She felt the shackle open and fall away from her ankle. Claid had retained his magical powers. She went on talking to conceal his activities. Keeping her voice level, she said, “I can see this is a bigger place than Noster Valley, where I come from. How big is this land?”
“What do you mean, ‘this land’?” Marta asked. “You mean this area, North Woods Province? Or the whole country? Arucadi’s huge. Don’t you know anything?” Her eyes widened. She cast a quick glance ankle-ward, and thrust her hand over her mouth. When Master Stebbins gave her a puzzled look, she feigned a cough and continued her lecture.
“North Woods Province is in the northwest corner of the country. It’s the biggest province land-wise, but there are eleven others. I learned about it in the workhouse from a teacher who came in and gave us lessons while we ate. We had to recite them back later or lose credits. You got lucky. They stopped that about a year ago. I think the teacher moved away.”
Marta glanced down, adjusted her skirt, and spoke louder and more rapidly. “You know how it took us a couple of hours to get to Dabney. Well, it would take four or five days to get to Tirbat. That’s the capital of Arucadi. It’s halfway across the country and way south. So that gives you an idea how big Arucadi is.”
Kyla listened, not sure whether to believe the girl. It didn’t matter. She smoothed her long skirt, and Claid climbed back onto her lap and reached for a bit of roast pork. The chain and shackles lay loose on the floor, hidden beneath her dress.
Claid stuffed the meat into his mouth, wiped his hand on the tablecloth, and tugged at her wrist, lowering it to her lap. He rubbed his hand across the lock. The shackle opened without so much as a click.
“If the land is as wide as you say, no wonder you need things like trains to travel in,” Kyla said as, hidden by the table, she eased her wrist from the iron band. “I could walk from one side of Noster Valley to the other in a matter of days.” She caught the released chain in her hand to keep it from crashing to the floor. Master Stebbins continued to stare out the window.
Marta, watching Claid, said, “Here, let me hold the baby while you eat.” She lifted Claid to her lap, where he plucked at the shackle on her wrist.
Kyla went on, “From Waddams, where I lived, to Rim Canyon is a hard walk through hills, but I—I didn’t go directly from Waddams.”
Claid’s activity looked like child’s play, but with a rub of his chubby fingers across the lock, the shackle eased open.
“Rim Canyon,” Marta mused. “That’s what we call Uncrossable Canyon. I always heard that if you could cross it, the land on the other side would be deadly. Its air is poisonous. No one can live there.”
“Not at all,” Kyla said indignantly. “It’s a beautiful land, fertile and productive.”
Master Stebbins jerked to attention. “That’s ridiculous! Are you going to tell me you crossed Uncrossable Canyon? And that that’s where the book is? I won’t tolerate such a lie.”
“It isn’t a lie. And I’ve told you from the beginning that the journey will be difficult.”
“Crossing the canyon isn’t difficult—it’s impossible.”
From far off in the distance came the eerie screech of the train whistle. Other diners left quickly. Claid slipped to the floor beneath the table.
Master Stebbins rose, glaring at them. “So. Just as I’ve feared all along, you’ve deceived me to get your freedom. Well, you won’t get it. As soon as we reach Line’s End, I’m taking you back to the workhouse.” He waved for the serving girl, and counted out several small coppers to pay for the meal. The girl took them and disappeared into the kitchen. Stebbins tugged on the chain; it went slack in his hands.
Exchanging looks, shackles in hands, Marta and Kyla rose and flanked the shopkeeper. Snatching his arms, Marta clasped one shackle around his wrists and clicked it shut, while Kyla grabbed his other wrist and shackled it.
“Let’s see how you like wearing these,” Marta crowed.
“How … who?” he sputtered, looking from one to another, indignation turning to fear.
The serving girl came out, gave a small cry, and fled back to the kitchen.
“You won’t get away with this,” Master Stebbins said. Opening his mouth, he started to cry out. “Hel—”
The word broke off in mid-syllable when Claid pressed a finger to his mouth and said solemnly, “Shh!” The man’s mouth continued to move, but no more sound came out.
