The Harbinger of Change

by Matthew Travagline

  “I didn’t see any sign, so she might not even be here.” Harvey was whispering, but Kiren’s bubbling excitement sharpened her senses, and she had cracked the door open.

  “Oh, and everyone just leaves their doors open with food in their kitchen?”

  “You know her. We are lucky she made it this far by herself.”

  “But she’s not here by herself,” Harvey said.

  “Wait, Harv look! This is the journal she’d been writing with Gleeman. She is here!”

  The truth hit Kiren like a ton of snow on her head, pressing in on all sides. Harvey and Roy were not looking for her; they were looking for Cleo. A rage simmered through her veins, heating and melting the figurative snow that had pressed in on her face.

  “The last entry was dated a few days back, as the one before it.” Kiren realized that if they read her story, they would figure out that she was here. Some quick-thinking, malicious being within her mind decided that she would not reveal herself to Harvey and Roy. Looking around the dark room, she found a loose cotton scarf and wrapped it around her head, concealing all but her eyes. She then shuffled around on the floor in a deliberate effort to make noise.

  The two picked up on her movement; their discussion ceased. They moved up the stairs at a sluggish pace, though their heavy steps announced their ascent. Kiren unsheathed a knife from her belt, holding it with the reserve of a snake waiting to spring. She stood on the far side of the door, listening as they stepped up to the threshold. Three heavy knocks echoed in the largely empty room.

  “Cleo? Are you in there? It’s Harvey and Roy. We are coming in. Don’t stab us with your pen.” Roy’s words still held his innately jovial tone, but a general concern also tinged his voice.

  The door eased open, light from a candle pushed through the crack in the entry. One step in, the door opened half way. The first of the two fully entered the room and stood surveying the empty space.

  Kiren sprung from her concealment. She hauled him back, her knife resting on his throat. Looking at her captive, she saw Harvey’s shocked auburn eyes. She hissed, “Any hasty movements and he looks for your head on the ground.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Gosh, you are freezing.” Aarez’s voice sounded concerned.

  Warm air pushed past Cleo’s raw ears. She disregarded his comment, focusing on keeping Perogie from bucking the ventriloquist off her back. Despite her assurances that Perogie would behave, Aarez gripped his hands tightly in front of her stomach.

  After what felt like forever, but was probably only a few hours, Cleo and Aarez had finished skinning the deer and both wolves. The salvaged meat was wrapped in parcels of paper and stored with the meat he had already hunted from a doe, a turkey, and half a dozen squirrels. Aarez, as he told it, had been on his way back to the manor when the four-pointer buck crossed his path. With the addition of the second deer and the two wolves, Aarez decided that Slipper would become the pack animal. The mare now carried everything, save the humans who rode atop Perogie.

  “You’re making the scavengers very happy,” Cleo said, ignoring his initial comment. After a moment, she felt a wave of warmth ripple through the poncho. It spread from where his hands rested on the worn fabric all the way to her neck. The poncho itself wavered as though it were water. “Cut it out! If I wanted your life making me warm, I’d ask.” The animation ended abruptly. She swallowed down an apology. In truth, she had not meant for her words to sound biting, but the cold chafed her face and her pride refused to bow. After another minute of silent clopping through the snow, she spoke again, if only to break the monotony of the forest. “So, that’s how you keep so warm, despite your light layers?”

  “One of the benefits I’m in full control of,” Aarez mumbled.

  “Well, hopefully with those,” Cleo gestured to the animal skins on Slipper’s back, “you won’t need to.”

  The pair rode into Mirr as the sun dipped below the western horizon. They tied the horses up outside Oslow’s storefront. Before they had even walked inside the quaint store, they heard a booming sound of weeping coming from within. Once inside, they found Oslow slumped over the counter. Jean held a note by the light of a candle. She folded it and placed it in a pocket after looking up and seeing them enter.

  “Oo, what’s wrong?” Cleo asked, shutting the door quickly in their wake.

  “Cleo, dear.” The pacifying voice belonged to Jean. “We just got word from Oo’s contact in Blue Haven.” She waited a moment to see if Oslow would comment. When he did not speak, she continued. “It seems that Gnochi is being moved south on the Old Maiden River to a prison in the swamp.”

