Gateway to Fourline (The Fourline Trilogy Book 1) (16 page)

“Tell Gennes the plan, Benedict,” Nat urged.

Benedict kept his eye on him, not looking at Nat. Finally he dropped his head. “We need to put the past behind us, Gennes,” he said. “Getting Estos back is more important than . . . hating me forever.” Keeping his head down, he continued, “I never meant for her to disappear. I did everything . . .” He was gulping out an apology. Now it was Nat’s turn to look back and forth between the two men. To her astonishment giant tears were flowing into the tight strands of Gennes’ beard. Nat stepped away. She glanced at the rocks, avoiding the look of pain on his face.

Gennes closed his eyes. “I will never forgive what happened, Benedict. You broke your promise to aid her. You broke your promise to my brothers.”

“I know.” Benedict’s face held a look of defeat.

Who were they talking about? Nat stepped back, feeling more out of place than usual.

Gennes wiped his cheek and plopped down next to Benedict. The two men sat side by side, gazing at the pink cliffs.

“I’ll put the past aside for Estos. Tell me your plan, old man.”

Benedict nodded. “It all hinges on getting the suix stone to the right place.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Gennes’ “camp,” as he called it, was a thriving community nestled in a series of rock terraces surrounding a natural amphitheater. The floor of the amphitheater contained a gaping hole that resembled a toothless mouth. Nat halted her horse as they exited the narrow canyon leading to the camp. From her vantage point she could see tiny figures moving around and into the mouth. The surrounding terraces rose far above the ground. Spots of green dotted the roofs of buildings and climbed along the terrace walls.

“Where does the water come from?” She brought her horse as close to Gennes as she dared. The pathway to the first terrace was barely wide enough to accommodate both horses riding abreast.

Gennes lifted a hand from his saddle horn and pointed to a crevice high above. “We found the spring shortly after discovering the ruins. It’s far enough away from the suix lode to avoid some of its nastier properties. The spring is sweet as wine, it is, Sister—sweet as wine.” Nat wondered what the nastier properties of suix stone were as Gennes pointed to the green falling from the terraces. “We’ve been able to grow and harvest enough to feed our band and then some. It’s helped us remain undetected all this time. No need for provision raids and that sort. Although I do miss having a slab of beef,” he said wistfully. “Can’t really keep too many grazing animals here. But the Nala have yet to make an appearance, which is to our benefit.”

“Gennes?”

“Hmm?” he responded as he surveyed the camp.

“You haven’t said anything about the plan,” Nat ventured. The horses’ hooves sounded hollow on the wooden bridge leading to the first terrace. “Do you think it will work?”

“No,” Gennes said. Nat’s heart sank as they passed a set of guards holding crossbows made from an ebony-colored wood. “It needs some refinement to work, Sister, and refine it I shall.” They passed a row of chicken coops surrounded by a wall of matted stalks with crested wheat buds. Nat looked up. The wheat stalks grew perpendicular to the wall the entire way to its summit.

“Sister, did you have a House?” Gennes asked as she looked up at the wheat.

“A house. My family has a house in—” She caught herself. “My other . . . the other Sisters, I mean, had a House until it was destroyed. So, no.” She scrambled to cover up her slip. “No, I do not have or I don’t come from a House. I’m a fringer.”

“I wondered.” What? What was he wondering? “You just seem a little different than the other Warrior Sisters, and those markings of yours are very old.” Gennes, motionless, waited for a response.

Why is everyone so fixated on my markings?
Nat thought. “My training was a little unorthodox, Gennes. The Sisters I know had to adapt to strange circumstances.” She tried to make her voice sound as authoritative and confident as possible, but she quickly conceded failure and nervously grinned at him.

“Haven’t we all, Sister.” He dismounted and handed his reins to another soldier with a jagged beard. “Off the horse, old man.” He extended his arm to Benedict for support as he awkwardly got off his horse. “We’ll work on the plan, Sister. Have no worries. Perhaps after Estos returns, those strange circumstances will become just a distant memory.”

A memory none of you would ever believe,
Nat thought. She slid off her horse and stretched her aching legs.

“We rarely have Sisters here, but I do have accommodations. Blanken will show you the way.” A soldier with a jagged beard stepped forward. “It may seem traditional to an unorthodox Sister such as yourself.” Nat knew Gennes was teasing her now. “But please accept my hospitality under the Rim Accord.” He bowed slightly, and she bobbed her head far below his massive figure.

Nat followed Blanken up a series of uneven steps roughly carved out of the stone wall. She watched Gennes and Benedict from above as they slowly made their way through a crowded market and then disappeared into a long tent.

“Here you are, Sister.” Blanken stood next to a wooden door set directly into the cliff wall. The now-familiar vine, sword, bird, and sun images appeared faintly on the worn wood. To avoid falling off the narrow ledge, Nat stepped to the side as Blanken opened the door. She walked into a dimly lit room.

