by J. M. Lee
“It’s about time,” Tavra said, brushing dirt from her cloak.
Amri had not stepped out of the cave mouth when they had. He stood in its shadow, hand held over his eyes, which were squinted as narrow as they could be without being closed.
“It’s so bright,” he said. “I’ve only left the caves at night before. Snuck out, I mean.”
Naia frowned. “The Brothers are setting. It’ll be twice as bright tomorrow during the day.”
“Maybe my eyes will adjust,” Amri said. He pulled the hood of his cloak on, so far that it covered most of his face. Draped in the black cloth as if he might bring the shadows of Grot with him, he emerged from the caves. Even with the hood on, he held his hands out for balance. Naia took one and put it on her shoulder.
“For now, I’ll help. Maybe we can travel at night.”
“We will travel at all hours to make up the time we’ve lost,” Tavra declared. “Starting now.”
Naia helped Amri. The process began awkwardly, but by the time they learned one another’s strides, their steps were less clumsy, and Kylan could see that Amri’s cheeks were pink where they were visible beneath his hood. Once Tavra was sure the other three were following at an acceptable pace, she periodically scouted ahead and circled back, adjusting their route without explanation. Her confidence led to their confidence, and soon enough Kylan saw the familiar black sparkle of a river in the sunset-lit valley.
“The air is so dry,” Amri remarked. “And there are so many noises! I feel like I can hear the whole world from here.”
“I thought it was dry, too, when I left the swamp. You’ll get used to it!”
After the suns set, Amri was able to pull his hood back. He marveled at every tree and rock, and especially was enamored with the sky. Though he could see, he kept his hand on Naia’s shoulder so he could walk with his head tilted back, staring upward in awe.
“This is why I used to come to the surface. The sky! Oh, look! The Sisters!”
Kylan tried to see things as Amri saw them—new, interesting, and fresh. Perhaps exiting the caves could be seen as an ending of their chapter of failure, and the beginning of the next song that might lead to their success . . . Then again, that was what he had thought about leaving Aughra’s observatory.
He remembered what urLii had said, about the weaver and the woven, but he was tired of trying to find the best in everything and exhausted from hoping and hoping and being let down. Trying to take control of his own path was more of the same, so for now he followed Tavra’s lead, like a drop of water following the path of a stream. He was just a minor character in her story now, and he would do as she directed.
Late into the night, they reached a widening of the path. Tavra had gone ahead again, so she wasn’t there to protest when the remaining three unanimously stopped. The landing was peaceful, blocked by the cliff on one side. The night air was thickening with moisture.
“I’m getting blisters,” Amri said. It wasn’t a complaint, just a fact, and he sat on a rock and rubbed his bare feet. From the depths of his cloak came a little jar of salve, and he rubbed the ointment on his feet.
“What is that?” Naia asked, wrinkling her nose. “It smells like maggots and slime!”
“Yes! Though it is some other things, too. Do you want some? It’s one of my concoctions.”
“No! Absolutely not.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
Amri put away the jar, though the pungent odor still clouded around him. Kylan pulled his tunic collar up to mask the scent. Despite the terrible smell, he could see that the redness and swelling on Amri’s feet was already subsiding. They still had a long way to go, and it felt like it would rain soon.
“I think we should rest,” Kylan said. “We agreed to go with her with no further detours, but we didn’t agree to do it in one night. I don’t know how she’s moving at this pace, but I can’t keep it up forever.”
“Same here,” Amri agreed.
Even Naia flopped down on a bowed tree root, adjusting her locs so her back, wings, and neck could get air. Kylan set the pack down and, feeling lighter, stretched out his arms and back.
“I’ll go ahead and find her and let her know. You two rest and make a fire.”
After bearing the pack for so long, traveling without it felt almost like flying. Kylan hopped over stones and roots that studded and snaked through the diagonal wood, listening for the sounds of the Silverling who had gone ahead. He was so light and agile that even a curtain of finger-vines could not catch him as he skirted the path where they dangled.
