Freeglader (32 page)

Your son
. Cancaresse's heart ached.
Your poor, dear son …
Artillus, rosy-cheeked, ginger-haired. Your pride and joy. You told him not to wander off in the sewers; you told him it wasn't safe, but he didn't listen … So young, so impetuous
…

The waif shuddered.

You only found out the true horror later … A sky patrol high over old Undertown saw it and reported back … Captured by Guardians, dragged into the Tower of Night and … and
…

The pain was almost too much to bear. Cancaresse trembled.

Your son, and another young prisoner, lowered in a cage from the tower, into the ravine below … A ravine full of hideous creatures – rock demons … They didn't stand a chance. She shook her head. Sacrificed by the High Guardian of Night and his young deputy – interrogator of all prisoners brought to the Tower of Night … Xanth. Xanth Filatine
…

Cancaresse moved away, leaving the stricken under-librarian to the thoughts that time might soften, though never heal.

Ahead of her on the gravel path, she saw an elderly academic dressed in simple, homespun robes, staring into space. His eyes were green and kindly, yet behind them the waif detected years of pain and torment, with every line on his wrinkled face telling its own tragic story. Despite all this, Cancaresse could sense that the Most High Academe, Cowlquape Pentephraxis, was not a bitter man – indeed his thoughts about the youth were kind and warm. And yet, behind them, deeper down…

The waif took his hands in her own, and squeezed them lightly. Cowlquape's thoughts echoed inside her head.

So
, she said,
you consider him a friend?

A smile passed over the High Academe's thin lips. Cancaresse smiled in turn.

Yes, a friend. So many, many hours talking together of the Deepwoods … Its mysteries and wonders … Of your adventures there with the great Captain Twig … Oh, how Xanth loved to hear you speak of them!

The waif frowned.

But what is this? In what dark, fetid place do you two friends sit talking?

An involuntary shudder ran down the length of her spine.

A prison! A terrible prison, deep in the bowels of the Tower of Night … How you suffered … The stench, the filthy rags, the lice and ticks … Year after year, on a jutting ledge in the darkness … And … The key in the lock … The heavy door opening … Your jailer entering
…

Xanth. Xanth Filatine!

As the waif pulled away from Cowlquape, he had already immersed himself once more in the colour and grandeur of the Deepwoods – the place which, throughout his long years of incarceration, he had returned to in his thoughts time and time again. There was a smile on his lips and a dreamy look on his face. The Most High Academe was truly happy.

But what of the youth? Cancaresse sighed.

Xanth Filatine had clearly done much to be ashamed
of. He had been a spy, a traitor, a torturer, a jailer … He had caused great suffering and pain, strong emotions that flowed through the thoughts in the garden.

The waif paused in her tracks, and looked round. There, to her right, was the youth in the muglumpskin jacket whom she'd noticed earlier. He looked more fidgety than ever now, pacing up and down beside the wicker arbour.

Ah, the bold young Ghost of Screetown
, Cancaresse thought.
Let me see now what he has to say
.

She stole up beside him and took him by the hand. The frenetic pacing slowed. The youth turned and looked deep into her eyes, and as he did so, Cancaresse felt a hot rush of anger boiling up in his thoughts.

Your best friend, Rook, betrayed by this Xanth creature! … Once a Guardian, always a Guardian
…

It was so hot and fiery inside the ghost's head that Cancaresse felt almost as though she were passing her fingers over a flame…

He lured him off into the Edgeland mists – he was almost killed thanks to him. Then he steals Rook's sword … The sword you gave him! Typical of a Guardian, and no more than you'd expect of Xanth Filatine!

Cancaresse dropped the hot-blooded ghost's hand and sighed. It seemed that Xanth Filatine really was no good. All around her she was aware of the thoughts of the Freegladers.

Worthless traitor!

You can see the evil in his eyes.

The Free Glades are better off without his sort!

She brushed them away, as if swatting troublesome woodmidges, and walked on. When she reached the waterfalls of memory, she stopped and gazed at the cascading water. And as she did so, Tweezel's thoughts came back to her.

She had taken tea with the great spindlebug the previous evening, just as she always did before a Reckoning, in order to benefit from his wisdom.

‘I have looked into his heart,’ the old spindlebug had told her. ‘There is a lot of guilt there. Guilt that grows like a great mushroom, but only because it has the soil of goodness to grow upon. Beneath the guilt, I believe Xanth Filatine's heart is good.’

