by Terry Persun
“We got a room?” Brok asked.
“A room and a balcony.” Pointing behind her, Zimp said, “Big boy here got Therin in, too. Nice job,” she said, but she wouldn't look at him for fear that he might get cocky. She didn't need trouble handling the booming voice he used inside. That was a side of him she'd not seen and didn't want to draw on until she needed to.
“Who gets the balcony?” Raik appeared as though he already knew the answer. His eyes were big and his hand unsteady.
She didn't waste a moment in answering. “You and Therin.”
“But we don't know…” Raik said, stopping his words as several guards walked out of the inn and trudged down the street.
Brok took the leash from Raik and made for the door. “I'll get him upstairs. Where's the room?”
Zimp motioned for Lankor to lead Brok, and for Raik to go next. She brought up the rear, but stayed close to Raik's back.
One group of men, and what looked to be two women – it was difficult to tell for sure – stood up and moved to a seat farther from Therin and Brok.
The stairs creaked as Lankor mounted them. Dust pushed from between the joints. Therin's tensely muscled body appeared to flow up the stairs at Lankor's heels.
Zimp thought that normally Raik would have floated up the stairs as well, his slight, wiry frame a mask of the warrior inside. But at this moment, he made small jumps up the stairs almost as though he were the small field mouse his beast image would expose. She had often noticed how beast and human became one, regardless of its present physical image. Raik's demeanor and movements exemplified her experience to its height.
She didn't like the smell of the room they were given, and opened the thin door that led to the balcony. The short partition between each room's balcony space would be easy for a thief to crawl over. The flimsy door to the room had only one inside lock and could be broken down easily. No wonder the inn wasn't responsible for anything that might be stolen from the room. Luckily, Therin would be the perfect guard.
With everyone in the room, she saw that it would be a rough night. The balcony only had room for two. Whoever slept out there with Therin would have more space because of the animal's smaller body size, but they'd be subject to thievery. She turned around. “I'll take the floor in here.”
Brok and Lankor said, “No,” at the same time.
Zimp said, “You both need to be rested more than I do.”
Lankor threw his pack down. “Not this time. I couldn't sleep in that short thing. I'll take the floor.” He walked to the balcony. “In fact, if Therin will have me, there might be more room on the balcony for me.”
“And I'm used to sleeping on the floor. It's good for my back,” Brok said.
“Fine with me,” Raik said.
Zimp shot Raik a sincere look to shut him up. She knew that Lankor missed the openness of The Lost and sensed that he had other reasons for wanting to sleep outside, personal reasons. To Raik she said, “You're off the hook, snake man.”
Raik was insulted. “Don't ridicule me.”
“These walls are thin, my good friends,” Brok said. “I might be careful saying a lot of things.”
“You're right.” She reached for Raik's hand. “That was uncalled for.”
Raik dropped his pack onto the other bed without acknowledging her gesture. “I'm not happy with this. I don't feel safe.”
“Neither do I,” Lankor said. “Something strange is definitely going on here. But at this point we don't have a choice; we have a mission.”
Zimp unrolled her bedroll over the straw cot. “Can Therin be trusted while we get to know the stronghold better? I want to listen to the streets.”
“You'll get nothing,” Raik said.
“Then what do you suggest, we just sit in here stuffed together?”
Raik shook his head. “I suggest we rest for a few hours. Tonight's supper and a few hours of drink will bring about more talk than the vendors will offer during their greatest selling time. Unless you're bickering price, you'll get no attention. Tonight they'll be spending their take. A good day brings a good drunk for many of them. A good drunk brings a loose mouth. It can all be accomplished here, tonight.” He bowed his head toward Zimp. “If you will.”
“You lost your stutter,” is all she said.
Raik turned away. “I know.”
“We'll rest.” She looked up at Lankor. “Can you get sleep with that sun out there?”
“Gladly,” he said. He snapped his fingers to get Therin's attention, as though Brok's brother was a pet.
Brok let go of the leash and Therin lifted onto his toes and danced outside behind Lankor. On the balcony, he curled into a ball with his tail over his nose, looking comfortable in the afternoon sun.
In little time they were all settled and asleep, Zimp being the last to nod off. Each time she heard a voice, whether in the physical realm or the next realm, her eyes opened and she perked her ears. “Dangerous,” she heard once. And another time, although the words were muffled, she thought she heard someone say something about gathering their things. Then she heard a loud voice in her ear that said, “Run.” She popped up from the bed, disoriented and slow.
“What is it?” Brok said from the floor between her bed and Raik's.
“Nothing. One of those voices you hear just before you wake up.”
Brok rolled to his side. “One of those voices you hear, you mean.”
Zimp noticed the dim light around the balcony door. “How long have we slept?”
Brok got to his knees. “All right, all right. Sleep is over.” He sat back on his haunches and shook his head.
Like a thylacine, Zimp thought. “The door,” she said.
Brok reached out and shoved the door open a crack. The evening glow threw an orange light into the room. The sun, although it couldn't be seen, had not dropped below the horizon. Brok patted his stomach. “Dinner time,” he said.
“Did you sleep well?” Zimp said.
