The Farwalker's Quest (20 page)

Scarl raised one skeptical eyebrow. Ariel did not want to share his reaction, but if she took Zeke on faith, she had to accept his assurance about the Finder.

Unwilling to retreat, she racked her mind for a way to test Scarl's word. She knew nothing of Judges. And other than a
marriage ring, she could think of only one thing she'd ever seen given as proof of a vow.

“All right,” she told Scarl, “if you're so sorry, bleed on it.”

Zeke winced, but Scarl's regard never wavered.

“I will,” he replied. “If that's what you want.” His eyes dropped to the knife between them. “Do you want to do it? Or shall I?”

The knife abruptly felt very large and dangerous in Ariel's hand. Her classmates made blood vows with their fingertips and a fishhook—not blades half as long as her arm. If it had not rested against his throat, the knife would have trembled.

“You.” Hastily she relinquished the knife. Only after it was out of her grasp did she wonder if she'd made any mistake in giving it back.

“He's bleeding already,” Zeke pointed out.

Ariel saw what he meant. A red dot rose over Scarl's windpipe. She'd put it there.

Scarl swiped at the drop with a fingertip. “I doubt that will do. Will it?”

Ariel became aware they were playing a game. She didn't know how to win, but she wouldn't back down. Troubled, she frowned.

Scarl said, “I didn't think so. What will?”

Ariel shifted her feet and stared at the knife.

Watching, he cocked his head. “Ariel … are you testing me—or yourself?”

She wouldn't have given him an answer if she'd had one.

He nodded. “That's all right.” His eyes swept to her left arm. “I'll tell you what—I'll match you. Fair enough?” Without waiting for any response, he yanked up his sleeve. The edge of the blade pressed his forearm. He snapped the opposite wrist.
Ariel looked away, but not fast enough. Her stomach flopped. When she looked back, red welled into the fresh slit in his skin. It spilled over.

“I have never lied to you and I never will,” Scarl said softly. “There was a reason I let Elbert do most of the talking.”

Ariel's gaze followed the crimson drops spattering the earth at his boots. Not even the blood from her own arm that morning had seemed to belong so much to her.

“All right,” she sighed, suddenly tired and empty. She took a step back. Her legs wanted to fold.

“Ariel, look at me.”

Reluctant, she raised her eyes again to Scarl's face. She expected a victorious smirk. Instead, a sad shadow hung in his eyes.

“Did you find out what you wanted to know?”

Ariel considered. He'd done what she'd asked, if not a bit more. She had some idea now how it felt to hurt him in return, and she'd enjoyed the bitter satisfaction of holding a knife on somebody else. But she did not feel like she'd won. She just wanted to be Ariel again—even if being herself meant having a heart and a conscience that could ache.

She nodded.

“There are men you would shame with your courage,” he said quietly. “But I'm sorry that a girl from Canberra Docks had to pick up a weapon in vengeance.”

Too drained to reply, she sank next to Zeke.

Scarl ripped the tail from his shirt and bound it tight around his arm. Then he offered the knife back to Zeke.

“I don't want it.” Zeke shuddered.

“Will you take it just to rinse it for me? In the stream? I'll finish Ariel's stitches.” He glanced at her for permission.

She examined her forearm. Many black lines and snarls of knot dotted her skin. Blood oozed, but she didn't see any mends that had broken. All but one gaping inch had been done. She held it out for him to proceed.

Seeing that, Zeke accepted the knife.

“Maybe when you come back you can tell us more about your talking stones,” Scarl suggested.

Zeke reddened. “Maybe not,” he muttered, hurrying away toward the creek.

Scarl found the needle where it had dropped. Rethreading it, he kneeled before Ariel and went back to work.

Feeling woozy, she tipped her head back and closed her eyes. She pretended the breeze drying the blood on her face could lift her away. Shortly, it did.

Ariel's eyelids didn't spring apart again until Scarl touched her cheek. Her arm had been wrapped snugly in cloth that seemed familiar, but her fuzzy brain couldn't identify it.

“You all right?” Scarl asked.

“Not very,” she mumbled.

“Close your eyes again, then. I'm going to clean this cut on your face, but that's all. I think stitches will make a worse scar. I'm afraid when you look into a glass you might always be reminded of Elbert.”

She shuddered. She knew he was right.

When Scarl finally left her wounds alone to throb, Zeke crept closer.

“Hurts a lot, huh?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I hope you're not mad.”

“At what?” She stiffened. “Oh! You didn't say all that weird stuff about stones just so I'd drop the knife, did you, Zeke?”
She'd indeed be adrift, her last anchor lost, if her friend had begun lying to her, even for what might be a good reason.

“No, no. I couldn't have made that up.” He gestured to her bound arm. “He needed a bandage. I looked in your stuff.” Following his glance, she spotted her bag, which the Finders had hauled with them.

“That was all I could find that looked clean,” added Zeke.

Recognition jolted Ariel. The cloth on her arm had been ripped from the skirt her mother had made her for Namingfest Day. Her fingers smoothed the yellow fabric as if she could touch her mother's hands through it. Tears fell on the cloth.

“It's all right,” she murmured. “It's no good wearing a skirt out here anyway.”

Scarl returned from the creek. He rubbed his face with his damp hands. “Feel okay?”

She sniffled. “I guess.”

“If you know a plant that will dull the pain, tell me. All I need is a name. I don't have to recognize something to be able to find it.”

Ariel scanned the meadow. The names of plants that might help were clouded by throbbing, and a Naming test memory, and shame.

“Maybe later,” she sighed.

“Whenever you think of one.”

