The Shadowhand Covenant (9 page)

“Those who choose to see coincidence fail to see conspiracy.”

—Ancient par-Goblin proverb

^“
T
hese caves are no longer safe!” the leader declared to his people. “We must leave at once.”

Without question, the Sarosans began salvaging what they could and packing their meager belongings into wagons. I almost told him about how the vessapedes were dead so the tunnels really were safe. But it occurred to me that if the Sarosans were on the move and taking us with them, Maloch and I stood a better chance at escaping if we weren't underground. So I kept quiet.

As everyone worked, the leader pulled Warras aside and whispered in the Aviard's ear. Warras nodded, gripped the glass tube with the message for the Dowager, and exited through the tunnel. I didn't like that the Sarosans were manipulating her, but I knew the Dowager would do whatever it took to free me.

At least, I assumed so.

The leader guided Maloch and me through the carnage to one of the few tents untouched in the vessapede attack. The inside looked much like the place where Warras and his friend had taken my hair. A cot stood against one wall. A table with small bowls holding an assortment of herbs, spices, and plants I couldn't identify sat in the room's center.

I noticed for the first time just how tall the leader was. His head nearly touched the top of the tent. As old as he looked—and he looked
old
—his eyes danced, young and active. He moved slowly, wincing as his arms swayed at his sides. When he spoke, his voice was low and gravelly.

“Please make yourselves comfortable while I pack,” he said, pointing to a couple of stools. I sat. Maloch remained standing. As the leader began to wrap the bowls from the table in swaths of burlap, he watched Maloch carefully. “You
have something you'd like to say.”

“I have
lots
I'd like to say,” Maloch said, bobbing from foot to foot like he was ready for a fight. “Like: who are you? Why did you take us? Who are those naff-nut kids who keep attacking us?”

“You'll have to forgive Reena and Holm for behaving brusquely,” the leader said with a sigh. “Their parents were among the first arrested when the High Laird declared the Sarosans outlaws. The rest of our tribe has been taking turns caring for Reena and Holm. But sometimes, Reena decides she can take care of herself.”

So I was right about their parents.

“Otherwise, have you been treated well?” the man asked.

I shrugged. “Well—and remember that this is coming from a Grimjinx—as far as gaols go, this cave is one of the best I've seen. No bars, no locks. Almost like you didn't expect us to try to escape.”

“Not all prisons have bars, Jaxter. Sometimes, the hardest prisons to escape are the ones we carry inside.” He gave a single, soft laugh, as though he'd just said something funny.

I spotted Maloch's pack next to mine on the ground near the table. My belt and pouches sat on top of the packs. The
man scooped up the small book tucked between the folds of my belt and handed it to me with a smile. “I believe this belongs to you.”

I thumbed through my worn copy of the
Formulary.
The Sarosans hardly needed the book. They were the ones who'd made it in the first place.

“Forgive me,” he said, “but I looked through your pouches. I see you carry the twelve essentials of nature.”

I held up the
Formulary.
“I guess I should thank the Sarosans. This book has changed my life.”

His eyebrows went up and his smile widened. “Very glad to hear that. Well, Jaxter, your friend is right. If we're to talk, I should introduce myself. My name is Kolohendriseenax.”

“You Sarosans are fond of the alphabet,” I said, reeling at yet another lengthy name.

He laughed. “Call me Kolo, if you wish. Everyone does.”

“Okay, Kolo. You obviously know who I am, and Warras said you need me to—” I froze. A bell went off in my brain. “Hang on. . . .” I glanced at the cover of the book in my hands.
The Kolohendriseenax Formulary.

“You're
that
Kolohendriseenax?” I asked, hardly able to breathe.

Kolo beamed. “The one and only.”

I looked the gaunt man up and down. The book was so old, I'd always assumed the author was long dead. But if he really was the author . . . I scanned the room, my eyes coming to rest on a battered leather satchel, its shoulder strap slung over the edge of the cot. I couldn't help it. I gasped.

It was Tree Bag.

The Kolohendriseenax Formulary
was much more than a collection of research on how to use the natural world to cure illness and negate magical energy. It was also a journal of Kolo's travels. It documented the years he'd spent wandering the Five Provinces, studying plant and animal life. The one constant during that time was the reliable satchel he took everywhere. He called it Tree Bag because of the giant whisperoak embroidered on the side. He spoke so fondly of the satchel that it almost became a character in the
Formulary.

I know that sounds strange. But trust me, you couldn't read the
Formulary
without getting emotionally attached to Tree Bag.

I grinned like a demented gekbeak. “You have no idea what your book has done for me!” I gushed. “I didn't think I'd ever fit in with my family, but then your anti-magic paste
showed me how to help my da pick magical locks. And Ma made some of her best document forgeries because the
Formulary
explained how to make everember parchment.”

Kolo tilted his head. “It certainly sounds like you've put my research to . . . creative use. I'm glad I could help in some small way.”

I had a thousand questions.
How did you discover the formula for the anti-magic paste? Did you ever figure out what combining waller root, presiberry juice, and oskahoney does?
I couldn't wait to tell the Dowager. She'd curse her luck to have missed the opportunity to meet the author of the book we'd spent hours dissecting.

Maloch tore the book from my hands and threw it against the tent wall. “I don't care about your zocing book. Every minute we're their prisoners is a minute I could be trying to find my father!”

I hated to admit it, but Maloch had a point. As much as I admired Kolo's work, he'd kidnapped us. And getting free had to be our first priority.

Kolo's brow furrowed with concern. “I'm sorry to hear your father is missing. What happened?”

