Legends of Dimmingwood 02:Betrayal of Thieves (13 page)

I dressed hastily, not caring that my skin was still damp as I pulled my clothes on. It wasn’t really that I expected Hadrian to return while I was occupied, but a spirit of expectancy hung over me that morning. I felt some development in our efforts must take place very soon. Besides, dark clouds had gathered from nowhere to blot out the warm sun, and I clearly didn’t have much time left to get inside before the clouds opened up.

I collected Fleet, whom I had posted as a not particularly trustworthy lookout, and together we returned to the shelter of the hut. Within the hour, a downpour began and the wild gale churned the usually calm waters of the lake until our barge was bobbing on the choppy surface. Cold drafts found their way through the cracks between the reeds making up our little shelter, and the howling wind whipped at the canvas sheets over the doorways until I tied them down.

We made an uncomfortable little gathering. Even Seephinia wouldn’t go out to work on the floats in such a storm but remained inside with us, mending a heap of stinking fish nets and stringing up more of the little shell ornaments she often sold on the docks. Her presence contributed to the tension of the atmosphere, for she didn’t like me and I didn’t like her, and Fleet did like her, but she disdained him, and so it was an unpleasant situation all around. I was relieved when she finally disappeared behind that curtained off partition of the hut and didn’t emerge again.

Even then, matters were not greatly improved. Poor Fleet soon succumbed to his old water sickness, brought about by the unsteady motion of the heaving barge, and he turned out to be an irritable companion when suffering. Naturally, he couldn’t leave the barge in this weather and so took over my sleeping cot.

Left to myself, I snooped around the hut, examining the jars and baskets and whatnots on the shelves along the walls as I could not when Hadrian and the river woman were watching. I found nothing of interest and my curiosity soon wore out, replaced by a returning impatience. Where was Hadrian? It was intolerable that he was out roaming free in the city while I was stuck in this drafty little hut on the lake. My impatience to be on with the task of finding Terrac weighed on me more heavily than ever that afternoon.

Eventually, I reined in my pacing and forced myself to settle down just inside the doorway, where I kept an eye on the worsening storm and sharpened my knives on a whetstone I discovered on one of the shelves. With the sense of urgency hanging over me today, I felt I would need them soon.

Hadrian never returned all that day. Seephinia eventually left her curtained alcove to light the lanterns, as the interior of the hut grew dark. She and I shared an uncomfortable meal of chowder and seacakes, which the afflicted Fleet couldn’t be persuaded to share in. The meal was a silent affair and when it was over, the evening stretched long before us.

Night fell and still there was no sign of the priest. This was to be expected, as it would have been foolish for him to attempt crossing the lake in this storm. It would be far wiser to remain in the city and pass the night in an inn. No, there was no call to worry about Hadrian. But I did anyway, up until the hour I finally followed Fleet’s example and went to bed. I sensed the river woman wished to be left alone in her vigil.

***

The first thing I became aware of on waking the following morning was Hadrian’s presence. The priest had returned. He slept through half the morning, and Seephinia wouldn’t allow him to be disturbed until he was ready to wake on his own. Frustrated, I went out on the deck where I sat and watched a lot of river children, who were splashing and wrestling with a ball that was somehow made to float atop the water. If there were particular rules to their game I couldn’t discern them.

A feeling of premonition was still on me. I couldn’t say whether it was my magic or a more basic, human intuition that alerted me to events to come. Whatever it was, it made me anxious, and I felt it was connected to Hadrian.

I was relieved when he shortly sought me out, for I had horrible visions of this day being as long and drawn out as the last. In the harsh morning light, Hadrian looked older, his face haggard, his eyes red-rimmed as if he hadn’t slept much the night before. When he sat down beside me, I caught a strong whiff of what on anyone but a priest I would have thought were ale fumes. He wore his gray robes today, the first I had seen of them in a long time, and he slicked his usually wild hair into a tidy tail down the back of his neck. Before sinking down next to me, he had to rearrange his sword, which he wore belted at his hip once more. All these changes signaled something to come, but I didn’t know what.

“Good morning, Ilan,” he greeted me.

“Priest.” I struggled to hold in the questions that wanted to pour out of me, and by the way one side of his mouth twitched, he knew it.

