Chasing the Prophecy

by Brandon Mull

  Morley put away his knife. Fear twinkled behind his eyes. “Don’t be that way. I was just having a laugh. Maybe the disguise worked too well.”

  Jasher met eyes with many of the men in the room. “Is this space secure?”

  He got a few nods and grunted affirmations.

  Jasher turned back to Morley. “It better be. So help me, friend, if this sparks trouble, you’ll answer to fiercer men than I.”

  Morley got to his feet. “These are good lads. You’re in safe company.”

  Jasher gave a curt nod. “Then let’s pretend we never spoke and that none of us have heard of the Order of the Noose.”

  At this last phrase Jason noticed many eyes widen. A majority of the men turned away. Morley set some drooma on the counter and hastily limped toward the door. Jasher posed like he was considering what to do next. Jason tried not to draw attention.

  The bartender cleared his throat. “My apologies for your trouble, sir. You’re welcome to a room here, on the house.”

  Jasher surveyed the area. Nobody met his gaze. “I’d prefer to pay,” he finally said in a lowered voice. “I’m more at ease when others are indebted to me.”

  The barkeeper bobbed his head. “As you will. Ashley?”

  A woman scurried around the counter, eager to please. She had reddish hair and a broad build, and wore a conciliatory smile. “Right this way, if you please.”

  Jason followed Jasher, keeping silent as he tried to play the role of humble servant. Ashley led them into a comfortable room, closing the door behind them. She mentioned a couple of amenities as she handed Jasher the key. He thanked her.

  “Did you have to mention the Order?” she asked.

  Jasher shrugged. “The circumstances required intimidation. I had to sound like somebody to be reckoned with. You’ll notice I didn’t directly claim membership.”

  “Well, you certainly got their attention,” Ashley said.

  “She knows what we’re doing here?” Jason verified.

  “Ashley and her husband are part of the resistance here in Durna,” Jasher said. “They’re harboring a third of our drinlings.”

  “Sorry about the cold reception,” Ashley said. “The local smugglers have claimed the Salt Sea Inn as their own. The arrangement has advantages. Since most of the aristocrats smuggle goods to some degree, the smugglers keep the authorities from snooping around much. But the clientele can be unruly, and lately they’ve been more territorial than ever.”

  “So the Order of the Noose is a smuggling ring?” Jason checked.

  “A secret order,” Jasher said. “Most laymen have never heard the name. It is never mentioned casually. Even the boldest smugglers only refer to the Order with reverence.”

  Ashley folded her arms. “Now every smuggler in town will be wondering what business the Order has here.”

  “Better than them speculating about seedmen and drinlings,” Jasher said. “The Order seldom, if ever, crosses the emperor. If word trickles up to the local soldiers, it shouldn’t create much of a stir. Your patrons will be curious, but they won’t look too hard. The Order has too deadly a reputation.”

  “Unless some of them decide you were bluffing,” Ashley warned.

  “We’ll keep out of sight,” Jasher said simply. “There will be nothing to investigate.”

  “Let’s hope not,” Ashley said. “Stay put for now. We’ll move you to your actual quarters after the inn gets quiet.” She exited the room. Jasher bolted the door.

  “You were great back there,” Jason said. “Thanks for bailing me out. I was making a mess of things.”

  “No harm done,” Jasher said. “It’s to your credit that you seem out of place among those men.”

  “Now we wait?”

  Jasher gave a nod. “We hope for a long, uneventful day.”

  * * *

  Jasher got his wish. It was the small hours of the night before a cloaked figure holding a candle jostled Jason awake. Wiping his eyes, Jason accepted a hand as the figure helped him to his feet.

  The figure was more than half a head shorter than him. The hood flipped back, and Jason recognized Nia. Jasher stood behind her.

  “I heard you were winning friends today,” she told Jason with a smile. Nia looked older, well into her thirties. She was as fit as ever, but her features had noticeably leaned out and matured. Nia had looked to be in her early twenties when he’d last seen her. He supposed that with a life expectancy not much more than two years, such changes were inevitable.

  “I have a way with smugglers,” Jason replied.

