The Pilgrims

43

Panting, they stopped. At last Faul had quit chasing. Luckily the company hadn’t scattered too far — time spent fucking around finding people was the last thing Anfen needed.

The house was now just visible set against the northern horizon’s whitening sky. Faul’s booming threats and admonitions faded with distance as she ambled back there, weeping.

Anfen shook his head, watching her go. She’d had a long association with the Mayors’ Command, and owed them far more allegiance than a dead Invia. That was surely something she’d remember soon, but once roused, giants did not quickly calm down and see reason. As it was, Anfen couldn’t tell if Faul had really meant to catch them or just scare them away.

He sighed. The day had just begun and already he’d twice nearly been killed. At one time, such excitement would have stirred his blood with joy.

Siel had had the sense to stick close to Lalie. Good. Sense had been a touch lacking in this bunch, just lately. The girl looked cagey again, examining the surrounds like she was ready to bolt. She’d been lying low, he sensed, trying to lull them after the insult of being tied to the porch. They’d have to keep her tied from here on lest she stab them while they slept. She would already know how to kill, however young she was; Inferno cultists didn’t go long without performing their first Offering. Nor did they change back to normal people overnight, if ever.

He counted heads. Oh, shit. ‘Loup! Where are the Pilgrims?’

‘Ehhh,’ gasped Loup. He lay splayed on the ground, sucking deep breaths like he might soon expire from the run. And, just a second — who had the charm? Anfen did. He felt his pockets. Correction — he should have it. ‘By Nightmare,’ he muttered, sinking to his heels.

Loup sat up. ‘You upset for the reason I think you are?’

‘Why not try a scale vision and see?’ Anfen walked off, running a hand through his hair. That had been part of this, he knew it, their games with visions. Idiots. In controlled conditions, their own lives at stake, they were welcome to their fun, not in Aligned country with the hornets’ nest kicked. Sharfy should have known better. He himself should have, too; foolish, to think the band had meant it when agreeing to his rules … Calm down. It’s done. Look forwards.

He’d look forwards all right, until they were safely at the Council of Free Cities. But he’d never trust this crew with any missions of importance ever again, and he’d warn the Mayors’ Command not to either, if not get them brought up on charges.

‘Far Gaze’ll find them,’ said Sharfy, referring to the Pilgrims.

‘No, we will.’ Anfen’s voice was harsh as his anger threatened to boil over. It’s all unravelling. Stay calm, or they won’t. ‘First we go back for the charm. It fell from my pocket during the fight.’

Whether or not Faul had meant to catch them last time, she really meant it this time. Lut was digging in the yard’s stony turf with a shovel, making a grave for the Invia, whose body lay nearby under a draped sheet. ‘COME TO ADMIRE YOUR HANDIWORK?’ Faul roared, thundering down the steps, dress rucking up around shins and knees like pillars as Siel neared the Invia’s corpse.

As they’d planned, Siel being the fastest of them tried to lead Faul around while the others hid, but the half-giant’s speed made it risky. If not for her head start, Siel would have been easily caught. Thankfully Faul, already puffed from the last chase, couldn’t keep up her long-striding bursts of speed.

It bought Anfen just enough time to run past the ground where he’d fought the Invia — where he’d marched with relief to his own death, or so he’d thought at the time. The charm had to have slipped from his pocket there. He knew he’d taken it from the house.

Nothing but rocks and soil. Faul or one of the Pilgrims had taken it. It had to have been Case … maybe he’d felt all along the charm was rightfully his. With so much at stake, all of history had been set on a different course thanks to one petty old man. Anfen could only sigh.

For hours they could ill afford they combed through the scrub, calling the Pilgrims’ names and seeking tracks. The day was halfway through when they gave up, and Anfen, eyes nervously on the sky seeking shapes in the clouds, had no more time to search.

‘I don’t fathom it,’ he said, despairing and trying not to show it. The group laid out their mats as night fell on an afternoon’s travel. Two or three hours of sleep was all they could afford — another aspect of life on the road which was wearing very thin on him, as was needing to confide in a crew he was tremendously angry with. ‘The old man wasn’t happy with us, but Eric seemed an ally.’