“Very,” Brok jumped to his feet and twisted his neck to loosen it. “Felt good.” He shook Raik's bed until he noticed a stir. Then he shoved his bedroll to the side with his foot and opened the balcony door farther. “Hey, Lankor, dinner.”
Zimp heard the big man get up.
“Ahh. The air is fresh out here. A comfortable sleep, a comfortable sleep,” he said.
Therin whined for a moment at everyone's disruption.
“I'll bring some meat up for you later,” Brok said.
Zimp heard Therin huff and imagined his head falling back onto his paws. She wondered what he was going through, the knowledge that he couldn't shift into human image, the confusion as to why, and perhaps the great sorrow knowing that he would never be in human image again. Therin never appeared to be angry about his predicament. Somehow he was able to take it in stride. Like an animal's sense that things just are as they are and no amount of thinking or analysis can change that. Yes, that was it. In beast image, even she had a strange sense that little could be affected. The weight of human image life fell away for a short time. Or loosened its grip.
“You're thinking again,” Brok said. “Or hearing voices.”
“Hearing voices? Are they loud?” Lankor poked his head around the door and squeezed through the opening.
“I was thinking just then. Earlier I heard voices. Not Zora. I don't know what I'm hearing.”
“Oronice,” Raik said. He had his eyes open wide as he lay on his side. “You knew she'd come to you.”
Zimp shook her head. “I don't think so. Zora is my twin. I'm just hearing her through some kind of filter, a tunnel or cave. Something's muffling her sound.”
“You don't want to face the truth,” Raik said.
Zimp lunged toward him, stopped only by Brok's arm reaching out to take her shoulder.
“Think what you will. I'll think what I will,” Raik said. “Are we heading downstairs? The place should be filling up. We need to get a corner table where we can hear clearly.” Raik threw his blank
ets back. He stared at Zimp. “It might help if I were better prepared.”
“We should kill you now so that you're not part of the problem,” Zimp said. She shot her next look at Brok who she expected to say something about letting her personal feelings interfere with their mission, but he said nothing. Good.
“Not right now,” Lankor said. “Let's go. Everybody ready?”
Brok sat on the floor to pull on his boots. Zimp and Raik followed suit from the edge of their beds.
Lankor held up the key and let them go ahead of him before locking the door. “Not that we need to worry,” he said to no one in particular.
The place was half full with about forty people spread throughout the room. Raik scouted a corner table and the four of them sat together. Six to eight people could sit around one of the odd length tables. Lankor and Brok took the bench that allowed their backs to be against one wall. Raik sat at the head of the table against another wall. Zimp settled perpendicular to Raik, her back to the bar and other tables. Two other seats were available in the corner, one opposite Raik and one next to Zimp.
“What do we do now?” Lankor said.
Raik shook his head.
Lankor reached across Brok to point at Raik. “You might not last until she can kill you.”
“I just love our friendly chatter,” Brok said as a warning and a reminder.
Zimp couldn't see if there was any reaction from the people who were behind her at other tables, but she did agree with Brok. Things had escalated enough and she was part of the problem. Her nerves were rattled, her senses piqued.
Lankor pulled his arm back and a broad smiled crossed his face. “Just kiddn’, my little friend.”
A heavyset waitress with thick curled hair that hadn't been washed in days approached the table. She wore a sack of a dress with a braided belt around her middle. “Yous eatin’?”
Lankor nodded.
“Five clips each,” she said. “Seven if you washin’ it down wit’ ale.”
The four of them pulled seven clips of gold from their pouches and pockets. Raik asked for water and dropped five clips into the woman's stained palm. Zimp wished she had requested water, but it was too late.
Once the woman walked away, Brok said, “I wonder what we're eating tonight.”
“Meat and squash,” Raik said. “Maybe bread with it.”
Zimp looked at him.
“What? So I know what crops they were growing,” Raik said.
“I've never eaten squash, or seen it. What's it like?” Lankor asked.
“Looks like a pile of dung, but tastes sweet,” Brok told him with a smile. “Trust me. You won't like the looks of it, but you'll ask for a second helping.”
Zimp hardly heard Brok's final words. They were already being drowned out by the sound of fluttering wings. She shook her head and placed her palms over her ears. “Well, well,” she said so that she could listen to her own voice echo inside her skull. Perhaps that sound would be louder than the other. Perhaps that would bring her back to the table and the inn and the mission. She said it again, “Well, well.”
Lankor reached across the table and squeezed her shoulder, bringing her back part of the way from the other realm. There was still an echo of fluttering in her head. She heard a familiar voice, then, but the fluttering was gone. “What?” she said.
A plate of food dropped in front of her.
Lankor jerked his arm away. “Eat,” he said.
“All right,” Zimp responded in a weak voice. Then she shook her head. “Maybe I'd better go upstairs.”
“You need to eat,” Lankor said.
Brok agreed, “Try.”
