Garin shrugged. "Ilvuan isn't great on directions. But I'd guess no more than a few miles away."
Wren's eyes widened, the golden tendrils spinning faster. "The Nightelves have him."
He realized she was right. Tal is captive. Again. It made no sense. He'd seen the man wield power as befit his legend. How could he now have been captured not once, but twice?
A memory came back to him, something Tal had said back when they'd first set out toward Halenhol together. Violence should always be a last resort. Tal didn't like to kill, not unless he had to. It was something Garin admired about him. It was that quality that had made him inevitably believe him when Tal said he hadn't meant to cause the death of Garin's father.
But to be captured twice? Even a reticence toward savagery stretched the believability of that possibility.
Wren's excitement faded as soon as it appeared. "But it hardly matters if he's two miles or two hundred away — we still can't reach him in this devils-cursed cage." She gripped one of their wooden bars and gave it a rough shake.
Garin reached out in panic, his heart in his throat. He couldn't speak for a long moment.
"Are you mad?" he said hoarsely when he found his voice. "What if it came loose? Don't mess with the cage!"
She was back to baring her teeth, her eyes blazing. Before she could respond, however, voices echoed up from below.
"Shh!" she hissed at him, though he hadn't been speaking. Garin ignored her and, fighting his nausea and fear, stared down at the ground below to where their guard stood watch. At first, he thought the guard was speaking to himself to pass the time; then he saw the figure swathed in a much-patched cloak standing before him. He watched the unfolding scene and wondered who their visitor could be. They didn't wear the same clothes as the guard. Could they be one of their companions? Or maybe even Tal? Or just an Easterner come to gawk at the prisoners?
Then the newcomer glanced up, and Garin saw they had shining, golden hair. He glanced sidelong at Wren and saw his bewilderment mirrored in her face. Of all the Easterners he'd seen, none had blonde hair. That was a characteristic more often found in Reachfolk.
But there are no Reachfolk here. Are there?
A moment later, another impossibility occurred. The guard turned away from the stranger to face the tree, and soon after that, with a creaking that was more than a bit concerning, their cage began to lower.
Garin found himself speechless as the ground came slowly, blessedly nearer. Wren had the opposite reaction.
"They're letting us down! But why? To talk to this blonde fellow? Is he an elf, a Gladelysh elf? Look at him, Garin — he's got tapered ears under that hood, and eyes like mine. Almost like mine — their tendrils are black as Yuldor's soul. What in the hells is he doing here?"
Garin could not respond until they hovered just above their guest's head. Only then did he lean over to Wren to whisper, "Don't tell him anything we don't have to. Promise?"
She stared at him like he was dim-witted, but nodded as the cage settled on the ground with a rough bump.
Garin and Wren stumbled to their feet, their stance made awkward by the sloped cage floor and the cramped ceiling. The elf met their gazes, one at a time. A smile touched his lips, but like Tal's smile, there were layers to it beyond mere pleasantness.
"It is not every day you meet Reachfolk in the East," the elf observed. "I must apologize for your unseemly treatment, but you should understand, my acquaintances were quite surprised to stumble upon you."
Acquaintances. Garin wondered what this man's relationship was with the Nightelves. What Gladelysh elf befriended any Easterner, much less could be found here among them?
"Who are you?" Wren demanded.
The elf's eyes swirled as they settled on her, inky black stirring through emerald green. "You are a bold one. But then, you must be to come here. I am called Pim. Will you give me your name?"
Their agreement still standing, neither Garin or Wren answered.
The elf Pim only shrugged. "As you will. I do not need you to supply your names to know your errand here."
Garin's heart pounded in his chest. "How do you figure that?" he asked evenly.
As Pim's gaze swung to him, Garin found he preferred when the elf looked elsewhere. He was handsome even for one of the Eldritch Blood, but between his eyes and his smile, there was something altogether unsettling about him.
"Of late, I have met another Reachman in the Empire. And I know something of his recent exploits, as well as of those companions who assisted him."
