Seeds of Rebellion (19 page)

“You needed to learn what failure feels like. You needed to experience your concentration unraveling when engaged in a task beyond your capacity. With practice, you will learn to recognize when you have attempted to accomplish too much. Deliberately abandoning a command early can reduce the negative impact of failure.”

“So if I hadn’t kept fighting to the end, I would have been less jolted?”

“Correct. Anyone who dabbles in Edomic must learn to cope with failed directives. Little by little, you’ll be able to handle more ambitious commands. But never forget that the more ambitious the command, the harsher the impact of failure.”

“I see how that could be good to know.”

“For example,” Elaine continued, “had you tried to set the whole evergreen ablaze, and had you pushed with all your might, you would probably be dead.”

“I’ll be careful,” Rachel promised. Her legs still felt a little rubbery.

“Using Edomic can be very rewarding,” the charm woman said. “But it is no game. You must learn to stay within your limits. You have great potential, Rachel, but those with impressive native skill often burn out quickly. They attempt too much too soon, and never get to discover what they might have become had they cultivated their talent more patiently.”

“I think I’ve got the idea,” Rachel said. “If I’m going to fail, I need to fail doing only a little more than I can handle.”

“That is a sane and proven road to progress. If you can hold to that principle, you could go far. If not, you will probably perish.”

CHAPTER
9

U
pstairs, in a spotless guest bedroom, Jason could not sleep. Fingers laced behind his head, he lay atop the covers of a narrow bed, gazing up at the slanted ceiling. Aram was asleep downstairs, and Moira had insisted Jason rest as well, in preparation for a night on horseback.

The night before, Aram had collected Jason’s belongings from the Dockside Inn. He had also scouted the town and found triple the usual guardsmen at every gate, complemented by an unusual amount of patrols scouring the city in search of a nameless fugitive who matched Jason’s description. Aram had expressed that he couldn’t recall comparable interest in a fugitive since Galloran had been abroad.

Jason rolled onto his side, trying to get comfortable. Part of his restlessness stemmed from Ferrin’s hand. The dismembered appendage kept fluttering in the backpack. The rustling had persisted off and on for at least an hour. In the past, Ferrin had only drawn such attention when there was something he urgently wanted to share.

Although he felt painfully curious about the message from Ferrin, Jason had been trying to ignore the rustling. After all,
the safety of Aram and Moira was in jeopardy, along with his own. There was no guarantee that Ferrin was on his side. The smart course would be to avoid contacting Ferrin until Ithilum was behind him. But as the minutes passed and the fluttering continued, Jason began to question how the displacer could deduce anything useful from letters traced on a palm. If he was careful not to give away information, was there any real harm in exchanging a few words? What if Ferrin had a vital tip?

As the rustling continued doggedly, curiosity finally overcame caution. Jason had to silence the hand, right? With the sun perhaps an hour from setting, Aram might show up before long. The lively hand would be difficult to explain.

Jason rolled out of bed and removed the severed hand from the backpack, slapping it gently to signal he was prepared to receive a message. The hand began signing.

I am in Ithilum. So are you. All routes out of town are under surveillance by agents of Maldor, no doubt summoned by your lurker friend. I will help you escape.

Jason considered the message. With all of these soldiers around, it would be an ideal opportunity for Ferrin to backstab him. Even if the displacer really had burned bridges with Maldor, might he not view this as a chance to repair the damage?

Jason began tracing letters. I FOUND AN ALLY. HE WILL HELP ME GET AWAY.

Who?

BETTER NOT SAY.

I understand your reluctance. Yet I swear I am laboring for your welfare. I have no illusions that nabbing you would offset my crimes. Maldor does not forgive traitors. He would never let me live given what I know. I never had many friends. I want to join you and help you.

WISH I COULD TRUST YOU. I LOOK FORWARD TO THAT DAY. NOW IS NOT THE TIME.

Let me supply some free information to inspire a little faith. The port is under heavy scrutiny, as are the three city gates. You must find a different way out of town. At least one other displacer is in the vicinity, along with many conscriptors and droves of common soldiers.

THANKS. WE WILL BE CAREFUL.

One more thing. The name of your ally is Aram.

Jason stared at the hand in shock. How could he respond without giving away too much?

WHY DO YOU SAY THAT?

I still have my sources. The Dockside Inn has always been a reliable well of information.

ARE YOU THREATENING ME?

This is not a threat. I am trying to create an opportunity for you to trust me. I already have the intelligence I need if I meant to turn you in. I know you are here in Ithilum. I know you have hired Aram to assist you. I know the secrets you carry. And I am across the street.

Could it be true? Jason deliberated how to respond.

Look out a window.

The guest room window commanded a view of the street. Jason sidled over to it and peered outside. Ferrin stood below on the far side of the cobblestone road, arms folded, a patch over one eye, a scruffy beard on his chin. He wore a broad-brimmed hat tilted at a rakish angle. The displacer met his gaze and gave a faint nod.

