by L. W. Jacobs
Marea turned, but where she expected to see lighthaired soldiers in polished leathers, she found a well-dressed darkhaired man leaned against the stone wall of the lawkeeper’s station, eyeing them each in turn.
Ella started, apparently expecting something else too, then said, “Just pilgrims, sir, on our way to see the stone.”
“The stone, eh?” the darkhair said, pushing off to join them. “Keep walking, keep walking. The famed stone of Aran?”
“The stone of the Ascending God, sir,” Ella said, folding a hand up her chest for all the world like she was an Eschatolist.
“Good, good,” the man said, glancing around them. They were on a main thoroughfare choked with carts and peddlers with baskets of produce. “Closed to the public though, you know. Whitecoats everywhere. But I can get you in.”
Marea’s stomach twisted, whether with fear or hope she didn’t know. If it was closed, maybe they would just give it up. Or maybe they would let Aran die, like Avery wanted.
Ahead Ella glanced at Tai, then kept walking. “The Prophet has seen us this far on the journey, good sir. We will trust him to get us the rest of the way.”
“To the stone?” the darkhaired man asked, lowering his tone. “Or to the spear?”
Nearly everyone in the party started at that, including Marea.
“You know of it, then,” the man said. “Are perhaps seeking more than just religious absolution?”
This was dangerous. This was not the kind of exposure they needed. If the man was a shaman, if he attacked on the street like Credelen had…
“The Spear of the Prophet,” Ella said, excitement in her voice. “Third wondrous relic of the Holy Church of Eschatology. You know where it is?”
The man’s enthusiasm dampened somewhat. “Not that spear. But I can get you in to the stone, if you wish. The whitecoats aren’t letting anyone through otherwise.”
“We’ll take our chances,” Tai said, cutting the man off. “Thanks for your time.”
His tone carried more than a little threat and the man left off, though not before Marea saw him reevaluating their party. Not good. What if the man was just there to alert the real shamans of competition? What if no one had opened the stone yet because someone was laying in ambush at Califf, killing them all before they arrived?
What if the man recognized Tai and pulled the whole city of whitecoats down on them?
Dread rolled on inside. What was she doing?
You could just leave, my pepper.
The voice came out of nowhere. “Dad?” Marea gasped.
In the next moment she realized what it was, what the voice was, and fortunately the street was too loud for anyone else to have noticed. Ella steered them down a merchant alley, likely looking for supplies for the journey to Aran.
What do you mean, what I am?
A revenant, Marea thought back with determination. Of the mosstongue variety. The third one I’ve heard. Pretending to be my father this time. And I’m in a bit of a tight spot, so shut up until I have time to deal with you, okay?
A tight spot? What’s going on?
Stains, the voice did a good version of her Dad. Then again, it was doing it based on her own memories, so of course it would seem good to her. Ella had stopped at a narrow stall stacked high with dried goods, and the rest of them stood in a huddle in the narrow street.
“You’re letting Eyadin go, then?” Avery asked Tai. “Planning to make our approach on the stone during the chaos, or after it’s done?”
“I’m not letting him go,” Tai said, sounding perturbed. “I told you. I’m not letting the city of Aran die on the chance it’ll make things easier us.”
“It’s not a chance,” Avery pressed. “You heard the man back there—the stone is closed off. If we go before or after, there’s no way we’re getting through their line with enough time to open the stone.”
This is the man you love, my pepper?
I—yes, she said inside, part of her not believing she was having this conversation. He’s not—he really cares about the stone, okay? It’s for us. To protect me.
It’s for him, you mean, the not-her-father’s voice said. I raised you smarter than this, pepper. He is in league with the man who killed me and your mother. You need to go.
Of course the voice would say she needed to go. That’s what revenants did, tried to separate you from your loved ones. Her father probably wouldn’t have understood in real life anyway. If he’d been alive.
Or you’re the one who doesn’t understand, sweet pepper. Doesn’t want to understand, because you’re plunged backwards for this fellow. It’s my fault. I should have arranged someone for you before we ever left the Mouth.
They moved on, Tai telling Avery again to leave Eyadin to him, Marea doing her best to ignore the voice. She was tired of this debate, and there was no time for it anyway. She needed to pay attention to what was happening. No telling when she’d need to fatewalk them out of something.
This side of Califf was not huge, perhaps as big as Hightown and Newgen put together, and Ella lead them towards the edge on a narrow street, obviously wanting to leave town without attracting attention. Only to find a pair of whitecoats blocking the road.
“No exit from Califf here,” one of them said, sounding bored but gripping his weapon. “Everyone leaves by the east gate.”
Ella thanked them and turned that direction.
“We could breeder-tie those boys,” Feynrick said in low tones. “Make our way out real quiet-like.”
“Or fly out,” Avery said. “Between Tai and I, we can manage it.”
“We go by the main gate,” Tai said. “Nothing with even a chance of attracting attention, or sending someone after us on the road.”
Marea sucked in a breath when she saw the main road out, splitting around the shrine to the Descending God with a traditionally carved Yersh gate over it on the far side. The path was blocked with whitecoats, thirty or forty of them in formation around the gate, with more loitering in front of a nearby tavern.
