Soft clicks came from the opposite end of the cave. Sofia straightened. A lavender glow slipped from a fissure in the wall and a tiny figure holding a cane clicked toward her. No bigger than her hand, the small man crossed the cave floor to remove his hat and sweep a bow. His coat was tight and his pants billowing. He smiled up at her and she gaped down at his glowing form.

  “Welcome back, Sofia.”

  “Ah...”

  “It’s been a few years, hasn’t it? I hope you’ve been happy.”

  Sofia swallowed. “Who are you?”

  “Excuse my poor manners,” he said, bowing again. “We haven’t actually met, have we? My name is Padin di Mente and this is my home. Or, part of it.”

  “Are you real?” She was still only half in control of her jaw. Maybe the fever was inducing a hallucination.

  He sniffed. “I am quite real, I assure you.”

  “I’m sorry. But, ah, what are you?”

  “A Mente. What are you?”

  “A Falco, I suppose.”

  He lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs and laying the cane across his knees. “What brings you back to the Payvesa Foothills?”

  “Payvesa? These aren’t the Western Foothills?”

  He nodded. “I’ve heard you Falcos call it that. Even your curious friends from before are thinking of it that way. They walk across history, blind as moles. Payvesa was ancient before your ancestors built your home.”

  Sofia waited. He stared up at her expectantly, the glow from his body lighting the whole room. It was so powerful that the walls responded, traces of purple swirling beneath the stone, as if looping patterns had been drawn there and were slowly waking. Beautiful, and yet, would it be visible from outside? If Lupo returned... “Ah, Padin, your glow is very bright. I worry that men looking for me might see it. They are not my friends.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. They cannot see us.”

  “So, you helped me?”

  “I must admit, you appeared in some distress.”

  “I was. Thank you Padin.”

  “It was my pleasure. I have missed watching over you. And do not worry. They won’t see you should they return, not so long as I am awake.”

  She exhaled. That at least, was a relief. “Do you sleep often?”

  “I sleep much of the time you Falcos are awake. I was in fact quite surprised to see you here. It has been many years since I last saw you – hiding and giggling in my reception room.”

  “This? It seems a bit bare. But still beautiful,” she hastened to add.

  “Bare only to your eyes, Sofia. This room does not appear to me as it does to you. You see the necessary illusion.”

  “Your magic is very powerful, Padin.”

  “Thank you, but I am a mere student.”

  Sofia stared at him. If he was a student, what could a master do? “Do you live in this hill? By yourself?”

  He waved his cane around his head. “All of them, actually. The Payvesa Foothills are my home and while I do live alone, I have many visitors. Some of which are even welcome, such as you.”

  “That’s a relief, Padin. What do you do here?”

  “I watch and when I do not watch I tend to the hills.”

  “For who?”

  “No-one has instructed me to watch. It is the di Mente way.”

  “Ah, I meant...” Sofia stopped. Maybe it didn’t matter. The fact that she was speaking with a miniature man who glowed, who’d watched over her in the past, and who’d saved her life, did. “I have to thank you again, Padin. Can I repay you?”

  He smiled. “No, but you are a kind Falco to offer. In fact, I’m glad you returned. I have something for you, wait here a moment if you please?” He rose, dusted off his pants and strode to the fissure in the wall, slipping inside and taking his lavender light with him. In the utter dark Sofia waited, sweat sliding down her temple.

  When Padin returned, he was dragging a ring into the room, which he urged her to wear. The slender ring was a perfect fit for forefinger, the band carven with feathers. “It’s beautiful. Whose is it?” she asked, turning her hand.

  “A warrior queen once wore it. She died defending her people in Payvesa, many years ago. Her hair was quite golden, even at night. You might know her name, though I cannot recall it.”

  “I can’t remember her.” She said before twisting the ring off and laying it in an outstretched palm. “But I am not worthy to wear it, if what you say is true.”

  “It is indeed true. And I’m giving it to you, it is well that you wear it, Sofia. I have no use for it. A Mente watches.”

