The Sekoi looked uneasy, but it said nothing.
Tallis stared into the fire. “And if she betrays you?”
“She’s had that chance before.” Galen glanced at her, his face edged with flame. “I believe the Makers want her. They are stronger than she is.”
For a moment, in the silence, an owl hooted softly outside. Then Galen tugged a string of the green and black crystals from around his neck and began to wind them absently around his hand, something he only did when he was really troubled. “There is one thing in the vision that concerns me even more,” he said at last.
The Sekoi edged forward. “And me.”
Raffi had been dreading this. “You mean the thing in the Pit.”
“Yes. The thing writing in the dark room.”
They were silent. Even here the mention of the Pits of Maar chilled them. No one had ever gone into them and come back; whatever horrors Kest had begun were still there, in all his workrooms and laboratories, breeding and mutating out of control.
Tallis too looked grim. She got up and closed the door, and when she came back they saw she was an old woman again, her hands frail. Carefully she lowered herself into a wooden chair. Then she said, “Tell us what worries you, keeper. All secrets are safe here.”
Galen wrapped the beads around his fingers. Finally he said, “I’ve never told anyone this. Ten years ago, when he was dying, my master told me a great mystery. He told me that many who had been high in the Order had suspected something so terrible that they dared not record it; it had never been written down. It was based on an ancient lost text of Tamar’s, and on rumor, dark talk, the gabblings of a few, barely sane, who had claimed to have seen it in visions.”
“It?” the Sekoi breathed.
Galen looked away. When he spoke again his voice was harsh. “The rumors were that Kest had not tampered only with animals. His last experiment, they say, was on a man.”
Raffi stared. He felt the terror of the dream sweeping back over him; for a moment the Pit gaped under him and he felt himself falling into it, snapping his eyes open as the Sekoi hissed.
The room seemed much darker. Raffi was afraid now, wished Galen had never spoken of this. Fighting to stop trembling, he edged closer to the fire.
Tallis said, “I have never heard this. Could even Kest do something so monstrous?”
Galen took some time to answer. Finally he said, “Who knows. These are whispers and dreams. But if Kest had meddled, if he had taken a man and made something else out of him, something grotesque, a creature that could live long lifetimes, that had an evil intelligence greater than any animal’s, what an enemy that would be.”
“Living in the dark,” the Sekoi muttered. “Letting others do its work.” The creature’s fur was swollen around its neck; it looked tense and distant.
“Your people know about this?” Galen asked.
The Sekoi’s yellow eyes blinked. It put its cup down slowly as if choosing what to say. “There is a name,” it said, “in the darkest of our stories. A being. Not a man, not Sekoi, not a beast. A creature of evil. Immortal, too hideous to look on. We call it the Margrave.”
The fire crackled, splitting a log in a shower of sparks. The Guardian tapped the chair arm. “If you feel able, Raffi, can you tell us more about what you saw? Was it a man?”
“I don’t know.” He couldn’t, he didn’t want to think of it clearly; the memory dodged away, was a cold terror. His hands shook and she noticed and put her own over them. “Don’t be afraid, not here.”
He looked up at her. “I think . . . it had been a man. The shape of the face was too long . . . I didn’t see it properly.”
“If you had, you would not be speaking.” She turned to Galen. “You think he saw this thing?”
“I think the Makers are warning us,” he said bleakly. “We’ve always wondered at the Watch, how it grew so fast, how it defeated us, and all the time none of us knew where it came from. If this is the mind that rules the Watch, then it’s still the legacy of Kest . . .”
No one answered. Galen rubbed his face wearily. It was the Sekoi who stirred, kneeling suddenly and piling new logs on the fire, so the dry wood crackled cheerfully. “None of this concerns us now,” it said firmly. “We have to find this girl-cub. And I suppose you’re right about Carys, keeper, though you know I have doubts about her. How will we send to her? Shall I go?”
Galen glanced back, his eyes black and sharp. “Thank you, but no. I’ll tell her. The Crow will tell her.” Tallis was watching him, intent. He smiled, and at once the sense of weariness among them broke; Raffi almost felt the warmth creep back into the room. Until the keeper said, “We leave tomorrow.”
