Gateway to Fourline (The Fourline Trilogy Book 1) (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Nat leaned against the corner of the stall. The stable was dark except for two lanterns hanging from iron loops at the entrance. One good knock, and the whole place would be up in flames. She yawned. A fat mare from the neighboring stall leaned down and nibbled on her hood. The smell of her cloak made her wince as she brushed the horse away. It still had the cheesy smell of a goat bladder.

The boy had not meant to do what he did. If she had been in his shoes, she would have done the same to get away from Benedict. The rough wood caught her outer cloak as she slid a little lower. Benedict lay across from her. His sleeping form rose slightly with each breath. She marveled at how he could sleep as she replayed the events of the afternoon in her mind.

When they had arrived in Yarsburg, the town was packed with traders, carts, horses, goods, and stalls that appeared the moment a trader caught the scent of a trade or sale. With her earlier slip fresh in her memory, Nat followed obediently behind Benedict. If anyone noticed them in the throng, they would glimpse a withered old apothecary and his apprentice. She hoped he would interpret her actions as part of their master plan as opposed to her fear of stepping the wrong way.

After trading a bit of the strong, fine threads of harmsweedle for some brown bread and a fat sausage, Benedict turned up a cobbled street that stank of vinegar. Clusters of long intestinal casings hung from wooden rods behind stall fronts. He stopped and interrupted a gangly man pulling a milky casing from a cylindrical vat. She listened as they bantered about what time the guarded convoys were leaving town and recent sightings of the Nala. Her ears perked up when the man mentioned the recent capture of a Warrior Sister near Daub Town.

“Word is she helped the Nala attack another convoy, then made off with their goods to sell on the black market in the fringe,” the man explained. Benedict made disgusted tsking noises.

Nat held the donkeys and hid her forearm under her cloak. The man flipped a casing onto a drying rod as they finished their conversation. Flecks of foam landed on her cloak and boots. She stepped aside and noticed a boy about MC’s age who sat on the ground near a bowed wooden barrel. Loose, dark curls covered his face as he bent over what looked like a deflated balloon. He quickly dipped his hand into a small earthen pot and rubbed the object before tossing it into a pile. Every part of him, except his hair and wet hand, was covered in a fine brown powder. A bulbous woman, occupying the stall seat, selected one balloon from the pile and jammed the opening over a small cup connected to a billow by a tube. As she pressed down on the billow, the balloon object expanded, revealing a series of spidery marks. She pulled the cup off the tube and the pale, veined object remained inflated. Above her hung a jumbled row of the bulbs capped with leather tops. They looked like odd canteens. She watched the boy as Benedict approached the woman.

“Fellow over there says you may know someone who buys donkeys.” Benedict looked at a string of gourds. “I’m not looking to sell them for slaughter price. They are right good beasts.”

The woman scratched her chin. “Neas.” She turned to the boy. “Take him and the animals to Yester.” She turned back to Benedict. “Yester’ll give you a fair price. Donkeys are fetching a good coin. They don’t get all jackamahoo in the head like the horses when the Nala are around.” She handed a soiled cloth bag to the boy. “Take these to Yester, too. Don’t leave until he pays.”

The boy nodded. “Yes, Mam.”

“And come right back,” she called out, but Neas was already darting quickly through the crowd. Benedict and Nat hurried to keep up with him. People stepped to the side when they saw him coming. Traders brushed their arms as Neas ran past. After a series of turns, the boy waited under a crude rock archway until Benedict and Nat caught up. He darted under the archway and down a dirt lane toward a long line of stables. When he reached the dusty entrance to one of the stables, he cupped his hands and let out a small yell, then stepped away. A dark-haired man with three-pointed beard tips and manure-encrusted boots began conversing with the boy from a distance.

“Yester?” Benedict interrupted.

“That is me.” Yester stared past him and surveyed the donkeys. Benedict took the reins from Nat and limped closer. They began bartering over the animals.

Neas jumped slightly from foot to foot as Nat walked toward him. His speed reminded her of racing along the dirt road to her house when she was younger, and his hair reminded her of someone.

