Sarn blinked as he absorbed this new explanation and slotted it into his theory. Damn, but it fit, especially if their sycophants moonlighted in the drug trade. If they had supporters who carried their mission forward, then anyone could be in league with the Seekers. Even one of the Rangers—
Fear froze Sarn, sheathing him in a cold terror which stole the breath from his lungs. Staggering, he fetched up against a tree, and more pieces tumbled into place to form an even uglier whole. Had Gregori left him for the Seekers because the fool had been too much of a coward to kill him?
And what of his precious son? Dirk and his cronies had discovered Ran’s existence yesterday. Were they sympathizers? Sarn ransacked his memory, but he could not recall what any of those five men had worn. Of course, the Seekers' helpers likely circulated about incognito. All the better to find new prey to eradicate if no one guessed their allegiance.
And earlier today at the farm, had those footsteps heralded the arrival of Seekers? Was the blind man part of a sympathetic order? No, the man had worn sable instead of Seeker orange and the circles on his pendant had been whole not broken. But there had been something off about the whole incident. He'd sensed it before but only in passing as he'd run for his life.
Still, the man knew about his son. Ran—oh Fate—what if the Seekers had sycophants among the Indentured? Too many people in the Lower Quarters knew about him because he was an idiot show-off when the magic was on him. If the Seekers trafficked drugs, then every addict could be an informant. Under the mountain, users and pushers were so ubiquitous he no longer saw them. Nor did he make any effort to avoid them unless Ran accompanied him.
Shade’s garbled warning echoed in Sarn’s ears. Had his friend come the other night to warn him about his fellow addicts? Shade was part of the drug culture. Had the Seekers seduced his androgynous ex-friend into informing on him? The question he'd wondered earlier repeated, beating an awful tattoo in Sarn’s brain. How low would Shade go for his next fix? The answer scared him.
Sarn spun ready to flee back to the son he refused to lose. But Nolo appeared right in front of him as if summoned. Sarn had forgotten Nolo’s presence despite the clear marker on his map representing the man. His master grasped his upper arms and held on forcing Sarn to pay attention.
“Sarn, look at me. The Seekers won’t find you. The Rangers—we—I—” Nolo broke off and released Sarn. Perturbed by the topic, the Ranger stalked a few feet away leaving a stunned Sarn behind. Unsaid words filled the space between them, stretching the silence until it broke.
“I won’t let them.” Nolo turned to face Sarn, and his black eyes blazed with righteousness. “I won’t let them. Do you hear me?”
Too numb to speak, Sarn nodded. Nolo gestured for them to leave. Sarn followed as silence walled them in with their separate worries.
Chapter 29
Questions piled up weighing Sarn down as he trailed Nolo. Before he’d been too distracted to think much about the Seekers and now he couldn’t stop wondering about them. Why were they here? What was in their crate? Had Gregori left him for the Seekers?
Magic brushed hesitant fingers along his cheek. Sarn froze as her sparkling power wound around the trees towering over him. What was the Queen of All Trees doing?
Beneath her magic, something vile pulsed. Eam’meye erator, whispered the wind as a thirteen-pointed star enclosed in a bleeding circle appeared on the bark. The tree struggled harder to break her hold.
Sarn snatched his hand away and backed into Nolo.
“Why’d you stop?”
“We have to go now.” Sarn shoved Nolo to get him moving. Could she hold back the entire forest? “Run!” he shouted dragging Nolo along in his wake.
“What are we running from?”
“No time to explain just run.”
And Nolo did, though not fast enough. Sarn slowed his ground devouring pace, so he didn’t leave his master behind. Why give Jerlo more fodder for lectures?
The Queen of All Trees’ power started to fray. His magic shouted a warning, but Sarn was already diving for cover and pulling Nolo down next to him.
“What the hell is going on?” Nolo glared at him, but Sarn shook his head and concentrated on the map in his head.
Not all the trees were infected. Those that were grayed as they broke free. If he and Nolo ran fast on a path that zigzagged like so—
“Follow me, I see a way through.”
