The Narrowing Path: The Complete Trilogy (The Narrowing Path Series Book 4)

by David J Normoyle

  Bowe stopped at her stall and picked up one of the more striking of the pieces. It was roughly spherical, and Bowe had to examine it from a few angles until he could figure out what it was supposed to be. Then the shapes focused into form—it was the world being embraced by a representation of the sun.

  “Is the sun hugging the world in a friendly way?” Bowe asked. “Or is it a representation of the Infernam?”

  “That’s for you to decide,” Iyra spoke in a formal voice. “If you buy it, that is.” Then she leaned forward and whispered under her breath, “What are you doing?”

  “I need to talk to you,” Bowe whispered back.

  “Keep moving. I’ll leave soon—then follow me.”

  “I don’t have any money to buy it,” Bowe said in a normal voice. “I admire the skill behind it, though.”

  Iyra took it back off him and returned it to its place. “I appreciate the admiration, but I prefer currency.”

  Bowe nodded and moved on to examine the next stall. He kept watching Iyra out of the corner of his eye as he moved slowly through the marketplace. After a time, Iyra wrapped her carvings up and put them into a bag. She slung the bag over her shoulder and left the marketplace. Bowe allowed her a reasonable head start before following, hoping she wouldn’t disappear into thin air as Nechil had seemed to.

  Iyra never looked back, but she didn’t break into her normal walking pace either, pausing at every junction before turning the corner. Bowe followed at a distance. She came to a small house on the outskirts of the village, pushed open the door, and went inside. When Bowe reached the house, he looked both ways to make sure no one saw, then followed her inside. It was dark and musty, with only a single room and a lingering smell of wood smoke.

  Iyra was placing her bag of carvings in one corner. “I don’t know why I bother making them,” she said. “Haven’t sold one yet.”

  “Not much currency around this part of the country,” Bowe said, using Iyra’s word. “Especially not these days.” From being Jakelin’s scribe over the last two weeks, Bowe had plenty of insight into how hard people were finding it to make ends meet. And that was before this holdings tax that Lears wanted to introduce. “Whose house is this?” The place wasn’t overflowing with possessions, but there was more here than Iyra could have brought in her pack.

  “I’ve been allowed to stay here. The farmer who owns it is out working in the northern reaches.”

  “Farmer?” Bowe raised his eyebrows. “Is he strong and good-looking, this farmer of yours? Young and virile? Where does he sleep when he’s not out on the reaches?” He stretched his neck to look around the room.

  Iyra ignored Bowe’s comments. “You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. Why did you try to contact me in broad daylight in front of half the village?”

  “There’s no reason that us knowing each other would rouse suspicions.”

  “Nothing obvious, no. That’s no reason for being sloppy,” Iyra said. “What was so urgent that you needed to talk to me?”

  “I’ve been discovered.”

  “Really?” Iyra went to the window and looked out. “By whom?”

  “You’ve heard of the White Spider.”

  “Of course. The Green Path was only three years ago and you weren’t the only famous contestant. He’s here?”

  “A friend of his is. They’re planning to reveal my location to Dulnato and use me as bait so he can get Dulnato alone.”

  “Why do they want to do that?”

  Bowe shrugged. “Dulnato stabbed him in the eye. The White Spider is still looking for his revenge.”

  “I thought grudges on the Path weren’t carried once it was over.”

  “Usually. The White Spider isn’t much for following rules. There were some unusual circumstances. His sister committed suicide when she thought he was dead, and I think there might have been a feud between them before they ever left Grenier Mansion.” Bowe shook his head. “It’s a strange business. I just wish I didn’t always get stuck in the middle between those two.”

  “Well, you should leave this very day. This very moment.” Iyra glanced outside the window. “Before they have a chance to set this trap.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, and wishing I could. But it’s not a good idea.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because then I will be on my own when Dulnato chases me. Nechil—he’s the White Spider’s right-hand man—is an extremely competent fellow. If I left, he’d know; he’d still alert Dulnato to my whereabouts but I wouldn’t be able to rely on his or the White Spider’s help. If I go along with their plan, at least they’ll be on my side, and if things go well, Dulnato will be dead and I’ll still be alive.” Also, Bowe wanted to spend more time in Jakelin’s house if at all possible. Bowe had been going into the little storeroom each night for the last week, spending various hours reading letters and documents. Most of it was terribly boring, but Bowe was learning more and more about how things worked in this part of Arcandis. He was now convinced that if he wanted to become a Bellanger Guardian once more, the key was to be found in Jakelin’s little storeroom.

