The Hidden Icon Read Online Free PDF Page A

I said, though I was sure I was talking myself into a trap. “A tale doesn’t exist until it’s been told.”
    Gannet’s slight breath could have been a laugh, and I wished that I could see more of his face. Even the conventional means of reading someone were barred to me with this man, with his masked eyes and brow unreadable.
    “Then it’s not a very good tale.”
    I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, and he seemed so sure of himself. Irritatingly so. The nearer we drew to the grounds the more anxious I became, the reality of what I had agreed to threatening to overwhelm me. A few days ago I imagined that death would be the worst thing to befall us, but we could’ve hoped to be reunited beyond the veil.
    But something told me the request Morainn had made of me was not a request at all, and I knew it was better to leave of my own accord than to depart my city in chains, or worse.
    Canopies of bright silks were hung as though in celebration on the grounds, filtering what little light remained in the day. There were many people busy plying rations and supplies on pack animals, into carts, fortifying tented caravans against the heat. In the center of the bustle was an enormous barge whose size defied travel, but it was toward that vehicle we moved. The soldiers before us dispersed to ready themselves, but did not go far. Three remained still at my back, drawing even closer as though I might, like some wild animal, bolt into the open.
    Gannet made no motion to depart as a bearded man approached, plucking in turn at the hairs on his cheeks and the tunic that stuck to his skin beneath his armor.
    “Antares,” Gannet murmured. “Captain of the Guard.”
    Skin ruddy with heat, I could smell the heavy odor of the Captain’s sweat as he drew near. His linen blue eyes pierced as cleanly as any spear.
    “It is a mighty escort for one woman.” Antares spoke as he approached, waving a hand at the busy soldiers. His expression sharpened. “But you’re more than just a woman, aren’t you?”
    I didn’t answer. As I had with Morainn, I felt he knew something I didn’t, but the images in his mind were formless and strange.
    “May we board?” asked Gannet, a tightness to his words that hadn’t been there a moment before. Was it what Antares had said? With anyone else I would have been able to dig a little deeper, see more than they wanted me to, but already I knew I couldn’t do that with Gannet. From Antares there was only the curt confidence of a military man.
    “With haste.”
    I followed Gannet within the barge without being beckoned or spoken to. He seemed more than willing enough to make me aware of what it was he wanted without using words. I felt the compulsion first as though it was my own; the realization that it wasn’t creeping over me like the unexpected chill that comes with passing underground. I couldn’t fight it, not with the soldiers now barring the exit.
    The barge, with its many curtained partitions and willowy poles driven into the light planks below our feet, seemed like another world. Hardy little plants vined above our heads, fed from pouches of water that I saw a servant draw from as well. While I gawked at such a useless luxury she filled a cup hardly larger than a thimble, draining it in one swallow. Shielded from the sun, it might be possible to believe you were in the comfort of some gardened pavilion. But then the barge would rock from some little movement, or a whispered conversation would pass through many layers of curtains. There would be little privacy here.
    Gannet nudged me, again without words and certainly without touching me, and I followed anxiously. I wasn’t prepared for any more surprises today, but my curiosity was like a hunger, growing and growing, demanding to be fed. The dark plane of Gannet’s shoulders angled before me, and my question tumbled out, clumsy.
    “Are you the only one?”
    He knew what I meant. Yesterday I couldn’t have imagined anyone being