by Barb Hendee
—No more . . . playing . . . an old woman— . . . —Pick up the cane . . . and . . . follow me . . . quickly . . . without running—
She obeyed without question, though she was obviously confused and frightened.
“We should go to the greimasg’äh. I promised.”
—No— . . . —To the inn—
“But,” she whispered, still walking, “if anmaglâhk are watching, we will lead them to Léshil and Magiere.”
She was learning and had reasoned the outcome, though this was not what Chap had in mind. He slowed a little to look at her more easily in using memory-words.
—When Brot’an sees . . . us . . . he will know . . . something is wrong . . . and follow closely— . . . —If we are . . . followed . . . he will see. . . . He will . . . keep them from . . . reaching the inn—
Relying on the old, skulking assassin left Chap even more spiteful. Here and now protecting Wayfarer, and Leesil and Magiere’s location, was all that mattered . . . and Brot’an would deal with any pursuit.
• • •
Dänvârfij lay flat on a warehouse roof two buildings south of the fourth pier. Though she had been successful in her secret task the night before, today she faced a new challenge.
Barely past dawn, she had gone to the captain of the Falcon and arranged passage for her team to il’Dha’ab Najuum. She still assumed this was necessary. To her relief, he had agreed, and even appeared glad for extra money in keeping his few passengers. Then he had told her the ship was setting sail today . . . this afternoon.
Dänvârfij was caught in a dilemma, uncertain whether she could convince Fréthfâre to abandon this port so soon. If they missed sailing on the Falcon, there was no certainty of when they could find another ship headed south. She might be forced to disregard Most Aged Father’s instructions and attempt to capture Magiere or Léshil in Soráno to keep them from escaping yet again.
She did not like being pushed into a decision one way or the other, and then her tension was interrupted.
Up the fourth pier, the short, limping female and her large black dog made their way toward the Suman vessel. Dänvârfij’s thoughts cleared and were replaced with a new opportunity as she focused on the tainted quarter-blood girl . . . and the deviant majay-hì.
She waited, though not long. The duo boarded the Suman vessel, but their stay was brief. Within moments they came back down the ramp onto the pier. At first the girl was bent and shuffling in her attempt to feign age, but then she stood straight and picked up the stick. As the dog trotted back up the pier, the girl had to rush to keep up. They were no longer trying to hide themselves in their hurry.
Something had happened.
Still flat on the roof, Dänvârfij scanned every rooftop in sight and the whole waterfront as well. Rhysís was posted somewhere on the waterfront’s north end, but she chose not to whistle a signal to him.
Why was this pair now in such a hurry?
Her thoughts turned to the best strategy as the girl and the majay-hì reached the base of the pier and stepped among the people hurrying along the waterfront. If she could capture the girl, then she and her team could lure the others out of hiding with proper bait for a trap.
Perhaps they would not have to sail farther south after all. Most Aged Father had been clear in his instructions, but he would not wish them to waste a perfect opportunity.
Dänvârfij retreated from the roof’s edge before she rose into a crouch. Before she had a chance to whistle, Rhysís landed lightly on the roof’s south end and hurried to her.
“I saw them,” he whispered.
“The traitor may be watching,” she whispered back. “We must act quickly and precisely. You will take the girl while I distract the majay-hì, and then we vanish.”
• • •
Wayfarer would never argue with a sacred being like Chap, but she had made a promise to Brot’ân’duivé . . . and now she had broken it. The manners and customs of her people had long protected them and kept them safe; to break an oath to an elder weighed upon her.
Chap suddenly stopped ahead of her, and she froze as he looked up the busy main street through Soráno. She tried to follow his gaze but saw nothing that should have stalled him. Their inn was two blocks ahead on the right. They had taken the same route on both trips to the port.
Chap’s head swung sharply to the right, and then he looked up at her.
—Off this . . . main street to . . . a less traveled path . . . should Brot’an . . . need . . . to intervene— . . . —Quickly—
Wayfarer hesitated. Chap might be most concerned about protecting her, but she feared this change might place Léshil and Magiere in danger. She guessed he had discounted that she and he were leading the anmaglâhk. He placed too much faith in Brot’ân’duivé’s ability to both spot and stop any pursuit.
“You should not be more worried about me than about Léshil and Magiere,” she said.
When he glanced up, she could see his surprise.
—I am not— . . . —We do not know . . . if we are followed— . . . —If so, then Brot’an is near— . . . —In our last outing . . . anmaglâhk may have followed . . . may know where we stay— . . . —We are in the dark— . . . —We must warn Magiere and Leesil . . . before we are caught— . . . —Anmaglâhk may know . . . the ship we take—
He seemed to pick words from her memories faster and faster with each passing day. In not knowing whether they were followed or not, all they could do was reach the inn as quickly as possible.
Nodding, Wayfarer followed Chap around a turn down an unfamiliar path, deeper inland into the city.
• • •
In the cutway beside the harbormaster’s office, Brot’ân’duivé was confused and then wary as he watched Wayfarer and Chap leave the Djinn and come down the pier. The girl suddenly abandoned all efforts at disguising herself as Chap set a brisk pace toward the shore.
