Legends of Dimmingwood 02:Betrayal of Thieves (3 page)

My purpose firm, even if I had no idea how I would carry it out, I made time as quickly as I could, knowing Terrac may have little of it to spare. Although I sacrificed stealth for speed, I attempted as I walked to keep a wary eye out for enemies and was grateful when the woods around me appeared to hold no one but myself and the occasional bird or squirrel.

In this way I traveled for two days, until I left the shelter of Dimmingwood and stepped out into open country. Here, I found before me vast rolling meadowlands, such as I had not seen since my childhood. The low, green hills stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction, save the one from which I came. Unaccustomed to so much open space, I felt vulnerable and unsettled by the scarcity of bushes or trees. Still, I had to forge ahead. Terrac needed me.

With the forest at my back, I set my face toward Selbius, where I believed the Fists would be taking Terrac. I had no delusions about what I was doing. Selbius was the Praetor’s city and I was walking into the jaws of the lion. My only hope was that I might have help when I reached Selbius. If I could find the priest, Hadrian, perhaps he would be familiar enough with the city to offer me guidance in locating Terrac. I tried not to think any further ahead than that.

It was late into the evening of my second day when I spotted a collection of rising green humps in the distance that I recognized from other people’s descriptions as the settlement of Low Hills. This marker told me I had only a few more miles before I would be within sight of Selbius. If I walked all night, I could arrive there the next day.

My legs rebelled at the thought and for the first time in my life I found myself longing for a horse to ride. In Dimming, my own feet had always been good enough, but with the stretch of land I had yet to travel and my gnawing anxiety driving me forward, I felt I could not get to Selbius quickly enough. Tomorrow was the first day of Middlefest, and I hadn’t forgotten Hadrian’s invitation to rendezvous at the Temple of Light on that day. If I arrived too late, my chances of finding him in the strange city were small.

So I pushed weariness and aching muscles to the back of my mind and kept my feet moving until I came upon a broad, straight highway. Here, there was a weathered signpost with arms pointing in three directions, one indicating the way to Kampshire, another to the provincial border with Cros, then to Black Cliffs and on clear to the coast. I ignored both these and followed the third option, which would take me to Selbius.

I traveled for a time, feeling uncomfortably exposed beneath the bright moonlight. There were no shadows to conceal me, no hint of any cover, except the occasional bramble bush growing along the side of the way. I was acutely aware anyone coming up the road behind me would have a full view of me long before I had any idea of their presence, but I tried not to dwell on that. My muffled footsteps were loud in my ears and I longed for the familiar creak and rustle of treetops swaying overhead. Even the noisy chirrup of tree frogs would have been welcome just then.

But I didn’t have to suffer the stillness much longer because by the time dawn’s pale light streaked the skies, I began encountering other traffic. When I sighted the first wagon clopping in from the opposite direction, I dived into a low ditch at the side of the road and hid until it passed by. Not much later, a group of travelers herding a train of pack animals approached from behind and caught me unawares. It was too late to conceal myself for they must already have seen me. So I forced myself to march woodenly onward, face turned straight ahead. No one so much as glanced my way as they passed, so after that I didn’t bother leaving the road again, but put on an innocent face and tried to look like any law-abiding citizen who had a right to be where I was.

As the morning wore on, the sun grew hot and the air thick with dust kicked up by the long string of traffic now winding down the road. I was nearly run down several times by horse and wagon alike, so I quickly learned to keep to the road’s edges. It didn’t take me long to feel how conspicuous I was among these people. Noticing none of the other travelers approached a state as filthy and bedraggled as the one I was in after my recent experiences fleeing the Fists, I stopped long enough to smooth my hair back into a tidier tail and to wet a portion of my tunic with my tongue, using it to swipe at my dirty face. My clothing was beyond help, but I straightened my jerkin and rolled up the muddy sleeves of my tunic, by way of improvement. That didn’t stop the next person to pass me, an old man with a cart full of potatoes and blackroots, from directing a suspicious stare my way, as though he thought I was going to steal the pitiful contents of his cart.

I grinned cheekily back at him and raised my hands to show they were empty.

