Ehzrit pushed Tall’s hands away, held them down even though Tall fought to free himself. “Let it bleed. A blooding gives focus. Focus is needed to return. Have to want to return though.”
“I don’t want to go to that place.” A chill ran down Tall’s spine. He stopped struggling. “Never that place.”
“Know enough to be afraid. That’s good. Should be afraid. Should be very afraid.” The man got a faraway look in his eyes. “What that place’d do to a boy like you. Best not to think about.”
Tall swallowed hard. That place was the only thing he could think about now. Blood from his head pooled on the table. Pain made his eyes water, but he managed to stop the tears.
Ehzrit pounded a fist on the table. Blood splattered the walls. Tag’Erh lapped up the blood with his great, pink tongue. “You think me cruel,” Ehzrit said. “But this is a kindness. You’ll know this for truth soon enough. The wizard, I expect, will teach you real cruelty. Maybe he has taught Ray the same already—if you aren’t he, that is.”
“I’m not Ray,” Tall said firmly.
“So you’ve said. But your smoot bade me to wait for Ray.”
Tall stood abruptly. “So wait for Ray. I’m sure he’ll be along.”
“Doubtful,” Ehzrit said. “In my day, an impudent boy like you would’ve been taken out to the square and shown his place in front of everyone. Does the arbor even bother to know the name of the likes of you, I wonder.”
“The tree knew Keene at the last, as the tree will know me,” Tall answered angrily.
“Not if you become like me. The tree will unknow you then.” Ehzrit sighed. “Tell me. Were there many 12-winter boys this year?”
“Well, there was Ephramme and Isaac, Ray, me, and Keene.”
“And?” Ehzrit said.
“Ephramme is learning the speaker’s trade now, and Isaac’s gone to Second Village to win a bride. He’s unlikely to, though, and if you ever got a look at him you’d know why. Ray is gone and I’ve to find him. And Keene, well, he died to save me. He should be the one here with you now and not me.”
Tag’Erh looked up, straight at Tall. His eyes had a kind of fierceness to them. Ehzrit smirked. “Thank you for sharing that. It’s interesting to hear about village life again. Look down.”
Tall did. He saw his feet, wiggled his toes in his boots to warm them. He started to say that he had done it without the scatter seed, but thought better of it.
“Pain and passion can both do the impossible.” Ehzrit drew a line with his finger across Tall’s forehead, causing Tall to wince and groan, but no sooner had he done so than he realized the pain was gone. “Use them correctly and they’ll never fail you. Remember, it takes heart.”
Tall touched a hand to his forehead, found the wound was gone. “Wizard’s magic?” Tall asked.
“Ha!” Ehzrit said. Daybreak. Ehzrit saw it in the window at the same time Tall did. “You’ve to leave now, before the dawn.”
“But you’re supposed to help me,” Tall protested.
“I’ve already.” Madly, Ehzrit pushed Tall’s gatherings back into his pack. Seeing this made Tall feel like he’d done or said something wrong. Of course, Ehzrit hadn’t been exactly what he’d call hospitable, but he couldn’t imagine why he must leave so suddenly. There was a man in his village, one of Ephramme’s uncles, that everyone thought of as hasty and ill-mannered. He didn’t much like other people, and others treated him much the same.
“So what am I supposed to do?” Tall said.
Ehzrit puckered his brow. Tag’Erh strutted in front of the door. There was a worn path where his claws had scraped the floor raw. “Your horse is close. Ride out of here, quickly. Take them others with you. Do it before the town awakens.”
Tall tried to say that he couldn’t ride Lucky, but Ehzrit was already pushing him out the door and up onto Lucky’s back. “Now get,” Ehzrit said, “This road leads to Adalayia. Find Ray. This one will help you.” He swatted Lucky’s hindquarters and Lucky shot out of the village like a stone from a sling.
