Artemis Invaded (5 page)

“I might even have married Jor—my aunt was pleased with my work and hinted that someday I might become her partner. That would make staying in Spirit Bay more inviting. However, fate had strung my loom with other threads. During one of his visits, Jor brought with him his cousin—Akilles was his name. They were much alike in appearance, but as unalike in temper as whirlwind and a hearth fire. Since you are Akilles's daughter, you know which lad I wed.

“Jor eventually married one of the other girls from the shop. The Old One lost interest in me as soon as my preference for Akilles was known, but he remained very interested in Blithe and Jor. Even after I had moved to Ridgewood with Akilles, Blithe and I corresponded. She had her first child about the same time I had Nikole, her second a year later.

“Now I must skip a few years. Jor was lost at sea when you were about two. However, the Old One continued his patronage of Blithe. He was very interested in the children, especially the second, a boy who showed some signs of being adapted. The Old One offered to adopt the boy. Blithe refused. The Old One offered to send the boy to a special school he had founded for adapted children. She refused this also. Then the boy vanished—apparently drowned, although from birth he had swum like a fish.

“Blithe was not stupid and she had a weaver's mind for patterns. When she learned that other children had disappeared, other children in whom the Old One had shown an interest, she grew nervous. She grew more nervous when she learned that no one seemed to know anything about his special school. Soon after Blithe, too, vanished, along with her older child.

“Most people accepted the story that Blithe had moved to be away from the seas that had taken both her husband and her son. I said nothing but, based on her letters, I think she was either killed by the Old One or given a chance to be with her son if she agreed to cut off all contact with the outside world.

“When you, Adara, showed signs of being adapted, I hoped no one would notice. You, however, were a determined little thing. There was no keeping you in if you wanted out—and you would insist on roaming about after dark. The bias against the adapted is not strong in Ridgewood. We are too close to those areas like Spirit Bay and Crystalaire that the seegnur frequented, and the seegnur favored the adapted. But I feared for you. What if the Old One took an interest in you? Would you, too, vanish?

“I confided in Akilles, showed him Blithe's letters. Though it broke our hearts to do so, we decided the best way to protect you was to hide you in plain sight. Bruin trained hunters. Far from being biased against the adapted, he was adapted himself. Moreover, we learned that he protected his students as closely a mother bear does her cubs. If you could be safe anywhere, you would be safe there.”

“But,” Adara protested, “Bruin was the Old One's own student. He revered him.”

“That is what we meant by hiding you in plain sight. In Bruin's care, the Old One would know of you, but he would also know that he could not touch you without risking alienating one of his most prestigious and well-known followers—a man who was known for teaching and protecting the adapted.”

“I see.” Adara fell silent, feeling reality as she had always known it shifting and reshaping. “You never told me.”

Neenay shook her head. “We couldn't, because Bruin
was
the Old One's follower. We had no proof, only suspicions.”

“You cut me off,” Adara said, not able to rid herself of her lifelong belief.

“Did we?” Neenay smiled sadly, her fingers wrapping around the shuttle. “Did you see matters that way? We felt you cut us off. Since we needed you to bond with Bruin, for him to be your protector, we accepted this, but always with sorrow.”

Adara pressed her face into her hands. Her voice muffled, she said, “I … I'm glad you told me. I only wish … But I see … Yes.”

Surging to her feet, she crossed the room in what seemed to be one step and found Neenay on her feet, arms open wide.

“Mother!”

“My little girl … Welcome home. Welcome home.”

*   *   *

Something happened between Adara and her mother,
Griffin thought,
something that has cleared the air considerably. I'm glad. Adara was so tense on our way here. It's good to have that gone, now that we're leaving.

After several days at Adara's family home, during which time they had completed laying in needed provisions and updating their information about the region, the three had set out in the direction of Crystalaire.

“At least the road is a good one,” Terrell said as he guided Midnight to point. “Since Crystalaire was regarded as a major resort, not just a stopover, the road was designed to accommodate heavier traffic.”

