The Skir Master shook his head. “All of the arms of Mokad must now defend the heart. I too will sail in the morning.”

Again, the room fell silent. Argoth could not believe he was hearing this. And then he realized he did not believe this. The Skir Master was deliberately provoking them, testing them.

Why would he do that?

“Deliver your burden,” said the Skir Master, “and I will reward you immediately with a replenishment of three weaves.”

Three? Three would never be enough to protect this land.

“Great One,” the Crab said. “Did you have time to consider our request for a seeking?”

“A proper seeking takes many hours,” said the Skir Master. “I cannot draw for your weaves and perform a seeking by morning. And I will not delay my departure. No, take your prisoner and put him to the question yourself. You can break through a man’s defenses with a proper questioning almost as easily as you can with a seeking.” He gestured in a way that took in the whole Council. “Or is this seeking the boon you desire?”

“Weaves,” said the Prime. “Bring our weaves to life.”

The Skir Master signaled for his guide, but before he left, he gazed at Argoth again. “Lest something happen to such a valuable resource as yourself, ten of my dreadmen will accompany you. Losing you is a risk I will not bear.”

“Very wise, Great One,” said Shim. “Very wise.”

Argoth looked into the Skir Master’s eyes-did he know Argoth’s secret? Argoth glanced at Shim. Had he revealed his suspicions about Argoth?

Argoth bowed. Ten dreadmen to guard him, but only three for the whole of the New Lands?

“Do not disappoint me,” the Skir Master said to the whole Council. “Now, I have heard of your baths. Lumen wrote incessantly of them and the delights of your blueberries, and I mean to enjoy them both before I leave.”

The Council erupted after the Skir Master left. But the Crab, ever fixed upon his purpose, came to take Hogan.

“It appears we’ll have to find another to oversee the questioning,” he said.

“It will be one of the Shoka,” said Shim. “And it will be done in the fortress of Whitecliff.”

The Crab hesitated and Argoth wondered if he was going to try to forcibly take Hogan from him, but he only made a gesture of surrender with his hands. “As you wish.”

Shim caught Argoth’s eyes, as did the Shoka territory lord, but Argoth ignored them. He took Hogan, pushed through the Council’s chaos and rushed him outside. The ten dreadmen assigned by the Skir Master followed behind.

Before they had exited the building, a messenger entered and set off another round of alarm-Larther the hunter had been found dead on the upper plains with the same blackening about his face as was found on Barg’s family.

Hogan looked at Argoth.

Larther was one of the Grove. At one time he had thought River would marry Larther, but that had never come to pass. Instead, Larther had cleared numerous acres of Argoth’s land up on the plains that he might satisfy Gil the carpenter. The carpenter had demanded that his daughter, who was smart and clever and had waited so very long for a man to notice her, would not spend her life in a dirty hut. Three years Larther had cut and cleared. They were to be married this season.

Hogan passed his hand over his face. Then he spoke with his eyes closed. This was his habit when trying to catch and pull together the threads of many elusive thoughts. “It is not a coincidence.”

The dreadmen were too close for Hogan to speak loudly. So Argoth put his friend’s arm in his and began walking out of the hall and left into the street, toward the fortress. The dreadmen followed a few paces behind.

Hogan did not speak for some time. They walked down the cobbled lane, the great houses towering like walls on either side. They passed a man pushing a vegetable cart loaded with enormous radishes, two boys chasing after a yellow cat, and a serving woman in blue and white, cleaning a doorstep.

Hogan pitched his voice low so the dreadmen couldn’t hear. “Purity, Larther,” he said, “and suddenly a Divine appears who doesn’t care to do a seeking. Doesn’t even mention the fact that some creature of legend stalks our land. I can’t see it yet, but he’s tightening some noose.” Hogan licked his dry lips. “And here’s another thing: what if the creature was his to begin with?”

If that were the case, then the Skir Master had already peformed a seeking on Purity. He might already have their names and the names of contacts in other Groves.

“The Grove must flee,” said Hogan.

“Who? You and me? Guarded by ten dreadmen? And if we do the noble thing and kill ourselves, it won’t help the others.”

“Matiga is ready. She’s strong. Her knowledge runs deeper than either of ours. She will bear the Grove off to join with Harnock.”

“But what if that’s precisely what this Skir Master is hoping for. The Order always flees. He’s expecting it, expecting us to send out warnings. And what if he already knows about Harnock and is waiting for us to lead his men to him?”

Hogan said nothing.

Harnock, rarely seen, was a ghost of man and beast. It was he, in his secret mountain valley, who kept the seed, the hope that would start the One Grove. It was he who kept the Book and Crown of Hismayas, the ancient god who had founded the Order. Into these two objects Hismayas was said to have put all his knowledge and power. The problem was, none had yet found the way to unlock them. Nevertheless, if those two objects fell into the enemy’s hands, the Order might never recover.

“I have a better plan,” said Argoth. One that just might save the Grove here and all the unknowing wives, sons, and daughters who would not be able to flee with the power of the lore. One that would not only discover what exactly the Skir Master knew, but also ensure that any secrets he had extracted would never reach the other side of the sea. One that would allow Argoth to put the tools he had before he came to the Order to a righteous purpose.

“No,” said Hogan.

“Yes,” said Argoth. “I’m going to run right into his teeth.”

22

Talen suspected the Mokaddians would be watching for him at Farmer’s Gate. For that matter, they’d be watching for him at all the lesser gates on that side of the city. So he decided to use a gate on the far side.

Gallow’s Gate was manned not by the city guard but by commoners performing their required three-day service. A city guardsman oversaw them. But the bulk of the dozen men here were commoners, mustered for this purpose. One man eating slices of raw fish with his fingers, saw Nettle, knew him, and waved them through with a “give the Lord the Lani family’s compliments.”

Nettle nodded, and they passed through the gate. They rolled through the dry moat, over a slight rise, and continued on toward the river. They’d made it out!

Talen felt a surge of relief and something he didn’t expect-sympathy for the hatchlings. Perhaps it was as Da said: perhaps what was wrong was that the world was full of Fabbises.

With every rod they traveled it seemed that Talen felt better and better. A great sense of energy and well-being washed over him. He felt like a spring day, one where the mud had dried and the leaves had begun to break their buds and color the world with a light green. It was odd. It was as if the earth itself had touched him and given him an extra portion of life. Perhaps he’d been more scared than he thought and so felt a greater relief.

The wagon bumped along and kicked up a haze of powdery dust. Not far down the road, along a bend of the river, rose a fat grove of cottonwoods.