Chapter 9: The City
The dawning sun had only just become a full, fiery ball when Tall, on Lucky’s back, reached the outskirts of the Outlander city. He knew at once this was Adalayia, not because he’d ever seen it with his own eyes, but because he’d drawn it from dream. In the dream, Ray was crossing the lake that surrounded the city in a floating container called a boat —or so the smoot had named it. An outlander girl of an age with Ray was in the boat as well, and beside them was a footed slither, a rare occurrence but a natural one. Most unnatural, though, were the flying things: a beast that was neither buzzer nor like any flyer he’d ever seen, and the floating fells. Fells were air mountains—or so the smoot said.
“A messenger! A messenger!” The cry went out from a tower. Ehzrit’s words were like a haunting melody that he couldn’t rid his mind of as he clung to Lucky’s neck and mane for dear life. Terrified was a word for what he felt as the wind rushed by. Exhilarated, another.
Tall was crossing a bridge over the lake and into the city proper before he realized it. An outsider man in the street stepped aside and shouted, “Make way for the messenger!”
Tall gulped air, held on as Lucky’s hooves skidded around on the cobbled stones. An outsider woman carrying a laden basket nearly dropped the basket into the street as she fled from the sight of him. A few of the large round gatherings spilled down the way. Lucky trampled them.
The street teed before a pair of stone towers. All Tall could do was gawk at them as Lucky broke right. Rather than run smack into a man in billowy white robes, Lucky skidded to a halt. Tall struck the street with a thud and rolled. His pack hit the street too, before flying off in the opposite direction.
The man, more anxious than annoyed, helped Tall to his feet. He returned Tall’s pack. Then he bent his body forward from the waist, almost doubling over. “I am Nolhan, Messenger, forgive me.”
Tall started, stared. He looked where Nolhan’s body was pointing, then from Nolhan to Lucky. Nolhan was clearly talking not to him, but to Lucky. Tall meant to apologize, but Nolhan reached out and pulled Tall down, forcing him to take a knee.
Tall reached out. Nolhan spat in his direction. If looks could kill, this man’s would. “Lowborn.” It was a curse. “Don’t ever touch. If you weren’t with the messenger, I’d beat you myself. As it is, I’ll have my servants do it.”
Lucky didn’t seem to like this at all. He whinnied and reared.
Nolhan took Tall’s arm in a viselike grip. “This one says to give you lodging, feed, and water. I’ll do it but I don’t have to like it.”
Tall turned his eyes to Nolhan. “You are a speaker? You speak horse?”
Nolhan nearly pulled Tall’s arm out of its socket as he threw him to the stones. With a foot over Tall’s throat, he said, “Speak again, and die.”
Lucky liked this even less. He whinnied and reared, coming down so close Nolhan had to step back or be trampled.
Nolhan helped Tall to his feet. “The messenger has told me to treat you kindly. Must have formed an affection for you. That can be fixed.”
Tall tried to speak. Nolhan returned the painful grip, whispered in Tall’s ear, “Rider matters not. Have the good courtesy to return dead or dying from the outlands next time, will you?”
Tall nodded, turned his eyes down. He was trying to process what was happening. Though Tall’s paintings had led to many questions, no one in the village, not even the smoot, knew much about the Outlanders and their customs. He knew only to fear them. They came. They took. They killed. They went. That was how it was.
Nolhan led Tall to a building with matching pairs of outsized doors. Inside, grass-covered floors with fenced pens growing out of them were lit with flaming lamps that smoked and smelled. Nolhan led Lucky to one of the pens, pointed Tall to an area above filled with dried grass.
Tall shouldered his pack, used his staff to help him make the upward leap. It was a simple leap, double a man’s height, made eas
ier by the still ground that Tall loathed. He landed in a pile of dried grass with a swoosh. Nolhan groaned at the sight of this, pointed to planking that bridged the gap from the lower level.