“It's a long story,” I said. “Maloch's da is . . . in danger.”
No one knew Mr. Oxter was a Shadowhand, and I was bound by the Lymmaris Creed to keep the secret. “We were on our way to find him when your people . . . You know.”

Kolo shook his head, clearly troubled by this. “My apologies, Maloch. It's clear our timing could have been better.”

I wanted to say,
It's clear you shouldn't kidnap people
, but I didn't.

The Sarosan leader continued to pack the few belongings in the tent. “Perhaps it would help if I explained. I assume you have some idea of what's been happening to my people.”

“The High Laird ordered all Sarosans arrested.”

“And do you know why?”

“No clue,” I said.

Kolo rubbed his chin. “Neither did we. We sent emissaries to the High Laird under a flag of truce, asking why we were being persecuted. Our emissaries were arrested without explanation. The remainder of us fled across the Provinces to avoid capture. Then we intercepted a message from the High Laird to the Palatinate that suggested we had stolen several ancient relics from the royal vaults.”

Theft? The Sarosans weren't thieves. They
chose
to live simple lives. They had no reason to steal. And even if they
had
turned to a life of crime, trying to steal from the High Laird was a lousy first heist. The royal vaults were impregnable, a combination of locks, traps, and spells so dangerous the only one who'd ever attempt to steal from them would be—

“Then give back what you stole,” Maloch said, breaking my chain of thought, “and let us go.”

Kolo shook his head. “We are, I can proudly say, innocent.”

“Innocent of theft,” I said, “but guilty of kidnapping.”

To his credit, Kolo looked genuinely ashamed. “We heard rumors that the Dowager was sympathetic to our cause. We considered seeking an audience with her, but when we tried the same thing with her brother . . . Well, we couldn't risk the rumors being false.”

The Sarosan leader laid a hand on my shoulder. “You will not be harmed in our care. I'll see to that. But our people have been wrongfully imprisoned, and our only choice is to take drastic measures. The Dowager will have Warras's message tomorrow morning. Then she'll have two weeks to persuade the High Laird to release all imprisoned Sarosans.”

“And what happens if she can't do that?” I asked.

“I have faith that the Dowager will do the right thing.
Until she does, we'll do our best to keep you comfortable.” He nodded to Maloch. “And when our people are free, we will do all in our power to help search for your father. Now, please excuse me a moment.”

The second Kolo stepped from the tent, I leaped straight up. “Kolohendriseenax! Can you
believe
it?
The
Kolohendriseenax. It's just—I mean, I'm—I can't even—I don't know what to ask him first.”

Maloch grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me until my vision blurred. “Would you get a grip on yourself? He's a kidnapper. We're his victims. And they don't even want me! This is all your fault. We'll never find my father.”

I pulled myself free. “Are you kidding? We're closer than ever to figuring it out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Weren't you paying attention? The High Laird has accused the Sarosans—who aren't thieves—of stealing from his impossible-to-enter vaults. Meanwhile, the Shadowhands, the only thieves in the land who could
possibly
enter those vaults unnoticed, have mysteriously vanished.”

Maloch threw up his hands in disgust. “You're not making any sense.”

“It's like par-Goblins say:
Serris torrna m'yurra, sholla ser ontoron
. ‘Those who choose to see coincidence fail to see conspiracy.' It's a mite too convenient that the Sarosans were accused of theft around the time the Shadowhands started disappearing.”

The blank expression on Maloch's face slowly gave way to understanding. “You think the Sarosans have something to do with my da's disappearance?”

“No,” I said, peeking out through a gap in the tent. Nomadic by nature, they were used to pulling up stakes and moving on short notice. They very nearly had the entire camp ready to move. “But there's clearly a link between the Sarosans and the Shadowhands. As long as we're their hostages, we might as well make the most of it. Pay attention. Learn what we can. I don't know what's going to happen when the Dowager gets that ransom note, but one thing I know for sure: we find that link, we find your father.”

“The purse of a fool buys the sweetest happiness.”

—Hulrick Grimjinx, coauthor of the Grimjinx/Aviard Peace Accords

E
merging from the tunnels to the surface, we were met by a dissonant tune, like the sound of a hundred flutes each playing a different melody. As the fresh air—cold and biting—filled our lungs, Maloch and I trudged along in ankle-deep snow through a dense forest with the rest of the Sarosan convoy. Instead of tall and straight, the mist-colored tree trunks coiled up from the ground like thick wooden springs. A light breeze passed through the natural, fist-sized holes that perforated the trunks, causing the trees to “sing.”

“Whistlebirch,” I whispered to Maloch.

“Yeah?” he said. “So?”

“So, there are only two whistlebirch forests in the Provinces. Only one within a day or two of Vengekeep. At least now we've got a good idea where we are.”

What we didn't know was where we were headed. Before leaving the caves, Kolo had said we were going somewhere he deemed safe that was no more than a day's journey. “We've created several safe havens across the Provinces,” he'd told me. “These are secure places we can hide from the Provincial Guard and the Palatinate.” I wondered what made these places “secure.”

I looked up at the sun, dipping past its noon zenith. “We're heading northwest, so that means—”

I felt a sharp jab in my back. Glancing behind me, I found Reena wielding a long, thin reed—a blowgun—like a lance. Holm made a show of loading
his
blowgun with a small wooden dart.

“No talking,” she said, threatening to poke me again.

Maloch and I walked at the heart of the long line of Sarosans, surrounded by the tallest, most muscled men and women in camp. You'd think that would be enough to ensure
we weren't going anywhere. But Reena and Holm had taken it upon themselves to be our unofficial escorts. I like to think they knew just how wily a Grimjinx could be and couldn't trust me not to pull something crafty in an attempt to escape.