Gun pressed his lips together into a thin line and nodded. When she saw that he intended to stand, Mar helped him to his feet. He looked to Dhulyn, then to Parno, and nodded again. Parno picked up the two heaviest packs, one in each hand to balance himself, and set off. Dhulyn picked up the two remaining packs and watched as Mar and Gun followed her Partner.
They were a little more than halfway across when the boy spoke.
“I thought the Carnelian Dome was impregnable from this side,” he said, in a voice that was a tight parody of nonchalance.
“Oh, you can’t get in this way.” Parno answered as if he hadn’t heard the tightness.
“But you can get out,” Dhulyn said.
Parno led them only a few spans farther, until the section of wall that led off from their tower met the ruined corner that was all that remained of a tower that no longer existed. There was room enough-just-for them to stand together.
Parno began unhooking the ropes that tied them together, coiling them neatly at their feet.
“Use these cords to tie your packs to your wrists, my Doves. Mar, check Gun’s knots. Use the ones we showed you on the trail.”
When her own pack was ready, Dhulyn retied the rope that had attached her to Gun, making it much shorter. When Parno had done the same with the rope between him and Mar, Dhulyn leaned over the edge of the most exposed corner of wall, looked back at them and grinned. “I forgot to ask, can you swim?”
Gun shot a quick look over the edge. “You can’t be serious.”
“Never more so, my Scholar. The cliff’s undercut, and there are no rocks in the river, which is deep enough. I checked. We’ll go first,” she added, to Parno.
“Got him?” Parno said, as he took Mar’s hands in his, moving her away from the edge.
“Got him,” Dhulyn said. With her right hand, she gripped Gun’s right wrist, and was gripped by him in return. Parno caught her eye above the youngsters’ heads.
“In Battle,” he mouthed.
Mindful that Gun and Mar could see her face, Dhulyn merely smiled and bowed her head, touching her fingertips to her lips.
“Let’s go.”
As she and Gun stepped out into space and began to fall, Dhulyn wished she’d really had a chance to check that the river was deep enough. She’d worked it out in her head, but…
The shock of the cold as they hit the water was enough to push every fear from Gun’s mind, and more than enough to make him gasp. Unfortunately, he was underwater as he did it. His pack dragged heavily at his right wrist and he had time to be thankful that it was not harnessed to his back before he began to cough. Hard fingers caught him by the front of his tunic and heaved him into the air just in time. He struggled to push himself still farther out of the water, stopping only when a bone-crushing grip on his wrists made him realize that the object he was forcing deeper under his weight was Dhulyn Wolfshead. He was lying half across her, facedown, and she had only her face out of the water. The angle she held him at was just such that he was able to cough out the water in his lungs without breathing in any more.
The coughing seemed as though it would last forever, and by the time it had stopped and Gun was able to loosen his grip on the Wolfshead and look about him, the current of the river had taken them away from the Carnelian Dome, and downstream, toward the summer homes of the very rich.
“I can swim,” he said.
“Not just yet,” she said. “Let the current take us for now. Turn over on your back.”
With the Wolfshead to brace against, turning over was easy. Gun had a difficult moment when he thought he’d begin coughing again, but it passed. The Wolfshead slipped her own arm under his and across his chest, holding him against her but with his head well above the water. He forced himself to relax, breathing steadily and slowly, as she used a lazy sidestroke to give them steerage as they floated downstream. The water still felt icily cold, and Gun knew that luck was with them. It was too early in the year for water sports, and the wrong time of day for fishing. It wasn’t long before piers and jetties were replaced by boathouses, water pavilions, and long stretches of terraced gardens leading away from the water. Gun’s teeth began to chatter and he almost didn’t feel it when Dhulyn Wolfshead nudged him on the shoulder.
“Look up,” she said, a murmur in his ear.
Gun tried, but could make out nothing beyond the shadowy shapes of clouds partially obscuring the darkening sky.
“What is it,” he said, keeping his own voice low.
“A Racha bird,” she said. “Time to swim.”
If he had to spend three hours in the river, Parno thought, the Tenebro’s summer household was the ideal place to come out. Built to provide a comfortable setting for those refreshing themselves in the water, there were numerous pavilions, each with three or four charcoal braziers to help swimmers dry themselves and their clothing quickly after a twilight swim. Parno had indeed remembered the place from his long-ago childhood visits, and it hadn’t been hard for him to find his way through the grounds. There had been only one pavilion with lights still burning, and as they’d dragged themselves, wet, cold, and exhausted, from the river’s edge, they’d found warmth, servants, food and-perhaps most important of all-their saddlebags.
It didn’t surprise him that it was Karlyn-Tan who greeted them, directing the bustle of the servants as they stoked braziers, fetched hot water and food, and led Gun and Mar off for warm baths, hot drinks, and dry clothing. It made sense that Dal would have sent one of the few others who knew exactly what was at stake.
With a nod of thanks Parno accepted a steaming mug from an older man with a Steward’s badge in the Tenebro colors.
Dhulyn pulled her wet shirt over her head and handed it to a waiting page, accepting a large towel in exchange. She must have felt Parno’s eye on her, for she looked over at him, lifting one blood-red brow.
“I saw a Racha bird,” she said.
Karlyn nodded, caught the Steward’s attention, and waited as the man gathered up his helpers with a gesture of his hand and left the room. “I’ve much to tell you, the chief of which is that Cullen is here, with us.”
“Why?” Parno said, just as Dhulyn said, “Where?”
Karlyn held up his hands. “He regained his senses, and as the Racha accepted him, and his eyes were normal, we felt he must be clean. Even so, Zelianora Tarkina felt he would be safest with us. If there is any chance the Shadow is with him, we are the only people equipped to both recognize and deal with it.”
Dhulyn looked up from toweling her hair as dry as it would get while still in braids. “There’s merit in that idea, much as I wish she hadn’t thought of it,” she said. “Now we’ll have to spend precious time watching to make sure he isn’t trying to escape.” She exchanged a look with Parno. In it was the knowledge that so long as they did not know for certain where the Green Shadow was, they would all be at risk, and they could trust no one.
Parno set his cup down. “What else is there to tell us?”
Karlyn had been leaning against the edge of the table near Parno, arms crossed. Now he looked down at the floor, chewing his upper lip.
“Out with it, man,” Parno told him. “What could be worse than knowing we might have the Shadow with us?”
“We had not time, before, to wonder how it was the Shadow returned to the Tarkin.”
Parno stopped in the act of pulling off his own tunic. “And now?”
Karlyn looked at Parno without raising his head. He shot a glance at Dhulyn, but his eyes did not linger. “The Mesticha Stone came.”
Dhulyn finished pulling on the dry breeches she’d taken from her saddlebag, secured the waist, and strode toward Karlyn-Tan. The towel she’d been using was slung over her shoulders like a cloak, not out of modesty, Parno knew, but out of the habit that made her cover the marks of the whip on her back, when they might be seen by strangers.