“Where am I?” Jesse asked, trying to look around.
“Roddy’s,” Silas answered.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Jesse asked, remembering the Patrol members and the slave sellers.
“It’s just for the night,” Rae said. “We move on in the morning.”
Jesse attempted to sit up again. “I’m fine,” he protested, when it looked like Parvel would stop him. “My head hurts and I’m hungry, but I….”
His voice trailed off as he stared at Rae. “Well,” he said, his mouth gaping open. “Well.”
“You’ve made our friend Jesse speechless,” Parvel said to Rae. “Quite a feat, if you ask me.”
But Jesse could hardly believe that Rae was still Rae. She was wearing one of Lady Taralyn’s gowns, studded along the neckline with tiny jewels. Although Jesse couldn’t see her face clearly because of the half veil that hid it, Rae’s neck and arms were pale white, although when Jesse looked closer, he could see the grain of the powder. Still, the transformation was nearly perfect.
Right down to the thick red braid that curled gently from the cap at the top of the veil. “Lady Taralyn,” Jesse said in mock respect, “how kind of you to grace us with your presence.”
“Stop it,” she growled, “before I punch you in the face.”
It’s still Rae, all right.
She yanked the veil off, and the long braid came with it. Her normal dark hair fell down from the tight cap that had kept it in place. “I’m going to wash this ridiculous powder off, if you don’t mind.”
Jesse forced himself not to laugh as she flounced away, nearly tripping over the unaccustomed train.
“Don’t let her fool you,” Parvel said, smiling. “She could have removed the disguise earlier, but she kept it on to show you. She was quite proud of the idea.” He handed Jesse some food.
He took it and shoved a big bite into his mouth. It seemed to be some kind of dry, crispy cake. Not much taste, but not bad. “I take it she got away without any trouble, then?” he mumbled through his full mouth.
Silas nodded. “You know Rae. The Patrol members tried to stop her, but she went off on a tirade about her rank and how she would report them to her father, and how dare they even address her without bowing.”
Now Jesse did laugh. “I pity those guards.” Two bites later, he thought of something else. “And Roland?”
“Dead,” was all Silas said, but Jesse could tell from the victorious expression on his face that he thought it was a fate Roland well deserved.
“‘For the Rebellion,’” Parvel said, shaking his head sadly. “That was the last thing Roland ever said. He didn’t understand, even at the end, that we are not the enemy. Yet I had to kill him to save you, Jesse.”
Parvel delivered the death blow? For some reason, Jesse had assumed it was Silas. “Then it was my fault he died.”
“No,” Parvel said, placing a firm hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “He chose to live by the sword, and by the sword he died. His fate falls on his own shoulders.” His face became serious. “And perhaps mine as well.”
“What?” Silas scoffed. “Do you think your God would object to killing in self-defense? Does He expect His followers to be slaughtered helplessly, like sheep?”
Instead of immediately contradicting Silas like Jesse expected him to, Parvel kept that far-off, thoughtful look on his face. “I don’t believe so,” he finally said. “Or I wouldn’t have acted as I did. But I could be wrong, of course.”
Jesse groaned silently. Parvel, who had such strong faith, could be wrong about something involving God? How will I ever know anything for certain, then?
“I only know,” Parvel continued, “that it is a very serious thing to take a life. We would do well not to forget that.” He was looking especially at Silas as he spoke, but Silas didn’t meet his gaze.
By the time Jesse had eaten three of the island sand-cakes, as he called them, Rae was back and clean from all trappings of her disguise except the billowing gown. She looked very out of place in the dingy tavern, but she didn’t appear to notice.
“So,” she said, flopping very ungracefully to the ground, “you have the book?”
Silas nodded, pulling it out of the leather pouch.
“Can I see it?” Rae asked. Silas handed it to her, and she pulled the candle closer and turned to the pages near the end. “Here I am.”
