Escape From Riddler's Pass (11 page)

That gave Jesse an idea. “She's right. I wonder, if we told the Council the truth about the king—how he's trying to kill the Youth Guard, if….”

“What?” Parvel burst out. “Did I hear you correctly?”

Of course
. Parvel hadn't been with them in the desert when Captain Demetri had told Jesse the real purpose of the Youth Guard.

“I'm afraid so,” Jesse said. He took a few minutes to explain what he had learned: that creating the Youth Guard was the king's way of finding and eliminating the brightest and strongest young people in the kingdom who might rebel against his reign.

Silence for a moment. Then Parvel cleared his throat. “Well. That ought to make things more interesting.”

In a way, Jesse was disappointed. He was hoping for a stronger reaction from Parvel. “You don't sound surprised.”

“My father was a member of the king's court,” Parvel replied. “I did not know about his designs for the Youth Guard, but no evil report about King Selen surprises me. He is a twisted, corrupt man.”

“Do you think if we tell the Rebellion our story they'll let us go?” Jesse asked.

There was a pause as Parvel considered this. “Perhaps,” he said at last. “It means we have a common enemy, at least. But many of the Rebellion seem very rash, almost….”

“Bloodthirsty,” Silas finished bitterly. “Like they want any excuse to kill, even if it means killing someone innocent.”

“I would not put it so strongly,” Parvel said, “but, yes, a few come close to that description. Among the Nine, I cannot guess how many would be on our side. I know one who certainly will not be: one called Roland.”

“How do you know?” Jesse asked.

“He's a swaggering brute, pompous as a peahen. He came to visit me once. Yesterday, I think it was, although it's hard to keep track of time down here. He insisted it would be of no use to keep me alive, because you would never consider coming back for me.”

“Well, here we are,” Silas said.

Parvel leaned back against the stone wall. “Tell me, what have you been doing since you left Mir?”

“That's a longer story than I wish to tell,” Rae said. “Although I'm sure Jesse would be willing.”

“Here in the dungeon, time is one thing we will not lack.”

“First, your story,” Jesse said. “Tell us how you were taken from Mir.”

“Of course,” Parvel said. “Hector, one of the Nine, boasted about it our entire journey here. He and another man—Reid was his name—were sent to the crossroads at Mir to find our squad and bring us all here. They planned to ask for a large ransom in exchange for our lives.”

“It can't be true,” Silas protested. “That man tried to kill you—would have killed all of us.”

“Perhaps so,” Parvel admitted. “But he was acting on his own, against orders from the Rebellion. Hector said he was quite the radical. He didn't sound terribly sad about Reid's death.”

Jesse shuddered a little, remembering back to that night. Silas, a stranger to him then, had appeared at his uncle's inn, saying he had shot the man who had attacked them. Jesse couldn't imagine treating death so casually.
I wonder if I'll ever have to kill anyone to defend my friends.
He didn't like the thought.

“At any rate,” Parvel continued, “when Reid didn't return, Hector waited for seven days, as is customary for members of the Rebellion. He would have left town then, but for a bit of conversation he heard from a certain innkeeper who'd had a little too much to drink—a strange story about a sick Youth Guard member who was taken to a shack in the woods.”

“Uncle Tristan,” Jesse practically groaned. Why would he think his uncle would keep the three Youth Guard members' secret?

“Once he suspected I was still in Mir, Hector simply waited for an opportunity. In my weakened state, I could hardly fight back when he entered my room.” Parvel shrugged. “After a few days of forced travel, they threw me in here.”

“We never should have left you,” Rae said. “None of this would have happened.”

“Don't be foolish,” Parvel said. “I was the one who told you to leave. In any case, at least one good thing came out of all this. Hector is one of the Nine, and I believe we have a friend in him. We discussed much on our journey here.”

“And what happens if, by some miracle, we can persuade them to let us go?” Rae asked. “Where will we go?”

Jesse thought about that and realized with a start that he didn't know. “We escaped from Captain Demetri twice before,” he said, “but only barely. We can't go home, or we'll endanger our families. We can't go back to Da'armos, because we're wanted for attempted theft and escaping arrest.”

“Then what do we do?” Parvel asked.

Jesse glanced at the others in the darkness. “We were hoping you would be able to answer that.”

More silence. “Well,” Parvel said, a bit more grimly. “I always say that when ideas don't come, it's probably time for sleep. You must be tired.” With that, he laid down on the stone. “Good night.”

But it was not a good night, not for Jesse. The stone floor of the pit was cold and uncomfortable, and a thousand questions tumbled through his mind, like a rock slide.

Go to sleep
, he commanded himself, closing his eyes.
You'll never get the answers by thinking about them more.

Sleep wouldn't come. At least, Jesse didn't think it had. With everything so dark, the line between wakefulness and sleep was hard to distinguish.

