by Aimee Gross
He was hiding in the cellar, as I had suspected on the mountain when Annora dispatched her message. It looked as if he lived there instead of in his rooms behind the chapel proper, for bowls and spoons and a kettle on a small grate showed he cooked within the gloomy room, and a long bench along one wall had a wad of blankets at one end. I was lucky he had heard me knock.
“I don’t have much to offer,” he looked about as if food might volunteer itself, “perhaps thome broth?”
I shook my head. I hated to take any of the little he appeared to have. Instead, I held out what remained of my cheese and bread from Guthy’s, as Honni had been generous. He looked longingly at it, but did not reach out to take it, so I set it on the bench. “I wanted to ask, holy brother, if …” Better to waste no time, I decided. “If you received a message we sent from our hiding place on the mountains by the northwest pass?”
His jaw worked for a moment, without sounding out a word. He sank onto his bench, and put his face in his hands. “The gods did not thend the hawk to me?” he said after a long moment. He left his hands over his eyes.
“I cannot say how it was guided to you, that may have been divine, at least in part. But the message was written by my brother’s bride, sent the morning after I saw that the troops had come through the pass. The enemy may have been well on their way to the coast before we knew. Were you able to get word to our troops here?”
I saw tears leaking between his fingers. “I did try. I went into the threets and found thome of our men working to build the barricade. I told them the Keltanes were coming from the near pass, that the gods themselves had thent word. They thought me a panicky fool, I could thee. I don’t think there were more men who could have been brought in, anyway. We were thin, thin. We were overrun in mere hours.” He lifted a tear streaked face to me. I had given him short shrift, and regretted my earlier certainty that he would do nothing out of timidity.
“It is true our men were too few, most of our troops had been lured out into the western territory. The Keltanese used mages from Scythera to achieve their victory here. I believe the sorcerers delayed the winter to keep the nearer pass open. At least I wanted to know our message reached you. You did everything you could. I thank you for trying. We only hoped our warning might have made a difference, but it came too late.”
He nodded slowly. “Your father, he theemed to know thomething was upon us.”
“He and my brother went with the troops that marched west that day. My brother has returned, but my father is under siege at the border fort, Hasseron. Our fight continues there, to keep the Keltanese from controlling the western pass unopposed.”
The apostate brushed away the wet on his cheeks, and pushed his hands on his knees to stand. “What’s next for us, I can only wonder.”
“I came to make sure our delivery method worked, holy brother. We need a way to send information between Bale Harbour and our farm, and our troops to the west, at the fort. Could you help us?”
“Me help?” his voice went faint. “What would I do to help in a war?”
“I don’t expect any of us to fight them. What our country needs is a courier network to ensure that our soldiers have the critical information at the moment it’s needed. My brother came back to try to set up such a network, but we haven’t been able to contact our troops. I found them imprisoned in a warehouse on the waterfront, but can’t get word to them.”
“What can they do from prithon?”
“We must work out a plan to free them. I don’t even know how many there are, or how many are wounded. That’s the kind of information I need to get and pass on.”
“I—I—” he swallowed with a loud gulp. “I could athk to vithit the prithoners. To offer thpiritual comfort.”
Yes, if the Keltanese can understand your lisp and if they care about their prisoners’ spiritual distress. I had nothing better to suggest, however. And he was showing a brave heart.
“Please try. I’ll send the hawk again, and if you can set it free with your message tied to its leg, I’ll have it return to us … er, well, I have to learn how to do that, first. Annora sent the hawk to you by feeding it some holly leaves from beside the chapel door and saying a spell. May I take some more of the leaves? And I have some of the foliage from home for you to keep.”
“I have no facility for thpellcathting,” he confessed, extending his hand for the packet of leaves I took from my jerkin.
“I’m only just learning. I’ll make sure you are taught what’s needed, one way or another. It’s only twelve miles from our farm to here. I can come back at need. Brother, do you know Guthy’s place near the water?”
