Jarka Ruus

NINETEEN

Late in the morning of the following day, they arrived at Anatcherae, the inland port on the Lazareen that serviced all traffic passing north along the corridor formed by the Charnal Mountains to the east and the Knife Edge Mountains to the west. They reached their destination more quickly than anticipated because tailwinds filled and sunshine fed the sails and because Gar Hatch had been able to complete repairs to the damaged radian draw before nightfall of the previous day. It was a smooth flight the entire way after their escape from the flits, with no further trouble arising to impede their passage.

Anatcherae was an old city built by a mix of Trolls and Bordermen following the Second War of the Races, when Southlanders were mostly keeping to themselves below Callahorn but trade was flourishing everywhere else. A sprawling, ramshackle outpost in its early days, it grew quickly, the principal port servicing trappers and traders coming out of the Anar, Callahorn, and everywhere the Troll nations made their homes. It had become a major city, though still with the look and feel of a frontier town, its buildings spread out along the southwest shore of the lake, timber and shingle structures that were torn down and replaced as the need arose and without much thought to permanency. Even though the greater part of the populace lived in the city, most did not intend to make Anatcherae their final stop along life's road and so did not build for the long term.

The Skatelow set down at the waterfront docks, where warehouses and barns loomed like low, squat beasts bent down for a drink at the Lazareen's dark waters, their mouths open to receive what the lake would deliver. Airships crowded the waterfront, most of them large freighters and warships. Traffic leaving the docks passed down roads flanked by ale houses, pleasure dens, and inns of various descriptions. Shops and homes lay farther inland, away from the bustle and din of the docks, back from the raw edge of seaport life.

Standing on deck while the harbormaster towed the Skatelow to her assigned slip, Pen took a moment to glance over his shoulder in the other direction, back across the lake. The Lazareen was legendary. A broad, slate–gray body of water that seldom changed color in any weather, it was believed to run several thousand feet deep. Rumor had it that in some places it reached all the way to the netherworld and thereby provided the souls of the dead a doorway to the domain of the living. Mountains framed its rugged banks to the east and south, walls of stone that kept those souls contained. Dozens of rivers had their origins in snowmelt glaciers thousands of feet higher up, the confluence of their waters tumbling through canyons and defiles to feed the lake. Cold winds blew down out of snowy heights to mix with the warmer air of the flats and create a swirling mist that clung to the shorelines like gray moss and sent tendrils stretching across the lake's waters like searching fingers. Pen did not like the Lazareen, he decided. It had the look and feel of the Mist Marsh, a place the boy was all too familiar with and wished never to visit again.

The Skatelow eased up against the dock, and the Rovers set about securing her. When Gar Hatch came over to speak with Ahren, Pen listened in.

«I'll be needing several days to make repairs before we continue on," the Rover Captain advised in a gruff voice, hitching up his pants to emphasize that work lay ahead. «Maybe more. Once that's done, we'll continue on to where you need to go, and then I'll be dropping you off and saying goodbye.»

«I don't think we discussed being dropped, Captain," the Druid said, frowning. «I think the agreement was that you would wait until we came out again from our search.»

«That was then, this is now. The agreement is changed.» Gar Hatch spit over the side. «Others need a little business done, as well, and rely on me to conduct it for them. I require my ship to do so. I can't make a living while she sits idle. You don't pay enough for that. Give me a time and a place, and I'll come back for you. My Captain's word on it.»

«There isn't any way of knowing when we'll be finished. We can increase your purse, if it's a matter of money.»

The Rover shook his head. «Sorry, mate. This isn't about money.»

Ahren Elessedil smiled. «You are a Rover, Gar Hatch. It's always about money.»

The big man laughed and glanced over at Pen. «You listening close, young Penderrin? Here's a man who knows the way of the world. He's right, too. Everything is about money, one way or the other.» He looked back at the Druid. «Still, I can't let myself be tied down for so long. You might not even come back from wherever it is you're going. I've seen already the sort of business you do, and it isn't reassuring to puzzle on. So I'm dropping you and that's the end of it.»