“Useless woods folk,” I heard him mutter as he drove on.

I shrugged at the unprovoked insult and kept walking.

“First visit to the city, is it?” said an unexpected voice nearby. I started because I hadn’t noticed the black-haired young man falling into step alongside me. He followed close behind a passing wagon, which seemed to be part of a long train winding its way toward the city.

“What makes you think I’ve never been before?” I asked. I was a little tired of passersby looking at me as if I were a toad crawled out of the woods.

The young man appeared unoffended by my tone. “Well, if you had, you’d not be returning to it. You’d know by now why woods folk avoid Selbius. It’s not the safest of places for your sort. I’m Jem, by the way. Jem of Low Hills. I’m one of Banded Beard’s merchant guards.”

I ignored the introduction, not offering my own name. “I never said I was one of the woods folk.”

“No, but you are just the same. I can recognize you people on sight. You gawk at everything like you never saw daylight before and jump at every stranger who gives you good morning.”

I tried to hide my nervousness, grateful his assumption had taken him only halfway to the truth. Better to be thought a woods villager than be recognized for a forest brigand.

I said, “You talk as though woods folk have cause to feel unwelcome in the city. Why is that?”

He shrugged. “There’s some as always suspect your kind of looking for trouble or anything to steal. Woods folk have a reputation for causing a stir.”

At my expression he said, “But cheer up, friend. No need for the fierce scowl. You’re not in trouble yet and you don’t need to be. No reason for the guard to single you out.”

“Guard?” I asked, my head snapping up. “What guard?”

“You have been in the woods a while, haven’t you?” he said. “There’s always a handful of city guardsmen keeping an eye on the gate, at the call of the Gate Clerk. He has a table to one side, where he records the folk coming and going and what goods they bring in and out.”

I groaned, stopping in my tracks, and Jem had to haul me aside by one arm to save me being run over by a passing wagon.

“I’ve told you, there’s nothing to worry about. Might be a good idea, though, to keep moving before we get ourselves trampled.”

I allowed him to drag me forward as he continued. “I’ll help you out,” he said. “There’s no reason anyone should look twice at you up at the gate. Woods villager or not, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

If he only knew. Still, I was grateful for the aid he offered.

“Why should you help me?” I asked. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you enough. I’ve cousins in one of the woods villages and if they were to come to the city, I’d want a stranger to give them a hand. Now then, here’s the trick. The city guard don’t care much for woods folk, so if they recognize what you are, you’ll be lucky to get in the gate. It’s a situation that calls for a little deception.”

As he spoke, he shrugged out of his long grey coat.

“Here,” he said. “Slip this on over your clothes until we’re past the gate and stick close to my master’s wagons, as I do. Doesn’t nobody want to bother a merchant’s guard, even if you look a little young for the part.”

I was hesitant about the plan, but he was already shoving his coat at me and I didn’t want to attract the attention of other passersby by wrestling the coat back and forth. Slipping the bow from my back, I handed it to Jem while I wriggled my arms into the long sleeves of his coat. I pulled the front closed over my deerskin jerkin and instantly felt less conspicuous in the crowd.

Jem looked satisfied. “There. Now you look like an ordinary farm hand, low on work and hired out to watch trader’s goods. That’s my story anyway.”

I nodded. I thought he had more the look of a farmer than a fighting man.

He said, “Just act confident and casual and no one will notice anything amiss.”

“I don’t know how to thank you for this,” I said.

“You can repay me by not giving our little pretense away. Now, as to this bow...” He hefted the weapon. “This marks you plainer than deerskins. Let’s tuck it into the back of one of my master’s carts until we’re through the gate.”

He quickened his steps enough to catch the wagon ahead and in a moment the bow was stowed safely away, concealed between rows of barrels.

Somehow having the bow even an arm’s length away felt too distant, but I told myself not to be foolish. I hadn’t had the weapon very long and there was no reason to suddenly feel so dependent on it.

