Wellspring of Chaos (16 page)

Kharl’s stomach had gone well beyond empty and painful by dawn five mornings later, after four days of weather ranging from mist to rain so heavy that it had fallen in walls of icy water. He was sore and stiff because only a small area of the poorly roofed hiding space had remained usable—and that had been damp. When the sun finally rose on a cold and clear oneday, the cloudless sky and bright morning sunlight did little to cheer him. Nor did it ease his aching muscles and empty belly.

Jeka finally crawled out of her cubby, yawning. “Need to sleep when you can. Sleep more, and you don’t need to eat so much.”

“Could be.”

“Least it’s oneday,” she offered. “Lower market’s good on oneday. ‘Specially by afternoon.”

Before too long, she left, and after a few moments, Kharl followed, carrying his small wooden begging bowl. He had to be careful climbing the wall, because he felt a bit light-headed, but the walking, even at his affected hobble, cleared away some of the faintness.

The rain had washed away much of the stench from the rendering yard and from the tannery, and the cold breeze from the west brought a cleaner smell to Brysta. It wouldn’t last that long, Kharl knew, but it helped as he hobbled down Copper Road, trailing Jeka by a good half block, when he could even see her elusive form.

He continued to plead, “A copper, just a copper for a poor man…” As usual, most of those on the street ignored Kharl the beggar either by walking past quickly or by avoiding him. He did get one copper in the battered wooden bowl.

The sun was a good quarter of the way up the eastern sky when Kharl paused on the rubble-strewn corner on the northeast side of the harbor, short of the slateyard. From there, he looked at the lower market with its tents, carts, and portable stalls. He didn’t see Jeka. He could see, except it was a feeling, more than a seeing, a patchy area of whiteness on the southern side of the open space that held the market.

Abruptly, and from nowhere, Jeka dashed from a cart and crossed the soggy ground between them. She stopped and extended a half loaf of bread. “Mamata gave it to me. She said she’d eaten some, and couldn’t eat any more and couldn’t sell it.”

Kharl took a bite of the heavy rye, and his mouth watered. He forced himself to hand the bread back to Jeka after another bite.

“I had more than that,” she said, refusing the bread.

Kharl didn’t argue. He took several more large mouthfuls, and within moments, he started to feel less light-headed. He handed the remaining bread to Jeka.

This time, she took the quarter loaf remaining and finished half of it, then gave the remainder back. He ate it, even licking the crumbs off his fingers.

“I need to see what else I can scrounge or get cheap,” she said.

“Stay away from the southern end,” he said.

Jeka looked at him.

“Just a feeling,” he said, not wanting to explain.

“I’ll be careful. Always am.”

“Be more careful,” he suggested. “Don’t know where that wizard might show up.”

“Here? Not likely.” Jeka laughed, then made her way back toward the carts and stalls.

Kharl followed. Even after the bread, his mouth watered as the scent of roasting fowl wafted around him. How long had it been since he’d sat at his own table and eaten fowl? And ale? And as much bread as he wanted?

He kept moving. Instead of staking out a space and sitting down, he hobbled around the harborside end of the market, occasionally pleading, extending the bowl. “A copper… just a copper for a poor man…”

Over the eightdays he’d been in hiding, he doubted that he’d collected more than nine or ten coppers, but his efforts made it easier to conceal the source of the coins he’d given to Jeka, not so much for her—she knew better—but from those with whom she dealt. He stopped and slumped, as if tired, but the slump was not all pose, not with the little he had eaten over the end-days.

Then he returned to walking and whining, “… copper… just a copper…”

As he neared the southwestern corner of the market, Kharl could see the patchy whitish fog more clearly, centered around a maroon-painted stall. He blinked, and the fog vanished. Was he seeing things because he was hungry? But the fog had become clearer after he’d eaten.

He limped and hobbled farther south, easing himself closer to the maroon stall, finally squatting near the rotten bollard section where he’d often placed himself.

“Copper… just a copper…” he mumbled, watching the stall where several youths, three girls, two women, and a tall man were gathered.

“Ooos” and “aahhs” came from the group.

“A few coins here, any coin,” came a voice, “and you’ll see what you’ve never seen.”

After a moment, a flare of bluish flame erupted from somewhere in front of the group, then vanished. It wasn’t flame, Kharl could tell, although he didn’t really know how he knew, but it looked like it, and everyone stepped back.

