“We need somewhere where we can lay low and take a look at his foot,” Fen said to Cowley. No one in the squad knew the city better than Cowley.
Cowley nodded. “I know a place only a few blocks away.” He led them further up the alley until it intersected with a street. They followed the street, ducking into another alley to let a squad of soldiers go by, and shortly arrived at a large building several stories tall. There were no windows on this side of the building and only a single door. Cowley looked both ways to make sure no one was in sight, then led them around the side of the building to the back. He moved some debris, revealing a narrow door that was unlocked.
Inside, once the door was closed, they stood in complete darkness until Cowley lit a lantern. They were in a large room filled with bales of cloth and rolls of wire.
“How do you do that?” Noah asked. “How do you always know a place to go?”
“I talk to people,” Cowley replied. “I poke around.” He barred the door and then carried the lantern over to Gage, who was sitting on the floor, grimacing.
Lukas was the one who had the most healing experience, and he knelt down beside Gage. “Let’s see it.”
Gage’s boot and trouser leg were frozen solid. When Lukas tried to pull off the boot, it cracked into pieces. Gage managed not to cry out, but his face had a ghastly hue to it. His foot was blue, his toenails black.
“Can you move it?” Lukas asked him.
“I can try.” Gage’s breath hissed through his teeth as he gradually moved his ankle. “I can’t move my toes,” he said. “I can’t feel my foot at all.”
“We need to warm up your foot,” Lukas said. “Someone break up those boxes and get a fire going.”
Cowley motioned Fen to follow him. “We can get up on the roof and maybe see what’s going on.” Fen followed him up the stairs. They climbed several stories and then up a ladder that led through a trapdoor in the ceiling.
The neighborhood was quiet. There were a few shouts off in the direction of the docks, but they weren’t getting closer. A squad of soldiers passed by. None of them looked up.
“I don’t think we have to worry too much about being found,” Cowley said. “Someone tried to burn the Ankharan ships. What soldier is going to try very hard to find the culprits? Right now, they’re just going through the motions. But it’s going to get tricky if we can’t get Gage back on his feet soon. Sooner or later some officer is going to notice we’re not in our patrol area. Even if none do, there’s still the morning. We have to be there for muster.”
“You think it’s smart to go back to the castle?” Fen asked.
“I do. No one we know saw us. Once we wash off this charcoal and put our surcoats back on, we’re just another squad of soldiers.”
“It might not be worth the risk.”
“Of course, it is. We’re your eyes and ears on the inside. You need us there.”
Fen had to admit that Cowley was right, but he didn’t like it. “I didn’t expect to find an Ichthalid there. I’m surprised I didn’t sense him sooner.”
“Probably he wasn’t close enough,” Cowley said. “Or maybe it had something to do with him not standing on the ground. Maybe you can’t sense them as well when they’re off the ground like that.”
“You might be right.”
“We survived. That’s what counts.”
“That’s true.”
“What happened back there?”
“I don’t know. It was like the ice swallowed the Stone power. I didn’t think that was possible. I’m worried, Cowley. I’ve fought them twice now, and both times they shrugged off my attacks. I don’t know what to do next. I’m worried there’s nothing I can do.”
Cowley clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re tired. If I remember right, you’ve been through a lot lately. Being imprisoned, almost getting your head chopped off, fighting sorcerers, those things take a toll on a man. Go get some sleep. It’ll look better in the morning. Don’t worry. We’ll figure out something.”
“I hope so.” Fen rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted. Cowley was right. He needed to get some sleep. He wasn’t thinking clearly.
They went back downstairs. Gage had his foot near the fire and was rubbing it.
“I can move my toes a little now,” he said with a rueful smile.
“I knew you were faking it,” Cowley said. “Pretending to be hurt so we’d have to carry you around.” He started pushing Fen toward the door. “Fen is leaving now to get some sleep. Everybody say, ‘Goodnight, Fen.’”