  “Me too,” she said. “It’s called hiding. Let’s get you to safer quarters.”

  They moved out into the hall. The few undersized windows were tightly shuttered. Nia led them to some stairs, then down another hall. They stopped at a grimy window that overlooked a cramped, filthy courtyard with a single door. It looked like part of an alley that had been walled in by buildings.

  Nia opened the window, climbed out, dangled, and dropped. Jason did likewise, followed by Jasher. Nia jerked her chin at the door. “Looks like a back door to one of the surrounding businesses. It’s actually the front door to a collection of rooms with no opening out to the street. Just this entrance and a hatch up to the roof. A perfect spot to lie low.”

  Nia used a key to open the door. A pair of broad, heavily muscled drinlings stood guard just inside, swords ready. Taking a small oil lamp from a shelf, Nia led Jason and Jasher past the stolid guards, then up two flights of stairs and through a doorway to a windowless room.

  While Nia closed the door, Jason and Jasher sat down on a cot. She flung her cloak over the back of a chair and sat as well.

  “How are the others?” Jasher asked.

  “Aram and Drake arrived safely,” she confirmed. “They didn’t pick any fights with locals.”

  “He started it,” Jason complained.

  “We know,” Nia assured him. “The owners are rightfully chagrined. Their regular customers keep creating problems for those involved with their secret enterprises. A few of the smugglers suspect something is going on around here and are curious. They prod and pry when they can.”

  “Sounds like this won’t be a safe haven much longer,” Jasher said.

  Nia shrugged. “They should probably stop housing rebels here for a season. Any real suspicion from the authorities could prove disastrous. Farfalee and Corinne will meet us on the water?”

  “Along with Bat and Ux,” Jasher said. “I saw no warship in port.”

  “The Valiant is scheduled to arrive in three days.”

  “We’ll take it the first night?” Jasher verified.

  “That’s the plan.”

  “We want a specific ship?” Jason asked.

  Nia nodded. “An interceptor. Maldor constructed a fleet of eighty to win the western coast and conquer Meridon. He only built three to cover the Inland Sea. And three were all he has needed. Big warships have never sailed these waters. The smaller vessels are no match for an interceptor.”

  “Where are the other two interceptors?” Jasher inquired.

  “They reliably sail between Angial, Russock, and Durna. They mostly patrol the coasts, stopping unpredictably at the smaller towns. Occasionally they check the islands. Except for Windbreak, of course. No sane person would set foot there.”

  “Do you know how to sail a ship?” Jason asked.

  Nia waved a casual hand. “I try not to fret about the minor details.”

  “You’re kidding,” Jason checked.

  “A few of us have some nautical experience,” Nia said. “Mostly we’ll rely on Aram’s instruction.”

  “We have the required manpower?” Jasher asked.

  “Yes,” Nia replied. “We can spare eight fighters to help us get out of the harbor and still retain enough drinlings to crew the ship, along with eighteen fighters down below to pull the six emergency sweeps.”

  “Resources?” Jasher pursued.

  “We’re all armed, with supplies to spare
. Three clans contributed warriors and funds. This will be the biggest drinling offensive in many lifetimes.”

  “Have things been quiet here in town?” Jason wondered.

  “No revolt in years. After the city fell to Maldor, the serious dissenters were weeded out. The smugglers and traders support a healthy black market, much of which is unofficially permitted. The guardsmen have grown overconfident, the leadership complacent.”

  Jasher clapped his hands together. “Good tidings at last. The next few days should be uncomplicated.”

  “We’ll need to stay out of sight,” Nia said. “Surprise is crucial. If our foes catch wind of our plot, it won’t work. They have ready means to block the harbor mouth, and troops to spare.”

  Jason frowned. “I hope no smugglers draw attention to us.”

  “We’ll keep our ears open,” Nia said.

  “I’ll help,” Jason assured her. “Your hearing may have started to go.” He had started teasing Nia about her age after she had begun to flaunt looking older than him back at Mianamon.