“I wouldn’t go too near the boy,” Yester called out as he shook hands with Benedict. “Neas has a perpetual case of lice. His mother swears by that dust she covers him with, but it never seems to do him any good. He’s been covered in brown pulops powder for six months now. Neas, put them bladders by the tie post. I’ll give you your mam’s money after I settle up with this man.” Yester disappeared into the stable, pulling the two donkeys.

“Pulops powder?” Benedict reached into his satchel. “What you need is a head shaving and a bit of yarax ointment.” He twisted the root in his finger as he drew near the boy. The root grew to strange dimensions in the shadow of the setting sun. “Here, take it. Consider it payment for leading us here.” The boy stepped back. “Take it, your mam should know what to do with it. Pulops powder, what is this world coming too?” Benedict let out a wheezy laugh.

Nat caught a strange glimmer in Neas’ eye as he reached tentatively for the root. Benedict’s hand grasped his wrist with surprising strength. He pulled the boy closer and pushed the mass of hair away from his face. One eye was silver surrounded by a brilliant blue web. “I thought I smelled a duozi,” Benedict growled and twisted the boy’s wrist while rubbing off some powder. A bluish tint appeared on the boy’s forearm.

“What are you doing?” Nat cried. Neas yanked repeatedly, trying to free his arm, but Benedict held tight.

“No lice, just stinking Nala running through you. How do you think Yester will act when he finds out your mam’s been harboring a duozi?”

“Let him go!” Nat pulled Benedict by the shoulder just as Neas flung his bag of bladders at Benedict’s leg. The bag crashed into him and bounced off Nat’s cloak. Benedict released the boy and crumpled to the ground. Neas took off running into the hills behind the town, glancing back once to see Nat waving him on.

“What the blast was that all about?” Benedict rocked on his side, cradling his shin. His face was bright red and angry. Nat thought he looked like a fish flopping on a riverbank. “Didn’t you see what the boy was?”

“He’s a boy,” Nat hissed. “And if you say a word to Yester, I’ll tell him you just sold him two worm-infested beasts.”

“You—you’re trained to kill the Nala, and you just let one slip away.”

“He wasn’t a Nala.” She pulled him roughly to his feet.

“He’s a duozi, there’s no difference.”

“There’s plenty of difference,” she said, not really understanding what he meant by duozi, but she didn’t care. She was so mad that it took everything not to push Benedict back down and walk away.

“Is everything all right?” Yester stood in the stable entrance, shielding his eyes against the setting sun.

“It’s fine. He just took a wrong step.” Nat tightened her grip on Benedict’s wrist under his cloak and smiled broadly. “The boy left, said you can pay his mam later.” She adapted her tone to sound like Yester’s. Benedict grunted slightly as Nat pulled up on his arm. From Yester’s perspective, it looked like she was helping him steady his legs.

“We’ll need a place to stay for the night,” Benedict said gruffly, looking at the ground. Nat eased up a bit on his wrist.

“I’ve an empty stall in the back where you can rest the night. But mind you, if I find a horse missing in the morning, I’ll hunt you down myself,” Yester said.

“Not to worry. We will be off before morning to join a caravan leading to Rustbrook. That is if you have my money so we can pay our way?” Nat loosened her grip on Benedict, allowing him to extend his hand for payment.

They ate a small dinner of bread and sausage in silence on a cluster of rocks outside the stable. Benedict scowled and sulked as he cleaned up in a trough before flopping on a pile of straw. “We leave in two hours,” he said, then turned and fell asleep.

Nat fought back another yawn and glanced at Benedict. Her body cried for sleep, but she didn’t want to be anywhere near him. The horses nickered when she walked past their stalls. The sky was bright with stars and a half-moon. She settled into a nook by the rocks. She blinked once and her eyes shut fast.

“How did you get here?” The protective lights shot up along the ledge of Nat’s dream space.

“I came into Fourline after you. Aren’t you glad to see me?” Annin spun, arms extended, crazy curly hair flying.

“Yes, I’m glad to see you.” Nat’s voice was tinged with frustration. “I feel like I’ve started reading a three-thousand-page book halfway through. I have no idea what’s going on here, what to say or what not to say.”

“Maybe you should have paid more attention during your lessons.”

