“It’s not a dream Theus. This is serious,” Amelia began to cry.
It was all real, he realized. He sat up, and held Amelia in his arms.
“You know I’m not a spy, don’t you?” he asked the girl. “I wouldn’t betray you. I hope that someday I can come back and help you win your home back,” he felt compelled to demonstrate his honesty with the pledge of support.
“I know Theus. I saw everything you did and how it worked. I know you’re my friend. That’s why I came here to warn you. You need to escape tonight,” she said.
Theus set her gently aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “You need to go back to your room, so no one knows you’re here. I’ll get out of here in just a little while,” he told her. He reached over and hugged her tightly. “You’re a good girl Amelia. You were a good trooper on our trip to get here. You’re growing up quickly.”
“I don’t have a choice,” she said softly. “I lost mother and father and our home, then I lost Amory and Redford, and now I’m losing you.”
“Stay strong; you know I’ll come back someday if I can,” he promised again.
Amelia slid down off the bed. “Be careful Theus. Be safe. I know you’ll find a way to do something great, something that your girlfriend Coriae will be proud of,” she told him, then she slipped away, and left his room.
Theus sat along in the darkness, trying to make sense of the incomprehensible accusation against him. Baitmin had to be crazy to believe Theus was a spy. But the ambassador had to have been shocked to learn that his homeland had been invaded, his own sister – the queen – killed, and his nation under the thumb of others. Perhaps spies seemed possible in such circumstances.
The boy pulled on his new clothes, and his sword, then he went to the window and opened it. He slipped outside, then crossed the embassy grounds and slipped over the fence. When he reached the street he started jogging through the darkness, blindly seeking to put distance between himself and the embassy while the wheels in his mind began to turn.
It was time to go back to Great Forks, he decided. He had learned enough geography during his tour of the city to believe that there were two ways he could try to reach his destination. He could take passage on a ship, and sail back to Great Forks, or he could walk across the land, through a vast, mostly empty prairie land that stretched east from Exlive all the way to where the king’s capital city of Stoke stood astride the Westland River that flowed to Great Forks.
He’d had an easy time traveling across land with Amelia. He’d tried to sail aboard a ship when he’s left Great Forks, and ended up captured by pirates and sold into slavery. The choice seemed easy – he’d walk to Stoke, then sail down the river to Great Forks.
Chapter 19
By the middle of the next day, Theus was several miles outside the walls of Exlive, walking east along a country road that crossed a landscape of pastures, woodlots, and farms. It was a peaceful idyllic land.
“Voice,” Theus called out as he walked alone. He was frustrated with the on-again, off-again nature of the voice in his life. He’d come to rely on it as a mysterious but useful aid, until it had disappeared totally and completely. It had returned briefly, but then disappeared again, and he’d not heard from it since.
“I almost said something to you this morning, but then didn’t need to,” the voice unexpectedly replied, and even chatted at an unexpected length.
“What did you plan to say?” Theus asked, so surprised by the comment that he responded to it, instead of expressing his displeasure at the voice’s inconstancy.
“I feared that you might try to take a ship to Great Forks instead of walking to Stoke; I would have spoken up if you had gone in that direction. But since you didn’t, I didn’t,” the voice told him.
“Why Stoke? Why is it important?” Theus asked.
“You’ll find out – time will tell,” the voice displayed its usual lack of detail.
“Why did you abandon me in Southsand, and when I was sailing and swimming? I could have used help,” Theus complained.
“The power of evil in Southsand was so tremendous that I could penetrate it only with great difficulty. But I did so when absolutely necessary, as with the magician,” the voice answered. “And I needed help to do even that.
“And I have no way to sense you or help you on the water. You are lost to me when you sail, which is another reason I prefer you go to Stoke,” the voice told him. “The water is a barrier I cannot pass through.”
“Well,” Theus grumbled, surprised by the information the voice provided, “I guess that’s the way it is. But I still needed help.”
“And you will continue to for some time,” the voice agreed in a manner that left Theus unsure whether he was being affirmed or insulted.
The landscape he crossed on his way to Stoke was much different from the seaside terrain he had traveled with Amelia. The soil was rich, rather than sandy. Plants grew in profusion, principally grasses, but also a variety of other plants, especially in the stretches of forest he walked across. There were human inhabitants along the way as well. He passed farms at first, but after two days of walking, he found that principally ranches occupied the land, raising both cattle and horses.
He lived off the land just as easily as he had during his trip with Amelia, finding edible plants at every opportunity. He struck up occasional conversations with ranch hands who happened to be near the dusty road when he went strolling by. The sight of single travelers passing by was not a common one in a wide-open prairie that offered firm allegiance to no country in particular.
And so, after ten days, his country road curved slightly to the south and wound through a set of gentle foothills at the end of a mountain chain, and he entered into the lands that formally answered to Stoke.
Theus began to pass farms rather than ranches once again as his journey took him into the firmly-held territory of Stoke; he thought of his family back in the Jewel Hills as he watched the farm families working industriously in their fields. After passing through a sizeable village at sunset, he slept in the wild one last night, sheltered in the branches of a large tree. The weather had changed as he’d travelled inland from the shoreline; it was cool, though not chilly. And the following morning he set out, moving amongst the farm carts and livestock that headed into the city to feed the population.
