Owl shuddered as his Gift loosed its hold, leaving him in his familiar, listening dark. Arre squeezed his hand comfortingly. Kerigden's mind voice whispered, Talyene. But what does it all mean?
Is it always like that, Owl? Arre asked. Fragments with obscure and brooding import?
Yes, he agreed. Except when it's fragments and unadulterated terror. I don't know what it all means, Kerigden. The cage of brambles…It makes me think of something Lynx said about the Xhi'a'ieffth…He searched for it. A net for memories; the twisted brambles on the signet and the brooch.
But what does it contain? Arre mused. It was copper, not gold or silver.
Owl summoned the memory back and he and his friends reexamined the cage of brambles.
It's almost too fine to be wire, Arre noted. More like thread—
It's hair, Kerigden cut in. Could they possibly be holding me captive with a few briars and a lock of my hair?
If the circumstances hadn't been so troubling, Owl would have smiled at the incredulous outrage in the High Priest's mind voice. The Dark Lady's priestess offered a willing blood sacrifice last night in the moon-dark ritual. A girl-child. He presented the images: the child on the altar; Thyzhecci robed for the sacrifice. It will be the power they raised that holds you, Kerigden; the brambles and the hair are only the symbols of the working.
How did you make that leap from the images we saw? Arre demanded; the brusqueness of her mental tone could not quite hide the undercurrent of awe.
I didn't, Owl told her. Lynx and Marhysse spied on the ritual last night. They saw it. Hassythe was present, as well—one of the assisting priestesses.
They were silent, pondering in their own thoughts for a moment. Finally, Kerigden said, So now, all we have to do is to find and destroy the cage of brambles to free me from the binding?
Or unweave the cage and remove your hair from it, Arre put in. It does seem logical.
It's a trap, Kerigden asserted with almost his usual force. You're meant to go charging straight into the waiting clutches of this Hassythe.
Well, Arre countered hotly, you can't expect us to sit idly by and watch you starve because you can't feed yourself!
It is certainly a trap, Owl agreed calmly, and a clever one. If we take no action, Kerigden, we risk losing you—a loss we can ill sustain; yet, if we act, we will almost certainly play into their hands. They know, even better than we, what we must do to reverse the binding; they will not leave the key to their working unguarded and accessible.
What do you recommend, Owl, Arre asked.
Owl felt the weight of their expectation as an almost palpable force. He made himself draw a deep, calming breath before he responded. First, we need to know whether you can swallow, Kerigden; if your people can give you liquids and nourishment, that will mean we have a little time. Then, I need to find out where the cage of brambles is hidden; there are a couple of meditation techniques that might help. When we know (or guess) more, we'll need to come up with a strategy and a plan. Won't Talyene free you, Kerigden? Or would she if we asked?
She hasn't broken the binding, the Windbringer's High Priest said. I couldn't say whether that is because she cannot, or because she does not choose to do so. She prefers us to be independent, in the normal course of things. I will pray—I can at least do that. Perhaps then she will make her will more clear. Now, he added, send for Razhynde. He coupled the name with a mental picture of the Healer who had attended Owl when he was poisoned. If she can't figure out how to get nourishment into me, no one can.
While the Healer was in the midst of her careful examination, Lynx was shown in by an acolyte. Owl filled her in on what had transpired and listened to her account of her meeting with the Emperor's spymaster.
Do you want me to give you the faces now, she asked him silently, or later?
Later, Owl responded. I'll need to concentrate on them, and right now, I'm too distracted.
During their exchange, the Healer had tried Kerigden with a cup of water. By dint of careful persistence, she managed to trickle most of it into his mouth. When she had finished, she looked at the anxious friends.
"Fluids, thin broth. We can keep him alive—for a while—on that. But in the normal course of an illness, such a diet is a temporary measure; as the patient strengthens, solid foods are introduced. The High Priest can swallow, but he can't chew. I hope you will be able to break this binding before long."
Owl nodded. "We will do our best. Pray for us."
"I shall," the Healer promised.
"Do you want us to leave him to rest?" Arre asked her. "Or is it better if we stay with him?"
"Short visits, fairly frequently, would be best, I think."