Jesse crawled closer, and Silas and Parvel leaned in too. There, in clear, accurate pen strokes, was a picture of Rae’s face that took up most of a page, along with a description of her, written at the bottom.
“We stood for portraits at the beginning of training,” Rae said, sounding disgusted. “‘To honor the heroes,’ they told us.”
“An excellent likeness,” Parvel teased, to lighten the mood, Jesse guessed.
“I suppose,” Rae said, tracing the outline of the drawing. Then she looked up at them suddenly. “They’ll know we were here, won’t they?”
“Perhaps,” Parvel said, shrugging.
“Chancellor Doran will,” Jesse said firmly. “We need to leave at dawn tomorrow.”
“Are you sure you’re strong enough?” Parvel said doubtfully.
Jesse stood and jumped once or twice, ignoring the slight throbbing in his head from where Roland had thrown it against the stone. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “See?” Then he realized that something was missing. “Where’s my staff? You didn’t leave it on the bridge, did you?”
“Of course not,” Silas said, picking it up from the floor and handing it to him. “It seems that, next to the Forbidden Book, it is the most important possession we own, to be guarded at all costs.”
Jesse ignored his sarcasm and held the familiar stick of wood tightly. Silas might bluster, but he cared enough to remember the staff. That was enough for Jesse.
“Well, at least you’re not in here, Jesse,” Rae said, still staring at the pages. She flipped a few pages in the book. “Hmm. That’s strange.”
“What?” Jesse asked.
She looked up, but she was looking at Parvel, not Jesse. “Aleiah isn’t here either.”
Something in Parvel seemed to recoil in pain, and without a word, he took the book from Rae.
For a moment, Jesse couldn’t think of who Aleiah was. Then he remembered. She was the squad’s fourth member who had died in training.
“They must only record Youth Guard members who begin the missions,” Silas said brusquely, as usual, showing no emotion.
For a moment, they all sat in silence while Rae paged through the book. “Well, I never thought it would be possible,” Rae said finally, looking up, “but several squads have members who are all still alive. According to the book, that is.”
“I know,” Silas said. “It was the first thing I looked at.”
“Where are they?” Jesse asked, looking over her shoulder.
Rae marked three sections with her fingers and flipped from one to another. “Rigel’s squad is on the warfront at the Northern Waste,” she said, pointing to the last line of one of the pages. “The Guard Riders haven’t killed them yet because they actually want them to try to accomplish their mission. Let the enemy kill them instead.”
Jesse shuddered. The blunt way that Rae said it made it seem worse somehow.
“That’s Eli’s squad,” Parvel told him quietly.
Now Jesse was even more concerned. He fought the urge to declare that they should leave right away for District Three to save his friend.
More pages. “Mariah’s squad was sold to pirates in the Great Sea,” Rae continued. “Part of a deal between them and the king, it says. Every Guard commissioning, they get four new slaves.”
“But that was nearly a month ago,” Silas pointed out. “Who knows if they’re still alive now?”
Rae acknowledged that with a nod, then moved on to the next
section. “Nero and his squad are somewhere in the swamps of eastern District Two. As of four days ago, they had still managed to evade the group of Guard Riders trying to capture them.”
“Four days ago?” Silas asked in disbelief. “How could Chancellor Doran possibly have such a recent report? The swamps are nearly a week’s travel from Davior.”
“Well, Captain Demetri reported our deaths to Chancellor Doran only a few days ago,” Silas said, shrugging. “Maybe an assassin assigned to this group sent back a messenger.”
“What do we do?” Rae said, turning more pages in the book. “There are three squads still alive, all trying to complete dangerous missions. None of them know that the king is trying to kill them. How do we choose who to save first?”
Apparently no one knew how to answer that, because no one said anything. Jesse suddenly felt helpless. It was like deciding who would live and who would die.
No, he realized. That’s not up to us.
