by Brondos, Pam
“You’ve seen my dreams before, Soris, in Greffen’s cottage, remember?” she said, trying to calm him.
He loosened his hold on her hand. “This was different—sharper, fuller. I don’t even remember falling asleep. It was like I was instantly in your mind, watching you.” He paused and then suddenly flushed as if thinking of something embarrassing.
“What?” Nat asked.
“Nothing.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “Probably some residual connection with you because of the remnant,” he said, sounding unconvinced. “I mean, since I saw your dreams before.”
“No, that doesn’t make sense. The tie’s severed, and you just said this was different, sharper. Maybe we should ask Annin.”
“I’ll ask Annin,” he said too quickly, then paused in front of her. A worried look crossed his face. “But the Nalaide chasing you in your dream felt real to me, Natalie. I could feel it searching for you, focusing in on you.” His eyes met hers. “It felt real,” he repeated.
She shuddered at the thought and the vision of the Nalaide pursuing her. It reminded her of the Nala that had attacked her in the brush by the river.
“Haruu!” The shout sounded faint. Nat looked away from the worry etched in Soris’ face and saw Andris waving his arm over his head impatiently. He stood in waist-high grass near the crest of a hill. Soris placed his hand on her lower back as if to guide her forward. The touch was soft and comforting after his discomforting words.
“You’d know if a Nala was around here, right?” She shrugged off the idea that the Nalaide was searching for her. It was only a dream. She walked slowly toward Andris, enjoying the feeling of Soris’ hand on her back. Grass swayed in the morning breeze as far as they could see.
“I should know, but I’m not so sure after the Nala attack yesterday.”
“If you didn’t sense it yesterday, it’s probably because that Nala wasn’t even normal,” she said, trying to make up some rationale in her head. “It looked sick and its color was almost . . .”
“White,” Soris said. “Like the Nalaide in your dream. I’ll talk to Annin.”
“It was just a bad dream.” Her cloak swished against the grass.
“I’m not so sure about that.” Soris scratched his head.
Benedict emerged from behind a little copse of trees. He scowled at Soris and walked stiffly toward Andris.
“Eat up and get your fill of fresh air.” Andris tossed a broken loaf of bread toward them. Soris’ hand shot out and caught the bread. He tore the crusty loaf in half, handing Nat a chunk. She took a small bite, feeling little appetite.
“He’s got the wheel off.” Annin brushed past Andris and stood in front of Benedict. She touched the small bandage now covering his forehead. He flinched. “Hold still.” She peeled the bandage away and examined the neat stitches in the middle of his forehead. She retrieved a small jar from her satchel and dabbed the ointment lightly over the sutured wound. Benedict looked away with a deep-set frown.
“Don’t like a duozi touching you, do you?” Annin smirked as she placed a neat square of bandage on the wound.
Benedict grunted and crossed his arms.
“I didn’t do this for you. The Chemist doesn’t walk around with a flap of skin hanging from his forehead. At least now you might pass for him if you wear a hat or wig.” She screwed the lid back on the jar and dropped it into her satchel. Soris walked through the grass toward Annin, and Benedict limped away from the pair like they had the plague.
Curious what Annin had seen, Nat joined Andris at the crest of the hill. A wagon sat idle on a rutted road. One wheel balanced against a rock near a set of draft horses busily munching on grass. A tall figure bent over the wheel, pounding at the rim with a hammer.
“You’re riding in style to Rustbrook, Sister.” Andris gestured to the wagon and handed her a bag of rudit. The cheesy stench filled her nose.
“Who is that?” She dropped the bag quickly to her side and watched the man strike his hammer against the wheel. A tiny echo sounded from the road as his hammer struck the metal rim.
“An old friend who’s willing to transport a load of rudit and misfits to Rustbrook.”
“Is that . . . ?” Benedict stepped between them. He shaded his eyes from the morning light.
“Indeed it is, Hermit.” A look of delight spread across Andris’ face.
“Are you happy?” Nat asked, incredulous.
