by Verity Moore
“I can only speak what and when The Masters command.”
“And They told you now was the time?”
“Yes. You have a task to complete. Or do you still intend to make a mockery of his death?”
Cierra collapsed to her knees and ground her forehead against the dirt. She gave a keening cry. “I can’t.”
“You must.”
“Please. Leave me alone.”
“I would be betraying The Masters’ command if I did so. If you won’t do it for Kyam, do it for Them.”
She clawed at the loam beneath her. “Don’t you understand? I can’t.”
“It is you who doesn’t understand. Where The Masters command, they enable. To say that you can’t is to call Them liars.”
She pulled back. “So cruel.”
“So true.”
✽✽✽
The city walls rose blood-red and impregnable. She hid in the tall grasses where the road topped a small hill, looking for a way in.
She waited, watching for an opportunity to slip in undetected. The guards paced atop the wall—two for every fifty farthongs. These were not the relaxed, jovial men she remembered from her childhood.
The guards would meet in the middle of their section, spin on their heels to face outward, scan the area, then turn on their heels to march to the outer edge of their section where they again searched the land outside the wall. Another quarter turn and they headed back to the middle. Their discipline was so great that they always met at the precise center of their section and, even when facing away from each other, kept in perfect step. This precision, as well as the measured step, told her these were not home-trained militia.
A fist squeezed her heart—her father would never countenance these guards.
The sun crested and began its mid-afternoon descent and still the road into the city remained empty. Different guards came on duty and there was not so much as an approaching dust cloud on the horizon. Cierra searched her memory for another access to the city, the harbor perhaps? No. The wharves would be well guarded. She had never been an adventurous child, nor did she keep company with mischievous boys. Toby had known half a dozen ways in and out of his city, none of which were shown on any map. She knew of none.
Just an hour from sundown she heard a shrill whistle. Was that the clop of hooves? A shout from a guard turned her attention back to the city wall. Two had broken cadence and stood facing the road. One shouted down to the guard at the gate.
Cierra eased backward until she was sure the bushes hid her from view. Then to be doubly sure, she slipped backward another fifteen farthongs before standing up and plotting a course that would intercept the road at a point where the guards could not see her.
Shouts and whinnies had joined the chorus of whistles; it must be a good-sized caravan. That was good—she could never join a small band without detection. Hopefully the animals, sensing water and rest, would require the drivers’ complete attention. Perhaps an uneventful entry was possible.
They came, a disorderly, disheveled bulge of noise and sweat, boiling around a bend in the road. She and Castoff crouched behind a boulder and waited for an opening. Not too close to the front, but not straggling at the back either. Near, but not next to, a particularly fractious animal would be best; it would draw all eyes.
She had to smile at the thought of how adept at strategy and campaigns she had become. Kyam would approve. “Friend, stay close but not too close. You are rather distinctive and I don’t wish to draw attention. Try to blend in with some other animals, if you please.” The dog’s reply was a lick and a wag. With that she had to be content.
There was one problem with her plan: the troublesome beasts she favored either led or lagged behind. The best she could find was a comical donkey who brayed as he went and occasionally stretched out his neck to nibble on the drover’s ear. This resulted in irate shouts and futile slaps as the animal trotted on unperturbed by the man’s anger.
Cierra eased into the melee, staying next to the outside rear wheel of a large wagon traveling just behind the donkey. Close to the gates she would switch to the inside rear wheel, but for now this was the most obscure spot.
Already the lead wagons were at the city gates, whose hinges were as big as shields. Standing as high as a ten-year-old pine, they dwarfed the caravan. She remembered the day they were set in place—with celebrations that lasted well into the night. Although a few had grumbled at the expense, regarding such fortifications as unnecessary in so civilized and safe a land, most had viewed the gates as a sign of status and prosperity.
But the gates hadn’t stopped their foe. Overconfidence had probably led to lax security. And the mutton-heads probably didn’t even recognize their danger. Of course, neither had she, until Kyam forced her eyes to see. Now the enemy controlled the gates. That which had been designed for strength and safety had become a great weakness.
Guards stood at attention on either side as the caravan entered. Hands on sword hilts, they scanned each wagon as it passed. Twice they halted the group to lift bundles and peer inside a wagon. Her palms began to sweat. They were definitely searching, and not for contraband. If they believed that she and Kyam were dead, why were they searching? Had they not found his body?
Castoff, who had shadowed her heels, bolted ahead. She started to call him back, but stopped. She should have been more precise when she said not too close. Now she must let him go or risk calling attention to her position. She had to trust that Castoff had a reason and was not needlessly endangering them both. But the loss of his strength made her feel vulnerable and exposed.
Three wagons ahead, a young woman swung down from the seat and strolled next to it. The sway of her hips and tilt of her head invited male eyes. Most likely she was assessing the guards for prospects. Tail wagging, Castoff approached her. She handed him a piece of something, perhaps bread or dried meat. He wolfed it down with unseemly haste.
Cierra smiled and shook her head: Kyam and Castoff were perpetually hungry, always ready to eat. She supposed it was a combination of size and physical labor that produced their limitless appetites. The band of grief tightened once more around her chest. He had teased her about dainty banquet manners in a camp setting. Oh...Kyam.
