Vagrants: Book 2 Circles of Light series

by E. M. Sinclair

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The day after Chakar and Ren departed for the Night Lands, Babach received disturbing news. Chakar had identified three Observers working within the Oblaka, supposedly researching the marine life within a league of the shore but actually spying for the Sacrifice.

  A pigeon landed on the viewing ledge when Voron was enjoying his early morning breath of air. It was some moments before he saw that it had a small container fastened to one leg. Sava snapped his beak crossly when Voron brought the pigeon into the main room but Babach was glad to see the bird. He removed the container and showed Voron yet another cubby hole where several cages were stacked, some occupied, some empty.

  ‘How have I missed seeing this room?’ Voron demanded. ‘I walk past here every day – I think.’

  Babach smiled gently and did not answer. The container held a surprisingly large sheet of very thin paper, folded and refolded until it fitted inside. Babach read it carefully, then he sighed.

  ‘It is from Finn Rah. She reports a disturbance in the Menedula two nights past.’ He tugged his braided beard. ‘She says it emanated without doubt from the top floor, Cho’s quarters. And she has not seen him since. Four Observers have died most unexpectedly.’ He grunted. ‘The death of an Observer is not an unusual event in itself I know. But four so close together and more particularly, four who are known to have strong links with the Oblaka.’

  Voron frowned. ‘Do you usually use birds to carry messages? Surely you could reach Finn Rah’s mind from here?’

  ‘And who else might notice my mind wandering the halls of the Menedula?’ Babach retorted. ‘Do you not yet understand how powerful Cho Petak is, boy?’

  Voron blushed. ‘I think I accepted that something was very wrong far better than Ren did, but at times I still forget. I have revered the Sacrifice for most of my life.’

  Babach smiled. ‘And in the last hundred years, students and Aspirants have been most firmly discouraged from entertaining any independence of thought.’ He sat in silent consideration. ‘I must go up to the Oblaka and see what I can find out there,’ he said. ‘Read Finn’s letter and then do as you wish until I return. I will be back for the noon meal.’ He paused at the door. ‘Do not go outside these rooms Voron, I believe the “disturbances” Finn writes of may well be repeated here.’

  Voron made some tea and settled in Chakar’s armchair to read the letter. Some names mentioned in the small, closely written script he had never heard of. Others he recognised as teachers of both students and Aspirants. Finn wrote of Krolik, obliquely referring to a change of his rooms in the Menedula. Although only of Kooshak rank, he now occupied rooms directly below Cho Petak, along the corridor from Finn Rah herself.

  The more Voron read the letter over, the more a sense of apprehension crept over him. The morning hours passed unnoticed as Voron immersed himself in Finn’s words, and he jumped when Babach came into the room.

  ‘I’m sorry – I haven’t made a meal yet Babach. I’ll start now.’ Voron hurried off to the storage cave while Babach made some fresh tea. Voron stirred various ingredients into a pot and tried to explain his increased forebodings over Finn Rah’s letter. Babach listened, making no comment on Voron’s conclusions. Voron glanced across at the old Observer.

  ‘Am I talking nonsense?’ he asked finally.

  ‘No, no,’ Babach smiled faintly. ‘You are right I think as far as you go. There will be bad trouble here very shortly unless I miss the mark.’

  Voron sat back on his heels by the hearth, a spoon forgotten in his hand.

  ‘Trouble?’ he asked nervously.

  Babach pulled at his beard. ‘The three Observers Chakar believed to be sent here by Cho to spy on this community are agitated today. They are making no effort to disguise their nervousness. They have been ordered to take some sort of action I believe. I have warned certain others of my suspicions – I can do no more for now. But whatever happens Voron, you are safe down here. You are shielded and protected. No matter what Voron, you must remain here until Chakar returns.’

  Voron paled. ‘You speak as though you were leaving me here!’

  ‘No, not yet.’ Babach suddenly looked very old and weary. ‘I will stay here with you at least until the morning.’

  Babach spent the rest of the day instructing Voron, just as he had on most of the previous days, although Voron was aware of a certain amount of distraction in the old man’s manner.

