Between Their Worlds

Chapter 22

TWO MORNINGS LATER, before the sun had risen, Wynn knelt by the back door of Nattie’s inn and fastened a note to Shade’s collar. Chane stood right behind both of them.

“Remember, give it only to Rodian,” she said, and stroked Shade’s neck as she drew up memories of the captain and the second castle of Calm Seatt. “Try to find him at the barracks first.”

She wished Shade didn’t have to be the one to put events in motion. Hopefully the dog could locate the captain somewhere other than the guild, as that place was likely watched by anmaglâhk.

Shade huffed and scratched the door.

With reluctance, Wynn cracked it open, and Shade slipped out and took off up the alley. When Wynn turned about, Chane looked troubled.

Dawn was close, and he needed to get back to their room.

Chane had a cloak—provided earlier by Brot’an—draped over his arm. It was not the drab cloak that the master anmaglâhk had been wearing as his traveler’s disguise, but instead, it was the forest gray cloak of an anmaglâhk. Wynn didn’t want to know where Brot’an had gotten it.

“Is everything else set?” Chane asked. “The trunks, the wagons ... the inserts for the boots?”

“Yes, yes,” she answered, nervous now that the first step had been taken. “Ore-Locks arranged everything and kept me out of sight. I wish he was coming with us tonight, but he can’t risk being seen in the middle of all this. There can be no oddities to put off the anmaglâhk.”

“I will be there,” he reminded her. And then he added grudgingly, “Leesil’s plan should work, though he should not have involved you.”

Wynn stifled a sigh. Chane had been fretting enough for both of them about her part in what was to come. But yes, the plan should work. Getting Rodian to agree to what she asked in Shade’s message would help in that. All they could do now was wait.

“We should get you to the room,” she said.

Chane didn’t move.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“There is something I haven’t told you. Shade knows ... but for some reason, she did not pass you any memories or try to tell you of it.”

“Tell me what?”

Chane glanced away, and then blurted out, “I have managed to create a concoction, a potion, that allows me to remain awake during the day. I cannot go outside, but I will not fall dormant. I wish to be awake today, to help with preparations.”

Wynn stared at him. “A potion? What ... how long have you ... ?

He raised one hand to ward off questions. “For some time. I feared telling you because some of the components are questionable, and I based my experiments on a sample I obtained from Welstiel.” He looked her straight in the eye before she could say anything about the last part. “You are the one who said we can no longer afford to refuse help on our side ... from wherever it is offered. My being awake today will be helpful.”

Wynn just stood there, taking this in. Chane could be awake during the day?

Once, she would’ve exploded at him for touching anything, using anything, that had ever belonged to Welstiel. She couldn’t deny that the pack of toys Chane had taken from Magiere’s undead half brother had been of some use. From the brass ring he now wore to the etched steel hoop that conjured heat, there had been more than one moment when they wouldn’t have succeeded in past endeavors. But the thought of Chane re-creating anything uncovered by Welstiel and then consuming it ...

To her surprise, though she was concerned, she wasn’t angry. She’d never admit it, but the thought of having his help all day brought relief. One part was almost unbelievable, though.

“Shade has known about this?” Wynn asked.

“For a short while, just after she and I escaped from the guild.”

“Why would Shade ever keep a secret for you?”

“I have wondered,” he said. “It might be the ways of the majay-hì. Or ... she’s more pragmatic than you know.”

Wynn started slightly as the implications sank in. “So, yesterday, all day, you were just lying there on the floor, pretending to ... sleep ... and she knew it?”

Chane nodded once. Of all that Chane or Shade had ever done in Wynn’s company, this struck her as the most unsettling. They’d both been a pain in her backside with their separate overprotectiveness. Now they were in actual collusion about it.

“And there are side effects to this potion, aren’t there?” she said. “That’s what all that hiding away on the sea voyage to the Lhoin’na was about. You were ... sick ... every time you finally came out of your cabin.”

He didn’t—couldn’t—deny it.

