Seeds of Rebellion
Page 69
“Corinne,” Galloran said. “Put aside the mushroom.”
She sheathed her sword and returned the fungus to the satchel. Corinne blinked rapidly and rubbed her forehead.
“Are you back?” Galloran asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Have you spent sufficient time outside of the tree?” Galloran asked.
“A few hours a day,” Corinne replied. “Just as we discussed. Talking with my great-aunt. Reading. Performing exercises with my sword. Waiting.” There was an edge of bitterness to the final word.
“I’m so sorry,” Galloran said. “I didn’t mean to fail. I left you in the safest place I felt I could take you. Mianamon would have been preferable, but there was war in the south at the time. I retrieved you as soon as I was able.”
“I understand,” Corinne said. Her eyes swept over the group. “Thank you all for coming for me.”
“You have been through an ordeal,” Galloran said. “The years in hiding were for your good, but it was nonetheless a dismal prison.”
“It was hardest after Great-Aunt Madeline died. The solitude felt endless. I would write myself notes from inside the tree. I’m ready to start living. My only memories of an actual life are the blurry recollections of childhood. All I have besides that is what happened day after day on a short stretch of muddy island.”
“I’ll do my best to make it up to you,” Galloran promised. “Sadly, for the present, we have led you from solitude into peril. But it could not be avoided. Maldor is moving against the guardians of the syllables. Already some have perished. You would not have thwarted assassination attempts forever.”
“What now?” Drake inquired.
“We load up as much orantium as we can reasonably carry,” Galloran said. “We’ll spend the night here. The day is waning, and the Drowned City is the last place anyone would look for us. It should take some time for the denizens of the swamp to realize Orruck is gone. Corinne’s mushrooms should also help dissuade bothersome visitors. Then, with the first light of dawn, we’ll hurry away from the Sunken Lands.”
Standing on muddy ground at the edge of the swamp, Jason peered northward at an imposing wall of mountains. A progression of rugged plateaus climbed from the perimeter of the Sunken Lands to eventually surge skyward in a magnificent upheaval of stone. Somewhere among those sheer faces and lofty crags, an unseen pass granted access to the western gate of the Seven Vales. In the foreground, a lone hawk wheeled and plunged, illuminated by the setting sun.
Behind and above Jason, a branch snapped. Turning, he looked up to where Nedwin, Ferrin, and Drake advanced along a thick bough, returning from hiding the boats and their cargo of orantium. Thanks to the puffball mushrooms, their trek from the Drowned City to the outskirts of the swamp had been relatively uneventful. Stashing the boats in the swamp had been the last unfinished detail.
Ferrin held a branch that had broken off in his hand. He released it, and the rotten limb fell to the water, sending ripples across the surface scum. Nedwin reached the top of a nearby tree and started down. Drake and Ferrin followed.
Jason, Rachel, Corinne, Tark, and little Aram met them at the bottom of the tree. “Everything go all right?” Jason asked.
“No complications,” Drake reported.
“Unless you count Nedwin using the vines to attempt some dangerous swings,” Ferrin muttered.
“I only fell twice,” Nedwin said. “Water is forgiving.”
The group walked over to Dorsio and Galloran, who sat on opposite sides of a modest pile of orantium globes. Most were the regular sort, no larger than baseballs, but three were the larger gatecrashers.
“We’re all assembled?” Galloran checked.
“Yes, sire,” Nedwin replied.
“Who gets to carry the big ones?” Rachel asked.
Galloran laid a hand on one of the larger globes. “Dorsio will hold them. The Amar Kabal are a reclusive people. Once I was welcome in their land. But times have changed. Should all else fail, I hope to bribe our way in. In these perilous times, I can think of no currency more valuable than orantium.”
“They’ll admit you without a gift,” Drake said firmly. “I don’t believe my people hold any living human in higher regard.”
“I hope you’re right,” Galloran responded. “There are influential voices among your people who may not appreciate what my presence could represent in these uncertain times. The boats are hidden?”
“They’re well disguised on an obscure little island,” Drake said.
“Further guarded by the puffball mushrooms,” Ferrin added.
“Then we should start our journey,” Galloran said. “The sooner we are behind West Gate, the sooner we can rest. I would be surprised if Maldor did not try to apprehend us between here and there. By now he should have anticipated the Seven Vales as our most likely destination.”
“The territory between the Sunken Lands and our gates remains uninhabited by treaty,” Drake said. “Imperial troops are only supposed to enter with our permission.”
“Maldor understands the stakes,” Galloran argued. “By heading us off, he can suppress a possible rebellion. He has reason to expect that the Amar Kabal won’t risk a sortie to enforce the treaty.”
“There was a day when he wouldn’t have chanced it,” Drake murmured darkly.
“Your people have grown even more withdrawn while you’ve been absent,” Galloran said. “They refuse to risk hostilities with Felrook. Their emphasis has been to fortify the Vales for a defensive stand. They display little interest in events beyond their gates.”
Drake frowned. “I won’t be much use in persuading them otherwise. I never expected to return. I may find myself even less welcome than Ferrin. By accepting the invitation to Harthenham, I shamed my people. I expect they will vote to exile me.”
“If so, you will be in good company,” Galloran said. “The finest seedman I know is an exile.”
“I don’t need their approval,” Drake said. “I just wish I were in a better position to advocate your cause.”
“First, we need to get there,” Galloran observed. “No sign of the horses?”
“I’ve been calling,” Rachel said. “I’ll keep trying.”
“I know many routes from here to West Gate,” Drake said. “By foot or by horse, with a little caution we should be able to cross unobserved.”
