Wild Born
Page 17
“I bet they want us as mascots,” Rollan said. “They’ll probably add me to the Amayan flag.”
Conor laughed, blushing slightly. “Can you imagine? As if all the attention didn’t make me uncomfortable enough.”
“This is a poor hour for humor,” Meilin snapped, her eyes blazing. “Zhong is under heavy attack. The Greencloaks smuggled me away as my father fought to defend our city. I still haven’t heard whether he lived or died! Whatever they have planned for us better be good.”
Rollan eyed her warily. “I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be,” Rollan said. “Do you two have any tips about the animals? I can hardly get Essix to do anything.”
“I’ve been trying with Briggan,” Conor said, crouching to pet his wolf. “He can be stubborn. The more we’ve gotten to know each other, the better it’s become. Tarik told me that eventually we can get powers from them.”
Rollan glanced at Meilin and her panda. “What’s your power going to be? Cuddling?”
Meilin’s face was pure ice. For a moment her lips trembled, but after that the anger only touched her eyes. She held out her arm and in a flash Jhi became a design on the back of her hand. She turned and stormed away.
“See,” Rollan called. “Like that! How did you figure that out?”
“Too late,” Conor said quietly. “I haven’t known Meilin long, but I can tell she has a temper.”
“Can you do that too?” Rollan asked. “The tattoo thing?”
“Not yet,” Conor said.
Rollan stroked Essix. “At least we’re not the only slow learners.”
Sunset Tower was dark and still as Rollan crept out of his room. He paused, listening, ready with answers if he was challenged by a watchman: He couldn’t sleep; he needed a snack.
But no challenge came.
Peering back into his room, Rollan saw Essix roosting near the window, head tucked in sleep. He eased the door closed. The open window would allow the falcon to catch up with him. The bird might not approve of his decision, which was why he hadn’t tried to explain, but she would follow. They were linked now.
Along the hallway, small oil lamps trimmed to a slow burn provided dim light. Moving down the corridor, Rollan felt the alert guilt of a trespasser. The late hour meant he might not encounter anyone, but if he did, he knew it would look extra suspicious. The farther he deviated from the path to the kitchen, the more conspicuous he felt. How could he answer why he was heading for the castle gate fully dressed with a satchel? Why did he need a snack when his satchel was crammed with stolen food? His responses sounded so unlikely: He couldn’t relax; he felt confined; he needed some fresh air. Anyone with half a brain would guess the truth.
He was running away.
The thought produced a stab of remorse, which he tried to shrug off. Had he ever asked to come here? Olvan had promised to protect him from Zerif, but who would protect him from Olvan? Rollan knew that, in theory, he was a guest of the Greencloaks, but he was starting to feel more like a prisoner. Sure, it was mostly smiles and politeness now. But the Greencloaks’ expectations were his chains. How long would the friendliness last if he quit following orders? How long would it last if they caught him tonight?
He and the others had returned to the fortress earlier to — once again — the weight of the promised stares. The Greencloaks helped Conor and Meilin get settled, but no additional information was forthcoming. Rollan had asked more questions, but — once again — they were deflected. That evening, Rollan decided he had waited for specifics long enough. The more time he stayed, the clearer it became that the Greencloaks would settle for nothing less than a lifelong commitment, so they could benefit from his falcon. With Conor and Meilin here, the pressure on him would only increase. Each day he stayed implied that he meant to commit. If he wanted to get away, the time to act was now.
Besides the big gate, Rollan had seen three minor gates in the outer wall. All were heavily reinforced and disguised from the outside. As far as he could tell, they only opened from within. Over the past week he had tried all of them. He knew which one he would use tonight.
Rollan heard the tones of a distant conversation up ahead and froze. He couldn’t distinguish words, but the blurry murmuring had no urgency to it. Apparently, guards were covering the main door to the courtyard, chatting to pass the time. That was no obstacle. Too many doors led from the main building out to the courtyard for them all to be guarded. There was no war here in Amaya, and people had to sleep.
Stepping lightly but swiftly, Rollan advanced along a narrow corridor toward another door that would lead outside. From up ahead a voice floated his way. “Come on, Briggan! You don’t want food; you don’t want to go outside — can’t this wait until morning?”
It was Conor! What was he doing up? Rollan slipped down a side corridor, unsure where it led. He went around a corner and paused to listen. He could barely hear the wolf, but Conor was making no effort to walk quietly. They were coming his way!
Moving faster, Rollan took a couple other turns before the hall ended at a locked door. Breathing softly, he listened as Conor and the wolf got nearer and nearer. Surely they would turn a different direction! Why would they come down a dead end?
Unless the wolf was tracking him.
Rollan folded his arms and leaned against the wall, hoping he could sell the idea that he was just hanging around the castle. At this hour, it didn’t seem very believable, but Conor didn’t give the impression that he was a genius.
Conor came into view with Briggan. The wolf stopped, staring at Rollan. Looking rumpled and tired, Conor squinted. “Rollan? What are you doing here?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Rollan said. “I was exploring. Why are you up so late?”
Conor yawned and stretched. “I was trying to sleep, but Briggan kept pawing the door.”
Rollan looked at the wolf. It sat back, mouth open, tongue dangling.
Conor wrinkled his nose. “Why hang out here? Are you up to something?”
“Fine,” Rollan said, as if about to reluctantly admit the truth. “Essix went out flying but hasn’t returned. I want to make sure she’s all right.”
“So you came here. To a dead end,” Conor clarified.
“I lost my way.”
“So you stood against a door.”
Rollan thought fast. Maybe Conor wasn’t so dim, after all. “I heard you coming and got embarrassed. I didn’t want to seem lost. I really am concerned about Essix.”
