The Rock of Ivanore (19 page)

“How do you suppose they get their supplies? Merchants travel up this road each morning and down again each evening. Wares from all over the island are brought here for trade. And as far as it being the end of you,” added Jayson with one more shove, “my stomach is in dire need of food, and should you fall, my hunger might very well take precedence over saving your life.”

Marcus went red in the face as Jayson burst into laughter. Even Xerxes laughed at him, but Kelvin's brooding silence quickly brought everyone's laughter to an end.

The sun was high overhead when the road finally leveled off and Dokur spread out before them like a patchwork quilt. Ahead of them lay the urban center of the city where people gathered for trading and other social events. To the east were farms divided into tidy sections by low rock walls. The residential district occupied the central part of Dokur, while the sea lay to the northwest.

The streets of the city, paved with cobblestone, were alive with wagons, horses, and people by the hundreds. The town square was the largest Marcus had ever seen, with a grassy area and an immense marble fountain at its center. Stone buildings two and three stories high towered
above them, nearly blocking out the sun. At the top of a nearby hill was the Fortress where Lord Fredric governed the affairs of Dokur Province. Marcus had never in his life seen a place so grand as Dokur, and as they walked through the square, he thought he might never want to leave.

Jayson gazed for a moment at the throngs of people crowding the streets. “Take a close look, boys,” he said. “Lord Fredric's idyllic society. No Agorans, no Noamish, no inhumans of any kind.”

Jayson led them to a small tavern on the main thoroughfare. The wooden sign that hung above the door read T
HE
S
EAFARER
T
AVERN.
“You two wait here,” he ordered. “I have to seek an audience with his Lordship. I should be back by nightfall.” Jayson started across the street, when Marcus stepped forward, taking him by the arm.

“And if you don't come back?” Marcus asked, wondering if the queasiness he felt was due to hunger or dread.

“Then I suggest you leave Dokur as quickly as you can,” Jayson said. Then he added with a wink, “but first, promise me you'll buy yourself a new satchel before you go.”

Jayson pulled on his hood and slipped into the crowded marketplace.

Marcus joined Kelvin by the tavern door. “Why doesn't anyone like my satchel?” he asked, but Kelvin made no reply. He tried a different question. “Shall we go inside?” Again Kelvin remained silent. Marcus tried once more. “I said, shouldn't we go in?”

“I heard you,” replied Kelvin sharply. The triangular crystal once again hung from his neck, and he rubbed it
between his thumb and index finger. Marcus knew Kelvin was angry, and justifiably so. He also knew Kelvin would never forgive him unless he apologized—a situation that would make traveling with him unpleasant, to say the least.

“I'm sorry about your pendant,” said Marcus. He hoped Kelvin sensed the sincerity of his apology. “I found it in the alley back in Noam. I planned to give it back, and I would have returned it sooner had I known how much it means to you. Please believe me.”

Kelvin said nothing, and Marcus worried that he might not be forgiven. But after a few moments, Kelvin spoke. “It was my mother's,” he said. “She died when I was barely a year old. This pendant is all I have of her.”

Marcus knew the pain of being orphaned and the longing a child feels for a mother long since dead. “I'm truly sorry,” he said. While the crystal had been in his possession, Marcus had only looked at it briefly. But now, seeing it in Kelvin's hand, he noticed its beauty as if for the first time. “It's Celestine, isn't it?” Marcus asked. “It must be worth a small fortune.”

Kelvin nodded. “That's why I keep it hidden. But for me its value is beyond price,” he said, tucking the pendant into his shirt.

“It's not just the pendant, you know,” Kelvin continued. “You've kept things from me, lied to me. You care only for yourself. I cannot forgive you for that. We are both here for one purpose, to find the Rock of Ivanore. You can wait for Jayson if you wish, but I have no more need of him—or of you.”

Kelvin's words cut deeply. Now that they were in Dokur, Marcus found himself wanting more than ever to confide in Kelvin, to tell him the truth about Jayson, but a glimpse of a familiar face in the crowd stopped him.

“Look!” he said, discreetly pointing. “It's Arik!”

e have to warn Jayson!”

Marcus's words were urgent. Jayson had kept his identity secret and had traversed across the entire island to deliver a message he claimed could save Imaness. Now Arik, the man who seemed bent on stopping him, was right here in Dokur.

“You're right, of course,” said Kelvin reluctantly. “But first we need to know what Arik is up to. Wait inside. I'll be back soon.” Kelvin stealthily threaded his way into the crowd and fell in a few yards behind Arik. Soon they were both out of sight.

Marcus pushed open the tavern's heavy wooden door and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light. The room
was full of people. Men and women occupied nearly every table in the place, and several servers bustled through the crowded room, delivering plates piled high with food. One server in particular caught Marcus's attention. Her hair, which flowed across her shoulders like a river of black onyx, shimmered in the firelight. He guessed she was four or five years older than he, but that fact seemed trivial compared to her beauty.

A large, dirty man shoved Marcus so hard he nearly fell on his back.

