Chane knew he had to do something, no matter how risky. In truth, he had little left to risk. Wynn knew he was in her city, and at this point a straightforward course was best.
Ripping a blank page from a freshly acquired journal, he penned a quick note.
Then he went downstairs, found the grease-stained proprietor, and handed over his message for delivery.
Before supper Wynn stopped at the hospice to visit Nikolas. He lay on a narrow cot, his condition unchanged. Though he continued to live and breathe, and she saw the barest hint of color returning to his features, he was still curled up, fetal. Half-opened eyes stared at nothing and never seemed to blink. Even when his lids opened fully for brief periods, he remained as if lost in mind-dead sleep.
She had overheard Domin Bitworth, a master of naturology, tell High-Tower they had to use rather unpleasant means for getting Nikolas to swallow broth and water. Wynn wondered what those means might be, but if anyone could keep Nikolas alive, Bitworth or Premin Adlam could.
Come back soon, she whispered in Nikolass ear, stroking one gray streak in his hair.
She left the hospice, heading for the common hall, and wondered how she would be received. The instant she stepped through the archway, a few people looked up.
Whispers spread quickly, causing other heads to turn, until every eye glanced at least briefly her way. Word of her threatened claim must have spread like winter sniffles through the initiates dormitory. Perhaps Premin Sykion had even leaked the story herself. Wynn tried to wet her dry mouth and looked about for the emptiest table, hoping to be left alone.
In recent days shed found the company of Miriam and Nikolas a welcome change. Now Miriam was dead, and Nikolas was lost in a seemingly endless inner terrorall because her superiors refused to accept the truth.
The hall was quite full, considering the curfew. No one would leave the guild tonight, not even for a change of meal at a local inn or tavern.
Wynn finally spotted a nearly empty table in the right corner, farthest from the hearth. She ladled a bowl of brown bean soup from a crock on a central table and went off to settle in private. And not surprisingly, everyone sitting at that tables other end was suddenly finished with their meal.
Keeping her eyes on her supper, Wynn tried to ignore the whispers. Once she made the mistake of glancing up.
Regina Melliny sat with a small huddle of apprentices from different orders, all speaking in quiet but rapid voices. Wynn heard the word traitor, and Regina lifted her head, peering over with a rude wrinkle of her nose.
It was too much.
Wynn grasped her bowl and stood up. At least she could be alone in her room and not feel like an outcast yet to be formally cast out. As she was about to leave, an apprentice in a sienna robe entered through the main archway, looking about.
Journeyor Hygeorht?
Wynn sighed and briefly closed her eyes. By the time she opened them, he was standing before her.
Judging by the set of his mouth, he wasnt thrilled to speak to her. There is a boy with a note at the front gate. He is asking for you.
Wynn set the bowl down. Most likely it was from Captain Rodian, though she wondered why hed sent a message. He probably knew about the offer High-Tower had made to her, concerning the translation project. Rodian would be all too eager to know whatever she discovered of the folios contents.
Thank you ... she began, then realized she had no idea what the apprentices name might be. It didnt matter, as hed already hurried off.
Wynn left the common hall, heading out the double doors to the courtyard, but a startling sight met her as she approached the gatehouse tunnel.
The old outer portcullis had been loweredand shed never seen it closed in all her days.
Beyond its stout crisscross of iron bars as thick as her forearm stood a small boy, too young to be out alone at night. Dressed in tattered clothes, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Then he spotted her coming closer.
You Wynn? he asked.
What was Rodian thinking, sending such a child?
Yes, she answered, wondering if she should find someone to walk him home, as she was trapped on guild grounds. You have a note for me?
He poked his little hand through the portcullis, holding out a folded bit of paper with a torn edge. The outside wasnt addressed in any manner.
Wynn hesitated. Rodian wouldnt send a message like this. Proper and elitist, he wouldve used quality paper, perhaps an envelope, and addressed it specifically. Appearances mattered greatly to him.
She fished in her pocket, but all she had on her was two silver groats. Even one was more than the rate for a messenger.
Thank you for your trouble, she said, and gave him one coin just the same. Be sure to go straight home. Its getting late.
The boy grunted and was off down the path toward the bailey gate.
Wynn waited until he was out of sight before returning to the courtyard. She lingered beneath one of the gatehouses inner braziers and unfolded the paper, reading ...
Meet me behind the stables south of the guilds grounds.
I need to speak with you.
The ragged note wasnt signed, and it was written in Belaskian, not Numanese. Even so, she wouldve known the handwriting anywhere.
Chane.
Wynn didnt blame herself, but she knew she had to be part of the reason hed traveled here. Even after all this time, she found her feelings toward him were conflicted. She just stood breathing for a few moments, rereading his brief note.
Of course she would goif only to find out why he had come all this way and broken his promise to leave her alone. And she had to know of his involvement in the deaths and thefts, and what hed been doing in Master aSeatts scriptorium, holding that folio.
Wynn looked up as two apprentices walked out the main doors and headed across to the southside barracks, where her own room was located. She couldnt get out the front gate, and she still needed a few things before she faced Chane.
She waited long enough for the pair to reach their own quarters, then hurried inside and upstairs. Reaching her room, she closed the door and leaned against it. Reading the note again, she remembered the first time Chane had come to the guild in Belathe handsome young scholar. And then the night hed appeared in Apudlsats dank forest, and she watched in horror as Magiere cleaved his head from his neck. And last, atop the Pock Peaks inside Likns library, his features taut and rigid as he promised ...
I will not follow you anymore. You will not see me again.
Those words had brought painand relief. His reappearance rekindled both.
Wynn took the crystal from her cold lamp and pocketed it before opening her small trunk to retrieve a warm cloak. Climbing to her feet, she spotted something else.
The staff leaned in a corner, the sun crystal atop it covered in the protective leather sheath.
Under Domin ilSnkes tutelage, she had tried to ignite it only once. The best she got from it was a soft glimmer, and that had cost her. When it winked out, she felt as if shed been hauling some heavy burden for ten leagues without water. And the next day she had been so tired that she could barely get up to eat.
Magic, even artificed permanently into an object, was no wonder to idly enact with quaint words and a flourish of fancy gestures. It was dangerous, taxing, and costly. She knew as much from the plague of her mantic sight. But still, even a glimmer of light with the nature of the sun might be enough if Chane could no longer be trusted.
She stared at the staff for a long moment of indecision, then grabbed it and headed out. In the outer passage she paused in frustration.