“So!” Kyla tried to look stern despite the laughter that threatened to bubble out. “You have your powers back—if you ever honestly lost them.”
“Lost,” he said, his green eyes gazing innocently up at her.
Kyla clasped Master Stebbins’ arm and gathered up the chains. They had to get away before the serving girl summoned the authorities. “We’ll take you back to Line’s End. I intend to reclaim my books.”
“Books,” Claid echoed happily.
Marta stared at Kyla. “That’s right. Those books must be worth plenty.” She clasped Master Stebbins’ other arm and they hustled Master Stebbins out of the inn and into the train station. Claid clutched Kyla’s skirt and toddled beside her.
“What in the name of all the gods is going on?” Marta demanded as they passed through the station to the platform. “What did that kid do?”
“I can’t explain now,” Kyla said. “We have to get on the train before they stop us. Or Claid and I do. You don’t need to return to Line’s End. You can go anywhere you wish.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m enjoying this.” Marta searched their former master’s pockets and pulled out the three tickets. “Good thing kids in arms ride free.”
All the while Master Stebbins’ tongue waggled furiously, his lips pushed in and out like a fish pursuing a fat fly, and not a sound came forth.
The train pulled in. Kyla tried to look nonchalant as Marta handed the tickets to the uniformed man who gave admittance to the carriage.
He merely motioned them inside as though two women leading a chained man was something he saw every day. He looked tired and bored and possibly did not notice the chains. It was also possible that Claid had something to do with his inattention.
The carriage was nearly empty. The only other passengers were an elderly couple, both dozing, and a young man who was leaning out of the window, intent on saying goodbye to someone outside. They took seats well away from those other passengers.
The train whistle shrieked, and moments later they were on their way back to Line’s End.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
DISCLOSURES
As night fell, the train slowed to a crawl, and the return journey seemed to take forever. Claid slept on the seat beside Kyla, his head in her lap. On her other side Master Stebbins sat sullenly in his enforced silence. Marta peered around him and shot frequent perplexed glances at Claid. She must be bursting with questions, but even with so few others sharing the carriage with them, Kyla felt uneasy about trying to explain about Claid and Alair where others might overhear the conversation.
Kyla pondered the troubling facts she’d learned from Marta. She’d supposed that this land must be of limited extent, its soullessness an aberration in the wider world. Instead, if Marta’s information could be trusted, Noster Valley was the aberration, a single enclave of vitality in a vast heartless country.
Again she was struck by homesickness. She resolved that if she ever got back to Noster Valley, she would never again leave it. She regretted her impatience with Alair and her refusal to help him destroy the mindstealers. He was right: the creatures must be eliminated so the valley could become the paradise it would be without them.
Now that she was reunited with Claid, going back was possible. Claid’s powers could probably get her across Rim Canyon. She did have an obligation to be sure that Marta was beyond the reach of the Line’s End authorities. She owed the girl that for devising the plot that permitted their escape. Marta had indicated that it was possible to cross the country by train. Kyla decided that somehow she’
d get her friend onto a train and send her far enough from Line’s End that she could not be found and brought back. Only when that was done could she face her own future.
By the time the train pulled into the Line’s End station, Kyla felt numb and weary. Awake but not alert, she staggered to her feet, lifted Claid into her arms, and followed Marta, who held Master Stebbins’ chains and pulled him from the train and onto the platform. The station was locked. The only light came from the front of the locomotive, where an oil lamp was set in front of a tin reflector mounted in a metal box. The reflector focused the illumination on the track; it gave little help as they picked their way off the platform and around the building to the street in front of it.
The frigid night air bit into Kyla. She hugged Claid to her and wished for her heavy cloak.
“We have to find Master Stebbins’ store,” Kyla said. “I want my books and anything else he still has of mine. And we’ll need to take supplies and warmer clothes when we go.”
“I used to know where it was,” Marta said. “Just let me think a bit. I’ve been so long in the workhouse.”
“I wish we had more light.” Kyla looked nervously along the street, deserted and dark at this late hour.
