Part 33 (1/2)

”Morlock, he has to be dead. Did you see what that thing was doing to him?”

”Unlikely!” That was all he said. He actually pulled a needle and thread out of his pockets and started sewing himself up as he hobbled along. It was pretty horrible, but just stumbling along watching was even worse, so I said, ”Can I help?”

”No. Blood. Burn you.”

”Your clothes don't burn,” I pointed out.

”Dephlogistonated.”

”Deef-what does that mean?”

”My clothes don't burn.”

”Have you got some gloves that have been dephloginated, or whatever you call it?”

He didn't stop walking (if you could call it that) or using the needle to sew up the terrible gash in his side. But his face became more thoughtful, less a mask of pain. ”Hm,” he said at last. ”Dephlogistonated gloves. Excellent idea, really.”

”Then you have some?”

”No.” The pain clamped down on his features again.

When he was done sewing up his side he settled on a curb for a moment to wrap bandages torn from his cloak around his wounded leg.

”Morlock,” I said, as he rose to move again, ”we have to talk.”

He grimaced. ”No doubt. Walk, too. I go south.”

”Back through the Kirach Kund?” I said. ”Is that where you sent them? You-”

”Can't go meet them!” he interrupted.

I relaxed a little. That was the hardest part of the conversation I'd antic.i.p.ated: telling Morlock we had come to a parting of ways. Then I thought a little about what he'd said.

”Do you mean you can't, or I can't?” I asked.

”I can't,” he said. ”You shouldn't. Think it through.”

I would have much preferred that he explain it to me: both because he knew more than I did, and so that I could argue with him. But getting words out of Morlock was like uprooting tree stumps, even at the best of timeswhich this wasn't.

Anyway, I could see what he meant clearly enough. If Merlin had some way of tracing us or following us, we would lead him straight to Roble and the children. Then we'd be back in the same situation: all of us at risk because of this duel between Morlock and Merlin.

”Do they know?” I asked finally.

”No,” Morlock admitted. ”They expect us.”

”Why-?” I started to ask, then broke off.

Morlock snarled at me, and sounded like nothing so much as the werewolf we had met in the mountains. I waited, but he didn't say anything else.

Anyway, maybe it was clear enough. He was fond of Roble and the children. Maybe even of that milky wench, Reijka Kingheart. And he'd had to walk away from them, his last words to them a lie: ”I'll see you soon,” or something like that. Otherwise they would have come with, or followed after, and he couldn't have that. Maybe that was it. Something was bothering him, anyway.

Abruptly, he stopped. It was as emphatic as shouting: I knew he had something important to say. His pale eyes, lit strangely by moonlight, stabbed through the shadows at me.

”I go south, then east over the Nar,” he said. He swallowed painfully and continued. ”You: north maybe. Northside of Narkunden, maybe s.e.m.e.ndar or Aithonford-places to work, hide, be safe.”

”All right,” I said. ”When do you think I can see my children? Where will they be?”

He shrugged. ”Spring or summer maybe.”

”That's half a year or more!”

He shrugged again. ”By then, eh. By then this thing between me and Merlin. It will be over. I think. I think he. He won't care about you then.”

Merlin might not care about my family, but ... I suddenly thought of that look of betrayal he had fixed on me. He might be interested in looking me up to settle a score. It might be better for my family if I didn't come near them for a while, a long while.

It tore my heart, but I knew they would deal with it better than I would. And every mother knows that time of parting will come eventually: I just hadn't expected it to come that suddenly, to lose all my children at once. All my surviving children. I thought of Stador rotting in that hole in the mountains and sighed.

”How will I find them when it's time?” I asked at last.

I guess I expected him to pull some magical whatsit out of his pocket, but what he said was, ”Look for Kingheart's Cavalcade of Wonders.”

”What?”

”It's a carnival. A travelling show that goes from town to town.”

”That's the business proposition Reijka had for me?”

”Yes. Her parents ran a carnival, but they wanted a settled life for her. They bought her a citizens.h.i.+p in Narkunden, a prentices.h.i.+p with a physician. But she hates it and now she's starting her own show.”

”A carnival.” I thought about it, and some icy pain deep within me eased a little. Not tied to any town with its stupid rules and laws. I'd known some travelling players in Four Castles and had always admired their camaraderie and freedom. ”Not a bad life.”

”Eh.”

”Did you travel with them?” I asked. ”With Reijka's parents? Is that how you know her?”

”Yes, Lonijka Kingheart and her husband took me in once.” He looked away; there seemed to be some painful memory hidden behind the words. ”That was around the time Reijka was born.”

”Huh.”

”Good fortune to you,” he muttered, and turned away.