by Gayle Greeno
“What! Who?” The man was sputtering, almost livid, baffled.
“Arras, dear fellow, loyal adviser, think!” Fun to needle back, almost irresistible, though he lacked vindictiveness. Hardly a failing when he thought of his stepfather, Maurice. Took pity at last. “My dear cousin Nakum, up north with Callis monitoring the arborfer. Yes, he is Erakwan, but he’s also the grandson of my father’s younger brother, Ludo. My cousin, illegitimate as well, but definitely of the blood royale, no two ways around it!”
Serious now, before Arras could catch his breath. “We are going, Arras. That is my decision. I’m going to repay my debt in full, make up for Corneil’s misguided, disastrous efforts as well. Besides, I’m sure Ignacio and Ezequiel will be thrilled at the idea of arranging a royal progress through Canderis. Should keep them on their toes, stretch their ceremonial skills to the limit, because I plan to shine, Arras, shine! Glorious as the sun!” His sober modesty and good humor broke through. “Oh, not me personally, but what I represent as a Resonant. That, above all, must shine in all its glory.”
Arras Muscadeine knew he’d been beaten. A relief to discover the king had uncharted depths, but he still wasn’t pleased.
Lindy wrapped both arms around Bard, jammed her chin into his spine as she surveyed the sky. She wished she could ride in front, but M’wa’s platform was bracketed there, and she judged he had the right of it, just as her older brothers and sisters took precedence over her. The sky was so blue, and she sighed with pleasure, welling excitment at riding with Bard, riding to new places, new things to see and do. Away, away from the bad dreams plaguing her since Byrta’s accident and death. They wouldn’t know how to follow her, would they? She compressed her lips, refused to cry over Byrta again, not betray her hurt, because he hurt even worse.
She shook her head cautiously, chin rubbing Bard’s back through his jacket, her new earrings swaying and swinging. Her mother had pierced her ears the night before they’d left, sending Jo into town for a precious shard of ice wrapped in sacking and sunk into a bucket of sawdust to keep it from melting on the way. A delicious shiver trembled down her spine as she relived the icy numbness against her ear, the pressure, and then the pink of sharp pain through the numbness as her mother jabbed the heated needle through her earlobe. Once in the middle of each lobe, and once again higher up. Four earrings, two balls and two hoops, and she had sat steady and still four times, gripping her father’s and Bard’s hands. Not a flinch or moan, although the tears had seeped from under her lids whether she willed it or not.
The earrings had been slipped in, and she’d rushed to the mirror, longing to see what they looked like, what she looked like, so mature now, so elegant with real, true jewelry of her own. And she had looked and looked, head tilting from side to side, then held steady while she stared in absolute amazement and shock, mouth falling open in dismay as she wailed, “They’re not even, my ears aren’t even!” How could she never have noticed that her ears weren’t level? And now, and now, everyone would see, would notice—if they hadn’t before but been too polite to say—that her ears didn’t match, she was unbalanced! All because she’d been vain!
But Bard had slipped up behind her as she stared horrified into the mirror, rested his chin on top of her head so his face reflected above hers. “Nobody’s features are perfectly even and regular, didn’t you know that? Look!” He raised a finger to one of his eyes, then up to the eyebrow. Right? Left? Looking into the mirror mixed her up. She stared hard, obedient, concentrating on spotting a difference. Impossible with those wondrous tawny gold eyes with blue-hazed edges, the honey-gold skin, the tiny, tight curls of hair. She looked harder, determined.
“That one slants up more, doesn’t it?” Her discovery amazed her. “It’s cocked just a little higher. Not that anyone would notice!” she continued in a rush, whirling to look directly at him, to judge from this perspective. Breathing through her mouth, she considered it further, saw a mirror image, “But Byrta’s slanted on the other side, didn’t it?”
His hands tightened on her shoulders before he mastered his emotions. “Yes, hers did. So don’t be worried that your earrings aren’t even ... or your ears.”
She wasn’t worried now, just awed by the honor of having them. She wasn’t sure where they were going, when they would get there, but she didn’t care. They might travel the long way back to Gaernett and the woman she was to meet, help tend her baby once it was born. Her satchel bulged with carefully folded infant wear, faded and soft from much washing and wearing. Hadn’t Mam said, “Take it, Lindy. Its absence will remind me not to have more!”
