“We were there,” she said boldly. “They would lie to get us in trouble, those girls.” She had never talked to a Deacon like this. Her heart pounded; but she tried to look puzzled at his concern.
He couldn’t prove anything; not that he needed to, of course. In the end he sent them to pray, so they missed supper. They prayed until after dark on their knees in the square, giddy with the knowledge that he had sent them exactly where they wanted to be. They were so close to the runestone, so close. Their bodies ached from the one position. They longed for darkness to be complete so they could slip down. It would be so easy to retrieve the stone.
Though the thought of bringing the stone up into Burgdeeth was terrifying. It seemed to Zephy that the runestone would send a brightness out from itself that nothing could hide.
And then when darkness came, Feill Wellick sent two Deacons with lamps to stand over them to hear the Prayers of Contrition. They had no chance to slip into the tunnel. They were sent home to bed very late, with the Deacons watching them go. Zephy climbed into her cold bed feeling utterly defeated.
They don’t know anything, she thought uneasily. How could they? It’s just that we’re too defiant, both of us, and they caught us once for swimming, so now they’re always suspicious. But how will we get the stone now? Will they watch us all through harvest?
The next day they worked in separate fields, to allay suspicion, then came together innocently at noon to share their dinners. They sat a little way from the crowd of gossiping women and the clusters of girls. A Deacon rode by and stared at them and went on.
Three children had been taken by the Kubalese. Nia Skane, carried away behind Kearb-Mattus’s saddle. Little Graged Orden, who had run away when he knew where the red rag was hidden, drowned with his friend, Gorn Pellva. Or so it had appeared. Had Gorn been a Child of Ynell, too? And what about Elodia Trayd? Zephy could still see Elodia’s defiant gray eyes staring up at her. Would Elodia be next?
“And there’s Toca Dreeb,” Meatha whispered. “He knew where the coin was hidden on the black buck.” The sun struck across Meatha’s cheek as she turned. “And Clytey Varik, maybe. We mustn’t let Kearb-Mattus take any of them. Clytey’s such a strange girl I can’t be sure. But there’s something about her . . .”
“But she’s always so lively. And with other children.”
“All the same, I feel it. Clytey Varik. Elodia Trayd. Toca Dreeb,” she said with certainty. “And one other. Did you ever watch Tra. Thorzen’s baby?”
“A baby? But how could you tell?”
“Tra. Thorzen was working beside me this morning and the baby—Bibb’s its name—was lying in a patch of vetchpea to one side, gurgling. I thought things at it. I could make him smile. And I could make him cry.”
Zephy stared at her. “It could have been . . .”
“Coincidence? I don’t think so. I thought of food and he gurgled and reached out toward me, then when I thought of someone coming up behind and hitting him, he turned around very afraid and began crying. But when I thought he was warm and comfy and fed, he settled back and smiled and went to sleep.”
Zephy frowned. “How will we steal a baby?”
“And what will we do with him? I’ve never taken care of a baby.”
“The first thing is to get the stone. We’ll have to try tonight, after harvest. When you take the donkeys back, turn Dess loose and slap her.”
“We’ve done that before.”
“She can jump the fence, though. We’ve seen her.”
So they let Dess loose, heading her toward the plum grove, and in the search for her, Zephy slipped down into the tunnel while Meatha searched for the donkey above, in the opposite direction from Dess.
With the boulder rolled over the opening, the weight of blackness took hold of Zephy, making her shiver. She struck flint to candle, and in that trembling moment before the flame steadied, she knew, coldly, that if they were caught with the stone they would be killed for it; that somehow the Deacons would know what it was.
Yet the quest gave her a feeling that nothing in her life had ever done. She touched the cool walls, passed the first timber support, brushing dirt and stone with her fingers. When she reached the niche at last, she had convinced herself the stone would be gone and could hardly bear to look. Then when she held the stone wrapped in her handkerchief, she had to unwrap it to be sure. Her desire to touch it overwhelmed her, but she wrapped it again and made haste to get back; she could put them both in danger with her dawdling.
They caught Dess knee-deep in Tra. Llibe’s vetchpeas, gorging herself, and dragged her away toward her pen as if they were very angry, elation and terror making them nervy. Then they crept into Zephy’s mawzee patch, and she unwrapped the stone, couching it in her handkerchief.
“Touch it, Zephy. Touch it once with me.”
“I’m afraid. Wait until we can use it on one of the children.”
“Maybe we could see if the Kubalese plan to attack. Maybe from Kearb-Mattus’s mind. Anchorstar said—”
“But Anchorstar said you have to be close—”
“Not with the stone. With the stone we can do it. Oh, please let’s try. Think of Kearb-Mattus as hard as you can, think of his face.”
Zephy touched the jade reluctantly and felt Meatha’s hand next to hers. She tried to see Kearb-Mattus’s face. She could not, but she could feel the sudden sense of him so strong that she started. Whether that was the seeing, or only her memory of him, she didn’t know. She tried to go in, like drifting smoke, as Anchorstar had shown them. She tried to mingle her own self with Kearb-Mattus and in a moment of dizziness she knew that she had—and then she saw the soldiers.
They were mounted on great horses, their sectbows and swords slung over their saddles. She saw them riding hard over broken ground; she saw them making camp; she saw them assemble before a leader. Then there was only grayness, she could see nothing—but now a knowledge was growing in her mind, fledging out as if it had been there all the time unseen, now unfolding itself as a moth unfolds from the cocoon. And she knew, in that moment, the Kubalese plan. She knew the dark partnership into which Kubal and Cloffi had entered. She saw the exchange of strengths of the two countries, and she knew their intent.
To rule all of Ere! A ruling oligarchy powerful beyond any man’s dream. An oligarchy made of Kubalese and Cloffi leaders. She stood gripping the stone, her knuckles white. In return for Kubal’s strength in fighting men, so much fiercer, so much crueler than the Cloffa, Kubal would receive—had been receiving—the Children of Ynell, to use as spies.
And she saw that Kearb-Mattus was more powerful than she had supposed. The Children of Ynell must be very important, indeed, for Kearb-Mattus, as one of the Kubalese leaders, to come seeking them himself.
The Children had been feared by the Landmasters lest the day come when they broke away from the false Cloffi religion and made others see the truth. And now they were feared, too, lest they discover this new plot against Cloffi’s freedom.
But why couldn’t Cloffi and Kubal just have joined, without the threat of war? The Cloffi citizens were not strong enough to prevent it. And then she saw that if there were war and Cloffi seemed to be conquered, the Landmaster could feign honesty, could treat the alliance as making the best of a bad situation. Where if he simply joined Kubal, even the docile Cloffa might become too angered or disgruntled to be tractable.
And then she saw the last ironic part of the puzzle, and knew that Meatha saw it, too. The missing piece that even the Landmaster didn’t know, that only the Kubalese leaders knew. She saw plainly that when—not if, but when—the Kubalese conquered Cloffi, the Landmaster and his family and the Deacons would be enslaved or put to death.
She stared at Meatha, sick. How could the Landmaster be such a fool? Meatha’s eyes blazed; and then she began to smile, a twisted, bitter little smile, and she said coolly, “The Landmaster has baited his own trap.”