Shadows (5 page)

“Ah.” Chell looked embarrassed. “I shouldn't have mentioned it. But apparently almost freezing to death didn't do much for what little brainpower I possess. So I guess that secret is out.” He leaned forward. “Catilla and Edrik had heard of Korellia. You haven't?”

Mara shook her head. “Another land, beyond the sea? There are tales about such places, but most people,”
like Hyram
, she thought, “don't even believe they're real.”

“They're real,” Chell said. “Four or five hundred years ago, there was a great deal of trade between Aygrima and Korellia. And many other island nations. But then came the Great Plague.”

“Plague?” Mara stared at him. She'd never heard any of this in her history classes. She glanced at Tishka, but her face remained impassive.

Chell nodded. “It swept the world like a hurricane. Whole kingdoms were wiped out. Others, like Korellia, survived, but with only a tenth of their previous population. All trade ceased, for once the plague had burned through a country, no one dared travel anywhere it might still rage. In Korellia, and I suspect in many other lands, even the building of ships suitable for long-distance voyages was prohibited: only small fishing vessels were allowed.

“But as time went by, Korellia revived and, eventually, prospered. A few years ago, the King changed the law, not only permitting the building of ships, but commanding the construction of a whole new fleet, to explore the sundered world. But for fear the plague still lurks, we are cautious in our approach to new lands—which is another reason for only a small party coming ashore, rather than the entire ship's company.”

“We have no plague here,” Mara said. “I do not believe we ever did.” She glanced at Tishka once more, but again got no response.

“Oh, you did,” Chell said. “I am sure of it. But you had something else, and I think that is why here, unlike in every other land we have rediscovered, the plague is little remembered.”

“What?” Mara asked.

“Magic,” Chell said softly. “Alone in all the world, Aygrima has magic.”

He doesn't know I have the Gift
, Mara reminded herself. She glanced again at Tishka. The red-haired woman's gaze had sharpened; her eyes, bright in the lamplight, focused on Mara like a hawk's.
Nor am I allowed to tell him.

“You don't have magic in Korellia?” she said instead.

He shook his head. “No. But we know of it from our own histories, which clearly are more complete than yours. Once upon a time the ships of Aygrima traveled the world, their holds filled with urns of magic, their Healers and Engineers in great demand. They were welcomed everywhere . . . but also resented; and when the plague broke out, there were some who claimed it wasn't natural, that it had been created and unleashed via dark magic, concocted by the evil mages of Aygrima. Aygrima's ships were seized and sunk. Not surprisingly, soon enough they stopped coming. Many of our people now believe, as yours do of Korellia, that Aygrima never really existed, and that the magicians of Aygrima are mere fairy tales. Indeed, they've become just that, featuring in fantastical stories told all over the islands. There's a particularly popular musical play you'd probably enjoy.” He grinned. “Maybe I'll have the chance to take you to see it someday.”

Mara digested all that for a moment. “You're lucky you found us first,” she said at last. “If you had appeared in any other village, not wearing Masks, the Watchers would not have welcomed you.”

“So I have been told,” Chell said. He shook his head. “The Masks sound evil.”

“They are,” Mara said flatly. “But not as evil as the Autarch who commands them to be made and worn.”

“And that,” Chell said, “is why I am going to accompany you to Tamita. To see this evil for myself.”

“Why?” Mara said. “You know it will be dangerous.”
For all of us
, she added silently to herself.
Keltan and I can at least pass for unMasked children, but you . . .

“I have told Catilla,” Chell said carefully, “that Korellia might be willing to aid the unMasked Army in its effort to . . . improve the political situation in Aygrima.”

Mara's eyes widened. “You'd fight for us? Against the Autarch?”

Chell held up his hands. “I cannot make such a commitment,” he said. “I do not have that authority. But I
do
have authority to open diplomatic channels with the peoples I encounter, and the autonomy to decide with whom our initial discussions should be conducted.”

Mara stared at him, startled.
He looks about twenty
, she thought.
And he has that much authority?

They must do things differently in Korellia.

“Assuming what I see in Tamita confirms what I have been told here,” Chell went on, “then I think I am right to say it is far more likely Korellia will side with the unMasked Army than with the Autarch.” He made a face. “We overthrew a tyrant of our own once. We have little stomach for the tyranny of others.”

“That would be . . . wonderful,” Mara breathed.
An ally against the Autarch! An ally with seagoing ships, weapons . . .

...facing magic?
She felt her first qualm. What could the Autarch do with all the magic at his disposal if faced with an enemy from the sea?