The Sekoi looked doubtfully at Raffi. “Will he be ready?”
“He’ll have to be.” Galen turned to Tallis. “It’s been good to live in this place. Even though we have to leave it, it cheers me to know it’s still here.”
The Guardian smiled at him. “For those who hold the faith, keeper, it will always be here.”
STANDING ON THE WET LAWNS in the morning, looking back at the house, Raffi knew what she meant. He thought that Artelan’s Well had put something in him that hadn’t been there before, something so deep he could hardly feel it. But it was there, a small hard gem at the center of him. He touched it with his sore mind. It was no use wishing they could stay; it would be too hurtful even to think of that.
Before them the wicker walkway stretched into mist; beyond it the Unfinished Lands steamed and hissed. Tallis kissed each one of them and stood back, her arms at her sides.
“May Flain go with you. May Tamar be at your back and Soren smooth your way. And when you find her, bring the child to us. For anything the Watch can do, we can undo.”
Bleakly Galen nodded. Then he turned and led them into the fog.
Standing in Line
18
I saw my brother suffer a hundred years of remorse.
He had worked with evil and fought to be free of it.
I saw how despair turned cold in his heart.
Apocalypse of Tamar
CARYS STEPPED BETWEEN the two oak trunks warily.
In the deep hollows, crisp leaves were piled; she stood knee-high in the forest’s debris. Above, the gnarled branches rustled in every breeze, a new gilt shower tinseling down. Under the slow pattering, she waited.
The wood was silent, its pathways lost behind trunks and branches.
But she knew they were here.
Careless, she leaned back against the oak trunk, squatting down in the fork between immense sprawled roots. Her crossbow was loaded. She could wait.
The dream had come two nights ago, just when she was running out of lies to tell Braylwin. A great black bird had perched on the end of the bed, some village girl’s bed she had borrowed for the night, and it had spoken to her with Galen’s voice.
“Keilder Forest,” it had said. “Near the Watchhouse.” And then it had gone, flapping out of the window as if it had really been there.
She turned at a cracked twig. A skeat eyed her coldly, then padded off among the bracken. As she watched it, she glimpsed a sharp face looking at her between branches and glanced away to hide a grin. It was the Sekoi.
Galen came out first, brushing between ferns, Raffi a shadow at his back. They squatted.
“Took your time,” she said coolly.
“We had to make sure you were alone.”
“The Watch are never alone.”
“Neither are the Order.” Galen looked sharp, as if power moved in him.
She grinned over his shoulder at Raffi. “You look older.”
To her surprise that startled him, even scared him. “Do I?” he breathed.
“Well, don’t worry. Not that much.”
The Sekoi had ambled over; it crouched in the deep leaf-drift. “All together again. How cozy.”
She made a face at it.
“We’ve found the Interrex,” Galen said quickly. “At least we know where she is.”
br />
“She?”
“We think so.”
“In this forest?”
He looked hard at her, then tipped his head to where the distant edge of the Watchhouse roof showed beyond the trees. “There.”
Carys stared, astonished. “In a Watchhouse!”
“We think so,” he said again.
She whistled, then shook her head, pulling a leaf out of her hair absently. “No wonder you want me! How do you know she’s in there?”
“The Makers told us.” He was watching her steadily; she knew he suspected her, that he guessed something. Abruptly she laughed. “I never know what you mean when you say that, Galen. Well, if she is in there, you’ve got your work cut out. She’d probably slit your throat rather than let you take her.”
That stung him. His face darkened, and she saw suddenly how he hated this, that even the heir of the Emperors should have been tainted and corrupted by his enemies. And she hated it too. So much, she even surprised herself.
She tucked a stray hair behind one ear. “So what’s the plan?”
“I thought I’d leave that to you. You know these places.”
Indeed she did. Grim, bare classrooms, icy courtyards, the stark dormitories, the punishments, the ones who sobbed in the dark, who disappeared one day, never to be seen again. The guards, the passwords. Nowhere to hide. No way out. And what it did to you.