His smile grew wider. “I believe I am, Sister. Things are looking up.” Andris rubbed his hands together and gave her a slap on the shoulder. “Now unless you want me to toss you down the hill, collect your things. It’s time to head for Rustbrook.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sweat trickled past Mervin’s long black bangs and down his cheek. His shadow loomed over Nat and the bulky bag of rudit at her feet.
“Mervin!” she greeted the bookshop owner.
He placed the hammer on the rim of the wheel and stuck his thumbs in the armholes of his wool vest. “Don’t think we’ve met, Sister,” he said, his eyes locked on her markings and her orb hovering near her ear.
“Do you remember a pair of bastle herders, one with a nasty pory bite?” She tightened her hood across her forehead like her disguise months before. Mervin crossed his long arms and leaned back.
The grass parted behind Nat, and Soris and Annin stepped onto the overgrown road. The draft horses stomped and shook their long manes as Annin approached. The blinders covering their eyes flapped with each violent shake of their heads.
“Whoa.” Mervin eased his hand over one horse’s neck. The horse snorted but settled under his reassuring strokes. Wiping his forehead and holding up the tip of his worn gray cap, Mervin stepped away from the animals. He paused a moment and regarded Soris. Nat tensed, waiting for some harsh remark about Soris’ eye. Instead, Mervin slapped his large hand on his shoulder.
“Looking a bit better than last time I saw you, Soris,” he said gruffly. “Not so pale and feverish this time round. Is your hand healed up from that pory bite?” His eyes glittered and his lips curved into a wry smile. He reached for Soris’ hand and examined the calloused skin where Benedict had stuck porc-tree needles.
“It’s healed up fine, Mervin. We never got to thank you and Matilda for helping us in Rustbrook.” Soris turned his hand to grasp Mervin’s. “We couldn’t have made it into the castle without you.”
“Anything to help Gennes’ brother and cause Mudug and that Chemist a bit of trouble.” He let go of Soris’ hand. “And I hope you put an end to the Nala that did that to you?”
“We did.” Soris glanced at Nat. “But there are always more out there . . .” He looked straight into her eyes.
“Well.” Mervin coughed. “That is an unfortunate given. And you, Annin Afferfly, it’s been a long time,” he said with delight. Nat stared in amazement as the lanky man enveloped Annin. When he pulled away, a smile stretched across Annin’s face. He stared down at her. “You’ve grown mightily, and your hair.” He tucked a wild curly lock behind her ear. “Matilda will want to do something about it.”
“I never let her before, and I don’t intend to now.” Annin laughed.
“I’ve wondered about you and the others,” he said. “Every day since you left Rustbrook, I’ve wondered.” His voice was steady, but his hands trembled slightly.
“All of us made it, even Estos.” Annin touched the sleeve of his thick cotton shirt. Her face lit up as Mervin looked at her in wonder.
“Estos is alive?”
“Good day, Mervin.” Andris emerged from the tall grass with Benedict trailing behind him.
“Another surprise. Are there any more of you tucked away in that field? It is a good day, Andris, a good day indeed.”
“I was worried Gennes’ message might not reach you.” He clasped Mervin’s hand.
“If you mean the message about being on this nowhere road pretending to fix a wagon wheel, yes, I received that message. The one about the dead returning to life must hav
e missed me, though. If you weren’t here in person, I wouldn’t believe any of it.” Mervin scratched his head. “Maybe you can explain a few things while you help me get this wheel back on. Annin, roll out the tarp that’s in the box.”
Soris and Andris grasped the wooden wheel, lifting it easily. A splintered wooden box stuck out from the back of the wagon. Annin flipped the brass clasp up and opened the lid.
“Good friends?” Nat asked, pulling out the thick tarp. Moths flew into the air, freed from the folds of the fabric.
“My guardians,” Annin responded curtly. “Mervin and Matilda knew me and my parents, before I was bitten. What?” She dropped her edge of the tarp. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Nothing,” Nat responded quickly, ducking under her side of the tarp. She’d never seen Annin respond with such warmth to anyone or anything. She bit her lip to keep herself from prying. Annin would go ballistic if she asked more questions.
