The Fall of the Dagger (The Forsaken Lands)

by Glenda Larke

  Sorrel watched him go and then looked back at Arbiter Willow.

  “What did he say?” Willow asked sharply.

  “‘It’s all right’,” she replied.

  “Before that!”

  “I think he swore under his breath,” she lied. “He’s rather annoyed to find that after all he has suffered for Va-faith he should be treated as if he were a threat.” In fact, Saker had spoken in Pashali, telling her to keep her eyes open. He’d wanted her to take a look around. Striving to sound pleasant, she said, “We are here to help. Including Ardhi. Sorcery is a problem that will hurt both hemispheres if it is allowed to spread.”

  When Willow said nothing, she added, “Would you excuse me, Arbiter? It is more than two years since I had a chance to pray at a shrine. I need to seek peace with my faith, and the Way of the Oak.”

  The woman’s face softened. “Of course, my dear. I understand. And – separating people from their shrines was not something we did callously or without thought. It was the Pontifect’s order, designed to save them.”

  “Fritillary Reedling’s order?” That was hard to believe.

  “Yes. I shall leave you to your devotions.” She turned and walked away, heading for the exit.

  Sorrel spent a moment or two in quiet contemplation of the Way of the Oak, seeking peace from the presence of the tree and its solid strength, but mostly she was surreptitiously studying her surroundings. Saker and Vervain Wintergreen had disappeared into the area on the other side of the massive trunk, where a number of the boughs had drooped sufficiently to provide room-like structures giving privacy. Arbiter Willow, she suspected, was waiting outside the main entrance to make sure she didn’t leave unseen. There were several other worshippers quietly focused on their own devotions, none paying her any attention. A cat walked by, and rubbed up against her legs before disappearing into the web of roots. There was something odd about that, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

  For the first time in her life since she had received a witchery, it was of absolutely no use to her. Most of these folk had witcheries, which meant they could see through any glamour she chose to make. It was a long time since she’d felt so vulnerable. Chiding herself for being such a goose, she moved away from the main entrance and considered how best to leave the shrine without drawing attention. She found a place where she could scrutinise what was happening outside and for a few minutes she did nothing except observe, unseen behind the drooping branches. People were busy. Every so often there was a flare of witchery, although she couldn’t see what was done with it. A dog barked in the distance, a horse neighed, chickens scratched in the dirt.

  No one was nearby, so she scrambled under the skirt of branches and stood up. It didn’t take her long to realise that there was no way she would ever be anonymous. There were too few people and any stranger stood out like a beacon on a barren hill. People stopped what they were doing to look at her, and others turned to see.

  The back of her neck prickled in alarm. She had the oddest feeling that she was looking at a scene skewed sideways. The settlement was odd, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why, not yet. She would think about it later. Right then, several of the women were approaching her, all in possession of a witchery.

  “Mistress,” one of them said, “have you come from Hornbeam?” The question wasn’t a hostile one; the woman appeared anxious for an answer, not confrontational. Absurdly, she was holding a cage in her hand with what appeared to be rats inside.

  “Yes, I have.”

  “What news from the port?” one of the others asked.

  Immediately there was a babble from all those gathered around her, a flurry of questions. She was appalled when she realised the implication: all of them had been cut off from their loved ones for months.

  “I was only there for a day,” she said, trying to halt the spate of anxious questioning. “So I don’t know very much. I did hear that the Grey Lancers lost their leader, and after that they left Hornbeam. So everything is peaceful there at the moment.”

  “Do you know anything of Baker’s Row?”

  “What about the people on North Bank?”

  “Are ships coming into port still?”

  “Do you know Tomtit Crake?” “Jay Birch?” “Cob Reed?”

  In the end, she put her hands over the ears. “Honestly, I don’t know anyone in Hornbeam.”

  The man named Burr hurried up then, flapping his hands, saying, “You’re not to talk to her! She’s not to be trusted!”

