CHAPTER 9 
CHAPTER 9 Upstairs, in a spotless guest bedroom, Jason could not sleep. Fingers laced behind his head, he lay atop the covers of a narrow bed, gazing up at the slanted ceiling. Aram was asleep downstairs, and Moira had insisted Jason rest as well, in preparation for a night on horseback.
The night before, Aram had collected Jason’s belongings from the Dockside Inn. He had also scouted the town and found triple the usual guardsmen at every gate, complemented by an unusual amount of patrols scouring the city in search of a nameless fugitive who matched Jason’s description. Aram had expressed that he couldn’t recall comparable interest in a fugitive since Galloran had been abroad.
Jason rolled onto his side, trying to get comfortable. Part of his restlessness stemmed from Ferrin’s hand. The dismembered appendage kept fluttering in the backpack. The rustling had persisted off and on for at least an hour. In the past, Ferrin had only drawn such attention when there was something he urgently wanted to share.
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?”
Ferrin raised his eyebrows. “Evidently he used up all the size in the family. Where is your brother now? He must realize that he could make more money with less risk by handing Jason over to the authorities.”
“My brother values nothing above his reputation. He has never double-crossed a client after accepting a job. He only came out of retirement because he believes in this cause.”
Ferrin glanced at Jason. “Money has been exchanged?”
“A lot of money,” Jason said.
Ferrin nodded pensively. “I can’t fathom how you convinced Aram to commit. But I’ve learned not to underestimate you. Very well. I repeat the question, Burt. Where exactly is your brother?”
“Out scouting,” Aram said, still holding the long knife warily. “He knows about the hunt for Jason, and he is exploring our options.”
Ferrin gave a nod. “The three gates out of town are heavily manned. The port is full of eyes. Clever deception will be required to smuggle Jason away.”
“We’re aware of the complications,” Aram said.
Ferrin narrowed his eyes. “I’ve never heard of a brother. Do you work with Aram often?”
“For years I served as his cabin boy.”
“Ah. The infamous cabin boy. It wasn’t Burt back then.”
“I went by Goya.”
Ferrin’s lips twitched. “Brothers. I had no idea. Can you speak on his behalf?”
“Aram may have the size, but we’re equal partners.”
“Fair enough. We should counsel together. I mean to help Jason, so we should factor my services into your plans. As a displacer and a former servant of the emperor, I can do much to help you avoid capture.”
Aram shook his head. “I don’t work with limb droppers. Help from your kind tends to end badly. Mother?”
Moira had quietly sidled toward the kitchen. Reaching around the corner, she retrieved a heavy crossbow. The weapon almost looked too large for her, but she leveled it coolly at Ferrin.
“I admire your caution,” Ferrin said. “Avoiding displacers in these types of arrangements is good for longevity. But every rule has an exception.”
Without warning, Ferrin dove and rolled across the floor toward Moira. She fired the crossbow, but the quarrel hissed over his head, and he whipped her legs out from under her with a sweeping kick. Aram charged.
Wrenching the crossbow from Moira’s grasp, Ferrin used it to parry Aram’s long knife, then sent him to the floor with a sharp kick to the chest. While Aram scrambled to his feet, long knife still in hand, Ferrin drew a dagger and brought it to Moira’s throat.
Jason stood paralyzed with shock and uncertainty. Aram glared from Jason to Ferrin.
“You have a reputation for knifework, Goya,” Ferrin said. “I have some experience myself.”
“This is no way to win friends,” Aram spat.
“This is precisely how to court allies under hostile circumstances,” Ferrin argued. “I was prepared to be civil. You and your mother pulled weapons on me. If I keep the upper hand, hopefully I can show that I mean you no harm.”
“I’ll never trust you,” Aram growled, knuckles white as he clenched the long knife.
“I just need you to work with me. You and Aram know this city. I am willing to believe you can get Jason out. Unfortunately, a lurker is involved. Even with my assistance, Jason will probably be taken. Without my aid, his downfall is certain.”
