The Farwalker's Quest (15 page)

“I searched for a while before you woke up,” he said. “We must not have tied him well enough, and he got hungry, too, I suppose.”

“But what'll we do?”

He slipped one arm through the strap on his knapsack. “Same as I have been: walk every minute. Come on.” Picking at his smashed walnuts, he headed up the path.

Ariel followed, nibbling her poor breakfast. Though the nut meat only mocked her hollow stomach, the long sleep and a beloved companion helped her body feel stronger than it had in days.

“We can't go as fast, but we won't be so easy to follow, either,” she told Zeke. “Orion's tracks running away might confuse them. And if this trail gets very steep, he might not have been able to climb it. But we can.”

Zeke only gazed at the stone faces looming above them. His expression spoke clearly enough: he didn't believe they would make it over the top, either.

Hoping to cheer him with a memory of success, Ariel asked Zeke how he'd caught up with her captors.

“I tried to get someone to come with me,” he began. “Nobody would listen. The maple had told me which way to start, though. I followed hoofprints after that. It was hard. I would have lost you if I hadn't caught up with Storian right away.”

“Storian! I thought nobody else came for me.”

“They didn't. He didn't even know you were gone. He left before the Finders did. He thought he knew where they'd take the telling dart, and he meant to go, too.”

Ariel remembered saying good-bye to friends her last evening at home. She hadn't found Storian. She had thought his
burned roof explained that. She would never have guessed he was farther away than someone else's warm hearth.

“Did he tell you the truth about the dart, Zeke?” she asked.

“Only that it called certain people to a challenge, and that the Finders must have convinced themselves that you were one of them.”

“It has something to do with Farwalkers.”

Zeke stopped in his tracks to stare over his shoulder at her.

Alarmed, Ariel found her mouth filling the silence. “Scarl said something odd, like he thought I might be one. But it must be a giant mistake, don't you think?”

“Stop,” he said. “What did Scarl say, exactly?”

When she told him, he mused, “There aren't supposed to be any Farwalkers left. Storian told us in class that the whole trade died out.”

“But what did they do? I couldn't remember that part.”

“They were guides,” Zeke replied. “Messengers, connectors. They carried news and ideas, helped people trade goods, and brought 'em together into new villages when no one could see. And you—oh!” He dug in the end of his cast. “I meant to give you this.”

He pulled out Ariel's whale bone needle.

She gave a cry of surprise. “You carried it all this time?”

“Can't really feel it in there. Kept forgetting. But look at the mark for who it was sent to.”

Not really listening, Ariel stroked the bone. Tears for her mother pressed on her eyes.

“I don't know what the Farwalker sign looked like,” Zeke added, craning to see between her fingers, “but that lightning bolt seems to go far, don't you think? Zigzagging all over.”

Ariel blinked her wet eyes and peered at it with him.
Storian had not wanted to talk about that mark. The subject of Farwalkers seemed to make people nervous, perhaps because, like monsters and ghosts, they weren't supposed to exist.

“I'm thinking you might not be a Healtouch,” Zeke told her. “You might be a Farwalker instead. Maybe Scarl is right.”

“But it was only luck that I ever found the dart in the first place! It didn't fly to me.”

“Sure it did,” Zeke replied. “It just crashed into my maple tree first. She made sure you got it. She probably knew that if she stopped speaking to me, sooner or later you'd butt in and find it.”

“Butt in?”

Zeke ducked his head, grinned, and began walking again. “Anyway,” he continued, “when I told Storian what had happened, he wanted me to go with him. He didn't think we could take you back from them by force. ‘Not one old man and a boy,' that's how he put it. We could help you better, he said, if we got to Libros before they did. Maybe he's there now.” He shrugged. “But before he decided, we talked about a shortcut for following you.”

“What shortcut?”

Zeke paused to scrape a wavy line in the dirt with his toe. Ariel recognized the headlands near Canberra Docks.

“Sailing up the coast and into this inlet cut off almost three days. Even after I ran back home for the boat.” He brushed the marks away.

“Who gave you a boat?”

“No one. I stole a skiff from the docks.”

