The Gate of Bones (27 page)

After long moments, it withdrew, and FireAnn sank to her knees, hugged herself, and wept softly. Eleanora in her exhausted sleep, wept in echo.

W
HEN DO YOU find time to read all this stuff, anyway?” Jason paused to wipe his hands on his pants, then eyed the wall sconce he had just fastened to the inner passage. Trent had been regaling him with information since they'd gone to work, throughout lunch hour, and now the evening dinner seemed to be approaching fast. Not that Jason minded listening to Trent, but he'd only been half listening this time.

“Whenever I can. Sometimes I wake up and read after you're asleep, so the lantern won't bother you.” Trent flashed him a grin and went back to assembling the sconces they had yet to install. His nimble fingers worked to fit the metal parts together quickly, with the oil reservoir and reflector and other pieces. “So, anyway, the point is, there are hundreds of creation myths from home. Every tribe has a story explaining where they came from. Some have several and argue about them; it's the beginning of religion, so they would, but anyway . . . not here. Everyone agrees on one thing. They fell in.”

“Fell in?”

“Yup. They fell into Haven. Well, not everyone today, there are families and they had children, and
they
got here the normal way, but I'm talking way back when everything started. They fell in.”

Jason turned the yardstick in his hands as he prepared to mark off the next placement. “No wonder they didn't think it was too odd we all showed up. You think they . . . what . . . came through a Gate, too?”

“Most of the houses that have a record, or a story-teller to tell the tale . . . even the wanderers agree on this . . . talk about a great war on their lands before they fell. It's been different wars, not everyone got here at once, it's been over centuries and centuries, though.” Trent finished assembling a sconce lantern and stacked it next to the other two he had done. “It's as if the energy of a war punches them through.”

“A hole in the fabric of time?”

“More like a hole through the universes, I think.”

“Not ours, though, we don't have six fingers. Or, it's very very rare.”

Trent nodded. He stood, dusted off his hands, and came over to help Jason mark the wall. “There are a few tales about boats of sleepers being found, way, way back in the early times. They had six fingers. Must be a strong genetic trait.”

“What do you think they meant about sleepers?”

“Boats of people asleep? Refugees maybe? People in some sort of hibernation? Lifeboats? I couldn't say, but it makes me wonder about the old science fiction thing, is there life on other planets, 'cause these people came from somewhere, and I don't think they came from Earth. But this world is used to taking in the survivors of disasters, so they didn't view us harshly. I think, though . . .” Trent drummed his fingers on the wall, a bit uneasy. “Those holes. I think they're Chaos related.”

“Hmmmm. But we don't have stories like that at home, right, people appearing?”

“Nothing too close to it. People disappear mysteriously, but whole families don't just appear.”

“Trent . . .” Jason paused, trying to put his question together. “When you go through the rest of that stuff, look and see if wolfjackals are mentioned.”

Trent raised an eyebrow, and Jason knew he'd connected on the Gate energy thought running, through his own head. “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?”

He shrugged. “Something like that. I'm just curious.”

“Sure thing.” Trent bent over to grab a wall sconce. “Don't we need to get this passage finished before dinner?”

“Four and we're done.” Jason dodged around Trent, letting him finish the one he held, while he moved to the next measured location. There was a logic to Trent's interests, and his knowledge of mythology had gotten them out of fixes before. What if his study on Haven were right? What if every one of them had fallen through a hole in the universe to get here? What did that say about Gates, and Gatekeeping . . . and universes?

A chill ran down the back of his neck. What did it say about Chaos and wolfjackals, as well? Is that what the wolfjackal who'd scarred him so very long ago before he even knew he was a Magicker meant when it had growled at him, “You are mine?” It had marked him because of his Talent to Gate, bringing Chaos, which in turn fed the wolfjackals. Or had it meant something even darker?

“Jase? Jason? Wohoo? Watching videos in your head?”