He entered the city gates shortly before noon. The city was a prosperous one it appeared. The merchants’ shops had well-kept facades, and the people dressed well. He wondered idly if the appearances were really any different from Great Forks, or if he had just grown use to the neglected state of affairs in Southsand, where he and the other slaves had worn used clothing and worked in neglected facilities at times.
Theus had no sure idea of what to do once he reached the city. He wanted to start his journey towards Great Forks immediately. That necessitated finding the docks along the riverfront, so that he could hire himself out to a freighter captain that needed a hand.
But the Voice had seemed to want him to come to Stoke, implying some purpose to his visit to the city. He couldn’t afford to stay long in the city. He had no money at all, and less access to the edible foods that had sustained him in the countryside.
Theus decided to find where the river front was, to be aware of his goal at the very least. He left the vicinity of the gate and began to walk through the city streets, until he came to a crowded intersection where the local police were blocking the flow of traffic across a large boulevard. Theus slowly worked his way forward through the impatient crowd, until he was near the front. He could see the line of law enforcement officers who stood at regular intervals, holding a heavy rope stretched across the width of the street Theus stood upon.
“Why is the traffic blocked?” he asked a man who looked like a farmer, standing with a hand cart that contained late season vegetables.
“The parade of justice will be passing soon,” the farmer answered.
“What kind of parade is that?” Theu
s asked.
“Are you from out of town?” the farmer asked in return.
“I just got here today. I’ve never been in Stoke before,” Theus answered.
“It’s a criminal in a high crime case, going before the court of royal justice,” the farmer said. “I’ve only seen one other in my life. They parade the prisoner in an open cage from his prison to the court each day for everyone to see.
“The royals usually expect people to throw rocks and vegetables at the criminal, but so far they haven’t been doing much of that,” the farmer explained.
“Oh, here he comes now,” the man added, pointing down the street to the left.
Theus could see a wagon being pulled by a team of ten or more horses being led by an escort of several officers on foot and several on horseback. The watching crowds grew louder as the wagon approached, and the police blocking the street pulled their rope a little tighter and held it a little higher to more firmly block the crowds from surging out into the boulevard.
Theus’s eyes roamed across the crowd on the far side of the street, facing towards him. They were ordinary people, held back by the massive police presence, watching the spectacle of the criminal being hauled to court. Above the people in the street, Theus saw that the windows and balconies of the buildings along the street were also filled, on the second and third floors where a more genteel crowd was gathered above the commoners on the street.
Theus continued to observe all, taking in the spectacle, as the wagon continued to roll closer, then his eyes suddenly blinked and scanned back to the right, where they focused on a small group of women on the third-floor balcony across from Theus.
Coriae was standing on the balcony, flanked by a pair of women Theus didn’t know!
Her eyes were intently focused on the wagon that approached.
Coriae was in Stoke! His plans to go all the way to Great Forks to find her were no longer valid, no longer necessary.
“Coriae!” he shouted loudly. The wagon was drawing very close, but Theus shouted the name again, pushed his way to the front of the rope line, and waved his hand wildly in the air.
One of the guards who was escorting the prisoner’s wagon turned and looked at the sound of Theus calling the noblewoman’s name. The guard had an ugly red scar running across his face, a face that was familiar.
The man’s eyes widened as he looked at Theus. Theus looked at him, trying to figure why the guard seemed familiar.
“Theus!” Coriae’s voice screamed his name.
Theus looked up at the girl, but his view was distracted as he caught a glimpse of the prisoner in the cage that was nearly between them.
Forgon stood chained inside the cage, looking down at Theus with a puzzled expression.
“You! You worthless Great Forks piece of filth!” the guard in the street was striding towards him.
Theus felt a physical shock to his system at the incredible coincidence that had brought him to the intersection in Stoke, at just the right moment to see Coriae, Forgon, and the guard he had briefly fought in the tavern in Great Forks.
That’s who was stalking towards him, he realized. That’s who recognized him, and wanted revenge. It was the guard who Theus had fought and beaten in a tavern because Theus thought the man had spoken too loosely about Coriae.
And now, here they all were in proximity to one another. The guard, Theus, Coriae, and Forgon.
“You’re a pile of dead meat right now!” the guard snarled as he approached Theus. The guards holding the rope in place looked on in confusion at the man who was storming towards them.
“Theus!” Coriae called again, and Theus saw her waving her hand in the air.
He made a hasty decision to duck under the rope; he was going to reach Coriae. He was on a journey that was intended to take him to her. He could see her, and he wasn’t going to let a parade be the only obstacle that prevented him from reaching his goal.
Theus drew his own sword. He was driven by emotion and desire and the dream of reaching Coriae, as if he could wipe away all the terrible memories of terrible experiences, merely by wrapping his arms around the beautiful girl. Theus ignored the shouted protests from the guards holding the rope barrier. Instead, he charged at the guard that wanted to attack him. Theus swung his sword recklessly, but perfectly, so that he struck a powerful blow against his opponent’s sword, knocking it from the man’s hand. Theus followed with a powerful punch to the surprised guard’s face, and for the second time, he knocked the man out of his senses.