Castoff licked the woman’s hand and then reared up to slurp her ear. Her squeal of pretend outrage carried over the sound of whips and curses, drawing the guards’ attention. Three converged on her, grabbing her roughly and pulling her from the slow-moving line. Her screech of rage was real this time.
Everyone stopped. With a bellow the man driving her wagon swung down to confront the guards. More soldiers appeared to subdue him. Cierra slipped forward and peered over the back of the munching donkey.
The young woman kicked and jerked, all the while shouting maledictions at the men restraining her.
An officer strode up. While the noise was too great for Cierra to hear, she still had a good idea of what was taking place, for the lead guard pointed to Castoff. His unique appearance made him easy to spot and a description must have been relayed to those guarding the gate. The enemy’s communications were definitely efficient. How wise of the dog to flirt with another female of likely age.
The officer motioned to an elderly woman. She hobbled over to stand facing the young woman. There was something familiar about the crone…A battle of words ensued with the young woman hissing and twisting within the guard’s hold. It must have angered the old woman, for her right hand flashed out and slapped the girl’s cheek. As quick as a snake striking…only one person moved like that: Evnel, her former governess. She had hit Cierra so on several occasions.
Evnel grabbed the woman’s chin to turn her head this way and that. Finally she released her and spoke to the officer. His response must have angered her, for Evnel planted her fists on her hips and pushed her nose as close to his as possible. She let flow a stream of vituperation. Cierra didn’t need to hear the words. She remembered that stance well.
It was time to retreat. Wi
th Evnel there to point a recognizing finger and guards ready to search every wagon, she was sure to be caught. She looked to the right and left: no place to hide. Did the caravan stretch far enough that she could work her way to the end and be out of sight? There did not appear to be any other choices.
Where was Castoff? Had he been captured? What would she do without his help?
Chapter 10
Well now, I’ve been traveling with this caravan for over six weeks and I never saw you before. How’d I come to miss such a likely lass?”
Cierra clutched the donkey’s stubbly mane so tightly it brayed and launched both hind feet, narrowly missing the whiskered man.
“I came out to greet…”
“Out the gates? Into the middle of the dusty pack animals?” His wizened face mocked her. “Rolled yourself in all this dirt?” He shook his head. “Why are they looking for you?”
When she didn’t answer, he pointed to some bushes growing next to the wall. “You’d best get out of sight. There are others on the caravan who’ll soon notice a stowaway. Greedy souls who’d betray their own grandmother for a gold coin.”
Cierra choked.
“Judging from the number of soldiers and the rank of that fellow,” he jerked his head toward the officer, “It’s a good size bag of gold. Quick now, before you’re spotted.”
She hesitated. Could she trust him? Wouldn’t it be better to move to the back?
Meanwhile the leader of the caravan ordered his wagons to proceed. And just as quickly the captain shouted an order and a line of soldiers formed to block the way.
“That old biddy know you? She’s studying you real close.” The old man’s words nudged her to make a decision.
Too late.
She turned and looked straight into Evnel’s eyes, saw them widen in recognition. Panic turned her to stone as Evnel pointed at her and soldiers began to converge from every direction.
“You going to stand here and let them grab you?” The old man’s words yanked her mind into motion. “Slip into the middle of these camels behind you, careful of their teeth: they’re put out at the moment. Back nonchalantly now, then roll under the next wagon. Come out next to the bushes smack up against the wall. It won’t do any good unless The Masters make them blind as moles. But who knows? They may do that very thing. Get moving.” He pushed her towards the restless pack animals.
Cierra did as she was told, her mind felt as thick as wood, blocking passage of every thought. The camels smelled like dirty laundry that had moldered for months. One stretched out a hairy snout and curled back leathery lips to reveal huge yellow teeth ready to bite. She swatted him with her staff and dodged his mouth. Behind her she heard shouts and commands to halt.
She pushed against an obstinate beast blocking her path. With an arrogant, leisurely blink of the eye, the camel assessed her and resumed chewing. She pushed again. She had to get past. The animal swatted her with a tail matted with burrs. She dove under the camel’s belly and almost got squashed as the perverse beast decided to lay down.
Not bothering to stand, she scrambled on all fours to the wagon and rolled beneath it. She wiped dirt out of her eyes. Not two scentons away was the bush. It didn’t look big enough to hide her but she had no other choice. She rested her cheek in the dust, checked for feet walking close to the wagon, made a dash for the shrubbery, and dove for its shelter.
And tumbled into a deep crevice at its base; she had all but disappeared. So much more protected than merely crouching behind the bush. She tugged several low branches in front of her to further screen her from view. And then she waited, heart pounding, to see if she had been observed.
Shouts and curses filled the air. “Where is she, old man?”
“Cordon off the road and gate. Don’t let anything pass.”
“Empty every wagon. Disembowel every pack.”
“Where’s that dog?”
Kyam’s words replayed in her mind. ‘Eyes draw eyes. Keep them down or better yet, closed.’ She buried her face in her arms and waited like a rabbit in its briar patch to see if the hunters would pass by. Above her she heard the rustle of leaves. “Hirm, what are you doing?”
