The Book of Deacon: Book 02 - The Great Convergence (52 page)

"Silence," Trigorah ordered, her voice low
but forceful.

"No, not here. Just not here. Please. There
are people. If I change they might get hurt," she pleaded
tearfully, as much with herself as with Trigorah.

"Silence! Listen to me. Creature!" Trigorah
demanded with hushed insistence. She sifted through what she'd
learned of the creature. Demont had spoken of a name she called
herself. "IVY!"

At the sound of her name, Ivy stopped and
looked slowly at her pursuer.

"Did . . . did you call me Ivy? The teachers
never called me that . . . " she said.

Ivy drew in a long sample of Trigorah's
scent.

"You were there. When they had me. But you
aren't one of them, are you?" Ivy asked.

"I am a General of the Northern Alliance and
I am sworn to defend it. Now tell me where the others are. I
promise you that it is not our intention to bring any of you to
harm," Trigorah said.

"Where are they? You KILLED THEM! And now you
are going to lie to my face and tell me you don't want to hurt us!"
Ivy snapped, a surge of red light painting the alleyway as the
scene replayed itself in her mind again.

"That was not my doing," Trigorah said.

"Don't lie. DON’T LIE TO ME!" Ivy seethed.
Deep inside she knew that Trigorah could not have been responsible.
Nevertheless, her emotions, denied fear as an outlet, sought anger
in its place. She turned away, scolding herself. "Not here."

Her teeth clenched, the wooden box she held
creaked in her grip. Ivy struggled to master her emotions. The last
thing she wanted was to change here, in a city. Very slowly the red
aura began to fade. Trigorah watched cautiously. At first she had
doubted the descriptions of the power that Ivy wielded. Their
nature and intensity seemed unlikely, impossible. Now, though, she
began to reconsider. She was no wizard, but it didn't take a mystic
to know that the raw energy she had felt, and the speed at which it
was summoned forth, was not the sort of thing to be taken lightly.
Against her best instincts, she returned her sword to its sheath.
Now was not a time to appear to be a threat.

"Ivy, look at me. I am not here to hurt you,
and I did not hurt your friends," Trigorah said, holding up her
empty hands.

Ivy's narrowed eyes seemed to stare straight
through Trigorah.

"If you didn't then who did? And why was Lain
running from you?" she asked, the anger fading but still strong,
and mixed with a healthy dose of suspicion.

"Those questions are not mine to answer,"
Trigorah replied.

"Don't tell me that! You ARE one of them! You
can't just leave me be! You-" Ivy began to rant.

"Listen!" Trigorah's ordered.

Again Ivy froze. Trigorah's voice had the
quality of a scolding parent. The forcefulness and authority broke
through the emotions. Seizing the opportunity, Trigorah
continued.

"I am not the only one seeking you. In fact,
I believe that in pursuing you I have made myself a target. We
cannot squander our time here, screaming at one another. Let me
take you someplace away from prying eyes and curious ears. Once we
have the benefit of doors and locks, this battle of wills can
continue. Until then I want you to stay quiet, stay calm, and stay
out of sight! Understood!" the general commanded.

Ivy nodded slowly. Any trace of anger was
swept away. She felt compelled to comply, not in the unnatural way
that Demont had willed upon her, but out of a sort of sudden
respect, almost gratitude. It was as though the role of guiding
hand that had been left vacant by Lain had, for now, been replaced.
And there was something else. There was an air of . . . belonging.
As though Trigorah was a piece to a puzzle that had long been
incomplete. Something felt right about her leadership. Ivy crouched
down into the darkness.

Trigorah pulled her hood up and made her way
quickly toward the street. She'd taken an enormous chance speaking
to the unstable creature as she did. Good fortune seldom smiled
upon her for long. Carefully, she took up a position on the city
street, the opening to the alleyway that hid her prize within
sight. If memory served, there was a rather large and quite well
staffed inn that would be able to accommodate her. An elderly man
was passing by. Trigorah flagged him down. There was no need to ask
the man if he was a veteran. He bore the scars and limp of a man
who had fought until the military had no more use for him.

"You there, soldier," she called.