For a moment, Kharl caught a glimpse of the wizard, wearing a red cape. Behind and to the left of the wizard stood another man, almost identical to the bodyguard Kharl had killed—or had he killed the man outside the White Pony? Kharl swallowed. The wizard was the same man who had ensorceled Jeka. But what was he doing in the lower market? Looking for her? Kharl’s fingers tightened around his stick, a poor weapon against a wizard, but the only one he had. He kept watching/ more aware of the whiteness that was not fog.

The small crowd once more drew nearer to the wizard.

“You see?” The wizard laughed. “All of you draw near, and you will see something truly special. Closer now… and who might have a coin? For miracles do not come without a price.” He laughed again, heartily.

Kharl shivered at the laughter, feeling something more behind it.

“A copper? Cannot someone add to it?” asked the wizard. “If not, you must step closer, for what marvels you will see will be smaller.”

The cooper frowned. The wizard seemed more to want the crowd closer than to get another copper. Kharl glanced past the stall. Jeka was moving past a cart with scarfs tied around a polished wooden rod, slowly toward the wizard and his booth. Kharl hobbled in toward the crowd, then left, toward Jeka. She slipped right, as if to avoid Kharl.

“Got a copper, brat?” he asked in a louder voice that was half growl, half whine.

Jeka stiffened at the tone.

“Get back,” Kharl whispered. “Same wizard. Looking for you…”

Jeka darted off to the north.

Kharl hobbled quickly, as if Jeka had taken something. “Stop! Brat!”

Behind him, there was a flash of light, bright enough that he had to blink, even though his back was to the wizard. Screams filled the air, and Kharl looked back.

A column of smoke filled the space around where the wizard’s booth had been. More had happened than just a flash of light. Those around the smoke had their hands to their eyes. Some staggered. Two women had collapsed, as had a man.

As Kharl watched, the wizard’s guard emerged from the smoke, carrying a bundle of some sort—a very long bundle. To the right of the guard was the wizard, but his figure was blurred, and Kharl had trouble looking at the mage, as the wizard and his guard slipped away from the smoke and the booth it had shrouded.

For a moment, Kharl stood frozen, his eyes flicking from the guard to the almost invisible figure of the wizard, then back to the guard in the burgundy jacket.

The wizard stopped, turned, and looked directly at Kharl. His eyes seemed to burn. “You will not thwart me again, half creature. Next time the weather will not favor you, and she will repay me.”

Although the words were spoken from more than thirty cubits away—a good two rods—Kharl heard them clearly, and wondered how he had.

The wizard turned and strode swiftly away from the market, moving more quickly than the guard burdened with the large and long bundle

Sellers and would-be buyers alike were turning toward the column of dissipating smoke and the booth emerging from the smoke, a squarish stall that looked only vaguely like the burgundy-walled stall before which the wizard had performed. More illusion? Kharl wondered how the stall could have changed so much, then looked back toward the wizard and the guard. They had reached a coach waiting east of the market.

“She’s gone! Gone!”

Kharl turned back toward the stall where one of the women had staggered upright. “She’s gone!”

Belatedly, Kharl realized that the bundle must have held a body—a small live body, and probably that of a girl. He glanced back to find the two men, but both the coach holding the guard and the wizard had already vanished.

The cooper began to hobble back uphill, even as the wizard’s words echoed through his thoughts… not thwart me again…

Kharl kept moving. He would have liked to tell someone, even the Watch, about the girl, but there wasn’t much he could do, not now, and who would believe him if he told anyone there?

Slowly, he made his way back to the wall shelter adjoining the rendering yard. He did not enter the serviceway until the nearby street was empty. He quickly scaled the wall, then settled down to wait.

As time passed, Kharl began to worry, but he had no idea where he might find Jeka, none at all. She did not return to the space between the walls until close to sunset, but Kharl could smell the fowl she carried as she dropped over the wall.

“I got some-at for you,” Jeka announced.

“What about you?” asked Kharl.

“Had some already. That dustup at the market… found some coppers. Bought fowl for us both. You always buy.” Jeka did not quite look at Kharl as she handed him the fowl in stale bread.