  “Thank you.” She replaced it, finding that her breathing had eased but that her eyes were heavy. “Padin, may I sleep here? Safely?”

  “Of course. I will watch.”

  She leant back. “Thank you again. I’m in your debt, Padin.”

  “That you are, but the price is not to be paid yet. Sleep for now, Sofia. We will meet again, I am sure.”

  “I’d like that,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

  ***

  The day was wearing on when she woke. Sunlight poured through the grass edging the cave mouth, splashing onto the floor. Despite sleeping on stone, Sofia’s limbs weren’t stiff, nor did a single ache trouble her. The cuts on her arms were healed, the blood gone and only thin, white lines remained. All trace of fever had been banished, she drew in a deep breath and felt her lungs expand. Her old wounds no longer troubled her, ankle free of pain. Even her bonds were cut, the scraps of rope and collar missing from beneath her scarf.

  She stretched. “Padin?”

  The little glowing man was gone. She held up her hand. The ring. In the day it was bright, the feathers delicate and unmarred by signs of age. Which Queen? And where in the hills had she died? None of Sofia’s history books mentioned a golden warrior queen, though with such a description, how could she be forgotten or overlooked?

  “Goodbye, Padin. And thank you.” Sofia crept from the opening of the cave. No-one walked the trails. The breeze was cold and the sun warm enough that she almost enjoyed the walk to the stream, despite her parched throat. Bent at the river, water cold on her teeth, she drank her fill. It didn’t take the place of food, didn’t much ease that ache, but it would have to suffice. She had nothing and the stores in her mansion were inaccessible. Or as good as. Lupo could be anywhere.

  If she circled the building and returned to the road some miles away, she could be well on her way to Anaskar and away from Lupo. And Veddir with his strange claims of being able to hear her heartbeat and blood. Was it true? She shivered. Time to move on.

  Sofia wove through long, swaying grass, cresting the hill in the same grove from the day before and keeping the mansion in view. Inside were supplies and equipment. A water flask, food and heavier boots and cloak, a bedroll or at least a blanket and tinderbox. It was only a day’s travel, but she was starting late. Night would catch her in the mountains. Thanks to old games of hide and seek, she knew of one trail near to the road, but not how far it went. She’d be a fool to try the journey without real planning.

  Life in the palace did not prepare her to travel alone in the mountains, but going into the mansion, even approaching it, was madness. To walk directly back into Lupo’s clutches, she might well have never escaped.

  Yet if she followed a trail back to Anaskar, and walked through the night, there would be no need to risk recapture by sneaking into her mansion, where her heart might give her away. How close did Veddir need to be? Could he hear her even now? Keeping her distance was the best thing. Even now, the two were probably lying in wait and what did she have? Nothing. She might be able to subdue Veddir, but Lupo? He was bigger. He probably had more ability than she gave him credit for.

  No, don’t go back.

  Sofia crept around the hillside, keeping the tip of the mansion’s roof in sight. Her heart thumped, despite efforts to measure her breathing. If it made things easier for Veddir, she was caught. A bird squawked overhead and she flinched.

  When she finally ducked into the cover of large stones growing from the earth, and started up a trail, Sofia exhaled. Her path ran parallel with the road, she was heading in the right direction at least. With each step she moved a little further from recapture. By the time her knees and feet started to ache, she’d stopped looking over her shoulder. She’d given them the slip, no doubt Lupo was searching every nook of the mansion for the tabella. She ground her teeth and kicked at the earth as she walked.

  He had no right to be in there, touching everything.

  She climbed on. Her stomach had twisted itself into smaller and smaller shapes, starting after noon. None of the shrubs or stringy plants bore fruit or berries. Her footfalls echoed between the stony walls, deep blue and green moss crawling in the shadows. Not even a trickle of a stream reached her, and when she finally stumbled onto a plateau offering a clear view of her surroundings, Sofia cursed.

  Her path had diverged, angling north. By the dusty road she could make out below, still heading east, she was also higher in the mountains. Nor did she have any idea of how long her trail was reliable for; she’d already climbed over one landslide and taken one right hand fork before having to double back and head left.

