The Hidden Coronet

13

Surveillance reports must be studied.

Information must be collated and acted on. Failure to do so is a punishable offense.

Rule of the Watch

FOR A LONG TIME THEY SAT SILENT under the trees, cold and utterly dispirited. The sun had gone; now twilight gathered, smelling of damp fungi. Marco still shivered, despite his borrowed layers of dry clothes.

They were all thinking the same thing, but it was Carys who said it. “No wonder they didn’t need to guard the crossing.”

“Was that an avanc?” the Sekoi wondered. “Never have I heard of one so far inland.”

“If it was, the spines are new,” Galen growled. He glanced at Marco. “And the stench.”

They could still smell it, a putrid fishy reek that brought clouds of gnats and hungry bloodflies out of the dark undergrowth. Solon slapped one off his face. “This is not a healthy place to mope, my friends.”

Carys sat up. “Quite right. So here’s what we do.”

“If you think,” Marco said savagely, “that I’m going anywhere near—”

“Save your breath. And forget the river. We’re going over the bridge.”

They all stared at her. Then Galen said, “Go on.”

She put her fingers together. “For a start, there’ll be no more than four Watchmen on a crossing this remote. We’ll need to split them up—a diversion. You can do that, Galen. Also, there’ll be dogs . . .”

“We can deal with most dogs,” Galen said briefly.

She nodded. “Right. Say we get them here in the wood. The other two men will stay on the bridge.”

“Which is double-barred,” the Sekoi murmured.

“Which is double-barred. So we get them to open it.”

Solon looked at her as if all this was too fast for him. “How?”

“A traveler wants to cross. Someone on his own. Not a keeper. Not on any wanted list. Someone they don’t know. Unarmed. Harmless.”

There was an uneasy silence.

The Sekoi looked up and saw everyone was looking at it. “Great,” it said acidly. It scratched its tribemark and managed a sour smile. “Kind of you to think of me, Carys.”

“You’ve done worse.”

“Oh? And what do you suggest I say to them when I get through the gate? With a crossbow pointed at each eye?”

Carys smiled sweetly. “I think you should tell them a story.”

THE TWO WATCHMEN STOOD in silence on the bridge.

“Can you still see them?”

“The lanterns. Just there.”

Between the trees small yellow lights flickered.

“What do you think it was?”

The taller man shrugged. “The avanc. You can smell it. It’s had some riverfox or other.”

Far off, the dogs barked. Deep in the woods the lanterns were lost for a moment, and a gray owl hooted. Under the roar of the water the silence was oppressive. Then a whistle blew. Six short blasts; one long.

Both men relaxed. The signal meant: “Investigating further. No danger.”

“Riverfox,” the smaller man said, turning away. “Nothing else screams like that.”

“RIGHT.” CARYS DROPPED THE WHISTLE into her pocket. “Off you go.”

The Sekoi glared at her, then at the two Watchmen crumpled in the shadows, their dogs curled up contentedly beside them. Raffi helped it on with its pack, the creature plucking the straps into place with its long fingers. It looked nervous and lanky.

“We’ll be right outside,” Raffi said.

“Small keeper, I’d be happier if you were inside.”

Galen stood up. “If you don’t want to . . .”

“Of course I don’t want to.” The Sekoi’s voice was an exasperated snarl. “However, I’ll go. The logic of the choice was impeccable. It’s just . . .” Its yellow eyes flickered to Carys. “I just wish someone else had suggested it.”

She tucked her red hair behind one ear and grinned.

Quietly, they all moved through the wood. On the edge of the trees the Sekoi stopped, put its hand into its coat, and made odd wriggling movements. Then it dumped a warm money belt into Raffi’s hands.

“A few small coins for the Great Hoard. If I don’t come back, pass them on to any Sekoi.”

Raffi felt the weight of it in amazement. “You’ve been busy.”

The Sekoi winked.

Then it was loping up the track to the bridge. Dappled moonlight lit its back, sending three tall shadows into the trees.

“A brave soul,” Solon muttered, half to himself. Behind him, Galen nodded.

When the creature got to the bridge it looked back, once. Through the sense-lines Raffi felt nothing, but the Sekoi were notoriously hard to reach. It turned and pulled a long cord.

Somewhere a bell jangled.

Crouching beside Solon under a fallen tree thick with ivy, Raffi felt rather than saw the Watchman who opened the grille. They were too far to hear what was said, but the words “Another one” rang in the sense-lines for a moment, and he knew the man had been sour, but hardly surprised.

