Secret of the Giants' Staircase

by Amy Lynn Green

  “But she didn’t find you?” Jesse asked, although he was sure Castor would not be standing there if she had. Riders didn’t seem to care who they killed.

  “No,” Castor said. “I ran away. Watchers are silent as the swamp frog.”

  Owen laughed at that. “I think you mean fog,” Jesse corrected, stepping on Owen’s foot.

  “I tell Silas and others where they are, and everything about the camp and people in it,” Castor continued. “It is out in swamp.”

  “How far out?” Jesse asked.

  Castor bit his lip, clearly trying to remember words for distance. “Hour of walk? I cannot remember how to say far in lengths, except Westlund lengths.”

  “Very good,” Jesse said. Silas and Parvel would come up with a plan. That’s what they were best at. For now, Jesse was content to follow their instructions.

  Castor stood, looking around the room sadly.

  “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Owen asked.

  It wasn’t a hard conclusion to make. Castor’s quarters were bare. He, like the other Westlunders, had packed his things, ready for the long trip back. All that was left was one pack that came up to Jesse’s neck.

  Castor nodded. “Caravan leaves soon. All Watchers go back to Westlund. We will no come back.”

  He picked up the pack from the ground. “I carry this my own,” he said, hefting it on his back with a grunt.

  “Myself,” Jesse corrected.

  Castor nodded and pointed to the pack. “Books, paper, key and food,” he explained.

  “All very important things,” Jesse agreed.

  He was just about to ask where his key was, when a giant ran into the room, blurting something in agitated Westlundish. He and Castor spoke for a while, then the man hurried away. Castor turned to them. “The Lidians return,” he said. “The Watchers must leave. Protect people in Westlund, for if they attack us.”

  “The Lidians?” Owen said, confused. “Not…ghosts?”

  Castor apparently didn’t know this word, because he only shrugged. “We leave now, with treasures. You go up and meet Lidians. They asked for you. For Barnaby.”

  Barnaby. Of course. The Westlunders would call the Kin by their old name, the Lidians. So they did come! Jesse felt something like hope growing in him.

  “Good-bye, Owen,” Castor said, patting him on the head. “Careful. Listen to Jesse.”

  “Not all the time,” Owen said, grinning. “Then I’d never have any fun.”

  Then it was Jesse’s turn. “Good-bye, Jesse,” Castor said, nearly crushing him with a hug. “I read the book. Maybe, when I learn to write Amarian, I send a letter from Westlund!”

  Jesse laughed at the thought that a letter written by a giant would manage to find its way to him, as he wandered around the kingdom as an outlaw. “Maybe,” was all he said. “Good-bye, Castor. We wait for the circle moon.”

  “No,” Castor said, shaking his head. “I am not a Watcher now. I wait for no moon. I wait for the dawn.”

  He waved good-bye one last time before shouldering his pack and backing into the tunnels.

  Jesse hated knowing he would probably never see Castor again. He wasn’t even sure he and the others would live to another dawn. But, I suppose that’s part of being a member of the Youth Guard.

  By the time Jesse and Owen went up the stairs and out of the palace, Silas, Parvel and Rae were already waiting on the porch. Down the steps, a small crowd of men stood at attention, perhaps three dozen of them, all wearing the patterned clothing of the Kin, and all armed. Jesse knew that if he were close enough to see, each of them would have a token around his neck.

  Jesse studied them. None of them seemed openly hostile, but some didn’t look happy to be there. He followed their eyes to see what they were looking at.

  It was Barnaby, Zora on his shoulder again, surrounded by a circle of older men.

  A shake of Parvel’s head told him to stay away, but Jesse pretended he hadn’t seen it, edging closer to the group. He had to know what was going to happen.

  “There are two innocent young people being held prisoner in the swamps,” Barnaby was saying. “I respectfully ask your aid in rescuing them.”

  “We cannot risk our lives for the sake of the king’s Youth Guard,” one man snapped. “It is not the Kin’s way.” Apparently, someone—Barnaby, or perhaps Parvel—had explained what had happened.

