The Blue Flames, page 13
“Everything. Where they’ve been. What their plans are. How they operate. How they survive. Is anyone else helping them? What enchantments have you put in place to protect them? How many others have they killed? There’s a great deal more you can tell us.”
“You know I won’t. I can’t.”
Pallaton rubbed his brow as he contemplated her answer. When a wren chirped merrily in the distance, he lifted his eyes and gazed around the garden. “Do you know . . . this setting is a first-rate replica of a place I am very fond of. The garden of the Lady Madara. Have you heard of her?”
Riva shook her head.
He raised an eyebrow. “That is surprising. Some would say her family is the most important in all of Eriaris at present. And her garden is famous across the West Country. It was even open to admiring tourists when the family wasn’t at home. Now it has become something of a site of pilgrimage. Our prophet Darian often used to walk these grounds.”
“Your prophet,” Riva corrected.
Pallaton twisted his mouth. She couldn’t tell if it was a smile.
“It’s strange,” he continued. “This place seems to be the only thing that hasn’t changed in the years since his murder. As though the flowers and trees never heard what happened, still in ignorant bliss. But we are not so fortunate. I know you weren’t present to witness the battle on Damiras nine years ago, but you must certainly remember how things changed afterwards. Crime escalated. Poverty spread. The suicide rate tripled—”
“And girls were forced into breeding programs. Yes, I remember.”
“Call it what you will, but we have all endeavored to make whatever sacrifices our great nation has required of us . . . while you went running straight to the ones who caused its near-ruin. You’ve been telling your mother how good and decent and noble they are, but have you told her about the doctor and his wife slaughtered in Vaterra? The ones with the message, ‘Colonists, arise!’ affixed to their bodies? Have you told her what you were doing with your friends in Harroway? Playing with Spektors and putting countless lives at risk?”
“Spektors!” Athalia said, looking sharply at Riva. “What does he mean?”
“We were helping the people there, Mum—”
“Oh, yes. A great help, indeed,” Pallaton shot back. “Would you like to tell her what happened to the mayor’s wife or shall I?”
Athalia stood, clutching the folds of her cloak. “Riva, what is he talking about?”
“One of the Colonists, he’s a Keyholder. He can expel Spektors. The town was under attack—”
“By Spektors?” her mother cried. “How could you even think of meddling in such things? As if befriending the Colonists wasn’t bad enough, now you’re dealing with the demonic?”
Pallaton cocked his head at the young Entress. “Let me ask you something. Why would anyone give an Auric Key to a Cassrian? They have neither the strength nor the abilities of an Entrian, not to mention their half-hearted attempts at faith. Makes for a very weak soldier against such powerful foes. If you ask me, it is all but certain he killed someone to get it.”
“No,” Riva said. “No, it was . . . given to him.”
“By another Cassrian?”
When Pallaton saw his question was answered by her silence, he shook his head in bitter remorse. “To be a Keyholder was once a holy charge. An honor of the highest degree. But once again, in their covetous grasping for power and dominion, the Cassrians got their wretched hands on that honor and pulled it down into the dust. That is, after all, the only way they have ever gained anything. By taking. By destruction. Infiltrating our God-given lands. Crippling our economy with their trade laws. It is madness. It is a horror. And I tell you now, unless you stop putting stock in these fantasies you’ve built up around yourself and start facing the truth, it will not go well for you with the High Council. I can promise you that. On top of everything else, you are also accused of attempting to murder the Lady Seherene.”
“What?” Riva said, finding her voice at last. “That’s ridiculous!”
“We know for a fact you were in Watcher’s Pass six weeks ago, and that five tons of solid granite was sent crashing down on her airship. The entire nation is calling for her to be made an Elder for her great deeds and service. Not even the most charitable of priests would find it easy to forgive you for wanting to harm her.” He stood from the wall and clasped his hands behind his back. “I would think very carefully now, if I were you. Think about who it is you are really protecting. Think about how your mother is looking at you. Tell us the rest of the story, and you may go home with her today. Feel the real sun on your face, the real wind at your back. Leave the illusions behind.”