Amazement huffed from Ariel's throat. This revelation, as much as anything else Zeke had said, showed her how chaotic their village had become—not to mention how determined
he'd been. Never in her life had a boat, or much of anything else, been stolen in Canberra Docks.

“You sailed it by yourself?”

He nodded. “I told Windmaster where I was going, and I think he asked the wind to help.” He didn't have to remind her why Leed Windmaster, of all people, might have found that much courage. “Once I landed, I kept hearing these whispers. Whenever I got confused, somebody—something—told me where to go.” He gave her a sharp glance. “Before you say anything, I don't think it was trees. But I don't want to talk about that.”

Ariel studied his back as he marched before her. Although troubled by glimpses of the pain Zeke was keeping mostly submerged, she felt lucky to have such a friend. Then she remembered that he'd also been keeping a promise.

“When we get home,” she murmured, “I hope you find another tree right away. One that's almost as good as the maple.”

Stiff shoulders gave his only reply.

In the silence, Ariel thought about Farwalkers. The thirteenth trade was extinct, and she hated the idea of being the only one of a kind. On the other hand, she had walked plenty of late, and she and Zeke kept plodding now, even after the trail became only a silvery thread in the moonlight. Ariel hoped it would reach a pass and start going down again soon. Otherwise, despite sharing a blanket, the pair could hardly stop without freezing.

Eventually the moon slipped behind a peak, but Ariel's feet still could feel the trail. Taking the lead, she gazed at the stars, like sparkles in black sand, and wondered how they could glitter at her and Zeke with so little sympathy.

Then she saw a star that didn't slowly slip away with its neighbors. This star got bigger instead. It wasn't a star, Ariel realized abruptly. A light shone through the dark.

At first the glow seemed to hover in a tumble of rock at the base of a bluff. As Ariel and Zeke approached, moving cautiously despite the cover of darkness, a mountain house took shape from the stone. One corner had been hewn right out of the cliff. Spires and sharp angles loomed from the shadows to form a building like none Ariel had seen. She couldn't fathom the purpose of such a great house, especially without a village around it. Light glowed from a window high above a big wooden door. The yellow candlelight flickered. Nothing else stirred.

Whispering, Ariel and Zeke decided that if they found nothing to fear, they would knock. Their hands and feet were already numb with the cold. Before taking the risk, though, Ariel wanted to make sure their pursuers had not, by some straighter route, arrived there before them.

The windows were too high to peek through. Circling the house proved impossible. But they discovered a very short wooden door embedded in its foundation. From a hole near the top, the smell of goats wafted out, along with an inquisitive snout.

“Let's go in, if there's room,” Ariel said, lifting the latch. “I'm freezing. Nobody will look for us here.”

Careful not to let goats escape, she cracked the door open. Zeke followed her into the warm, smelly hole. They were greeted by a chorus of confused bleats and rustling. In the utter darkness, it was impossible to tell how many goats were bedded down in the straw, but their body heat would keep the travelers warm. Ariel pulled the door tight and stuck her arm through its little window to latch it again.

Zeke's fingers found her hand. The lips of curious goats began nibbling at her.

“Crouch down so you don't bump your head,” Zeke advised. “Come this way.”

They followed the wall to a corner, where they'd be out of sight of anyone who opened the door in the morning. Sprawling, Ariel put her hand in something squishy. She jerked away, able to guess what it was, but told herself the warm hiding place would be worth it. After scraping her fingers clean in the straw, she made sure she could feel Zeke close beside her. Sleep stole between them, unnoticed.

Ariel dreamed she lay in a tomb. It should have been frightening, but this tomb was snug.

She awoke to a companion somewhat older than Zeke. His head propped on his hand, the teenage boy gazed at her face. Oddly, he wore a gray shift not unlike a girl's nightgown. One sleeve was stained red at the cuff.

Seeing her eyes flutter open, he smiled. When she bolted upright in alarm, he vanished. Only dirty straw rested beside her.

A rooster cackled somewhere nearby. Uncertain just when she'd stopped dreaming, Ariel whirled to find Zeke curled at her other side. Reassured, she looked about in the dim morning light sneaking in from outside. A dozen goats stood or lay in the pen. The tight space squeezed down in back where the uneven ground met the floor overhead.

