Sartor (10 page)

“Of course Savar was right,” Merewen said
wistfully.

The girl with the braids put the horrible thought into
words, saying, “He was after something, or someone. I will venture a
guess that he made off with your friend.”

“He was after me,” Atan admitted, sick with
guilt. “I have to go after her.”
Fine queen I am
, she
thought in sorrow,
losing the very first person who offered to help me.

Even if Atan had not been anxiously searching around and
around as if hope and will could restore Lilah, she would not have recognized
in the furtive glances and nudges of the Sartoran kids the progress from
question to decision.

Merewen, watching them all, was no better at interpreting
these cues, and so, when the braid girl said, “We can talk about it at
our place,” Merewen asked, “But what if Lilah is exploring? We
don’t want her to come back and find us gone.”

“We patrol all the time,” the stocky boy said.
“We will pass the word. If anyone sees her, we’ll bring her. Dorea?”
He tipped his head toward a tall, skinny girl, who ran off, vanishing almost
immediately among the leafy greens.

Atan sighed. She knew she was not likely to find Lilah by
running around, screaming her name. And what if that man was lurking about?
“I was going to call her name—”

And several voices said, “Don’t!”

“We don’t know if there is more than one
enemy,” the braid girl said. “We would rather not all be carried
off, if there is a force of them.”

Hinder said, “Pouldi, help me up. My head’s
swimming faster than a whirlpool. We will go to the hideout, where we can plan
in safety.”

Safety? Atan cast a look at Merewen’s hopeful face and
thought bitterly, I can’t lose this one, too. “Safety, that I can
agree to. Then we will plan.”

Happy, relieved smiles all around.

The braid girl introduced herself as Nirsandeas, or Sana for
short. She walked at Atan’s left, her bow strung, and the stocky boy—Pouldi—on
the right. Atan was kept in the middle. Atan saw in the contours of their arms
in those soft, old clothes that Sana and Pouldi knew how to shoot. And they
knew the price they’d pay if they shot a Norsundrian in order to kill,
just to protect her.

That sick feeling gripped her insides. She felt strange, as
if events had wrenched free of her control, and tumbled down an increasingly
wild river.

As they walked, the redhead introduced himself as Brick—no
surprise there—then gave her a rambling account of the kids’ lives
in Shendoral, much punctuated by comments from the others. Only the fourth one,
a weedy boy with long black hair, stayed quiet, but he was walking behind, hand
on a deadly-looking dirk stuck sidewise through a worn blackweave belt, as he
looked back and forth, back and forth. Atan discovered by and bye that his name
was Mendaen.

“... and the first thing I really remember is meeting
all the others, and Savar telling me to stay with them, and I’d be safe,
but never to go outside Shendoral’s boundaries, or I’d forget
again,” Brick said.

“So you don’t know who your family is?” Atan
asked.

“Well, I don’t,” Brick said with a shy
smile. “But others do. You’ll hear Lir—some of them bla—talk
on about who is related to who, right down to their great-great-great-great
grandparents. But those are the ones with titles and so forth. And all the
cousins, too. I think Savar just found me, rather than searching.”

“How did Savar find you?”

“I don’t know. He just did.”

“One at a time?”

“The others just appeared, and he would always say, ‘Here
is a new one, children. Be very careful when you go beyond the bridge, for time
works differently all over the forest.’”

“So you don’t know how long you’ve been
here?” Atan asked.

The others exchanged glances. Some shrugged.

The tall teen boy said, “Here’s what I noticed.
Savar never remembered any of our names when he would turn up with a new one.”

They sped along old pathways through dells, gentle vales, and
over little stone bridges that were very old indeed. But every step that took
her farther away from Lilah and the danger that had been meant for her seemed
to weigh down her heart the more.

They stopped only once to drink from a stream, though
everyone was hungry. From the few comments the others made, Atan gathered that
the teenage orphans patrolled regularly through Shendoral, looking for anyone
out of place—either others like themselves, or the occasional enemies
that rode through.

“Norsunder people used to come in a lot, mostly to be
away from what happens outside,” Sana said as they resumed their walk.

