The Keeper's Shadow (33 page)

O
F COURSE
. T
HE SHOCK BOTH SHE AND ROAN FELT WHEN THE RING SPLIT IN TWO
. I
T MUST HAVE BEEN THE RING LINKING TO THEIR LIFE-FORCE AND NOW IT RESPONDS REGARDLESS OF THE FORM THEY TAKE
. S
HE SIGHS, GRATEFUL FOR ONCE TO HER GREAT-GRANDFATHER AND HIS FORESIGHT
. A
N ALARM SHRILLS AND
K
ORDAN'S MANGLED HEAD LOOKS UP.
H
A
! T
OO LATE
. S
HE IS ALREADY GONE
.

Stowe has barely come to before Willum flings open the Manager's office door.

“Are you alright?” he asks, but his eyes lock on hers.
Was it you who set off the alarm?

“Yes,” she replies. “I feel better now.”
I'm sorry. I followed a vapor-like form from an enabler straight to Darius's Throne—it's just as Roan described—and it gobbled the vapor up. But…

“Are you well enough to leave?” Willum asks, helping her up. “You are expected back at the Pyramid.”
Did anyone see you?

No. But…
“Should we say goodbye to Master Fortin?”
Just before it was absorbed, the form dimmed.

“He may be busy. Perhaps we'll see him on the way out.”
Darius must be siphoning off some of its energy before he feeds it to the Overshadower. The enablers' new design might serve that purpose. Perhaps even the Apogee as well.

Stowe stands, locking her arm into Willum's
.

It's why he's after more and more victims. Feed the dark god greater quantity and he might not notice the poor quality. Think Darius'll get away with it?

It's our job to see he doesn't.

A PAIN IN THE HEAD

I AM BADGER. THIS RING WAS FORGED IN MY IMAGE, IMBUED WITH MY LIFE-FORCE. ALL I HAVE TO OFFER IS NOW YOURS.

—JOURNAL OF ROAN OF THE PARTING

R
OAN'S WORRIED ABOUT
M
ABATAN.
She's terribly pale, a ghost of herself. Every once in a while her hand gestures in a way distinctly not her own, serving some unseen purpose. She scowls inappropriately, and swaggers. If he didn't know she was carrying around Kira's consciousness, he'd think she'd lost her mind. Watching her sit distracted, in front of her untouched lunch, so oblivious to her surroundings, moves him in an unexpected way. He reaches out to take her hand in his.

Looking up, she lifts her other hand to trace a finger down the center of his face.

“Your mark is already fading,” she says softly. Then, her brown eyes returning to this world, their world, she smiles, happy to see him.

But the bulge on her neck is frighteningly disconcerting and he's barely able to return her smile. “How are you doing?”

“Kira is in a barren wood. It is a place my people have twice attempted to restore and failed.” The sadness in her voice, combined with a sense of futility he has never heard before, makes Roan grip her hand even harder. “She does not like the fact that they are exposed close to Fandor territory. But she's calm, relaxed.”

The cost of this incessant doubling of experience on Mabatan is making him doubt its worth. “What happens when she isn't?”

Mabatan sighs wearily, responding to his look. “You've been talking to Lumpy.”

“So. Is he wrong?”

“Sometimes, Kira has an unpleasant memory...or a nightmare. Jumbled faces and thoughts…death…violent death…and I can offer her no comfort. Her breath becomes my breath. My heart beats fast, too fast, with hers. There is nothing I can do to help.” Mabatan lifts a fork and pokes at her untouched salad. “Those are the bad times. I know I appear…distracted but it is not always unpleasant.” She takes a deep breath, then smiles. “It is good to talk with you, Roan of Longlight. Will you tell me of your encounter with the Friend?”

Roan feels the weight of her hand in his. He wants to tell her about his promise to the Friend, ask her if she knows how you go about killing a god, report on what he discovered about Darius and the Overshadower, but he can't. Whenever he even thinks about the experience, the fire, the stars, the astonishing nature of the Friend's request, it all catches in his throat and he finds himself holding back.

“It's hard to put into words. I'm just happy it's made a difference to Wolf and—Mabatan?” Leaping over the table, Roan catches her as she crumples.

