Farlander

Around his ankles the dead leaves swirled. The old man hung his head.

*

'Tell me, precisely now, what happened?'

It was Baracha, and he was losing patience with his comrade.

Ash sat for some moments in silence.

The boulders they all sat upon were slick with dampness, giving the appearance of black, volcanic rock. Here and there, within depressions on the rock surfaces, minute pools of brackish water reflected bands of twilight, breaking occasionally into free-running rivulets that ended in slow monotonous drips. Nearby, a gull pecked halfheartedly at a dead crab.

'I hid him away, and tried to lead them on a chase. It was a mistake.'

'You think so?' remarked Baracha, sarcastically.

'Father,' Serese interrupted sharply.

Ash stared down at the wavelets lapping against the stones at his feet. The sea was out there somewhere, hidden and silent save for these fringes of itself.

Aleas tried to speak, but it emerged as a croak. He tried again. 'It's hardly Master Ash's fault. It's a miracle he got out at all.' Baracha glowered at his young apprentice, but Aleas spoke on. 'We would have been captured ourselves if not for Serese's sharp eyes.'

He was the first to state aloud what they all knew must have happened to Nico. Captured.

'What happened to you?' inquired Ash, looking up from the water's edge.

'Serese thought we were being watched when she returned to the hostalio, so we slipped out before they could make a move against us. If not,' and he met his master's eyes before he said it, 'we would have all been as geese in a bag.'

They were quiet for a time. It was not a comfortable silence shared amongst comrades; instead it was an individual isolation, each wrapped in their own concerns. The wavelets washed against the shore. Behind, the city murmured on, its sounds subdued and ghostly.

Baracha studied the old farlander perched on his rock. He shook his head again. 'You're pondering something. Out with it.'

'In the morning, we should proceed with the plan.'

'We should, should we? That would leave us little time to prepare, Ash.'

'These fogs tend to last for a few days. Tomorrow should continue the same as today. After that, who knows?'

Baracha stroked his beard, beads of water dripping from its frazzled ends.

'Plan?' inquired Serese. 'What plan?'

'I have made some arrangements,' replied Ash, 'which might gain us entrance to the tower.'

'But what of Nico?' she demanded. 'Are we simply going to leave him in their hands? Sweet Ers, what must he be going through even now, while we sit here glum and bickering between ourselves?'

Gently, Ash replied: 'I am well aware of what he will be going through, Serese. We will not be forsaking him. By now he will be held within the Temple of Whispers, for that is where the Regulators work from. So. If we wish to save Nico, that is where we must go anyway.'

'Save him?' snapped Baracha, standing tall. 'We'll do no such thing! The boy is lost to us, and we all know it. We can risk no more lives on fools' errands. If we storm the temple, we do so to take down Kirkus. That is our mission here, nothing else.'

'And we shall stay true to our mission. But before we finish with Kirkus, he will tell us where to find Nico. You may do what you like then. I will go and find my apprentice.'

'And I, too,' agreed Aleas.

'You'll do as you're told, boy,' snapped the Alhazii. 'As soon as we finish our task, you'll be leaving along with me. For if you're even still alive by then it will be a miracle in itself, and I will risk you no further.' His bluntness stunned Aleas to silence. 'And you, daughter, all fired up and spirited, I know what you're intending, but I tell you right now, you will not be coming with us. I will not risk you at all.'

'You can't stop me, father.'

Baracha took a step towards her, his big fists clenched. He restrained himself with a visible effort. 'I can stop you,' he told her – and none doubted it.

Serese flung herself to her feet, her own fists clenched, and glared up at his towering bulk. 'If it was your own apprentice, father, would you not attempt to rescue him?'

'Perhaps,' he admitted, while avoiding Aleas's gazes 'if there was any chance of success. But since when did I owe that boy anything? Ash should have taken better care at looking out for him. It's hardly my fault he has fallen into their hands.'

Serese turned away in disgust.

'He is right, Serese,' said Ash, raising a palm. 'You cannot come with us. We will need someone to remain outside, to provide a means for our escape. Getting in is one thing, but your father speaks the plain truth. It will be a miracle if any of us survive. If we do, then getting away will require yet another. We will need you for that most of all.'

His words placated her a little, and she slumped back against the rock.

'We must be quick,' continued Ash, 'if we are to procure everything we will need. I fear it will require most of our remaining funds.'

Serese studied the old man's face. 'Do you really think you can save him?'

Before he could reply, Baracha spat on the shingle between them. 'We're not doing this to save the boy – will you get that into your skulls, all of you? For all we know he is dead already.'

They all turned away from each other once more. Ash stared out to sea again, studying it not by his eyes but by his ears. Baracha picked up a pebble, threw it clattering into the rocks nearby.

A flap of wings caught Ash's attention. He was in time to turn and catch the after-image of a startled gull, flying off; it was the emptiness mostly that he saw, the space it had just occupied. He looked up and saw the white gull gliding into whiteness.

A simple smile crept over his features. He threw his hood back, took a deep breath.

'He lives,' he declared.

Baracha frowned. Aleas and Serese turned to him, expectant.

'How could you know that?' Baracha demanded.

'An intuition,' he said. 'The boy lives. And he is in need.'

*

Nico had no idea where he was.

Upon his capture, they had manacled his wrists together and shoved a hood over his head. It had been a terrifying experience – the dislocation of sight, the heavy cloth pressing against his face as he panted and struggled to breathe, the rough hands digging into his flesh, shoving and pushing him one way and the other, the slaps, the shouts, the disorientation. Voices had risen in excitement all around him. A rider had been dispatched, bearing the message that a Rshun had been caught, the clatter of hooves fading away down the unseen street. Nico had been thrown into a cart of some sort, the smell of his own filth-smeared clothes gagging him as it rocked along over the cobbles. They had crossed a bridge, or else some other structure made of wood. After the iron-rimmed wheels of the cart trundled across it, the vehicle stopped for a heavy gate to be opened, and then it passed through a stone entranceway, and halted again. Nico had been hauled out and shoved roughly along a stone-flagged floor, up some steps, through another door.

He stood now in a room of some sort. He could tell it was large by the echoes heard through the heavy cloth of the hood. A woman shouted somewhere in the distance, the sound of her tirade terminated by a loud clanging impact.

The scent of hazii smoke filled the air. People were conversing in low voices somewhere off to his left.

'Keys,' the male Regulator demanded, by Nico's side.

'I'll need the contract if you still have it.' It was another male voice, a new one, breathy as from the lungs of a heavy smoker.

There was a rustle of crumpled paper being unfolded next to Nico's ear.

'You only lifted the one, huh?'

'One more than you ever caught, Malsh,' quipped the female Regulator.

The smoker chuckled like a cat hacking up a fur ball, as he approached the prisoner. Nico heard the metal rasp of scissors opening, and then someone was cutting the clothes from his body without further fuss.