Aram looked over at Jason. “What do you say?”
“Ferrin has faked friendship in the past. He’s a patient liar. On the other hand, he could have shown up here with soldiers and apprehended us. He has lots of talents. If he’s really on our side, he would be useful.”
“Put the knife down,” Aram said. “You have my word that you’ll leave here unmolested.”
“Finish the conversation first,” Ferrin replied. “Forgive me if I’m slow to rely on the word of a smuggler. We must reach an accord. I insist on helping Jason.”
“Do you have his hand, Jason?” Moira asked, heedless of the blade at her throat. “When he entered, the limb dropper seemed to suggest you had it.”
“I have it,” Jason said.
“It may be all he wants,” Moira pointed out. “He may only be waiting to turn us in until his hand is returned.”
“If all I wanted was the hand, I could have brought guardsmen and taken it,” Ferrin said. “I’m not after money, either. My services come free. I’ve betrayed the emperor for the sake of my friendship with Jason. My only place now is with the resistance.”
“Tell you what,” Aram said. “I still haven’t arranged for horses. Can you meet us at a rendezvous with three fresh mounts?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Certainly.”
“One must be large enough to carry Aram.”
“And a fourth for myself.”
“I won’t be coming,” Aram said. “Just Aram and Jason.”
“So the third is for me. How thoughtful.”
“Aram will inspect the area. He’s good. If you’re there with the horses, and no enemies lie in ambush, you’ll get your hand back.”
Ferrin scowled. “I would hate to be left standing alone in the dark all night.”
“You have my oath. Some degree of trust is required. This role is vital. It will fill a gaping need. You will find it difficult to obtain the horses without arousing suspicion. Do we have your word?”
“Naturally.”
“Say it,” Aram pressed.
“You have my word of honor.”
The promise made Jason edgy. He knew Ferrin was willing to lie when it suited his purposes.
“There are several groves inland from the cove north of town,” Aram described. “One has an old well at the center. It’s been in disrepair ever since the water became brackish. Meet us there.”
“Done. I apologize, Moira, for holding you at knifepoint.”
“I’ll forgive you once you prove yourself true,” she responded.
“Don’t forget, you did pull a crossbow on me.” Ferrin stepped away from her, knife ready, eyes on Aram. He retrieved his hat. “Until tonight.” He backed to the door and let himself out.
Aram hurried over to Moira. She was standing up. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said. “He could have been much more vicious when he took me down. Under the circumstances, he was almost gentle.”
“Lucky for his sake.” Aram glanced at Jason. “You have charming friends.”
“I’m a Beyonder,” Jason apologized. “I met Ferrin before I knew what displacers were.”
“How did he find us?”
“He’s a spy,” Jason said. “It’s what he does. He said he asked around at the Dockside Inn.”
“You have his hand?”
“I stole it when he forced me to return to the Beyond. I used it to keep in touch with him from there.”
Aram opened the front door, checked up and down the street, then withdrew. “How much do you trust him?”
“About as much as you do,” Jason said. “I expect he’ll follow through with the horses. But I’m not sure I want to lead him to Galloran.”
“How would you feel about completely avoiding his assistance?”
Jason thought about it. Ferrin might be sincere. But the displacer had suckered him before. No matter how much help Ferrin could provide, there was a real chance it would end with a double-cross. “Might be safer.”
“Good. Because we’re not exiting town where I described. I’m a man of my word, but I’m willing to make an exception when some limb dropper has a knife to my mother’s throat. Besides, no money changed hands.”
“He’s lied to me before,” Jason said. “It was how we ended up traveling together.”
“Yet he really freed you from Felrook?” Moira asked.
“He did,” Jason confirmed. “He took a huge risk with nothing to gain. It was the sort of thing only a real friend would do. It’s possible he really means to help us.”
“Any doubt is too much when displacers are involved,” Aram said. “We need to leave this house now. There’s a secret back exit. I have many hideaways around town.”
“I’ll gather my things,” Moira said.