“Oh, as for that, I knew my way around town better by night than by day,” Marta said. “Come on, it’s this way, I think.”
Kyla carried the sleeping Claid, and Marta kept a tight grip on the chains that bound Master Stebbins as they walked. “Turn here,” Marta said at a corner Kyla hadn’t seen. The girl did seem to know where she was going. She made other turns, peering closely at the darkened buildings lining each street. “Here!” she announced triumphantly, coming to a halt in front of a modest frame building indistinguishable to Kyla from all the others they’d passed. “Now we’ll have to get him to let us in.” She tugged him closer to the door.
Kyla looked at the locked and shuttered building. “He must have keys.”
“You have no right to enter my business.” The words burst forth from Master Stebbins in indignant storm.
Startled, Kyla almost dropped Claid. Marta raised the loose end of the chain and held it ready to strike.
Master Stebbins shrank back away from Marta. “I should never have taken you from the workhouse,” he said. “Street slut!” He spat at Marta’s feet.
She swung the chain, and only Kyla’s one-handed grab deflected it so that it struck his shoulder rather than his head. “You forget, sir, who has the upper hand now,” Kyla said. “We’ll hear no more about the workhouse, and no more name-calling.”
“You!” he snarled at Kyla. “You denied knowledge of the mage lore in those books, and it was all a lie. You know how to use it.”
Like the people of Waddams, he was blaming her for Claid’s sorcery. This time it worked to her advantage. “I’ll do worse than take away your speech if you don’t do as we tell you,” she said. “Unlock this door. Hurry!”
In the darkness she could not read his expression. She waited tensely to see if his fear would win out over his anger. She heard the jingle of keys. “I’ll give you anything you want,” he said, “if you’ll just let me keep the books.”
“You’ll give us anything we want and the books,” Marta said, jerking the chain taut. “Now get that door open.”
He fumbled with the keys and, after several tries, the door opened. “There’s a lamp on the counter,” he said. “I can’t see to light it.”
Claid could see in the dark. Kyla shook him awake. “Where’s the lamp?” she asked as though talking to herself, while he stirred sleepily and raised his head from her shoulder. “We need light.” She walked forward until she bumped into what she thought must be the counter, groped around until she felt metal and glass. “I hope there’s oil in it. And something here to light it with.”
“Light,” Claid said and guided her hands to the wick and to a wooden box filled with the matches used here instead of firesticks. With his help she struck a match and held it to the wick. The lamp soon spread a golden glow around them.
They were in a room filled with racks of clothing, free-standing glass-covered cases, and walls lined with shelves filled with jars of preserved food, cooking utensils, and tools of all kinds. They would have no trouble outfitting themselves for whatever lay ahead.
To Marta she said, “Find something to fasten Master Stebbins’ chains to so you can get what you need to travel wherever you want to go and to wear when you get there. I’m going to hunt camping gear for my journey.”
“What do you mean? Aren’t we going together?” Marta spoke over Stebbins’ spluttering and fuming.
“I face a long, dangerous journey,” Kyla answered. “I may not make it. You can go on the train to whatever part of the country you want and make a new life there. I have to go back to what may very well be my death.”
“You promised to take me with you,” Marta said, hurt filling her voice. “I mean to go. You won’t send me away.”
Kyla shifted uncomfortably and searched for the right words. “I promised I wouldn’t leave the workhouse without you. I thought if we got free, I’d go with you somewhere. But now that I have Claid—well, I have to take him back where we came from. You don’t need to go.”
“Just try to get rid of me,” Marta said, anger replacing the hurt. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I mean to find out, and I mean to learn about this magic Master Stebbins keeps babbling about.”
So that was it! It wasn’t loyalty but curiosity and greed that bound Marta to her. Instead of making it easier to refuse her, that realization salved Kyla’s conscience about taking her into danger. She liked having Marta as a companion, liked the girl’s courage and defiance. For all her faults, Marta was the closest to a friend Kyla had ever had.