“Wait,” Fen said, resisting him. “How will we meet up again? How do I get word to you and you to me?”
“Tell us where you’re holed up,” Cowley said. “We’ll come find you.” Fen started to describe the temple, but Strout stopped him.
“Forget he said that. Don’t tell us.”
“Why?”
“If you don’t tell us, we can’t betray you,” Strout said.
Fen nodded. “What if I need to get a message to you?”
“You remember Willem, the old servant I said was kind of like a grandfather to me growing up?” Cowley asked. “He has a grandson who works for a woodcutter. He brings a load of firewood to the castle nearly every day. Just give him a note and tell him to get it to me. He’s solid. He won’t ask any questions.” He started pushing Fen toward the door again.
“One last thing,” Fen said, looking at the brothers. “I’m going out to see Ravin today. How do I find her?”
“Argid,” Wallice said. “You can’t miss him.”
Fen passed out into the night. It wasn’t quite midnight yet. He’d sleep until the sun came up, and then he’d figure out a way to get out of the city and go see Ravin. Maybe it was a foolish thing to do. Maybe it was selfish. He should instead be spending his time figuring out how to defeat the Ichthalids, not going to see Ravin, but he was going to do it anyway. He told himself he owed it to her, that she deserved to see for herself that he was all right.
But that was only part of the reason. The main reason was that he needed to see her. He needed to hold her. He needed to know she was safe. From her he’d be able to draw the strength to continue this fight that was looking increasingly grim.
Chapter 15
Lowellin was sitting on the throne, shifting around in his seat, morning sun streaming in the windows behind him. S’nash, Ilsith and the other two Ichthalids were standing nearby. “Who designed this thing? It really isn’t very comfortable,” Lowellin complained. “It’s not comfortable at all, actually.”
“Stop talking about the chair,” S’nash growled.
Lowellin held up a finger. “It’s not a chair. It’s a throne. Even I know that.”
“It’s not important.”
“It is if you’re a king.”
S’nash’s face darkened. He grabbed the front of Lowellin’s cloak and lifted him up into the air. “You risk much, angering me.”
“I’m not trying to anger you. I’m trying to get comfortable on this horrible throne. I’m going to have to sit on it, you know, when I hold audience for my people.”
S’nash threw him back down onto the throne and pointed a clawed finger at him. “We nearly lost the ships last night,” he snarled. “If Thresh hadn’t been there to stop the attack, they would all be ashes now.”
“Then it’s a good thing Thresh was there,” Lowellin said calmly, straightening the front of his cloak. It was the same red one he’d worn when introducing himself to the people of Samkara. “What was he doing there?” he asked innocently. “Out for a walk and happened to stumble on some people with torches?”
“Your flippant attitude angers me.” S’nash curled his fingers.
Answering his command, the ingerlings rose to the surface inside Lowellin, who grunted in pain and hunched over. “Again, S’nash? Don’t you ever get tired of doing that? I know I’m tired of it.”
“You do not seem to understand what I am saying.”
“I understand all right,” Lowellin sa
id, his nonchalance fading away, replaced by tight-lipped anger. “You want the last piece of the key, so you can run off and free your queen to terrorize the universe and get revenge on the masters. You’ll stop at nothing to accomplish this, even if it means having your little friends devour me from the inside. You made it clear the first hundred times you tortured me with them.”
“Yet still you thwart me.”
“I don’t think you know what thwarting means. Who got you the two pieces you have in your pocket there? Who got these—” He pointed at the scars on his face. “—trying to get you the third?”
“Given to you by a little girl,” S’nash sneered.
“Yes, a little girl. One who I think will surprise you. But that’s not the point here. The point is that I have done everything you asked. Now you want Fen taken care of. I will do that too.”
“I don’t want Fen taken care of. I want him killed. You should have killed him when he was in your power.”