  Next morning, Voron rose, washed, and went along the passages to the viewing ledge. After a moment, he became aware of shouts from somewhere above him and to his left – the direction of the Oblaka. His heart began to pound as he caught a sudden smell of burning that gusted to him on the wind. Voron ran back through the passages and stood with his ear pressed to the door of the tiny cellar which led up into the cottage.

  Babach and Chakar had always slept in the cottage, lest anyone needed them from the Oblaka, and Babach continued to do so in Chakar’s absence. Voron swore. He could hear nothing at all from above. His hand was stretching for the panel in the wall when Sava let out an ear-splitting screech. Voron nearly jumped out of his skin, spinning round to face the owl. Sava stared back at him, great golden eyes unblinking, while his beak snapped and clicked. There was no doubt in Voron’s mind that Sava was warning him not to open the door.

  Voron hurried back to the viewing ledge but heard no more cries although he could still smell smoke. The sun had passed midday when Babach came back to the underground rooms. His clothes were soot-blackened and so were his hands and his face. He sank into Chakar’s armchair with a groan.

  ‘There are so many dead Voron. Lyeto – one of Chakar’s most promising students – came for me just before dawn, but the fires were set too well. Many were trapped in the dormitories.’ He closed his eyes. ‘What is happening Voron – is our world gone mad?’

  Death stalked the corridors and halls of the Menedula. Students and Aspirants, eyes burning red coals, fell on anyone who ventured into their path. Two Offerings were caught and their bodies ripped apart. The four remaining Offerings and several Observers sent their mindsight to check what was happening. When they saw the carnage, they fled or hid themselves. Many Observers had suspected and feared such a nightmare coming to pass, and had made plans accordingly.

  As Ren had discovered, and many other students in their time, the Menedula was riddled with a honeycomb of passages, forgotten rooms, and equally forgotten exits. Fleeing through those exits, Observers discovered the red eyed killers were patiently awaiting their appearance. Powerful as most of the Observers were, their skills and spells availed them naught.

  Rhaki drifted through the corridors, vastly entertained by the slaughter. Cho Petak had told him he would be able to enjoy himself as well unbodied as trapped in a clumsy human form. He was right, Rhaki decided, watching a maid servant’s head torn from her shoulders. He could move through any substance, walls of rock offered no difficulties. He did so now, just because he could, and was delighted to find a woman, crammed into a hidey hole. He debated with himself whether to betray her position and decided he might find something more amusing to arrange for her later. Rhaki drifted on.

  Finn Rah, on the level below Cho Petak, had already destroyed or hidden certain documents which laid out all the evidence that had been discovered against the Sacrifice. Finally, she released a pigeon from the window, carrying a last hurried message to Babach. She drew a long steadying breath and sent her mind deep to touch the great strength of the earth’s powers.

  Moments later, her door burst open. Two maddened students ransacked the room, howling with rage at finding no trace of the Offering. The door swung on one hinge when they left, and a small spider quivered on top of a cupboard.

  Cho Petak walked slowly from his apartments, down the broad staircase. He left red footprints: he saw no need to avoid walking through blood. He felt Rhaki close by and smiled.

  ‘A pleasant evening’s work, my friend, and most satisfactory, don’t you think?�
�

  Rhaki’s laugh whispered through the air.

  ‘Most enjoyable,’ he agreed.

  ‘Come,’ Cho Petak invited. ‘There is a balcony along here. We can watch them start on the town from there.’

  The Sacrifice moved down another, wider, corridor which ended in tall double doors of glass. Opening them he stepped onto a balcony overlooking the huge stairway leading from the town of Syet up to the Menedula. Flames flickered in Cho Petak’s pupils when he glanced up at the star speckled sky. Rhaki chuckled as buildings burst into fire below and the Sacrifice smiled and nodded in approval.

  But Mena capered along the balcony, her red eyes blazing with glee and peal after peal of her laughter rang out through the night air.

  Lashek puffed his way up the endless stairs to Thryssa’s apartments, bursting in the door without even a perfunctory knock. Thryssa and Kwanzi looked up from their breakfast when the earth mage dropped gasping into the nearest chair. Kwanzi reached for Thryssa’s hand.

  ‘Oh stars, what now?’ he thought helplessly even as he sent a tendril of healing strength to Lashek’s heaving chest.

