Seeds of Rebellion
Page 33
Although he felt painfully curious about the message from Ferrin, Jason had been trying to ignore the rustling. After all, the safety of Aram and Moira was in jeopardy, along with his own. There was no guarantee that Ferrin was on his side. The smart course would be to avoid contacting Ferrin until Ithilum was behind him. But as the minutes passed and the fluttering continued, Jason began to question how the displacer could deduce anything useful from letters traced on a palm. If he was careful not to give away information, was there any real harm in exchanging a few words? What if Ferrin had a vital tip?
As the rustling continued doggedly, curiosity finally overcame caution. Jason had to silence the hand, right? With the sun perhaps an hour from setting, Aram might show up before long. The lively hand would be difficult to explain.
Jason rolled out of bed and removed the severed hand from the backpack, slapping it gently to signal he was prepared to receive a message. The hand began signing.
I am in Ithilum. So are you. All routes out of town are under surveillance by agents of Maldor, no doubt summoned by your lurker friend. I will help you escape.
Jason considered the message. With all of these soldiers around, it would be an ideal opportunity for Ferrin to backstab him. Even if the displacer really had burned bridges with Maldor, might he not view this as a chance to repair the damage?
Jason began tracing letters. I FOUND AN ALLY. HE WILL HELP ME GET AWAY.
Who?
BETTER NOT SAY.
I understand your reluctance. Yet I swear I am laboring for your welfare. I have no illusions that nabbing you would offset my crimes. Maldor does not forgive traitors. He would never let me live given what I know. I never had many friends. I want to join you and help you.
WISH I COULD TRUST YOU. I LOOK FORWARD TO THAT DAY. NOW IS NOT THE TIME.
Let me supply some free information to inspire a little faith. The port is under heavy scrutiny, as are the three city gates. You must find a different way out of town. At least one other displacer is in the vicinity, along with many conscriptors and droves of common soldiers.
THANKS. WE WILL BE CAREFUL.
One more thing. The name of your ally is Aram.
Jason stared at the hand in shock. How could he respond without giving away too much?
WHY DO YOU SAY THAT?
I still have my sources. The Dockside Inn has always been a reliable well of information.
ARE YOU THREATENING ME?
This is not a threat. I am trying to create an opportunity for you to trust me. I already have the intelligence I need if I meant to turn you in. I know you are here in Ithilum. I know you have hired Aram to assist you. I know the secrets you carry. And I am across the street.
Could it be true? Jason deliberated how to respond.
Look out a window.
The guest room window commanded a view of the street. Jason sidled over to it and peered outside. Ferrin stood below on the far side of the cobblestone road, arms folded, a patch over one eye, a scruffy beard on his chin. He wore a broad-brimmed hat tilted at a rakish angle. The displacer met his gaze and gave a faint nod.
Jason backed away from the window. WHAT NOW?
Aram has a respectable reputation. But you will need more than a muscle-bound smuggler if you hope to evade a lurker for long. You need my help. This is for your own good. See you in a moment.
A second peek out the window revealed Ferrin crossing the street toward the front door. Flustered, Jason dashed from the room and clomped down the stairs. Moira came out of the kitchen into the entry hall, sleeves rolled back, hands powdered with flour. “What is it?” the little woman asked.
There came a brisk knock at the door.
“An old friend has tracked me down,” Jason said.
She blanched. “Is he trustworthy?”
“I hope so. I think so. I didn’t invite him. He tracked me on his own. He came here instead of turning us in. At this point, our only choice is to speak with him.”
Moira motioned Jason out of sight and cracked the door. “Yes?”
“My close friend is visiting you,” Ferrin said politely. “May I intrude?”
Moira glanced at Jason, who nodded. She pulled the door wide, and Ferrin entered.
“We meet again,” Ferrin said, grinning. He swept off his hat and tossed it like a Frisbee onto a sofa in the parlor. Striding forward, he embraced Jason, who returned the hug uncertainly. Then the displacer bowed to Moira.
“Are you going to introduce us?” he prompted Jason.
Jason felt off-balance. “Ferrin, this is Moira. Moira, meet Ferrin.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Ferrin said. Turning to Jason, he raised an arm that ended at the wrist. “Can you lend me a hand?”
“A displacer?” Moira gasped, raising fingers to her lips.
“Have no fear, I have gone renegade. The emperor is my enemy. I mean you no harm. In fact, I intend to offer vital assistance. Does she know who you are?”
Jason nodded.
“I’m an old comrade of Lord Jason. I rescued him from—”
The door to the cellar burst open, and Aram emerged, hair mussed from sleeping, a long, slightly curved knife in one small hand. His eyes went from Ferrin to Jason and back. “What’s going on?”
“Who’s that?” Ferrin asked.
“My son, Burt,” Moira said.
“Who are you?” Aram challenged.
“Is he in on all of this?” Ferrin mumbled.
Jason nodded.
“As I was explaining to your mother, I’m Ferrin the displacer, a former servant of the emperor who went renegade after I smuggled Lord Jason out of the dungeons of Felrook. I’m here to help him flee Ithilum, no small task considering the host assembling to apprehend him.”
Knife pointed at Ferrin, Aram glanced at Jason. “Does he speak the truth?”
“As far as I know,” Jason said. “He helped me escape from Felrook, and today he located us on his own. If he wanted to turn us in, he could have already done it.”
Aram snorted. “Unless he counts on you leading him to bigger game. No displacer can be trusted.”
“There is no larger quarry than Lord Jason in all of Lyrian,” Ferrin replied. He turned to Jason. “I understood you were working with Aram.”
“What do you know of Aram?” Aram asked.
“Only his reputation.”
“What reputation is that?”
