He took a seat on the shelf with his back to the wall, trying not to panic. He could try to yell, but the others were probably already long gone. Anyway, making that amount of noise ran against Shain's protocols. Better to lose one of them than to expose them all to any humans within yelling distance.
He smacked his palm against the snow-covered rock. How had he fallen in the first place? All of the other times the Warp had appeared to him, it had shown him exactly how things would unfold. Had he lost his grip on it? Could it be wrong? Or rather than simply showing him what would be, did it rather show what could be? If so, how could he trust it at all?
After another two minutes of self-pity, he was no closer to being rescued, and two minutes closer to nightfall. He stood, brushing himself off, and turned to the wall. Was there a way up it? Frowning, he recalled the memory of the sheep again, diving further and further until he could feel the lambs' wool beneath his fingers.
He turned back to the wall. And imagined himself scaling it. A hazy, squiggling tendril of fog rose halfway up the cliff, but it refused to coalesce. Pieces of it jumped left or right or blanked out altogether. He moved to a different part of the wall, but the results were the same. Either the Warp had no answers, or he didn't know how to find them.
"Did the wall insult you?"
Joti spun around, almost slipping on the shelf. A hooded figure stood on the opposite rim. "Nod?"
She disappeared. A minute later, a rope tumbled down from above. Joti moved forward to catch it. He tugged it, confirming she'd tied it fast, and knotted it to his belt. He swung out into the abyss, guts flopping like landed fish, and bounced into the other side of the ravine, bending his knees to catch the impact. Hand over hand, he hauled himself up to the top.
Nod regarded him expressionlessly. "How?"
"I fell."
"No. Your tracks are here." She pointed to the disturbed snow. "You fell on the opposite side."
"I thought I could make it across."
"You were wrong."
"Yeah, I discovered that a few moments later."
Nod gave him a critical look. "Should have gotten yourself out. You're slowing us down. There's been trouble."
"What is it? More humans?"
She turned and moved away, seeming to glide over the snow. "Yes."
Joti hurried behind her, feeling clumsy in comparison even though he was already one of the best woodsmen at Dolloc. "Soldiers? Bandits?"
"Talk less. Run more."
She upped her pace and refused to say more. It was later in the day than Joti had thought and they had to run the better part of three miles before they caught up with the others. Shain had them gathered beneath a dense stand of pines.
Seeing Nod, she barked off a curt order and stamped over to meet them. "You found him?"
Nod smiled thinly. "Told you I would."
"And I believed you were wrong." Shain swung about on Joti. "Where the hell have you been? You didn't go after her, did you?"
It took him a moment to realize she was talking about the Orange Lady. "She wasn't down the ravine I fell into. Though I'll admit I didn't search the whole thing." He scowled. "Didn't find a way across, either."
"The ravine's irrelevant. The wizard and his companions have been taken captive."
"Captive? By who?"
"His enemies, I would presume."
"How many? What are we going to do?"
She narrowed her eyes, smiling cat-like. "What the No-Clan does best: kill the people we don't like."
32
They made the rest of the journey to Youngkent relatively quickly. Wit was unconscious for most of the first day, and spent the rest of the journey in the cart with his hands bound behind his back, along with Enexiyo. When they arrived at the High Dragar's keep, he was taken to a small room high up in the castle with a small window and a strong door, which was locked behind him.
He slept for as long as he could, and then sat in bed. After a while, Vechtin entered the room.
"You left Cohos intending to murder a Lord of the Alliance, in order to prevent him from seeking Contract remedies that are his right," Vechtin said after a moment.
Wit nodded. "Do you mean to turn me over to Discipline?"
"This is treason—not a mere violation of the Principles. I can execute you myself."
"You might have done that on the road, and spared yourself the trouble of carrying me here."
"It is still preferred to hand traitors over to Discipline. I was merely saying that I have that option."
"This is rather uncomfortable for you, is it not?"