Conor laughed, blushing slightly. “Can you imagine? As if all the attention didn’t make me uncomfortable enough.”
“This is a poor hour for humor,” Meilin snapped, her eyes blazing. “Zhong is under heavy attack. The Greencloaks smuggled me away as my father fought to defend our city. I still haven’t heard whether he lived or died! Whatever they have planned for us better be good.”
Rollan eyed her warily. “I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be,” Rollan said. “Do you two have any tips about the animals? I can hardly get Essix to do anything.”
“I’ve been trying with Briggan,” Conor said, crouching to pet his wolf. “He can be stubborn. The more we’ve gotten to know each other, the better it’s become. Tarik told me that eventually we can get powers from them.”
Rollan glanced at Meilin and her panda. “What’s your power going to be? Cuddling?”
Meilin’s face was pure ice. For a moment her lips trembled, but after that the anger only touched her eyes. She held out her arm and in a flash Jhi became a design on the back of her hand. She turned and stormed away.
“See,” Rollan called. “Like that! How did you figure that out?”
“Too late,” Conor said quietly. “I haven’t known Meilin long, but I can tell she has a temper.”
“Can you do that too?” Rollan asked. “The tattoo thing?”
“Not yet,” Conor said.
Rollan stroked Essix. “At least we’re not the only slow learners.”
Sunset Tower was dark and still as Rollan crept out of his room. He paused, listening, ready with answers if he was challenged by a watchman: He couldn’t sleep; he needed a snack.
But no challenge came.
Peering back into his room, Rollan saw Essix roosting near the window, head tucked in sleep. He eased the door closed. The open window would allow the falcon to catch up with him. The bird might not approve of his decision, which was why he hadn’t tried to explain, but she would follow. They were linked now.
Along the hallway, small oil lamps trimmed to a slow burn provided dim light. Moving down the corridor, Rollan felt the alert guilt of a trespasser. The late hour meant he might not encounter anyone, but if he did, he knew it would look extra suspicious. The farther he deviated from the path to the kitchen, the more conspicuous he felt. How could he answer why he was heading for the castle gate fully dressed with a satchel? Why did he need a snack when his satchel was crammed with stolen food? His responses sounded so unlikely: He couldn’t relax; he felt confined; he needed some fresh air. Anyone with half a brain would guess the truth.
He was running away.
The thought produced a stab of remorse, which he tried to shrug off. Had he ever asked to come here? Olvan had promised to protect him from Zerif, but who would protect him from Olvan? Rollan knew that, in theory, he was a guest of the Greencloaks, but he was starting to feel more like a prisoner. Sure, it was mostly smiles and politeness now. But the Greencloaks’ expectations were his chains. How long would the friendliness last if he quit following orders? How long would it last if they caught him tonight?
He and the others had returned to the fortress earlier to — once again — the weight of the promised stares. The Greencloaks helped Conor and Meilin get settled, but no additional information was forthcoming. Rollan had asked more questions, but — once again — they were deflected. That evening, Rollan decided he had waited for specifics long enough. The more time he stayed, the clearer it became that the Greencloaks would settle for nothing less than a lifelong commitment, so they could benefit from his falcon. With Conor and Meilin here, the pressure on him would only increase. Each day he stayed implied that he meant to commit. If he wanted to get away, the time to act was now.
Besides the big gate, Rollan had seen three minor gates in the outer wall. All were heavily reinforced and disguised from the outside. As far as he could tell, they only opened from within. Over the past week he had tried all of them. He knew which one he would use tonight.
Rollan heard the tones of a distant conversation up ahead and froze. He couldn’t distinguish words, but the blurry murmuring had no urgency to it. Apparently, guards were covering the main door to the courtyard, chatting to pass the time. That was no obstacle. Too many doors led from the main building out to the courtyard for them all to be guarded. There was no war here in Amaya, and people had to sleep.
Stepping lightly but swiftly, Rollan advanced along a narrow corridor toward another door that would lead outside. From up ahead a voice floated his way. “Come on, Briggan! You don’t want food; you don’t want to go outside — can’t this wait until morning?”
It was Conor! What was he doing up? Rollan slipped down a side corridor, unsure where it led. He went around a corner and paused to listen. He could barely hear the wolf, but Conor was making no effort to walk quietly. They were coming his way!
Moving faster, Rollan took a couple other turns before the hall ended at a locked door. Breathing softly, he listened as Conor and the wolf got nearer and nearer. Surely they would turn a different direction! Why would they come down a dead end?
Unless the wolf was tracking him.
Rollan folded his arms and leaned against the wall, hoping he could sell the idea that he was just hanging around the castle. At this hour, it didn’t seem very believable, but Conor didn’t give the impression that he was a genius.
Conor came into view with Briggan. The wolf stopped, staring at Rollan. Looking rumpled and tired, Conor squinted. “Rollan? What are you doing here?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Rollan said. “I was exploring. Why are you up so late?”
Conor yawned and stretched. “I was trying to sleep, but Briggan kept pawing the door.”
Rollan looked at the wolf. It sat back, mouth open, tongue dangling.
Conor wrinkled his nose. “Why hang out here? Are you up to something?”
“Fine,” Rollan said, as if about to reluctantly admit the truth. “Essix went out flying but hasn’t returned. I want to make sure she’s all right.”
“So you came here. To a dead end,” Conor clarified.
“I lost my way.”
“So you stood against a door.”
Rollan thought fast. Maybe Conor wasn’t so dim, after all. “I heard you coming and got embarrassed. I didn’t want to seem lost. I really am concerned about Essix.”
