The Narrowing Path: The Complete Trilogy (The Narrowing Path Series Book 4)

by David J Normoyle

  Chapter 15

  10 Days Left

  The White Spider had asked to meet at a tavern and Bowe decided to go. “There’s no point in even giving you advice.” Glil was animated. “Like you ever listen to me.”

  “I do, I even listen to your Th...Thar-something stories about trees or some such,” Bowe said. He was with Glil, Sorrin, Edison, and Thrace in one of Bellanger Mansion’s second floor rooms. The wooden floors had been polished. Old furniture had been cleaned, dusted off, and placed here. Now that it was revamped, this room wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of the other mansions. A mirror with a gilded frame hung on one wall, and an ancient portrait of a long-dead Bellanger Guardian glared down at the gathering.

  Glil glowered. “Always happy to hear that my rock-people and I have been of service. Now that you’ve brought them up, you’ll get to hear one more story.”

  “Please, no.” Bowe put his head in his hands. “Think of the others. They’re not all as strong as me.”

  “The black granite tribe was at war with the yellow sandstone tribe. Its leader, CoalHeart, invited the leader of the yellow sandstone tribe, ChunkyTurnips, to a parley above a flagstone of peace.”

  “ChunkyTurnips? Seriously, that’s the closest translation to his actual name?”

  “ChunkyTurnips was suspicious.” Glil ignored Bowe’s interruption. “However, CoalHeart set up the meeting place on a rocky ridge which could be seen for miles around. No one could come to CoalHeart’s aid without the yellow sandstone tribe seeing them, and ChunkyTurnips knew he could defeat CoalHeart in single combat.”

  “So are you trying to say I can defeat the White Spider in single combat?” Bowe suggested.

  Glil glared at him. “When ChunkyTurnips met CoalHeart, he was confident. But he didn’t know the territory as well as the black granite tribe, and CoalHeart lured him to stand at a point where the surface was weak. The ground collapsed, and ChunkyTurnips fell into a deep ravine and was never seen again.”

  “Good thing I’m not meeting those tricky black granite Thardassians,” Bowe said. “I’d never trust someone called CoalHeart.”

  “Because White Spider is so much better. Yet you prance blithely into his web.”

  “My instinct is that he means me no harm.”

  “Do you not get that this is a competition where all of the Greens are trying to kill each other? No one trusts their friends, never mind their enemies. And you have already been betrayed and fallen into several traps.” Glil threw his arms in the air. “I give up.” He stormed out of the room.

  “He always gets jealous when I trust someone new,” Bowe said to Sorrin. “Breaks into a mad Thardassian story rant.”

  “He’s right—this is risky,” Sorrin said. “I’m not sure I disagree with him.”

  “Don’t worry,” Bowe said, “I’ll have Thrace and Edison with me. At least they don’t think that I’m crazy.” Bowe turned around and saw both Thrace and Edison twirling their fingers to their temples and pointing at him.

  “Stop that,” Bowe ordered. “You guys agreed to protect me. You can start by being more supportive.”

  “We might be able to protect his body, but we can do nothing to save his mind. He’s one crazy fool,” Edison said.

  “Shut up and let’s go,” Bowe said. “This brotherhood wasn’t created just so everyone in it could make fun of me. Though maybe it serves me right for thinking that anything useful could come from Deadbeats.”

  Bowe led Thrace and Edison down the stairs and out the main entrance. As they exited, the force of the sweltering heat sucked the energy from him. Bowe stumbled, wilting, but forced himself to keep going. At least he was wearing plain brown escay clothing this time and not his ascor costume. No one did anything in the middle of the day anymore, and even now, an hour before sunset, being outside felt like being in a furnace.

  Initially, Thrace and Edison walked just behind him and to either side, like marshals escorting an ascor, until Bowe insisted they walk beside him.

  Edison cleared his throat loudly. “Can I ask you something?”

  “You already did, but go on,” Bowe said.

  “I want to fight in the Eye. Will you help me?”

  “I don’t understand. You came to me so you wouldn’t have to fight and die there.”

