“It’s not a swamp, it’s a marsh,” said Silo.
A brief silence followed, and then Elgarth said, “I see you have webbed feet, Silo. How very unusual.”
Silo was beginning to dislike him. “All my family have—” He corrected himself. “All my family had webbed feet.”
“Ah yes, your family. The inspector was telling me. You were the only survivor, I believe, saved by your gift of the seeing. I’m so sorry for your loss.” He paused. “Of course I know nothing of the exact circumstances, but was there no way you could have warned them?”
“There wasn’t time,” said Silo shortly. Now he was beginning to really dislike this boy.
The girl called Daisy fixed him with huge, shining eyes. “Such a terrible tragedy, to lose all your family.”
“Well, maybe not all.” Elgarth gave Silo a smile, but it wasn’t a very nice one. “From something the inspector said I gather there’s a chance your father may still be alive. Have you heard anything from him at all?”
Now Silo hated him with a powerful passion. How did he know? Then he realized the inspector had read the Chronicle containing the “father a mystery” entry. This was no time to mention Aquinus the Accursed, dog thief, so he simply stared at Elgarth. Silo had a powerful, unsettling stare, and although Elgarth opened his mouth to say something else he thought better of it and dropped his eyes to the rather expensive carpet, now marked with a trail of wet webbed footprints.
Daisy broke the silence. “The gift of the seeing seems a dark one with you, Silo: tidal waves, the attack of zoo animals, things that bring sorrow and death. I see only lovely things—where the rainbow will shine, when the swallows will arrive in spring, the spot where the first snowdrop will flower. Mine is a joyous gift.”
And a useless one, thought Silo. If he was walking in a lonely wood he would rather know the whereabouts of a hungry bear than the first snowdrop, but he said nothing.
Daisy turned to Elgarth. “And you, Elgarth—what is it that you see?”
“Oh, a little bit of everything. I’m an all-rounder.”
He looked modest as he said it, but Silo didn’t think he really was. Silo thought he was rude and sly and obnoxious. “But obviously compared to Maximillian here, it’s all pretty low-key stuff. He’s a much greater seer than I am.”
They all turned to the great Maximillian Crow. He had said nothing so far, but now he blinked and stared about him, as though the sound of his name had brought him back, reluctantly, from some remote realm of thought. Then he gave them a slow, dreamy smile and said, “No one seer is greater than another. All of us here are equals. We have all been blessed with a great gift, and it is our duty to use it for the benefit of humankind.”
“How?” breathed Daisy.
Maximillian looked grave. “The gift of the seeing often shows us future sorrows. We should warn those who may be laid low by misfortune.”
“Or tidal waves, perhaps,” said Elgarth.
Silo stood up. He didn’t have to be a seer to know that if he stayed any longer, he would punch Elgarth in the face. “I’ve got to go.”
His boots stood in a puddle by the doorway and he picked them up and left, not even bothering to say good-bye, and took the stairs two at a time, his head buzzing with rage. He found Ruddle in the Bear and Bowman talking goatball with a couple of soldiers. He shifted up to make room for Silo.
“Had a nice evening, Silo? How were your little friends?”
“They’re no friends of mine,” said Silo shortly. “I hate them all.”
—
After weeks of sleeping on floors it was a real luxury to have a bed, and when Silo woke up in his tiny attic at the Running Dog next morning it was already late. He decided to pay Blossom a quick visit before going out to look around the fort, but he got no farther than the lobby. The inspector, who seemed to be in an extremely bad temper, poked his head out of a door.
“I want a word with you,” he said, beckoning Silo into the room. He settled himself behind a desk, and Silo got the distinct impression that he was in trouble.
“I believe you accepted an invitation last night from Governor Early’s son Elgarth.”
So his father was a governor, thought Silo. He would be.
“Elgarth tells me your behavior was odd. He said you barely spoke a word, and that your manner was hostile. And that you left in a great hurry.”
Silo thought back over his visit. That seemed to sum it up quite well.