“A way through what—the dark forest? What do you see that I don’t?”
“Later. Break left now.” Sarn rolled right and hoped his master had gone left. Three feet away, a branch stabbed a boulder, cracking it.
“What the—”
Sarn dodged its mate, keeping his magic coiled tight inside him. Now was not the time for a brilliant display. “No time, this way.”
Catching Nolo’s sleeve as he passed, Sarn directed his boss down and around a giant rock spur. More branches slashed at them, but they stayed low and the uncoordinated branches tangled, missing them altogether.
Nolo crossed the gravel line dividing the circle of menhirs from the forest first. But Sarn didn’t follow. He held his ground and waited. There was one thing he needed to confirm. A branch swung at him and missed. It dragged a furrow in the dirt as it nudged Sarn toward the menhirs and their protective circle.
“You’re not trying to hurt me?”
Another branch shoved Sarn hard in the small of his back, proving his theory. He turned a fall into a forward roll then lay flat between the two circles of standing stones. The air felt heavier there, or maybe it was exhaustion weighing him down.
“What the hell was that all about?” Nolo rounded on Sarn, but he ignored his superior.
Suppressing waves of laughter, Sarn lay there staring up at the stars. He’d forgotten the forest’s damned rules. It could scare and herd folks, but never harm them if they hadn’t harmed someone first. But what about the dead boy—what rule had he broken?
Movement on his minimized map snapped Sarn out of his reverie. He zeroed in on the white star representing his son. It burned in his cave. Ran was safe. Though at this hour, the boy should be fast asleep, not moving around. A nightmare must have woken him.
Sarn pictured a wide-eyed Ran huddled under a blanket, squeezing his stuffed bear and the image hurt his heart. He should be there reassuring his son not running around an enchanted forest. He was a terrible parent.
Papa? You come back now.
I can’t. Sarn covered his face with his hands.
“Why did they attack us? What did you do in there?” Nolo shook his shoulder.
No respite for the weary, damn and he had no answers to give, double damn. Sarn elbowed himself up.
“Sarn, answer me. This isn’t a game. Pissing off the forest is a serious offense.”
“Relax, I didn’t break any of the three rules.”
Nolo gave him a disbelieving look. “Then why did they attack? They wouldn't do that without a compelling reason.”
“They didn’t attack us. They were herding us. I jumped to conclusions.” Sarn turned to avoid seeing Nolo’s reaction. What was the forest hiding? Maybe the black thing he’d glimpsed in that clearing was not a hallucination. Would the forest protect such a vile thing?
When the silence dragged on too long, he glanced over his shoulder. Nolo stood frozen in shock and behind him, a shaft of white light cleaved through the darkness. She’d come at last to face him. Sarn rushed toward her until the Queen of All Trees held up a scarred branch, halting him within the bounds of the circle. Her bark was peeling in places, and her silver luster had tarnished. She looked like she’d survived a war.
“Who did this to you? How can I fix this?” Because he had to try. A soul-deep urge to right this wrong fired him up. Sarn stretched a hand out to touch her, but she withdrew. “Why won’t you answer me?”
Because I can’t. I am bound by rules, same as you, the Queen of All Trees said softly in his head
. Between one blink and the next, she was gone leaving a trail of flickering leaves behind her.
“What are you staring at now?” Nolo snapped his fingers in front of Sarn’s face.
Nothing he wanted to talk about, so Sarn shook his head.
“Fine, you can explain all this to Jerlo. He’s been expecting you. Let’s go.” Nolo glared at the forest, but it had stilled.
The Queen of All Trees was keeping it calm and quiet, but by the looks of her, she couldn’t hold them forever. Nor would she have to. Sarn glanced at the sky. It couldn’t be more than an hour or two until his shift ended unless Jerlo was really pissed at him.
Hold on until then. I’ll come back and do whatever it takes to fix this. Sarn vowed in the silence of his own heart then he jogged past Nolo heading for a place he didn’t want to go and a master who was always annoyed with him for something.
