Lost (17 page)

Kerrn got to her feet. Her white robe was covered with orange mud; her head scarf hung over one shoulder and trailed on the ground, and her unraveling blond braid hung over her other shoulder. She gave me a curt nod; I figured she meant “thanks.”

I grinned and sat up, and started to work on the rope knotted to my ankle. I wondered if she’d let me have the horse so I could make better time. I’d be able to outrun trackers with a horse. Or maybe she’d want to come with me. We could send a letter back to Rowan, telling her that we couldn’t go near Desh with the locus stone, that we’d gone on to another city.

Kerrn went to the horse and untied the rope from the saddle. She pulled the knife from her belt and used it to slice off a new length of rope.

I looked up at her, swiping the wet hair out of my eyes, and held out my booted foot. The water had made the knot swell, and I couldn’t get it off. Without speaking, she cut it from my ankle. Then she offered her hand. I took it, and she pulled me to my feet.

And she didn’t let go of my hand. Before I could pull away, she looped the new piece of rope around my wrist, grabbed my other hand, and tied off the rope. “Where is the knife?” she asked.

I stared at her. She wasn’t going to let me go?

“The knife?” she prompted.

I didn’t answer.

She pushed me up against the rock wall and searched me. When she found the knife in my boot, she glared at me. “
My
knife,” she said. Right, the one I’d nicked from her on the road. With the
knife, she cut another length of rope for a new tether and tied one end to my hands, the other to the saddle. She picked up the horse’s reins and led it along the muddy trail, and I stumbled along behind her.

A
fter camping, we traveled most of the next day, me keeping my eyes open for trackers. We waited out the afternoon storm in a hut at Frogtown, sitting on the packed dirt floor while rain poured down outside. Kerrn sat cross-legged, inspecting the hem of her
robe. The light was dim; I didn’t think she could see much.

I sat with my back against one of the mud walls, looking up at the ceiling, which was made of cactus ribs and dried palm leaves woven together. The rain falling on the roof made a pattering sound, like thousands of rushing feet. The bird stood in the doorway, looking out at the rain. My stomach growled.

I leaned my forehead against my bound hands. Explaining all of this in my next letter to Nevery was going to be tricky. And when we got to the posting inn,
if
we got there, Rowan was going to be very unhappy with me.

I looked out the open door, past the bird. While we’d been talking, the storm had eased off; the silver-gray curtain of rain opened to reveal the desert beyond the village, sparkling with raindrops which gleamed golden in the setting sun.

Kerrn hefted the saddlebags and, holding the end of my tether, headed out into the golden light, pulling me with her. Waiting for us was an old
lady wrapped in rags and shawls.

“She caught you, did she?” the water-crone asked me.

As an answer, I held up my bound hands. The bird flew up and landed on my shoulder, gripping me with its clawed feet while it folded its wings.

Kerrn scowled down at the crone. “You said he did not go that way.” She nodded toward the road we’d come in on. “And I paid you five coppers for that information.”

The water-crone darted to the side and thrust something into my hands. “Frogs is good luck!” she said, and then scuttled away, into one of the mud huts.

I opened the package she’d given me—palm leaves wrapped around flat bread, olives, and rancid white cheese. My empty, hollow pit of a stomach told me to bite off a chunk of the bread. “Want some?” I asked Kerrn, my mouth full, offering the package.

She didn’t answer, instead stalking across the village square to the horse. I followed at the end of
the tether, splashing through puddles and eating green olives off a string. Not as good as Benet’s biscuits, but enough to satisfy the hunger that had been gnawing away at me with little sharp teeth ever since I’d left Desh. I held up a chunk of bread for the bird to peck at.

Kerrn mounted up and nudged the horse into a walk; munching the last of the bread and cheese, I followed. I guessed we were going to walk through the night to make up the time we’d lost to the rains.