“It’s a bit dark in here.” Nat hesitated.

“Are you missing your orb?” His voice held a touch of sympathy. “There is a taper on the wall if you need more light.”

“I have my orb, it’s just dark.”

“All right, then, I’ll see that some food is brought to you,” Blanken said, sounding relieved.

“Thank you.”

“Could you move in a little, Sister, so I can shut the door?” He stood near the ledge with one hand on the door handle.

“Oh, right.” Nat hurried in and he closed the door behind her. Dust moats floated in the ray of light coming from the small circular window carved above the door. The beam illuminated one wooden leg of a tiny bed made of woven rope. Nat cautiously moved toward the bed, unhooked her travel cloak, and lay down.

The breeze bent the slender top of the tree. Nat swayed back and forth, clinging to the uppermost branch. An ocean of leaves and pine needles spread below her. A jagged peak erupted from the forest floor. She watched, fascinated, as one sharp, rocky point after another formed a half circle in the middle of the trees. She brought her attention back to the trees. Their movement had a certain rhythm. She closed her eyes, lulled by it. When she opened them, the trees were still, but the wind blew past the tops. It grew in strength, but the trees remained motionless. She pushed her hair away as it whipped her face.

“Nat, run!” A panicked voice rose from the forest floor. She looked down. The dense foliage obscured anything beyond a few feet. “Get away from here!” The voice sounded closer, louder. Nat let go of the branch and began running over the tops of the trees, her feet skimming the leafy crowns. She jumped onto one of the jagged peaks and shoved her hand into a sharp crevice. She held on as she searched for a foothold. She began to scramble up the peak and glanced down. Tiny blue creatures rushed up, clambering over each other. She froze, unable to move as she watched them fly up the rock.

“Move!” the voice demanded. Nat whipped her head around. A wisp of cloud floated just out of reach. She looked down once more and pulled her leg up just as a Nala reached for her ankle. She got to the top of the peak and pulled herself over the ledge. “Lights!” she yelled. A thousand straight lines shot up into the air along the ledge. Howls erupted as the blue figures flung themselves against her barrier. Nat shook uncontrollably and tucked her head between her knees as dozens of Nala screamed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

When Nat awoke, a tiny, flickering flame emanated from within an amber-colored glass secured to the rock wall. Her stomach grumbled loudly. She sat up and sniffed. A grainy smell filled the small area. Someone had been in the room while she’d slept. She rubbed her eyes and tried to remember the edges of the dream as she rose to search for the source of the delicious smell.

“Ouch!” The low beam above the bed was a few inches from her, barely visible in the light. The bump on the top of her head was tender to her touch. She ducked and shuffled carefully toward the smell. A tiny pot sat on a three-legged table. Nat knocked over a stool, righted it, and sat. She inched her chair closer to the table until her knees bumped the edge. Warm steam enveloped her hand when she lifted the lid. She felt around the pot for a spoon or some utensil but found nothing. Her stomach complained again. She was just about to lift the pot to her lips when she remembered the orb.

“Orb, light.” A little ray of light shot through her cloak. She dug the orb out and let it hang above the table. The light slowly grew and the room took shape.
First things first,
she thought, digging the now-visible spoon out of the pot. The porridge burned the inside of her mouth. Prime rib it wasn’t, but the warm honey flavor was delicious. She scraped the pot until there wasn’t a trace left.

With her belly full, Nat turned her attention to the details of the room. Other than the bed and table, the only piece of furniture was an empty wooden bookstand at the very back near the rock wall. A heavy tapestry hung behind the stand. “Orb, shine brighter.” The brilliant hues of the tapestry shone in the light. A series of vibrant images jumped to life. In the upper corner, four young girls, their hair strung with tiny yellow flowers, wept on a shore by the remnants of a wrecked ship. In the distance, a blue figure clung to a rock, waves crashing over its body. In the second image, the girls encircled a blue figure tangled in a fishing net. Nat recognized the Nala clawing at the net. She touched the blue embroidered threads and shuddered.

In the next scene, one girl knelt by the Nala, her knife pointed at its throat. Her other hand lay cradled next to her body. Bright red threads formed the blood droplets falling from her injured hand, and blue threads colored her arm. In the next image, a second girl applied a poultice to the injured girl’s hand and held a yellow vial above her mouth. A third girl looked through a long scope at more blue figures crawling over a distant cliff, and a fourth girl bent over the captured Nala with her mouth open in conversation. In the final image, the four girls, now older, stood on the cliff facing a pack of Nala. The arm of the girl who was bitten was no longer blue. She wore a cape embroidered with a silver spear and held a dagger to the neck of a Nala. The second girl stood slightly apart, observing, while holding a parchment in one hand. Her cape was embroidered with a thick vine. The third girl wore a cape emblazoned with the image of the sun and held a vial filled with a bright-yellow liquid. The fourth girl’s cloak held the image of a bird. She spoke to the Nala and pointed to the dense forest and the sea. In the background behind the girls, hidden among the rocks and trees, were dozens of other girls’ faces. Nat leaned in closer, inspecting the final image. She held her forearm near the first girl’s cloak. The embroidered spear was the same as the spear on Nat’s arm.