Brot’ân’duivé looked about the port and glanced up once at the rooftop edges above. He had chosen to stay at ground level to move as needed, but now he was limited in looking for whatever had driven the majay-hì into a rush.
Wayfarer had been raised well by his friend, the old healer Gleannéohkân’thva. She would do as she promised and come straight to this cutway if something was wrong. He waited for her to reach the waterfront walkway and then come to him.
She did not. To his disbelief, Chap turned down the waterfront’s edge.
Brot’ân’duivé peered around the cutway’s corner and watched as the pair turned through the crowd into the first street—not the last—along the harbor. They vanished from his sight into the city.
He turned and ran down the cutway into the broad alley behind the warehouses and then slipped quickly to its end, where it met the next street. But when he peered out, he saw only olive-skinned people in brightly colored clothing.
What had that foolish majay-hì done now?
Brot’ân’duivé spun back into the alley’s shadows and scaled the wall to the nearest roof.
• • •
Chap led the way for a few blocks until he spotted a narrow, less traveled street leading into the city, and there he turned again. He was well aware of the risk in taking Wayfarer out of the more populated areas, but if Brot’an had paid attention, the shadow-gripper would have freedom to act as he saw fit. And Chap as well.
Such actions had to take place away from public eyes or authorities. He paused for only an instant in looking up at Wayfarer.
—Release my straps—
The girl stalled, perhaps knowing what this implied, but then she quickly pulled on the ends of the leather straps at the back of his head. It was a relief not to have his ears and jaws bound, and he shook the straps off to let them fall.
—Hurry—
Chap broke into a trot, with Wayfarer nearly running beside him. Later he n
ever remembered seeing or hearing the briefest flash of movement.
A tall figure dressed in dark blue materialized from nowhere directly beside them. Before Chap could think or move, the figure grabbed Wayfarer, lifted her off the ground, and veered at a run for the closest building.
Chap had barely glanced at the sudden movement when that figure leaped from a porch railing to grab the awning above with a slender tan hand. White-blond hair fluttered from the side of the cloak’s hood. It all happened so quickly that only then did Wayfarer cry out.
Chap’s instant of confused hesitation ended.
He swerved after the figure in blue and leaped upward, catching the cloak’s hem before he dropped and hit the railing.
He, the anmaglâhk, and Wayfarer all crashed down in a tangle on the street’s side. Wayfarer cried out again as her hand latched on his tail, and his panic sharpened.
He had to send her away from this quickly, but there was little time. And their room at the inn was only a few city blocks away.
Chap took only a glance at Wayfarer. —Run to Magiere!—
• • •
Wayfarer felt the shock of pain as her back hit the street. She could not help crying out, but the strong arm that had lifted her off the ground released. In panic she grabbed for Chap and caught hold of only his tail. At that touch, an image of Magiere and Léshil in the inn’s little room rose in her mind and stunned her.
Chap’s head twisted until his eyes were on her.
—Run to Magiere!—
The image and those words tangled in Wayfarer’s head. She did not snatch her hand away from touching Chap, as she had on the waterfront. Her first impulse was to refuse: she could not abandon him. But Magiere and Léshil were alone in their room and did not know what was happening.
Wayfarer let go of Chap’s tail and rolled out of reach as the anmaglâhk tried to grab her. Chap launched into that tall man’s chest with his teeth snapping for the man’s throat.
Wayfarer turned and ran.
• • •
Dänvârfij looked down from a rooftop above Rhysís and was startled at the speed of the majay-hì. It had not occurred to her that the dog would close on Rhysís before he reached the rooftop. Rhysís’s hand barely gripped the awning’s edge, and Dänvârfij could not grab his wrist in time.
The awning crackled as Rhysís’s grip on it broke.
He fell in a tangle with the girl and deviant majay-hì. The girl cried out, grabbing the majay-hì’s tail, and the dog turned instantly to look at her. Dänvârfij was about to drop over the edge when Rhysís made a grab for the girl. The majay-hì lunged into him as the girl ran off down the street.
Dänvârfij hesitated between going after the girl and aiding Rhysís.
From the beginning, all her team had wavered at the thought of injuring a majay-hì. But the dog had no such restraint in going for Rhysís’s throat.
Dänvârfij pulled a stiletto from her left sleeve and prepared to drop to the street . . . when something on the skyline toward the waterfront caught in the side of her view. A shadow floated—ran and leaped—between two rooftops one city block away. It was coming for them, and fear flooded through her. She vaulted out over the roof’s edge before the traitor closed. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she kicked the majay-hì’s side behind its foreleg. It let out a choking yelp as it tumbled away from Rhysís, who had drawn a blade, though his hands were bleeding.
The dog righted itself and made to charge.
Dänvârfij grabbed Rhysís by his cloak’s shoulder and took off down the street.
“Run! The traitor comes.”
