The Dark City

11

Once you believe, you are lost. Anything you see or hear can be twisted against you. The Order are masters of nothing but falsehood.

Rule of the Watch

SHE CAME A LITTLE CLOSER, then stopped.

“Is he all right?”

Galen glared at Raffi. “Is there anyone with her?”

Bewildered, Raffi groped for knowledge. “Only a horse, somewhere.”

The girl stared at him in surprise. “You can hear it?”

He shrugged, uneasy.

She was small, wearing dark blue and gray trousers and jerkin, her hair a shiny nut-brown cut against her cheek. She seemed remarkably unconcerned.

As no one said anything, she went on, “My name is Carys. Carys Arrin. I’m traveling west from here. Are you sure you’re all right?”

Raffi was surprised. It was a long time since anyone had asked him that. “Fine,” he said weakly.

“Why were you watching us?” Galen’s voice was cold; Raffi felt the tension behind it. For a moment he felt sick again, and sat down abruptly.

“He’s ill,” the girl remarked accusingly.

Irritated, Galen glanced down. Then he hauled Raffi up and turned, his hawk-face dark against the rainy moon. “Come under the tree. We can talk.”

Without waiting to see if she followed, he led Raffi in and sat him against the hollow trunk, tossing the blankets to him. Sensing the tree behind him made Raffi feel better, as if the strength of the wood and the spirit of it gave something back to him. His head cleared, and he looked up.

The girl stood hesitating under the thatch of branches. As she crouched he noticed the crossbow for the first time; it was wound back and loaded, he could see the bolt from here. She laid it on the dusty needles, but her hand stayed near it.

“I wasn’t watching you. At least, not at first.” She glanced curiously around at the enormous bulk of the yew. “I saw the trees and came up to see if I could shelter here. The rain’s getting heavy.”

Galen said nothing. He was still standing, his head bent under the low roof of twigs.

“Then I heard you talking.” She shrugged. “I crept up. I wanted to see who you were. You have to be careful, traveling alone.” Her fingers tapped the smooth shaft of the bow.

“Indeed you do,” Galen said. He sat down. “That goes for us too.”

She looked at him shrewdly. “I’m no threat to you. I think I know what you are.” As neither of them moved or spoke, she shrugged again. “All right, I won’t say it. But no one else could have . . . It was very dark under here, but I’m sure I heard him . . .” She glanced at Raffi and shook her head, as if she couldn’t get the words out.

“The tree spoke to him.” Galen’s voice was hard. “Is that so difficult?”

“For some.” She gave him a half smile.

After a moment he said, “Why travel alone?”

“I was with two friends of mine, but they turned back at the last village. They’d heard stories about the Sekoi tombs on the downs, and that scared them off.” She glared at her feet fiercely. “We had a terrible row and I stormed away. Told them I’d go on by myself. Then the rain came. They may be looking for me; but I doubt it. They had all the courage of jekkle-mice.” She looked up suddenly. “You haven’t got anything to eat, have you?”

Raffi’s hopes plunged. Galen shook his head. “No. So where is it you’re so eager to get to?”

For a moment she was silent, as if weighing him up. “I’m looking for my father.” Her voice dropped. “The Watch took him.”

Raffi peeled himself off the tree. “The Watch! Why?”

“Oh, you do speak, do you?” For a moment a laugh glinted in her face; then she turned it into the shadows. “I don’t really know the answer to that. I wasn’t there. When I came back to the village where we lived, he was gone. The Watchmen had come in the night—six of them, all armed, on black horses. They had broken the door down, dragged him out and taken him. It was so sudden . . .” Her voice was quiet; the rain outside hissed harder. Drops fell on Raffi’s shoulder. “There was talk later that a man and a woman—travelers—had come to the house two days before. My father gave them a room, for one night. They paid him. There was nothing wrong with that. But if they were keepers . . .”

They were silent a moment. Raffi knew the Watch wouldn’t have hesitated.

Carys looked up. “They came west, but I’ve lost the track. You would know, keeper. Where might they take him?”

Even Raffi wondered. But Galen said bleakly, “They want information. They’ll get it out of him, then kill him. It’s useless.”

Stubbornly she shook her head. “I’m not giving up! Where?”

In the darkness of the tree the three of them had become dim shapes to one another. Galen’s voice sounded strange. “I don’t know. Maybe to Tasceron.”

“Tasceron! Does it still exist?”

“It exists.”

The rain was lessening. Slowly it pattered into silence, but the slow drops still fell here and there through the thick growth, branch to branch, steady and relentless, and the scents of the wet night rose in the after-storm hush.

Carys looked at them curiously. “Is that where you’re going?”

Galen laughed harshly. “Us! It’s the last place we’d want to go.”

The girl was silent a moment. Then she said, “Look. Will you let me go on with you? I don’t like being on my own. Not out here.”

For a long moment the Relic Master watched the darkness outside. Then he said, “Until we reach a village, or a place you’ll be safe. But we’ve no horses. We walk.”

“So can I.” Carys knelt up eagerly on the crushed needles. “Thank you. So now I won’t need this.” She lifted the bow.

“Maybe,” Galen said stiffly. “Maybe we’re not so safe as you think.”

“I think you are.” She stood up against the sky. “I’ll bring my horse up.” Then turning, she said, “You didn’t tell me your names.”

Galen looked into the dark. “Galen Harn,” he said, his voice quiet. “And Raffael Morel.”

When she was gone he looked across. “Well?”

Raffi pulled the blankets tight. He felt better now, but tired. “She seems all right. And she’s on her own. She won’t be any threat.”

“But is she telling the truth?”

“I don’t know!” His throat was dry; he swallowed a few drops of rain from the ends of his fingers. “I don’t know how to tell.”

Galen was silent. “Once I knew when people were lying to me.”

Raffi winced. The keeper turned on him suddenly as the horse harness clinked in the dark. “One thing. She’s not to know about what happened to me. Understand? She’s not to know!”

Sadly, Raffi nodded.

Journal of Carys Arrin Agramonsnight 9.16.546

The boy’s asleep. Harn has drifted into some sort of trance; he sways and murmurs prayers in the dimness. I’m taking a chance but this book’s small and easy to hide. It may be my last chance to write for a while.

First of all, the tree. I was lying out in the long grass—it was dark, but it seemed to me the boy was speaking to the tree and it was answering. I heard no words, but there was a sort of . . . tingle. I know this is heresy and I know it can’t be real. But why make an illusion if they didn’t know I was there? And the boy believed it.

I heard one thing that puzzled me. The boy distinctly said the Crow was in Tasceron. I remember the stories of the Crow from my training, but I’d always thought it was a figure of myth, a bird that talked. The bolt was on the crossbow; I had it aimed right at the middle of the keeper’s back—but those words stopped me. After all, dead or alive are the orders. And they know something about this Crow. It may be the name of someone real, high in the Order, like an Archkeeper. A code name. It seemed worth a risk to find out.

So I let them see me. Harn is wary; he asked a lot of questions. I told them a story that would get them on my side, make us all enemies of the Watch. I was surprised how easy they were to deceive. The boy looked ill; they both seem half starved.

(Note for Jellie—the psychic defenses the records mention can’t exist. I’m certain they didn’t know I was there.)

I’ll try and stay with them as long as possible—to Tasceron, because I’m sure that’s where they’re going. I know the city is enormous, but if they find this Crow I’ll be with them. To catch Harn and his boy would be good, but someone higher, a real chance to get into the secrets of the Order—that would make old Jeltok sit up. He always said I’d never make an agent.

I’m hungry, and the rain’s started again. On foot we’ll be slow. But they won’t get rid of me now.