Unda stepped to Brinley’s side and the two of them turned to watch Lignumis together.
As soon as Crepitus began to play, the man called Lignumis began to stir.
“What?” he mumbled. “What’s going on?”
He toppled out of the chair and pushed himself to his hands and knees, then glared up at the harpist, who went on playing and sleeping as peacefully as ever. The tune had a lilting, circular structure with a jarring dissonance at its core, hinting of something rotten. It took a few repetitions for Brinley to realize that every time he played the tune through, Crepitus made a different mistake, so that what should have been a uniform sound lurched off kilter.
“Stop it,” Lignumis said, and Crepitus stopped. The next second, his eyes snapped open and he rose to his feet.
“Death,” he said, and leveled a finger at Lignumis. “You may not come before the Scribe of Heaven in disguise. Did you think to fool him? You cannot.”
A jet of pure light erupted from the end of his finger and disappeared into Lignumis’s chest.
Lignumis’s face twisted in disgust, then frustration. His hands clenched tightly behind his back and Brinley had the distinct impression that he was trying to hold on to something. His forehead prickled with sweat. There was a small, silent flash of light and the illusion was shattered. Lignumis was gone, and in his place there stood an entirely different person. He was thin and bent, with black skin and cold eyes. It was the man that Brinley had seen in her dream just before she met the snake-man.
“You,” Brinley said.
He was staring at Brinley with utter contempt. “Me,” he breathed. His lips curled into a strained smile as he turned back to Crepitus. “Yes. It’s me. Chief among wizards, he that broke the Bridge to Heaven. The Janrax is what they call me now.” He grinned. “May I pass?”
Without warning, he sprang forward and attacked Unda. Brinley screamed and tried to pull them apart, but they twisted away from her, dancing across the room in a flurry of blows. There was a flash of silver, and then the Janrax rolled away from Unda and regained his feet. Unda stood still, facing away from them, poised on the edge of the well. Time seemed to stop as he stood there, motionless on the brink. Then he rotated slowly around to face them, until his eyes met Brinley’s.
Brinley watched, transfixed, as the light went out of them. She took a step forward, reaching out, searching his face for some explanation.
Then she saw the knife that was buried in his heart.
Everything went silent then. A part of her heard the Swelter Cat scream of death and doom, and saw his fur begin to melt with heat. A part of her felt the rush of crimson fire from his glowing body as it flew past her and consumed the Janrax. But she never remembered those things. In the years to come, all she would remember were Unda’s empty, silent eyes, his look of surprise as his body fell backward into blackness. She followed in after him, the wrenching pain of a heart’s chamber being slammed shut by death, and the irrational, irresistible need to undo what had been done. He was her child. She could not let this be his end. Alive or dead, she was going to bring him home.
Chapter Twelve
In which Tabitha meets an old friend
The sight that met Tabitha’s eyes when she finally opened them again was so strange that she thought she must have died. But then she noticed how much her head hurt and decided that if she were really dead, she would feel better, not worse.
She was in what appeared to be a tiny, pocket of air on the sandy river bottom. She could see water streaming around her, but she was breathing air. She reached out and touched the curving wall of air that marked the boundary of her bubble, and to her surprise found that her hand slipped into it easily. Something brushed her finger from the water side, and she started. There was a person on the other side.
He appeared out of the water as if out of a dream, his pale blue skin blending seamlessly with the color of the river. He was tall and thin, about her age, with warm familiar eyes. He walked right up to the edge of her bubble and she knew him at once.
“Fitz,” she said, standing up and brushing herself off. She had not seen him since her magical misadventure of the previous summer. She still had not told Brinley about her visit to the nymph kingdom and the promise that she had made to the three queens. Fitz had been her companion on that journey, and if she were honest with herself, she quite liked him before she found out that he was a prince. She ran a hand over her head self-consciously and found that she was covered with sand, with was something green and slimy tangled in her hair. Not that Fitz was likely to care, but still. “Did you rescue me?” she asked, already guessing the answer.
He nodded in the affirmative.
She tried to rip the slimy thing off her head but Fitz stopped her. “No,” he said. “You are hurt. I made you a bandage of sucurweed and river ivy, which should stop the bleeding.”
“You did?” she said, feeling dazed. “I don’t remember that.”
“You’ve been in and out,” he said, a smile finally touching his lips.
“You were watching me,” she said.
He nodded. “Yes. I watch you sometimes. I have been tracking you for two days from the water, but until now you have not come close enough for me to reach you.”
“Tracking me?” she echoed, turning the word over like a riddle. “Why? Did you miss me Fitz? You did, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
The young man cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “Yes, but that is not why I came.”
“Your mother sent you,” Tabitha guessed. She couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed. “She has a message?”
“She wishes to know if you have found Lewilyn yet.”
Tabitha frowned. “It’s complicated. We know where she is, sort of, but she’s not healed yet.”
He nodded. “She wants you to know also, that we will no longer allow Lewilyn to stay in your world—on land, I mean. Since she is no longer needed as the Magemother, the three queens have decided that it is time for her to return to her people, where she belongs.”
“But what if she wants to stay with us? With Brinley?”