While Nolo talked, Sarn leaned against the wall next to a tapestry of two dragons eating each other’s tails. Two flanking dragons strained to connect, and the gap between their heads bothered Sarn so much he lost track of the conversation between his masters.
“Pay attention boy, this is serious,” Jerlo said from his bureaucratic throne.
“I already told you everything. I saw the Seekers. They didn’t see me. They left, and I came back here. There’s nothing more to say.” Sarn hid his clenched fists under his cloak. Neither of his masters cared about the strange doings of the forest. Maybe that was a good thing.
“I don’t like your attitude or your assumptions.” Jerlo gave Sarn the ‘would you stop being so difficult look.’
Sarn rolled his eyes. The Seekers had left and taken their danger with them. This conversation had no point or purpose but to avoid the fact they should be considering.
“They killed those people.” Sarn gripped his upper arms, pinching the skin to keep from punching the nearest wall.
“And they forfeited their lives to do it,” Jerlo reminded him.
“We don’t know it was the Seekers,” Nolo put in, and a long-suffering sigh escaped with his words.
"Then you're saying the killing was related to something else." Silence met Sarn’s statement confirming his supposition. “Two factions ripped into each other in an enchanted forest for a reason. And you wanted me to drop it so I’d stay away from the reason. "
"I don't like your tone." Jerlo bristled.
"And I don't like mysteries or unanswered questions. They drive me crazy." Sarn whirled and slammed his palms down on the commander's desk. Careful not to make eye contact, he glared at Jerlo. It was time to trot out the drug deal scenario and see if it held together.
"And your point is?" Jerlo raised a bushy brow challenging Sarn.
"Aliel—they call it angel's dust in the Lower Quarters. It's not grown around here, is it?"
"And how do you know that?" Jerlo leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his narrow chest. Your move, his eyes said.
"Because they smuggle it in. I know about the searches of incoming vessels. My friend works for the harbormaster."
"The young one—what's his name?"
"Will," Sarn supplied, nodding. "I've known him for years." And he’d listened to Will’s complaints about those searches. Who knew those rants would come in handy.
"It figures." But what exactly figured into what Jerlo left unsaid.
Sarn searched for words to make his point wishing his brother was here. Miren had a gift for gab. How much of his theory should he admit?
Nolo gripped Sarn’s shoulder and pried him away from Jerlo's desk. "What are you saying?"
"Hikers smuggle aliel close to the mountain. I think a drug deal went wrong in the forest but with a twist. The dealers were sympathetic to the Seeker's cause. So they turned and killed the boy because he had eyes like mine. I guess things deteriorated from there."
Nolo looked poleaxed, but Jerlo whistled.
"Interesting theory. Where's your proof?"
“It’s right there.” Sarn pointed to the item wrapped in Nolo's handkerchief.
“This is not proof.” Jerlo unwrapped the cabochon and laid it on his desk. “It’s a clue.”
"And it points right back to my theory."
"Who died and appointed you lead investigator?" Jerlo tossed Sarn a warning look. He'd overstepped his bounds.
"Well someone has to be, and none of you are." Sarn gifted both of his masters with a glare.
As the black oval settled on the desk, Sarn’s world contracted. Waves of blackness washed out of the foul stone. Sarn backpedaled as a voice intoned:
Eam’meye erator!
An eye peered through the cabochon and for one heart-stopping moment, all the circles carved into the stone connected. Then the eye winked out. Buzzing cut through the silence as a swarm of angry bees homed in on them, but Sarn was already moving.
“I have to connect the circles—I have to make them whole.”
Images caromed inside Sarn’s head. Roots inscribed circles in the earth. His mother traced circles in the wax. All those circles had connected forming chains within chains encompassed by a greater circle.
Everything connected except for the ghosts. Their connections had been severed by a violent death leaving their ends dangling. There never was a mystery. He’d been too dense to understand what had been staring him in the face all along. The warp and weft of life’s pattern had torn, and somehow, he could fix it.
