Chasers of the Wind

23

All Typhoid could think about was that nighttime encounter by the pier. She kept getting lost in her conjectures: who had fate brought into her path, and how was that strange man with the incomprehensible power connected to the archer? She stayed trapped in her mind until evening when she sensed a surge in the magic of the girl-prodigy. The one because of whom all this started.

The Damned quickly rushed to the place where magic had been used. But before she got there, the wretched girl had already disappeared. But the inn where she had apparently been staying was swarming with Guardsmen. The Damned sensed death, and a Walker approaching in the darkness. Staying any longer would be risky, and Tia cleared out while she still had a whole skin. She couldn’t get back to Haven before curfew, so she decided to spend the night under the open sky. She chose an old cemetery in Second City, the exact same one where Ness and Layen had hidden not so long ago.

Making herself comfortable, Typhoid lapsed into thought.

The girl was even more foolish than she would have thought, for even once using her Gift within sight of the Tower. The Damned hoped that she might beat the Walkers, that she might be the first to get to the prodigy. Closer to morning, the sudden flash of three sparks caused her to wake up. Typhoid’s fears were entirely justified. When she ran to the right street, the Viceroy’s Guards were carrying two unconscious people out of a small wine cellar, located in one of the nondescript buildings. In the light of the torches she could make out the faces of the archer and the girl perfectly. She nearly tore her hair out with frustration when she saw the three Walkers following them. There was no way she could deal with them in her present condition. Then a man appeared, and to her infinite surprise she recognized him as the Healer. The lad was a Walker, which hadn’t happened since the time of the Sculptor!

The prisoners were taken away, and all Tia could do was gnaw on her own fingernails. The only thing that Typhoid was sure of was that now she would have to search for them in Hightown. In the Tower, where she was forbidden to go. She had to wait for the dawn and slip into Cliff (the former name of Hightown).

She went back to the cemetery and patiently observed the swiftly brightening sky.

I woke up because sunlight was striking me in the eyes, and I lay there for some time without raising my eyelids. It was quiet. Then I moved and an awful pain flashed through my right leg. Trying not to groan, I opened my eyes and, perching on my elbows, looked around.

A stone cell with a low vaulted ceiling. Strong bars instead of a door and a tiny window opposite where I was lying. The warm rays of the sun were passing through the opening and falling on my face. We could say good-bye to the Golden Mark. Captain Dazh was unlikely to wait for us. He’d probably long since gone to sea. And we remained here. In the clutches of the Walkers.

Layen? I called.

There was no answer.

Harold was a prophet. To our misfortune, we caught our wind, and fell into such a storm that it was unlikely we would get out alive.

After about an hour steps rang out, there was the jingling of keys, the lock clicked, and Shen walked in accompanied by two guards and a jailer. The Flame (the Flame, like the Red Circle, is a symbol of the Walkers) was embroidered with silver thread on his black velvet jacket.

“Leave us,” he said curtly.

“If something happens, we’re right nearby,” said the jailer, and he and the soldier stepped out.

Shen waited until they had gone far enough away and then he smiled. “Hello, Ness.”

“How’s Layen?” I hissed instead of a greeting.

“You don’t have to worry.” He allowed himself another cautious smile. “You’ll see her soon.”

“How soon?”

“As soon as we’ve finished talking.”

“About what? About our impending doom?”

“I want to examine your wound,” Shen said suddenly.

“Just try it.”

He laughed quietly and sorrowfully. “You look like a dog who’s dreaming of eating the cat, Gray. Don’t be foolish.”

“And what would happen then?” I asked challengingly. “Would you fry me, Walker?”

“I’d be happy to, but I don’t know how. Listen, there are many in the Tower who want to extinguish Layen’s spark. I’m trying to keep them from doing it, and I’m going to talk to the Mother. Now then? Will you help me out or are you going to keep baring your teeth at me?”

“To the Abyss with you. Do what you want.” I gave up.

