A Play of Shadow (64 page)

He’d made her laugh. Bannan locked that triumph next to his heart, the rest of him cold and grim. The rain had ended steps too soon, with the Distal Hold in sight, an edifice of the same weathered stone as the rest. Its windows, though lit, were tall and thin. Perhaps wide enough for a slender person to pass through; from here, he could see the dark web of bars, in case one tried.

On the other side of the canal, but no matter. They’d come to another widening, this time to allow the flow of gardens from the street to spill along the walkways. A bridge arched from here to there, a fountain against its base to mark where a good-sized stair climbed up. Above were the dazzling lights of more magnificent structures—perhaps the famed legislature of Mellynne, model for Rhoth’s own—lights that haloed through remnants of mist and brightened the low cloud overhead, as if night wasn’t allowed to approach.

Fortunately for those who preferred it, the branches from trees at street level drooped gracefully toward the canal, shadowing all below.

Bannan brushed cobwebs from his arms, the yling’s cloaks having reverted to their source. Just as well. Cloaks might impede them. “We’ll make for the stairs.”

Jenn nodded, then whispered, “He knows what he’s doing.”

The toad, he presumed. Wise creature to doubt him. He doubted himself. But not Jenn.

And not Lila.

They’d been alone till now, due to the rain or their route or both, but as they approached the stairs a commotion rang out overhead and an outcry.

Coming for the bridge!

“There’s another way across,” Jenn said urgently. “Bannan, look.”

“Ancestors Blessed.” They ran under the arch to what she’d spotted, a crossing of ornate cobblestones, raised only slightly above the water. There were steps to it from the bank on both sides, with a second graceful fountain, mate to the first, across the canal.

By day, this would be a gathering place for officials and their guests, restful and beautiful. By night, with the ruckus above drawing ever closer and shadows lapping stone, Bannan felt a chill down his spine. “Maybe we should—”

Too late. Jenn, used to running across a river, hadn’t hesitated. He watched, heart in his throat, as she stepped nimbly from cobble to cobble and up on the other side, turning to wait for him.

After that, he could hardly delay, could he? Though Bannan made sure to plant his foot firmly in the middle of each stone before stepping to the next.

And next.

And . . . the next rocked a bit, so he staggered and stepped more quickly than he’d like. The canal wasn’t where he’d choose a dunking.

“Bannan!”

He tore his eyes from his footing to look for Jenn, only then realizing the shout had been a man’s. A man he—the truthseer twisted around, stared up.

Emon Westietas looked down from the bridge. Their eyes locked for a heartbeat, then two figures grappled with the baron, pulling him back despite his struggles. “Run!”

“Run!” Jenn shouted, as the stones beneath Bannan’s feet shifted.

He looked down in horror to meet red eyes filled with hunger. Necks stretched from their hiding places and fist-sized beaks snapped eagerly at his feet.

Turtles! He was standing on giant turtles!

~EAT!~Catch!!!~MINEMINE~EATEAT!~ Deeper these voices but just as cold and eager. ~Eat!~MEAT!~ Jenn heard their cries with horror in her heart. Bannan jumped from shell to shell as the remaining turtles, their clever trap sprung, moved in to share the feast. Not that they appeared to want to share. ~I was FIRST!~MoveOver!~EATEAT!~

They most certainly were not to eat Bannan or even nibble him. Jenn Nalynn stretched her hand to Bannan as she
wished.

And Channen answered.

Spears of ice shot through the water in every direction. The quicker turtles dove; those preoccupied with Bannan found themselves immured and nicely solid.

The truthseer didn’t test the arrangement, but ran to her across it, taking her hand to gain speed on the final step. He whirled to face the bridge. “Emon!”

The three who’d been there were gone.

Warm
, Jenn told the canal, not wishing harm or notice. As the ice weakened, turtles cracked themselves free, muttering ~Turnborn~ and ~Starvesus!~ and ~Notfair~. One paused to give her a malignant glare. ~Wewereherefirst.~

Rabbits, she thought, but left it at that.

Instead, she took a firmer hold of Bannan, in case he thought to climb to the bridge where there were lights and people—people who’d taken the baron away—and said the only word sure to stop him.

“Lila.”

He nodded, though his eyes were wild. “This way.”

