Then he nodded. “We’re straight west of Crestel, my city, a day’s ride inside the border, well away from their patrols. And she does live relatively close by! I know where Latvian’s castle is on the map, more or less. But, judging distances in a land I don’t know—”
“I don’t care,” Kyale said, her voice high and strained. “Faline’s right! Let’s go to Hibern. Faline says she knows magic.”
“All right. Sounds like a better idea than attempting the border on our own.” Leander sent a doubtful look at 713, whose face was tight with pain. “Though it means walking more west than I’d like.”
They floundered into a field of late-growing seed-flax. The silvery-topped stalks were so tall that the two girls were mostly hidden. When they finally reached another road, they cleared the late autumn brambles and prickles off their clothing and started trudging along this path.
Presently Kitty said fretfully, “How much farther? I hate walking so much, and we didn’t get anything to eat at all today.”
“We should be in the right province, but like I said, I can’t judge distances.”
“I’ll recognize Latvian’s lair,” Faline assured Kitty. “Not much longer. I keep recognizing things, like that funny shaped space, like a bite missing, between those two mountains over that way. Saw ‘em through the window every morning when I woke up.” She pointed east. She used her normal voice, though she wore the form of the old granny. A change would deplete her energy even more, and the disguise might still be needed.
As for me, my head buzzed from all the magic, and I drew in a deep breath to fight off the nastiness. Tdanerend’s voice rose over the hubbub around us, vicious cursing and threats punctuating his orders. Senrid had let go of my arm and sat with his hand over his eyes, his lips moving.
Leander, I hope you made it, I thought, as Senrid looked up. He gasped, cleared his throat, then spoke. “Uncle. Uncle! The border wards are up. No one can transfer out of the kingdom, or in, without a tracer alerting us.”
Tdanerend flicked his hand upward, then continued firing orders at those guys with the medals and junk for search parties, inside the castle, the city, as well as along the borders.
Senrid poked me. “You’d better cut along. Stay out of the way for now, or you’ll catch it for sure.” He tipped his chin toward his uncle.
I bit back a groan, wishing he’d told me that earlier, instead of holding onto my arm while he deployed the castle wards. I could have cut out, all right—all the way home.
Tdanerend rose, still snarling curses as well as orders, and aides dashed this way and that. I was alone in the crowd, and glad to follow Senrid’s advice.
I slipped off the stand and followed some of the aides inside. I was going to have to get out the hard way.
Now wasn’t the time, though, not with all these search parties being sent out to grill every living thing they found. And I was tired—beyond tired. The magic had drained me far worse than the hunger and lack of sleep combined.
I bumbled my way along, with everyone too busy to notice me, until I finally found a section of the palace that seemed familiar, then I retreated up to Ndand’s room.
What to do? What do to?
It was thinking about Faline—worrying that she was safe that finally gave me the obvious solution. I would have to find Hibern.
Only how? I hesitated, standing there in the hall, my head pounding. I remembered the big map on the wall of Senrid’s room, and hesitated about half a second. Sooner in, sooner out.
It was my only hope—otherwise I’d ride around this horrible kingdom forever, because I had no idea where the capital was located in it, much less anything else.
Senrid’s room was cold, scrupulously neat. So neat I felt the urge to stomp on the bed, knot the sheets, and throw all his clothes out the window, but I did not touch anything, just moved to that map, and forced my tired eyes to focus.
It really was an enormous map, neatly lettered. In fact, a work of art of its own. I touched it, and the neat Marloven lettering flickered into an alphabet I could read, thanks to Clair’s language spell. I wondered if every single stream and village and glade was lovingly listed there.
I located Choreid Dhelerei, the capital, which I stood in the middle of. I felt my first spurt of hope when I discovered it was closer to the eastern border than to any of the others. Latvian, I remembered, had also lived fairly close to the same border. His job was mage-protector of the east.
I started searching between the capital and the neatly drawn Aurum Hills for a couple of the little towns that Faline had named on her run the summer before, and which I had obligingly put in the record of her adventure.
