by Jane Glatt
Wils grunted and she heard the hiss of his sword as he slid it back into its sheath.
Neemah came over, her blanket wrapped tight around her.
“Ronan, I told you to stay with Mistress Ventris!” Neemah glared down at her son. There was a piece of dried meat in the boy’s hand and he kept his gaze turned away from his mother.
“Oh, what am I to do with you,” Neemah said. “Come here, let’s get a look.”
Ronan scrambled to his feet and hurried over to her. She peered into his eyes and sighed.
“I expect you’re hungry. And you best have a long drink of water so’s you don’t dry up and blow away.” Neemah turned to Brenna. “I’m really sorry. I had no idea he’d do anything so foolish.”
“It’s a problem,” Brenna said, looking at Ronan. “We’re not prepared to look after a child.”
“I’m not a child,” Ronan said. “I can stand watch just as well as a guard can.”
“I’m not sure. Wils?” Brenna looked across the camp to where the guard was building the fire back up. “What’s the most important thing a guard must be able to do?” She quickly sent him a message through old steel and he ducked his head to hide a smile before he stood up, a stern look on his face.
“Follow orders, Caller,” Wils looked from her to Ronan. “A guard understands that not following orders can put him, his superiors and the entire mission in danger.”
“Thank you Wils.” Brenna turned back to Ronan, who was looking from her to Wils, his eyes wide with fear. “And have you followed orders Ronan?”
“No,” Ronan’s voice was soft and Brenna thought she could detect the beginnings of a sob.
“And will you follow orders from now on?”
“Yes, I promise I will. I’ll be good, I will.”
“All right,” Brenna said. “For now you need to do as your mother says. Drink some water, eat some food and then get some sleep. We’ll be up and traveling early.”
Brenna watched the boy follow Neemah to the water bucket before she turned her back and drew her knife. She’d forgotten about contacting Gaskain. If she’d thought to talk to him he might have been able to let her know that Ronan was missing. Brenna settled down, hand on her knife and prepared to let both Gaskain and Dasid know what had happened.
Guild Master Brunger walked into the room and sat down heavily across from Kane. Eryl followed with a pitcher of ale and three mugs that he set down on the table before he closed the door. Kane looked around uneasily.
“We should find another place to meet,” Kane said. “There are fewer folk in Thieves Quarter every day and all this activity around the Dog must have been noticed by now.” Kane had scarcely been outside the tavern in the last few days but whenever he looked out the windows, the streets were deserted.
“Thieves Quarter will take care of its own,” Eryl assured him. “Besides, I’ve used the Dog for business for years. If I suddenly started going somewhere else it would raise even more suspicions. Marcus, tell us what news you have from our royal friend.”
Kane frowned. Eryl knew this part of town and he knew the people but those who were left, the ones who couldn’t flee Kingsreach, must be feeling afraid. Still, by all reports Eryl’s network was holding together and, Kane reasoned as he listened to Marcus’ reports on the doings of the king’s council, he would only be here another few days. He planned to follow the next group of prisoners and eventually meet up with Dasid. And Brenna.
“Beldyn told Carolie that there had been no response from Langemore,” Marcus said. “Beldyn seemed to think Thorold was trying to conceal how angry he was.”
“Does he have a good read on his father’s emotions?” Eryl asked.
“I’d trust his instincts on this,” Kane said. “Brenna would know and Beldyn’s been studying his father for more years than she did. It’s good to confirm that Langemore has not yet fully committed to Thorold.”
“It could just be weather,” Eryl said. “It will be winter in the north soon.”
“But the wagons with slaves are still getting through. At least to Godswall. Marcus?” Kane looked at the Guild Master. “Would the routes to Langemore be open still?”
Marcus sipped his ale before replying. “It’s early for the trade routes to be completely impassable and a message carrier travels more lightly than a loaded wagon. It’s possible but not likely that a message was delayed due to weather. A wool trader arrived in town a week ago - I’ll ask him how the travel was.”
“If it’s not the weather it may be that King Mannel is not as deeply committed to Thorold as we feared,” Kane said. “What would Mannel want?”