The Druid nodded. «I could find other passage and cancel our agreement here and now, Captain Hatch. I would be justified.»

«You could try," the big man amended. «But you won't find anyone else to take you where you want to go that knows the ways of that country like I do. You won't find anyone who can sail the mists and the night like I can. Maybe most important of all, you won't find anyone who can keep his mouth shut about who you are and what you're doing. You might want to bear that in mind.»

«But can I trust you? I find I have serious doubts.»

Gar Hatch smiled and inclined his head. «Put aside your doubts, sir. My word is good.»

The irony of that statement probably did not escape the Druid, but he let it pass. «Three days, Captain. That's as long as I'll give you to do your business here. We leave on the fourth. We'll find lodgings ashore and check back with you. I won't press for you to wait on us, if you've decided against it. But there will be no further changes to our agreement, and I expect a close watch on the tongues of your people. Don't disappoint me.»

He went down the hatchway to his cabin to bring up Tagwen. Khyber was already on the dock, looking around eagerly.

Pen sensed Gar Hatch staring at him and met his stare, refusing to look away when it lingered too long. The big man laughed. «You've been a revelation for me, Penderrin. A treasure and a find.»

«Can I say goodbye to Cinnaminson?» Pen asked.

He hadn't seen her since the attack of the flits. Gar Hatch had kept her shut away in his cabin, not even allowing her to come on deck at night, advising his passengers that she was ill. Pen had thought several times to sneak down and see for himself, but each time he thought to try, Gar Hatch was somewhere close, watching.

It was his last chance until they reboarded in three days' time, and anything could happen between now and then. Hatch could promise what he wished, but that didn't mean it was likely to happen.

The Rover Captain smiled. «Better you don't, lad. What she's got might be catching. Wouldn't do to have you come down with a fever while you're resting in port. Your uncle is mad enough at me already. You'll see her when you come back aboard.»

I'll never see her again, Pen thought. But he could do nothing about it short of forcing a confrontation, and he was aware how much trouble that would cause.

He turned away without a word, shouldered his pack, and started down the ladder. He was halfway to the pier when he heard his name called.

«Pen, wait!»

Cinnaminson appeared at the railing, blind eyes staring downward without finding him. He started back up the ladder and stopped when he was close enough to see Gar Hatch glaring at him in the background.

«I'm feeling better now, Pen," she said, giving him a small wave and a smaller smile. «I just wanted to say goodbye.» Then she whispered so softly that only he could hear, «Come back tonight.»

She turned away quickly and went to her father, who took her by the arm and steered her below again, not bothering with even a glance at Pen. The boy stood watching until they were out of sight, then went down the ladder with his heart in his throat.

* * *

With Ahren Elessedil leading, the four companions walked down through the center of the city, mingling with the crowds as they searched for a likely place to secure lodging for the days ahead. Pen could barely make himself concentrate on the task at hand, his mind still on Cinnaminson and her whispered words. Come back tonight. He was intoxicated by them, made light–headed at the prospect of what they meant, chilled by the prospect of the danger at which they hinted. He wasn't afraid, though. He was fearless when it came to her. He understood that by even considering a secret return, he was risking not only his own safety but also the success of his undertaking. Yet he couldn't help himself. He had to go to her.

It took them the better part of an hour to find what Ahren was looking for, a small, prosperous inn just off one of the main roadways, one that was better kept than those closer to the docks, one frequented by other travelers than sailors. It was called Fisherman's Lie. It sat on a corner that opened onto a small plaza and was wrapped by a veranda that fronted both streets. Broad double doors opened into the common room, where travelers sat to visit and drink glasses of ale. Tables and benches and a long serving bar took up most of the available space. Flowers grew in boxes under the windowsills, and baskets hung all from the veranda and eaves, splashes of color to brighten the clapboard facade.

Ahren left the other three on the porch while he went inside to take rooms. The less they were all seen together, the less likely it was that anyone would make the connection to the four the Druids were hunting. Since Khyber had cut Pen's hair short and bound his head in a scarf, none of them was particularly noticeable. But there was no point in taking chances. Those tempted by the money the Druids offered would be looking hard.

