"Tuft, sir," the Wisp said.
"Sit, Tuft," Rugad said, indicating one of the lounge chairs. Tuft sat on its side so that his wings would have space. Rugad sat on the other lounge chair in the same way. "You have found my great-grandson?"
"No," Tuft said. He glanced at the door. "Is that what Wisdom said?"
"That is what Wisdom said." Rugad kept his voice calm. The pain in his throat was becoming an unbearable burning.
"No, I said I think I know where he might be." Tuft looked distressed. He knew that giving false information to the Black King was punishable by death. "I never said I knew where he was."
"Tell me what happened," Rugad said.
So Tuft told him of exploring the tunnels, of finding a cavern filled with Black Robes, and of the conversation he had heard.
"This is important," Rugad said. "You say they believe he was slow. He spoke slowly? He moved slowly?"
"Yes," Tuft said. He had clasped his long hands together and was twisting the fingers in a washing motion.
"And his features were marked by lines?"
"I don't know, sir. I never saw him."
"Is that what they said?"
"They said he looked strange, sir."
Rugad nodded and rested his elbows on his knees. Not his great-grandson, but his great-grandson's golem. Which, in some ways, was almost as good. "Do you believe he's still in the tunnels?"
"Yes, sir. That's why I came here instead of finishing my exploration as instructed. I thought if we got some Infantry down there in the passages we would be able to find him."
Rugad smiled. "Excellent thinking. Infantry will help. We will guard all the exits and entrances we find, too. And I will have the Wisps redouble their efforts in searching the tunnels. We will find the boy, thanks to you, Tuft."
"I would like to go back to the tunnels myself, sir, and see if I can find him."
"You do that," Rugad said. He stood, and that allowed the Wisp to stand as well. "You did well, coming to me. I appreciate a man who understands our priorities, and knows how to act on them."
"Thanks, sir," Tuft said, and then shrank to his small size. Within an instant, he became a spark which caught the breeze and disappeared.
Rugad watched him go. The golem. If he could turn it, it would be a wonderful tool. A physical representation of King Nicholas's loss. The people of Blue Isle would think their Prince had made some sort of pact with the Fey.
And if he couldn't turn the golem, he could still use it. For it to have lasted so long, it had to be Linked. Rugad could travel those Links. And, he suspected, on the other end he would find his great-grandson, his great-granddaughter, or King Nicholas himself.
Then they would see the true extent of Fey magick.
Then they would really know what it was like to lose.
SIXTEEN
Matthias sat at the table in the main room of his house, his head tilted back, eyes closed. Marly had her hand on the back of his skull, bracing him. With her other hand, she painted his still-healing wounds. The liquid she used stung. She had done this every day since she began treating him. When he asked her why, she had said it was because the wounds needed to remain clean. The stinging was almost unbearable, and when it ended, the itching began. She said the itching was a good sign, a sign of healing.
He hated it.
He also hated the look of his face in the silvered glass he had in the large bedroom. The wounds ran from his hairline to his jawline, cutting through his cheeks and narrowly missing his right eye. The thread Marly had sewn through them to hold them together was knotted on the outside, making him look as if he were a piece of cloth, poorly stitched. In repose, his mouth twisted slightly to the left, and his right eyelid drooped. He had not been a handsome man before, but he had had an interesting face.
It had just gotten more interesting.
The others had scattered for their day. He had dug some coins from his stash and had the men go to the market, with strict instructions to buy — not steal — several days' worth of food. He didn't know what he was going to do with all these people, this band of thieves who had inadvertently saved his life. They had been operating out of the tunnels in Jahn for the past several years and had stolen everything from food to coins to holy water from the Tabernacle itself. They had found Matthias, dying, on the river bank and had taken him to Marly for healing the night before the Fey invasion — apparently the group felt itself responsible for the life and limb of the common people. Sometimes, Marly had told him, they even shared their food with those who needed it.
From what Matthias had seen, these thieves were less kind-hearted than they imagined. They had warmed up to him quickly enough because Marly defended him and because she was Jakib's sister. Jakib was not the leader of the thieves, but he had put the band together.
The leader was Yasep, and even though he claimed to have accepted Matthias, he did not like him.
Still, Matthias had brought them here. They needed a place to escape the Fey, and he needed physical laborers. The Fey were entrenching themselves on Blue Isle. Titus, the Fifty-second Rocaan, was dead, and Matthias was the only one who knew the Secrets now.
One of the Secrets had killed Fey. He hoped to find out if any of the others did as well.
Marly's light touch on his face stopped. The pain shuddered through his skin. "There," she said, bringing his head up. Her hand left his curls. He opened his eyes. The room was still dark, even though it wasn't quite midday. The windows he had built onto the mountain side of the house had yet to capture any light. He had spent many of his exile years here, studying and learning all he could about the origins of Rocaanism. The things he did learn had astounded him. The early history of the religion was a history of rivals, of bloody factions fighting each other to gain supremacy. It was one of the reasons the Secrets became secret. Once, it was rumored that the man who possessed them could not be killed.
A knock on the door startled him.
He glanced at Marly, who shrugged. He got up, moved aside a chair, and made his way into the entrance area.