He shook his head vigorously. “Just thinking. I know, I know, why start now?” He bumped his shoulder into Trent before Trent could tease him, and went back to work, trying to chase away disturbing thoughts.

 

Lacey scrabbled along the windowed wall, something shiny in her grasp as she hopped up to Bailey's toe and then made her awkward way up to the cuff. Bailey leaned down and took the nail from her, as she lifted her up. The little pack rat immediately dove into the pocket in the soft golden-brown suede bodice Bailey wore, and made a little chirruping noise as she groomed her whiskers. Bailey gently massaged the back of the creature's head. “She's sleepy,” Bailey said to Ting. “Good Lacey, good girl, look what you found!”

“Why don't you put her back in the room to sleep?” Ting paused, and opened and shut the inner shutters carefully, making sure they swung smoothly. Her face creased with proud joy as they worked perfectly.

Bailey shrugged. “She says it's too noisy with everyone pounding. I think when the school is finished, she's probably going to sleep a whole week!”

Ting laughed. “Must be rough on a day sleeper, huh?” She stood back, with her hands on her hips. “I think we're done in here, Bailey.”

“Great. Only . . . twenty more rooms to go!”

Ting nudged her. “Don't be like that! Look at what we've done.”

Bailey's pony tail swung as she looked around, then nodded. “I know, I know. Somehow, it's almost all built.” She stroked Lacey one last time, before tucking the pack rat's tail into the pocket with the rest of her, and saying, “Mom wants to go home.”

“Both of you?”

“No. Just her. For a while.” A troubled expression settled on her face.

“She'd leave you alone? She can't do that! She's like . . . like . . . like your best friend!”

“I know.”

“Did she say why?”

Bailey shook her head again. “Parents are like that, you know? They have these reasons for things that they never tell you about till later when it's all said and done, and you think . . . I could have helped, but they never asked. Or explained.”

“It's a parent thing,” Ting said in understanding.

“Exactly. Plus, I don't think she figured the Gate would be closed all the time. I think she thought it would be open and we would go to school here and go home at night or something. I don't know.” Bailey finished with a shrug that elicited a sleepy cheep from within her bodice. That made both of them giggle a bit. They picked up their work tools and buckets and headed to the next room where sunlight slanted low and faintly through shutterless windows, and they knew their workday was almost done.

Ting pulled her hair over her shoulder, braiding its long blue-black strands thoughtfully. “I've been watching everyone's crystals,” she noted. “And I think our conclusion is right. We're losing more power than ever before, and by day's end, Gavan seems nearly exhausted. This can't be good.”

“I know. The question is why hasn't he told us or warned us?” Bailey dropped her work bucket, nails rattling, and picked up a set of shutters leaning against the wall, waiting to be nailed and hinged into place. “I can't believe he hasn't noticed.”

“Maybe he's maintaining so much, he expects the drain. But not the rest of us.”

“I think we should talk to him tonight.”

Ting came to mark the window frame, leaning in and around Bailey. “Not yet. I just want to be sure, you know? Another day or two.”

“All right. We should watch Tomaz if we can, although he's hardly around.”

“Good idea!” Ting brightened. She lowered her pencil. “Ready for you.”

Heads together, sometimes giggling and sometimes yelling because of bruised thumbs, they went back to work.

 

At dinner, Gavan and Tomaz finished their meal quickly and retired to a crystal-lit corner, where they pored over a chart rolled out onto their table and weighed down carefully with crystals. The opportunity to look couldn't possibly have been better as both Ting and Bailey took them mugs of tea and coffee but did not linger as both men waved them off quickly.

Bailey nibbled on her lower lip. As they drew away, she whispered to Ting, “Even the crystal on Tomaz's bracelet looked dim. We need to know about Jason.”

“But Jason's been Gating and we know that takes a lot out of him.”

“A day or two more rest, then. We're going to have to ask somebody soon.” She rubbed Ting's shoulder. “Look, remember what they told us when we first started learning. There's no such thing as a stupid question, all right?”

