The Watchers in Exile

by Barbara V. Evers

  Jerold dropped down on the cot in his cell and rubbed his forehead while staring at the soot smudges on the ceiling. How to leave? His mother expected him to get out of Belwyn. She wanted safety for him, but he wanted to save her, too. There had to be something he could do.

  He sat back up, his hands on his knees, and looked through the barred door at the morning sunlight streaming across the grounds. Where had Maligon gone? Three days had passed since the traitor had yanked him from the cell to follow him as he strutted back and forth in front of the people. That night, Jerold heard the shouts of men and the sounds of many horses, soldiers, and wagons departing. Did Teletia still stand? Elwar? Moniah? Where was the fool man?

  The guard who stood outside his door, today, was a new one. Maybe he could persuade him to answer a few questions. Jerold rose from the cot and wandered over to the door and leaned against the frame. He nodded at the guard, who glanced at him. “Hello.”

  The guard grunted.

  “What happened to Moret?” The previous soldier hadn’t shared his name, but Jerold had overheard the soldiers joke and call him that.

  No response.

  “Moret? You don’t know him? He was my guard until today.”

  The man shrugged.

  Jerold shifted to the other side of the door so he could see the soldier better. “Surely you know where he is. I wanted to ask about his son. The one with the bad leg.”

  All false, but Jerold hoped this man didn’t know Moret.

  The guard turned. “A bad leg? I wouldn’t know.”

  “Could you ask him for me? We talked about it all night a few days ago. He truly worried about his son’s ability to work when he comes of age.”

  “Afraid I can’t do that.” The soldier turned away.

  Slumping against the doorway in feigned disappointment, Jerold said, “That’s too bad. After sitting in here so long, I recalled a remedy that might help him.”

  The guard turned and came closer to the bars, looking in at Jerold. “Look, I can’t say where he is. The army left three days ago. If he’s still alive, maybe you’ll see him again.”

  “Still alive? So, they went into battle?” Jerold’s heart pounded at the news. “Where?”

  The guard backed away from the door and repositioned himself as sentry. He said no more.

  The morning trickled by, slow and monotonous. Jerold lay back down on his cot and drifted to sleep in the warmth of the tight space.

  He woke to the jangle of keys. “You have a visitor.”

  The door opened, and a Teacher of the Faith peered in at him, his green robes brushing the ground. The man, his face hidden under a hood, turned and thanked the jailer. “I’ll see if I can bring him to see the truth of things. Maligon wants him as a willing figure of the faith.”

  The guard rubbed a hand over his chin, his beady eyes looking over Jerold. “I don’t know why. He’s just a soldier.”

  “Yes,” the teacher’s deep voice rumbled, “but he’s not just any soldier. This man was the Empress’ favored knight. His presence with the army will quell many doubters.”

  The guard took a step into the cell and peered at Jerold. In a heartbeat, the teacher grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his face into the wall. The soldier’s body slumped to the ground.

  “Hurry, we haven’t much time.” The teacher dragged the guard’s body fully into the cell and struggled to yank the shirt off the man.

  Jerold stared, unable to process the events.

  “Put this on.” The teacher thrust the shirt at him.

  Sitting back on his heels, the teacher slid his hood back. He had a bushy, brown beard and friendly, dark eyes. “Would you prefer to remain here?” He shoved the shirt at Jerold again. “Or will you help me get this man into your clothes? We have scarce time to make the switch and get you out of here.”

  Jerold jumped into action, yanking his shirt off and dragging on the soldier’s sweat-soaked one. He hopped on one foot and pulled one pants legs off, then switched and pulled off the other. The teacher, meanwhile, yanked the pants off the guard. “Here.”

  Within moments, the two had stuffed the guard into Jerold’s clothes and laid him out on the cot.

  “How did you find me?” Jerold asked.

  The bearded man turned to him and met his gaze. “Father Tonch sent me a message, requesting me to try. We can discuss more later. We must go.”

  He hurried out the door, Jerold quick on his heels, thankful for word from the Keeper of the Faith. Could they actually escape?

