The Keeper's Shadow (22 page)

“Sorry to barge in on what is obviously some deep thinking, Roan, but I have an important proposition.”

As Roan slows for the Storyteller, Kamyar blusters, “No need to slacken your pace. I've no trouble conversing on the move. After all, we don't want to be the last to arrive,” he continues, hurrying Roan along. “You may have noticed, Roan of Longlight, that though you are on somewhat friendly terms with most of the people who are convening tonight, the rest of us are not all so well disposed to each other. Now my idea is this: how about we fire up this little gathering with a prophecy? It might be the very thing to remind us why we've come together. Get us off on the right foot.”

“Sounds great,” Roan says enthusiastically. “Got any ideas for the middle and the end?”

Laughing heartily, Kamyar strides past Roan and through the entryway to Saint's tent.

The evening mist is already rising. Roan stops for a moment, reminded of a night two years ago when four Brethren returning with news of the Farlands interrupted his first session with Saint. He had felt nervous that night too. Nervous but also excited. It was that night he'd accepted Saint's offer to teach him how to fight. He'd believed then that no harm could come of it. But he wouldn't be here tonight starting a war if he'd made a different choice.

THE TWO COUNCILS

AFTER THE BULL WATCHES THE MOON'S SHADOW RIDE THE EARTH, THE SUN WILL BE SET FREE AND THE FUTURE DECIDED.

—THE BOOK OF LONGLIGHT

S
TOWE IS IMPRESSED WITH THE AUSTERE GRANDEUR
of the central tent
.
Only six oil lamps, evenly distributed to surround the gathering, supplement the muted glow of the central fire. She notices a rainbow of colors shimmering around the participants. When did she first see something like this? It was right after her attack on Raven and Brack, after Ferrell had almost killed her. That Hhroxhi, Mhyzah, she'd emanated a bright red…and then, in the Dreamfield's Longlight, Roan had been blue. The light around him now is layered and it tendrils out to the others in the circle. It meets Ende's warm golden glow and blends beautifully with the wisps of orange that dance over Kira's heart. Stowe can sense the power of each individual from the quality of the air around them. This new ability could be useful, she thinks, noticing that the Governor's nimbus wavers, fine jagged bolts, like tiny twisting cracks, riving its surface—he's edgy, not at all comfortable to be here.

The guards are less interesting, though there are more of them than participants. Examining the Brothers closely, Stowe can see why Ende and Wolf are concerned. Some of them are no older than Roan—easy prey for any interested party to manipulate. One catches her eye. He has a scar that runs from eyebrow to chin and the air around him is the murky brown of dried blood—that can't be good. He's looking curiously in her direction, and though she knows she could easily kill him, Stowe's happy to be concealed within her broad hood.

The meeting had begun quite well, she thought, with a prophecy rousingly delivered by that Storyteller friend of Willum's. He had ended with: “And the son and the daughter of Longlight shall stand and be recognized. People shall gather behind them and the fall of the City will be won.”

Then Roan had stood to say that he had called this meeting to discuss how they might, together, bring about this “fall.” And everyone in the room has been shouting ever since.

“The Fandor are one thing, the Clerics another.”

“No matter how many you kill, they'll still keep coming.”

“There can't be an endless supply. I thought this was war!”

“War?”

“You can't fight the City head on.”

“We could infiltrate.”

“How? They have spies everywhere. It's better to fight.”

“The City's impenetrable. You can't get close enough to launch an attack.”

These are all powerful, opinionated people, most of them leaders. Roan's the youngest person in the circle, and it's obvious that he hasn't got a clue how to control them.

You're not handling them.

Roan cringes.
I don't know how to run a meeting. It's a disaster.

Relax. Smile. Look as though you expected this.

Are you sure?

When it comes to manipulating people, believe me, Roan, I was trained by the very best.

Stowe's happy to see Roan take a deep breath, cross his arms, and smile knowingly, just as she suggested. On that carpet of twisting snakes, his eyes flashing in the blazing fire, Stowe has to admit that, despite his age, Roan cuts quite an imposing figure.