  “I think it’s the other way around,” Sorrel said. “You are the ones not to be trusted. We came here for information, wanting to help. We have all suffered because of sorcery. And then you take one of us away, depriving him of his freedom. Is that fair? Where is my friend? What did you do with him? Why are you so afraid of someone you’ve only just met?”

  “Guildsman Burr was just following orders,” a man muttered.

  “No one will hurt him,” said a voice behind her. It was Arbiter Willow again. “We just have to be careful, because he isn’t one of us. We are Va-cherished and he is not.”

  “And so we condemn half the world because of where they live? How stupid is that? And you’ve never even been there! Where is Ardhi? I want to talk to him.”

  Willow shrugged. “You can see him if you want. Take her there, Burr.”

  Burr conducted her through the staring crowd to the only hut with a door barred on the outside. Sorrel lifted the bar and entered the single room, allowing the door to swing closed behind her. There was enough light filtering through ill-made walls for her to see that half of the interior was stacked with bags and barrels. Ardhi was sitting cross-legged on a burlap sack, looking at ease. She listened for the sound of the bar being replaced, but all was silent.

  “This must be the food supplies they brought with them,” he remarked in Chenderawasi. “When you consider how many people they have here, it’s no wonder they are worried.”

  “They don’t have that much land to use, either,” she said, replying in the same tongue. “This place is like an island. Va knows what happens if anyone dares to cross over the perimeter into that mist.” She swallowed, remembering her glimpse of Heather. “Anyway, let’s get you out of here. At least they haven’t tied you up.”

  “Are they going to let me just walk out?”

  “Probably not. I suspect we’re going to have an argument. Just remember that the shrine itself is sacred; no one can be hurt there. If they threaten us, we run for the oak.”

  “Is disobeying the shrine keeper and an arbiter some sort of—” He frowned, trying to think of the right word.

  “Sacrilege?” she suggested in her own tongue. “After all the horrible things they said about you, I don’t care. In fact, I’ll climb the fobbing sacred oak if necessary.”

  His lips twitched. “You wouldn’t.”

  “Oh, yes, I blithering would!”

  He grinned at her. “I love you, you know,” he said, reverting back to the language of Chenderawasi. “I love you as much as the waves adore the caress of the wind. I desire you as much as the ripples desire to embrace the sand.”

  Her breath caught. Shocked at the suddenness of his declaration, moved by the beauty of the island imagery of the words, she felt she’d never breathe again.

  When she didn’t reply, he gave a rueful smile. “We islanders tend to wax poetic when we love. That doesn’t make it untrue, though.” He stood and crossed to her side to place his hands on her shoulders, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. Gently he moved his fingers along the curve of her shoulder until his thumbs brushed the sides of her neck under the loosed tumble of her hair. He said, “I don’t want you to do anything for me that will place you in harm’s way. Not now, not ever.”

  His gentle sincerity brought moisture to her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but he placed a finger on her lips, halting the words. “I couldn’t bear to see you hurt, ever. But if I see you safe and happy, then the sun ris
es on another day – and I know I can bear the weight of the world.”

  “Ardhi—”

  “No, no, don’t say anything. I just wanted you to know how I felt. In case, in case – well, just in case it ever mattered. I know you, Sorrel. Now is not the time for you to think about this. For now, we are a ternion and we three have a job to do, and Piper to save. And her brother. That’s what matters.”

  She paused to consider his words, and to remember the purpose of the ternion. “You’re right. That’s all that matters at the moment. But…” She felt her face colour up and was glad of the dimness as she strove to steady her breathing. “Thank you for saying it. To be loved – that means a lot to someone who’s not had much love in her life.”

  Not waiting for an answer, she opened the door and walked out into the sunshine, but then was unable to resist looking back at him over her shoulder, smiling.

  Reality returned with a thump, though, when she saw Willow’s face darken as Ardhi emerged, blinking in the light. “You foolish girl—”

  “I am not a girl,” Sorrel said, the sound of her voice harsh. “I have been to places and seen things that you could scarcely guess at. I have been tasked with something that is beyond anything you could understand. Don’t ever patronise me, Arbiter.”