“Where the old thailors go? I think I do.”
“I’ve been thinking a hawk in the town at Guthy’s might be noted. Up here at the chapel, it would not be so unusual, perhaps be thought a divine messenger, no?”
“I doubt it would be even theen, little do folk come up my hill nowadays.”
“The old sailors are being asked to send us information, too. Could you walk to Guthy’s, maybe every few days, and bring what they provide back here to send along to us? I think it would spread the risk better than having a hawk arrive at Guthy’s door so often. Are folk accustomed to you walking about the town?”
“Yeth, I go here and there. I will do what I can. The gods mutht be on our side, against invaders tho cruel.”
He clasped my shoulder, and I took my leave. Wieser and I paused at the door to collect some of the holly leaves. I took some extra so Annora could save some for a wedding remembrance. I knew she would like that.
The pair of crows left their tree to fly along above me, just as Gargle had done. “I cannot afford to draw attention,” I told them quietly. “You must stay higher, or lag further behind. I have to figure out how I call all these creatures!” They flew higher, circling like the gulls which screeched and swooped overhead. No passers-by on the street gave them a glance. Wieser paced beside me, back downhill to Guthy’s for my next task: meeting the smugglers with Orlo.
CHAPTER 27
I thought during my walk about the coming night, and the soldiers turning up again to demand food and drink from Guthy. She would be unwise to refuse them, even if she wanted to try it. And if she could not afford a nightly raid, then what? I stewed about it as I strode along, and tried to think of a way Guthy could both give them what they wanted and make the soldiers not want to take from her any more. Wieser crossed in front of me, nearly tripping me up, and I saw as I stumbled that my pair of crows were perched calmly on the sign which hung just where I had been halted. The sign’s letters declared “Emoryn’s Herbarium.”
“What do I want here?” I mused to the trio of animals. But I pushed open the door and went in. Wieser came by my side, the crows remained on the gently swinging signboard. Inside I found ranks of jars with corked tops and labels inked in spidery script. Bunches of drying herbs hung from the rafters.
“Hullo,” came a pleasant voice from beyond a drab curtain hanging behind the counter. “I’ll be right out.”
A woman about the age of the smith’s wife back home pushed aside the curtain and stepped out smiling. She had dark auburn hair and pale blue eyes that looked first at Wieser and then at me.
“What are you looking for today?” She placed her hands flat on the counter and waited, seeming in no hurry.
I really did not know. My lessons in herb-lore from Annora had not gotten far. Perhaps my crows knew best … what had I been thinking just before they stopped here? How to make the soldiers not want Guthy’s food. “Is there something that can make men not want particular food?”
She wrinkled her brow for a moment. “Not want to eat a certain food at all, or not want to eat it again?”
“Not want it again, but not harm them so they wanted to have revenge on the person who gave it to them. If it made them ill, perhaps, but not deathly so.”
She nodded and moved to the row of jars on the highest shelf behind the counter. She plucked two clay j
ars from the shelf and mixed their contents on a square of paper, stirring the powders with a broom straw. “How many men?” she asked as she considered her pile.
“Perhaps a dozen,” I hazarded.
She looked up at her rafters, and pulled several stems from a straggly, dusty bunch over the window. She stripped off the leaves and crushed them between her palms, then let the scrumbled bits fall onto the powders and stirred them in.
“Mix this in the food you wish to put them off, shortly before it is to be eaten. In other words, do not include it for the entire time the food is cooked. No strange taste will be noted, but within an hour, they will have cramps and puking. No real damage, just like eating food that’s turned. But they will also not be able to think of eating the same thing again without bringing back the sick feeling. Will that do?”
“I think it sounds exactly suited for my needs. What does such a thing cost?”
“For you, three coppers. Between one with the gift and another, special prices are struck.”
