The Ninth Talisman (37 page)

Bow took one last look up at the cliff and said, “We're wasting a great opportunity here—I may never have a shot like that again.” Then he shrugged and followed Sword. “But I trust Boss.”

Sword nodded. He, too, trusted the new Leader, far more than he had ever trusted Farash inith Kerra. Farash had
looked
the part—a tall, handsome, powerful man in the prime of life—where little Boss did not, but all the same, Boss fit her role better than Farash ever had. She was short and not particularly attractive, to the point where Sword sometimes wondered how she could bear to live in the same house as Beauty without going mad with envy, but no one ever doubted who was in charge among the Chosen. Her wits were faster, her tongue sharper, than any of the others. She spoke with authority, made decisions swiftly and for sound reasons.

When Farash had been the Leader, Sword had sometimes wondered why the Chosen did not seem to work particularly well together; he had been uncomfortably aware that they did not often act as a team. Under Boss, though, they
were
a team, always.

Farash, of course, had been deliberately subverting his role in order to forward his own schemes for dominion. He had probably been actively
preventing
real teamwork. Boss had thrown herself into her role, determined to prove herself. . . .

Well, either that or she was much,
much
better at hiding her true intentions than Farash had been. Sword tried not to think about that possibility as he ambled toward the plaza.

And even when he did consider it, he couldn't begin to believe it. Like Bow, he
trusted
Boss.

When the Wizard Lord and his entourage made their grand entrance through the gate and marched on around to enter the Winter Palace, they found Boss and Lore and Azir waiting for them at the big front door. Sword and Bow and the others were absent, by design, so that the Chosen's delegation would appear unthreatening.

In fact, Sword was waiting quietly in the plaza outside, milling about in the normal crowds, dressed as one of the Host People. His sword was strapped to his back, out of sight, but if there were a disturbance he could have it out in seconds.

Likewise, Bow was somewhere nearby—Sword was not sure exactly where, though. They had split up, to make themselves less likely to be spotted. Part of the Archer's magic was the ability to go unnoticed, to simply not draw attention, and while the other Chosen were largely immune to this it meant that Sword could not hope to locate his compatriot by seeing where other people were looking. Searching the rooftops or scanning the crowd might have let him find Bow, but it would mean taking his attention off the Wizard Lord, his entourage, Boss, Lore, and Azir.

Snatcher was supposed to be somewhere nearby, as well, but Sword knew better than to think he could see Snatcher if Snatcher did not want to be seen. The Thief was a master of disguise, stealth, and misdirection.

Beauty and Babble had stayed behind, at the house. Boss had thought she had quite enough in reserve with the Thief, the Archer, and the Swordsman standing by.

Not that Sword could actually see or hear much from his post; the crowds and guards at the entrances kept him from getting close. He had no idea what Boss might be saying to the Wizard Lord; he could only hope that he would hear any shouting or screams that would indicate the meeting had gone badly.

He did see Boss and Lore and Azir accompany the Wizard Lord into the palace; he stood and waited.

After several minutes a secondary door opened, and Boss, Lore, and Azir reappeared, apparently uninjured and unhindered. Sword did not rush to their side, but instead followed at a moderate distance as they turned north and headed back toward Beauty's house.

He noticed that perhaps half a dozen others emerged from the palace a moment behind Boss and Lore, all in the attire of Host People. One of these men stopped to talk to one of the guards, and the others scattered in various directions.

One headed north, and Sword found himself walking almost side by side with this man, close enough that he wondered whether he ought to make some casual remark. But then the other man seemed to notice him, and veered away, crossing the street; he paused at a shopwindow.

Sword shrugged and continued on.

A few minutes later the Chosen were gathered in the front room of Beauty's home once again, eager to hear what Boss and Lore had to report.

“He'll talk to us in three days,” she said. “He wants time to settle back in down here, and catch up on more urgent business.”

“You agreed to that?” Bow asked.

“I would like to end this peacefully,” Boss said. “The more reasonable we are, the less likely we'll have to kill anyone.”

Bow snorted. “I'd rather get it over with,” he said.

“Noted,” Boss replied dryly.

Sword hesitated, then said, “I'm not sure I trust him.”

“Of course we can't trust him,” Boss said. “He's the Wizard Lord, we're the Chosen—it's our
job
not to trust him!”

“Someone followed you at least part of the way here,” Sword said. “Stocky fellow in Host People clothing. He came out of the Winter Palace just after you did.”

Boss turned to look Sword in the eye. “You're
sure
he was following us?”

“No,” Sword answered. “But I think so. And he may have recognized me, as well.”

“Did he see us enter this house?”

“I don't think so; he turned aside a hundred yards back, when he noticed me.”

“The fellow looking in the shopwindow?” Bow asked. “I saw him.”

“Did he see
you?”
Boss asked.

“Of
course
not!” Bow exclaimed angrily.

“He saw
me,”
Sword said. “That might be enough, if he was following you.”

“I suppose so. Interesting.”

“What does it matter?” the Seer asked. “After all, the Wizard Lord always knows where we are, just as I do. Even if we were all covered in
ara
feathers, when we're all together like this, he knows where we are. One or two of us could be concealed by the feathers, but not
all
of us.”

“Another interesting point,” Boss replied. “Perhaps he was trying to learn something other than our location, then.” She pointed at the vase on the shelf by the mantel. “I think we might want to start carrying those at all times, not just when we're outside Winterhome. Beauty, could you divide them evenly, please? And Babble, there are a few matters I'd like to discuss.”

Sword turned to see Beauty already pulling the
ara
feathers from the vase, and hurried to help.

He spent much of the next two days sewing
ara
feathers into the linings of his clothes; he and Beauty also ventured to the shops and markets to acquire more.

