Barb Hendee - Through Stone and Sea

"Sliver is lying … she knows more than her mother of Ore-Locks's coming and going."

"What?"

"Keep walking. Do not look back."

"How could you know this?" she asked.

"Trust me," Chane whispered. "Can you get Shade to read Sliver's memories … on command?"

"I don't know. Maybe—"

"Then try," he insisted. "But only after I ask Sliver, ‘Where to next?' Shade must wait for these words … or at least be watching for Sliver's memories when I say them."

Wynn finally grasped what he was up to.

At such a question, memories might rise in Sliver concerning the path—assuming she did know more than her mother. But how did Chane know Sliver was lying? Worse yet, how was Wynn going to explain all this to Shade with just memories—before they reached the end of Mother Iron-Braid's instructions?

Wynn curled her fingers deep into Shade's neck fur.

"Ah, Shade." She sighed, and the dog's pace slowed. "I wish you understood language, like your father. Even a few words, like ‘dip' and ‘memory.'"

She concentrated on the simplest, most ordered memories she could recall. First of Sliver, and then the sound of Chane's voice a moment ago.

… Where to next?

She followed with another glimpse of Sliver and then quick ones of any stolen memories Shade passed on from others. And again, Sliver, and again, Where to next?

Wynn repeated the sequence over and over, until her head began to ache. She glanced down and found Shade's ears upright, as if she were listening. An echo of sight and sound filled Wynn's head.

First of Sliver, then a dizzying series of memories from others, and finally a sound like a breathy, broken voice but too garbled to understand.

Wynn hadn't actually heard words at the end. Another image rose in her mind.

Chane stood in the small back room of the Iron-Braids' smithy. Though his lips didn't move, as he'd said nothing while there, the image mingled with the sound of his rasping voice.

… Where to next?

Wynn flushed with relief, though she was still uncertain Shade truly understood. Was the dog merely echoing everything back, asking for explanation? Memory-speak was so frustrating!

They passed booths selling potatoes, turnips, and dried fruits, and then a section of glazed pots, urns, and bowls. Ahead, another tunnel led out of the market's rear, but Sliver veered away from it. The vast cavern grew more and more packed.

Wynn glanced behind but couldn't see where they'd come in. Or was she even looking in the right direction? Hopefully Chane's height gave him a better view if they had to turn back. As Shade pressed against her thigh, Wynn worried that the distressing throng had hampered the dog's understanding.

Then a flash of red caught Wynn's eye.

Sliver pulled up short, pointing. "There," she said.

A stall near the market's back wall sported numerous folds of cloth hung upon wooden racks. Many bolts were dyed in a wide array of colors, though one was pure apple red. A wide dwarven woman with extra-wide hips, dressed in a myriad of colors like her wares, was straightening a cloth bolt left askew by some browser. She spotted the onlookers in turn.

"Need something for a new shirt?" she called out. "Have a look at this weave. Stout and light, it is."

"No, thank you," Wynn replied politely.

At the next stall hung leather vests and shirts, and pairs of premade boots were piled on a makeshift plank counter. Between the two merchants, Wynn saw a narrow tunnel leading off beyond the market.

"I have shown you," Sliver muttered, turning around. "For all the good it will do."

She didn't even look at Wynn as she started shoving her way back through the crowds. Wynn waited for Chane to speak, but at his silence, she called after Sliver, "And that's all?"

"That is all I was told to do," the smith retorted. "This is as far as my mother got."

Wynn pivoted, watching Chane and waiting.

He dropped his hand onto Sliver's shoulder.

She instantly slapped it away and turned on him, outrage flushing her face.

"But not as far as you went," Chane said. " Where … to … next? "

Sliver froze, and Wynn's fingers cinched in Shade's neck fur.

The smith's eyes widened with anger—or perhaps a flicker of panic? She lingered, as Chane waited in silence, and then her brow furrowed.

"Do not make that mistake again," she warned. "The only deceiver here is your puppy of a sage!"

With that, Sliver strode off.

Chane whirled about, glancing once at Shade before turning expectant eyes on Wynn.

"Well?" he whispered.

Wynn tried raising a memory of Sliver, hoping Shade would pick up her intent.

A cascade of images answered.

Stone corridors … branching paths … fewer people at every turn …

Wynn was following a wide, short figure concealed in a full cloak and hood. It tromped ahead along the path, and she ducked into hiding whenever the figure slowed or paused.

Wynn raised her face to Chane, as he watched her hopefully.

Then Shade lunged.

"Oh—wait—Shade!" Wynn squeaked, nearly jerked off her feet. "Chane, come on … she's got it!"

Chane was already on her heels.

Shade took off through the crowd, dragging Wynn by her grip on the dog's scruff. But Shade didn't bolt between the cobbler and clothier. She veered along the stalls at the market's rear wall.

Wynn stumbled after, fearful of letting go, and not everyone saw the overly tall wolf in time. Twice Shade snarled at someone in her way. Twice Wynn got a startled or nasty look from whoever twisted aside. Too many times she bumped rudely into someone as she tried to hold on to Shade.

"Slow her down, before I lose you!" Chane called, and his maimed voice seemed a bit far behind.

"I can't!" Wynn shouted. "Shade, stop!"

But Shade didn't, and then Wynn did, very suddenly. She slammed into something like rock beneath leather.

Her hold on Shade broke as she recoiled, careening backward. Wynn toppled as her footing failed, and she tensed, waiting for her back to hit the flagstones. She tried to hold out the staff to keep its crystal from striking.

Strong hands hooked her under the arms.

Chane hoisted Wynn up from behind, and she came face-to-face with the solid wall of padded rock … or rather an armored dwarf with a perplexed expression.

A fringe of beard ran around his jawline beneath his steel pot helmet. His leather hauberk was overlaid with an orange diagonal chest sash embroidered with a yellow vubrí . He also carried a tall iron staff.

"Oh, no," Wynn moaned. "I'm so sorry."

She had just slammed headlong into a member of a local clan's constabulary. The dwarf glowered as if she were some rambunctious child run amok.

"Mind your pace, missy," he warned. "There's too many people to go rushing about."

"Pardon us," Chane said. "Our dog got away."

"Then get a leash." With a final frown, the constable turned off through the crowd.

"A leash," Wynn muttered, but right then it was an appealing notion. "Shade, where are you … Shade!"

One bark carried over the market's ruckus.

Wynn couldn't see Shade, but at the dog's noise, a few people turned to look.

"There … go," Chane urged.

They wove through shoppers, vendors, and stalls, until Wynn spotted the top of a large tunnel. One brief break in the crowd exposed Shade hunkering in that opening.

Wynn pushed on. "Shade … come here!"

The dog backed another step into the tunnel, glowering at the crowd. She openly snarled at anyone who got too close, gaining far too much attention. Wynn rushed into the tunnel opening and clamped her hand over Shade's muzzle.

"She must learn not to growl at these people," Chane admonished, jogging up behind. "Can you not get that much through to her?"