Dark Company (31 page)

“Stay here.”

“No,” Caddy said. She hadn’t come all this way to sit alone in a room. “You said I could see Poe.”

He towered over her. “You will stay here.”

“Take me to Poe,” she demanded.

Skylark found the Speaker on his throne. Behind him, in rows on shelves that stretched out and back upon themselves in endless reflection, tinkled millions of tiny coloured glass vials. She approached, soundless as a prowling lion. In his hand, the Speaker held a vial. The mist inside was violet. Skylark felt a remote twinge at the sight of it. She knew the vial contained the soul of the mouse she called Sebastian, her connection to him now a cold memory.

She knelt before her master, bowing in submission. “I am yours to command, Father.”

The Speaker placed his hand on her head, his voice spellbinding. “My child … you are the fulfillment of a long-held dream.”

Skylark looked into his frozen eyes. She could see only him—she wanted to please only him. Still, deep inside her, there was doubt. “Must there be destruction, Father?”

The Speaker rolled Sebastian’s soul vial between his fingers. “It is the way of all things. There can be no beginning without an end.”

She lowered her face though she could not hide the worry that plagued her. The Speaker understood.

“You are concerned for him—the one you call Poe.”

“Yes, Father. I feel him close to me, closer than ever before.”

“As do I, child. His mind is one with ours.”

“What is to become of him?”

He stroked her hair and she purred at his caress. “He shall be yours if that is what you desire.”

“Forever?”

“For all eternity.”

Skylark kissed his hand, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“The forces are gathering,” he said. “We are stronger than ever before. Soon you will see the power of the Dark, my love.”

“The Light has power too, Father. I have seen the legions. They are strong and many. Even now they prepare for war.”

“The earth is weak, child. The humans will destroy one another. It will advance our cause.”

“Will Poe join us?”

“When the Dark has devoured the Light, he will be yours.”

His words ignited her soul, his promise the most precious of gifts. She wanted to repay him in kind. “I know a secret, Father, about the one they call Kenji.”

His eyes burned into hers. “Speak, child, and let it be known.”

P
oe was on a cot in a small room, delirious with fever, the arrow embedded in his side. Next to the cot was a large, sober-faced woman in a white kerchief and a long blue cotton skirt. She was mixing something in a stone bowl. April stood in one corner of the room, bundled in a red wool blanket. She saw Caddy and ran to her, throwing her arms around her neck.

“It’s so awful,” she sniffed. “They’re afraid to pull the arrow out in case something bad happens. They’ve never seen anything like it before.”

Caddy walked across the room and sat beside Poe, laying her hand gently on his forehead. “He’s burning up.” She eased the bloodied fabric of his shirt to one side of the wound. The skin was black and necrotic. The icy filaments from the arrow had spread across his abdomen. “We have to remove it.”

The sober-faced woman turned to Red, and some unspoken exchange took place.

“Everybody leave,” she abruptly said.

“I’m staying,” Caddy told her.

“The procedure could kill him.”

“He’ll die if we don’t do it.”

The woman conceded. “The shaft can’t be broken—we’ve tried.” She set the stone mixing bowl next to some rough-woven cloth bandages and a brown stoppered bottle on a small wooden table by the bed. Beside this was a pitcher of water, a roll of gauze, a drinking glass, a plain silver teaspoon and some bread. “I don’t know what the arrow is made of. Nothing I’ve ever seen. We’ll have to pull the whole thing through, fletching and all. It won’t be kind.”

“We have no choice,” Caddy said.

The woman gathered her skirt and leaned over Poe. “Help me shift him.”

Poe moaned as they moved him closer to the edge of the bed. Caddy clasped his hand. The woman wrapped the tip of the arrow in a length of cloth. She secured her footing, nodded at Caddy, and pulled. Poe shouted and fell unconscious. The arrow resisted, clinging to his flesh before giving way. The fletching drew through, bloodied and wet as a hatchling. As soon as it was free the arrow disintegrated to a fine dust. The woman stepped back, mystified, staring at her hands as though she’d seen a ghost. Poe groaned and the woman quickly collected herself, reaching for the stone bowl. Inside was a thick, yellowish-green gruel.

