Obsidian (21 page)

“I meant those Kynell has provided for us. It’s time you and Vancien sought his help together.”

Amarian gave a nervous laugh. “I think the stress is getting to you, General. Vancien is the one Kynell will listen to.”

Telenar had been watching Vancien while Chiyo and Amarian spoke. Vancien had at first started, then flushed, then tried unsuccessfully to hide his resentment. Telenar could sympathize. He, too, resented Chiyo’s idea.

Now all three of them were looking at the Prysm Advocate. “Did you come up with this?” Amarian asked first.

Vancien shook his head. “I probably should have, but no, I didn’t. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“And? What do you think?”

Vancien thought for a moment, looking first at the curtains, then at the map, and then squarely at Amarian. “I don’t like it. It’s an insult. I’ve given my life to him and now he won’t hear my prayers? Why? Why would he listen to you and not me?”

Amarian lowered his head. His own unworthiness washed over him. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t deserve it if he did.”

Vancien, too, dropped his gaze. “That’s just it. Neither one of us deserve it, not really. But maybe with the both of us asking in his name, he’ll grant our request.”

There was nothing else to say. Telenar and Chiyo departed, leaving the brothers to their thoughts and their prayers.

__________

Torches lit up the wet streets as crowds of terrified people shuffled past doorways that were closed and locked. N’vonne was standing near the entrance of a blacksmith’s shop, directing people inside and down into the cellar, where another woman pointed them down a wide tunnel lined with small, burning bundles of tar-soaked hay. The evacuees, having been told nothing, asked questions of every person they could, but the only response they received were kind reminders to keep following directions. N’vonne hated to see the fear of the unknown in their faces, but it was for the best. If all the helpers (who themselves were not informed of the whole situation) stopped to answer questions, no one would make it to safety before the attack came.

Not long before twilight, she was accosted by a distraught woman and girl dragging a cart behind them. The woman was repeating the same thing over and over again, pointing frantically back into the street. The girl said nothing; she appeared stunned. It took some moments before N’vonne could make any sense of what was wrong.

“Please! He took my boy! It was Gorvy, she says! I didn’t see him, but she heard him. We know it must be Gorvy!”

Determined not to make the crowd more edgy than it already was, N’vonne pulled the woman aside. “Shh. You must calm down. Who took your boy? Who’s Gorvy?”

The woman took several deep breaths. “I didn’t ever see him, but Ester here says she heard a familiar voice—Gorvy’s voice—he’s the man who used to keep the children. Then she heard Trint cry out and I looked just in time to see him over a man’s shoulders. Then he was gone. We tried to follow, but the streets are so crowded. We’ve been searching for hours. Can’t you send the guards?”

N’vonne doubted if any guards could be spared, but she assured the woman that she would see what she could do. “Where did you see him last? How old is your boy? What does he look like? Can the girl describe what the man looked like?”

Ester quickly found her tongue, a little pleased that the lady did not notice her handicap. “My friends told me that he’s tall, with dark, greasy hair. He wears a smelly leather vest with leather moccasins. No boots, though. I think he also has a mustache.”

“Do you have any idea where he lives?”

The girl shook her head. “Gorvy lives all over the place. He steals for a living, you see, and he used to make us steal for him. We never knew where he lived.”

N’vonne looked again at the woman. “And this boy. . .he’s your son?”

The woman nodded her head firmly. “He is now. And I’ve got to find him.”

N’vonne could understand that sentiment. Pulling aside the woman who had been helping her, she told her that she would be back as soon as she could. Then she followed them into the street. On the way, she snagged a Sentry to help them search. It was just a Mholi, his eyes glazing over as he kept watch over the lines in the street, but he would strike the fear of Kynell into that villain Gorvy, if they could find him.

