Between Their Worlds

by Barb; J. C. Hendee

  Wynn saw little hope in that.

  “If she goes back,” Ore-locks replied, “Premin Sykion and the council—your council—will lock her up again.”

  “Perhaps not,” Hawes countered.

  Chane crouched down beside them. “What do you mean?”

  Hawes only looked at Wynn. “I have only one answer, and you may not like it.”

  The premin half turned where she knelt, retrieved the parcel she’d left on the bed, and handed it to Wynn. Still lost, Wynn took it and pulled the tie string to unwrap the outer canvas.

  Inside was a midnight blue sage’s robe.

  Nearly half the night had passed, but neither Magiere nor the others with her had mentioned going to bed. They all waited to hear from Wynn. At the three bells of midnight, Brot’an finally got up to go find out what was keeping Wynn. Chap had immediately risen to follow him, as had Magiere and Osha, much to Leanâlhâm’s alarm. Before Magiere got far, Leesil grabbed her arm.

  “Let Brot’an go alone,” he said.

  As Magiere tried to pull free, Chap snarled at Leesil. Osha ignored him entirely, but Brot’an stood in his way. Leesil shook his head, hanging on to Magiere.

  “Your going at Wynn again isn’t going to hurry her along. Everyone, sit down. And Brot’an . . . make it quick!”

  Brot’an nodded, slipping out the door before Chap or Osha could follow.

  Magiere had turned on Leesil, but he wouldn’t back down.

  So now Magiere and the rest waited even longer for Brot’an’s return. Leesil tried to distract everyone with a sketch of the city’s districts that he and Brot’an had made during their scouting trips.

  Osha merely sank down below the window as he asked, “Will work?”

  “Depends on what Wynn has to say,” Leesil answered, “and who’s going where. But yes, the plan has a chance . . . and some flexibility.”

  Magiere’s feelings toward Wynn were still too conflicted to agree with Leesil, even after he explained their options in the face of not knowing where to go once they left the city.

  “If anmaglâhk split?” Osha asked. “If not to gather, then they—”

  He was cut off by a light double knock on the door. Before anyone moved, it opened.

  Brot’an stepped in with Wynn and Shade—and a cloaked dwarf carrying an iron staff.

  Osha immediately rose and fixed on only Wynn.

  Magiere had seen a few dwarves about the city, but none up close—as she had on their journey north into the Wastes. One in particular she had gotten to know a little. Much as this stranger caught her attention, her gaze quickly shifted to the open door as she reached for her falchion leaning against the bed.

  Brot’an shut the door, but Magiere didn’t relax. Chane hadn’t come. It should’ve been a relief, but it wasn’t.

  Last night, Wynn had been disheveled, wearing a wrinkled gray robe. Tonight, she was dressed in her old elven pants and tunic from their time among the an’Cróan, with an open cloak thrown over the top. She carried the long staff with the odd leather sheath covering its top. Her hair was pulled back into a tail. Chap’s daughter, the black majay-hì, pressed up against the sage, as if anxious at being among so many strangers.

  Then Wynn looked at Osha, and her gaze lingered on him. As he seemed about to speak, she looked away, gesturing to the dwarf.

  “This is Ore-Locks Iron-Braid,” she said. “He can be trusted.”

  Leesil had mentioned the dwarf last night, but this one was nothing like the one Magiere had met in the earliest days of their journey to the northern wastes. Unlike that fierce and boisterous warrior, Wynn’s companion was clean-shaven and wore a simple orange vestment under his cloak. He was quiet, intently watchful, and simply nodded to all in place of any greeting. Not at all dwarfish by what little Magiere knew of these strange people.

  “You learn . . . news?” Osha asked Wynn.

  “Yes,” she nearly whispered without looking at him.

  Magiere shook her head slightly over the trouble that remained for those two.

  Wynn pulled off her cloak and leaned her odd staff in the corner behind the door. As she stepped closer, standing before Leesil’s sketch on the floor, Shade followed her. She looked down at Magiere sitting on the floor with Leesil and Chap.

  “Can we talk?” she asked bluntly. “Can we make plans?”

  Magiere waited for Leesil to answer, but he didn’t, and apparently neither had Chap, in his own way. Magiere found herself stuck in the role of peacemaker, something she was never good at and was not in the mood for right now.

  Nodding once, she gestured to the open paper map. “Don’t think we have a choice. You’re the only one who knows where to head next.”

  And wasn’t that an annoying twist of fate?

  Wynn settled on the floor, resting a hand on Shade’s back.

  In a happier memory, in what seemed a lifetime ago, Magiere recalled waking in Leesil’s arms for the first time after they’d finished driving Welstiel out of the capital of her homeland. They were preparing for another journey, and Wynn had burst through the door of the little inn’s room, shouting, “I’m coming with you!”

  She’d seemed almost a child back then, full of wonder, and nothing like the hardened young woman who now knelt on the floor. This woman solved mysteries and uncovered secrets that others wouldn’t admit existed.

