Death Weavers (35 page)

R
elieved that Harvan and Winston had made it, Cole stepped forward, ready to defend them with the Jumping Sword, but the dead echoes acted like an invisible wall shielded the lawn. They pressed up right to where the grass began, but not a step farther.

“That was close,” Harvan said, leaning on his walking stick. “Let's get away from the edge. No reason to tempt fate.”

The crowd of echoes milled about, yelling and complaining.

“Come back!”

“Don't go there!”

“We need to talk!”

“You're a very special boy!”

“It's been so, so long!”

Cole hurried after Harvan, passing between fir trees, happy when the disgruntled echoes were screened from view. Before long they could no longer be heard, either.

“Thanks, guys,” Cole said wholeheartedly. “I was a goner.”

“I need a sword,” Winston murmured. “At least a stick.”

“Happy to help,” Harvan said. “You did great, Cole. It's hard to believe you're so young. You have the composure of a real professional.”

The compliment helped dispel some of the embarrassment Cole felt for getting tripped. “Are we safe now?” he asked.

“Until it comes time to leave,” Harvan said.

“I can't wait,” Winston grumbled.

“Let's hope our visit with Prescia will justify the trouble,” Harvan said. “It isn't far now.”

By unspoken agreement, they walked. Cole basked in the gentler music, gratefully inhaling pine resin. Though he wasn't physically tired, it was a luxury not to be running. Nobody was chasing him.

“This place is big,” Cole said after they had walked for a few more minutes.

“Not tiny,” Harvan said. “Not enormous. We're almost there.”

Between a pair of tall fir trees, a low cottage came into view, the walls composed of long, pale slabs of stone. As they drew near, the front door opened and a tall woman stormed out, slender with angular features. “Traitor!” she cried vehemently. “How dare you!”

“There's a good explanation,” Harvan replied.

“You promised!” she accused. “Can nobody be trusted? You swore!”

“Not a bound oath,” Harvan said.

“I tried!” she yelled, no longer drawing closer. Hands on her hips, she waited for Harvan to approach. “You wouldn't let me!”

“I don't like entanglements,” Harvan said. “Trust me. This is a good thing. Once you hear me out, you'll be glad I brought them.”

“Hear you out? How about see you out! Be gone!”

Harvan walked up to her. Cole and Winston hung back. “Prescia,” he said calmly. “You're more beautiful than ever.”

“Sweet talk?” she cried. “Don't even try, Harvan. When has flattery been anything but camouflage for a trap?”

“When it's sincere,” Harvan said, taking her hand swiftly and giving it a slow kiss, his eyes on hers.

“I have gone to extreme lengths to protect this hideout,” Prescia said with a little less agitation. “How could you?”

“This is Winston Proust, my longtime associate and most trusted companion. The boy is . . . well, examine the boy and you'll understand why we're here.”

Prescia narrowed her eyes at Harvan, then turned her gaze to Cole. “Come forward, lad. What is your name?”

“Cole Randolph.”

“Give me your hand.”

Cole extended one arm. Her veiny hands had long fingers with short nails. Up close, she smelled like spices with a hint of smoke. The skin of her face looked stretched and shiny.

“You're alive,” Cole said.

“A bright echo, yes,” she replied. “I'm not a former Grand Shaper yet. I'd like to keep it that way.”

She traced his palm with her fingers, turned his hand over, then turned it back. Crouching, she gazed into his eyes. Hers were long, the outside corners tilting slightly up. He studied the rings and flecks of color in her amber irises.

“You've met a version of Dandalus,” Prescia said, surprised.

“The guy in the Founding Stone,” Cole said.

“How is that possible?” she asked.

“Owandell was using the Founding Stone to communicate with Nazeem,” Cole said. “I snuck into their secret meeting, but they found me. When I touched the Founding Stone, Dandalus helped me escape.”

Prescia ran a fingertip from Cole's palm to his wrist. Suddenly, she gripped his hand tightly, and her head turned to Harvan. “He's had contact with the Mare! Why didn't you tell me?”

“Showmanship,” Harvan said simply, giving a toothy smile. “Are you less angry?”