She looked up at him suddenly. “Listen, Galen, get out of here. Go now! Go quickly!”
At once the Sekoi hissed, its yellow eyes narrowing, “What do you mean?”
“She means,” Galen said softly, “that we’re surrounded by the Watch.”
The creature leaped up with a snarl. Galen never took his eyes off Carys.
“I can explain,” she said.
“I’m sure you can.”
“If you knew, why did you come?”
“Because I wanted to find out why.”
Harnesses clinked in the wood. Raffi was on his feet, feeling the sense-lines shatter, praying that Galen knew what he was doing.
Ten men on horses faced them. Each crossbow was firmly aimed. The horses were painted red; the men wore the black patrol-helmets of the Watch, their eyes bright in the slits. On the end of the line sat an extraordinary figure, a fat man in a great waxed coat, his puffed face rimmed with black, oily hair, perfectly curled. He smiled, his swollen fingers tossing the reins. “You must introduce me to your friends, sweetie.”
“Drop dead,” Carys said. Her face was hot and angry.
Slowly Galen stood up and turned. He stood, feet apart, staring calmly across the clearing. “I’m Galen Harn, Relic Master of the Order of keepers.”
Braylwin smirked. “Are you now. And I’m Arno Braylwin, Captain of the Watch, Spymaster, first grade, thief-taker, interrogator of sorcerers.”
Raffi felt cold. He couldn’t take his eyes off the nearest crossbow. One twitch, he thought, and sweated with the effort to keep still.
Braylwin gave a haughty nod.
One of his men slid down and brought a small set of wooden steps, garishly painted, which he put in the leaf-drift. One hand on the man’s shoulder, Braylwin climbed unsteadily down. Then he flicked some leaves off a log with his coattail and sat down.
The Sekoi snarled at Carys. “You betrayed us,” it hissed. “I always knew you would.”
“I had no choice!” Suddenly it was all too much. She scorched into temper, leaping up and pushing Raffi aside so fiercely that he lost balance and crashed into the thick drift of leaves. Crossbows swiveled after him. He lay still.
“He knows something about me! I thought it would help if I told him about you, and it was a way of telling you about the Interrex! For Flain’s sake, Galen, I never thought you’d really find her!”
The Sekoi spat. “Playing both sides, as ever.”
Galen stood listening, silent.
Carys marched up to Braylwin and stared down at him, her hand quivering with fury. “But this slug has brains. He’s like a shadow. Whatever I tried I couldn’t throw him off.”
She turned her head, suddenly not sure whom she was angry with. “I’m sorry, Galen. All of you.”
“Impressive.” Braylwin looked at her admiringly. “You’ll go far. I almost believe it myself.”
Stubbornly she glanced at Raffi. He looked away. What was she doing? What was she really up to?
Galen stirred, ignoring the taut bows. He looked coldly down at the Watchlord. “I’ll give you no information, no matter what you do.”
Braylwin shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. The boy will talk.” He smiled easily. “Believe me, I know. I’ve seen them scream and beg to tell me anything, even to die. He looks terrified already.”
Leaves pattered in the bitter silence. Braylwin scratched his cheek with a thumbnail. “So. The Interrex exists and is in the hands of the Watch! It seems all your dreams are in ruins, keeper. It also poses an interesting little problem for me, actually. After all, I don’t want to tell the schoolmaster in there why I want her. There’ll be a stiff reward for this one, and I don’t intend to share it.” He glanced over. “Except with my loyal staff, of course.”
Carys glared at him. She looked so cold and expressionless Raffi was suddenly icy with terror—the sense-lines wreathed around the backs of his hands, raising the small hairs. She raised the crossbow slowly, until it was pointing directly at Braylwin’s head.
He smiled, sweating slightly. “Don’t you love your uncle, then, Carys? You ought to, you know. Fire that weapon and you and these will die in the same shower of bolts, and that would be a shame, now, wouldn’t it. Such a promising career.”