But the trip in-between was meant for fun, he’d promised, to explore the country, savor new sights, do new things. And since she’d never been farther from home than the adjacent town, she ached with expectation, anticipating things she couldn’t even begin to imagine. An adventure, what an adventure ! Everything brand new and peculiar ... and probably not level! She giggled, then mashed the tip of her braid in her mouth so Bard wouldn’t hear.
Right now she didn’t mind leaving home, leaving Mam and Da and all her brothers and sisters, but she’d miss them soon enough. Stood to reason if Bard missed Byrta, but this couldn’t be that bad. How much it would hurt, she wasn’t sure. As if at a signal the longing tendriled, but she fiercely ordered it to shrink back, not spoil things yet, not so soon, so early. That was what being grown-up meant. Conquering hurts and going on, just as Bard did with the hurt rubbing him. Had thought beyond himself to her and what she’d like. Now she’d do the same for him, help him stop grieving over Byrta, and she had the whole journey for that.
Cheek nestled against Bard’s back, wishing he still wore the soft sheepskin tabard, she fell asleep, pillowed against him, legs bouncing bonelessly against his.
“Tuckered out. Too much excitement.” M’wa sniffed at the hand anchored in Bard’s belt. Bard reached to retrieve the dangling arm, wrapped it around his waist, and she clutched his jacket without realizing, knuckles poking warm against his ribs.
“Yes. Amazing how easily children fall asleep, despite the distractions around them. When they’re ready, they’re ready. ” He waited, hoping the ghatt might say more. When he didn‘t, he continued, “M’wa, am I doing the right thing? It seemed right at the time. ”
“Oh, very likely, very likely,” the ghatt reassured. “But I confess I never thought I’d travel in the company of children, although she acts the proper little old lady, overresponsible.”
“You could mend that flaw, give her back a little childhood. ”
“I’m too old to chase a string, bat a ball around.” M’wa sounded distinctly huffy.
“Proper little old gentleman ghatt, are we?”
“No ghatt or ghatta does beyond ghattenhood.”
“They do for someone they love. You’ve played, acted silly for me when I’ve needed cheering up. Mayhap you’ll love her, too, a little. She needs more than I can give. ”
A growl rumbled low in Rawn’s chest, growing in intensity as Jenret’s captors moved closer. “Kill them! I will kill them! Not rescue but a ruse!”
Jenret’s very soul froze at the ghatt’s despairing anger, the rage to fight against all odds. How to make the ghatt see reason before he threw his life away, got them both killed? “Rawn, easy! Hush!” he commanded urgently. Make him think, reckon the odds. “You’re brave-not foolhardy. Do you have a death wish? You can’t tackle-how many?” Desperate, he remained submissive, flat on the ground, counting feet without raising his head. “If you attack, I’m helpless, pinned by the first sword thrust. ”
The ghatt continued rumbling, his tail whip-lashing Jenret’s thighs. Not unlike being flogged, though rather softer. “Eight. I could make Garvey pay dearly.” Rawn strove for control, tail slowing. “If not fight, then what?” A snarl and hiss as a boot connected with flesh, Rawn kicked clear of his back. Breathless, Jenret anticipated an explosion, minimally relaxed when Rawn maintained his self-control. Almost exploded himself when heavy
rope, the rope he’d trusted in scant moments ago to lift him to safety, roughly trussed his hands behind him. Self-control, dammit, don’t let Rawn down!
“Play for time, Rawn. Our only choice until the others come.” They’d come, they had to. Faertom and Towbin, Sarrett and Yulyn and Addawanna would rescue them. If his earlier mindshouts of terror had been too scattered to penetrate, he could contact them now, warn of the danger. Bound hands were no obstacle to that. Scant comfort, but some.
“Won’t work, you know,” Garvey’s voice insinuated itself inside his brain.
“Oh, really? Why not?” Of course it would work; the camp wasn’t that far away, child’s play to reach Yulyn or Faertom.
Rough hands rolled him over, bent him into a sitting position as easily as if they modeled clay. Folded him at the waist, head pushed low toward his splayed legs so he stared downward again. “Because we can ... the man methodically hunted down a descriptive word, “‘crash’ mindvoices. A necessary skill. Discovered how to send out a stronger mindvoice to crash or deflect a weaker one. ”
“The way a hawk strikes its prey?”
