Shadow Road

by A. E. Pennymaker

  Char's fingers dug into my skin when I stumbled back a step, her eyes boring into mine as she kept going. "Listen to me. I don't know what you did to wind up on that paper, but do not trust anyone. Keep your eyes open. They have people everywhere. Those men that took me, they put that girl in that kennel knowing she would wind up here. If these people are after you, there is nowhere you can hide."

  The sound of Dr. Longalli's footsteps out in the corridor had Char releasing my hand and sitting quickly back against her pillows, her gaunt face instantly assuming cool, emotionless lines.

  I couldn't breathe.

  Dr. Longalli came in, then, eyebrows raised expectantly.

  I mumbled some sort of excuse and ducked past her. I kept going, right on down the aisle between the cubicles and out of the ward, Char's words echoing in my ears. Brenorra Warring, Brenorra Warring, don't trust anyone. Without really thinking about it, I wound up outside under the portico.

  Persha was there with the gopher, picking up a group of teachers and students.

  On impulse, I darted forward and joined them, quickly finding a seat in the corner toward the front. The noise of the engine was the loudest there and no one else wanted to sit that close to the heat of it, but I could see all the students.

  A few of them turned to smile at me, then shared puzzled looks when I didn't respond, and went back to discussing what they were going to get at the Creamery.

  My heartbeat still jittering in my chest, I gathered my bag to my chest and tried to make myself relax as Persha got in and the gopher leapt into motion.

  Brenorra Warring, there's nowhere you can hide.

  46. Wait and See

  20th of Nima, Continued

  The docks were alive with activity. NaVarre's crew was outfitting the Coralynne, and there were platforms of food and water waiting to be loaded into the hold while the pulley booms were being readied.

  I caught sight of Arramy on the Stryka. He was dressed as a dock worker again, his dingy white shirt drenched with sweat and sticking to his back as he took turns with two of his men, sledgehammers rising and falling in a steady rhythm while they pounded something into place on the main deck.

  I wasn't looking for the captain, though. NaVarre. I needed to talk to NaVarre. I skirted a pile of Island citrus and headed for the whitewashed building, pushing through the large swinging double door.

  NaVarre was right where Persha the Gopher Driver said he would be, sitting at the far end of a long trestle table, scribbling notes in a ledger.

  I must have appeared about as nauseated as I felt, because NaVarre took one glance at my face and got up, brows drawing into a frown. "What is it? What happened?"

  I couldn't meet his eyes. I was being silly, like a child running from ghosts. Feeling silly didn't quiet my anxiety, though, and my "Oh, nothing, really," sounded annoyingly small and far away.

  NaVarre waited.

  "Ah... You remember Char?"

  "Of course."

  I wheeled about and began pacing. "I translated for the patients in the medical ward today," I got out between teeth that wouldn't quit clattering. "And... ah... Char was one of them. And she said some things... For instance, she ah... she saw a bulletin of me when she was kept in a shed, and these men who kept her were supposed to hunt me down and kill me. So, there's that. She also said that one of the other girls who was with her was an assassin. She – this other girl, not Char – she died, but before she died, she said she had been sent on a mission to ah... to get to the Island. And that she knew my real name. She – Char – said that there may be other spies we don't know about. Which means nowhere is safe. Not even here —"

  I was on my way past NaVarre as I said that, and came to a stop, brought up short by his hands on my shoulders.

  He spun me gently around, golden-green eyes serious as he peered down at me, his gaze roaming my features. "Stop. Take a deep breath."

  Obediently, I dragged air into my lungs. Then I let it out on a strained, "I thought I was finally going to belong somewhere." I tried to smile but my lower lip wouldn't stop quivering, so I covered my face with my hands, fighting to keep some semblance of dignity. "I love this place. I love everything about it. Ydara and Jinny and Grenna and the Longallis. The School. I just wanted one thing to be safe, one thing to feel real again, and now everywhere I look, every face I see, I think, 'Is that person going to kill me?'"

