The Outskirter's Secret (53 page)

"There's no time!"

"Efraim's people had time," Bel said.

He turned to her. "This is different. There's
no buildup, it's coming all at once."

"How do you know about it?" Rowan asked
him.

His mouth opened and closed three times as he
tried to answer. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Then don't explain," she spat.
"Describe."

He struggled to organize his words, then
surrendered to the impossibility. "I checked old schedules for
repeating events in a twenty-year cycle, and found something called
'routine bioform clearance.' The last one recorded was forty-eight
years ago. But this morning, it showed up on the upcoming schedule,
same code, same label. I wouldn't have known what it was if I
hadn't been looking before."

Bel was in total confusion. "Looking where?"
But Rowan's mind was tearing at the words Fletcher had spoken,
pulling them apart and finding the meaning she needed imbedded in
his three short sentences.

Schedule: she had reasoned correctly. The
heat was a planned thing, initiated by the wizards.

Routine: it was usual, expected—until it
stopped after the Guidestar fell.

Checking, finding, looking: one could look at
a schedule only if it were written down; could check it, find
something on it. But Fletcher carried no papers.

The magic that warned him when there were
enemies nearby could also show him objects even more distant, or
permit him to speak with someone who had the schedule at hand. He
could scry. Scrying was done by means of an enchanted object.
"Fletcher, where is your cross?"

Of itself, his hand went to his breast; the
cross was absent. "I destroyed it."

"Why?"

The hand dropped. "So Slado couldn't find
me."

Bel looked to Rowan for explanation; but the
steerswoman was thinking too quickly to stop. "Could he see you
even when you weren't scrying at that moment?"

"Scrying?"

"Using the cross to find things out."

He was startled by her comprehension, almost
frightened. "Yes. The link, the cross, it has, it's like, like a
flag, or a beacon." He stopped to compose himself, then spoke more
calmly. "Anyone who knows how to look, can find me."

"But they can't see you now?"

"No," he said. "Well, yes, but they can't
tell it's me. They can't tell me from anyone else anymore—there's
no flag."

Rowan thought of him carrying an invisible
banner with an invisible sigil, declaring to all who had the means
to see: Wizard's Man.

If Slado could see Fletcher, he could see him
run, and perhaps see the tribe run with him. Slado would know that
Fletcher knew of the heat and had told the tribe. Slado would
realize that they all knew far more than they should.

But Fletcher had dropped the banner.

He wanted to help, he had once told her. He
had used his magic to destroy the enemies of the tribe, used it to
watch for danger.

Rowan wondered what other abilities Fletcher
possessed with his link destroyed, what unknown powers of attack
and protection.

She looked into his familiar face, so clever,
so expressive, and saw it now naked, open, desperate. She read her
answer there: he had none. He was without magic, without even a
sword. He had made himself helpless, in order to help.

Rowan turned to the seyoh. "Kammeryn—"

How much of the conversation Kammeryn had
understood she did not know. But he had understood what mattered to
the tribe. "Yes," he said to her, then spoke to Fletcher. "Where
must we go? And how quickly?"

Fletcher gasped, almost sobbing with relief.
"Due east. The heat will be in a band, north to south. We're near
the eastern edge. It'll come three days from now. We can get out,
if we hurry."

"How wide a band?" Rowan asked him. He
provided the area, with longitudes and latitudes of the limits; she
had not known he was familiar with the terms. With this
information, she saw that escape was possible.

If the tribe moved now. "Kammeryn, we can't
wait."

"Yes." And with three steps he was at the
tent entrance, throwing the flap aside.

His aide and Orranyn were outside, with faces
of confusion. "Take down this tent," Kammeryn commanded Orranyn as
he exited, followed by Fletcher, the Outskirters, and Rowan.
Kammeryn strode into the camp, urgent, leaving his followers
behind. "Reyannie!" he called. An old man hurried up: the mertutial
in charge of breaking camp. Kammeryn turned to him. "How soon will
we be packed?"

"An hour . . ." The old man was
perplexed.

"Why have you been so slow?"

"We were confused . . ."

"Stop being confused." The seyoh stopped and
scanned the camp, once. "Abandon half the tents." He walked away,
around the fire pit.

