Surm answered him. “Thank you, Third Officer. The Faro will take your observation into consideration.”
Really, Ker thought, it was more courtesy than Tel should have expected. White spots had appeared on his cheekbones, and he touched his crest in obedience.
“If you would be willing to submit to examination, we could consider allowing you to leave,” Juria said.
“With pleasure. I have already been examined by both Kerida Nast and the Inquisitor.” Svann bowed toward each of them. “If I may, however . . . There is a way to guard against the stone’s influence.”
His comment was met with silence and stiff faces. Tel had put his hand to his sword. Jerek sat straight up. Only Juria hadn’t moved, except for the slight tightening of her mouth.
“And your reason for not telling us this already?”
Svann spread his hands, a gesture he would never have used when Ker first knew him. “Primarily because it is something Shekayrin use to protect against each other, not to protect people from other Shekayrin. Here, I could not determine which was safer for me.”
Ker clenched her teeth. She hadn’t heard this cold dispassionate tone in weeks. Since the change in Svann, she’d managed to forget the series of experiments he’d conducted on her when he’d thought of her as just an interesting specimen.
“Explain yourself, Mage,” Jerek said.
“Since I am the only Shekayrin here to guard against, how would you know I had actually protected you until it was too late?”
“I could have Flashed you and told them,” Ker said quietly after it seemed that no one else would speak. “For that matter, I could Flash the people you jeweled. That’s the kind of thing a Talent can Flash about a person.”
Either the look of dismay on Svann’s face was genuine, or he had a future as an actor at the Festival of the Son. “I did not realize, I am sorry. It is beyond my experience.”
“With the Luqs’ permission, you will perform the technique on as many people as possible, in order of priority,” Juria said. “Beginning with the Luqs.” She waited until she had Jerek’s nod before continuing. “Laxtor.”
“Yes, my Faro.” Surm Barlot stepped forward.
“You will assign priorities.” Having given the order, Juria dropped it. “In the meantime, you, Talent Nast, will prepare to travel to the home of the griffins, and you, Talent High Inquisitor, to visit the other enclaves of Feelers. Once your assignment is complete, lord Mage, we will discuss whether you can be permitted to leave here. With your permission, my lord?”
“You have it,” Jerek said.
“Does the Council of Mines and Tunnels agree?” Ganni collected nods from everyone on the dais. “Does anyone disagree with their representative?” There was shuffling in the audience, but no one spoke. “Then if we all have tasks to do, best we be about them.” The old man rose to his feet. “With the permission of Lord Brightwing, Luqs of Farama and of the Mines and Tunnels, I say this meeting is adjourned.”
AFTER almost two months in the Mines and Tunnels, where the temperature was constant and the light, for those without glow stones, dim, Ker found the outside world cold and bright.
“At least this brightness is mostly the sun on snow.” Ker squinted upward. “And the sun will go down early.” She shivered, trying to make her cloak cover more of her than it could. Tel, of course, couldn’t understand what she complained about.
“I’ll remind you,” she said, pulling on her reins to keep her mule even with his, “that the last time I was on the northern side of the Serpents Teeth, let alone outside at all, was Windmonth.”
They were out of the Peninsula now, in the province of Bascat, traveling on one of the roads built and maintained through the Polity by the Battle Wings for easy mobility and quick access to the borders. Snow covered this section, but the road was still clear enough that they could ride.
“And there was snow then, too, or don’t you remember?” Tel smiled.
“Mostly I remember we were running for our lives, avoiding Halian patrols, and trying to reach the Bears in Oste Camp.” Ker swung the right side of her cloak over her left shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time.
<> Weimerk reminded her from somewhere high over their heads and far away. <
<
<
<
Tel looked sideways at her. “You’ve got that look on your face again. What does the griffin have to say for himself?”
Ker shook her head. Her relationship with Weimerk bothered Tel less than it had, but he still wasn’t completely reconciled to the idea that she and the griffin could speak mind-to-mind. When she told him what they’d been talking about, however, Tel laughed.
“I’d go in a snap,” he said. “Are you kidding? Fly instead of walking? Tell him I’ll go if you won’t.”
“He keeps saying I’m the only one he’ll carry,” she said. “He did offer once to take Jerek, but the Faro said no.”
“Will the kid be all right?” Tel lowered his voice; Luca rode only the length of a mule in front of them. “Considering what you Flashed?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “He puts on a good face, but you don’t have to be a Talent to know that he’s worried about it.” It was some comfort that Wynn Martan had stayed behind, someone who’d been with Jerek from the beginning. “I don’t know what problems his colors could cause, and I’m afraid to ask anyone who might.” Anyone like Luca Pa’narion himself, for example. “This can’t be the first time this has happened, even if we’ve never heard about it.”
“Do you think they just dampened any royal who showed signs of the Talent?” Tel said. “Though, come to think of it, a Luqs who can know all about something—or someone—just by touching them? That would be brilliant.”