  Wynn half turned, looking back. “Ore-Locks, grab a stool and join us. And Osha . . .”

  She never finished, but Magiere saw her swallow hard, perhaps breathing too quickly.

  “So . . .” Leesil began awkwardly. “This premin came to you? You have a direction for us?”

  Wynn studied him. “Yes.”

  Wynn kept as calm as she could, but her heart pounded. It might’ve been the clear rift between herself and Magiere, Leesil, and Chap. Yes, that was most of it: knowing how much they opposed Chane having anything to do with what had to be accomplished. She’d expected them to be opposed but never thought it would fray and tear the ties they had to one another.

  Yes, it was all that, but it was also Osha.

  She felt him watching her, and she wanted to turn to him. This was not the moment or the place for that. She fought to shove aside memories of the time they’d spent together, up to that final instant on Bela’s crowded docks.

  How different he looked now, and it was more than that he no longer dressed like the Anmaglâhk. She desperately wanted to know what had happened to him. Then there was poor Leanâlhâm, of all people, here with the others. Worse, the young girl looked as much changed as Osha in the past two years, perhaps a little taller, and not at all happy to see Wynn. They had at least been friendly in the Farlands, for as little as they’d gotten to know one another. What had made Brot’an bring Leanâlhâm here?

  Shade was no help in easing the tension. She pressed in against Wynn, as if everyone here were an enemy.

  This was not going to be easy. But with the possible exception of Leanâlhâm, everyone in this room had the skills needed to track and obtain the remaining two orbs. Wynn finally had some real help besides Chane and Shade. She wasn’t about to lose that now.

  She steeled herself and looked Chap in the eyes.

  “We didn’t decipher much,” she said. “We know the three recovered orbs are for Water, Earth, and Fire. So we’re searching for Air and Spirit.”

  You are certain?

  Chap glanced again at Shade, who continued to ignore him.

  “Yes,” Wynn answered him, and then turned her attention to Magiere. “We were able to decipher that the orb of Air is somewhere in the south, possibly in the Suman Empire or the great desert just north of it.”

  “On this continent?” Magiere asked, and all traces of stiffness vanished from her expression. “We’re that close?”

  “Close?” Wynn repeated. “Have you seen a map of this continent? Do you know how long it will take to reach the Empire, how large it is, and the desert even more than that?”

  “Hopefull
y you’ve got more to go on,” Leesil said.

  Wynn shook her head. “Not exactly, but Premin Hawes has a suggestion. It is risky, but I can’t think of anything else, and we need to move quickly.”

  “What is this suggestion?” Brot’an asked.

  “I have an . . . acquaintance in the guild’s Suman branch, a domin of metaology named Ghassan il’Sänke. He helped in deciphering earlier parts of the scroll . . . and in combating the undead.”

  The last part gained Magiere’s full attention, and Wynn gestured to her staff leaning in the corner.

  “He created that for me,” she said. “The crystal emits light akin to the sun. We know what that can do to Noble Dead, vampires, and others.”

  Leesil stared at the staff, both of his white-blond eyebrows arched. “Truly, it can— Wait. What others?”

  Wynn didn’t want to get sidetracked into explaining about Sau’ilahk, the wraith.

  “I’ve seen other kinds of Noble Dead,” she answered. “We’ll deal with that later. Domin il’Sanke also believes the Ancient Enemy, so-called, may . . . will return. Premin Hawes believes that if anyone can decipher more of the cryptic clues we’ve extracted concerning the orb of Air, it might be him.”

  Wynn briefly explained about the limited details hidden in the poem versus all the centuries that had passed since it had been written. It was daunting that time itself may have rendered useless what little geographic hints were hidden in the scroll.

  “So what’s the risk?” Leesil asked. “It’s not hard to see you’re less than thrilled with bringing this Suman in on what we’re after. Why? Whose side is he on?”

  Wynn took a slow breath. How could she explain about il’Sänke?

  “From what I’ve seen—learned—he’s as determined as my guild branch’s Premin Council to keep any portents secret from the masses. The difference is that he’s not in denial, at least to me. He knows as much as I do, though perhaps about different details.”

  “So your Premin Hawes thinks this il’Sänke may know more?” Magiere asked. “Maybe something specific about where to look for another orb?”

  “She does . . . and neither of us has a better idea. But we share with him only the clues related to the orb of Air . . . and nothing more.”

  “Then we go south,” Magiere said. “But what about the last orb, the one of Spirit?”

  Wynn looked at Magiere and then Leesil, feeling bleak. Leesil had fallen silent, and stared down at the map. She felt Chap watching her, but beyond his previous brief comment, he had said nothing at all. Wynn had to wonder about the changes in all three of them.

  Magiere had always been the one who wanted to be done with all this and just go home. Yet now she was the only one openly pushing forward, while the other two remained silent.

  “We’ve learned nothing yet of the last orb, which means . . .” Wynn faltered, her voice quavering as she continued. “We’re going to have to separate into two groups.”

  She had no idea how they’d take this, and braced for the outrage.

  Leesil’s amber eyes only flickered, and he sat up, leaning toward her.

