with its long fingers. It looked nervous and lanky.
“We’ll be right outside,” Raffi said.
“Small keeper, I’d be happier if you were inside.”
Galen stood up. “If you don’t want to . . .”
“Of course I don’t want to.” The Sekoi’s voice was an exasperated snarl. “However, I’ll go. The logic of the choice was impeccable. It’s just . . .” Its yellow eyes flickered to Carys. “I just wish someone else had suggested it.”
She tucked her red hair behind one ear and grinned.
Quietly, they all moved through the wood. On the edge of the trees the Sekoi stopped, put its hand into its coat, and made odd wriggling movements. Then it dumped a warm money belt into Raffi’s hands.
“A few small coins for the Great Hoard. If I don’t come back, pass them on to any Sekoi.”
Raffi felt the weight of it in amazement. “You’ve been busy.”
The Sekoi winked.
Then it was loping up the track to the bridge. Dappled moonlight lit its back, sending three tall shadows into the trees.
“A brave soul,” Solon muttered, half to himself. Behind him, Galen nodded.
When the creature got to the bridge it looked back, once. Through the sense-lines Raffi felt nothing, but the Sekoi were notoriously hard to reach. It turned and pulled a long cord.
Somewhere a bell jangled.
Crouching beside Solon under a fallen tree thick with ivy, Raffi felt rather than saw the Watchman who opened the grille. They were too far to hear what was said, but the words “Another one” rang in the sense-lines for a moment, and he knew the man had been sour, but hardly surprised.
He glanced at Solon. “They were expecting him?”
The Archkeeper looked grave. “They were expecting someone, my son. I pray we haven’t made a great mistake.”
The gate was opening. Like a shadow the Sekoi slipped in. The bolts shot to behind it, then the inner gate was opened; Raffi felt the slow, heavy drag of the wood, deep in the curved groove it had worn in the floor.
It slammed in his head.
And the river swirled by, breaking the sense-lines.
Galen leaned his head back against the ivy-covered tree.
“Now we wait,” he muttered.
IT SHOULDN’T HAVE TAKEN THIS LONG. Restless, Raffi strapped the belt of coins tighter under his shirt. It felt strangely heavy, as if it weighed him down. Keepers had no money—that was one of the Precepts of the Order. Idly he wondered what it would be like to spend all this.
After a daydream of warm beds and fine food, he came back to himself to find Solon praying the Litany quietly and Carys talking to Marco, lying on one elbow. Both had their bows ready.
“So how did you get yourself arrested?” she was saying.
The bald man grinned. “Oh, that. Bit of an error of judgment.” Dropping his voice so Galen wouldn’t hear, he said, “I had a contract from the Watch. I was a licensed dealer. Any relics I heard of, I bought up, usually from farmers, and then sold on to the Watch. The profit was pitiable, but sometimes,” he said with a wink, “sometimes I found something really juicy and held out for a good price. And of course, you can always get two castellans to bid against each other. They’ll do anything to get a promotion.”
Carys made a face. “You don’t have to tell me.”
He looked at her. “I’ll bet you were some spy.”
“The best.”
“And you don’t miss it?”
She winked at Raffi. “I’m still some spy.”
Marco chortled. “Well anyway, I went too far. Found a pen that memorized what you wrote with it—amazing thing, still working. I sold it to one Watchhouse, but the sergeant at the other found out and had my business dealings watched. That was that. In days I was in the cells.”
“That was where you met Solon?” Raffi said.
Marco glanced over at the older man. “Crazy old fool was giving away all his food to the others. If I hadn’t looked after him, he’d be dead.”
There was silence. Then Raffi said, “The Sekoi’s taking a long time.”
Carys
“We’ll be right outside,” Raffi said.
“Small keeper, I’d be happier if you were inside.”
Galen stood up. “If you don’t want to . . .”
“Of course I don’t want to.” The Sekoi’s voice was an exasperated snarl. “However, I’ll go. The logic of the choice was impeccable. It’s just . . .” Its yellow eyes flickered to Carys. “I just wish someone else had suggested it.”
She tucked her red hair behind one ear and grinned.
Quietly, they all moved through the wood. On the edge of the trees the Sekoi stopped, put its hand into its coat, and made odd wriggling movements. Then it dumped a warm money belt into Raffi’s hands.
“A few small coins for the Great Hoard. If I don’t come back, pass them on to any Sekoi.”
Raffi felt the weight of it in amazement. “You’ve been busy.”
The Sekoi winked.
Then it was loping up the track to the bridge. Dappled moonlight lit its back, sending three tall shadows into the trees.
“A brave soul,” Solon muttered, half to himself. Behind him, Galen nodded.
When the creature got to the bridge it looked back, once. Through the sense-lines Raffi felt nothing, but the Sekoi were notoriously hard to reach. It turned and pulled a long cord.
Somewhere a bell jangled.
Crouching beside Solon under a fallen tree thick with ivy, Raffi felt rather than saw the Watchman who opened the grille. They were too far to hear what was said, but the words “Another one” rang in the sense-lines for a moment, and he knew the man had been sour, but hardly surprised.
He glanced at Solon. “They were expecting him?”
The Archkeeper looked grave. “They were expecting someone, my son. I pray we haven’t made a great mistake.”
The gate was opening. Like a shadow the Sekoi slipped in. The bolts shot to behind it, then the inner gate was opened; Raffi felt the slow, heavy drag of the wood, deep in the curved groove it had worn in the floor.
It slammed in his head.
And the river swirled by, breaking the sense-lines.
Galen leaned his head back against the ivy-covered tree.
“Now we wait,” he muttered.
IT SHOULDN’T HAVE TAKEN THIS LONG. Restless, Raffi strapped the belt of coins tighter under his shirt. It felt strangely heavy, as if it weighed him down. Keepers had no money—that was one of the Precepts of the Order. Idly he wondered what it would be like to spend all this.
After a daydream of warm beds and fine food, he came back to himself to find Solon praying the Litany quietly and Carys talking to Marco, lying on one elbow. Both had their bows ready.
“So how did you get yourself arrested?” she was saying.
The bald man grinned. “Oh, that. Bit of an error of judgment.” Dropping his voice so Galen wouldn’t hear, he said, “I had a contract from the Watch. I was a licensed dealer. Any relics I heard of, I bought up, usually from farmers, and then sold on to the Watch. The profit was pitiable, but sometimes,” he said with a wink, “sometimes I found something really juicy and held out for a good price. And of course, you can always get two castellans to bid against each other. They’ll do anything to get a promotion.”
Carys made a face. “You don’t have to tell me.”
He looked at her. “I’ll bet you were some spy.”
“The best.”
“And you don’t miss it?”
She winked at Raffi. “I’m still some spy.”
Marco chortled. “Well anyway, I went too far. Found a pen that memorized what you wrote with it—amazing thing, still working. I sold it to one Watchhouse, but the sergeant at the other found out and had my business dealings watched. That was that. In days I was in the cells.”
“That was where you met Solon?” Raffi said.
Marco glanced over at the older man. “Crazy old fool was giving away all his food to the others. If I hadn’t looked after him, he’d be dead.”
There was silence. Then Raffi said, “The Sekoi’s taking a long time.”
Carys
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