AutumnQuest (13 page)

“Excellent find,” I said. “Might even come in handy if we have to do a lot more walking.”

I hadn’t expected the town to be so big, and as we drew closer, I began to wonder whether finding the merchant would be as easy as I’d expected.

“And what if we can’t find this Dallon you’re looking for?” Traz asked just as if I’d spoken my thought aloud.

“We will,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “We have to.”

Traz looked as if he were going to argue, then changed his mind. “All right, so what do we do when we find him?” I didn’t say anything. “You weren’t planning on walking up to his front door and asking him why he included an illegal dragon egg in a shipment of cloth, were you?”

“Of course not,” I snapped.

By this time, we’d reached the outskirts of Hucklow. Wave after wave of oppression washed over me. Something was disturbing the life flow of the town. But what was that to me? I tried to block the sensation, without much success. Several times I had to stop as if to catch my breath. I cursed this maejic yet again. So far it had brought me nothing but trouble. No, that wasn’t quite true. It had also brought me Xyla.

The third time I stopped, Traz gave me a quizzical look. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

I closed my eyes for a moment and pushed the sense of distress away. After all, it wasn’t mine, and I didn’t want it. When I looked up again, it was to find Traz looking at me in concern.

“It’s nothing,” I said. “Let’s go.”

He narrowed his eyes, as if he didn’t believe me, but shrugged as we started walking again, making our way towards the center of town.

More and more people began to fill the street, everyone moving in the same direction as we were. Maybe there was some kind of local holiday: a celebration or a feast. But if that were the case, I thought, wouldn’t they be happy or excited? These people seemed grim and, in a strange way I couldn’t explain, almost numb. Traz and I exchanged glances, but didn’t speak to one another. It would’ve drawn attention to us in this silent crowd, and neither of us wished to do that.

The street ended at a large open square, where a growing crowd of people thronged. And what we saw there began to explain the odd behavior of the people.

Along one side of the square stood a large platform about three feet high. Perhaps on happier occasions, this was where troubadours performed or auctions were held. But now, a silver-haired man stood in the center of the platform, neck, wrists, and ankles locked into stocks. On each corner of the platform stood a Royal Guardsman, resplendent in scarlet and purple and looking as if they enjoyed the man’s discomfiture.

The street we’d come down emptied out near the platform, so we were close enough to get a good look at the man in the stocks. His entire body sagged, so that I wondered if he were alive at all. Surely such a position as that would cut off his breathing.

Just when I decided he must be dead, he shuddered and went into a spasm of coughing. I bit my lip. How many nights had he stood there, dressed only in a thin cotton robe? And what could this old man have done to deserve this punishment? It was usually only given to traitors and the worst sort of violent criminals—murderers, kidnappers, and the like. It allowed the victims, their families, and the community to exact their pound of flesh, often literally. Many put in stocks didn’t survive the first night. Whatever had landed this man in trouble, it seemed as if no one had actually harmed him, for there were none of the usual signs of injury: blood, bruises, broken bones.

“I wonder what’s going on,” I started to say, but my words were interrupted by a short series of trumpet blasts.

A hush fell on the crowd, and everyone turned to face the platform. A fifth Guardsman—another officer with a red plume in his helm—now stood next to the man in stocks. He slid a piece of parchment out of a tube hanging from his belt and unrolled it.

“By proclamation of His Majesty, King Erno of Alloway,” the officer’s voice rang out, “in view of his continuing failure to confess the truth, Dallon is hereby sentenced to another five days in the stocks—” There were gasps and shouts of surprised disapproval, which were immediately cut off when the officer frowned on the crowd, as if annoyed with the interruption. “—preceded by a flogging and followed by confiscation of all his property and assets, which are forfeit to the crown.”

At these words, the man in the stocks stirred. “No!” His voice was weak and raspy but still conveyed a note of insistence. “I don’t know anything about the egg.”

So this was Dallon! So much for my idea of trying to speak with him. Which, I now realized, had been a stupid plan all along.

A sound of ripping fabric drew my attention back to the platform, where the officer had torn off Dallon’s robe and one of the Guardsmen was pulling a whip from his belt.

I grabbed Traz’s hand and fled.

As we ran, I tried not to hear what was happening behind me.

Dear Tegar and Mellas~

I am pleased to inform you that your daughter, Donavah, has been accepted to study at Roylinn Academy. Unless we receive word to the contrary, we will expect her to arrive with her brother, Breyard, in the Autumn.

The Board was impressed with your proofs of her magic. It is seldom that so strong a predilection for healing is evident in one so young.

We are sure that you are proud of Donavah—as well you should be—and we are pleased that you selected Roylinn to provide her education.

~Best regards,
Foris
Roylinn Headmaster and Master Magician

Once we were well away from the square, I used a few of the remaining coins to buy some bread, fresh fruit, and a hunk of yellow cheese. We found a small open green and sat on the grass to talk over what we’d learned. The red mark of the welt stood out on Traz’s pale face.

