Authors: Catherine Fisher
In the silence that followed, the Sekoi said quietly, “Indeed, many of our stories say the same.”
Shean shrugged. “Then I hope you find what you want. Because it tears at you so much I won’t hold you back. I can give you the List of Ways, though you must swear not to let it fall into the enemy’s hands. But think hard, keeper.” He stood up and gazed across the room at Galen’s grim face. “Are you doing this to save the Order? Or to heal your own loss? Would you be so eager to face death if you didn’t think the Crow could cure you?”
Galen glared at him bitterly. “I hope so,” he breathed.
“Of course he would,” Carys snapped. They all looked at her in surprise; she felt a bit surprised herself, but she folded her arms and looked Shean in the eye. “He hasn’t come all this way for himself. I’ve seen that. Nor has Raffi. They believe in this Crow, and if you’d had their faith you’d have gone to find him yourself, years ago. Keep the questions for yourself, keeper. Mightn’t it be that you hide in here because you’re too scared to go out?”
Raffi was grinning; the Sekoi smiled slyly. Galen’s look was hard and strange.
Shean nodded slowly. “The Litany says the keeper is wise who knows the voice of truth. Maybe what you say is so.” He sat down again, looking suddenly tired and older. His black fingers caressed the glass globe. “You go with him then, girl?”
“I’ve come this far.”
“But you don’t believe in the Crow?”
She hesitated, uneasy. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’d like to find out.”
The Sekoi nodded. “And so would I.” It rubbed the fur on its face with one sharp finger. “It would interest us. We have our own ideas about the Makers.”
“And heresy, most of them are,” Galen growled. He came over to the table. “Let me have a copy of this list,” he said quietly. “My friends and I will leave tonight.” He paused, and the black and green beads glinted at his neck. “With your blessing, keeper.”
Shean stood. “You have it, keeper. And maybe you will be the one the prophecy speaks of. The one who will come back.”
THEY LEFT AT NIGHTFALL, though in Tasceron night was eternal. Now they traveled light. Galen had left all the relics in the safety of the chapel; he took only the glass globe and the chart. They each carried a little food; Carys had her bow. The Sekoi went empty-handed, as before. It seemed able to go for a long time without eating; when Raffi asked how it would manage it just purred at him, “I could eat you, small keeper.”
Raffi laughed, but uneasily. There were some nursery rhymes he’d heard from his mother . . . As if it knew, the Sekoi laughed too, a small, mocking, barking sound.
Shean’s men went with them as far as a corner of a terrace, where a great set of wide steps led up into the dark. There one of them said, “This is as far as we go. Good luck, keepers.”
Galen gave them the blessing; they melted into the shadows expertly. Watching them go, Raffi said, “Now we’re on our own again.”
“We’re never on our own!” Galen glared at him. “You’ve been neglecting your lessons, boy. While we go you’ll repeat the whole Book to yourself, from the beginning to the death of Flain. Every verse, every prophecy.”
Raffi pulled a face at Carys. She laughed.
But he could hardly concentrate on his task. They moved through inky streets; twice steam hissed up from under their feet, scattering them in terror. Sparks lit the sky far to the north. No one spoke. Galen led them, guiding himself by the small scrap of paper Shean had pressed into his hand, rubbing soot from the walls, hunting the shattered name plaques of the ancient streets.
When they came to the tunnel he was ahead of them.
“Down there?” Raffi came up and looked at it dubiously.
“Through it and left, somewhere. Do you feel any danger?”
“I told you, I can’t feel anything here. Just the dark, and heat somewhere, something smoldering . . .”
They looked into the brick archway; inside it was black, with small gray lichens blotching the damp walls. Galen stepped in. “It seems empty. I can see to the end.”
He took one more step and, with a sudden slash and clang that terrified each of them, an iron gate crashed down from the roof behind him, cutting him off from them. The tunnel rang with echoes. Somewhere ahead an eerie screaming rang out, wild and urgent. Raffi flung himself at the bars of the gate; he felt the Sekoi strain beside him.
“It won’t move!”
Fiercely, Galen was tugging and heaving at the metal grid. Behind him came shouts; the wailing rose to a howling of skeats.
“Get out!” he yelled. “Take these! Quickly!”
Hastily he thrust his hands through the bars; Raffi snatched the chart and globe, but then he couldn’t move, though the noise was piercing every nerve. “Galen . . .”
“Run!” the keeper raged. “Get away. Get him out of here!”
The Sekoi’s fingers grabbed him. “He’s right, Raffi!”
“We can’t just leave him!”
“You have to.” Galen’s grip caught his. “You’re the keeper now, Raffi. Find the Crow. That’s all that matters. Find the Crow!”
The darkness behind him was moving; men, hounds, a crack of blue light.
“The Watch!” Carys yelled.
“Don’t worry,” Galen said. He pulled upright, his hawk-face hard in the glimmer. “The Makers are with me, Raffi. We’ll meet again. Now, get him away!”
Carys and the Sekoi had to drag him, sobbing and yelling. Behind them, blows and howls rang in the black tunnel.
