The Farwalker's Quest (26 page)

“Why bother killing me?” Ariel grumbled. “I'll probably die of loneliness anyway.”

“Well … there's one other factor,” Scarl said. “There was a story that once gave people hope. It spoke of a place underground. At the start of the war, or shortly thereafter, valuable things were taken there for safekeeping.”

“The Vault!” Ariel exclaimed. “We know that story. It's supposed to be at the end of a rainbow. Or in a hole at the bottom of the sea.”

“Or down a pink rabbit's burrow or beneath a circle of mushrooms or under the roots of a two-hundred-foot tree,” Scarl countered. “There are dozens of versions. Every generation, a few Storians have chased what they thought were new clues. They've all given up or died in the wilds, losing themselves instead of discovering what they sought.”

“Have you looked?” Zeke wondered.

Rue tugged at Scarl's features. “Long and far,” he admitted. “That's why I eventually became a Finder. But you can't find
what doesn't exist, Finders say. Certainly I've not found any store of old treasures.”

“But … ?” Ariel prompted, her skin tingling.

“The telling darts,” Scarl said. “I told you I don't understand most of the summons, and that's true. But I recognized one of the symbols, because I've spent much of my life searching for it. Your dart bore the mark for the Vault.” He reached toward Ariel, a plea on his face. “I didn't mention it sooner because I feared you would think I was only hunting treasure. I couldn't care less about gold or jewels. I care about the Forgetting. It's gone on too long. And only the Vault can help us remember.”

Ariel trod carefully through the gravel that had replaced the sand underfoot, feeling as though she walked a jetty surrounded by sharks. Scarl had been correct: if she had known from the start he was after the Vault, she would have rejected his proposal outright. Since then her mistrust had ebbed—and her commitment to her calling had grown. But his revelation still made her uneasy. So much was at stake.

“The Farwalker who spreads the news and contents of the Vault will be anything but an outcast, believe me,” Scarl added. “Most people will be thrilled to learn the legend is true. And that is why Mason wants to kill you.”

“But if somebody found it,” Zeke protested, “and sent the darts to invite people to see it, that person must be dead now, since the sender's mark has faded.”

Scarl shrugged. “There could be other reasons for the missing sender's mark. Perhaps it wasn't a person, for instance. I think the Vault itself might have sent them, like witch broom flowers shoot seeds. Maybe a certain number of years had to pass first. Or Ariel had to be born and grow up a bit. I don't know.”

Goose bumps tickled Ariel's arms. “You think the dart says where the Vault is?”

“I doubt it's that easy. If it were, Mason could have already stripped or destroyed it. Especially with help from Elbert and Gust, who were probably easy to bribe. It's harder to imagine Liam Storian going along, even for wealth, so I can only guess that he argued and has since paid the price. Luckily, few people know I was once a Storian myself. And Elbert liked to talk. That's how I've pieced together as much as I have.”

Zeke swatted his bangs from his eyes. “But my maple, and things Ash said … the trees think all this is important. A great Tree-Singer wouldn't ignore that. He couldn't do such terrible things.”

“He may not think they're so terrible, Zeke. Mason seems to believe that we're all better off without anything that may be in the Vault. Everyone who favored the Forgetting agreed. And perhaps he fears that if the Vault is found, the world won't depend so much on Tree-Singers and trees. The people of Libros defer to him greatly. I'm sure he would not like to lose his place as the Farwalkers did.”

“The world will always need Tree-Singers,” declared Zeke.

“I can't believe any of them would commit murder to make sure of it,” Ariel added.

Scarl's eyes slid to hers. “You're still young, Ariel. People sometimes kill for a lot less than that.”

“Not in Canberra Docks!”

“No, I'm sure you're right. And that's exactly the argument used to justify the Forgetting.”

“Maybe we
should
just forget, then.”

Sighing, Scarl kneaded his forehead. “Let me show you some reasons for remembering before you decide.”

“Like what?”

“You'll see soon enough. We'll be in Hartwater by nightfall day after tomorrow.”