  She didn’t say any more because Saker was there, striding across towards them, scattering the foraging chickens. His glower indicated that whatever he’d learned had not cheered him. “Let’s go. Feathers and dagger as before.” He held out his hands to take theirs. “Let’s commit treason, shall we? We are going to rescue a prince.” His smile was grim.

  “I never thought I would be so glad to leave a shrine,” Sorrel said, and took his hand even as she reached out to grip Ardhi’s. “This place is… all wrong.”

  Sorrel had worried that they’d have trouble returning to the present using the same piece of plume, but, intensely focused, and with the help of his eagle, Saker managed the return trip with ease. When she looked at the feather afterwards, it was dead in her hand. Ardhi shook his head, and she held up her palm so that the now colourless dried-up wisp was whisked away in the wind.

  She could feel the undercurrent of anger and distress within Saker. He’d done what most people thought was impossible: he’d seen and spoken to an unseen guardian. His Shenat roots went deep, so to see the population cut off from the shrines of the Ways must have been especially horrible for him.

  When they reached the ship, Lord Juster was not on board so the three of them descended to the empty wardroom. Saker unbuckled his sword and flung it on to the table as he seated himself on the bench.

  “I’ve been thinking all the way back,” he said. “I believe they told us more than they intended.” He looked across the table at Sorrel. “Vervain and Arbiter Willow both knew I’d been nulled. Nothing odd in that. But Vervain wasn’t surprised that I had a witchery. Why not? Nulled people aren’t usually granted witcheries!”

  “He already knew?” Sorrel asked. “Fritillary could have told Arbiter Willow, or Vervain.”

  “I can’t imagine her doing that. I was her spy, for Va’s sake. The less known about a spy, the better. Most of the time after I was nulled, I was wandering around in Lowmeer, under another name. And there’s something else. Vervain knew about you and what your witchery was. How?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know. Hardly anyone knew in Ardrone. Only Mathilda, and later Prince Ryce… I don’t think I ever used it when Valerian Fox was present. I thought he might see through a glamour, being a Prime, so I was careful. Just now I wondered if Marsh Bedstraw – the Melforn shrine keeper – might have told Vervain. She knew because she saw the witchery bestowed on me.”

  “Unlikely Marsh Bedstraw would have met Vervain. Shrine keepers rarely leave the vicinity of their oaks.”

  “Then how?” she asked.

  “I think it was Vervain’s unseen guardian, his oakmarrow, speaking to Melforn’s oakmarrow.”

  “The unseen guardians talk to one another?” Ardhi asked.

  “Well, communicate, anyway. I think that’s the way they will send my message to Fritillary, one oakmarrow to another until it reaches an unseen guardian who knows where she is and can pass it on.”

  “Communicate how?” Sorrel asked.

  “In the past, I heard folk tales about roots spreading through the earth, from one shrine-oak to the next, and over in Lowmeer there are tales about how water connects one shrine to another, through rivers and lakes and the sea. Knowledge is thus passed from one unseen guardian to another.”

  “That’s a lovely idea,” Sorrel said. “Somehow… comforting.”

  “An unseen guardian, the oakmarrow of Chervil Moors, appeared to me and spoke. It’d be nice to think that it was because I was special, but it’s more likely it was because I’d been in contact with the magic of the other side of the world – that is, with Ardhi’s kris. The kris was right there, with Sergeant Horntail who was escorting me. I had a sorcerer’s warning mark on my palm as well. Perhaps the unseen guardian knew that Shenat power was not strong enough on its own, and recognised that in Chenderawasi sakti there was something that might help.”

  “Communication between unseen guardians would explain how all the shrines disappeared at the same time,” Sorrel said. “But it doesn’t really tell us why the Pontifect ordered them hidden in the first place. I mean, there’s no point, unless there’s a plan. They may be safe now, but who would want to stay locked away from the world? We were given witcheries in order to help others, not to keep them to ourselves.”

