The Wicked Day (21 page)

“Is it over yet?” said the ghost from somewhere inside Jute’s knapsack.

“Yes!” shouted Jute, the wind whipping his words away.

But he knew it wasn’t over. It was far from over.

The mountains rose as they approached. Shrouded in snow, peak upon peak jutting up into the paling sky. There was not a hint of what was assuredly earth and rock and tree beneath their gleaming white slopes. There was only snow and ice. The mountains marched away to the north and to the south in close rank, shoulder to shoulder, immovable and unscalable for leagues upon leagues.

The memory of the soldiers in Ancalon returned to Jute’s mind. Rank upon rank as endless as the mountains, marching in even more perfect order. Surely they would not be able to cross these peaks. At least, not with the snows so heavy on the slopes. Not yet.

As if to underscore the matter, the wind swooped them down in a heart-stopping drop. Jute’s stomach felt like it leapt up his throat and into his mouth. They skimmed across the surface of the snow, angling up along the mountainside until it opened into a pass deep between two peaks, a narrow cleft that looked as if it had been made with a blow from some gigantic axe. Snow billowed up in their wake, shining and flashing in a cloud of whirling flakes.

Here. Here it is. The Pass of Rone.

They were flying so low now that Jute could almost kick at the top of the snow with his feet. He could not tell how deep the snow was in the pass, but judging from the angles of the slopes on either side, it would not be much deeper than the top of a wagon wheel. The pass wound about through the mountains like an uncertain snake, turning this way and that and never going straight for very long. No sunlight fell here, and the snow glimmered blue with shadow.

“I’m going to be sick,” moaned the ghost. “All these twists and turns. Can’t this fool wind fly straight? This is worse than a drunk carter on a Saturday night. Oh, my poor stomach.”

Wind?
said Jute somewhat anxiously.
You will put us down sometime soon, won’t you? Not that I mind how you fly. I’m concerned about Declan. He’s all right, isn’t he? Perhaps he’s still frozen like a statue. Something happened to him back there.

Oh, his heart’s still beating
, said the wind carelessly.
Isn’t that enough?

No, I don’t think so. We should stop and—

But at that moment there came a terrible rumbling behind them. Behind them and higher up on the mountainsides.

Mustn’t stop now,
said the wind.

The wind was right. It would have been extremely unwise to have stopped, for the mountains were falling down. At least that’s what it looked like to Jute when he glanced back. The slopes on either side of the pass were collapsing. Hurtling down in crashing waves of white. Slabs of ice catapulted through the air. Snow exploded up in fountains of sparkling powder as the avalanche slammed down into the pass. The mountains thundered with the sound of it all. Booming and echoing and calling.

“It’s the snow,” said Jute out loud.

One of my favorite tricks in winter
, said the wind smugly.
Better than toppling chimneypots.

And it’ll fill the pass even deeper. That’ll keep his army back for a while. Well done, wind!

I was planning it all along.

The pass opened out into the west-facing slopes of the mountains, which descended from crag to crag and then from hill to ever-lower hill until they were swooping over the deep divide of a familiar-looking land.

“The Rennet Valley,” said Jute in great excitement. “Wind! Please, please put us down. We must see to Declan. At once!”

No. There are still miles to go. Places to see. Chimney pots to blow down!

Put us down at once.

No!

At once! Do you hear me?

You needn’t shout
, said the wind.
Though, where is the rhyme to your wishes? First you are burbling with delight at being whisked away from that tower, overflowing with joy that those smelly little ravens did not catch you, and deliriously happy at my brilliance in bringing down the avalanches. Now you desire I desist and place you on the ground. The ground, of all places! Inexplicable.

It’s not that.

I know when I’m not wanted. On the ground. At once!

With a breezing
hmmph!
the wind set them down. It dropped them from several feet up so that Jute and Declan fell in a patch of icy mud. The wind blew away in a grump and left them in silence. Jute dragged Declan by the arms out of the mud. The man was a dead weight, his eyes shut and his face white.