He had redesigned the house when he gained it. It had been left to him by an old friend of his family, an elderly childless man who believed that Matthias' young years were an abomination, a sin committed against him by the Wise Ones. Matthias had received the house, which had then been a single room, and had expanded it, designing its interior as if it were a suite in the Tabernacle: a main room with a bedroom off to the side. Once he began to plumb the Secrets, he had added the entry area so that he wouldn't track dirt into his home. The second bedroom came even later than that when he realized that he needed a place for others to stay.
The knock sounded again. He squared his shoulders. He knew what this would be. One of the Wise Ones, wondering what he was doing in Constant again. Beneath the seemingly concerned question would be a desire for him to leave.
They hated seeing him. They hated having him anywhere near them. He was a reminder that sometimes their policies failed, that sometimes simple compassion won out over fear.
He gripped the knob and pulled the door open.
His neighbor, Tri, stood before him, cloak wrapped around his sturdy frame, red hair loose and flowing down his back.
"They sent you this time, huh?" Matthias asked. Tri had become one of the Wise Ones in the last year, and at first that had frightened Matthias — having a Wise One right next door. Then he realized that Tri was using the office differently, that Tri didn't believe the old teachings and was going to inject new life into the council. That too disturbed Matthias — he had learned that sometimes the old ways had relevance — but it also relieved him. Tri wasn't going to persecute Matthias, at least not in the way the others had done.
Tri was staring at him as if he had never seen him before. Matthias resisted the urge to put a hand up to his ruined face.
"What happened to you?" Tri asked.
Matthias shook his head. "Long story," he said. He didn't feel like going into it now. "Tell m
e what they want and get it over with."
"They didn't send me," Tri said, "but I do need to speak to you. May I come in?"
Tri had never made that request before. Matthias frowned and winced at the sudden pain going through his face, but stood back, holding the door open. Tri slipped in, glancing over his shoulder as he did. Matthias looked too. The sunlit street was empty. The houses across the way had a midday silence. If anyone was watching them, it wasn't obvious.
Matthias closed the door behind him. Marly appeared in the entry way. "Tis all right?" she asked.
Tri's eyes opened wide at the sight of her. He glanced at Matthias, as if asking who she was. Matthias ignored him.
"Yes," he said. "Tri is my neighbor. Can you give us a moment, Marly?"
She sighed, but disappeared from the doorway. She was protective of him, and he found he liked that.
No one had been protective of him before.
He led Tri to the table that he and Marly had been at moments before. Her poultices and healing creams were still scattered around the table's surface. The room smelled faintly of herbs and burned hair.
"She's a healing woman?" Tri asked.
"Among other things," Matthias said, not yet willing to answer questions about his companions.
"She looks like she was born here, but she doesn't talk that way."
"No, she doesn't," Matthias said. He slid out a stool with his foot, and indicated that Tri should sit in it.
Tri shook his head, and crossed his arms. His cape billowed slightly, revealing the traditional costume of Blooders; the sweaters, the heavy breeches, and boots. "I came to ask you a few questions and to warn you," he said.
Anger flared through Matthias. He leaned against the table in an effort to control himself and his voice. "I thought you said they didn't send you."
"They didn't," Tri said. "But I just came from the meeting. I got away as quickly as I could. I know you came into town last night. At dawn, just as the market opened, two tall strangers were seen in the area and forced out."
Things like this happened in Constant all the time. They were terrified of strangers. Matthias had been able to come here after leaving the Tabernacle only because he was known here. He had worried about bringing the crew here, then decided that of all the people he knew, this group could take care of themselves.
"You thought it was my people?"
"You didn't arrive alone," Tri said. "And your woman is tall."
"She was here." Then he put a hand to his face. The others had been asleep then. "You're sure this was at dawn?"
"Just past. The market opens before the sun comes over the mountains."
Matthias's stomach turned. "What did these tall ones look like?"
"I don't know," Tri said. "I didn't see them. But the woman who did said they were tall and thin and dark."
"Dark," Matthias whispered. He blinked and tried to think. His heart was beating rapidly. "How dark?"
"I don't know," Tri said. He sounded confused now. "What's happening here, Matthias?"
"Have you ever seen Fey?" Matthias asked.
Tri shook his head. "I've only heard you talk of them. In all these years they've been on the Isle they've never come this far."
"They've never been on the Isle in such large numbers before," Matthias said. He gripped the side of the table for support. "You are sure of this description? Tall and thin and dark?"
"As sure as I can be without seeing them," Tri said. "And I don't think you can talk to the woman who saw them. She's one of the Wise Ones."
"You thought it was my people. You came to warn me." Matthias's face was beginning to itch. He gripped the table harder. "What are your 'wise' ones going to do to these tall ones?"
"Throw them out of town if they can," Tri said.
"And if they can't?" Matthias asked.
"You know the Wise Ones' solution in those instances."
Matthias shuddered. He knew it all too well. "You came to warn me that my friends would be killed if they stayed."
"And to offer my help," Tri said. He bit his lower lip after he spoke, as he waited.
"Why would a Wise One help me?"
"I'm not a Wise One anymore," Tri said. "They threw me out."