“Nasty batch of scum,” he said, his voice full of venom.

“That’s the understatement of the year. So let’s see. I’d bet anything that Dallon didn’t steal the egg but was falsely accused of it. We know that Gam, the trader back in Duckbrook, found it in the load of cloth and gave it to that carter to get rid of it. Then the carter unloaded it on Breyard and lied about Breyard stealing it.”

“Wait!” Traz interrupted me. “Maybe the carter didn’t lie.”

I stared at him. “I thought you believed me—and Breyard.”

“Oh, I do,” Traz said hastily. “I mean, what if the carter told the truth and it was the Royal Guard who lied about what the carter said?”

I thought about the implications of that idea. Assuming that Dallon had told the truth when he said
he
didn’t know about the egg, and considering all the lies that I knew had been told, Traz just might have a point. But . . .

“Why?” I asked Traz. “What would be the point of all the lying?”

“Haven’t come up with anything there, though that’s probably the most important question. It’s just that if this whole thing is a set-up, then, well, ummmm . . .” His voice trailed off, and he looked away from me.

“What, Traz? What are you trying to say—or not to say?”

He poked the dirt with his walking stick. “It’s just that if . . . umm, well, if the Guardsmen know it’s all a pack of lies, then they know that Breyard—”

“Is innocent!” I finally caught on.

“Right. And if they already know he’s innocent—”

I interrupted him again, “Then it doesn’t matter what I do!”

Traz nodded, but his face was bleak, like a little, lost boy.

“C’mon! We’ve got to get back to Xyla!” I leapt to my feet and pulled Traz to his. But when I started to dash away, Traz pulled his arm from my grip.

“Donavah, we have a
dragon
to fly on. We don’t need to rush getting back to her.”

I took a breath and let it out as a sigh. “I suppose you’re right. I just can’t help being anxious.”

“I know. But,” he paused, “you do realize that there’s not a lot we can do, no matter how you look at it?”

“Shut up!” I exclaimed with more vehemence than I really meant. I rubbed my forehead. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean that. But I can’t accept that there’s nothing I can do. I still have to try.”

“And I’ll help you.”

Before long, we were back on the footpath leading to the woods where Xyla hid.

“You are upset.” I “heard” Xyla’s voice long before we were close to the wood, and it was a statement, not a question.

“Yes. Traz has figured out that the whole thing is a setup on the part of the Royal Guard. Your egg went missing, they’re determined to make someone pay, and they don’t care whether that person is actually guilty or not. Breyard is doomed, I’m sure of it now.” I told her everything we’d learned in Hucklow.

“So do we go to Penwick, or do we return to Yallick?”

“Yallick?” I asked in surprise. “Why would we go back to him?”

“He is the leader of the mages. You have much to learn of your gift, your art. The sooner you begin, the better.”

“I don’t think so!” I exclaimed aloud, getting a surprised look from Traz. “Xyla is making some, um, interesting suggestions,” I told him. To Xyla, I said, “The last thing I want is to be a grumpy old man like him.”

“You will never be a man.”

“You know what I mean, you ridiculous beast.”

“I still think we should go to Penwick,” I said aloud for both Xyla and Traz. I wondered whether I was being obsessive. But then I pictured Breyard, his long straight hair mussed by the breeze and his hazel eyes smiling at me. And that grin, so much like Traz’s. I couldn’t abandon him to the King’s injustice without making some effort to save him.

“Very well,” she said, “but we will have to travel by night so that we cannot be seen.”

Traz and I pushed through the undergrowth at the edge of the wood. Xyla gave me directions to her hiding spot, and Traz followed me. She’d found a nice hollow to curl up in, and I shrugged off my pack before sitting down and leaning against her.

“Hey, we better get a fire built and supper cooking,” Traz said. “It’s not that long until dark now.”

I sighed. He was right. We gathered kindling, and I started a fire. Traz put together a simple stew and I gathered more wood while supper simmered under Traz’s care. We ate the stew, sopping up the gravy with the bread rolls, then finished off with fruit and cheese. After washing the dinner things in a stream and stowing everything in our packs, I sat next to Traz and stared into the dying flames of the fire. When all that was left was burning embers, Traz and I heaped earth onto the fire and emptied all of our water onto it. We made the short hike to the stream to refill our waterskins, and then we were ready for the last stage of the journey to Penwick.

It turned out that flying in the dark wasn’t nearly as scary as flying during the day had been. Once we left Hucklow behind, it was impossible to see just how high above the ground we were. And the stars seemed closer, almost as if I could reach out and touch them.

I managed not to doze off, and before dawn, Xyla landed. She’d found a nearby wood where she could hide. Traz and I were exhausted, but we took the time to gather wood and build a fire. I made some tea to combat the predawn chill that had crept into the air, then we wrapped up in our cloaks and slept.