"I'm not the one with the swollen face."
"Yes, but you don't have any idea what to do with me, do you? I know too much about you to risk being let near any of the committees, but I don't think you are in any position to kill me. The council investigating what happened to me will probably uncover your plot. But more to the point: you are running all about the Alliance, riling up orcs and tearing down walls; you seem to have some sort of plan. My children might be born with the Gift—I imagine that is slightly bigger stakes than whatever you are playing for at the moment."
"I was told you were sharp. They say that both parents must be Aubrey to pass on the Gift. But still—with you in our power we would be half way there. It's a chance that I'd rather not throw away. You could help us, and yourself, out immensely, you know."
"How?"
"The wizard who was at Cohos, Uryence, has joined allies of ours on the other side of the frontier. Go join him, train under him, and help him with our work."
"What is your work, exactly?"
"The work that you have been trained all your life to do—ruling the Alliance."
"And to do this I must train amongst orcs?"
"We mean to make the Order what it was meant to be—we mean to rule and protect, rather than broker endless disputes between squabbling lords and filthy peasants. For the people to yield to our power, they must know fear. And for our power to be complete, we must control that fear. Hence, our collaboration with the orcs."
"Where do LinLaugh and his dragon fit in?"
Vechtin shrugged. "Relatively little; it was mostly a fortuitous opportunity we're able to exploit."
"What if they work? You mean to seize power in the wake of an invasion—what if LinLaugh can stop the invasion in Youngkent?"
"You are sharp, Wit, but don't fool yourself into thinking you understand the full significance of everything you have seen. Cohos, Youngkent and the wall are but a piece of a larger picture. If you wish to see it, you must join Uryence over the frontier."
They both looked at the ground for a moment. They could read each other's minds well enough for there to be no question that Wit would join Uryence, and it had been bad form to put it in words.
Vechtin's manner softened after a moment. "I sent my pupil to the capital a few months back, just after you left. What can you tell me about the two Adepts he'll be serving with?"
"Two?"
"Oh, not to worry: they promoted another one, Mantyger. It was in the updated rolls, but I'm sorry—you wouldn't have seen it. Anyway, I was fond of the boy, do you suppose they will be kind to him?"
"Bronzino and Haniel? Most certainly: Bronzino is one of the nicest people I know, and even though Hanny has strong opinions and a temper and drinks more than she ought, she has a very good heart and is loyal as can be."
"I'm glad to hear it. When I was an Adept there was a fair amount of tension between old and new arrivals, hazing and the like. One of the older boys would make me do his work until I had no time for my own—and so I was out of favor with my masters for always being behind."
Wit shook his head. "We all arrived within six months or so, so there has never been much seniority between us."
"That must have been nice."
"If I may ask, what did they promote Mantyger to?"
"Advanced Binding. I was surprised—they normally transfer people there after they have been in the field for a whil
e."
"No—she's one of the strongest we've ever had, and they've always wanted her for that post. She always wanted Forbidden Magicks, and I thought there was a chance she would get it."
"She will have to wait a bit: Tertiatus, a friend of mine, is the head of that department and he says he is overstaffed. At least two wizards will have to die or get transferred before they have an opening…that's the goddamn way of it: we have too many wizards researching magic we aren't even allowed to use, while the wizards out in the field are spread so thin that we can hardly sleep."
"There has been talk of a large scale reorganization: we had hoped that they would do it before we became wizards, so there might be some more sense to how they distributed posts."
"Boy, I hoped they would finish their re-org before I got promoted, nearly forty years ago." They both laughed. "Look, you're a probationary Junior Wizard."
"So?"
"It's not one of our principles, but there was a dictate from Thermac the Wiser holding that any discipline of a probationary wizard must, on request, be brought before that wizard's Probationary Supervisor."
"Well I request that: get my Probationary Supervisor and discipline me. Who is it anyway? Cardozo?"