Lowellin raised an eyebrow. “We talked about this already. We want him alive. We might need him to get into the last vault. Those vaults are a real problem. Even you, with all your power, can’t get into one of those things. Only Shapers can.” He snapped his fingers as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him. “We don’t need Fen. I could get the last piece for you. But you’d have to take these things out of me.”
“Once we have the key, then I will remove the ingerlings. Not before. I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t trust me either. But it was worth a try.”
“This problem wouldn’t exist if either you or the gromdin were the least bit competent. The gromdin is even more useless than you are,” S’nash said. “Thousands of years he’s been here, and he’s accomplished nothing. Now I cannot even contact him. Both he and the hunter have gone silent.”
“See? There you have it. I’m your best ally here. I took care of all these little problems before you got here, and I’ll take care of Fen. You just need to be a little patient.”
“I am out of patience,” S’nash grated.
“That’s not my problem.”
“Are you sure?” S’nash’s fingers flexed, and Lowellin grunted again.
“Stop doing that! I have a plan for Fen. Almost, anyway. Soon.”
“This plan of yours. It had better work.” S’nash bent over him. “Or maybe I will decide I no longer need you and rid myself of you.”
“You really need to work on your threats, you know. I could show you some things. When I was goading Rome and Quyloc into war against Melekath, I—”
“Silence!”
“Okay. Okay.”
S’nash straightened and strode away, muttering in his harsh, alien tongue.
Lowellin went back to shifting around on the throne. “Maybe a pillow or two would help. What do kings see in these things, anyway?”
As the door closed behind S’nash, Lowellin stopped his fidgeting. A secretive smile crossed his face.
Chapter 16
Fen awakened well after the sun had risen, later than he’d intended. He stood up and stretched. He was still tired, but he no longer felt dead on his feet. He hoped Gage’s foot was okay.
He sat down and finished off the food that Elace had given him and started planning how he was going to get out to see Ravin. He was sure that the guards at the gates were searching everyone coming and going. If he tried to get through just counting on his cloak for his disguise, he would probably get caught. Which meant he needed a different way to get out of the city.
He could try to find a farmer or a merchant who was leaving and hide in his wagon. But even if that worked to get him out, how would he get back in? He couldn’t very well sneak up on a moving wagon and hide in the back without the driver noticing. He considered tying off a rope to the top of the wall and lowering himself, but he’d have to wait until darkness to do that. Besides that, he’d run a substantial risk of getting caught by one of the soldiers patrolling the wall.
What he needed was a disguise. But it needed to be a good one. He needed to be someone that no guard would take a close look at. A moment later it hit him, and he had to smile at the irony of it.
He needed to look like one of the denizens of Shantytown. Quite a few of them entered the city regularly, coming in to beg, to dig through the garbage. The guards always waved them through without really checking them.
He had a handful of coins that the squad had given him last night. Before he went out to Shantytown he wanted to buy Ravin some food and maybe some clean clothes to wear. Then he’d go figure out his disguise.
He started to leave the ruined temple by the front door but changed his mind. Every time he walked up and down that street he risked being noticed by someone and turned in. If Lowellin hadn’t already, he was sure to put a reward on Fen’s head. No doubt there would be plenty of people who would try to collect on it.
He went to the second story window that overlooked the ravine behind the temple. It would be easier if he had a rope, but enough of the mortar had fallen out from between the stones that he thought he could climb down the wall without any problems.
He made it to the ground safely, then fought his way through the brush down to the water. He drank his fill, then followed the stream. He only had to go a few hundred paces before he came to the small footbridge that crossed the ravine. He made his way up the side and crossed the footbridge.
After buying the supplies for Ravin, he went looking for his disguise. He found a beggar sitting up against a wall in a dim alley, his legs splayed out before him. Patches of the man’s hair had fallen out, and he was missing an arm. Fen crouched down beside him. The beggar looked at him suspiciously.
“I want to buy your clothes.”
“What?” the man said, his voice a croak. “Sell my finest rags? Never.” He turned his face away.