The sun was well up when I awoke. Traz still lay asleep, his mouth hanging open, tempting me to drop something into it. Instead, I took my meditation candles and moved away for privacy. I sat down, positioning myself so that my body would block the flames from the slight breeze. I opened the pouch and looked inside, trying to remember what week it was, but I couldn’t. And really, despite what they’d taught us at Roylinn, did it matter? I chose the candles representing what I most needed: forest green for strength and orange for creativity.

After I’d completed the meditation ritual, I felt more at peace than I had in days. I made some fresh tea, then went to the edge of the wood.

I caught my breath at the first sight of the capital city. As big as Hucklow was, Penwick was many times bigger. Built on and around a hill overlooking the great River Mull, it sprawled in all directions. Something on the top of the hill glittered in the morning sun, and I guessed it must have been the royal palace. How would I ever find even a trace of Breyard in all that sea of humanity? I sipped at my tea, scarcely tasting it as I stared.

I heard a rustle and turned to see Traz walking up behind me.

“Look,” I said, pointing towards Penwick. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

“All right, so it’s big,” he said. “But we’re looking for the biggest criminal in the land. I don’t suppose it’ll be hard to find him, or at least hear tell of him.”

“No, I suppose not. All we have to do is go knock on the door of that golden palace and ask, right?”

Traz sniggered. “Right. That’s all. Now c’mon back to the fire. While you were meditating, I cooked us up something hot.”

I went with him, and when we got there, he gave the pot a stir.

“Not exactly breakfast,” he said, “but it’ll tide us over until dinner. I don’t suppose you have much money left.”

Good point he had there. I emptied my pouch of coins, and he was right: it wasn’t much. Kibee hadn’t exactly expected the little money he’d provided all those days ago to keep me in supplies this long. And once it was gone, I had no idea how to get more. I sighed.

“Don’t worry,” Traz said with his typical optimism, “we’ll figure something out. I kind of doubt you were planning on buying Breyard’s way out of prison anyway.”

He handed me a bowl of steaming stew. I blew on it, then ate a spoonful. “Yum. This is delicious. What is it?”

Traz pointed towards Xyla. “Deer,” she said. “I managed not to eat the whole thing and brought some back for you.”

When we had fresh meat, it was usually rabbits, which Traz could bring down with stones from his slingshot. This was the first large game I’d had in I couldn’t remember how long. I gobbled it up and scooped out a second helping.

“I guess the one thing we don’t have to worry about is starving,” I observed after I finished my stew. “Thanks for sharing, Xyla.” She just gave me a slow blink, more like a cat than a reptile.

“Xyla,” I said when I returned from washing the dishes and filling our waterskins, “if we’re not back in a day, then go back to Yallick.”

“Two days,” she said, and with a thin smile, I agreed, hoping this was an unnecessary precaution. After all, who knew what would happen once Traz and I entered that seething mass of human habitation?

“When you get to the edge of the forest, you will see a road,” Xyla told me. “It will take you directly to the city.”

I placed a hand on her jaw, wishing for a moment that she was once again small enough to hug. With that contact, however, Xyla gifted me with a surge of power. I felt as if nothing could stop me, nothing could stand in my way. Against all odds, I would find and rescue Breyard.

The outskirts of Penwick started as a spread-out mishmash of houses that became more crowded and dingy as we made our way into the city. But there were pockets of activity, small markets here and there, filled with the usual bustle, even though we were far from the middle of the city.

Then we reached an area full of dirty, drunk men; loud, crude women; and filthy children. The rickety houses towered high above us, letting almost no light through to the streets below even though it was near noon. Doors opened directly onto the streets, and there wasn’t a growing plant to be seen anywhere. No one seemed to be able to speak in a normal tone of voice; everyone shouted, each louder than the one before. The crowd pressed closer and closer until I could scarcely walk without brushing against strangers. And the smells! Ripe body odor fought with rancid food for dominance, with the stink of raw sewage overriding it all. I tried to breathe through my mouth, but that was, if possible, even worse; it was as if I could taste the stench. I heard Traz gag.

Eventually we left that part of the city behind and found ourselves in a pretty, residential area. The front gardens of the houses were all laid out in intricate designs with flowers in every color. Every once in awhile, we even saw a gardener pottering about looking after the plants. The houses became larger and we could see between them. Now it was easy to keep moving upwards towards the center of the city. Sometimes we even caught a glimpse of the golden palace.

We wove our way through the streets, always turning in whichever direction led upwards. The traffic started to increase. About halfway up a long, steep hill, I stopped, wiping sweat from my brow as I looked up. Traz stopped, too, and by unspoken agreement, we sat on a short wall to rest.

“There are too many people here,” Traz said. I just nodded.

The burst of energy from Xyla had helped me to ignore the life vibrations tingling all around me, but they were still there, growing in intensity the farther into the city we went. Now I felt almost nervous with the excess. As suddenly as I’d stopped, I jumped to my feet again. “C’mon, let’s go.” Traz gave me one of his funny looks, shrugged, and rose to his feet. I couldn’t explain it; I simply knew: “We’ve got to find the fighting pits!”