  “I’m not so keen on the dying part. But fighting—you don’t know what it’s like to be born a Grenier. Everything is about training to be a warrior. And I’m good, even if I’m not one of the best. Dulnato usually beat me, and Sorrin, before his injury. Perhaps Jisri was better, too. But I am a skilled fighter. And I enjoyed the old life I had before the Path. The banter, the competition. The weariness at the end of the day that meant you were asleep before your head hit the pillow. I even miss the constant array of bruises.” Edison rubbed at his arm, as if massaging a bruise that no longer existed.

  “You can’t go back to that,” Bowe said. “Even if you fought every day in the Eye, you can’t go back in time.” Bowe thought about Edison training alone out in the courtyard every day. “Perhaps you can experience the bruises and the competition once again. But fighting in the Eye won’t bring back the camaraderie and the banter of living in Grenier Mansion.”

  “I know. If I were training in the Fortress under Drakasi I might be happier, but Dulnato wouldn’t allow it. I still want to fight, though. None of Drakasi’s students have done much in the Eye; only a Lessard fighter called Kotara has showed promise as a Wolfling.”

  Bowe thought about what Edison was saying, then tried to look deeper, beyond the words. In the ascorim, words were lies—only actions held truth. He tried to see through Edison’s eyes. It was a trick he’d learned from playing Harmony—by considering the board from your opponent’s point of view, it was easier to understand his strategy. Edison was without a role at Bellanger Mansion. Thrace trained the escay in fighting. Sorrin and Glil were Bowe’s advisers. From Edison’s point of view, if Bowe went back on his word and chose someone to accompany him to the Refuge, it wouldn’t be him. By proving himself in the Eye, Edison’s status and visibility would be enhanced. A prominent Eye fighter could be chosen by another Elect who didn’t have an obvious Defender, such as the White Spider.

  Bowe turned to Thrace. “And you? Do you want to fight in the Eye?”

  Thrace shook his head. “That’s not for me.”

  He didn’t talk much, and Bowe understood him less than any of the other Deadbeats. Among the brotherhood he was the most quiet and shy, and he barely said a word, usually letting Edison talk for him. On the other hand, when he was training the escay guards, he barely stopped shouting. And the escay boys seemed more comfortable having him shout at them than having the other Deadbeats talk to them. Except for Sindar, of course—everyone liked Sindar. That turned Bowe’s mind toward the unpleasant thought of Iyra liking Sindar, so he decided to quash his line of thinking.

  “You want to fight in the Eye, but...” Bowe studied Edison. “There’s always a ‘but,’ right?”

  “The problem is that no one finds out who they are facing until the day of the fight, and it’s too late to back out then. I want a fair fight. In my first fight, there’s no way I could beat one of those scarred giants who have fought in the Eye for years. Even winning one fight would give me a huge increase in experience. I want to face someone else who has never fought in the Eye before.”

  “You don’t want to face the guy who chopped Cetu into pieces, you mean. Or anyone like him.”

  “Exactly. And since you know the Eyemaster, Legrand, I thought you might be able to help me.”

  “He’s met me, but that doesn’t mean he’ll look favorably on me.” By now, Legrand might feel that Bowe had put one over on him at the Harmony match.

  “We’re here,” Edison said. They stood in front of the tavern; it was called The Last Stop. It looked no different from all the other buildings along the street. With red clay walls and an air of dereliction, only the signpost displaying its name showed it to be a tave
rn.

  Inside, it was dark and smoky. No one talked. Solitary drinkers occupied most of the tables, each sitting in front of a glass of ale. Several men lay slumped over tables. Only one person turned to the new arrivals, and he gave them an uninterested glance before returning to his drinking. The White Spider had indicated that he would be upstairs, so Bowe moved toward the wooden staircase that hugged the near wall. Thrace stepped in front of Bowe and took the lead. He kept his hand on his sword hilt and ascended carefully. Bowe and Edison followed.

  The stairs led the way onto a rooftop terrace. The sunlight was momentarily dazzling after the dim light of the interior. Railings surrounded the terrace, and several chairs and tables were scattered about. The only person there—the White Spider—sat in a chair near the wooden railing.

