The Fall of the Dagger (The Forsaken Lands) (17 page)

“And who do you think warned me that our troubles might have their origins in the Va-forsaken Hemisphere?” the Arbiter asked. “Pontifect Fritillary! She had heard that there was Va-forsaken witchery loose in Ardrone, threatening her agents. Something about sorcerous feathers and daggers…”

Saker winced. Fritillary knew about those because he’d told her. But he hadn’t known Ardhi then. Cankers ’n’ galls, everything in his past was coming back to kick him in the rump.

“How did you get here?” Vervain asked. “How did you find this shrine?”

Deciding any mention of
sakti
and feathers would make Ardhi’s situation worse, and that any explanation he tried to make now would only dig a deeper pit for himself, he said vaguely, “As you saw, my witchery is a connection to birds, and it was the eagle that led us here. The shrines have been taken out of our world’s time, haven’t they? Apparently time does not mean much to a bird.” It was a weak explanation with just enough truth to make it plausible, and they appeared prepared to accept it. “What we need to know,” he added before they could find holes in the explanation, “is what happened in our absence. Why are all the shrines hidden? Where is Pontifect Fritillary?”

“She is managing resistance to Fox and his sorcerers from outside,” Arbiter Willow said, “in ordinary time.”

“How can I contact her?” he asked.

“You folk’d be the last ones we’d tell,” Vervain muttered. “We have our ways. Ancient ways, not for ordinary folk to use.”

“But how long do you intend to hide the shrines?” he asked, puzzled. “For ever? Do you even understand how people will lose heart?”

“It’s already happening,” Sorrel said.

Arbiter Willow opened her mouth to reply, but Vervain silenced her with a gesture and said, “I don’t think we hanker to discuss our plans with you. I suggest you return to the world, and keep your wagging tongue behind your teeth about all you saw here.” When Willow seemed set to disagree, he added, “Can we trust them to keep silent? They came here with that Va-forsaken nut-skin!”

Sorrel sent him an indignant look. “They are your words, not Va’s. There is nothing in Va-faith about people on the other side of the world not being cherished. We are
not
leaving Ardhi behind.”

“Then ye’ll have to stay yourselves!” Vervain said. “Locked up with him, till we get the word from the Pontifect what to do with ye. And that might be a long time in the coming.”

The smug weasel
, Saker thought. “You’d have to feed us then, wouldn’t you? But we’re not staying. If I write a letter to the Pontifect, will you send it to her?”

“No.”

“Believe me, she will be anxious to hear from me.”

“We’re not messenger boys! We don’t carry letters. It’s a long walk. And a dangerous one.”

Saker blinked in surprise. A long
walk
?

“We can send verbal messages, though,” Arbiter Willow said, earning a furious glare from Vervain. “We have… ways.”

Now that’s interesting.
“How long before Pontifect Fritillary receives such a message?”

“Might be a day or two,” she said.

“Or longer. It depends,” Vervain added, still ungracious.

“On what?”

“When the Pontifect visits a shrine, and which shrine it is,” Willow said.

“Have you any idea where she is?”

“Last I heard,” she said, “in Lowmeer. But she does move around.”

Saker thought about the difficulty of a verbal message. He’d have to be cryptic and use their code words… He asked, “Will the message alter as it is passed from person to person?”

Vervain gave a scornful grunt. “We are not idle-headed dewberries. We can pass a coded message, if that’s what you mean.”

“It will be a long one.”

“Just as well most shrine keepers have long memories, isn’t it?”

Hog’s piddle, he’s a sarcastic fellow.
“I’ll write down the exact words. You still have not explained what has happened in Ardrone that you had to hide the shrines.”

“Sorcery happened. That’s what.”

“Prime Fox is only one man. How did he bring about this disaster?”

“How did you know it was Fox?” Willow countered.

“Fritillary spoke of his… nastiness before I left for the other side of the world. And I was one of her informants anyway.”

Vervain shot a warning look at Arbiter Willow. “He might be lying. He could be one of the sorcerous sons, for all we know.”

His heart skipped a beat. “
What
sorcerous sons?”

“Who was your father?” Vervain asked.

The shrine keeper didn’t mean anything by it. He
couldn’t
mean anything by it. But suddenly Saker was remembering Robin Rampion saying, “I’ve always doubted you had the right to my name…”

Va’s acorns, he couldn’t be Valerian Fox’s son, could he? They had all been at university together – his mother Iris Grey, Fritillary Reedling, Valerian Fox… and his supposed father. It was such a horrible idea that it had never crossed his mind.

