Into the Stone Land (11 page)

“Do you have to go?” Tall asked. “Will they miss you if you don't return?”

“No,” Deanna answered. “I've done my duties for today. They'll expect me to be off sulking. That's what Lady Hravic says anyway. ‘Why, all that girl does is sulk, if she's not huffing,' so she says. I don't huff or sulk really. Just quiet mostly, until I explode, and that makes them think I'm plotting bad things when I'm quiet. I don't plot anything. Things just kind of happen when I'm around. Like you.”

Tall swallowed a lump of guilt. “Do you always have to do what the Lady says?”

“Lady Hravic? She's usually too busy to deal with the likes of me, but she seems to notice when I make something go wrong. Always making a mess of things is why they mostly leave me alone.”

Deanna told Tall about accidentally ripping open grain bags at harvest time, ruining soup and burning bread in the kitchens, letting rats get into the hay. Some of the things she talked about he had little concept of. He guessed “rats” were the long-tailed things Hazard had been eating and “hay” was what Outlanders called dried grass put up for the winter. He wondered why they didn't just call it dried grass.

Truly, though, it was interesting to hear about her life. She did tend to make a mess of things, but as messes went, the one Tall was in was a much bigger one. He couldn't help thinking about Ray out there somewhere in the stone land. Ray was likely in an even bigger mess, had to be—otherwise everyone wouldn't be so worried about him. But it was more than worry, wasn't it? He told himself.

He started to feel light-headed. The world spun. He grabbed the sides of his head.

“The sickness again?” Deanna asked. He heard her rifling through what he assumed was his pack. “Open, chew.”

To his surprise, she'd given him scatter seeds. “How did you… know?”

“The first day, you begged me for these. Said they'd rid you of the wizard's curse.”

“Wizard's curse?”

“The sickness. All his have it. It makes them crazed whenever he withholds it. Never seen a seed cure for it before. Healer Holt wouldn't like it, I'd imagine. He'd confiscate it if I told him and then Braddick would likely kill you.”

Tall scooted back against the wall. “Why haven't you?”

“Told, you mean,” she completed for him. “You're like me. We both make everything around us wrong. Serve them right, not knowing what I know. Besides, I hate the Wizard's Guard.”

“Who's Braddick?”

“The worst of them,” she said. “The Prefect now, an Equite originally.”

She went back to telling him about life in Hravic Quarter. He started to understand that this was the part of Adalayia he was in. That the building behind the stables, where he thought he was, was only a small part of Hravic Quarter called the priory, and that the building itself was called the cloister. Deanna herself was one of the cloistered but had not taken the robes.

The whole time she was talking, however, he couldn't help thinking about the one called Braddick, this Prefect as she named him. “What is an Equite?” He asked her finally. “What does the Prefect do?”

Deanna decided to trust him wholeheartedly. He knew this because she didn't hesitate to speak her mind about the equites and the prefect, even though her hushed tone revealed both her great fear of them and the danger. “The equites are horse riders. Most are from the wealthiest families. They command the wizard's army and the Prefect commands them.”

Simple. Blunt. There it was. Braddick was in command of the wizard's army. Tall didn't know why this worried him so much, but it did. Perhaps it was because when Deanna mentioned Braddick she seemed to imply that his own death would follow any encounter with the man. She didn't say this, but he felt it. Then he remembered that she hadn't implied it. She'd come right out and said Braddick would kill him.

There was something else that was important about what she'd told him, but he was too distracted by the thought of dying to think about it. Somehow he and Lucky must find a way to escape from the city—if Lucky was still in the city. He was pretty sure finding Lucky and escaping would be a tremendous struggle. It wasn't like the Outlanders wouldn't notice an Inlander boy fleeing on horseback. That the Outlanders used horses as messengers could work to their disadvantage, though, because they didn't seem to see the rider at all. Not when it was an Inlander, at least.

The whole crazed ride into the city he'd thought the Outlanders were talking to him, but they'd been talking to Lucky. He might as well have been an appendage. What had Deanna said about this? Riders were to keep, shield, and protect. Nothing more, nothing less.