“Possibly,” Prescia said, her eyes returning to Cole. “How did you encounter the Mare?”

“She saved me,” Cole said. “Twice. Once in the normal world, once here. At least I think it was the same horse. Both times she drove away bad guys who were trying to capture me. In the normal world, she looked a little fierier, but that was at night. Here she let me ride her.”

Prescia gasped. “She did? Yes, she did. Interesting. What do you know of the Mare?”

“I thought it was weird she could be in the afterlife and the normal world,” Cole said. “Could one be her echo? Also, the colors of her coat kind of flow like smoke.”

“You have no notion how she came to be?” Prescia inquired.

“Not really,” Cole said. “But she's my favorite horse ever.”

“Why are you here in the echolands?” Prescia asked.

“I'm looking for Destiny,” Cole said.

“Destiny tends to find us all,” Prescia said.

“Your niece Destiny,” Cole clarified.

Prescia looked at Harvan, who appeared smug. “Yes, I see,” she said. She released Cole. “Winston, your hand.”

Winston complied. She examined it front and back. “You can weave here.”

“I have some talent for it,” Winston said.

She stared into his eyes. “Will you divulge my whereabouts to anyone?”

“Not under torture,” Winston said. “Not if imprisoned for a thousand years.”

She threw his hand down. “He means it. But how can one ever be sure? People mean what they say until they have reasons to change their minds. Everyone disappoints. Everyone fails you.”

“Not us,” Harvan said.

Prescia swiveled toward her doorway. “Is that so? Come on, you dashing ignoramus. Let's move this discussion indoors.”

Cole followed her into the cottage. A bedroom was visible through an open door. The tidy living room had a bench and a wooden rocking chair. Prescia gestured at the bench and claimed the rocker. Cole sat down beside Harvan and Winston.

“You are damaged, Cole,” Prescia said.

“My power was attacked by Morgassa when we defeated her,” Cole said. “Can you fix it?”

“No, my boy, the damage exceeds anything I could remedy,” Prescia said. “You're from Outside. You wish to return home.”

“Yeah,” Cole said. “How'd you know?”

“It's what she does,” Harvan said.

“Not that anyone bothers to listen,” Prescia said. “Want to know the quickest way to deafen people? Tell them the truth.”

“Do you know where we can find Destiny?” Cole asked.

“What about finding your way home?” Prescia countered.

“Time for that later,” Cole said. “One crisis at a time.”

“After you find Destiny?” Prescia asked.

“No, then I have to find Honor and Mira and help them defeat Stafford and Nazeem.” He didn't even mention the part about saving Jace and Joe from whatever they were currently facing. It was embarrassing to admit how much trouble his mistake with Sando had caused, and how many people he needed to save in order to make up for it.

“Tell me about Honor and Mira,” Prescia said.

Cole explained how Honor and Mira had ended up in the echolands. He told about Durny looking for Mira. And he shared how Desmond, Ferrin, and Drake had gone in search of Honor.

“There is much work ahead of you,” Prescia said. “You are not new to aiding the princesses.”

“I've been working with Mira,” Cole said. “We got her power back. Honor's and Constance's too. Now we just need to help Destiny and Elegance.”

“You've met Harmony,” Prescia said.

“Yeah,” Cole said. “She's who told me Honor and Destiny were in trouble.”

“I tried to admonish my younger sister about Stafford,” Prescia said. “I didn't know the particulars, but I felt this coming. I knew her children and the kingdom would suffer. Of course she didn't believe me. Any true prophet knows the experience—we sense the future, we offer accurate warnings and guidance, and none will heed us. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better not to know. It would certainly cause me less anguish. In Harmony's defense, Stafford was a different man when she wed him.”

“Is Destiny here, by chance?” Harvan asked.

“Wouldn't that be nice?” Prescia said. “You'd be the last man I would tell, even with a bound oath, you scoundrel.”

“Didn't I have a good reason to bring them here?” Harvan asked.

“Defendable reason or not, you broke my trust,” Prescia said. “Cole, you wish to find Destiny?”

“Yes,” Cole said. “I promised Mira.”

“Destiny is not here,” Prescia said.

“Do you know where I can find her?” Cole asked.