The Sentry listened as Ester described the man they were pursuing, then he jogged ahead, his ears fanned wide to listen for a cry of distress over the other noises. Ester tried to describe to them where the old ‘fort’ was located, but her clues were difficult to put together: a well twenty paces left of the door, a noisy tavern forty-five paces straight ahead, a continuous wall running along to the right. This last was the best clue, since it told them that it was dug into the city wall. So they started searching that perimeter, in the hopes that Gorvy would take Trint back to his original place of captivity. Soon they were outside the old fort, now inhabited by other unfortunate children (the enterprising man had been quick to fill the shoes of his lost four). These, upon questioning, had not seen Gorvy recently. Both N’vonne and Alisha were horrified. Despite the children’s natural fear of Sentries, the women sent them packing with the Mholi with the orders that he attach them to a willing family for the time being. Then they continued their search, shouting out Trint’s name until their throats were hoarse and praying that they could somehow find him in the wet and sprawling city.

__________

Trint had never been so scared in his life. He screamed and cried and kicked until Gorvy tossed him to the ground, clamped his hand over his mouth, and threatened a good lashing if he did not stop. His face was so close that Trint got a whiff of his breath, which smelled like rotten fish. Then Gorvy jerked him to his feet and led him through the crowds.

“Can’t go back there,” he was muttering to himself. “She’ll remember how to get there. She’s blind, but she ain’t stupid. Gotta go to Point Four.”

Point Four, as Trint soon found out, was the attic of a fabric shop, accessible from the street by thin, rickety stairs. Gorvy marched them up these. When he reached the top, he produced a jumble of keys. Holding Trint with one hand and juggling the keys with the other, he located the one he wanted. The door unlocked with an ominous clank, swinging open to reveal the barest of rooms, lit by one small window high up in the ceiling and furnished with a solitary chain attached to the wall.

“I know you’re good at getting in an’ out of tight places,” Gorvy said as he attached Trint’s thin wrist to one end of the chain, “But I figure this’ll keep ya. The lady downstairs is deaf. She can’t hear nobody screaming. So there’s no sense wearing yourself out over that. Just sit tight for now. I’ll be back in a bit to deal with your mutiny.”

Trint did not know what mutiny meant, but the chain spoke loud enough for him to understand. He sat mutely as Gorvy cuffed his ear before going outside, locking the door as he left. After the footsteps of his kidnapper faded, he began to cry.

The evening turned into night, which turned into eternity as Trint watched the door with dread. When would he come back? Would he bring something to eat? To drink? Terrified as he was of Gorvy’s presence, the boy realized that he was his only link to food. He was therefore both scared and relieved when Gorvy arrived long after nightfall. After lighting a candle and setting it on the floor, he tossed him a dried meatstick and a canteen of water.

“Here. Take this. Not that you deserve it, you little traitor.”

Trint ate, but his appetite left him when he noticed Gorvy unwinding a thick knotted rope that was looped around his shoulder.

“W-what’s that for?” he stuttered.

“It’s to show you what the punishment is for traitors ‘round here. And I plan on makin’ it a lesson you won’t soon forget.”

Trint dropped his food and started to sob, drawing himself back against the wall as much as he could. Gorvy took a step forward, then stopped, his attention drawn towards something to the boy’s right.

“How did you get here?” he snarled.

Trint looked up to see a bow-legged, sturdy man, completely out of place, looking placidly around him. Though he would swear he had never seen the man before, he knew exactly who he was.

“Daddy!’

When the man’s gaze fell on the boy, his expression lit up. “Trint? Is that you? My, how you’ve grown!” He crouched quickly to take the boy in his arms, then noticed the chain.

“What’s this?”

He looked up at Gorvy, who, in his astonishment, still had his arm raised. “Who are you? And what are you doing with that rope?”

Gorvy attempted to stand his ground. “I don’t know who you think you are,” he stuttered, “but you’ve interrupted something. If you don’t mind steppin’ outside, I’ve got to teach this boy a lesson.”