“How do you plan to sneak us out of town if the gates and port are covered?” Jason asked Aram.
“We’ll stage a couple of diversions, then sneak under the wall.”
“Under the wall?”
Aram grinned. “How long can you hold your breath?”
The streets of Ithilum quieted as the shadows of evening deepened. Jason followed several paces behind Aram, who had regained his imposing physique at sunset. Wearing trousers and sturdy sandals that Aram had purchased, along with a hat and a brown cloak, Jason felt much less conspicuous than he had in his jeans. Glancing back down the avenue that sloped up from the sea, Jason saw several people moving about. Out on the point of the reef, a fiery beacon flared. Scattered tendrils of mist shone in the distant firelight.
Earlier in the evening Aram had escorted Jason and Moira to a hidden room less than a block from their townhome. He had reviewed several options with his mother regarding resources she could access, including people who could help her and places she could go. He then requested some additional money and jewels from Jason to pay some bribes.
After Aram became tall and strong again, he set off to perform some final errands. Moments ago, he had returned and exchanged solemn but tearless farewells with his mother, who beamed up at her son after their final embrace.
Jason had almost lost it watching them say good-bye. His throat had constricted, and tears had threatened. It saddened him to think that the half giant would probably never see his mother again. They were obviously close.
The farewell had turned his thoughts to his own parents. Sure, he wasn’t especially tight with his mom and dad, but they wanted the best for him and he still loved them. They had worked hard to get him back after he had vanished the first time. They had to be devastated thinking he had been devoured by a hippo. And they might never learn otherwise. At least he knew that his family was home and safe. With a little luck, he might find Rachel and eventually make it back to them.
Up ahead, Aram rounded a corner. When Jason followed him into the alley, Aram stood several paces ahead, gesturing for him to hurry. Jason sprinted to the big man, who boosted him over a wall before following. They crouched together in a courtyard garden. Aram led Jason stealthily to the far side, passing a pond decorated with floating flowers, and hopped up to peer over the wall.
“Some soldiers behind us were showing too much interest,” Aram whispered before shoving Jason over the wall. Jason dropped to the far side. The big man landed beside him an instant later. They hurried across a road and down another alleyway. Aram led them at a furious pace around numerous corners, keeping to narrow streets and crooked alleys. Soon they stood panting in a shadowy side street that opened onto a main road running along the western wall of the town. A row of shops lined the far side of the road along the base of the wall.
Leaning forward, Aram scanned up and down the street. He tapped Jason on the shoulder and led him across the road. They strolled casually to the door of one of the shops. The windows were dark. Aram knocked three times, paused, and then rapped twice more.
The door opened immediately, and Aram led Jason inside.
The cluttered shop contained an assortment of curiosities and knickknacks. Jason noticed a large trunk completely encrusted with shells. A huge trophy fish bristling with quills hung on one wall.
A hunched figure wearing a clownish mask silently guided Aram and Jason to a door at the rear of the store. Judging by his hands, he appeared to be an old man. He took a sleek harpoon from a rack on the wall and handed it to Aram. From a pocket in his loose, shabby coat, their guide produced a glowing length of seaweed. Aram took the seaweed, opened the door, and led Jason down a rickety flight of wooden stairs that groaned at their passage.
The masked figure closed the door but did not follow.
The deep cellar was a musty maze of stacked crates and indiscernible objects draped in dusty tarps. With quick strides, Aram wove through the clutter to a pyramid of crates in a corner. Winding the seaweed around his thick forearm, Aram began unstacking the wooden boxes, moving them aside until he uncovered a splintered wooden pallet. Raising the heavy pallet, Aram revealed a circular hole in the stone floor protected by a metal grate. Leaving the pallet upended, Aram knelt, produced a key, unlocked the grate, and pulled it open.
“Down the ladder,” Aram instructed.