“Right.” After all, if Bailey had asked one when she first became a Magicker, she wouldn't have been locked in her own crystal for days, almost to the point of never getting free.

Lacey poked her head out, nose twitching, and Bailey fed her a crumb of bread. The little beast took it and dove back in, making her bodice pocket ripple and move about busily.

Trent leaned in. “What're they looking at over there?”

“Some kind of map. Looks like Havenite work,” Bailey offered, then shut her mouth firmly, not wanting to reveal that she had a Haven map of her own.

“No kidding?” Trent looked interested, nudged Jason, and the two drifted toward the elder Magickers.

Tomaz looked up as they came near the table, but Gavan barely noticed their presence. Jason and Trent peered down at the paper pinned to the table. “Fortress locations?” Jason ventured, hoping he recognized what he thought he did.

“Aye,” muttered Gavan. He tapped the yellowing paper. “The Trader Guild keeps a good record of the boundary, because a main trading route developed along here.”

“Makes sense. They'd have military protection, then,” Trent said.

“Exactly. So one of these is likely to be Isabella's stronghold. This one,” and Gavan pointed, “is the ruins near Mantor's village, where we went and had a look.”

“But it doesn't look like ruins to us.”

“Right.” Gavan nodded to Jason. “Smoke and mirrors, magickal illusion at its best.”

Trent leaned over closer, gaze narrowing intently. He put out a hand, as one might stretch a palm to a warming fire. Jason watched him and held his next words, afraid to break the trance his friend seemed to be slipping into. The dull and opaque crystal clipped to Trent's belt seemed to glow briefly. Tomaz also noticed and put his hand on Gavan's, stilling the other's indrawn breath, and everyone at the table went very quiet for a few moments.

Trent breathed. He put his hand down, covering an inky sketch. “Here,” he said. “It feels like here. I can't tell you why or how, but the map is warm, right here.”

Tomaz and Gavan traded looks as Trent lifted his hand. Gavan stared down at the mountainous spot. A little farther away, but well within range of all the villages which had been raided. Tomaz grunted faintly.

“It looks logical.”

“It does indeed.” Gavan appraised Trent. “Nothing more than a feeling. A vision, perhaps?”

Trent shifted uneasily. “I can't do that, and you know it.”

“I know you couldn't. I also know that your Talent is a very difficult and stubborn one and is unfolding with agonizing slowness.” Gavan smiled to take the edge off his words. “We'll take a look here first, then. Tomaz and I have found two other forts which they may have seized, but I have to admit this may be the best possibility.” He frowned then. “I overlooked it. You, Tomaz?”

Tomaz nodded. He put out his own hand, turquoise-and-silver bracelet rattling a little. “My eyes slid right over it. I'd say there is an aversion warding to it, powerful enough that it even reflects on maps. Isabella is stronger than we feared.”

“Not her. She uses the Leucators. She may even be drawing off Eleanora.” Gavan swallowed hard. He reached out and briskly rolled up the map. “We'll let you know,” he said to Trent, “when we scout it.”

“Can we come with you?”

“Not for scouting. Later, yes.” Gavan stored the map in its oilskin tube and tucked it away inside his cape.

Jason hid a fidget, hoping that later would not be too late.

A shout outside from the wanderers at the back of the kitchen door drew everyone out as a bonfire blazed and the workers gave a cry for dancers and stories, while night settled darkly about the academy and the Magickers. Trent and Jason followed the others out slowly.

Trent could not hide the gleam in his eyes, nor could Jason hide the heaviness in his heart. Isabella touched everywhere, like a black plague on Haven, and it was he who had brought her in.

It would have to be he who took her out again. The dragon had asked him if he were a guardian or a warrior and he'd chosen guardian in order to open the Dragon Gate. Now, he realized, he had chosen wrongly.

Only a warrior could cut through the tangle he'd made.

H
OW COULD YOU let this happen? How? Did I give no idea that it was important not to let the others get a foothold here? Everything we've striven for, gone, worthless!”