“There, you see, we can always come to terms.” He was already next to me.

“Somehow I don’t recall you ever being in a rush to come to terms during our journey from Dog Green.”

He didn’t answer, so I changed the subject. “Gis and I decided that you’d been gobbled up by the dead. How did you manage to get out of Bald Hollow?”

“I was lucky.” The boy was trying to unravel the bandage, which was stiffened with dried blood.

“Ah!”

“Don’t move,” said the Healer sternly. “You were galloping on like crazed cats, and my horse fell behind. So then I had to act on my own. I returned to the river, crossed to the other side, and rushed through the cemetery to a field.”

“What a hero,” I said, and then I howled because he put his hand right on my wound.

“I said, don’t move!” snapped the Walker.

I hissed and showered him with curses. He ignored me completely. After a second the wound became cold, as if he’d pressed ice against it. The cold spread through my leg, and I could no longer feel my toes. The frost, for it could not be called anything else, began to gnaw ruthlessly at my bones.

All at once it was over. A pleasant warmth flowed through my body and I opened my eyes. I cautiously moved my leg, realizing with astonishment that there was no more pain. The wound wasn’t there anymore. All that remained was a pale, white scar. Shen, somewhat paler and sweating, grinned in satisfaction.

“Sometimes the Gift of a Healer has its uses. I can’t do everything the Embers and the Walkers can do, but I can heal. This skill can come in very handy.”

“You’re being unexpectedly kind.”

He scowled. “I just really didn’t want to have to drag you everywhere. That’s all.”

“You’d prefer that I walked to the scaffold on my own?” I asked.

The Healer gave me a level look and said reluctantly, “You killed a Walker and you deserve to die. But right now they just want to talk to you. In particular, to Layen.”

“I’d be interested in having a look at the one who’ll honor us with conversation. The poor wretch’s brain probably swelled, coming up with such an absurd and complicated plan to return us to Al’sgara.”

“Have you guessed?”

“Not completely. Perhaps in the spirit of friendship you could explain what’s what to me?”

He nodded reluctantly. “The search for you never stopped for all these years. But it was as if you had disappeared into the ground.”

“I can imagine how that would enrage the Tower,” I interrupted.

“Suffice it to say, you were finally found. And quite by accident. Mols’s people were trying. She was indebted to us.”

“I’m disappointed in her.”

“Well, it’s better than hard labor in the copper mines, so the baker agreed to assist us. You must understand that Layen is of some interest to the Tower. But if Walkers or Embers had appeared in your backwater, no conversation would have happened. No one knew what your wife was capable of, so the Mother decided not to risk it. Until today. After the encounter with the Damned, Weasel’s Gift faded a bit. As for Joch, it was Mols herself who made it so that rumors came to him that you were not yet in the Blessed Gardens. He’d long been gnashing his teeth over you and, to his misfortune and our luck, did not spare money for your head.”

“A brilliant plan,” I said sarcastically. “And what if someone had killed us?”

“The risk was small.”

Uh-huh. Go tell that to Greybeard and his friends. They almost nailed us.

“But since you risked it, that means we weren’t all that important to you.”

“I’m just a Healer, and I am not part of the Council.” He shrugged. “The Mother decided everything.”

I was beginning to think that the Walkers were out of their minds.

“Is that why you came with Whip?”

“Yes. A few words were spoken to Mols, and I was taken into their company. No one can see the spark of a Healer until he uses his Gift. So I was beyond suspicion. Layen shouldn’t have been able to sense anything. I was just supposed to learn her abilities and make sure you got to Al’sgara without any problems.”

“And if we hadn’t come?”

“But you did.”

“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully. “The actions of the Tower baffle me.”

Shen broke out into laughter. “Yeah, okay. Everything was going fine until the Nabatorians arrived, and then you know the rest. Also, I lost you in Bald Hollow. So all the hope rested on Mols. You had to come to her sooner or later.”

