The Last Enchanter (12 page)

She crept down the path, careful to avoid the puddles of muddy water. She hadn't gone far before she heard someone walking behind her. She wondered if whoever was following her might be Brommel, the man she was looking for, but she was too afraid to turn around and look. Instead she walked a little faster. She saw light up ahead and hoped it was the way out. She kept her eyes focused on it, but then all of a sudden the path was
thrown into darkness. Something, or someone, had stepped into it, blocking out the light.

Lael stopped. Fear clutched at her. She could neither move forward nor turn back. The person who had been following her grabbed her from behind. She tried to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth. Without thinking, she bit it. The sour taste of sweat and dirt filled her mouth.

Her attacker loosened his hold just enough for Lael to break free. She pushed past him and started to run back toward town. He grabbed her ankle, and she slammed face-first into the mud. Her attacker grabbed her other foot and flipped her over onto her back. He slapped her, his calloused skin tearing into her skin. Lael screamed. The attacker leaned in close enough for her to see the sneer on his face. And then his expression changed. He raised his eyes, widening in alarm, to stare at something behind Lael.

A large, dark shape loomed up from the shadows. It gripped the attacker by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Then it sent the attacker hurtling through the air. The man landed several yards away then scuttled off like a frightened rat.

Lael turned to face her rescuer, whose shape was already shrinking. In moments there stood only a little boy before her, shivering in the dark.

“Bryn, what are you doing out here?” asked Lael, unsure whether to thank or to scold him.

“You needed help,” replied Bryn. “So I helped.”

“You know the law against grocs. You've been seen. You could be in danger.”

Lael realized Bryn was not alone. Behind him stood Clovis with his bow poised, an arrow drawn, ready to fire.

“Your face is bleeding,” Clovis said.

“Clovis!” Lael shouted, ignoring his comment. “How could you let Bryn do this?”

“Me?” answered Clovis. “What about you? Sneaking off like that without telling us!”

“You were following me?” Lael asked.

“I promised Marcus I'd keep an eye on you.” Clovis replaced his arrow in his quiver and adjusted his bow across his shoulder. “It's a good thing we did follow you, too,” he added. “You could have been killed! What were you doing in here, anyway?”

Lael nodded and brushed the mud off her sleeves. “I was looking for someone.”

Clovis was about to say something more when Bryn reached up and wrapped his small fingers around Lael's hand.

“Are you all right, Lael?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” she said. Then she lifted her other hand to her face, raw and bleeding. She flinched from the pain. She looked at Bryn and the worried expression on his face. “Let's get back,” she added, smiling down at Bryn to ease his concern. “You wouldn't want to miss breakfast, would you?”

As they headed back toward the Seafarer Tavern, Lael stole a quick glance behind her. There, standing at the
edge of the shadows, was a large man with strange markings on half of his deep brown face. He was not the man who attacked her, she was certain of that. Could he be Brommel? She watched him for a moment and then shivered as she realized he was watching her, too.

Thirty-four

O
nly a handful of customers were seated in the Seafarer Tavern when Marcus and Zyll walked in later that afternoon. The aroma of sizzling ham and freshly baked bread made Marcus's mouth water. Finding a table near the window, Zyll brushed off a stool with his sleeve and sat down. He leaned Xerxes against the table beside him.

“Too bad you don't have a sense of smell,” he said, tickling Xerxes beneath his wooden chin. “The food here smells heavenly.”

Xerxes squawked in annoyance and rolled his beady black eyes. “I think your sense of smell has been damaged by the cooking at the Fortress,” he retorted. “Enough of that stuff would leave anyone
sense
less.”

Marcus spied Clovis and Lael coming down the stairs from the landing above. Bryn held Lael's hand. Marcus waved at them. Clovis waved back. When they reached their table, Clovis greeted Marcus with a slap on the shoulder.