He also raised a ruckus among the other guards in Frogon’s escort.
“Stop right there!” several called, but Theus was in no mood to stop. Instead, he charged forward, weaving among the guards, shaking some off, punching others, and fighting free so that he was able to cross the street, then blast his way into the crowd of onlookers in the far side of the street, the side where Coriae remained standing on a balcony above, looking down at his advance.
“Coriae!” he shouted, then burst through a door into the elegant entry hall of a well-appointed townhome. He saw a set of stairs and ran up them three at a time. He heard the sounds of pursuit entering the home behind him, but he continued onward, climbing the next flight of stairs, just as Coriae came bursting through a door into the hallway at the top of the stairs.
“By all the gifts of the goddess!” Coriae exclaimed as she opened her arms and hugged him tightly.
“Where is he?” an angry voice called from below.
“Come with me!” Coriae grabbed his hand. She led him through a door at the end of the hallway, then stopped inside.
It was a bedroom, with a large poster bed that had a canopy above the mattress. There were two other doors and a pair of windows.
“Climb up and hide on top of the canopy,” Coriae ordered. “I’ll send them out the window.” She left him to go open one of the windows, while Theus climbed up the bed post and threw himself atop the cloth canopy.
It bent slightly, but he found that a network of wooden lathes supported his weight, and he held still.
A moment later he heard the rush of feet, and then the voices of men entered the room.
“Where’s the criminal who ran in here?” one of the voices demanded.
“He went out the window, onto the balcony,” Coriae answered. Theus could heard the fear in her voice.
“You’re safe now my lady. We’ll capture him,” a man’s voice assured the girl.
“There’s no one out here now,” a voice reported from the other end of the room, looking out the window at the balcony beyond.
“Everyone back downstairs to keep the parade moving,” the leader of the squad conceded the loss of the suspect they had chased.
Theus stayed still in his spot and listened to the sounds of boots clomping down the stairs, then fading away.
A minute later, Coriae’s voice sounded. “Theus? They’re gone. Come down to me.”
He rolled over, then dropped to the floor and hugged Coriae fiercely, his hand stroking her hair as he silently reveled in the unexpected joy of their reunion.
“What’s happening here?” he asked.
“Where’d you come from?” she asked simultaneously.
They each started to answer the other, speaking over one another for a few words, then stopped.
“Theus,” Coriae started over, “Forgon is accused of murdering Monsant. There’s a witness who claims to have seen,” the dusky girl paused, “who saw a hand stab Monsant, looking between curtains in a window. They say it was Forgon, wearing the ring father gave him – the ring you brought with you – the ring I gave you.
“Do you remember that ring?” Coriae asked intently, her hands having moved to his shoulders, holding him at arm’s length as she studied him closely. “Do you know where it is?” she asked. “I put my own memories on the ring; we can show that it was my ring, not Forgon’s.”
“I know right where the ring is; I hid it in my apartment in Great Forks,” Theus replied.
; “Oh thank Incand!” Coriae’s face lit up with joy. She pulled herself towards Theus, and kissed him jubilantly.
“We can use it to prove that Forgon didn’t kill Monsant,” she said, then leaned against Theus, her head resting on his shoulder.
Theus’s mind began to open rusty doors, full of memories of the arts of the memory stones. He’d given the stones little to no thought for weeks and weeks of his life, as he’d been separated so widely from the stones and Falstaff’s shop. Yet now, those memories began to explode into his consciousness in response to Coriae’s words.
“How can the ring be used to prove anything?” Theus asked.
“The court, the king’s court,” Coriae began. “There’s a nobleman there, one of Monsant’s friends, who says there are ways to read the memories from a memory stone. He said if the court had the ring, it could prove or disprove Forgon’s guilt.”
Theus felt an alarm go off in his mind at the mention of ways to tamper with the memory stone. It reminded him of the dark arts of Donal.
“Theus, can you get that stone here, right away?” Coriae asked. “I can tell Forgon’s advocate that we will bring the ring to the court.
“Your layer of new memories on the stone, the one you made for me, it will still be there won’t it?” she asked hesitantly a moment later. “That’s the memories they would see, right?”
“It should be, my love,” Theus decided to be bold and use the word for the first time.
“Good, good,” Coriae said softly, concerned primarily about the memories, not his term of endearment.
“Theus,” she spoke in a different tone a moment later. She looked at him with eyes that were round. “You shouldn’t say that. I’m not a good person; you shouldn’t love me. I’m using you so terribly to help me save Forgon, and I can’t give you anything in return. You’re better than I am in so many ways,” she tried to put distance between them.
Theus felt the gentle rejection, but couldn’t decide if her words were sincere or a ruse.
“You’re better than me with staves,” he evaded probing the matter by making the gentle joke.
The Deadly Magician (The Memory Stones Series Book 2) Page 23