If his heart had been beating fast before, now it sprinted. Garin couldn't help but glance at Wren, and she returned the look. He knows was all he could think. Yet he could not fit the pieces together.
"Did you… flee Elendol?" Garin asked cautiously.
Their strange visitor laughed. "Oh, no — at least, not recently. Tragic, what happened there, truly. But as you can see, Gladelyl was once my home."
Once again, a confused silence fell between them. Pim made no sense that Garin could detect. How would any but a recently escaped elf know that Tal was here in the East, much less any of his companions? News, if any news spread of their group at all, could not have traveled that fast.
Unless…
Wren seemed to reach a similar conclusion at the same time as he did. "Are you a Ravager?"
Pim laughed, the sound not altogether friendly. "A Venator? Heaven's Knoll, but I have not fallen that far! Besides, I hear they are not fond of Westerners among their numbers; those who still join do not last long."
"What do you want with us, Pim?" Garin tried to keep his voice steady and his breathing even. He could not let himself become upset, not now. Everything rode on this moment.
"Want? Nothing of you." The elf spread his arms with another wide smile. "I merely wish to set you free."
Neither Garin nor Wren had words for that.
"But I thought you would be pleased!" Pim exclaimed, his arms dropping and his feet taking him a step closer to the cage. "After all, does anyone really enjoy hanging up that high?"
"Why? Why free us?" Part of Garin was afraid that questioning Pim would cause him to take back his offer. But Garin had seen betrayal often during their journey. He knew better than to trust on a whim.
"Can you free us?" Wren questioned, eyebrows raised at the guard a few feet away.
"Of authority, you need not have concern. As to my reasons… Those, I am afraid, I cannot divulge. But perhaps you are more worried about caveats — of which, I admit, there is one."
Garin braced himself. Nothing comes free, as Crazy Ean used to often bemoan. "Which is?"
Pim looked long at Garin, then Wren. He felt as if he could be swallowed in the dark, swirling pools of his eyes. Garin blinked, then looked aside, fearing a charm being placed on them. Wren, nearly snarling at the man, apparently suspected the same. Now more than ever, they needed their wits about them.
The strange elf let out a low, mocking chuckle. "It is simple: cease to follow Tal Harrenfel."
Garin thought he had been prepared to hear anything. He wasn't prepared for that.
"Turn back to the Westreach, Children of Dusk," Pim continued. "Turn back before you no longer can. Spare your lives, and leave your friend to his fate."
"Leave him to you, you mean?" Wren sneered. But Garin heard the quaver in her voice.
Pim smiled. "Yes, as it would happen. But never fear — I will preserve him. I will even aid him in his intended purpose. So you see, there is no need for you and your companions to remain here."
Garin looked at Wren, and as she stared back, he wished they could share thoughts as he and Ilvuan did. All he could see in those lively eyes was the same shock, fear, and outrage he felt.
He looked back to Pim, his mind thawing enough to speak again. "If you think we'd leave Tal to you, you're far mistaken. We'll never give him up. Whether he knows it or not, he needs our help. And we're going to give it to him."
He left unmentioned all his othe
r reasons for needing to see Tal once more. All the things they'd left unresolved. There will be time, he told himself. Just as soon as we escape.
Pim opened his mouth to speak, but Wren interjected. "Fine. We'll leave him to you."
Garin turned to her, protests bubbling up on his tongue, but stopped at her warning look. He hovered in indecision, torn between trust and duty. But slowly, as he observed her careless attitude, he recognized it for what it was. An act.
The elf smiled again. "Better. Better still would be if you intend to keep your promise. And because I am a generous man, I will phrase this in a different way." Pim took another step closer, his voice lowering, mere feet away from the cage wall. "Should I discover you still in pursuit, I will not hesitate to remove you from the picture. You, and any of your companions with you. It would grieve me to commit such a betrayal against Tal. But I shall do what I must. Too much depends on it." This last, he muttered to himself, as if trying to convince himself of it still.