Arre nodded and she and Owl returned to the bedside to bid Kerigden farewell. We must go. We'll come back.
Be careful, Kerigden wished them.
Yes, they promised. Arre led the way to the door, while Cezhar and Lynx fell in beside Owl. When they were out in the hall, Arre turned to the Seer.
"Now what?"
"I must talk to Mouse," Owl told her.
"The child?" Arre shivered. "The sacrifice."
He nodded. "Even if the girl wasn't one of Mouse's Free Schoolers, she ought to be warned. And you?"
Irony was strong in Arre's voice. "I almost forgot. I'm having tea with the Queen this morning."
Cezhar choked, but Owl's tone was full of mischief. "Will you wear a dress?"
"No," Arre replied serenely.
"Why do you suppose she invited you to tea?" Owl pressed.
"In her note, she said it would give Lady Azhine Glakhyre hysterics."
Scraps of vision fluttered across his inward sight: a stoppered vial; a plate of elegant marzipan trifles. "Don't eat anything," he said.
"Owl!" Arre protested.
"I mean that. Especially if there's marzipan. Be careful, Arre."
Several expressions chased themselves over Arre's mobile features. She ended up exchanging a wry look with Cezhar. "Does he do this to you?" she asked the bodyguard.
"If he did, I should be very careful to follow his advice," Cezhar assured her. "Watch yourself."
Chapter Fourteen—Blade and Venom
The Free School was located in a large brick building that had once been a tenement on the edge of the Slums. The brick façade showed evidence of careful restoration, and window boxes filled with bright flowers decorated the windows that faced the street. There were children playing in the small side-yard; Owl heard their shouts and laughter as Lynx and Cezhar led him through the entryway. An older boy was sitting at a table just inside the doorway. He regarded them curiously for an instant before he rose to greet them.
"Welcome to the Free School. May I help you?" he asked. He spoke precisely and slowly, as though the careful diction was very different from the way he spoke when he was with his friends.
"I'm Owl. I need to see Mouse."
The boy consulted a slate chalkboard on the wall before he said, "She's just finishing a class. Should I interrupt her, or will you wait in her office?"
"We'll wait if she isn't going to be long."
"Then come this way." The boy left his post and escorted them up one flight of stairs to a rather functional room overlooking the side-yard where the children played. He found chairs for them all—straight, rather hard chairs, Owl noted—and left them, promising to send Mouse in as soon as she was done. Owl and Lynx sat in the chairs he had provided, but Cezhar prowled to the window and stood there, frowning down at the noisy children.
Lynx looked around the room. It was a plain, workmanlike office: a desk with a few papers and a jar of writing implements on it; the floors were bare, scuffed wood, innocent of carpets or polish; the chairs were simple straight ones that would have been more at home in a classroom; on a shelf beside the desk, several books were tidily bracketed by a pair of beautiful bronze lion's head bookends. The walls were bare, except for the one behind the desk, which was covered with cork and festooned with sketches pinned up som
ewhat haphazardly. Lynx went over to study the sketches. Portraits, landscapes, intricately detailed drawings of flowers or birds, a floor plan with something that looked like a builder's drawing of a house, and several pictures of boats under sail all vied for attention. After a cursory survey, Lynx went back to the portraits and began to look through them rather carefully. Many of the sketches were children, most with the indelible marks of privation stamped on their features; but somehow, the artist had captured the essential liveliness of her subjects, their curiosity, their humor. Lynx froze as one face caught her attention. Gently, she removed the tack and took the portrait down.
"What have you found?" Owl asked her.
Without speaking, she passed the image to his mind. It was the child from his visions, the one on the altar.
"Oh dear." Owl sighed and pushed a hand through his hair.
Cezhar turned to look at them. "What?"
Lynx indicated the sketch. "It's the girl, the one Marhysse and I saw last night."
Cezhar shook his head as he went back to gazing out the window. A moment later, the door opened, and Mouse came in.
"Owl. Penarh said you were waiting for me." She crossed the room in a rush and hugged him. "Gods, you're thin. I hardly noticed, before—there must have been something else on my mind. Didn't they feed you at that school?"
"They fed me; I just wouldn't eat. Mouse, I—" He broke off, unsure how to continue.