She had her own memory of an explosion contained, a glass-walled crater, and a towering pillar of flame and smoke to hint at the power that could potentially be unleashed in defense of the Autarch. Could the Korellians really face
that
?

“But I cannot make any recommendations until I have scouted further,” Chell continued. “And reported back to my ship.” He cocked his head. “So what do you say, Mara? Will you permit me to accompany you?”

She snorted. “You don't need
my
permission. Unlike you, I don't get to make my own decisions.”

He shrugged. “It's true Catilla and Edrik have both agreed to let me go . . . albeit with certain conditions on the early part of our journey. But even though they've granted
their
permission, now I'm asking
you
. This journey is for your purposes more than mine . . . a journey to see your father, I am told. You must decide if my presence will endanger that task. I would not do that for the world, and if you do not want me to accompany you, then I will find some other way to complete my mission. I owe you that consideration, and more, for saving my life.” He smiled that crooked smile. “After all, I definitely wouldn't be completing my mission if I were a blue frozen corpse bobbing in the sea!”

“What have they told you about my father . . . about why I must see him, despite the risk?” Mara asked slowly.

“Only that it has something to do with the effort to overthrow the Autarch.” Chell studied her face. “I am curious, of course.”

Mara very carefully did not look at Tishka. “I'm afraid I can't tell you anything more.”

“Pity.” He kept his eyes locked on hers. “Well, Mara? May I come with you?”

Even though she really had no choice, even though the choice had been made by Catilla and Edrik without the slightest thought of asking her, it warmed her heart that this strange young man thought highly enough of her opinion to ask. “Of course,” she said.

He smiled a smile so broad that it seemed to brighten the dim room. “Excellent! I look forward to getting to know you better during the journey.”

For some reason, Mara felt herself blushing. She jumped up so suddenly the chair teetered and Tishka had to step forward to keep it from clattering to the floor. “Fine. Wonderful. Um . . . good night.”
Why is my face so red? Can he see how red my face is?

How embarrassing.
Her face flamed even hotter.

“Good night,” Chell said courteously, getting to his feet. Tishka opened the door for her and she fled into the cool dimness of the Broad Way.

Tishka closed and locked the door behind her, then trailed Mara down the wide hallway. “He is very handsome, isn't he?” she said nonchalantly from behind Mara.

“Is he?” Mara kept her gaze resolutely focused ahead. “I didn't notice.”

Tishka chuckled, but Mara wouldn't give her the satisfaction of looking back.

The Journey South

F
OR THREE WEEKS, Mara waited for a response from her father. Without her work on the Masks to occupy her, she was assigned more mundane tasks: cleaning tables, sweeping chambers, changing beds. She hardly saw Chell, who seemed to spend all his time either sequestered with Catilla or Edrik or locked in his cell.

Midwinter Day came and went, and it turned out the unMasked Army
did
mark it: they didn't do much decorating, but there was a feast and some of the more musical residents of the Secret City gathered at the head of the Grand Chamber to sing and play drums and flutes and various stringed instruments. What they lacked in skill they more than made up for in enthusiasm.

The best thing about Midwinter Day, though, was that Mara finally had the opportunity to apologize to Prella. She found herself next to the other girl during the concert. Prella wouldn't look at her, constantly turning the other way to talk to Kirika instead, and Mara's first thought was to move; but then she steeled herself and spoke. “Prella,” she said.

The smaller girl turned to look at her, expression cool.

“I'm sorry,” Mara said. “I'm sorry I snapped at you. You didn't deserve it. I was just frustrated by my own failures with the Masks. I didn't mean what I said.” She took a deep breath; this was harder than she'd thought. “Will you forgive me?”

For a moment Prella's face remained unreadable; then a small smile flickered. “Of course I will,” she said. She looked a little shamefaced all of a sudden. “I shouldn't have taken it so hard. It was just . . . unexpected.”

Mara looked past Prella at Kirika, staring coldly at Mara through narrowed eyes. There was still no love lost there.
She probably thinks I'm trying to steal her only friend away from her
, Mara thought.
Well, maybe I can put her mind at ease
. She stood up, though she'd just sat down. “Well, I'll . . . see you around, Prella,” Mara said. “You too, Kirika.”

“See you,” Prella said, sounding a little puzzled by her abrupt departure.

Kirika said nothing, but Mara thought she could still feel the other girl's stare as she wove her way across the Grand Chamber.

More days slipped by. And then finally, almost a month after Chell's arrival, on a night when a howling wind lashed snow around the cliffs and rattled the shutters on every window, Catilla finally summoned her.