The mertutial's jaw dropped. "Seyoh?"

"We'll take four warrior's tents," Kammeryn
announced to the tribe at large, "and two mertutial's. That's all."
He called back. "Orranyn!"

"Seyoh?"

"Forget my tent. Fletcher!"

Fletcher's head came up, hopeful.
"Seyoh?"

For an instant Kammeryn hesitated; then he
became decided. "Stay exactly where you are. Orranyn, I want half
your people watching him, with their swords drawn, and the rest in
reserve. You, Berrion! Take your band to twelve-side; I want four
lines of guards ahead of us when we move."

Orranyn was still standing aghast. "Fletcher
is a prisoner?"

"Yes." Kammeryn turned back toward him,
impatient. "Do it now."

Orranyn assigned the guard, and Fletcher was
circled by armed warriors. Among them: Efraim, stolid and
unquestioning; Jaffry, intent; and Jann, watching Fletcher with
eyes of glittering black ice.

Rowan said to the seyoh, "You don't need
guards—"

But Kammeryn was still in motion. "I want
Lonn." Chief herdmaster. Someone was sent for her. "Relay!" One
appeared. "New reports?"

"None."

"How many scouts on duty are within
range?"

"Gregaryn, at ten."

The herdmaster arrived.

"Have your people pull their flocks into a
tight formation," the seyoh told her. "We'll be moving quickly.
Once we're moving, if any animal can't keep up,
leave it behind
."

"I'll need more people."

"Take any mertutial. Except Anniss," he
added, naming the woman in charge of the children. Kammeryn's
movements had brought them to the cook tent. "Take Chess."

The cook stopped her packing. "Someone needs
to do this."

"We're leaving the cook tent."

"How will we pull the food?" The cook tent
converted to a train.

"Abandon the food. All of it. We'll slaughter
fresh when we need it. Someone, kill this fire!" The nearby
mertutials were leaving with the herdmaster; Hari and Sithy rushed
to obey their seyoh's command.

Kammeryn spoke to the relay as they continued
around the fire. "This is a forced march. Pass the word outward.
Have Gregaryn cross forward and find Lona at twelve and pass the
word to her, then head back toward ten. Lona will find Amarys at
two, and tell him. All of them are to double their distance from
the tribe; other people will be sent to their old positions. Go."
The relay went.

"Kree." Kammeryn was once again beside his
tent, where Fletcher stood slack-limbed among the warriors, with
Rowan, Bel, and Kree nearby.

"Seyoh."

Kammeryn paused, and Rowan thought, A
wizard's man has served over a year as a warrior in Kree's band,
and Kree has reported nothing amiss.

But Kammeryn's tone was reassuring. "I need
three of your people to serve as extra relays. Send the rest as
extra scouts, to cover twelve-side between the outer circle and the
regular scouts' new positions. Make one of those people Averryl."
Kammeryn wished to keep Fletcher's closest friend out of sight,
away from any influence the wizard's minion might effect.

"Yes, seyoh," Kree replied with relief.

Behind the seyoh, and all around, the camp
was partly collapsed, only those tents to be abandoned still
standing. People shouted instructions to each other, and urgent
words. Trains began to appear, and pack carriers.

"Bel, Rowan."

"Seyoh?" Bel answered.

"Kammeryn?" Rowan found herself waiting for
command, as completely as if she were one of his own.

He gazed at the two a moment. "Stay by me."
Then he strode off again, Rowan on one side, Bel on the other.

They stopped by the dead fire. "Scouts on
hand?" Kammeryn called.

"Here, seyoh!" Zo approached.

"Quinnan is the only scout on six-side?"

"Yes, seyoh. He's out of contact."

"Take enough food for yourself and for him,
for six days."

The scout blinked in thought. "He's only a
day away, seyoh."

Kammeryn nodded. "You and he go northwest.
Find Dane and Leonie."

Rowan gasped: she had forgotten the children
on walkabout.

Fletcher made a noise, a wild cry of horror.
"The children!" He stood with his arms splayed. "My god, it's too
late, they'll never get out in time!" His voice was high,
uncontrolled.