Nolhan gave Lucky fresh water before brushing him to a perfect black sheen. Others dressed like Nolhan came and went. Some of these were no older than Tall himself. All were Outlanders, except for a man with chains on his legs who brought water.
Tall watched, mildly interested, becoming less and less afraid and more and more sleepy as time went by. He was sure no one who cared so much for an animal could treat any other any less. How wrong he was, though, for Nolhan disproved this when he awoke Tall some time later with the points of his boots. “Told you I’d pay you back,” Tall heard Nolhan say. Then he was being doused in a liquid that stung his eyes.
“Take him,” Nolhan shouted. Nolhan wasn’t alone. Several others were with him. Tall saw them as gray shadows through the confusion of the moment and the blood in his eyes.
To protect himself, Tall wrapped his arms around his face and curled into a ball, whimpering. Any ferocity that had built within him in his beloved Inlands wasn’t with him in this place. He was afraid to defend himself, afraid of what Nolhan and the others would do if he did. His pain only deepened when he reached out to Lucky only to realize Lucky wasn’t below.
Voices, shouting, confused him. He heard the unmistakable slap of a hand across a face, followed by more shouting—or rather one voice shouting above the din. He scooted back, to get away, but before he could burrow into the piled grass, hands were dragging and pulling him out. His left hand balled into a fist, his right gripping his staff, he was about to strike out, when the soft voice stilled him. “Where do you hurt?” the voice said. “Stop squirming. Let me see.”
Soft, cold hands, tiny hands, poked and prodded. He winced when the hands pushed on his ribs and winced when they touched his right eye. “Calm yourself,” the voice said. “If you behave as an animal, I must let them treat you as one.”
Tall didn’t know what inside him loosed his tongue but he found himself screaming, “You treat animals far better. Bring Lucky back. Bring Lucky back.”
Hushed whispers followed. The soft voice spoke over the whispers. Tall heard a man’s voice say, “Very well then. I will return to finish this once I’ve words with Lord Hravic.” He realized this was Nolhan, but a very contained Nolhan. This was followed by the sound of retreating footsteps.
A long silence followed. Tall wasn’t sure whether he was alone, but that seemed to be the case. He rubbed at his eyes, tried to see through the blurry pain.
“I am Deanna,” the soft voice said. Tall turned toward the voice, saw a gray smudge where Deanna should be. “Don’t rub. They’ve doused you in kero. Meant to burn you. The fools would’ve brought down the stables if I hadn’t overheard and stopped them. Nolhan’s been obsessing about it all day. You must have crossed him something terrible.”
That made Tall worry that the girl helped him only to stop Nolhan from burning the building. She didn’t leave as he expected. She took him by the hand and helped him up. He was unsteady on his feet until she draped his arm around her shoulders.
“Stop trying to see. We’ll rinse below. You’ve broken ribs, no doubt,” Deanna said. “You do understand me?”
Tall nodded. Deanna helped him move by giving him directions. She was patient with him. As they went down the planks into the lower level, he practically had to lay on her. He realized she must be walking backward down the plank while he walked frontward with his arms draped around her. Every step was painful, yet it was strange how the terrible pain became secondary to the feeling of himself pressed against her.
On the last step, he bowled her over onto the grassy floor. Not on purpose, but because she took an awkward step and he couldn’t hold himself up on his own. He had rarely been this close to anyone except perhaps when he wrestled Keene or Isaac or Ray. Ephramme didn’t much like wrestling, but most speaker’s children were like that. Separating a part of themselves from everyone else seemed to go with the trade, or maybe they became a part of those they spoke for.
Delirium. Pain trumped remembrance. He felt the press of Deanna. She pulled him to his feet. Her touch was different, he decided. It wasn’t like his mother’s or like the time he had helped Ellie stand through tears. Deanna’s little hands had a soft, caring touch. They told him she felt his pain.
He undressed at Deanna’s urging. Shyness that normally would have been a problem wasn’t. She helped him step into a large rectangular bowl. A trough, as she called it. It smelled of horse, of Lucky perhaps, though he couldn’t be certain. She soaped and rinsed him, tried to be gentle in the places he ached.