  “It’s just us,” the White Spider said as Thrace checked for hiding places. He wore a white robe and, of course, the white mask with only one eyehole. Even outside in the open air, his voice sounded otherworldly. “This place is popular in the evening, with great views of Helion painting the city in purple light. Too hot to be here during the day, though.” He gestured toward Thrace. “Tell your man not to worry. Today’s trap is not for you. Good to know you are using bodyguards finally. It’s likely that Dulnato will move against you. As you move up the lists, you become more of a threat, and Dulnato knows only force.”

  “What about you? You surely must be more danger to Dulnato than I am. And what trap are you talking about?”

  “Sit down. In a city this big, it’s hard to find one little spider. I don’t live in a big mansion. You came, so perhaps there can be trust between us. As for the trap, all will be revealed. Hard to trust one wearing a mask, isn’t it?”

  Bowe took a seat opposite the White Spider. “Hard to even have a conversation.” It was difficult to communicate without the feedback of facial expression. Bowe wondered how bad the facial scarring must have been to make him wear it. He couldn’t imagine how hot it must be under there.

  “Yet you came. Like many of your moves along the Path so far, it could be seen as either clever and calculating, or reckless and dumb.”

  “Courageous and adventurous,” Bowe suggested.

  The White Spider paused. Bowe imagined he was smiling, but who knew what went on behind that mask? “Well, your success in moving up the lists has been unparalleled so far.”

  “Except for you. I wasn’t the one who came back from death,” Bowe said. “So what do you want from me?”

  “Just your friendship. And to prove it, I have a gift for you. Look down there.”

  Bowe couldn’t believe that the White Spider didn’t have ulterior motives. He looked down and studied the street below them through the gaps in the railing. It was hard to follow the gaze of someone wearing a mask, so it took Bowe a moment to figure out what the White Spider was looking at. Then he saw Reyanu striding down the street surrounded by some of his Defenders, including Phevan and Drenno.

  A group of women approached them from the other direction. They wore bright pink, yellow, and peach dresses and decorative lace bonnets. It was unusual to see courtesans out during the day; they were usually only seen at night or in the Helion twilight. Each of them held a basket in one hand and threw flower petals into the air with the other. White cherry blossoms. Bowe glanced to the side where the White Spider looked down, gripping the handrail with one surprisingly petite hand. Bowe stood up and leaned over the edge, studying the scene.

  By now, the courtesans were mingling with Reyanu and his Defenders. The boys laughed and moved aside for them. As one, the girls flipped their baskets upward, causing a cascade of flower petals to rain down. Then there was a flash of metal, and the woman in the peach dress pulled a knife from the bottom of her basket. Bowe’s breath caught in his throat and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing. He knew he should shout a warning, but he didn’t. And by then it was too late. The blade was thrust upward through Reyanu’s stomach and into his chest.

  The cherry blossoms still fell. One of the women screamed, and they all ran, the woman in the peach dress among them. Only now that the bonnet had fallen from her head, she didn’t look much like a woman. She certainly didn’t run like one, holding the hem of her dress up around her thighs and sprinting at full pelt. Bowe remembered that one of the newsbards had reported that a Shadow named Nechil was allied with the White Spider. She...he turned a corner and disappeared from view.

  Reyanu’s Defenders stood in confusion and shock with cherry blossoms stuck to their clothes, tangled in their hair, and carpeting the ground. The normal movement on the street had stopped, and the escay circled the scene at a distance. Phevan shoved Drenno out of his way and ran to Reyanu, kneeling at his fallen leader’s side. Phevan lifted his head. Blood spurted from Reyanu’s mouth and his body convulsed. Phevan clutched Reyanu’s tunic, his hand reddening from his leader’s blood. He looked up at the sky and roared with anger. In that moment, his gaze fixed on the White Spider and Bowe.

  The White Spider waved to Phevan and stood up. “Follow me.” He led the way to the back of the roof terrace, where planks of wood had been placed to bridge across a road. “After you?”

  Thrace stepped in front of Bowe and tested the makeshift bridge with his foot. It bounced but seemed solid, and he quickly walked across it. Bowe followed, then Edison, and finally the White Spider crossed. Checking first to make sure no one was underneath them, the White Spider then kicked the planks down and they crashed to the ground. Several nearby pedestrians got a shock, but no one was hurt.

