SIX      

AISLINNE KRAY STEPPED DOWN OFF THE VERANDA that fronted the council hall and looked over her shoulder at Panterra and Prue. “That wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve ever done,” she said, and they could see the anger glittering in her green eyes.

“So we’ve been told,” Pan admitted. “But don’t blame Prue; it was my idea. I knew what the reaction was likely to be.”

Aislinne grunted. “I doubt that you have any idea even now what the reaction is likely to be.”

“Pan just did what Sider Ament told him he needed to do,” Prue declared defensively. “He wasn’t trying to cause trouble. They didn’t have to attack him that way.”

Panterra put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Maybe we ought to just go to bed.”

“Not just yet,” Aislinne said at once. “I’m not finished with you. Is your house empty, Pan? Good. We’ll go there. We need to talk.”

She led the way through the village, long hair fanning out like a veil, stride quick and sure on the familiar paths. The boy and the girl followed obediently, pulling their cloaks close as the chill night air bit at them, cold enough that it burned their exposed faces. Overhead, the sky was clear and filled with stars that spread across the firmament in a wash of white specks, thickly clustered and brilliant. The moon was down this night, and the stars shone brightly in its absence.

When they reached Panterra’s lane, Aislinne paused while still within the cover of the trees to study the houses ahead. Saying nothing, she signaled to the boy and the girl to wait; then she stood silent and motionless for long minutes, watching.

“Come,” she said finally, and started ahead once more.

Moments later they were down the path and up the walkway to Panterra’s front door. The boy used his key and the three slipped inside to stand in the darkness.

“Lock it behind you,” Aislinne ordered, her voice only slightly louder than a whisper. “Don’t turn on any lights. Where can we talk without someone outside being able to see us?”

Pan led the way through the cottage, winding past the hearth with its now cold ashes from the morning’s fire, through the kitchen to the back stairway, and up the stairs to the loft where he made his bedroom. There, in a darkness broken only by the pale wash of starlight through windows beneath low-hanging eaves, they seated themselves on the floor in a tight circle.

“Is there a reason for all this caution?” Panterra asked. He was careful to keep his own voice low. He found Aislinne’s green eyes in the near-dark.

She gave him a look. “Don’t be stupid, Panterra. Of course there’s a reason!” She saw his bewilderment and shook her head. “You can’t possibly be that naïve. Your revelations have stirred up poisonous waters. Do you really not see it?”

“You mean Skeal Eile?” Prue asked.

Aislinne sighed. “Child, child. I mean five centuries of traditions and beliefs that have become a bedrock of faith for far too many of our people. You cannot challenge something so deeply ingrained without arousing strong resentment. Look now. How much do you know of the history of the Children of the Hawk?”

Panterra and Prue exchanged a quick look. “Not much,” the boy admitted. “Only that they think the Hawk brought them here and that he will come for them again when it is time to leave the valley.”

“That merely scratches the surface. Yes, they believe that. But they also believe that they are the chosen people, the ones who were saved when the rest of the world perished in the Great Wars. They see themselves as the future of civilization. They think that theirs is the way—the only way. The Seraphics have told them so for five centuries, and for five centuries they have been thought right because no challenge to their teachings has succeeded. Or should I say, no challenge has survived its voicing.”

Prue shook her head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that the challengers have all recanted, fallen victim to unfortunate accidents or simply disappeared. Understand: the continued survival of the Children of the Hawk requires a surmounting of all attacks, real or perceived. This is about power and its usage—about the influence it generates and the coin it collects in the form of tithes and property. This is about who controls the populace and the land. On the surface of things, it would appear that my husband and the council do so, here in Glensk Wood. But underneath, where the truth of things lies hidden, it is another matter entirely. Skeal Eile and his minions hold all the power because the Seraphic speaks for the Hawk. In other times and places, it was other Seraphics. It has been so in the villages of Men since we came into this valley.”

“So they see us as a danger?” Panterra asked in disbelief. “Just for bringing Sider Ament’s message?”

“They see you as a perceived danger,” Aislinne corrected. “And that is enough for them to want to do something about you.”

“They will want us to recant?”

“At best—and I wouldn’t be too quick to assume the best.” She gave him a long look. “It is because of who sent the message that I say this, Panterra. Sider Ament is an unusual man with unusual abilities. Most think him a wanderer of strange habits and wild imaginings. They think he might even be demented. They know nothing of the truth of him, as I do. But what matters here is that his distancing of himself from the communities does not always serve him well. Not just in his lack of appreciation of the power of the Children of the Hawk. But also in his failure to realize what even the simple delivery of a message could result in for the messenger. He should not have asked of you what he did.”

She rocked back. “If I hadn’t discovered what was happening and returned to intervene, I think you might be spending this night under very different circumstances.”

“Were you sent away deliberately?” Prue asked. “Or tricked into leaving?”