There they were! Up north a little ways, and east. Feeling more apprehensive by the minute I memorized the roads, noted landmarks, then oozed out, looking both ways. No one in the hall.
I sat down at Ndand’s desk, and put my head on my crossed arms, not daring to really relax or even to remove the spectacles, lest I fall so deeply asleep I’d betray myself on waking up. I tried to mentally review the map, but dropped almost immediately into the uncomfortable slumber of total exhaustion.
EIGHT
Faline and the other fugitives walked until sunset.
Two more search parties rode by. They gave the same story to the first. The second they were able to hide from because they heard it coming as they neared a huge stand of thick old willow. After the danger had passed, 713 suggested to Leander that they should let the horse go—it was tired, head drooping, and would do much better on its own. And they would have difficulty hiding a horse a second time.
So they freed the animal, and resumed their trudge. By then the girls, at least, had recovered enough to ask questions, so Leander whiled away some of the walking by explaining the plan that he and Clair had come up with.
He talked in detail, partly to pass the time, and partly to draw the girls’ attention away from 713, who was forcing himself to move at the same speed as the others, but his face, his entire body, were expressive of someone nearing the end of his endurance, as he leaned more and more on the stick that Leander had bought to be part of his own disguise.
713 was the oldest, and he was a Marloven, but it was clear that even if he’d wanted to take over command of their party, he was not capable of it. Leander paused, feeling a wave of pity. Here was a young man who could never go home again, for no Marloven survived a treason judgment, however unfair, that much he’d learned. Had the poor fellow even thought about what might happen if he actually lived? From the look of him he hadn’t.
“Leander?” Kitty said, the familiar shrill note in her voice breaking his reverie. “Is there danger? Why did you stop talking?”
“Sorry. Just looking around. So anyway, we transferred CJ up to tell her the plan—”
“Wait!” Faline interrupted, wheezing so hard she could barely speak. Kitty looked at her in round-eyed surprise. “Wait! CJ didn’t know she was going to be sent to Marloven Hess? Right smack in the middle of a nest o’ villains?”
“Nope.” Leander shook his head.
Faline gave a loud, quivering sigh. “Oh, please, do you remember what she said? Now think! There have to have been some good ones!”
“Well, let me see,” Leander said with a judicious air. “There was a lot about bagfaced cornpone-noses—what is a cornpone, anyway?—that was to us generally. For me, there were a couple that did stand out in my mind. Ah! Something about frogbelly-faced stenchiferous wights—I believe that would be addressed to the color of my eyes—and your friend Clair came in for some commentary on the color of her hair, apparently likening her as a close cousin to Shnit of the Chwahir—”
Faline clasped her hands. “Any other good words? Snilch? Grelb? Gnarg? And spackle!”
“I believe she used all those at some point or other, yes.”
713 grinned wearily as Faline sailed off into gales of laughter. “Oh, to have heard that!”
Leander bowed. “I shall always consider myself pri
vileged to have been on the receiving end of such artistic and inspired insults. And I’ll remember them,” he added, “in case I meet up with an equally deserving recipient.”
Kitty whispered, “I hate it when he talks like that to me.”
Faline snickered. “I think it’s funny. Hey! That’s it,” she said, pointing to a many-spired silhouette projecting above a grove of trees with pumpkin-colored leaves. Latvian’s castle was singular, built of dark stone and full of turrets and towers. “There can’t be another like it.”
The others looked up, 713 in obvious relief. “She’s right,” he said low-voiced, having confined his attention for the past few miles to the ground before each foot.
“And that’s Fern’s tower,” Faline added, pointing to the highest one.
“How’ll we get up?” Kitty asked.
“How’ll we get in past the guards?” Leander amended.
“No more guards,” 713 whispered. “Except his own. Two fellows. Front gate. Go round back.”
“And that’s where Hibern’s tower is,” Faline said. “I think I know the way to get her attention.”