“Clerics on patrol,” she gasps, crunching into a tight ball at his side. “They've got a sword to a woman's throat, and to her child's. The smuggler is holding me back. Oh no!”

“What is it?”

“Kira's…remembering. Her mother…dying on a Cleric's sword. Aiee!” Mabatan lurches up from her crouch and darts forward, her arms and legs slashing the empty air. When Roan rushes to stop her, she steps confidently on her left leg and kicks him smartly in the chest with her right.

Leaping out of the brush, Kira slices off the Cleric's arm before he even sees her. His sword clatters to the ground and she finishes him, hissing at the mother and child, “Flee!”

The innocents scramble down the road and Kira attacks the other three Clerics but they're ready for her, encircling her and warding off her blows. Kira aims low at the closest one, hitting the Cleric behind the leg. As he goes down, she whirls, taking out the second. That leaves one, the biggest of the group. She bears down hard, testing his strength, and he easily repels the blow. This one's good, but not good enough. She pivots, kicking him in the chest and takes him out with a perfect sword thrust.

Something hits her hard on the head, flashing light behind her eyes. Blood pours down her face and she staggers, turning to ward off the next blow. It's the smuggler, a bloody rock in his hand, grinning. “Sorry, but you have no idea how high a price I can get for you.”

He's flickering in and out of view; she's losing consciousness. But as he raises the rock for another blow, she sinks her blade into his stomach. His scream rings in her ears, then all is silent.

Mabatan feels the soft pillow below her head, the scent of aromatic herbs. She opens her eyes to find Ende blowing on the herb burner.

“Ende. Kira lives.”

Lips drawn tight, Ende nods once in acknowledgment of Mabatan's news. “You need rest, Mabatan. Sleep.”

Too weak to protest, Mabatan sinks into her pillow just as Lumpy appears. “I was out helping build the stables.”

“I am fine.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” Sitting at her bedside, Lumpy takes her hand. “You sure knocked the wind out of Roan.” He glances over at Ende, no doubt trying to determine the severity of what's happened.

Squeezing his hand, Mabatan answers his unasked question. “Kira was betrayed by the smuggler.”

“I knew it,” Lumpy moans.

“He was just waiting for his moment. I think she killed him. She killed them all—” Mabatan stiffens. “Where am I?” She gasps. Her eyes narrow and she speaks menacingly with Kira's voice. “Stay back or die.”

Kira's sitting at the side of the road. Her head throbs. She's surrounded by Hhroxhi warriors, fangs bared. She can hear hoofbeats in the distance, moving quickly toward them.

One of the warriors reaches for her, and Kira pushes herself back, grasping her sword and trying to focus her vision. “You want it? Come and get it.”

The Hhroxhi's face strains, and curling its lips around its sharp fangs, it struggles to make a sound. “Frehhhnnnd.”

“What?” Kira asks, doubting what she's hearing. “Friend? Did you say, friend?”

The thundering horses are almost upon them. With red eyes riveted on Kira, the Hhroxhi tries again. “Llllummpeee. Frehhhnd.”

“Lumpy's your friend?”

The girl nods. “Lllumpee.”

“Mhyzah?”

Mhyzah anxiously motions for Kira to follow her companions down through a hidden hole.

Extending a hand to Mhyzah, Kira rolls her eyes. “Why does it have to be tunnels?” Putting her feet down the hole, she slides into pitch darkness, hoping for the best.

Roan's at her bedside now as well, one hand on Lumpy's shoulder, both their faces so filled with concern it's nearly enough to make Mabatan smile. Still, she looks beyond them to Ende. “Mhyzah found Kira and has taken her into the thrusalls.”

The Apsara matriarch sighs with relief.

Mabatan turns back to Lumpy, and lifting an eyebrow, asks, “When did you teach Mhyzah our language?”

Roan raises an eyebrow. “You gave Mhyzah
English lessons
?”

Lumpy stares at his feet. “Just a couple of words.”

“Yes. Friend and Lumpy,” Mabatan grins as Roan gives Lumpy a teasing poke.

“I thought they might come in handy.”

“Lumpy.” Ende turns from her balms and ointments. “Your work as Gyoxhip has saved Kira's life. Thank you.”

It's almost worth the ache in Mabatan's head to see Lumpy beam.