  Nia leaped from her chair and slugged Jason on the shoulder, a response she had learned from Rachel. Except Nia hit a lot harder. If they worked at it, drinlings could pack on pounds of muscle overnight. Apparently, she had kept up with her exercising. “You using a razor yet?”

  Jason grinned. This felt more familiar. The Nia he remembered had been brash and playful. “I’m glad you can still tease. I was worried you’d gotten all serious in your old age.”

  “Nope. Just smarter, stronger, and more mature. You wouldn’t understand.”

  Jason looked around the windowless room. “I’m glad we’ll get to rest for a few days. I’m sick of sleeping on the ground.”

  “We’ll have time to strategize,” Jasher said with relief.

  “We’ll watch and listen,” Nia added.

  “And sleep?” Jason asked hopefully, stretching his arms.

  Nia gave a nod. “Those of us who need it.”

  CHAPTER 7

  CORONATION

  Not only did everyone in Trensicourt turn out for the procession, but many from the surrounding countryside had flooded into the city as well. Peasants and nobles, grandparents and youngsters, tradesmen and merchants and farmers alike lined the streets, rooftops, and balconies of the parade route. Bells sang throughout the great city. Vendors hawked baked treats, sweet nuts, and handkerchiefs emblazoned with the royal crest of Trensicourt. Spectators hollered and cheered, waving arms and handkerchiefs and banners. Many laughed. Many wept.

  Arrayed in splendid ceremonial armor, the rightful king of Trensicourt rode at the front of the procession on an enormous white charger, gleaming like a knight from a fairy tale. Flanked by a mounted honor guard, eyes uncovered, Galloran took his time, waving and pausing to greet individuals packed along the edges of the road. Flowers and garlands snowed down from the crowded rooftops and terraces.

  Behind Galloran came a cavalcade of five hundred horsemen, riding in formation. Thousands of foot soldiers followed, bearing pikes, axes, or swords. After them marched troupes of musicians, filling the air with music, followed by an athletic host of drummers and dancers, leaping and tumbling through the streets. Jesters capered about, pulling pranks and feigning clumsy accidents with one another. Jugglers followed, and acrobats, and men who performed startling feats with fire. At last rolled a gilded coach, from which Dolan hurled handfuls of bronze drooma into the jubilant crowd. A large honor guard protected the burnished vehicle.

  Leaning against the stone railing of a palace balcony, Rachel surveyed the scene. From the lofty vantage, the crowd noise shrank to a distant roar, and the members of the parade were reduced to tiny figures gradually advancing in tidy patterns. She wished she could be closer to the excitement.

  Ferrin peered through a long telescope. He passed it to Rachel, allowing her to zoom in and observe details. She found Galloran leaning down from his horse to shake the hand of an elated boy in the crowd.

  “Quite a turnout on short notice,” Ferrin approved.

  “I had less than a week to make the arrangements,” Copernum sniffed. “But the prospect of Galloran returning provided all the motivation necessary to prod extra effort out of everyone involved and to draw a prodigious crowd. I have never beheld the populace more swollen with emotion.”

  “They sure love him,” Rachel said, lowering the telescope.

  “How could they resist?” Copernum replied. “A figure of legend has descended from the heavens to walk among them. Most know little of Galloran the man. They are infatuated with the idea of him. They have swapped tall tales about him. They consider him the lost treasure of our kingdom. It will be interesting to study how their attitudes evolve as he dwells among them.”

  “For most men that would pose a larger problem,” Ferrin said. “The reality of Galloran does much justice to the tales. I’ve never met a truer man or seen a more capable fighter.”

  Copernum gave an amused sneer. “This from a displacer.”

  Ferrin grinned. “It must sting to host me.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. Ferrin and Copernum had taken jabs at each other during the entire procession. Why were men so in love with bravado? Didn’t they get how pathetic it seemed? She glanced over her shoulder at the chancellor’s apartments. The opulent residence occupied a sizable portion of one of the tallest towers of the castle. She thought about how Jason had slept here one night, narrowly escaping an assassination attempt.

  “Because you killed my cousin?” Copernum asked dryly. “You and I were adversaries back then. Ever since you joined the rebellion I have found you much more intriguing.”

