“At great cost to Towering Oaks. Which is something I can’t countenance.”
“We’ll allow them to recover their strength. We’ll help them even. After we’re in a better position.”
Childress set his wine aside and leaned forward. “I don’t understand you, dear. Why are you so convinced that our House is in such an untenable position?”
“We’ve been used, time and again, for our information.”
“We’ve been paid for it, in one way or another.”
“You mean we’ve paid.”
Childress sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever see it your way. When Celia returns—"
“If she returns,” Jocasta interrupted.
“When she returns, the council will decide who should be Head of House. In the meantime, I urge you not to make any drastic moves. Please, be patient. Provide guidance, continue to grow our House, continue with your training of our troops if you wish.”
“I’ve already done more,” she said. This was the moment of truth.
Childress stared at her for a moment. “What have you done?”
Jocasta told him about sending Darius to House Towering Oaks, to get information and to spread discontent and chaos if he could.
“To what end?” Childress asked, his voice cold and measured.
“To weaken them further. Before Solomon returns. Even if you won’t condone joining forces with Glittering Birch, if we weaken them we can attack on our own and—"
“Enough.” Childress held up his hand. He sat silent for a few seconds, then picked up his wine and drained the glass. “I’ve heard enough.”
He stood. “I’ll be going to the council. I will not wait until Celia returns. You’ve proven to be a grave disappointment, dear, and I cannot in good conscience allow you to remain as Head of this House any longer.”
Without another word, he walked from the library, leaving her staring after him.
She had hoped that he would have understood. She had the best interests of House Whispering Pines in mind. The House was destined to rule over the Greenweald, she saw that clearly now. In all their conversations, Darius had helped bring it into focus.
It wasn’t about today, or tomorrow. It was about future generations. Her children, should she decide to have any, and others. Those who would no longer have to bow and scrape before anyone. Not Towering Oaks, not Glittering Birch.
And if Childress couldn’t see that, he was a problem.
He would remove her? Perhaps it was time to look at removing him first.
Chapter 24
Solomon had never seen such a decrepit, dispirited place. He came through the gates unchallenged by anyone. Once he was inside, the people walking the streets paid him no attention, even though he towered over the tallest of them by a good foot and a half. There was no curiosity about this obvious stranger in their midst, and certainly no welcome.
He could see why Gan-Rowe said that the Mar-trollid would no longer come here.
“Excuse me.” He tried to get the attention of an elderly woman shuffling along, her head covered by a threadbare scarf.
She barely glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, shrank away and crossed the street.
The same happened when he approached a younger man, a group of three women, and an old man. No responses were given, only furtive glances and turned backs.
Pressing his lips together in frustration, Solomon approached one who would be forced to talk to him. A surly looking man with a swollen nose and fat lip was approaching, pushing a cart with a few wrinkly apples in it.
“Excuse me,” Solomon tried again.
“Bugger off,” the man growled and kept walking.
Solomon stepped in front of the cart and put his hands on it, stopping it in its tracks. The apple vendor jerked to a halt behind it, his hands slipping on the handles.
“Get off! You’ve got no right!”
“I don’t want any trouble, friend. I’m just looking for someone.”
“Well, I ain’t seen her.”
Solomon smiled at him. “How do you know I’m looking for a ‘her’?”
The vendor glared at him, refusing to answer.
Solomon reached into the cart and took an apple, still smiling at the man despite his rudeness and the mushy feel of the fruit in his hand. “How much?”
“Ten shillings.”
“Seems like an awful lot for an old apple.”
The vendor shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Supply and demand. I only have a few left. If you don’t want it, someone else will and you can go hungry.”
Solomon considered. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll give you your money and you can keep your apple. But I want information on the woman you never saw.”
In truth, he didn’t know how much the coins in his pack were worth here in this world. But he had brought some gold and silver with him, and that was usually good anywhere. He took the pack from his shoulders and balanced it on the edge of the cart, reaching inside. Moments later, he held up a gold coin.
The vendor’s eyes widened, telling Solomon that the coin was enough.
“Now,” he said. “What can you tell me?”
The vendor scratched his stubbly beard and rubbed his jaw. He was obviously working through how much he needed to tell Solomon.
“All of it,” Solomon said, “or you get nothing. And I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Would he? Maybe, he thought to himself. So far, this surly man wore his heart on his sleeve and was easy to read.
“I saw her once, earlier this afternoon. And I only think she’s the one you’re after because of her height. She was unnaturally tall, like you. The only such one I’ve seen.”
Solomon nodded. “I’m guessing she did that.” He pointed at the vendors swollen lip and red nose.
“Well, you’d be wrong,” the vendor snarled. “This happened earlier in the day than that. I was minding my own business when I… I tripped. I fell and hit my nose on the edge of the cart. That’s all.”
Solomon smiled again. Whatever happened, Celia had given this guy a good one. Given his demeanor, Solomon couldn’t say that he blamed her.