  “We elders will discuss among ourselves,” the oldest of the men said. “You have put us in a difficult situation, young man.”

  “I know,” Barnaby said, shame creeping into his voice, though he made no apology. Jesse tried to imagine what it would be like to face the group of people you had abandoned.

  All of the men except Ravvi left and sat in a group on the steps. “Not all of the elders came,” Ravvi said. “A few of them refused to have anything to do with the rescue.”

  “To be honest, Father, I’m surprised to see you here,” Barnaby said.

  Ravvi put his hand on Barnaby’s shoulder. “I knew you would send Zora only in a time of greatest danger. And you are still my son.”

  “And Tomas?” Barnaby asked, scanning the faces in the palace courtyard.

  Ravvi shook his head. “He stayed with the rest of the Kin.”

  For a moment, Jesse saw an expression of sadness pass over Barnaby’s face, but then it hardened. “Of course.” He raised his hand in a kind of salute to his father. “I will leave and let the elders decide.”

  Strange that he would give up so easily, Jesse thought. After all, these are his people, and he doesn’t seem the type to surrender in an argument.

  Then again, Barnaby’s squad didn’t seem to be as loyal to each other as Jesse’s. Maybe he doesn’t really care what happens to Nero and Talia.

  “Please,” Parvel said, stepping forward, “if you will let me explain the seriousness of the situation—”

  But Ravvi just shook his head. “If you would speak further, you must speak to the elders of the Kin,” he said, gesturing to the group on the steps. “I do not have the power to decide.”

  Jesse knew from the look in Parvel’s eyes that he would speak further. He loved any chance for debate, even in front of an audience. Especially in front of an audience, Jesse thought.

  “If I may, I have something to say,” Parvel said, stepping toward the elders, but speaking loud enough for the crowd to hear. “There are two young people, barely more than children, who need your help.” He gestured to the gathered Kin. “Here, I see forty strong, able-bodied men. Will none of you come to their defense?”

  “In our laws, you do not have permission to address the elders, young Amarian,” the one elder said in a thin, reedy voice.

  “Besides, you speak foolishness,” a sour-faced elder added, glaring at Parvel. “We should leave at once, with or without the boy.”

  “Surely you can see that this is an injustice,” Parvel continued, ignoring him. “Will you let innocent blood be shed in your land?”

  “It is not our land anymore,” an elder said, shaking his head sadly. “It fell from our hands long, long ago.”

  “You mean we gave it up,” another voice said. Jesse turned. It was Barnaby, Zora perched on his shoulder. He was leaning against one of the pillars, looking down at the people. “Our fathers abandoned this place. They ran away when they should have fought.”

  “How dare you speak of our ancestors that way!” the sour-faced elder said, shaking his fist. “We never should have come to the aid of this impudent boy!” A muttering from the crowd told Jesse that many agreed with him.

  “Barnaby…” Parvel said in a warning tone.

  “Trust me,” he said quietly. Then he turned back to the Kin. “I mean no disrespect to those who have gone before us. They did what they thought was best, but there is no need for us to repeat their mistakes.”

 
“What do you mean, son?” Ravvi asked, stepping forward from the crowd.

  “Don’t you see?” Barnaby said. “The Watchers of Westlund have left Lidia behind. Here, we have a chance to reclaim what was once ours. We can rebuild. All groups of Kin, scattered around the kingdom, can join and become what they once were: Lidians. United.”

  The crowd began to mutter again, but this time, their hushed words were tinged with excitement. Even some of the elders appeared to be listening.

  Is it really possible? Jesse wondered, looking doubtfully around at the ruins. The tunnels, at least, seemed to be past repair, soon to be destroyed by the rising waters. The rest of the city was in disrepair. He wondered if Barnaby actually thought Lidia could be rebuilt, or if he was merely using the idea as bait to manipulate the Kin.

  “Amarias has rejected us. The Amarians have done nothing to welcome us, but let us wander their land, barely surviving,” Barnaby said, his voice growing stronger as he paced along the porch. “We owe them no debt. Let us leave them and become a nation once again. Let us restore Lidia to her former greatness!”