“Wake up!” said Jute. “Wake up! Oh, stones and shadows. It’s no use. He’s asleep, though how anyone could have slept through being blown halfway across Tormay is a mystery to me. What’ll we do?”

“A fire and a bite to eat sounds good to me,” said the ghost, poking its head out of Jute’s knapsack. “Not that they’ll do me any good, but I’ll enjoy watching them do you some good.”

“Good idea, ghost. Maybe a fire will warm Declan and wake him up.”

“That’s me,” said the ghost somewhat mournfully. “Full of good ideas, but mostly for other folks.”

The wind had set them down on the upper slopes of the valley, just on the edge of a forest. It was cold, and the morning sunlight was weak and pale and did nothing to dispel the chill lingering from the night. Jute dragged Declan a little ways farther until they were under the pines. The snow was only a dusting beneath the shelter of the trees, and there were plenty of dead branches and pine needles lying about for fuel. Jute heaped together a pile and set a spark to it. The flames leapt up and crackled merrily.

“Looks like it feels warm,” said the ghost. “Warm and comfortable. You’ve been up all night. Feel tired, don’t you? Eyelids heavy? I imagine you’ll nod off to sleep now and the forest will catch on fire. You and Declan along with it. Burned to a frazzle. Where’ll that leave me? Alone. Alone, I tell you, and friendless in an unfriendly world.”

“Don’t be so gloomy. Declan will wake up, you’ll see. We’ll have some breakfast and then we’ll be off.”

Jute rummaged about in his knapsack. All he could find was an onion and some stale bread. Not the most inspiring meal, but he wasn’t about to say anything to that effect, for the ghost was watching him closely.

“Onion and bread,” said the ghost.

“It tastes delicious,” said Jute stoutly.

Declan woke just when Jute was finishing the last few bites of onion.

“Onions?” said Declan, levering himself up on one elbow.

“Not you too,” said Jute, but he grinned, delighted.

Color ebbed back into Declan’s face. He held his hands out to the fire.

“How long was I out?” he said.

“A couple hours.”

“More than three hours,” said the ghost. “I was counting. It was either that or do a lot of screaming.”

Declan reached inside the collar of his shirt and fished out the necklace. The pearl nestled in his hand, warm and glowing with the light it caught from the fire and the few meager rays of sunlight that pierced the branches above them. The ghost drifted closer to him and gazed avidly at the pearl.

“I think this saved my life.” Declan touched the pearl with one finger. “I could feel him at the edge of my mind. The duke. I couldn’t move. Could hardly breathe. It was as if I were surrounded by an abyss. Right on the edge of nothingness. And he was about to push me off. But this held me fast. He didn’t like that. And he knew what it was. I could feel it. He hates the sea.”

“The sea gave you that?” said Jute somewhat shyly.

“A gift and a burden at the same time. Twice the sea’s saved my life now, so I can’t deny her wishes. She’s kept me bound to your path. Wherever you go.”

“I’m sorry for that—but thank you.”

Declan looped the necklace back under his collar and let it slide out of sight. “I owe it to you. I don’t usually murder children, so I suppose that particular guilt will last the rest of my life. Besides, you took my part against the hawk’s advice.” He paused, and then said in a rather flat voice, “We didn’t rescue her, did we?”

“No,” said Jute.

“Decidedly no,” said the ghost.

“I can’t remember all of what happened, particularly after the duke appeared.” Declan fell silent, staring down at the embers of the fire.

“Well, there’s nothing left to do, is there?” said the ghost briskly. “No reason for long faces. We tried our best. Didn’t work. Clean conscience and all that. We should just run along home—er, do either of you have a home?—and settle down to a life of peace and quiet. Put in a garden, grow some tomatoes, argue with the neighbor about his blasted goat that’s always eating the dahlias.” The ghost rubbed its hands together. “Right. Let’s be off. After all, those crows might show up.”

