“Of course, Balor,” the sentry said quickly. “But these others … This is the girl, Master Pendrake’s granddaughter, isn’t it? We have orders, Balor, from Master Brax that if the girl was found, she was to be kept under guard until he comes to get her.”
“Orders from Brax,” Balor muttered, and Rowen feared he was close to erupting in rage. “Well, be that as it may, you’re not keeping her, Haws. I’m the one who tracked her down and no one else is getting the credit for it, understand? I’m taking her to Master Brax myself.”
He glanced at Rowen then, and to her surprise and delight he winked at her. She knew she had to play her part, so she did her best to appear frightened of the wildman.
The sentry seemed about to protest, then he nodded.
“Very well,” he said. “But what about these other two?” He gestured to Will and Shade.
“Haws, surely even you have heard of the Pathfinder, Will Lightfoot.”
The younger sentry stepped forward eagerly.
“I have,” he said. “And Shade, the wolf.”
To Will’s discomfort the sentry stared at him with something like wonder. Then the young man’s gaze fell on Shade, and Will saw his eyes widen with fear.
“If it wasn’t for Shade, we wouldn’t have made it home,” Will said quickly. “He saved us.”
“And Will here has his own important news for the Marshal,” Balor added. “So if you don’t mind …”
Despite the uneasy looks both sentries were giving Shade, they stepped aside at last and let Balor’s party pass through the gatehouse. The wildman led the others up into the crowded main street of the city. As they hurried along, they took advantage of the noise and bustle to move close together and talk.
“They have orders from Master Brax,” Balor growled. “We’ve only been gone a few days and … hrrnh, now I’ve heard everything. Nobody gives orders around here except the Marshal and Captain Thorne, and even Thorne doesn’t sneeze without Lord Caliburn’s say-so. This Brax moves quickly, doesn’t he?”
Rowen could only nod, her thoughts troubled. The mage Ammon Brax had travelled to Fable claiming he wished to see his former teacher Nicholas Pendrake once again, but it soon became clear he was hoping to ferret out the Loremaster’s secrets. After Rowen’s grandfather was captured by the thrawl, Brax had convinced the Marshal that Rowen should be taken to Appleyard for her own safety, and then he had moved into the toyshop, her grandfather’s own house and the home in which she had grown up.
Something close to panic gripped Rowen at the thought. The mage had been alone in the toyshop for well over a day now, ever since she’d fled Appleyard with the dragon to find Will. In that time Brax had surely been busy searching through her grandfather’s things, and her greatest fear was that the mage had already discovered the raincabinet, the secret entrance into the Weaving that had been hidden in the toyshop for many years. What’s more, Brax had clearly been busy strengthening his position and influence in Fable. And that would make what she had to do even more difficult.
“Do you have to take us to Appleyard now,” she said to Balor, “as you told the sentries?”
The wildman regarded her with his usual glowering expression, which both she and Will had learned could as easily turn to laughter as it could anger.
“I don’t understand all this loremasterish stuff,” he said, “but it’s obvious even to me that you need to get back to the toyshop right quick. And now that I’ve met you, Rowen of Blue Hill, I know better than to stand in your way. You do what you have to, lass.”
“Thank you, Balor,” Rowen said, “but won’t you get in trouble for letting us go?”
“I’m thinking I should go with you. It sounds to me like you could use a hand with this mage. I’m sure that Shade and I could persuade him to leave.”
“No, Balor, you must go to Appleyard and warn the Errantry about the fetches,” Rowen said. “That’s more important. And while you’re there, maybe you can find out what happened to Freya. No, if Brax already has the Marshal on his side, we can’t just force him to leave or scare him out of the toyshop. Shade could do that easily, but it wouldn’t keep Brax away for long. If we throw him out, he’ll just be more convinced we’re keeping something from him.”
“Then we have to find some way to get him to leave Fable for good,” Will said.
Rowen frowned and glanced down at Riddle, who padded along close to her. The cat had not left her side since she’d said goodbye to her grandmother in the Weaving. And now a new thought struck her, an idea so foolish and dangerous and perfect that it stopped her in her tracks.