They walked around the long way, using the clusters of trees as cover, so as not to be spotted by the guards, one on the front wall, one at the gate.
“Faline, what if she isn’t there?” Kitty asked, that shrill note in her voice again.
“Oh, she will be,” Faline whispered reassuringly. “She’s fake-lame as well as fake-nutso. She’s locked up there—her dad doesn’t know she travels by magic when she leaves at all.”
“But she might have gone by magic,” Kitty whined, wringing her hands.
“Sh,” three voices responded, low-voiced but urgent.
Kitty fumed in tight-lipped silence.
They emerged from the cover of a thicket of fir and stood right below Hibern’s tower, which was at the extreme end of the castle, with walls extending away from it at either end.
Faline peered up at the wide window, then selected some small rocks, and tossed them up. They did not reach anywhere near. Leander had a try next, and the stones clattered against the glass.
Moments later a casement opened, and a long, thin girl-face framed by dark hair peered down, then the dark eyes, sidelit by lamps within the tower, widened.
“Fern? Fern!” Faline called.
“Faline? It is you!” The familiar cool voice was low and quick. “Quiet. I must transfer you all up. Take hands, and do not move.”
A sudden wrench, and when the transfer wore off they found themselves in a round stone room, facing a tall, thin black-haired girl Leander’s age. She frowned at 713, and quickly bade him sit down on a chair.
He collapsed gratefully.
She faced Leander, and he discovered she was as tall as he. “You are Leander Tlennen-Hess?”
He nodded once.
“I wondered, soon as I heard the news. Well done.”
Leander’s face heated up. “Wasn’t I. Entirely. There’s a Mearsiean girl in the capital who took the biggest risks. CJ Sherwood, who managed the transfer.”
“Ah.” Hibern glanced at Faline, and it was clear she recognized the name. Then she said in a low voice, “We’ll have to talk softly, as Father is housing the headquarters for the local search. Stefan is locked up, Faline, so don’t worry.” Fern’s grin was somewhat wry.
Leander said, “How did you find out what happened? Magic of some kind?”
Hibern opened a hand. “Yes. Messages went out by magic to all the regional commanders, and from our local one to my father, who will be expected to maintain the border wards that the king set up. Such terrible ones will be a taxing job that must be renewed daily. I felt them go up.”
Leander grimaced. Those black magic wards would destroy a tremendous amount of magical energy. But he said nothing.
“At first I hoped you’d think of me, but I fear I cannot send you over the border, for the wards are far too strong. I tested, and it’s not surprising that they’ve got an intercept spell woven in. I’m trying to break it right now—that’s what I was just doing.” She nodded toward books lying on a table.
Kitty moaned in disappointment.
Hibern said, “What I can do is send you to the border. I’m afraid that’s going to be dangerous for you because Regent Tdanerend and the king have riders all along it. The strongest concentration is directly east of the capital, but we have our share up here. But if I send you farther north, you’ll have a better chance. There is a place I have in mind, an ancient ruin I discovered by accident a year or so ago. Magic pools there, I know why, it was ancient before the Iascans settled here, never mind the Marlovens.”
Leander was impressed. Collet, the spy Hibern had arranged as his contact, had said in her first letter that Hibern was a powerful magician despite her youth, and here was the evidence.
Kitty looked horrified. Faline tried to hide her own disappointment, and she saw the same struggle in poor 713. “How about food?” Kitty demanded.
“Bandages for ol’ ‘3, here?” Faline asked.
Hibern’s brow furrowed. “I wish I could do more for you—with the house full of warriors I don’t dare transfer up quantities of food, or even bandages.” She looked doubtfully at 713, who lifted a hand and shook his head. Hibern pointed to a side table, on which she’d set a tray of food still steaming. “I was just about to sit down to dinner. Help yourself, and here’s some water.” She indicated a pitcher.
Kitty sprang at the water, drinking down a glass. Faline poured some out for 713, who took it with wordless thanks—she saw it in his face. He drank down two cups, and then she had some, and Leander got his last, while Kitty wrapped all the food into a napkin.
