Prisoner of Fate (33 page)

She walked to the river, driven by thirst. A small brown-and-white-spotted gecko scampered out of her way when she bent to scoop water. As she straightened, a fish leapt and dropped back with a splash, sending concentric circles rippling towards the bank. The fruitful tranquillity made her happy and she paused to gaze at the river and the trees, glad to be alive—until darker memories flowed in of the brutal Kerwyn war and the attempted genocide of her people.

Thirty-five or more years ago, this place would have been blackened, the village burned to the ground, the people slaughtered, the children marched into slavery, the river awash with blood and ash. A cloud shadow passed over her and she shivered. The world was changing yet again.

‘You’re certain then?’ Chase asked.

‘Yes,’ Meg answered. ‘It’s the only place where the answer could be.’

The young man shook his head. ‘How will you get there if it’s across the mountains?’

‘I’ve been to Shesskar-sharel before, a long time ago.’ Noticing Wahim watching her, she asked, ‘When did you come to Port of Joy?’

‘I was fifteen,’ Wahim said. ‘My father decided there had to be a better way to make a living than staying in the village so he brought our family west, over the mountain.’

‘Where are your parents now?’

Wahim’s face became severe. ‘My father is a fisherman somewhere on the coast. I haven’t seen him since we arrived in the city. My mother and my brother and sister work in a factory.’

Meg touched her chest, her hand resting against a small bag hanging from her on a cord under her tunic, and an old and familiar tingle ran along her spine. In the Shesskar language, she said to Wahim, ‘Do you remember the name of your home village?’

Wahim’s eyes widened in astonishment and he looked at Chase who was equally puzzled by Meg’s change of language. In his native tongue, Wahim replied, ‘Lights-along-the-lake. How can you speak my language?’

‘I learned it when I was in Shesskar-sharel,’ she told him.

‘What are you saying?’ Chase asked.

‘I was asking Wahim where he used to live,’ Meg explained.

All three looked up at Swift who was approaching through the trees. ‘Where have you been?’ Chase asked.

‘Looking around,’ Swift replied. She squatted in the circle. ‘So what are the plans?’

‘The villagers are happy for us to stay here and it seems safe enough,’ Chase informed her, ‘but Meg is still going east.’

Swift nodded. ‘So she told me. She said in the city that she wanted us to go as well, but this will do me. It’s
quiet, the authorities won’t come out here, and it will be some time before we can go back into the city.’

‘It will be a very long time,’ said Meg as she rose from the log on which she’d been sitting.

‘Where are you going?’ Chase asked.

‘I have a long way to travel. The sooner I start the quicker will be the journey,’ she told him.

She left the group and headed for the hayshed. Having asked for and received supplies from the villagers, including a small pack to carry on her back and a waterskin, she was restless to begin the long trek east. At her best estimate, her journey into Ashua would take at least forty days to walk, probably longer with the mountains to cross. If she found what she was meant to find there, it would take another forty or more days to return and by then it would be the hottest and driest season. She was thirty the first time she made the journey into Shesskar-sharel as a refugee escaping the Kerwyn scourge. Thirty-five years later she was neither as fit nor as spritely and she could not hope to travel as quickly. She touched the tiny secret bag under her tunic.
I will make it
, she assured herself.
It’s my destiny to do so.

Whisper was waiting for her inside the shed. Meg checked that no one else was there. Little Jon was playing with village children, Passion chatting with village women. She collected her gear and scooped up Whisper to secrete the rat in a beige hessian bag. ‘I’d always hoped that we wouldn’t take this journey,’ she said to the rat. Whisper snuggled into the bag and curled up, as if she was oblivious to events, but Meg knew that the rat understood far more than her manners revealed. ‘One day I’ll understand why you are like you are,’ she said, smiling.

She stepped outside the shed and paused. The village people were busy at their chores or talking, going about
their daily routine, happy to be alive. Two boys and a girl were kicking a kangaroo-hide football, laughing at a tan dog that barked every time the ball bounced. A solitary older man sat on the river bank with his fishing line dangling in the water. The place was brimming with peace, contentment and happiness, and she understood why the others were staying instead of accompanying her. Perhaps they were right to stay. The dream that she was heading towards in the east was her dream after all, not theirs. She had never dreamed of standing in the ruined city with anyone else. She looked for Chase, Wahim and Swift, but the three young people weren’t among the trees where she’d parted from them. She sighed. Everyone knew she was going. A protracted farewell was unnecessary. She turned away and headed into the bush.