Athalia moved towards her daughter and reached for her hands. “Come home, darling. Please. You’ve been through enough. Too much to figure things out on your own. You can sleep in your own bed again, in your own room. We’ll walk Willow Lane together like we used to. You can see all your friends. See your father.”
Riva stood silent for a long time. She thought of the dark hole in which she’d spent the last few days. She thought of how her mother looked like an angel, and how the promise of leaving for home with her felt like a summons to ascend to Heaven itself. She rushed into her arms again as tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I love you, Mum. So very much. And I’m so sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you. But I can’t leave here and pretend like nothing happened. I can’t go back to the way things were. I’m sorry. Tell Father I love him, too.” She held on a moment longer, breathing in the scent of her perfume, feeling the softness of her cloak, the tenderness of her embrace—then let go.
“Riva—” her mother said.
“Take me back,” she demanded, rushing past Pallaton. “Take me back now!”
“Riva!” her mother called.
Pallaton followed the young woman as she returned to the flowering hedgerow.
“Open the door!” he said.
The warden did so, then stepped back as Riva flew past him. He nodded at the guards, who hurried after her to make sure she returned to her cell.
“Riva!”
Her mother’s desperate cry echoed throughout Stalikos.
Chapter 16
You Were Our Brother
When Caradoc woke the next morning, it was to a wave of fresh grief and anger. The sky was just beginning to lighten, the sun not yet risen. For a long time he lay with an arm across his brow, trying desperately to push Riva and Abner’s faces from his mind. Then Old Saul replaced them, and he thought long and hard about the address card in his coat pocket which might lead to the slippery viper. But he couldn’t think about him, either. They had to get home first.
He pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the bed, listening. The house was silent. He washed, dressed, and stepped softly out into the hall. The bedroom doors were still shut. No one else had stirred. It had been a long time since he’d woken in a proper house. It was a welcome feeling but strange as well, as if from a different lifetime.
He walked down the stairs and out the front door, then strolled around the house to the edge of the river. The grass was wet, the air damp with the smell of a recent rain shower. Morning birds were already calling to one another in the green canopies above. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs, and exhaled with a sharp curse.
A soft clanking noise caught his attention to the entrance of the boathouse. The current of the river had loosened the tow line of one of the dinghies. A second later, the line slipped its knot and fell into the water, sending the boat floating sideways. Caradoc hurried forward and caught the prow, bracing himself against the bank as he did so.
“Oi!” a voice cried behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder. Daniel had just rounded the corner of the house.
“If you’re skipping out on us, take the rowboat, not the dinghy.”
“Get down here and help me. You can be witty later.”
Daniel hurried to his side. Together, they turned the boat parallel to the bank, allowing Daniel to get aboard and toss the mildewed tow line to Caradoc, who pulled the vessel back to the pier in the boathouse. When they had come close enough, Daniel leaned out over the stern and grabbed hold of the dock while Caradoc tied off the rope.
“Fifteen years ago we had a three-mast clipper,” he said. “What happened to it?”
“It sank about five years back. In a squall,” Daniel replied.
With the boat secured, Caradoc reached out a hand and helped him onto the dock. “You’ll lose the rest of your fleet if you don’t teach those kids to tie a proper knot.”
Daniel grinned. “One thing at a time. Tompkins and Jasper are still trying to work out which way to move the oars to go forward.”
Caradoc leaned against a dock post as he wiped the grime from his hands. “I know it’s been a long time since I ran with the crew, but I expected to see a few more familiar faces than you and old Radburn.”
Daniel nodded, squinting out over the water as the sun began to peer over the bay. “Vincent retired to a little place in Tansey. Safford caught fever and passed away ‘bout four years ago. Tavanaugh quit when he didn’t get the pay raise he asked for. And Magnus and Amelia got married and went off to raise a family.”