  ‘Gremara,’ Lashek managed to croak, waving wildly at the window.

  Thryssa turned abruptly, staring across the great expanse of Parima to the black walls curving in the distance, all that separated them from Talvo Circle. Kwanzi held out a mug of tea to Lashek who gulped gratefully.

  ‘Have you never considered having your apartments at ground level, as I do?’ he asked, his breathing returning to normal. ‘Listen. Gremara is talking. To one of my silver eyed ones and to one from Kedara Circle.’

  ‘Talking?’ Thryssa raised her brows.

  Lashek nodded vigorously. ‘Pachela came to me yesterday and asked that Shema and myself guard her whilst she accepted mind speech with Gremara. We did so, after some discussion – as you may imagine.’

  He accepted a refill of tea from Kwanzi and eyed the remnants of their breakfast. Thryssa pushed plates towards him and he continued through a mouthful of pastry.

  ‘We were witnesses to the conversation that followed and we realised at once that Gremara had linked with Daro of Kedara.’ Lashek brushed crumbs from his chin to his chest. ‘She is sane, Thryssa. Full of sorrow for the harm she has done, aware of the Dragon Lord’s presence in the North, and somehow of much, much more.’

  Another cinnamon roll disappeared while Kwanzi and Thryssa waited impatiently.

  ‘There are three Dragons she spoke of to Pachela and Daro – she spoke directly to them although she knew we were also listening. One Dragon she spoke of with great affection. She awaits that one with as much longing as she waited for her Lord. Another she spoke of with concern. It is hurt, injured. She sent an image of that Dragon lying amid snowy mountains in the North. The third is on its way to her with the intention of killing her, and anything else it chooses to.’

  Thryssa listened. Lashek was not given to exaggeration or untruth. He believed Gremara was sane, was warning them, and, Thryssa realised, the silver Dragon was asking them for help. Clearly she intended to face the Dragon who meant harm to them all: therefore she could not seek the wounded one, and she wanted that wounded one found.

  ‘She wants us to search for the lost one?’ Thryssa asked finally.

  Lashek nodded. ‘Look.’ He sent an image into both their minds, of a Great Dragon crumpled against an outcrop of bare grey rock. The Dragon lay encircled by snow covered peaks. A light dusting of snow also covered its tail.

  ‘Would the Northerners be able to find that place?’ Thryssa sounded doubtful.

  Kwanzi answered positively. ‘Yes they would. That picture showed the peaks all around. People who live there would surely recognise the different shapes the mountains make.’

  ‘Exactly what we thought.’ Lashek considered the very last roll in front of him and with a reluctant sigh popped it into his mouth. ‘Pachela asked to remain in Segra, but Daro told Orsim that he had to come with us.’

  ‘Come with us,’ Thryssa repeated cautiously.

  ‘Of course,’ Lashek beamed. ‘We have to go to the Stronghold. It is too far to send a mind image so we have to go ourselves.’

  ‘Who had you planned to send?’

  ‘Myself and Daro, and I thought you should accompany us too.’

  ‘But - .’ Kwanzi began, but Thryssa interrupted him.

  ‘Yes. I agree. And we must go at once. That Dragon cannot survive much longer. Kwanzi, fetch our cloaks and packs.’

  Thryssa looked more alive than she had for days Kwanzi noted carefully before he left the room to prepare their packs.

  ‘Gremara herself will leave for the North within this day. She had much she wished to tell Pachela first, but she expects to leave before noon. She thinks it may take her four days to fly the distance.’

  Thryssa called for Pajar and briefly outlined her plans.

  ‘You are in charge here Pajar. I know,’ she held up a hand as he began to protest. ‘I am not being fair to give you all this responsibility, but you can rely on Shema of Segra and Orsim of Kedara to advise and help you on any matter.’

  Kwanzi reappeared with two cloaks and two packs and a very young man with soft brown hair and silver eyes.

  ‘This is Daro of Kedara.’

  Daro ducked his head shyly at the High Speaker who clasped his hand warmly.

  ‘You agree willingly to travel the circle?’ she asked him.

  He smiled. ‘Gremara said I must, and I truly would like to go with you.’