Ker wasn’t so sure. “If any royals had the Talent, they’d just go into the Halls of Law.”
“But if they dampened them, then they could still rule.”
“I don’t think so.” Her shiver had nothing to do with the cold. “Dampening doesn’t just smother the Talent, it affects the whole personality. There was a gardener at Questin Hall, and a kid in the kitchen who was like Ennick with maps, except his thing was recipes. You couldn’t be Luqs after you’d been dampened. Your brain just wouldn’t work well enough.”
“I know of a couple of Luqses whose brains didn’t seem to work all that well.”
Ker threw up her hands and her cloak slipped down again. “Daughter and Son save you.” She reslung her cloak yet again. “Because I won’t.”
“You think Ennick was dampened?” Tel sounded more than curious. “You know, I tried to get him to draw me a map to North Falls Exit, but he just couldn’t grasp the idea. Then I tried to draw one myself from his directions, and he only got more upset and confused.”
“Ennick’s not dampened,” Ker said. “But remember, Jerek’s not a Talent at all. If anything, he’s a Feeler.” She shrugged. “And no one else in the Polity even believes they’re real.”
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t some law in some moldy old parchment somewhere.”
“What moldy old law?” Luca must have heard something, but
how much?
“Laws of chance,” Tel said smoothly. “We were just wondering about the odds of the Talent showing up in the royal family,” he added. “Neither of us remembers learning about such a case in school.”
“An interesting question,” Luca said, falling back to walk his mule next to theirs. “As you probably realize, neither the Talent nor the Feelers’ Gifts are hereditary. If they were, we’d just breed the number of Talents we needed.”
Ker’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh, yes. Don’t think it hasn’t occurred to anyone to do just that. According to our records, only volunteers were used, but I’ve often wondered if that was true. In any case, the Talent appears in the offspring of Talents in the same percentage as that of the general population, which is to say, less than one percent. Though the experiment was never made, I’d guess that the percentage is similar with Feelers.”
“What about the royal family, then?” Tel persisted. Ker appreciated his stepping in. Somehow the questions were less pointed coming from a soldier than they would have been coming from her. She tried to look only mildly interested.
“In a manner of speaking, the Polity can’t afford to waste Talents in the royal family. Anyone can sit in the Luqs’ Seat, but not just anyone is a Talent. Now, having said that, I’m sure you’ll be surprised to learn that there has never been a recorded instance of a Talent in the royal family, let alone anyone directly in line for the Seat.”
“So there never has been?” Tel looked from Ker to Luca and back again. “I suppose it’s possible.”
“That’s not what he said.” Ker watched the Inquisitor’s look of bland innocence. “He said no such instance has ever been recorded.”
* * *
• • •
On the seventh day they left the main road, turning into a track through what looked like otherwise wild forest. Ker wasn’t sure, but she thought they might have walked their way out of the province of Bascat by now. The air continued to grow colder, but only a few drifts of snow remained in the most sheltered spots along the road. Four days later the track they’d been following disappeared and, after some consultation with the Cohort Leader, Luca led them into a small clearing where they stopped and made camp while the sun was still high in the sky.
“This is as far as we go,” he said. “Here we wait for the people of the Springs and Pools.”
The forest had thinned out, but the camp was tucked into the middle of a fair-sized grove of evergreens—cedars perhaps, interspersed with other trees that had lost their leaves. None of these others were birch, the only tree Ker could be sure of recognizing from its bark alone. She knew a good camp when she saw one, however. The trees here weren’t tall, but they grew densely, and their branches, even those without leaves, were thick, giving a comfortable degree of cover. For the first time in days they were able to have a fire. Considering where they were going, they’d taken great care not to be seen.
Supper consisted of warm broth made from the bones of the two rabbits they’d killed the day before, and a share of travel cake. Even moistened with the broth, Ker had trouble chewing it and swallowing it down. It had never been one of her favorite meals, and now it just reminded her of how far from normal her life was.
Ker, Luca, and Cuarel were allowed to help set up camp, and took their turns at meal preparation with everyone else, but when it came time to set watches, only the four soldiers, including the Cohort Leader himself, took a turn as sentry. Ker suspected the old man enjoyed it. That night, he and the taller of his two aides drew the first watch and disappeared into the night.
“How long do we wait?” Tel took advantage of the Cohort Leader’s absence to ask the Inquisitor questions.
“Until they come for us.” Luca looked up from the fire. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t usually take very long. They have Far-seers, and they check this spot regularly.”
Though they weren’t allowed to be part of the military watch, Ker and Luca had formed the habit of splitting the night between them, Flashing for the presence or approach of strangers. They’d decided on the first day of travel that Luca should always take the first watch, and Ker the second, as the old Inquisitor seemed hardly to need any sleep at all, and Ker had the habit of waking up early from her training first in the military and later in the training Hall. As soon as supper was over, Luca settled himself cross-legged on one side of the fire, his eyes closed. Ker rolled herself in her cloak, and emptied her mind for sleep.