“So you've returned from the mighty Fortress,” said Lael, taking a seat beside Zyll. “What's the news from court? Have they been tossing rose petals in your path? Hand-feeding you with a golden spoon?”

“Not quite,” answered Marcus. He had been with Lael for only a few seconds, and already he felt irritated. “We've been working in the kitchen.”

Clovis's confused look prompted Zyll to speak. “'Tis true, I'm afraid. We are lowly kitchen servants.”

“How is Kelvin?” asked Clovis, sitting down at the table. Lael pulled up a stool next to her and helped Bryn onto it.

“He is well,” answered Zyll. “He makes a fine ruler, indeed.”

“Did he ask about me?” asked Bryn.

“I didn't tell him you're here in Dokur,” said Marcus. “The laws about grocs haven't changed, I'm afraid. You'll be safe as long as you stay with Lael and Clovis.”

Bryn looked disappointed, but nodded.

“Other than that,” continued Marcus, “we really haven't spent much time with Kelvin. Every time we've tried, his advisor says he's busy. I could almost swear Prost doesn't want us anywhere near—”

Marcus stopped abruptly. He peered closely at Lael from across the table. “What happened to your face?”

Lael self-consciously raised her hand to her wounded cheek. “I'm all right,” she told him. “It's nothing.”

“Nothing?” said Clovis with a huff. “A man attacked her, that's what happened.”

“I'm fine,” Lael insisted.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and a young woman appeared wearing a crisp, white apron over a pale blue dress, which matched her eyes perfectly. But it was her hair, dark and glossy as a raven's wings, that first caught Marcus's attention. He smiled when he saw her. Noticing his grin, Lael turned to see who had caught his attention.

The girl set the tray down on a table and passed out the mugs to the customers sitting there. Then she turned back toward the kitchen. “I'll be right with you,” she called out to the table near the window, shooting them a quick glance as she turned. She paused, and her expression changed from disbelief to delight.

“Marcus?” she cried, coming to the table. “Is it really you?”

Marcus stood up and met her halfway. They wrapped their arms around each other and stood like that for a few moments. When they finally parted, their hands remained clasped.

“I promised I'd come back,” said Marcus. Still holding the girl by the hand, he led her to where Zyll and the others waited and introduced them. “This is my grandfather, Zyll, and this is Lael, a girl from my village.”

Zyll took Kaië's hand briefly, but Lael stiffened in her chair.

“This is Kaië,” Marcus continued, oblivious to Lael's reaction. “Kaië, you remember Clovis and Bryn.”

“Bryn? But I thought—” She knelt beside the boy and touched his face. “It's so good to see you, Bryn. I never got the chance to thank you for fighting off those soldiers so Marcus and I could escape. I always hoped you were all right.”

Bryn gave Kaië a hug. “It's good to see you, too,” he told her.

Kaië said her hellos to Clovis and Zyll.

Marcus turned to Lael. “Kaië is the girl I told you about,” he explained, “the one who helped us during the invasion.”

“Right,” Lael snipped, “the one the tavern keeper said is—”

Her voice cut off abruptly as Clovis kicked her beneath the table. Lael cast an angry look in his direction.

“Oh?” asked Kaië. “And what did that old fool say about me?”

“Nothing,” said Clovis hastily, but Lael ignored him.

“Only that you are marrying Kelvin,” she said, “though why on earth you'd want to do that only the gods know.”

“What?” Marcus wasn't sure he heard Lael correctly, and if he had . . .

Kaië's smile failed to mask her embarrassment. To ease the sudden tension in the room, Marcus pulled an extra chair up to the table. “Why don't you join us, Kaië?” he asked.

“I'd really love to, but I've got to serve lunch,” said Kaië, pointing her thumb at the other customers. “I'll bring you each a plate hot off the stove and a round of cider on the house.”

Kaië gave Marcus a quick hug and then disappeared into the kitchen. Marcus turned on Lael, ready to scold her for being so rude. But she was suddenly in a serious conversation with Bryn about the proper way to fold a napkin.

