“I’m in spices, sir, not jewels, but I’m often at fairs and trade marts, and I’ve never seen anything with that deep a red color.”
The Rose Shekayrin snapped his fingers, and the two soldiers who’d been standing near the door stepped forward and put a hand on each of Luca’s shoulders. The mage polished the jewel on his sleeve, leaned forward, and placed the flat side of it on Luca’s forehead.
Luca felt the sweat break out on his upper lip. Would he be able to block the jewel’s probing? But what if the device could detect that? He breathed in. There was another kind of block, especially created to seem like no block at all. The one that Luca and his fellow conspirators used to keep themselves safe from the Grand Inquisitor, and the conservative element of the Halls. Could that same protection serve him now? Luca swallowed, praying to the Mother that the hope didn’t show on his face.
At first, Luca felt nothing but the coolness of the stone. Then a warmth seemed to spread from it, flushing his skin. He became aware of a redness, like seeing the sun through closed eyelids, but this redness was everywhere, all around him like a mist. The mist began to thicken. Quickly, Luca pictured himself standing behind his block that was not a block, like a man standing behind a fine, sheer curtain. He recalled, in the detail only a Talent could recall, a Flash he’d once done of a spice peddler, and he let the substance of that pass through the curtain with a little of his fear, and his worry, and even a touch of the real despair that underlay his own feelings.
Finally, the pressure eased, and disappeared.
“There man, rest and take a breath.” This time the Shekayrin’s tone was as gentle as his words. “You’ve nothing more to fear from me.” The man studied him, head on one side, as if he found Luca more interesting than he’d expected. “You have just a touch of the magic of the mind about you, did you know that? But you don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you? Never mind. Were we in Halia, and if we had found you young enough, we might have made a Shekayrin out of you.” He nodded, and smiled, as if he’d said something he thought would please Luca.
Luca did his best to keep his answering smile small, to keep the joy that was washing through him from showing in his face and eyes. Others could do what he had just done. Anyone who, like him, already knew how to use this particular block. Someone, for example, like Pavelon and Q’ar, and whoever else had made it to a safe house.
He mustn’t let the renewed hope he felt show in any way. If these two Talents had managed to escape the Halians, there must be others—others who had been on the road when the Halians came, perhaps, and who might still be in hiding. There might even be someone from Questin Hall.
Later that day Kerida mixed the last of the dried yarrow she’d brought with her and made Tel drink it down. She’d done a little exploring around the mine entrance looking for more wood, and about four spans away she’d found the dead and drying remnants of what must at one time have been some shepherd’s small herb patch, overgrown and gone half wild. From it, she collected what she recognized, some seeds, some roots, all the time wishing she had paid more attention to the lessons her father’s cook had given her when she was a little girl. She was turning to go before it occurred to her to trigger her Talent, and see what Flashing would tell her. This was the first time she had done such a thing, though it was common enough among Full Talents. Most of the herbs she hadn’t recognized were for cooking, she discovered, but she did find valerian and added that to the rest of her collection.
Some snow had fallen during the day, a day she’d made Tel Cursar spend really resting, doing no more than minding that the fire didn’t go out, and giving his opinion as she went through both their packs and decided what to take and what to leave behind.
“I hope this means we’re leaving in the morning,” Tel said, watching her over the rim of the cup. He glanced at the strong daylight that streamed into the tunnel and drew down his brows. “If you’re right about the snow tonight, maybe we should go now. Tomorrow we’ll leave tracks, but the snow would cover any signs we left today.”
Ker frowned, wrapping the herbs in the last square of cloth she’d cut from the bottom of her shirt. “It’s late in the day to set out now. We’d have to start looking for some place to camp for the night almost right away.”
“And then we’d have to make camp with the snow coming down on us.” He nodded. “Better we should wait until morning and take our chances leaving a trail. Will they be ahead of us, do you think?”
Ker shook her head. “They’re waiting for the others to catch up. This twelve-twelve came ahead with the Shekayrin to deal quickly with the Hall. The other twelves are still on the road.”
“And when were you going to tell me this?”
She blinked, frowning down sideways at the ax and helm. “I didn’t know I knew it,” she said. She looked at Tel and saw the irritation fade from his face as he believed her. “We didn’t ask the five questions,” she added. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve never Flashed anything without a Tutor guiding me.”
“Never mind apologizing. Tell me what you mean.”
“We’re trained to Flash five classes of information about an object.” Ker began to recite in the same voice she would have used in the classroom. “Who, as in who owns or pertains to it; what, as in what is its nature and purpose; when, as in when was it made and when used; where, as in from where does it come, where it is going; and why, as in why is it here, why are we interested in it.”
“So you have to ask these questions to get the information?”
“No, that’s just it, we collect the information automatically—it just floods into us. That’s why we’re drilled and drilled and drilled until we can sort it out just as automatically.”
Tel held up one finger. “So if I’d asked you ‘when,’ we’d have known already that they weren’t right on our heels.”
“That and where they were. ‘Objects have intention,’ that’s one of the things we get taught. Sometimes their own, inherent intention, sometimes the intention of the owner or user.”