<
Ker jolted awake, the griffin’s voice echoing in her mind. Tel still slept beside her, so the watch hadn’t changed. Where was Luca? <
<
Weimerk didn’t stay close to them as they traveled. Not only would he attract far too much of the attention they were avoiding, but his dual nature demanded a great deal of food. He might have been half lion and half eagle, but he seemed to have the stomach of both.
<> Somehow his thoughts conveyed a clear feeling of offense.
<
<
<
The first thing Ker Flashed were the six auras immediately around her, Tel’s at her side, Luca’s a few spans to the south where he now sat talking to Wilk Silvertrees, Cuarel just rousing on the other side of the fire next to the remaining Bear. Sitting up, Ker concentrated. At first, she Flashed no one else, but just as she was about to ask Weimerk for more detailed information, she caught a lone smudge of color far off to the west. A Feeler, a Lifter by the look of things. As she focused, the colors flared up, like a fire given fresh wood. Five auras, definitely five.
“What is it?” Tel’s voice was pitched to reach her ears only.
“The Feelers are coming, get Luca and Wilk.”
Tel rolled to his feet, tossing off cloak and blanket with one hand, picking up his sword with the other. He ran off into the darkness, heading directly toward where Ker could see the Inquisitor’s aura, with its distinctive turquoise band.
Ker was on her feet, peering into the darkness, when Tel and Luca returned.
“He came almost to where the Cohort Leader stood watch and then he turned around,” she said. “He’s going away.”
Luca squatted and put his hand to the ground, frowning for one long moment before he rose to his feet and trotted off in the direction the Feeler had gone. Luca couldn’t see the other man’s aura, but the Talent alone was enough to give him all the information he needed, once he knew where to look.
“Veriak!” they heard him call out. “Wait! It’s Luca Pa’narion.”
Cuarel sat up, and the sleeping soldier rolled to his feet as Wilk Silvertrees appeared in the firelight.
“A little louder.” Tel’s tone was sour. “Maybe there’s a village nearby didn’t hear you.”
Ker cuffed him on the shoulder with the back of her hand. “There’s no one else closer than a couple of hours’ march.” The military marched at a specific pace, so it was natural for them to measure distances in terms of time.
Luca rejoined them, panting slightly, but the other man, Veriak, stayed in the shadows on the edges of the clearing, eyes shifting constantly, alert for any movement he didn’t like.
“Everyone, hold your position.” The Cohort Leader pitched his voice to be heard by all. “This man is not a threat to us; let’s not be a threat to him.”
“You’re not to bring people with you, Luca, you know that.” The Feeler had a raspy voice, as if he’d strained it yelling.
“Where have I brought them, Veri? To a clearing far from the road? To shelter on a cold night?” The Inquisitor waved around the clearing. “This place is as open and public as a village
square.”
The man snorted, shaking his head. “You’ve not brought them here for shelter,” he said. “You’re here because of us, and don’t deny it. The Far-thinker from the Mines I know, but what of the rest? These military? You’re not telling me they’re ours, are you?”
“Luca,” Ker said. There were other auras now, closing fast. The man must have sent a message to his companions.
“I know, Kerida, I can Flash them, too.”
“She one of yours, then? Well and good. But the soldiers?”
Ker glanced at Wilk Silvertrees. The Cohort Leader hadn’t spoken since ordering his people to stand quiet, and it surprised Ker that he had the good sense to follow his own orders and let the Inquisitor handle things. She would have bet a day’s pay—back in the days when she had a day’s pay—that the Cohort Leader was too self-important to hold back.
“You’ll have heard the Peninsula is taken by the Halians, invaders from over the sea. The Luqs is killed, and the Halls destroyed.”
Veriak’s eyes shut tight, and his mouth formed a thin line. “And the Talents?”
“Destroyed with their Halls. There are perhaps two hundred of us left, scattered and in hiding.”
The cold crept up Ker’s spine. She knew this. She’d seen the Halians at Questin, and found the ruins of Temlin Hall herself, but hearing the numbers left her numb. Out of some two thousand people, only a few hundred left?
“No Talents. Huh.” Veriak looked from Ker to Luca and back. He didn’t seem particularly upset. “Except for you, Luca, and your girl here?”
“There are others, as I’ve said. Many of whom are Guardians, friends to you and your people.”
“And these military? They’re friends now, too?”
Now Wilk Silvertrees stepped forward. “I can speak for the military,” he said. Ker suddenly realized how smart Juria Sweetwater had been sending this gruff old man as her envoy, and as the Luqs’ representative. Silvertrees was clearly not from the Peninsula himself, not an aristocrat, not one of the old Shield families. Orrin, his home province, wouldn’t even have been part of the Polity at the time the Feelers were outlawed. The Cohort Leader was a gruff, plain old soldier with truth written on his face. Not that the Feeler seemed likely to take what he saw there for granted.
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