Kharl kept from frowning. Jeka was telling the truth. That he knew, although he could not have said why. She had eaten, and she had found coppers, but he was missing something.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Something’s bothering you,” he observed, before taking a bite of the fowl.

Jeka did not reply, instead settling down with her back against the ancient brick wall.

Kharl did not press her as he ate several more bites, before holding out the fowl. “Sure you wouldn’t like some?”

“Had more ‘n enough.”

After finishing the bread and fowl, Kharl licked his fingers as clean as he could. For the first time in days, his stomach felt comfortably full. Yet he couldn’t enjoy it. Something was bothering Jeka. Still. “You’re worried. You can’t hide it.”

Jeka just sat in the early twilight, not looking at Kharl.

He waited.

Finally, Jeka began to speak, slowly at first. “Enelya had a sister. She was younger’n me, lots younger. She was doing the morning dishes… when we went to the White Pony…”

Kharl knew what Jeka was going to say, but he said nothing.

“She was at the tub… and like as disappeared…”

“Did anyone find her?”

“Enelya looked… much as she could.” Jeka took another bite of the fowl. “Found her this morning. In the harbor… say she drowned, ‘cause there wasn’t a mark on her.”

“You don’t think she did?”

“Enelya says she was scared of water. She almost drowned in the creek where they grew up backhills… always stayed away from the harbor.”

“The wizard. He took someone else this morning at the market,” Kharl said. “He wanted to take you at the White Pony. He talked about two being better than one. And he said you owed him.”

“Heard that.” Jeka shivered, although it was not that cold. “Today, I woulda gone there. Felt like I was bein‘ called. Didn’t know you for a moment…”

“I wondered about that,” Kharl said. “That’s why I was harsh.”

“Saved me… maybe…” She shivered again. “He’s gonna keep lookin‘…”

“He wants young ones, girls almost…” Kharl murmured, more to himself, thinking that the wizard was worse even than Egen. But owing?

“Must need ‘em for his wizardry…”

“The Watch doesn’t say anything?” asked Kharl abruptly.

“They don’t care. Not about street girls. Don’t even care about poor ones. Safer as a boy than a girl.”

“How do you owe him?”

“Don’t. Not him.”

Although Jeka was lying, Kharl just nodded. What good would it do to press her? Except get him in more trouble. There wasn’t much he could say. But he worried about the wizard’s words. Had the wet weather helped him in dealing with the wizard before? Why?

His lips curled into a wry smile. Until he’d thought over the wizard’s words, he hadn’t been aware of anything that seemed to favor him these days.

His eyes dropped to the rag-wrapped black staff. Would it, too, help against the wizard? Would anything help enough?

Kharl kept worrying on twoday, but he had a feeling that threeday or fourday would be when the wizard resumed looking for him—or for Jeka. He still had no idea why the wizard was seeking out one young woman disguised as a beggar boy, but it was clear that he was.

On twoday, Kharl checked the harbor, as he had most days, but there was no sign of the Seastag, or either of the other two ships whose masters he knew, if less well than he did Hagen. He tried to push aside the worry that he might not be able to avoid Egen until a captain he knew ported in Brysta.

Jeka woke Kharl early on threeday, even before dawn. “Feel that.like a cord I can’t see, tuggin‘ at me.”

The cooper looked at the shivering young woman posing as a ragged boy. As he saw the light frost on the stones, he couldn’t help feeling guilty for his warm jacket, even if he only dared sleep in it. For a moment, her words didn’t mean anything. Then he stiffened and lurched up. “We need to leave here. Now.” He tried not to wince. His back and limbs were sore and stiff, as they had been every morning he had awakened between the walls.

“Leave? So’s he can catch us in the open?” Jeka pulled her ragged brown cloak around her more tightly.

“If we stay here, he’ll follow whatever that cord is until he knows where you are. You want to stay and be cornered?”

“Got a little bread left,” Jeka offered. “Let’s eat first.” Two chunks of bread took little enough time to eat. Then Kharl took the rag-covered black staff and his pack and carried them farther along the space between the walls, hiding them—and his jacket—as well as he could beyond the stone-circled hole that served as a necessary, before using the crude latrine.

“Why’d you move that stuff?” asked Jeka.

“So if the wizard or his guard looks, they won’t know someone else is here.” Kharl’s head throbbed faintly at the misstatement. He donned the ragged beggar’s cloak.