Kammeryn ignored him. "From Quinnan's
position, you and he will have two days to find Dane and Leonie.
Travel as fast as possible, by night as well, if you can. If you
don't find them in that time," and he put all the force of his
command into the words, "
you will turn around
and come back.
Rowan—"

"Seyoh?"

"Tell Zo what to expect."

The steerswoman provided the information
quickly: a concise description of the effect, to the extent it was
understood, the time factors, and the distances. Zo listened
wide-eyed, nodding sharply at each sentence. Behind them, Fletcher
was speaking, saying over and over, "My god, the children . . ."
His ring of guards watched silently.

Kree came up, with two of her band. "We're
your relays, seyoh."

"Take your positions."

Rowan felt a bump at her knee and looked
down. Hari had brought her pack and was giving Bel hers. Goats
began crossing the camp, escaping from the new herders driving them
inward. Train-draggers and pack-carriers were ranged about the fire
pit, waiting.

"Seyoh," Hari said, "I'll pack your things
for you."

"I need nothing." Kammeryn looked about and
signaled; the signal was caught by the relays and sent outward. The
seyoh was already walking, along with Rowan and Bel. With a surge
like a wave, the tribe followed.

"
K
ammeryn, I
don't think you need to keep a guard on Fletcher," Rowan said.

The seyoh did not reply. Bel sent Rowan a
narrow glare, but said nothing.

"He doesn't mean us harm, not now. I'm sure
of it," Rowan continued. "Whatever he did before, whatever his
original purpose for being here at all—it's changed. He's helping
us."

"Helping himself," Bel said.

"He could have run!" Rowan said. "Only he
knew, and he could have simply gathered a few supplies and taken to
his heels."

"And been alone. With no way to replenish his
supplies. No friends to help him fight goblins. He's using us;
we're just damned lucky that we can use him back."

"Now is not the time to discuss this,"
Kammeryn said. He looked at neither woman; his eyes were focused
directly ahead, but with a distant look, as if on an internal
vision far more urgent than the real. "Save your breath for
walking."

And they had been walking, all that cool,
bright morning, traveling eastward, with a south wind rattling the
redgrass across the land before them. High, small clouds chased
each other across the sky, and the breeze carried an iron scent of
water from somewhere beyond sight, and the sweet odor of
lichen-towers; and over all, the dusty cinnamon-and-sour-milk smell
of the redgrass itself. A typical morning on the veldt of the
Outskirts; and a tribe, typically, on the move.

But this tribe was fleeing.

As noon approached, Rowan remembered that the
tribe had brought no prepared food. She checked the figures that
Fletcher had given her, checked them again, and was distressed. The
time the tribe had in which to escape was barely sufficient.
Preparation of a meal, including the slaughtering of goats, would
lose the tribe some three hours of travel.

But noon arrived, and passed, and no halt was
called.

From behind, Rowan heard a slow murmur of
conversation, heard it work its way back toward the last walkers,
leaving in its place a spreading silence.

She glanced back to where Fletcher traveled,
still within his ring of grim guards. The faces of persons nearby
had lost their perplexity at Fletcher's confinement; Fletcher's
true nature was now known by all, and the reason for the tribe's
forced march. Rowan tried to catch Fletcher's eye, to exchange some
recognition or offer some reassurance. But he was looking
elsewhere. She returned to comparing her calculations with the
passage of land behind the tribe.

There was no meal that day. Only one person
complained, a child, who was silenced with a sudden, brutal blow.
By that act, the other children immediately recognized the urgency
of the situation. No child of speaking age complained again for the
rest of the march.

Throughout the day, reports were received
from the warriors ahead, the doubled inner and outer circles, the
augmented, distant scouts. They held more information, and more
precise, than was usual; and by afternoon Rowan realized that the
reports had evolved to such a degree of precision that they were
now expressed in meters, with every rock and rill and gully
described and located exactly among all other features.

Rowan began to wonder at the necessity of
this; but even as she wondered, her trained instincts began
unconsciously to use the information, constructing for her a mental
map of her surroundings. It consisted of a kilometer-wide band,
extending ahead to a distance of fifty kilometers, the location of
the farthest scout. The map shifted as the tribe moved, coming into
existence with the report of the point scout, amended and expanded
by the warriors that followed.