Then another tingle in his spine told him someone else was standing behind him. He spun around and, sure enough, a third person had appeared on the lip. Less a woman than a girl, this one wore a simple dress. Her arms hung loose at her sides in an attitude of uncertainty.
Sal’s first thought was that this third person was Shilly. But he couldn’t feel her, and she didn’t seem to recognize him. Concerned, he reached out with his mind, using the Change to see if it was her--and suddenly felt the gaze of the other two women converge on him.
A chill rushed through him as their invisible eyes locked on where he was standing. He turned and saw that their robes had begun to shift as though in a breeze. Their arms rose high above their heads. They grew larger and he realized that they were coming closer. The horizon was contracting around him on all sides. He was frozen in the middle, uncertain what to do.
Faster the two women came, reaching for him. They were racing each other, fighting to get to him first. Fingers splayed, still silhouetted in perfect black against the sky, they rushed forward to engulf him--while behind him, forgotten, the smallest of the three faded away into nothing …
He awoke surrounded by shadows that seemed like the fluttering of cloaks or the wings of a dark-feathered bird flapping at his face. He flailed at them with his hands--and finally realized that they were an illusion and that the three women had been a dream. A breeze was blowing through the cells, making the candle flame gutter and cast strange shadows on the wall.
He collapsed back onto the bed, gasping. He didn’t want to sleep again; a lingering sense of panic wouldn’t leave him. Just like in the dream, he could feel nothing when he reached out for Shilly. Her absence disturbed him. He had become used to her being there, on the edge of his mind. Was that what the dream had been about, then? Perhaps, he thought, but it didn’t explain the identities of the other two women.
Uncertainty over the dream distracted him from Mandala practice until he almost despaired of ever getting it right. How he would maintain the defense while going about seemingly normal behavior was beyond him--even though he knew he had no choice but to try. Besides, he had little else to do until someone came into the room, either to release them or to continue their persecution. He didn’t even know what time it was. Days could have passed, for all he knew; the Sky Wardens might have come and gone, leaving them alone forever; it might all have been a terrible mistake.
Then his father began to stir and he guessed that it was around dawn. That was when his father would normally wake, sun or no sun. He sat upright on the bench and waited to see what would happen next. His father’s sleep became increasingly restless, but didn’t break.
The door clattered open not long after, bringing with it a shaft of light. His father groaned as someone stepped into the room. Sal’s heart beat a little faster. It was Lodo.
“Good morning,” said the old man to Sal, who rose to meet him at the door to his cell, not daring to hope. Lodo looked tired. “They told me to give you this.”
He passed a flask of water through the bars. Sal gulped at it gratefully as the old man crossed the room and tugged at solid shutters opposite the door. They resisted for a second, then swung aside with a clatter, letting in still more light. Sal held his hand over his eyes until they adjusted, then put the flask back into Lodo’s waiting hand.
Sal’s father stirred again. He clutched the side of his bench and his eyes fluttered.
“You’re lucky, you know,” Lodo said, leaning as close as he could to Sal’s father’s head and speaking loudly. “You haven’t got the headache I earned from arguing with the Alders all night.”
The sound of Lodo’s voice snapped Sal’s father awake. Blinking, he sat up and looked around, confused. “What?”
“Here.” Lodo thrust the flask through the bars, and Sal’s father took it. “And listen. Euan Holkenhill, the local Sky Warden’s representative, announced yesterday evening that Selection will take place earlier than usual this year. He apologized for both the inconvenience and the late notice, but he has no choice but to do his superiors’ bidding. They follow their own counsel.”
Sal’s father sat up straighter, and winced. “How does he know they’re coming?”
“He received word of the possibility several days ago, by gull, and had it confirmed the same way yesterday.”
Sal recalled the day at the markets, the gull alighting on Holkenhill’s arm and the way he had suddenly left the festivities. He thought of the Sky Wardens--looming ice-blue giants he had hoped never to see in the flesh. “Why is she coming early?” he asked, unable to keep a faint tremor from his voice.
Lodo turned to face him. “Because of you, my boy. They know you’re here, and they’re coming to get you before you escape.”
“You’re certain of that?” asked Sal’s father.
“As certain as I can be, under the circumstances. Holkenhill doesn’t know much, really, but he says that more than the usual one Selector is coming. That much he has been told. Why would they bring the date forward and send more Sky Wardens, if not for Sal?”
“How did they know I was here?” asked Sal. “Was it the seagulls?”
“To begin with, perhaps. The scabs notice free talents and report them. Just being here might have got their attention--but I doubt that would have been enough on its own.”
“The eye, then,” said Sal. “The eye in the storm, and in the sea. That was them.”
“It seems so.” Lodo nodded wearily. “I had hoped they might not have seen you, or that they couldn’t tell with any precision where you were. But I fear the sea was your undoing. In their domain, you could not possibly remain hidden for long. They have obviously spent the time since preparing for your capture. Now they are ready to act.”
Sal’s father planted both fists on the bench, on either side of his legs. “It was always a risk, coming here.”
“Yes, and boldly taken. All is not yet lost.”