“Maybe you should have spent a few minutes explaining some of the finer details of this place. I’ve stuck my foot in my mouth so many times today. If Benedict doesn’t know I’m a fraud, it’s because he’s a dimwit.”

Annin chuckled, then grew serious. “As I recall, your first lesson was not to say anything, or as little as possible.” She plopped into the circular chair and began pushing it around with her foot.

“Easier said than done. Why am I even here if you can come in safely?” Nat sat in another chair and leaned toward her.

Annin laughed. “I’m the furthest thing from safe, Natalie. Barba, Ethet, and I agreed that my presence might serve as a distraction for Mudug while you are here. I’m here for as long as I can stay ahead of Mudug’s trackers.”

“You, Ethet, and Barba agreed? What about the rest? What about Estos?”

Annin glanced toward the ledge when Nat said his name. “Sometimes decisions are best made without the full committee,” she shot back.

“I never got the sense Estos was just part of a committee.”

Annin glared at Nat a moment and jumped out of the chair. “You need to use the distraction my presence brings to your advantage and get your job done. Where are you headed?”

Nat watched as Annin paced back and forth in front of the ledge. She couldn’t be aggravated with her; just seeing her in this dream space was like a lifeline to home. Nat sighed. “We’re meeting Gennes or one of his men tonight. Benedict said Gennes can get the suix stone.”

“Make an opportunity to speak to Gennes without Benedict,” Annin said as she continued to pace. “Do it early and get to your point. You need to be the one to tell him Estos is still alive. Gennes has little reason to believe Benedict. If he doesn’t flat out refuse Benedict’s request for help, he’ll waste what precious time you have toying with Benedict. If I were you, I would rid myself of Benedict as soon as you get to Gennes. At the very least, appear not to get along with him.”

“That won’t be a problem after today.” Nat rubbed the back of her neck and was thankful that the goat-bladder smell didn’t travel into her dream space.

Annin’s fingers caught in her tangled curls. Both eyes were visible with her hair pulled away from her face. Her faceted eye drew Nat like a magnet. Nat forced herself to focus on her normal eye.

“If Gennes doesn’t believe that Estos is alive, try telling him something about one of us.” Annin tapped a finger to her lips. “Something about Andris.”

“What do I know about Andris? He’s crass, rude . . .”

“That won’t work. Everyone knows Andris’ reputation.”

Nat thought a moment. “He’s got a tiny scar under his left eye. I noticed it while we were training. He told me he got it from a thorn bush. That is the only remotely unique thing I know about him.”

“That might work.” Annin looked between the lights beyond the ledge. “I’ll try to contact you in a few days. I have a little errand for Ethet to attend to that may put me too far away, but I’ll try.” Suddenly she was still. “I need to go.”

“Annin, wait! The boy, there was a boy today. He had the same eye like you. Benedict went crazy when he saw him.” Nat quickly relayed the rest of the story.

“I told you Benedict was a rat,” Annin said angrily.

“What made the boy’s eye like that?”

“The Nala.” She tilted her head back. “They chose him and bit him.”

“Chose him?” Nat asked.

“Yes.” Her voice seemed very far away. “Barba told you the Nala were predators.”

“They choose people to bite?”

“Don’t worry, they don’t choose to bite all people they encounter, mostly they just impale or rip them to shreds. They just bite the people they want to make into duozi.”

“You’re not really helping my nerves here, Annin. What do you mean ‘make into duozi’? As in, make into them? Are you . . . ?” Benedict’s harsh words about Ethet helping the bitten rushed back as she asked the question.

“No, not a full Nala, just part. Someone helped me before . . .” Her voice trailed off. “It has its benefits. I’m quick, I can get into people’s heads, I have some unexpected friends.” She watched Nat for a reaction. “It’s all complicated, and none of it matters to you right now. But you can’t trust Benedict, Natalie. Especially not now, not after you interfered with him today.” She approached the ledge and Nat brought the lights down. “And don’t worry about the Nala, they don’t bite Sisters.” She laughed. “But I’d keep these lights up if I were you.” Then she was gone.