“He’s a daughter he wants married,” Marcus said.
“It’s his only child - she might have a good deal of influence.” Kane looked across the table at Marcus. “We still think Beldyn’s been pledged to her?”
“He won’t talk to Carolie about it but that is the rumor among the nobles.” Marcus shrugged. “When she asked him directly he got angry and avoided her for two days.”
“If Mannel marries his daughter off to Beldyn,” Eryl said. “Do we think he receives a section of Fallad in return?”
“Probably. But he’d need to pledge more than just his daughter to Thorold, I’d think,” Marcus said. “And it’s something Thorold desperately needs - why else would he be so angry?”
“We’ll assume Thorold has promised something from Fallad to King Mannel,” Kane said. “Do we think he knows that Fallad is not under Thorold’s control?”
“I doubt word has spread that far yet,” Marcus said. “I agree that there must be more to their agreement.”
“But what?” Eryl asked.
Kane looked steadily from Eryl to Marcus. “I think it’s an army,” he said. “We have no evidence that Thorold is building one of his own and he’ll need one if he ever wants to take Fallad.”
“And Aruntun,” Marcus added.
Kane shook his head. “He’ll never take Aruntun, even with an army, unless it’s an army of witches.” Kane recalled the woman who had taught Brenna magic, the tiny Mistress Utley. She’d had real power even though she’d seemed physically frail. Brenna hadn’t been her first student, nor likely her last. “No, Thorold decided long ago that Aruntun is no use to him. Why else would he have let the church stir up so much hatred against Aruntian witches?”
“Since it seems that Langemore has not yet aligned with Thorold,” Marcus said. “Might I suggest that we have an opportunity to strike an agreement of our own with the King of Langemore?”
“Ewart might know what Mannel wants,” Kane said. His friend had mentioned that King Mannel had wanted Ewart to marry his daughter. “And short of giving the man much of Fallad, as Thorold no doubt promised, Ewart may be able to give him enough of what he wants to at least keep him neutral.”
“I would dearly love to be part of those negotiations,” Marcus said with a sigh.
Brenna tried - had been trying for days - but she hadn’t been able to use her gift to See the wagons and prisoners. Which is why she heard them first.
She was scouting ahead of the wagon, keeping Blaze to a fast walk as they rode through the wooded foothills, when she heard a low murmur that she assumed was a stream of some sort. But when she rounded a bend she stopped and slid off Blaze, easing them both back behind a copse of trees.
Despite all the sounds - horses hoofs on the grass - the creaking of the wagons and harnesses - the muffled clanking of the iron shackles, it was an eerily quiet scene. No one spoke, no babies cried - just two silent columns of men and women trailing after two wagons, watched over by guards on horseback.
Brenna watched the tarp-covered wagons, her heart breaking with the knowledge that children were huddled under them, afraid to move or look out.
Then saw him - Pater, by the gods - Pater was shuffling slowly at the end of the line of men. The absolute misery apparent in every step he took made her shake with anger. Brenna gripped her knife, ready to put an end to this at once. She s
tarted to draw her magic about her, ready to lash out at every guard she could see.
“Looks like one of the brats tried to run,” a man in brown said, a small body thrown over his shoulder.
He laughed as he set his burden down hard on the ground and in shock Brenna let her power drain away. Ronan stood up and glared at the man and Brenna prayed that he wouldn’t make things worse by trying to fight or run. But Ronan knew when he was outmanned - he simply balled his fists and looked down at the ground. He was roughly hoisted in the air and shoved into a wagon while the rest of the guards laughed. Brenna noticed that some prisoners looked angry, while others, Pater included, simply waited dejectedly until the wagons started to move again.
Before she even knew what she was planning Brenna recited the invisibility spell and headed towards the end of the line, and Pater. She wasn’t leaving either him or Ronan alone in this.
“Pater,” she whispered. She gently reached one arm around his shoulders and tried to keep him steady as he lifted his head and stared around. “Pater, keep your head down and keep quiet. It’s me Brenna.”
“Brenna?” Pater’s voice trembled as he spoke. “You can’t be here - you should be somewhere safe.”