“Exactly! Doesn’t necessarily hurt, but it’s needful with children still learning their abilities. Get overexcited, angry, lash out with their mindvoices to contact someone they shouldn’t, some Normal. Every adult knows to be on the lookout, crash it if need be. Sort of like slapping a child’s hand away from a hot stove. It hurts, but not as bad as the consequences of that unconsidered action. Go ahead, try if you’d like. ”
The dare resounding through him, Jenret threw restraint to the winds, concentrated all of his power on one lightning stab of mindspeech keyed to Yulyn. Sent it soaring, triumphant, until a sting tingled his mind, radiated through his entire body, vibrations turned back on him, rebounding off their sender. “Ouch!” Unable to contain his spontaneous exclamation, he used the distraction to try again. The sting tingled harder, his mind a hornet’s nest of stabs and pricks, his body throbbing, the pain refusing to fade as easily this time.
“Care to try again? Slaps get harder each time. ” Garvey acted mildly amused. “Doubt those Marchmonters know that trick. ”
The comparison eluded him, then became plain as day, a terrifyingly pragmatic kind of sense in retrospect. Marchmontian Resonants had no fear of their skills, lacked reason to hide them. Oh, a child might be disciplined for an uninvited foray into a stranger’s mind, but it wasn’t a life-or-death matter as it would be here.
Rawn extracted the essence of Jenret’s swirling thoughts and added his own interpretation. “Most people don’t like us in their minds, aren’t enamored of it even when done by invitation, as part of a formal Seeking. Imagine how people would react to a Gleaner slipping into their minds, especially when they didn’t know any Gleaners were around?”
“Resonants, Rawn, Resonants, ” Jenret corrected automatically.
“Are you sure the same word can really describe two such different groups? I think our people have Gleaned whatever skills they have, pieced them together from leftover knowledge, old taboos, not to mention trial and error.”
Well, Rawn had a point, and Garvey’s offhand demonstration had canceled that hope for rescue, unless the others had traced his earlier plea. But could they realize he now needed rescue from something infinitely more dangerous, something that threatened them as well? Could their captors monitor Rawn’s mindvoice? Somehow he didn’t think the “frequencies,” if that was the word he wanted, the “channels” were one and the same, or at least weren’t unless the ghatti chose to merge them. Parse had said that Roland d‘Arnot had contacted T’ss and P’wa when they were swimming the river to enter Marchmont undetected, but that it didn’t work the other way round unless the ghatti decided it would.
“Rawn, can you contact T’ss?” he hesitated, hoping his share of mental converse couldn’t be eavesdropped on, either.
“Have been, you. fool, ever since you swan-dived over the edge.”
“And?” An ominous pause after his one-word rejoinder.
“T’ss is delighted you’ve provided some entertainment. However, the humans are having a little trouble finding their way in the dark—Addawanna won’t let them light torches. She’s told them if they trip and fall one more time she’ll leave them behind.”
The whole situation puzzled Jenret. Why simply remain here? Let him sit quietly in their midst? Not seek safer ground? And why, for that matter, had they taken him prisoner ? It couldn’t hurt to ask, so he did, speaking aloud, hoping their conversation might carry, give the others a better fix on his position.
“Why have you taken me prisoner? Have I wronged you in some way? Done something to make you retaliate?”
Garvey squatted at eye-level with Jenret, his rock-scarred hands dangling between his knees. “Belike ‘prisoner’ isn’t the word, more like ‘hostage,’ I’d call it.”
“Hostage for what!” The idea left him indignant, incredulous.
“Hostage for good behavior.”
“Whose good behavior?” Nothing made sense.
Yulyn’s mindvoice interrupted, calm but infinitely colder than the night air. “You’re holding one of us prisoner, why? What is the meaning of this?” She stepped into view, hands raised to show she was weaponless. Straining beyond her shadow shape, Jenret looked for the others, couldn’t spot them.
“Rawn, relay everything I’m saying to T’ss, have him tell Sarrett. Don’t show yourselves. Don’t reveal there’re fewer of us than them, and most of all, don’t reveal your positions unless it’s absolutely necessary!” he lectured, aware that Sarrett and Addawanna, Towbin and Faertom exhibited sense enough for that. Faertom’s earnest zealousness worried him, though.