“Oh, gods,” she groaned. Two lighthaired ladies traveling with three darkhaired men, one of them a red hair no less, in the middle of the Yershire. How was that for not attracting attention?
Feynrick gave a low whistle beside her. “Looks like our friend’s getting held up, too.”
Eyadin was near the end of the line snaking from the gate, ahead of an elderly woman with two young children. They fell in behind.
“I can’t block here, not well,” Avery said in a low voice. “I can still shield your thoughts, but watch what you say. There could be more than soldiers listening.”
He sounded so calm. So confident. Did he even care they’d fought last night? Did he care about her?
He said he did, but words were just words. You could believe in actions—that was something her Dad used to say. She started. Did you put that thought in my head? she asked inside.
Who, me? I’m just trying to stay quiet and pray my only daughter doesn’t get arrested or worse for traveling with known rebels.
He had just the right tone of disappointment and worry to make her feel awful. And then she felt stupid because it wasn’t him. And then she felt frustrated because she needed to watch the shatting situation, not talking to her voice like some kind of child. What was taking this line so long?
Ahead a farmer with an empty handcart was allowed out, and the line inched forward. Five more to go. One of the whitecoats ahead was reading a proclamation in a bored voice, something about aiding and abetting any known rebels, the punishment for treason, and the city and surrounds of Aran being under martial law.
Marea’s stomach rolled, dread getting heavier at the moment. This was it. This was where the guards recognized Tai, or figured out Ella’s past, and she ended up in some prison for having rebel sympathies.
For a mad moment she wanted to laugh—rebel sympathies. There probably wasn’t even a rebellion at Aran, just a bunch of power-mad shamans, and these known and confirmed Achuri rebe
ls were the only ones trying to stop them, and an order to kill everyone in the city besides.
Aran should be welcoming all the rebels they could get.
“Business,” the sharp-eyed officer at the front said, looking Eyadin up and down.
What would he say, ordering you and your fellows to commit mass murder on Aran?
“Ah, pilgrimage,” the slender messenger said.
Pilgrimage? Marea glanced at Ella. If Avery had seen his documents right, the seal of a high Council member was all he would need to get through this checkpoint. They should have stolen it to use themselves.
“Not safe past Califf,” the officer said. “No one’s allowed to travel alone. Next.”
“You don’t understand,” Eyadin said, leaning against a soldier’s attempt to move him aside. “I have to get through. I—my family, in Worldsmouth—”
“Not our concern,” the officer said. “Move aside or we’ll do it for you. Next.”
“He’s with us,” Tai said, stepping forward.
Marea started. What?
The officer looked Tai up and down once, eyes narrowing at his dark hair. “And who are you?”
“Pilgrims, sir,” Ella said, stepping up as well. “I’ve come from Hafeluss, and as you can see I have enough protection for one more.” She gestured at the men.
“Pilgrims,” the officer repeated, eyes moving to Ella. Good. The longer they stayed off Tai, the less chance he had of realizing this was the man who had killed so many Councilate soldiers and citizens. “You know there’s a rebellion on?”
“We have no part of it, sir, and I am not worried overly. No one knows the day or the hour. If the Ascending God wants me, he can have me.” She made the rising sign from navel to throat.
That was a quote from the Eschatol—Ella played a good pilgrim.
The officer didn’t look convinced. “And her?” He jerked his head her direction, making Marea start. “Your daughter?”
Ella choked, then nodded. “Yes. Here to pay respects to my late husband.”
Marea suppressed a smile. Nothing like grief to grease the wheels.
“I am sorry to hear of your loss,” the officer said, “but our primary concern must be for your safety. These men you have with you, you are sure of their loyalties?”
Please, Marea thought inside. Please just let me and these totally illegal rebels go.
And then she realized, she had something more than wishes. She had a way to use those wishes.
Marea struck resonance, and returned to her thoughts with renewed force. Let us go. Next people in line. Nothing strange here. She visualized it like Avery had taught, heard the crunch of their boots walking away, smelled the reek of tynsfol incense smoke from the shrine as they passed, the bright sunshine and open road. We will move on.
“Loyalty’s to coin, ye don’t mind me saying so,” Feynrick was saying behind her. “Doubt whatever rebels ye got over there are paying what the missus does.”
“You realize the penalty for aiding dissidents is death?” the officer asked, returning his gaze to Ella.
Marea stomach flipped, dread threatening to overcome her wishes for freedom. A vision of the men pulling weapons rose up, of the whole thing descending into a battle like it had so many other times on this trip. She clenched her fists, willing the dread away, doubling down on her vision of them walking free and clear. She had to think only what she wanted to happen, or she’d fatewalk the opposite into reality.
“And you would take this man on,” the commander went on, gesturing at Eyadin, “without knowing more of him?”
Gods. The officer wasn’t giving up. He knew something. He was going to figure them out, despite everything she was doing.
And just as the dread was too much, just as she couldn’t hold it any longer, a strong hand took hers. A solid hand. Avery’s hand.
He just took it and give her a squeeze, like he knew, and suddenly the picture seemed a lot clearer. They would get through this. She would get them through this. Walking free and clear in the sunshine.
