Dal watched La’tiera go, half-tempted to jump off the wall and run after her. The scents in the garden smelled sweeter, stronger than they ever did before. He was filled with a joy he wasn’t quite sure where to place. La’tiera was the one. She was the one!
He stared down at the drawings in his hands, reassuring himself they were all real. She’d drawn this from a simple story, yet—the detail, the realism. It was as if she’d somehow transported herself to those distant shores and drawn them. No forgotten books or pictures could have given her this aspect, this accuracy about a place she’d never seen.
Carefully, reverently, he rolled up the drawings to take back with him. He had proof! Rostocha was a little skeptical when he’d first told him about La’tiera, but he, too, had been unable to live with unanswered questions. Now there would be none. They’d actually found her!
Dal clung to the sparse handholds on the wall after tucking the important parchment in the front of his tunic. As he had done each time before, he watched the patrols on the higher wall and when they weren’t looking followed the circuitous way Aya had shown him to make his way to the garden unseen. After hiding the Bearer all this time without mishap, the viscount had become complacent, security was lax. The yard before the manor lay cluttered with wagons full of his personal goods, carriages and other equipment kept here for safekeeping or for the realm’s business. Dal dashed from one bit of cover to another until he finally reached the normally traveled areas the troupe had permission to be in.
It was all he could do not to run for the gate and the troupe’s camp outside. As it was, he couldn’t help the grin stretching his lips, his blood singing at the fact they’d found the Bearer and that all the fears of the Order were for naught.
As he stepped under the arch, something nagged at the back of his mind for attention, but he was distracted as one of the guards chuckled as he passed, misinterpreting his bouncing pace and wide grin. Dal gave him an acknowledging nod, feeling his cheeks grow hot as he realized what the man must be thinking. He did get lucky that day, but not quite in the way the guard supposed.
Spotting the wagons, he let his pace increase a bit, wanting nothing more than to find Rostocha and share the news. He found the larger man at the makeshift table between two of the wagons. Lalu was sitting with him, and from the grimace on Rostocha’s face, he guessed they were talking finances again.
“I’m only asking for a small increase. The viscount will surely pay.”
Lalu tsked at him. “As if we’ve never been stiffed by the nobility before. How many times must I remind you to get payment before rendering services?”
Though more than twice her size, the troupe leader looked away, chastised. “Now, Mother…”
“Rostocha!” Dal rushed on over to the table, sending an apologetic glance Lalu’s way.
“What is it, lad? Trouble?”
“No.” He shook his head. “This is something good. Take a look at these.” He pulled out La’tiera’s drawings and spread them on the table.
Lalu’s brow rose as she and her son both studied them.
“Amazing work to be sure, but…”
“She did these!” Dal stared at one then the other, his excitement too great to be contained. “It’s the proof you wanted. It’s like I said, she’s the one.”
“Daltimoneus, please calm down. I don’t see what you’re talking about.”
Dal forced himself to take a deep breath then spread the drawings apart so they could look at several at the same time.
“La’tiera, the girl in the garden Aya and I told you about. She’s the one. Look at these drawings. She’s never been outside those walls yet she could draw creatures and scenes from places she’s never been to. I’m sure it has to be the power of the Eye. We need to inform the Order right away.”
“Did you actually see it?” Lalu asked, her finger tracing the outline of one of the fishes.
“No, I haven’t. But I’m telling you it’s her. That clunky necklace she wears can’t be for anything but hiding the fact she’s got the Eye.”
The door to the closest wagon opened, and Tersa and her mate Mishal peered out at them.
“What’s all the excitement?”
Rostocha waved at them to come over then leaned out to look past the side of the other wagon. “Kyr! Go get Bentel and the two of you come join us as quick as you can.”
The tame giant looked up from where he’d been checking the third wagon’s wheels and nodded.
“Rostocha—”
The troupe leader held up a hand. “Let’s just wait for the others, lad. It’d be best if we only have to go through this once.”
Dal held his tongue and stood still, though he had a hard time of it. He willed the others to hurry, wanting to share the good news.
Tersa and Mishal joined them and browsed the drawings. They looked totally confused about what might be going on.
Kyr and Bentel soon came around the corner with Aya running in front.
“Dal! You’re back!”