He glanced at Solon. “They were expecting him?”

The Archkeeper looked grave. “They were expecting someone, my son. I pray we haven’t made a great mistake.”

The gate was opening. Like a shadow the Sekoi slipped in. The bolts shot to behind it, then the inner gate was opened; Raffi felt the slow, heavy drag of the wood, deep in the curved groove it had worn in the floor.

It slammed in his head.

And the river swirled by, breaking the sense-lines.

Galen leaned his head back against the ivy-covered tree.

“Now we wait,” he muttered.

IT SHOULDN’T HAVE TAKEN THIS LONG. Restless, Raffi strapped the belt of coins tighter under his shirt. It felt strangely heavy, as if it weighed him down. Keepers had no money—that was one of the Precepts of the Order. Idly he wondered what it would be like to spend all this.

After a daydream of warm beds and fine food, he came back to himself to find Solon praying the Litany quietly and Carys talking to Marco, lying on one elbow. Both had their bows ready.

“So how did you get yourself arrested?” she was saying.

The bald man grinned. “Oh, that. Bit of an error of judgment.” Dropping his voice so Galen wouldn’t hear, he said, “I had a contract from the Watch. I was a licensed dealer. Any relics I heard of, I bought up, usually from farmers, and then sold on to the Watch. The profit was pitiable, but sometimes,” he said with a wink, “sometimes I found something really juicy and held out for a good price. And of course, you can always get two castellans to bid against each other. They’ll do anything to get a promotion.”

Carys made a face. “You don’t have to tell me.”

He looked at her. “I’ll bet you were some spy.”

“The best.”

“And you don’t miss it?”

She winked at Raffi. “I’m still some spy.”

Marco chortled. “Well anyway, I went too far. Found a pen that memorized what you wrote with it—amazing thing, still working. I sold it to one Watchhouse, but the sergeant at the other found out and had my business dealings watched. That was that. In days I was in the cells.”

“That was where you met Solon?” Raffi said.

Marco glanced over at the older man. “Crazy old fool was giving away all his food to the others. If I hadn’t looked after him, he’d be dead.”

There was silence. Then Raffi said, “The Sekoi’s taking a long time.”

Carys shrugged. “That creature can scam its way out of anything.”

He knew that. He’d felt the powerful hypnosis of Sekoi stories himself, the way they dragged you in, so you smelled and heard and lived the adventure. He wondered what yarns it was spinning in there. Kalimar and the Wyvern? The Last Stand of the Sekoi at Hortensmere? A clatter made him jerk suddenly. Galen leaped up. “Get ready.”

The gate was being unbolted. They crouched, alert, Raffi suddenly afraid that the Sekoi’s battered body would be thrown out onto the track.

The gate swung wide. A tall figure stood there with a lantern.

“Well, Galen?” it said irritably. “Are you coming?”

Relief soaked Raffi. And scrambling out, for a second he remembered Tasceron, the blind alley, the screaming, vicious attack of the draxi.

The Sekoi looked smug. Both gates were open; as soon as everyone was through, Galen and Marco dragged them shut, slamming home the bolts and the intricate sliding levers of the great locks.

“What about the men outside?” Solon muttered.

“Listen to you!” Marco scowled. “You’re a softhearted wretch, even for a poor broken-down keeper.”

Solon smiled. “I wouldn’t want them to freeze.”

“They weren’t so concerned about us. They can knock, Your Holiness, just like anyone else. Try not to shed too many tears.”

Raffi looked scandalized.

Carys grinned. She could see the deep affection under the banter; it must have been all that kept the two of them sane in the horror of the Watch cells.

The Sekoi led them quickly over the bridge. The structure was wooden, and through the slits between the rough planks, Carys glimpsed the swift, dark rush of the water below. Their footsteps rang loud; coming to the north gatehouse the Sekoi turned. “Keep as quiet as you can.”

Inside, the guardroom was spartan. Just like every other Watchpost, she thought acidly, recognizing the rotas and huge logbooks, the endless Rules painted in red letters down the walls, the meager fire with its tiny ration of wood. And that smell, so hard to name, so full of hateful memories.