“What is it?” Caddy asked.

“A poultice. Comfrey leaves, scalded milk, and garlic.” The woman stirred the bowl with a whittled willow branch, clucking and muttering under her breath.

Caddy inspected Poe’s wound. It looked worse. “Will the poultice work?”

“It’ll pull the poison out, I hope.” The woman spread a thick layer of the gruel on a piece of bread and covered it with a square of cloth. Pressing it over the wound, she secured it with strips of gauze. “Now, we pray,” she said, drawing a frayed quilt over Poe.

“What about infection?” Caddy asked.

The woman handed her the brown stoppered bottle from the table. “Give him a teaspoon of this tincture in a small bit of water every four hours. There’s water and a glass on the table.” She retrieved the stone bowl and left the room.

Caddy measured out the tincture and poured it in the glass with some water. Supporting Poe’s head with one hand, she held the glass to his lips. He sipped the fluid weakly, mumbling through his delirium. Caddy was sure more than once she heard him call for Meg.

“Rest now,” she said, easing his head onto the pillow.

Red appeared, standing in the doorway. “Come with me.”

“No,” Caddy refused. “I won’t leave him.”

“There are things you must know. People you must meet.”

“I won’t go.”

Red left and came back with the sober-faced woman. She fixed her small dark eyes on Caddy. “I’ll watch him like he was my own,” she said.

Caddy was outnumbered. She took the time to smooth the hair on Poe’s forehead before following Red from the room. They walked down the hall. It was lit by candles in tin sconces along the walls. They reached an arched wooden door, not as old as the one with many locks, but close. Red opened it. Caddy stopped dead on the threshold to the room. Her hand flew to her safe stone. Hex was there, sitting half-seen in the shadows in a worn, overstuffed chair.

“Come closer,” she said.

Caddy turned to Red for an explanation. Was she the next to be punished? He nodded at her to comply. She took a tentative step. Hex leaned into the candlelight and Caddy stared at her in confusion. It wasn’t her after all. It was a woman who looked just like her. Was this some kind of trick? The woman was missing her left eye—just like Hex—though she didn’t hide the barren socket behind a pair of dark glasses. She motioned toward a low wooden stool.

“Please, sit.”

Caddy perched on the stool, stupefied. Now that she was closer, she could see that the woman’s face was beautiful, like Hex’s, though older. She spoke with a Russian accent too, but less pronounced. Her eye, the one remaining, was blue as a robin’s egg. Around her neck she wore a burnished gold pendant of a tree in a circle. It glimmered in the candlelight.

“I … I don’t understand,” Caddy said.

“We’re happy you’re here. We had hoped for this.” The woman’s voice was soothing. Sincere. There was honesty in it. Still, Caddy remained guarded.

“You’re perplexed,” the woman said. “It’s not your fault. I have a lot of explaining to do.” She settled back in her chair. “We call ourselves Weavers of Light. We are the true Dreamers.”

Caddy shot Red a questioning look.

The woman understood. “You’re wise to be cautious. There are wheels within wheels. It makes one circumspect. I can only show you what we are. I can’t convince you to stay, though I hope you will. You have an exceptional ability. We’d be blessed to have you join us.”

“I don’t like being held prisoner,” Caddy said.

“There are no prisoners here. You’re free to go. I only ask one thing … that you stay long enough to meet us before you make your decision.”

Her show of kindness filled Caddy with contempt. Here was another person telling her she had choices when clearly she didn’t. “Why should I trust you? How do I know you’re not the imposter?”

“I can only hope your heart will lead you to the truth,” the woman said.

“The truth? I’ve been drugged, starved, hunted like a dog. I’ve seen people killed. My father may be dead. I don’t know what the truth is anymore.”