“Okay, we’ll say that’s true. Where did you last see her?”
“Round the fountain. It’s where all of us trying to earn an honest living set up. Folk know to come there for what they need, and they know me as an honest and hardworking friend to them.”
Honest twice in a row? Someone was overcompensating. From what he had seen already, Solomon had no doubt that this vendor was more the norm than the exception in this place.
“Around the fountain then. Which you’ll point me in the direction of in a minute. But first, where did she go from there?”
The apple vendor shrugged. “How should I know? Like I said, I only noticed her because of her size. She didn’t come to my cart.”
“Was she with anyone else? Someone you might know and could tell me where to find them?”
“Nah. She was walking with two old geezers. They didn’t buy from me either, so I had no use for them. Now, that’s all I know. I’ve done what I said, now give me my coin.”
“The fountain?”
The vendor pointed back up the street in the direction from which he came. “That way. You can’t miss it.”
Solomon tossed him the coin. The vendor snatched it from the air, made it disappear into a pocket and began shoving his cart forward before Solomon was fully out of the way. He moved aside, but the edge of it caught his hip.
Usually, that wouldn’t have bothered him. This time, it caused his right leg to buckle at the knee and he stumbled forward. The vendor smirked as he passed.
For a moment, Solomon wanted to lash out and give him a blow that would make the one Celia delivered feel like a soft caress, but he held back. There was no sense in it.
Besides, his knee felt strange. The back of it burned and itched and he was having a hard time bending it. Grimacing, he made his way to the side of the street a
nd sat down on steps leading up to an abandoned building. Gingerly stretching his leg out in front of him, he touched the area behind his knee.
Fire tore through his leg. Looking down, he saw that the back of his hand was red and beginning to swell. The rat hadn’t gotten him there as deeply as on his leg, so it wasn’t as bad.
Solomon had never had a cut get infected before. Not even when the Soul Gaunt slashed his face and mangled his arm and shoulder. Maybe that was because Willow tended to him then, but he had plenty of scars elsewhere from other battles, and none of them ever did this.
Whatever was infecting this place must have spread to the vermin also. Great, just what he needed.
There were no medical supplies in his pack. It never occurred to him to bring them. Maybe there was someone in town, some sort of healer who could help him.
He rose carefully to his feet and limped down the road, keeping his eyes out for some sign that would tell him a healer was present. A signboard hung above the street, a placard in a dirty window, or even a line of the sick and injured waiting to be seen. There was nothing.
“Excuse me,” he tried again, and again after that, always finding the same reactions as when he first entered the town. No one would stop, no one would help, even though he was in obvious pain.
Finally, he couldn’t walk any further and collapsed against a wall, his long legs stuck out in front of him. People who passed either stepped over him without a word or a glance, or crossed the street to avoid him entirely. A few, less careful than the others, inadvertently kicked his leg, and went on their way without an apology, ignoring his gasp of pain.
Solomon wasn’t sure how long he sat there. His head was getting light and he felt hot, sweat breaking out on his brow. The light was growing dimmer, and he honestly wasn’t sure if it was because the day was drawing to a close, or if his vision was fading.
“Hey. Hey, pal. You need to get out of here.”
Solomon couldn’t be sure where the voice was coming from. It sounded nearby. He opened his eye to see a man crouching next to him.
“You all right? You can’t stay here.” The man said again.
Solomon nodded, his head bobbing loosely on his neck. This was new to him. He had never been sick a day in his life. He didn’t like it.
He put his hands down next to him and tried to push himself to his feet. He only made it a few inches off the ground before sinking back with a groan.
“All right, pal. I’ve got you. Come on.” Hands wrapped around his chest and helped lever him upright. “Whoa. You’re a tall one, aren’t you? All right now, here we go.”
The man helped him walk, Solomon limping and leaning on him heavily.
“Where?” he managed to whisper, his throat parched suddenly.
“Out of here,” the man answered. “I’ve got a hiding place. It might work for the two of us, but we have to hurry.”
As if in answer, a whistling tune started somewhere, floating through the streets. Solomon peered around blearily, noticing that except for him and his benefactor, the streets were deserted.
“Yep. Need to hurry. All right now. Come on.”
The man moved faster, almost dragging Solomon along with him.
They turned down a side street, and the whistling grew louder. The man was breathing in gasps now as he rushed along, tugging at Solomon more insistently.
“Down here. Not far now. All right.”
He pushed Solomon down on the ground near the foundation of a building and left him to lie there. Solomon could hear scraping, like rocks being slid across each other. Then the man grabbed his shoulders and started pulling him. He grasped his pack in his uninjured hand and held on tight.
“Sorry for the rough treatment,” he said. “All right, here we go. Inside now. Safe and sound.”
The whistling sound grew some more, sounding almost like a tune that Solomon should know. He smiled, wishing he could remember what it was and join in.
Then, there was the dark of a low ceiling passing over his head and rough dirt on his back. His leg hit the side of an opening and he cried out.