P
rince Shadow studied the tall, dark-haired woman as he would appraise a mare in the royal stables. Dressed in black trousers and a white shirt befitting a man, she was elegant and carried herself with the poise of a person full of confidence.
And that will be your downfall
, he mused as she approached. He gestured for her to sit and waved away his attendants, and when the door closed he said, ‘You’ve been busy lately.’

‘Thank you for the welcome,’ she replied, smiling.

‘Ah yes,’ he said. ‘I always forget my manners when I’m in the presence of a beautiful woman.’

‘A disciple of Jarudha shouldn’t make crass comments,’ she countered.

He nodded, saying, ‘Perhaps, but a Jarudhan disciple, even a Seer, recognises and appreciates beauty in all its forms.’

‘This was to be a business meeting,’ she reminded him.

Shadow pressed his fingertips together beneath his chin and drew a deep breath. ‘Business. Yes. There is the matter of the euphoria we ordered not reaching us.’

‘You know why,’ she replied. ‘I’m not responsible for poor weather. I will arrange for a replacement shipment at my own cost.’

‘And when will your ships bring a replacement supply?’ he asked.

‘When I am satisfied that I have a new shipmaster capable of delivering the goods.’

Shadow shook his head. ‘I heard that your shipmaster—what was his name? Gull? Yes, that’s it. I heard that he met with misfortune in a tavern brawl.’

‘I would say it was planned bad luck,’ Crystal said bluntly. ‘He was murdered.’

‘Oh,’ Shadow murmured. ‘Too many bad friends?’

‘No more than your brother apparently had,’ she retorted.

‘That suggests you know something about my poor young brother’s demise,’ Shadow said, deliberately slowing his words.

‘Only an idiot would mix business with pleasure,’ Crystal replied. ‘And Your Highness knows that I have more important matters on my hands than to waste time organising murders.’

Shadow stood, took three paces and turned back to face his guest. ‘Mrs Merchant, we have a problem. Our agreement was for you to regularly supply quality euphoria from your plantations. You’ve failed in your part of the bargain. I expect better compensation than a late replacement delivery.’

‘What do you propose?’ Crystal asked, her eyes narrowing in anticipation.

‘A significant reduction in the cost.’

‘Or what?’

Shadow smiled. ‘We take our lucrative business elsewhere. Your competitors constantly berate us to take their cheaper deals.’

‘For inferior product,’ she said. ‘Have you used the euphoria they grow?’

Shadow shrugged. ‘I don’t use it at all.’

‘You should. You would know the difference.’

Shadow walked a few more paces. ‘A
significant
reduction, Mrs Merchant. You make the choice.’ Crystal rose from her chair and headed for the door. ‘Well?’ Shadow asked.

‘I’ll let you know,’ Crystal replied, and she exited, leaving the door open in her wake.

Shadow waited until her footsteps on the tiles diminished before he signalled to the attendants to close the door. As it clicked shut, he heard the door to his bed chamber open. Seer Word emerged. ‘You heard?’ Shadow asked.

‘Everything,’ Word replied. ‘She is a wilful woman.’

‘She has admirable qualities,’ Shadow noted, ‘but she will be back.’

‘How can you be sure?’

Shadow motioned for Word to take a seat and he sat as well. ‘We pay her a real king’s ransom for the euphoria that I supply to you. She can’t afford to lose the trade.’

‘We have a more important matter regarding her,’ Word said. ‘She has in her possession something that must not be lost to us.’

‘I’m aware of that—the canvas bag. Perhaps you can tell me what it actually is.’

Word shook his head. ‘Only those in the Inner Sanctum may know its true nature. When you are king, its nature can be revealed to you. But, for now, you must be a strong and silent servant of Jarudha and retrieve this artefact before she passes or sells it elsewhere.’

‘And how do you propose I get it from her?’ Shadow asked.

‘Make her an offer in the guise of appeasement. Tell her that, in exchange for the bag, you will forget the recent transaction transgression rather than force a lower price on the euphoria.’

‘I thought the purpose was to break her trade monopoly—to control the source of the euphoria for ourselves.’

‘And we will. But foremost we need the artefact and this is the only way we can think of that will give her a chance to hand it over without resorting to—less savoury methods. She is not as powerful as you, Your Highness, but if we were to botch an attempt against her she would prove an irritating adversary, and the less you or we are associated with subterfuge the more effectively we will establish your sovereign rule.’

