B00B15Z1P2 EBOK Page 10

  “You’re our mentor,” said Mik. “And we should have been here to help you.”

  Bailar laughed and winced. “You two faced Ahm Kereb without my help,” he said. “I can’t let my apprentices have all the glory!”

  “Are you ready to climb the Tower tonight?” Charn looked eager.

  Sura glared. “My father is in the infirmary, Charn. Remember?” The four friends stood outside the dining hall, anonymous in the crowd of apprentices and sorcerers. “You and Isa can go. We’re staying with him.”

  “All evening?” Isa looked skeptical. “I don’t think that’s allowed, they have visiting hours and they won’t let people just stay there all the time! You could go visit for an hour then meet us. It won’t be any fun to go alone.” She giggled. “Actually, it might be more fun to go alone if our mentors weren’t watching, I just wish they trusted us more.”

  Mik thought a moment. Isa was long-winded, but she was right about the limited visits. And Bailar seemed content, reading works of some ancient Captain. He had encouraged them to attend lectures and enjoy the company of their friends. “We’ll go to the infirmary. You go to the baths. If our mentor or the Healers dismiss us, we’ll meet you at the baths. Does that sound reasonable? Sura?”

  Sura sighed. “I don’t know why we’re going through with this, after what’s happened.”

  “Because your father would want us to go through with it,” said Mik. “He told us that spending time with friends is part of being an apprentice at the Gathering. Termag’s best Healers are watching him, and so are a Protector and the guards. Besides, he could blast anyone with that combat magic he knows.”

  “That’s a part of him I never knew about,” said Sura. “You think you know everything about your own father, and then something like this happens. Still, I want to stay with him.”

  “We’ll stay with him as long as he wants our company—but no longer. He…” Mik whispered, glancing at their friends, “he trusts us. We need to trust him, too.”

  “How long is this climb?” Isa puffed. “It feels like hours.”

  “That was the twenty-sixth landing,” said Charn. The lamps, filched from Bailar’s chambers, threw strange shadows along the endless staircase. All of them spoke in near whispers that echoed in the chambers between landings. “One more, then we’ll be at the top.”

  “My legs feel like this rope,” said Mik, tugging at the coil around his shoulder. “I hope we have some time to rest before we have to go back down.”

  “You’ve climbed that river bank,” Sura laughed, bringing up the rear, carrying the second lamp. “This should be easy!”

  “You’ve done it all your life,” Mik grumbled. “You should be leading the way up.”

  “I’d leave you all behind!”

  Isa giggled. “I wish I knew how Charn did it. He grew up in a city like me, it’s not like he has to climb a river bank twice a day!”

  “You’ve never been to Westmarch, then,” said Charn. “The city’s built on a bluff over the coast. We have three directions: up, down, and sideways!”

  They laughed quietly as they reached the landing before the top.

  “Sshhh!” Sura rasped as they heard a thump. “What—”

  The four clustered together. “There it is again!” Charn held up his lamp, but it was not strong enough to illuminate the entire landing.

  “What’s that?” Isa hissed, slipping behind Mik and touching his shoulder.

  Mik listened, and heard a high-pitched moaning sound. “Sura,” he whispered. “Give Isa the lamp. Charn, you two watch the staircase. Sura…”

  “I’m already a step ahead of you.” She grinned and took his hand. The chamber took on the double-edged appearance that meant she had concealed them. “Turn the lamps down,” she told Charn and Isa. “We need shadows.”

  “What if something happens?” Charn looked worried.

  “Can you hold Isa and Lift you both to the ground?” Mik asked. “Good. If something happens, jump out the window and get help.”

  Isa’s eyes went wide, but Mik and Sura turned away. Behind them, the lights dimmed and they disappeared into the shadows. The noise came again, and they followed it.

  They found what they sought under the stairs: a young woman, tied hand and foot. A strip of cloth shut her mouth. She wore an armband of some kind of grey metal, covering most of her left forearm.

  “Isa!” Sura hissed. “Bring the lamp! Over here!”

  “The knots are magic-locked,” Mik grunted, tugging at the ropes. “Here.” He slipped the gag over her head. “Who are you?”

  “Fierda sam Ashean,” she whispered. “Don’t touch that armband, it dampens your abilities.”

