Part 18 (1/2)
”Who are less and less willing to rein him in.”
”Because they fear his power, or his madness?”
”Anyone with a brain would fear such madness,” Morgana said quietly. ”But that's true for all the umbrae majae, isn't it? There's no way a Shadowlord could be anything other than stark-raving mad, given what Communion requires of them.”
”You really think he would call for a full Cleansing?”
”Why not? He's already called for a partial one. And the Shadows who called for genocide in the past may still be around, whispering advice into the depths of Virilian's soul. That's the true curse of their kind, that even death can't free them from the madness of their predecessors.”
Cleansing? Genocide? The words. .h.i.t me like electric shocks. What the h.e.l.l had I stumbled into?
”At least Jessica is on this side of the Gate now.” I gasped as Seyer spoke my name. ”So whatever happens on Terra Colonna won't affect her.”
”Yes.” There was a pause. ”She seems to be quite resourceful, doesn't she?”
Seyer chuckled softly. ”She takes after her mother.”
My mother! Too much, too much! Bits of information were pouring into my brain at such a pace that I had no time to a.s.semble them into a meaningful picture. Only one thing stood out, bright and clear: Whatever the mystery was that tied me to this world, these two women were at the heart of it. They knew who I was and why I'd been abandoned on a foreign world.
They knew who my real mother was.
”I'm impressed by how quickly she got her bearings,” Morgana continued. ”I feared for a while we might lose her.” She paused. ”Of course, with the Shadows hunting her, we still might.”
”They don't suspect what she is, do they?”
”Heavens, no. They called me in for an official a.s.sessment, and I told them what they wanted to hear: that the boy was a latent dreamwalker. Who among them would dare doubt the word of the Mistress of the Guild of Seers? I even tried to convince them to kill the boy-the neatest solution from our standpoint-but I doubt they'll do that. Most likely they'll study him for a while, seeking insight into the ancient curse he supposedly carries. The boy's mind is filled with wild fantasies, so if he's resourceful enough to figure out what they want, he may be able to last for a while. Meanwhile, he's a true Colonnan by birth, so nothing they find out about him is going to put our project at risk.”
”Unless they get hold of Jessica herself.”
”Ah.” Morgana's voice dropped to a murmur. ”Then we'll see how resourceful she really is, won't we?” There was a pause. ”You're sure she's outside the Warrens right now?”
”Yes, your Grace.”
”The Lord Governor told me he's going to 'flush out that rat's nest once and for all.' I smell Virilian's hand in it. Let's keep her out of there for as long as we can.”
I heard Seyer hesitate. ”You know that my methods don't lend themselves to guarantees. If you want me to act more directly-”
”No. No. You're right; we can't risk her catching on. Try to keep her aboveground until nightfall, if you can. The worst should all be over by then. Though if she returns after that, what she finds may be . . . disturbing.”
I didn't hear what they said next. Something about dreams and strong negative emotions and how trauma might open a door for me. Fear could be a good thing.
They were going to raid the Warrens. Right now.
Devon was still down there. So were all those children. Orphans of this heartless culture, cast adrift to live in squalor, now due to be exterminated like rats-or maybe something worse. In this crazy place even death wasn't certain.
I hesitated only an instant. True, I'd learned more in the last half hour than in all my previous time on this world. These women clearly knew the answers to my most burning questions, and once I left here I might never have another chance to get them. But. . . .
Devon.
Ethan.
Moth.
I had to go back. I had to warn them all.
I started to head back the way I'd come. My limbs felt numb, as if the informational overload had somehow seeped into my arms and legs and clogged my veins. I tried to focus on moving quietly, keeping my head low, and not thinking too hard about what I'd just heard, but the last was impossible. The women's words echoed and remixed in my head, drowning out all other thoughts.
I tried to convince them to kill the boy . . .
Those who called for genocide are still around . . .
She takes after her mother . . .
When I finally got to the open stretch just before the fence, I peeked up over the bushes one last time to make sure the two women were turned away from me, and then I bolted. Or tried to bolt, anyway. The damage to my ankle turned the motion into a feverish stumble, and my attempt to dive neatly into the juniper branches nearly turned into a belly-flop. That kind of stunt isn't as easy as it looks in the movies. I saved myself at the last moment by grabbing on to a handful of scratchy branches, and I didn't stop to listen for pursuit, just kept going. If someone was following me, I wanted to at least pa.s.s a warning on to Isaac and Rita before any pursuer caught up with me.
I didn't emerge at the same location where I had entered the estate, but my companions saw me through the fence and came running. I almost blurted out something about the raid then and there, but I realized that if I did, Isaac might not want to wait for me to climb the fence again, just run off to warn his people. I wasn't sure I could manage the climb with only Rita to help me, and even if I did, that would still leave us in the middle of this strange city without a guide. So may G.o.d forgive me for my selfishness: I kept my silence while he thrust his hands between the bars and cupped them to give me purchase. Rita grabbed hold of whatever part of me was within reach, to help steady me as I climbed. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold onto the bars, and as I pulled myself over the top of the fence I felt one of the iron finials sc.r.a.pe across my stomach. I didn't dare look down to see if I was bleeding but fell heavily on the other side, taking Rita and Isaac down with me.
”There's going to be a raid,” I gasped. ”The Warrens. They're going to clean it all out . . .”
They helped me to my feet, and then Isaac looked in my eyes and said, ”I'll take care of this. You head back to the plaza for now; the crowds will keep you safe. We can meet up at the Elemental's pavilion”
I knew he meant it well, and was just trying to protect me, but he had no personal investment in Devon's safety and I doubted he would take personal risks to save him. I had to go myself.
”We have people down there too,” I reminded him. Not to mention I don't want to be left up here without a guide. What if you don't come back?
We started running. Or rather, they started running, and I started lurching quickly. Each time my left foot hit the ground there was a sharp pain; what would happen if it got so bad I couldn't keep up with them? In my mind's eye I could see Devon peering out from the shadows of the Warrens, and the thought that he might be swept up in some terrible pogrom was more than I could handle. Not to mention that the thought of dividing our party terrified me. In the movies that's always when disaster strikes, when people split up. Driven by fear I struggled on, trying not to let the others see how injured I was.
But Isaac could see that I was having a hard time. He hooked an arm around me, letting me throw my left arm over his shoulder so that I could transfer some of my weight to him. With his support I was able to move more quickly, and the pain muted slightly. His body was warm and firm against mine, and the contact was comforting. It shouldn't have been. Nothing should have been comforting at a time like this. But he was strong and confident, and he seemed to know what he was doing, and some of his certainty seeped into me through the contact.
Everything is going to be all right, I told myself. Over and over again. Everything is going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right.
But try as I might, I couldn't make myself believe it.
21.
THE WARRENS.
RUN TO THE WARRENS AND WARN EVERYONE turned out to be a task more easily described than accomplished.
Isaac led us to the nearest entrance he knew of, which turned out to be a manhole in a dingy alley. He stopped a block away from it, ostensibly so we could catch our breath, but also because he wanted to get the lay of the land before moving in closer. I wasn't about to complain. The pain in my ankle was becoming more intense with every step, and it was getting harder and harder to keep up with my companions. It helped to have a few moments to hang my head and catch a deep breath, while he went on ahead to scout our route.
Soon he returned, and his dour expression said it all. ”Too many people around,” he told us. ”More than should be here. I don't like it.”
”They're covering the exits,” Rita said quietly.
I remembered how alert she was when we first met at IHOP. I remembered the look in her eyes as she checked out all the exits in the place, before committing herself to a defensive position at the table. Always wary. Always ready to run.