The Commander looked even frailer than last time: new lines on a face already as wrinkled as an old apple, skin chalky except for the dark shadows under her eyes. She motioned Mara to her bedside. “A message has come from Tamita,” she said, voice hoarse. “Grelda, please.”

The Healer gave Mara a dark look, but took up a small square of paper from the table by Catilla's bed. “Midnight, thirteenth of Winterwhite. Beneath the skylight,” she read, then looked up. “That's it.”

“You understand, child?” Catilla said.

I'm not a child
, Mara thought automatically, but distantly, because all her thoughts were focused on that message.

Beneath the skylight. Her old room.

Home.

“Yes,” she said. “I understand.”

•  •  •

Two days later, on the morning of the seventh of Winterwhite, Mara sat astride the sleek chestnut mare that had become her favorite horse in the Secret City stables—not that that was saying much. Mara's riding skills had improved somewhat with a few more weeks of practice, but she still envied Edrik's comfortable way with the animals—a skill apparently shared by Chell who, despite the black hood encasing his head, sat at ease astride his bay mare. Keltan hadn't had much more riding practice than she had, but even he, atop a rangy gray gelding, looked far more comfortable than she felt.

Mara's mare gave her a look over her shoulder as if to say, “You again? Are you going to stay on this time?”

“I'll do my best,” Mara told the animal. Keltan gave her a sidelong look.

“Talking to horses is just a little . . . odd,” he said.

“Not as odd as naming yourself after one,” Mara replied sweetly. Keltan laughed.

They took the “back door” path up to the top of the cliff, first riding along the same beach Mara had walked just before discovering Chell, then up the narrow defile in the cliff face while the ocean thundered behind them, the waves today unsettled by the echoes of some storm far out at sea. At the top, they rode for several minutes past corrals, pastures, and grain fields before plunging into forest.

Even though she
wasn't
blindfolded, Mara suspected she would have had no more luck than Chell finding her way back to the Secret City if Edrik were not with them. It seemed that every time she left or returned to the place it was by a different route.

Of course, on at least two occasions she'd been unconscious during the final parts of the journey, so she supposed she had some excuse for not having it fixed firmly in her mind. But even when she was awake and alert, every bit of the forest looked the same as every other, as far as she could tell: the same dark trees, the same snow-laden branches, the same sound-deadening blanket of white covering the ground, so that they rode in an eerie hush broken only by the jingle of harness and the occasional blowing of the horses.

The snow seemed to smother conversation as much as any other sound, so they mostly rode without speaking. Mara would have liked to talk to Keltan about what they would do when they got to Tamita, but she didn't dare while Chell rode alongside them. At some point they'd have to find a chance to talk in private, she thought, but the opportunity didn't come that day—or night. They camped, made a fire, and huddled around it. Chell's hood came off, and he blinked around him, face flushed. “Well, that's better,” he said cheerfully. “Good thing it's so cold or I might have smothered in there.”

Mara's own face felt dry and chapped from a day in the open. “Can I wear it tomorrow?” she asked.

Chell laughed. “Be my guest.” He glanced at Edrik. “I presume I
will
be free of it tomorrow?”

Edrik nodded. “I doubt you could find your way back to the Secret City now.”

“I know I couldn't,” Mara said, and Chell laughed again.

Keltan, for some reason, glowered.

The next morning, the eighth of Winterwhite (the date was the first thing Mara thought of every morning now, as the days counted down toward the thirteenth, when she would see her father again) they rode on through a forest that dripped: a melting wind had blown in overnight. When they camped that night, in the lee of a small bluff of weathered gray stone, Edrik made another fire, then announced, “Enjoy the warmth tonight. No more fires. There are few enough people up here, but the lands become more inhabited with every mile we make toward Tamita.”

Tamita
. Mara felt a kind of shiver at the name. The city she'd grown up in. The city she'd thought she'd never leave. The city where her mother and father still lived.

The city of the Autarch. And the city in which she was forbidden to show her unMasked face, on pain of death.

She glanced at Chell, who was talking in a low voice to Edrik. She looked back at Keltan, and jerked her head toward the shadows beyond the circle of firelight. He frowned at her. She jerked her head again, harder, and finally he understood, and followed her into the brush surrounding their camp.

“What is it?” he said. “It's cold out here.”

“I need to know your plan for when we get to Tamita,” she said. “How do we get through the wall?”

He looked annoyed. “I could have told you that by the fire.”

“No, you couldn't,” she said. “Not while Chell is there.”

“I thought you trusted him.”

“I do,” she said. “At least, I guess I do. But Edrik doesn't. Not completely. I don't think he'd want us talking about our plans in front of him.”

