Into the Stone Land (12 page)

Tall had no answer for this, at least no answer that would sooth her nerves. He went back to questioning her about the city and the Wizard's Guard. The city garrison was behind the priory. The city had four gates. The south gate, the one he entered through, was little used and poorly manned. Only the worst were stationed there. The north gate was the badge of honor. Guards fought over North Gate postings.

“Their commander,” Tall asked. “This Braddick. What does he look like?”

Deanna described him from his long, brown hair and grizzled beard to his one arm and flowing red cape. It was then Tall knew without doubt Braddick was the one he'd drawn and dreamt of so many times. Next to the wizard, there was no one as loathsome. Braddick was always killing something in his dreams. Bulls. Slithers. Flying lizards. Men. It was the dream of himself being killed by Braddick that was the worst. Remembrance of the white-hot fury of the man's curved blade brought him to his knees and gave Deanna a start.

She took his hand, said, “I didn't mean to say anything to trouble you so. You don't have to worry. Braddick and his aren't in the city. They've gone north yesterday, to Stone Desert, in search of something.”

Her words brought him back instantly. He grabbed her shoulders, a bit too firmly he knew from her grimace—or perhaps the healer had not cured her entirely. “In search of what? Did they say?”

Deanna pushed his hands away. “If I knew that I'd be a guard, and not a laity.”

“I have to leave now,” he told her. “Will you help me?”

“I already have. The rider's clothes will get you out of the city.”

“But Lucky,” he started to say, but she was already saying, “Yes, on a messenger. How else would that work?”

“It has to be Lucky,” Tall said. “Only him. He'll get me safely north, past Braddick. That's where Ray is, I know it.”

Deanna crossed her arms in front of her. “You'll do nothing of the sort. I'll help you get to the west gate. A friend is there posted till the morn. I told him I'd bring him apples from the priory trees at first light.”

Tall knew better than to try to protest, but he did anyway. “Ray is north. I know it.”

“Head north and for certain Braddick and his will kill you. Make no mistake. You told me you saw a vision of Ray on the back of a flying lizard.

Those are said to dwell in Stone Canyon. That's west.”

Tall grabbed at Deanna's hand, which was still hidden in her crossed arms. “Come with me.”

“Your pack,” Deanna said. “Best to keep it in front of you until you are out of the city.”

She looked to the door anxiously and Tall knew it was time to go. He hugged her before he could stop himself. She hugged him back, then led him from the room, down a flight of stairs. Just before they left the cloister building, she told him, “Don't speak out there. Remember, you are a rider. Best unseen, but if seen, unheard.”

“Thank you for everything,” Tall said. He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, planning to tell her it was for her luck, but she turned at the last moment and their lips met. Whether it was mistake or intention was something he would brood over later, especially during the long days ahead. For now, he picked up his pack and turned toward the door.

“You'll need this,” Deanna said.

Tall turned back. He wasn't sure if he'd ever see his journey staff again, but there it was in Deanna's hand.

Chapter 11: Unnatural Yearning

Lucky was in the stable. Tall ran to him, gripped the long neck and buried his face in horse flesh. “I missed you,” he whispered. Lucky arched his back and his soft eyes shone. He nibbled Tall's sleeve with his lips and nuzzled at Tall's shoulder. Tall rubbed the velvety nose and spoke softly of the days they'd been separated.

He'd started to wonder if he'd ever see Lucky or the others again. It was strange that he felt their connection only when they touched. Stranger still that he felt nothing of the others, even under the light influence of the seeds he'd secreted from the pack.

Deanna cleared her throat, reminding him of the urgency. Tall was pleased that Lucky seemed well fed and cared for, even more so when Lucky sent him feelings of contentment and happiness. He climbed onto Lucky's back, shifting his pack and staff into place.

He saw Deanna near the entrance as Lucky exited the stall and sauntered across the stable's central causeway. She was carrying a basket of apples in one hand, wiping away tears with the other. He'd never thought of her as particularly pretty. She was too pale, too thin. Her hair, too yellow and straight. Her eyes, too large and blue.

But she was pretty. She had an undeniable grace. Even the way she handled her tears made her more endearing. It made her seem open, vulnerable and yet resolved. Without doubt she was the most stouthearted person he'd ever met, and that trait made her beautiful.

A difficult comparison to Ellie, but one he made. Ellie's beauty was right there, bubbling on the surface. Her bright green eyes. Her long, curly hair always wrapping the perfect oval of her face. Her nose sized just so. Her cheek bones, high. She was lithe and sturdy. Years of hard work had shaped her true enough, but she was always more woman than girl. Men listened when she commanded. Even her father. Even when he was of a mood. Her tears were always private, as was her sadness. He'd seen both, but she'd never meant for anyone to see.

“Tall,” Deanna hissed. Her face dead calm, her eyes wide, told him something was wrong.

Tall looked down, saw he was brighter than the pale light from the dawning day. He was glowing, but didn't know whether from his reflection or something else. He wasn't reaching out with the yearning. Or was he? He was, he realized. Unintentionally, perhaps instinctively, he was trying to reach Lady, Hazard, and the hatchlings.

He squelched the yearning, reached Deanna at the stable entrance. She was looking out into the quiet streets. “West gate,” she hissed. “Follow on a hundred count. Count slowly; go slowly. You'll cross the lake bridge, and then the canal. One turn at the great circle of the sun, then straight to the gate. Remember what you wear, what you are.”

Tall watched her depart. Though her soft footfalls were inaudible, he imagined he heard them as she disappeared down the cobbled street. He started counting, wondered if she really meant for him to wait a hundred counts. There was enough light to make the street seem a place of shadows.