  Ferrin folded his arms. “I would have expected that my siding with Galloran would further diminish me in your eyes.”

  “On the contrary,” Copernum insisted. “Don’t misinterpret my previous affiliation with the emperor. I courted his good opinion to benefit Trensicourt. My posturing with Felrook was political maneuvering on behalf of the kingdom I serve, nothing more. If Galloran can keep us equally safe with less demeaning methods, I will support him wholeheartedly.”

  “You want me to believe that you’re glad I’m here?” Ferrin asked.

  Copernum plucked a leaf from a vine and crumpled it in his palm. “I despise displacers as much as the next man. And I disliked you even before I learned what you were. I’m not appreciative that you murdered my relative.”

  “Lester challenged me to the duel,” Ferrin reminded him. “I dispatched him in self-defense.”

  “And then I had you decapitated,” Copernum said. “It suffices. Were the charges against you just? Perhaps not. Did I love my cousin? Not particularly. But your impudence toward him was an indirect insult to me. You received a sentence. It was carried out. Since you are a displacer, losing your head did not end your life. You wisely fled the city. Perhaps in the end I’ll be relieved that you survived. You are a resourceful person, Ferrin, and our cause will need capable allies in the coming months.”

  “Galloran is entering the castle,” Rachel reported.

  “Alongside his closest companions,” Copernum noted. “With a couple of exceptions.”

  “I’m not sure we’re particularly close,” Ferrin replied.

  Copernum cocked his head slightly. “No need to take it personally. Galloran shrewdly omitted you from his retinue. Drinlings and seedfolk add to his mystique. But you? All of Trensicourt will be gossiping about his mismatched eyes. Having a displacer in his company would only fuel further speculation about his loyalties. There are plenty of guardsmen in this town who would recognize you.”

  “Why aren’t you down there with Dolan?” Ferrin wondered.

  Copernum pulled his mantle more snugly about his narrow shoulders. “I do not crave public attention. There are circumstances when such appearances are necessary. Otherwise, I prefer to exert influence quietly.” Copernum turned to Rachel. “Why do you suppose Prince Galloran elected to keep you out of the procession?”

  Rachel shrugged as
if she didn’t care. Galloran had told her she would be safer and more comfortable in the castle. It had bothered her a little to be left out, but this was his kingdom, and she figured he knew best.

  “I expect he wants to keep you shrouded in mystery,” Copernum answered. “Ostensibly for your protection. Mostly because you’re too young. He doesn’t feel you look the part—the abnormally gifted Edomic adept. Your wholesome appearance does not match the rumors currently circulating. To be honest, despite the whispers that had reached me, I had dismissed your worth myself until you put me on the floor.”

  Rachel combed her fingers along her temple, tucking some hair back. “Whatever his reasons, I’m happy to do what Galloran wants.”

  “Such flagrant loyalty,” Copernum murmured. “Would that I had so devoted a servant.”

  “I trust him,” Rachel said.

  “Evidently,” Copernum replied. His gaze strayed to Ferrin, then returned to Rachel. “Surely you realize that an adept of your talents needn’t take orders from anyone. At this point in history you’re invaluable, more precious than orantium. Utterly unique.”

  “I try to help out,” Rachel said, the flattery making her self-conscious.

  Copernum looked to Ferrin. “Is she truly so innocent?”

  “She’s not weak,” Ferrin assured him. “Nor is she foolish. What are you playing at, Copernum?”

  “Nothing,” he said, holding up his long hands. “I just wonder if Rachel appreciates that entire kingdoms would rally around a gift like hers. Maldor would trade all but Felrook to have her, either to slay her or to train her.”

  “I think you’re exaggerating,” Rachel said, hoping the hotness in her cheeks was not visible as a blush.

  “Which is why I label you innocent,” Copernum replied with a small bow. “The prince has entered the castle. Today accomplished everything he had hoped. The two of you should go greet your friends and celebrate.”

  Ferrin inclined his head a fraction. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “At your service,” Copernum replied. “I should like to become better acquainted with both of you.”