“There is a way,” she breathed, as if speaking to herself. “Yes, it could work. The mage would have to leave if Grandfather came back.”
“What’s that?” Balor said with a frown. In the noise of the street he hadn’t caught Rowen’s murmured words. But Will had.
“You’re right,” Will said. “That would change everything. If the Loremaster returned …”
The wildman scowled.
“But that’s the whole problem—” he began to protest, then he saw that Rowen and Will were both looking at Riddle, and his jaw seemed to become unhinged. On the journey from Blue Hill he had been told a little of Riddle’s history and what he was capable of. “You mean, this … the cat … he could …”
“He can,” Rowen said firmly, though the truth was that where Riddle was concerned, she was never entirely certain of anything. The cat gazed up at her, its inscrutable eyes giving no hint that it understood what she was planning.
“Balor, no one must know about this,” she went on. “If people think Grandfather has come back, they’ll want to see him. They’ll have questions. We have to be careful. We don’t know who Brax already has on his side.”
The wildman plucked at his bushy beard.
“It’s risky,” he said at last. “And I don’t like all this secrecy. It’s not the Errantry way. But very well, Rowen of Blue Hill, not a word out of me.”
The wildman turned to Will then and placed a huge hand on his shoulder.
“I know you’re planning to go with Rowen, lad, while she searches for Master Pendrake. From the sounds of it that’s going to take you someplace bad, and well, I don’t approve. As my apprentice, you’re bound to obey my orders without question.”
Will stared up at the wildman in stunned silence. With all that had happened over the past few days he had nearly forgotten that he had joined the Errantry and become Balor’s knight-apprentice. He had taken an oath before the Marshal to serve and protect the Bourne, but if Balor ordered him to stay in Fable, he would be abandoning Rowen and Shade when they most needed him. There was no way he could do that. He needed to break his oath to the Errantry.
He was opening his mouth to tell Balor as much when the wildman waved him to silence.
“You have to obey my orders, Will Lightfoot,” he said, “and I’m ordering you to stay with Rowen. Help her do what she must and be safe. Get her and yourself and Shade home. I wouldn’t expect anything less of an apprentice of mine.”
Will swallowed hard and nodded. “I’ll try, Balor,” he said.
“This whole business is a few hundred miles over my head,” the wildman went on, his voice even lower and rougher than usual. “But there’s one thing I do understand, and it’s that the three of you need to stay together.”
“Thank you, Balor,” Rowen said, and she darted forward and wrapped her arms around the wildman. He looked startled for a moment, then cleared his throat and patted her carefully on the back.
“You will find your grandfather, my dear—I’m certain of it,” he said huskily, then he turned to Shade.
“I haven’t known you long, wolf, and I’m not about to give you any orders. Just look after them, you hear? That’s all I ask.”
“I will do my best, Balor Gruff,” Shade said.
“Balor,” Will said, finding it hard to speak with the lump that had risen in his throat, “you be careful, too.”
“We’ll see ea
ch other again, my friends,” the wildman said, “mark my words, and when we do, we’ll have a galloping great story to tell by the fire at the Golden Goose.”
In the wildman’s eyes Will thought he caught a glimmer that might have been tears, but Balor quickly turned away and headed up the rising street to Appleyard.
2
A SHORT TIME LATER Rowen, Will and Shade were hurrying along Pluvius Lane, followed by a tall figure, hooded and cloaked and leaning heavily on the Loremaster’s staff. The lane was busy at this time of day, and more than a few heads turned at the sight of the wolf at Will’s side and the silent, cloaked figure behind them. Rowen walked quickly, eyes fixed straight ahead. She was hoping to avoid meeting anyone she knew, with all the delay and awkward questions that would bring.
When they reached the toyshop at the end of the lane, Rowen rapped on the door and stepped back. There was a long silence. Will resisted the urge to look behind him.