“We shared a ship from Fenschurch,” Ella said, “and if he is willing to face danger for his faith, that is enough for me.”
The officer eyed them all a moment longer, brows furrowed like he wanted to find something wrong and just couldn’t, then gestured at the gate. “Peace be on your journey then. Inform the legion if you see anything suspicious. Next.”
Marea let out a breath, dread evaporating. And just like she’d imagined in her head, down to the crunch of their boots and the smell of the incense, they walked through the carved Yersh gate into the countryside beyond, free and clear, officer already interrogating the next party behind.
Marea beamed. It worked. Her fatewalking worked. Instead of fighting for their lives or ending up in jail, they were walking free and clear, because of her.
How was that for helpless?
45
Ella stepped through the carved gates with sweat beading on her brow. “What,” she said when they were ten steps away, when they would have a reasonable chance of running from the Councilate men she was sure were about to descend on them, “was that?”
“I—” Marea started, then cut off, just as Ella remembered they weren’t alone either. Could Avery mask their conversation with Eyadin walking right there with them? Better to assume not.
Tai cleared his throat. “The man needed travelling companions, and we are all headed the same direction. It seemed like a decent thing to do.”
He apparently wasn’t going to attack Eyadin straight off then. Probably a good thing with the soldiers just paces behind. But how were they going to do this? Ella gnawed one of her nails. They had too much to hide.
What was Tai thinking?
“And I thank you for that,” Eyadin said, his strides long on the hardpacked road, “but if you don’t mind, I’d rather travel alone.”
Oh, thank the gods.
“With a rebellion on?” Tai said jovially. “Don’t be silly. Plenty of room for you with us, and we’d be glad of one more sword should rebels attack.”
“I—am headed for Aran with all haste,” the slender man said.
“As are we,” Tai said, his accent more noticeable now that they were among native speakers, “but take too many risks and you may not arrive.”
“I—” Eyadin struggled with himself, then nodded. “Excuse me. You are likely right, and I owe you my thanks. I am Eyadin Mettek, of House Mettelken of Worldsmouth.”
“And I am Tai,” Tai said, “of Ayugen.”
Ella barely kept the goggle from her face. Was the man mad? His name wasn’t well known, but a tall Achuri man from a rebel city here, where no Achuri had any reason to go? He was probably the only Achuri man most people in the north had even heard of.
“And I am Ellumia Aygla,” she said, unsure whether to continue the farce of her being the head of their party, or a pilgrim, or what. She read similar uncertainty on Avery and Marea’s faces, though they hid it well. “Of the minor House Aygla, also of Worldsmouth originally, though I’ve been posted at Hafeluss these last three years, where the Fyalset meets the Ein.”
“I know it,” Eyadin said briefly, his clipped way of talking closer to Yersh than Worldsmouthian. “I run messages. For my House, mainly.”
“And that is your true business here?” Tai asked. “I did not see you joining Captain Selwin’s morning and evening ablutions, and you no doubt noticed we didn’t either, so perhaps we can agree privately we are not the pilgrims we claimed.”
A clever move—including the man in their lie to the Councilate made him more a part of their group. But to what end? Killing him would be distasteful, but it also meant saving the lives of an entire city.
“Yes,” Eyadin said, rather quickly. “An urgent message, for those of House Fetterwel still inside the city.”
Would Eyadin tell them, before he triggered the attack on Aran? He knew what his message said, else Tai and Avery would not have been able to read it in his mind.
Eyadin hesitated, shifting the simple pack over his shoulder. “It is bad. Or it will be, my House betters believe. Honestly, I would advise you to turn back. Unless your mission is also urgent?”
Shatters. Tai had just admitted they were not pilgrims—what could they possibly say that would warrant their own haste? Tai hesitated. Shatters they needed a story quick.
“Perhaps less savory,” Ella said, lighting on the first notion that came to her, “but there is money to be made in wartime, and my betters see this as an opportunity. If I may speak plainly, we are scouting any opportunity for Aygla to provide a secondary stream of resources to the rebels. There are valuable antiques aplenty in Aran, if the rebels are willing to part with them.”
That should be believable enough. She’d never imagined her time in Odril’s calculism dungeon, and the revelation of Alsthen’s proxy funding of rebels in Ayugen, would ever be useful information. But this was the true way of the Councilate: profit before all.
Eyadin nodded as if this was to be expected, and relief mixed with an old hatred for the Councilate in Ella’s gut. “Business is business, I suppose,” the man said in his clipped style, “though I fear for your safety, madame. The danger here might easily outweigh the gains.”
She gave a light laugh. “And why do you think they’ve sent me, a woman, into such a place? My betters would not risk a more valuable asset to the House. Still, it is not the first time I’ve ventured into unsavory places seeking profit, and a living must be made.”
Eyadin nodded, a cast of sorrow to his eyes. “Would that our living came from better means.”
“Prophet send it will, though that has never been the way of my House. I believe Aygla hopes to vie for a Council seat, with Coldferth and Galya both hurt so badly on the yura trade.”
Eyadin’s brows rose. “This sort of… opportunity exploration is how Tai comes to join your party, I take it?”