He saw a sliver of moonlight flicker on something silver through the trees and followed it. He walked candidly at first, not wanting to surprise someone who wore a sword at her hip, but when he heard voices, he stopped. The conversation was much too far away to decipher, but he could clearly hear another voice intermingling with Tavra’s. Who was she talking to out here in the dark?
Kylan realized he had dropped to a crouch, hiding behind a tree. There were plenty of speaking creatures in the world, and there was no reason to believe that Tavra’s conversation meant danger . . . yet every bone in Kylan’s body told him to be quiet and invisible. He listened to his instincts and crept forward as silently as he could, ears straining to pick up the words.
“Forgive me, Lord. I know. We are back on track. I won’t let you down.”
Tavra’s apology was almost a plea. From where Kylan crouched, he could only see her back, with the light from the night sky shimmering off her wings. Whoever she was speaking to was either out of sight or invisible altogether. In the darkness, Kylan could see no one else, though he heard a faint voice reply.
“You have already let us down. We took a great risk in entrusting the Drenchen boy to you, and what did you do? Lost him! We regret our trust. We regret it dearly!”
Tavra winced at the scolding as if it were the crack of a whip.
“Forgive me, my lord . . .”
“Are you sure they haven’t found you out?”
“They’ve said nothing. I can sense when they dreamfast—they have not . . .”
“That is the only good news you’ve given us. You’d best keep things such.”
Tavra scrambled to appease the voice, though the words she used made Kylan wonder whether it was really Tavra at all. How many secret conversations had Tavra had while on her own, ahead of them? And more importantly, with whom, and to what end?
“This body won’t last, my lord. It is beginning to fail. I need a new one if I’m to continue.”
“Then you should not have allowed Gelfling to waste so much time! Bahhhh . . . take the Spriton or the Grottan. Or kill them, if it is easier. We do not care.”
“The Spriton is so weak! I would rather have the Drenchen—”
“Lay one of those prickly little legs on the Drenchen and we’ll crush you ourself!”
A twig cracked under Kylan’s hand when he made a fist, and Tavra turned toward the noise, though from the way her ears twisted back and forth, he could tell she couldn’t see him or pinpoint his location.
“I must go. They’re coming.”
She put something in the folds of her cloak and straightened out of the submissive half bow she had adopted in the presence of her invisible master. She looked stern and soldier-like once again . . . Though after what Kylan had heard, he could hardly say she looked like herself. His heart beat so loudly, he was surprised she couldn’t hear it, and he froze. Should he wait until she returned to the others, circle back and arrive separately so she didn’t know he’d seen her? Should he confront her here? No, that was dangerous! But if he ran back to warn the others, she would surely hear him—and warn them of what? He hardly knew what he’d seen and heard. He wished for all the world he could dreamfast with Naia from so far away, but he couldn’t. There was no way to get word to his friends back at the camp
before Tavra would arrive.
She had nearly reached his location. In moments, she would pass by close enough to touch. urLii said one could be the weaver or the woven. Were there really only two choices? Or was there a third?
He gathered his courage and steeled himself.
I’ll be both.
Just as Tavra passed, Kylan hooked one foot under a root and took a big step with the other. The intentional trip sent him stumbling right into the Silverling as she passed, toppling them both to the ground.
“Tavra!” he exclaimed. “Sorry. I came to get you, but I lost the path . . .”
She stood and brushed off her cloak impatiently while he took his time climbing to his feet.
“Where are the others?”
“Amri had to stop. I came to get you to let you know we’re making camp back up the trail. I hope that’s all right . . .”
“No! It’s not all right. We don’t have time. Where are they?”