As so often, Griffin found that his expectations for a “good” road and those of the Artemesians differed markedly. True, this road was often wide enough for them to ride three abreast, with Sam ambling behind. However, although the surface was graveled, it was not paved. Deep ruts had been cut by hundreds of years of coach travel. Since axle sizes were standardized—a tradition dating back to the days of the seegnur—the ruts provided tracks though which wheeled traffic rolled.

The road bed, drainage ditches, and rest stops were piously maintained by local governments who collected tolls for the purpose. Griffin thought these groups must surely see the advantages of good roads to modern trade, but every tax and toll collector loudly proclaimed their labors as demonstrations of fidelity to the wishes of the absent seegnur.

Although they could have joined a larger group or hired bodyguards—something they were encouraged to do at several points along the way—they decided against it. The fewer people Griffin interacted with, the better, since he was still inclined to be curiously ignorant about the most routine things. Then there was the problem of Sand Shadow's effect on domestic animals, most of whom were convinced she intended to eat them at the first opportunity.

“Besides,” Adara said, “if we joined a caravan, we'd likely end up taking care of them—especially if anyone learned that Terrell is a trained factotum. They probably wouldn't even pay him.”

“Also,” Griffin added, “since we plan to leave the main road before we reach Crystalaire, the fewer to miss us, the better.”

Several days before, they had decided to head directly for Maiden's Tear. As Terrell put it, “Why give anyone the opportunity to formally remind us that the area is restricted, or try to stop us?”

Adara explained that if they were caught a claim of ignorance would be of no help to either Terrell or herself. Both hunters and factotum were indoctrinated as to the restricted areas, especially those in their immediate vicinity, so they would know to avoid them. Griffin might not be penalized, but he would certainly not be permitted to proceed to Maiden's Tear.

No one said, although Griffin was certain they all thought it, that the Old One might have influence in the town and use it to have them detained. Given the length of the Old One's life, it was impossible to know who might be in his debt or how far his influence had spread.

Although Crystalaire was the final destination for many of the travelers, traffic did thin out the higher they went, as merchants stopped along the way to sell their wares in villages or small holdings. They hadn't seen anyone on the road for over a day, when the arrow impaled itself in the road only a few yards in front of Terrell and Midnight.

“Dismount. Step away from the horses and gear,” shouted a harsh voice from the cliff above. “Don't try anything or the next arrow won't miss.”

“Do as he says,” Terrell ordered, dismounting. He muttered something incomprehensible. Griffin had thought he'd heard all the curse words Terrell knew. This one must have been particularly vile. Even Molly pricked up her ears and stamped.

“Now back away from the horses,” continued the harsh voice. “Raise your hands. Keep them away from your weapons. I'm coming down with a few men, but we'll have you covered.”

As they backed away, hands raised, Terrell spoke, his lips hardly moving. “Let them get down here. Once they're in the middle of us, any archers will be useless. They're not going to want to risk hurting the animals in any case.”

Adara's expression was grim. “Sand Shadow was napping. It'll take her a bit to reach us. However, they'll find me harder to disarm than they imagine.”

A rattle of gravel heralded the descent of their attackers.

Griffin risked a quick question. “Do we try to take them out?”

“Only on my signal,” Terrell said.

Griffin understood. A factotum was trained to deal with such contingencies. Terrell would know best how to judge if this was a fight they could win or whether they needed to let the thieves “win”—only to learn how badly they had lost later.

The bandits emerged in a body from a cleft in the cliff, neatly hidden by a cluster of some small-leafed shrub. Griffin had wondered if they might have been hired by Julyan or the Old One, but discarded the idea once he got a look at them. They were a shabby lot, scarred and battered. They might serve as cannon fodder but, based on the organization he'd seen on Mender's Isle, the Old One would never choose such riffraff for an important job.

He'd come himself before using men like these.