“Outa my way, boy!” said the man, swinging a half-empty wine bottle in his fist. Marcus stepped away from the door and sat at an empty table near the kitchen. The dark-haired server plopped a plate laden with food in front of Marcus with a loud clink.

“Ale?” she asked, filling a mug from a ceramic pitcher. The server placed the mug in front of him, and he drank from it greedily. When he set down the empty mug, she smiled at him. Marcus noticed that her eyes were as bright green as a grassy field in spring.

“Been traveling?” she asked, refilling his mug.

“Yes,” he said, suddenly aware of his unkempt appearance. The smell of sweet potatoes and roasted lamb made his stomach grumble. “This looks delicious.”

“Well, it does fill an empty stomach,” she replied.

A large, round woman appeared at the kitchen door. “Mouse!” she bellowed, wiping her pudgy hands on her apron. “Come get the pies out of the oven!”

The server grinned apologetically. “That's me,” she
said as she started for the kitchen. “If you need anything more, just wave. I'll see you.”

Several minutes passed with an array of people going in and out of the tavern. Marcus watched apprehensively, hoping that none of them would be Arik. He bided his time by practicing magic with small, inconspicuous tricks such as levitating his fork by condensing the molecules of air beneath it and warming some food that had grown cold. He even managed to get a chair to move several inches, though when the man who had been sitting in it sat down again, he landed on the floor. Marcus stifled a chuckle and went back to his meal.

Xerxes, who had until now been silent, shook his head. “Magic is not for sport,” he said disapprovingly.

By the time Kelvin returned, Marcus had cleaned his plate.

“I followed Arik across town to the Dragon's Head Inn,” said Kelvin, breathless. “Tristan and Zody are being watched by the Mardoks there.”

“What about Clovis?” asked Marcus, alarmed.

“Clovis, too. I heard Arik order one Mardok to take them all upstairs.”

“We have to help them,” said Marcus.

The server called Mouse came to the table with a plate for Kelvin. She held out a mug and began filling it with ale. Kelvin gave Marcus a wary glance and lowered his voice. “That's not all,” said Kelvin. “I also heard Arik say that he and the other Mardoks were going to the watchtower.”

“Jayson told me that he had to warn Lord Fredric about
something important,” added Marcus, “something that threatened all of Imaness. Could this be what he meant?”

Mouse set the mug on the table. She took up Marcus's empty plate and wiped the table with a dishcloth.

“We have to get word to Jayson at the Fortress,” said Marcus, rising from the table.

“I'll go,” said Kelvin.

“No, you're much better than I am with a weapon. Free Clovis and the others. I'll find Jayson.”

“All right, but be careful!” Kelvin took out his dagger. “Arrows are too dangerous in this crowd,” he said, slinging the crossbow across his back. He stood to leave but paused. “Find Bryn, too, will you?”

Kelvin hurried out of the tavern, leaving his untouched food and ale behind.

Marcus reached into his satchel for a handful of coins and dropped them onto the table. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said to Mouse.

“You're going to the Fortress,” she said.

A cold chill went through Marcus as he realized that his conversation had been overheard. He politely excused himself, but Mouse followed him to the door.

“You'll never get into the Fortress alive,” she pressed. “The guards will run you through before you get two steps inside the gate.”

Marcus drew his cape tightly around him. He longed for the warmth of his home in Quendel, of the casual days that filled his life there. As a boy, he had never imagined such dangers existed in the world, and he felt horribly
unprepared to face the challenges he was certain now awaited him.

“I must go,” he said. “I think one of my friends is imprisoned there, and another friend is in danger. I have to warn him.”

“You mean Jayson?” There was an earnest look in Mouse's eyes. She spoke the name as though it was a prayer.

“Who are you?” asked Marcus. He sensed there must be more to this woman than aprons and dishtowels. “The cook called you ‘Mouse.' That's an odd name for a woman.”

Mouse lowered her voice. “My name is Kaië. As a child, the Fortress was my home.”

“Can you get me safely inside?”

“I'm not called Mouse for nothing.” Kaië untied her apron and tossed it to another server as she led Marcus out the door. “I'll take you,” she added, “but only on one condition.”

“Anything,” answered Marcus.

“Tell me about Jayson.”

he harsh sounds of the city reverberated against Marcus's skull like a constant crack of thunder, causing his head to sprout a throbbing headache.

Kaië deftly weaved her way through the crowd while Marcus struggled to keep her in sight. When they reached the far end of the square, a sour stench churned his stomach. He covered his nose and mouth with his cape to keep it out.

“What is that smell?” he shouted over the din. “It stinks like rotting cabbage!”

Kaië did not slow her pace but called over her shoulder. “It's the public latrines you smell. The city's waste is emptied into an open pit where it drains through a channel into the sea.”

Marcus wanted to tell her how disgusted he felt, but he feared that if he opened his mouth again he might vomit. Instead he hurried to catch up with his guide. Soon they were out of the city, climbing a tall, green hill. He was glad he had Xerxes with him to help with the climb.