Just as Rowen was stepping forward to knock again, they heard the sound of the bolt releasing. The door slowly opened and the mage, Ammon Brax, stood before them. He must have had some means of seeing who was outside the door before he opened it, because his face was already composed into a look of glad surprise, though Rowen saw a flicker of fear in his eyes when they fell on Shade. But he masked his alarm swiftly and opened the door wide.
“Thank the powers you’ve come home, child,” he said to Rowen. “I was beginning to fear the worst.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Rowen said coldly. “And I’ve found Grandfather.”
The hooded figure standing behind them moved forward and lifted his head. The mage’s mouth dropped open. Clearly he was face to face with the last person he had expected to see: Nicholas Pendrake, the Loremaster of Fable.
“Ammon,” Pendrake said. His voice was low and strained.
Brax clutched the door frame in a white-knuckled grip.
“Master Pendrake …” he breathed. “You’re—”
“Grandfather is tired, Master Brax,” Rowen said, nodding toward the doorway. “Please …”
Brax recovered his wits enough to nod quickly and step out of the way. The old man strode through the doorway, followed by Rowen, Will and Shade. Once they were inside, Brax hastily shut the door, while still staring at Pendrake in disbelief. One could almost see the mage’s thoughts working, scrambling for some way to turn this unwelcome surprise to his advantage. Rowen noticed with a pang that the toys on the shelves lining the front hall had been upended or pushed aside. No doubt by Brax in his search for her grandfather’s secrets.
If Edweth were here … she thought. The housekeeper always kept the shop neat and tidy. But Brax had forced her out, too, and now she was locked up in Appleyard. Was she all right? Rowen wondered.
Then she caught sight of the mage’s polished ivory staff leaning near the door, in the place her grandfather always set his, and a spasm of anger shot through her. She wanted to knock the mage’s staff to the floor and scream at him to get out of her house, but she knew she had to play her part and let Riddle play his.
“Tell me what happened, Nicholas,” the mage said. “Where were you captured? How did you escape?”
The old man still had not lifted his hood.
“I escaped,” he said heavily. “That is all the answer I can give you for now, Ammon. There is much to do and time is against us.”
“I never gave up hope that you’d return,” Brax gushed. Rowen saw beads of sweat glistening on his brow. “With all my efforts I could find no trace of where you had been taken. And then your granddaughter disappeared and—”
He darted a suspicious glance at Will.
“This is Will Lightfoot, a good friend,” Pendrake said. “And Shade.”
Brax nodded quickly to them both. His gaze lingered on the wolf.
“Thank you for all you’ve done, Master Brax,” Rowen said. “But Grandfather is very tired and needs to rest.”
“There is much to do,” Pendrake said brusquely, still leaning on his staff. “We have little time.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Brax said. “We’ve been aware of the Night King’s rise for some time at Kyning Rore, but none of us imagined he would trouble himself with remote places like the Bourne. That is strange indeed. But rest assured, Nicholas, I will stay and do what I can to help. After what you’ve been through …”
He paused and studied Pendrake’s hooded face doubtfully.
“Master Nicholas,” he said. “Forgive me, but your eyes …”
“Yes, my eyes,” the Loremaster murmured, lowering his head slightly. “The ordeal I’ve been through has left its mark on me. It will pass.”
“Are you certain everything is all right?” Brax persisted.
“Everything is not all right,” Pendrake said with a trace of anger in his voice. “Dangers surround us and every moment counts. You must …” The old man hesitated and glanced at Rowen. “You must return to Kyning Rore as fast as you can, Ammon. Your fellow mages will have need of your wisdom and guidance in the days to come.”
“That may be so, but I do not feel right about leaving you. What if more of those creatures, those thrawls, return? The two us together have a greater chance of fending them off than either of us alone. Besides, Kyning Rore is far away, and the true threat is here.” He shook his head as if struggling with himself. “No, Master Pendrake, forgive me, but I must disobey your wishes. The council of mages will have to do without me for the present. What kind of a friend would I be if I left you at such a time?”
Pendrake did not answer. He stared blankly at the mage, then glanced again at Rowen. After a pause she stepped quickly forward.