  They turned away and peered in at the soldier as three men walked toward them.

  “That should keep the idiot quiet,” Jerold said, taking the keys from the teacher and locking the door. He held his breath, waiting for the men to pass by.

  “It’s a shame I couldn’t persuade him differently,” the teacher said. “Thank you for getting me safely out of there.”

  One of the men stopped and glanced into the cell. “Is everything alright?”

  Jerold hesitated while the teacher turned a magnificent smile toward the soldier. “Of course. I tried, per orders, to convince this young man to join our fight, but he tried to attack me.” He slapped a hand on Jerold’s shoulder. “This fine soldier took care of him.”

  The man peered into the cell again. “Can’t see why we haven’t put his head on a spike, too.”

  A slight kick from under the teacher’s robes hit Jerold’s ankle. He spun toward the soldier, thinking fast. “Maybe you should report this to the commander. Give this traitor what’s coming to him.”

  “A good idea.” The man nodded. “Carry on.” The trio turned and continued on their way.

  Once they turned the corner, the teacher grabbed the keys from Jerold. “Quick thinking, but the keys shall go with us. Let’s give this man a chance at life.”

  They rushed down the side of the barracks through crowds of soldiers. Jerold struggled to keep up with the man in the green robe. The only reasons he didn’t stop to study the layout of Maligon’s encampment were the man’s hurried pace and his desperate desire to escape.

  When they reached the edge of the tents, a wagon waited with a younger man in teacher green sitting on the seat, reins in hand.

  They climbed into the bed of the wagon, and the younger man slapped the reins. The horse started off at a steady clip-clop.

  Jerold ran his hand through his hair and looked back toward the camp. Maybe fifty tents separated him from the walls of the castle and his mother’s prison. Maligon had left a bare minimum as guard. That information could prove useful.

  He turned back to the teacher. “And whom should I thank?”

  The bearded man bobbed his head. “Brother Honest. But don’t thank me yet. We have much territory to cover before nightfall. Then we switch to horses. You have a long day and night ahead of you, I’m afraid.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 10

  Night creatures scurried in the low-lying shrubs and grasses of the plains as Elayne followed Joannu toward the village. Even though it would take most of the night to get there, the Watcher chose to stay off the roads, a wise decision in Elayne’s opinion. For the most part, they trotted through knee-high grass. Traveling in the Watcher’s uniform loaned to her by the queen made the journey much easier. Elayne chuckled at the idea of any of her fellow tavern maids seeing her like this, or her family, or the real lady of Glenhaven.

  Joannu paused and glanced back at Elayne, her eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Was that a laugh?”

  Had she broken some rule of scouting? Elayne shook her head. “I’m sorry Joannu. I’m used to my own thoughts. I forgot we needed to be quiet.”

  Turning to face her, Joannu grinned. “Here? We’re fine. When we get closer, I’ll warn you. Until then, we can talk.” She relaxed her stance. “So, do I get to share in your humor or am I to be left in the dark?” Joannu swung her arms out to her sides, including the surrounding night in her meaning. Her teeth flashed white in the faint glow of
the moon.

  “You want to know what I was thinking?” The idea shocked Elayne. No one cared what a tavern maid thought. In fact, no one cared what a lady’s maid or lady’s companion thought, either. Of course, Joannu didn’t know she was all those things. She saw a lady of breeding before her. Nothing more.

  Joannu nodded. “It’s a long night. We have no reason to travel in silence. I want to know more about you. The first Listener I’ve ever met. You’re amazing.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” How much did Joannu expect to learn? She hadn’t even known she was a Listener until a few hours ago.

  “But you are the first one I’ve met. I’d guess most people would say the same thing.”

  “I still don’t know what it all means or how to act.”

  “Is that what made you laugh?” Joannu tilted her head in thought. “I remember my mother laughing at the notion that I might be trained as a Watcher.”