I must have looked flummoxed, as I did not think of myself as either gifted, or looking so. I opened my mouth but could think of no words, and drew a throaty chuckle from her as I stood gaping. I turned hot in the face and fumbled for the coppers. She accepted them, still smiling, and tucked them in her pocket. She folded the paper carefully to contain the powder and handed it to me.
“Did you think your dog would seem just an ordinary one? Or that I could not feel the power in you?”
“I don’t know what to say to that. If I have power, I wish I knew how to use it. There is much I would do about present circumstances.”
“You are doing much, already. And will do more, I’m thinking. Please do come back if you can use anything else I have here,” she said, and returned to her curtain. “Good luck with the soldiers.” She slipped back into the room beyond.
“I never said anything about soldiers,” I told Wieser, and left her shop with the skin on the back of my neck crawling. To the waiting crows, I said, “Come on then.” I thought about the encounter as I walked the rest of the way back to Guthy’s, and concluded that soldiers would be obvious candidates for sickening, in an occupied town. Take your allies where you find them, I could imagine Da saying.
The crows already perched on Guthy’s gable when Wieser and I pushed through her door. Happily, I had not the least bit of trouble getting Guthy and Honni to agree to set aside food for the night watch, and to dose it as the herbalist had directed. If we waited until the patrol came calling, the concoction would not be wasted from mixing it in too soon. I put Honni in charge of my packet, and went upstairs to wash for supper.
I found Virda had lain down for a nap while I had gone to the chapel, and was only just waking. “You are wise to rest,” I said. “Annora says you are not fully recovered yet. I was cautioned not to wear you out.”
“Tiffle-toffle. I’m as good as I ever was.” She followed me to the window, where I poured water from the cracked pitcher into a shallow bowl for washing. The two crows stood on the ledge and regarded us through the wavy diamond-shaped panes in the little window.
“You’ve collected more advisers?” Virda asked.
“At the chapel. I wonder if they’ll follow me home tomorrow? Gargle doesn’t seem the hospitable sort to me. These two did get me to a good idea for dealing with the night watch, though.” I told her about my side-trip to Emoryn’s, and her offer to help further at need.
Virda chuckled. “Annora could not have thought up a better plan, with all her knowledge.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said, toweling my face and neck. “But at least I may be able to leave without worrying every night about the soldiers coming back here demanding all Guthy has. Now, I need to talk to you about something else.”
“I’ve not seen the old fellows yet, to ask about messages,” Virda said.
“No, I expect them back nearer supper time. While you talk to them after we eat, I will be going with a friend of Honni’s. He has people I need to meet, so I can tell Wils all our options.” The dismay on her face shone clear to see. “I’ll be careful, and only gone as long as I must be.”
“But if you’re out after curfew—”
“Orlo says there are ways to work around the curfew patrols. He does it all the time.”
“And if he’s just bragging to a country boy? What then? I should hate to go back to Wils and … Oh, it doesn’t bear thinking about!” She twisted her skirts in her hands.
“Virda, you must believe by now that I can see to my safety. With Wieser, and now these other two helpers,” I gestured to the watching crows, “I’ll be able to use my gift to find out what we must know to reach our goal.” I hated to play the card of “use my gift,” since I had no clear idea how I was using it now. But neither could I have Virda interfere with what I came to do.
“Oh, I am grown too old for all this intrigue. What will your da say when he comes back? I wonder now why I felt this was wise, coming here with you.”
“You came here because you are brave and want the Keltanese back where they belong. Remember, I just went to the chapel and back with no trouble,” I said, with much the same placating reasonableness I would use with Morie.
“But that was daytime!” she answered back.
It took me until supper to calm her and get her focused on her task for the evening. The old salts came back from the waterfront and took their places around the table. The stew was rich and tasted wonderful, but I ate quickly so I could meet Orlo as arranged. I claimed I felt tired out, and took my bowl to the kitchen. There, I told Honni I was meeting Orlo, and slipped through the back before she could raise much objection. She must have thought we planned to talk back by the chicken coop again. I had not brought my cloak, so as not to look as if I prepared for an excursion. Wieser left her bowl of scraps and came along by my side.