  She bent to scoop up a few rocks and cast them at the glimpse of greying horizon. Each one sailed down to disappear with only the faintest of clicks. The day was wearing on and she hadn’t managed half the distance she imagined she would need. Her throat was scratchy, and after a vicious throw, she paused to catch her balance.

  The light-headedness passed. She wasn’t turning back.

  Sofia climbed higher, her steps slowing when a light rain began to fall. She stood with her mouth open, the relief slight. After a meagre mouthful she walked on. The scarf was of small comfort now. Hungry, thirsty and wearied with a whole night of travel before her, the vitality she’d woken with was gone. Had it been a gift from Padin? If only he were near. A wind picked up and she drew close to a wall, squinting in the rain.

  When the trail finally sloped back down, Sofia increased her pace, sky clearing overhead. She shivered in the wind. Her path curved around a gorge, inside which dark trees grew on the slopes, the bottom lost in shadow as the sun began to set behind clouds. A hawk or falcon crossed the sky, its call shrill, and she lifted her legs higher, despite her fatigue.

  The moment of renewed strength was brief. By nightfall she no longer knew if her path ran parallel with the road to the Mountain Gate. Another shower, this one heavier, blew in from somewhere, pelting her face, but she moved ever forward, repeating the same actions. One heavy foot ahead of the other, then the next. Do it over. Look around. Do it over.

  The moon was strong, casting the rockface and occasional tree in a rain-slick silver. Rain still fell from scraps of cloud, beyond, the sky was like a deep blue ocean that threatened to spill. Shivering so much that her jaw rattled, Sofia paused beneath overhanging rock, clutching her arms to her sides.

  She shivered until the rain stopped.

  The moon had not left the sky. She set out again, her clothes and shoes wet and her heels blistered. She had to be close. Earlier, she’d climbed an outcrop and stared down at the moonlit mountain, trying to discern the road. It might have been a pale strip cutting through a distant gorge, but she couldn’t be sure.

  On she stumbled. The moon faded from the sky and the trail before her widened as it reached another fork. She took the lower path, hands held out before her when the walls narrowed and the darkness grew. She still stumbled, crying out when something sharp sliced into her knee. Rolling onto her back, stones digging into flesh, she gripped the cut, biting her lip and squeezing her eyes shut.

  When the pain faded enough that she was willing to move, Sofia tore strips from her hem and bound the wound, probing with her fingers first. It was deep. Gaining her feet, she limped forward, knee protesting with every step. The path was blocked. Jagged rock and stone lay scattered before what must have been another landslide. More light and she’d have avoided it. Now she limped along in the dark, dragging herself up the path to take the other fork. Which would probably take her further away from the Mountain Gate, wherever it was.

  “Fool,” she snarled. “Damn fool.”

  She’d barely taken half a dozen steps when her knee gave way. She fell, reaching for something to hold and finding nothing. She hit hard, slipping on loose gravel, and then she was falling, a scream splitting the night.

  Sofia bounced off something solid, her body flung into another unyielding object, and then she was scraping along stone and rolling down a slope. Searing pain flew up her leg and the skin of her hands and forearms tore as she tried to halt her fall. A crack to the head stopped her and she wretched, curling into a ball where she lay in some sort of depression, struggling to breathe. Saliva ran down her chin and she spat, face pressed against chill stone. How far had she fallen? Where was she now? Her limbs didn’t respond when she tried to rise. Another drop could be mere feet away. Moving might be a mistake. Turning her head caused her to gag again.

  Soft spots of moisture hit her face and she blinked as the rain returned.

  Gods!

  She was going to die in the dark, somewhere on a mountainside. Soaked through. Either from her injuries or exposure. She was a speck, invisible. No-one would have an inkling of where she was. Sofia groaned. Worse, she’d failed Father. Wherever he was now, when he heard of her disappearance, he would be disappointed. He would no doubt deny the news at first. He was convinced that she was Tantos’ equal, but he was wrong. And he would have to accept it, even as it broke his heart.