“It is nothing that will hinder me,” he replied. “I am accustomed to it now, so long as I do not prolong its use too far. I simply wanted you to know.”

Shade was well on her way to Rodian, and right now, they had a great deal to accomplish. Wynn walked past Chane and headed for the stairs.

“Let’s get to work on those boots.”

But soon enough, Wynn was going to make Chane show her everything—including anything else he was hiding in Welstiel’s pack of twisted little toys. And Shade had better not be in on any more of it.

Rodian stepped from the barracks that housed his office and walked out into the courtyard of the second castle that housed Malourné’s military. The sun was just cresting the keep’s forward wall, and he knew it was too early to check in with the High Advocate.

It was the morning of the third day since he’d been summoned before Prince Leäfrich, and he hadn’t slept all night.

So far, Rodian had been unable to convince the High Advocate to grant him a general warrant, but this didn’t surprise him. The prospect of Shyldfälches pounding on doors was disruptive to the peace, yet Rodian hadn’t given up. Last evening, he’d succeeded in convincing the advocate to send word to the royal family about his request. He had a feeling it would be granted.

Prince Leäfrich was likely under great pressure from the Premin Council to find Wynn.

Rodian slowed as he passed through the courtyard and watched the shadows of the keep’s wall creep away as the sun rose higher. Even without the warrant, he’d not been idle.

His men swept the city on double duty, even gaining some of the military’s regulars for assistance. All district constabularies had been alerted and given descriptions of Wynn Hygeorht and her wolfish black dog, with orders to detain either. So far, it seemed as if the little, precocious sage had just vanished.

Rodian rubbed his tired eyes, and then the sound of barking cut through his overburdened thoughts.

“Here! Stop that!” someone shouted. “Wait ... isn’t that ... ? Get it!”

The barking only increased, mixed with snarls that echoed up the gatehouse tunnel.

It took only an instant before Rodian bolted into the tunnel.

The outer portcullis was already raised, and he doubled his pace. As he rushed out the tunnel’s other end, he found three of the regulars trying to encircle a tall, charcoal black dog, which was snarling and snapping as it evaded them.

Shade was quick and agile, and gave them a lot of trouble.

One soldier spotted Rodian and held back for an instant. “Sorry, Captain. We can’t get a grip on it ... without getting bit.”

Shade spun around, and at the sight of Rodian, she froze. Her racket dropped to a steady rumble.

He had no idea why his appearance would halt the dog in her place, and then he spotted one oddity. Wynn’s dog had never worn a collar that he’d ever seen, yet a strip of gray wool was tied around Shade’s neck. There was a piece of paper wrapped around that fabric.

“Back off, all of you!” Rodian ordered.

The three regulars exchanged confused glances but obeyed, standing poised around Shade but well out of reach. Slowly, cautiously, Rodian took two steps.

“Easy, girl,” he said.

Shade continued to tremble and rumble, but she stood there watching him. Stranger still, she took a step toward him, though it made him hesitate in turn. Much as he wanted to know what was on that paper, he had no desire to get bitten. Shade was rather a large animal, and easily had the advantage of height over any common wolf.

The closer Rodian came, Shade matched him in slower steps, and grew quiet. Reaching down, he ripped the note off the collar and took a step back. He peeled open the torn paper, quickly reviewing its contents. He’d already guessed whom it was from. The note was short, but when he finished reading, he was left mentally numb.

Part of him wanted to curse; another part nearly melted in relief. He read the brief note again and weighed the scales of what Wynn was asking him to do—with no explanation and no promise on her part.

What choice did he have?

He could certainly pin down and lock up Shade, and make Wynn come to him to get the dog back. But that wouldn’t get him the answers he wanted—needed—for what was going on inside the guild and between its Premin Council and the royals.

No ... he had no choice. But he needed a quill and paper if he was to answer Wynn’s note. He looked down at Shade, who tilted her head.

Backing toward the gatehouse tunnel, Rodian said. “Come?”

Shade trotted after him.