"This morning?" Matthias stared at Tri. That wasn't possible. That had never happened, in all the years that Matthias had known of the Wise Ones. "Nice try, my friend, but the only one way to escape the Wise Ones is death."
"Or shunning," Tri said. "I was shunned."
"For what? Questioning their wisdom?"
"Sharing varin with you," Tri said.
Matthias felt the blood leave his face. The itching grew worse. "How did they know about that?"
"I told them."
"You told them?" Matthias raised his voice. He heard Marly stir in the other room. "You told them? Why?"
"Because they were wrong. They saw the tall ones and were instantly afraid. I joined them for just this sort of thing, Matthias. I'm there to make sure that no innocents are hurt."
"You don't know who these tall ones are," Matthias said. "If they're Fey, it's Constant that'll be hurt."
"And if they're not?" Tri said. "Then we condone the killing of innocent people because they look different than we do? That would mean you have to die, Matthias. You and that pretty woman in the other room. You don't want that."
"I don't want you to pay for helping me, either," Matthias said.
Tri shook his head. "I'm not paying. Leaving the Wise Ones is good for me. I hated being a part of the group. It's insidious, their paranoia. It was changing me, seducing me. I didn't want to be part of it anymore."
Matthias understood that feeling. It didn't quite describe his reaction to the Tabernacle — he had always respected the believers like the Fiftieth Rocaan — but it did describe his impatience with the nonbelievers, the political ones who were in the Tabernacle for personal gain. Sometimes he felt as if they tainted his experience, as if they had somehow corrupted him.
Tri apparently misunderstood Matthias's sudden silence. "I can still find varin for you, if you want it."
Matthias smiled, then winced. He still forgot how simple movements hurt his face. "I do want it," he said, "but that wasn't what I was thinking about."
He wasn't about to share his deepest thoughts about the Tabernacle. He rarely discussed his life there with anyone.
"I'm worried about these tall ones," he said. "If they are Fey, Constant is in trouble. The Fey rarely travel in pairs. They rarely travel anywhere without their armies. If this is a scouting mission, perhaps we can — "
"You want to kill them too," Tri said, shaking his head. "Is that the only response people here have to outsiders?"
Matthias felt a chill. Nicholas had called him a murderer after the death of Jewel. And he was, in his way. He had killed dozens of Fey, and thought little of it.
Was he no better than the people who put him on the mountain as a newborn?
"What do you suggest?" he asked.
"I suggest we find them, these outsiders," Tri said. "We find out what they want, find out why they're here, and find out if we can help them in any way."
"Why should we help them?" Matthias asked.
"Why shouldn't we?"
"If they're Fey — "
"If they're Fey, then we'll deal with that. If they're not, we can warn them away from the Wise Ones." Tri's eyes narrowed. "I thought you were a good man, Matthias."
"What do you mean?" Matthias asked, his mouth dry. He couldn't answer the question directly.
"A good man, a man of God, would try to help others. Isn't that what the Words teach?"
"They also teach protection," Matthias said. He took a deep breath and then released it. "You haven't seen the Fey. You haven't seen what they do. They burned the entire city of Jahn and killed most of its inhabitants. They're bloodthirsty and powerful, and they're destroying all that Blue Isle is. They even burned the Tabernacle."
Tri's eyes grew wide. Of course he hadn
't heard. No one here had. This place was so far away from anything and so distrustful of outsiders.
"And the Rocaan?" Tri asked.
"Is dead."
Tri finally sat on the stool that Matthias had offered him. "Which makes you Rocaan."
"No," Matthias said. "I renounced the post."
"I don't think you can," Tri said. "The Secrets — :
"May not be of religious use," Matthias said.
"What does that mean?" Tri asked.
"I'm not sure yet," Matthias said. "That's why I wanted varin from you."
Tri scratched his head. "If Rocaanism is dead, then what happens next?"
"I didn't say it was dead," Matthias said. "I said the Tabernacle was burned and the Rocaan dead."
"But that was the religion."
Matthias almost smiled, remembered, and resisted the urge. "That from a Wise One? How interesting."
"Oh, you think the pockets will rise and become the religion."
"I think the Tabernacle tainted Rocaanism and remade it in its own image. I think that the religion may find its purity now."
"With you at the helm," Tri said.
Matthias shook his head. "No. I do not represent the Tabernacle or the religion. I merely hold its Secrets. Help me, Tri. Get me more varin, and we'll see if we can remake Rocaanism in our image."
Tri frowned. "Sounds dangerous," he said.
"It would have been if the Tabernacle still exists," Matthias said. "But it doesn't."
Tri ran a hand over his chin, then slapped his hands on his knees. "I will get you varin on one condition. Help me find those tall ones. Help me warn them away from Constant. It sounded like they didn't know the prejudices up here, and that may kill them."
"What if they're Fey?" Matthias asked.
"You can't spend your life afraid of the Fey," Tri said. "If they're here and there's only two of them as you said, let's find out why. It can't hurt."
"Oh, but it can," Matthias said. "It can."
SEVENTEEN
The Resistance: The Fourth Book of the Fey (Fey Series) Page 11