Leander said to Hibern, “I thank you, and hope we can meet some day when there is more time for talk.”
Hibern laid her hand flat to her heart. “I wish for the same. But I’d better send you now.”
“Double good to see you,” Faline said fervently. “Thanks for helping us!”
Hibern wove a long spell and the four transferred.
They appeared right in the middle of a blinding, drenching rainstorm.
“Yow!” Faline yelled as hail struck her face.
“We’ll wait it out,” Leander shouted, worried about both ‘13 and Kitty’s endurance giving out long before they could make the ascent through the rocky hills to the border.
“A cave in the middle of that ruin,” Faline called. “Right up there—openeth yer eyeballs, kiddies!”
“Let us progress to yon cave, Tightest amst I-eth?” Leander joked, an anxious eye on his sister, who even in the fading light looked tired and cross as well as cold and wet. Behind her, 713 was clearly miserable.
“Yesseth thou ye! Forwardest and forthwith haulest useth ourst carcassethes yonder to,” Faline yodeled, windmilling her arms.
And so, joking back and forth in super-fake Old Sartoran in an attempt to jolly the other two along, they picked their way up the rocky little animal path that led to the cave that had once been a storage chamber to a mage outpost silent milennia ago.
When they reached the mouth at last, Faline was panting and shivering. She knew the others had to be at least as tired.
The last of the daylight showed in a faint glow under the clouds in the west, casting peculiar light up the scrub-choked gully; rainbow shimmers glistened at the edges of their vision as water ran and splashed down below them, a sudden stream.
They all sank down onto the nearest rock or wind-worn stone and worked on trying to catch their clouding breath. Kitty shivered hard, muttering complaints to herself as she opened the napkin and divided out portions of a small loaf of fresh bread, some steamed cabbage, and a small chicken pie. A skinny fifteen-year-old girl’s dinner was not going to stretch very far four ways. Kitty was scrupulous about making the portions equal, laying each on a cabbage leaf.
A gust of rain-laden wind made Faline shiver more violently. “Maybe we can go f-farther in,” she managed past chattering teeth, as she reache
d for her share of the food.
“Let’s try,” Leander agreed, then wolfed his down. Regretfully it seemed to be about two bites.
Faline worriedly watched 713 moving like a very old man as he tried to stand, then sank back down. She took his food to him, then ducked around and began to explore further inside the cave.
Where she jolted to a stop. “Hey! There’s someone here!”
“Who’d want to b-be in this h-h-horrible p-place?” Kitty’s teeth chattered, and she shivered harder.
“Someone hiding,” Leander said. “If they’re still alive.”
“Well, go see,” Kitty ordered anxiously.
One of the shapes shifted and let out a groan.
“This one’s alive, anyway,” she called back in relief, and encouraged by this sign of life, she felt for the other shape. Reaching down, she touched a face that was clammy and hot with fever.
“This one’s alive too, but sick. Shall I try to wake ‘em up?”
“No.” 713 spoke for the first time. “If they’re asleep, leave ‘em in peace.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Okay.” Faline picked her way back to the others. “Wowee. After being back there, it’s almost bright up this way.”
“Storm’s passing,” Leander commented. “Starlight appearing.”
“So what now?” Kitty asked.
“We wait for CJ—or sunlight,” Leander said. “Here, let’s sit together. Warmer that way.”
They got into a group, sitting back to back, except for poor 713, who didn’t want anyone touching his flesh.
Silence fell. Presently Kitty, pressed between Faline and Leander, fell asleep with her chin on her knees.
713 sat near the mouth of the cave—hands gripping the walking stick, his profile to the stars—keeping guard.
NINE
When the door to Ndand’s room slammed open I woke up instantly.
Some soft-footed servants had brought in a lamp while I was asleep. Its light hurt my eyes through those blasted spectacles. I looked up, blinking, my mouth dry and my head achy from the frames having pressed against the side of my nose, but I knew right where I was—and who I was supposed to be.
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