“But I’m not really a Sister,” Nat said to the darkness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A few hours after they left the stables, Nat was certain either she or Benedict would end up with a twisted ankle from trying to maneuver in the darkness. Even with gradually sloping hills and few rocks or other obstructions, the going was slow and uneasy. Benedict’s strides were short, but he made fair progress until they reached the slag.

“Orb,” he whispered.

They’d said fewer than five words to each other since their departure, so his sudden command startled Nat. She felt in her pocket and brought the glassy ball to her lips.

“Small light,” she whispered. The orb began to glow, dimly casting light on the thin slabs of rock surrounding them. The light was hardly enough to see by, so she whispered, “Grow.” The orb grew brighter, revealing a massive hill covered in slippery gray rock.

“Turn that down!” Benedict hissed.

“Softer.” The light dimmed.

“Do you want the whole world to know we’re here?” He began progressing up the hill by taking an angled path up the slag heap and using two walking sticks for balance. “What I wouldn’t give for a Sister trained in a proper House instead of a fringer.”
You and me both,
Nat thought. Benedict slipped on a pile of slag and righted himself. “Sending the light up here would be helpful, Sister,” he said, his tone low but nasty. She paused. In fifteen seconds, she could be past him. She figured a minute, maybe two, and she would be completely out of sight. Then what? She was stuck with him until they found this Gennes person. But when they did, she was going to do exactly what Annin had suggested.

Nat made a show of slowly tightening the smelly burlap cloak so it wouldn’t snag on the rocks. He watched her impatiently until she finally ordered the orb in front. The two made slow progress up the massive hill. Nat pulled up the collar of her tunic. Little puffs appeared in front of her face as she breathed. Benedict grumbled and swore as he moved forward. She had little sympathy for the man after what she’d seen him do to Neas, but she knew his legs couldn’t take much more of this. About three-quarters of the way up the hill, Benedict collapsed and slid down several feet of loose slag. A small avalanche of rock followed Nat as she clambered toward him. The orb hovered above Benedict. A bloody gash appeared below his knee.

“Help me.” He clutched her forearm and she pulled him up. He took two wobbly steps, then fell back onto the rocks. “Here I am, prime Nala bait with a Sister from the Warrior House to protect me,” he scoffed. “I should be fine, right? Oh, I forgot, you like the Nala. Why don’t you start yelling to let the malicious vermin know I’m here, ripe for the picking?”

Nat bit her lip. She pulled a bandage from the cloth case Ethet had given her and wrapped the gash. But Benedict wasn’t done. “Maybe we can invite them for a little tea? I’m lucky, I’m too old to be made, so they’ll toy with me and then rip me to shreds while you watch.”

“Shut it.” Nat stood and yanked Benedict to his feet. He let out a grunt. She pulled his arm around her shoulder and started dragging him up the hill. “There are fifty million places I would rather be right now than on this rock heap with you. If you don’t want to end up as a busted pile at the base of this hill, keep quiet.”

“Why did Estos send me a fringe Sister? What could he possibly have been thinking?” Benedict said, ignoring her threat.

Nat focused on each step, trying to keep balance under Benedict’s weight. She stopped for a minute, readjusted her grasp, and scanned the darkness above her for the top of the hill.

“This isn’t some fool’s errand we’re on,” Benedict continued right in her ear. “If Estos doesn’t show himself, prove himself, the whole rebellion will collapse.” His breath was hot against Nat’s face. “Maybe that’s what you want, Sister? Mudug and the Nala running everything?”

“Orb, knock him out.” The orb moved swiftly and struck Benedict’s temple with a quick crack. He went limp, and Nat caught his unconscious body before he hit the rocks again. “Thanks,” she said to the orb as she struggled forward with the now-silent Benedict. The orb bobbed slightly and moved slowly in front of her feet. Her shoulder ached and her feet slipped with each step. It felt like an elephant was sitting on her shoulder. She stumbled forward, grabbing large boulders with her free hand. Her eyes focused on the orb as it lit her way toward the top, one agonizing step at a time. When she reached the ridge, she dropped Benedict against a scraggly tree. She turned a slow circle in the darkness, unable to see beyond the light cast by the hovering orb. Maybe knocking out Benedict hadn’t been the best of ideas.