Shadow nodded slowly, considering the options Word had proposed. ‘Then I’d better arrange another meeting with Mrs Merchant,’ he said, and smiled.

‘Any news from your Hordemaster?’ Word asked.

Shadow’s smile faded. ‘Fist has men tracking our quarry. That matter is in hand.’

‘Good,’ said Word. ‘His Eminence will be pleased to hear that news.’

T
he notion that she was being followed stayed with her throughout the day as she shadowed the river east into the foothills.

At first, she blamed her unfamiliarity with the country for her disquiet, until she recognised features that she remembered seeing years before in the company of Wombat and Carter and Talemaker and realised that her feeling came from another source.
I am a foolish old woman for travelling alone
, she thought and laughed quietly.
But I’m not alone at all, am I Whisper
? she mused.

Leaving the others was satisfying because it meant that they would not be caught up in the events she sensed were closing in on her. Swift was right. They would all be safe in the village. Their involvement through Chase in the Seers’ machinations was a strange twist and very unfortunate for all of them because their lives would now be forfeit in the city, she decided. Chase’s encounter with Seer Sunlight and the mysterious canvas bag added to the complexity of the matter because it precipitated this eastward journey—a journey she had always expected to take because of her recurrent dreams over the many years.

She remembered finding the bag in the royal museum of the former Shessian kings. She discovered it by accident, and because she felt its magical potency as she held it, and was frustrated by its magically protected lock and impervious fabric, she stole it and hid it in her bedroom. And then the rush of events that followed shortly afterwards meant that the bag was forgotten.
I wonder who found it under my bed
? It angered her to think that her room was searched by the Seers when she lived in Queen Sunset’s palace. Their determination to destroy her because she possessed the amber Conduit had driven her to kill and for that she had never forgiven herself. She’d thought if she hid the amber the Seers would end their quest, but even after almost fifty years it appeared they were still intent on releasing the Demon Horsemen. As long as the amber and the Seers existed, she knew she was caught in the Seers’ web of intrigue.

Wrapped in thought, she was startled by a bronze goanna as the reptile ran from bush to bush across her path and vanished.
I’m being followed
, she reminded herself. She deviated from the river bank and ascended a hill. From the crest, she surveyed the land to the north and was shocked to see how little of the old Whispering Forest remained. Where huge tracts of green forest had spread west from the mountains was now rolling grassland with scattered trees and copses as forlorn reminders of what had been. The Kerwyn army, in its desperate mission to kill the Shessian people, had permanently changed the landscape.

She scanned the immediate bush for signs of pursuers without identifying any, but still she wasn’t convinced that she was alone, so she lifted Whisper from her hessian bag, clutched the amber gem beneath her tunic and communicated,
Find.
The rat scampered into the undergrowth, and then Meg descended the hill.

A short distance along the river bank, Whisper reappeared, sitting on a rotting log between two majestic river gums and as Meg approached the rat projected an image to her of three people—two men and a woman.
Where
? Meg asked. The rat replied with an image of the river and a spot Meg had passed before she deviated up the hill. Realising they were not very far behind, she scooped up the rat and withdrew into the bushes. She did not have long to wait. Three people appeared on the riverbank, obviously following her trail, and as they came closer to where she was hiding she stepped out of the bushes, challenging, ‘Where are you going?’ Startled, Swift drew her knife. Chase and Wahim stepped back. ‘Well?’ Meg demanded, glaring at Swift’s weapon.

Swift sheathed the knife, saying, ‘We’re coming with you.’

Meg looked at Chase and Wahim. ‘Where are Passion and Jon?’ she asked.

‘Back at the village,’ said Chase.

Meg shook her head. ‘Why would you want to come with me? I’m going on a long journey.’

‘You’re going through my homeland,’ said Wahim in his resonating voice. ‘I’ve long wanted to see the place where I grew up again.’

‘And I want to know what’s in the canvas bag,’ said Chase. ‘I started all this trouble. I should at least know why.’

Meg looked at Swift. The young woman shrugged, saying, ‘Someone has to look after these two. Besides, I knew you were continuing on before we left the city.’

‘You’d be better staying with Passion,’ Meg argued. ‘This could be a dangerous trip. I don’t exactly know where I’m going or what it’s like there.’

‘It’s not a trip for an old woman to do alone,’ said Chase.

Meg glared at him. ‘I’m not
that
old. And I’m not alone.’