She ran straight for him and leapt up, expecting to be caught. From long practice, he scooped her out of the air and twirled her around, laughing.
“Was she there? Did you talk to her again? Did you?”
“Yes, yes and yes!” He stopped spinning, smiling at the others.
“Who drew these? They’re wonderful.” Bentel picked up a drawing of a beach.
Dal set Aya down. “It was the Bearer.”
Startled looks met his own.
“Now, all of you, we’re not totally certain of that yet.” Rostocha sent Dal a quelling glance.
“Where is this person?” Mishal’s angular face couldn’t quite hold back a grin.
“She’s part of the viscount’s household.”
Tersa lithely placed herself on the table, her eyes bright. “Let me guess…the burned daughter?”
“She’s not burned.” Aya jumped up onto one of the benches. “She’s actually very nice, and pretty, too.”
“What a marvelous cover.” Tersa’s appreciation was evident. She sent a sly glance in Rostocha’s direction. “Might be something to use for the next time around.”
“Lord Tih’ouren seems to have things well in hand, then, if this is her.” Bentel’s expressive face showed relief. “The Time of Trial should be safe.”
“Oh, it is her. And we can be here in case anything happens in the final days.” Dal couldn’t hold back a big satisfied smile any longer.
“Something doesn’t seem right, though.” Kyr appeared to shrink in on himself as everyone’s attention abruptly switched to him.
“Come on, dear one, tell us.” Lalu’s voice was very gentle. “We want to hear.”
The hulking soft-faced man stared at them then at the ground, his hands clasped tightly before him.
“The restrictions…”
The gnawing feeling Dal had felt before but forgot came back with a vengeance.
“By the Four!”
Kyr glanced at him hopefully, eager to have someone else explain.
“Tell me, tell me! I want to know, too.” Aya voiced what was on all their minds at the moment.
Dal had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. All his previous excitement evaporated.
“Could it be?”
“Quit making us guess about all this and just tell us.” Tersa pounded a fist on the table.
The sound brought Dal out of his thoughts. He floundered a moment longer, not totally sure how to explain.
“Kyr is talking about the restrictions placed on our performances. Some of it is understandable—nothing depressing, keep it all light. But when you look at the fact he wanted us to do nothing about the Four Gods, or the Eye, and yet the Bearer is here…”
All the faces around the table sobered except for Aya, who watched them and became unusually quiet.
“We have to do something.” Dal stared unseeing at the table top.
“Now, hold on. Maybe he just wanted to make sure to distract her for a few hours, ease her burden a bit by not having any reminders around.”
Dal grabbed at Mishal’s words and felt a bit of hope, but his doubt was too much to be overcome. “We have no proof of that. Do we dare risk it?”
“True, lad, but what can we do?”
He shook his head. “I–I don’t know.”
“Can you talk to this girl? Can you find out what she knows?” Lalu’s wrinkled hands squeezed his.
“I’ve already tried.” He couldn’t help but sigh. How had he been so blind? “When I brought it up, she ran away from me.”
Mishal leaned forward. “If she were at one of the Mother Houses, or at one of the stations, we would be able to protect her and teach her what she must know.”
“And how do you suggest we get her there, dearest?” Tersa asked with the merest hint of chiding in her voice. “Kidnap her?”
“Is it bad for her to take a nap?” Aya eyed the others, her confusion plain.
Bentel picked the waif up and set her on her lap. “No, precious. It isn’t. Though I think the viscount might get quite angry.” The last was said at the others.
“Yet his own precautions would buy us time. If we were devious enough.” Tersa slid off the table and paced as she spoke. “If the girl disappeared in the night and we went on with our usual route for a ways before making straight for the closest Mother House, we might be able to pull it off.
“It’s doubtful he would tell anyone of her disappearance because then he’d have to admit the girl was not his daughter—or burned.”
“There would be a lot of risk.” Rostocha pulled at his chin.
“Do we dare leave it as things stand, though? Especially when it’s within our power to do something?”
Rostocha slammed his palms down on the table and stood up. “No, we can’t. So, we will act. We will verify if she is truly the one, and if she is we will take her with us.” His normally cheerful face was stern as he glanced at everyone. “I will have tasks for each of you. We have very little time in which to prepare.”