  Elayne felt a short pang of empathy for Joannu before she realized the Watcher’s voice held no enmity toward her mother’s laughter. “No. I was enjoying wearing the uniform rather than dresses, and it struck me how others might react if they saw me.”

  Joannu nodded and gestured for them to resume walking. She slowed her pace until Elayne drew abreast of her. “I remember my first uniform. It felt so foreign. I felt a bit exposed, to be honest. If you put me in a dress, now, I might expose more of me than you want just to be rid of it.”

  Elayne giggled. “You wouldn’t strip in front of others, would you? I’d love to see the queen and Montee react to that.”

  “Probably not. But I’d be tempted. It’s best I don’t test my impulses on this point. Don’t you think?”

  “Agreed.”

  They walked along in silence for a few moments, but the Watcher’s suggestion stuck in Elayne’s mind. She imagined herself in the middle of her first employer’s grand estate, refusing to wear the plain skirt and blouse delegated to her. She imagined how the puffed-up matriarch of the manor would pause and stare at her as she ripped off the clothes and flung them in the lady’s face. The skin around her mistress’ eyes would tighten and then her face would turn purple, just as it had done the day she accused Elayne of seducing her husband, the honorable Lord of Glenhaven. A shiver ran down Elayne’s spine at the memory.

  Joannu peered at her sideways. “Are you cold?”

  “No, just a memory turned upside down by your suggestion.”

  A cluster of large rocks rested at the foot of a tree to their left, and the Watcher crossed to them and sat down. She patted the boulder next to her. “We can rest for a moment.”

  “I’m fine. Really. We don’t need to stop.”

  “I know that, but I think we should. You’ve been through a lot lately.”

  Another chill ran down Elayne’s back at the woman’s words. She tried to ignore the haphazard turns of her life. That ability had made the last few years easier to bear, but no one ever noticed her troubles. She shrugged. “A lot has happened to all of us, Joannu.”

  Watchers were known for reading a person’s actions and knowing more about them than others could see. Had Joannu discovered her secret? She didn’t want Joannu to see her as an imposter or weak. Not after the kindness the Watcher had shown her so far.

  “That’s true.” Joannu leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “But I’m trained to adapt to changes, as are the other Watchers and the queen. You have been thrust into our midst. From what you’ve told us, you aren’t accustomed to these upheavals. Except for caring for your grandmother, your life has been protected.”

  Elayne held her breath, waiting to see if Joannu would say more. When the Watcher remained silent, she relaxed and sat down next to her on the rocks. “I guess my life has changed a lot in the last few weeks.”

  The coarse surface of the rock would ruin the fabric of a dress. Even though she squirmed a bit to find a comfortable position, she found the uniform leathers stood up to the rough stone texture. She couldn’t hide a grin over that discovery.

  “Were you close to your grandmother? You must miss her after so many years of caring for her.”

  Her grandmother might be a safe topic; she just needed to imagine the events had occurred recently to fit the story Sarx had concocted about her. “I know it was just weeks ago, but it feels longer, and then, suddenly, something happens, like the attack on our camp, and it feels like it was yesterday.”

  She did miss her grandmother, but she hadn’t spent the last few years caring for her as Sarx had told everyone. She had died many years ago. Still, Elayne remembered how her grandmother had always noticed her as a young girl. Most people had seen a slew of brothers and never noticed the young girl in their midst. Only her grandmother had. She wiped at a tear that slipped from her eye. She didn’t cry. How could this soldier’s simple questions elicit such emotion?

  “You haven’t had time to grieve for her, have you?” Joannu rested her hand over Elayne’s but turned away, looking out over the plains stretching toward the dark horizon.

  This was the Watcher’s traditional way of providing privacy, choosing to not look at the person. Elayne had learned that in her short time among them. Joannu wouldn’t try to read the signs her body gave away at this time. Touched by the simple act of kindness and the gentle, warm pressure of Joannu’s hand over hers, Elayne stared across the plains and allowed a few tears to escape down her cheeks. The night swallowed her ability to see the point where ground met sky, and she wondered if Joannu’s gifted sight allowed her a clearer view.