“But they’ve taken the buggy and made sure we can’t get away. They’ve got it all covered.”
“No. That’s an unrelated matter, nothing to do with the Sky Wardens. Alder Sproule has little doubt that you’re guilty of the thefts and saw no reason to leave you with a chance to evade justice. I can see his point of view, even though I don’t happen to think he’s right.” Lodo stopped for a second, then asked Sal’s father: “He is wrong, isn’t he?”
“Yes. We earn our way, wherever we go.”
“That is the most sensible thing to do if you want to stay unnoticed--but I had to check. You do have a case to answer, unfortunately.”
Sal’s father shook his head. “It can’t be much of a case. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“What about the stolen goods they found in your room?”
“We didn’t put them there. There must be another explanation.”
“And the witness? He says he has heard someone leaving and coming back to the hostel late at night, on several occasions.”
“Well, that’s true enough. Sal has been going to and from his lessons at all hours.”
“True or otherwise, it is suggestive.”
“Can we discredit him?”
“I doubt it. He’s Euan Holkenhill.”
A light dawned in Sal’s mind. The witness who had heard him moving around at night had been a guest of the hostel. Euan Holkenhill, the regional Selector’s representative, was in town to get things ready. Where else would he stay but at the hostel? He and Von’s mystery guest were one and the same.
Sal had simply never put the two together before. When he thought about everything that had been said in the room he and his father shared, he realized just how lucky he was that Holkenhill hadn’t seen or heard more than he had.
But the concept of luck was relative in this case.
“So it’s our word against Holkenhill’s,” Sal’s father said. “You’re ri
ght. We’re in trouble.”
“Even without Holkenhill, you’d be in trouble. Sproule doesn’t like you, and there is the material evidence. If we could find out how it got there, maybe we’d have a chance.”
“I can guess,” said Sal. “Kemp put it there.”
Lodo’s eyebrows went up. “Kemp?”
Sal nodded. “He’s trying to set me up.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t like me. I guess he figures that if he can get us convicted of stealing, we’ll be kicked out of town.”
“At the very least. Can you prove any of this?”
“I know it’s true.” He told Lodo and his father about what he had seen two nights before, and what he and Shilly had subsequently uncovered with Aunty Merinda’s charm.
Lodo still looked uncertain. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Sal, but even if you had evidence I doubt we’d convince Sproule. He’s never going to accept that his son was behind it. It would ruin his reputation.”
“I don’t care,” said Sal’s father, getting up and pacing the cell. “If that’s what it takes to get us out of here, then I say we should do it. Anything to keep Sal safe.”
Lodo gestured for calm. “Yes, I thought you’d feel that way. That’s why I’m keen not to rock the boat just yet. You see, I’ve managed to broker something of a deal. Hence my headache.”
Sal’s father stopped pacing. “What sort of deal, exactly?”
“Well, you’ve seen some of the work I do in Fundelry. The lights, for instance, and hot water. I fix pottery and settle foundations. There’s a lot of stuff in any town that Sky Wardens are no good at, and I fill the gaps here. That has increased the town’s standing in the area, as well as given the Alders a little extra comfort. I simply threatened to take it all away from them--for the visit of the Selectors, if not permanently--unless they gave me what I wanted.”
“And that was?”
“I wanted you both out on a good behavior bond. With the buggy hidden, there is no way you’d run. But they wouldn’t give it; letting you both go didn’t set enough of an example to other would-be thieves. So I settled for just Sal. He won’t be going anywhere without you, and if they have you here, safe and sound, they figure he won’t get up to any mischief either.”
Sal’s father stared at Lodo and Sal for a long moment. “Sal goes free?”
“He leaves with me now, if you agree.”
“And I stay here.”
“To be tried by the Selectors, when they arrive.”
“Where will Sal be then?”
“That depends on how well I can hide him.” Before Sal’s father could ask, Lodo raised a hand. “And it’s best you don’t know, for now.”
Sal’s father resumed pacing. “You’re asking me to let go of Sal, to trust you completely. In here, I won’t know what’s going on. I won’t know if you turn him over to the Sky Wardens the first chance you get. I won’t have any idea until it’s too late.”
“Not that you could do anything from in here, anyway.”
“That’s not the point. If Sal was in here with me, at least we’d be together.”
“Hung up like pigs, waiting for the butcher’s knife.”
Sal grimaced at the metaphor. “I don’t want to leave you here, Dad.”
His father looked at him, and sat back down on the bench. He rubbed at his eyes and winced when he bumped his swollen nose. “I don’t think we have a choice, son.”
“You don’t,” said Lodo.
“But that doesn’t mean I have to like it!” The stare Sal’s father cast at the old man, then, was filled with a dark emotion. “I don’t have to like any of this. Why can’t they just leave us alone? Why won’t they let us get on with our lives? Why us?”
“You know the answer to those questions, Dafis Hrvati.”
Sal’s father nodded in resignation, then looked up in surprise. Sal, too, was startled. Dafis was his father’s heart-name, known only to a handful of people. How Lodo had learned it, he couldn’t guess.