“Yes, let’s be off. To Hearne first, I suppose. We need to warn the regent, and then the duchies.”

“What?” said the ghost, looking disgusted. “What about the tomatoes and some peace and quiet?”

“What about the hawk and the wolf?” said Jute.

Declan got to his feet. For a moment he looked as if he was going to topple over. His face whitened and he swallowed hard several times. “I don’t fancy explaining to that wolf how we managed to not rescue Giverny. I don’t suppose you could call up the wind and just whisk us off to Hearne?”

“I don’t think so. I thought about that while you were still asleep. The wind’s gone. I think it’s irritated with me and pretending I don’t exist. We’ll have to walk.”

They made decent time as the day progressed, for there was less and less snow the further west they went. The ground was frozen in most places. They crossed an ice-bound creek and found a narrow carter’s path. The wind must have dropped them a good deal south of the village of Ostfall. Habitations in this part of the valley were few and far between. Ostfall, of course, would not be an option for them, Declan pointed out, but any other village, or even a house, would be welcome, as they needed food.

“And horses,” said Jute.

Later in the afternoon, they did come to a house. A small house built of thatch and stone and tucked away in a canyon. A thin-faced woman answered the door, held it open a crack, and cautiously inspected them. Three children clutched her skirts and also inspected them, but from a much lower angle.

“Don’t have much use for coin,” she said. “Seein’ how we trade with mutton an’ wool. My man’ll be back any moment now from the fold. He ain’t in good humor these days, what with the foxes an’ all.”

She made as if to shut the door, but Declan said, “Perhaps double, mistress? Might be a rainy day when some silver’ll come in handy.”

“Double?” She nodded at that, but shut the door on them anyway. A shutter swung open on the window beside the door and two small faces peeped over the sill and continued their inspection. A third small face made a brief appearance but then quickly disappeared in a wail and what sounded like a chair falling over.

“Garn,” said one of the remaining small faces. The second small face agreed, but in words even less intelligible. Evidently, some conclusion was then reached, for both faces smiled benignly down upon Declan and Jute.

“Well, one less thing to worry about,” said Declan. “Though I’ve found it a good policy not to turn one’s back on children, even if they seem friendly, for that’s when the rotten fruit starts flying.”

“Oh?” said Jute somewhat guiltily. He could recall quite a few instances when the Juggler’s children, he among them, had climbed up onto roofs to pelt passersby with rotten vegetables. It was just something one did when boredom set in.

The door opened again.

“Where’s the silver then?” said the woman.

The sun was overhead by that time, and they continued along the carter’s path as it followed every rise and fall of the valley’s edge. It was still cold. The wind blowing along beside them did not help matters much, for it got under their collars and put a chill in the sunlight. Jute tried talking to the wind, but it would have none of him, regardless of how he cajoled and pleaded. They would have to keep on walking. Thankfully enough, their stomachs were full of the cold mutton and cheese the woman had packed for them, and the memory of the dark tower was not so stark anymore, though Jute often noticed a grim expression on Declan’s face.

“We’ll have to steal some horses,” said Declan. “Otherwise, it’ll be days to Hearne at this rate.”

“I don’t condone theft,” said the ghost primly.

“All right, then. You can stay behind while we gallop off on our stolen horses.”

“I don’t condone it, but I never said I wouldn’t enjoy the fruits of it. Besides, you’ll need me along to instruct you on morals and virtues, seeing that you’re sadly deficient. I recall a lecture I once gave on the subject, titled ‘Why Boys Must Behave.’ Or maybe it was called ‘The Breakdown of Society Caused by the Common Boy.’”

“I wasn’t the one to suggest stealing horses,” said Jute.

“If you’re patient enough, I’ll remember both lectures. Doubtless, you can’t wait to hear ‘em.”

“We can’t wait,” said a voice from somewhere above them.

“Hawk!” said Jute.