“Keep them ignorant of our plans? They might not put up with that. What’s the point of joining the rebellion if you get no say in the rebelling?”
“They’ll see the sense in it, once the reason is explained.” He looked back at the entrance to the other cavern. “Not everyone needs to know the finer details. Many will be content to know that plans are being made, and what the ultimate aim is. Those who do know the details should stay here to reduce the chance of their mind being read. Or rather, they should stay in a better hiding place, without all these people to feed and tend to. The more supplies you need, the more journeys outside required, the greater the risk someone will be followed here.”
Yira sighed. “You’re right. I was too busy trying to get them to take me seriously to think about it.” She stopped. They had reached a wall of the cavern. “I sleep here,” she said, pointing at an empty portion of floor between the wall and an elderly couple sipping a steaming drink from chipped cups. A thin mattress was bundled up and securely tied to a pack. Yira was ready to go at any moment, as any good warrior-trained Roihe woman should be. “You’ll have to squeeze in beside me.”
He nodded and deposited his pack next to hers. As the elderly couple looked up at them, Tyen inclined his head politely. They smiled.
“There’s melted water in a trough at the end of the cave”–Yira pointed to the left–“and we’ve made partitions so people can wash and relieve themselves in private. There’s often a queue after meal times. Sorcerers take it in turns to bring food in each day–yes, I know that’s risky. No need to lecture me about it. It’s up to each person or family to request particular supplies and arrange the cooking.”
Smoke was still rising from the small burner the couple had used to heat their drink. Tyen looked up. “The cave is adequately ventilated?”
“It can get a bit smoky in here. When it does, we push air through the tunnel, where it disperses in the rift. Roll out the mattress so you have something to sit on. I have to go back to the meeting.” She took a step away, then paused and leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Is that pendant you were wearing the other day what you don’t want them to see in…” She tapped her forehead.
Tyen’s heart skipped a beat. By “pendant” she must surely mean the satchel containing Vella.
“Yes and no,” he murmured. “I’d rather they didn’t know about it, but since you did before you joined them, and they’ve been reading your mind, surely they must have learned of it.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I’d forgotten about it until you arrived. Can you tell me what it is?”
“A book.”
She rolled her yes. “I saw that. What’s in it?”
“Knowledge I’d rather others didn’t abuse, which I am sure they would if they had it.”
“Anything that might help them defeat the Raen?”
He considered, and shook his head. Roporien would not have encouraged others to read Vella if she contained information on how to defeat him, and he had been nearly as powerful as the Raen.
“Well, I understand you don’t want to destroy your chances of a comfortable income in the future,” she said. “So long as you don’t withhold your inventions and discoveries when they’ll clearly help in the fight, I won’t say a word.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s some food in my bag. Take it–I’ve got replacements on order. And you look like you could do with some sleep.”
“Do I?”
She nodded, then turned and strode back to the cave entrance. Tyen unrolled the mattress and sat down. He took Beetle from his bag and consulted the timepiece within the insectoid’s back. Nearly one and a half Leratian days had passed since he’d left Liftre. Putting Beetle back he found some dried fruit and salted nuts in Yira’s pack and ate enough to silence his growling stomach. Weariness was like an ache and when he finally lay down it felt wonderful.
But the voices around him kept him from slipping into slumber. He could hear conversations behind the laughter and protests of children. He tried to make out what the closest people were saying and failed, then found himself searching for and finding their minds instead.
Like a proper spy, he thought. Then he felt a chill. If any of the sorcerers here were stronger than him, and were reading his mind right now, they’d now know about his deal with the Raen. Since he had refused a mind-read, it was highly likely someone was watching him. If there is, and they’re stronger, the game is up anyway. I may as well have a look around.