She rushed into a cutway to the next street and could hear Rhysís directly behind her. Then she swerved down half the street before veering to another cutway on the street’s far side. The traitor was not her main concern anymore, for from up on the rooftops he could not have seen where they ran. Only the majay-hì could track them and might alert the greimasg’äh to where they fled. At the back of the second cutway, she turned left into the adjoining alley, heading away from the path and whatever destination that the majay-hì and the girl had sought. Near the alley’s end, she dropped to crouch behind a barrel filled with rainwater and cursed herself for a fool.
Most Aged Father had told them they were too few to attempt anything in this city. He had given her clear instructions about how to acquire assistance in il’Dha’ab Najuum. And what had she done? She had allowed her team to manipulate her into rash actions.
No more.
Ignoring Rhysís’s torn hands and wrists, she hissed at him in a whisper, “The traitor will go after the girl and check on his other charges, which gives us time. You get Én’nish and Fréthfâre and all of our gear, including what I brought in last night. Go directly to the Falcon and wait.”
Breathing hard through his nose, Rhysís stared at her for a moment, but he quickly dropped his eyes with one curt nod.
• • •
Brot’ân’duivé heard Chap’s snarls and growls from a block away. Abandoning stealth, he ran openly, leaping from one rooftop to the next. Before he reached the roof’s edge over the next street, a yelp and then the sound of feet running rose from below. One last snarl followed, and then silence as he reached the edge and looked down.
Chap limped down the street’s far side to peer into a cutway. There was no sign or sight of any anmaglâhk . . . or of Wayfarer.
Brot’ân’duivé dropped to the ground and looked all ways as he ran to Chap.
“Where is Wayfarer?” he demanded, growing angrier than he should have allowed himself.
Had the loyalists from his caste taken her?
Exposing teeth and fangs, Chap whirled and snarled at him. Then the dog turned away and loped—struggling—down the street.
Brot’ân’duivé tried to quell his anger as he followed.
• • •
Wayfarer ran to the door of their room at the inn and pounded on it.
“It is me!” she called wildly. “Let me in!”
The door instantly opened, and as she rushed in, she nearly collided with Magiere.
Magiere grabbed her by the arms. “What’s happened?”
“Chap!” Wayfarer cried amid panting. “He is in trouble! Anmaglâhk!”
“Where?” Léshil demanded.
Wayfarer tried to catch her breath. “They came for me . . . and the greimasg’äh could not have been far behind. Chap sent me to warn you that we have been seen. They may even know of the ship we will sail on.”
“What?” Magiere demanded, her mouth dropping open, and she looked to Léshil.
“Where did you leave Chap?” Léshil asked.
“Two streets north,” she managed to get out.
Before anyone could say more, Léshil pushed past for the door with a few last words to Magiere. “Stay with her. I’ll handle this.”
Wayfarer wrenched out of Magiere’s grip and shoved the door closed, jerking it out of Léshil’s hand.
“No!” she said, flattening herself against the door. “Chap would not want this. The anmaglâhk are after you two most of all.”
“Get out of the way,” Léshil ordered as he grabbed her wrist.
“No!” Wayfarer shot back. “This was a trick to get to one or both of you. Chap and Brot’ân’duivé can protect themselves, and I will not let either of you leave.”
Both Magiere and Léshil appeared beyond surprised at her manner, but then Magiere reached for her this time.
Wayfarer felt and heard something scratching at the outside of the room’s door.
Without even asking, she spun and pulled it open.
Chap limped inside. An instant later, the greimasg’äh entered as well and shut the door himself. Wayfarer was taken a bit off guard as Brot’ân’duivé glared at her . . . but a sudden relief flashed across his face, and a sigh
escaped him.
“Where were you?” Magiere snarled, pulling Wayfarer aside and taking a threatening step at the greimasg’äh. “You were supposed to watch them!”
“Only if I could keep them in sight,” Brot’ân’duivé replied and then looked to the majay-hì. “Only if they stayed on the agreed route.”
Wayfarer glanced at Chap and did not follow the rest of the angry conversation, especially whenever Léshil echoed something from Chap, or not, and everyone else was momentarily confused as to who was truly speaking. Though she trusted that the majay-hì had sensed something to make him change their path, she also remembered that one fleeting moment amid her fright.
She had seen something in her thoughts.
Magiere and Léshil had stood in this very room . . . in her mind. Now that she thought about it, she had been looking at them as if she sat low on the floor. It was the same perspective, the same angle of sight, as when she had lurched away from Chap on the waterfront.
Something the greimasg’äh said pulled Wayfarer back to awareness.
“. . . They are too few to try a frontal attack on this inn, if they even know of it,” he was saying. “We will be safe here.”
“Really?” Léshil retorted. “What if they just set the place on fire?”
“They will not. The risk of killing anyone inside is too great, and they want you and Magiere alive.”
After that Wayfarer stopped listening at all and sank onto the bed’s edge. She remembered how easily that one anmaglâhk had lifted her off the ground. She had been unable to do anything about it. And after Chap had pulled her captor down . . .
Her mind slipped back a few years to when she lived on a different continent with her people. She would find herself alone in the forest—and yet not alone. Sometimes she had felt eyes upon her and she had turned.
One of the majay-hì would be watching her from the brush.