Swift glanced at Whisper who sat on the ground preening. ‘The rat doesn’t count.’

‘Don’t underestimate the rat,’ Meg warned. ‘She’s saved my life many times.’

‘We’re coming with you because we want to,’ said Chase. ‘Passion and Jon are safe. There’s no other reason to stay in the village and there’s nothing to do there. I’d go crazy with boredom.’

Meg studied the three young people. Companionship on the journey would be welcome—a blessing in the old Shessian language. She’d had many companions on other journeys.
Where are they now
? The thought triggered fear.
What if I’m leading these young people to their deaths
? ‘I can travel alone,’ she said. ‘Perhaps it’s better if I do.’

‘Why?’ Chase asked.

‘Journeys can be dangerous.’

‘All the more reason for us to accompany you,’ said Swift.

‘So you’re following the river?’ Wahim asked.

‘Into the mountains,’ Meg replied, collecting her thoughts, ‘and then into Shesskar-sharel.’ She looked at Wahim for a comment, remembering the hostility of the Shesskar towards foreigners in their land, but the Shesskar man merely stared back with a soft smile, happy at the prospect of going home.

‘Then we’d better get moving,’ said Swift.

‘How do you do that?’ Chase asked, seeing Meg enter the campsite with a brace of pigeons. ‘I can’t catch anything.’

Meg smiled and laid the meal on a rock beside the fire near Wahim and Chase, saying, ‘I catch. You clean.’ She headed for the nearby stream and as she rinsed her
hands, she considered her situation. They were on the mountain slopes, heading for a pass into Shesskar-sharel, more than eight days of travel behind them, and she was with three city-living people. She could accept the Shesskar-born brothel bouncer. At least Wahim had some sense of hunting and he could find birds and animals. He just had no proficiency with trap setting. The young woman, the assassin, could probably creep up on anything, but she’d hunted neither animals nor birds and found them frustratingly sensitive to her movement. The young man had no idea at all. Without her, beyond the farms and villages, they would starve if they were left on their own.

Soft movement in the water caught her eye and a platypus glided past, its waterproof brown fur holding tiny air bubbles. It slid under a tree root and she lost sight of it. An iridescent dragonfly hovered above the stream two armspans from her face and she studied its vibrating wings, blurred against the lush khaki bush. The years spent searching for her son in the foreign Andrak land and the years aboard Captain Marlin’s ship carried their memories and special moments, but she was always either in a rush travelling from place to place or senseless in the grip of euphoria, and in that time she’d forgotten the Shessian bushland’s beauty, its peacefulness, its animals and creatures. Leaning back on the grassy bank, she listened to the water rippling over the stones and washing around tree roots, the whisper of the breeze through the big gum trees. In another day’s climbing, the bush flora would change to mountain plants as the air became colder and the world of her younger life would be left behind again. It was Kerwyn land now, but for her it would always be Western Shess and always her home.

A tiny snout nudged her hand and Whisper climbed onto her lap to curl up. ‘Where have you been this
morning?’ she asked as she stroked the little animal. Then a twig cracked and she turned her head to discover Chase walking towards her. He sat on the bank beside her, brushing his mop of hair away from his eyes. He was barely a man’s age, she noted, looking at his stubbled jawline and cheeks, but his face carried a presence that told her he’d seen a great deal in his short life.

‘Wahim is teaching Swift how to pluck the pigeons,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise she’d never cooked an animal before.’

‘And you’ve never been out in the bush?’ Meg asked.

‘Never,’ he replied.

‘Are your parents still alive?’

Chase stared at the stream. ‘My father was killed in a factory accident. I think my mother is alive somewhere. We haven’t seen her since she left.’

‘Oh,’ Meg said. ‘How old were you?’

‘Nine when she left. I was eight when my father was killed.’

‘And your sister and you survived alone?’

‘She went on the streets to make some money. She was lucky she was picked up by Mister Whoreson. His brothel is clean and protected. Or at least it was.’

‘What do you mean “it was”?’

Chase explained how it had been burned down. ‘People suspected the Joker had something to do with it. I don’t know.’

‘Why?’

‘I just didn’t think it was her. I know I only spent a few days in her company when we found the bag, but I just got the feeling that she wouldn’t have done anything to me after that.’

‘Your sister said she was behind the thugs who tried to kill both of you.’

‘The Joker wouldn’t do that. It doesn’t make sense.’

