Lost (10 page)

A
t the bottom of the hill, the forest began. In the gray rainy light the road looked like a tunnel leading into darkness. Brown-leafed bushes crowded up to the road, and over them loomed trees with knobbly bark, twisted branches, and dark leaves. Vines hung down between
the trees, and a milky fog lay close to the ground. The air smelled of rotting leaves and mold. I walked slowly along, my boots muddy, the pack heavy.

As I left Wellmet I felt the magic of the city getting farther away. It was like walking away from a warm fire. As the magic faded into the distance, the rain felt colder; my stomach felt emptier; the ache from my ribs and shoulder got worse with every step.

The tunnel through the trees grew darker and darker until I realized that I could barely see the road under my feet. Time to stop. I walked along the edge of the road until I found a good place to sleep—a bush full of brown, rustly leaves, with a dry spot underneath, out of the rain. I crawled in, dragging the knapsack behind me, and crouched, leaves rustling around my head and twigs poking into my back.

I opened the knapsack to see what Nevery had packed. A knife in a leather sheath. A packet of
biscuits, one of cooked bacon, three apples, five cooked potatoes, a lump of cheese wrapped in waxed paper, and a canteen filled with water.

The night had grown completely dark. It was never this dark in Wellmet; even on a rainy night, the werelights from the Sunrise reflected off the clouds and made the night glow pink.

By touch, I brought out a biscuit and two pieces of bacon, made a sandwich, and took a bite.

What was Nevery doing right now? I closed my eyes. He was across the table from me. He was eating chicken pie and pointing at me with his fork, telling me not to wipe my face on my sleeve.
Use your napkin, boy
, he said. Later we would go up to the study and I would ask him about the papers he’d written on pyrotechnics, the ones I’d nicked from his study. Lady would curl up on my lap and purr. Benet would bring up tea and then sit with his chair tilted back against the wall, knitting.

I chewed at my bite of biscuit and bacon and
finally swallowed it down, but the lump of sadness in my throat wouldn’t let me eat any more. Carefully, I wrapped up the biscuit again and put it back in the knapsack.

I lay down to sleep, using the knapsack as a pillow, shivering because my clothes were damp. The leaves of the bush rustled, and drops of rain pattered down nearby. My eyes stayed open, and I stared at the black night. High above, the wind blew in the treetops. It sounded like somebody sighing, far, far away,
alas
,
alas
,
alas
.

The next morning when I woke up, I felt awful. Not because I was tired, but because of something else. The inside of my neck hurt and my head felt watery and strange, like it was going to fall off and roll across the ground.

I knew what it was. I was sick with a cold. In Wellmet I’d never gotten sick, ever, because the magic had protected me. But it couldn’t protect me way out here on the road to Desh.

I sneezed and crawled out from under my bush. The rain kept up all day, just a drizzle that made everything damp but not wet. Wellmet’s magic felt very far away, just a warm spark in the distance. My cold got worse, my head aching with every step. My shoulder hurt. The road grew muddier. It led on, straight through the trees. If I followed it, I reckoned, and walked fast, I would catch up with Rowan and her envoyage. I wasn’t sure Rowan would let me join her, but one way or another I would get to Desh.

I walked all the rest of the day, sneezing and sniffling and wiping my nose on my sleeve. Finally the night crept through the trees. Like the night before, I found a bush to sleep under, this one farther away from the road.

I couldn’t feel the magic at all anymore, not even a glimmer in the distance. My ribs aching, my head aching, I crawled into the bush; even under its rustly leaves the ground was wet, but I wasn’t going to find anywhere drier. I’d spent
wetter nights in the Twilight. After eating a potato and some cheese and telling my growling stomach it wasn’t getting any more, I lay down to sleep.

The night was empty, and darker than a cellar with the door closed. Nearby I heard rustling, twigs cracking, scurryings. What was it? Little animals, I guessed. Maybe rats. There were always plenty of rats around in the Twilight. Sometimes, if you slept in a dark cellar, they’d creep out during the night and nibble at your hair.

My eyes fell shut and I went to sleep.

Went to survey damage. Heartsease utterly destroyed. Nothing salvageable. Grimoire lost, curse it. Will have to rebuild from ground up.

Benet has not yet woken. Trammel grows more worried, fears his brain injured when skull was cracked.

Met with magisters. Discussed Connwaer’s exile. Order of exile issued. Discussed Shadows. Magisters grow more worried every day.

Staying in Brumbee’s apartments in academicos. Uncomfortable; don’t like it. Can’t sleep. I fear something is deeply wrong, more than we know.

F
our more days of walking as fast as I could through the mud with my sore throat and my ribs aching, and sleeping under bushes. I ran out of food on the third morning, after eating the last crumbs of cheese and a half potato for breakfast. Living with Nevery and Benet, I’d forgotten what it
was like to be hungry. My stomach felt hollow, and by the next morning my head did, too.