Jason backed away from the window. WHAT NOW?

Aram has a respectable reputation. But you will need more than a muscle-bound smuggler if you hope to evade a lurker for long. You need my help. This is for your own good. See you in a moment.

A second peek out the window revealed Ferrin crossing the street toward the front door. Flustered, Jason dashed from the room
and clomped down the stairs. Moira came out of the kitchen into the entry hall, sleeves rolled back, hands powdered with flour. “What is it?” the little woman asked.

There came a brisk knock at the door.

“An old friend has tracked me down,” Jason said.

She blanched. “Is he trustworthy?”

“I hope so. I think so. I didn’t invite him. He tracked me on his own. He came here instead of turning us in. At this point, our only choice is to speak with him.”

Moira motioned Jason out of sight and cracked the door. “Yes?”

“My close friend is visiting you,” Ferrin said politely. “May I intrude?”

Moira glanced at Jason, who nodded. She pulled the door wide, and Ferrin entered.

“We meet again,” Ferrin said, grinning. He swept off his hat and tossed it like a Frisbee onto a sofa in the parlor. Striding forward, he embraced Jason, who returned the hug uncertainly. Then the displacer bowed to Moira.

“Are you going to introduce us?” he prompted Jason.

Jason felt off-balance. “Ferrin, this is Moira. Moira, meet Ferrin.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Ferrin said. Turning to Jason, he raised an arm that ended at the wrist. “Can you lend me a hand?”

“A displacer?” Moira gasped, raising fingers to her lips.

“Have no fear, I have gone renegade. The emperor is my enemy. I mean you no harm. In fact, I intend to offer vital assistance. Does she know who you are?”

Jason nodded.

“I’m an old comrade of Lord Jason. I rescued him from—”

The door to the cellar burst open, and Aram emerged, hair mussed from sleeping, a long, slightly curved knife in one small
hand. His eyes went from Ferrin to Jason and back. “What’s going on?”

“Who’s that?” Ferrin asked.

“My son, Burt,” Moira said.

“Who are you?” Aram challenged.

“Is he in on all of this?” Ferrin mumbled.

Jason nodded.

“As I was explaining to your mother, I’m Ferrin the displacer, a former servant of the emperor who went renegade after I smuggled Lord Jason out of the dungeons of Felrook. I’m here to help him flee Ithilum, no small task considering the host assembling to apprehend him.”

Knife pointed at Ferrin, Aram glanced at Jason. “Does he speak the truth?”

“As far as I know,” Jason said. “He helped me escape from Felrook, and today he located us on his own. If he wanted to turn us in, he could have already done it.”

Aram snorted. “Unless he counts on you leading him to bigger game. No displacer can be trusted.”

“There is no larger quarry than Lord Jason in all of Lyrian,” Ferrin replied. He turned to Jason. “I understood you were working with Aram.”

“What do you know of Aram?” Aram asked.

“Only his reputation.”

“What reputation is that?”

Ferrin made a vague gesture. “He was arguably the most reliable mercenary in the business before he retired. He stayed out of imperial matters. He was cautious, smart; a survivor. To be candid, Aram was savvy enough to steer clear of somebody like Jason. I question whether he sincerely means to help. I take it you’re a colleague?”

“I’m his brother,” Aram said.

Ferrin raised his eyebrows. “Evidently he used up all the size in the family. Where is your brother now? He must realize that he could make more money with less risk by handing Jason over to the authorities.”

“My brother values nothing above his reputation. He has never double-crossed a client after accepting a job. He only came out of retirement because he believes in this cause.”

Ferrin glanced at Jason. “Money has been exchanged?”

“A lot of money,” Jason said.

Ferrin nodded pensively. “I can’t fathom how you convinced Aram to commit. But I’ve learned not to underestimate you. Very well. I repeat the question, Burt. Where exactly is your brother?”

“Out scouting,” Aram said, still holding the long knife warily. “He knows about the hunt for Jason, and he is exploring our options.”

Ferrin gave a nod. “The three gates out of town are heavily manned. The port is full of eyes. Clever deception will be required to smuggle Jason away.”

“We’re aware of the complications,” Aram said.

Ferrin narrowed his eyes. “I’ve never heard of a brother. Do you work with Aram often?”

“For years I served as his cabin boy.”

“Ah. The infamous cabin boy. It wasn’t Burt back then.”

“I went by Goya.”

Ferrin’s lips twitched. “Brothers. I had no idea. Can you speak on his behalf?”

“Aram may have the size, but we’re equal partners.”

“Fair enough. We should counsel together. I mean to help Jason, so we should factor my services into your plans. As a displacer and a former servant of the emperor, I can do much to help you avoid capture.”

Aram shook his head. “I don’t work with limb droppers. Help from your kind tends to end badly. Mother?”