The man stood, placing himself in front of Trint. “I do mind. Now tell me what you were doing with my son.”

Gorvy raised his eyebrows, trying not to appear intimidated but already planning his escape. “Son? So you really are his old man? Trint, you never told me,” he wheedled, edging his way toward the door. The man noticed the movement and grabbed him by the collar.

“Not before you unlock him,” he growled.

Faced with the threat of direct force, Gorvy obeyed and soon found himself locked up with the same chain. Then the man, with a protective arm around Trint, shut the door on him, although not before kindly promising to send a guard up his way.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The three women were exhausted. Poor Ester was almost incoherent with grief and worry. She kept whimpering to herself, “It’s because I can’t see. If only I could have seen where he went. . .” N’vonne and Alisha had tried to comfort her several times on that score, but she would not listen and soon, they were too tired to try.

Nightfall had not deterred their efforts, but as the hours dragged by, their despair of finding Trint became acute.

They had stopped to rest in an alley. Ester had become very still in her grief, while Alisha was doubled over, rocking back and forth.

“How could I let him go?” She muttered. “I have lost two sons. I cannot be trusted with sons. I have lost them both.”

She was repeating this refrain over and over, when Ester suddenly raised her hand.

“Shh! Alisha, do you hear that?”

She jumped to her feet and ran down the alleyway, turning left, then right, not caring whether the two women were keeping up with her. When they caught her, she had stopped on another quiet street (so many of the side streets were deserted now), and was listening intently.

“It’s coming closer.” she whispered, her voice quivering with excitement.

The words had just escaped her mouth when a man rounded the corner with a small boy perched on his shoulders. They were both singing.

“Trint!” Alisha cried, startling both the boy and the man.

Trint waved as they rushed up to him. The man, meanwhile, recoiled as Alisha started pummeling him with her fists.

“Let him go, you monster! Drop him this instant or you’ll have me to deal with!”

But Ester tilted her head to where she thought Trint would be. “Trint, are you okay? Who are you with? He doesn’t sound like Gorvy.”

At the sound of her question, Alisha stopped her attack, stepped back, and studied her young charge. It certainly didn’t look as if he was being kidnapped.

Trint was beaming from ear to ear. “He’s my daddy.”

Ester frowned. “Trint, your father has been dead for almost four cycles.”

Trint shrugged, clamored down off of his father’s shoulders, and allowed Alisha to swallow him in a hug. “Still,” he responded, his voice muffled by Alisha’s dress, “he’s my daddy.”

N’vonne had watched the scene first with relief, then delight, then with amazement. She alone of all of them could suspect what had actually happened. She approached the man cautiously, as if approaching a cornered animal.

“Sir, are you this boy’s father?”

The man, a picture of health and energy, nodded enthusiastically. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen him but, oh, I’d know that boy anywhere. My name’s Wake.”

“Okay, Wake. How did you, uh, find Trint?”

The man scratched his head, then stooped to pick up his son again. “Hard to say. I was with Kynell and some others, then suddenly I was in this room. Dingy place—nothing Kynell would have done. There was a man. . .” His face darkened at the memory. “He was about to hurt my boy. I stopped him, of course, chained him up. Then Trint and I decided to go for a walk, didn’t we, little guy?”

Alisha and Ester had started listening to their conversation as N’vonne continued. “And do you know why you’re here? I mean, pulled out of Kynell’s presence?”

“Don’t know if I’d say ‘pulled,’ ma’am. I was happy to go, especially when I figured out where I was. Beyond saving my boy from that scoundrel, I imagine I’m here to help fight Obsidian. It’s about that time, isn’t it?”

N’vonne couldn’t hold back tears, nor could she refrain herself from embracing this cheerful stranger. “It finally worked!” she exclaimed. “Vancien did it!”

She blubbered for a few seconds along similar lines as Wake politely returned her embrace, then asked the way to the palace. He wasn’t familiar with this neighborhood, he explained.