  “You’re the missing apprentice!” Isa whispered. “What are you doing here? That armband—is that why you couldn’t get away?”

  “That’s why they couldn’t use magic to find you!” Sura gasped. “Who did this?”

  “I don’t know,” said Fierda. “He—don’t you have a knife? Cut me free!”

  “I’ll dispel the lock,” said Mik.

  “No, you fool! He’s just above us! He’ll feel the magic!”

  Mik and Sura looked at each other, then both knelt, Mik at her feet, Sura at her hands. “We’ve already used magic,” Mik whispered. Invoking the Principle of Closure, they removed the magic holding the knots closed tight, then loosened the ropes.

  “How did you do that?” Fierda demanded. “I’m—oh.”

  “Right,” said Sura. “If the ropes could be locked, the armband doesn’t affect them.”

  “Someone’s coming!” Charn rasped. He doused the lamp and hopped down to join them as Fierda stood.

  “Mik, the silence!” Sura whispered. “I’ll conceal us. Maybe the steps will have enough shadows…”

  “It won’t work!” Fierda moaned. “This damned armband! Magic doesn’t work for me or on me!”

  Mik muttered one of his aunt’s curses. “Then sit back down. Put your hands behind your back.” He picked up the gag. “Someone lay that rope over her feet. Sorry about this.” He slipped the gag back over her face. “Be ready for anything.” Fierda nodded.

  “Conceal us now,” said Mik. The four of them held hands in a chain, Mik between Isa and Sura. Isa squeezed his hand and gave him a wild-eyed look. The chamber again took on double edges. “All right, we’re silenced,” he said, looking at Isa. “But don’t talk unless you have to. It’ll be hard enough to hear anything he says.”

  Though they could no longer hear the footsteps, Greater Moon gave them just enough light to see by. A young man trotted down the steps and looked around the dark chamber. He dashed to the back of the steps and gave Fierda a brief glance. “Where are they?” His voice sounded muffled through Mik’s spell.

  Fierda gave him a wide-eyed look and glanced toward the steps, but shook her head.

  “Damn!” The captor paced in front of Fierda for a moment. “How did they find you?” She shook her head again. “They just stumbled in on you and ran off?” She nodded, and he sighed. “Nothing to do for it. The others can find you here for all I care.” He drew a dagger. “I’ve never killed anyone. But I’ll try to make it quick.”

  Even through Mik’s magical barrier, they could hear Fierda shriek through her gag. “We’ve got to do something!” Sura snapped.

  “Isa, you take him low,” said Mik. “Wrap up his legs. Bite him, if you want. Charn, Sura, you take his arms. I’ll get that knife. Go!”

  They charged, just as Fierda pushed herself up and kicked at her captor’s waist. He staggered back, flailing, and fell into the apprentices. Isa tumbled into his legs and dropped him sprawling backwards. Sura caught his left arm, Charn his right, partly breaking his fall and dropping him on his seat. Mik seized his knife hand and wrist, trying to pry the knife loose while digging into the pain point.

  Outnumbered though he was, the rogue was young and strong—and an accomplished sorcerer. He clung to the knife, cursing and thrashing, trying to kick free of Isa and
pull away from the others. They began to rise from the floor—

  Then Fierda charged in screaming, kicking him in the face then clubbing him with the armband, again and again. At the first touch of the armband, they all dropped to the floor. The knife fell away, but he twisted free and sprang for the stairs. He was down and away before they could stand.

  “We need light,” said Mik, gasping a little.

  “What happened?” Sura was at his side in an instant. “You had better not be hurt!”

  “I think he cut me. Not too bad. I hope.”

  “Here,” said Charn, using magic to light the lamp. “Oh gods…”

  Isa shrieked at Mik’s bloody sleeve, then sat down. Fierda came over to look, careful to avoid touching Mik with the armband. “We need bandages,” she said.

  “My side, too.” Mik brought his uninjured hand around and touched his ribcage. “But I don’t think that one’s so bad.”

  Sura picked up the dagger and cut the sleeve away, revealing a long slash down Mik’s lower arm. “Charn, can you press on that?” Charn nodded and squeezed Mik’s arm, looking more pale than Mik in the lantern light. Sura cut off Mik’s other sleeve, then cut it into strips and bandaged his arm, tying tight knots over the wound. Mik groaned at the pain, but let her work.

