“I'm all right.” She waved them both away. “And I will rest, but not until this is finished. Schuet, are the quarters ready for our guests?” The Seneschal bowed. “Good. See they're made comfortable for the night, then sit with me for a while. I will be in my rooms.”
She strode off across the grass, a contingent of guards falling in smoothly around her. Skender looked up, noticing for the first time that the day was beginning to darken. Another night in the forest. He was beginning to lose count of how many he had spent here. With the Panic city due to reach Milang around dawn, it was going to be a busy one for most.
Schuet ushered them off the lawn and down the flight of steps outside. There, a mixed group of servitors and guards took charge of them, showing them to the rooms where the rest of their party were waiting.
Jao looked lost and bewildered behind a mask of determined dignity. The corners of her out-thrust lips drooped.
“This is only temporary,” Seneschal Schuet assured her. “I swear you'll be returned to your people in due course.”
“Your promise I would trust,” she replied, “but it's meaningless without the Guardian behind it.”
The Seneschal bowed discreetly. “I am not without influence.”
Then he left too, and the visitors were alone with the servitors.
“What does that mean?” asked Skender.
“Oh, didn't you know?” Kelloman, who had remained silent and bored-looking throughout the proceedings, explained as they walked. “Seneschal Schuet is much more than bodyguard to the Guardian. He is her companion and father of her heir.”
“Lidia Delfine is his daughter?” Skender saw their interaction in an entirely new light. “He's the Guardian's husband?”
“It's complicated. Officially she's wedded to the forest, but in practice, yes, they might as well be married.” The mage hesitated. “This means, I suppose, that you don't know about Lidia Delfine and Heuve, either.”
“What about them?”
“They've been betrothed since the age of ten.”
“What? That's barbaric!”
“I'm hardly going to argue the point.” Kelloman shrugged. “But I've never seen either of them complain. Perhaps it's only barbaric if you don't want to be betrothed.”
Skender could find no fitting response to that, and allowed himself to be led along the arboreal pathways of Milang without further protest.
“They've been gone so long!”
Shilly looked up from Kail's sleeping form to watch as Chu performed yet another circuit of the common area. The visitors' compound consisted of a series of round-walled rooms teased out of the many branches of two ancient, tangled trees. The rooms were interconnected and entered by a single entrance, at which sentries had been stationed. Bamboo mesh sealed the windows but allowed air to circulate. The common area wasn't an especially large space, and the tracker's cot and Chu's wing consumed a fair slice of that. There was little room left over for Chu's impatience, or Shilly's.
After the drama of the flight to Milang—featuring at least two moments when it had seemed certain the balloon would be shot down, regardless of how many Sky Wardens claimed to be aboard—and a rough landing near the summit of the city, there had been little time for an emotional reunion. Black-clad Skender had hugged her briefly before being led away; Marmion had acknowledged her return with more reserve, but there had been undeniable relief in his eyes; Jao had been whisked off for interrogation while Shilly had supervised Kail's medical examination. The foresters used techniques not dissimilar to those she had read about in Lodo's manuals, although some of the herbs were different. His wound had been cleansed, stitched, salved, and bound, all under her watchful eye. Although satisfied that they had done a good job, she wished Rosevear was around to make sure. She had insisted on keeping the unconscious tracker with her in the visitors' compound rather than seeing him left on his own elsewhere.
“Why don't you ask one of the guards?” Shilly suggested to Chu from her cushion at the head of Kail's cot. The flyer's pent-up energy hadn't changed. “They might be able to tell you how long the meeting will last.”
“I tried. They have no idea.” The flyer clutched her hair and did another circuit. “It's just not fair.”
Shilly could see her point. “Why is Skender there and not you?”
“He helped blow up one of the Swarm and spoke to the golem, while I'm still an Outcast no matter what I do.”
“Be grateful for small mercies,” Shilly said. “All I seem to do is sit around with sick people.”
That defused some of Chu's tension. Instead of pacing, she flopped onto a large cushion and her deep brown eyes stared at Shilly.
“Why won't they accept me here?” she said. “What am I doing wrong?”
“You? Probably nothing. Some people are utterly bound by rules and regulations. Once you're labelled something, you just can't change their mind,” she said, thinking of stone-boy, deadwood, and necromancer.
“It can't be just that, can it? I mean, if I'd lied and said I was from some outlying village or something, would they have welcomed me with open arms? They can't be that simple.”
“They're not simple. It's actually very complex. It takes a lot of effort to be bigoted.” Shilly stretched a kink in her back that still plagued her after the long journey with Jao. “You have to really work at it.”
“But it doesn't make any sense.”
“I agree completely.” Sensing that her likelihood of getting any peace was minimal unless she offered something more substantial, Shilly tried a different tack. “Look at it this way. You don't know why your ancestors left the forest, but I think we can make a pretty good guess. Your father was a flyer, right? And so are you. Was anyone else in your family?”
Chu's brow furrowed. “My grandmother and great-aunt, and their father before them. Why?”
“Well, we know the people you've met here don't fly, so maybe that's why your family left. To do what they wanted to do.”
