The Tree of Story (25 page)

“The latest reckoning from our scouts says that these … 
things
will reach the Bourne within five days.”

Five days
, thought Brax with a surge of fear and excitement. So little time left to gain mastery of the secret he had uncovered. Yet if he succeeded, that army could be his. He was certain now the girl had entered the raincabinet with the boy and the wolf, but where they had gone he didn’t yet know. So far he had only dared short forays into that shifting,
disquieting nowhere, sensing he might become lost if he strayed too far or stayed too long. Yet from those brief visits he had already gained more power than he had ever wielded in all his life as a mage. It was just
there
, to be taken. It flowed into you. Just like water, as the verse had said. Why had Pendrake never wielded it?

“I am here to help, my lord,” he said. “Rest assured I will do whatever I can to counter this threat.”

“If there was ever a time we needed Nicholas Pendrake,” Caliburn murmured, looking away. Then he turned a cold eye on the mage again. “But this is not why I called for you. A short time ago I spoke with the Loremaster’s housekeeper, Edweth Little. She has caused quite a stir since she was brought to Appleyard, demanding to speak to me, but I had no time to see her until this morning.”

Brax nodded. He took a step closer to the Marshal’s desk.

“Of course,” he said. “The poor woman was not happy about being evicted from her home. I understand her feelings, but we both know it was for her own safety.”

“That may be, but Madam Little has made some troubling accusations about you, Master Brax.”

Brax raised an eyebrow. “Has she indeed. Goodness, it appears I’ve made an enemy.”

“She accused you of removing her and the Loremaster’s granddaughter only so that you could gain access to Nicholas Pendrake’s secrets.”

Brax gave a casual shrug. “Madam Edweth is angry with me. I don’t hold it against her. I’m only surprised she would resort to such wild stories.”

“Are they wild stories?”

“Of course, my lord,” Brax said with a smile carefully crafted to reveal both amusement and mild offence. He took a step closer to the desk. “Surely you can’t think that—”

“I wasn’t sure what to think, Master Brax, but just now I’ve been informed of some of your other activities. It appears you’ve been giving orders to the city guard.”

“That is so. When I discovered that the girl had left Appleyard, I told the sentries to be on the lookout for anyone of her description coming to or going from the city. She is in great danger and I was concerned about her. She’s a headstrong child, and with her grandfather missing I had no idea what she might do.

“Then she returned, and brought Will Lightfoot and the wolf with her to the toyshop, but you didn’t feel it necessary to inform me of the fact.”

“I regret that, my lord. It was a … difficult situation. The girl brought someone who appeared to be Nicholas Pendrake, but I suspected—”

“I’ve already heard the story from Captain Thorne,” the Marshal said tersely. “Though he, like you, didn’t think it worth bothering me about at the time. It was one of his own troopers who finally let me know what’s been happening at the Loremaster’s house. Who or what was this creature that took the form of Pendrake?”

“I am not certain, but rest assured I have rendered it harmless. It may even be dead.”

“What about Pendrake’s granddaughter and her friends? I’m told they’re no longer in the toyshop.”

“No, my lord, and I am not certain where they are, though I suspect the girl fled when she realized that the imposter was not really her grandfather. She may have gone looking for Master Pendrake again. I only hope no harm has come to her.”

“I hope so, too, Master Brax. Though I have to wonder why the girl didn’t turn to you for your help in all this. At any rate, I spoke with Thorne just now and he admitted to releasing the hogmen from custody and bringing them to the
toyshop in the dead of night, along with six Errantry troopers and a young woman from Skald whom you used as a hostage—a
hostage
—to subdue this imposter. None of which you felt necessary to inform me about yourself.”

“My lord, if word were to get out about a shapeshifter at large in Fable, it would spread fear at a time when we must reassure people and keep order. Captain Thorne was only doing what we thought best for the city.”

“Or what you thought best for Ammon Brax. The fact remains that you have been giving orders and taking command of my men, and now I understand you’re kept the hogmen with you at the toyshop.”

“The Marrowbone brothers are vile brutes, my lord, but they have keen senses that I saw I could make use of in my search,” Brax said. “And for all we know, their presence near Fable might have had something to do with the Loremaster’s disappearance. It made sense to keep them near me until I got to the bottom of all this.”