The Elf emerged in moments with the rooms secured. They went into the dining room after that and sat at a table in the back while waiting for their food. Sipping at glasses of cold ale, they talked about their situation.

«Hatch knows who I am," Ahren said quietly, eyes scanning the mostly empty room as he spoke. «Or at least he knows what I am. He might not know my name yet, but there is a good chance he will find out. Or if not him, then one of the crewmen. All of them will be asking around, talking with other Rovers.»

«Maybe not," Pen offered hopefully. «You might have scared him out of it.»

Ahren smiled. «Not likely. Not that man. If he finds out who we are, he will look for a way to turn it to his advantage. It's his nature. So we have to be very careful until we set sail again. That's why I didn't tell him where he could find us. He mustn't know. If he betrays us, our enemies will still have to search us out. That won't be easy in a city of this size.»

«We should just leave him right here and now and be done with it!» Tagwen snapped. He scowled into his glass. «Take him up on his offer. That way we can stop worrying about him.»

«But not about getting to where we have to go," Ahren replied. «I don't trust him, either, but he is right when he says we will have trouble finding anyone else to fly us into the Charnals. Even by looking, we risk giving ourselves away. Say what you want about Hatch, he knows how to sail. His reputation is one of getting in and out of tight places. We need that. I think we have to stick with him.»

«One of us could watch the Skatelow and see who comes and goes," Khyber suggested.

Her uncle shook his head. «That's too risky and too time–consuming. Besides, any one of them could give us away. We can't watch them all. Better to keep our heads down and wait this out. I will speak with Hatch each day to see how matters stand. If he lies to me, I will know. The rest of you will remain here, inside, out of sight. No one leaves the inn without permission until it is time to sail. Agreed?»

All of them nodded, but Pen already knew it was an agreement he was going to break.

* * *

He waited until it was dark and Tagwen was asleep before slipping out of his bed. He crossed the room in his bare feet, boots in hand, and went through the door without a sound. Instead of leaving by the inn's front entrance, he went out the back, taking the rear stairs to the street. Cloaked and hooded, he went quickly toward the waterfront. The night air was clear and sharp, turned cold after sunset, and the sky was bright with stars. It was close to midnight, but the streets were still bustling with activity, the denizens of the ale houses and pleasure dens just beginning their night's fun. Many were sailors, come from all over, a mix of travelers passing through. None of them looked at him. None spoke.

He was taking a chance, risking everything. He was neither happy nor sad about it, felt neither guilt nor satisfaction. Such things didn't matter to a boy who thought he was in love. What mattered was that Cinnaminson was waiting, and the thought of her drove every other consideration from his mind. His excitement gave him courage and determination. It gave him a sense of invulnerability. Whatever happened, he was a match for it. His certainty was so complete that he never stopped to question whether his bravado might be playing him false. On that night, there was no place in his heart for rational thinking.

He reached the waterfront and began working his way down the docks. New ships had arrived, some of them bigger than anything he had ever seen. He looked closely for the Galaphile as he went, but did not see her. Nor did he see Terek Molt or any other Druids. Loading and unloading went on about him, unceasing, unending, and all seemed as it should.

When he reached the Skatelow, he moved into the shadows across from her, staying well back from the light. There was no sign of life aboard. Even the storm lamps were extinguished. The boarding ladder was pulled up, signaling that visitors were unwelcome. On the piers to either side, similarly darkened ships lay at rest, sleeping birds awaiting the dawn.

Pen eased along the wall of the warehouse that fronted the slip, then moved just to the edge of the light that pooled down from the lamps hung over the entrance doors. He stood there, undecided, searching the contours of the Skatelow for signs of life.

Then he saw her. She appeared all at once, beckoning to him, knowing somehow that he was there. He took a chance, his throat tightening with anticipation. He stepped into the light, crossed the dock to the mooring slip, and stopped just below where she stood.

«Cinnaminson," he said.