  “Take me with you when you go.”

  Bowe’s mouth fell open. He had wanted to see Iyra to talk everything through. He hadn’t imagined that she’d want to come with him. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “There’s nothing for me here—no one’s buying my carvings. You won’t be able to return to Belldeem after this, whatever happens between the White Spider and Dulnato. Then what will you do? I know a few people in other villages, and I know how to navigate between them. On your own, you’ll be lost.”

  That was almost certainly true, but Bowe didn’t feel like admitting it. “I’ll manage.”

  Iyra gripped Bowe’s forearm. “No, you won’t. Bring me.”

  A great many reasons that that was a bad idea jumped into Bowe’s mind and he opened his mouth to explain them all, but instead all that came out was “Okay.”

  Iyra smiled. “Good.”

  She gripped his forearm tighter and Bowe suddenly became aware of how close she was to him. “I should be getting...Jakelin is expecting...”

  Iyra released him and stepped back. “Yes, of course. You’ll find me here when you’re going. Don’t even think about leaving me behind. You swore you wouldn’t make me regret trusting you.”

  “I haven’t forgotten my oaths.” Bowe opened the door and, checking to make sure there was no one around, he exited.

  Bowe cut through a few alleyways to get back onto the main streets. He thought back on what he’d sworn. Not to betray Tee—that one was easy; Bowe didn’t even know who he was. To be a friend and ally to the forest bandits—that depended on first becoming a Guardian again. If he did, though, it wouldn’t be difficult to fulfill his duties and help the bandits. He knew from Jakelin how much the theft and ransoms cost those affected. He’d had an idea for solving that dilemma, though.

  Bowe had also promised not to betray what he knew about the upcoming invasion—a small part of him wanted to figure out a clever way to use the information, and a larger part of him wanted to warn Jakelin so he could make sure the village was prepared. One interesting thing he had found out was that the Greniers had stopped manning the watchtowers, instead using their men to oversee the villages and the surrounding farms. That wouldn’t make the defense of Arcandis any easier. But Bowe owed it to Iyra to remain silent. He’d also sworn that he wouldn’t let Iyra down and make her regret helping him again. He had no reason to break that but somehow he knew that was going to be the hardest of all to keep.

  It would be fairer to Iyra to leave her behind. He didn’t want to get himself in the middle of the feud between the White Spider and Dulnato, but he hadn’t much choice. There was no reason to drag Iyra into danger, too. But he didn’t want to leave her behind. It was only now that he’d met her again that he realized how much he’d missed her company over the past week. He’d gotten used to having her around, and only by burying his head
in Jakelin’s storeroom and the old documents had he gotten used to being without her. And she had spent a week of hopelessly trying to sell carvings in Belldeem instead of returning to Arcandis. If Bowe survived the White Spider versus Dulnato confrontation, he had no idea what to do after; Bowe needed Iyra, and she knew it.

  Bowe was so lost in his thoughts he almost ran into some children playing on the street. He skipped around them just in time and continued on his way. Even though the specter of Dulnato loomed larger than ever, Bowe couldn’t help whistling to himself as he walked down the street that led back to Jakelin’s.

  Chapter 11

  Day 23

  “Come over here and help me—don’t be sitting there like a useless lump,” Jakelin said.

  Bowe was used to the old man’s ways by now and didn’t take offense. He went to the corner of the room where Jakelin was making himself tea. “What do you need?”

  “There’s a box over there in the corner with several vials in it. I want you to find the one with a brown grass-like substance and the one with a dark red powder.”

  Bowe opened the indicated box. There were many vials inside the box with various herbs and powders. Bowe wondered what they could all be for as he fingered through them until he found the ones that Jakelin had asked for. They didn’t look like ordinary herbs. “I have them.”