“I didn’t bring you here to discuss your manners, or rather your lack of them, but a theft took place at that time and it seems likely that you are responsible. Have you anything to say for yourself?”
Silo hadn’t. Seething inside, he waited to hear more.
The inspector continued. “The facts are these. Elgarth put a red purse containing forty silver quarters on a table just inside the door of his room. Then he heard that Maximillian Crow had arrived and went to meet him—leaving the door locked, I might add. He invited Maximillian back to his room and left him there while he went to fetch Daisy. You arrived a little later, and Elgarth noticed the money was missing shortly after you left.”
He looked at Silo as though expecting him to say something. He didn’t, and the inspector went on, “Daisy is the daughter of a village headman. Her family provided her with ample funds for her journey. She has no reason to steal. Maximillian Crow is spoken of very highly by all who have met him, and Elgarth would hardly steal his own money.”
Silo wasn’t quite so sure about that.
“And so that leaves you. I am aware of your unfortunate family background. Your village headman told me all about their dishonest habits. And Elgarth mentioned that you left without putting your boots back on. Rather an unusual thing to do on a wet night—unless, of course, you had a purse of coins hidden in them.”
“I didn’t do it. You can search my room if you like.”
“We did so last night.”
Silo blessed his foresight in burning the Aquinus the Accursed poster. He stood glaring at the inspector. It seemed pointless to offer explanations, as it was obvious they wouldn’t be believed. So much, he thought bitterly, for getting away from his past and the reputation of the Zycos.
There was a knock on the door, and it swung open to reveal none other than Maximillian Crow. He was wrapped in an emerald-green cloak and wandered into the room with the same dreamy look that Silo had seen the night before.
“I just heard about…Elgarth said…” He seemed painfully shy.
“Have you something to tell me, Maximillian?” asked the inspector.
Maximillian nodded. “About yesterday evening. When Elgarth went to fetch Daisy I had…well, some visitors came.”
“How many visitors?” said the inspector.
“Oh, about twenty, I suppose.”
“Twenty?” The inspector was startled. “Who were they?”
Maximillian looked embarrassed. “I don’t know their names. They were just people who wanted my autograph.”
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”
“I only just heard. And besides…” He shuffled his feet. “It would seem as if I were boasting.” Then he added, “I’m sure Silo wouldn’t steal from a fellow seer.” He smiled his dreamy smile at them both and wandered out. He had just gone up in Silo’s estimation. Thanks to Maximillian he had gone from being the only suspect to one of twenty-odd and it was a great relief.
The inspector seemed almost annoyed. “What Maximillian has told us changes the situation somewhat. You may leave, but remember that I personally am not convinced of your innocence in this matter. I will be keeping a very careful eye on you in future.”
Silo left, raging with the injustice of it all. He went into Blossom’s stable and leaned against her leg, absently scratching her great belly. Elgarth had been very quick to accuse him, he thought, and he had been deliberately unpleasant the night before. Silo half suspected him of setting the whole thing up to get him into trouble. But why? He an
d Elgarth hadn’t liked one another from the first, but that hardly seemed reason enough. He decided to find Ruddle. A man of his sociable habits might have picked up some useful gossip about Elgarth Early and his family. He set out to check the inns, starting with the Bear and Bowman. Ruddle wasn’t there, or at the Forest Oak or the Owl, and after checking all the possible places on the main street, Silo started investigating the roads that ran between.