"Not a social call, then," she remarked, recognizing his distress. She gripped his shoulders and shook very gently. "If something's wrong, just tell me. We'll do our catching up later."
"I'm sorry. I should have made time for a visit. It seems like we only meet for crises or disasters. I'm sorry," he said again. "It's bad news; I wish it weren't. You know Cezhar, and this," he gestured toward the woman by the desk, "is Lynx. She did some judicious spying and uncovered an appalling thing. There was a child killed last night—a girl—in the moon-dark ritual at the Dark Lady's Temple."
Mouse's breath was quick and horrified. "No," she breathed. "Who? Do you know?"
"We do not know her name," Lynx said as she lifted the sketch from the desk, "but this is her likeness."
"Oh, no," Mouse said, her voice breaking. "Ghynna. I was afraid something was wrong; she'd missed her classes the last three days." She bit her lips together as the tears brimming in her eyes spilled.
"I'm sorry, Mouse," Owl murmured as he pulled her gently into his arms and held her while she cried.
Mouse didn't let herself cry long. She scrubbed her hands through the tears and said, "When did the Dark Lady's Temple start murdering children?" Her tone was startlingly grim.
"We think last night was the first," Owl said. "Can you pass the word through the Slums? It's possible Ghynna's family didn't realize she was to be sacrificed when they sold her to the Temple."
Mouse's tone was bitter. "It's possible Ghynna's family didn't care, but yes, I'll pass the word. I'll tell Ferret and Sharkbait; they'll help make sure everyone hears this ugly truth. Does the Emperor know? What will he do?"
"I've spoken with Thantor," Lynx said.
"I don't see what the Emperor can do," Owl said bleakly. "Thyzhecci isn't fool enough to kidnap sacrificial victims, and if the child has been legally sold, and professes herself willing during the rite…"
"Then the Emperor can't touch her. Fortunately, I don't have the same scruples." Mouse's voice was chillingly determined. "The High Priestess Thyzhecci may think she's beyond retribution, but trust me: she's wrong. Poor Ghynna." She was silent for a moment longer, then she looked at Lynx. "How did you discover this, anyway? Owl said 'judicious spying'—but what made you suspect such a thing? Did you hear some rumor?"
A flash of warning vision streaked across Owl's inner sight: a figure crouched in a hallway, listening at a door. "Mouse," he said a little sharply. "Let's just say Lynx is good at her trade—and that she doesn't always work alone. But believe me: if we'd had any hint of this before last night, we would have been certain you knew. There is no one better placed to protect the most vulnerable children than you."
"But Owl," she began.
"Mouse," he whispered, a plea. Then he tugged one ear and gestured toward the door.
After an instant's silence, he heard her move quietly away; then the door was flung open. There was a scuffle. "Penarh!" Mouse demanded. "What do you think you're—No!"
"Lynx! Don't kill him!" Owl cried.
There was more scuffling, which resolved into a boy's sobbing.
"He had a knife," Cezhar said.
"Was anyone cut?" Owl asked.
"No."
"We are luckier than we deserve," Owl said grimly. "Let me describe the knife: there's a black gem in the pommel of the knife and a pattern of brambles etched on the blade—which is poisoned."
"How did you know that?" Mouse began but she cut herself off. "Stupid question. But Owl, there's got to be an explanation. I know this boy. Let him up, Lynx; he won't run away."
"Don't let him up," Owl contradicted. "Mouse, he pulled a knife on you! I don't believe there's an innocent explanation, but ask your questions."
"Penarh, stop crying and answer me. What on earth were you doing?"
"I dinna know. I dinna know!" he sobbed. The careful diction had disappeared into the clipped and rapid cant of the Slums. "It's like a dream. I remember being at the table, and letting them into your office, but then I dinna recall aught else until yon woman jumped on me. Mouse, you must believe me!"
"How can I possibly believe that?" Mouse demanded. "I saw you—and I saw the knife in your hand."
"Happen it's witched," the boy said. "The knife. I've had nightmares about it. But Mouse, I'd never do aught to hurt you or the School. Believe me!"
"Owl?" Mouse asked. "Can you make any sense out of this?"