“
What
sorcerous sons?” he asked again.
I don’t look like Valerian
…

It was Willow who answered. “Some folk say Valerian Fox had at least fifty. To suck the life out of them in order to extend his own lifespan. Others act as his agents.”

His heart hammered under his ribs until his chest ached.
I am
not
a sorcerer. The Rani would have known if I was.
His breath steadied.

“Later,” she continued, “he found some of them useful as his instruments to lead armies of coerced peasants.”

“The Grey Lancers.”

“Yes. But it is more Fox’s sons who have forced us to hide, not the lancers. The sons have the real power. The lancers are just a bunch of very nasty soldiers, twisted by sorcery into men who don’t care what they do. I would hesitate even to call them human any more.”

“And by
hiding
you think you are winning the battle?” Sorrel asked, arching a mocking eyebrow.

Neither of them answered that.

“What about Prince Ryce? What do you know about his situation?” Saker asked.

“He is besieged at his summer estate, Gromwell. Up near Twite,” Arbiter Willow said. Her sadness never left her, and her words sounded as if she had to drag them out of some dark place to bring them to light.

“And no one helps him?”

“It is the king’s decree. To go against the king is treason,” the arbiter pointed out.

“Then I suspect that a little treason is in order. The king has had his brains curdled by sorcerous treachery, and it’s time someone stopped him!” His indignation welled up again and he felt a strong desire to break something. Reason, though, prevailed, and he calmed enough to say, “I’d like to write that message to Fritillary Reedling, if I may.”

“Come with me. I have a slate.” Vervain jerked his head at Sorrel. “You stay here with Arbiter.”

“
Wass lundia
,” Saker muttered. “It’s all right, Sorrel.”

He hoped the glance he gave her was full of meaning.

S
orrel watched him go and then looked back at Arbiter Willow.

“What did he say?” Willow asked sharply.

“‘It’s all right’,” she replied.

“Before that!”

“I think he swore under his breath,” she lied. “He’s rather annoyed to find that after all he has suffered for Va-faith he should be treated as if he were a threat.” In fact, Saker had spoken in Pashali, telling her to keep her eyes open. He’d wanted her to take a look around. Striving to sound pleasant, she said, “We are here to help. Including Ardhi. Sorcery is a problem that will hurt both hemispheres if it is allowed to spread.”

When Willow said nothing, she added, “Would you excuse me, Arbiter? It is more than two years since I had a chance to pray at a shrine. I need to seek peace with my faith, and the Way of the Oak.”

The woman’s face softened. “Of course, my dear. I understand. And – separating people from their shrines was not something we did callously or without thought. It was the Pontifect’s order, designed to save them.”

“Fritillary Reedling’s order?” That was hard to believe.

“Yes. I shall leave you to your devotions.” She turned and walked away, heading for the exit.

Sorrel spent a moment or two in quiet contemplation of the Way of the Oak, seeking peace from the presence of the tree and its solid strength, but mostly she was surreptitiously studying her surroundings. Saker and Vervain Wintergreen had disappeared into the area on the other side of the massive trunk, where a number of the boughs had drooped sufficiently to provide room-like structures giving privacy. Arbiter Willow, she suspected, was waiting outside the main
entrance to make sure she didn’t leave unseen. There were several other worshippers quietly focused on their own devotions, none paying her any attention. A cat walked by, and rubbed up against her legs before disappearing into the web of roots. There was something odd about that, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

For the first time in her life since she had received a witchery, it was of absolutely no use to her. Most of these folk had witcheries, which meant they could see through any glamour she chose to make. It was a long time since she’d felt so vulnerable. Chiding herself for being such a goose, she moved away from the main entrance and considered how best to leave the shrine without drawing attention. She found a place where she could scrutinise what was happening outside and for a few minutes she did nothing except observe, unseen behind the drooping branches. People were busy. Every so often there was a flare of witchery, although she couldn’t see what was done with it. A dog barked in the distance, a horse neighed, chickens scratched in the dirt.

No one was nearby, so she scrambled under the skirt of branches and stood up. It didn’t take her long to realise that there was no way she would ever be anonymous. There were too few people and any stranger stood out like a beacon on a barren hill. People stopped what they were doing to look at her, and others turned to see.

The back of her neck prickled in alarm. She had the oddest feeling that she was looking at a scene skewed sideways. The settlement was odd, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why, not yet. She would think about it later. Right then, several of the women were approaching her, all in possession of a witchery.

“Mistress,” one of them said, “have you come from Hornbeam?” The question wasn’t a hostile one; the woman appeared anxious for an answer, not confrontational. Absurdly, she was holding a cage in her hand with what appeared to be rats inside.

“Yes, I have.”

“What news from the port?” one of the others asked.