The two men were near the fire. One was slumped on a stool, his arms folded on the table. He was staring deeply into the dull flames. The other stood, to Raffi’s amazement, by the window looking out into the dark. Both seemed so normal, as if they were lost in thought and would turn around at once. But neither did. Their crossbows lay on a huge weapons stack in the corner; Carys went over and helped herself to a pile of spare bolts.

“What story was it?” Galen asked, amused.

The Sekoi looked embarrassed. “These are crude men. It wasn’t easy. Frankly, keeper, it isn’t fit for your ears.”

Marco sniggered.

“Let’s go,” Carys said.

“Wait.” The Sekoi glanced swiftly at her. “I took the chance to search the place. On that wall are messages. Take a look.”

Carys felt Galen crowd behind her.

The board held brief reports, probably brought by post-riders from the nearest Watchtower. Each one told of the same thing—Sekoi movements; small bands of the creatures, lone travelers, even whole tribes, all heading west on every road.

“What does it mean?” Galen turned.

The Sekoi bit its nails. “It must be a Circling.”

“Which is?”

“A gathering. For something important.”

“You knew nothing of it?”

“Galen, I’ve been on Sarres all winter.”

Carys put her hand up to the board. In the top lefthand corner a larger notice had been torn off. The pin was still there, but only a fragment of white paper was left under it, with a few numbers that she stared at curiously. “I wonder where this went?”

“Why?” Galen looked at it.

“The numbers are the end of a code sequence. It was important—priority intelligence. Maybe direct from Maar.”

“Don’t you think we should go?” Raffi asked nervously.

“I agree.” Solon was watching the men in fascination.

“This is most strange. Will they remember seeing us?”

“They can’t see or hear us.” Galen dragged back the bolts in the opposite door. “They’re deep in some sordid story. They’ll only remember one Sekoi. Come on.”

Once through both gates, they jammed the outer one with a fallen branch, hoping it would slow any pursuit. Then, without stopping, they ran. Galen led them straight off the road and up a steep track; they climbed high into the woods, hurrying in the dark along trails and paths that only keepers could sense, always up, out of the valley.

Breathless, Carys scrambled and climbed, wondering again at the Order’s reckless way of travel, the way the group was strung out, Marco and Solon far behind. They had no discipline, she thought hotly, at least not the right kind. And yet Galen had his own defenses, and even she could almost feel his mind’s deep entanglement with the wood, sensing far into its roots and soil and streams.

Finally, on the skyline among a high stand of sheshorn, they crouched and looked back.

The bridge was silent, the firelight a dim glow in the guardroom window.

“How long will it last?” Marco asked.

The Sekoi shrugged in elegant disdain. “With such feeble imaginations, maybe only an hour.” It turned suddenly. “Galen, listen to me now. I think I must leave you. I need to go to this Circling and find out what troubles my people.”

Galen looked hard into the creature’s yellow eyes. Then he stood up. “If you must.”

“I should.” It hesitated a moment, then said, “In fact, I’ve thought since before we left Sarres that I should speak to my people. We have many sources of information. Someone may know something of the Coronet.”

“You’ll be discreet?” Solon said anxiously.

The Sekoi gave a mew of scorn. “We have no Watch among us, Archkeeper. But yes, I will.”

“You can’t go alone,” Raffi said.

“Ah.” The Sekoi looked awkward. It scratched its furred face. “I could. But then I would be out of touch with you. Even the . . . Even Galen could not reach me.”

Galen nodded. “Then we split up. One of us comes with you. The rest go on to the observatory and wait for you there. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“I think you should take—”

“I want Carys to come with me.”

There was a moment of surprise. The scarred moon, Pyra, came out among the trees, glinting on the Sekoi’s sly eyes.

“Great,” Carys said. “Kind of you to think of me. Is this some sort of revenge?”

“Call it a challenge. A chance to learn something of the Sekoi.”

She looked at it narrowly. Then she nodded. “All right. If you’re sure.”

The Sekoi smiled. “I am.”

Galen said, “Get to the observatory as soon as you can. If plans change I’ll . . . let Carys know.”

Solon smoothed his silver hair. “I fail to see how.”

“There are ways.” Galen’s eyes were dark. He gripped the Sekoi’s shoulder. “Take care. Both of you.”

The creature nodded. Then it turned to Raffi. “I’ll take my belt now,” it said with a grin.

Two miles on, they separated.

The Sekoi slipped into the trees and Carys followed. Before the darkness swallowed them she turned and made a face, waving at Raffi.

“Cheer up,” she called.

Uneasy, he waved back.