She stormed ahead, hand on the hilt of her sword, as if she meant to threaten them into picking up the trail if she had to. Kylan trotted after her, mind spinning. He kept hearing the words she’d said into the darkness. This body won’t last. I would rather have the Drenchen. And to say this body instead of my body. This wasn’t Tavra. Whoever it was, they worked for a powerful master that wanted Naia for itself. And Rian, on whom Tavra had been fixated since she’d saved them from the blue mouth. Only one creature in all of Thra fit the profile. The Skeksis, whom they’d tried to escape, had been with them all along.
DO NOT TRUST HER.
He remembered the words on the rock, covered by spiderwebs. He had thought they meant Aughra, but now he was not so sure. Then the strange marking for S, on the box. Someone had been trying to warn them—but who? The only person who could have left either message had been Tavra—the very one who was spying on them.
Kylan shook the questions from his mind. He had to focus on the matter at hand. If he didn’t figure out what to do soon, either the impostor would discover he had begun to notice its deceit or it would return to Naia and Amri only to put them in danger.
As if we haven’t been in danger all along! No wonder the Skeksis haven’t shown themselves in person—they’ve known where we were every step of the way!
He forced himself to calm down. It was the only way he was going to be able to fix this. Tromping through the wood as loudly as possible, so that Naia and Amri would at least hear them coming, he followed Tavra and thought. He couldn’t best her in a fight. Even Naia would have trouble doing that, and in close combat, the sword would be fast and deadly.
Kylan could see the light of the campfire through the trees, and willed his mind to think harder and faster. They needed a plan—a battle strategy to bare the truth of their situation. Only then could they figure out what to do. But Kylan was not a warrior, and knew nothing of battle. That much he had to accept.
But there was no time to feel sorry for himself. He had to decide what he was, not what he wasn’t—and what he knew, not what he didn’t. In the last moments before they returned to the campsite, he raced to recall everything that had happened up until then, searching for any seed that might be able to grow into a solution. The song he’d made up for Rian. The blue mouth. Aughra’s observatory and the destroyed firca. urLii’s words, and the Spriton tapestry.
Then he had it, and afforded himself a taste of hope.
This would be a confrontation of a different kind.
CHAPTER 21
Naia jumped to her feet as soon as they entered the clearing.
“I don’t care what you think, we have to rest.”
Tavra drew her sword, though the tip was lowered. Kylan wondered whether he could simply snatch it out of her grasp from where he stood, so close behind. Then what? Who knew what she was capable of, especially after being threatened so harshly by her Skeksis master. Inciting her might just be the beginning of their problems. He dashed around to stand between the two.
“Tavra. Listen. Amri needs shoes, or soon we’ll have to carry him, which will surely slow us down further than if we stop for just a little while.”
“It’s not my fault he decided to come. If he needs shoes so badly, he can have mine.”
Tavra reached down and tore the sandals from her feet, tossing them at the Grottan boy, who flinched at the gesture.
“That’s really not necessary,” Amri began. “Naia cut some hide from her jerkin, so . . .”
Kylan waved his hands before the argument went off course. Once it did that, there would be no stopping it. If they didn’t have some element of advantage, in a fair fight it was unlikely they could best her even if it was three against one. Tavra was a well-trained soldier, had the advantage of experienced flight, and on top of that, did not tire or seem to feel pain. They would have to take her by surprise if they were going to get to the bottom of this.
“Listen. Everyone. Tavra. There’s something I haven’t told you.”
That got their attention. He had never been so relieved to have a sword pointed at him. When Tavra spoke, her voice was so dark, it barely sounded Gelfling at all.
“What?”
Kylan put his hand into his pocket, slowly enough that it didn’t set Tavra off, and withdrew a folded piece of paper. He handed it to her and explained out loud for the benefit of the others.
“I got a note from Rian. It came by swoothu, early this evening. His boat was damaged by a rock in the river, and he was waylaid. He’s close by and he said he’ll wait for us if we’re near. I already told him we would meet him tomorrow morning.”