  “They’ll probably be too disorganized to come after us right now, but you never know.” The White Spider led them across the rooftops. “You’d better get back to your mansion. I’ll show you the best way from here.”

  “How was that a gift?” Bowe asked, running to catch up. “I’m supposed to trust you more now that you’ve organized an assassination in front of me?”

  “You knew what was going to happen. You knew it before you even came here.” The White Spider didn’t turn to face Bowe—not that it made much difference with the mask on. “This is what you wanted. You gain revenge for Reyanu helping Jeniano to capture and poison you, and you become the highest Raine left on the Path. Plus, we both get credit and move up the lists for eliminating a strong opponent.”

  “I didn’t want this.” Bowe didn’t like how his voice came out whiny and weak. They reached a gap in the rooftops, and they all jumped across. The sun had nearly set and its rays were shining straight in their eyes, almost blinding them.

  “This is the Path,” the White Spider said. “You want to walk it and keep your hands clean, but that isn’t possible. It’s kill or be killed. There’s limited room for partnerships, and anyone who isn’t your friend is your foe. Reyanu was your enemy, Dulnato is your enemy, Zidel is your enemy.”

  The White Spider’s monotone voice gave a slight inflection when he said Dulnato’s name. Even behind the mask, he was unable to hide his hatred for the person who had disfigured him. That was the key to understanding him. Bowe thought about the lists. After this, both the White Spider and Zidel would be ahead of Dulnato, leaving Bowe and Dulnato fighting for the third and last selection. And hadn’t the White Spider already said that Dulnato knew only one way? “You want me to kill Dulnato. That’s the point of this alliance.”

  The White Spider didn’t say anything. He stopped at a trapdoor and opened it. “Go down here. This will take you out onto the street near Bellanger Mansion. Until next time.”

  Edison peeked down. “It’s dark down there. How do we know this isn’t a trap? You could get rid of us and Reyanu in one go.”

  “No,” Bowe said. “The White Spider doesn’t want to kill me and leave only three strong candidates for selection left in the field.”

  “He understands,” the White Spider said. He gestured down the trapdoor again, and Edison reluctantly descended.

  As Bowe followed Edison and Thrace down the dark stairway, the White Spider c
alled to him. “You’re wrong. I don’t want you to kill Dulnato. I want you to draw him out so I can kill him.” He closed the trapdoor, leaving them in complete darkness.

  Thrace found the exit door, and they were able to make it back to Bellanger Mansion without any mishaps.

  Chapter 16

  8 Days Left

  The only furnishings in the small room were a desk and a stool. The desk held a number of carefully piled papers. Behind it, a marshal sat erect on the stool, reading. Bowe moved to the side so the marshal could see him, but the marshal shifted his sheet of paper to keep it between them. Bowe coughed loudly.

  The marshal was a short man with a large nose. Scrawny arms and the lack of a sword indicated that he was more clerk than soldier. The marshals who worked as guards and police and soldiers were so noticeable, it was easy to forget that marshals also worked as clerks and administrators. Escay became promoted to marshals when they moved into positions of authority.

  “Yes?” the marshal said, looking up at Bowe, Edison, Thrace, and Sorrin. He drew out the word in a long, nasal syllable and tilted his head in such a way that he seemed to be looking down his nose at them even though he was seated and they were standing.

  “We want to see Legrand.”

  “Let me check.” He shuffled through one of the piles of papers, took one out, and scanned it, then looked up. “As I suspected. Legrand wasn’t expecting any scruffy escay today.” He smiled. “Wipe your feet on the way out.”

  “We’re Greens,” Bowe protested. “Not escay.” He had decided not to wear his ascor outfit; it was too hot out.

  “And you make me thankful we have a system in place to prevent Greens from becoming ascor. The blessed Path.”

  “Some Greens become ascor.”

  “Only the right ones.” He looked Bowe up and down again to suggest that Bowe was as far from being a “right one” as you could hope to get. “Now, be off.” He flicked the back of his hand at them.