The house of Trees
21
The Makers turned to Kest in despair. “What have you done?” they cried. “How have you betrayed us? Your distorted birds, your hideous beasts have marred our world.” So they took him and locked him underground for a hundred years, without food or light. And each time they looked in on him he was silent and unsmiling.
Book of the Seven Moons
“
H
OW DO YOU FEEL, SMALL ONE?”
Raffi shook his head hopelessly. He was shaking and felt sick, though they had run through the streets till they thought they were safe. The Sekoi sat down by him. “Galen is a brave man,” it said kindly.
“Yes.” Raffi’s voice was fierce. “I’ve seen him yell at a skeer-snake in the forest till it couldn’t face him. That was before . . . But he can do anything. He’s not afraid of danger.” Choked, he closed his fists.
Its back against the ruined wall, the creature nodded. “It seemed to me that he sought death. He had a great loss to bear. Now he will be a martyr for the Order. That is a good thing, is it not?”
Raffi nodded. “So the Litany says.” But his voice was small and reluctant, and the silence after it bleak.
Carys flung down the pebble she’d been fingering. “That’s it. That’s enough!”
“What?”
“I said, that’s enough.” She stood up and marched over to them, kicking the rubbish in the cloister aside. “How can you sit there and talk like this! Galen is no use to anyone dead!”
“They believe . . .” the Sekoi began patiently, but she waved at it angrily. “I know what they believe! ‘The blood of the Order benefits the earth’—all that nonsense! But I don’t! I say we should do something, not just sit here!”
“We will,” Raffi said. He looked up, his face determined. “We’ll find the Crow. Just like he said.”
“But what about Galen!” She dropped to crouch by him.
“We can’t help him. The Watch will torture him.”
“They will if we don’t get him out!”
The Sekoi stared. “From a Watchtower? Don’t torment the boy. It can’t be done.”
“Do you think I want to leave him?” Raffi muttered, despairing. “If there was any chance, Carys, any chance at all. But there isn’t! No one can get into those places!”
She got up abruptly and walked to the edge of the cloister. Pinned on a row of broken pillars, a dead vine rustled. Owls hooted, far off in the stillness. Standing with her back to them, she said, “I can get him out.”
After a second Raffi looked up. “What did you say?”
“I can get Galen out.”
Raffi stared at the Sekoi in bewilderment. It stood up. “Explain,” it said dangerously.
Carys turned around. She forced herself to look at it, but its eyes were yellow and sharp, and she couldn’t face Raffi either.
“I work for the Watch. I’m a spy, and I have been from the beginning.”
There was a second of intense silence. Then Raffi said, “Don’t be ridiculous,” but his voice was cold and he stared at her in growing horror.
She forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’m not. It’s true.”
“You can’t be!” He jumped up so quickly the pile of stones behind him slid down. “You’ve been with us all along! Your father—”
“I haven’t got a father.” She glanced at the Sekoi. “I was brought up in a Watchhouse. I came with you because . . . well, at first because I was hunting Galen.”
“And then the Crow. You wanted us to get you to the Crow!”
“Raffi—”
“Don’t speak to me!” He turned away, then helplessly swung back. “You used us! All that time you lied to us? All you told us about your father . . . ?” Choked with anger, he gripped his fists; to her astonishment tiny green filaments of light flickered around his fingers. “Carys . . .” Then he laughed harshly. “I don’t even know if that’s your name! I don’t know who you are anymore!”
She bit her lip. He looked as if his world had crashed to pieces. “It is my name.”
“Did you betray Galen?”
The Sekoi’s question was icy; the fur of its nape had swollen and thickened.
“Of course not!” she snapped.
“But someone did.”
“No. It wasn’t like that.”
“So you did betray him?” Raffi gasped.
“I had to get us into the city! Let me explain!”
“Why should I let you!” he raged. But then he sat down suddenly, as if his legs had given way, and his voice was bewildered. “I just can’t believe this is happening.”
Carys sat beside him. Her voice was dry and hard. “At the gate, when we hid under the wagons, I was caught. It was a hopeless plan. I told them who I was, that you were spies. They let us in. I swear I never said anything about relics, or keepers. I wouldn’t have. I wanted the credit of your capture for myself.”
Ignoring his look, she went on. “The news was passed on. But listen, Raffi, I’m sure they don’t know who Galen is. That rat-trap was just bad luck; there are probably hundreds like that around the old citadel—aren’t there?”
She glared at the Sekoi; it nodded, reluctant. “So we could get him out, Raffi; get him out before they realize who they’ve got!”
“But why? Why do you want to get him out? Why don’t you go back to them and give them all the things you know—where the Sekoi live, the sky-road, Lerin, the Pyramid!” He sounded harsh, like Galen. “Haven’t you gotten enough from us, Carys!”
“That’s not it. I don’t want Galen tortured.”
“Might that not be because he may give them all the information you’ve worked so hard for?” the Sekoi asked acidly.
“NO! Why won’t you listen! I like Galen. Like a fool I’ve gotten to like you all!”
She stood up, pushing back her hair, angry with herself. “I know you can’t trust me now. If you want, I’ll go away. But first I’m going to get him out, Raffi, and if I have to, I’ll go by myself.” Picking up the crossbow, she checked it over, her hands shaking.