He turned and approached her.

"No one has called me that for some time, m'
lady," he replied.

"Once in the service of this great land,
always. I have a task for you," she said.

His eyes widened as he saw her face.

"You are the General. General Teloran. I am
honored beyond words that you would speak to me," he gushed. "In my
younger days I was considered for service in your great Elite! That
was before the Tresson swine ruined my leg. I want you to know that
not a night goes by that I do not curse the name of that Undermine
captain who took so many of them from you."

Trigorah raised a finger to halt the torrent
of adoration.

"Noted and appreciated, soldier, but there is
a matter of grave military importance that requires speed, tact,
and above all, discretion. Do you know the inn a few streets away?"
she asked.

"Palin's House of Ale?" he asked.

"Precisely the one," she replied. "I will be
transporting a prisoner there for questioning momentarily. Go now
and see to it that a suitable room is ready for me when I arrive. A
stout door, locks on the inside, and no windows. We shall arrive by
the back door. The way to the room should be free of prying
eyes."

"It is an honor to serve the crown once more,
General," he replied, turning and heading off as quickly as his
infirm legs would allow.

Trigorah made her way swiftly back to the
alley. The creature was standing in the shadows. The lack of the
unnatural aura about her proved that she was mercifully still
calm.

"When I say so, we are going to cross the
road into the opposite ally quickly and quietly. Then I will lead
you to a door and into a room inside. You will be silent until I
say you can speak," Trigorah instructed.

Ivy nodded. As Trigorah waited tensely for
the old man to make the preparations, she watched Ivy closely. The
creature was shifting uneasily from foot to foot, her eyes locked
on the alley across the way. The box she held was hugged close to
her chest. A few more moments passed.

"Why are we waiting?" Ivy whispered.

"Just wait. If we move too soon the way won't
be clear," Trigorah said.

Ivy nodded. Trigorah judged that the time was
right.

"Now," she ordered.

"Not yet. Wait," Ivy said, her voice
hushed.

"I said-" Trigorah began scold.

Ivy ignored her, stepping further into the
shadows. A moment later Trigorah heard the crunching footsteps
Ivy's sensitive ears had. She too ducked back further. A large,
shabbily dressed man lumbered by, dragging a crystal tipped
halberd. He paused briefly in front of the alleyway.

"I know him," Ivy breathed almost silently.
There was a shiver in her voice and a wisp of blue light.

"Steady," Trigorah warned.

The lumbering figure continued. Trigorah
watched as he vanished from sight. Epidime. Fortune had run out
sooner that she would have liked. Suddenly there was a motion
beside her. Ivy bolted. Rather that call after her with an order
that would certainly be ignored and likely draw Epidime's
attention, she held her breath and prayed that she had learned some
of Lain's accursed stealth. As she watched, she saw movements that
could scarcely have been learned. Long graceful steps, planting
surely despite the icy stone. Soon she was deep in the far alley,
gone from sight. Hiding.

Trigorah edged closer to the opening of the
alley. Epidime was a fair distance away, and moving further.
Stepping lightly, she too made her way across. It turned her
stomach not to face him and proclaim her victorious capture of Ivy,
but the creature was anything but securely in her grasp at the
moment. If she could milk just a drop of information out of her,
not only Ivy but the other Chosen could be her prize. The other
Generals would have no recourse but to allow her to take her
rightful place at the front lines then. Even Bagu would have to
relent after having the renegade warriors delivered directly to
him.

"Did I do good?" Ivy asked eagerly.

Trigorah shrugged off the odd reaction of the
creature and silently led on. The tavern was just a short way
ahead, if she remembered correctly. As she walked, she began to
gather her questions to mind, readying her techniques. Her instinct
screamed warnings about the sudden compliance, even
devotion
her prisoner was showing. It warned about Epidime and what
treachery he may have in store. Nothing could be done for now to
deal with such concerns. They were noted and brushed aside. The
sound of boisterous laughter and loud conversation heralded the
approach of the only building in this part of town that didn't seem
deserted or rundown. She stepped up to a sturdy wooden door and
gave it a push. Sure enough, it was not latched.