Sinking to rest in the dirt across from Ariel and Zeke, Scarl let out a breath in a rush. “Well, that's done,” he said. He pulled off his cap and ran a hand through his curls. “Now. We're all tired and you're heartsick and Zeke's talking crazy and I'm not sure what to do. But let's get one more thing out of the way. You've got a choice.” His eyes flicked sideways, making sure Zeke listened, too.

“I don't think it's the right thing, exactly,” Scarl went on, “but I will take you and Zeke home, if you want.”

Ariel's heart leaped at the mention of home. It fell partway back when it struck against the knowledge of what wasn't there. Still, for the first time that morning, she noticed the sunshine. It glinted off the basalt rock and meadow grass around them.

“What's the other choice?” Zeke wanted to know.

Scarl regarded them both. “Let me take you to someone who might understand the summons on your dart,” he said. “If we can figure it out, and it's not too late, I'll go with you to answer the summons.”

“But we can't get the message inside,” Ariel said. “Since it's broken.”

“I know. We might fail.”

“Who cares, anyway?” she grumbled, surprised by an odd sense that she had been cheated of some unknown prize. “Even if it isn't too late, nobody else will probably answer, according to you. The message is wasted.”

Scarl pressed his palms together in front of his lips, choosing his words. Except that his eyes remained pinned on her, he looked almost as though he were praying.

“I'm not sure the message is what's most important,” he said. “What's important is sitting before me. There's a Farwalker here, a young one, after everyone thought they were gone. And I can't believe it is only coincidence that those darts weren't sent until now. I think there's something you need to do.”

He raised a hand to halt the questions that flocked to her lips. “I don't know for sure what it is. But I can tell you this from my travels: knowledge is shrinking. One village is becoming a myth to the next, because almost nobody passes between
them. Every Storian knows less than the person who taught him. Every Healtouch dispenses more hope and fewer medicines that work. I've been places with neither—hard, frightening places—because once there's no master there can be no apprentices, and new masters never arrive. A Farwalker might be able to fix that, eventually. And the dart is the first step to finding out how.”

Ariel tingled with both interest and dread. Although she'd warmed to the Farwalker name, what he suggested sounded arduous, uncertain, and scary. She rolled the troublesome dart between her fingers. Its two signs for danger had shifted again, leaving just one. Still, one was bad enough. Her curiosity fought with a much-defied yearning for a measure of safety and comfort.

“The dart says it's still dangerous, though.” She pointed out the
sign her mother had shown her. “Even with Elbert gone.”

Her statement caused a commotion before Ariel convinced Scarl that she understood nothing more on the dart. Disappointed, he said, “Well, I don't need the dart to know danger still lurks. The people in Libros believe Mason knows all, and most of them will do whatever he asks. I wouldn't be here if that wasn't true. It took a lot of effort—and wealth—to locate so many Finders and tempt us so far from our homes.”

Before Ariel could ask what had been promised, Zeke raised a more practical question. “If we go home now,” he wondered, “will more Finders come?”

Scarl's teeth dragged at his lip. “Probably. Especially once Elbert never shows up. I'll do what I can, but …” He shrugged. “I'm alone. They won't be.”

Even the thought of another stranger like Elbert sent a
tremor through Ariel's bones. Adventure and intrigue whispered from a distance; the pain in her arm shouted right here. It swayed her. She was afraid to go home, and it might cause the village more trouble, but Ariel longed to forget her unpleasant ordeals and return to familiar places and people.

She had just opened her mouth to say so when a breeze lifted her hair. Cold fingers slid over the slice on her face. But it wasn't merely a breeze.

Zeke pulled a sharp breath. “Look.” He pointed.

On the boulder behind her, a bloody handprint appeared.

Scarl scrambled to his feet.

“Misha,” Ariel explained. “He's a ghost.”

As they watched, the wet print melted and ran, reshaping into a red bolt of lightning.

Shivering, Scarl rubbed the back of his neck. His gaze roved their surroundings, then returned to flash between the symbol and Ariel's face.

“You're not scared,” he observed.

She shrugged. “He's done it before.”

“If even the spirits are with you, then woe to those who oppose you,” he said. “I certainly wouldn't. What do you want to do?”

Looking down, Ariel fingered her dart. A knot formed in her stomach. She knew why the handprint had appeared on the rock just as Scarl posed their choice. She didn't want to know, but she did. That glistening trade mark represented a purpose. She would never be able to forget that she'd seen it. A life catching fish might not be so bad, but she would always wonder what she had missed—or what she was meant to do. And she couldn't be a Farwalker if she went home to Canberra Docks.

The Finder saw her reluctance.

“I know it's a lot to ask,” he told her. “I'm sure you must wish you'd never laid eyes on it. But that dart found you for a reason. Take up the path laid before you. I will help you as much as I can. But I might guess the world, and maybe the spirits, won't leave you alone if you don't.”

Less concerned about spirits than her own nagging conscience, Ariel glanced at Zeke. He didn't look happy, but he nodded. She realized her decision must have shown on her face.

“I guess if I'm the only one, I'd better get to work,” she joked, trying to drive back her fear. Zeke squeezed her hand.

Scarl didn't smile, but his eyes gleamed. Crouching before them, he reached his own fingers to cover Zeke's hand clasping hers. “You
are
the only one, but you're not alone,” he said. “I'll do my best to keep the last Farwalker safe, and we'll try to find out together what the dart and your new calling means. It's the least I can do to help revive a lost trade—and atone for the ways that you've suffered. I'll try to make the rest of our journey less frightening and more pleasant than it has been. For both of you.”

“No ropes,” Ariel said.

Scarl winced. “Of course not. I'm sorry.”

“And more food.”

“I'll try.” He chuckled. “I can usually find something, if you won't be too picky.”