“Checking the bushes. Seeing if she’s hiding in them.”
“Look, there goes her dog. Get him.” Pounding footsteps grew fainter as the guards moved away.
Finally the clop of hooves, the creak of wheels, and the crack of whips resumed as the caravan entered the city. Drovers and guards traded insults. By the time the last straggler had passed through the gates, the sun sat low on the horizon. It was time for evening bells, but the only sound was the yap of dogs and the stomp of booted feet on the wall above her.
Her legs cramped, her eyes burned, and her thoughts swirled and eddied like twigs caught in a sea spout. So close. Almost within sight of home. But it might as well be the entire length of Capular if she couldn’t reach her father. She needed Kyam, his courage and resourcefulness. Was even Castoff lost to her?
As the last streak of sunlight hesitated on the horizon, the gates swung shut. She heard the hollow boom as the cross bar was dropped in place. Still she did not move. Only when it was fully dark would she retreat and consider what to do.
The guard’s steps never faltered in the night hours, but beat a relentless cadence above her head. She studied the sky with its sliver of a moon and occasional clouds—too light to hide her. Please, Masters, send more clouds.
Tears oozed from the corners of her eyes. She didn’t bother to wipe them away. I was a poor choice for this assignment, Masters. Cowardly. Few skills of any use.
Are you saying We made a mistake?
Well, I know You can’t, but it certainly seems so.
If it seems so, then you are not seeing correctly.
What have I missed?
The end to your journey.
It ended when the guards blocked the gate.
It merely directed you to another way.
Cierra sat up straight, forgetting guards, pale face in the moonlight, and the need to be silent. “Another way? There is another way?”
“Of course there is.”
She froze. A blast of Castoff’s warm breath and swipe of a wet tongue jolted her out of her stupor. “Now is not the time to sleep. Quickly, while the moon is absent follow me.”
She wrapped her arms around the dog’s neck. “You’re safe!”
“Hush.”
The dog trotted away from the gates, hugging the base of the wall. She scrambled to keep his waving tail in sight. She crept past brush and rocks.
When she reached the dog, he turned and crawled on his belly into the deep shadow of a ravine. If she had not watched his retreat so carefully, she would have missed the path. Using elbows and knees and ignoring scraped shins, she navigated the gully. For twenty farthongs or more they traveled so, then the path twisted to the left. After another ten farthongs, Castoff scrambled up the side. Panting, Cierra dragged herself over the edge. Screened by boulders, she peered back toward the city. It rose lumpish in gray monotones. Moonlight once again washed the walls. She saw the guards meet, scan, and turn. Nothing else moved.
“No time to dawdle…”
Castoff continued to lead her away from Lipfar in a circuitous route that hid in the shadows, switched directions frequently, and clung to the mountain side. He stopped when they had reached a high overlook more than a melos from the city.
“Sit.”
She blinked. “Always wanted to give a human that command, didn’t you?” She could hear Kyam’s deep belly laugh when she told him about it…no, she wouldn’t. He was gone. Grief shrouded her, heavy and smothering.
“I miss him too. Always will. But he wants us to reach your father.”
“Too late. Remember the commander’s words? Father is dead by now.”
“You don’t know that. He could cling to life yet.”
Her shoulders drooped. “There’s no way.”
“I’ll look for a way. But first, you must hide. I he
ard soldiers talking. The reward for your capture is great. They’ll be searching.”
“Too tired to move. Too exhausted to care.”
“Even if your father is dead, what of the safety of the citizens in Lipfar? In all of Capular?”
“There are others The Masters can use. I can do no more.”
“Kyam died so that you might finish.”
She rubbed her hands across her face. “Even if we make it in the gates, they will have father’s house surrounded. The obstacles grow greater with every step. Would Kyam want me to walk into their arms?”
“Obedience calls for the next step. Beyond that, it is in The Masters’ hands.”
She shook her head.
“You need rest. Come. I smell a cave.”
Cierra wrinkled her nose. “If you can smell it, does that mean it’s inhabited?”
“Only as a winter resort.”
She would have passed the entrance without slowing if the dog hadn’t led the way. A bed of dry leaves was the only sign of past residents.
She scratched behind his ear and he tilted his head so her fingers found the exact spot that itched. “Hmm. Nursery rhymes are filled with animals that speak.”
“And where do you think that idea came from? Did you suppose there was a single idea anywhere that was not first thought by The Masters? Or perverted by Their enemies?”
“How is it that more do not speak? Or do they only do it when humans are not present?”
“Some of the beasts sided with The Masters’ enemies. We paid for that treason with our voices since we used them to urge humans to rebel.”
“And yet you speak.”
“Only when all things are aligned. Would I not have spoken with Kyam these three years past if I were permitted?”
“What things? Aligned?”
“So many questions. Lineages…In the proper sequence….Events… Necessities… Assignments. Now I must scout an interesting trail. You rest.” Castoff whirled around and disappeared.
Cierra gathered her bedding of leaves and curled upon it, head pillowed in her arms. After trying, and failing, to sort through her muddled thoughts, she closed her eyes. She was sure she wouldn’t sleep…