Her blind gaze shifted and her hair shimmered in the moonlight. «Wait," she whispered. She moved at once to the ladder and dropped it over the side. «Come up. They're all in town at the ale houses and won't be back before dawn. We're alone.»

He did as she said, climbing the ladder and hauling himself aboard. He stood on the decking in front of her, and she reached to take his hands. «I knew you would come," she said.

«I couldn't stay away.»

She released his hands and pulled the ladder back aboard. «Sit with me over here, out of the light. If they come, they need me to lower the ladder to let them aboard. By then, you can be over the side.»

She led him to the far side of the pilot box, where the shadows were deepest, and they sat down with their shoulders touching and their backs to the low wall. Her milky eyes turned to find him.

«Let's not tell each other any lies tonight," she whispered. «Let's tell each other only truths.»

He nodded. «All right. Who goes first?»

«I do. It was my idea.» She leaned close. «Papa knows who you are, Penderrin Ohmsford. He knew Ahren Elessedil was a Druid after what happened during the flit attack, and he found out the rest from asking around the docks. He didn't give you away, or let on that you were passengers on the Skatelow, but he knows.»

Her smooth features were tight with trepidation and uncertainty, her chin lifted as if to take a blow. Pen touched her cheek. «Ahren told us this might happen. It isn't unexpected. But he had to reveal himself if he was to save us.»

«Papa knows this, and he doesn't forget such favors. I don't think he intends you harm. But I don't always understand how he thinks, either.» She took his hands again. «Will you tell me where you are staying? So that if I discover you are in danger, I can warn you?»

He hesitated. It was the one thing he had been ordered not to reveal, no matter what. He had promised to keep it a secret. And now Cinnaminson was asking him to violate his trust. It was a terrible moment, and his decision was made impulsively.

«We are lodged at Fisherman's Lie, about half a mile into the city.» He squeezed her fingers. «But how will you find us, even if you need to? You'll have to ask for help, and that's too dangerous.»

She smiled. «Let me tell you another truth, Penderrin. I can find you anytime I want, because even though I am blind, I can see with my mind. I have always been able to do so. It is the way I was born—with a different kind of sight. I travel with Papa because I can see better than he can in darkness and in mist and fog, bad weather, storms of all sorts. I can navigate by seeing with my mind what is hidden to his eyes. That's why he can go into places others cannot—across the Lazareen, into the Slags, places cloaked by weather and gloom. It's like a picture that appears behind my eyes of everything around me. It doesn't work so well in daylight, although I can see well enough to find my way about. But at night, it is clear and sharp. Papa didn't know I could do this, at first. When Mama died, he began taking me to sea rather than leaving me with her relatives. He never liked them or they him. Having me travel with him was less trouble than finding someone he trusted to raise me at home. I was still very young. I thought I was being given a chance to prove I was worth keeping. I wanted him to love me so that he wouldn't give me up. So I showed him how I could read the sky when no one else could. He understood my gift, and he began using me to navigate. I let him do so because it made me feel secure. I was useful, and so I believed he would keep me.»

She paused. «Papa doesn't want anyone to know this. Only the two men who serve as crew know, and they are his cousins. Both are sworn to secrecy. He is protective of me; I am his daughter and helpmeet. But I am also his good–luck charm. Sometimes, he isn't clear on the difference. I think he loves me, but he doesn't know what loving someone really means.»

She reached out and cupped his face in her hands. «There. I've given you a gift—a truth no one else has ever heard.»

He took her hands in his own and squeezed them gently. «You've kept this to yourself a long time. Why are you telling someone now, after so long? Why disobey your father's wishes like that? I wouldn't have minded if you had kept it secret.»

She freed her hands, and her fingers brushed at her hair and face like tiny wings. «I am tired of not being able to talk about it with anyone. Not talking about it is like pretending I am someone other than who I really am. I have been looking for someone to tell this to. I chose you because I think we are the same. We are both keeping secrets.»

«I guess that's so," he said. He sat back against the pilot box wall. «Now it's my turn to tell you a secret. I hardly know where to begin, I have so many. You know who I am, but you don't know what I am doing here.»