Without warning, Wren lunged forward, and Garin had to grab for the wooden slats to keep on his feet as the cage rolled. He thought she'd meant to snatch the elf, who had stumbled backward, but she merely pressed her face between the poles and laughed.
"Don't hold yourself too high, elf," she mocked. "You'll only fall all the farther."
Pim, holding himself upright again, gave her a smile, but the kindly manner in it had been lost. "Heed my warning, young ones. For the sake of us all."
The elf nodded to the Nightelf guard, still standing nearby, then spun on his heel and began striding away.
Garin watched their strange visitor move out of sight as the guard slowly approached them. He drew out a key and waved them away, indicating they should press against the back of the cage. With a touch, Garin urged Wren to oblige with the directions, which she readily did. A smile still played on her lips from her last ploy against the elf; he sensed she would not repeat the display against this guard.
The key turned in the lock. As soon as it clicked open, the guard backed away, then indicated they should look behind them. Garin turned and saw their sparse equipment piled at the base of the tree — even Velori, to his immense relief.
With that last message conveyed, the guard backed farther away, then turned and strode from view behind the towering trees.
Wren moved forward at once and pressed on the cage door. As it swung open and she stepped free, she still seemed taut and prepared for violence. Her eyes scanned the surrounding forest.
Garin stepped out after her. "I don't see why they'd attack us now. Much easier to kill a caged prisoner than two armed and freed."
"It makes no sense." Wren glanced around at him. "Why free us? If the elf fears us following Tal, wouldn't it be safer to just be rid of us?"
"I'm glad he doesn't think the same way you do," Garin observed drily. "Come on — we should gear up in case someone did happen to stay nearby."
She needed no further convincing. Moments later, they'd strapped on their weapons and drained their water flasks, their stay in the tree having parched them. Garin's belly still growled ferociously, but at least his throat didn't feel lined with tree bark.
"Now what?" Wren crossed her arms and frowned into the thin mist that had gathered around them.
Garin cocked an eyebrow at her until she looked over.
"What?" she demanded. "Is it supposed to be obvious?
"I think so." He shrugged. "We follow Tal."
"That elf said he'd kill us. And he obviously has Nightelves to do it for him."
"Look who's the coward now." He meant the words to tease. But with Wren having said them not so long ago to him, and in earnest, they soured even as he spoke them.
Wren seemed far from amused. "I'm not a coward, Garin. I'm being practical. We still need to find the others. And we need supplies. Pressing forward isn't likely to help with that."
"I know that. But Tal is close, Wren, very close. And if that Pim is any sign, he needs our help."
She snorted. "After what we saw in Elendol, I doubt it."
"And what about what happened in Vathda? There's something wrong. I don't think Tal is himself."
He hadn't realized his fear until he'd spoken it aloud, but once voiced, he could hardly deny it. Something had been amiss about Tal's path in the time they'd followed him. He felt it represented some unforeseen danger to his old mentor.
Wren exhaled noisily. "Maybe you're right. What are we supposed to do? We're barely surviving ourselves. Look, Garin — I know you're worried. But Tal has managed to get by for this long. Don't you think he can hold on a little longer?"
Instead of replying, Garin retreated into himself and called out in his mind. Ilvuan!
Once more, the Singer quickly harkened, though the feeling radiating off of him was far from gracious. What now, little Listener?
Tal — we think he's in danger, but can't be sure. Can you confirm if that's true?
A considering hum filled Garin's head. Peril, I cannot sense. But suffering — yes, the Heartblood suffers greatly. His life flutters like a heart between teeth.
Pushing aside the Singer's strange metaphor — one suited to a dragon alone, he imagined — he relayed the message. "Ilvuan can sense Tal in pain. They're hurting him, Wren. We can't abandon him."
She looked him squarely in the eyes. Even now, as she gnawed her lip, she didn't flinch away from staring directly at the problem before them.
"Fine," she said at last. "We'll do it. But if I get killed, I'm coming back to haunt you."
Garin grinned. "Deal."