  “Put a pinch of the red powder and two grass stems in the tea here.”

  Bowe began to do as he was bid.

  “Not too much now, whatever you do.”

  Jakelin’s interruption almost caused Bowe to jerk too much powder into the tea, but he managed the task correctly in spite of the man’s overzealous instructions.

  When he was finished, Jakelin stirred the tea and drank it down in two long gulps. “Now I’m ready. Hold out your arm. I’ll need you to guide me on a visit. It’s been too long.”

  Bowe held out his arm and guided Jakelin outside and through the village. As he did so, he noticed the expression on the old man’s face become more serene. Jakelin smiled as if he was happy for the first time since Bowe had met him.

  “What was in those vials?” Bowe asked. “Strong stuff, it seems.”

  “I probably shouldn’t take so much,” Jakelin said. “It should be okay if I only take it rarely, though. The feeling of the sun’s warmth on one’s face is a beautiful one, isn’t it?”

  It was actually a cloudy day, and Jakelin had been out in much warmer days recently and scowled at the sun like it was the cause of all his woes. Whatever he’d taken had been more than strong—it had changed Jakelin into a whole new person.

  They reached a house with a tidy garden outside, and Jakelin pulled Bowe to a stop. “They’ll offer you food and drink in there, but do not accept anything except tea or water.”

  He indicated for Bowe to continue, and Bowe opened the little gate and led Jakelin up the path. When they reached the doorstep, Bowe knocked and the door was answered by a middle-aged woman whose black hair was streaked with gray.

  “I hope I’m not disturbing you, Kara,” Jakelin said.

  She beamed. “Marshal Jakelin, you do us a great honor. Come in, you’re most welcome. And your helper, too.” She nodded to Bowe.

  The house was spotlessly clean. Bowe and Jakelin followed her into the kitchen where a man sat at the table. He rose when they entered and slapped Jakelin on the shoulder. “Why, you old rogue, how have you been keeping? Still living it large, I hope.”

  “No, Middleton, that was never my style.”

  “Nonsense.” Middleton turned to Bowe. “He forgets I knew him when he was a bit younger. He was a terror, I can tell you. And even today—there was this dancing act in the tavern the other night, and I could have sworn it was Jakelin in the lead role. Disguised, of course. Isn’t that right, my old man? And wasn’t it you who sneaked upstairs afterward with the prettiest girl in the room?”

  “If I had your imagination, Middleton, I wouldn’t regret the loss of my sight at all,” Jakelin said. “The life I’d see in my own head would keep me occupied well enough.”

  “Our bodies are tied to this world of toil,” Middleton said. “But our minds, they can soar if we let them. Why keep them chained down?”

  Kara bustled over. “Don’t you mind his prattling. He’s like the rooster who crows every morning. He doesn’t know what he’s crowing about, but can’t help himself.”

  Middleton directed an insulted look at his wife. “I thought you liked my crowing?”

  She patted his hand. “In small doses, dear.” They smiled at one another in a way that left no doubt that they were still madly in love with each other. “Now sit down.” Kara gestured at a place on the table.

  “It is my pleasure.” Jakelin allowed himself to be guided to the nearest chair.

  When Bowe, Jakelin, and their two hosts were all seated, Kara jumped up again. “What am I thinking? I’ll get you something to eat.”

  “No, honestly, Kara. Bowe and I have just eaten,” Jakelin said.

  “Nonsense. I have this gorgeous cheese you’re going to love. And we still have some smoked ham left.”

  “And how are you, Middleton?” Jakelin asked. “Lovely day out, isn’t it?”

  Middleton glanced at the window outside, where the clouds were darkening. “Not at all.” He winked. “But I’d think it was a lovely day too if I had that pretty girl to go back to. The one from the tavern—you have her back at the house, don’t you, you old dog?”

  Kara bustled about setting the table. Several cheeses of different colors and smells, smoked ham, and thick slices of bread were set before Jakelin and Bowe. Bowe was hungry and felt his mouth watering, but despite Kara and Middleton’s generosity, Bowe could see from their hollowed-out cheeks and waxy skin that this was the most food they had seen in front of them in a while.