Immediately there was a babble from all those gathered around her, a flurry of questions. She was appalled when she realised the implication: all of them had been cut off from their loved ones for months.

“I was only there for a day,” she said, trying to halt the spate of
anxious questioning. “So I don’t know very much. I did hear that the Grey Lancers lost their leader, and after that they left Hornbeam. So everything is peaceful there at the moment.”

“Do you know anything of Baker’s Row?”

“What about the people on North Bank?”

“Are ships coming into port still?”

“Do you know Tomtit Crake?” “Jay Birch?” “Cob Reed?”

In the end, she put her hands over the ears. “Honestly, I don’t know anyone in Hornbeam.”

The man named Burr hurried up then, flapping his hands, saying, “You’re not to talk to her! She’s not to be trusted!”

“I think it’s the other way around,” Sorrel said. “
You
are the ones not to be trusted. We came here for information, wanting to help. We have all suffered because of sorcery. And then you take one of us away, depriving him of his freedom. Is that fair? Where is my friend? What did you do with him? Why are you so afraid of someone you’ve only just met?”

“Guildsman Burr was just following orders,” a man muttered.

“No one will hurt him,” said a voice behind her. It was Arbiter Willow again. “We just have to be careful, because he isn’t one of us. We are Va-cherished and he is not.”

“And so we condemn half the world because of where they live? How stupid is that? And you’ve never even been there! Where is Ardhi? I want to talk to him.”

Willow shrugged. “You can see him if you want. Take her there, Burr.”

Burr conducted her through the staring crowd to the only hut with a door barred on the outside. Sorrel lifted the bar and entered the single room, allowing the door to swing closed behind her. There was enough light filtering through ill-made walls for her to see that half of the interior was stacked with bags and barrels. Ardhi was sitting cross-legged on a burlap sack, looking at ease. She listened for the sound of the bar being replaced, but all was silent.

“This must be the food supplies they brought with them,” he remarked in Chenderawasi. “When you consider how many people they have here, it’s no wonder they are worried.”

“They don’t have that much land to use, either,” she said, replying in the same tongue. “This place is like an island. Va knows what happens if anyone dares to cross over the perimeter into that mist.” She swallowed, remembering her glimpse of Heather. “Anyway, let’s get you out of here. At least they haven’t tied you up.”

“Are they going to let me just walk out?”

“Probably not. I suspect we’re going to have an argument. Just remember that the shrine itself is sacred; no one can be hurt there. If they threaten us, we run for the oak.”

“Is disobeying the shrine keeper and an arbiter some sort of—” He frowned, trying to think of the right word.

“Sacrilege?” she suggested in her own tongue. “After all the horrible things they said about you, I don’t care. In fact, I’ll climb the fobbing sacred oak if necessary.”

His lips twitched. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, yes, I blithering would!”

He grinned at her. “I love you, you know,” he said, reverting back to the language of Chenderawasi. “I love you as much as the waves adore the caress of the wind. I desire you as much as the ripples desire to embrace the sand.”

Her breath caught. Shocked at the suddenness of his declaration, moved by the beauty of the island imagery of the words, she felt she’d never breathe again.

When she didn’t reply, he gave a rueful smile. “We islanders tend to wax poetic when we love. That doesn’t make it untrue, though.” He stood and crossed to her side to place his hands on her shoulders, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. Gently he moved his fingers along the curve of her shoulder until his thumbs brushed the sides of her neck under the loosed tumble of her hair. He said, “I don’t want you to do anything for me that will place you in harm’s way. Not now, not ever.”

His gentle sincerity brought moisture to her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but he placed a finger on her lips, halting the words. “I couldn’t bear to see you hurt, ever. But if I see you safe and happy, then the sun rises on another day – and I know I can bear the weight of the world.”

“Ardhi—”

“No, no, don’t say anything. I just wanted you to know how I felt. In case, in case – well, just in case it ever mattered. I know you, Sorrel. Now is not the time for you to think about this. For now, we are a ternion and we three have a job to do, and Piper to save. And her brother. That’s what matters.”

She paused to consider his words, and to remember the purpose of the ternion. “You’re right. That’s
all
that matters at the moment. But…” She felt her face colour up and was glad of the dimness as she strove to steady her breathing. “Thank you for saying it. To be loved – that means a lot to someone who’s not had much love in her life.”

Not waiting for an answer, she opened the door and walked out into the sunshine, but then was unable to resist looking back at him over her shoulder, smiling.