Surprised, Fen started to stand up, but the man caught hold of his cloak. “I wasn’t serious,” he said. He looked Fen over. “I’d ask why, but I don’t want to know. Two silvers and you can have the hat as well.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Fen said. “I’ll give you two coppers.” It was still far too high, but Fen felt for the man. He looked pretty bad.
“All right, all right,” the man grumbled. “What’s the world come to when strapping young lads are robbing beggars?”
“Do you want me to talk to someone else?” Fen asked him. “I bet that man over there would sell me his clothes.”
“No, no,” the man said hastily. He began shucking his clothes. Fen handed over the coppers, pulled off his shirt, and pulled the beggar’s shirt on. The smell was so bad it made his eyes water, but after his time in prison he knew he’d get used to it quickly. Besides, he wanted to smell bad, and he had a plan in place to smell even worse. The trousers followed, and then he pulled the beggar’s shapeless hat down low over his eyes.
“I’ll take those clothes if you don’t want ‘em,” the beggar said, pointing at the clothes Fen had taken off.
“They’re yours for two coppers.”
“That’s robbery!”
“You’re telling me.”
Fen left the man sitting in his smallclothes and went further down the alley until he found a deserted stretch. He hid his clothes under a pile of bricks that had fallen from a wall. He’d purposely left his sword in the ruined temple, knowing it was too big a risk to carry it, but he still had his dagger on him. He rummaged through a pile of debris until he found an old burlap sack that was more or less intact. He tucked it under his arm and went looking for the last piece of his disguise.
He found it under the stoop of a tenement building, a small dog that had been dead for some days. Flies buzzed thickly around it, and its belly was bloated. It leaked a noxious fluid when he picked it up. He put the dead dog into the old burlap sack. The final touch was rubbing dirt into his face and arms.
It was about midday when he headed for the gates. He saw right away the effectiveness of the disguise. Peopl
e took one look at him and moved away. Some, when the smell of the dead dog hit them, actually crossed to the other side of the street to avoid him. No one, not even the street urchins out roaming for pockets to pick, looked him in the eye. He’d become effectively invisible.
Partway to the gates, he had to retrace his steps and choose another route when he saw one of the Ichthalids. It wasn’t the one-eyed one they’d tangled with the night before, and it wasn’t the leader, S’nash. It was the shorter, thicker-bodied one. He was standing on a busy street corner, staring at the crowds of people as they passed by.
Fen wasn’t the only person to turn back after seeing the Ichthalid. Lots of others were doing the same. Those who chanced the intersection stayed as far away from the invader as they could, keeping their faces turned away.
The Ichthalid turned as Fen doubled back, his gaze passing over the small crowd of people Fen was concealed in. He wasn’t sure if it was chance, or if the Ichthalid had sensed his presence, but he didn’t wait around to find out, ducking quickly into a narrow, twisting street and hurrying down it.
He reached the gates and paused to reconnoiter. There were four guards working the gates. As he’d expected, they were checking everyone coming and going pretty thoroughly. A wagon approached the gates, the back of it filled with straw and manure. It was exactly the sort of wagon that Fen would have tried to hide himself in. The driver was an old man, and he reined his horse to a stop as the guard approached. The guard said something to him, and the old man made a weary gesture of acceptance.
Then the guard did something that made Fen glad he hadn’t hidden under the manure.
He took up a spear that was leaning against the wall and began stabbing it into the manure over and over. Fen shuddered at the thought of being stabbed with that spear. Even if the wound was minor, with all that manure his wound would most likely turn septic. He wouldn’t need Lowellin or the Ichthalids to kill him if he contracted the rot.
Fen waited until the crowd at the gates was fairly thick, then he took a deep breath and started forward. The other people in line gave him sidelong looks and jostled each other to stay as far from him as they could. Fen walked with his head down, his shoulders slumped. As he got up close to the gates, he could feel like the bundle of supplies he had wrapped up under his clothes slipping. He prayed it wouldn’t slip completely out right when he got up to the guards.
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