“Here,” came Orlo’s voice from the shadows by the neighboring building.
I walked to where he waited, leaning on the wall and chewing on a bit of straw. He wore dark clothes, darker than mine. A haar fog rose thick from the harbour, though, so I hoped I wouldn’t stand out in my lighter-colored tunic and trousers.
“Your dog will have to stay unless you can guarantee it will keep silent.”
I spotted my two crows on the roof of the back porch, and gestured to them to stay, but about Wieser I said, “She only makes noise if I need warned of trouble. And even then she is quiet about it. She won’t call attention to us.”
“Will she go below ground without hesitation?” he said, squatting to pat her head. Wieser wagged her tail like a simple, friendly dog.
“That won’t be a problem,” I assured him. He stood and waved a hand to tell me to follow him as he turned into the alleyway.
Though we kept to the shadows as we walked down toward the wharves, no night patrollers were in the back streets, and rare townfolk. Between the fog and the coming darkness, I was glad to trail after Orlo. I was not sure I could find the way again, since I could see so little. Wieser would be able to follow her nose, and return us to Guthy’s if need be, I consoled myself.
Orlo led us in silence to a crusty stone wall along the bottom of a steep slope, then put out a hand to stop me. Still saying nothing, he ducked into the bushes at the near end of the head-high stones, and I could hear him pushing at the branches. In a moment, he stuck his hand out and pulled me into the brush with him. I found we were standing on a shallow step cut into the stone behind the wall, with a course of descending steps just visible in the fog and gloom. Wieser stood beside me, and we went down behind Orlo, feeling our way a bit as it became darker at the bottom. He stretched out his arm to move thick vines aside, and shouldered through a narrow arched opening. When we came after, he crouched by a lantern, striking a flint to light it. The flame began to glow, and the shadows fled down the passage deeper into the hill. Four more lanterns waited at the passage wall by our feet.
“This will be enough light,” he whispered. “Y
ou take one unlit, in case we need it farther in.” I swung the closest lantern up by its handle, and crunched after Orlo on the sandy tunnel floor.
I was thankful for Wieser pacing at my side, because after a dozen twists and turns of the passageway, I could no longer keep track of which way we had come. Tunnels opened off our path every twenty or thirty paces, and forks where a choice had to be made came several times as we rounded curves. The tunnel was tall as a man, and ran narrower and wider by turns. Orlo showed no hesitation in his route, he must have been down below many times. I admired his certainty. Of course, I could have led him all over our mountain with equal confidence, and no danger of losing the way. That was my place—this was Orlo’s.
I couldn’t say exactly how far we walked, when the way opened wide, and we stepped down into a cavern as big as Guthy’s keeping room. More lanterns within showed a dozen young men and women, and half that many boys hard at work shifting crates and barrels, with one swarthy, heavily bearded man seated on a wide-bottomed keg, smoking a curved pipe.
He took the pipe from his mouth and rose on catching sight of us. “Well, scald me,” he said with a smirk, “look what’s come to town.”
CHAPTER 28
Orlo spoke next, while I was still considering how to respond to the man’s sneer. I met his gaze as Orlo said my name and where I hailed from. The man looked like one of the Traveller folk, who lived in caravans and roamed all about the provinces doing small jobs. And thieving, if the village gossip was true. Not a bad way for smuggled goods to be handled, maybe? Wieser sat at my side, and sniffed the air with interest, but did not give any wary looks to the man before us.
“What did you bring us your hayseed boy for?” the man asked Orlo.
“He and his brother want to get supplies for their village. And aggravate the Keltanese, but not too much,” Orlo said.
“We actually want to send the Keltanese back where they came from, but that’s not our first step,” I said.