Keltan shrugged. “It's not much of a plan. There is a place where you can get under the wall; you and I crawl through, then go to your old house. We meet your father. We leave again. That's the plan.”

“Well, Chell doesn't know it. And now we do.”

Keltan laughed. “I'm pretty sure he's guessed we've got some way to get through the wall. It's pretty obvious, isn't it?”

For a moment Mara considered slugging him. “I just . . . look, we need to decide other things, right? So we get through the wall. Where will we come out, exactly?”

“In the river,” Keltan said.

Mara blinked. “What?”

“That's how you get under the wall. The river flows through an arched passage, blocked at both ends by metal grates. Someone, at some point, cut holes through those grates, just big enough to slip through, and built a narrow wooden walkway between the grates, above the river. There isn't room to stand up; that's why we'll crawl. Once we're through the inner gate, there's a small gap between the wall and South Bridge . . . and a path we can scramble up. It's screened from the bridge by some willows. And then . . . we're in the city.”

“South Bridge,” Mara said. “I don't know that part of the city.”

“I do,” Keltan said. “I can get you safely back to that basement where you found me. And from there I presume you can find your house, since you did it once before.”

Mara nodded. “The Night Watchers will be our biggest threat . . . but I'm used to avoiding them.” She didn't tell him about the time she and Sala were caught skinny-dipping by the Night Watchers and dragged home in disgrace. She'd face far worse than embarrassment and her parents' displeasure if she were caught this time.

And if the Watchers learned she'd met with her father . . .

Her breath caught in her throat.
He
was risking more than she was. If the Autarch discovered his Master Maskmaker was actively working against him . . . had subverted his own Mask so he could do so, and was helping rebels create counterfeit Masks that would allow them to infiltrate the City . . . he would surely make an example of him, an example so terrible that no Maskmaker would ever be tempted to alter his Mask again. “Let's get back to the fire,” she said, suddenly craving warmth and light.

As Edrik had promised, the next day's travel (
The ninth of Winterwhite
, Mara thought as she awoke) took them out of the Wild and into more settled lands. They entered the broad, shallow valley through which flowed the Heartsblood River, the very river they would follow under the city wall. Farms spread out across the valley floor on both sides of the river, and occasional villages huddled next to it. But even here the land was far from completely cleared; heavy woods cloaked the valley slopes, as Edrik pointed out as they sat astride their horses below the ridgeline they had just crossed, so they wouldn't be silhouetted against the sky. “We'll stick to the trees as much as we can,” he said. “We can manage pretty well today and tomorrow. Farther down the valley there is a long stretch with no cover at all except for hedgerows. We will cross that the night after next, in the dark. Beyond that, the Heartsblood flows through woods that provide some cover, almost as far as Tamita; but there will also be far more Watchers. They patrol the lands within a day's ride of the city on a regular basis.” He glanced at the others. “We have no Masks, nor any counterfeits of them,” he said, his eyes flicking for a moment to Mara. “Mara and Keltan could pass as too young to be Masked, but you and I,” he nodded at Chell, “cannot. Keep your hood up. If someone does see us from a distance, we should attract little attention as long as they do not realize our faces are uncovered.”

“Why do the Watchers patrol?” Chell asked. Edrik frowned at him; Chell returned a sunny smile. “The Autarch has everyone in these Masks, and so no one dares to rebel, right? So why bother patrolling? What are the Watchers looking for?”

“Bandits,” Edrik said. “Those who fled their Maskings, or whose Masks shattered but who managed to escape, and scrabble for survival in the Wild.”

“Why would they come so close to the city?” Chell said.

“Because they are starving,” Edrik said. “And the richest farmland and wealthiest villages are closest to Tamita.”

“But there are also villages farther north. Why not limit their raids to those?”

“They raid those, too,” Edrik said. “But we make sure they also raid villages closer to Tamita. We want the Watchers patrolling down here rather than closer to the Secret City.”

Chell raised an eyebrow. “Ah,” he said. “You have some influence over these ‘bandits.' Useful.”

Edrik turned away without replying. “Let's move out.”

They picked their way down the slope, and for the rest of that day and the next day (
the tenth of Winterwhite
, Mara thought) rode through the woods along the east side of the valley, without seeing anyone or, they hoped, being seen. At nightfall they stopped their travel only long enough for a cold, cheerless supper and to rest the horses, then pressed on. As Edrik had warned, the trees petered out. In the moonlight, stubble-covered fields stretched away in front of them, broken only by dark lines of hedges or stone fences. Edrik glanced up at the star-strewn sky. “Bad luck it's so clear,” he said. “Still, it's unlikely anyone will be abroad. It's a cold night.”