Frogtown was on a crossroads. We were just starting onto the road that led around Desh, toward the posting inn, when three men riding horses galloped up to us.

Krrrrr
, the bird said in my ear.

The men were dark shapes against the setting sun. As they got closer, reining in their horses, I saw that they wore the uniform of the sorcerer-king’s guard.

Their horses stood, blocking our way down the road. “What do you want?” Kerrn said, putting
her hand on the hilt of her sword.

The leader held up his hand. His four fingers were short, as if they’d been sliced off at the first knuckle. “I am Half-finger, captain of my lord Jaggus’s guard.” He nodded at me. “I am sent for that one. And the jewel he carries.”

Kerrn stared down at me, frowning. I stared back at her. If she cut the rope tying my hands, I could help her fight them off.

Half-finger nudged his horse closer. He leaned forward. “Our lord merely wishes to speak to him and then will return him to his friends.”

My heart started pounding. The guard was lying; Jaggus didn’t just want to
talk
to me. I’d stolen his locus stone. He’d want to squash me, like he’d squashed the little lizard. “Kerrn, don’t let them take me,” I said.

The two other guards nudged their horses so they were behind Kerrn, surrounding her.

Kerrn glanced at them, then back at me. She nodded.

With one hand, she tore off her head scarf so she could see; with the other, she pulled out her sword and swung it ’round at Half-finger’s head.

The bird flew up, off my shoulder. I ducked to get out of the way, but I couldn’t duck too far because my tether was tied to Kerrn’s saddle. From overhead, I heard the
clang-clang
of sword on sword and a shout from Half-finger. Kerrn’s blade swept down and cut the tether rope.

I crouched down and grabbed up a double handful of sand, spun around to find a target, and threw it at one of the guards. He shouted and swung his blade at me. I ducked behind Kerrn’s horse to get away, and it shifted sideways, knocking me over. From down on the sand, I looked up and saw a guard, a dark shadow against the orange sky, pull something from his boot, then lean forward and plunge it into Kerrn’s back.

Kerrn’s breath huffed out, and she tipped off her horse, falling like a sack full of stones down onto the sand beside me; her sword fell next to
my head. I scrambled up onto my knees, going for Kerrn’s sword, but Half-finger reached down from his horse and grabbed the back of my robe, jerking me away. I fell down onto my back on the rocks and sand, and Half-finger lowered the point of his sword until it hung before my face.

Catching my breath, I turned my head and saw Kerrn, lying a step away, staring back at me. Her breath gasped in and out, and her eyes were wide.

“Stand up,” Half-finger said.

Slowly I got to my feet, my hands still tied, the end of the tether trailing in the dust. I looked around for the bird, but didn’t see it. Half-finger cut a new length of rope and tethered me to his own saddle.

The other guard reached over to Kerrn’s horse and rummaged in the saddlebag until he found the bag with the locus stone in it. He held it up by the drawstring to show his captain, who nodded. Half-finger kicked his horse into a walk.

I looked back over my shoulder.

In the growing darkness, Kerrn lay on her back in the middle of the road. As I watched, the bird circled down and landed on the ground next to her. Then the tether jerked, and the sorcerer-king’s men took me away.

S
tumbling after Half-finger and his two men, I looked down the road. It led toward the mountains where the sun had just set. The sky darkened to purple. “What’s down this
road?” I asked at last.

“The sorcerer-king’s fortress,” Half-finger said.

His
fortress
?

I gulped down a lump of sudden fright. I darted forward a few steps and, with my bound hands, seized Half-finger’s half-fingered hand where he held the reins. “Don’t take me there,” I said.

He shook me off. “Be quiet.”

Overhead, the sky darkened; the night air was suddenly chilly, and I shivered. I’d have to try to escape and get to Rowan—even if it meant leaving the locus magicalicus.

“Please,” I said, leaning on his arm again.