  “So, we can go meet him there and break him out?” The voice was Aarez’s, but the question was Cleo’s.

  “It’s not a Lyrinthian prison, but one that Jackal set up for Silentore to store its dissidents.” Oslow’s words sounded hollow.

  “What else though? What is making him so upset?”

  Jean eyed the tanner.

  Oslow shook his head, as though he felt her gaze. “Gnochi was tortured,” he said. “He’s not going to be the same as the person you saw last.”

  “I don’t care,” Cleo yelled. “We need to bust him out. Aarez, let’s bring the pelts in and the meat so we can start preparing for our journey.” Over the next few minutes, the two teens relayed the meats and pelts into the store. After they finished unloading, Cleo pulled Oslow off his project and guided them to their haul.

  “I wouldn’t expect this any time before a week,” he said after inspecting the pelts. “It could be longer, Sapphire. Somethings cannot be rushed.”

  With the opportunity to free him, Cleo feared sitting for an hour in idle thought, let alone another week or more. She wanted to rush off without the pelts but knew their group would need every advantage in the coming year. Fearing the tears already beading under her eyes, she rushed outside.

  ◆◆◆

  Oslow frowned at Cleo’s hasty exit.

  “She’s not mad at you,” Aarez said. “She just really wants to help Gnochi out.”

  “So do we,” Oslow said the moment before the Aarez stepped out, following Cleo.

  Jean and Oslow stood in silence for a minute until the rushed gallop of both horses receded away.

  “Shouldn’t we have told her?” She asked.

  Oslow wiped a tear from his eyes. He looked in the direction of her voice and said, “Some pain is too much for even the strongest hearts.”

  Chapter 16

  Though she urged Perogie forward at a dangerous pace, Cleo sat relaxed in the saddle, willing the sharp stings from the wind to distract her mind.

  “Cleo, you don’t need to be rushing.” Aarez’s voice sounded shredded by wind by the time it reached her ears. “We have to wait for our pelts and other supplies. At earliest, we will leave in a week. We know that they aren’t going to kill Gnochi. We can get him. But running Perogie into a ditch isn’t going to help either of you out.”

  She eased up on Perogie, allowing the mare to walk. “I know. We have an opportunity to get him now. We don’t have to sit here and twiddle our thumbs making tracks over the same snow.”

  “This’ll go against Skuddy and Gnochi’s plan,” Aarez said. “If we leave here—”

  “What? You could lose your bonus?”

  Aarez looked hurt by her words. His eyes fell to the ground below. “We risk getting captured ourselves by Lyrinth. You saw the poster. They’re looking for you.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t think it was in Gnochi’s plan to get captured, so we have some room to assume the plan didn’t go accordingly,” she said, hoping Aarez would not assume her anger was directed at him.

  The horses neared the manor after another half hour of quiet riding. As soon as the pair entered its clearing, they smelt the smoke of several fires burning. Aarez pointed to a pair of the chimneys that billowed thick smoke into the sky. “Good,” he exclaimed. “Kiren’s got a few fires going. Should be toasty inside.”

  “You can
brush Perogie and get her situated for the night,” Cleo said. “I want to start pouring over maps.” She slid from the mare’s back and rushed inside, not waiting for him to respond.

  Once inside, she tore through the contents of her bag until she procured the wrinkled map of Lyrinth and spread it smooth on the kitchen table. Heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs descending to the ground floor, though she paid them no heed. Her eyes scanned the southern swamp for any indication of a prison.

  “Cleo?” Kiren’s voice sounded strained.

  “I’m in the kitchen,” she replied, ignoring the tension from within Kiren’s voice. Cleo’s eyes never once left their inspection of the map’s faded markings. The footsteps sounded closer, but the map continued to hold her gaze.

  “Cleo.” The quiet voice tugged at her memory.

  She looked up for an instant. Before her stood Harvey, Roy, and a person with their head concealed who held a knife to Harvey’s throat. Cleo’s hands grasped the only item she could use as a weapon within reach, her pen. Her fingers, white with tension, gripped the pen as though it were the hilt of a heavy claymore.

