No True Way (18 page)

She could never leave Longfall, not for long. Sparrow had never considered the possibility, not even to leave her home in dreams.

Brock's expression grew solemn. “Sparrow, a lot of people can milk goats and comb wool and tend house.
You have a gift for all that, too, and it's a noble calling. But not a lot of folks can fly up to the clouds with somebody like me, then come back to earth and report back to folks like your dad. Or Abilard. Or the Heralds.”

“But you've been Chosen, Brock. That always happens for a reason. I'm here to help you now, and that's all that matters.”

“Oh, it matters all right. It matters a lot. But not for the reasons you think it does. I've already been Chosen, it doesn't matter what happens to me next. But, Sparrow . . . Longfall can mind its goats without you.”

His words thundered through her mind and echoed there, endlessly. They weren't talking about Cloudbrother and his being Chosen, and she knew it. They were talking about her. All her life, she'd forced herself to wake up before she could fully remember the visions, the adventures she and Brock would have in the white.

She remembered now. And how she'd held herself back from her Gifts because she was afraid to leave the world she knew behind.

“You think you are up here to find
me
,” Brock went on. “But you're wrong about that, too. Abilard came for you as much as he came for me.”

“But I'm not Chosen!” she blurted out, as if to insist the door stayed closed.

“Not the way I am, by a Companion. But your Gifts are waiting for you to say yes. Say yes, Sparrow . . . I'll make sure you come to no harm. Come to the Collegium with me. We'll learn together.”

“But—what about Dad?”

“No fear,” Brock said again, and a bolt of pure peace and golden light shot through her air-heart, filling her
with a quiet jubilation. “No fear. Your dad can head into the Vale . . . I'll go call my brothers, and they will send a scout to take him. You won't believe how beautiful the Vales are, Sparrow, but if you come with me you'll see it for yourself someday. He'll stay with my brothers until he's healed. You can come visit him there, and when he feels strong enough, he can come back here if he wants. And you can visit him here too, just as your brother does.”

One last time Sparrow hesitated. “But how will he get on?”

“Fine. Just because you head forward into your Gifts doesn't mean you leave love behind. Love is like this, Sparrow . . . it can follow you anywhere, across dream, mountain, or forest. Even death, Sparrow. I'll come back down with you, near as I can anyway. But you'll see what I mean, soon. I'll show you everything.”

The next thing she knew, Sparrow had woken up next to Cloudbrother's bed, tears streaming down her face. He was right. Sparrow had to leave the memory of winter behind and head forward into the spring.

She glanced at the table next to the bed. A small bouquet of Maiden's Hope rested there, little white flowers blooming early in the season. A little note propped up there from her father.
For You.

Sparrow blinked, looked again. The villagers of Longfall often sent message-bouquets to their loved ones, messages of romantic love, mourning, grief. Or hope.

Her dad must have picked them this morning, before she had returned home. Picked them in the hope that she would return out of the dark forest to find them by her bedside. Her father had hoped Sparrow would come
home, to him and to herself. And her father's hope, and Sparrow's, had been rewarded.

She sighed in pure relief, then whispered, in her ordinary old voice, “Can you hear me, Brock?”

And far away, with a tiny whisper of a breath, Brock answered.
“Almost.”

*   *   *

The next morning, Sparrow and Cloudbrother both walked down the winding, narrow path to the mayor's house, holding hands. Her friend was still blind, but he was steady on his feet and walking straight, the way Sparrow had seen him in the clouds.

Hari had given Sparrow his blessing, and he had agreed to go with the scouts to healing sanctuary in the K'Valdemar Vale once they came in answer to Cloudbrother's call. “I'll be here when you get back from the Collegium,” her father told her. “I promise. No snow fever for me . . . you've seen to that, Sparrow dear.”

He didn't call her Little Mother, and Sparrow noticed. She reached up to kiss his weathered, wrinkly cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

She tucked the little white bouquet of Maiden's Hope into her red sash, the sweet fragrance of home surrounding her. And she left with Cloudbrother by her side.

Sparrow was about to leave the only home she'd ever known. And yet, strangely enough, she knew her true homecoming was only about to begin. She was coming home to her Gifts, and offering those Gifts in service to a higher cause. And even her father and the village of Longfall would be the better for it.