“Better get on.” Jeka turned and scrambled over the wall.

By the time the sun was rising over Brysta on what promised to be a bright fall day, one warmer than the light morning frost indicated, the two stood in the serviceway, flanked by long shadows on one side and the flat light of sunrise on the other.

Kharl looked at Jeka. “Can you feel where the tugging’s coming from?”

“No.”

Kharl held in the harsh words he felt at Jeka’s rebellious tone. “We’ll go up the street, say fifty cubits.”

The two walked south on the cross street, and Kharl tried not to look back.

“Stop.” Kharl waited, then looked at Jeka. “Does it feel stronger?”

“No… feels weaker… maybe closer…” She looked puzzled.

“We go the other way.”

“Other way?”

“No pull when a fish on a line swims to the fisherman,” Kharl said.

Jeka paled.

Kharl wished he’d used different words. “Come on.” He turned back north.

Jeka scrambled to catch up to him. As they walked in the shadows on the east side of the cross street, Kharl wished he’d brought the staff rather than his crude stick. At the end of the block, the cross street ended in a stone wall, and they turned westward, taking the walk on the south side, downhill toward the harbor. Jeka darted ahead, then froze for a moment.

Kharl peered toward the harbor. At the end of the next block, there were three Watchmen and an officer—one whom Kharl recognized even from that distance as Egen. He was certain, although he didn’t quite know why. Jeka slipped back toward Kharl.

“Watch ahead,” mumbled Jeka.

“And the wizard’s somewhere behind.” Kharl looked to the service-way to his left, which connected to an east-west alleyway. “Into the serviceway.”

“Be Watch at the harborside end of the alley.”

“Can’t be any worse.” Kharl hoped it couldn’t be worse, but he wasn’t counting on that, not the way the last few seasons had been going.

In a few moments, they reached the point where the serviceway joined the alley. Kharl peered around the corner formed by two brick walls. As Jeka had predicted, there were Watchmen at the end nearer the harbor.

Kharl studied the alley, noting the thin line of shadows on the southern side. He looked at Jeka. “We turn and start uphill on the sunny side, but we move toward the shadows. Once we’re in the shadows we crouch down, then come back to the serviceway right across from us.”

“It might work.” Jeka sounded less than convinced.

“Might not. Got a better idea?”

“No.”

“Then we’ll try it.” Kharl stepped out of the serviceway and began to walk up the alley at a slight angle.

So far as he could tell, the Watchmen below did not move. At least, he heard no steps on the stones, those that were high enough to stand out above the lower muddy stones. They covered close to a hundred cubits before they entered the shadows. Kharl took several more steps before he began to crouch as he slipped to the southern side of the alley.

He ducked into a recess formed by a loading dock, then peered around the corner and down the alley. The Watchmen had not moved.

“The cord thing’s stronger,” Jeka muttered from behind him.

“We need to slip along the shadow here. Keep low.”

“You keep low.”

Kharl tried to keep low, crouching as he made his way back down the side of the alley.

After fifty cubits, they had to duck behind a refuse bin as a loading door opened.

Rats skittered and rustled in the bin as they waited. It seemed like a glass passed before the heavyset man in brown went back into the shop and closed the door. Finally, they slipped into the serviceway and walked quickly to where it ended short of the next street. Kharl halted.

“Now what?” asked Jeka.

“We run across the street and into that serviceway, and we keep moving south until we get to the fountain. Then we head back uphill.”

They sprint-scurried across Wellman Street, and down another serviceway… then another, and a third. In time, they turned down the alley south of Cargo Road and made their way to the fountain. There they waited for a teamster to water his pair of mules, then slipped in ahead of a laundress to drink.

After they had drunk, Kharl turned to Jeka. “Can you feel the cord thing?“

Jeka paused. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Good. We’ll keep moving along Second Cross toward the river.”

“The river? Can’t swim.”

“We aren’t going to. White wizards have trouble with streams and running water. Leastwise, that’s what they say. We’ll circle back later today.” At least, Kharl hoped that they could, but he didn’t know what else to suggest. He also didn’t like the idea that the Watch seemed to be helping the wizard.

He had to wonder what Egen had to do with the white wizard. Was the wizard working for Egen? Or did Egen owe something to the wizard?