The feathers were, Sword discovered, far less expensive than they had been a few years earlier; after an initial surge, the new roads had reduced the demand, as the
ler
of the roads settled down and travelers realized they didn't need feathers. Furthermore, the increased traffic between Barokan and the Uplands that the Summer Palace had created had enlarged the supply. Beauty and Sword were able to provide each of the eight Chosen with forty or so of the big white plumes, and one merchant threw in a box of pinfeathers, down, and fragments.

“Do those block
ler
as well as the plumes?” Sword asked, as he twirled a pink crest feather in his fingers.

The merchant shrugged. “Who knows?” he said. “I know they don't look as good on a woman's hat, but what would I know about magic?”

“Come on,” Beauty said, pulling Sword away, the box in his hand.

On the third day Boss explained a part of her plans to the group.

“I don't know what the Wizard Lord has planned,” she said, “so we
need to be ready for almost anything. He's had time to prepare, he refused to talk to us immediately upon his return, and while that might be entirely innocent and I hope it isn't significant, it might mean he's arranged a trap of some sort. Lore and I will go to the audience, as arranged. The rest of you will be somewhat scattered, so that you can't all be captured at once if this Wizard Lord has come up with the same notion as the Dark Lord of the Galbek Hills and decided to take us all prisoner.”

“What worries
me,”
Lore said, “is that
this
Wizard Lord claims to be willing to relinquish all his magic—and he even did so, temporarily, by relocating to the Summer Palace. That means he might be willing to not just imprison us, but
kill
us.”

“That's true,” Boss said. “Though remember, he can't kill us directly with magic—we don't need to worry about being struck down by lightning. He can't make
ler
harm us. He can, however, make
physical
creatures—dogs, birds, rats, deer, anything—attack us. If things go badly, you'll want to be aware of that. Babble has been working hard for the past three days, arguing with certain
ler,
and she thinks she's arranged for various small animals to carry messages for us. I'll go over that with some of you. If something
does
go wrong, the rats and birds and the like will bring you news quickly, you'll all know what's happened, and you can take whatever action you think appropriate.”

Sword looked at Babble, impressed. Her ability to hear and talk to any
ler
had been useful on occasion in the campaign against the Dark Lord of the Galbek Hills, but only in a limited way. He had had no idea she was capable of anything of this sort.

Of course, that assumed she actually was, which remained to be seen.

It occurred to him that no one had discussed any of these messenger animals with
him.
“Now, I'd like to have a few words in private with some of you. Snatcher, would you accompany me?” She beckoned, and the Thief—who Sword had almost forgotten was there; his ability to go unnoticed was remarkable—followed her up the stairs.

A few minutes later Boss called Sword up.

“You,” she said, “are our second line of defense. You'll stay near the palace and listen; Snatcher is going to try to arrange for you to be
somewhere you can hear our audience with the Wizard Lord, and if that isn't possible then you're to stay close by and listen to whatever word the guards pass. Use your own judgment as to when and whether to intervene. If this goes badly, you have two choices—fight or flee—and I'm trusting you to decide which it will be. If you choose to fight, then do it; don't hesitate. If it comes to that, your goal is to kill the Wizard Lord,
not
to rescue me or Lore or any of the others,
not
to protect innocent bystanders—kill him and we win, no matter who else dies in the process. If you don't see any chance of killing him, then flee, and I really mean
flee;
don't stay nearby, don't come back to this house, don't try to regroup with the others. Get away, and wait your chance. If any regrouping is to be done, we'll reach you somehow—Babble's animals, maybe. We aren't providing you with your own animal because you don't need the distraction, and you're the one word will go
to
if we need action to be taken, not who the word will come
from,
but if you find a rat or a squirrel or a bird talking to you, listen, and hope the Wizard Lord hasn't been clever enough to imitate one of us. You've got your
ara
feathers, so the Wizard Lord won't be able to find you, but of course that probably means Azir can't find you, either, and Babble may or may not be able to. If we had more time I'd work out a system to deal with that; I should have done it sooner, but I didn't, and now it's too late, so don't worry about it. If it looks like you need to run, then you get clear, get away, and we'll find you somehow.”

“I understand.”

“You and the Archer are our offense, our killers,” she said. “You're going to be the ones he's most likely to kill outright, if he can. He'll try to take me alive because I'm linked to the Talisman of Command, and that's the part of his magic he's relied on the most in setting up all these new systems of his. You, though, you're linked to the Talisman of Strength, and with all his soldiers he doesn't need that. You're expendable, as far as he's concerned, but for
us,
you're the most valuable part of the team. We need you to survive.”

“You're talking as though today's audience
must
be a trap,” Sword protested. “He might be sincere.”

“It
may
be a trap,” Boss replied. “We don't know. We know he can be treacherous by what he did to those wizards, though, and because he
lied to you about abdicating. He may be reasonable, but we need to be prepared if he isn't, and either way, we need you and Bow alive and still a threat. So don't die.”

“I wasn't planning to,” Sword said.

“Good. Then follow Snatcher's advice on where to listen, stay nearby, be ready to help if I need it and you can, and be ready to flee if that's what's necessary.”

“I understand.”

“Good. Then go back downstairs and send Bow up here.”

Sword obeyed.

An hour later Boss finally felt ready for her audience, and the scheduled time was drawing near. She pulled up her hood, tugged her scarf up to cover her face, and led Lore out the door.

A moment later Sword, Beauty, Bow, and Snatcher followed, though they scattered immediately.

Sword saw that Boss had not headed directly to the Winter Palace; instead she was talking to someone, a stranger in Host People attire, while Lore stood uncomfortably by. Then she broke off her conversation and headed south, with Lore at her side, leaving the stranger in the street.

Sword followed at a discreet distance. Bow headed up a side street, and Beauty hurried on past the Leader and Scholar.