Abilard stood outside the mayor's house waiting for them, as if he knew they'd already set off to meet him.
He looked at them with those wise, luminous deep blue eyes.

:Welcome, Chosen one, welcome back to this plane of life. And Sparrow, thank you for bringing my Chosen one to me. You have found your true Gift and your calling.:

:Your adventure is about to begin . . . :

Fiona Patton

The first hint of spring came to Valdemar's capital as the promise of warm rain on the breeze. On any other day, Sergeant Hektor Dann of the Haven City Watch would have breathed it in with pleasure as he followed his twelve-year-old brother, Padreic, through the streets. On any other day, he would have made some attempt to keep up with the stream of words—official messages, gossip, speculations on the messages and the gossip, greetings to passersby, mild curses at the condition of the cobblestones—issuing from the boy's lips at high speed as he expertly navigated the market-day crowds. This day, however, Hektor had other things on his mind.

. . . Ismy smilin' up at him from across the saddler's shop counter, from across the table in her small kitchen, from across his desk in his tiny office in the Iron Street Watch House. Ismy, the girl he'd loved at thirteen, lost and found again eight years later. Ismy, who would soon be dressed all in white, with flowers in her hair, smilin' up at him from . . .

“—all together in the garden.”

He blinked. “What?”

Paddy gave him a speculative grin, then apparently
deciding that discretion was the better part of avoiding a smack to the back of the head, schooled his expression to one of neutral formality more in keeping with his rank of Watch House Runner.

“All together in the garden?” he repeated.

“What?”

“All over the house?”

Hektor's mystified expression remained, and his brother gave a dramatic sigh.

“Daedrus says,” he began again, “that he thinks it's been goin' on for a couple of months now maybe. He wasn't even sure that it was theft at first, because his library isn't what you might call organized or anythin', and by library he means his books, all of 'em, and not just the ones in the room he calls the library. They're all over the house, see, because he'll pick one up with the idea of puttin' it back where it belongs, start readin' it on the way, get thinkin' about somethin' else, put it down, pick up a different one, and end up readin' a third book altogether in the garden.”

“But he's sure now, that some of them are missin' and not just mislaid?”

“Mostly certain. It's actually kinda more complicated than that.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah, well . . .” Paddy shrugged. “He's old, isn't he? Stuff gets muddled up.”

*   *   *

“My dear Sergeant, it's been so long! Come in, come in!”

Retired Artificer Daedrus beamed as he drew them into his long and cluttered front hallway. “Thank you, Padreic. That was very fast indeed,” he continued. “I hadn't expected you back so soon. I was going to jot
down my thoughts, but I seem to have misplaced my notebook, and now here you are. I imagine Padreic has already filled you in on my little dilemma, Sergeant?”

“Some of it.”

“Good, good. We'll just have a cup of tea first, then. If I can find the kettle, that is. Come into the parlor!

“Now, my children, sing peacefully, the way Kasiath taught you!” he called as Hektor braced himself for the usual cacophony of noise that greeted his visits. Instead, a single note from a single bird thrilled out, then as, one by one, the little yellow birds and finches residing in Daedrus' dozen ornate bird cages added their voices to the first. The music swelled and lifted until it seemed as if the very air vibrated with song; then, one by one, they dropped out, until only the first bird continued to sing. When it too fell silent, Daedrus beamed at Hektor's thirteen-year-old sister, standing in the window with three of the birds perched on her shoulder and one on her head. She wore the light blue tunic of an Unaffiliated student over her light blue and gray watch house messenger bird apprentice uniform, and Hektor noted that both were already dusted with yellow feathers.

“Kasiath taught them to do that in less than a fortnight,” Daedrus stated, his rheumy blue eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Her teacher's very proud of her, and so am I. You know she takes lessons with Master Clevin here these days?”