Chane knelt on the floor, working on the heel of a boot. He remained externally passive, but how he felt on the inside was another matter.

Telling Wynn the truth this morning about the concoction—or at least the one he had completed so far—took away one burden. He still hid the secret of the white flower petals and dwarven mushrooms—the anasgiah and muhkgean—and the hint of their use in The Seven Leaves of Life. He was also worried about the risks Wynn would undertake tonight.

He had no contention with the plan that Leesil had devised, only with the fact that Wynn was actively involved. If Leesil was so clever, why not come up with a plan that kept Wynn out of danger?

Chane was also unhappy about a visitor due to arrive any moment, and it was not long before that hesitant knock came at the door.

Wynn looked up from sewing padding into the shoulders of the forest gray cloak Brot’an had provided.

“It me,” a soft voice said through the door.

Wynn swallowed and tried to clear her throat. “Ore-Locks, would ... would you ... ?” she stuttered.

The dwarf went to unlatch the door, and a tall, cloaked elf immediately stepped in. His amber eyes quickly found and locked on Wynn. This one was younger than Brot’an, with a long face, and loose, white-blond hair. Chane had seen him before and hated him at the time.

Once, in the Pock Peaks, this one had offered his full protection to Wynn—and she had accepted. Much later, when he had been injured, she had watched over him to the point of threatening Chane to keep away, though he had had no harmful intent in that moment.

“Osha,” Wynn said tentatively, clearly aware of the strain in the room. “Come ... in.”

Chane still did not like him.

Osha did not even glance at Chane, either avoiding contact or because he was too fixated on Wynn. As he stepped closer to her, she put down the cloak and picked up Leesil’s stained and tattered green scarf. Reaching up, she put her hand on Osha’s arm.

“Let’s see how this looks,” she said. “Can you show me how he ties it up?”

Osha knelt beside her, taking the scarf.

Chane paused in his own work and had to fight to keep his hands from clenching.

“I think I hear Shade,” he said, and hurried out the door.

He had heard no such noise but would have taken—made—any excuse to leave. He descended the steps two at a time to get away from that room.

Cracking open the inn’s back door only a fraction, he hid behind it, against the daylight. A short while later, when Shade did arrive, she did not need to scratch. She poked her head inside, peeking around the door at him, and he widened the door for an instant, then shut it after she slipped in.

Shade trotted up the stairs and Chane followed, though not quickly enough; his reprieve from what waited in that room was far too short. Shade was already scratching at the room’s door, and in her makeshift collar was a folded slip of paper, though not the one Wynn had sent.

Wynn jerked open the door from the inside before Chane gripped the handle. She snatched the paper as Shade stepped into the room. Chane was left standing on the landing as Wynn fumbled to open the sheet. One quick read, and she raised her eyes to him.

“He’ll do it,” she said, exhaling.

Chane ushered her back from the doorway and reluctantly followed her in and shut the door. No matter that the next step had been achieved, he watched Wynn already fretting again. Her gaze roamed as she looked at nothing, and he knew her thoughts were tangled up with what came next.

The cascade of events had begun and would not stop until all of this was over and done.

“We need to get word to the others,” she said, and turned to Ore-Locks. “Leanâlhâm must leave as soon as the first wagon arrives. Can you go tell Magiere?”

At the mention of Magiere’s name, Chane almost flinched.

Ore-Locks nodded, retrieving his staff from behind the door.

The plan may have been Leesil’s, but whenever Magiere was around, she was always at the heart of more risks to Wynn’s life. Chane could not help wondering how different things might have been if Magiere had never come back.

“Are you all right?” Wynn asked him.

“Yes ... I am fine.”

If nothing else, he would be with her this night. And if all went well, Magiere would soon be gone again.

Midafternoon, Leanâlhâm stood alone, outside the inn, dressed in Wynn’s cloak with the hood pulled up. Behind her on the inn’s porch were two large trunks and two crates of weathered wood planks. When she spotted a wagon rolling slowly up the street among the people coming and going—so many human faces—her stomach began to quiver.