“I can feel that something happened the other day in the city,” I said. “You’re entirely too pleased with yourself not to have succeeded. Well, I don’t plan to drag the news out of you one piece at time, so spill it.”

“You grow more confident every day,” he said. “There are instances where that’s a good thing, but when it comes to magic, it almost never is. Overconfidence is one the greatest dangers a magicker can face.”

“Hadrian,” I warned.

“Very well, no lessons today,” he conceded. “You want information and here it is. I spent most of yesterday and the entirety of last night in a wretched smoke-filled tavern in the lowest portion of the common district, playing dice with a retired knight of my order, a few strangers of no consequence, and who else was there? Ah yes, a lieutenant of the Praetor’s Iron Fists.”

“A Fist!” I said. “What did you learn from him? Did you ask about Terrac?”

Hadrian snorted and said dryly, “Your subtlety does you credit. One hardly comes out and asks one of the Praetor’s men if he’s apprehended any good criminals lately.”

“So did you learn anything or didn’t you?” I demanded.

“I learned never to buy drinks for a Fist again. They consume more than any three horses. Also, that old comrades in arms, even former Blades of Justice, cheat at dice like anyone else. Next time I’ll lure them into a game of sticks and stones to make up my losses.”

At my aggravated sigh, he gave way. “All right then, cultivate a little patience, child,” he said. “It took me the better part of the night, combined with the contrived loss of a great deal of coin to keep the lieutenant at the table, but I eventually worked the conversation around to related topics. It was a blind shot that if I shook the dice cup something good would come out, but luck was with us this time. The lieutenant spoke of a circumstance that had arisen lately, involving the capture of a young man believed to be a follower of that notorious brigand Rideon the Red Hand.”

He hesitated and I wondered how bad the news must be if he was reluctant to relate it. Remembering he was probably aware of my feelings through his magic, I tried to pull my shaken emotions more tightly into myself.

“Go on,” I said, my words coming out steadier than I expected. “Just tell me if Terrac lives. Yes or no.”

“He lives.”

“But?” I prompted.

“But nothing,” Hadrian said. “He has been fairly treated from all I heard and seems to be sound of health and limb. There was no mention of his suffering any injury. Are you certain he was shot with an arrow?”

“I saw the wound with my own eyes,” I said distractedly, a million questions rushing through my mind. “You say he’s well treated. Where is he kept?” I asked. “There must be a way to get a message to him. I have to let him know help is on the way so he doesn’t give up hope.”

“Are you so certain he wishes to be rescued?”

I shoved the ridiculous question aside. “Who ever heard of a prisoner who wants to stay in captivity? Of course he longs for rescue. What, do you think I’m going to leave him in the cruel hands of those odious Fists forever?”

I returned my thoughts to scheming. “We need to make the rescue soon,” I said. “Just because they have taken it into their heads to treat him well today doesn’t mean they’ll be feeling so generous tomorrow. How soon can I get in touch with him?”

Hadrian shrugged. “You can see him today if you wish. Fleet and I will take you into the city, but we’ll disguise you first. You shouldn’t go wondering the streets in the garb of a woods villager.”

I was startled. “See him today? You mean I can visit him in person? How have you arranged this?” My mind leapt from one conclusion to the next. “You’ve bribed the Fist lieutenant! No, you’ve befriended a prison guard!”

“Nothing so dramatic, I’m afraid. Come now. We will send Fleet ashore to procure you some kind of ordinary feminine attire. I don’t wish to know how he’ll go about it. Then the three of us can be on our way.”

***

Midmorning saw us abandoning the river barge and crossing to the docks on a small raft Hadrian had procured for the purpose. The day was a fine one, the sun warm and the lake calm. The only sign of yesterday’s storm was a scattering of debris bobbing near the docks, and that was swiftly being cleaned up by a handful of river men.

It would have been a pleasant crossing if I hadn’t been in a state of agitation. I told myself most of my concern was for Terrac and his uncertain situation but had to admit that wasn’t the whole of it. Hadrian had insisted I leave my bow behind, and I was uneasy with the separation. Suppose it was stolen while I was out? Or what if Seephinia decided to throw it into the lake, or worse, use it for kindling? I had no doubt she would delight in such an act if she guessed how deeply it would affect me.