“But I am here,” Brenna said. “And I’m not leaving you.”
When the group of men started up again Brenna helped Pater as he began a shambling walk. Touching her knife, she quickly reached out for old steel.
“Wils, stop the wagon right now,” she called. “The wagon caravan is just beyond the ridge I was scouting. Please get Blaze – I’ve left her tied to a tree.”
Wils replied that he would do as she asked and Brenna went back to supporting Pater as they walked. Ten steps, twenty steps, she stopped counting at one hundred and thirty steps and instead simply watched Pater’s feet as they scuffled through the dust and dirt of the wagon track.
“I’ve got Blaze,” Wils said finally. “But we can’t find Ronan anywhere. Neemah’s frantic.”
“Tell her Ronan’s fine. I know where he is and I’m not leaving him,” Brenna said. “He’s been captured by the wagon guards and I’m close behind them.” He didn’t need to know exactly how close, she thought as the smell of the sweat-streaked man in front of her drifted back to her. “Stay well back. And check the map. I need to let Dasid know exactly where we are.”
Brenna continued to walk in step with Pater while Wils checked the map. Ten steps, twenty steps, and then Wils contacted her again. Once she had a good description of their location from him, she took a deep breath. Now for Dasid. Gripping her knife tight, she reached out and found him.
“Dasid,” she said, startling him. “Dasid, we’ve found the wagons.” Brenna passed on Wils’s directions and then waited.
“We’re about two days away,” Dasid replied after a few minutes. “They’re using a different road through the mountains.”
“That route will keep them closer to Fallad, I think,” Brenna said. “Should I have Gaskain send more men?”
“Are there more guards than we expected?” She could hear Dasid’s concern through the old steel.
“No, there are ten,” she hesitated. “But Ronan has been captured. I’ve spelled myself invisible to stay close.”
Dasid swore and his fear almost made her lose the grip on her knife.
“Why isn’t Ronan with Neemah? She must be so worried.”
“Wils is keeping her calm,” Brenna said. “They’re behind and are staying well back. We can’t have them discovered.”
“Has Ronan been hurt?”
“No, but I’m sure he’s scared. I’m going to get close enough to tell him we know where he is and that we’ll get him back. Oh.” Pater sagged against her and Brenna stumbled. She shifted her weight until she was dragging him.
“Brenna, are you all right?” Dasid asked. “Did something happen?”
Ignoring Dasid for the moment, Brenna checked to see if anyone noticed that Pater wasn’t actually walking anymore. She leaned over him and her lips tightened. Pater was struggling to stay conscious - as she watched his eyes fluttered closed. He wouldn’t last much longer. She wished she could simply make him invisible and have them both drop out of the line – but he’d be missed. If the guards were alerted she’d never be able to free Ronan.
“Pater’s one of the prisoners,” Brenna said. “I can’t leave him. I think he’ll die if I do.”
“By the gods,” Dasid said. She felt his shock and frustration through the old steel. “I know he’s a good friend but he’s a Brother. Don’t put yourself in danger to save him. He wouldn’t want that.”
Brenna shook her head. It was always about what they wanted, what the Brotherhood thought she should do. Sometimes she didn’t agree with them – couldn’t agree with them and stay true to herself. This was one of those times.
“I have an idea. It means I can help Pater and keep close to Ronan.” Brenna quickly described her plan to Dasid. She was surprised when he gave her his grudging approval.
“Tell Kane,” Dasid said.
“I will,” Brenna said. “Later.” Once it’s done, she thought.
“Brenna, tell him. In case you need to draw some strength from him,” Dasid chided. “Or you can draw from me.”
“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” And she would, but she didn’t plan on needing any extra strength.” I’ll let you know when it’s done.”
After talking to Dasid, Brenna quickly gave Wils his instructions before she let her hand drop from her knife. She shifted Pater against her side, thankful that he was still conscious and at least trying walk. It wouldn’t be long now, she thought, looking at the late afternoon sun. They would have to stop at dark. She had to keep Pater on his feet for just a few hours more.