Ariel whimpered at the promise of food and a long rest for her feet. Zeke's grunt was more thoughtful.

“The Storian you want us to meet,” he said slowly. “Were you his apprentice?”

“Yes,” Scarl replied. “He's my grandfather. As well as the best Storian I know, now that Liam's apparently dead.”

“Oh!” Ariel's feet stopped. “You're taking us to
your
village?”

“I know I can trust people there,” he told her. “To fight for you, if need be. And my grandpop is sure to have some idea what to do next.”

The sand and stones of the Drymere slowly gave way to scrub brush and thorns. When a stunted tree appeared, they stopped in its shade. Ariel flopped to the ground. Her stomach complained noisily.

“Ready for that lizard yet?” Scarl teased.

Her forehead wrinkled. “Well … can we cook it?”

“Yes.” Scarl dug in his pocket. Instead of the lizard, he pulled out his glass. “But I'll see if I can find us anything better to go with it.”

Ariel tried not to stare as he worked. Her eyes strayed to his glass anyway. Black specks burst inside it like fleas, then swarmed and melted together until the whole glass looked dark as obsidian. He pocketed it, kicked over a rock, and scooped something from the hollow beneath.

Ariel's face fell. Nothing he found under a rock could be better than lizard. She was horrified when he returned with his tin cup full of beetles.

“Ugh,” said Zeke. “You expect us to eat those?”

Scarl whistled. “We probably could, Zeke, but if you do, you're more man than I am. They're buzzers. I was planning to use them as bait.”

“The fish line's in your back,” Ariel reminded him.

“I haven't forgotten for an instant, believe me. But I'm not baiting fish. Try to be quiet and still for a while.”

He overturned the cup near the tree. The trapped insects buzzed angrily. Holding his coat in his hands, Scarl stood against the tree trunk and waited. Zeke napped, but Ariel couldn't. The beetles' noise scratched too loudly at her brain.

Shortly, a fat gingerbird changed course overhead and flapped down near the tree, approaching the overturned cup one wary step at a time. Scarl tossed his coat like a net. A quick motion later, their breakfast was ready to pluck.

“Can I try?” Ariel asked.

Scarl handed her his coat. “Throw when you think it's a moment too soon, or the bird will get the bait and be gone. I'll start a fire.”

Passing gingerbirds couldn't resist. Ariel's first quarry flapped away with a croak. The second fluttered free from her arms. She awaited bird three as the mouthwatering smell of Scarl's roasting bird wafted past. Ready to give up and eat his, she found herself with an armload of angry bird in a coat.

“Now what do I do?” She hurried to Scarl with the bundle.

“Find its neck and snap it.”

Ariel shuddered. “Will you do it?”

He hesitated. “No. If you want to eat it, you'd better learn how to kill it. But I'll make it easier, for the bird's sake.” Reaching into the jumping bundle, he pulled the bird out and trapped
its flailing wings under his arm. “Come beside me, grab its neck—watch that beak—and snap it as hard as you can. Hurry, now. Mercy.”

The sensations of being snatched from her bed and stuffed into a bag returned to Ariel in a rush. She wanted to let the poor creature go, but its panic and Scarl's urging left no room to back out. Squeezing her eyes nearly shut, she did as he'd told her. Bones crunched. The bird went limp.

“I don't want to do that ever again,” she moaned, scrubbing her palm on her leg.

Scarl dropped a hand on her shoulder. “That's why ground-melons and berries and wild carrots are nice. But they're not always there to be found.”

Ariel only felt awful until the first bite. Even roast lizard didn't taste too bad if she didn't look closely. The gingerbird was delicious. They sucked up every scrap of the first bird. Scarl made them save most of the second.

“How long have you been wearing that splint, Zeke?” he asked.

Zeke ticked off fingers, calculating. “A little over three weeks.”

“What?” Ariel felt as though months had passed since Zeke had fallen out of the maple.

“I think,” he added. “I hope I haven't missed my birthday already.”

In the end, they decided Zeke's count must be right. Since Scarl felt the splint should stay on a bit longer, he removed the bandage on his own arm instead. He rinsed it in the creek before rolling the meat in ashes from the fire.