  “People still have other connections to Va-faith. They have chapels to turn to,” Saker pointed out, “and the chapel clerics who run them. Many of them are not enamoured of Valerian Fox. Or they weren’t when we left.”

  “Who are you trying to convince?” she asked. “What is our faith without Shenat shrines?”

  He sighed. “I know, I know. In fact, I can tell you exactly what our faith is without them. A faith without its heart. Worse, a faith without any power that can stand up to sorcery, which is why Fox has been working towards that outcome from the beginning. When Fritillary Reedling made the decision to lock all the shrines away, she gave Fox exactly what he wanted.”

  “Then why did she do it?” Sorrel asked.

  “She must have had a very good reason, and a plan. I just don’t know what it is. Arbiter Willow told us that Fritillary is not at a shrine, which makes sense. She’s out in the world somewhere. That way she can have her spies tell her what Fox and his lancers are doing. But she must have a way of keeping in touch somehow with the shrines. I suspect somewhere where there is a shrine which hasn’t disappeared. A place where she can live, and the shrine keeper can pass on news through the unseen guardians to all the shrines, and news can come back the other way, to her. How else would they be able to send her a message?”

  “Where do you think it is?”

  “Ustgrind. It’s a Way of the Flow shrine. How better to connect than through water? And it would be under the protection of Regala Mathilda.”

  Ardhi, who had been listening in silence, his chin resting on the hand propped up by his elbow on the table, suddenly sat up straight. “The message you sent – how will she reply?”

  “I told her to tell the shrine keeper at the main Twite shrine to attach an answer to the leg of any eagle that landed in their sacred oak. Twite is not far from Gromwell Holdfast.”

  Ardhi grinned. “Good thinking.”

  “But that doesn’t tell us what her larger plan is.” Saker looked across the table at Sorrel. “You said what we saw at the Hornbeam shrine was all wrong. Why?”

  “I’m not exactly sure, but I’m a farmer’s daughter, and if I was trying to sustain a village of that size on land of that area, well, it wouldn’t look like that.”

  “Go on.”

  “They had supplies to start with. Mostly grain and flour and firewood. To supplement that, they took farm animals and started a vegetable garden.”

&n
bsp; “Which all sounds very sensible to me.”

  “Yes. But if it was me, I’d also try to reduce things which would be a drain on resources. Dogs and cats, for example. They eat a lot. True, they protect and they hunt, but when you’re confined to a tiny area like that, what would they be hunting? And there’s no need for protection – yet you have to feed them. I counted at least four cats and five dogs. Why have so many? Then there were two horses. Why? Nobody’s going anywhere. I suppose one might be handy to pull a plough, but when I looked at the meadow – what was left of it – it had been overgrazed. There were three cows and some goats and pigs… Much of what must have been lush is now eaten bare. Shenat teaching says we must protect the land, not treat it like that! It all looked so… wrong.”

  “You’re right,” Saker agreed, frowning. “Bad management.”

  “What were the people doing?” Ardhi asked.

  “Who?”

  “The people there,” Ardhi said. “Some of those folk were doing what you’d expect – cooking, gardening, drawing water. But some were standing around in groups, looking at – well, that’s it. I don’t know. A couple of men were just staring at a barrel. Just staring at it!”

  “I saw someone carrying a cage of rats,” she added.

  “Ah.” Saker thought about that. “At a guess, they were using their witcheries.”

  “They had a strong witchery glow,” she agreed. “I know there are vermin-catching witcheries, but carrying rats in a cage…?”

  The door to the wardroom opened then, and Lord Juster entered with Mate Finch Aspen, calling over his shoulder for someone to bring the brandy before he expired with thirst. “A day to try the most patient of men,” he complained. “I have been poking around in the most appalling places. I swear, I smell of gunpowder, wood shavings, linseed oil and –” he sniffed at his sleeve “– lard, I believe.” He shuddered and extracted a pomander of spices from inside his embroidered doublet to wave under his nose with an expression of relief. “There are times – in fact most times – when I am unutterably relieved to have been born a nobleman. The thought of life as an artisan in some appalling backstreet quite distresses me.”