Shaking off the birds' spell with some difficulty, Hektor nodded. Believing Kassie had the gift of Bird Speech, before he'd died three months ago, their grandfather had arranged for her to take lessons as a Blue—an Unaffiliated student—at the Collegium next to the Palace itself. But the crowds of highborn youths had been too
overwhelming for the shy girl from a watchman's family, and so Daedrus, an old friend of her teacher, had stepped in, opening up his house for lessons for her and a few other like-minded students. He'd waved off any and all thanks; he enjoyed the company, he said, and so in return, the Dann family had taken it upon themselves to keep an eye on the aging Artificer. While Hektor and their oldest brother Aiden, himself a corporal at the Iron Street watch house, made sure Haven's petty criminals kept their distance, Paddy ran Daedrus' errands, Kassie saw to his birds, their middle brothers, Jakon and Raik, who stood the night watch, escorted him home from his various evening events, and their mother and sister-in-law, Suli, saw to his mending.

Paddy maneuvered himself between his brother and the crammed bookcases lining the wall by the door. “I'll make the tea if you like, Daedrus,” he offered. “I think I saw the kettle in the hall. That way, you can catch Hek—I mean Sergeant Dann,” he corrected smoothly as Hektor turned a frown on him, “up on what happened with yer books.”

“Thank you, Padreic,” Daedrus replied. “I think the tea tin is in the garden.”

“Why is it . . . never mind,” Kassie said. “I'll fetch it.”

“The thing is, you see, books come and go about the house,” Daedrus explained once Paddy had brought the tea and Kassie had returned to his birds. “Almost as if they had a life of their own, but I'm generally aware if they come and go out of the house. You know how it is—you lend a book here, or you lend one to a friend there, and you don't miss them until you need them, and if your memory isn't what it used to be, well, there you have it. Take
The Life and Works of the Great Master Artificer
Brayce of Travale
, for instance. I lent it to my friend, Destrian, nearly twenty years ago now. Last spring I wanted to look up something Brayce had taken particular note of, and, well, Destrian had died just the week before, which was probably what brought Brayce to mind in the first place . . . Anyway, it was very awkward asking for its return, as you can imagine, and in the end I just borrowed a copy from the Artificer's Guild library. Come to think of it, that needs to go back . . .”

“But in this case . . .” Hektor prompted before Daedrus could head off on another tangent.

“Oh yes. In this case, well it's the Willot, you see.”

“The . . . Will . . . ?”

“
Lady Willot's Guide to the Wildflowers of the Forest of Sorrows
.” Daedrus picked up a small, green book bound in leather from the pile beside his chair. “It isn't mine, you see.”

*   *   *

“So, people are stealin' his books and replacin' 'em with other books?”

Seated around the Dann family table that evening, Aiden gave him a disbelieving look from over his four-year-old son, Egan's, head. “One oatcake in the mouth at a time, little man,” he added sternly, moving the plate out of arm's reach. “You know better'n that.”

Egan smiled an innocent mouthful of food at him as Hektor shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“Were they valuable books?”

“Not as such.” Hektor took a bite of meat pie, opened his mouth at Egan when Aiden wasn't looking, then shrugged again as the boy broke into peals of delighted laughter. “One might be about spinnin' wheels and the
other might be about weight-driven clocks,” he said, pretending not to see Suli's exasperated frown as she and Aiden's year-old daughter, Leila, pointed at her uncle and laughed as loudly as Egan.

“Might be?”

“Yeah, well, he thinks he remembers where he saw 'em last, but they might have moved.”

“Moved?”

“Moved.”

“So, they might not be missin' at all?”

Hektor sighed. “No.”

“Did you check for any signs of a break-in?”

“Top to bottom. Nothin'. Likely the thief just walked in an' walked out again.”

“Who would have that kind of easy access?”

“Plenty of folk,” Paddy offered through a mouthful of spring peas. “So far this week there's been Hadon, Linton's apprentice, Deen, the butcher's boy, the herbalist's girl, her name's Marti, I think . . .” As Kassie nodded, he continued. “Three book binders, they're older folk, I don't know their names, two book sellers, four gardeners, the chimney sweep with two helpers, the dustbin man an' his son, Rik, the privy cleaner, he was by himself, the sweet spring water delivery man and his apprentice, Mern, and me. An' that's jus' the trades. There's been Kassie with these two other students, Janee an' Alix, an' their teacher, right, Kas?”

