Lost (11 page)

T
he first thing I did was steal my knife back from Captain Kerrn. And I nicked one of her knives, too, because I’d be better off with two. I hid them in Rowan’s bags, so when Kerrn grabbed
me and searched me she didn’t find them.

As Kerrn stalked away with steam coming out of her ears, Rowan came up to me. We’d been traveling all day; after eating a big breakfast I’d taken a long nap in the cart with the baggage, resting my shoulder and ribs, which were still sore. Rowan had ridden her horse alongside Argent and Kerrn. Now we’d camped in a forest clearing.

“Conn,” Rowan said, shaking her head, “you’re going to get into trouble. You need something to keep you busy.”

No, I didn’t. I had plenty to do, just traveling to Desh.

“And as the leader of this envoyage, I’ve decided what that something will be.” Rowan folded her arms and gave me her sly, slanting look. “Several somethings, actually.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“You don’t need to glare at me, my lad,” she said. “The first thing is, I want you to write to Magister Nevery and tell him you’ve joined
us and that you are well.”

I shook my head. If Nevery got a letter from me, he’d just throw it in the fire.

“The second thing,” Rowan said, “is that you will serve Argent.”

“No,” I said.

“No one else will take you on, Conn. It’s Argent or nobody.”

“Nobody, then,” I said.

Rowan shook her head. “Argent is a very good friend; he will treat you well, don’t worry.” Argent himself was passing by, and she called to him. He set down the horse’s saddle he was carrying and came over.

“Yes, Lady Rowan?” he said, with a little bow of his head. He ignored me standing there.

Rowan smiled at him. “Argent, this is Conn, your new servant.”

“I didn’t agree to this, Ro,” I said.

“Hush,” she answered. “It’s for your own good. You will serve him until we get home to Wellmet.”

Except that I wasn’t going home to Wellmet. I knew this, but every time I thought of it a new misery eel hatched in my stomach. Then I thought about Benet and a whole nest of eels hatched. I kept quiet.

Argent bowed. “Thank you, Lady Rowan.”

“I think you will get along well,” Rowan said, “if you give each other a chance.” She pointed at me. “Conn, if you want to travel with us, you must make yourself useful.”

Argent bowed again, and Rowan walked away, smiling.

For just a moment I hated her.

Argent looked down his long nose at me. “It is quite clear to me that you are not a proper servant. You are scruffy, and Captain Kerrn says you are a thief, and you talk like a gutterboy.”

Because I
was
a thief and a gutterboy. Stupid Argent. He’d be scruffy, too, if he’d slept under a bush for the past six nights. “I am
not
your servant, Argent,” I said.

His lip curled. “Apparently you are. The alternative is that.” He pointed at the forest. I’d have to leave the envoyage, he meant, unless I served him. Drats.

“I feel it is my duty to teach you better manners. To begin, boy, you will refer to me as
Sir
Argent.”

“And you will refer to me as Conn,” I said. Only Nevery called me
boy
.

That night I was sleeping under a tree at the edge of the camp, wrapped up in a blanket. It was either that or share a tent with Argent, and he snored.

In the middle of the night, something woke me up.

The clouds had thinned and the moon hung behind them. It was quiet. No leaves rustled, no twigs snapped, no wind blew in the treetops. The silence pushed against my ears.

From far away, I heard a rushing sound, getting closer, coming along the road, heading toward Wellmet. Before it came a wave of dusty air.
Coughing, wrapping the blanket tightly around me, I crawled over wet grass toward the edge of the road.

I crouched behind a tree trunk and peered out. Overhead, the trees swayed, the leaves tearing off their branches and whirling away in the wind.

Along the road, they came. As I ducked back behind the tree to hide, I caught a glimpse of purple-black light and the fluttering of black shadows, and I heard the rushing of them coming closer.

The rushing suddenly stopped and the night grew still as still. The air felt heavy, like in a Wellmet cellar. Around me I heard
tink, tink
and then patterings on the ground. Leaves were turning to stone and falling off the trees. From the road came a purple-black glow.

Shadows.

I wrapped my arms around myself and put my head down on my knees.

From the camp came a shout. First one of the
guards—“’Ware!”—then Kerrn calling the rest of the guards to arms. I heard the sound of swords being drawn and Nimble shrieking out the lothfalas spell, but there was no magic here so the spell didn’t work. The camp stayed dark.

“At the road!” Rowan shouted from over by her tent.

With a sudden
whoosh,
the Shadows moved. The wind shrieked. The trees thrashed. Then silence.

They were gone, away to Wellmet.

A
nother day of trudge-travel through the forest. Everyone was twitchy because of the Shadows, worrying that they were headed to Wellmet, or that we’d be attacked if they came back.

In the late afternoon, when we’d set up camp, Rowan led Argent and me to a smaller clearing in the forest. She put her hands on her hips and looked around. “We need to be ready if those Shadows return. Argent?”

He nodded. “Fetch the practice swords,” he said to me. “They’re in the baggage.”

“Fetch them yourself,” I said. My bones ached from walking all day.

He glanced at Rowan, who raised her eyebrows. “Do as he asks, Conn,” Rowan said. She leaned down to touch her toes, then stood and stretched.

I didn’t say anything. But I went and fetched the practice swords, which were made out of wood with leather-wrapped handles. As I was pulling them out of a bag, Kerrn grabbed my arm.