The gaping hole looked ominous in the turquoise light of the luminescent seaweed. Jason hoped that Aram knew what he was doing. Squatting at the brink, staring down into the darkness, Jason observed iron rungs protruding from the stone. Could this lead to a tunnel under the wall? Turning around, he felt for the first rung with his foot, then began to descend. Aram followed. Jason heard the grate clang softly as it was dragged shut.
The humid odor of seawater permeated the close confines of the shaft. Jason felt like he was climbing down into a well. He counted more than fifty rungs before he could see light from the seaweed reflecting off rippling water below him.
“This passage is one of the best kept secrets in Ithilum,” Aram said from above. “The owner charges exorbitant prices, so it is not often used. Fortunately, this escape was well funded. You’ll find that the rungs continue underwater, and then along a tunnel. Use them. Periodically we’ll encounter barrels chained to the ground. The owner assures me they’re filled with fresh air. Even the swiftest diver could not make this swim unaided, but the passage has been prepared to accommodate any man who can hold his breath for roughly a minute at a time. Hesitate at no barrel very long. The air will grow stale. I’ll go first, in case any dangerous creatures lurk ahead.”
“Creatures?” Jason asked.
“Aquatic predators. Let me worry about them. You just move quickly, and try to look inedible.”
Aram pulled a fresh piece of seaweed from his pocket and twisted it, triggering the bioluminescent reaction. The seaweed emitted a sickly green light.
“Fasten this around your wrist,” Aram directed.
Jason took the seaweed, then hooked his elbow through an iron rung to maintain his balance while securing it.
“Ready?” Aram asked.
“I guess.”
“Wait a moment or two and then follow me.”
Harpoon in hand, the huge man released his grip and fell past Jason into the water, illuminating the previously murky liquid. Jason watched Aram find the rungs and use them to hurry downward. As he moved away across the floor of the submerged chamber, the turquoise illumination began to fade.
Clinging to the iron rungs, Jason wondered what was wrong with riding out of town in the secret compartment of a wagon. This seemed almost as dangerous as fighting their way past soldiers. But he supposed there was no turning back now.
Jason blew all the air from his lungs, inhaled deeply, and blew it out again. After another deep indrawn breath, he dropped into the water. He hardly noticed the gentle sting of the cool brine against his eyes as he found the rungs and pulled himself deeper. The bottom of the shaft opened through the roof of an underwater cavern, the regular stonework giving way to natural formations. But the rungs continued.
Within a tunnel branching out from the cavern, Jason saw turquoise light retreating. Using the rungs, Jason worked his way down the wall and across the floor to an overturned barrel chained to the ground. Grasping the chain, Jason surfaced inside the barrel, taking deep breaths. His breathing sounded noisy in the close space. The rich aroma of damp wood filled his nostrils.
Recalling Aram’s advice, Jason abandoned the air pocket before too long and continued along the rungs. As he advanced across the cavern floor toward the tunnel, a flurry of motion caused Jason to glance sideways at a flowing tangle of brown tentacles. Although the creature was moving away from Jason, he scrambled even faster from rung to rung.
When Jason entered the narrower tunnel, Aram remained too far ahead to see. Only the faint, bluer radiance of his seaweed hinted at his location. The cave wound left and right, up and down. Jason faithfully followed the rungs.
He came to another barrel, and rose, gasping, into the clammy pocket of air. A few mussels had latched to the insides of this barrel, as had some glossy yellow slime. Jason stayed longer in that barrel than he had in the previous one. He felt like part of a really low-budget deep-sea exploration.
Not far beyond the second barrel, the underwater cave forked. Grateful for the iron rungs showing him the way, Jason veered right. A pipefish longer than a broom hovered across his path. The tubular snout looked too narrow to inflict any damage, and Jason was mostly worried about reaching the next barrel, so he hastened toward the elongated fish. Like a striped pole with eyes, the fish darted at his wrist, stealing the glowing seaweed. Jason reached for it, but the fish arrowed away through the water, speeding off the way Jason had come.