Beside him, he heard Parvel muttering. “What are you doing?” Jesse asked quietly, so he wouldn't wake Silas and Rae.

“Praying,” Parvel said. “Just like I told you I would. I haven't stopped since you left me in Mir.”

“Oh. Well, it hasn't done much good.”

“What do you mean?” Parvel asked incredulously. “You're here, aren't you?”

“And locked in the same pit as you!”

For a moment, there was silence, and Jesse felt bad for his harsh words. “I just don't understand how you can believe in an invisible God.”

“You're right. I can't see God. But I can see what He's done in my life.”

Jesse snorted at that.
He sounds exactly like Noa, with all his talk of faith and a ‘greater story.'
“Then what is He doing now, Parvel? How could being trapped in this pit be a part of God's plan?”

“Jesse,” Parvel said, “if I told you the medallion around my neck has a red dragon with an emerald eye on it, would you believe me?”

Jesse blinked at the abrupt change of subject. “Well, yes. You should know. It's your medallion.”

“But I can't see it,” Parvel pressed. “How do I know?”

The answer was simple, too simple, but Jesse gave it anyway. “The only reason you can't see it is because it's too dark right now. You've seen it before, when it was light.”

“And I'll see it again, once there's light again.”

“I suppose,” Jesse agreed, still a bit confused.

“It's the same way with faith in God,” Parvel said. “I've seen God in the easy times, in the light. And even in the hard times, when I don't see what God is doing, when I don't understand, it doesn't mean I never will—God just hasn't chosen to bring it to light yet. He is still God. And I'm perfectly content to trust Him, even in the dark.”

Jesse thought about that for a minute. “I guess I don't have your faith.”

“Sometimes a leap into the darkness is the only way to the light,” Parvel said. “You're right. It takes faith. But I know God exists, as surely as I know light exists, even though I don't see it right now.”

Jesse sighed. He was too tired for that level of deep thinking. “Good night, Parvel,” he said.

“Good night. I'll
see
you in the morning.”

“Very funny.” Jesse tried to get comfortable by shifting positions on the ground. It didn't work. He closed his eyes anyway, hoping to dream about someplace warm and sunny.

The next thing Jesse knew, footsteps were coming toward them. He guessed from the impression of the stones on his face he must have slept, but he didn't feel any less exhausted.

“Ah, we have a visitor,” Parvel observed, sitting up from where he was slumped on the ground. Then he raised his voice. “Cotter, is that you?”

“Yes,” a voice called in response. The orange glow of a torch came closer, and the round face of a young boy, framed with curly black hair, peered down into the pit.

“The son of two of the Council members,” Parvel explained to them. “Thirteen years old. He and I are friends.”

Jesse blinked in surprise. He wouldn't have guessed the boy was any older than ten or eleven.

“Breakfast, I assume, Cotter?” Parvel glanced at Jesse. “The food here is terrible, as you might imagine, but it's nice to talk to someone besides our bad-tempered jailers.”

He made the comment louder than he needed to, as if he expected the boy to laugh.

But Cotter shook his head. “Not this time, Parvel. The Nine have arrived. Father will be coming soon to bring you up and present you before them.”

“Ah,” Parvel said, suddenly serious. “And what do you think the verdict will be?”

“I don't know,” Cotter said, looking at the torch in his hand instead of at them.

“Cotter,” Parvel said sternly. “A boy of your age ought to know to tell the truth, even when it's unpleasant.”

The boy bit his lip. “I'm not sure,” he said, “but my father and mother are more moderate than most of the Nine, and even they don't know what to do.” He took a deep breath. “I don't think it will be good.”

 

Jesse imagined it would be frightening to stand before the group of nine hardened warriors under any circumstances.
But it doesn't help we're awaiting their judgment, with our lives at stake.

He surveyed the panel of faces staring back at him, none of them smiling. They were seated on the bench he had seen before, carved out of stone. Behind them a row of large torches were lashed to the wall, bright enough to give the entire hall a dim glow. Silas, Rae, Parvel, and Jesse stood in a line in front of them. They were the only others in the cave, according to Council law, they had been told.

Sonya, of course, Jesse recognized, and Anise and Nathan. Parvel had muttered to him that they were Cotter's parents. Hector, the one who had kidnapped Parvel, sat on the far left. But the others were strangers to him—four men and one woman.

I wonder where the other rebels are
, Jesse thought briefly.
I assume in the main hall by the entrance
.
Which is good for us. I doubt a jeering, impatient crowd would side with us.

Their hands were left untied, probably because all nine of the assembled rebels had weapons. Jesse guessed they were experts at using them—the very best of the Rebellion.

An old man in the center of the group stood. “This meeting of the Council of Nine is now called to order,” he announced.

The man at his right side then stood. “First, sentencing of the four Youth Guard members.”