‘Eric was,’ said Sharfy, sucking the smoke of a reed pipe then coughing horribly. ‘If he wanted to leave, he had plenty of chances before today.’

‘Better country to do it in, too,’ said Siel. ‘They won’t last long here without a guide.’

‘Perhaps the mage called Stranger will be their guide,’ said Anfen. ‘What did she have to do with this? And where’s Far Gaze? Loup, is either of them close?’

‘You keep asking, I keep telling. Neither’s close,’ Loup said sullenly. He sensed he was being blamed for much of this, ‘unfairly’ no doubt. ‘Ain’t been close since Far Gaze chased our Stranger into the woods. They’re still dancing in there, I’d reckon. When mages that level get in a scrap it can go on a while. They get lost in the games and tricks of it. Powers they use start playing with them, not just the other way around.’

‘One mage alive could give Far Gaze that kind of fight,’ Anfen muttered.

‘That you know of,’ said Loup. ‘But he wouldn’t give that kind of fight. Why play around? He’d kill Far Gaze in a minute tops, dance on his bones. Then on to whoever’s next to kill. You think he’d let a folk mage like Far Gaze roam free?’

‘We know less of the Arch Mage than we think.’ But Anfen knew Loup was probably right. Anfen had seen the Arch Mage up close, one of the only free men to have done so. He had taken personal orders from him, had felt the terrible gaze lingering on him from that half-melted mess of a face, the intensity of its mind weighing and considering him. He hadn’t known much about the Arch Mage but even back then, not knowing half of what he’d soon learn of the castle and its designs, he’d known evil when he saw it. It had been the first seed of doubt: this is the face of those you serve …

‘We’ll see,’ said Loup. ‘If Far Gaze is still alive, we’ll know Stranger’s nothing to do with him, or the castle.’

‘You may be right.’

‘Sometimes I am,’ Loup said bitterly. ‘She’s not him in a dress or disguise. I pondered that chance back at the hilltop when I first felt her close by. I know what he feels like to be near. And he doesn’t leave his rat’s nest to help out sworn enemies like you and me.’

‘So you do believe she helped us?’ said Anfen. Stranger had helped, it seemed … but he badly wanted to speak with Far Gaze and know why he’d attacked her. On the other hand, mages were not renowned for their powers of reason …

Loup said, ‘She tried to help us. Far Gaze saw her starting casting and didn’t trust her enough to let her.’

‘Nor did I,’ said Siel.

‘Oh aye?’ said Loup, now openly angry. ‘I had no clue to that, young miss. I thought you lobbed friendship arrows at her. Old Case, he did right to give you that shove. And you got up wanting his head next, aye? It’s always the mages you all don’t like or trust. I warned you about that Kiown too. You’ll see about him with time, mark me now.’

This nonsense again … ‘Kiown made mistakes,’ said Anfen. ‘But have you forgotten? There were times when he made the difference between life and death for us.’

‘Pff! All show. And it was his own hide he was saving, not yours. You didn’t see what I saw! Even if you don’t think the vision’s real, his mistakes’ve got us in a nice mess, all these patrols on the loose. You all still trust him, but find arrows for a mage.’

‘Loup, hush,’ said Anfen quietly.

The folk magician stormed off, rankled and muttering to himself.

‘We’re wasting sleeping time,’ murmured Sharfy. ‘Talk in the morning.’

Anfen closed his eyes, hoping his mind would stumble on the best course while it rested, as it often did. Yes, he’d had his doubts about Kiown too, had done for some time. What he’d said had been true: Kiown had shown nearly suicidal bravery defending the band, three times in particular standing out. Not always wise, but if a mission was dangerous, he was the first Anfen would choose. A ‘vision’ alone wasn’t going to change that.

Getting to the Council, that was what mattered now. Damn them for taking that charm, he thought, trying not to give in to an inviting surge of despair. Without that charm in my hand, will the Mayors believe my account of its message?

Its impossible message: the Wall at World’s End must be torn down. By all the Spirits, how?