The pair stepped in quietly, closing and
latching the door behind them. Inside, the heady aroma of spilled
ale and roasting meat momentarily distracted Ivy. Her eyes lingered
on the door at the far end of the long, dim hallway. She longed to
be on the other side. Badly she wanted to taste and smell and hear
and see what was behind that door. A firm hand on her shoulder
snapped her back to attention. There was one door open. It led to a
large but virtually empty room. The place was nearly the size of a
small banquet hall, but there was but a table and a pair of chairs
to be found inside. They slipped in.

Trigorah drew the bolt on the door and tested
its strength before turning to Ivy. The malthrope was already
seated, placing her box carefully on the ground before folding her
hands and smiling like an overachieving student. The General tried
to work out what possible reason the creature might have for the
complete reversal of trust. Before her escape, they were in the
process of re-educating her. Demont had claimed that the process
was not complete, but that a few safeguards had been put in place.
Perhaps this was one of them reaching the surface. Regardless, best
to take advantage while it lasted.

"Now, where are the others?" Trigorah
asked.

"I . . . I was afraid they died, but you saw
it happen, and you still want to know where they are, so I guess
they are still alive. I don't know where. Do you know what happened
to them?" Ivy asked. As she spoke her nervousness melted away
completely, as though she felt she was speaking to a friend.

"It is my belief that they and several others
I fought were decoys," Trigorah said.

"Yes. Yes! Ether made a bunch of decoys. She
said that she was the real one and that I should follow her . . .
she was lying," Ivy said, her voice intensifying.

"Never mind that. Where were you heading
before you split off. Why were you in Verneste?" Trigorah asked
quickly, hoping to sidestep the angry realization that she had been
betrayed.

"Um . . . Well, his sword broke . . . I broke
it, I think. We were heading south. Lain wanted me to be safe, so
he was taking me there, but he needed to get his sword fixed before
we went to Tressor," Ivy said.

"So Lain is in league with the Tressons,"
Trigorah said. It was a suspicion she had long held, and one that
fueled much of her disdain for him.

"Well, he has friends down there. They owe
him favors I think," she said.

"Would he continue south without you? Does he
seek something else there?" Trigorah pressed.

"I don't think so. He was only going there so
that he wouldn't have to worry about me when he tried to end the
war," Ivy explained.

"How does he intend to do this?" Trigorah
asked.

" . . . I don't know. But he is going to do
it. He's amazing," Ivy nearly gushed.

Trigorah suppressed a wave of anger at the
hero worship.

"Do you suppose that he will realize you are
gone?" she asked.

"Of course!" Ivy said.

"And he will come for you?" Trigorah
said.

Ivy nodded vigorously.

"And the shape shifter?" continued the
general.

"Um . . . yes," came the answer, dejectedly.
"She won't leave Lain alone."

Ivy looked to and fro before adding in a
conspiritorial whisper. "She likes him."

"And Myranda. Is it true that she-" Trigorah
began to ask.

"SHE'S NOT DEAD!" Ivy retorted before the
accusation was even made. "Everyone says she's dead, but I talked
to her. I know she's still alive and Lain knows it too."

This was new. And if it was true it would
change things considerably, but something about her defensiveness
made Trigorah believe that this was the wishful thinking of a naive
mind. Still, it was worth noting.

"Very well. Tell me about Ether. What types
of things can she do?" Trigorah interrogated. The others had only
the vaguest of details about the mystical creature, and the ability
to produce duplicates had never even been considered.

"I don't know. Lots of things. I don't want
to talk about her," Ivy objected. "Don't you want to know about me?
I can do plenty of things, too!"

"The shape shifter," Trigorah ordered.

Ivy grumbled and crossed her arms.

"No!" she pouted.

"This is not a game, Ivy. Do as I say,"
Trigorah warned forcefully.

"But . . . fine. She can turn into fire and
water and all of that. Also, anything she touches she can turn
into, and sometimes it takes a while. She gets tired quick because
she overdoes everything, and . . . um, she hates crystals. One of
the . . . ." she shuttered. " . . . teachers, shoved a crystal into
her chest and she would have died if I didn't save her. What I did
was . . . "