“Three Youth Guard and one cripple,” Sonya modified, glancing at Jesse smugly. It was all Jesse could do to ignore the comment.

“I say we have no choice,” she continued, leaping to her feet. As he saw her standing tall and proud before them, Jesse realized Sonya was actually quite beautiful.
To anyone who doesn't know her, that is
.

“They have found our headquarters,” Sonya said. “If we release them, they will report to the king. Our meeting place—the only one that has never been discovered—would be destroyed, and we would be scattered. They must die.”

Several of the Nine turned to discuss this with each other, and Jesse realized that a Council member only stood when he or she wanted to address the entire group. Apparently, the Nine were allowed to talk to each other freely throughout the meeting.
This might take longer than we expected. Which, since Cotter expects the outcome to be bad, doesn't bother me.

Now a man with a thick, matted gray beard stood, and the rest fell silent. Although he had sharp features and a direct, pointed stare, Jesse didn't sense the same hostility from him that he did whenever Sonya spoke. “If it pleases the Nine, I would like to hear an account of how these three managed to find their way here at all.”

“I say we quit wasting our time and declare them guilty,” a large, burly man countered, standing. “We can see they serve the king—whatever lies they tell won't change that.”

“Roland,” Parvel muttered. Jesse wasn't surprised. His face seemed locked in a scowl, and he directed it right at them.

“It may, or it may not,” the gray-bearded man said. “But, regardless, would it not be wise to consider how to prevent future intruders from reaching our headquarters?”

Most of the Nine nodded, except Roland, who sat down with his arms crossed. “Well,” Nathan said to them, not bothering to stand. “You heard Mathias. Let's hear your story.”

Silas and Rae both looked to Jesse, and he began to breathe heavier. Of course, his people were storytellers. But this was no simple tale told at a glowing fireplace hearth on a cold night. It was an account given in front of a group of people who wanted to kill him.

“Include as much detail as possible,” Parvel whispered. “The more they know about us, the less likely they are to see us merely as faceless intruders. It will make it harder for them to vote against us.”

“Well?” Sonya again, her lips curling into a sneer. “Are you mute as well as lame?”

Jesse took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Our story begins when we realized Parvel was taken from my friend's house in Mir.”

Each detail of the story began to fall into place: Kayne describing what had happened to Parvel, Bern and New Urad, Noa and his histories, the pile of rocks, and especially the Patrol members who pursued them and createdthe cave-in to kill them. Jesse decided it was an important detail, since the Rebellion hated the king and his men.

Jesse tried to make his story as dramatic as possible, and judging by the interested faces of the Nine, he succeeded. Only Sonya and Roland, sneering and staring into the distance with a bored expression, seemed not to be listening. He pressed on without giving them time to interrupt with an objection or complaint. Whenever he needed encouragement, he just glanced over at Parvel, who was listening intently, delighted at every twist and turn in the plot.

Then Jesse spoke of the riddles and how they solved them: the near fall into the ravine, the choice between the diamond and moon tunnels, and how Rae discovered the password. “And so,” Jesse concluded, “that was how we found the headquarters in Riddler's Pass.”

“Riddler's Pass?” the gray-bearded man, Mathias, questioned.

“That is what the Roarics call this place,” Jesse explained. “It seemed a fitting name.”

The oldest member of the Nine, the one who sat in the center, smiled at that and Jesse briefly wondered why.

“You see?” Mathias said, standing. “You have heard these young people are no friends of the king. They are intelligent and clever, and no doubt understand what we are trying to do here. They will not betray us. I am confident of this.”

Now three stood at once—Sonya, Roland, and Anise. Instead of talking at once, Sonya and Roland nodded at Anise.
Strange.
Then Jesse realized,
It must be that the eldest is allowed to speak first.
Anise seemed to be a few years older than Sonya or Roland, who appeared to be the youngest of the Nine.

“But they
are
Guard,” Anise pointed out. “How can we be sure their true loyalties do not lie with the king?”

Sonya and Roland sat after she did.
Clearly, they were going to say the same thing.

“With all due respect,” Jesse said, a hint of a smile edging onto his face, “the king is trying to kill us. That hardly gives us much reason to support him.”

A few of the Nine nodded, and one even chuckled a little. “It's true,” Jesse heard someone whisper.

“Then why did the traitors join the Guard?” Roland burst out, forgetting to stand. “Tell us that.”

“We didn't know,” Jesse said, but even he knew the answer sounded hollow.

“I'll tell you why I joined the Guard,” Rae said, stepping forward. Her dark eyes were blazing with an intensity Jesse had never seen before. “I joined because my village was starving. The king took away all of our food every harvest, leaving us with barely enough to survive.”

Suddenly, Jesse felt a new sympathy for Rae.
Why didn't she ever tell us?

