“Gamelords,” I whispered. “Ganver said the Oracle had learned to control the shadow, but I had not thought of this. Are you sure that what you saw is now?”
They shook their heads. No, they weren’t sure it had happened yet, but it would be soon if not now.
“No matter,” I said. “We must get there. There is no other way. Somehow we must reach Old South Road City; we and all the others needed there. Tragamors to rebuild the city and the towers. Sorcerers to Hold Power for them. Elators to carry messages; Armigers to Fly aloft and see where ancient walls and roadways ran. Perhaps even Necromancers to Raise up the ghosts of that place to learn how the Bell was cast in the first place.”
“We have spread the word as widely as we could, Jinian. And the Dervishes tell us they have carried word to the seven as well as the other Wize-ards everywhere. If we can get to Old South Road City, there will be others come to help—such as can.”
“What are the Dervishes doing?” I cried, thinking mostly of Bartelmy of the Ban, my mother.
“Running the roads of the world,” said Cat. “In their hundreds and thousands. They seem proof enough against shadows, at least when they are moving, and have taken up this work as though it were some kind of penance for an old guilt. Do you know why?”
I shivered and mumbled something about it being better late than not at all, which was enough for them to guess the rest. I really didn’t want to talk about Bartelmy. “So, shouldn’t we start south?”
“Yes, we will go south,” said Murzy firmly. “Dealing with what comes as it comes.”
Which we did, me in new clothes they had brought for me and a new pair of boots. The old ones had holes through the soles, and I’d been slipping pieces of bark into them for days. “Did you See my boots had holes in them?” I demanded of Murzy, half-exasperated at the lack of privacy her Seeing seemed to grant me. “Did you actually See my trousers were ripped in the seat?”
“Common sense,” barked Bets Battereye. “Your boots have always had holes since you were three. And if you ever had trousers which weren’t ripped in the seat, none of us can remember when.”
Which was somewhat comforting. It’s preferable, I think, merely to be known for one’s peculiarities than to have them constantly peered at. More familial, somehow. I put on the new clothes without further comment, and we headed south.
The Great Maze lay north of the Shadowmarches. Peter and I had approached the Maze from the east, having come there by a long, torturous route that had taken us far to the east and north before coming to Bloome and Fangel. From the Maze, the land sloped generally southward, ending at the widely separated peaks that marked the edge of the marches and fell away on the other side to the wide valley of Cagihiggy Creek. By following the creek west and south to its source and then striking west into the tumbled mountains, one could come to the Ice Caverns, where Peter had been headed. This was not the most direct route to the Old South Road City, but we discussed going there nonetheless. If Shifters or Dragons had been awakened from among the hundred thousand, we might find someone willing to carry us to our destination, thus saving much time.
If, on the other hand, we were to attempt to go straight to Old South Road City—which I knew well from my childhood, as it was not far from Stoneflight Demesne—then the shortest route would lie down the River Haws to Zebit, then up into the hills to the Willowater, a smallish river that ran from among the mountains into River Banner, south along Willowater to its source, then southwest along the curve of the mountain to the canyon lands north of Stoneflight. I wondered if Stoneflight was still there. And this made me wonder if my un-mother, Eller, and her son, Mendost, were still alive. I didn’t ask if anyone knew, telling myself I didn’t care whether they were or not.
At this point it didn’t matter which route we might eventually choose. We were still high north in the Shadowmarches with a long way to go before we decided east or west.
So we trudged south, me unable to put shadow out of my mind. I was simply scared to death of the stuff. Mavin had said it made people eat themselves sometimes. Or freeze themselves into a kind of black haze. Or it could make people chew themselves up from inside, as it had done with me. Whichever or whatever, I hated the idea of shadow. Even Ganver had hated shadow. I remembered the Eesty flailing about inside the Maze, trying to get away from the flapping flakes. “Would I had a dozen of the Gardener’s shadow-eaters. . . .” I repeated, remembering Ganver’s growl.
“What was that?” asked Cat, quick as a flitchhawk stoop.
I repeated it, shaking my head. “Something Ganver said when the shadows pursued us into the Maze.”
Cat looked at Murzy, then both of them at Sarah, who shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I never heard of it.”
Bets denied any knowledge of shadow-eaters, as did Margaret Foxmitten, but Dodie spoke up—she who had said little or nothing until now, youngest of the seven as she was—”The Gardener? Oh,