“Why couldn't they have done it here? Why don't people fly here? It'd make it so much easier to get around.”
“Because the Panic are the only ones who fly. And the Panic and humans are rivals. The humans have the trees; the Panic have the mist. Woe betide anyone who tries to cross the line.”
Understanding began to dawn. “I see where you're going with this. Tell someone they can't have something and the first thing they do is pretend they never wanted it; the second thing they do is stop anyone else from getting it.” Chu nodded thoughtfully. “My family wanted to fly. Neither the Panic nor the foresters would let them. They had no choice but to go somewhere else.”
Shilly smiled. “I think you're on the right track. And you being back here now, when things are so tense with the Panic, reopens those old wounds.”
Chu looked sombre. “My poor family. Imagine having to make that choice: home or flying.”
“They can't have been the first to make it,” said Shilly, “and they certainly won't be the last.”
Before Chu could respond, voices and footsteps sounded from the entrance to the visitors' compound. The flyer was on her feet in an instant and hurrying to see who had arrived.
Shilly followed at a more sedate pace, taking as much weight as she could on her cane. By the time she caught up, Marmion was halfway through a perfunctory summary of the meeting.
“—a summit tomorrow morning, if Lidia Delfine's mission is successful. Skender can fill you in on the details. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to rest.”
The warden did look drawn, but Shilly wasn't going to let him off so easily.
“What about Sal?”
Jao shook her head. “I'm afraid I'm grounded.”
“But they're sending someone else, right?”
“He'll have to stay where he is for the night.” Marmion's expression softened almost imperceptibly. “I'm sorry, Shilly. If you'd like to talk to him, Warden Banner will help you.”
The curly-haired warden nodded, and Shilly swallowe
d an automatically angry response. She could understand that resources were needed in the city, and that the fate of one young foreigner didn't seem terribly important to anyone but her. But hadn't she and Sal already given enough? When would she finally be able to stop worrying about him?
“Any word from Highson and Rosevear?” she asked, trying to hide her weariness but knowing she would fail.
“No. I'm taking that as a good sign.”
“It might not be.”
“I know, but I've had enough bad news for one day.”
Marmion took his leave, cradling his injured arm as though it pained him. Shilly watched him go, wondering if she should be concerned. If the wound had flared up or become infected, he might be distracted at the wrong moment. Again she wished Rosevear hadn't stayed behind with the Panic.
She went back to the common room to keep an eye on Kail. The tracker was sleeping soundly, oblivious to the furor around him.
Mage Kelloman—who had unnerved her the moment she met him, housed as he was in a completely unsuitable body and trailed everywhere by a large-eared creature that he ignored as best he could—complained loudly and at length at his mistreatment. Why he should be confined with the visitors struck him as exceedingly unfair. Jao, the recipient of a list of wrongs and slights—some of them real, Shilly was sure, but most imagined—looked slightly stunned at the tirade.
Skender and Chu whispered briefly to each other in one corner—about what, she couldn't quite overhear—then went their separate ways.
“Here,” said Warden Banner, sitting next to Shilly with a rustle of robes and offering a hand. “Take from me. Call Sal. That'll put your mind at ease—and his too, I'm sure. He's probably wondering where you've got to.”
Shilly accepted gratefully. Placing her walking stick in her lap, its heavy solidity a familiar comforting presence on her legs, she gripped the warden's fleshy fingers.
“Sal?”
“Right here,” came the instant reply. “Where are you?”
She explained. He took it well.
“Don't rush. Nothing's bothering us out here.”
“Us?”
“I have company.”
Shilly glanced at Banner, who was necessarily a witness to the conversation, since it was taking place courtesy of her talent. The warden nodded and put a finger to her lips.
“Our friend the Homunculus?” Shilly said.
“None other. I presume you told Marmion we found no trace of the twins.”
She had, and was glad she had been able to do so with complete truthfulness, as far as she had known at the time. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine. We're talking. We've got until tomorrow before the twins will move on.”
“What will you do then?”
“I don't intend to be here that long, so it might not be a problem.”
She could feel Banner's reserves easing. “Sleep tight,” she said. “I hope it doesn't get too cold out there.”
“We have a fire going.” He hesitated momentarily. “Is Kail all right?”
“He'll be fine,” she said with a faint smile. Whatever his problem with the tracker was, at least he was trying to move past it.
They signed off and Banner let go. The warden stayed where she was, catching her breath. “I don't know how that Kelloman does it,” she said softly. “A few sentences wears me out. Imagine sending your whole mind into someone else's body for a year or two.”
Shilly nodded. She had seen it done before and it still amazed and unsettled her. It was disturbingly close to what had happened to Lodo, but using a human mind, not a golem.
“Thank you,” she said as the warden stood. “Get some rest. You'll need it for tomorrow, as likely as not.”
“You too.” Banner repeated the finger-to-lips gesture as she walked away. Shilly felt confident that the conversation with Sal wouldn't be reported to Marmion. That, if nothing else, reassured her.