The woman listened sympathetically. “I’m sorry for your pain. We tried to reach you earlier. But there were … complications. The Dreamers got to you first. It made things difficult. We had to take a chance, wait for the right moment. We couldn’t risk exposure.”

Caddy had heard enough. She was so tired, so wrung out. She rested her elbows on her knees, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“It’s purposefully complex,” the woman said. “Hex and the Company have created an elaborate ruse, a skillful trap. They took what they knew of our society and replicated it to catch as many Dreamers as they can. Without the Dreamers, there is no dream. Without the dream, the Emptiness is certain.”

Caddy met her gaze at the mention of the Emptiness. “So, what you’re saying is that Hex is a liar and a murderer …”

“Quite simply, yes.”

Caddy pointed at Red. “Then what’s he doing here?”

“Red is a Cheyenne elder, a deep operative. Among his people, he is known as Tatananayaho—he who sees far into the distance. He works both sides to our advantage. He’s very good at what he does. We would have never gotten as far as we have without him.”

“Why did he bring me to Hex?” Caddy asked.

“The Company men had already seen you. He needed to maintain Hex’s trust. If he’d brought you to me right away, we would have all been endangered.”

“And Hex’s eye?”

“Another deception.”

Caddy wasn’t buying it.

“Think of what’s at stake,” the woman said. “It’s essential that the trap be as detailed and convincing as possible. Hex is willing to do anything for what she believes.”

“What about the mark?”

“It’s a way to trace you.”

“Why not just kill us all?” Caddy said. “Why go to the trouble of such an intricate deceit?”

“Drastic action would tip their hand, and those with the vision would go elsewhere. Hex plays a subtle game of trust and treachery. The Company men give her credibility. Few things cloak true intention like fear and an emotional cause.”

“What about the other Dreamers? They’re innocent. How can we just sit here, knowing what’s happening? Why don’t you try to help them?”

“We can’t take the chance.”

“Yet you went to such lengths to find me.”

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “We are all equal … but you are exceptionally talented. Each Weaver brings a unique perspective, a singular thread to the tapestry. Your ability is very strong, very deep, binding the many threads together so we can see the greater picture, so we can move in the right direction.”

“I’ve done nothing.”

“It’s not what you’ve done,” the woman said, her blue eye catching the light. “It’s what you will do.”

Her words exhausted Caddy. She didn’t want the responsibility of anyone’s hope. “You don’t even know me. How can you possibly say this?”

“And Hex …” the woman countered. “How could she possibly have known this about you?”

Caddy thought about this. And then it clicked. “My father.”

The woman smiled. “Forgive me, but you remind me so much of him. You have his fire. It’s a privilege and an honour to meet you.”

“I’m not my father,” Caddy said, but she could feel her resolve breaking. “Hex told me he may be dead—that he wasn’t strong enough to handle the truth.”

“Another lie,” the woman said. “Your father is more than capable of handling the truth. In fact, it was his relentless pursuit of
the truth that put his life in jeopardy. He knew something the Company didn’t want him to know. He took something he shouldn’t have. Something that will expose the Company’s lies. Because of this, because of his visions and his rare ability to dream, the Company wants him dead. He ran to keep you safe, to lure the Company men away. Unfortunately, you went looking for him. Hex took you to get to him. I’m sure she suspects now that you’re the bigger prize.”

Caddy hung her head, her heart in turmoil. If she could only go back to what was, to the way things were before. As if to mock her, the mark on her arm started to throb. She pulled back her sleeve. The tattoo looked infected. How could she have been so stupid? To allow Hex to brand her—she wanted to gouge it from her skin.

“You couldn’t have known,” the woman said.

Caddy felt the blood rush to her face. She should have fought harder. “Can it be removed?”

“Not without causing you harm. Its power is limited here, if that’s any solace. It’s strongest when you gather in a group.”