Pride warmed his chest. He'd known she would come through. Wren had never flinched away from a thing that had to be done. He wondered what he might be able to accomplish with half her courage.
Yet you are the one leading this charge, Ilvuan observed lazily in his mind. Caution often serves better than courage, little Listener.
He ignored the Singer, not wanting to consider whether he was right. Adjusting his belt, he nodded in the direction Ilvuan had earlier tugged.
"Then let's go save him."
Karkados
"You're her sister," Tal repeated slowly. "The sister who betrayed her."
He wondered if it was too late to flee. He was surrounded by Nightelves loyal to this woman, true. But surely any odds — his canker included — were preferable compared to the sure idiocy of trusting a backstabbing witch.
"Yes."
Only the fact that the high pellar seemed suddenly as stiff and fragile as glass kept Tal where he was.
He sighed. "Tell me the tale, then."
Izoalta Yoreseer nodded sharply. "I shall. But if I am to cure you, we should begin our preparations while we speak."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea."
The high pellar smiled bitterly. "You have a choice, Puppet. And you must make it now. You will either trust me and trust that I can save you, or you will not. You must make this choice now; the story of my treachery will not change it. For what value do words have from a lying tongue?"
She's right, he mused. And it's not just that she delivers aphorisms with all of Falcon's eloquence. He wondered if he truly had a choice in the end. If it was between death or a chance for life, he had only ever made one decision. He was a man, a mortal man, and despite his forsaken quest, he needed to stretch out his days as long as he could.
"Tell me what I must do."
The high pellar smiled, but the expression was fleeting. "Lie down in the basin."
Tal edged forward and peered skeptically inside. "It's caked with ash and oil."
"So you will take a bath after. Get in."
He shrugged, first removing his cloak before obeying. The metal lip was hard beneath his gloved hands as he levered himself in. The soot rose almost to the tops of his boots. He found not only sediment was inside: yellow orbs also dotted the basin. Amber, he thought, and speculated on what they could be used for.
"Lie down," Izoalta repeated impatiently.
Tal did as she
bade. As ash puffed up around him, he squeezed shut his eyes and tried not to breathe it in, with only partial success. A coughing fit later, he had settled into a more or less bearable position.
"Now will you consent to telling me why in all the devil's horrors you had your sister killed?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"I thought you were called Pearltongue in your country." Izoalta moved around him, making sounds as she arranged things out of sight. "I have found you so far lack any pearl."
He didn't respond, hoping silence might provoke her where words did not. His patience was soon rewarded.
"Hellexa was always interested in that which she should not have been," Izoalta began, her voice low and rhythmic. "She wanted to unravel the mysteries of the World, to dissect them and capture their essence in words. Her sorcerous experiments and inquiries began in childhood, and our mother was forever chastising her for one catastrophe or another."
Tal cracked open his eyes and saw the high pellar smiled, though there was a bitter edge to it. A smile I'm well familiar with.
"But innocent investigation changed into deadly curiosity, and finally heresy. Hellexa tried to bring me and our third sister, Ysilda, around to her point of view. But after years of failing to do so, she finally packed up and left home, saying she meant to find a place she could truly explore all she wished.
"I imagine she wandered for many years. When I next heard from her — or rather, Ysilda heard from her, for the letter was not addressed to me — she had established herself as an apprentice at the Blue Moon Obelisk. It was not long before she ascended the ranks to become the pyramidion, the head of the tower."
Tal felt the hum of sorcery in distinct points beneath him. The amber orbs. Something Izoalta was doing had activated them. He once more wondered as to their purpose. Were they the means by which he'd be healed? Or were they for a more nefarious purpose?
"I, meanwhile, had taken a different path," Izoalta continued. "Where Hellexa pursued all things contrary to our society, I followed the well-trod grooves in the road. And even as she established herself as the head sorceress at her coven, I became the pellar for the town of Merdu, then high pellar for all of Aspar. I took my duties very seriously then, very seriously indeed."
An Emperor's Gamble (Legend of Tal: Book 3) Page 26