Death Weavers (27 page)

“I've seen evidence of that,” Cole said.

Harvan studied Cole, then glanced at Durny. “Please keep the end of my life a secret. Very few know the full story.”

“Others might tell it and triple the heroics,” Winston said.

Harvan glared at the man on the stool.

“Sorry,” Winston said. “I know the rule. No joking about your death.”

“It's a horrible story,” Cole said.

Harvan grinned. “The price of fame. Gripping stories and a painful life go hand in hand. Enough about me.”

“Is it ever enough?” Winston asked.

“Enough for now,” Harvan said.

“I need to get to Deepwell,” Cole said. “You can give me directions?”

“Directions aren't much use in the echolands,” Harvan said. “Especially if you're untrained in the music. You're new here. Fresh and bright. Can you even hear the call of the Other?”

“Not really,” Cole admitted.

“How about the Source?” Harvan checked.

“I don't think so.”

“He heard the song of glory,” Winston noted.

“Which makes him cool,” Harvan said. “We get very few bright echoes here. But it doesn't mean he can navigate the endless garden.”

“Heading off in the right direction would be a start,” Cole said.

“But not much of one,” Harvan said. “You'd be roaming in circles before you knew it. I mean no insult. The best of us have done it.”

“Meaning Harvan has done it,” Winston interjected.

“You've circled too,” Harvan shot back. “And countless otherwise brave and enterprising echoes. The misdirection creeps up on you. Look! More grass! Hey, big surprise, trees and flowers! You can pass the same location many times without realizing it. Time and practice are required to learn to keep your bearings.”

Cole felt daunted by how hopeless Harvan was making it sound. “I don't have time to waste. At least if I start in the right direction from here, I can keep asking as I go.”

Harvan steepled his fingers, rings glittering. “Why do you wish to find Destiny Pemberton?”

“To help her get her power back,” Cole said. “I promised her sister I'd do it. The princesses are the key to the revolution.”

“Durny informed me that Honor and Miracle are in danger too,” Harvan said.

“They're both here in the echolands,” Cole said. “Mira was captured for sure. Maybe Honor as well. Mira is probably at the Fallen Temple, or else on her way. And Nazeem thinks he'll be free soon.”

Harvan rubbed his beard. “Could Nazeem's physical body still be awaiting him at the Fallen Temple in mortal Necronum? It would be an unprecedented longsleep, but this guy apparently knows how to bend the rules.”

“Speculation,” Winston said.

“Durny mentioned that Sando was the echo who apprehended Mira,” Harvan said.

“That's right,” Cole answered, the familiar nausea of guilt filling his gut.

“He's a wily one,” Harvan said. “Been around a long time. He's never shown any true loyalty. But he likes catering to the biggest fish. Right now that seems to be Nazeem. What do you plan to do about Mira and Honor?”

“I'll help them next,” Cole said. “One disaster at a time.”

Laughing, Harvan looked over at Winston. “He's the best, right?”

“Great kid,” Winston agreed.

“You have a sword,” Harvan mentioned, pointing at it.

“Jumping Sword,” Cole said. “From Sambria. I made it work in Elloweer. I think that somehow connected it to me.”

Eyebrows raised, Harvan looked at Winston. “Now do you get his music? That's the mysterious undercurrent.”

“Yep,” Winston said.

“No wonder Nazeem wants him,” Harvan said. “No wonder they carved up his power.”

“What?” Cole asked.

“You're aware that your power is unusual,” Harvan said.

“Yeah,” Cole said.

“It transcends normal categorization,” Harvan said. “Works in every kingdom. Challenges the established boundaries.”

“Seems that way,” Cole said.

Harvan gave a low whistle. “A sure way to attract the attention of shapecrafters. Nazeem is a lethal enemy.”

“Letting him win won't make him less dangerous,” Cole said.

Harvan laughed and slapped his thigh, glancing at Winston again. The man on the stool gave a nod.

“Look, Cole,” Harvan said. “You know I still care deeply about events in the Outskirts. I'm partly responsible for what went wrong. I believe in the mission of the Unseen. I detest Stafford Pemberton and what he represents. You can imagine how I feel about Owandell, Nazeem, and the shapecrafters. The Pemberton daughters are probably the most valuable assets in this war. I don't want to send you off with directions. I want to come with you. Winston too. So much depends on this mission. We'll guide you and help you succeed.”

It was more than Cole had dared to hope. Wandering the echolands was confusing and intimidating. And being alone with so much responsibility felt terrible. He gave a relieved laugh. “Seriously?”

“You have your sword,” Harvan said, standing up. “I have my walking stick.” He picked up a sturdy carved staff from where it leaned against the back of his chair. “It's been with me through many of my journeys, both here and during mortality.”

Cole looked to Durny.

“You should absolutely use his help,” Durny said. “I had hoped he might offer. Harvan can navigate the echolands better than anyone I know.”

“Do you want to come too?” Cole asked.

“I would,” Durny said. “But I'm also concerned about Mira. What if I start working on that problem?”

“Could be a big one,” Cole said.

“All the more reason to get started,” Durny said.

“Cole still hasn't officially accepted our offer,” Winston pointed out.

“How about a one-day trial?” Harvan suggested.

