb. There was no mention of his suffering any injury. Are you certain he was shot with an arrow?”

  “I saw the wound with my own eyes,” I said distractedly, a million questions rushing through my mind. “You say he’s well treated. Where is he kept?” I asked. “There must be a way to get a message to him. I have to let him know help is on the way so he doesn’t give up hope.”

  “Are you so certain he wishes to be rescued?”

  I shoved the ridiculous question aside. “Who ever heard of a prisoner who wants to stay in captivity? Of course he longs for rescue. What, do you think I’m going to leave him in the cruel hands of those odious Fists forever?”

  I returned my thoughts to scheming. “We need to make the rescue soon,” I said. “Just because they have taken it into their heads to treat him well today doesn’t mean they’ll be feeling so generous tomorrow. How soon can I get in touch with him?”

  Hadrian shrugged. “You can see him today if you wish. Fleet and I will take you into the city, but we’ll disguise you first. You shouldn’t go wondering the streets in the garb of a woods villager.”

  I was startled. “See him today? You mean I can visit him in person? How have you arranged this?” My mind leapt from one conclusion to the next. “You’ve bribed the Fist lieutenant! No, you’ve befriended a prison guard!”

  “Nothing so dramatic, I’m afraid. Come now. We will send Fleet ashore to procure you some kind of ordinary feminine attire. I don’t wish to know how he’ll go about it. Then the three of us can be on our way.”

  ***

  Midmorning saw us abandoning the river barge and crossing to the docks on a small raft Hadrian had procured for the purpose. The day was a fine one, the sun warm and the lake calm. The only sign of yesterday’s storm was a scattering of debris bobbing near the docks, and that was swiftly being cleaned up by a handful of river men.

  It would have been a pleasant crossing if I hadn’t been in a state of agitation. I told myself most of my concern was for Terrac and his uncertain situation but had to admit that wasn’t the whole of it. Hadrian had insisted I leave my bow behind, and I was uneasy with the separation. Suppose it was stolen while I was out? Or what if Seephinia decided to throw it into the lake, or worse, use it for kindling? I had no doubt she would delight in such an act if she guessed how deeply it would affect me.

  And as if all that wasn’t enough to worry about, I was having trouble adjusting to the new clothing Fleet had supplied me. I couldn’t remember the last time I wore a skirt, and I was finding it impossible to move in this one without tangling the long hem awkwardly around my ankles. I didn’t want to imagine how I would swim for shore in such an outfit, if our raft were to tip over.

  Luckily, it didn’t, and we reached the docks safe and dry. Once we’d left the wharf behind and entered the walls of Selbius, the oppressive crowds and the smothering smells and noises flooded in on all sides. I hadn’t set foot in the city in months and had forgotten how high the walls towered and how uncomfortable it was to feel so many people pressing in on every side. It reminded me of the time Terrac and I had explored the caves of Boulder’s Cradle back in Dimming and I had gotten wedged tight inside one of the tunnels. I had been trapped so close between the rock walls I could scarcely breathe, and it hadn’t taken me long to panic. Fortunately, Terrac kept a cool head and, in one of the few instances where I could remember him ever doing anything useful, had squeezed his slimmer frame into the tunnels to help me work my way loose. The feeling I experienced now was akin to what I’d known then. There was no frantic, mindless terror this time, but the same helpless sense of being stuck tight in these streaming crowds, with little room to maneuver.

  Hadrian led us down a main thoroughfare through the heart of the city, until we came to a place where traff
ic stopped entirely. Here, a large gathering of people clogged the way, as if waiting for something. There was a sense of excitement and anticipation in the air, and I had the feeling Hadrian had brought me here for a purpose. I looked through the sea of strange faces, trying to figure out what I was meant to see, and when I turned back, the crowd had shifted, blocking my companions from view.

  Fear set in at once. Only Hadrian knew where Terrac was. I couldn’t lose him. I shoved my way through the press, heedless of the feet I trampled and the offended looks I earned, hoping to glimpse at any second the gray of Hadrian’s robes or the flash of blue that was Fleet’s coat. Then I saw it, just ahead. With a sigh of relief, I grabbed a blue-clad elbow, but the face turned toward me in the next instant was that of a confused stranger. Releasing the man’s arm with a quick apology, I pushed on again in search of the real Fleet.

  Something was changing around me. The crowd began to shift, pulling back to the sides of the street, and I found myself carried along with them. I caught a glimpse of several men in the uniform of the city guard and realized it was they who were shoving the crowds back to line the way. A murmur swept the multitude, growing louder until it erupted into indistinct shouts, and the gathering surged forward as one body to press against the barrier formed by the city guards. They were held back, but not roughly, as they strained forward like curious children hoping for a peek at a forbidden sight.

  I shouted Hadrian and Fleet’s names into the press but was drowned out by the noise. What had the people so excited? A sort of procession was passing down the street, but so many heads blocked my view it was impossible to make out what it was. A parade, perhaps?

  Catching sight of a mounting-block in front of the stable of an inn, I thought it would afford me a view over the crowd. I forced my way though the throng, turning a deaf ear to the curses of those I jostled, reached the block, and clambered up. I was a short distance back from the street now, but at least I had a clear view. My stomach lurched as I saw the procession was flanked by the ebony and scarlet of the Praetor’s private guard. I’d had too many unpleasant encounters with the Fists lately to look on those colors without a flinch, but I told myself it wasn’t fear, but anger that set my heart thundering against my ribs. My hands itched for the feel of my bow. Whatever had possessed me to leave it behind?