A shutter crashed in the next room. The rhythmic droning grew louder as the door to Jerlo’s living quarters swung open revealing a man-shaped swarm of bees. It locked compound eyes on Sarn, and its lips shaped one word, “go.” Then insects swooped down on the cabochon. After seizing its prize, it reversed course heading for the open window in Jerlo’s study.
“What in the name of God was that?” Jerlo demanded.
“I don’t know.” And time didn’t allow Sarn to guess either. He rushed for the opposite door, the one leading to the transept.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Nolo dove but Sarn dodged a flying tackle. Pulling his hood down and holding it in place as he ran, Sarn took the most direct route out of the mountain. Echoes of Nolo’s shouts to stop trailed behind him, but he ignored them since they weren’t phrased as orders.
His sixth sense fired off a warning as man-shapes popped up on his map. The transept wasn’t deserted anymore. But when he shut his eyes, his damned map unfolded in three-dimensions, rendering as he ran. Sarn cursed the magic for complicating his escape. All he needed was a simple line drawing with enough symbols to keep him from crashing into anything. But no, his overactive magic had to get fancy.
Swerving around servants, breakfast carts, statues, and foliage, he headed toward a balcony—anyone would do. He just had to get outside.
Shouts caught the attention of the few people Sarn passed. One enterprising woman and three men, all retired Rangers of course, tried to block his path. At least their symbols did, but Sarn ran partway up a wall and somersaulted over them.
Since there were no more people between him and his goal, Sarn opened his eyes. His wire-framed map shattered and reformed as its usual transparent overlay. But he didn’t need it. Ahead two columns framed the night sky.
Sarn slowed as he approached a waist-high balustrade. He couldn’t see the swarm, but he sensed its unnaturalness heading northeast. There was only one place it could be going—back to where the ghost boy had lost his life. Everything would come full circle there if only he could reach it without hindrance.
Fat chance of that happening with Gregori tooling around on the level below. Accompanying Gregori’s man-bear symbol was a female archer.
Damn, Ranispara was with the big lug. She was the second fastest runner on the Rangers' roster. Outrunning her would be tough. Sarn searched his map for an alternative route. Behind him, a posse of retired Rangers had joined Nolo and Jerlo to cut off his escape.
Jumping was his
only option. But Ranispara had taught him everything he knew about evasion. If he landed anywhere near her, she'd tackle him. Sarn chewed his lip.
He had one shot at this. Seizing his magic, Sarn rushed across a bench and hit the coping without breaking stride. He jumped aiming not for the level below but the ground and tucked into a ball.
The earth sensed him coming and attracted his booted feet. It was eager to catch him. Magic wrapped him in bright emerald coils as it curved his trajectory.
Unfortunately, each balcony overlapped the one below it by at least ten feet to prevent what Sarn had planned. So despite the magic’s aid, his arc was just a hair too shallow, and he banged his shoulder on the lowest balcony, throwing off his landing.
Sarn cursed and stumbled into a limping run. Pain shot up his ankle followed by a soothing heat that dialed down the ache to a manageable level. But it did nothing for his throbbing arm. He wiggled the fingers of his right hand while he hobbled.
Thank Fate neither his arm nor his ankle was broken. One was badly sprained and the other bruised, but both still functioned despite the teeth-clenching pain wracking them. Would his ankle hold up for the four-mile trek?
It had to, so Sarn put the question out of his mind. Though next time, he’d find a damned staircase and exit the stronghold like normal folk. Movement on his map made him curse. His superiors were en route to the north exit. Unless he squeezed a little more speed out of his aching body, they would catch him before he reached the murder site. How the hell could he prevent that? He couldn’t outrun even the worst runner right now.
Nolo skidded to a halt. Where had the Kid gone? Other than plants and statues, no one else occupied the balcony. How had Sarn eluded him? There was nowhere to run. Dread pulled Nolo to the parapet.
A green glow spread out from a silhouette limping across the meadow. Nolo cursed. Estimating the distance, he shook his head. How had the Kid survived the fall without breaking his foolish neck? Nolo met Gregori’s startled gaze from the balcony below and read the same question in his eyes. They both stared at the ten additional feet the balcony below stuck out.
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