“What are you doing, thief?” she asked.

I showed her the swords. “Rowan and Argent are going to practice.”

“Ah!” she said, and let me go. She followed
me to the clearing.

I handed Rowan the swords, and she gave one to Argent.

I went across the clearing and leaned against a tree, watching her shake out her arms, getting ready. Sword practice. I’d never seen anyone practice before. I’d seen fights, sometimes with swords, but more often with broken bottles and knives or truncheons, and somebody always got hurt. This might be interesting.

“All right,” Rowan said. “Ready?” She bounced on the balls of her feet.

“Ready,” Argent said.

“Commence.” She took up a ready position and tapped his wooden blade. He tapped back, and they fell into a regular pattern. “Quarters,” she said, and the pattern changed. “To eight,” and it changed again.

It seemed a very polite way to fight. I slid down the tree trunk and sat on the damp, grassy ground.
Tap, tip, tap
went their blades. I nibbled on grass
stems and watched their back and forth.

“Enough!” Rowan said after a while. She was panting and smiling; her red hair was tangled up like flickering flames. She glanced over at me. “Now it’s your turn, Conn.”

Me? I spat out the grass I was chewing and scrambled to my feet.

Rowan handed me her practice sword.

“I don’t know how to use this,” I said. The sword was heavy, and the grip felt warm and sweaty-damp. I gripped it tightly.

“Even wizards need to know swordcraft.” She motioned for Argent to come closer. “We’ve encountered Shadows once already. Argent can teach you to take care of yourself in a fight.”

But I already knew how to take care of myself in a fight.

“We’ll start with the very basics,” Rowan said. “Stand at the ready.”

Across from me, Argent showed his teeth, raised his sword, and crouched. He looked very
ready. Ready to slaughter me.

Rowan frowned at him. “Just the first position.”

Argent relaxed, but just a little. I raised my sword. My sore shoulder told me to lower my hand, and my ribs twinged.

“Tell the thief to keep his guard up,” Kerrn called from the edge of the clearing.

“Keep your guard up, Conn,” Rowan said, stepping back. “And loosen your shoulders. Now, engage.”

Argent’s blade tapped mine. I tapped his back. He tapped again, more firmly, and I felt the vibration in my fingers, up my arm, and into my sore shoulder. His eyes narrowed and he tapped again, hard enough to push my blade out of the way, then reached out with the point of his sword. I flinched and felt the blow brush past my sore ribs. He went into the ready position again and advanced toward me. I backed away.

“Put your blade up again,” Rowan said.

“This is a bad idea, Ro,” I said. I switched the
sword to my other hand, on the side without the sore shoulder.

“No, this is serious,” she said. “Knowing how to wield a sword could save your life.”

No it wouldn’t. Because I wouldn’t be carrying a sword in the first place.

Argent advanced toward me again, moving smoothly, the point of his sword steady. He was, I realized, a very good swordsman; he’d been practicing nicely with Rowan, but he planned something else for me.

His blade tapped mine. As before, I tapped back.
Tap-tap. Tip-tap.
And again he lunged toward me, only this time I was too slow. The blunt tip of his sword slammed into my shoulder, right where it hurt most; I dropped my sword and stumbled backward. Ow. I rubbed the knot of pain.

“You’d be dead,” Argent said, eyes narrowed.

Rowan, who’d been following us closely, picked up the sword and handed it to me. “And again,” she said.

No, not again.

This time, after the
tap-tap
and
tip-tap
, when Argent attacked, I was ready.

He batted my sword aside and came at me like a hurled spear, blade extended toward my heart.

I scrambled out of the way and threw my wooden sword as hard as I could at his head. Then I ducked his swung blade, and flung myself into a bush at the edge of the clearing. Twigs snagged my sweater and leaves brushed against my face as I crawled farther in.

Leaves rustled; Argent poked his sword into the bush. “Come out of there!” he shouted.

Not likely.

He poked again, closer, then again. His wooden blade plunged into the leaves beside my head; I grabbed its blunt tip with both hands and pulled hard.

Argent shouted as he overbalanced and fell into the bush. Cursing and thrashing, he climbed out again.

I crouched, gripping his sword. My shoulder throbbed where he’d hit me, and my ribs ached.

All was silent for a few moments. I shifted to get clear of a branch that was jabbing me in the leg.

Then I heard Rowan’s voice talking quietly to Argent.

“All right,” he grumbled.

She spoke more loudly, and I could tell she was trying not to laugh. “You can come out now, Conn.”

She’d calmed him down, then. Pushing branches out of the way, I crawled out and got to my feet.

Argent stood with his arms folded, glaring. He had a bloody scratch on his face and leaves in his hair. I glared back at him. My shoulder hurt. Rowan, hiding a grin, stepped between us. “The sword, Connwaer?” she said, holding out her hand. At the edge of the clearing, Kerrn was smiling.

I realized I was holding the sword tightly, ready to throw it at Argent if he went for me again.
Loosening my grip, I handed it to her. She, in turn, handed it to Argent.

“Thank you, Lady Rowan,” he said, still glaring at me.

“We’ll have to try this again tomorrow,” Rowan said.

Argent and I turned to stare at her.

She smiled. “I think you can both learn a lot from each other.”