Part 24 (1/2)

Finally, the big man looked over at him again. ”You've got sand, Sider Ament, I'll give you that. All right, I'll go. I haven't anything better to do. I'll bring her out. Where do you want her?”

”I'll draw you a map. Can you leave right away? Tomorrow morning?”

”I can leave now, if you want. What is it you plan to do? Go back inside the valley and find your lying friend?”

Sider nodded. ”I don't like the idea of him there another second longer than he has to be. I'm worried that he has something else planned. Maybe I can reach him before he manages to slip away.”

”Then we'll both go.” Deladion Inch seemed almost eager. ”You to your valley and me to Taureq Siq. But first we'll share one last gla.s.s of ale, provide us with some additional fortification for what lies ahead. It'll be cold and wet out there, Sider. And it'll be dangerous.”

They drank their ale slowly, sitting together in silence, watching the fire die out as it turned slowly to ashes. Sider thought about how blind he had been to the possibility that Arik Sarn might have been using Panterra for his own purposes. He hadn't considered things carefully enough, too wrapped up in the rush to get back into the valley and sound the alarm, too quick to act and not careful enough to think it through. Now he would pay the price. Or someone would. He didn't like thinking about who that someone might be.

Deladion Inch drained the last of his ale and stood. ”If you're ready, let's be off. We can take my crawler as far as you want. Then you can walk from there. Solar-powered, fully charged. A beast, left over from the old days. Still works. You should have one for your line of work, too. But mine's the last, so I guess you're out of luck. Ready?”

They walked from the room and down corridors and stairs toward the ground level. Inch was carrying his flechette and another short-barreled, black metal weapon that looked somewhat similar. He wore knives and bore packs whose contents were hidden from view and made no sound as they s.h.i.+fted about inside the canvas. Deladion Inch was a walking a.r.s.enal.

”One last thing,” the big man said as they stopped at the doorway leading out. ”You watch yourself with Arik Siq. He might look harmless, might even seem so, but he's very dangerous. Not impulsive and brash like his little brother. Be careful.”

Sider nodded. ”I'll do that. You better worry about yourself. You're the one going into a camp filled with unfriendly Trolls. They might decide you're not there for any good reason.”

”By the time they figure that out, I'll be gone again. And the girl with me. What's her name again?”

”Prue. Prue Liss.”

Inch stuck out his hand and gripped Sider's firmly. ”Good seeing you, Sider. It's always interesting. Be looking for you down the road. We'll tell our stories then over fresh gla.s.ses of ale.”

”We'll do that,” Sider agreed.

The two men smiled at each other, broke their handshake, and went out the door into the night.

ONE THING EVERY ELF WHO KNEW XAC WEN had to admit about him, besides the fact that he was annoyingly omnipresent and intrusive: he didn't miss much. If you wanted to know what was going on in a particular part of the city of Arborlon or even beyond, or if you were curious to know where someone had gone or why, he was the one to ask. His parents had given up trying to keep him under control years ago-forget about during the day when he was all over the place, but even at night when he should have been asleep. Xac Wen told everyone who asked that he didn't need to sleep. A couple of hours were sufficient, and the rest of the time he wanted to be out looking around.

Which was what he was doing when he caught sight of Arik Sarn walking alone down a back road of the sleeping city shortly after midnight. He might have been out for a stroll, but Xac knew you didn't carry a backpack and weapons when you were just taking the air. He might have been on his way to visit someone, but you didn't often go visiting after midnight and you didn't do it in a furtive way. Well, usually you didn't. He was also alone, which meant that for some reason his Elven guards had failed in their duty to keep an eye on him at all times.

This was troubling to the boy, and he watched from the shadows as the Troll moved past, never once indicating that he knew the boy was there. But Xac knew that grown-ups were very good at pretending not to have noticed you when in fact they had. So he waited until the Troll was out of sight, ducked back behind the buildings, and moved through the trees along a little-used path that would bring him out where the road the Troll was following would converge with a larger one.

But Arik Sarn failed to appear. Xac waited until he was sure the Troll wasn't coming, thought about it a moment, and then hurried off to the Carolan to have a look around. He went swiftly, angling away from where he was certain the Troll must have gone, small and silent as he sped through shadowed trees and down narrow lanes, avoiding houses and people, staying out of the light. When he reached the gardens and the bluff edge, he was winded and breathing heavily. Without showing himself, he dropped down while still out of sight, crawled into the flowering bushes, and lay flat against the ground, listening. He wanted to lift his head for a look, but his instincts warned him against it.

He waited a long time.

Then he heard the soft pad of footfalls from not very far away. They would start up and stop and then start up again. Someone was searching through the gardens and taking their time doing so, looking down every row carefully.

Searching for what?

For him?

He felt chills ripple down his spine at the possibility and inched closer to the bushes next to him, slowly wedging himself under them until they covered him completely. He tucked in his arms and legs. He tried to will himself to disappear.

He waited some more.