"Possibly," Owl said, starting across the room; but he was checked by Cezhar's hand on his shoulder. "Not within reach," the bodyguard murmured. "If this is directed at you, let's not make it easier for them."
Owl sighed but went no further.
"Wait," Lynx said. "Cezhar, take my place."
Owl felt the older man move away from him. He touched Lynx's mind. What are you thinking? he asked her.
I do not like this. I will see whether I can tell anything from his mind. Stay linked to me, if you choose, but be careful. If an Adept has taken the boy's shape and we are linked, you will be vulnerable as well.
Do you think that's likely?
Owl, I do not know. I'm trained to consider all possible threats.
Owl remained linked to the bodyguard's thoughts as, cautiously, Lynx extended a tendril of thought to touch the boy's mind. At first, all she found was what they expected: a frightened boy, with no apparent Mind-gifts. The boy's surface memories confirmed the story he had told. Lynx probed deeper, looking for a compulsion or an inconsistency. A knotted tangle of memories caught her attention. As she began to explore them, a searing jolt of power stabbed through her into Owl's linked mind. The Seer cried out and staggered backward, breaking contact. At that instant, the boy writhed loose from Cezhar's hold and snatched up the fallen knife. He lunged for Owl. Before he had taken two steps, he fell, Lynx's blade in his throat.
"Gods!" Mouse cried.
Lynx caught Owl and propelled him to a chair. "Are you all right?" she demanded.
"Yes. When you found the compulsion it triggered a trap. Gods. I don't want to think about the skill and strength it takes to lay something like that on a person. Is he dead?"
"It seemed—necessary."
"Mouse…"
Mouse was crying again.
"Mouse, I'm sorry."
"I saw it. She had to do it. He meant to kill you, Owl."
"Mouse, listen to me. He was under a compulsion—a terribly strong one. There's a powerful Adept at work here, maybe more than one. I doubt we could have broken the spell, even if we had known it was there. I'm sorry."
"But why would a powerful Adept bother with him?
" Mouse wailed. "Penarh was a Slum-rat. It's not as if he moves—moved—in the circles of the powerful."
"No," Owl agreed gently, "but then, perhaps the Adept was counting on my visiting you, Mouse."
"Especially if the Adept and his allies had formed the plan of preying on the children of the Free School," Lynx put in, her voice very grim. "Owl, we must get you back to the Palace."
"We'll have to talk to the Watch, first. Cezhar, will you summon them?"
The bodyguard went out, closing the door behind him.
"I suppose we need the Watch," Mouse said doubtfully.
"What about the knife, Owl?" Lynx asked. "Could you tell whether it was itself part of the compulsion? Could the boy have been right?"
"I don't know; I couldn't tell. I am certain the blade's poisoned, though. I'm not sure the Watch should take it, but we mustn't leave it here."
"There's thekheth on the blade," Lynx confirmed. She looked at Mouse. "Would you perhaps have a box or something I could put it in?"
Mouse went to the desk and pulled out a leather pen case. "Will this do?"
"Yes." Lynx slipped the blade into the case and tucked it into a pocket. Then she removed a dagger from one of the hidden sheaths she wore and laid it on the floor beside the boy's hand. Mouse raised her eyebrows but didn't speak.
When Cezhar returned with three Watchmen, two of them examined Penarh and wrapped his body, while the other listened to their version of what had happened. Once or twice he looked to Mouse for corroboration, and she nodded.
"A sad business, Mistress Amynne," he said at last. "I'm sorry for it. Penarh hasn't any family, has he?"
"No. The Free School will pay for his burial, if you'll see to it, Captain Mannakh."
The Captain nodded shortly. At his gesture, the others picked up Penarh's limp form and they all went out. Mouse let out a sigh that was very nearly a sob.
"We must get back," Owl said. "Will you come with us, Mouse? I don't want to leave you alone."
She shook her head, then said, when she realized he couldn't see her, "No. I'm all right. I need to tell the other teachers and the children about Ghynna and Penarh, and—" Her voice escaped her control for a moment. She took a shuddering breath to quell the tears that threatened. "I'll be all right, Owl. I have friends, here; I won't be alone."