  NaVarre was shaking his head. "You are safe," he said, his voice gruff. He gave my shoulders a slight squeeze. "Don't let a confused Shacklefoot steal that from you."

  He hadn't heard what Char had said, or the tone of her voice. Don't trust anyone. There's nowhere you can hide. Then there had been that walk home from the Hello. "Char seemed to be in full possession of all of her faculties," I muttered.

  For a moment, NaVarre was silent. Then he rubbed my arms, let go and stepped back. "You don't have anything to worry about. I have eyes all over the Island, and I trust my sources far more than a girl fresh off the Blocks."

  The threat of tears had passed somewhere in all of that. I took a shaky breath and lowered my hands.

  NaVarre was regarding me with an oddly reserved expression, as if he knew something but wasn't willing to tell me.

  I frowned and narrowed my eyes. They were outfitting the Coralynne. "You received word from your agent."

  There was a flicker of surprise in his gaze, but then, reluctantly, he nodded. "He'll be here tonight. Tomorrow morning at the latest."

  So soon. "Did he give you any indication whether I would..."

  "Whether you'd have to go to Nim K? No. That's not something I would risk sending by letter. We'll have to wait and see."

  That queasy, displaced sensation bubbled up between my ribs again.

  "Come on. I'll walk you back to the Dorm," NaVarre said quietly, moving toward the door. He held it open and offered a wry grin. "You'll be absolutely safe there. Ydara may seem sweet, but I've seen her in action, and my bet wouldn't be on any assassin."

  21st of Nima

  I was allowed to stay in the Dorm since it was already walled up like a fortress, but I had to pack a bag for a trip to Nim K and transfer to a small, windowless room next to the kitchens on the first floor so the pirates NaVarre had posted outside could more easily guard my door. I wasn't allowed to leave, either, and no one was allowed to visit, not Jinny or Grenna, not even the Doctor. No one but Ydara and NaVarre were permitted past the guards.

  Once again, I had been carved out of society and stuck somewhere 'safe,' waiting to find out what would be expected of me.

  I tried telling myself that it was only temporary. No matter what happened, I could always come back and work at the school again.

  What is that Rosephyra Daguerre saying? Don't trust a bridge over a misty gorge unless you can see the other end, and even then, send the guide over first?

  47. Monolith by Moonlight

  21st of Nima, Continued

  I lay in bed, hoping to put my brain to sleep by learning how the barbarian Roghuari tribes kept themselves alive long enough to establish a territory that once spanned all of northeastern Altyr and Panesia. It was turning out to be much more interesting than I had hoped, mostly because the color-plate of Dazhir the Great, the first Roghuari High Chieftain, bore a freakish resemblance to a certain silver-eyed captain. Enough that I had to wonder if Arramy's military abilities were genetic.

  I was idly imagining myself meeting a long-ago barbarian Arramy in the middle of the bloody conquest to unite the northern tribes and conquer the surrounding peoples, when someone knocked at my door. Insistently, and with vigor.

  Realizing what I had been doing, I frowned, and thumped The History of the Roghuari shut, eyeing it askance as I got up and moved to open the door.

  Ydara stood outside, a faded shawl thrown over her cotton night shift, floppy slippers on her feet, her hair swinging in a thick braid down her back. She was also not amused, glaring at me as she marched past my guards and into my new apartment. "NaVarre
has sent that Coalition pushda to fetch you," she announced, jaw tight.

  I squinted and made a guess. "Captain Arramy?"

  Ydara scowled and gestured stiff-handed in the direction of the front gate. "Yes. He is lurking out there like a monolith. I don't know what business he has with you and NaVarre, but there is a darkness in those eyes that no man should have looking out of him. He wears death like a second skin."

  That, I would have to remember, but the time had come. I closed the door and began collecting my things.

  "You don't have to go with him," Ydara said, crossing her arms. "I will tell NaVarre that he needs to find someone else." There was a faint tremble in her fingers where she clutched at her shawl, her knuckles white.

  Had Arramy frightened her that much? I could understand being upset because of something the man said, but there was more to her reaction than mere irritation. She was genuinely afraid. For me. Which made me want to hug her.