The driver pulled his horses to a stop as another man beside him jumped down.

“You arrange for transport to the docks, miss?” the driver asked.

“Please,” she answered carefully. “Thank you.”

Brot’ân’duivé had coached her on what to say and how to say it. As with most foreign languages, more so this new one of Numanese, she understood more than she could actually speak.

At her silent direction, the second man loaded the crates and then the trunks, or, rather, he tried. When he attempted the first trunk, he grunted and could not quite lift it. The driver immediately hopped down to help.

“Begging your pardon, miss,” the driver asked with a friendly smile. “What did you pack in there—rocks?”

Leanâlhâm tried to smile in turn, though nervousness made her small lips twitch. She looked away and down as she said, “Only some books ... many books.”

Brot’ân’duivé had thought this the best answer if needed.

“Books, eh?” the other man said, shaking his head.

The two men tried to lift the first trunk, but then thought otherwise. They dragged it to the wagon’s back before heaving it up. The first trunk landed on the wagon’s bed with a loud thump, and the wagon rocked. So it went with the second trunk.

“That’s everything,” the driver said, “Come on, miss. Up you go.”

Leanâlhâm wavered. Once she boarded this wagon, there was no turning back. She had to manage this part of the plan alone. It would be the rest of the day and into the night before Osha—and Brot’ân’duivé—finished their tasks and rejoined her. She was frightened to be out in this strange, foreign place without Osha.

Brot’ân’duivé was dutiful to all his people, keeping them safe, including her. But Osha was truly good and kind, and as wounded by loss as was she. Perhaps even more.

“Miss?” the driver asked impatiently.

Leanâlhâm inhaled deeply. She took the driver’s hand and let him pull her up onto the wagon’s bench, as the other man climbed in back. There was nothing else she could do now that the cargo was loaded.

The wagon rolled down the street, farther and farther from the inn. In a surprisingly short time, the driver pulled up at the port. The waterfront and docks were filled with even more people than the street outside the inn, and none of them looked anything like her. The men unloaded the two trunks and two crates, carrying them off to the third pier, which she indicated as instructed by Leesil.

Leanâlhâm found herself waiting again, this time for a skiff to take her out to a ship.

The men headed off down the dock as the driver called out, “Safe voyage, miss.”

For some reason, those words touched her, as if he truly wished that for her. She wanted to thank him but stumbled on the words, and then he was lost in the waterfront crowd. She checked the latches and straps on both trunks to make certain they were secure and then looked out over the great bay, past the docked ships and those beyond, toward the open sea. She looked anywhere to avoid seeing all the people around her and feeling so out of place. And yet ...

Another voyage upon water awaited, with nothing to do but to ache for a home that no longer existed—at least not for her anymore. Had it not been for Osha on the journey here, she could not have borne sailing farther and farther from the only land she knew. At least she would still have him for company, and he would soon be far away from Wynn Hygeorht again.

That last thought filled Leanâlhâm with shame. Osha deserved something—someone—to cherish for all that he had lost and the burdens he now bore.

“Hold there!” a masculine voice commanded.

Leanâlhâm whirled in fright and saw an armed man in a red tabard. The way he looked at her as he strode up the dock clearly meant those words were for her, and she had no idea why.

She froze as he neared, and he dropped his head a little to peer directly into the hood of her cloak. Then he frowned and cocked his head in puzzlement, likely seeing her dark tan skin, her slightly narrow face, with those large, slightly slanted eyes that were green instead of amber. Then he looked over her cloak, the one Wynn had given her, and shook his head.

His manner changed instantly, and he stepped back, bowing slightly.

“Pardon, miss. Didn’t mean to alarm you.” Then he looked up and out beyond her. “Is that your skiff coming?”

Leanâlhâm followed the city guard’s gaze out over the bay. She did not know if this skiff came for her, but she quickly nodded just the same. Whether it was this one or the next, she would soon be on a ship, waiting for nightfall.