  “We already knew that,” he said quietly, “and planned for it. Two groups will be necessary for at least one to escape this city without the Anmaglâhk being able to follow quickly enough.”

  Both his manner and close proximity brought Wynn some relief.

  “There are loose ends,” Magiere grumbled, and she looked to Chap.

  Chap sat rigid beside Magiere. Again Wynn didn’t hear one word from him in her head. She wanted to know what he thought about all this, that he still believed they shared the same goals. Chap liked to be in control, and events were pressing forward right over the top of him.

  “There are still preparations to make,” Leesil said. “We’ll need help with some of it, since we don’t know anyone here besides you.”

  Confused, Wynn answered, “Yes, of course. But I need to speak with Chap . . . alone.”

  Leesil scowled in suspicion, but Wynn cut him off before he could speak.

  “Talk with Ore-Locks about what you need,” she said, and then got up. “If he can’t come up with something, we’ll figure it out.”

  “Wynn . . .” Magiere began. “What is this about?”

  Wynn headed for the door, for there was one thing she’d learned that no one else should know just yet—no one except Chap. For it to be made clear, she would need to force Shade to face her father.

  “Shade, come on,” she called. “And Chap?”

  Magiere visibly calmed, looking at Chap and then Shade, as if she’d suddenly understood something. Leesil sighed, rolling his eyes.

  “Get going,” he told Chap, “and get this settled before we have to set things in motion.”

  Wynn said nothing to correct Leesil and Magiere’s misguided assumptions. She let them believe what they wanted to. What she needed in privacy with Chap had nothing to do with healing the rift between a father and a daughter.

  Chap rose and headed toward Wynn, but as he passed too close, Shade sidled away from him. Wynn couldn’t tell if Chap reacted or not; he simply stalked out the door to wait on the landing. Still, Shade wouldn’t budge.

  “Now!” Wynn commanded.

  Shade rumbled and finally headed out.

  Wynn could feel Osha watching her, but she didn’t dare look back at him. She was about to follow Shade and Chap when she heard the first part of a conversation in the room behind her.

  “What do you need?” Ore-Locks asked.

  “Well, to begin,” Leesil replied, “two wagons, some good-sized trunks, as we’ve a lot to haul with us that will have to be loaded early. And especially a ship to take our cargo and three passengers . . . departing at night.”

  After a long pause, Ore-Locks answered, “It is possible . . . what more?”

  Wynn left them to their plans and closed the door, wishing Brot’an had said something—just so she’d know he was occupied. She found Chap waiting at her feet with his head down, and Shade sat two steps down the stairs with her back turned.

  She cared for them both so much, but there was no time to deal with issues between them. What she wanted Chap to know she couldn’t risk saying aloud, and that was why she needed Shade.

  “Shade, show him,” Wynn whispered. “Everything that happened . . . everything that was said with Premin Hawes.”

  Chap looked up at her. What is this about?

  Wynn put a finger over her lips, for she wouldn’t speak any of it out loud. Only Chap could know what she’d learned. Most especially, it had to be kept from Brot’an, but also from Osha and Leanâlhâm, who were too much under the greimasg’äh’s influence.

  “Shade,” Wynn whispered.

  Shade swiveled only her head and eyed Wynn, long and hard.

  “Please,” Wynn added.

  Shade finally turned about, eyeing her father much like she would’ve an enemy or threat. She put her forepaws up one step and stretched her head out.

  When Chap looked up at Wynn in uncertainty, she waved him toward Shade. He hesitantly slipped his head against his daughter’s. Wynn wished that touch, the sharing in memory-speak, could’ve been just for them. They needed that, no matter how much Shade resisted, but that wasn’t the reason.

  The secret was still only a guess, but even that could be dangerous for what it might mean. Wynn knew the instant Chap learned it from Shade.

  He lurched back, spinning on the landing, and his head nearly hit Wynn’s leg. All Wynn did when he looked up was slowly nod. Even before she glanced toward the door and those muted voices beyond it, Chap did so, and his hackles rose.

  She wanted more time to talk with him, but that couldn’t be here and now. Even trying to use memory-speak with Shade and have her pass it along to Chap would take too long. The others were waiting, and the longer she remained outside, the less likely they would believe this private moment was about Chap and Shade.

  The secret was not about the five orbs, but of five parts to
one weapon, or so it had been guessed. The last who should ever know of this, even for all he had done for those Wynn cared about, was the master assassin.

  Brot’an was here for a reason: to keep his own kind and Most Aged Father from getting to Magiere and what she’d recovered. What could—would—Brot’an do for such a weapon himself if he learned of it?

  It was bad enough that Wynn had sent that journal with Osha to be given to Brot’an. It was the worst outcome of how naive she’d once been. When she looked down again, Chap stood glaring at the door. He began to shake with hissing breaths between bared and clenched teeth. He understood the implications of what Shade had relayed to him and exactly why Wynn had dragged them out into the hallway. Upon reaching for the door, she faltered at Shade’s memory-words in her head.