The fish fled rapidly, depriving Jason of the seaweed’s greenish radiance. Of course he would have the luck to cross paths with a daring fish that fed on the glowing kelp! Enough light reflected back from Aram to distinguish the rungs, but Jason knew he needed to hurry.
Coming around a curve in the tunnel, he reached the next barrel. Swimming up into it, he rose until he bumped his head against the top. The barrel was full of water! Without the seaweed on his wrist, the inside was quite dark.
Panicked, Jason thrust himself out of the barrel and clambered along the rungs. The tunnel darkened as Aram pulled farther ahead. Jason’s aching lungs began to clench for want of air. He focused on progressing from rung to rung at the maximum possible speed.
How far to the next air pocket? He had to stay calm and keep moving. If he proceeded swiftly, he might survive.
The tunnel bent gradually left, then back to the right. He ignored a school of small fish that briefly swarmed around him, glimmering in the dimness. The distant radiance from Aram’s turquoise seaweed grew fainter.
The tunnel angled upward, and Jason spied the outline of a barrel ahead. Lungs squeezing, he resisted the urge to inhale and struggled forward.
As his desperate hands grasped the chain below the barrel, a disturbing thought occurred to him. What if this barrel lacked air as well? An image came vividly, his lifeless body drifting through obscure submerged caverns, hungry fish picking at his doughy flesh.
Gasping desperately, Jason entered the air pocket. Eager gulps of air cycled through his lungs. There was no light, but he didn’t care. He breathed greedily until he began to wonder if he was hyperventilating. Fighting his instincts, Jason worked to slow his respiration, worried that if he didn’t, he might pass out when he held his breath again.
Ducking back into the water, Jason discovered that the cave was no longer much brighter than the barrel. He couldn’t make out the rungs, but proceeded by feel without too much difficulty. At least they were regularly spaced.
Jason realized that in the darkness, he might miss the next barrel. The barrels had been chained right next to the rungs, so he spread his legs wide to help ensure one of them would hit the next chain.
He progressed more slowly than before. Just as his breath was beginning to fail, a chain bumped his thigh. Jason followed the metal links into a barrel. The trapped air revived him.
When he left behind the reservoir of air, Jason found that the cave was brighter. As he advanced, the turquoise glow increased until he saw Aram returning for him. Jason waved for him to go back. Aram reversed his direction. Before long the big man swam up into another barrel. Jason entered it after he departed. Aram waited for Jason to come out, then led him to where the tunnel curved upward. Together they rose to emerge from a tidal pool on the floodplain. Cool fog obscured the moonlit night.
“I was worried,” Aram panted. “I couldn’t see your light. I feared the faulty barrel had overcome you.”
A roiling surge of salt water sloshed against them. Jason staggered. The rising tide had already overtaken this pool.
“It was a close call,” Jason admitted. “You should ask for a refund.”
“I felt a crack. The air must have leaked out. You lost your light?”
“A fish stole it.”
Aram blinked. “Hard to plan for everything. You all right?”
Water gushed around them, foaming over the tideland.
“I’m peachy. Let’s do it again.”
“We should hurry. The floodplain grows treacherous at night.”
They jogged diagonally across the tideland, simultaneously heading away from Ithilum and the ocean. The turbulent water occasionally surged as high as Jason’s waist and alternated between pushing and pulling. Once, Jason stepped inadvertently into a concealed tide well. Aram immediately hauled him up.
Before long they left the chaotic seawater behind.
“This fog is our best stroke of luck so far,” Aram said as they trotted over solid rock, sandals squelching, wet clothes flapping heavily. Already the fog had reduced visibility to less than twenty yards.
Past the outlying tidal pools the ground began to rise. The rocky plain gave way to a brushy hillside. Jason followed Aram up the long slope. Scrub oak became plentiful on the far side of the hill. Aram forced a winding path through the gnarled vegetation.
On occasion Aram paused, eyes closed, listening.
Beyond the hill, Aram rushed along a stream up a narrow ravine. Jason had to run at almost a full sprint to keep up. The exertion helped combat the chill of his wet clothes.