Eventually the night came on. Instead of looking for a bush to sleep under, I kept walking,
plod
,
plod
,
plod
down the road in the dark.

I caught up with the envoyage the next day. It was still early morning; the sky overhead was dark gray, and a light rain drifted down. My cold was a little better, but my head spun, from hunger and from relief. I stopped to look over the camp. It was a cluster of white canvas tents in a grassy clearing just off the road. A couple of fire pits were scattered around; the horses were tethered together and the wagon and the carriages were pulled up next to the road. I saw a few people, guards and servants, carrying firewood and buckets of water.

Rowan was in the biggest tent, I reckoned. I walked into the camp.

I’d only taken three steps when somebody
grabbed me and jerked me off my feet. She spun me to face her.

Kerrn, with one of her guards. Drats.

“Rowan!” I shouted. Kerrn clapped her hand over my mouth. I struggled, my ribs twinging, but she and the other guard picked me up and carried me into another tent, at the other end of the camp. They set me on my feet, and I made a dive for the tent flap to get outside.

“Ro—” I got out, and then Kerrn had me by the collar and twisted, choking me.

The tent had a central pole holding it up. Kerrn slammed me up against it; she searched me, and came up with my knife. She held it up in her other hand. “Well, well. What are you doing here, little thief?” she asked. She twisted my collar tighter and thumped me back against the post.

I gasped for breath. Dark spots flashed in front of my eyes.

Someone else came into the tent, ducking
under the flap and standing just inside. He said something, and Kerrn let me go.

I bent over, holding on to the pole, catching my breath.

“We caught this thief sneaking into the camp with a knife,” Kerrn said.

“Ah, I see. But Captain, I believe Lady Rowan knows him,” said the man. I looked up. Argent. Rowan’s friend, the one who taught her swordcraft lessons.

“I need to talk to her,” I said to him. “And I wasn’t sneaking,” I said to Kerrn.

“Be quiet, thief,” Kerrn growled.

Argent was tall, looked a few years older than Rowan, and had blond hair neatly combed, blue eyes, and a long nose for looking down. He looked down it at me and snorted. “I suppose she will have to see him, Captain.” He turned to leave.

Kerrn grabbed my shoulder—my bad shoulder, ow—and pushed me after Argent; I followed him
out of the tent, trying not to stumble.

Dragging me by the collar, Kerrn brought me to a fire, where one of the servants stirred a pot of something that smelled delicious. Porridge, I guessed. With raisins in it.

Argent ducked into the big tent nearby, and after a short while came out again with Rowan.

She saw me and raised her eyebrows. “Well, Connwaer,” she said.

“Hello, Ro,” I said.

“So you’ll talk to me now, will you?”

I nodded.

Kerrn still held me by the collar.

“Captain, you may release him,” Rowan said.

“Are you sure, Lady Rowan?” she asked. “We caught him sneaking into camp with a knife.”

“I am quite sure,” Rowan said. She was annoyed, I could tell. Kerrn let me go.

At the fire, the servant started dishing out bowls full of the porridge. They were frying bacon, too. My stomach growled.

“Are you listening, Conn?” Rowan said.

I turned back to her. “Sorry,” I said.

“I asked why you are here.”

I opened my mouth to tell her, but the pyrotechnics, Heartease, Benet, Nevery—it was too much to explain. I shook my head.

Rowan’s eyes widened; she could see that I was in trouble. “All right. You’re coming with us, though?”

I nodded. Yes, all the way to Desh. And what I would do once I got there, I wasn’t sure.

Rowan Forestal

This morning Conn walked into camp.

My mother told me I would face challenges on this journey, and that I must “assert my leadership.” One challenge is to decide what to do with Conn. I asked Magister Nimble to take him on as an apprentice until we return to Wellmet. Nimble said,
Absolutely not
.
Meanwhile Captain Kerrn wants to arrest Conn—for our own protection. She warns very darkly that Conn will land us in trouble unless he is chained up.

Then during our ride, Argent asked if he could have Conn as his servant. I suppose Argent’s idea is better than turning Conn over to Captain Kerrn. Knowing Conn, he will not like being a servant, but he must be given something to do or he will get into trouble. Argent will keep him out of Kerrn’s way.

We don’t have time for these distractions. A broken
carriage wheel slowed us down yesterday, and I was half-tempted to leave it behind. We must get to Desh as soon as possible. While we are on the road, who knows what terrible things are happening back home in Wellmet. I cannot get Conn to speak of them. I am worried about my mother, too, and the wound she suffered. Magister Trammel said she was improving, but she seemed so weak and pale before we left.