The bandit leader was a lean, wiry man with a vivid white scar from the left side of his forehead, down across his nose, and trailing to an end across his right cheek. He carried a narrow blade, somewhere in length between a short sword and a long dagger. Like many of the men on Artemis, he wore his hair long, but it was dressed in a tight braid, coiled so that it would not provide a convenient handhold in a brawl.

His band—five had descended—was equally unsavory. Two were big, broad, dark of hair and eye—probably brothers. One held a sword, the other a spiked club; both men looked ready to fight. The other two held long knives and weren't nearly as impressive. One had a patch over his right eye. The other limped.

Scarface cast a covetous eye over the three horses and mule. “I think we'll accept the lot. The horses are noticeable, but we can drive them across the mountains and sell them there. Might keep the mule. Useful beasts, mules. Easier to feed than horses, too.”

“And us?” Terrell said, sounding very nervous. “You'll let us go?”

“You're more noticeable than the horses,” Scarface said, “more talkative, too. Be dicey trying to sell you. We can clear out with the goods and be gone before you can go screaming to the law in Crystalaire.”

For a long moment, Scarface's gaze lingered speculatively on Adara, then dropped, seeing something in those amber eyes that made him reconsider whatever he had been contemplating.

“Patch, Dunny,” he ordered. “Grab the black and the roan first. Me, Bruiser, and Smasher will cover these kind donors to the poor, in case they regret their charity.”

But a curious thing happened when Patch and Dunny laid hold of the bridles. Neither horse stirred a step, not even when slapped sharply on the rump. Griffin saw Midnight bracing his hind legs as if enjoying this game. Not even when Scarface had Patch and Dunny trade places with Bruiser and Smasher would the horses move an inch.

Scarface looked narrowly at Terrell. “You're being Mister Clever, are you? Have some command to make them stand?” He strode over to Terrell and pressed his knife into the factotum's throat. “Well, uncommand them then, else you'll be wearing a necklace of blood.”

Terrell's voice shook very convincingly. “Very well. Don't cut me! Drowsing nursing chair!”

The effect of the nonsense phrase was astonishing. Not only did the horses move—they attacked. Spinning in place, Midnight kicked out and caught Bruiser in the chest so hard that he flew across the road and crashed into the cliff face. Tarnish reared, dragging Smasher, who held his bridle, nearly off his feet. Then he arched his neck and bit the man on his shoulder. Gentle Molly squealed and backed away, but Sam the Mule let loose with every ounce of orneriness in his soul and charged straight at Scarface.

“Now!” Terrell yelled, pulling out his belt knife and running toward Patch.

“I'm for above,” Adara replied, vanishing up the cliff trail faster than any human should be able to climb. Screaming from above dispelled any lingering apprehension regarding arrows—and announced that Sand Shadow had rejoined them.

Dunny was angling toward Molly. Griffin drew his knife, wishing that he had a nerve burner. Still, he wasn't about to let his horse be hurt or stolen.

“Drop the knife,” he barked. “You're not getting away, so you might as well surrender.”

What Dunny might have done next Griffin would never know, for Molly—overcoming her fear when she saw “her” human in danger—reared and brought her forehooves down, smashing the man's head and right shoulder. Then she snorted and backed away, reminding Griffin of a dainty lady who didn't want to admit to a capacity for violence.

Griffin finished the downed man. Saving him would have been near impossible back in the Kyley Dominion. Here on Artemis … Impossible.

Over to one side, Sam the Mule was stomping on Scarface with every evidence of satisfaction. The hole Tarnish had bitten in Smasher's shoulder had hit something vital. The bandit was a dead and very bloody mess.

Terrell had finished Patch and was now inspecting Bruiser. Seeing Griffin's inquiring expression, he said curtly, “Broken back,” and cut the man's throat.

Adara and Sand Shadow came down the trail. “Three,” she said. “All dead now. Judging from the stuff we found, no doubt that they were bandits. My guess is that they were probably moving west when they got a glimpse of us and decided that one more job couldn't hurt. We'd better bury them. Otherwise, the bodies are going to draw attention.”

“And we don't want that,” Terrell agreed. “Not so close to Maiden's Tear.”