A playful kid jumped on Zeke, drawing a muffled yelp from the boy. As soon as he shoved it aside, it circled to climb him from another direction. While she watched the goat game and tried to ignore the hungry twist in her belly, a moving figure too big for a goat caught the corner of Ariel's eye. She spun. In the gloom she saw nothing, not even a goat, but the straw
beneath quivered. A cold draft swirled against the back of her neck.

“Zeke!” she whispered. “There's someone here with us! Besides goats, I mean!”

Zeke curled tighter, trying to discourage his new friend. “Oh, that. It's just ghosts. I could hear them whispering about us all night.”

Gooseflesh rippled Ariel's arms. “Ghosts?” She hoped she'd misheard him. Storian had told tales of dead Fishers enslaved by the sea, and most of those ghosts were not friendly.

“They won't hurt us. They're just curious. Let me sleep a bit more.”

Ariel's eyes darted. No wonder she could feel someone staring without seeing who. She couldn't hear any whispers, but the air prickled her skin.

A sound outside alerted the goats. As one they pressed toward the door. Zeke merely turned over, grateful for peace. Ariel clung against the wall to remain out of sight.

The door opened. Goats flowed out, butting and bleating. As their commotion faded, replaced by trilling birdsong, Ariel released her pent breath. No face had appeared at the doorway.

“Please come out, little goats,” came a voice. Ariel's heart skipped when the voice added, “I've been expecting you.”

Ariel clutched Zeke. He lay frozen, his puffed eyes drawn wide.

A hand beckoned. “Come now. You can't eat the straw. Don't be afraid.”

The pair exchanged doubtful looks.

“Still want to snooze? All right, sleepy goats. Come out when your stomachs want breakfast. Just don't wait until those who pursue you come striding up the path.”

The mention of pursuit split Ariel's heart. One half feared that anyone who knew they were chased must have talked to, and might aid, the pursuers. The other half heard only a caution and the promise of breakfast. After two days with little food, Ariel could feel the wobble in her legs without even trying to stand.

Zeke crawled toward the door. “Anyone bad would have locked us in,” he explained.

Ariel held back. “It might be a trap.”

Zeke nodded. “It might be. But I've got to eat before I can fight or go on or even think. Don't you?”

He slipped out the doorway. No shouts or sounds of a
struggle ensued. Grimly, Ariel slid feetfirst toward the entry, poised to smash her boots into grasping hands.

None awaited. Ariel blinked in the light. The goats were already distant on the hillside. By day, the mountain house looked even more foreboding. Great stones formed the high walls, and clay chimneys poked through the slate tiled roof. Parapets and gables met in sharp angles, giving the place a hard, wild aspect that matched the stony peaks not so far in the distance.

The goatherd stood near the building's great wooden door, his hands in the pockets of a pale green garment that looked to Ariel like a dress. For an instant she thought this might be the young man she'd seen alongside her in the straw. But this man wasn't young. Well worn, his face crinkled. His smile displayed missing teeth.

Overcome with the weakness of relief, Ariel remained on the ground as the old man stumped back toward her and Zeke. He offered her his gnarled hand.

“You're more likely to carry me than me you, young 'un,” he said. “Grab ahold, though, and come on inside.”

He raised her up. Though his fingers felt like a snarl of frayed rope, she kept gripping them as they passed through the doorway. The stone entry echoed. Dark passages led away on all sides. Ariel took her hand back only once they were seated at a low stone table, awaiting a meal.

His name was Ash, he told them, after the tree. They'd found sanctuary in Tree-Singer Abbey. Hope surged into Ariel when she heard the name. Zeke's jaw slipped agape.

“I didn't think it was real,” he murmured.

Ash left them briefly, returning with a sudsy washbowl as well as a food-laden tray. Goat cheese, preserved pears, hot tea, boiled eggs—Ariel and Zeke grabbed for the food. Halfway
through her first slab of bread, Ariel looked up in shame. She'd ignored the washbowl as well as her manners. Ash just grinned his gaping smile and handed her a teacup.