  “Where did you learn how to bind up wounds like that?” Isa asked.

  Sura cut off the bottom of Mik’s shirt, then used it to secure another wad of cloth over the shallower cut across his ribcage. “Mik taught me. He spent summers on his aunt’s cattle ranch, and people got hurt sometimes. Mik, is it too tight? Can you walk?”

  “Not too tight.” he said. Charn and Isa helped him stand. He looked and felt shaky.

  “Can anyone else use this?” Sura waved the dagger.

  “I will,” said Fierda. “If he shows his face, I’ll make that bowgnoash sorry he ever touched me.”

  Isa tittered at the rude insult. Sura shrugged and gave Fierda the dagger, then took Mik’s uninjured arm and let him lean on her. “Let’s go,” she said. “Fierda, you lead. Charn, you and Isa keep the lamps. Mik and I will bring up the rear.”

  About halfway down, upon reaching a landing, they saw the light of another lamp. Fierda snarled then ran ahead.

  “Is it him?” Mik asked.

  “I don’t think so,” said Charn. “She’s talking with someone. It looks like she’s kicking at something too.”

  “I hope it’s help,” Isa breathed. “Adventure’s not for me. I’m through with exploring towers, too much climbing, too much danger, and the view is good from the Cannoneers’ Terrace. Let’s just go there like before!”

  Fierda glanced over her shoulder. “It’s all right,” she said. She stepped aside, to reveal Hen sim Miran, holding a lantern and a staff. Fierda’s captor sprawled at his feet.

  “What are you doing here?” Mik asked him.

  Hen shrugged. “I overheard you talking about climbing the tower, and thought someone more advanced should be nearby in case you needed help. I heard a commotion up above, then someone running this way, so I turned down my lamp and waited. When this fellow came down the stairs, I challenged him. He attempted to call the wind, but it was weak because Fierda struck him with that bracer of magic-protection.”

  “What did you do then?” Charn asked.

  Hen hefted the staff. “I know a little about staff fighting.”

  “Well done, then,” said Mik, giving him a nod. There was a little barn cat in the Northerner after all.

  Hen gave him a thin smile. “And well done by you four, rescuing Fierda and fighting off this fool. We share the glory in this matter.” His smile widened. “We need not be friends, Mik Dragonrider. But we need not be rivals. If Fate wills it, you may also be a Protector some day—and then, we will have to work together.” He held out a fist, and Mik bumped it with his uninjured left hand. “Now let us deliver this rogue to the Protectors. The Healers will want to look over Fierda, and tend to you as well. Remember, you four: the Gathering is usually more sedate!”

  They all laughed. Hen sim Miran took the rogue’s feet, Charn and Fierda his arms (Fierda where she could keep the bracer touching him), and they made their way down.

  • • •

  Mik snapped awake. His arm throbbed and his side itched.

  “All finished,” said the Healer, offering him a water skin. “You need to drink fluids, but you can get up and move around if you feel well enough. Don’t scratch that!” He pulled away Mik’s hand, reaching for the bandage.

  Mik sighed and sat up, fighting a dizzy spell. His mentor lay watching on the next cot.

  “This has been an exciting year for some of our apprentices,” said Bailar. “And a tragic one for others.” He tipped his head toward the other cots. “At least everyone will recover.”

  “What about Fierda?”

  “The apprentice you rescued? Her hurts are not the kind the Healers can help. She has been reunited with her mentor. Did you recognize the rogue?”

  “No, sir.” Then Mik remembered, and gasped. “The—” He waved his good arm for a moment. “On the barge?”

  “The same. I feel somewhat responsible. Had I been more vigilant, he would not have broken free, and we would not be in this ward.”

  “How did he get here?”

  “One of his accomplices told the story. After he escaped, he made his way to Mosvil then used his Talent to free his partners, and several others. They stole a fishing boat and provisions, and came downriver to Queensport. Moving against the Conclave was not their original plan, but they happened upon the adventurous apprentices and thought to collect a ransom. How he obtained a bracer of magic-protection we still know not, but he may be the first to seize upon the idea of using one to hide a stolen apprentice under the very noses of the Conclave.”