Cries of “Time, time, time!” greet Roan and Lumpy as they round the corner to the laboratory.

“Time is vastly overrated.”

“Overemphasized.”

Roan steps into the converted day room, already chaotic with dozens of books strewn amongst beakers and suspended enablers that shimmer with fluctuating light. “Greetings, doctors. What's the breakthrough?”

The physicians twitter nervously. “Oh. Well. We
have
made progress.”

“Inroads,” says Imin.

“Advances,” adds Othard. Then looking uneasily at Imin, he mutters, “However…”

“…that is not why…”

“…we sent for you.”

“Last night…” says Imin.

“…we were visited…”

“…in our dreams…”

“…by the mountain lion…”

“…Sari.”

Even the sound of her name makes Roan uneasy. “What did she want?”

“We're to meet in the Dreamfield safe place at the next new moon.”

“It was a command…”

“…sent to all Dirt Eaters.”

“A summoning.”

“And how…” says Roan, scrutinizing every eye movement, every twitch, every flick of their faces, “…did you reply?”

“We couldn't.”

“No Dirt in our bodies anymore, you see...”

“…no way to respond…”

“She can't even know if she's reached us…”

“…but we heard her and she…”

“…she said…”

“The time has come for action!” they blurt out together.

Roan's silent, trying to understand exactly what that means.

“So,” Lumpy frowns. “What do you think the Dirt Eaters are up to?”

“We don't know…”

“…but it can't be good.”

“They haven't got much of an army, but it's well trained—like Lelbit was. They could be a pretty big thorn in our side…if it's us they're after.”

The doctors and Lumpy turn to Roan, obviously seeking his opinion. The doctors, however, soon stare discomfited at their feet and Roan knows his dismay must be written all over his face.

“We can't be trusted anymore,” says Imin.

“We understand,” adds Othard dejectedly.

“No! I trust
you
. It's the Dirt Eaters I don't trust. I just wish…well, that Sari'd been clearer, that we knew more. If you dream anything else, you'll be sure to tell us?”

“Absolutely!”

“Without question!”

“We will honor your trust, Roan of Longlight.”

Nodding, Roan turns to go, but Lumpy holds his ground, catching the attention of the physicians.

“Yes?” Imin asks, eyes flitting nervously from Lumpy to Roan.

“Have you found anything that can help Mabatan filter Kira's experiences?”

Shaking their heads, the physicians let out a frustrated sigh. “Not yet.”

“It's going to be a bit slower now that Algie's with the Gunthers,” explains Imin.

“Working on that Allayer,” adds Othard. “Not that what he's doing isn't important, but…”

“…when he can be spared…”

“…we could use his help...”

“…we're just doctors…”

“…and the technology is…”

“…sophisticated…”

“…if we knew more...”

“…but we don't.”

“Sorry,” Imin says, looking sadly at Lumpy.

Lumpy pats both doctors on the back. “It's alright, I know you're working hard. Thank you.”

Feeling a little sheepish at not having asked about Mabatan himself, Roan follows his friend out of the laboratory. Despite Mabatan's assurances, Roan can see that the connection with Kira isn't getting any easier for her. Not only is she having trouble meeting the simple demands of her own life, like eating and walking from one place to another without getting hurt, but Lumpy's said her headaches are getting worse. Whether that's from the enabler itself or having to share Kira's experiences—the smuggler's blow to the head couldn't have helped—it's impossible to tell. And Roan feels as least partially responsible. “…Lumpy...it was me who asked Algie to work with the Gunthers.”

“I know. I've talked to them. You were right. We're paralyzed until we find something to repel the Apogee. That's the priority. It's just…a year ago things were a lot clearer. We'd be helping our friend, not feeling horrible that other things are more important than...”

Roan knows the look on Lumpy's face. It comes with the knowledge that no matter what you choose, somebody's going to get hurt. “I wish it didn't have to be this way either.”

By the time they arrive at the library and its door shuts behind them, Roan has a sense they've left a part of themselves behind. A part they might never recover.

As they walk down the stairs, Gunther Number Seventy-Nine runs up to Roan, waving a piece of paper. “Roan of Longlight, Algernon left me with this section of the journal to decipher and I—”