Keeping her eyes on the tarp and away from Annin, she unrolled the cloth over the wagon bed. The smell of mildew grew stronger with each inch of exposed material. Nat cleared her throat and turned her head to the side, away from the dank odor. “Smells better than that bag of rudit, but not much.” She wrinkled her nose and hopped off the rim of the wagon. She landed right at Mervin’s feet.
“I do remember you, Sister. I never would’ve guessed you were a Sister when you walked into our bookshop with Soris draped over your shoulder. You did a fine job playing the bastle herder. I’m happy to see you both made it out of Rustbrook. Matilda and I assumed the worst when you didn’t return for your horses.”
“After Sister Camden escaped from Mudug’s guards, the crowd went crazy. We took advantage of the confusion and slipped out of the city,” she said, replaying the chaotic scene of the execution day in her mind. “We didn’t have a chance to make it back to your shop.”
“We left Rustbrook by boat. Too much happened afterward for us to send word.” Soris gestured to his face by way of apology. “But the Sister accomplished what we set out to accomplish.”
Soris’ compliment didn’t sit well with Nat. She’d destroyed the Chemist’s tracking device through plain luck.
“And now you want to go back? I’m wondering if all of you are right in the head. Hermit, you really plan on returning to Rustbrook?” Mervin raised his eyebrow as he addressed Benedict for the first time.
“The risk will be worth it.” Benedict lifted his chin in a haughty manner.
“I hope so.” Mervin’s eyes narrowed. “Catching any of you would send Mudug into a fit of ecstasy,” he said as he tightened the fasteners around the hub. “You know what he’d do to each of you?”
“The same thing he’d do to you if he learned you were aiding Gennes and the rebellion. Benedict is right on this one, Mervin: the reward is worth the risk,” Andris said.
“And you’re not going to tell me what that reward might be, are you?” Mervin slipped heavy clips sewn into the side of the tarp under the lip of the wagon’s rim. He pulled the tarp taut across the top of the wagon as each clip slid into place.
“You’ll know if we’re successful,” Andris responded.
“I figured you’d say something like that. I’ll plan for the worst, then, since you’re involved.” Mervin slapped Andris on the shoulder.
“Everyone in the wagon under the tarp. I want your weapons out and ready,” Andris ordered, his manner morphing into that of a soldier. “And tuck the bags of rudit near the front.”
Soris vaulted over the side of the wagon. Mervin pulled his cap off and spoke in a low voice to Andris as the others climbed aboard.
Annin peered under the tarp. “You get to snuggle with the Hermit. He likes throwing up on you,” she said to Nat.
“Thanks.” She grasped Benedict’s thin hand and helped him up the narrow step. She lifted the edge of the heavy tarp out of his way. He stooped low, took a deep breath, then disappeared under the cloth behind Soris.
“Annin?” Nat kicked a bag of rudit closer to the edge of the tarp.
“Hmm?” Annin gazed down the overgrown road.
“I had this dream, and Soris . . .”
“He told me.”
“What do you think it means?” she asked, rankled that Soris had already confided in her. He must think the dream meant more than he’d let on.
“The dream, or the fact that Soris saw it so clearly?” Her blue eye held a hint of impatience. “If you’re asking about the dream, I don’t know.” She continued, not giving Nat a chance to respond, “As for Soris seeing your dream . . . Well, the remnant’s severed, so it’s something else.” Her answer sounded purposely vague.
“It’s not just a weird dream, or a weird coincidence?” Nat tugged on the tarp.
“Is that what your gut’s telling you?” Annin slipped another clip into place.
“No.”
“I’m happy to hear your internal senses are still sharp.” Annin unhooked her cloak and stuffed it under the worn fabric covering. Nat knew Annin was holding something back.
“Natalie, you and Soris get up here near the front by the rudit bags.” Andris stepped on the rusted metal step by the wagon bench. Mervin placed his boot on the step, and the wagon tilted slightly under his weight. “Two taps at a sign of trouble, Mervin,” Andris said over his shoulder.