That they’d been so close—and failed. Bannan pushed the thought aside. Jenn was right. No matter who’d taken Emon, they were gone now and Lila was close. He abandoned stealth for speed. He’d looked out the window through his sister’s eyes and began checking over his shoulder once they reached the wall set with broken glass, meant to discourage too close an approach. Not this view. He stepped to his right, then again.

This. He spun around, eyes fixed on the rectangle of light that should—if their Blessed Ancestors would please pay attention for once—be his sister. “If anyone comes, warn me.” He laid his jacket over the spikes and lifted his foot.

“I’m coming with you,” Jenn said firmly. “We’ll have warning.”

Before he could argue, tiny hands patted him, then the yling took flight, hovering in the air with spear at the ready. At the same time, the purse banged and rocked against his hip until he pulled up the lid.

Out plopped the toad.

They weren’t alone. He wasn’t. And they were about to rescue Lila.

Ancestors Witness. Giant turtles. What a night! Tir won’t believe this, Bannan thought, grinning as he jumped atop the wall and reached a hand to his lady.

How could they fail?

By being too late. Bannan hung for a moment by his hands, then let himself drop to the ground, knees bent to soften his landing. “She’s not here.”

“You’re—”

“Certain? Yes.” He found Jenn’s arm in the dark and urged her forward. “We’d best not be here either.”

“I don’t understand.”

Lila. Heart’s Blood. No wonder Emon had shouted at him. She’d made her escape when she was good and ready, leaving her younger brother to look the fool.

Bannan laughed. He couldn’t help it.

Jenn gave him a strange look. “Before you were happy she was in jail,” she whispered, putting her foot in his hands for a boost.

“And now—” he heaved her up “—I’m happy she’s not.” Once she jumped down the other side, he took a few steps back, then ran to—

Ran to—

Ran—

He wasn’t moving.

Why wasn’t he moving?

He should know, Bannan Larmensu thought, fuzzily . . .

. . . before he stopped thinking at all.

She’d jumped and should have landed.

Why was she still falling?

Jenn considered the question, or the question considered her. She couldn’t tell the difference.

Not that the difference mattered.

Especially while something pulled her hair and something else tugged her boot. The hair pulling hurt.

The boot tugging moved her sideways, which was highly disconcerting, for she fell at the same time.

Really, it was enough to make her laugh.

So she did, but it sounded wrong, so she closed her lips quite tightly. Having lips. It was important, she thought fuzzily, to have lips.

For kissing. There were many good reasons for lips—her other boot was being tugged now—from smiling to talking to eating to . . . but kissing was—

Time floated by, or she did. In fact, when she did think about it, she seemed to be floating on her back, with something heavy and cold on her stomach.

How odd.

Voices, strange and cold. ~Carrycarry.~ and ~Don’tsink.~ and a plaintive ~Bite?~ followed by ~Mustn’t!~

Then a tentative tug on her ear, accompanied by ~Shiny?!~ and immediately thereafter strong tugs on both ears. ~SHINY!!MINE!~

Squashed by a different and stern ~BEHAVE!~

The cold voices settled into a muttered ~carrycarrycarrycarry~ as if their effort was difficult and virtuous.

~We’ve come!!~

She cringed. Loud, this new voice. Harsh and unhappy. Worse was the question it asked next.

~Where is the truthseer?~

For she did not know.

~Elder sister?~

“Jenn?”

The first voice was familiar, though it felt like an anxious itch between her ears. The second, less so, and Jenn Nalynn kept her eyes shut as she tried to place it.

“Ah. I believe she stirs, friend toad.”

Leott! The artisan who brought the light of the Verge into Channen. Jenn opened her eyes.

Tried to open her eyes. Ancestors Faded and Futile, why was it so hard? She struggled to raise herself to an elbow instead, but her arm had no strength.

“Easy, Jenn.” A damp coolness soothed her eyelids. “You’re safe now.”

A breeze, hot and dry, found her ear. “Where is the truthseer?”

Bannan—!

She couldn’t breathe. Was she drowning? Where was he? Hearts of her Ancestors, it couldn’t be—she hadn’t—

“Jenn. Relax. You must.” Louder and sharp. “Patience, the lot of you, or you’ll wait outside!” Gentle, once more. “Don’t fight the spell, Jenn. I fear it may strengthen again. I’m looking for a remedy—”