«I can guess," she said. «The Ard Rhys is your aunt. You are here because of her. But the Druids say you are in danger. They say that what happened to her might happen to you if you are not found and brought to them. Is that true?»

He shook his head. «I'm in danger, but mostly from them. Some of them are responsible for what's happened to her. If they find me, I might end up the same way. I escaped them when they came looking for me in Patch Run. So now I'm running away.»

«Are you looking for your parents?»

«I'm looking for my aunt. It's complicated.» He paused. «We promised to tell each other truths tonight, so let me tell you one. You have a kind of magic that no one else has. So do I. Like you, I was born with it. It is probably a part of the magic my father inherited, something that's been passed down through the Ohmsford bloodline for generations. Only, mine is different.»

He exhaled softly, searching for a way to explain. «I can tell what plants and animals are feeling and sometimes thinking. They don't talk to me exactly, but they communicate anyway. They tell me things with their sounds and movements. For instance, I know if they're afraid or angry and what causes them to be so.»

«Your gift is not so different from my own," she said. «You can see things that are hidden from other people and you can see them without using your eyes. We are alike, aren't we?»

He leaned forward. «Except that I am free and you are not. Why is that, Cinnaminson? Could you leave your father if you wanted? Could you go somewhere else and have a different life?»

It was such an impulsive question that he surprised himself by asking it. Worse, he had nothing beyond encouragement to offer if she answered yes. What could he do to help her in his present circumstances? He couldn't take her with him, not where he was going. He couldn't offer to aid her while Ahren was so determined not to aggravate Gar Hatch.

She laughed softly. «Such a bold question, Penderrin. What should I do? Leave my Papa and run away with you? A blind girl and a fugitive boy?»

«I guess it sounds silly," he admitted. «I shouldn't have asked.»

«Why not?» she pressed, surprising him. «Do you care for me?»

«You don't have to ask that.»

«Then you must care about me, too. So it seems right to want an answer. I like it that you do. Yes, I want a different life. I have looked for it. But you are the first to whom I have talked about it. You are the first to ask.»

He stared at her face, at her smooth features, at the smile that curved her lips, at her strange blank eyes. What he felt for her in that instant transcended love. He might say that he loved her, but he didn't know all that much about love, so saying it wouldn't mean anything. It was only a word to him; he was still only a boy. But this other feeling, the one that was more than love, encompassed whole worlds. It whispered of connection and sharing, of confidences and truths like the ones they had told each other tonight. It promised small moments that would never be forgotten and larger ones that could change lives.

What could he give her that would tell her this? He struggled to find an answer, lost in a sea of confusing emotions. Her hands were holding his again, her fingers making small circles against his skin. She wasn't saying anything. She was waiting for him to speak first.

«If you were to decide you wanted to leave your father, I would help you," he said finally. «If you wanted to come away with me, I would let you. I don't know how that could happen. I only know that I would find a way.»

She lowered her head just enough that the shadows grazed her face and hid her expression. «Would you come for me wherever I was, Pen? It is a bold thing to ask, but I am asking it anyway. Would you come for me?»

«Wherever you are, whenever you have need," he whispered.

She smiled, her face lifting back into the light. «That is all I need to know.» She sat back and turned her face to the starlit sky. «Enough of making promises and telling truths. Let's just sit together for a little while and listen to the night.»

They did so, side by side, not saying anything, their hands in their laps, their shoulders and hips touching. The sounds of the waterfront rolled over them in small bursts and slow meanderings, brief intrusions from a place that seemed far away. The night turned colder, and Pen wrapped them both in his cloak, putting his arm around her to lend his warmth, feeling her small form melt against him.

After a time, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. «You must leave now. It grows late. They will return. Go back to your room and sleep.» She kissed him again. «Come again tomorrow, if you can. I will be waiting.»

He rose and walked with her to the ladder, scanning the dock for signs of approaching Rovers. The docks were empty now. She lowered the ladder for him, and he climbed down. He stood looking up at her as she pulled it away again, then he turned and went down the waterfront.

Cinnaminson.

Nothing in his life, he knew, would ever be the same again.