Ferrin made a vague gesture. “He was arguably the most reliable mercenary in the business before he retired. He stayed out of imperial matters. He was cautious, smart; a survivor. To be candid, Aram was savvy enough to steer clear of somebody like Jason. I question whether he sincerely means to help. I take it you’re a colleague?”
As the rustling continued doggedly, curiosity finally overcame caution. Jason had to silence the hand, right? With the sun perhaps an hour from setting, Aram might show up before long. The lively hand would be difficult to explain.
Jason rolled out of bed and removed the severed hand from the backpack, slapping it gently to signal he was prepared to receive a message. The hand began signing.
I am in Ithilum. So are you. All routes out of town are under surveillance by agents of Maldor, no doubt summoned by your lurker friend. I will help you escape.
Jason considered the message. With all of these soldiers around, it would be an ideal opportunity for Ferrin to backstab him. Even if the displacer really had burned bridges with Maldor, might he not view this as a chance to repair the damage?
Jason began tracing letters. I FOUND AN ALLY. HE WILL HELP ME GET AWAY.
Who?
BETTER NOT SAY.
I understand your reluctance. Yet I swear I am laboring for your welfare. I have no illusions that nabbing you would offset my crimes. Maldor does not forgive traitors. He would never let me live given what I know. I never had many friends. I want to join you and help you.
WISH I COULD TRUST YOU. I LOOK FORWARD TO THAT DAY. NOW IS NOT THE TIME.
Let me supply some free information to inspire a little faith. The port is under heavy scrutiny, as are the three city gates. You must find a different way out of town. At least one other displacer is in the vicinity, along with many conscriptors and droves of common soldiers.
THANKS. WE WILL BE CAREFUL.
One more thing. The name of your ally is Aram.
Jason stared at the hand in shock. How could he respond without giving away too much?
WHY DO YOU SAY THAT?
I still have my sources. The Dockside Inn has always been a reliable well of information.
ARE YOU THREATENING ME?
This is not a threat. I am trying to create an opportunity for you to trust me. I already have the intelligence I need if I meant to turn you in. I know you are here in Ithilum. I know you have hired Aram to assist you. I know the secrets you carry. And I am across the street.
Could it be true? Jason deliberated how to respond.
Look out a window.
The guest room window commanded a view of the street. Jason sidled over to it and peered outside. Ferrin stood below on the far side of the cobblestone road, arms folded, a patch over one eye, a scruffy beard on his chin. He wore a broad-brimmed hat tilted at a rakish angle. The displacer met his gaze and gave a faint nod.
Jason backed away from the window. WHAT NOW?
Aram has a respectable reputation. But you will need more than a muscle-bound smuggler if you hope to evade a lurker for long. You need my help. This is for your own good. See you in a moment.
A second peek out the window revealed Ferrin crossing the street toward the front door. Flustered, Jason dashed from the room and clomped down the stairs. Moira came out of the kitchen into the entry hall, sleeves rolled back, hands powdered with flour. “What is it?” the little woman asked.
There came a brisk knock at the door.
“An old friend has tracked me down,” Jason said.
She blanched. “Is he trustworthy?”
“I hope so. I think so. I didn’t invite him. He tracked me on his own. He came here instead of turning us in. At this point, our only choice is to speak with him.”
Moira motioned Jason out of sight and cracked the door. “Yes?”
“My close friend is visiting you,” Ferrin said politely. “May I intrude?”
Moira glanced at Jason, who nodded. She pulled the door wide, and Ferrin entered.
“We meet again,” Ferrin said, grinning. He swept off his hat and tossed it like a Frisbee onto a sofa in the parlor. Striding forward, he embraced Jason, who returned the hug uncertainly. Then the displacer bowed to Moira.
“Are you going to introduce us?” he prompted Jason.
Jason felt off-balance. “Ferrin, this is Moira. Moira, meet Ferrin.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Ferrin said. Turning to Jason, he raised an arm that ended at the wrist. “Can you lend me a hand?”
“A displacer?” Moira gasped, raising fingers to her lips.
“Have no fear, I have gone renegade. The emperor is my enemy. I mean you no harm. In fact, I intend to offer vital assistance. Does she know who you are?”
Jason nodded.
“I’m an old comrade of Lord Jason. I rescued him from—”
The door to the cellar burst open, and Aram emerged, hair mussed from sleeping, a long, slightly curved knife in one small hand. His eyes went from Ferrin to Jason and back. “What’s going on?”
“Who’s that?” Ferrin asked.
“My son, Burt,” Moira said.
“Who are you?” Aram challenged.
“Is he in on all of this?” Ferrin mumbled.
Jason nodded.
“As I was explaining to your mother, I’m Ferrin the displacer, a former servant of the emperor who went renegade after I smuggled Lord Jason out of the dungeons of Felrook. I’m here to help him flee Ithilum, no small task considering the host assembling to apprehend him.”
Knife pointed at Ferrin, Aram glanced at Jason. “Does he speak the truth?”
“As far as I know,” Jason said. “He helped me escape from Felrook, and today he located us on his own. If he wanted to turn us in, he could have already done it.”
Aram snorted. “Unless he counts on you leading him to bigger game. No displacer can be trusted.”
“There is no larger quarry than Lord Jason in all of Lyrian,” Ferrin replied. He turned to Jason. “I understood you were working with Aram.”
“What do you know of Aram?” Aram asked.
“Only his reputation.”
“What reputation is that?”
Ferrin made a vague gesture. “He was arguably the most reliable mercenary in the business before he retired. He stayed out of imperial matters. He was cautious, smart; a survivor. To be candid, Aram was savvy enough to steer clear of somebody like Jason. I question whether he sincerely means to help. I take it you’re a colleague?”