Tel grinned at her. “Remind me not to let you touch any of my things. A person needs his privacy.”
Ker raised her right eyebrow. “What person would that be?”
• • •
Ker didn’t know what time it was when she finally fell asleep, but she woke from dreams of running from a bleeding man into a silence so profound she didn’t know at first where she was. Tel was sitting up by the fire, but he was sound asleep, his head hanging down, his hand still holding the stick he’d been using to poke the embers.
“Hey.” She reached out of her blankets and shoved at the bottom of his foot—and then pulled back as he swung the end of the stick at her. “Hey! It’s me!”
He blinked at her. Then at the stick in his hand. “Sorry. Must have dozed off.”
“As long as you haven’t let the fire go out.” Ker wriggled out of the bedding. “Don’t suppose you’ve looked outside?”
“Not unless I was sleepwalking.”
Ker edged past him and peered around the pile of stone blocking the entrance to the cave, then advanced until she stood in the entrance itself. She felt Tel come up behind her.
“Guess we’re not going out into that,” he said.
“That” explained how quiet it was, and why it was so dark when all of her senses told Ker the sun should be breaching the horizon. At least it wasn’t windy.
“How long until it stops, do you think?”
Ker shook her head. “Won’t matter,” she said. “With this much snow already as far down the valley as this? The pass is closed.”
“Daughter and Son save us,” Tel said. “What now?”
• • •
The last of the kaff was too watered down to taste, but the liquid’s warmth was welcome.
“Wind’s picking up,” Tel said from where he stood near the entrance. �
��Snow’s still coming down, though. Or I suppose I should say, still falling, but sideways now.” He came back in and squatted next to her. “So now that we’ve eaten, what’s the plan?” Tel’s eyes were clear, the flush in his cheeks gone. At least his wound was getting better. Something had to go right for them.
“Since when am I the planner for this expedition?” she asked.
“Since you know where we are,” Tel said. He grinned. “Besides, I can always say I don’t agree with you once I’ve heard what your idea is.”
Ker decided not to ask him how he knew she had an idea. She put her empty cup into an outside pocket of her pack. “What’s at the back of the cave?” It was a safe bet the soldiers would have looked.
Tel shrugged, then winced. “Pile of rubble, like there’d been a rock fall. Why?”
Ker laced her fingers together around her knee. “There are old stories that say this place was really a mine entrance. So there might be tunnels, and if we clear away the rubble, and if any of them go all the way through . . .”
Tel shook his head. “There’s two things I don’t like about that.” He poked at the fire. “When you say ‘might be’ and when you say ‘tunnels.’ One single tunnel would make things so much easier.”
“Yeah, well, not being overrun by invaders would make things easier still.” Ker snapped her mouth shut before her voice could rise higher. She took a deep breath, and cleared her throat. “The old stories about this part of the Serpents Teeth . . .” Stories shared by her fellow Candidates at those late-night gossip sessions, where she was rarely welcome. With her fellow Candidates who were dead now.
“Old stories?” Tel prompted.
Ker pushed her thoughts away. “Some of the shepherds wouldn’t bring their sheep up here. They talked about bad luck and animals disappearing and such. I know, I know.” Ker held up her hand. “The point is that there were stories told of people going all the way through the Serpents Teeth to Bascat. And if there is such a way, I’m pretty sure I can Flash the right tunnel.”
“Pretty sure?”
“You have a better idea?” Her voice seemed to fill the whole tunnel, reaching back even into the darkness where they couldn’t see. Tel looked at her, but Ker refused to lower her eyes.
The end of the cave was far enough back that Ker was relieved when Tel pulled a glow stone out of his pouch. Ker hadn’t seen one of those devices since leaving the military. Made from a natural stone mined in the province of Tavia, they had the quality, after being cut and shaped, of glowing like a tiny sun.
“I didn’t know glow stones were so plentiful that Company Third Officers could have one.”
“They’re not.” Tel’s response was so curt that Ker was left with her own mouth hanging open. Crap. Of course, Tel wouldn’t have been issued a glow stone. He must have taken it from a dead officer—or been given it by a dying one. Either way, not something he’d want to chat about.
The rocks, once they’d reached them, were smaller than she’d expected. Nothing larger than her head. It could have been a cave-in, she thought; the rocks were just stacked in a pile, not mortared in any way. Ker placed her hands on the rocks. Paraste.
“It’s not a cave-in,” she said. “These rocks were piled here deliberately by three men—no, two men and a woman. They weren’t happy about it, but they were under orders.”
“Were they closing something in?” Tel’s voice was a bit shaky.
“Not that they knew of,” she said. “They weren’t happy because the job was so menial, and no one explained to them why soldiers were doing it.”
“When was this?”
“More than a thousand years ago.”
“You can Flash that?”
Ker dusted off her hands. “The rock’s a lot older than that,” she pointed out. “And it did come out of here—it was a mine, and there are tunnels, lots and lots of tunnels.”
“But you can find the right ones?”