Mabatan, the only one to remain silent amidst all the arguing, lifts her head, acknowledging Roan. Within moments, the Governor notices him as well. He's familiar with the cue, obviously. Soon Kamyar, Ende, Kira, Mejan, Stinger, and Wolf, one by one, all stop and turn to him, waiting on his next words.

Say nothing. Keep smiling. Let them stew.

Roan is silent.

Wait until they're all shifting uncomfortably. There
.
Now. Slowly. Softly.

“I have been to the City. I have seen its power. Darius has a large army equipped with advanced technology. We cannot match it. So what do we do?”

The room is silent, all eyes fixed on Roan. Good.

You have them, Brother.

“We approach the City and Darius the way we would any more powerful and better-armed assailant—with as accurate an assessment of our enemy as we can get. Yes, the City has a larger army, but the Clerics are all enabled—they follow orders blindly and so lack initiative. If we can control the engagements, we'll have the advantage. Yes, they're more heavily armed, but the City's dependence on technology makes it vulnerable to sabotage. Access and contacts will get us the information we need. Mejan, you've just come from the City. Ideas?”

“I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news. Since Our Stowe disappeared, the prisons have been filled to bursting. Executions are common. People are running scared. The Gunthers have been our contacts there for many years, but they are also the most reviled segment of the population and unfortunately are easily targeted as scapegoats. One or two are being arrested daily. They can't even find out where their people are being held. They're afraid they've been singled out by Darius for extermination. Roan, Number Seventy-Nine is missing.”

You know Gunthers?

They're friends, we can't do this without them.

“Getting into the City right now is impossible. I only made it out because I'd gone in as one of a group of traders and had the good luck to be present when they were handed their expulsion papers. The City's in lockdown. No one goes in; no one comes out. Not until Our Stowe's returned. The one bit of good news is I have it from a reliable source that Stowe is heading back.”

I don't want you to go back—

But I must, Brother.

Stowe, it's worse than we thought.

You heard that woman. They'll pick off those Gunthers, one by one, till I return. Do you want that on your head, Roan?

“Kira,” says Roan. “How long can we afford to wait?”

“Not long. Darius may have locked down the City but he's sending his Clerics deeper into the Farlands than he ever has before, and in force. I had an encounter with a few of them. Their enablers were noticeably different but as to exactly how improved they are—your guess is as good as mine. Darius also has a new weapon. The Apogee. It's deadly. Mabatan?”

“The Clerics used it in an attack on the Hhroxhi.”

“Excuse me. Who are these…Haroshi?”

The Governor is the City's major supplier of foodstuffs. He could hurt Darius. You need him.

I'm aware of that.

“You may know them as Blood Drinkers,” Mabatan says patiently.

“Well then, good riddance, isn't it?”

Mabatan, Stinger, Ende, and Kira stand.

If you don't do something quick, there'll be a fight.

Tell me something I don't already know.

Well, look at that! At least someone is doing something about it.

Roan's friend, the Mor-Tick survivor, has also risen. She'd hardly noticed him before; there seemed to be no color wrapped around him at all. But now that he's standing, she can see silvery sheets, like floating water, pouring off him and wrapping around the others, dampening their emotions.

“Appearances can be deceptive, Governor Selig,” he says. “The Hhroxhi are frightening to look upon. They keep themselves separate. I, like most people, once shared your feelings about them. Then, in a time of need, I was helped by them. I learned their language, saw how they care for their children and old people. I know that if we can win their trust, they will be invaluable allies.”

The Governor's mouth drops open. “That is all very nice, Lieutenant, but it doesn't sound like much of a guarantee. How are they to earn
my
trust, I wonder.”

“I understand how difficult your decision to be here with us must have been. I'm ugly, an eyesore of a thing who has nothing to lose by being here. But you've come here at great personal risk. You could lose everything. That takes courage, a lot of it.”

The color slowly returns to the Governor's cheeks. “So you're saying, what's another risk among the many others I'm taking, is that it?”

“More or less.” Lumpy smiles. “Besides, the Hhroxhi have tunnels throughout the Farlands. They quite literally can pop up anywhere. It's in everyone's best interest to be on their good side.”