And as if all that wasn’t enough to worry about, I was having trouble adjusting to the new clothing Fleet had supplied me. I couldn’t remember the last time I wore a skirt, and I was finding it impossible to move in this one without tangling the long hem awkwardly around my ankles. I didn’t want to imagine how I would swim for shore in such an outfit, if our raft were to tip over.

Luckily, it didn’t, and we reached the docks safe and dry. Once we’d left the wharf behind and entered the walls of Selbius, the oppressive crowds and the smothering smells and noises flooded in on all sides. I hadn’t set foot in the city in months and had forgotten how high the walls towered and how uncomfortable it was to feel so many people pressing in on every side. It reminded me of the time Terrac and I had explored the caves of Boulder’s Cradle back in Dimming and I had gotten wedged tight inside one of the tunnels. I had been trapped so close between the rock walls I could scarcely breathe, and it hadn’t taken me long to panic. Fortunately, Terrac kept a cool head and, in one of the few instances where I could remember him ever doing anything useful, had squeezed his slimmer frame into the tunnels to help me work my way loose. The feeling I experienced now was akin to what I’d known then. There was no frantic, mindless terror this time, but the same helpless sense of being stuck tight in these streaming crowds, with little room to maneuver.

Hadrian led us down a main thoroughfare through the heart of the city, until we came to a place where traffic stopped entirely. Here, a large gathering of people clogged the way, as if waiting for something. There was a sense of excitement and anticipation in the air, and I had the feeling Hadrian had brought me here for a purpose. I looked through the sea of strange faces, trying to figure out what I was meant to see, and when I turned back, the crowd had shifted, blocking my companions from view.

Fear set in at once. Only Hadrian knew where Terrac was. I couldn’t lose him. I shoved my way through the press, heedless of the feet I trampled and the offended looks I earned, hoping to glimpse at any second the gray of Hadrian’s robes or the flash of blue that was Fleet’s coat. Then I saw it, just ahead. With a sigh of relief, I grabbed a blue-clad elbow, but the face turned toward me in the next instant was that of a confused stranger. Releasing the man’s arm with a quick apology, I pushed on again in search of the real Fleet.

Something was changing around me. The crowd began to shift, pulling back to the sides of the street, and I found myself carried along with them. I caught a glimpse of several men in the uniform of the city guard and realized it was they who were shoving the crowds back to line the way. A murmur swept the multitude, growing louder until it erupted into indistinct shouts, and the gathering surged forward as one body to press against the barrier formed by the city guards. They were held back, but not roughly, as they strained forward like curious children hoping for a peek at a forbidden sight.

I shouted Hadrian and Fleet’s names into the press but was drowned out by the noise. What had the people so excited? A sort of procession was passing down the street, but so many heads blocked my view it was impossible to make out what it was. A parade, perhaps?

Catching sight of a mounting-block in front of the stable of an inn, I thought it would afford me a view over the crowd. I forced my way though the throng, turning a deaf ear to the curses of those I jostled, reached the block, and clambered up. I was a short distance back from the street now, but at least I had a clear view. My stomach lurched as I saw the procession was flanked by the ebony and scarlet of the Praetor’s private guard. I’d had too many unpleasant encounters with the Fists lately to look on those colors without a flinch, but I told myself it wasn’t fear, but anger that set my heart thundering against my ribs. My hands itched for the feel of my bow. Whatever had possessed me to leave it behind?

I smothered my initial instinct to leap down from the block and put this place behind me. I was hidden in the crowd. There was no reason why anyone should notice me. So I kept still and watched the passing procession. It appeared the Fists were functioning as bodyguards today, accompanying a host of noblemen and ladies. Judging by the hunting gear and the dogs dashing around the horses' hooves, this was a hunting party, returning from the inland to the Praetor’s keep.

I observed the finery of the elite class of Selbius society with interest. The ladies wore heavily embroidered dresses with flowing skirts, even while riding, and ankle boots that looked too soft for much walking. The men wore fashionably cut silks and velvets under cloaks so long they trailed down the hindquarters of their mounts. Many sported the same thin triangle of hair on their chins that Fleet wore and this, combined with their vain expressions, reminded me so much of the street thief I could have laughed.