She jumped when someone knocked on the door. “Sister?”

Nat grabbed the orb and stuffed it in her cloak. Clasping the door handle, she pushed the door open. Blanken deftly moved out of the way. A curved shadow covered the rock terraces. The last rays of the sun shone on a thin band of rock directly across from her.

“Gennes would like to see you now. Please gather all your things—I don’t believe you will be coming back here.”

Nat looked around the room. Other than her small satchel, she had nothing to gather. She stepped onto the terrace.

When they reached the first village, they took a path leading away from the cliff settlements.

“I thought you said we were meeting Gennes?”

“You are,” Blanken said. “Down there.” He pointed to the pit.

They followed a series of switchbacks carved into the rock. Unlike the old, worn rock dwellings and paths above, this path looked recently made. When they reached the basin, a line of fifteen people, covered from head to toe in thick gray bodysuits, waited to begin the hike up the path. Nat looked around and realized that they had just come down the only route leading to or from the basin. She followed Blanken as they approached a sun-bleached tent about half the size of a football field. The interior of the tent was divided into a kitchen and dining area and a first-aid station. A small wooden shed stood in the far back corner. Gennes and Benedict, bent over tankards, sat across from each other at a rough wooden table adjacent to the shed. Gennes gestured to the bench, and Nat slid in next to Benedict, keeping a little distance. A gray-suited worker with thick blond hair swept around the table. He looked up and smiled. He had an open, pleasant face and greenish-brown eyes. Nat stared, thinking he looked familiar.

“Sister, I believe Benedict and I have come up with a workable plan. We are the fortunate locators of not only suix stone but also the fairly rare element riven. Mudug has been hoarding it—and not for treatment of Swelling’s disease. My spies tell me he is under the belief that it acts as a cure to the Nala’s venom.” Gennes curled one of his pointed beard tips around his finger.

Swelling’s disease?
Nat gave Gennes a curious look.

“Riven is no cure for Nala venom, any Sister can tell you that,” Benedict interrupted and grudgingly acknowledged Nat. “But Mudug’s never been one to put much faith in the Sisters’ teachings. He relies on the Chemist for direction.”

Gennes nodded and took a long drink. Foam clung to his mustache. “Mudug’s monthly hearing day with the people is in a few days.” He wiped away the foam and slammed down the tankard. “Hearing day, what a ruse. He sits next to the throne and pretends to listen as people plead for help to find missing loved ones or beg for forgiveness of a tax debt so they’re not sent to the Rewall. All the while, he’s the one ordering the death of any who dare criticize him. He’s the one filling his coffers with taxes and taking the freedom of those who can’t pay. When Emilia was regent and the Sisters controlled the Nala, there was peace, now there’s nothing but his murderous ambition and greed.” He paused, calming himself and focused on Nat. The rage faded from his eyes. “You will go to the hearing chambers and make a request.” He pulled a rough parchment from his tunic and began smoothing it out on the table.

“What’s the request?” Nat asked, eyes fixed on Gennes.

“You’ll offer to exchange the riven for the services of his Chemist to heal your brother.”

“What? What brother? You don’t mean him?” Nat pointed to Benedict. The hermit took a long swig from his tankard. His head tipped forward. She wondered how long they’d been drinking.

“No, of course not. He’s the last person I’d send into Rustbrook.” Gennes gave her a funny look. “Soris, join us,” he said. The gray-suited man leaned his broom against the shed and took a seat next to Gennes. Two pairs of matching green eyes stared at her.

“You two are—”

“Brothers,” the men replied in unison.

“How many of you are there?” she asked in wonder.

“There were four. We thought we were the only two left until you brought the good news.” Soris extended his hand and Nat awkwardly grasped it. It felt rough. “Thank you,” he said, letting go of her hand. She had a sudden urge to grasp his hand again until she remembered he was Andris’ brother. “It’s been some time since we’ve had any good news.” His expression was soft and kind. “He’s well, then?” he asked. The others waited for a response.

Nat blushed when she realized she was staring. “You mean Andris?” She glanced at the tabletop. “He’s well. I mean, he’s argumentative and utterly unpleasant to be around, but he’s well.” Soris smiled, and he beamed with happiness. Nat wondered if the three men really were related. His smile reminded her of Marie Claire, and she closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of home.