Caradoc scratched his beard. “Magnus and Amelia? Who’d have thought?”
“I know. Fire and ice, right?”
They walked out of the boathouse and onto the riverbank.
“And look at you,” Caradoc said. “Only a young scamp when I left. No more than nineteen. Now you’re giving the orders.”
“It got easier when we moved our base down here. You won’t meet anyone in the neighborhood who ain’t a thief or bandit of some kind. We fit right in. Just have to look over our shoulders a bit more often.”
A long-billed bird broke from under the cover of the marsh reeds and flew out towards the bay. They watched until it was out of sight. Daniel fidgeted as he crossed his arms.
“I, uh . . . I heard about what happened. When you went back to see your father. I’m really sorry. We all were. And then . . . afterwards . . . taking the fall for us like that—we’ve been wanting to thank you all these years. But when you didn’t come back, we figured you blamed us.”
“No. It was nothing like that. There were some answers I needed to find after I got out. I went to Mastmarner as soon as I could. I always meant to rejoin the crew afterwards, but I ended up staying for a few months.”
“A few months? Were you reading books or writing them?”
“Let’s just say I got distracted. After that I thought I’d try staying out of trouble for a change, so I found survey work, making maps and such.”
Daniel rubbed his chin as he stared at the water. “That’s how you found her, wasn’t it?”
Caradoc stiffened, his gaze turning hard as steel. “Found who?”
“The oracle woman. She was the distraction, right?”
Caradoc’s frown deepened. “How do you know about her?”
Daniel raised his hands in exasperation. “Caradoc, you were one of us! Remember? You were our brother. We were worried sick. Followed every word in every paper. Kept an eye out for you wherever we traveled. And we knew all that talk about the Colonists trying to murder the Entrians was all rubbish! You gave years of your life for them! Your very freedom! So when that Entress girl . . . what’s her name?”
“Riva.”
“When Riva started appearing in town squares a few years back saying everyone had got it wrong and you were all innocent, we knew it was true. When she said you’d acted on a warning—on the word of some oracle, far-fetched though it seemed—we believed her. Now the poor lass sits in prison on the far side of the world for telling the truth and trying to help. It’s shameful. Monstrous. But look, now that we’ve come to it, I might as well tell you; we want to help. However we can. Hell, we’ll join forces on the spot if you’ll let us. Be proud to.”
“Daniel—”
“I’m serious! You’ve all been running for near a decade, hunted and cursed. The way I see it, that makes even more of a kinship between us. Mate, you’re a proper legend to these younger folk. All the Colonists are. They look up to you.”
Caradoc turned his back to the river with a grim expression. “You have no idea what you’re asking. There’s far more going on than wrongful accusations. That oracle woman is only the start of things.”
“It don’t matter,” Daniel said. “We’re with you, whatever the risk. You need supply runners? Hideouts? Money? It’s yours. We can make it happen. You and me joined the crew all those years ago ‘cause we were sick of watching bad things happen to good people while those in power turned a blind eye. Are the circumstances really so different now?”
“Daniel!”
Both men glanced towards the house. Skiff was leaning out of an open window.
“She’s trying to help us in the kitchen! We told her to sit down but she won’t listen!”
Caradoc smiled, then nodded at Daniel. “We’ll talk more about this later.”
“All right. I’m gonna hold you to that.”
He started towards the house but stopped when Caradoc spoke again.
“Listen, Daniel, I want you to know . . . when I found out what was going to happen on Damiras, I meant to go straight to you for help. It was my very next thought. I searched for a week but couldn’t find any of you.”
Daniel nodded. “We were in the Northern Sea at the time, up around the High Country. Suppose it just wasn’t meant to be. Not with us, anyway.” He clapped Caradoc on the arm. “Come on. Let’s have a little breakfast with our conversation.”