His sister nodded again, and Paddy continued. “Then we got the highborns: his niece Adele an' her friends, plus his own friends—Artificers, Bards, Healers, Scholars. His house has more comin' an' goin' than the Palace, I reckon.”

“So, couldn't one of them have borrowed the books
and left that wildflower one behind on one of their own visits?” Aiden pressed.

Hektor shook his head. “Daedrus says not. He showed it to me. There's a plate inside the front cover that reads . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut as he called the words to mind. “Gifted from the Private Collection of Lady Willot to her nephew, the Herald Navene.”

“Who lives where?”

“He has an estate north of the city near Westmark, an' he hasn't been near Daedrus' house for years. Apparently he's kind of a shut-in now.”

“Right, so it ain't him. What a surprise,” Jakon noted, spearing an oatcake with the end of his knife. “Why would anyone steal books, anyway? There's lots more valuable things scattered all over his house that'd be a lot easier to pocket.”

“An' a lot easier to sell,” Raik agreed, deftly scooping the oatcake off his brother's knife with his own.

“Not in front of Egan, Raik,” his mother admonished.

“Sorry, Ma.” Raik set the cake onto his twin's plate with a contrite air, then scooped it back up with his fingers. “Better?”

“Not really, no.”

“Not really at all,” Jakon added, snatching it back. “Get yer own.”

“All the booksellers past Breakneedle Street know each other,” Paddy observed, bringing the subject back to the missing books. “An' they all know Daedrus an' what he buys, so they all know his collection. A stranger tryin' to sell stolen books there would stick out like a sore thumb, an' the secondhand shops nearer the outer gates haven't the market for 'em.”

“So, someone must be takin' them for their own collection,” Hektor mused.

“Which is also suspect,” Aiden argued. “Anyone with a book collection of their own'd be a friend to Daedrus. Why would they thieve from him?” He turned a stern gaze on the two youngest Danns. “Neither of you have borrowed any books, have you? Even with his permission? I know how you both love to read.”

Both Kassie and Paddy glared back at him. “No,” Paddy retorted. “Hek made it plain when we first started goin' up there: be polite, be friendly, but keep a professional distance, and don't accept nothin' more'n a cup of tea an' a biscuit.”

“You have to keep sayin' no to him; he gifts things to people all the time,” Kassie added somberly. “Sometimes they quietly put 'em back when he's not lookin'.”

Their mother set another plate of oatcakes into the center of the table, then returned to her seat with a thoughtful expression. “Many of his friends are his own age,” She noted. “Do you think he might have gifted these missin' books to someone and forgotten, and they left the other book in its place forgetting it wasn't his?”

“Maybe,” Kassie allowed, but her tone was doubtful. “He an' his friends talk books all the time, and most of 'em carry 'em about—”

“Daedrus says he thinks a couple of his friends might have had the same thing happen to them,” Paddy interrupted. “Books missin' and other books mysteriously showin' up.”

“But why would any of them just slip one of their own books into someone else's house an' not tell 'im about it?” Kasey shook her head. “It doesn't make sense.”

“Then most likely it didn't happen at all,” Aiden answered. “Daedrus'll probably find the two he's missin' in the privy.” Handing Egan to Suli, he stood. “I'm be downstairs, puttin' a few hours in on the new flat 'afore bed. I could use your help, Hek, if you've the time.”

Hektor started. “I . . . suppose.”

A smile cracked Aiden's usually frowning demeanor. “But you were plannin' on callin' on Ismy, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Give me a few minutes help buildin' Egan's new bed frame, an' I'll let you loose with plenty of time left to get over to Saddler's Row 'afore dark. Deal?”

“Deal.”

As the two oldest Dann boys made for the door, Hektor paused to glance back at the rest of the family still seated about the table, talking, laughing, and eating. His mother rose to straighten his collar, then gave him a fond smile.

“What are you thinking about so seriously?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothin' really. I was just tryin' to keep this memory in my head. With Aiden and Suli movin' downstairs with the twins this week, it's gonna be lot quieter around here.”

“Well, then, you and Ismy will just have to fill it up again. It's high time I had more grandbabies, anyway.”

Hektor reddened. “I don't think we're ready for that just yet, Ma.”

“We'll see. Give her my love.”