Blackness swallowed Tall. He reached out to Lucky, found emptiness. He reached out farther and farther, hoping to connect with Hazard or Lady or one of the hatchlings.
“You stop that,” Deanna whispered. “Stop.”
“No more. No more,” Tall shouted, shrinking from her touch. He wasn’t where he should be. Instead of the trough, he was in a bed. A bed coated in soft finery the likes of which he’d never experienced. He’d felt the stitched cloths of outtraders, but this was nothing like that. That might as well have been bark to this suppleness.
Tall opened his eyes, tried to see past blurred shadows. He noted his ribs were wrapped and the pain was a bit less. His head was wrapped, too. It was why he saw only shadows. He tried to remove the wraps from his eyes.
“No,” Deanna said, smacking his hands. There was immediate regret in her voice. “That was thoughtless. I didn’t mean it.”
Tall grabbed at her retreating hands, found them, held them. “I’m Tall.”
“I know. You told me yesterday,” Deanna said.
Tall tried to sit. “Yesterday?”
“Stop that. A few more days sleep is what you need.”
Frustrated that he couldn’t see her, Tall started pulling on the wraps around his head. This time it was Deanna who held his hands. Tall didn’t dislike this, but he immediately felt guilty. He wondered what Ellie would think of such a thing.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“You’re safe for now,” Deanna said. “Nolhan and his can’t touch you here.”
Tall heard the sounding of a bell. But this wasn’t the kind one held. It must have been much larger. “Lucky?”
“I think you’re more unlucky than lucky,” Deanna said.
“The horse. The messenger. His name’s Lucky.”
“You named the messenger? Nolhan was right. You’ve formed an attachment. This isn’t good.” Deanna pulled away, stood. “I must—”
“Don’t go,” Tall pleaded. “I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong.”
“What you’ve done wrong is to put the messenger at risk,” Deanna said tersely. “Can’t have this. Riders are to keep, shield, and protect. Nothing more, nothing less. You are an oathbreaker, as Nolhan has said. I should’ve let them… I must inform Braddick. The wizard’s guard must know what I know, or I’ll be—”
She stopped abruptly when Tall twisted around in the bed and put his feet to the floor. He took a blind step. “I’ve taken no oaths and broken no promises.”
“Impossible,” Deanna said. “All riders must take the oath.”
Tall took a second blind step. “I’m not a rider.”
“But of course you are.”
Tall winced, forced himself to keep straight when his body wanted to double over. “I’ve no idea of any of this. Please, I beg you, don’t—” Throwing his hands in the air in protest was a mistake, he realized, but too late for he was already sprawled on his backside, flailing like a giant beetle.
Tall called out. No one was there to help him. Deanna was gone, having rushed away in confused tears.
Chapter 10: The Wizard’s Guard
Tall tried to grope his way back to the bed. He ended up in a dark corner. He wished Keene were there. The boy might have been smaller than most, but he was smart. He’d know what to do.
Then he remembered Keene was dead. Keene couldn’t help anyone anymore.
Tall recoiled from the soft patter of footsteps. He put his hands up defensively.
“It is I,” Deanna’s soft voice said. “I brought you what I could of my dinner.” She put a cold stone plate in his hands.
Tall sat rock still. “Nolhan? The guard?”
Deanna sat down next to Tall. He didn’t see this; he heard it. “I couldn’t… I…”
Tall held the plate in one hand, reached out to Deanna with the other. “Thank you,” he said. “You won’t regret the decision. I swear it.”
Tall lifted the plate, inhaled. In all his life he’d never smelled such things. He reached in with his fingers. Deanna said, “Here, let me.” She took the plate, fed him something rather bland followed by something akin to pasty fire.
Complete Magic Lands Books 1 & 2 Omnibus Page 17