Nothing was said for a long moment. The two men just stared at each other, as though daring the other to speak.
Then footsteps came from the doorway.
“I think that’s long enough,” said a voice. Sal turned to see Alder Sproule standing just inside the room, dressed in his black Alder’s cloak. “Do they agree?”
Lodo brushed down his tunic. “I think they do.”
“We agree,” said Sal’s father, casting a baleful look at the Alder.
Sproule grunted and produced a key. He crossed the room and unlocked the door to Sal’s cell.
“Get out, white boy.”
Sal did as he was told and waited as the Alder locked the cell behind him. “The slightest trouble and you’re back in here, understand?”
Sal nodded.
“You too.” That was directed at Lodo. “He’s only free on your recognizance. You don’t want to give me the chance to put you away as well, old man.”
With one last scowl at the three of them, Sproule turned and stomped out of the room. An officer took his place, indicating that Lodo and Sal should come with him.
Sal hesitated. His father looked very small in the cell, still bloody and exhausted.
“Take care, son,” he said. “Visit if you can.”
“I will.” They clasped hands through the bars. Sal didn’t trust himself to say anything else.
“Never underestimate the power of light and hot water,” said Lodo, gripping the man’s shoulder briefly before leading Sal away.
Chapter 13. “Old Truths in a New Light”
“From now on,” said Lodo, as he led Sal out of the prison cells, “you don’t leave my sight.”
Sal tried to ignore the hostile stares greeting him. The antechamber to the cells seemed to be full of Alders and their officers, all watching him closely. He had no doubt that none wanted him to leave, or that Lodo was bearing a large part of their animosity for forcing them into it. He had a lot to be grateful to the old man for.
But all he could think of was the man he was leaving behind--trapped and powerless, in the dark.
“I’ll need your signature here, Lodo,” said one of the officers, holding out forms. The old man stopped to scrawl in the spots he was supposed to, then herded Sal out of the room. The bony hand digging into Sal’s back wouldn’t accept argument.
“Don’t say anything,” Lodo added as they exited the station into the full light of day.
Outside, a small group of people waited. Sal didn’t recognize many of them, but they knew who he was. Upon seeing him, they booed and hooted. One threw a stone that missed Sal’s ear by a millimeter. Sal turned to see who had thrown it, and saw the boy--younger than him--drop the next stone he intended to throw with a cry of pain. He clutched his fingers to his chest as though he had burned them.
Lodo hurried Sal up the street, away from trouble. The group didn’t follow them, but only because some of the Alders’ officers kept them back.
“Idiots,” Lodo muttered under his breath. “They won’t go away if you ignore them, but at least they won’t get any worse.”
Sal’s voice had left him. He was afraid to open his mouth for fear of what might come out--be it a scream, a sob or vomit.
Lodo moved quickly. No one got in their way as they crossed the town square, although more than a few stared, and a couple even voiced their displeasure at seeing the “white thief” freed so soon. Sal tried to ignore them, but he still felt angry--and undeservedly ashamed at the same time. His ears were burning and he kept his head down.
Lodo didn’t even have to knock. The hostel door opened before they’d come up the steps.
“You’re doing yourself a disservice, old man,” said Von as she let them in.
“Do you think I’d be doing this if I thought they were guilty?” he snap
ped back.
“That’d depend on what you thought you could get out of it.”
“My survival instincts are still good.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“I know.” He headed up the stairs with an irritated shake of his head.
“You won’t find their stuff up there,” she said.
He stopped on the stairwell with Sal behind him. “Where is it, then?”
“In here.” She sighed and showed them to a ground floor room hidden behind a locked door. Sal realized it was her own room. There was a large, messy bed, a wardrobe filled with old clothes, a candelabra covered with wax, and--most startling of all--a wig resting on a stand that was the exact same shade and style as the hair on Von’s head.
In a pile in one corner lay Sal and his father’s packs.
“Go through them,” Lodo ordered. “Make sure it’s all there.”
Sal did as instructed, smoothing out the clothes and repacking them as neatly as he could. The small supply of coins was missing from his father’s possessions, as was a cotton rug he used for warmth, but otherwise everything seemed to be there, including the small jar full of pearl shell and blood mixture that they had bought from Lodo at the market, and the buggy’s spare key his father had said was under the mattress.
In the base of his father’s pack Sal discovered a flap of leather that could be tied down to form a false bottom. He had never known it was there before, and might never have known had he not seen it now. The space beneath the flap was empty.
“They found the stolen goods under your mattress,” Lodo said. “They also found this.” He held out a thin, leather pouch, creased from repeated folding. “As it wasn’t listed as missing, I demanded that they return it.”
Sal sat on the ground and unrolled the thin leather. Inside he found a silver clasp that might once have closed a light cloak or gown. It was tarnished almost black, but the work was very fine. The silversmith who had crafted it had folded silver threads in layers around a central, hemispherical device. It looked fragile but held its shape well. It was firm between Sal’s fingertips and showed no signs of ever having been bent out of shape.
The Stone Mage & the Sea (Books of the Change Book 1) Page 20