‘It does if she doesn’t want anyone else to know what you found.’

‘Maybe,’ Chase conceded.

‘But your instinct says otherwise?’ Chase nodded. ‘And sometimes it’s better to trust our instinct than our logic,’ Meg stated.

‘Sometimes,’ said a voice behind them.

‘You’re annoyingly silent when you move around,’ Meg noted as Swift took a seat beside Chase.

‘It’s saved my life a lot of times,’ said Swift. ‘What are you hoping to find in this place where we’re going?’

‘Answers,’ Meg replied. ‘Answers to a lot of questions I have, and not just about the canvas bag.’

‘Do you believe all this rubbish about the Demon Horsemen?’ Chase asked.

Meg frowned. ‘The Demon Horsemen are very real, young man. They exist.’

Swift snorted derisively. ‘How do you know that?’

Meg hesitated, assessing the two young people, before she said, ‘Because I’ve seen them.’

Chase’s mouth opened. Swift laughed. ‘Too much euphoria, lady,’ she remarked. ‘You’re madder than I thought.’

‘Believe what you choose,’ Meg challenged, ‘but I
have
seen them and they are terrifyingly powerful, more dangerous and powerful than anything you can imagine, even in your worst nightmare.’

Swift stood, brushing grit from her hands. ‘Enough of the children’s stories for me. I smell breakfast cooking.’ She headed for the campsite.

‘Where did you see them?’ Chase asked, astonishment etched on his face.

‘It’s a long story and a long time ago,’ Meg replied.

‘Tell me,’ he persisted.

Meg slid Whisper from her lap and stood. ‘It’s time to eat. I’ll tell you another time.’ She followed Swift,
Whisper bobbing behind her, leaving Chase to stare at the old woman’s back, wondering what strange secrets aligned her with the old Seer from the Bog Pit.

She was grateful that they at least knew how to light fires and that their passage through the mountains was uneventful, bar the cold nights and brittle mornings. They gathered enough food as they ascended the western slopes to avoid hunger, and there was plenty of water in the tiny rivulets trickling into the pass from the mountains. If there was necessity, she knew that she would resort to the power of the amber to provide for and protect them, but apart from quietly using her magic to warm her weary and cold bones at night, she was glad that she was able to keep her skills secret. As it was, they were impressed that a woman of her age could walk as briskly through the mountains as any of them and that she could hunt and trap game. ‘You promised to tell me about how you saw the Demon Horsemen,’ Chase insisted as Wahim breathed life into the sparks for the campfire on the first evening in the mountain pass.

Meg dropped her food bag in preparation for cooking a meal and squatted on a smooth rock. ‘Did I?’ she asked.

‘Leave her alone about the spooky stories,’ Swift muttered, wandering past.

‘What are these Demon Horsemen?’ Wahim asked. He threw dry tinder and wood onto the fledgling flames. ‘I hear people talk about them all the time.’

‘Your people have no tales about the Demon Horsemen?’ Chase asked.

‘
My
people?’ Wahim asked. ‘I was born a Shesskar, but they are not my people. But we don’t have your superstitious tales.’

‘The Shesskar are not religious,’ Meg explained to Chase, glancing at Wahim who was quietly watching
her. ‘They see the world as it is. They don’t believe in a god or a spiritual world.’

‘I don’t get it,’ Chase said.

‘Just like you don’t believe in Jarudha,’ Swift said, sitting in the circle by the fire. She stared at the rat beside Meg. Whisper was cleaning her whiskers, oblivious to the humans.

‘How do you know I don’t believe?’ Chase challenged.

‘How often do you go to the temple?’ Swift retorted. ‘How many times a day do you pray?’

‘Doesn’t mean I don’t believe,’ Chase argued.

‘The Demon Horsemen are meant to be servants of Jarudha,’ Meg interrupted, and she explained their role as purifiers of the world before Jarudha could establish His Paradise.

‘Kerwyn people have strange ideas,’ Wahim noted as Meg finished.

‘They can’t be just ideas if she says she saw them,’ Chase said. ‘You did see them, didn’t you?’

Meg saw the eyes of the small group turn on her.
They know nothing about my past
, she thought.
I’m just an old woman to them. Why would I change that
? ‘Well?’ Swift asked. ‘The truth.’

‘I saw them,’ Meg replied, watching their reactions. Chase’s eyes widened as they had the previous time. Swift snorted contemptuously. Wahim remained impassive.