“But they don’t like it here, because they can’t
kill anything,” Brick added. He chortled. “And even the woods don’t
like ’em. I heard tell of branches falling on them, and vines tripping
them, and things like that. Some of them ride round and round in a big circle. Leastways,
they always seem happy enough to get out and ride south again.”

“But they haven’t been through in ages and ages,”
Sana said. “At least, until that one yesterday.”

Atan wondered exactly what ‘ages and ages’
meant. It could be that in this forest, ‘ages’ were meaningless in
measure.

The light slanted through the tall trees in golden shafts when
at last Hinder paused, whistled a liquid series of notes. A similar whistle
echoed faintly through the trees. The kids smiled and began to run. Merewen,
who had listened without speaking, ran lightly after, and Atan pounded next to
Mendaen, hoping for rest soon.

She got her wish. Over a last bridge—the brush of
magic tingled along her nerves, and inside her head—and onto a grassy
dell that was surrounded by leafy green trees, and huge-trunked redwoods that
towered high above the others. Winter was not anywhere near this place, which
glowed the bright green of spring.

She scarcely had time to register this strangeness before
she found herself surrounded by a crowd. A few looked like they were her age,
but most were younger.

Brick said, “In
here
, it will be safe to talk.”

Hinder—still rubbing his head—stepped up onto a
boulder and said, “A descendant of the king and queen did indeed live,
and we have her now! Here is Yustnesveas Landis!”

A shout rang through the trees, breaking into swift chatter.
Atan tried to follow the conversations, and caught scraps of words. “Man
from Norsunder—another girl, got taken, we think—followed for two
days, and ran out of food—didn’t expect the patrol to last so long—knew
Savar—house missing—” and last, “When I saw Savar last,
he said that one of Them truly existed.” Brick extended a hand toward
Atan, and she discovered everyone looking at her, then back at Brick as he
said, “And if that person came, we would have to protect the person all
the way to Eidervaen and the tower.”

Merewen listened with a pensive expression.

“Eidervaen,” a dark-haired boy whispered. “I
think—I think I remember it. A little.”

“Me, too,” someone else said, again hidden in
the crowd. “Me, too.”

“But we can’t go north.” That was a new
voice—another morvende.

This one was a girl, who looked much Hinder’s age,
though she was thin as a twig and moved in a curious, drifting manner, like a
leaf in the wind. She tended to look at you from the sides of her eyes, her
expression less humorous and more intense than Hinder’s. Her eyes were
pale blue, her white hair wispy as cobwebs. “The magic still lies strong
northward, for we tested it just days ago. I almost got lost, but when I didn’t
come back, Averseas came after me.” She pointed at an older girl.

“Sin!” Hinder exclaimed.

Sin shrugged. “It wasn’t on purpose, Hin.”
But she looked down at the ground.

Hinder sighed. “What was it?”

The morvende girl lifted her face. “I saw someone. I
really did. I thought whoever it was needed a rescue—was trying to reach
us. There was no chance to go back and get a whole group together.”

Silence fell, broken only by heedless birds high in the
trees. Hinder touched the back of his head and winced. “I felt the same
way about not getting the others when I followed that fellow, and the only
reason why I’m not dead is because he didn’t want to die himself. Well,
what’s done is done. Sin, you were right. We have to be careful. But it
could be that the spell is breaking up in pockets, just like the Loi magic
makes places like this.” He waved around at the spring-time dell.

“I take it time does not change here?” Atan
asked.

Sin and Brick shook their heads.

“But it’s not like Norsunder’s spells. We
get day and night, and rain, and water, but otherwise it’s always spring.
We don’t get older here. And the Norsunder people have never found us. This
dell seems to be warded against adults,” Hinder added.

“That would explain why Savar brought us here and let
us go,” Pouldi explained, waving his hand. “But he never crossed
the bridge.”

Before Atan could ask any more questions, a whisper ran
through the crowd, sounding a little like a sough of wind in the treetops, and
children parted as someone very small made her way forward.