Both Harriet and Caradoc had gone to bed without dinner the night of their reunion, too exhausted by the day’s events. It was just as well, for breakfast with the smugglers proved to be more unnerving than either of them could have imagined. The scene was all too familiar—a group of outlaws-in-hiding, gathered around a table, teasing and chiding one another. Fortunately, they didn’t have to bear it for long. Daniel had only to glimpse the discomfort in their faces before organizing an alternative arrangement.
They were served breakfast in the kitchen instead, joined only by Daniel and Radburn. Radburn had been on the crew longer than anyone else. He was a tall, thin man in his late sixties with stooped shoulders, round spectacles, and a long mane of gray hair which he wore in a knotted braid. There were a few gaps in his tobacco-stained teeth, and his long, thin face was ruddy and wrinkled like hardened leather.
“So?” he asked. “How’d you all get separated?”
Caradoc sat back in his chair. “We were trying to find the woman who had first warned us about the attack on Damiras. We figured if we could talk to her, convince her to tell the truth about what really happened to the right people, we could all go home. We set off for Harroway when we heard she might be found there.”
He paused. Thus far, he hadn’t said a word to any of the smugglers about their connection with the Spektors, and he still wasn’t sure it was wise. He certainly wasn’t about to admit that the “oracle” was also the Mistress of the dark spirits.
Sensing his uncertainty, Harriet finished the rest of the story. “But the whole thing was a trap. The man who’d passed the rumor on to us turned out to be good friends with Harroway’s mayor, and essentially delivered us into his hands. The next thing we know, they’ve given us drugged wine . . . and one by one we fall unconscious on the road just outside the city.”
Daniel laced his fingers together, frowning. “Then you both wake up in cages on the far side of the country. But not in the clutches of constables or Colonist-hunters. Far from any of them. Almost like someone put you out of sight.”
Caradoc shook his head. “The people in Harroway live so isolated inside their walls, they’d never even heard of the Colonists. But that man who sent us to Harroway, I think he knew exactly who we were. Spotted Chester and Evering on a street corner and wasted no time giving a bit of all-too-convenient advice just when we needed it.”
“And then didn’t give a damn about turning you in,” Daniel said. “Not to the proper authorities, anyway. Strange. What’s this man’s name?”
“He was calling himself ‘Old Saul.’”
Daniel looked at Radburn, who took a swig of coffee before shaking his head.
“Don’t ring any bells,” he said, then rested his elbow on the low back of his chair. “But looking at things from another side, maybe it weren’t the wine that knocked you all out. Maybe it was some kind of witchcraft. Perhaps from that oracle woman.”
A wave of unsettled disquiet passed over them all.
“I never thought of that,” Harriet said.
Caradoc pushed away his half-eaten plate of food. “Whatever the case, we have to focus on getting un-separated, and with no idea where the others were taken.”
Harriet nodded. “But if the wine was to blame, it’s possible three of us escaped—Jeremy, Evering, and Ink.”
“Huh,” Radburn grunted, amused. “That orphan boy, eh? So he is with you.”
“That’s an even longer story,” she said. “But yes.”
“And if we rule them out, who’s left?” Daniel asked. “Apart from Riva and . . . Mr. Hart, God rest him.”
“Simon,” Caradoc said. “Simon Elias.”
Radburn rubbed a hand over his weathered face. “So we’re looking for one other Colonist at the least, four others at the most. Meaning eight of you went into Harroway. Is that all that’s left of your crew?”
“We left three more at home,” Harriet answered.
“And you’re sure they’re safe?”
Caradoc hesitated. The Mistress’s potential interference meant that nothing was certain. For all they knew, she had flung Martin, Margaret, and Delia off the village as soon as they’d left it. In the end, for Harriet’s sake, he nodded. “We think so. Yes.”
“Well,” Radburn said, “I suppose the first thing to do is get you back home. See if anyone else has returned, then send out your search parties from there.”