  ‘Come then. Quickly now.’

  Lashek picked up his pack, dropped by the door when he arrived and marched after Thryssa to the Chamber of Harmony. Pajar stood outside the circle as the High Speaker began to walk the pattern and murmur the words.

  Jal happened to be checking the Guards on duty outside the room which held the circle in the Stronghold when the now familiar quiver shook the air. He opened the door, expecting to see yet another scroll case and instead found four people. A grey haired man stepped forward and bowed.

  ‘This is Thryssa, High Speaker of Vagrantia, and Lashek, Speaker of Segra.’ His voice was gentle and by the way his eyes flickered quickly over him, Jal guessed he was a healer.

  Jal clenched his left hand across his chest. ‘Please, I will take you to the Guardian, Lady, Sirs.’

  Imshish, sitting with Lorak and Bikram with trays of seedlings between them, was the first to see the new arrivals. He jumped to his feet in delight but he realised almost immediately that something of great import must have occurred to lure the High Speaker herself from Vagrantia. He nodded at Jal’s questioning look and, as Jal sent runners searching for Mim and Kera, he asked what had indeed brought Thryssa here.

  Before she could reply, a screech from outside the gateway heralded the return of the Plavats. The Vagrantians stared helplessly as the two birds stilted inside the hall and settled, with much waggling of heads and rumps.

  ‘They brought the two Drogoyans,’ Imshish began to explain but Fenj also arrived at that moment.

  His eyes whirred and he raised himself to tower over all in the hall as he gave formal greeting to the Lady of Vagrantia. Thryssa managed to find her voice in time to respond as graciously as she could to Fenj’s dignified address. Kera and Nesh strode into the hall from the Delvers’ archway, two silver eyed people trotting to keep pace. The Vagrantians were touched by the genuine warmth of the welcome they received from all and tried to ignore the Plavats for now.

  Lashek glanced around the hall. ‘We have urgent news from Gremara. Is the Dragon Lord close by? We must inform him at once.’

  Mim and Ashta had been flying over the barren lands west of the Stronghold but Fenj had already sent them a mind summons. By the time Yoral, the chamberlain of the Stronghold had brought refreshments, Ashta’s melodious call sounded from without. The Vagrantians watched as a pale green Dragon paced into the hall. A slender boy slid from her back and stood at her chest as she reared erect in greeting.

  Thryssa saw the
golden scales, the steady gaze from the oddly shaped turquoise eyes, the slightly large pointed ears, and felt immediate confidence in this young Dragon Lord. He smiled suddenly, a peculiarly sweet smile, and sat gracefully on the bench at Thryssa’s side.

  ‘You bring news of Gremara?’ he asked, his voice light and musical.

  The green Dragon settled behind him, her head over his shoulder. The Vagrantians noted the faceted prisms of her eyes whirring with muted greens and golds.

  Lashek began repeating what he had told Thryssa. ‘Do you have people here who know the mountains well? Perhaps who travel them often?’

  Kera shook her head doubtfully, but Dessi spoke up.

  ‘We have some among us who like to be outside. They sometimes spend a whole season gone from the Domain. I will summon any who are near.’

  ‘Show us the injured one,’ Fenj’s mind voice was worried.

  Lashek complied and then flinched as Ashta and Fenj keened aloud. Mim had half risen as the picture filled his mind.

  ‘Kadi!’ His whisper was heartbroken. ‘Dessi, ask the Snow Dragons to search too. I will go now - ’

  ‘No Mim.’ Dessi caught his scaled arms. ‘Wait until the hunters come – they may recognise the place at once.’

  Even as she spoke a group of Delvers came running, both from the lower levels of the Stronghold and from the Domain.

  ‘We need to know the exact location of this Dragon,’ Dessi explained, nodding to Lashek to form the image once more.

  Kera noticed that the Delvers who had answered Dessi’s call were both male and female. Both had their hair cut at shoulder level and the men all wore beards, unlike the majority of the Delvers Kera had seen. She chided herself for “note taking” as Emla would derisively call it, at such a time of urgency.

  Finally one of the Delver women nodded. ‘I think it is above Arak.’

  Lashek looked questioningly at Mim who scowled.