The Rebellion (37 page)

Daffyd gave a rare, crooked half smile. “I think Matthew thought you and Brydda would come up with those minor details.”

I shook my head in exasperation.

Daffyd looked again from the repair-shed door into the driving rain. “I must go back now. Is there anything you want me to tell Matthew?”

“Tell him to be ready,” I said decisively.

“I will.” He pulled up the hood on his cloak and turned to face me, his eyes shadowed. “Remember your promise.”

He strode away without waiting for a response and was lost behind the curtain of rain even before he had reached the gates to the repair yard.

I turned back to look at Kella.

“He is so full of hatred,” she said. “I have only slight empath Talent, and yet it burned me.”

“He loves Gilaine, and he is emotionally linked with Lidgebaby. And his brother was in the camp, too. I wonder how they got into Salamander’s hands in the first place. And how they escaped the firestorm that destroyed the Druid camp.”

“What are you going to tell Brydda?”

“Yes, what?” Brydda asked, stepping out of the shadows behind us.

We both whirled to face the rebel.

“It seems I do not have to decide that question,” I said coolly, not liking that he had deliberately hidden himself and listened to words that had not been intended for his ears.

“Perhaps it is lucky for us both that you do not,” Brydda said with equal coolness. He shook his head, and the harshness melted from his expression. “I did not mean to overhear. I did not recognize Daffyd and so I hid. Only when you spoke did I realize who he was, and by then it was clear he would not welcome my presence.”

“What will you do, then?” I asked.

“What would you have me do?”

“You heard what Daffyd said. He wants to find out where Salamander took Gilaine and the others. I would ask, as he did, that we do not get in his way.”

The rebel’s eyes were somber. “Perhaps I have given you some cause to doubt me, but I tell you now, on my life, you can trust me. Daffyd wants Salamander alive so he can milk him for information, and I want him dead. Both our wishes can be met.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Brydda gave a feral smile. “Rescuing Matthew and taking Salamander captive so that we can question him to our heart’s content. And when he has no more to tell us, then I will deal with him.”

I shuddered and wondered if there was ever any other way of dealing with hatred and violence.

“Well?” Brydda prompted. “Shall we see how a sly Salamander deals with the Black Dog’s teeth?”

I looked at the rebel steadily. “If I don’t agree?”

He frowned. “You gave your word. I was not meant to hear what I heard, and we are friends. Therefore, by virtue of that friendship, I will abide by your decision.”

I felt ashamed of my doubts. “You are a better friend than I am,” I said. “I will say yes, but I must let Daffyd know that this has become a rebel operation.”

“Let us go there tonight. I will need to have a look at this warehouse and the river wharfs in order to formulate a plan, and we will find a way to communicate it to Daffyd.”

I nodded. “Come by at dusk, then. Did you come for anything in particular?” I added as the big man turned to go.

He slapped his head. “Of course. All of this drove it from my mind. I came to tell you that Malik has agreed to meet you but that he refuses to come unless the location of the meeting is changed.”

“But you said they did not know where—”

“They don’t. But he proposes his own location. He says the meeting should occur on truly neutral territory and has named Bodera’s home in Sutrium.”

“Oh Lud,” I said uncertainly.

“Malik sent his letter directly to Bodera, which suggests that, in spite of all my efforts, he has begun to see me as a rival.”

“What did Bodera say?”

Brydda scowled. “Unfortunately, he thought it was a good idea. He is proud to think that his home is neutral territory.”

“Then what is the problem? If he is not troubled …”

The big rebel ran an agitated hand over his unruly thatch. “It is dangerous to have these sort of meetings in a permanent place that we use. And, apart from that, the location of the meeting will be known in advance of the day, which increases the chance of treachery.”

“How much danger will there be?”

He shrugged. “Not so much as all that, I suppose, since none of the leaders would risk giving away a secret meeting
at which they themselves might be taken prisoner or slain. The other thing, of course, is that the rebels do want the rebellion to occur, and a raid at Bodera’s house would immediately put an end to it.” Brydda shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I am worrying over nothing, but I think it sets a bad precedent. And I don’t like putting Bodera in danger.”

“I suppose I must accept the risk if you and the others do. When will the meeting take place?”

“Within the sevenday,” Brydda said. “And the sooner it is over, the better I’ll feel.”

28

I
SPENT MOST
of the day sitting by Dragon’s bed, holding her hand.

I had brought her out of a different kind of solitude to Obernewtyn, and now she was lost to us again, locked behind the fortress of her own mind.

In the late afternoon, the rain clouds parted to reveal a watery sun. I donned fur-lined boots and a thick cloak just the same, determined not to freeze as I had the last time I kept a midnight vigil outside a warehouse.

I went down to ask if Gahltha wanted a blanket.

“I/Gahltha am not cold,” he sent.

“Maruman/yelloweyes has been gone longlong days,” I sent, wondering as always why the beasts called a one-eyed cat “yelloweyes.” Although, I did it just as unthinkingly. Perhaps because, like Dameon, the old cat often saw better than those of us with two eyes.

Gahltha gave me a level look. “He does what he/ yelloweyes must.”

I frowned into his dark eyes. “Do you/Gahltha know where he/Maruman is?”

“The voices of his chaos/madness call him when they will, and he/Maruman must hear them. The strain of guardianship caused the voices to call.”

I frowned, confused. “Guardianship?”