As the Governor digests this last bit of information, Mabatan, Stinger, Kira, and Ende relax back onto their pillows.

Brother, your friend has hidden talents. He pitched his voice to catch his victim just so. You should learn his technique.

I don't think it's something he learned. It just comes naturally to him.

Does it? Hmm. I think you should keep a close eye on your Mor-Tick Lieutenant. With a power like that, he just might turn and bite his owner.

He is my best friend!

Roan's words hit her like a punch in the stomach and Stowe's feelings catch in her throat. She wants to snap back at him, but she knows she was wrong to say what she did. She has so little time to share with her brother and now she's gone and offended him. Why can't she cast her petty viciousness aside? But before she can find it in herself to apologize, Roan proceeds with the meeting.

“Mabatan, you were about to describe the attack on the Hhroxhi.”

“The Apogee kills instantly,” Mabatan reports. “The Hhroxhi are great warriors but even they could not stand against it. Brother Stinger examined the dead; perhaps he should continue,” she says, looking in the Brother's direction.

“The weapon left no apparent wounds on its victims.” Brother Stinger lets this statement hang in the room a moment. He has Willum's calm about him and Stowe likes him instantly. “So it is impossible to assess how the Apogee stole their lives. The Hhroxhi did eventually manage to topple the weapon. It exploded, leaving only metallic shards behind. But getting close enough to destroy it cost them dearly—over forty Hhroxhi lives were lost. If Darius has many of these weapons, we need to develop strategies of approach. As you mentioned, Roan, controlling the location of the engagements will be key.”

Kira's shifting on her cushion; Roan sees it as soon as Stowe does. “Kira?”

“Like you said, Roan, we can't prepare for things we know nothing about. I agree, we should wait for Stowe's return and hope things cool down enough for the Gunthers to spare a guide. But if that falls through, we need alternatives. Come next new moon we need to be on the move. We need answers. Whether we have the Gunthers' help or not. No later.”

A slight shift to the left of Kira catches Stowe's eye. She notices the sleeve on the Governor's wife's robe swing once before the woman steadies it. Her eyes appear soft and expressionless but Stowe knows that look and she can see the steely decisiveness lying beneath it.

Roan. That woman. She's the power behind the man.

The Governor, emboldened by his mate, clears his throat.

See the way his eyes slide back to her? She's counseled him on his stand and she's here to see he sticks to her plan.

“In my humble opinion…” he says.

Oh yes. Very humble!

Stowe! Stop it!

“…we need to cut the City off. The question is how? My fellow Governors have never been more anxious, particularly now with the rumors that Governor Brack has been assassinated…”

The disruption is immediate. Stowe's dismayed to see that everyone's speaking at once. Again. But Roan's a fast learner and waits out the eruption of frenzied conversation. Lucky that he'd just pushed her back or he might have sensed her part in the crime.

“Does anyone know who's responsible?” That's Wolf, leader of the Brothers. Was it he, she wonders, who drew his sword across her mother's throat? How can Roan stand to have him at his side?

“Raven was seen leaving the scene of the crime, so he's the prime suspect. But no one knows where he is.”

Stowe feels suddenly dizzy. Leaving the scene? It can't be. Willum told her Raven was dead. For the first time since council began she feels Willum's presence gently press at the edge of her awareness.

I wore the bird costume to smuggle you out of Fairview.

Stowe laughs silently.
What an idea! Raven being resurrected as a notorious assassin. More than the sniveling windbag deserves.

“The general feeling,” the Governor continues, “is that Raven was under Darius's orders. Who else could have facilitated his disappearance? Brack was the only one of us with a personal army of raiders at his beck and call. Presumably that was seen as a threat, and Darius is doing his utmost to ensure we don't follow suit. Rather than relying on marauders, the City is sending Clerics out to ensure the safe delivery of goods. Still, they seem to disappear as soon as they are promised. At your hands, I presume, but fingers are being pointed in our direction. Accusations of treachery are made daily against the Governors. No one is happy.”