Tall decided to trust Deanna as much as she trusted him. He told her about his village, the smoot, Keene, Ray, everything. But he was too exhausted to begin any detailed plan. His mind was foggy from the seed, and together with the warmth in his belly, they were as good as a lullaby. Deanna let him cradle his head on her shoulder as she led him to the bed. Her closeness made him realize how very lonely he'd felt earlier when he tried to reach out to the brood and failed. He missed them. He missed them something fierce. How comforting her presence was. He gave in to the drowsiness, vowing that tomorrow the balance would tip in his favor. Tomorrow, he'd not only find Lucky and the others, but a way to leave the city safely.

It was dark when Deanna woke him. She held something out to him as he sat up. Food perhaps. It was small, round, and warm. But when he tried to put it in his mouth she stopped him with her unexpected giggling.

“Keep your eyes closed,” she told him. Her fast, small hands began unwrapping the bandages around his head.

He grabbed her hand as she finished, still amazed at how soft and fine her fingers were. His own hands were rough as gritty leaves and tough as dark root. “The burning's all gone.”

“As is the redness. That's good.” She took the round thing from his hands, held it up first to one eye and then to the other. He knew this because of the soft glow behind his eyelids. “This'll finish the job. Healer Holt won't miss it.”

She kissed his cheek. “For luck,” she said. “Now open, slowly. It may—”

“It may what?” He asked. Opening his eyes, he saw Deanna for the first time. She was small and thin with pale skin and long, yellow hair that was nearly a match for the soft yellow of her dress. Her nose was small but perfect, like her teeth. Her blue eyes were very large, disproportionate to the rest of her. They spoke to him, told him he had been right to trust her as fully as she trusted him.

At times he'd imagined her as being much younger than he. At other times he'd imagined her as much older. In truth, she was perhaps a year or two older. Fifteen winters at most if he'd have had to guess. The dim light made her look almost translucent. Then he realized the soft glow was her own.

“Don't be afraid. I'm a laity as I've told you.” She sat across from him, dimmed her glow until it disappeared. Her hands cupped a glowing ball. “It's a healing sphere.”

“Will you be punished if they catch you with it?” He asked.

“Not really; maybe… Won't cure anything big, but works wonders with the scrapes and bruises I'm always getting. You must be at least a laity to activate it.” She unconsciously ran a hand up her arm. He wondered what the long sleeves hid before he remembered the welts. She saw the question in his eyes. “The healer fixed me, told me to keep my arms hidden for a few days so no one would know. He's the only nice one of them all.”

She seemed to regret saying this immediately, and quickly added, “That's not true. Not really, not entirely. There are a lot of nice ones. Even some among the Wizard's Guard.”

“How old are you?” Tall asked.

Deanna smiled. “Summer before last to training. This spring past, that'd be… fourteen. When's your birthday?”

“I was born in winter,” Tall said. “I've seen twelve since counting age. Do you count the first winter? The first circle of seasons? We don't.”

Deanna put the healing ball away, shifted back as if suddenly noticing Tall was different than she. “You don't count what?”

“An uncounted child returns to the arbor and will be born again.” He said it as an explanation of custom, but saw that it only confused her. He added, “We are named after our first counting winter. Most of the counted survive, so the naming ceremony's very important. Dent, my father, gave me my name because I was so much bigger than the rest of the first winters and because of the three uncounted before me who returned to the tree. They were all quite small, you see.”

The addition only seemed to confuse her even more. Into the awkward silence, she said, “So thirteen winters to my fourteen springs?”

There was something odd about that, but neither could think of what it was. Suddenly Tall wished he was older. “If you count it that way, I guess so.”

They didn't do anything after that because he was too busy formulating a plan and getting every bit of information he could out of Deanna about Adalayia. She wasn't born in the city, so she knew only what she'd learned since becoming a laity. She'd only seen the wizard once, but she knew much about the guard. They garrisoned in the city and had outposts across the land. The wizard's domain stretched out from Mount Lar in the east to Stone Canyon in the west. North, a land called Korran, was inhabited by undermountain men. South was a land she called the Wastes, but he knew it as his beloved In.