This time, when he shook me off, I brushed my tied hands against his uniform and nicked his knife right off his sash, sliding it up the sleeve of my shirt, inside my robe. I slowed down until I was at the end of my tether again. We walked for a while in silence. Half-finger glanced over his shoulder at me; in the growing darkness, I doubted he could see much. His two men rode silently beside him.
When he looked away again, I slid the knife down to my hands. Holding it between my palms, I bent my head—hoping he wouldn’t turn around—and, taking the handle of the knife in my teeth, sawed at the rope. The guard captain kept his knives sharp. Slice, twice, and my hands were free. I held on to the end of the tether and looked up. Half-finger and his men faced forward, noticing nothing.

Taking a deep breath, I dropped the end of the tether, whirled, and tripped over a stone. Drats! I scrambled to my feet and started running. Behind me, a guard shouted.

At that very moment, the moon popped up over the horizon; the road before me lit up like a river of milk. I ran on, looking for a side trail, but all I saw was a swirl of shadows and thorny bushes. If I could hide and then get back to Frogtown, maybe the water-crone would help me. Kerrn might be all right and we could make our way to the posting inn together. I raced onward—then something grabbed my foot and I went sprawling, landing
hard on the rocky road. I rolled over and reached down, touched rope, and went for the knife to cut it. Horse hoofs crunched over the road, and another loop of rope dropped over my arms, then cinched tight.

I looked up and caught my breath. Each one of the guards held the end of a rope. Between them, Half-finger, bathed in moonlight, looked like a statue made of slowsilver.

“Drop the knife onto the ground,” he said. “And then stand up and move away from it.”

I thought about it, then did as he ordered.

He dismounted and, keeping his eyes on me, picked up the knife. “Turn around.”

Slowly, I turned around. Was he going to stab me in the back, like one of his guards had done to Kerrn? I hunched my shoulders.

“Put your hands behind your back,” Half- finger said.

I did it, and he tied them, the rope burning where it rubbed against the raw skin of my wrists. I kept quiet. At least he hadn’t stuck the knife in me.

He dropped another loop of rope around my neck, but let it lie noose-loose. Then he went back to his horse, tied the new tether to the saddle, and mounted. He pointed to the road. “You walk ahead.”

I walked ahead. Leading them toward the sorcerer-king’s fortress.

We walked for a long time, the moon tracking high above us in the purple-black sky. Once we stopped and Half-finger watered the horses, but he didn’t give me any water. I swallowed down dust and stood quietly, with my head down, trying to think. Jaggus wanted me brought to his fortress. Why? To kill me?

And why did he have a fortress outside Desh? His power came from the magic, and the magic was in the city, not out here in the desert. It didn’t make sense.

I thought about Kerrn, back at the crossroads. The knife had gone into her back, but she was still breathing when they’d taken me away. She might
be all right after a while, and she had her horse, and the bird. She might be able to get to the posting inn and tell Rowan what had happened. But even if she did, what could Rowan do about it? She was angry with me; she might not want to do anything. She might go back to Wellmet without me.

Half-finger and the guards mounted up again and waited for me to start walking, then nudged their horses into a walk, following.

On we plodded, through the night. I walked slowly, and even the horses looked tired, hanging their heads.

Something was ahead, I could feel it in my bones. It wasn’t magic, I didn’t think, because it felt heavy, like dread, or a nest of a thousand misery eels. As we went on, the feeling grew stronger, like it was pulling me in.

Finally the sky lightened to gray—and stayed gray, because storm clouds hung low over our heads. The feeling of dread faded as the sky grew lighter.

I stumbled and looked ahead, down the road.

The fortress. It was built of polished white stone, with high walls all around the outside, square towers on each of five corners, and one tall, thin tower in the middle, like a bony white finger pointing at the sky. As we came closer, a ray of sunlight broke out of the clouds and glinted off the tower, and it glittered white, like old, polished bones.