  Her friends’ faces reflected at the same time both discomfort and relief. And of the third person’s expression, Cleo was only able to see green fury raging behind the cowl and wrappings.

  “Ki—”

  “Do you know these two?” Kiren’s steeled voice came from under the wrap, cutting through Cleo’s.

  “Yes. I traveled with Harvey and Roy in the menagerie many weeks back. We can trust them.”

  “Maybe you can, but I don’t know them.” She paused, then said, “I’d like to share a word with you and Aarez, when he gets in. You did find him, I presume?”

  “Yes, he’s just brushing down the horses.” She thought she heard him enter the manor, kicking residual snow toward one of the hearths.

  “Cleo.” It was Roy who spoke. His voice sounded as she remembered it: spry and kind. Under thick clothes, she saw that he was travel weary. His usual smooth face bore a light beard, equal in its pallor to his faint hair. Some time after she had last seen him, he must have broken his nose because it jutted out at a slightly off angle. “What happened to your face?” he asked.

  “I could ask the same of you,” she said, not even remembering her black eye until his comment. Her hand rose and prodded the still-tender skin. She winced.

  “That would be my doing,” Aarez announced from behind Harvey and Roy.

  Before Cleo could qualify that it was an accident, Harvey brushed the knife away from his throat, seemingly unafraid of it. He hefted Aarez by the scruff of his shirt and pushed him into a wall, the force of the push evoking a groan from the old house.

  “Skuddy trusted you to protect her!” His voice held the same soft tones Cleo recalled from their shared journey, but behind that façade was a mighty fury. His eyes narrowed into slits sharper than most knives. He, too, wore a mask of weariness evident in dulled eyes and sharp cheekbones protruding from a too-gaunt face. He had lost weight since she had last seen him. The same bitter winds which ripped tears from her eyes had eroded the cushion of fat and muscle from her two friends.

  Cleo pulled on Harvey’s arms. “It’s not like that, Harv. Let him go.” His warm eyes found hers and seemed to be searching for some sign she was in duress. She offered a calming smile.

  The ventriloquist sunk to the ground as though suddenly empty of air. He released a heavy breath.

  “I need you two,” Cleo said, motioning to Kiren and Aarez. “To help me. I’ve been on a horse all day and my legs ache as though I’ve been running from wolves.” She winked, then grabbed Aarez, hauled him to his feet and tugged him into the foyer. Kiren was quick on their heels. The three entered their makeshift storage room where their packs had claimed residence on the ground.

  With the door shut, Cleo frowned at her two companions, then pulled the poncho from its place around her head. She shivered at the chilled air that now rushed at her less-insulated torso. Stripping from the worn clothing, she noted the patches marked with perspiration, then slipped into a fresh shirt and wool jerkin. She sunk into a thick pair of trousers, finally squatting in a heap on the ground, her two companions, silent the whole time.

  Aarez bore the marks of embarrassment on his face, which Cleo smiled at, considering the teen had seen worse on the road during their journey east.

  Kiren unwrapped her head, her face also showing embarrassment.

  “What’s wrong, Kiren?” Cleo asked, keeping her voice quiet.

  “I know them. But we aren’t exactly on the best terms right now,” she admitted.

  “Couldn’t be because you held a knife to Harvey’s neck,” Cleo said, offering a laugh, then quieting when none of the other two found her quip funny. “Wait.”

  Kiren watched, a frown growing on her face as Cleo patched her story together.

  “They were in your gang?”

  “Cleo,” Aarez said. “I think these must be who Skuddy was talking about in his letter. Well, one of them at least. We’ll have to ask them how they found you here.”

  “Kiren.” Cleo’s voice sounded sincere, though she pointedly ignored Aarez. “What do you want to do? I can’t very well send them away. Especially now that we have a chance to free Gnochi. We will need every sword we can get.” Cleo and Aarez brought Kiren up to speed on the update from Oslow. The pair waited for their new friend to offer her ruling on what they would disclose to Harvey and Roy.