Ker nodded. “Yes.” She tried to sound confident.
“And we can get through this?” Tel tapped the rocks with his fist.
Ker grinned, and patted a spot just to her left. “This is the thinnest spot, right here. Or maybe . . .” Still Flashing, she touched one rock after another until—“Stand back,” she said. “Over there.” She waited until Tel had moved before wiggling the rock free—and jumped back herself as the rock wall crumbled to an uneven pile of rocks.
They could see a tunnel on the other side.
Tel grimaced and rubbed at his eyes with the fingers of his free hand. “All right, then. We’ll have to rearrange the packs.” He led the way back to the fire.
Ker had already noticed that they weren’t making equal contributions to the supplies. Tel Cursar, like any soldier, had started out with the required minimum of three days’ food in his pack, along with his one set of bandages, a fire starter, waterskin, and his spares kit. The food was long gone, and the bandages had been burned, but his tools and weapons were intact.
Ker’s contribution consisted mainly of the food she’d snatched up while running through the kitchen. Add to that her knife, the cloak, the invader’s ax and helm, and the herbs she’d manage to scrounge. Ker pressed her lips together. It didn’t seem like much when compared to Tel’s, but on the other hand, she had all the food.
Tel returned the glow stone to the small pouch attached to his harness, where it would be easy to hand. Sword and dagger were already in place. He hesitated over an oilcloth packet the length of his forearm and twice as thick around.
“I haven’t an extra sword for you,” he said. “Can you manage a crossbow?”
“Of course.” Ker took the package from him. It was heavier than she’d remembered. “Assemble it now?”
He pursed his lips, finally nodding toward the darkness at their backs. “Did you Flash anything in there?”
It was a serious question, and deserved a serious answer. Kerida found herself looking at the darkness as well. “I could only be certain of animals. I didn’t Flash anything big, but something was taking those sheep.”
“Then I guess you should assemble it now,” he said.
While she was preparing the crossbow, making sure each section was fastened as tightly as possible with the little tool that came in the package, Tel laid his own cloak on the ground and, one-handed, began piling what was left of the firewood on it.
“What are you doing?”
He squatted back on his heels, his forearm across his knees. “We’re going to walk through the mountain range, right? You figure we’re going to do that in less than a day?”
“Oh.” Ker felt like slapping herself on the forehead. It had seemed so obvious that trying the tunnels was their only option, but she’d never considered how long that might take. It took at least three days just to walk through the pass.
“It’ll be warmer,” she pointed out finally. “But not by much.”
“Exactly.” Tel continued laying the cut wood on his cloak, finally drawing up the corners with cords he’d pulled out of his pouch. Ker must have made some noise because Tel looked over at her.
“I’d forgotten that military cloaks have those eyelets,” she said. With the addition of metal eyelets and leather cords, military cloaks could become carry sacks in a moment. Or shrouds. She shivered. Best not to let her thoughts go down that path. “It’s a pity my cloak doesn’t have them as well.”
They had so little to pack that a very few minutes more saw them done. They had divided up the food as best they could, and Kerida had managed to make a sling out of her cloak, much like those she had seen parents use to carry small children, and so they were able to take all the available firewood. Like the food, those particular packs would only get lighter.
Ker helped Tel into his harness, adjusting the straps around his bound arm, only to find she also had to rehang all his pouches and weapons, to make th
em handier to his left hand. They each took a last look around, searching the shelves and crannies of the rock walls, but Ker knew they were stalling. They’d spent three days here; it was hard to leave that feeling of security, even when they knew they had to.
“I’m not taking these,” she said, nudging the Halian helm where it sat on the ax. “I can’t use the ax and the crossbow.” That wasn’t the real reason, but she wasn’t ready to share those particular feelings with Tel.
“Suit yourself,” Tel said, starting to shrug before remembering his shoulder. “You want to lead?”
Ker shook her head. “There’s only one tunnel just now. Plenty of time for me to lead when it splits.” She smiled. “Besides, it’s your glow stone.”
The tunnel was only slightly smaller than the entrance cave, a good span and a half wide and at least that tall. Unfortunately, Tel was just a little taller. He only needed to bump his head once to learn to crouch over, but he wouldn’t be able to keep up that posture for long, Ker thought. Not with his bad shoulder. A surprising amount of light leaked a surprising distance down the tunnel, despite the partial blockage the shepherds had put up. It wasn’t very long, however, before Tel got out his glow stone.
Not much farther in, they found their first piece of luck in the form of a miner’s sledge. It had been well made in the first place and was still sturdy enough for use; even the hemp ropes were solid.
Tel took advantage of it to sit down and straighten his back. “My Cohort Leader used to say there was nothing like hemp for ropes, but this is amazing,” he said as Ker tugged again on the rope nearest him. “We can put at least the firewood on the sledge,” he added, trying to massage the small of his back one-handed.
“We can take turns,” Ker said. “But will pulling while crouched over be any better for you than carrying?”
“Are you joking? Crouched over is bad enough, but crouched over with a weight on top of me? I was actually looking forward to not having enough wood for a fire.”
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