"No, unless otherwise specified, the Probationary Supervisor is automatically one of training's deputies, either the fourth deputy or the fifth, I think…we shall have to consult the rolls."
"I don't mean to tell a senior wizard his business, but why not just toss me off a cliff and say that I fell?"
"I am still weighing my options, boy, and you have just presented me with a fascinating one. But in the meantime, I think I shall have the rolls sent to you, so that you might try to figure out who your Supervisor is, should I grant your request. It will be something to pass the time, at any rate. LinLaugh has this stuff that he calls wine—but all you have done is betray Our Order, so I don't know that there is any cause to make you drink it, unless you want to."
Wit said that he would take a chance with the wine, and Vechtin left.
A servant came later with some food, wine, and a stack of papers including the latest rolls of the Order's membership and some literature about the Order's overall structure. Wit ate and drank and started to look over the papers, but gave it up for daydreaming fairly quickly. It seemed idiotic that Vechtin would let him anywhere near the Order, so sifting through the Order's byzantine organization seemed fruitless.
If he had any chance of surviving, Wit realized, it was due to the mystery of his birth, and nothing to do with his life, or any decision he had ever made. He would live through his connection to a people he had never met, and his only purpose would be to wait for Vechtin's friends to get a female Aubrey for him to mate with.
"I hope she's pretty," he said to himself aloud. He thought about breaking the wine bottle and cutting his throat with a shard.
Wa'llach appeared a little after sunset, bringing more food and another bottle of wine.
"You know my friend Mantyger, don't you?"
"Aye. She is one of the foul magicians who studies me. They trot me out in front of them every so often, like a horse at auction."
"Well, they made her a wizard, and assigned her to a prominent post in Advanced Binding, if that means anything to you."
"Magicians are much the same to me, but she always seemed a very clever one. I wish her well, I suppose."
"You know something of the Aubrey, don't you Wa'llach?"
For a fraction of a second the dwarf's eyes twinkled. "Why would you say that?"
"You made that pendant, and said 'any Aubrey can tell you' as if you had spoken to them."
The dwarf was silent.
"It's funny, though," Wit went on, "Mantyger told me that she knew you in the same conversation where I told her that I was an Aubrey. So, if there was any connection between you and the Aubrey, it would have been odd of her not to mention it. And Mantyger has studied your Binding and been in your mind, so she should know most of the things that you know—unless we are all much worse at our jobs than we think."
"That strikes me as inconceivable," Wa'llach said, "everyone knows that the Order is vastly wise and nearly all powerful."
"Aye," said Wit, "it seems unthinkable that a drunken dwarf should have managed to keep secrets from us for eighty years. And it's not as if you ever showed any very great knowledge of the Aubrey—you might have learned what an Oct-o-puss looks like and heard their stories almost anywhere…but it also occurred to me: the Order serves the Alliance of the Lords of the lands of Isadoro. Our Principles say nothing whatsoever about the oceans, so if you had learned something while you were on the water, I wonder that we actually could make you reveal it to us."
"Ah, but have you ever known a dwarf to take to the sea?"
"No, but most dwarves of my acquaintance are hard working and honest: you don't seem to have much in common with them."
"No," said Wa'llach bitterly. "And I'd still be on the ocean, if it wasn't for you."
"For me?"
"You and your bitch of a grandmother."
"What?!"
"Well, I don't know that she was your grandmother for certain, but it seems less and less likely that she was anyone else's."
"What in the name of all the gods are you raving about?"
"It was quite some time ago. For a series of reasons that are not especially important, I found myself drifting the ocean in a small boat, which eventually washed up on what appeared to be an island. Everyone, except for an Aubrey girl, was completely befuddled on skirbit grass, which, along with various fruits, flourished on the island. Her name was Lexia and she had washed up on the supposed island shortly before I did, and they were holding her there against her will so that she would use her powers for their benefit. She and I realized that it was not an island at all, but rather a great sleeping fish that was on the verge of waking, and we managed to take a boat and escape. A little time afterwards we met with one of the great ships of the Aubrey.