Within five minutes he was lost in a tangle of alleys. His way was blocked by herds of foraging pigs, and the area was home to a host of unfriendly dogs that growled at his approach. He was about to retrace his steps when a flash of emerald green caught his eye. Maximillian Crow had stepped out of a turning and was hastening down the alley ahead of him. Silo was about to call him but he paused, for there was something odd about Maximillian. His dreamy, wandering manner had gone and he walked briskly, scanning the houses on either side. And as Silo stood hesitating he saw him stop beside an open window, then turn to check the alley behind him. Hardly knowing why, Silo ducked behind a dunghill. And when he cautiously raised his head from behind its reeking mass he saw, as clear as day, Maximillian reach through the window and lift out a plate bearing a steaming jam roly-poly. Silo was flabbergasted. Maximillian Crow, the greatest seer on all Mainland and pudding pilferer! And suddenly a dark suspicion took possession of him, for experience told him that those inclined to steal desserts were often capable of more desperate crimes. But he held his indignation in check. He watched Maximillian pad off down the street and then set to follow at a safe distance, flitting softly from shadow to shadow. The pursuit ended in a quiet square. Maximillian rounded a corner, and when Silo reached it in his turn he found himself hemmed in by a huddle of tumbledown houses. Maximillian had vanished, but Silo’s eye was drawn to a ruinous pub called the Dead Lion. Although its windows were shuttered its door was ajar, and a plate stood upon its windowsill, a plate still warm to the touch and containing traces of jam. Silo had tracked down his quarry. He peered through a chink in the shutters and saw Maximillian sitting down with a ragged man. He saw him take a red purse from beneath his cloak and push it across the table to him, and then he had seen enough. His suspicions were confirmed. Maximillian had taken the money that Silo had been accused of stealing. Silo fought down a powerful urge to burst into the Dead Lion and kick him viciously on the bottom, but instead he sidled into a shadowy doorway and settled down to watch and wait, and in about ten minutes he saw the pair come out and walk away quickly in opposite directions.
When they were out of sight Silo entered the dark interior of the Dead Lion. The bartender was a sinister man with milky eyes and a forehead studded with boils.
“Those two who just left. What were they talking about?”
The man glared at him. “Is it any of your business?”
“No,” said Silo.
This was obviously the right answer. “I heard them mention goatball.”
“Thanks.”
Silo picked his way out of the alleys and headed back to the Running Dog, his head full of dark thoughts. So Maximillian Crow was a thief. And it seemed as if he was using the money to place goatball bets. It wasn’t even as if he really needed it. Silo fumed with a savage resentment as he stalked through the streets. They seemed more crowded than usual, and he stood back to let a woman carrying two pails of water go by, then two men carting a barrel of water, and then a tiny girl with a jug of water. He looked around and realized that the whole street was carrying water in bottles, buckets, barrels, anything that would hold water and some things that wouldn’t. Mystified, he turned into the stable yard of the Running Dog and found Ruddle standing there with a bucket of water.
“What’s the water for?”
“This is for Blossom. As for the others, they’ve heard about Maximillian Crow’s new seeing. He says there’s going to be a big fire tonight. Caused a bit of a panic, that.”
There was one thing you could say for Maximillian, thought Silo; he did have a certain style. Thieving from governors’ sons, lying to inspectors, betting in seedy pubs, and throwing a whole community into a state of panic—these things were all in a day’s work to him.
“And good news! A couple more inspectors came in from the south this morning, and they brought some new seers with them.”
This didn’t seem particularly good news to Silo. “How many?”
“Two. Sisters, by the look of them, and round about your age.”
Silo suddenly remembered what the inspector had said about Daisy. “Is their dad a village headman?”
“Now you come to mention it, I think he is.”
This was getting to be too much of a coincidence. Three headmen’s children and a governor’s son. Silo found himself wondering what Maximillian’s parents had been before the unfortunate incident with the tower.
Ruddle was eyeing him sadly. “It won’t do, Silo, you always being so suspicious and unfriendly. You need some little friends. No harm in dropping by the Red Hand and saying hello, surely? You should go and see them, be pleasant and all.”
“All right, I will.”
Maybe Maximillian Crow would be with them, and there were many things he wanted to say to Maximillian, none of them particularly pleasant. He strode to the Red Hand, dodging the crowds of water carriers as he went. But as he walked he turned Ruddle’s words over in his mind and realized that he was right. It would be nice to have some friends. Ruddle was always kind to him, but he wanted someone of his own age to talk to. He was lonely, he finally admitted to himself, and had been for a very long time. He slowed his pace and soon found himself hoping that Maximillian wouldn’t be there, and by the time he arrived at the Red Hand he was even trying to think, unsuccessfully, of some pleasant things he could drop into the conversation. Looking through a window, he saw Elgarth and Daisy sitting at a table with two mousy-looking girls. Maximillian wasn’t with them, and Silo’s spirits lifted.
