Alexey Pehov - Chasers of the Wind

Making herself comfortable, Typhoid lapsed into thought.

The girl was even more foolish than she would have thought, for even once using her Gift within sight of the Tower. The Damned hoped that she might beat the Walkers, that she might be the first to get to the prodigy. Closer to morning, the sudden flash of three sparks caused her to wake up. Typhoid’s fears were entirely justified. When she ran to the right street, the Viceroy’s Guards were carrying two unconscious people out of a small wine cellar, located in one of the nondescript buildings. In the light of the torches she could make out the faces of the archer and the girl perfectly. She nearly tore her hair out with frustration when she saw the three Walkers following them. There was no way she could deal with them in her present condition. Then a man appeared, and to her infinite surprise she recognized him as the Healer. The lad was a Walker, which hadn’t happened since the time of the Sculptor!

The prisoners were taken away, and all Tia could do was gnaw on her own fingernails. The only thing that Typhoid was sure of was that now she would have to search for them in Hightown. In the Tower, where she was forbidden to go. She had to wait for the dawn and slip into Cliff (the former name of Hightown).

She went back to the cemetery and patiently observed the swiftly brightening sky.

I woke up because sunlight was striking me in the eyes, and I lay there for some time without raising my eyelids. It was quiet. Then I moved and an awful pain flashed through my right leg. Trying not to groan, I opened my eyes and, perching on my elbows, looked around.

A stone cell with a low vaulted ceiling. Strong bars instead of a door and a tiny window opposite where I was lying. The warm rays of the sun were passing through the opening and falling on my face. We could say good-bye to the Golden Mark. Captain Dazh was unlikely to wait for us. He’d probably long since gone to sea. And we remained here. In the clutches of the Walkers.

Layen? I called.

There was no answer.

Harold was a prophet. To our misfortune, we caught our wind, and fell into such a storm that it was unlikely we would get out alive.

After about an hour steps rang out, there was the jingling of keys, the lock clicked, and Shen walked in accompanied by two guards and a jailer. The Flame (the Flame, like the Red Circle, is a symbol of the Walkers) was embroidered with silver thread on his black velvet jacket.

“Leave us,” he said curtly.

“If something happens, we’re right nearby,” said the jailer, and he and the soldier stepped out.

Shen waited until they had gone far enough away and then he smiled. “Hello, Ness.”

“How’s Layen?” I hissed instead of a greeting.

“You don’t have to worry.” He allowed himself another cautious smile. “You’ll see her soon.”

“How soon?”

“As soon as we’ve finished talking.”

“About what? About our impending doom?”

“I want to examine your wound,” Shen said suddenly.

“Just try it.”

He laughed quietly and sorrowfully. “You look like a dog who’s dreaming of eating the cat, Gray. Don’t be foolish.”

“And what would happen then?” I asked challengingly. “Would you fry me, Walker?”

“I’d be happy to, but I don’t know how. Listen, there are many in the Tower who want to extinguish Layen’s spark. I’m trying to keep them from doing it, and I’m going to talk to the Mother. Now then? Will you help me out or are you going to keep baring your teeth at me?”

“To the Abyss with you. Do what you want.” I gave up.

“There, you see, we can always come to terms.” He was already next to me.

“Somehow I don’t recall you ever being in a rush to come to terms during our journey from Dog Green.”

He didn’t answer, so I changed the subject. “Gis and I decided that you’d been gobbled up by the dead. How did you manage to get out of Bald Hollow?”

“I was lucky.” The boy was trying to unravel the bandage, which was stiffened with dried blood.

“Ah!”

“Don’t move,” said the Healer sternly. “You were galloping on like crazed cats, and my horse fell behind. So then I had to act on my own. I returned to the river, crossed to the other side, and rushed through the cemetery to a field.”

“What a hero,” I said, and then I howled because he put his hand right on my wound.

“I said, don’t move!” snapped the Walker.

I hissed and showered him with curses. He ignored me completely. After a second the wound became cold, as if he’d pressed ice against it. The cold spread through my leg, and I could no longer feel my toes. The frost, for it could not be called anything else, began to gnaw ruthlessly at my bones.

All at once it was over. A pleasant warmth flowed through my body and I opened my eyes. I cautiously moved my leg, realizing with astonishment that there was no more pain. The wound wasn’t there anymore. All that remained was a pale, white scar. Shen, somewhat paler and sweating, grinned in satisfaction.

“Sometimes the Gift of a Healer has its uses. I can’t do everything the Embers and the Walkers can do, but I can heal. This skill can come in very handy.”

“You’re being unexpectedly kind.”

He scowled. “I just really didn’t want to have to drag you everywhere. That’s all.”

“You’d prefer that I walked to the scaffold on my own?” I asked.

The Healer gave me a level look and said reluctantly, “You killed a Walker and you deserve to die. But right now they just want to talk to you. In particular, to Layen.”

“I’d be interested in having a look at the one who’ll honor us with conversation. The poor wretch’s brain probably swelled, coming up with such an absurd and complicated plan to return us to Al’sgara.”

“Have you guessed?”

“Not completely. Perhaps in the spirit of friendship you could explain what’s what to me?”

He nodded reluctantly. “The search for you never stopped for all these years. But it was as if you had disappeared into the ground.”

“I can imagine how that would enrage the Tower,” I interrupted.

“Suffice it to say, you were finally found. And quite by accident. Mols’s people were trying. She was indebted to us.”

“I’m disappointed in her.”

“Well, it’s better than hard labor in the copper mines, so the baker agreed to assist us. You must understand that Layen is of some interest to the Tower. But if Walkers or Embers had appeared in your backwater, no conversation would have happened. No one knew what your wife was capable of, so the Mother decided not to risk it. Until today. After the encounter with the Damned, Weasel’s Gift faded a bit. As for Joch, it was Mols herself who made it so that rumors came to him that you were not yet in the Blessed Gardens. He’d long been gnashing his teeth over you and, to his misfortune and our luck, did not spare money for your head.”

“A brilliant plan,” I said sarcastically. “And what if someone had killed us?”

“The risk was small.”

Uh-huh. Go tell that to Greybeard and his friends. They almost nailed us.

“But since you risked it, that means we weren’t all that important to you.”

“I’m just a Healer, and I am not part of the Council.” He shrugged. “The Mother decided everything.”

I was beginning to think that the Walkers were out of their minds.

“Is that why you came with Whip?”

“Yes. A few words were spoken to Mols, and I was taken into their company. No one can see the spark of a Healer until he uses his Gift. So I was beyond suspicion. Layen shouldn’t have been able to sense anything. I was just supposed to learn her abilities and make sure you got to Al’sgara without any problems.”