Selbius came into view long before we were anywhere near it. In a land this barren and treeless, the city was visible for miles in any direction. At first, I could scarcely make out the looming grey walls in the distance for the blinding glare of the sun glinting from the surrounding waters. Jem told me Selbius meant, in the tongue of our ancestors, a house built over water. The name was apt because the entire city had been constructed over a small isle in the midst of a vast lake. It wasn’t one of the larger cities of the kingdom or even the largest one in the province, I knew, but to me it seemed immense. I thought there must be many thousands of people packed within the great granite walls.

Another of Selbius’s impressive features was the long bridge spanning the water, making the city accessible from shore. Seeing my interest, Jem told me how the city was built by the present Praetor’s great-grandfather during the peak of the Coastal Wars.

He said, “I’ve heard the ancestors of the house of Tarius were a seagoing people, so maybe that’s why they decided to settle over water. They still carry on a few strange customs within those walls that don’t come from any of our provincial traditions. But be warned, the city’s not as impressive inside as it looks from here. Selbius has got its pretty districts with their terraces and pools and walled gardens. Not that such as you and I would be welcome to linger in those places. But like any town, it also holds its dark and squalid areas. Take my advice and stick to the marketplace and the common district.”

“Are ordinary folk not allowed elsewhere, then?” I asked.

“We’re free to wonder where we please, as long as we don’t engage in illegal or disruptive activities, but there are parts of town that can prove dangerous to those as don’t belong in them. Like the under-levels or the old docks outside the city walls. Even the guard doesn’t venture around those places, unless they’ve good reason to. As for the wealthy areas, they’re not forbidden, but if the guard see you there, they’ll speculate on what trouble you could be planning and that’s not the sort of attention a newcomer like you needs.”

“What are the under-levels?” I asked, curious.

He grinned. “You really don’t know anything, do you? Listen, we haven’t got time for me to tell you about every part of Selbius. Even if I knew all there was to know of it, which I don’t. This is all you really need to know. We’re going to cross the bridge in a little bit and arrive at the trade gate on the other side. There’ll be a few guardsmen there and they’ll make some minimal effort at questioning every tenth person in line. So long as nothing unusual comes up, you’ll be in.” I wanted to ask what sort of unusual things might come up and what would happen to me if they did, but he was already rushing on.

“Once you’re beyond the gates, you’ll find the curfews and codes of conduct for the city posted regularly in public places. Familiarize yourself with them and before you so much as toss an apple peel onto the street, find out first if it’s permissible in your district. The Praetor’s a strict one for laws. Which reminds me, don’t take the curfew lightly. Let the city guard catch you roaming the streets after sundown and, unless it’s a holiday or you’ve another pretty good reason, you’ll be arrested and spend the night in the round house.”

“Sounds to me like these city people invent an awful lot of senseless rules,” I said.

Jem shrugged. “The Praetor has a tight hold over his city and, while he may not be the most popular of rulers, no one’s denying he keeps good order. Hasn’t been a murder within Selbius’s walls in three years. That brings me to another thing. Thieving in the city will get you more than a whipping and a day in the stocks. For a first offence, you’ll lose a hand, for the second, you’ll be hanged. That’s the Praetor’s feeling on second chances. His Fists are even less forgiving, and they’re always looking for an opportunity to prove they’re more efficient than the city guard, so you’ll want to step shy of them if you can. They’re a rough lot.”

“So I’ve heard,” I said, keeping my expression unreadable. A guilty thought popped into my head and I had to ask, “Am I endangering you and your company? I mean, if it’s discovered I’m smuggling my way in.”

He laughed. “Forget it; it’s been done before. Anyway, being a woods villager isn’t a crime—at least not yet. If you’re found out, I’ll play ignorance and my master will suffer a light reprimand from the Gate Clerk for not watching over his party. Don’t know exactly what would happen to you, but how much trouble can you get into for pretending to be what you’re not?”

I wasn’t eager to find out, as we crowded onto the end of a slowly moving line shuffling across the bridge. The next half hour dragged by as our line snaked forward one foot at a time. I was unaccustomed to being crammed into close proximity with so many people and I quickly began to feel stifled and hemmed in. Things got a little better once we were out over the lake, where the shadow of the bridge fell over the surface of the green water. A refreshing breeze off the lake carried away the unpleasant smells around us and dried the sweat on my face.