“Yuck,” Ariel said, watching.

“The ashes will wash off,” Scarl said, wrapping the ashcoated
meat in the cloth. “And they're fairly clean, compared to flies and dried blood and lint from my pocket and anything else that would otherwise get on the meat.”

She sighed. He had an answer for everything. “The cut on your arm is healing, anyway,” she said. The scar was pink and still swollen, but it had knit together reasonably well.

“It wasn't nearly as deep as yours.” He glanced up. “While we're inspecting everyone's damage, we should probably remove some of your stitches.”

“Hooray. They itch bad.”

Zeke began snoring long before that task was done. Scarl cut the knots with his knife and carefully pulled out each bit of horsehair, tickling Ariel's sensitive skin. He was so intent on his work that she had a chance to study his face. He'd had no opportunity to shave it for days, and the stubble there made him look rougher than usual.

Ariel wondered if everyone in his village would resemble gangly crows. An odd thought struck her. “Scarl, do you have any kids?”

He paused to look squarely at her. “No. What made you ask that?”

“I don't know. Just wondered.” It wasn't so hard to picture him tossing balls or giving piggyback rides. She'd had some of the latter, after all. She couldn't imagine a wife for him, though. He wasn't too ugly—just too hard and, at the moment, too ragged.

He bent back to her arm. Watching, she decided that the big knife so often in his hand didn't fit very well with sweethearts and babies, either. Still, a Finder might be able to find himself a wife if he tried.

“Would you want any?”

His dark eyes flicked up to hers and back to her stitches.

Ariel's throat crimped tight where it passed into her chest. Perhaps she'd asked the wrong question. But his refusal to answer put a cool silence between them just when she'd begun warming.

She was still feeling pinched the next day, despite a change in the landscape as healing as the first burst of spring. An army of pine trees had marched up to displace the desert's water-starved weeds. Mint and cinnamon smells rose from the sunbaked wood, and bearberries dangled from vines. The red kernels, although hard and not really ripe, caused tart explosions in Ariel's mouth. She tried not to let them sour her thoughts, but the strange forest seemed too eerily still. She missed the secretive rustling of ferns and the sunlight winking through a confetti of leaves.

As she gazed around the unfamiliar wood, she caught a dreamy half smile on Scarl's face.

“It's good to be near home,” he explained.

She looked away quickly, stung by those words.

“Forgive me. I should have thought before I said that.”

It was easier to be angry with him. They walked on, the silence broken only by their footsteps and the trilling of unseen birds.

“Do you have a song, Zeke, that you can sing for those of us who aren't stones?” Scarl asked.

Zeke looked startled. “Not really. What I sing to the stones isn't words, just … whatever sounds come into my head that I think they might like.” He bit his lip. “I don't want to sing any tree songs. If that's okay.”

“I understand.”

Brown pine needles crunched under their feet until Ariel's defiance pushed her to speak. “I have a song,” she announced. “Part of one, anyway.”

“Do you?” Surprise spiked in Scarl's voice.

Inwardly Ariel smiled.

“Shall we hear it, then?” he added.

Ariel sang, sudden embarrassment squeezing her voice. Zeke and Scarl had to veer closer to hear. She'd started the song a fortnight ago, making up her own words for a tune of Elbert's to block out his rude lyrics. The verses had changed with her fortunes. The first time she'd sung it under her breath, she'd sung this:

They drag me ever on and on
,

I'm all unwilling
,

Tied to a ragged crow

Too far from home
.

Too far from anything
,

My feet are burning

Walking so endlessly

Lost from my home
.

She'd added on to it since, so now she also sang:

Walking ever on and on
,

Blood always spilling
.

Finders are awful men
.

Walk to the sun
.

Walk to the sun and back
,

My feet are burning
.

Zeke's here to help me now
,

Walk with the wind
.

Ariel's voice halted. She'd played with more lines, but those weren't done yet. Acutely aware that her song mentioned both of the people alongside her, she kept her eyes on the ground. She couldn't remember why she had offered to sing it.