• • •
Umbo tried not to glare at Cooper. Stupid and confused, that’s how he was supposed to act. So he stared at the officers. Loaf had been right—the one with the more rumpled-looking uniform was showing nothing on his face, but there was something about his posture, the tilt of his head, that suggested he expected to be noticed and obeyed.
Umbo had expected that Rigg would talk to Cooper, challenge him, argue with him. But instead Rigg was as silent as Umbo. And when Umbo stole a glance at Rigg, he was looking the general straight in the face—not defiantly, but with the same steadiness as a bird.
“You thought I was fooled by your act, didn’t you, boy!” said Mr. Cooper. “All your strutting and posing, but the moment I saw your signature on the paper I knew you were a fraud and a thief.”
Umbo wanted to answer him, to say, You certainly gave us a lot of money for someone who knew we were frauds and thieves. He wanted to say, Rigg never even knew that was his name until he saw it on the paper. But instead Umbo said nothing, as Rigg was doing.
“Well, I notified the authorities in Aressa Sessamo that a boy was claiming to be the dead prince and had an ancient jewel—”
“Rigg Sessamekesh” was the name of a dead prince? Rigg had never heard of him, if that was so. But then, the People’s Revolutionary Council had made it illegal to talk about royals. Not that people in Fall Ford would have worried much about such a law, from such a far-off government. They simply didn’t care about royals, or the People’s Council either, for that matter. So until this moment Rigg had no idea that the name Father wrote on the paper meant anything except Rigg himself.
“That’s more of our business than needs to be discussed here,” said the officer who wasn’t the general. “You said there was a man.”
“A big man, a roadhouse keeper, they called him Loaf,” said Cooper.
“And this other boy?”
“They keep him like a pet, I have no idea what he’s good for, he’s the most ignorant privick of them all.”
Umbo couldn’t help the way his face reddened.
The officer chuckled. “He doesn’t like that.”
“I said he was ignorant, not deaf,” said Cooper.
“I notice you’re not denying anything,” said the officer to Rigg.
Rigg turned his gaze to the officer for a long, steady moment, and then returned to looking at the general. Umbo wanted to shout with laughter. In that simple look, Rigg had as much as told the officer he was a worm, not worth talking to. And yet his expression had not changed at all.
On impulse, Umbo started to cast his net of speeded-up time around Rigg.
Rigg turned to him and said, “No.”
Umbo stopped.
“No what?” the officer demanded.
Rigg said nothing.
The officer turned to Umbo. “What did he tell you not to do?”
Umbo shrugged.
The officer seized him by the shoulder, his grip fiercely painful, as if he meant to drill a hole through his shoulder with his thumb. “What did he tell you not to do, boy?”
“He was thinking of running,” said Rigg.
“Oh, you can read his mind?” said the officer.
One of the tower guards approached them gingerly. “If you’ve found them, can we let people continue to leave the tower?”
The officer turned to him and said harshly, “Don’t bother us!”
The general turned his head to the guard, ignoring his own subordinate from the People’s Army. “There’s no reason to block them now. Thank you for helping us.”
The officer showed no sign that the general had just contradicted him.
The tower guard bowed deeply. “Thank you, your excellency.”
“The People’s Army has no ‘excellencies,’” snapped the officer.
“Sadly enough,” said the general, “that is true. Guard, if you wouldn’t mind, could you send a man or two into the tower to search for a tall man who looks like a former soldier? I saw him with these two, and when he saw Mr. Cooper, he headed back into the tower, pretending to look for something.”
Umbo was impressed. Maybe generals got to be generals because they were smart, or at least observant.
Then again, the general seemed to carry himself and turn his head and speak exactly the way Rigg was acting. When Rigg told Umbo no, he had spoken with the same kind of calm authority the general used when speaking to the guard. It was a voice that expected to be obeyed—yet there was no anger or emotion in it, so that it didn’t provoke resentment. When Rigg spoke, Umbo had simply obeyed, without even thinking of arguing or doubting or even hesitating. How had Rigg learned how to do that? He had never been in the army. But maybe it was something he learned from the Wandering Man. He had the power of command.
What a fine thing it must have been, to be raised by the Wandering Man. And what had Rigg’s father been planning for him? Not just the jewels, not just a royal name that apparently belonged to someone who was supposed to be dead, but also this air of command, all the knowledge of finances Rigg had, his understanding of how to bargain with adults—Rigg’s father must have trained him in all of that.
Had he foreseen this moment? Wouldn’t this make him one of the heroes, to be able to see into the future? Umbo had never heard of a hero with such a power, but wouldn’t that be a mighty gift from a god? All that Umbo and Rigg had been able to do, between them, was reach into the past—and even that was a rare gift, and hard to do.
I will have to learn how to do it alone.
“I’ll take the boys with me back to their boat,” said the general. “We’ll wait there while you see to getting the man called Loaf.”
“That’s his name,” said Umbo.
The general looked at him steadily.
“It’s not a nickname or anything,” said Umbo. “In his native village, that’s how they name people. His wife’s name is Leaky.” Umbo had no idea why he had felt the need to speak up, but it had been an irresistible impulse. And now the tiniest trace of a smile played at the corners of the general’s mouth. Umbo looked to Rigg to see if he had said too much, but Rigg’s face was calm and showed nothing.
“By all means,” said the general. “Wassam, the man’s name is ‘Loaf,’ so there’s no need to demand a realer-sounding one. Bring him to me unquestioned and unbeaten, please.” With that the general reached out his hands toward Umbo and Rigg. Without needing a bit of explanation, they each took one of his hands and he walked with them back toward the city.
He held their hands lightly. But when Umbo thought—just thought—of running off, he could feel the grip tighten on his hand.
Can the man hear my thoughts?
No, thought Umbo. I must have tensed up just a little when the idea of running crossed my mind. Or maybe he noticed that I glanced off toward that canebrake.
Meanwhile, Mr. Cooper shadowed their steps. “He’s going to lie to you,” said Cooper. “He’s full of nothing but lies and poses!”
“And yet,” said the general mildly, “he hasn’t told me a single lie today.”
“That’s because he hasn’t said a thing. You notice he doesn’t deny anything I said!”
“Mr. Cooper,” said the general gently. “He doesn’t regard you as worth his notice, that’s all.”
“Yes!” cried Cooper. “That’s the arrogance I was talking about!”
“The arrogance that we might expect,” said the general, “if he really is of the royal house.”
“Oh, right, I’m sure you know how impossible that is!”
“Wouldn’t your time be better spent, Mr. Cooper, remaining behind to identify the man called—no, the man whose name is Loaf?”
Again, there was that subtle air of command, and Cooper turned and began to walk briskly back toward the tower, muttering, “Of course, should have thought of it myself,” and then his voice faded out.
With Cooper gone, the general’s demeanor changed. “Well, my young friends, how have you been enjoying the city of O?”