“We should start with Nero’s squad,” Silas said at last. “They’re closest, and they seem to be in the most danger. The king wants Anton’s squad alive for now. Mariah’s squad may not survive life at sea, but no one is actively hunting them.”
His logic made sense, but Jesse hated it, because it meant waiting to save Eli. Even though he knew that he should care equally about all of the squads, Eli was his friend. Just protect him, he prayed. Protect all of them until we get there.
“We have much to do before dawn,” Parvel said, standing. “Including charting our course.” He turned to Silas. “I assume you know where these swamps are?”
“Vaguely,” Silas said, “but they stretch for miles through dangerous territory. Finding the squad without getting killed by the Patrol may prove to be near to impossible.”
“Of course,” Jesse said, smiling grimly. “That seems to be normal for us.”
“First order of business,” Rae said, picking up her skirt and making a face. “Getting a new set of clothes for all of us. I can’t stand this ridiculous thing.”
Parvel laughed. “We’ll get you a proper outfit at the nearest clothesline. I’m sure some peasant family could do with a simple trade.”
“Especially since those are probably real jewels sewn into the neckline,” Silas pointed out. He headed for the door. “I’ll go up on the roof. No Patrol will see me from there, and I’ll be able to see if any neighbors have the laundry out.”
“I’ll go with him,” Jesse said to Rae and Parvel. “I don’t like it when one of us goes off alone.”
“Don’t even think about climbing,” Parvel warned.
“I’ll stay on the ground,” Jesse promised. He knew that he would be of little use as a protector with only his walking stick, but looking through the Forbidden Book had reminded Jesse about his unanswered question.
Silas was already up on the porch railing when Jesse shut the door behind him. “Silas, why were the pages for Parvel’s brother missing?” he asked outright.
Silas stopped, then jumped down from the porch. From the look on Silas’ face, Jesse could guess the answer. “You took them out, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “With Prince Corin’s knife.”
Jesse asked the obvious question. “Why?”
“Parvel cannot—must not— see that entry,” Silas said, “or all of our lives will be in danger.” He kept walking.
This time, though, Jesse wanted a real answer. “What does that mean?” he asked.
“It means that Justis was not the heroic older brother Parvel thinks he was,” Silas said, never stopping.
“Was?” Jesse pressed. “Does that mean that his brother is dead?”
“In a way.”
Jesse realized that it was after curfew and his voice was getting louder, but he almost didn’t care. “Would you stop being cryptic and tell me?”
At first, Silas just glared at him. Then he sighed. “Maybe it’s better if you know.” He paused. “Jesse, Parvel’s brother betrayed his squad. It was all in the book. They all died because of him. He escaped as part of a deal he made with the king’s men.”
“But he’s still alive,” Jesse said. Silas grunted his agreement. That, at least was good. “I don’t understand—how does that endanger all of us?”
“Because Parvel’s brother is still alive,” Silas repeated. “And if Parvel knows it, he will stop at nothing to find him and reach out to him—no matter what. Believe me, I know him.”
The way he said it made Jesse think there was more to the story that Silas wasn’t telling. Before he could ask, Silas sighed and pulled several pages out of his pocket. “I was going to destroy these at the first chance,” he said.
He took the top page off, handing it to Jesse, ripping the rest into small pieces. “This should answer the rest of your questions. It’s a sketch of Parvel’s brother, Justis.”
Jesse looked at the drawing. At first, he saw a vague resemblance to Parvel, especially in the strong jaw and rounded nose.
Then he held the drawing back and gasped. The piercing eyes, dark hair, and firm, unsmiling mouth—he had seen them all before.
Chapter 20
The Youth Guard member in the drawing was a young Captain Demetri.
Once again, Demetri found himself waiting in Chancellor Doran’s parlor. Now though, the smell of incense was gone. In its place was smoke of a different kind: the smoke of destruction.
The room had been destroyed, the wooden panels and heavy tapestries licked with flames. All that was left were ashes and debris, and the stone dragon that seemed to always be looking at Demetri, no matter where he turned.