"Now, unlike your mainland humans, the Aubrey are a very hospitable and welcoming people, with a great sense of fairness and gratitude. Furthermore, in Aubrey society positions of power are generally awarded on the basis of deeds rather than birth. Lexia was held in very high regard from the moment we returned for having escaped from the sleeping leviathan and having traveled over the great sea by herself in a small boat—she was immediately made the second-in-command of the ship that rescued us, and it was understood that as soon as she came of age she would be given a ship to command of her own.
"The little metal that the Aubrey have is precious to them, and they were very glad to have a smith who could help them get the most of it. I set to work repairing the tackle on their ship, and they held me in great esteem. It was a grand life, riding the great sea, hunting the beasts in it, and raiding the coasts. They drank a kind of liquor made from kelp, which was excellent when you got used to it.
"But one day, Lexia told me that I was to be put ashore. I told her that I did not want to leave, that I was nothing but a hunted wanderer on the continent, and that on her ship, I had found a place where I was useful and liked. She said that she knew it, and would keep me on if it were all up to her, but that she had seen into the future and knew that her grandson would have need of me and would need me on the mainland. I begged her again to be allowed to remain, but she was adamant and I was set ashore."
"What was she like?" Wit asked after a long while.
"Lexia? She was a wise little creature. She moved seldom but quickly and was always watching everything. It's hard for me to figure the ages of younger humans, but she was about twelve at the time, I should think. She liked to laugh; but her mind was firm and quick—she could make her mind up to kill, and go through it without a drop of hesitation. She could also sail extremely well. I was not much of a judge of those things during our journey, and merely marveled that she could get the boat to go at all and keep it upright—both things that I had struggled with when sailing on my own—but in all
the time since, I never saw anyone move a boat as cleverly as she did.
"Many of the Aubrey have some power over the beasts of the sea, especially the Oct-o-pusses, but Lexia was their friend. It's odd to know this of a beast that is nothing but tentacles and beaks, but they would come to her aid because they liked her, not because she had power over them. Or she did have power over them, but it was a great power, a wise power that they gave to her freely, much stronger than the magician's tricks used by other Aubrey or your Order. You remind me of her sometimes, although it is almost certainly simply that the both of you have blue hair."
Wa'llach pulled at his beard for a long moment. "Although there isn't a lick of sense between the two of you, either: she sent me back to the mainland to help you, but there isn't a damn thing I can do for you now, even if I did want to. I'm Bound to the foul Order, and right now that's Vechtin. I'll like as not end up slitting your throat, and not even because you've got it coming."
Wit managed a sour smile. "Maybe she was counting on your having better sense than to go and get yourself Bound."
"Hrumph. Then I might have stayed with the Aubrey until at least you were born, no? It's wrong to expect too much reason from any magician, no matter the color of their hair, or if they make their home on the waves or the land."
Wa'llach left, and Wit picked up Vechtin's rolls with a renewed interest, trying desperately to avoid thinking about what he had just learned.
As he pored over the lists of wizards, he was mostly overcome with annoyance at Wa'llach, who apparently knew more about Wit's past and people than anyone the young wizard had ever met, and yet had traveled with him for the last months without mentioning any of it. But this was merely a betrayal of friendship, not an overt act of villainy, and thus tame by the dwarf's standards.
Also worrying was the fact that his grandmother had considered Wa'llach a suitable ally, and that sending him into Wit's path was her idea of doing him a favor. If she had thrown the dwarf off of the side of the boat instead, it would have saved the lives of the nearly three score Alliance soldiers, along with an untold number of his fellow bandits, that Wa'llach had killed before coming under the control of the Order. Wit found himself wondering how many of the dwarf's crimes belonged on his conscience.
Students of the Order Page 55