“Pater, stand up,” Brenna said, shaking him gently.
He turned exhausted eyes her way but she was invisible so he dropped his gaze to the ground.
“You have to stay on your feet long enough to get your meal and water.”
The wagons had stopped a few moments ago but the prisoners had not been allowed to sit down. Now the lines shuffled past a guard who was handing out hunks of tough journey bread. Another two guards filled mugs with water. They waited until each prisoner drank a mug of water before refilling it for the next person in line so the line moved slowly.
Brenna licked her dry lips. She had her own skin of water but had been too intent on keeping Pater walking to remember to drink. Water for her later – right now she had to make sure Pater looked able enough. She didn’t want the guards to pick him out of the line - she didn’t know what they would do with someone too ill to walk but she doubted adults were allowed to ride in the wagons. These were people they expected hard labor from - it was unlikely they would bother with anyone too ill to keep up.
Pater managed to stay in control long enough to get his food and drink some water. The line of men, still shackled together, sat down along the road. Pater, at the end of the line, dropped onto the grass to eat his bread. Brenna huddled beside him, trying to keep out of the way of both prisoners and guards. Pater wiped hands on his thighs and exhausted, stretched out on the ground. Satisfied that he was as well as could be expected, Brenna silently rose. Time to find Ronan.
They’d taken the tarps off the wagons while the children were fed. Ronan huddled in the corner of a wagon with his knees drawn up to his chest the tracks of dried tears on his cheeks.
Brenna edged close to the corner of the wagon.
“Ronan,” she whispered. “Be calm and pretend I’m not here.”
“Brenna?” He looked up, excited, but when he didn’t see her, his face fell and his lower lip trembled.
“It’s me, I’m really here.” She gripped his arm and he flinched. “Remember I told you I could do magic?” He nodded. “Being invisible is one of the magic things I can do. You need to follow my orders, just like a soldier, can you do that?” Another nod. “I will get you out of here tonight but I’m helping another friend too. I’m going
to need you to take care of him until you can get him to your mother. Be quiet and don’t draw any attention to yourself until I come back. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“Good lad. I’ll come back for you later.” Brenna moved away from the wagon and headed back to Pater.
She let Pater sleep for a while. He needed it and she had to wait until it was fully dark anyways. She’d take his coat – hopefully it would be enough to fool a guard if one touched her.
A few hours after the watch changed she whispered a spell and a patch of fog rolled in, blanketing the entire camp. Waking Pater, she silently unlocked the shackle at his ankle and pulled him a few feet outside the fog. With instructions to wait, she crept away to find Ronan. With Ronan in tow, she steered Pater downhill for a few minutes. She stopped and Ronan clutched her hand while Pater slumped to the ground. Brenna gently transferred Ronan’s hand to Pater’s.
“Pater, I need your coat,” Brenna whispered. “I’ll trade mine for yours.”
“What do you need my coat for? Aren’t you coming with us?”
“No. I’m staying. I need to find out where these prisoners are being taken,” Brenna said. “I want to get every single man woman and child that Thorold has stolen from Kingsreach back. I need more information I order to do that.”
“Does Kane know you’re doing this?”
“Not yet. But Dasid knows.”
“And he agrees with it?”
Brenna grabbed Pater’s arm when his voice rose. “Shh, do you want us all to get caught?” Brenna felt him relax and she let go of his arm. “Dasid understands that we need this information. Besides, I can walk away whenever I want to.”
“Here,” Pater said. He thrust her coat at her. “It’s not smellin’ so good anyway.”
Brenna took her own jacket off and slipped it over Pater’s shoulders.
“You be careful, Brenna,” Pater said. “Two thousand years is a long time to wait for someone as bone-headed as you.”
Brenna smiled for the first time since she’d found Pater. “I never asked for any of this so don’t expect me to feel bad about making my own decisions. There’s more walking for you tonight, I’m afraid, but Wils and Neemah - Ronan’s mother - are not far away. Neemah’s a healer - she’ll take good care of the both of you.” Brenna pointed them in the right direction. “Sit still why I make you both invisible.”