“Now,” he whispered to Lucky as he reached eighty. A few counts more or less shouldn't matter; at least he didn't think so.

The sound of Lucky's hooves echoed softly as they struck the stones. He kept Lucky to a steady walk. Or maybe Lucky did this on his own and Tall only thought he controlled the colt. He knew nothing of riding, only that it hurt. He felt Lucky's every stride.

It was a long way to the circle, and eventually the slow ride sucked away the urgency of the moment. Tall began to study the buildings that lined the street when he probably should have been paying closer attention to the road, to the doorways, to the alleys. Still, he'd never seen such stone monuments before. Well, that wasn't true exactly. He'd seen the buildings on the furious race into Adalayia.

Now, though, he had time to study how the red and black stones were laid one on top of the other in long rows, how windows and doors were framed in white stones, how each building had its own great door painted red or blue or black. Some of the buildings had signs. The signs had symbols but none that he recognized. Strangest of all was the stone that wasn't stone. It kept out weather and beasts but let him see in as those inside could see out.

He saw mostly shadows inside the buildings, but sometimes furniture or peculiar knitted sheets hanging on metal rods. How his mother would have loved such fine things to hang in the windows. But such fine things wouldn't keep out buzzers. Only a well-tarred cloth fixed snugly could do that. Every door and window in his village was fitted with a tar cloth at night.

The bridge across the lake was a wonder and Tall could only marvel at it. Eventually the steady spray of the great circle's fountains concealed the echoes of Lucky's hooves. Only the canal bridge was between him and the circle now. He was glad for this, but this feeling was fleeting, for his breath froze in his lungs as a shadow within the shadows moved. Then a voice called out, “Who goes there?” This was followed by: “State your business.”

Tall's heart leapt into his throat. He heard boots, saw a pale man in armor moving to block the canal bridge. The armored man held a long staff with a large blade attached at the top. Tall wanted to call the weapon a spear, but knew that wasn't the right name. Whatever it was, it was a man killer.

He dropped his shoulders, returned his gaze to the path ahead. He told himself, “I am a rider. Best unseen, but if seen, unheard.”

Lucky continued toward the bridge. Not knowing what the armored man was doing terrified Tall. He sat rigidly, afraid to move. He dared not look, but he had to. He stole a glance, saw the armored man. Their eyes locked. Tall was certain the man would charge at him and strike out with that terrible weapon. But the man never did.

Tall saw little of the great circle of the sun. He guided Lucky right at the first turning and saw the gate and the walls at once. The alarm sounding in his mind ensured his thoughts kept their focus, just as his eyes kept their focus on the path ahead. It helped calm the crazed beating of his heart.

Ahead, near the gate, Tall saw the outline of two figures. One he thought must be Deanna, just now arriving. The other, a guard, clad much as the other had been. Tall's cape had a thick collar. He turned it up so that it hid his face partly. He forced himself to take his breaths evenly, as he tried to work away the fear.

A bull could tear a man to shreds. A slither could wrap and crush. A deep wading could swallow. These were dangers he knew, and every one more deadly than a guard at a gate. But just in case, he gripped his staff firmly and prepared to strike, plotting blows that could be landed around the plates of the armor. These plates, not unlike those of a bull or slither, had weak points where they connected. There was a reason one struck a bull in the snout and behind the head. These were the least armored and most sensitive. A blow to either was sure to get the bull's attention. So how to get a plated man's attention?

The closer Tall approached, the more he saw. Deanna put her basket down, hugged the guard. It was quick, impulsive, and it surprised. Into the surprise, Deanna offered the gift of her apples. Tall studied the guard's movements. Deanna ate an apple as well. The two talked. Tall didn't know of what.

He was back to studying the armor's weaknesses. The chin and back of the neck were exposed; so were the arms, elbows, and hands. The back of the knee, the thigh, the groin too. In fact, the more he studied this armor, the more he realized how little of use it was. It protected the torso and the head, but little else. Such might work well against angry blades. He didn't know. What he did know was such wouldn't work well against his staff, if he could land blows past the long reach of the poled blade. A blow from that could sever limbs, he didn't doubt.

He was sure Deanna heard his approach now, but she didn't betray that she did. If anything her voice grew louder while her banter got more friendly. It made Tall angry, jealous. He didn't know why, but it did, especially the way the guard looked at her. “May the Great Father of the Heavens help this one if I strike,” Tall muttered under his breath, quietly adding, “For nothing else under the heavens will.”

This kind of anger, this kind of quiet rage, was new to Tall. He neither understood it nor could he rid himself of it. He'd asked Deanna to go with him, but she'd said nothing, changing the subject instead. Was this guard the reason? Did she love him? Did he love her? And if so, thinking this, could Tall strike the man if needed?

As if suddenly noticing his approach, Deanna turned her head, called out, “A messenger. Make way for the messenger.” She stepped forward into the guard.

The press of her body forced the guard to take several steps backward. Tall saw Deanna grab at the guard as she stumbled. The guard had to drop his weapon to catch Deanna and keep her from falling. Deanna called out as she stood, “Open the gates for the messenger.”

The guard and Deanna exchanged the strangest look. Perhaps in that tangled moment heartbeats ago Deanna had kissed his cheek as she had Tall's. Whatever happened, the guard was stunned speechless, until at Deanna's prodding, he turned his head and shouted, “Messenger leaving the city! Open the gates at once!”

Tall risked a glance at Deanna as he passed her. His heart felt like it would break, but that was fleeting, for he was racing through the gate, unexpectedly leaving the city much as he had entered. Lucky slowed from a gallop to a canter only when they were well away from the city's walls. Tall was sure Lucky was nearly exhausted by that time, but Lucky showed no signs of it.