He realized they were lying down now, still talking, but quietly. Both were on their side, so they faced one another. He wasn't sure who drifted off to sleep first, but it was she who awoke him some hours later. He pushed himself up, stood rigidly, but without assistance. His ribs were tender, but most of the real pain was gone. He guessed that she might have been using the sphere to heal the cracks little by little.

She pulled dark clothes from a satchel bag, held first a shirt and then pants up to him. “It'll have to be good enough,” she said. Her fast, small hands started undressing him. “The sun comes. We have to hurry. Best to leave the city before the dawn.”

“I can do this,” Tall said. “Really, I can.”

Irrespective, she continued. He lifted a leg to slip out of first one then the other pants leg. She slipped the other pants legs into place, pulled the pants up around his waist, and tied them in place with a rope belt. She deftly fastened the buttons of the shirt that followed before slipping a collared cape over his shoulders and fastening it in place with two fist-sized metal buttons bearing a blade and hammer insignia. He'd drawn those markings many times. Usually, though, they were on the metal breast piece of the one-armed man. Thoughts of that man haunted Tall's dreams, almost as much as thoughts of the wizard did.

Any sense of excitement he had been feeling fled. She noticed this change immediately. “Not the reaction I expected,” she said. “I stole into the Horse Quarters for these. Healer Holt would whip me himself if he found out.”

Tall squeezed her hand as she brought the flow of the cape around his shoulders. “I appreciate everything you've done for me. You must know. Without you, I don't know what would've happened.”

“I don't doubt that,” she said. She kissed his cheek. “Whatever happens, remember what you're wearing. A rider is ever silent. A rider keeps, serves, and protects. That's all.”

“That's twice,” he said, still holding the hand that rested on his shoulder.

“The kiss of a laity brings luck. Anyone as unlucky as you needs all the luck I can give. Besides when I take the robes I won't be kissing anyone's cheek anymore, I'll be kissing hands. To bless and keep.”

Tall thought the whole business of kissing for luck or blessings, whether cheeks or hands, was silly. “My horse's name is Lucky. Get me to him and I'll show you luck.”

Deanna slipped the healing sphere into his pocket. He didn't know this now, but he would later. Now he knew only that she took back the hand he held, and stepped away. “Messengers don't have names, and if they did the likes of us wouldn't be doing the naming.”

Tall realized she was lit with the soft, yellow glow that made her seem at one with herself and everything around her. “How do you control it?” He asked, pointing.

Deanna was suddenly self conscious. She blushed. “It's why I'm still a laity. Everyone passes the test the first time. Even Saldal passed this test the first time. I don't wear the robes because I fail, not because I haven't decided whether to take them. That's the truth. If I could use this curse without revealing, I'd be an acolyte.”

“Can't go around glowing and frightening everyone.” It was meant as a joke, but it brought a frown.

“You think less of me. Don't you? Why not, everyone else who knows does. It's why I started telling people I was unsure about taking the robes.”

He told her about his similar problem. He told her what the smoot said about second sight. How he wasn't supposed to reach out so fully. How the smoot made simple gestures to use it. How Ehzrit said it was only a matter of focus. She was very interested in Ehzrit but he circled the conversation back to the sight.

“How wondrous to think it a gift and not a curse,” Deanna said finally. “My mother always thought it a curse. It drove her mad enough to walk straight into the void one day. She was singing when she did it. “Calling to the Heavens,” the song's called. I remember because I was chasing after her asking about honey sticks.

“Like to drove my father mad too. His name was Stirling. He and my sister, Kerry, were never the same after they took me to serve. They visited a few times. Kerry came once recently to tell me my father died. He was a strong man. I think his heart broke and that's what took him.

“Kerry has the same gift of song as my mother. She's a tree singer. Why couldn't I have been born a tree singer?”