Zimp let the sound of their voices retreat into the background as she began to shovel food into her mouth. In very little time, Lankor ordered another plate just as Brok had said he would. He emptied his ale mug as well and let it slam against the tabletop. Zimp sensed that the others were listening to the crowd, even though she could hear nothing behind her. She hardly heard her friends talking, getting only bits of a fake conversation. It all felt wrong and crazy to her at the moment. She lifted her mug and drank deeply from it. “Danger,” she heard, but she'd heard that before, for days, and there had been no danger. She wanted to cry and felt an enormous rush of blood run through her body and into her face. Lankor's arm squeezed her shoulder again. “What's happening?” she said. The words came out of her mouth slowly. She could barely hear them now. “Listen,” she said. “It is Oronice.”
Lankor got up and came around the table. “Come with me,” he said.
Zimp pulled away. “Did you hear me?”
“The ale has driven my sister a bit mad,” he said.
Zimp noticed the quiet in the room and the eyes that were on her. A few castle guards got up from a table in one of the other corners.
Brok appeared magically at her other side. “We're leaving,” he said more to Lankor than to Zimp. She was being pulled along between them.
The guards rushed around some tables, but Lankor, Zimp, and Brok passed through the front door well ahead of them.
“This way,” Lankor led them down the street and up an alley.
Zimp ran with them, the physical motion bringing her back tothe physical world. When she found her own feet again, the men let go of her arms. Twisting down another side street they stopped and waited.
The sound of men running got louder. When four of the guards turned the corner, their swords raised, they met with simultaneous blows from Lankor and Brok. Two of the guards were knocked to the ground. Zimp slipped her knife over the throat of a third. The fourth came down across Lankor's shoulder with the hilt of his sword. He was too close to do anything else, allowing Lankor to place his elbow into the man's ear with enough force to kill him. Brok grabbed the dropped sword of the man who attacked Lankor and dived in to kill the other two guards.
“We've got to get out of here.” Zimp looked around. “Where's Raik?”
“The Gods have damned us,” Brok said.
“No, I have,” Zimp said.
“You never should have mentioned Oronice. I believe there were those in the room who know she's a doublesight. It is difficult to hide that fact.” Brok took a breath. “I think you might want to let me lead the group. You are becoming unstable with all of your other-realm contact.”
“I don't know,” Zimp said. “Right now, we have to find Raik and stay out of the way. We may have to leave altogether. We may have lost our chance to learn anything.”
Brok and Lankor looked at each other. “While you were blubbering, we were listening to conversations about what's going on here. But we have to hide for the night first. There has got to be a place we can stay.”
“The stables,” Lankor said.
“What about Therin?” Brok didn't wait for an answer. He slapped Lankor's shoulder. “I'm going back to get him. You two go to the stables and I'll meet you there soon.”
“Raik?” Zimp said.
“He just became an enemy,” Brok said.
36
“IT'S HAPPENING AGAIN,” Zimp said.
Lankor grabbed her hand and felt the soft flesh of her palm against his rough skin. He hesitated a moment and looked into her eyes but they were already blank. He worried that, in her trance, she might be able to sense his feelings, the ones he fought to hide. But she didn't need to know how he felt about her. Not now. It would only complicate things.
He glanced up and down the alley and, convinced that no other guards were coming for them, pulled Zimp up the street, around a corner, and down another side alley in a loop that would deposit them at the rear of the stables.
She whispered words that made no sense, disconnected and jumbled. At one point she stopped Lankor and shook her head violently as though trying to dispel an insect from her ears. Despite her occasional confusion, Zimp appeared to be coherent much of the time, at least enough to run without his help. He held to her hand just in case she tried to veer off in another direction.
Lank
or smelled the odor of hay and straw as they approached the stables. A horse nickered, and several others stirred inside their stalls. The two doublesight slipped through a crack in the rear door. Lankor sat Zimp on a stool and whispered for her to stay there until he checked the place out. She leaned against the wall and nodded.
He searched as quietly as he could around the stables. It appeared empty enough. He wished they had left Therin in the cage that stood on a wagon near one of the stalls. Then Brok would have had no reason to separate from them. He never should have allowed Brok to rush off as he did.
Lankor picked through the blacksmith's workspace. He found his staff and grabbed a poker sticking from a bucket near the anvil.
Saddlebags and packs hung on the stall doors. A horse inside one of the stalls came over and put his head over the door to sniff at Lankor's cheek. He patted its muzzle while pulling a strip of jerky from his saddlebag.
On his way back toward Zimp, he wondered why the smith would leave the stable so vulnerable. He ripped the jerky with his teeth. Coming around the corner of a stall, he saw Zimp sitting upright with her eyes wide and a look of surprise on her face. “It's just me,” he said.
From either side of Zimp, guards stepped into the dim light. Each had a sword drawn, even though their numbers didn't warrant such readiness. One guard's dagger was held near Zimp's neck. Even a quick shift would leave her defenseless.
Lankor threw down the jerky and the poker he had grabbed for Zimp and hefted the staff into both hands. If he attempted a shift, he'd be killed instantly. The larger the beast the slower the shift, he thought, although he'd learned that wasn't true. He'd be slain before he could form the scales that could protect him. But, should he at least try to fight back with his human image? What of their mission? Someone had to make it back to The Few to report their meager findings.