“I am the most gifted living weaver in Necronum,” Prescia said. “Destiny is my blood relative. And I have no idea. Neither, thankfully, does Nazeem, Stafford, or any of the others hunting her. Part of me wonders if they understand who they are chasing.”

“What do you mean?” Cole asked.

“I do not pretend to love my sister,” Prescia said. “I did however feel some affection for my nieces. Until Destiny. That child frightens me.”

“Why?” Cole asked.

“She is by far the most powerful of Harmony's daughters. And her gift is the rarest. Some weavers have a knack for cajoling knowledge from echoes. Some weavers have a higher power—the ability to simply know things about the past, present, and future. But Destiny leaves us all behind. The best of us only see bits and pieces. I know of none who see like Destiny. She is less a girl with power, and more like power in the form of a young girl.”

“Didn't she lose her power?” Cole asked.

Prescia laughed bitterly. “Only the greatest fool would attempt to steal so prodigious an ability. Enter Stafford and Owandell. Yes, they stripped her power. But the imbeciles sought to control it. Harmony is not without her gifts, with the names of her children as the best evidence. How do you outsmart destiny itself?”

“You don't?” Cole guessed.

“Exactly,” Prescia said. “The shapecrafters tried to channel Destiny's ability into a chosen vessel, a very gifted young shapecrafter. Instead, the power entered one of their horses.”

It took a moment for the implications to sink in. “The Mare?” Cole guessed.

“Very good,” Prescia said. “You were rescued by Destiny's power. You rode Destiny's power. And this is why I suspect you are destined to find my niece.”

“Maybe I didn't betray your trust,” Harvan said excitedly. “I may just be a humble servant of destiny.”

“Nice try,” Prescia snapped. “If I were you, Harvan, I would stop reminding me you are present.”

“That's a tall order for him,” Winston murmured.

“Let's just see how he does with it,” Prescia said.

“Will the Mare help me find Destiny?” Cole asked.

“The Mare is an embodiment of Destiny's formidable power,” Prescia said. “We can all be grateful for any help we receive from the Mare, but to expect her assistance would be foolhardy. You may very well never cross paths with the Mare again.”

“Is that a prophecy?” Cole asked.

“Just common sense,” Prescia said.

“I call the horse Thunder,” Cole said.

“I call her the Mare,” Prescia replied.

Cole stared at Prescia. “You can't help me find Destiny?”

“I never said that,” Prescia said.

“She only said she doesn't know where Destiny is,” Harvan reminded everyone.

Prescia stared at him coldly. Winston nudged him. After a moment Harvan folded his hands in his lap and bowed his head.

“You can help?” Cole asked.

“Can and will,” Prescia said. “I know an opportunity when I see it.”

“An opportunity I provided,” Harvan grumbled, eyes on the floor. Winston nudged him harder.

“How can you help?” Cole asked.

“By following Harvan's example,” Prescia said.

Harvan looked up, smiling.

“Not by breaking a trust,” she stated emphatically.

Harvan dropped his head again.

“But by sending you to consult with one who knows more than I do,” Prescia said.

“Aren't you the best weaver?” Cole asked.

“In Necronum, yes,” Prescia said. “In the echolands, not even close. I recommend you visit She Who Stands at the Summit.”

“She's a myth,” Winston said, then covered his mouth with both hands.

“A myth I have conversed with,” Prescia said.

Harvan looked up, eyes bright. “You know how to find her?”

“I do,” Prescia said.

Harvan pumped a fist. “Spectacular.”

“The journey will be fraught with peril,” Prescia warned, glaring.

“Naturally,” Harvan said. Then he pantomimed locking his lips with a key. “I'll keep quiet.”

“How do we find her?” Cole asked.

“She stands atop the Farthest Mountain, deep, deep in the fringe,” Prescia said.

Harvan drummed the bench between his legs, a huge grin on his face. Winston slumped.

“Do you know how to get there?” Cole asked Harvan.

“No idea,” Harvan said cheerfully. “Always wanted to try. Figured I should wait until I was ready to move on to the Other.”

“These two can accompany you to the base of the mountain,” Prescia told Cole. “They can even go up part of the way with you. But you must scale the summit alone.”