Fitz gave her a smile that she didn’t care for. It was the smile adults give a child when they know something the child doesn’t. “She will not,” he said. “She has lived too long with your people already. The water is calling her home.”
Tabitha shrugged. “Well, she’s lost right now, so I guess we will have to wait and see.”
“Lost?” Fitz said, and Tabitha told him about the naptrap and how Hugo had taken it. Fitz had several questions, and soon Tabitha found herself recounting the story in great detail. At one point, she paused in her story so that Fitz could change her bandage. He never brought his head into her bubble though. Only his arms came through. He could not breathe air any more than she could breathe water.
“Can you leave the water, Fitz?” The question was out of her mouth before she knew it. She had paused in her story and she was thinking about the bubble.
“Why?” He asked.
She blushed, uncertain of why she wanted to know, and unwilling to analyze her own thoughts. “Just curious,” she said, not meeting his eye.
He smiled, though she didn’t see it. “I can leave, but only for moments. I cannot breathe the air. If I were to stay outside too long—a moment too long—my body would transform, adapt to the land, like Lewilyn’s did, and I might never be able to return to my people.” He frowned. “But I have a question for you, Tabitha. It’s about your story. Why did Hugo not send the naptrap back with the Mage of Wood along with the tree bark that was meant to heal her? Why would Hugo risk taking the naptrap into the Panthion if he knew that Shael was inside? This makes no sense to me.”
Tabitha considered it. “Now that you bring it up,” she said slowly, “I don’t think he would.”
“Do you trust Lignumis?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” Tabitha said. “Don’t I?”
Fitz drew in the sand thoughtfully. “He was
in the Ire for a long time, was he not?”
“I suppose so,” Tabitha said, “but that’s not enough reason to mistrust him.”
“Maybe,” Fitz said. “Maybe not. Where is this mage now?”
Tabitha told him about Brinley’s trip to Inveress.
“Well,” he said, standing up, “I think that you should question him a little harder when he returns. In the meantime, my mother wishes for me to assist you in healing Lewilyn. That means finding her first, so I will search the land for this naptrap that you have described. There are several of my people who can help me. As long as it is not in the Ire, and it is within sight of the water, we will find it soon enough.”
He turned slightly, as if he wanted to go, but something held him back. “I enjoyed our time together,” he said. “Before, I mean. Last time…I forgot to tell you that.”
She folded her arms. “I enjoyed it more before I found out you were lying to me about who you were the whole time…But I suppose that you were just trying to help.”
“I was,” he said, putting a hand up to the wall of water. He reached through it, but she did not move to take his hand, and he quickly drew it back again.
“Well…” he said, fiddling with his shirt. “The thing is, I like you, Tabitha. And I would like to see you again.”
“Are you going to watch me from the water?” she asked.
“Actually,” he said, smiling, “I was hoping that you might come for a visit. There are all sorts of things that I could show you, things you have probably never dreamed of.”
“I probably have. It’s part of my training, you know,” Tabitha said. “But I guess we could, sometime. As long as Brinley could come.”
Fitz stopped fiddling with his shirt. “Oh. Well, yes. I suppose she can.”
“Good,” Tabitha said. “We can talk about it after the war is over, if we’re all still alive, I guess.”
He smiled at her then, and she was surprised at how much it improved his face. He was almost the Fitz that she remembered when he smiled like that.
Then he took a step back and disappeared into the river.
“I wonder how long I’ve been gone,” Tabitha muttered to herself. “I hope they haven’t left without me.” And with that she moved to step into the water, but stopped when she saw Fitz coming back.
“I forgot to ask you,” he said. “Have you been looking for the dragon?”
“Oh!” She was caught off guard. “Yes! That’s why we’re here. Do you know where he is?”
“He has been flying south, over the sea along the coast. My people have been keeping an eye on him. We think he is preparing for war. A witch is with him now.”
“Habis?” Tabitha said. “Was it a good witch?”
Fitz shook his head. “I do not think so.”
“March,” Tabitha concluded. “South, you say? Then he could be headed for Ninebridge again.”
“Good luck,” Fitz said, flashing her another smile before he slipped back into the water.
She stepped in after him and became a fish. It was a simple enough thing for her to do now that she wasn’t busy drowning. She could see the light again. She hoped that she could find Kuzo before he did something foolish.
Dragons, as she knew too well, could not always be trusted to make good decisions.
Chapter Thirteen
In which Cannon finds a comrade
Hugo coughed, and water spewed from his lungs as he fell into the bottom of the boat. It had to be a boat; it was bobbing up and down enough to make a sailor dizzy. He was lying flat, and Cannon was beside him, drawing a black canvas cloth over them. Suddenly something that felt very much like a pile of rocks fell onto the cloth and was spread around on top of them.
Hugo groaned, and Cannon elbowed him.
“Shh! It’s just apples. We’re pretending to be produce.”
“What happened?”
“Well,” Cannon hissed back, his voice muffled, “after you got us captured, my escape plan mostly succeeded. Then you went and got yourself captured again.”
“I feel terrible.”