Kylan watched Tavra look sternly at the scrap of paper. She crumpled it in her palm and tossed it into the fire, and that was when he knew for sure that this was not the All-Maudra’s daughter.
Naia furrowed her brow. She was not convinced, but she didn’t pick apart the story right away. He wished he could reach out to her and dreamfast all that he had seen, but to do so now in front of the impostor would be folly. He met her eyes and willed that she trust him with all of his might.
“Oh,” she said in a normal tone, as if she had just remembered. “So that’s what you were doing out in the wood earlier. Why didn’t you tell us right away?”
Kylan tried not to react in relief. Naia was covering for him—she trusted him.
“I wasn’t sure if it was true. We haven’t seen any Skeksis since we left the castle, and I think that’s strange. I was worried this might be a trap.”
“It’s not a trap,” Tavra said. “The note was genuine.”
“So . . . we’ll wait until morning, and then meet him?” Kylan asked. “Is that all right?”
Tavra stared into the fire, free hand cupping her chin in thought. He hoped she was thinking what he wanted her to think—that this opportunity was too sweet to miss. Her master wanted Rian, and this was a way she could regain favor.
He was rewarded when she sheathed her sword.
“Yes. Fit those sandals to the Shadowling. We leave first thing in the dawn.”
Then she walked just to the edge of the camp and sat against a tree. She pulled her hair over one shoulder before crossing her arms and nodding her head, seeming to fall asleep immediately.
Naia and Amri visibly relaxed, shoulders and ears drooping. Amri picked up one of the sandals that had been thrown at him, comparing the size against his foot. It was a close match.
“The cords are snapped,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” Kylan replied. “Those are the easiest part to mend. I’ll fix you up in no time. But first . . .”
He took a stick and pried the wad of flame-resistant parchment out from the fire. He brought it with him when he circled the fire, handing it to Amri in trade for the sandal, which was more of a sole with a tangle of broken cord.
“What’s going on?” Naia whispered. It was hard to know whether Tavra could hear t
hem from her distance, and Kylan hoped she could. He put the sandals in his lap and worked on fixing them. Stitching shoes and mending laces were among the many mundane tasks with which Maudra Mera had charged him as a child. While he worked, he whispered back to Naia, loud enough that he was sure Tavra would hear him.
“I don’t trust Tavra.” He watched the Silverling when he spoke. She did not stir. “Something about her has been all wrong since we ran into her. You remember . . . with the blue mouth?”
Naia frowned. “Of course I remember the blue mouth.”
Kylan chose his words as carefully as if he were telling a song. This was the most important part of all.
“Good,” he said. “Because if you remember, then you’ll understand why I want to meet with Rian in private. Tonight. I don’t want Tavra to get her hands on him . . . I think she’s working for the Skeksis. So, tonight, when it’s quiet, I’m going to sneak out and meet him and tell him. I’m going to tell him to go on to Ha’rar without us, and tell the All-Maudra that her daughter is a traitor.”
Still, no response from Tavra, though something twinkled at her neck. It was her earring, bared when she had pulled her hair to the other side. From the distance and in the night, the light played tricks, but Kylan thought he saw it move on its own.
“I don’t like this,” Naia said. “Why you, and why do you have to go alone?”
Kylan didn’t want to go alone. It was dangerous . . . but it was also necessary. Explaining why would put them at risk, and dreamfasting would draw Tavra’s attention. She had told her master that she could sense it—trying it now would only lead to failure. As Kylan had to ask Naia to trust him, in the same way he now had to trust her. To understand, and to do what needed to be done.
“Remember the blue mouth?” Kylan asked. “It was good we weren’t alone then.”
Amri had been quiet, since he likely had no idea what the blue mouth was or what it had done. In the meantime, he had uncrumpled the scrap of paper Kylan had handed him, smoothing it on his lap. Kylan focused on mending the last of the broken cord, waiting for Amri’s reaction. It came shortly: a glance of confusion, then the flicker of understanding.