Kail drifted in and out of sleep, registering lights and voices but not taking any of it in. His arrival at Milang had been a blur, and of the flight itself his mind retained nothing. Somehow he had been thoroughly washed and treated and dressed without him knowing. A deep part of him understood that sleep was the most important thing now, and he made sure he pursued it.
The first moment of true clarity came in the dead of night. He rose to full consciousness almost without realising it. Waking with no jolt, no disorientation, no sudden fears, he simply opened his eyes.
Faint, warm light filtered through the room's bamboo shutters, painting crooked shapes across the wooden walls and ceiling. He stared at them dumbly, feeling that if he were to assemble them just the right way, they would form words in another language. From outside came the soft, rhythmic plod of a sentry making his or her rounds. That, at first, was the only sign that anyone else apart from him was awake.
Then a shadow moved in the room, and Eisak Marmion leaned into the light.
“I didn't want to wake you.”
“I don't think you did.” Kail tried to sit, but the pain in his chest flared from a dull throb to a sharp stab. He fell back with a wince. Sweat sprang up on his forehead.
Marmion moved closer and handed him a ceramic bottle of water. “Drink this. Your fever's broken, but you're bound to be dehydrated. Don't want you dying of thirst now we've got you back.”
Kail's moisture-starved lips cracked into a smile. “I'm not sure where I am, yet.” He drank slowly, in small sips. His right arm was still stiff from its twisting, under the landslip.
“You're in Milang,” Marmion started to say. “Jao and Shilly brought you here after—”
“I guessed that much. What I meant was…” He struggled for the right words, knowing that Marmion would take them badly no matter how he phrased them. “I don't know to whom I owe allegiance now. The Alcaide, you, the twins—?”
“The Homunculus?” Marmion reared back as though physically struck. “You can't be serious.”
“They saved my life at least twice. I owe them something for that.”
“Don't you think you've helped them quite enough?”
“I'm not sure I have. That's what I have to work out.” Weariness gripped him. Life had been refreshingly simple on the road with the twins. Dangerous and full of misunderstandings without a doubt, but at least their goals had been well defined. They had rarely argued, as Marmion was surely about to, that Kail had a duty to his order and the world he had sworn to protect, to the man whose commands he was supposed to obey, and to the distant authority in the Haunted City who seemed increasingly irrelevant with every passing day.
Marmion surprised him. Anger drained from the balding warden's round face like flour from a leaky sack. “I thought you'd say something like that,” he said in resigned tones. “To be honest, I feel it too.”
“You do?” Kail stared in frank amazement at his counterpart. “You could down me with a pat if I wasn't already flat on my back.”
“Don't be so shocked. I'm not an idiot, and I don't have a death wish.” He raised the bandaged stump of his right hand. “First me, then Eitzen, then you. We're not faring so well.”
“What happened to Eitzen?”
Marmion's gaze dropped. “He was killed by a golem two nights ago.”
The news was shocking, but not half as much as the place to which it led Kail's thoughts. “A golem in the body of a scarred man from the Aad?”
“So Skender says.”
“Upuaut.” It had to be. No wonder he and the twins hadn't been bothered by the creature since Kail's abortive attempt to capture it. Upuaut had been busy elsewhere.
Marmion looked askance at the unfamiliar name. “I think you'd better tell me everything.”
“And you.”
It took longer than an hour. Kail heard the sentry walk by five times before they finished, and even then there was still much to discuss. His mind proceeded at a furious pace, despite his deep fatigue. Disconnected facts fell into place with disconcerting smoothness.
“To catch us in the middle, perhaps. Or to hold us up.”
“But where are we going? Our stated aim isn't anything to do with Yod. And anyway, the twins say that Yod, the Swarm, and Upuaut aren't really on the same side.”
“Not before. Maybe they are now.”
“If the world ends, they all go with it.”
Marmion nodded, sending the few strands of hair he had left askew. He went to brush them aside with his missing hand, then caught himself with a grimace. “I don't know where we're going any more.”
“We make a fine pair, then,” Kail said without humour. “Have you heard from Highson or Rosevear yet?”
“No.” Marmion looked grim. “If they don't call in soon, I'll start to worry.”
“Will you let me know?”
“Why?”
Kail ignored a sudden flash of suspicion in the warden's eyes. “I want to be there when everyone meets. Not just because you need the numbers—” Kail wasn't going to mention Eitzen's death; it was clear Marmion felt strongly about it “—but because I'm the only one who can come close to speaking for the twins. That's the central issue here. Not the forest and who fights whom over it. We need to remember what the seers have been telling the Alcaide all this time. Whatever it is they can't see in the future, the Homunculus is critical to it. We have to protect the twins, or at least keep an eye on them.”
“If it's still alive,” said Marmion, “after the avalanche.”
“Oh, I don't doubt it's still out there,” Kail responded. “If a wall of water twenty metres high can't kill it, what's a pissy little landslide that couldn't even finish me off?”
Marmion managed a small smile. “Quite.”
“So that's a yes?”
“It's a ‘let's see whether you can stand in the morning, then we'll discuss it.’” On that, Marmion himself stood. “We both need to rest. I suggest we try to get some.”
The Hanging Mountains Page 36