“No, it was nothing like that. My husband, for all he lacks in backbone and common sense, would not stoop to that.” She allowed herself a small smile. “He is not the man he was, I regret, not the man I married all those years ago before he fell under the influence of the sect. But neither is he duplicitous or cunning. Circumstances put me in another place, not Pogue Kray, although he would have been happy if I had stayed where I was. Especially since I am certain Skeal Eile suggested that no harm could come of it, that the balance of the council members would act in my stead.”

“How did you find out what was happening?” Panterra was confused. “Barely twenty-four hours passed between our return and the meeting.”

She rocked back slightly, and the smile returned. “I have friends, Panterra. Some of them are your friends, too. One, in particular. One who cares about you both. He brought me warning of what was to happen, and I came back at once.”

“Brickey,” Prue guessed.

She nodded. “You can thank him when you see him again. But that might not be right away. After we’ve finished here, you will need to pack and leave Glensk Wood.”

The boy and the girl stared at her. “Leave?” Prue repeated. “We can’t do that!”

Panterra nodded quickly. “We have to stay and convince the council of what—”

“The time for that has come and gone,” Aislinne interrupted, brushing aside his objection with a wave of her hand. “You had your chance this evening, such as it was, and you failed. It won’t get any better from here on out. Not without physical proof of what you claim. Or what Sider Ament claims, although now you’re perceived to be his agent and the message as much yours as his.”

“But that’s not …”

She held up a finger in warning, silencing him once more. “The problem confronting you is much greater than the message itself. Skeal Eile fears the message, but he fears you, as well. You have seen things that could be a threat to his power. You might continue to report what you’ve seen to others, and eventually someone might start to listen. It would be best, he’ll reason soon enough—if he hasn’t already—if you were no longer around to talk about it.”

“He would kill me?” Panterra asked incredulously, and he almost laughed at the idea.

“But that’s ridiculous!” Prue exclaimed. “He wouldn’t do that! Everyone knows Pan! They wouldn’t stand for it!”

“He won’t do it himself; he will have it done by others. It will not appear as if he had a hand in it.” She paused. “He has done this before to those by whom he felt threatened. He is a dangerous man, and you have crossed him.”

Panterra stared at her, peering through the shadows to catch the reflection of her eyes, trying to see something of the truth he could not quite accept. “Then we have to tell that to Pogue Kray or Trow Ravenlock. Others have to know.”

She smiled and shook her head. “That’s been tried. How much have you heard about its success?”

Panterra looked away, thinking, and then turned back quickly. “Wait a minute. If he eliminates his enemies, aren’t you at risk, too? Aren’t you a bigger danger to him than Prue or I?”

“If he goes after me, he will have to deal with my husband. He’s not yet willing to chance that sort of confrontation. Pogue might be under his influence, but he is not going to sit by and let me be harmed. I suspect he has made that clear already.”

She paused. “Besides, I’m not viewed as being much more reliable than Sider Ament. I’m not held in high regard. Too quick to speak my mind, not so quick to recognize my place. I am indulged by my husband, and there are few who admire his patience or his wisdom where I am concerned. But my family is old and well placed, and they protect their own. Even me.”

“Does Sider Ament know any of this?” Panterra pressed. “Is he really so ignorant of Skeal Eile’s ambitions?”

“The Gray Man has no time for such nonsense. Know this, Panterra. Sider Ament is not what he seems. You’ve already had a glimpse of that. He is a warrior, a fighter of great strength and skill. He protects us all by patrolling the valley rim and keeping watch against the things that might come through from the outside world. When he tells you that those things are coming, you should believe him. When he tells you they are here, you should not doubt. We can do nothing about those who do, those fools who think that dogma equates with truth. Sider Ament knows this, too. He can’t change what is by speaking against it. Only the sort of confrontation you experienced below the heights of Declan Reach can do that.”

“So we must run,” Panterra finished. “But where will we run to?”

“You have friends and family in other places,” she answered. “Go to them.”

“We could go to the Elves!” Prue exclaimed suddenly. “The Orullian brothers would help us! Didn’t Sider Ament say we should take his warning to the Elves, too?”

Aislinne nodded approvingly. “A good plan. Just choose carefully who to tell, and be careful not to draw undue attention. The Elves will be less likely to doubt. They don’t embrace the teachings of the Children of the Hawk. Perhaps they’ll send a contingent of Elven Hunters up into the passes to see if the barrier still holds, or you can persuade them to come with you in search of Sider. You will have to find him now, and bring back some kind of physical proof to show the council. Until then, it won’t be safe for you here.”

Panterra hunkered down in the darkness of his bedroom, dismayed. “I can’t believe any of this. All I did was what I have been trained to do.”

“Nevertheless,” Aislinne said softly, and she let the word hang in the ensuing silence.

Aislinne wouldn’t tell him to run if it weren’t necessary, Panterra knew. She was his friend; whatever she thought of his actions, she wouldn’t give him advice that she didn’t believe was in his best interests. Ever since she had befriended him, not long after his parents died, she had counseled him. She seemed to understand him, even without knowing precisely how he was gifted. Or maybe she had intuited his innate abilities; her own instincts were not to be underestimated.