The same fat lady was sitting at the desk, this time with a row of brimming buckets lined up in front of her, and she smiled at Silo and directed him to the room down the hall. But just as he was about to enter he heard his own name mentioned and stopped outside the door. It was sometimes useful to know what people said about you when they thought you weren’t listening, but on this occasion it was painful. Elgarth was speaking, interrupted now and then by little cries of horror from the girls, and although Silo couldn’t hear all of it he heard quite enough.
“…father a mystery…headman of his village said…notorious family…thieves…reign of terror…webbed feet…gift of the seeing…didn’t warn them…some sort of inheritance apparently…valuable Eel Rights…yes, very shocking…”
Silo turned and ran from the Red Hand. Silo Zyco, Silo the Accursed, Silo the Friendless and Falsely Accused, Web-Footed Wanderer in a Hostile World.
He went back to the Running Dog. A bucket of water had appeared in his room and he was grudgingly impressed by the power of Maximillian’s reputation, for his seeing had thrown the whole fortress into turmoil. No smoke rose from the chimneys and, as dusk fell, no candlelight appeared in the windows and men marched the streets, buckets in hand, on the lookout for fires. The houses were all built of wood and packed tightly together, so he supposed that almost any fire here would be a serious one, but in his black mood he found he really didn’t care, and he went to sleep hoping that the whole place would burn to a cinder and take him with it.
—
Woken several hours later by the cry of “Fire!” he found his feelings had changed dramatically. He sprang out of bed and fumbled his way into his clothes in the dark, suddenly remembering Blossom and the other horses shut in the stables. He ran down the stairs into chaos. People were milling around carrying bundles of belongings, shouting and shoving, and two men were trying to manhandle a huge chest out the door. Silo ducked underneath it and ran to Blossom’s stable. A pall of smoke drifted overhead. There was a red glow in the southern sky and a vicious crackling, popping sound in his ears. And
then someone was bellowing something in the street outside: a confused string of words with “goatball” somewhere in among them.
Ruddle suddenly appeared at his side. “It’s all right, Silo. It’s outside the walls. The goatball stadium is burning.”
As the news spread, the panic slowly subsided. Men climbed up onto the roofs on the southern side of the fort to beat out wind-borne sparks, and people started returning to their homes. But others wanted to get a view of the fire and crowded up the steep steps that led onto the walls of the fort, and Silo was among them. The fire had taken a firm hold by now, and the goatball stadium was a mass of flame. Above it was a great twisting pillar of fire, dusky red at its heart and roaring, sending a mass of whirling sparks high into the night sky and lighting up the whole countryside for miles around with a harsh, unearthly glow. But Silo had no eyes for the spectacle. He wormed his way through the crowd until he spotted a familiar figure in an emerald-green cloak. Maximillian Crow, admiring his handiwork.
Silo prodded him in the back. “You and I need to talk.”
Maximillian’s face flickered orange and red in the firelight and he gave Silo a huge, beaming smile. “I knew you’d be on to me soon. You must admit, though”—he nodded to the inferno—“it’s a good show for forty silver quarters.”
Silo and Maximillian walked through the thronging streets in silence, but back at the Running Dog, with the door closed firmly behind them, Silo got straight to the point.
“You stole Elgarth’s money.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. But believe me, the boy has plenty. I had a quick look through his room while he was getting Daisy and there was cash everywhere—gold crowns under his bed, silver crowns under his pillow, you name it. I didn’t think he’d miss a few quarters. And I did try to help you out with the inspector.”
“You paid a man to burn down the goatball stadium.”
“There weren’t any goats in it. I checked.”
“Why did you do it?”
Silo and the Rebel Raiders Page 5