Nat closed her eyes and focused her memory on the maps Estos and Annin had given her. She placed a hand on the rough bark of the tree. Nothing. None of the places they had led her in her dreams were remotely near this rock nightmare. She heard a scraping sound and opened her eyes.

“Orb out.” The light vanished. Nat retreated from the tree and tucked her body tightly near a bush. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She could see the shape of the tree and Benedict slumped at its base. A figure moved near the tree and bent over Benedict. Nat swallowed and reached for her dagger. If she could frighten the Nala away . . .

“Orb, blaze,” she whispered. The figure spun in her direction and then threw up its arms against the blinding brightness of the sphere. The plan worked, except now Nat could hardly see, either.

“Will you turn that blasted thing off! If I wanted to harm you, I’d have done it by now. You made more noise coming up that slope than a pack of hounds chasing a fox.” The figure swiped a hand at the orb, which zipped easily away.

“Sorry. Orb, dim. I thought you were a Nala.” Nat remained rooted in her position as the brightness diminished.

“Do I look blue to you?” A man with reddish-brown hair stepped toward her. His long beard was parted in the middle and pulled tightly under his ears, where it was bound by black cords to his hair, making two bizarre ponytails.

“No, not blue.” Nat stifled a nervous laugh as she took in his six feet of height. He wore a black leather coat with long slits that commenced at his thick belt and ended at his knees, and he held the broadest sword Nat had ever seen. His brownish-green eyes looked familiar.

“A hysterical Sister and an unconscious oath breaker. I should have known better.” He bent over Benedict’s stiff form and roughly pushed up his chin. “I thought if the old cheat was willing to scale the slope with that shriveled leg of his, there would be some good reason to meet him. I should have known better,” he repeated. Benedict’s chin dropped like a rock as the man let go. “Have a delightful midnight walk, Sister.” He sheathed his long sword and turned.

“Don’t go!” Nat blurted. “I need to speak to Gennes. Can you take me to him?” The idea of sitting alone on this hill until Benedict regained consciousness and chewed her out for messing up their meeting was unfathomable.

The man twisted slightly so he faced the tree instead of her. “Why would I take you two to Gennes?”

“I have important news for him, and a request.”

“What news?” the man demanded. “Are the Sisters finally coming out of their holes to save us? You’ve wasted my time, and I’ll not waste Gennes’ by bringing you to him.”

“But I have a message for him from . . . people.” Nat fumbled with the words. She smacked her forehead as he turned away. She had to say something to get him to stay and listen. “Andris! He knows Andris, right?”

“Andris is dead!” The man unsheathed his sword. “Anyone claiming he’s alive is a liar.” He lunged toward her. She quickly stepped to the side and tripped him, sending a shock wave up her leg. He rolled easily and sprang up.

“Andris is alive.” She ducked and spun. The sword whistled past her head. “I saw him a few days ago,” she said as she scurried behind him. The orb whizzed around his head, and Nat quickly stepped out of range as he batted it away. “He has a tiny scar below his eye. It’s from a thorn bush.” Her voice was pleading now. “He told me it was from a thorn bush.”

The sword clattered to the ground. He lunged and grabbed her shoulders. Nat screwed her eyes closed, waiting for a blow.

“Andris is alive! My brother is alive!” the man yelled at the top of his lungs.

Gennes traced the shape of Estos’ ring as it lay in the palm of his hand. The dark-red stone looked like a drop of frozen blood in the dim light of Barba’s orb.

“You can’t tell me where they are, or you won’t tell me?” he asked in a low voice. Nat studied the man she now knew was Gennes. What would he believe or understand?

“They’re in a place they can’t leave without Mudug’s men attacking them. They’re safe but trapped. If I told you where they were, it wouldn’t change anything. There would just be the added risk of one more person knowing their location.” She pointed to Benedict. “He doesn’t even know where they are. But he has an idea how to sneak them out undetected. We need suix stone and a few of your men. Benedict thought you could help.”

Gennes waved dismissively. “I don’t put credence in any plan of his involving alchemy.” He tightened his fist around the ring.