The bow didn’t waver. Confused, a few of the horsemen aimed at her reluctantly.
“He’s right.” Galen’s voice was harsh and steady. He watched, a half smile on his hooked face, his eyes dark and sharp. “It wouldn’t be worth it, Carys.”
She whirled so the bow faced him. “Maybe I should kill you, then. Profitable for me, better for you. Better than torture, anyway. I’ve seen what they’ll do to you.”
Dry-mouthed, Raffi watched. No one was looking at him anymore, but he didn’t dare to crawl away.
“I think,” Galen said softly, “you should remember your own first rule. Isn’t it something about the Watch always being watched?”
He moved, walking slowly toward her while the Sekoi fidgeted with terror. Coming close, he put a hand on the bow and pushed it gently down. Taints of purple sparked from the keeper’s fingers; Carys saw them and stared.
The bolt smacked into dry leaves.
At the same time, out of nowhere, arrows slashed across the clearing into the Watchmen, sending their horses swirling in a sudden crashing, whinnying panic. A bolt slammed into a tree above Raffi; he rolled, scrambling and wriggling deep under the leaves and away.
When he raised his head and looked back, Galen and the Sekoi hadn’t moved. Neither had Braylwin. But the five Watchmen lay still, and the rest were scrambling from their horses’ tangled harnesses.
Around them, among the trees, a war-band laughed and mocked; a dirty, gold-decked, gaudy army, dressed and painted in crazy colors, their horses’ manes tangled with bright ribbons.
Galen looked at Braylwin. “You may be ruthless, my lord. But here’s someone who could give you lessons. I too have my troublesome shadow.”
Braylwin stood and stared at the tiny man in the blue quilted robe who was leaping from his horse.
“You may have heard of him,” Galen said drily. “His name is Alberic.”
The dwarf grinned, immensely pleased. “This is a feast, Galen Harn, a feast! Not only you and that tale-spinner, but a Watchlord! A ripe, fat, money-dripping Watchlord!” He was hugging himself in delight, dancing a few happy steps among the leaves. “Down, boys and girls! Pick up those bows. Whip some rope around our prisoners.”
Appalled, Braylwin glowered. “You can’t. You wouldn’t dare . . .”
“Shut it, flesh-pile!” Instantly Alberic’s jo
y died. His shrewd eyes flicked around the clearing. “Wait!” Then he whirled on Galen and roared the question the keeper had been waiting for.
“Where’s your scholar? And where’s that girl!”
19
The stupid must be cast aside. Those of medium intellect are of most use. Beware the ones who are too clever. They may be taught to hate us yet.
Rule of the Watch
CLOSE UP, THE WATCHHOUSE was immense, a squat, ugly building of black brick, dumped in the forest. All around stood its defenses; a fence of spiked logs, a ditch, and one drawbridge, lowered now, for the children to straggle across.
From his hiding place under the thorns, Raffi watched them forming up in lines, many staggering under the weight of logs and kindling; even the smallest children had their arms crammed full. There were three guards; two laughing and joking together, the last calling up to someone at a window. None of them were watching the trees.
Carys nudged him sharply, and was gone.
He hoisted the wood bundle up against his face and stumbled out behind her, his heart thudding like a hammerbird’s knock. The sense-lines snagged under his eyelid; he knew Alberic’s hunters were only yards behind.
And still he couldn’t believe what he was doing.
“Line up!” Someone shoved him; he kept his head down, praying numbly. Children closed in behind. Quickly they began to walk.
The branches were heavy, but they kept him hidden, and the boy next to him didn’t even glance across. There was no talking, no pushing. In the silence he could even hear the leaves falling, and the whistle of an oat-piper far off in the wood. Then wooden planks were under his feet; the children’s boots rang in hollow echoes. They were crossing the drawbridge.
Glancing up, he saw the archway gaping over him, a great mouth, one lantern hanging from it like a single tooth. This was it. He didn’t know any passwords, any rules. Carys would get in, but they were bound to find him, drag him out, beat him. He closed his eyes.