What to do? He thought back to the council meeting and the way Skeal Eile had looked at him. The memory did not give him a good feeling. He glanced at Prue. She was in as much danger as he was, given what Aislinne had said. She had seen everything he had and been firm in backing his story. Skeal Eile would have no use for her, either.

Still, the idea of fleeing his home troubled him. There was a finality to it that was deeply unsettling. Trackers roamed far and wide and sometimes for long periods, but they always knew they could return when their tasks were completed. That would not be the case here.

“I don’t know,” he said softly.

“No one said it would be easy,” Aislinne began, leaning forward to take his hands in her own. “But sometimes—”

“Hssst!” Prue said sharply, freezing them both in place. Her eyes were wide and bright in the darkness. “There’s someone out there!”

She gestured toward the window that faced north, a vague, almost disconnected movement. Her eyes were fixed; she seemed to be seeing something hidden from them. Panterra knew that look. It was the near-trance she entered when she sensed that danger threatened.

It was there and gone again in a moment, and she was looking right at Pan. “We have to get out of here!” she whispered. “Right now!”

Panterra hesitated, just for a second, and in that momentary pause he heard a scuffling and a quick intake of breath, tiny sounds audible only to someone with hearing and instincts as keen as his own.

Aislinne rose, then stood motionless in the dark. “Wait. Don’t move.” Seconds later there was a soft tapping at the back door. Three short raps, and then silence. “Come with me,” she said, starting for the stairs.

They went down the steps together, moving slowly and silently through the shadows. Panterra strained to hear more, but there were no further sounds. The world outside the walls of his cottage stayed silent and dark.

At the door, Aislinne motioned for them to stand behind her. She released the lock and cracked the door slightly. Then she opened it wide.

Brickey was standing there, wrapped in a black cloak. “There’s been an accident,” he told them.

Aislinne nodded as if she expected as much. “What sort of accident?”

“A man has fallen on his knife. He was hunting mushrooms or perhaps night-blooming rashia in the trees, just in back of the cottage. He must have tripped.” He glanced past her at Panterra and Prue. “Good evening, friends. You’re up late. I hear that the council session was difficult.”

A man hunting mushrooms had fallen on his knife? Panterra knew at once that the little man was lying, that what had happened had nothing to do with mushrooms. In all likelihood, an assassin had been sent to dispatch him, but had ended up being dispatched himself. He looked with new respect at Brickey, who somehow managed to look deeply saddened.

“Dangerous work, night hunting,” Aislinne observed, as if she accepted what the little man was saying without question. “Will you see that his body is taken elsewhere?”

Brickey bowed slightly. “Of course.” He paused. “This unfortunate death might bring unwanted attention. It might be well if all of you went somewhere else as soon as possible.”

“We were just discussing that,” Aislinne observed. “Thank you, Brickey.”

She closed the door and turned to the boy and the girl. “Pack what you need, Panterra, and then we’ll cross to Prue’s home and she will do the same. It will be safe enough now; another will not be sent in this man’s place right away. In any case, Brickey will continue to keep watch.”

“I thought he was merely a thief,” Panterra observed. “It seems he is something more.”

“Brickey is many things. But he keeps what he is to himself.” Aislinne motioned impatiently. “Pack, Panterra. You have to leave.”

It took them only a short time to gather the clothes, weapons, and supplies they needed to set out. They were practiced at this, good at packing on short notice, efficient at collecting what was needed. Aislinne trailed after them, glancing outside now and then, studying the darkness as if to uncover its secrets. The rustle of their packing efforts were all the noise any of them made. They saw and heard nothing further of Brickey, who had faded back into the night. Panterra found himself wondering how much of the other’s interest in him was fostered by his relationship to Aislinne. How had the little man come to know Aislinne so well? He wanted to ask her, but decided against it.

When they were ready, Aislinne walked them outside to the edge of the trees. All around them, the night provided a dark, silent cloaking. There were few lights in the windows of houses and no one about. Overhead, the sky was clear and filled with stars.

“I’ll tell your parents, Prue, and anyone else who needs to know that you have gone to visit friends and will return in a week. If you don’t come back by then, I’ll make up something else to keep them from worrying. Try to convince the Elves to help you. Perhaps events will dictate when you’ll be able to come back again. It might not be very long at all if Sider is right; another intrusion from the outside world is more likely than not if the protective wall is failing. Still, we can’t count on that; we have to rely on our own resourcefulness.”

She sounded as if she meant to place herself in their company, as if she shared the danger they faced. Panterra shook his head. He didn’t want Aislinne to do anything more for them, anything that might put her at further risk. But he knew she would do whatever she felt she must, and that his admonitions against doing so would be wasted effort.

“We’ll get word to you,” he promised.

“Walk softly,” she cautioned, and he was struck by the familiarity of that phrase: Sider Ament had used it as well.

“Thank you for everything.” Prue embraced the tall woman and held her close. “We owe you so much.”

Aislinne broke away. “You owe me nothing. Just keep safe until we meet again. Now go.”

They moved into the trees. Panterra looked back and waved good-bye to her. She was already turning away.

When he looked back again, she was gone.