“Estos believed in him enough to send me to help him,” Nat countered. She wanted to add Ethet’s stamp of approval, but something held her back.

“And Andris? What did he think of the fool’s plan?”

“Andris wanted to come instead of me, but Estos wouldn’t let him risk it. Any problems he had with the plan had to do with me being the one accompanying Benedict.” A truth in a lie.

Gennes nodded. “The boy always had a hot head to lead a charge. I expect he’s none too happy with staying put.”

“You have no idea,” Nat said.

He handed her the ring. “Sister, my better judgment says to leave you and the hermit over there to your own devices unless you tell me where Estos and my brother are.”

Nat lowered her head. “I can’t,” she said. “But if you refuse to help us, you’re blowing the best chance for both of them.”

“Blowing?”

“Giving up, destroying. Besides”—she coughed, trying to cover up the gaff—“what do you have to lose by helping us? It’s just a little suix stone.”

Gennes’ laugh boomed and Benedict groaned. “Just a little suix stone! You’re an odd one for a Sister. Odd words and a little funniness about you.” He scooped Benedict up like a rag doll. “Come on, Sister. The farther we travel before he wakes up, the less I have to listen to his tongue wagging like the mutt he is.”

Nat let out a long breath and followed Gennes. “That makes two of us.”

When Benedict regained consciousness, he discovered he was bound hand and foot to a fat packhorse. He was jostled back and forth as the horse rode over the uneven trail. The bickering that commenced between the giant Gennes and the diminutive Benedict was incessant. Despite knowing she needed to listen to every conversation, Nat couldn’t stand it and focused instead on the little plants that grew in the pinkish-red rock cliffs surrounding them. She watched as tiny petals popped out when touched by the morning sun.

When they reached the base of a large rockslide, Gennes halted his horse and dismounted. “You can tell me your plans now, and I’ll untie you after I hood you.” He pulled a gnarled-looking cloth sack from a worn leather pouch behind his saddle. “Or I’ll slide it over your head, and you can ride the rest of the way like a bound goat.”

“You’re a cursed duozi breeder, Gennes. Untie me!” The slight muscles on Benedict’s neck strained as he lifted his head.

“Decision made then. Tied up for the rest of the trip.” Gennes began pulling the sack over Benedict’s disheveled hair.

“Stop!” Benedict thrashed ineffectually against his bonds.

“Gennes, he’ll asphyxiate if you hood him while he’s hunched over like that,” Nat said. “Listen to his breathing now.” It was ragged. She suspected the polio had weakened his lungs as well as his leg. There was no way he would make it under the heavy cloth hood.

“I don’t need the help of a duozi devotee.” Benedict’s muffled voice sounded under the hood.

“Oh, don’t be so quick with your tongue.” Gennes pulled it off. “A little Nala bite would do you good. Might help that walk of yours, eh?”

“You blasted duozi wreck—”

“Enough with the duozi stuff!” Nat yelled. The men grew quiet. She squared her shoulders. “He was a boy, Benedict, a boy! I wasn’t going to let you harm a little boy!” Gennes stared in confusion as Nat yelled at Benedict. The words tumbled from her mouth. “You’re just as bad as the Nala. No, you’re worse—you punish helpless children who’ve already been victimized!” she cried, thinking of Annin. Her voice grew louder and reverberated against the rocks. She held the image of Annin bolting from Benedict’s cabinet in her mind as she pulled up her sleeve and shoved the markings under his nose.

“This applies to the Nala, not duozi. I won’t harm someone who’s been bitten. The sooner you get that through your head, the sooner we can move on and help Estos. And you”—she turned on Gennes, anger flowing through her—“you are as bad as your brother.” She pulled down her sleeve and unsheathed her dagger. “I’m untying him before he passes out. You can stop me or you can help me.” Nat thrust her dagger blade against the thick rope. She began cutting carefully, waiting for Gennes’ enormous hand to clamp down on her shoulder. Instead he rounded the horse and began cutting the bonds on the opposite side. He finished before Nat was done with her first. Benedict slid off and crawled to his feet before he collapsed against a rock. Nat forced the lip of her canteen to his mouth. He wiped away a dribble of water from his chin and looked up at Gennes, who stood scowling.