There was something horrible about those eyes, but something that drew Demetri too. It was power, he finally decided. Horrible, awesome power. The same power that Chancellor Doran and Aleric believed in, and that Demetri was now ready to claim for himself.
Aleric, as usual, had appeared to him in his dream the night before. “They’re alive.” The first words out of Aleric’s mouth made Demetri stand in defense.
“They could not be. You yourself said….”
“I was wrong.” The fact that Aleric would admit such a thing was more of a surprise, perhaps, than the news itself. “The four live still—all of them. And, as such, they are of great danger to us.”
“I will find them.”
Demetri knew he spoke the words, but in the dream, he felt as though he were listening to someone else speak. The decision seemed to come naturally. The pulsing of the medallion on his chest demanded it.
“Very well,” Aleric said, nodding sagely. “If you have determined to join us, I warn you that your quest as a Rider will not be an easy one.”
Demetri laughed. “I wasn’t expecting a stroll through a flowering meadow, Aleric. I know the danger. I have faced much worse, back in the desert, where every moment was a fight for my very life. This will be no different.”
“Pride,” Aleric mused. He began to slowly circle around Demetri. “An admirable vice. But take care, Captain, that your pride does not become foolish ignorance.” He stopped. “This will be different, Captain.”
Looking into his pale gray eyes, Demetri felt himself being drawn in…to what? The inner circle of the Riders? A conspiracy? Darkness?
All the same, no doubt. “What do you mean?”
“The stakes are higher than you can imagine. These four must be the ones the prophecy speaks of.”
Demetri paused. “This prophecy. You have spoken of it before.”
“Correct. Then, you weren’t ready to listen. Prophecy, after all, is within the realm of the supernatural.”
“Which I don’t believe in.”
“Believe or not, you must listen now. Your life—the kingdom—depends on it.”
Did he really disbelieve the supernatural, after everything that had happened? Demetri remembered the smell of the incense, Chanc
ellor Doran’s dragon-red eyes, and the power that filled him every time he touched the medallion. “Speak, then.”
Aleric’s voice became low, rhythmic, his eyes focused on a place far beyond the dream world.
When darkest night o’er sweeps the land,the four will rise again.
To bring down mighty justice’s handupon the deeds of men.
He turned back to Demetri. “That’s only the first verse of the Prophecy of the Four.”
A host of questions filled Demetri’s mind. He asked one of them, the easiest one. “How many verses are there?”
“Four.”
“Naturally.” He paused, thought through the words again. “It sounds…ominous.”
He could not say what he wanted to—that the so-called prophecy sounded like the idle words of a bard in the king’s court, trying to invent a dramatic fireside story. Aleric clearly saw the prophecy as a matter of life or death. Better not to mock it. Demetri had learned not to trifle with those in power among the Riders.
“King Selen believes it foretells the fall of the line of Marius and the destruction of the kingdom, as did his father before him,” Aleric said solemnly.
Demetri just nodded.
“I can see doubt in your eyes,” Aleric said. “Perhaps Chancellor Doran’s decision was wise.”
“What decision?” Demetri asked.
As usual, the old man ignored his question. “The kingdom may fall, but I will not fall with it. It will not happen in my lifetime. Whatever you personally believe about the prophecy, Captain, swear to me that you will not let these four fulfill it. Swear to me!”
“I swear,” Demetri said, bowing. “This time, I will not fail in my duty. The four will die.”
With that, Aleric had disappeared, as he always did at the end of the visions, leaving Demetri to get what sleep he could before his audience with Chancellor Doran.
It was noon before he awoke, his body wishing to recover from the poor sleep and nightmares of the previous night. He dressed carefully, trimming his beard and attempting to straighten his rumpled uniform. Chancellor Doran would inspect him, he was sure, and a commissioned Guard Rider would do what he could to look presentable.
Curse of the Forbidden Book Page 16