Cole grinned. “The day never ends here.”

Harvan grinned back. “Then it'll be a thorough practice run.”

“I'd be glad to have your help,” Cole said. “I honestly don't know if I'd make it alone. I got chased not long before coming here. A bunch of people were converging on me.”

“Your message didn't conceal you?” Winston asked.

“I went through a little town to get directions,” Cole said. “The message made some lady curious. She followed me out of town, figured out who I was, and then called in reinforcements.”

“How many?” Harvan asked.

“About eleven,” Cole said. “Maybe more.”

“How'd you give them the slip?” Harvan pursued.

“No skill of mine,” Cole said. “They had me pinned up against a channel. A big horse showed up and started trampling them. I rode away on it.”

“A horse?” Durny asked.

“We've been hearing tales of a mystery mare,” Harvan said. “No bridle or saddle. No rider. Shows up unannounced and leaves just as quickly.”

“That fits,” Cole said.

“You rode her?” Winston asked.

“I didn't catch her or anything,” Cole clarified. “I'm no cowboy. The horse came up to me and let me climb on. Then it dropped me off not far from here.”

“You're an interesting kid,” Harvan said.

“That's high praise,” Winston said. “He bores easily. Of course, when Harvan gets interested, violence usually follows.”

“A desperate mission,” Harvan said. “The fate of the world in the balance. A hurricane of enemies swirling around us. It's almost enough to make a guy feel alive again.”

19

C
ole sat alone at a table, thumbing through an art book. The painted birds inside helped distract him from his racing thoughts.

After it had been settled that Harvan and Winston would join him, they wanted to make ready to depart. Harvan explained that he had some people in mind who might join them on their mission, and Cole waited while he went to find them. Durny left as well, hoping to locate a guide who could escort him to the Fallen Temple.

Durny returned first and sat down by Cole.

“Any luck?” Cole asked.

“Not yet,” Durny said. “Not many people leave the Hall of Glory except to ride the slipstream. And even fewer want to head toward the Fallen Temple.”

“What will you do?”

“I'll strike off on my own if necessary,” Durny said. “There are still more people I can approach, but I didn't want to miss your departure.”

“We're alone,” Cole said quietly. “You're sure about Harvan?”

Durny smiled. “He likes to talk and can come across as too proud and intense. I didn't take him seriously at first. Some people never do. But he's the most reliable echo I've met. You're in good hands.”

“Do you know the people he wants to join us?” Cole wondered.

“I'm not sure,” Durny said. “Trust his instincts. He's your best chance.”

Before too long Harvan returned with a pair of men. One had flat features. Long black hair hung past his shoulders, with part of it rolled up at the base of his neck. He wore a loose brown robe and moccasins. The other had more conventional clothes, short hair, an average build, and a friendly bearing.

“Let me introduce a pair of echoes who didn't live in the Outskirts during mortality,” Harvan said. “This is Drake, son of Hessit, of the Amar Kabal.” The man with the long hair placed two fingers on his chest and gave a small bow. “And Ferrin, son of Baldor, a displacer.” The other man nodded.

“I'm Cole Randolph,” Cole said. “Son of Bryant and Elizabeth.”

“Drake and Ferrin never lived in the Outskirts,” Harvan said. “They never wandered the echolands except to come here. Neither man can have been corrupted by our enemies. Get to know them. If you're in agreement, they're ready to join us. Durny, would you come with me for a moment? There is somebody I want you to meet.”

“Excuse me,” Durny said, exiting with Harvan.

Cole found himself alone with the two men. “Where are you from?” he asked.

“We lived in a land called Lyrian,” Ferrin said. “We both died of the same disease. Drake caught it early, seemed cured, then suffered a fatal relapse. I came down with it late in life, and it wasted little time in destroying me.”

“What disease?” Cole asked.

“Heroism,” Ferrin said.

Cole chuckled. “I guess a lot of the people here caught it.”

“There are worse ways to go,” Drake said. “We're all headed for the same end. I've died many times. There is a certain wholeness and comfort that comes from dying for what you truly feel is right.”

“Died many times?” Cole asked.

Drake rubbed the back of his neck. “I'm a seedman. My people are the Amar Kabal. When we die, a seed detaches from the back of our necks. If planted, we regrow and are reborn, along with all of our memories. The last time I regrew, my seed was deformed. And so I finally get to see the afterlife.”

“Does your echo have a seed?” Cole wondered.

“No,” Drake said. “Just a little lump where the amar should be. I'm not destined to spend multiple lifetimes here.”

Ferrin removed one of his hands, tossed it into the air, and caught it on his wrist. The hand fused back to his arm without leaving a mark. “I'm a displacer. My kind can pull ourselves apart and then put ourselves back together. My echo works the same way.”

“That's bizarre,” Cole said.

Ferrin removed his head and held it while speaking. “I knew two kids from Earth who felt the same way. If you can get used to this, we should be fine.”

Cole stared with a mix of curiosity and horror. “I can live with it. How'd you meet kids from Earth?”

“How did you come to the Outskirts?” Ferrin replied. “There are ways between the worlds. Not many from Earth make it to Lyrian, but the two I met were outstanding people. I understand you're not truly dead. A bright echo, they call it.”