  A few of the Kin actually cheered at that. “The boy’s right,” Jesse heard one voice shout.

  “That attitude was what caused the fall of Lidia in the first place,” a new voice said, this one from behind them.

  While all of the people watched, Tomas stepped forward, next to Barnaby, barely giving him a glance before addressing the people again. “What my brother seems to have forgotten is that this talk of rising as a great nation led the Lidians of this city to neglect its defenses, to ignore warnings of attack. It led to our downfall.”

  A visible conflict broke out among the people. Some sided with Tomas, while others seemed unconvinced, still excited about the prospect of rebuilding the old city.

  Jesse stepped forward and spoke quietly to him. “Tomas, is this really what you want? Two could die because of your pride!”

  But Tomas only brushed Jesse aside, carefully watching the crowd below.

  “Is this what you young people have brought to us?” the sour-faced elder bellowed, shaking his fist at them. “Disorder and conflict to tear the Kin apart, we who have stayed together for two hundred years of exile?”

  Barnaby started to speak, but Tomas cut him off. “No,” he said, raising a hand to silence the people. Amazingly, the clamor of voices died down. “I agree with my brother that we must return here.”

  Now even Jesse wanted to join the mutterings of disbelief. What does he mean?

  “No, I’m saying we must not focus on our glory and pride,” Tomas continued. “Doing so would distract us from danger. But this was our city, our home, and with hard work and time, we can make it so again.”

  “And what about these invaders, these three agents of the king who bring evil into our land?” Barnaby challenged him. “We cannot wait for hard work and time to get rid of them. We must act now.”

  “With caution, following the tradition of the Kin, we will drive them from here,” Tomas said, speaking more to the crowd than his brother. “According to our laws, we can go to war against anyone who threatens even one of our own.”

  “He is not our own anymore,” a dissenter shouted. “When he joined the Guard, he left the Kin.”

  There was silence in the crowd. Not even Ravvi protested.

  Jesse remembered all that Tomas and Barnaby had said. “Maybe he wanted to be cut off from the Kin.” “The Kin never forgives.” “I am dead to them.”

  Then the oldest elder stood shakily. “No,” he said. He climbed the stairs with effort and stood between Barnaby and Tomas. “We have a law—rarely used, but present from the earliest days of our people. A son of Lidia can always return.”

  There was no sound of any kind from the crowd. Everyone was watching, waiting. The elder turned to Barnaby. “The only question is: do you choose to return?”

  For a moment, Barnaby hesitated. Then he stepped forward. “My brother is right. Pride can only destroy. It was because of pride that I left the Kin. But now I return, and so can this fallen city!”

  More cheers this time, and Jesse noted there were very few skeptics left in the group.

  “Zeal, order and wisdom on the same platform,” one of the other elders mused, once the noise had died down. “Never since the day of Jardos, Vincent, and Hyram.”

  It was true, Jesse realized. The three men addressing the people looked very little like the three men of the statues, yet they fulfilled their roles: Barnaby to inspire, Tomas to plan carefully, and the elder to offer counsel. Lidia has found its leaders again.

  “I, Tomas, son of Lidia, call a ruling session of elders in keeping with the laws of the Kin,” Tomas said. Immediately, all of the people began to sit down.

  Out of respect, Jesse guessed. He must be invoking some official procedure. Parvel made a motion for his fellow squad members to sit, and Jesse did so, even though the marble of the porch was still wet with rain.

  “I make a motion that we go to war against these three Riders, for the safety of our people,” Tomas said. As soon as he finished speaking, he too sat.

  “I am the fourth generation from Nolan, son of Hyram,” the elder between Tomas and Barnaby said, his old bones creaking as he stood. “I second the motion. All elders in attendance who support this, stand.”

  At first, no one moved. Then one elder stood, reaching to help the man beside him to his feet. Another elder, looking up at them, got a determined look on his face and stood. Soon, all but one of the elders were standing.

  “It is enough,” Tomas said, triumph in his voice. “The motion is passed.”