“Figured we’d draw company soon,” Garvey let his voice carry in deference to those who couldn’t comprehend mindspeech. “Was just about to explain that selfsame question to him, here. Come closer if ye like, no intent to harm or hold you—yet.”
Yulyn moved closer as a lantern was lighted and held to guide her, electrifying her coppery hair, copper penny eyes in a pale face. It ringed Jenret in a halo of brightness as well, brilliance that hurt his eyes, made them water. A hand brushed his hair off his forehead, slid softly down his face to tilt his chin to the light. “Are you all right? A nasty fall, it had to be.” Yulyn’s shiver transmitted itself to his flesh.
“Bumps and bruises,” he acknowledged. “Whatever bark that stump had left on it imprinted my ribs, I think. Scaled like a reptile.”
The others in Garvey’s party ringed them, backs turned to the three, ever-vigilant, alert for any outside movement, any attempt at rescue. Garvey cleared his throat. “Could we get on with this, do you think? We’ve word to get out.” He struck a pose, and what should have appeared silly, overstated and self-conscious, shifted into deadly seriousness.
“We’re holding you hostage. You asked why, but never heard me out, so now I’ll explain, and once only. We know what you been doing in the forest, seeking us out, trying to convince us to go back. Nice gesture, considerate, maybe even noble—but wrong-headed all the same.”
“Wrong-headed?” Jenret spat the words back, “Wrong-headed to want to save you from making a terrible mistake? When running is proof positive to many that Resonants are guilty of something, have something to hide?”
“And we don’t need to hide, if only to protect ourselves? Think we should march back like docile little lambs when you can’t control the wolves out there? Well—can you?” Garvey laughed disgustedly, the humor forced. “We need a hostage. Convenient you dropped into our hands.”
“But he’s a Resonant, one of us,” Yulyn interjected, clearly as confused as Jenret.
“And he’s a Seeker Veritas as well as the son of a respected Merchanter family that’s traded across Canderis and Marchmont—he’s known. You still don’t see, do you?” Anxious now, Garvey pressed home his point. “He’s our hostage, not for ransom, not for money, but his life stands surety for ours. His life will be forfeit if any more Re
sonants are hunted, hurt, killed. And any other Normals as well,” he paused, emotion choking him. “Doubt you know, but four were killed tonight in the capital, Elder Hostel torched to flush out a Resonant who didn’t exist. A contact ventured near enough to check, sent word.”
Jenret strained at his bonds, alarms ringing in his head, the clanging discordance of bells tolling to announce danger. Fire? The jumbled words and images that had overloaded his senses, Doyce and his unborn child in danger? But why would Doyce be at an Elder Hostel? Wouldn’t she avoid fire like the plague? But then, when had she ever avoided trouble ? Not when she felt it her duty.
His throat grated, clogged by anticipated sorrow. “Do you know who was hurt? I think my wife,” and Lady Bright, what fragile claim had he to that word when they’d not yet married, but she was, with or without benefit of a formal joining, “was at the scene. She’s ...” a strange reticence overtook him, a desire to share, an equal desire not to exhibit weakness, vulnerability, “... with child.”
For the first time sympathy twisted Garvey’s homely features, protuberant chin and beaked nose nearly touching in sorrow. “Far as we know, the dead was all old’uns. Doesn’t make it any better. They had the right to die at their appointed time, as do we all.”
He nodded, faintly relieved but still haunted by thoughts of Doyce giving birth in the midst of a conflagration.
“So where does this leave us?” Yulyn asked. “If you hold him hostage, I assume you want the fact known. Holding him in secret does no good.”
“Aye, we’re depending on you to pass the word, see the news spread. Likely a long stay with us, because we demand more than pretty speeches and platitudes, reassurances full of hot air.”
A sheathed sword sailed out of the darkness, landed hilt first. Clearly it hadn’t been tossed with intent to harm. Sarrett sauntered into view as casually as if she walked Gaernett’s streets, open hands at her sides. “Then it might up the ante with two hostages, say another Seeker Veritas?” She broached the encircling guards like gold overwhelming dross and sat beside Jenret.