  "I'll be fine," I said, rapidly exchanging my night shift for the light blouse I had bought on my first, and perhaps only, day off. Then I shimmied into my grey skirt and wrapped my new black woven-cord belt around my waist. A handful of hair pins later, and I had made quick work of coiling my braid up at the nape of my neck.

  Ydara let out a breath and bent to peer under the end of my bed. "Well, I think you are making a mistake, you and NaVarre." She grabbed my new shoes, holding them out to me as she added, "I have known men like that before. They are not to be trusted."

  "NaVarre probably just needs me to translate something." I finished pulling my stockings on and gave her a smile. "That's all." I took my shoes from her and pushed my feet into them.

  "You're sure?"

  I paused in the middle of tying the ankle ribbons. "Yes, but thank you for caring."

  She gave me a sidelong, mildly disapproving glare, then heaved a sigh on a shrug and a lift of her hands. "Well, I'll be here if you ever need help." She held out my father's satchel as I stood up. "You can talk to me. About anything."

  To my surprise she didn't just hand me my bag, she kept going and wrapped me in a firm embrace. "We take care of each other, here." She pulled back to look me in the eyes, her hands on my shoulders. "You aren't alone. Remember that?"

  "Thank you," I smiled a little. "I will."

  She regarded me for a moment more, then nodded and crossed the room to open the door, waiting as I made sure I had everything.

  I did, so I left. No questions, no dilly-dallying, I just picked up and walked away on NaVarre's say-so. I couldn't tell Ydara that there were things I would never be able to talk to her about. It felt good to have someone care what happened to me, so I let her escort me past her personal apartment and around the corner to the gate. She walked with me arm in arm the whole way like some sort of bristling, guardian fyrropyxxe. I imagined that was what it might have felt like to have an older sister. Someone in my corner no matter what.

  A tall figure in a long grey cloak stood in the shadows on the other side of the gate. His face was mostly hidden by a hood, but it was definitely the captain. I would have known that immovable stance anywhere.

  Ydara scowled at Arramy as if he might come barging in to ravage everyone. She unlocked the gate, rotating the key until the lockbolts slid into their slots, but she stayed where she was, deliberately standing in the way and holding the gate shut. "You listen to me," she growled through the bars. "If I hear that anything... any thing... has happened to this sweet girl, I will hunt you down and they will never find your body."

  Arramy was still as a stone, but then he nodded. Once.

  I had to hide a smirk, wishing I could see his face, but I really did need to go. NaVarre had obviously received word from his man in Nimkoruguithu. I gave Ydara's hand a parting squeeze, then eased the gate open and slipped through.

  Arramy didn't say anything. He simply headed for a flatbed gopher idling in the road and held the door to the cab open for me.

  I climbed up and scooted across the padded seat to make room as he got in. He glanced at me, jaw tight, then looked forward again as he released the gopher's flywheel and pulled the ancient vehicle away from the Dormitory.

  We rumbled down the hill toward the docks, and I settled into the worn leather upholstery, hugged my father's satchel. My heart was beating a rapid tattoo in my chest, that weird, empty feeling swarming in the pit of my stomach. I was back on the tilt-a-ball again.

  I think I knew even then, before I walked into NaVarre's office. I still hoped, though. Maybe it would be a simple thing they needed, and I wouldn't have to leave this new life behind. Maybe all I would have to do was translate something. It was possible.