She sheathed her sword and returned the fungus to the satchel. Corinne blinked rapidly and rubbed her forehead.
“Are you back?” Galloran asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Have you spent sufficient time outside of the tree?” Galloran asked.
“A few hours a day,” Corinne replied. “Just as we discussed. Talking with my great-aunt. Reading. Performing exercises with my sword. Waiting.” There was an edge of bitterness to the final word.
“I’m so sorry,” Galloran said. “I didn’t mean to fail. I left you in the safest place I felt I could take you. Mianamon would have been preferable, but there was war in the south at the time. I retrieved you as soon as I was able.”
“I understand,” Corinne said. Her eyes swept over the group. “Thank you all for coming for me.”
“You have been through an ordeal,” Galloran said. “The years in hiding were for your good, but it was nonetheless a dismal prison.”
“It was hardest after Great-Aunt Madeline died. The solitude felt endless. I would write myself notes from inside the tree. I’m ready to start living. My only memories of an actual life are the blurry recollections of childhood. All I have besides that is what happened day after day on a short stretch of muddy island.”
“I’ll do my best to make it up to you,” Galloran promised. “Sadly, for the present, we have led you from solitude into peril. But it could not be avoided. Maldor is moving against the guardians of the syllables. Already some have perished. You would not have thwarted assassination attempts forever.”
“What now?” Drake inquired.
“We load up as much orantium as we can reasonably carry,” Galloran said. “We’ll spend the night here. The day is waning, and the Drowned City is the last place anyone would look for us. It should take some time for the denizens of the swamp to realize Orruck is gone. Corinne’s mushrooms should also help dissuade bothersome visitors. Then, with the first light of dawn, we’ll hurry away from the Sunken Lands.”
Standing on muddy ground at the edge of the swamp, Jason peered northward at an imposing wall of mountains. A progression of rugged plateaus climbed from the perimeter of the Sunken Lands to eventually surge skyward in a magnificent upheaval of stone. Somewhere among those sheer faces and lofty crags, an unseen pass granted access to the western gate of the Seven Vales. In the foreground, a lone hawk wheeled and plunged, illuminated by the setting sun.
Behind and above Jason, a branch snapped. Turning, he looked up to where Nedwin, Ferrin, and Drake advanced along a thick bough, returning from hiding the boats and their cargo of orantium. Thanks to the puffball mushrooms, their trek from the Drowned City to the outskirts of the swamp had been relatively uneventful. Stashing the boats in the swamp had been the last unfinished detail.
Ferrin held a branch that had broken off in his hand. He released it, and the rotten limb fell to the water, sending ripples across the surface scum. Nedwin reached the top of a nearby tree and started down. Drake and Ferrin followed.
Jason, Rachel, Corinne, Tark, and little Aram met them at the bottom of the tree. “Everything go all right?” Jason asked.
“No complications,” Drake reported.
“Unless you count Nedwin using the vines to attempt some dangerous swings,” Ferrin muttered.
“I only fell twice,” Nedwin said. “Water is forgiving.”
The group walked over to Dorsio and Galloran, who sat on opposite sides of a modest pile of orantium globes. Most were the regular sort, no larger than baseballs, but three were the larger gatecrashers.
“We’re all assembled?” Galloran checked.
“Yes, sire,” Nedwin replied.
“Who gets to carry the big ones?” Rachel asked.
Galloran laid a hand on one of the larger globes. “Dorsio will hold them. The Amar Kabal are a reclusive people. Once I was welcome in their land. But times have changed. Should all else fail, I hope to bribe our way in. In these perilous times, I can think of no currency more valuable than orantium.”
“They’ll admit you without a gift,” Drake said firmly. “I don’t believe my people hold any living human in higher regard.”
“I hope you’re right,” Galloran responded. “There are influential voices among your people who may not appreciate what my presence could represent in these uncertain times. The boats are hidden?”
“They’re well disguised on an obscure little island,” Drake said.
“Further guarded by the puffball mushrooms,” Ferrin added.
“Then we should start our journey,” Galloran said. “The sooner we are behind West Gate, the sooner we can rest. I would be surprised if Maldor did not try to apprehend us between here and there. By now he should have anticipated the Seven Vales as our most likely destination.”
“The territory between the Sunken Lands and our gates remains uninhabited by treaty,” Drake said. “Imperial troops are only supposed to enter with our permission.”
“Maldor understands the stakes,” Galloran argued. “By heading us off, he can suppress a possible rebellion. He has reason to expect that the Amar Kabal won’t risk a sortie to enforce the treaty.”
“There was a day when he wouldn’t have chanced it,” Drake murmured darkly.
“Your people have grown even more withdrawn while you’ve been absent,” Galloran said. “They refuse to risk hostilities with Felrook. Their emphasis has been to fortify the Vales for a defensive stand. They display little interest in events beyond their gates.”
Drake frowned. “I won’t be much use in persuading them otherwise. I never expected to return. I may find myself even less welcome than Ferrin. By accepting the invitation to Harthenham, I shamed my people. I expect they will vote to exile me.”
“If so, you will be in good company,” Galloran said. “The finest seedman I know is an exile.”
“I don’t need their approval,” Drake said. “I just wish I were in a better position to advocate your cause.”
“First, we need to get there,” Galloran observed. “No sign of the horses?”
“I’ve been calling,” Rachel said. “I’ll keep trying.”
“I know many routes from here to West Gate,” Drake said. “By foot or by horse, with a little caution we should be able to cross unobserved.”