“Yes,” I said dryly. “Only she was in no hurry to do right by us. First we burned our hands on hot chestnuts and then she betrayed us.”

Oh, Mols, Mols. You old bitch.

“Let’s leave this conversation for the time being. We need to go.” Shen stood up, walked over to the bars, and called out to the jailer.

It was bright and clean in the carriage. Expensive seats upholstered in red velvet, gold-plated handles, wide windows with burgundy silk curtains. These folks don’t begrudge themselves anything. I had the honor of sitting in it while dirty, and in fairly ragged and bloody clothes.

Shen was sitting across from me, and on either side of me were unsmiling, broad-shouldered Guardsmen. An unneeded precaution. While they had my sun in their hands, I wasn’t about to budge.

“Where is Layen?” I asked again.

“Show a little patience. I beg you. You’ll see her as soon as we get there.”

The carriage started moving, and Shen, having lost all interest in me, began looking out the window. The Guardsmen were silent, but as soon as I shifted, the lad sitting to my right began to get nervous. This diverted me very much until the second Guardsman lost patience with me and punched me in the side with his fist. I lost my distraction and felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. I was worried about Layen. I didn’t know what the Walkers would decide.

I kept glancing out the window. Soon we passed through a park and the carriage stopped by a small lake.

“Remove his shackles,” Shen ordered.

He stepped out, and one of the Guardsmen followed him and the other tapped me gently on the back so I wouldn’t delay. With the clinking of chains, I hopped down.

Outside a dozen soldiers were waiting for us. One of them liberated me from my bonds.

Another carriage approached. Three Walkers and Layen came out of it. The lilac bracelets still shone on her wrists. My sun was pale, but when she saw me, color returned to her cheekbones and her blue eyes sparkled. Ignoring her escort, she walked up to me.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“If you don’t count this abomination.” She twisted her lips and twitched an eyebrow at the magical shackles. “But more or less. And you?”

“Just the same.” I laughed and immediately saw a smile on her lips. “Shen condescended to heal my leg.”

“Don’t mention it,” said the Healer modestly.

“It’s a pity my hands are tied.” Layen’s eyes sparkled maliciously. “I’d happily smack you in the face, you filthy little toady.”

“Then I’m in luck,” he said quite seriously. “Let’s go; they’re waiting for us.”

Well then. The storm awaited us. We would have to pay for what we did seven years ago. The question was, what price would be asked of us?

“Take her shackles off,” I said to the Healer.

“No! Her Gift—”

“Get them off her, the Abyss take you, or you can forget about us talking!” I barked.

Shen blinked and then nodded to the Walkers. They weren’t excited about it, but for some reason they obeyed the boy. The light went out.

I wondered how things were with Layen’s Gift? I didn’t think these old maids would be able to release her spark. I shifted my eyes to the right.

There was the Tower. A massive structure shoring up the clouds, it loomed over us like a gloomy giant. Despite the bright, pink-veined stone from which the Sculptor had erected this majestic building, an indefinable menace emanated from its statuesque majesty. Those walls had seen too much over the past thousand years. They remembered the blood of those who died inside them during the Dark Revolt; they experienced the pain, fear, despair, and insane hope of the mages battling one another. They absorbed their souls, compressed them into their stone, and did not release them into the Blessed Gardens or the Abyss, forcing immortality on the souls to invest themselves with strength. Normal people rarely entered the enormous spire crowned with seven spikes. This was the preserve of the Walkers and the Embers; all others were allowed to pass only by special invitation. And it is extremely regrettable that we found ourselves among those miserable few.

What awaited us? What did the mages want from us? I didn’t believe the Healer. It was unlikely they searched for so long simply to have a talk. Almost no one who passes through the Gates of Light ever returns.

“Can we go now?” asked Shen venomously.

For a few seconds Layen and I looked into each other’s eyes. Then she gave a slight nod and, grasping me firmly by the hand, turned toward the Tower of the Walkers, which overshadows the entire world.