“When I explain things you may change your mind,” Kyla said. “I’ll understand if you do. But if you still want to go, well, I guess it’s your choice.”
“What about me?” Master Stebbins demanded querulously, rattling his chains. “What about my customer?”
Kyla turned to face him. “We’ll tie you up and leave you here for someone to find.”
“No, you can’t,” Master Stebbins protested, adding with a groan, “I should never have listened to you.”
“Where are the books?” Kyla asked. “You have them here, don’t you?”
“I have them,” Master Stebbins said. “And what do I tell my customer when he comes for the twelfth book?”
“Whatever you like!” Kyla snapped. “Marta and I won’t be here when he shows up.”
Master Stebbins looked greatly relieved, but the relief turned to a look of consternation when Kyla added, “We’ll have the books with us.”
“No, you can’t—” Master Stebbins began the familiar protestations.
Kyla cut him short. “Where are the books?”
He crossed his manacled hands in front of his chest in refusal.
“Claid find,” the not-child announced, and toddled off.
Confident of Claid’s ability to track down the books even in the darkness beyond reach of the lantern light, Kyla took up the lantern and in its illumination helped Marta pick through a wide assortment of garments. While Master Stebbins watched, fuming, they found men’s tunics and trousers in sizes they could wear and selected several outfits.
“We’ll need warm cloaks,” Kyla said.
Marta pointed to a rack of coats and cloaks. Kyla made her way toward it, when Claid ran to her. Was it a trick of the lamplight, or had he grown a bit taller since they’d taken him from the orphanage? Kyla handed the lantern to Marta and followed Claid
“Books,” Claid said, and led Kyla to a dark corner, where he pointed to stacks of books. She could barely distinguish the shapes; she could not possibly read the titles, but she had no doubt that the volumes Claid handed to her one at a time were hers. When he finished, she held a stack of eleven books.
“Dirty,” he said.
“Yes,” she agreed. “He hasn’t taken care of
them, has he?”
“I won’t let you take those!” As she neared him, Master Stebbins raised his arms to bring down on her head the chain that bound his arms.
Claid scuttled between his feet, nearly toppling him.
“Ow!” The shopkeeper hopped on one leg. “The brat bit me!”
“He thought you were going to harm me,” Kyla said. “And he knows these books are mine.”
“How can he know that? He’s—Oh! Stop that, you little monster! Ohh!” He danced back, out of range of the angry child.
Kyla marched triumphantly past him holding the books.
“I’ve got cloaks for us both,” Marta announced, meeting her with a cloak thrown over each arm. She grinned when she saw Kyla’s burden.
Carefully Kyla set down the stack of books and dusted her hands.
Look at this one.” Marta displayed a lovely royal blue cloak. “It’s lined and everything. I’m taking it, but I’ve found another one almost as fine for you.” Her other arm held a heavy wool cloak of warm brown, the same shade as Kyla’s hair. Kyla reached for it.
“No! Here!” Claid grabbed her skirt and pulled her away from the cloak.
She looked at the rack he tugged her toward. “No,” she said. “Those cloaks are old, used. The one Marta picked out is new and much finer.”
“No, no, no,” Claid shouted, his face purpling. “Here!”
“Maybe he wants you to have your old cloak back,” Master Stebbins suggested maliciously. “I think it’s still there.”
She went to the rack of used garments and saw that it did, indeed, hold her old cloak, cleaned and pressed and looking reasonably respectable.
“No point in taking that old thing.” Again Marta held out the brown one.
Kyla started to put the old cloak back but reconsidered. The cloak had been her mother’s and was of fine, strong material. She liked the idea of reclaiming what was hers, and furthermore, she recalled what Alair had said about his cloak being a reservoir of power. That could not be true of this old cloak, but she did recall that she'd been seated on it all the times the wind carried her a great distance Maybe somehow the cloak had gathered power from the wind. Probably a foolish notion, but … “This one has always served me well,” she said. “I’ll keep it. Let’s find the other things we need.”
Mistress of the Wind (Arucadi Series Book 1) Page 22