The dread feeling had come from the fortress. I stopped in the middle of the road. Half-finger didn’t say anything; he and the guards just rode past me until the rope around my neck tightened and I had to stumble along after them.

We came up to the high walls, which were so thick the gateway was a dark and clammy tunnel. We passed through that and into a courtyard.

It was empty. Ahead was the fortress, a huge block built of white stone, with narrow slits for windows and a huge front door, shut tight and banded with metal.

Behind us, back down the tunnel through the
wall, another door closed with a clanging boom, and I heard the rattle of chains and locks.

Half-finger climbed down off his horse. He held my neck-noose tether, so when he started walking I had to follow him in a side door, across a wide, white, dusty hall, and up some twisty stairs. We went up and up, into one of the towers, I guessed. Was Jaggus up there, waiting for me? My heart pounded, and I panted, trying to keep up with him.

He stopped at a doorway just off the stairs and jerked me closer to him with the tether. Then he took out his knife. Before I could squirm away, he used the knife to cut the rope from my neck, and the one from my hands. Then he opened the door and shoved me inside.

The door slammed and locked behind me, a puzzle lock from the sound of it, with a trick-barreled key and double-click flange.

I took a deep breath and looked around.

Dear Nevery
, I thought as I examined the room.
I’ve gone to stay at Jaggus’s fortress for a while
. The room was big—maybe fifteen paces across—and empty, except for dust, and made of white stone. The air was cold and dry. It was dim—the only light came from the narrow slit of a high window. I went and jumped and caught the edge of the window with my fingers; I pulled myself up, resting my chin on the stone sill to look out. The walls were thicker than my arm, so I could only see a narrow slice of desert and, in the distance, mountains. I dropped to the floor again, raising a little cloud of dust.
My room has a good view
, I added to the letter in my head. I examined the smooth, white walls.
And the stonework is very fine
.

I slid down the wall and sat on the dusty floor. My bones ached with tiredness. I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. They weren’t going to kill me, at least not right away. If that had been the plan, they would’ve done it right after they’d taken me from Kerrn. So they were saving me for something else.

I slid farther down, to lie with my back against the wall. Even though I was worried about what Jaggus planned for me, I was too tired to stay awake. My eyes fell closed and I went to sleep.

When I woke up later, the room was dark and I heard the lock turn over. The door swung open and a gust of dusty air blew into the room. I creaked to my feet and leaned against the wall. Half-finger came in, carrying a lantern that burned with sickly green werelight and a tray with bread and a jug of water on it. In the darkened doorway lurked a Shadow, watching me with its glowing eye.

“Take off all your clothes,” Half-finger said, “and put these on.” He tossed a shirt and trousers onto the floor. A little cloud of dust puffed up and settled.

I looked at the clothes, then up at Half-finger and shook my head.

He took a half step forward. The green werelight flared. “If you don’t do it yourself,” he said softly, “I will have this one help you.” He nodded
at the Shadow behind him.

No, I didn’t want that kind of help. I pulled the sand robe over my head and dropped it on the floor.

“Show me your hands,” Half-finger said.

I raised my hands, which were empty.

He nodded and watched very carefully as I stripped off the rest of my dirty, smelly clothes and my boots, and put on the ones he’d brought in. They were too big. I rolled up the sleeves of the shirt and cinched the drawstring belt on the trousers, but they still hung loose.

I bent over to pick up my old clothes.

“Stop,” Half-finger said; he put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Back away.”

I straightened and did as he’d ordered. The Shadow stayed in the doorway, watching.

Half-finger went to my pile of clothes and nudged it with his foot, then bent and picked up my shirt. It was ragged and filthy. It took him only a moment to find the lockpick wires sewn into the
collar. He nodded to himself and scooped up the rest of my clothes and boots, and carried them out of the room. The Shadow flowed after him. The door slammed behind them and locked.

Drats.
They’re taking very good care of me, Nevery
, I added.
I won’t be leaving here anytime soon.