Mervin held the worn crop and rapped it lightly against the wagon board. The bags of rudit landed with a thud in front of the tarp. Andris dipped under the fabric and flattened his body near the back. Annin followed.
“Sister.” Mervin pointed to the opening. Nat took a deep breath, then crawled under the tarp next to Soris, thankful she was next to him and not the Hermit. He gave her a wink and pulled her closer to him, away from the opening. She suddenly didn’t care that they were packed in like sardines.
“No talking, and keep your movements to a minimum. We’ve got a long ride to Rustbrook, but guards could stop us at any time.” The daylight disappeared as Mervin slipped the last clip into place. A bulky object pressed against Nat from the other side of the tarp. The sharp, tangy smell of rudit filled the small compartment. She swallowed and rolled against Soris as the wagon lurched forward.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“What I’m telling you is I don’t need to join your convoy. I’ve got a wagon full of rudit. The fool that attacks me will get what he deserves. I could buy a new set of horses with what you’re asking me to pay.”
Mervin’s voice vibrated through the thick tarp. The wagon stood motionless. Every muscle in Nat’s body tensed as she listened to Mervin argue with the soldier. Soris tilted his hip upward, freeing his crossbow. A dull gleam shone from the back of the wagon, where Andris lay pressed against Benedict.
“Doesn’t matter what you want. Every wagon coming into Rustbrook is accompanied by a guard and pays the tax. They’re Mudug’s orders,” the gravelly voice responded. “It’s not thieves he’s protecting you from, it’s the Nala. They’re climbing out of every nook, invading terrain they’ve never been in before. Something’s got them riled, and Mudug’s not willing to risk injury to his people.”
“Bah! He just wants his tax. There are no Nala around here.”
“I’d watch what you say about the acting regent,” the voice warned.
“Acting regent is right,” Mervin grumbled.
“What do you mean by that?”
The wagon creaked. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“I’m this close to taking you in,” the gravelly voice threatened.
Nat’s eyes grew wide in panic. She turned slowly toward Soris, a look of worry spreading across her face. She had no idea what Mervin was doing. He was going to expose all of them, arguing with a transport guard. Soris’ eyes met hers and he brought a finger to his lips.
“Be my guest, you’d be doing me a favor.” The wagon creaked again. “You can drive this stinking load of rudit to the castle kitchens. Take a good whiff, it’s spoiling fast in this heat.” Mervin’s voic
e sounded from the side of the wagon now.
“Soldier!” the guard barked. Nat drew her dagger close to her chest. Bodies shifted in miniscule movements under the tarp as hands tightened around weapons.
“Take this man and his wagon to the road where Nala were spotted yesterday. Make sure you see him off. I want no guard or convoy to accompany him.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Change of plans, merchant. You may proceed on your own without a guard. If luck is with you, you may make it to Rustbrook without encountering Nala. If luck’s with me, you’ll keep the Nala occupied while I bring our transport through. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind and leave you trussed up on the road.”
The sound of heavy footsteps followed by more creaking cut through the thick barrier of the tarp. Nat relaxed her muscles.
“Heyah!” A short whip cracked and the wagon lurched forward. Soris held on to Nat’s shoulder and glanced at her, looking as relieved as she felt.
The wagon lumbered on. Inaudible voices, clanking, and the sounds of animals surrounded the wagon as they passed through what Nat thought must be the convoy. How many of Mudug’s men are out there? she wondered. The wheels creaked to a halt.
“That way,” a soldier said.
“I know which way, I’m not a fool,” Mervin shot back as he cracked the short whip again. Minutes passed. The only sounds were those of the wheels rolling against the packed dirt road and the occasional grunt of encouragement Mervin sent toward the draft horses.
“We’re clear,” Mervin finally said.
Andris shifted from the back toward the front like a snake slithering over rocks. His body pressed against Nat as his hands worked a clip free. Light and fresh air poured through the small slit. He pushed a bag of rudit carefully to the side, creating a little opening.
“How many?” Andris asked.
“Fifteen soldiers. Ten or eleven wagons in the convoy,” Mervin replied.
Andris let out a low whistle.