Reality returned with a thump, though, when she saw Willow’s face darken as Ardhi emerged, blinking in the light. “You foolish girl—”

“I am
not
a girl,” Sorrel said, the sound of her voice harsh. “I have been to places and seen things that you could scarcely guess at. I have been tasked with something that is beyond anything you could understand. Don’t
ever
patronise me, Arbiter.”

She didn’t say any more because Saker was there, striding across towards them, scattering the foraging chickens. His glower indicated that whatever he’d learned had not cheered him. “Let’s go. Feathers and dagger as before.” He held out his hands to take theirs. “Let’s commit treason, shall we? We are going to rescue a prince.” His smile was grim.

“I never thought I would be so glad to leave a shrine,” Sorrel said, and took his hand even as she reached out to grip Ardhi’s. “This place is… all
wrong.
”

Sorrel had worried that they’d have trouble returning to the present using the same piece of plume, but, intensely focused, and with the help of his eagle, Saker managed the return trip with ease. When she looked at the feather afterwards, it was dead in her hand. Ardhi shook his head, and she held up her palm so that the now colourless dried-up wisp was whisked away in the wind.

She could feel the undercurrent of anger and distress within Saker. He’d done what most people thought was impossible: he’d seen and spoken to an unseen guardian. His Shenat roots went deep, so to see the population cut off from the shrines of the Ways must have been especially horrible for him.

When they reached the ship, Lord Juster was not on board so the three of them descended to the empty wardroom. Saker unbuckled his sword and flung it on to the table as he seated himself on the bench.

“I’ve been thinking all the way back,” he said. “I believe they told us more than they intended.” He looked across the table at Sorrel. “Vervain and Arbiter Willow both knew I’d been nulled. Nothing odd in that. But Vervain wasn’t surprised that I had a witchery. Why not? Nulled people aren’t usually granted witcheries!”

“He already knew?” Sorrel asked. “Fritillary could have told Arbiter Willow, or Vervain.”

“I can’t imagine her doing that. I was her
spy
, for Va’s sake. The less known about a spy, the better. Most of the time after I was nulled, I was wandering around in Lowmeer, under another name. And there’s something else. Vervain knew about you and what your witchery was. How?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. Hardly anyone knew in Ardrone. Only Mathilda, and later Prince Ryce… I don’t think I ever used it when Valerian Fox was present. I thought he might see through a glamour, being a Prime, so I was careful. Just now I wondered if Marsh Bedstraw – the Melforn shrine keeper – might have told Vervain. She knew because she saw the witchery bestowed on me.”

“Unlikely Marsh Bedstraw would have met Vervain. Shrine keepers rarely leave the vicinity of their oaks.”

“Then how?” she asked.

“I think it was Vervain’s unseen guardian, his oakmarrow, speaking to Melforn’s oakmarrow.”

“The unseen guardians
talk
to one another?” Ardhi asked.

“Well, communicate, anyway. I think that’s the way they will send my message to Fritillary, one oakmarrow to another until it reaches an unseen guardian who knows where she is and can pass it on.”

“Communicate how?” Sorrel asked.

“In the past, I heard folk tales about roots spreading through the earth, from one shrine-oak to the next, and over in Lowmeer there are tales about how water connects one shrine to another, through rivers and lakes and the sea. Knowledge is thus passed from one unseen guardian to another.”

“That’s a lovely idea,” Sorrel said. “Somehow… comforting.”

“An unseen guardian, the oakmarrow of Chervil Moors, appeared to me and spoke. It’d be nice to think that it was because I was special, but it’s more likely it was because I’d been in contact with the magic of the other side of the world – that is, with Ardhi’s kris. The kris was right there, with Sergeant Horntail who was escorting me. I had a sorcerer’s warning mark on my palm as well. Perhaps the unseen guardian knew that Shenat power was not strong enough on its own, and recognised that in Chenderawasi
sakti
there was something that might help.”

“Communication between unseen guardians would explain
how
all the shrines disappeared at the same time,” Sorrel said. “But it doesn’t really tell us
why
the Pontifect ordered them hidden in the first place. I mean, there’s no point, unless there’s a plan. They may be safe now, but who would want to stay locked away from the world? We were given witcheries in order to help others, not to keep them to ourselves.”

“People still have other connections to Va-faith. They have chapels to turn to,” Saker pointed out, “and the chapel clerics who run them. Many of them are not enamoured of Valerian Fox. Or they weren’t when we left.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” she asked. “What is our faith without Shenat shrines?”

He sighed. “I know, I know. In fact, I can tell you exactly what our faith is without them. A faith without its heart. Worse, a faith without any power that can stand up to sorcery, which is why Fox has been working towards that outcome from the beginning. When Fritillary Reedling made the decision to lock all the shrines away, she gave Fox exactly what he wanted.”