  “No.”

  There was no answer, only the dark.

  Chapter 23

  Kael was the eldest child standing before Notch, nearer to Sofia’s age if he had to guess, though the grime and wild hair made it difficult. He sat on a large chair that looked to be salvaged, which was in turn set before a row of spears, each having been thrust between cracks in the stone. Makeshift braziers burned; one appeared to be an urn on stacked crates. Notch counted three separate check posts on the way into the children’s lair, which was spacious but near empty. Sleeping pallets lined the walls of what was once some sort of station for the aqueducts; and moving around beyond the light, some dicing, some wrapped in thin blankets, were perhaps a half a dozen youths.

  “They seem quite organised,” Wayrn whispered. His eyes clouded. “And many are Braonn.”

  Notch nodded. Runaway Braonn servants who could not return home often ended up on the city streets. Several boys still trained weapons on them, while Tenaci and Dilo spoke in low voices, gesturing back often. Kael placed a bottle of Fire-lemon aside and tied laces on his ragged cuffs as he listened. He stood without a word when they finished, approaching Notch. A thin sword swung at his side, but he did not draw it.

  “You will offer us more, if we help you?” His Braonn accent was heavy. He gave Wayrn an appraising look. “Delam ma sorr?”

  Wayrn smiled. “Da lirka.”

  Notch waited. His Braonn was passable; the two were discussing where home was and how long each had been away, but their speech quickly became too rapid for him to follow.

  When they stopped, Kael repeated his question. “You and the Water Rat can offer us more?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Then what do you wish for, Notch and Wayrn?”

  “A friend has been taken from us. We need to see the Harbour Witch and ask for her help.”

  Gasps filled the room but Kael held up both hands, turning in a slow circle. “Stay calm.” To Notch he shook his head. “That is not possible.”

  “What do you want?” Notch countered.

  “First, what you claim you can offer. More than we would get from the Vigil.”

  Notch hoped Seto was good for another loan. “That can be arranged, Kael.”

  “And more.”

  “Yes?”

  “You must kill the beast that hunts us.”

  “Which beast?” Was it another of the things that attacked Flir?

  “Three of us he has already taken,” Kael said before lowering his voice. “Their bodies were empty when found.”

  “Empty how?”

  “Yes, empty. No insides, empty of blood and heart, empty of...” he waved to Tenaci, and spoke a few words in the Braonn tongue, pointing to Notch.

  “Empty of organs,” Tenaci translated, unaware that Notch had been able to follow. The boy’s voice was tight. “No heart, no lungs, no liver. Barely any flesh left on the bone.”

  Notch glanced at Wayrn. He wasn’t a monster slayer. Whatever was out there might be worse than the creature that attacked he and Flir, and that thing was bad enough. But what choice did they have? “We’ll slay the beast. Then will you take us to the Witch?”

  Kael did not answer at once. “Yes. If you agree never to see her again, never to speak with her again.”

  “Agreed. We’ll need torches and bowmen.” He pointed. “And your bottle.”

  Notch held out his hand and the youth took it, grip firm, a smile on his face. “Agreed. Tenaci and Dilo will aid you. Bring its head as proof.” He handed the bottle over.

  Tenaci paled but Dilo puffed herself up as the two obeyed, leading them from the chamber.

  “Slaying the dragon,” Wayrn muttered as he followed.

  ***

  Exiting a narrow tunnel, Notch set out across a causeway. It spanned the widest channel he’d seen in the aqueducts. Light from the torches hopped across the water but failed to illuminate much on the far side. Water rushed beneath them, several feet below, passing between grates set in regular openings.

  Wayrn followed close behind, but before Notch made any real progress, Tenaci hissed after him. “Come back.”

  Both children were waving from the mouth of the tunnel, Tenaci pale in the glow and Dilo’s eyes scanning the walls. “What is it?” Notch asked.

  “It attacked us here.” His voice squeaked. “The causeway takes us to different parts of the harbour, but it’s blocked now.”

  “So what is this thing and who has seen it?” Wayrn asked.

 

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