Veering away from the stream, Aram clambered up the wall of the ravine. At the top he lay prostrate for a moment, staring back the way they had come.
“You holding up?”
Panting and shivering, Jason nodded.
“I think we got away clean,” Aram whispered. Jason noticed that the big man was not winded. “We’re almost to the horses. A fellow called Chancy will be meeting us. He’s reliable, but with a lurker in the mix, we should stay ready for anything.”
Aram led the way over a rotting fence into an overgrown orchard. The fruit trees remained in orderly lines. Tall weeds and wild shrubs clogged the ground.
At the far side of the orchard, beside a splintery fence, Aram knelt to examine an abandoned farmyard through the mist. Part of the old farmhouse had collapsed. A broken wheelbarrow lay in the middle of the yard, netted with cobwebs. Atop the decrepit barn an owl roosted, head swiveling in the misty moonlight.
“Almost too quiet,” Aram murmured. “Wait here.”
In a crouch, the big man dashed into the weedy yard. When he was halfway across, a figure bearing a sword emerged from the barn. Aram skidded to a stop. The figure waved for him to proceed. Aram hurried over and ducked into the decaying structure.
A moment later Aram reappeared, signaling for Jason to join him. Jason crossed the foggy yard, stumbling over a discarded plank hidden in the weeds before entering the barn.
Chancy stood off to one side, a nondescript man of medium height and build wearing a woolen hat with earflaps. He had sheathed his sword and now fidgeted with a short length of luminous seaweed. Aram had stripped off his shirt. His Herculean torso bulged gratuitously. Jason saw fresh clothes draped over a moldering stall, and began kicking off his sandals.
“The decoys you hired performed well,” Chancy whispered to Aram. “Having that little vessel steal away from the docks was a stroke of genius. It created quite a stir. I could see the commotion from well outside of town.”
“How are the roads?” Aram asked.
“Untreadable.”
“That bad?”
“I did some investigating. Many eyes watch the ways out of Ithilum. I’ve been jumping at shadows all evening. How’d you escape?”
Aram pulled on a long shirt scaled with iron rings. “Trade secret.”
“Wet as you are, wouldn’t be too hard to guess. Not that it’s any of my concern.” Chancy shifted his attention to Jason. “How are you?”
“Alive.” He buttoned his dry trousers. “Thanks for bringing our gear.”
Chancy made an indifferent gesture. “When I get paid, I do my part.”
Aram hefted an enormous broadsword. From the tip of the blade to the end of the pommel, the weapon was almost as tall as Jason. The wide, double-edged blade looked heavy enough to chop down a tree. In the feeble cyan glow provided by the seaweed, Aram gazed lovingly at the weapon.
“That’s quite a sword,” Jason said.
Aram smiled in agreement. “I commissioned it from a master blacksmith. The hilt is inlaid with mother-of-pearl and embellished with diamond dust. The pommel is an opal from the isle of Teber. The blade weighs enough to wield it as a mace, but I keep it sharp enough to shave whiskers.” Aram swished the blade through the air a few times, swinging the heavy broadsword as though it were a yardstick. He sheathed it and then slung a baldric over one shoulder, so the sword hung across his broad back, then wrapped a hooded leather cloak around himself. The voluminous garment hung to his knees.
Chancy led a pair of horses from shadowed stalls. One was a tremendous brown stallion with a coarse mane and hairy fetlocks. Beside Aram, it seemed not much more than a pony. A smaller chestnut mare stood ready for Jason, his backpack attached to the saddle.
As Jason prepared to mount, Aram placed a hand on his shoulder. “You should also carry a sword.”
Jason hesitantly accepted a belt and scabbard. He began looping it over his shoulder as Aram had done.
Chancy smirked. “That one fits better around the waist.”
Chagrined, Jason fastened the belt the way Chancy had suggested. “I don’t know how to use a sword,” he admitted.
Aram folded his arms. “It isn’t too complicated. Insert the blade into the body of your enemy.”