“I’m told you promised the hogmen they would be set free if they helped you. Is this true?”

“I told them what I thought would ensure their cooperation. Surely one doesn’t have to honour a bargain with creatures like that.”

“At Appleyard we stand by our word,” the Marshal said heatedly. “We don’t make promises we have no intention of keeping. The point is, Master Brax, you’ve apparently decided your authority as head mage of Kyning Rore extends to the Errantry. Let me assure you it does not. Where is the Skalding woman now?”

“I gave her leave to rejoin her people waiting outside the walls, my lord, and I believe that is what she did.”

“We shall see. I’ve sent a man to confirm that she’s with her friends. In the meantime, you do not ‘give leave’ in Fable,
sir. You do not remove prisoners from their cells and you do not conscript Errantry troopers for your own purposes.”

“Lord Caliburn, rest assured I would never attempt to undermine your authority.”

“You
have
undermined it, Master Brax. Quite successfully. It appears that Captain Thorne sees you as Fable’s best hope in the coming conflict, and he’s willing to keep secrets from me as a result. I don’t know how you swayed the captain from his duty so easily, Brax, but the damage has been done. I’ve had to relieve Thorne of his command.” The Marshal’s face darkened. When he spoke again, his voice shook with barely suppressed rage. “I cannot lose good men at such a time and I will not tolerate anyone, not even the archmage of Kyning Rore, breeding mistrust and confusion among our ranks.”

Brax bent his head as if the rebuke had struck home. He took another step closer to the desk, keenly aware that he had little time in which to act.

“Forgive me, my lord,” he said. “It was wrong of me and it will not happen again.”

“No, it will not. You will be allowed to return to the toyshop under Errantry escort to gather your belongings, and then you will leave Fable and you will not return. Do you understand me, sir?”

Brax steeled himself. The time had come. Everything depended on what happened in the next few moments.

“I understand, my lord,” he said in the most chastened voice he could muster. “And I deeply regret having lost your trust. But before I go, there is something you have not heard from the captain, a matter of the gravest concern, and I must speak of it.”

Caliburn glared at the mage.

“Haven’t you been listening, Master Brax? You are to leave this city.
Now
. Take whatever road will get you home to
Kyning Rore safely, but be gone by the evening bell. If you are not, I will have you marched out of here.”

Brax quelled his fury. He had to remain calm and yet be ready to act without hesitation. He was not yet certain of his control over the fire and if he failed now, all he had gained might be put in jeopardy. But first he had to strike a blow with words that would throw the Marshal off his guard.

“So be it, my lord,” he said, “but this is something you
must
hear. The safety of Fable depends on it.”

It seemed the Marshal was about to erupt in further angry words, but he pursed his lips and nodded.

“Speak, then.”

First Brax moved to the door and slowly, softly closed it. When he turned back, Caliburn was staring at him in disbelief. It was obviously no one’s place but the Marshal’s to decide when that door should be shut. Caliburn, however, chose to ignore the mage’s latest breach.

“Well? I have no time.”

“I hesitate to speak of this, my lord, knowing how deeply he is in your counsel—”

“Who do you mean? Enough games, man. Out with it.”

The mage leaned across the desk. He pressed a hand to the front of his cloak. “While I was looking through the Loremaster’s things, searching for any clue to where he might have been taken, I found something disturbing. Something that casts doubt on everything we think we know about Nicholas Pendrake.”

The Marshal’s eyes blazed. “Choose your next words with care, Master Brax.”

Brax drew a breath that was heavy with the pain of what he had to reveal. “From what I have seen, there can be no doubt that the Loremaster, Nicholas Pendrake, is in league
with the enemy. He staged his own abduction and he was behind the return of the imposter.”

Caliburn shook his head slowly. The muscles in his jaw pulsed. “That cannot be. I have known Nicholas Pendrake since—”

“My lord, I have the
proof
of it here with me.”

“What proof?” the Marshal growled. “What have you found?”