Atan stared down in amazement at a self-possessed child of
about six, who was dressed in an odd assortment of castoffs much too large for
her. Blonde-streaked brown hair hung down her back, and grave brown eyes looked
up at her, protuberant brown eyes with a rim of white below the iris.

“You’re my cousin, aren’t you?” this
child asked.

“I don’t know. I hope I am. I would love to have
a cousin,” Atan said. “Who are you?”

“Julian,” said the child. She stared up at her
cousin, who smiled so kindly, a real smile, like Hinder’s, only even
nicer. The sunlight shone just behind her head, striking drifting hairs with
gold, like a crown. “Cousin,” she breathed, shivering with a new,
warm feeling inside.

A new teen girl stepped forward with the air of one who had
the right of way. She had a cloud of curling light hair and a prepossessing gaze.
She was the most well-groomed of them all, though her clothes were patched and
ragged like everyone else’s. But they were neat, the patches edged with
embroidery. “I am Irzaveas Ianth of the third circle of Star Chamber and
of the duchy of Yostavos. I have watched over Julian. She is daughter to Julian-Sartora
Dei, the queen’s sister—your mother’s sister.” Irzaveas’
voice slowed to a testing tone.

Atan was not yet ready to deal with the complexities of Irza’s
tone. In her mind she repeated the words:
your mother’s sister
. So
Julian was not a Landis, even though she had the eyes. But then the Dei family,
so famous (some records said infamous) had intermarried with the Landises
several times in the past generations.

Atan squashed the impulse to ask what had happened to her
aunt. Julian might not know, and the answer would not be a happy one. So she
held out her hand. “Call me Atan, Julian. That was my mother’s
heart-name for me.”

Irzaveas lifted her chin, then brought it down. “In my
turn, I beg you will call me Irza, which is my circle-name.”

Atan had practiced her speech about circle-names and
court-names and the like so many times she felt the words shaping her lips, but
always before, she’d imagined speaking to friendly faces, each wanting to
share her idea of the circle of humanity.

There was no sign of that friendliness in Irza’s face.
The smile was there on the lips, but not in the cheeks, the eyes, the glow of
color. Irza’s chin was lifted, her head tilted.
Challenge
, Atan
thought.

And here were small, warm fingers clutching her hand. Julian
smiled up into Atan’s face. “I’m so glad you came,” she
said.

Perhaps it’s better that my speech wait
, Atan
thought. “I’m so glad to meet you,” Atan said to Julian, and
then to Irza, and the others, “All of you. But right now, I wish to
rescue Lilah,” she said firmly. She had almost said the word
‘command’ but what if they did not obey? There was no sign yet that
they would obey her. Cherish her because of her name, yes. Listen to her,
possibly. Definitely respect her rank. But actually follow her commands?

No one answered. No one moved as the older teens sidled
glances at each other.

Merewen got to her feet and ran back across the bridge,
vanishing among the trees. No one tried to stop her. Atan wondered what would happen
if she did the same, then saw Brick and Sana looking uneasy, and both stepped
toward the bridge, standing firmly to block it.

“We feel sorry for your friend,” Hinder said
earnestly. He looked apologetic, as did Brick and Pouldi and Sana.

“But you cannot go chasing after a Norsundrian, not if
you are the last Landis,” Irza stated. She did not look sorry at all. “
We
know our duty. Our patrollers will be on the watch for the enemy and your
friend. But your place is here, and our place is with you.”

“We’ll make a celebration,” Hinder
suggested, and Sin cheered, looking around and making surreptitious hand
motions.

“We have a swing,” Julian announced proudly.
Shall I show you?”

Others quickly joined it, the younger children with
enthusiasm. They liked celebrations.

Atan sighed. She now had before her a horrible dilemma: if
she resisted, her very first war would be with her own people.

So she bowed in acquiescence, thinking:
So I must somehow
get a message to Tsauderei—that is, if he is not already watching. Yes! Tsauderei
must be watching the borders of Norsunder, as he always has. Surely he will see
Lilah.

And he’d be able to act. Because even if she caught up
with that knife-throwing man, what else could she really do?
He
certainly wasn’t going to obey a command from Sartor’s last queen.

She smiled at Julian. “Show me your swing,” she
said.