“My village chose me to represent them at the muster. People I did not even know helped me train, even gave me extra rations of their food, so I could join the Guard, complete my mission, and use the spectacular reward promised to save my family and friends.” Rae's voice became flat. “I was their last hope.”

There were a few mutters of approval and sympathy, and Jesse knew Rae's passionate words had struck home.

“But how do we know?” Sonya asked. “Perhaps all of this is just a ruse to gain our trust. As soon as they are let go, they will report us to the Patrol and collect a reward.”

On and on it went, with Mathias and Hector arguing in their favor, Sonya and Roland firmly against them, each standing and repeating the same arguments. There was talk of torture, of pardons, of issues and accusations that seemed completely unrelated to the case at hand.

Finally, the white-haired man who had called the meeting to order and had not spoken since stood and cleared his throat. “It is pointless to continue this argument. We must not stand here, indecisive, like the stones around us.”

“Then call the vote!” Roland declared. “Death or release!”

The old man gave him a pointed stare and continued. “Perhaps there is a third option,” he said, his words clear and measured. “We let them live—if they agree to join us.”

Now Sonya stood. “I object, sir. How can we trust them?”

“We keep one here at all times,” the old man replied. Clearly, he had put much thought into this. “Can we doubt they have great loyalty to each other? The three risked their lives to save the first by coming here at all. As long as we have the power of life or death over one, they will not waver in their commitment.”

Silas' face was as hard as stone, but his eyes were boiling with anger. Jesse glanced at Parvel in panic.
This is not what we want!

Parvel just shook his head slightly, turning back to listen to the old man.

Hector stood. “I agree with Gregor,” he said. “These four—or three, if we keep one in the pits—will do more for our cause than dozens of our best fighters. The king keeps them in his service for a reason. They could be a powerful force against him.”

There was a murmuring in the hall as the Council discussed the idea. “No,” Silas hissed to Parvel, his fists knotted at his sides. “I will never join them. Not even to save our lives.”

“Calm yourself, Silas,” Parvel said. “And for goodness' sake, let me talk to them. You'll only anger them more.”

Silas didn't seem to like this piece of advice, but he pressed his mouth into a hard, firm line.

Now Nathan stood. “We'll consider the option,” he said. “I, for one, see the reason in it.” He looked directly at each of the four in turn. “But I wonder what these four think about joining our cause.”

Parvel stepped forward immediately.
Probably so Silas wouldn't have a chance.
“I appreciate your generous offer—I realize that only a dedicated, worthy few are asked to join the Rebellion. But, as I have already explained to Hector, there are many points where I disagree sharply with the Rebellion.”

“See!” Sonya declared triumphantly. “He is on the side of the king.”

“What is all this talk of sides?” he demanded, his fists tightening. He began to pace in front of the Nine. “From you, from others. With the king or with the Rebellion? Has the time passed when a man—or even a young person, as you call us—can do what is right, without taking a side?”

“Don't let his fancy words deceive you,” Roland interrupted. “They're nothing but lies. He'll turn on us in a second.”

“That is your ego speaking, not your mind,” Anise said calmly, again without a trace of anger. “His words reflect what I myself have considered more than once. I wish to hear more.” She nodded at Parvel. “Continue.”

“Do I believe the king is wrong? Of course,” Parvel said. “But I also believe the Rebellion is wrong.” The faces of the Nine hardened.

Nathan stood again. “And why is that?”

Before Parvel could reply, Hector stood. “The boy has many opinions,” he said smoothly. Though his words were to Nathan, he stared straight at Parvel.
He is warning him not to continue
. “That doesn't change the fact that he is harmless to us.”

Nathan did not sit on the rock bench. “Thank you, Hector, but I asked him the question.”

Parvel nodded. “Why is the Rebellion wrong? Because you cannot fight evil with more evil,” he said, emphasizing his words strongly. “You who accuse the king of stealing your food resort to stealing if it advances your cause. You who claim your freedom is restricted by the curfew take away the freedom of others. You who deplore the killing of innocents will kill innocents yourselves.”

At that last point, Roland stood again. “It's the price we have to pay for freedom,” he growled. “There are costs to any great effort.”

Beside him, Jesse could hear Silas' heavy breathing.
Stay silent
, he willed him.
It won't do any good for you to speak now.

“Let me ask you this,” Parvel said, stepping forward again. “Let's say I was locked in the king's dungeon at Terenid. After stealing the key away from the guard, I made a dramatic escape. In the process, one of the guards shot at me with his crossbow. I grabbed the nearest servant boy and used him as a shield. The arrow struck him, and he died. Would that be wrong?”

“No,” Nathan said, sounding defensive. “You had to save your own life. You were trying to escape. The boy just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I see,” Parvel said, looking thoughtful. “Now, let's change the scene. Imagine that I am locked in a pit within Riddler's Pass.”

Jesse snorted.
Yes, that takes a great deal of imagination
.