The moment had come. Caliburn was outraged now, his deepest trust shaken. He would not be thinking clearly. Brax slipped a hand into his cloak and withdrew a rolled-up tube of yellowed parchment.

“What is this?” Caliburn asked, scowling. He leaned forward across the desktop and thrust out his hand. His anger and doubt were strong enough now that all other thoughts had fled.

Just as Brax was placing the scroll in the Marshal’s palm, with a lightning-fast movement he dropped the paper and clutched Caliburn’s wrist. The Marshal tried to wrench his hand away, but Brax held fast. The tips of his fingers, digging into the older man’s flesh, glowed from within like ampoules of green glass.

“What are you doing?” Caliburn demanded furiously, and then his eyes went unfocused. He swayed forward, and set his other hand on the desktop to keep from falling. “How dare … you …” he said thickly, labouring to get the words out. He looked to the door and opened his mouth as if to shout for help, but no sound came out.

“Do not struggle, my lord,” Brax said. “It might kill you and neither of us wants that.”

Caliburn’s hand went to his throat. He was gasping now for air.

“Madam Little was correct,” Brax said, watching the Marshal’s eyes. “I
was
searching for the Loremaster’s secrets,
and I found one of them. The only one that matters, as it turns out. It’s the power to remake the way things are. To mould the world and men’s minds. Now please sit, for we have much to discuss and very little time.”

Brax let go of the Marshal’s wrist. The skin was bone white where the mage’s hand had gripped it. Caliburn gazed dully at his own hand, then stepped backward and sat down heavily in his chair. He stared up at the mage, stunned, uncomprehending.

Brax picked the scroll up off the desk where it had fallen and unrolled it. The parchment was blank.

“Sleight of hand,” he murmured. “It still has its uses.”

He set the scroll on the desk, then leaned close to the seated Marshal and lowered his voice to an urgent whisper.

“Are you listening, my lord?” Brax said. “It’s very important that you listen to me now. For the sake of Fable and the Errantry.”

The Marshal blinked and struggled to focus on the mage’s face. “What’s happened?” he muttered. “Brax, I can’t seem to remember …”

“You have been poisoned, my lord. I am here to help.”

The Marshal shook his head slowly. His eyes searched the room wildly and then focused again on Brax.

“You,” he growled. “No, it was you.”

“It was the
enemy
,” Brax said sharply. “You have to listen, or Fable is doomed. The enemy
out there
has done this to you. The enemy who will destroy everything and everyone you love unless we act now. You must listen. Something was slipped into your food or drink. Do you remember?”

“Remember? No. Who would have …?”

“You don’t have long, my lord. Neither does Fable. You must listen to me or all is lost. Soon the poison will make you weak and feverish. You will be unable to carry out your
duties. The Errantry will be leaderless, which
cannot
happen now with the enemy already here in Fable. If the Loremaster has turned against us, then no one is safe, no one is to be trusted. But we can still save this city, you and I. First you must invoke martial law. Shut the gates, keep everyone at home. No public gatherings. Then assign me my own company of troopers. I must have the freedom and authority I need to root out any other traitors.”

“Give you …” the Marshal muttered, struggling to rise. “No, wait. I must call the duty sergeant.”

“You’re confused, my lord. It’s the poison working in you, clouding your thoughts. You’ve forgotten you summoned me when the enemy first struck. Think.
Remember
. You called for me. That’s why I’m here. You knew that only I can stave off disaster. I am here to help, but you must concentrate and do as I tell you—or all is lost.”

The mage spread his hand across the map on the Marshal’s desk. Dark blotches began to appear at the edges of the parchment, as if fire was eating at it from underneath, though no flames appeared. The dark blotches grew in size and began to move inward, toward the city drawn in careful ink lines at the centre of the map.

“Our enemies are closing in on us,” Brax said. “They’ve already wormed their way into the city. They’ve corrupted those we’ve held in trust. They’ve even reached you, my lord. We must act now, for the sake of the Errantry. For Fable.”

“For Fable.” The Marshal nodded, gazing in horror at the map. “We must keep the people safe. The enemy is—” He broke off and held up his arm. The band of white flesh around his wrist was fading now but still visible. “
No,”
he rasped. “No. It was
you
.”