“Grandfather just needs to rest, Master Brax,” she said firmly, and grasped the old man’s arm. “We will be fine now, really. We have Shade with us. He can protect us from anything.”
The mage darted another uneasy glance at the wolf, who stood watching him with a steady, impassive gaze that gave even Will a shiver. Shade truly was a frightening sight, and this was clearly not lost on Brax.
The mage nodded slowly.
“Yes, I see,” he said. “Perhaps you’re right. Very well, I will take my leave if that is your wish. I pray that you will not need me. And I hope, Nicholas, it may ease your mind to know I made sure the toyshop was not disturbed by vandals or curiosity seekers while you were gone. I assumed there must be things here that you would not want falling into the wrong hands.”
“You have my thanks, Ammon,” Pendrake said, placing a hand on the mage’s shoulder. “Though there’s precious little here worth stealing.”
“As you say,” Brax said with a slight bow. “Be well, Nicholas. Rest and mend yourself. I hope we’ll meet again under happier circumstances.”
“As do I, Ammon. Go safely, my friend.”
Brax gathered his cloak, staff and travelling bag from beside the door. With one backward glance at Shade, he opened the door and strode out.
Will shut the door firmly behind him and bolted it. When he turned back to the others, Riddle, the cat, was crouched where the Loremaster had been standing. The staff was back in Rowen’s hand.
“It worked,” Will said, his shoulders sagging with relief. “He’s gone.”
“You did it, Riddle,” Rowen said to the cat. “I almost believed you were Grandfather.”
Riddle licked a paw, as if nothing that had happened held any interest for him. He was a cat again and acting like a cat.
“The mage will come back,” said Shade, and they all turned in surprise to the wolf.
“How do you know that?” Rowen asked him.
“Before the Stewards granted me speech, I was a hunter,” Shade said. “I stalked other animals and learned their ways. Sometimes an animal I hunted would pretend to be injured, then when I neared, it would rear up and strike. The mage is like that now. I could smell it on him. He wants us to believe he has given up, so that we will lower our guard.”
Rowen frowned and looked away. She righted one
of the fallen toys on the shelf beside her.
“Yes,” she said. “He’ll be back.”
“You’re the one he’s really afraid of, Shade,” Will said. “With you here Brax won’t dare set foot in the toyshop.”
He had spoken in the hope that he could still prevent Shade from accompanying them to the Shadow Realm. Rowen’s dark hints about what might happen to their wolf-friend there had not left his thoughts for a moment.
“I will be not be staying here, Will Lightfoot,” Shade said. “I am coming with you.”
“You can’t do that,” Will said quickly. “We need you here. In case the mage—”
“I am coming with you, Will Lightfoot, wherever you go,” the wolf repeated, with a rare trace of anger in his voice. “You should understand that by now.”
“But what about Brax?” Will said. “Rowen, you know I’m right. Tell him. Shade has to stay in the toyshop. He can’t come with us. Tell him.”
Rowen gave them both a look of pain and sadness.
“We can’t force you to stay here, Shade,” she said. “You have to do what you think is right.”
“Rowen …” Will began, and to his shock she turned on him angrily.
“We have no choice,” she said in a choked voice. “None of us.”
“I will stay in the toyshop,” said Riddle.
Will nearly cried out in shock when he looked in the direction of the small tawny cat and found in his place a huge tiger. Rowen had told him that this was Riddle’s original shape, but Will had not yet seen it for himself and he stared in awe. So this was Riddle, this magnificent creature even larger than Shade, whose shaggy coat seemed made of rippling flame and shadows. He was from the Weaving, Rowen had said, and the sight of him now gave Will his first inkling of what that strange place might be like.
“You’ll have to keep pretending to be Grandfather,” Rowen said to the tiger, “no matter who arrives at the door. Just keep Brax and everyone else out as long as you can, no matter what.”
“I will keep them out,” the tiger said. “But, Rowen, the Weaving is my home. Without me guiding you, you may be lost there.”
The Tree of Story Page 3