“Makes sense.” Jason drew the sword. It felt good in his hand, heavy enough to inflict damage, but not cumbersome.
“You can hack your way in with the edge or stab with the tip. We can go over some finer points later. Don’t go trying to slice up any lurkers yet.”
“Okay.”
Aram patted Jason on the arm, motioning toward the horse.
Jason sheathed the sword. “Won’t the soldiers I face have a lot of training?”
Aram shrugged. “If you have to use that sword tonight, most likely we’re both finished. But it beats confronting your opponents unarmed. If it comes to it, I plan to go down fighting.”
Jason climbed onto his horse.
“Any parting advice?” Aram asked Chancy.
The man was leading his own piebald mount from a third stall. “Stay off the roads. The countryside looked clear to the southwest.”
“Hope so.” Aram flicked the reins, and his horse clomped forward over the dusty planks. Jason followed the big man into the gloomy yard, where a breeze stirred the fog.
“Whoa,” Aram exhaled, reining his mount to a halt.
Jason stopped alongside the larger man and followed his gaze.
Shrouded in swirling vapor, a dark featureless form stood motionless in the midst of the yard. Gasping, Jason clenched his jaw, squeezing the reins. Was it his imagination, or did his horse stiffen as well?
“Is that the lurker?” Aram whispered. He sounded reverent.
“Stop fooling around,” Chancy chuckled softly, exiting the barn. “I wasn’t born yester—”
Jason looked over as Chancy pulled his horse to a stop, eyes widening in alarm.
The lurker raised one hand and extended the other in their direction.
The horse Jason rode stamped and whickered, tossing her head. Aram’s big mount reared. Chancy jerked the reins as his horse sidestepped.
“What now?” Aram asked, ignoring his restless steed.
Jason could not respond because his horse began to buck. He wrestled with the reins, gripping hopelessly with his knees as the horse curveted around the yard, rearing and plunging. After surviving a few wild ups and downs, the horse turned and bucked at the same time, catapulting Jason from the saddle. He landed upside down and continued into an awkward roll. Shielding his head, he scrambled away from the hoofs thudding nearby.
When Jason looked up, Aram stood between the stallion and the chestnut mare, holding both horses by the reins. The animals lurched and tugged, as if trying to rear, but Aram would not allow it.
Chancy lay spread-eagle on the far side of the barnyard, his horse no longer in view. The fallen man gaped at Jason in horror. Despite the agitated horses, Aram gazed his way as well.
Turning his head, Jason saw that he was sprawled at the feet of the lurker. The shadowy personage loomed over him. Jason rolled away from it.
“Look at it move,” Aram murmured.
Glancing back, Jason glimpsed the lurker streaking away, a dark blur slicing through the mist. He had never seen it run so fast. Thanks to the fog, he didn’t get to watch it for long.
“Where’s it going?” Chancy asked.
“To report our location,” Jason guessed. “Ferrin said the lurker brought reinforcements to Ithilum.”
“We must now place speed ahead of stealth,” Aram said. “You still in one piece?”
Jason arose, burrs sticking to his cloak. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What are the odds of me finding my horse?” Chancy mused.
“Not good,” Aram replied. “It was spooked and running hard. You’ll want to get away from here, Chancy. Find a spot to lay low.”
The other man gave a weak smile. “I knew this job paid too well. I swear, never say yes if you get offered more than your contribution merits.”
Jason walked over to his horse. “Is it calm enough to ride?”
“She’s as calm as we can wait for,” Aram replied.
Jason mounted the chestnut mare. She stamped a little. Aram kept a hand on her until she settled down, then remounted his stallion.
Chancy stood up and started dusting himself off. “Give me something to use if I get caught?” he asked miserably. “Some little tidbit? Some secret to trade?”
“Don’t get caught,” Aram said. “Violent forces are converging.”
Chancy sprinted toward the orchard.
Aram gave a soft kick, and his horse cantered away from the dismal farmyard with Jason close behind.