Cancaresse's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a high-pitched cry of joy, and she turned from the waterfall to see a gnokgoblin young'un come bounding past her, a delighted look on her face. She rushed towards one of the two Freeglade lancers who were standing to one side of the flowing water, and threw herself into his arms.

‘Rook! Rook!’ she squealed. ‘It
is
you!’

‘Gilda!’ cried the Freeglade lancer. ‘Gilda from the misery hole in old Undertown! I can't believe it! You made it to the Free Glades!’

The pair hugged each other delightedly. Cancaresse approached and held out her long-fingered hands.

What joy! What delight!
her voice sounded in both their
heads at the same time.
Come, take my hands and share it.

The Freeglade lancer and the gnokgoblin each took Cancaresse's hand, and the three of them walked together.

Two friends reunited! A joyful reunion
…

She looked down at the little gnokgoblin, who smiled up at her.
You have suffered, little one … First the misery hole … And then the long journey to the Free Glades. But you carried something with you … A sword … A sword that belongs to Rook, the librarian knight who risked his own life to save yours in old Undertown! You kept it safe on your journey, and then … Oh, little one! You didn't want to disturb him!You left it outside the banderbear nest in the Deepwoods
…

Cancaresse felt Rook's hand tighten around her own. She looked up into his eyes.

Yes, Rook!
Her voice was light and joyful in his head.
Xanth didn't steal your sword. He found it! And that's not all
… Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at him.
Your thoughts are hidden deep … Confused and blasted by the sepia storm … But I can bring them back within your grasp … Yes … There it is
…

The Edgelands … You, in a sepia storm, being swept across the rocky pavement towards the Edge itself … A hand reaching out, grasping yours and pulling you back to safety
…

Xanth's hand, Rook. Xanth Filatine!

Rook frowned. ‘Yes,’ he whispered softly. ‘I remember.’

And there is more
, the waif continued.
At great risk to himself, he picked you up, cradled you in his arms, and carried you back across the Edgelands and through the Deepwoods. He did not rest until he had delivered you safely to the banderbears
.

‘Yes, yes,’ said Rook. He remembered it all now; every terrible step of the long journey. ‘He rescued me,’ he murmured. ‘Xanth Filatine. He saved my life.’

Cancaresse smiled and let go of his hand.
He has been a faithful friend to you. Now enjoy this happy reunion
.

She smiled as Rook took Gilda's hand, and the two of them strolled across the scented lawn. Behind her, she was aware of another voice – hard, callous, and yet with a tender edge to it. She turned and gazed into the eyes of the second Freeglade lancer, a short, stocky slaughterer with spiky flame-coloured hair.

So you were at Lufwood Mount?
she asked.

The slaughterer nodded, and she sensed the pain and loss of brave comrades.

You saw the slaying of the roost-mother … A shaven-headed youth with a fancy sword … Bravest thing you ever saw … Turned the tide of battle … A hero … Xanth Filatine!

Cancaresse left the Freeglade lancer gazing at the waterfall and wandered off through the garden once more. The sun had climbed to its highest point in the sky and was beating down warmly, shrinking the shadows in the gardens. The time had come, the waif realized, to hear from Xanth Filatine himself. She crossed the lawn, drew back the gladewillow curtain and beckoned to the youth to join her.

Xanth emerged from the shadows and stumbled out into the brilliant sunshine, his shoulders hunched and his eyes screwed up against the light. As he drew close, Cancaresse sensed his unhappiness and uncertainty, and the power of his conflicting emotions. There was guilt, remorse, hurt and unhappiness. He was alone – shunned and despised.

She placed her hand on his shoulder. He turned, and looked at her with his dark, haunted eyes. And as their gaze met, everything changed. It was as though a dam had been breached, and she was suddenly drenched in a torrent of thoughts that poured out over her.

I served a terrible master for years, loyally carrying out his evil plans. It was wrong, it was wrong; I know it was wrong – but I was so young
…

But no! This is no excuse. This cannot take away the horror of what I did.

Cancaresse nodded.

I betrayed them. I betrayed so many. My hands are stained with blood that I can never, ever wash away.

Cowlquape gave me hope of escape with his stories of the Deepwoods, and yet the only way to get there was as a spy for the Guardians of Night! How many valiant apprentice librarians must have died because of my treachery! And then I was unmasked and fled, like the coward I was, back to the Tower of Night!

Oh, if only I could have stayed in the Free Glades, where, for
the first time in my life, I had encountered enduring friendship – Rook, Magda, Tweezel … But it was impossible … I let them all down. Each and every one of them. How can I ever undo the wrong I have done?