  After a moment, Joannu withdrew her hand and stood up. “We should move on. But if you ever want a moment to talk or sit beside someone, I’ll be here for you. I remember what it’s like to be thrust into a vastly different world. Believe it or not, I was a companion for a noble’s child before I came to the Watchers. I lived a life like a lady’s, but I never had the right to claim the nobility that went with the way I lived.”

  Stunned at this simple revelation and the closeness to her own story, Elayne followed Joannu into the fields.

  They reached the outskirts of the village a few hours before dawn. The first signs of habitation were the farmers’ fields. Harvest should be soon, but the ground lay fallow and dry. As they crossed the ground-up turf, Elayne heard the wheels of a cart and the plodding clip-clop of a horse coming from the east. She tapped Joannu’s shoulder, and when the Watcher turned toward her, she pointed to her ears and nodded in the direction of the sounds.

  “You hear something?” Joannu turned and scanned the distance, then turned back toward Elayne with a frown. “I can’t see anything.”

  “It’s beyond those buildings. A cart with one horse. Wait.” She listened longer. The timber of three voices came to her on the night air. One sounded rushed and worried, another tired, and the last carried a hint of relief in his few words. Two men and the worried voice of a woman.

  “Someone has arrived. The person who met them doesn’t sound happy about it, but the other two are glad to make it to the village.”

  Joannu grinned in delight. “You could hear that much?” She turned and studied the distance for a few moments. “I still don’t hear a thing and can’t see anything. Do you think you can get us closer without being seen?”

  Elayne hesitated. “The queen said not to enter the village.”

  “Just get us a little closer.”

  Elayne crept forward, letting her ears guide her. As they drew near to the buildings, she could distinguish the voices a little better. A few words reached her. The woman’s voice had risen a bit in anger, maybe, as she objected to something. The word “here” sounded clear in the night, but nothing else. The tired man’s voice never got louder, but Elayne did hear him say “long night” and “safe.” She had given up on the third person speaking again, but as the woman’s voice began to soften, he said, “Thank you for your hospitality.” The voice rang clear on the night air, the tone proper, cultured, and too close to where she and Joannu stood.
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br />   She motioned Joannu away. When they reached a safe distance, Elayne said, “I think a traveler has arrived, but the innkeeper isn’t happy about it. He’s staying though. I don’t think we’ll find out anything else unless we go into the village.”

  Joannu nodded. “Let’s scout along the edge of town. Keep listening.”

  * * *

  The next evening, Adana and her Watchers sat around the fire in the coolness of the day’s end, enjoying freshly caught fish. Elayne sat by the stream, mending a hole in the skirt she’d worn on the night their camp was attacked.

  “The village is called Roshar, Your Majesty,” Joannu said. “It’s small and on the Monian side of the border. These are your subjects.”

  Adana nodded, turning the phrase, “your subjects,” over in her head. It never meant much before, but, with the threat of Maligon lurking around the next bend in the road, she felt fiercely protective of them. “How large is the village?”

  “Maybe ten farms, a tiny inn. There’s not much, but there is a small gathering of the Teachers of the Faith on a hill beyond the village.”

  Adana nodded, but her heart thudded at the mention of the Teachers. Since her mother’s death, she had found little comfort from them except when dealing with Father Tonch and Mother Sariah. Those relationships were based on a lifetime of guidance and friendship.

  Guilt flooded her heart as she realized she had not thought about the safety of the Protector or the Keeper of the Faith. Tonch left Elwar the night before she did. He had gone to prepare for her coronation. Sariah remained in Elwar. Adana shied away from considering their possible fates. Instead, she allowed a spark of hope to fill her; maybe she would find Father Tonch in Roshar.

  “And you didn’t enter the village?”

  Joannu shook her head. “Elayne was able to get us a bit closer, but she feared we’d be discovered if we went any farther into the town.”

  “Did you see anything of concern?”

  The Watcher squinted into the distance. “I saw nothing to suggest a problem, but Elayne overheard voices. Travelers, she said.”