  Bowe put a selection of the food into a side plate for Jakelin, and nudged the old man’s hand against the plate.

  “That smells wonderful,” Jakelin said. “Now tell me how things really are for you two.”

  “Nothing we can’t handle,” Middleton said. “We’ve been in tough situations before, and will be again, I’m sure.” He reflexively licked his lips as he stared at the cheese.

  Kara sat down on the chair beside Middleton, reached across, and gripped his hand. “He can’t help us if he doesn’t know how bad it is.”

  “I’m not sure I can help in either case.” Jakelin’s mood changed as he spoke. Whatever effect those herbs had, they had just worn off.

  “The barn burning down hit us hard. We can’t pay the taxes this year,” Kara said. “Not and feed the children. There was talk of pooling excess money from the farmers who aren’t as bad off to help those who have suffered the worst. That was before the mention of the new holdings tax. Now those with extra have to wait and see what happens with that.”

  “Hush, Kara,” Middleton said. “Marshal Jakelin came for a nice meal and pleasant conversation. He doesn’t want to hear about our troubles.”

  Kara tightened her grip on Middleton’s hand and continued. “We don’t care for ourselves. We’re getting on now. But neither of our daughters will be adults when the next Infernam comes. We have to make it for their sake.”

  Jakelin stretched out his hand across the table and covered Kara and Middleton’s linked fingers. “I’ll do what I can. I’m sure Lears and the Greniers will see the madness in this new tax before introducing it. They have to.”

  Bowe turned his gaze away; he couldn’t look. Jakelin and Kara and Middleton shared a moment of pain and compassion that made Bowe feel more like an outsider in Belldeem than anything else had done.

  Though Middleton tried to lighten the mood afterward, not even he could manage it, and Bowe and Jakelin left soon after. Neither of them had touched the food, and Kara and Middleton pretended not to notice.

  Outside, Jakelin didn’t rediscover his drug-induced glow; he remained melancholic. Bowe led him back the way they had come.

  “You heard how
they mentioned the barn burning down?” Jakelin said. “They didn’t say how it burned down, did they? That Guild has a lot to answer for. Can you believe I once thought that the organization was a good thing?”

  “They are supposed to help the escay. There must be a reason for what they do.”

  Jakelin shot Bowe a glare. “What do you know about it?”

  “Nothing. That’s just what I’ve heard.”

  “Words teem with lies,” Jakelin said. “Only actions can tell the truth. An ascor told me that once. The Guild hadn’t done much until recently—all talk and whispers—but now that they have acted, their truth is revealed for all to see.”

  Bowe didn’t answer. He had been trying to figure out why the Guild was doing what it was and hadn’t come up with anything. Bowe couldn’t imagine that Coensaw would approve—would Coensaw risk the Guild’s reputation as an organization that helped escay? Perhaps the other Guild leader was behind it, the one whom Iyra knew and who had arranged for Bowe’s position as a scribe. The one who Bowe suspected was involved in the Jarindor invasion behind Coensaw’s back.

  After a small silence, Bowe decided to risk another question because Jakelin was in a talkative mood. “What was that stuff you took in the tea?”

  “It takes away my pain for a while,” Jakelin said. “Lately I only use it before my visits—I don’t want to inflict my own troubles on those who have enough on their plates. But it’d be nice to get rid of the physical pain and not have it replaced by another type of pain. A worse type.” His words had a heavy sound to them, and his step had a heavy weight as he said them.

  “Do you visit many of the escay families?” Bowe asked. He wondered what was wrong with Jakelin to cause constant pain, but didn’t want to ask about it.

  “I try to visit once every two weeks, but it’s been less often lately. It used to be a twice-weekly tradition of mine, come rain, snow, or the fires of damnation. It wasn’t long ago that I knew everyone in Belldeem—knew them well, too—knew the names of their children and what they liked to do with their free time. Now? Middleton and Kara are two of my favorite people in the world and I haven’t sat at their table in over a year.” He shook his head.