“Yes, well, you were in the water for a while. You’re just lucky we saw you. I thought you were dead for a minute”
Hugo groaned again. “I think I was.”
Someone shushed them from the other side of the canvas and then kicked him for emphasis.
“Produce,” Cannon whispered again.
Their boat ran into something hard and there were raised voices above them.
“You there,” one of them said, “did you see a prisoner fall into the river?”
“Nay, sir. I only been seein’ me own two oars here since I left this mornin’.”
“Uh huh, we’ll see about that. Roll back that tarp.”
There was a shuffling sound overhead, and then someone said, “Apples.”
Another voice said. “Ah, blast. I could have sworn he was near this spot where he came out.”
“Well, we can’t always be right about everything,” the man in the boat said. “Have an apple.”
“I don’t want your filthy apples. Get out of my sight!”
“Aye aye, sir. Aye aye,” said the man in the boat, and Hugo heard the oars scrape against their loops as the boats pushed apart.
After several more minutes, there was another shuffling sound, and then the apples were pushed off of them.
“Ye can get up now, if you please,” the voice said. “We’re past the danger now.”
Hugo pushed himself into a sitting position, causing more apples to roll away. Cannon did the same thing, careful not to rock the little boat, which was sitting very low in the water.
“This is Jeb,” Cannon said, indicating the bedraggled captain of their tiny boat. He was a middle-aged man with cool, gray eyes. His hair and beard were matted, and his body was thin and wiry, as though he might not have had anything to eat besides the occasional apple for years.
“Pleased to meet you,” Hugo said. “Thanks for not selling us out.”
Jeb grunted.
“Jeb’s not a big fan of Shael,” Cannon said. “So he agreed to help us, for a price.”
“What price?” Hugo said.
Cannon held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I already paid him.”
Hugo raised an eyebrow, but was afraid to ask more. “Where are you taking us?” he asked Jeb.
“Where do ye want ter go?” Jeb said, jutting his lower jaw out in an awkward half smile that revealed several missing teeth.
“Does Shael have any enemies here?” Hugo asked hopefully. “Someone that might help us?”
“Enemies? Him? Any man what lives in a tiny box with a wizard and decides to be his enemy is askin’ for trouble. Though, I s’pose there is one such lunatic…”
Hugo sighed and gave Cannon a perturbed look, but he just shrugged. “Who, Jeb? Who?”
“Lashé,” the man said in a whisper. Then he glanced around himself suspiciously, as if he were unsure whether the wide expanse of water that surrounded them constituted sufficient privacy to reveal this particular secret.
“Who is Lashé?” Cannon said.
“Shael’s enemy,” Jeb said, squinting at Cannon suspiciously. “h’aint you been listnin’?”
“Perfect,” Hugo said, leaning against the side of the boat and ignoring Jeb’s comment. “Take us to him.”
Jeb nodded several times. “Can do. Can do,” he said. “Came to the right place, ye did. Don’t nobody know where Lashé is but me, and o’course I’m happy to take ye to him…for a price.” He looked around casually, as if someone else had mentioned this problem instead of himself.
Cannon sighed. “How much?”
Jeb pointed to Hugo’s sword belt. “That there be lookin’ like it’s worth just the right amount. And it’d go right nice with what you paid me already.”
“Well,” Hugo said, tapping the empty scabbard. “I don’t suppose it does me much good without the sword.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. What did we pay him already?�
�
Jeb leaned forward casually. “Worth much, was it? That sword of yours?” He pulled Hugo’s sword out from behind the little bench he sat on.
Hugo glared at him, then at Cannon, who gave him a “what choice do we have?” type of look. “Yes,” Hugo growled. “It’s worth quite a bit.”
Jeb nodded. “Aye. Along with the belt and scabbard, me thinks its the exact price of yer boat rescue and safe transport to Lashé.”
Cannon patted him on the back. “Sorry Hugo. I didn’t have any gold on me, and I was pressed for time. And, of course, you had got yourself captured again, so I couldn’t exactly consult you.”
“Fine,” Hugo said not looking at their boatman. He undid his belt buckle and handed over the scabbard. “You might as well take it if it makes you happy. Just get us where we need to go as fast as you can.” He tossed the belt at Jeb, who caught it and tucked it behind him. Then Hugo sat back and bit into an apple, scowling at Jeb over the top of it.
“I’m eating as many of these apples as I want,” he said darkly, his cheeks stuffed full, and Jeb grinned.
“Aye. Many as ye want.”
***
“Who is this Lashé character, anyway?” Hugo asked as the little boat pulled alongside a weather-beaten dock. They had followed the river past the center of town, around a bend, and then rowed another ten minutes into empty country before the little dock appeared out of nowhere next to a giant formation of red rock that jutted out of the barren landscape like a sore thumb.
“Best apple farmer in the whole Panthion,” Jeb said, tying the boat off. He paused thoughtfully. “Best in the whole world, I expect.”
“Apple farmer?”
“Aye. Apples. Shael’s favorite food, and the hardest thing to grow in this accursed Panthion soil, for one reason or ’nother.”
“Did he grow these apples?” Cannon said, peering into the bottom of the boat suspiciously.
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