Thirty-five

W
hat is the matter with you, Lael?” Marcus said sharply. “Why did you say that about Kaië?”

Lael turned to Marcus with a bored looked on her face, which made him even angrier.

“Why not say it?” she said.

“Because,” interjected Clovis, “it's not true. It can't be.”

“Kaië didn't deny it, did she?” asked Lael. “Besides, why should either of you care? She's too old for you.” She said this directly to Marcus.

“What?” said Marcus, his face growing hot. “Did you think Kaië —? And me? That's ridiculous!”

But he could feel the heat in his face and knew it was as crimson as Prost's robes. Lael turned back to Bryn, and the two of them went on talking about table manners.

Marcus wanted to get up and march out of the tavern and right back home to Quendel, where he belonged. Why had he agreed to let Lael come along? But he hadn't, he reminded himself. She had followed him here. No wonder he had never liked her. She was a pest.

“Now, my boy,” Zyll soothed, “no need to get upset at the poor girl.”

“I'm not upset,” snapped Marcus, annoyed.

“Of course not.”

Zyll clasped his hands together on the table in front of him. Kaië had emerged from the kitchen again and was setting plates of food on a nearby table.

“You failed to tell me everything about Kaië,” said Zyll, just loud enough for Marcus to hear. “She is quite a beauty.”

Marcus watched Kaië move from table to table. She was graceful, like an angel, and she spoke so easily with the customers, as if she had known them all a lifetime. Kaië approached their table and set down platters of roasted vegetables and bowls of piping hot stew.

“Master Peagry is sending me to the bakers for some fresh rolls. Would you like to come along, Marcus?”

“Absolutely!” said Marcus, promptly forgetting about his hungry belly and the food in front of him. Then, remembering the present company, he turned to Zyll. “Do you mind, Grandfather?”

Zyll wiped his mouth with his napkin and laid it on the table. “Not at all, my boy. Actually, Xerxes and I have an appointment of our own, don't we, Xerxes? So why don't
I meet you back at the Fortress this evening? Hmmm? You two go on then.”

“Great,” said Kaië. “I'll grab my cloak, and we'll go.”

Kaië gathered up a pile of soiled plates and headed back into the kitchen. As Marcus watched her cross the room, he was annoyed to discover that Lael was directly in his line of sight. Lael, with her blonde braid draped across her shoulder and her dark eyes flashing as she laughed at one of Clovis's jokes. But Marcus was so focused on Kaië, he failed to notice that Lael's eyes were fixed on him.

Zyll, his eyebrows raised, said in a voice only Xerxes could hear, “Yes, quite a beauty. Sometimes beauty lies right before our very eyes, and yet we see it not.”

Thirty-six

M
arcus waited near the well behind the Seafarer Tavern while Kaië finished up her work inside. The air was getting cold, and Marcus hoped he wouldn't have to wait too long.

The back door opened and Kaië stepped through, wiping her hands on her apron. “Sorry about that,” she said, crossing the space between them in strong yet graceful steps. “Master Peagry's demands never end.”

She took both of Marcus's hands in hers. Then she leaned forward and quickly kissed his cheek. “Shall we go then?” she asked.

They walked hand in hand around the side of the tavern toward a clump of older buildings. When they reached
the first, they turned down a wide, cobblestone road lined with shops.

“I'm surprised you still work for him,” said Marcus.

“How else would I pay for my keep?” answered Kaië. “But I don't want to talk about me. Tell me how you've been. It's been too long since I've seen you.”

Marcus told her as much as he could recall from the time he had left Dokur after the Hestorians were defeated until now. He described his painful attacks, his strange visions, and his narrow escape with Bryn from the grocs' lair. All the while, Kaië listened intently, often stopping him to ask questions. When he had come to the end he paused, noticing for the first time the warmth of Kaië's hand in his.