  “What will happen to him?”

  “He has had his own bracer locked upon his arm. Tomorrow, he will be tried for his crimes in Queensport. His sentence will be served there, but under Conclave supervision. If he shows signs of changing his heart—and there are ways to catch out the pretender—the Protectors will remove the bracer and train him to use his Talent properly. Several of his accomplices are on the run, I suspect.”

  Mik caught himself reaching to scratch his bandage. “So if we both have to be here, is there anything you can teach me from that cot?”

  Bailar laughed. “They’ll let you go in the morning, once the Healers check their handiwork and tell you how to take care of your wounds. Listen carefully to their instructions.” He yawned and stretched. “Enforced idleness suits me,” he chuckled. “I find myself needing to sleep at the same time as always. You should get some sleep, too. You won’t notice the itching so much.”

  “I just woke up from your magical sleep,” Mik grumbled. “I feel like I’ll be awake all night.”

  “You could read for a while. I still have An Account of Other Worlds with me, if you want to borrow it.”

  Mik nodded and took the volume to a settee along the wall. One of the Healers found him there later, slumped on the settee, still clutching the book.

  • • •

  Bailar was unable to come to the Final Gathering, but insisted that his apprentices attend. Sura and Charn flanked Mik to keep people from bumping him, and they sat together comfortably in the Great Hall. The attendants were invited in as well; they entertained themselves with chatter and games, ignoring the scowls of apprentices.

  “This sounds like it’ll be boring,” Mik whispered.

  “It’s not so bad,” Sura reassured him. “They recognize the new sorcerers, invoke the blessing of the elements, and that’s about all. Then we go—we go back to the infirmary to wait until Father can walk.”

  “I wish it was Charn and me staying,” Isa whispered across Charn. “Not that I’d want either of our mentors hurt, but having the entire Keep to ourselves! That would be nice. Or if all four of us could stay, we could explore the laboratories and study in the library…”

  T
he torrent of words washed over Mik, but he hardly heard them. Ever since Bailar had loaned him that old book, Mik had found it hard to concentrate on local matters. Entire other worlds, each with their own wonders and stories! It made Mik realize how little he’d seen of Termag, despite having seen more of it than nearly anyone at home in Lacota. He found himself longing to see his family and old friends, then leaving them far behind and seeing even more of the world. And the idea of riding a rainbow to those other worlds would not leave him. But even Bailar had not ventured far east or west of the banks of the Wide. What chance did Mik have?

  The First Protector walked out, stepped to the dais, and thumped his staff. “Sorcerers, apprentices, attendants,” he began, “this has been an unusual Gathering. Not in our lifetimes has there been the kind of excitement that we have seen this year. In years to come, those who remained at home will say they were in this place, at this time!” He waited for the laughter to fade. “In keeping with the unusual, we begin this Final Gathering by recognizing the five apprentices who rescued one of their own, and brought her captor to justice. Please, come forward.”

  Mik, Sura, Charn, and Isa all looked at each other for a moment, then Sura smiled and got them on their feet. Hen sim Miran was already moving, and they met near the steps. Hen started forward, then chuckled and waved the four younger apprentices ahead of him. They mounted the dais, all but Hen feeling a little uncertain, as the Conclave applauded with enthusiasm. The First Protector gestured to Fierda sam Ashean as well, and she joined them and embraced each in turn.

  “These four,” the First Protector continued, “I must point out, are among the youngest of our apprentices. Three of them are first-year! If all of you are as resourceful and as quick-thinking as those who stand before you here, then the future of our profession is bright indeed.” He gave them an open smile. “I must also point out: no dragons were summoned in the rescue!” Everyone laughed, even Mik, and they returned to their seats to even greater applause than before.

  Poling and sailing against the current, the return trip took over twice as long as the trip downriver. Nearly six weeks after they left home, porters carried their baggage onto the Exidy docks, while Mik and Sura helped their mentor debark. Bailar’s hip still pained him, mostly when climbing stairs or sitting straight. Mik’s wounds, however, were nearly healed; they would soon visit the local Healer to take out the stitches. Sura checked them every day and scolded Mik when he overtaxed his arm.