“Hush now,” the man muttered. “Almost there.”
He let go of Solomon. A moment later the sound of scraping rocks came again, and then there was only darkness.
“We’re safe now,” the man said. “But stay quiet. We’ll be all right, now.”
Solomon smiled to say thank you, pursed his lips and tried to whistle a tune like the music outside. But his mouth was dry, and it was dark. Better to let it go and do it tomorrow when he woke up.
Chapter 25
When Shireen returned to her office the next morning, there was no sign of Samuel. Her desk was still the same mess she left it the night before, and usually, her aide was there before her, making sure that only the things that truly required her attention were left on it. But as the day went on, it always seemed to become more cluttered and disorganized, which went against everything she had been trained in as a scout.
There, she knew where every item in her saddlebags was, and could get to them in seconds. Everything in its place, exactly where she wanted it.
Why couldn’t she do the same here? Mostly because she didn’t want to be doing this. And looking at her desk like this now, for the second day in a row, made her realize even more how much she was coming to rely on Samuel. She was pretty sure she stumbled onto the secret of how Jediah had been such an effective Head of House.
Sighing, she took her seat and started to try to organize the drift of papers herself. At least she’d have made a start on it when Samuel arrived.
Two hours later there was still no sign of him and she was starting to get worried.
She was preparing to get up and find someone to go look for him when Orlando entered.
“Have you seen that Darius guy?” he said, sitting down in the chair across the desk from her.
“No. Why? Should I have?”
“I guess not, but he’s not in his quarters, and he didn’t show up for dinner last night.”
“Are you sure he’s not in there? Maybe he’s still sleeping. You said he told you he was tired yesterday.”
“He’s not. After he didn’t show up last night, I thought I better make sure he was all right, so I went over there. I banged hard on the door, and when I got no response, let myself in.”
Shireen raised her eyebrows at that.
“I know,” Orlando said, “not exactly good host etiquette. I was concerned though. Who gets that tired from a trip from Whispering Pines?”
“And?”
Orlando shrugged. “I still have no idea. He wasn’t there, and what’s more, he hadn’t been there all night.”
“What do you mean?”
“His bed wasn’t slept in, there were no clothes, nothing. The room was exactly like it was when I left him there.”
“Where did he go?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t have come to you with this. I have no idea.”
Shireen sat back in her chair, tapping her pen against her bottom lip. “This is strange. This Darius shows up, says he’s from Jocasta, who we don’t really know, and then disappears. And, on top of that, there’s been no sign of Samuel today either.”
Orlando twisted in his seat to look back into the outer office. “I didn’t even notice. He’s usually so quiet when I come in.”
Shireen felt that was how Samuel lived most of his life, quiet and unnoticed by most, until he was needed.
“Don’t you think that’s strange?” she asked.
“Now that you mention it, yeah, I do. You think Darius, or worse, Jocasta and Whispering Pines, had anything to do with his disappearance?”
“I can’t imagine that they do,” she replied. “Why? What would be the point?”
Orlando shrugged.
Shireen was beginning to get very worried.
“Get a search party together. All scouts. I’m going, too.”
Orlando nodded. “Where?”
“Out in the
Greenweald. I don’t know exactly where, but someplace that birds gather.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Samuel’s trail was discovered leaving the compound and heading into the wild areas between Houses, but since it was only one man, and one who traveled lightly at that, it was faint. Shireen took the lead, and followed it to a clearing in the woods, surrounded by the gigantic trees of the Greenweald.
“He was here,” she told Orlando, squatting down near a fallen log.
Orlando joined her, looked at the log and then walked in widening circles around it.
“Here’s where he came in, but where did he go?”
Shireen stood, brushing her hands off against each other. “I don’t know. This is really strange. Samuel gone without a trace, and that Darius fellow, too. I don’t like it.”
“Are you thinking what I am?” Orlando asked.
She nodded. “Jamshir. This has the stink of Glittering Birch all over it.”
Orlando sighed. “What now?”
“Back to the compound. Gather up the squad leaders. This isn’t going unanswered.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Shireen returned to her office in the hope that Samuel would be there, but he wasn’t. This did have the feeling of something Jamshir would do. She didn’t know if he was aware of Samuel’s importance to the House, but given his friendship with Jediah for years, it wouldn’t surprise her.
And what about Darius? Was he targeted also, or was something else going on there?
It didn’t matter. What was important was getting Samuel back. She turned to leave the office when she heard the horns blowing from the guards.
By the time she got back outside, Orlando was helping a figure across the compound. Her heart froze for a moment when she thought it was Samuel, but then she got a better look. It wasn’t her aide, it was Jocasta’s.
Darius was leaning heavily on Orlando, his face ashen. His shirt was slashed down the front and he had an open wound running from his left shoulder, down across his torso and ending at his stomach. His clothes were soaked with blood.
“Get Willow!” she snapped at a guard, then ran forward to help Orlando.
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