“Of the dreamtrails. I/Gahltha know that it is not easy. Yet I have sworn to Maruman/yelloweyes that I would take his place. I did not know how until he/yelloweyes showed me. The dreamtrails are strange/dangerous. On them are beasts like none that walk the earth and shapes that hide/conceal other shapes, yet one grows better at it.”

I wondered if I was understanding him correctly. In my mind’s eye, I saw the black horse leap into the tunnel of my dreams, urging me to run while he fought off whatever it was that followed me. Maruman’s H’rayka? A dark unease filled me at the thought that somehow those nightmares were real.

“Are you/Gahltha saying that Maruman/yelloweyes asked you to look after me … my mind or my dreams, and then went away in his madness/mindchaos?”

“Did I not say so?”

Was it possible I was being somehow stalked in my dreams? Impossible as it seemed, I shivered, for if the H’rayka was my mirror image, wouldn’t he possess the same powers as me?

“Sallah comes,” Jaygar sent.

I turned to see Brydda ride into the yard on the white mare Sallah. The golden afternoon sunlight gave her a dazzling regality. I was surprised Brydda did not try to hide her beauty as I did Gahltha’s. But perhaps his size was enough to dissuade thieves.

“Greeting and hail, ElspethInnle,” Sallah sent formally.

“Greetings,” I returned, embarrassed at the thought that the white horse might have communicated to Brydda her belief that I was the incarnation of a savior figure in beastlegend.

“Beastsecrets are not for the funaga,” Sallah sent with clear reproof.

“Am I not funaga?”

“You are Innle,” Sallah sent.

“Are you ready?” Brydda asked.

I nodded, and Gahltha came forward so that I could mount him. Wordlessly, we rode out into the yard where Kella waited by the gate to say goodbye.

“Be careful,” Jaygar sent after us.

“Always,” Gahltha returned.

It was chilly already, and I was glad of my cloak. Gladder still that the rain had stopped. With luck, it would remain clear until we were safely back at the repair shed.

“We had better dismount,” Brydda said when we neared the river piers. “I have a few rebels in a house close by. They have been watching the place all day. We can leave the horses there and go the rest of the way on foot.”

I gave him a quick look, disturbed that he had already set his people in place.

“Just in case of trouble,” he promised, sensing my disquiet. “I wanted to have some idea of the movement of traffic about these river piers. I had no particular knowledge of them.”

The house turned out to be yet another of the city’s burned-out hovels. I was glad to find that only three rebels awaited us in the yard behind it. Reuvan was one of them. Beside him was a tall, lanky fellow I had not seen before, with woolly brown hair and a beard to match. The third was the blond woman with the plague-scarred face whom I had met at The Good Egg. I searched my memory for her name—Oria. Fortunately, she was engrossed in the examination of a map and had not seen me arrive. For Domick’s sake, I swiftly erased my face from her memory. When Brydda introduced
us, she gave me a searching look, but there was no recognition in it.

“What have you found out?” Brydda asked her briskly.

She flicked her fingers at the bearded man, who had a steady, seasoned look about him, and drew us into a room whose windows had been blackened. He lit a small lantern and unrolled the piece of paper Oria had been studying.

“Here is the sea,” he rasped, stabbing a brown-stained finger at the paper. “There are four pier warehouses that traders lease privately from the Herder Faction. They are spread apart a little so that carts can draw up between them. As you see, there are the same number of piers. Each warehouse has its own, and here, opposite, there are sheds for storage—one for each warehouse. They are quite often leased out separately. A rough road runs between them.”

“The Faction owns the pier sheds, too?” I asked.

Oria nodded. “They bought them recently from the Council, and the wharfs. They use the river to travel straight from their cloister on the edge of the Suggredoon to Morganna and Aborium and then to Herder Isle. The Council controls all of the main sea wharfs and warehouses, as well as the ferry that checks the riverboats, but they leave the river to the Herders now. Of course, other boats use the wharfs to ship wares in or out, and they pay the Herders for it. Small vessels mostly. The Herder ships are the largest that use the wharfs.”

I nodded but felt chilled at the thought of being on property controlled by the fanatical Faction.

“The pier manifest says there are only two ships due in tomorrow. One of them must be the slave ship,” the bearded rebel put in. “Unless it comes in unscheduled.”

“Is the pier empty now? Can we get any closer?” Brydda asked.

Reuvan shook his head. “A Faction boat docked about an hour back, and there are at least a dozen burlymen and seamen roving about. We’ll have to wait until they’re done, but it should not be too long—they are loading straightaway.”

Oria touched Brydda’s arm, and there was a clear look of devotion in her eyes, though her voice was brisk and businesslike. “The other thing is that troops of soldierguards have spent the day running some sort of training exercise on the banks of the river right by the warehouse that juts out over the water. Their camp is not far from here. Once it is dark, they will certainly be leaving, too.”

“I wonder if the soldierguards are making Ayle nervous,” I murmured.

“No doubt he is thanking his lucky stars that the exercise was run today rather than tomorrow,” Brydda said with sharp humor. “Imagine them trying to shift a hundred slaves under the noses of the soldierguards.”

“A hundred,” Oria murmured. “It is hard to believe how brazen this is.”

“Since we have to wait anyway, I might try to reach Daffyd,” I said, sitting on an upturned box to make myself comfortable.

“I doubt he will be out in the open with so much going on,” Brydda said. He looked at Reuvan. “Do you have any food? I have not eaten all day and …”