  “They can’t know who I am,” she finally said. “That I know them.”

  “Okay, then let’s work up a story worthy of Gnochi’s telling,” Cleo said, smiling. “Something to keep their curiosities at bay.”

  ◆◆◆

  Harvey and Roy watched in bewilderment as Cleo heaved the door shut, separating them from the trio. They remained still for a quiet minute before Roy commenced walking circuits around the foyer. Harvey grew bored of watching his friend pace. His eyes fell to the wood floor beneath his boots and he followed the grain until the knots blended together.

  “They’ve been in there for almost half an hour,” Roy said after a while. “She’s known that other guy for what, two months, tops?” Roy finally broke the silence with his unfiltered question. “He gets to help her after a long day’s ride?”

  Roy’s voice reflected the frustration that Harvey felt but restrained deep within his heart. Before he could answer or offer his own comments, the door opened and the three rejoined them in the foyer.

  Cleo had changed out of her wet riding clothes. She laid her poncho by the fire to dry it out. She had changed in the short time they had last seen each other. She would no longer stand shorter than Gnochi, and her more muscular frame tugged against the clothes that once dangled loose from her limbs.

  At the thought of Gnochi in a Blue Haven dungeon, Harvey swallowed a lump of guilt, then allowed its weight to divert his gaze. The bard’s pendant felt warm against his chest. He needed to give it to Cleo, but not now. Not in front of everyone. “Have you heard any updates about Gnochi?” he asked.

  “His execution was stayed,” Cleo said.

  Muscles that Harvey had not realized were taut, began to loosen. Part of the guilty morass in his stomach dissolved.

  “But he’s been under tremendous torture,” she added.

  The sliver of guilt that had dissolved away, quickly reformed, surging forward with a wave of nausea.

  “Gnochi’s strong enough to survive whatever they throw at him,” Roy said, his hope lightening the mood. At a few stares from those in the room, he qualified his assumption. “Harv and I were once held within their dungeons.”

  Harvey heard a faint gasp sound from the hooded figure standing next to Cleo.

  Roy continued. “When we were captured under the guise that we had committed these murders, we each were under their dank ceilings for…months? Hard to keep track of time when meals are irregular and even the sun fears seeing what happens down there. But, if Harvey and I could get through it, then I kno
w Gnochi can bounce back from whatever pain they inflict on him.”

  Cleo nodded in thanks for his words. “The good news,” she said, sucking in air as if to stem a growing urge to cry, “is that he’s being moved to a Silentorian jail in the swamp to the south.”

  “How is that good?” Roy asked. “Wasn’t it Silentore who forced him to assassinate Providence in the first place?”

  “Yes, but away from the capital and Lyrinthian guards, we have a chance of bargaining for his release or busting him out.”

  Harvey knew that Cleo was grasping at thin hope. Such a high-profile criminal would not be sent to a place if there was even one doubt about his having a chance to escape. The group stood in silence, a thick depression dampening their spirits. Finally, sensing that no one else wished to continue the current conversation, he looked to the masked woman and said, “My name is Harvey. And this is Roy.”

  “Oh, right,” Cleo said. “Harvey, Roy, this is Aarez; Aarez, Harvey and Roy.”

  Roy nodded in greetings, though Harvey kept his eyes glued to the woman who had held a knife to his throat for over an hour. Eventually, even Roy picked up on the mood, his eyes wandering to the mysterious person.

  Cleo looked like she had forgotten something. “This is—”

  “Nora,” the mysterious voice replied. Behind the wrapping, it appeared as though the woman’s face scrunched up in a scowl.

  Roy wavered, wobbling as if he had taken a hit to his stomach. Harvey offered his arm, which Roy accepted without comment.

  “Why is her face covered?” Roy asked, a tinge of anger lining his voice.

  “She’s an echoer,” Cleo answered.

  “So are you,” Harvey said, his voice flat and impatient. “And Aarez, for that matter. Skuddy told me,” he said, upon receiving questioning glances from all three in Cleo’s party.

  “You have nothing to fear from Harvey and myself,” Roy assured, looking with intent to study her face.