  “Tonight, we fight, as our ancestors would not,” Barnaby called. “Tonight, we fight for Lidia!” A cheer rose from the gathered Kin, and the men drew their swords, holding them up in salute.

  “We wait for nightfall,” Parvel called, once the noise had died down. “Come back here when the sun sets.”

  The assembled men were quick to disperse, leaving the courtyard in different directions. Jesse knew the excitement of exploring the ruins, but he couldn’t imagine how excited he would be if he knew his people would be rebuilding them soon.

  Only Tomas and Barnaby did not move to join their countrymen.

  “Well, I see you haven’t lost your gift for moving a crowd,” Tomas said dryly, arms folded as he faced his brother.

  “And you’re just as set on order and regulations,” Barnaby countered. “What are you doing here, Tomas? Father said—”

  “I left after the others,” Tomas said, cutting him off. “I felt it was my duty to join them.” A small smile appeared on his face. “Besides, I missed the bird.”

  “Well, you can have her,” Owen piped up. “I certainly don’t want her around.” In response, Zora screeched at him.

  “Well, what are we going to do for the next few hours?” Jesse asked Owen. “I’ve had quite enough of exploring this city. I practically know it better than my own hometown.”

  Owen started jumping down the steps two at a time. “Let’s go to the treasure tree,” he said. “We can try to find something the giants missed.”

  Jesse just shook his head. He should have known Owen would suggest something like that. “We’ll be back,” he called to Parvel, Silas and Rae. Parvel smiled and waved him on.

  “Maybe we’ll find the other two silver keys,” Jesse said, following Owen down the steps at a much slower pace.

  “Didn’t you check your pocket?” Owen asked.

  “No,” Jesse said, but his hand immediately went to it. He pulled out his silver key, wrapped in a piece of paper.

  “Castor got them out,” Owen said. “In a room full of treasure, burning to the ground, he took time to take three keys out of a lock.”

  Jesse unfolded the paper. It was a picture of a compass. The printing at the bottom read, “C is for Compass.” Jesse grinned. I bet the
re’s now a page missing from Castor’s primary reader.

  Above the drawing, written in Castor’s neat writing, was a single word: “Promise.” Jesse turned it over. On the back, Castor had written, “You are not a son of Lidia, but you are a brother.”

  Jesse held it out to Owen. “Did you see this?”

  He nodded. “I helped him with spelling. We had a lesson on the alphabet. The Westlundish version is a little different than ours.”

  Jesse took another look at the compass in the drawing. “Look,” he said, his voice rising in excitement, pointing to its center.

  “It’s a needle,” Owen said without enthusiasm. “Most compasses have them.”

  “No, it’s Parvel’s golden dial, the one that pointed us to the palace,” Jesse said. “I recognize it. The Lidians must have had a large compass made of gold, and the broken dial was the needle that pointed north.”

  “And the compass probably burnt down with the rest of the treasures,” Owen said, pointing. “Right there.”

  They had reached the tree, or what was left of the tree. It had fallen into one of the nearby buildings, crushing its roof. Another rebuilding project for the Kin, Jesse thought.

  Owen scrambled up the fallen trunk, not seeming to care that he was getting ash all over his shirt. “Come on, Jesse,” he called.

  Jesse shook his head. “I’ve had enough climbing, thank you.”

  He missed Castor being there to add, “You’re welcome.”

  Owen emerged a few minutes later, empty handed. “Not even a coin,” he said dismally. “Those giants did a good job.”

  “Maybe when the Kin move the tree, they’ll find something,” Jesse said.

  “But I won’t be here then,” Owen pointed out.

  “Maybe you will be,” Jesse said. He had been giving it a lot of thought. Now he just had to explain to Owen. “You could stay here, you know—you, Nero and Talia. It would be safer than anywhere else in Amarias. Once you join the Youth Guard, you’re a marked man for the rest of your life.”

  “But I don’t think the Kin, or the Lidians, or whatever I’m supposed to call them really want us here,” Owen said. “They don’t seem to like outsiders.”