“Soris here is your brother, recently bitten by a pory snake. The pory snake has exceptionally slow but deadly poison. Its bite marks are conveniently similar to those of a puncture by a porc-tree needle,” Benedict explained. “I’ll administer the punctures before you go.” Nat rubbed her palm, remembering the sting of the needles. “With the Healing Houses closed and their remedies unavailable to purge the pory snake’s nasty toxin, you’ll have no choice but to seek out the help of the Chemist.” He leaned over the table. Light reflected off the bald spot on top of his head. “Mudug wants riven. He should offer up the services of the Chemist in exchange for the riven—assuming you’re smart enough not to let him take it off you.”

“I’m sure the Sister can manage to avoid that,” Soris responded. She glanced at Soris, thankful to have someone defend her.

“I’ve confirmed the Chemist is using a map with orbs as locators, as I suspected. If he’s keeping to his ways, the map will be in his private chambers, well guarded and away from the rest of the castle.” Nat got a good look at Benedict now that he was sitting straight instead of hunched over his drink. Dark circles shaded his eyes, and a crust of dried blood covered his tonsure.

“Once you get to the Chemist, you have to find a way into the room with the map. The room will have a guard in front. He never likes his work disturbed.” Benedict pointed to the parchment that lay between Gennes’ broad hands. He slid it across the table. Soris’ hand brushed Nat’s as they reached for the parchment at the same time. She studied the sketch of a long outbuilding with three doors. “Here.” Benedict pointed to the second door. “That’s where his guard’s been spotted.”

“How are we supposed to get around the guard?” Nat asked. She was beginning to feel like she was trapped in a Ferris wheel, spinning faster and faster, with no way to get off.

Benedict withdrew a small packet wrapped in waxy paper. “Instant sleep. A favorite of Sister Ethet’s. Direct contact with the skin, and a grown man will pass out.” He chuckled. “Just make sure he falls quietly. You’ll sneak in, find the locator, and sprinkle the suix stone around the edges. After you collect your brother, go to the safe house in the city, remove your disguises, and leave.”

“What disguise?” Any more disguises and Nat wasn’t sure she would remember who she really was.

“Bastle herders!” Benedict beamed.

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” Spittle flew from Gennes’ mouth as he laughed. “You’ll be all trussed up and he’s beardless. No one will see or dare look at your arm. I grant that the Chemist will want you out of his laboratory quicker than a whip, so you’ll need to work fast.” Gennes wiped his eyes. “Sometimes, I am so clever. I wish I could see this plan play out.” He stood and his laughter died. “Unfortunately for me, I’ve got a little ambush in the works near Mudug’s mine. I have to ride tonight. I leave you to your preparation. Speed and luck go with you, Sister. Travel free.” Gennes clapped Soris on the shoulder. “Be careful, brother.”

“I will,” Soris answered. “Expect to see me in a week, with nothing but stories of how we hoodwinked Mudug.” His eyes twinkled mischievously, but his mirthful expression melted away as his older brother looked him squarely in the eye.

“Nothing foolish. In and out, you hear? I’ve my mind on enough now to worry about you.”

Soris nodded. “Nothing foolish. And why would you worry when I have a Sister with me?” He bowed his head respectfully toward Nat. Her stomach clenched.

“She’ll keep you safe from the Nala, but not a legion of Mudug’s guards.” Gennes tapped his head. “This mission is more about brains than strength. Use yours and I’ll see you soon.” He embraced Soris in a bear hug. A trio of rebel soldiers fell into step behind his massive figure as he strode out of the tent.

“Gennes supplied enough suix stone for the ruse.” Benedict nodded at a square box on the table. “While I create some unpleasantness for Soris, go collect the riven,” he told Nat. “The guard is waiting to take you.” He lifted a shaky hand and pointed to Blanken, who stood near the tent’s entrance.

Nat scrunched up her face. “Me?” Did he seriously want her to go into that pit and dig out some substance she’d never seen, let alone heard of?

He looked at her as if she were a child who refused to do a chore. “Do you have a volunteer in mind? No? Hurry up, there’s no time to waste.” He extracted a long porc needle from the folds of his tunic. Soris held out his right hand. “He’s not complaining about his duty,” Benedict grumbled. He rummaged through a small box of vials.

Nat stepped over the bench. She placed a hand on Soris’ shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Don’t let him do anything but poke you with the needles.” His brow furrowed. She brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “A friend of mine said not to trust him, and I’m beginning to believe her.”

“Sister.” Blanken stood at her side. “We should go.”

Nat widened her eyes and nodded toward Benedict, who was in the middle of mixing the contents of two vials. Soris shrugged. She hoped he took her warning seriously, but there was nothing else she could do.

“Give my regards to that old worm in the hole,” Benedict called out as she followed Blanken. “Hold your hand still,” he said to Soris. “Mine are a bit shaky.”

Nat heard Soris cry out as the tent flap closed behind them.