Return Read Online Free PDF Page A

you there.”
    Laska? What in the world could Laska, practically born senile, know of any mission of mine? I kept my voice sharp, irritated as the woman I was impersonating would have been with a servant’s disrespect. “Fellow, you will take me nowhere but to the stable and my horse. Be quick about it, and silent, lest I rouse the Master.” Lal does that sort of thing much better than I.
    Laska made a sound I had never heard from him before: a sort of hawking sigh that I realized, after a moment or two, was meant as laughter. He said, “The Tree.”
    I stood as still as I ever have in my life, including the time when I hid from the Hunters in a manure wagon with the fox. Laska laughed again. The sound was not as chilling as the two words, nor the words nearly as frightening as the notion of Laska laughing at all. He smiled at me with his raw gums and his half-dozen brown teeth. “The Tree,” he repeated. “You have come for their Tree.”
    I gaped at him, no less amazed than I would have been if my horse had begun to express opinions. He had already spoken more words than I could remember him uttering in all the years I had known him as doorkeeper for that place. I said, very cautiously, “Tree? I came for Soukyan, as your Master now knows. But Soukyan is dead, and there is no hope here for me or my family.”
    A terrible, triumphant smile spilled over Laska’s face, spreading like some sort of infection. “Of course, lady. As you say. I will take you to the stable.”
    It was grimly, darkly fascinating, even for me. Whether or not he had penetrated my disguise—and I could not be certain either way, nor imagine what it might mean to him if he had—in any case, he knew there was something disguised somewhere. And if he knew, then certainly my attempt to gull his Master had not survived first trial, and I was right to leave immediately. I could trust nothing here, take nothing for granted—except for the certain conviction that I had done myself no service by this visit, but only armed and alerted my enemies. Something else not to tell the fox, if I survived to see him again. Or Lal, either. Oh, especially Lal.
    I said nothing as I followed Laska down the path that led to the stable, even as I contemplated and rejected alternatives. The night was moonless; if the stable proved unattended, I could have the old man unconscious and over the back of my mare in a silent instant, and prod him with questions about the Tree—whatever it was—at a safer distance. Worth the considering.
    They were good: not just for monks, but for professionals of any sort. They waited until we were nearly to my mare before they rose silently from the hay bales all around me, even dropping from the rafters like spiders. My bow and dagger were only an arm’s length away; but crowded and pinioned as I was—snared by the press of robed bodies, more than anything else—I never reached for them, having no wish to kill any but Hunters.
    The look on Laska’s face surprised me greatly: there was no triumph of treachery there, but only distress and disappointment. Whoever had arranged for my capture, clearly he wasn’t a part of it. I could find no one else to blame but myself, over and over.
    They brought me back to the mansion quite courteously, allowing me to walk on my own, but with my arms bound. I passed the rest of the night in the same visitor’s cell given to me by Master Caldrea when I first arrived. The only difference this second time was the guard on the door, and the confiscation of my bow, my arrows, and of course the trimoira dagger. Considering the circumstances (not to mention that martyr’s mattress)—I slept surprisingly well, and did not wake until a young novice brought me an excellent breakfast. I was clearly still Jalsa to him: he blushed carmine and rushed away as soon as he handed me tray and utensils. I ate slowly, paced the little room for a time, exercised as I could, and was sitting on the bed attempting to