  A small, quiet voice said it could never be that easy.

  ~~~

  One thing was blatantly clear: Arramy didn't want me to be a part of any of this. He maintained that from the very first second we arrived, when he strode in behind me snarling, "This is insane."

  NaVarre didn't look up from his rum. "So you've said."

  I walked over to the table, but my attention was still snagged on Arramy, who had gone straight to the sideboard, where he poured himself a large tumbler of brandy.

  "Did your agent find the binder?" I asked, easing into the seat across from NaVarre.

  "No. He didn't." Arramy turned around to face us, then leaned against the sideboard instead of coming to sit down like a civilized person.

  "He means yes," NaVarre said, voice dull.

  "Fine. He found out they have physical descriptions of you in the Magistrate's Bureau," Arramy amended. "You're billed as an escaped detainee at large. Oh, and you're to be taken dead or alive." That last came with a mirthless grin.

  NaVarre shot a flat glare at the captain.

  Arramy gestured with his glass. "But more importantly, if they're posting rewards for you, then the Coventry has figured out you're alive, and they're hunting for you in Nim K. Which means we're officially out of time."

  "Almost out of time," NaVarre muttered.

  "Nai, I'd say completely." A muscle in Arramy's jaw ticked. "What will make it officially too late? Her capture?"

  "That's a risk, yes, but I don't think they know where she is yet. Her description is probably posted abroad as a precaution, and I doubt the Nim K Magis will be as big of a problem as you think. I've got more than half of them in my pocket."

  Arramy paused to give NaVarre a frigid once-over. "We don't know how much they know. What if they do know where to look and you're sending her in there purely on the assumption that your enemy is a fool? Are you willing to bet her life on that?"

  This had clearly been a heated argument before I arrived. "Send me in?" I asked quietly, breaking the prickly silence. I had expected to go along to help solve a riddle, perhaps. Being 'sent in' sounded much more active.

  NaVarre took a breath and let it out. He was weary and a little disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through his hair several times in the last hour. "My source found a sylvograph of you behind the bar in the pub. It's from your father to the pub owner." He didn't meet my eyes as he offered his conclusion: "The pub owner is expecting you... and only you."

  Ah. I sat forward a little. "What would I have to do, exactly?"

  NaVarre shrugged. "My guess, all you have to do is be you, and ask for butter cones."

  "You know it's not that simple," Arramy said from behind the rim of his tumbler. "Every time she shows her face, the chances go up they'll notice."

  "Well, hopefully, this will be the last time she has to show her face," NaVarre snapped.

  I fiddled with my necklace, running the pendant up and down the chain. "And you're sure this is the only way?"

  NaVarre sighed. "No, but finding another will take too long or attract too much attention, and... the captain is right. We're running out of time. If we had been able to go straight to Nim K instead of stopping here, it would have been a different story. Your father certainly wasn't planning on that storm... The owner isn't keeping the binder in the pub or a
t his home, and it didn't seem to matter how many butter cones my man ordered, he never got anything but a bill. It has to be you, and it has to be now. If this doesn't work, I'll have to resort to other, messier means, and I doubt your father would have wanted that."

  "No. He wouldn't." I ran my pendant up the chain again, a deep weariness settling into my bones. But... Maybe this would be the end. Maybe I could do this one thing, and then come back to the Island. NaVarre would have his third binder, the Coventry would be ruined, everyone would be safe.

  That thought dangled in front of me like a low-hanging orange, far too tempting to ignore. I studied my necklace. Then I nodded. "I'll do it."

  Arramy grunted under his breath, displeasure plain in every line of his body. He poured another tumbler of brandy, yanked out the chair at the far end of the table, and sat down, long limbs asprawl.

  NaVarre inclined his head to me. "Thank you. Now. If you're ready and packed, we're leaving on the morning tide."

  ~~~

  Pushda: (push-dah) Ronyran name for a large poisonous reptile known to hunt humans. Also, a derogatory term for a person of northern Altyran mountain descent. This goes back centuries, to when mountain tribes regularly came south to raid Ronyran border villages.

  Endnotes

  1. An Unfortunate Beginning

  Nimkoruguithu: (nim.ko.roo.gwith.oo) Also referred to as Nim K; the largest city in the Coalition Colonial Region, a rough, lawless place too far from Coalition influence to be kept properly under heel. Nimkoruguithu is populated by people hoping for a fresh start. Many are wanted fugitives, many are convicts sentenced to transportation, many are ex-convicts that have done their time, many are seeking to escape poverty on the promise of opportunity, many are looking for a hustle. Only the hardest and most desperate survive.