Suddenly the Troll appeared at the head of the row of bushes in which he hid, a long knife in one hand as he peered left and right, studying everything. Xac Wen quit breathing. He fought down the urge to jump up and run. He had been right not to risk showing himself, but maybe wrong in coming here at all.

After a long time, the Troll moved away.

Xac waited, still barely breathing, still pressing himself against the earth. He could almost feel the Troll's eyes watching him, could imagine the big hands fastening on his shoulders and yanking him to his feet. He could imagine that and a whole lot more he didn't want to dwell on.

When enough minutes had pa.s.sed that he felt safe again, he cautiously inched out from under the bushes and began crawling toward the bluff edge. It took him a long time, and by the time he had completed his journey his clothes were torn and filthy.

From his hiding place at the Carolan's rim, he could look down the switchback length of the Elfitch. Nothing looked out of place. The watch was on duty, the torches that lit the ramp were burning, and the ramp itself was otherwise deserted. He glanced from right to left along the edge of the bluff. Nothing in either direction.

He took a deep breath and wondered what he should do.

Then he caught sight of something moving. Below the Elfitch, not far from where the northern boundary of the tree line began, a solitary figure slid through the shadows.

It was the Troll.

Xac Wen watched him until he was out of sight, and then he got to his feet and stood looking down at the darkness, wondering whom he should tell.

TWENTY-SIX.

PHRYNE AMARANTYNE HAD BEEN BACK IN ARBORLON for less than four hours when she got the summons from her grandmother. By then, if Xac Wen was to be believed, Arik Sarn had been gone from the city for twice that long, leaving behind two dead Home Guards and a lot of angry Elves. She had rushed back with the Orullians in tow to prevent just this sort of tragedy, convinced that her revelation about the Troll was no fantasy. She turned out to be right, but she arrived too late to make any difference.

What she had realized belatedly was this: If the Trolls were not bothering with finding a way into the valley, didn't that suggest they already knew a way? But that seemed impossible, given that none of them had ever entered. Except, she corrected herself quickly, for Arik Sarn. He was inside because she and her friends had brought him inside. Put that together with the fact that he was drawing what appeared to be pictures of flowers but could just as easily have been maps, and you had the distinct possibility of a betrayal. After all, what they knew of the Troll was based on what Pan had told them and what little they had observed, which wasn't really very much. Recognizing the possibility had opened the door to the chilling prospect that they had all missed seeing the truth of things-Arik Sarn was another of the enemy that would see them destroyed.

It was no comfort to anyone that Sider Ament had returned, as well, having discovered the truth through a set of circ.u.mstances he refused to talk about. Phryne could identify with him; they were bearers of the same message, both of them shocked by the revelation of the Troll's true ident.i.ty and purpose, both of them furious with themselves for not having recognized it sooner. Not that there was any real way they could have done so, but that didn't make either of them feel any better.

The Gray Man had left again almost at once, tracking the deceiver north in an effort to catch him before he escaped the valley. He told Phryne he fully expected to fail, that his quarry would escape through one of the pa.s.ses before anyone could catch up with him. Phryne was angry she had not thought before leaving Aphalion Pa.s.s to warn the Elven Hunters working on the defenses that the Troll might show up there, but she had been so anxious to reach her father and warn him that she hadn't even considered the possibility. The Orullians told her not to dwell on it; they had all been fooled, all of them equally deceived, and there was nothing to be done about it now but to continue with their plans to defend the valley.

Even so, she thought about it constantly. She wondered how Panterra Qu was going to feel once he learned the truth. He was the one who had been most deceived, having supported Arik Siq as a friend, persuading the others he would be their friend, too. She did not like to think about what it might do to him if Prue Liss was harmed as a result of this treachery.

So receiving the summons was a welcome excuse to think of something besides the turmoil surrounding the Troll. One of the old men brought the invitation: not the same one as before, a different one, another whose name she should have known and could not remember. She took the letter he offered and waited for him to leave. But he shook his head and gestured for her to break the seal and read the contents in front of him. With a dismissive shrug, she did so.

The summons read as follows: Please come at once to my cottage to speak with me on a matter of great importance.

The bearer of this letter will accompany you.

Tell no one. Come alone.

There was no salutation and no signature. There was no room for argument. Her grandmother's imperious att.i.tude was present in every word of her overbearing command. Phryne sighed in resignation, folded the letter up again, and tucked it into her tunic.

”Lead the way,” she advised the messenger.

They set off through the city, following the familiar roads and pathways that led to the outskirts and her grandmother's isolated cottage. The day was overcast and gray, a hint of rain in the air, a whisper of cooling weather. She glanced toward the mountains once or twice where the trees cleared enough to allow her to do so, wondering if Sider Ament might have caught up to Arik Siq. She wanted to be back up at Aphalion Pa.s.s, standing with the Orullians at the barricades, watching for what was now an inevitable attack on the valley. But her father had forbidden it, intent on keeping her close to him until he knew more about what was going to happen.

As if being close would make a difference in the outcome of things, she thought darkly. As if much of anything they did down here in the city made a difference.

She wondered about Prue Liss, as well, but she could not bear thinking on the girl's dangerous situation.