‘Bee!’ Per cried out and rolled free of my grip. It unbalanced me and I fell. I had never known that smoke could so disable a man. I crouched on my hands and knees, wheezing. Per tugged at the unconscious child he’d dragged down with us. ‘Bee, I’ve come to save you,’ he said faintly. Then his words shattered into coughing.
The child’s clothes were scorched and smudged with soot and his face disfigured by scars. The flesh around his closed eyes was thickened like that of a veteran brawler. There was a scar on his left brow and a split from a more recent beating at the corner of his mouth. The marks spoke of a short life best left behind.
Then the boy opened his eyes and Bee looked at me. We stared at one another. Her mouth formed a word that her breath could not push. ‘Da?’
So small. So scarred. She lifted her hands toward me and life surged through me again. ‘Oh, Bee,’ I said, and had no more words. I reached for her and pulled her to me. Her arms went tight around my neck and I held her close. ‘I will never leave you again!’ I promised her, and her grip on me tightened.
I rose onto my knees, Bee still clasped to me. Per staggered upright. He was weeping. ‘We found her. We saved her,’ he said.
‘You did,’ I told him. With my free hand, I seized Per’s upper arm. ‘Lant! Come on!’ I stood and made a staggering run, dragging poor stumbling Per and jouncing Bee’s face against my collarbone. Lant caught up and took Per’s other arm. Joggling along, bumping into one another, we fled the smoke down the long gently curving corridor until suddenly my head spun and I crashed to my knees. I managed not to drop Bee but Per fell beside me and Lant went to one knee.
‘Oh, Bee,’ I managed to say. I lowered her to the floor. She was gasping spasmodically, as if she had nearly drowned. Her eyes had closed again. But she lived. She lived. I touched her face as Per scrabbled over to us.
‘Bee, please,’ he said. He looked up at me and as if he were a very young child, he pleaded, ‘Make her be alive. Heal her.’
‘She’s alive,’ Lant assured him. He leaned on the wall to stand. Then he stood over us, his sword in his hand again. He’d protect us.
She stared up at me wordlessly. I shook my head, too heart-stricken to find even a word for her. My finger traced the line of Molly’s jaw, touched her mother’s mouth. She coughed and I drew my hand back. No, this was not the little girl I had come to rescue. This scarred and beaten creature was no longer my Bee. I did not know who she was. Still small for her years, as young as I had been when I had begun to act on all Chade had taught me. Bee Farseer. Who was she now?
She rolled her head to look at Per, her breath wheezing in and out. ‘You came. The crow said …’ Her words trailed away.
‘We came to find you,’ Per assured her, and went off into another coughing fit. He reached over and took her hand in his. ‘Bee. You’re safe now. We have you!’
‘None of us is safe, Per. We have to get her out of here.’ No time for reunions and apologies, no time for tender words. I lifted my eyes. I looked up at the panelled ceiling above us and the massive beams that supported it. Wood would burn, but stone did not. Fires always climbed. We might be safe on this level, at least until the heavy timbers that supported the stone scorched and flamed.
Where were we? Had we passed the door and the stairs to the lower levels? We had to find them. Perhaps they’d found the tunnel. If not, we had to fight our way out before the whole stronghouse came down on us.
I coughed again, and rubbed my cuff over my streaming eyes. Time to move. ‘We have to go,’ I told Per. ‘Can you walk?’
‘Of course I can.’ He staggered to his feet, then bent over, hands on his knees, to cough for a long time. I watched him and slowly it came to me that I knew where to go. I knew where to get help. I had that moment of utter relief one has when the obvious solution to a problem becomes clear. It seemed ridiculous that I had not thought of it before. I came to one knee and lifted Bee carefully. She did not weigh much. Through the loose garments she wore, I could feel her ribs and the knobs of her spine. I stood. I began to walk and Per straightened and staggered along at my side. Lant sheathed his sword. I glanced at him and saw that he, too, felt the same relief. I smiled to see that Per held his knife out and ready. I knew we would not need it.
My brother. Where are we going?
More welcome than cool air or fresh water was the touch of Nighteyes on my mind. I felt my spirits lift and suddenly I knew now that everything would be fine. Where have you been? I cried out to him. Why did you abandon me?
I was with the cub. She needed me far more than you did. But once she learned to raise her walls, I could not escape them. My brother, where are we going now? Why are you not running? Where is the Scentless One?
I know a place of safety. I know people who will help us.
I saw them, revealed by the gentle curve of the corridor. A troop of twelve guards, weapons drawn, was coming toward us. Spark and Prilkop were with them, guarded by them on all sides. The Fool hung limp between two guards. Leading the way was a small, stout man with a toadish face and bloodshot eyes. A tall old woman hobbled along behind him, clasping her side and two men, one garbed in green and one in yellow, walked beside her. I smiled to see them, and the small man’s face broke into a grin. He motioned the guards to halt and they did. They awaited us.
‘Vindeliar, I am astonished,’ the old woman said. ‘You are truly a wonder.’
‘You should never have doubted me,’ he replied.
My brother, this is wrong. This joy you feel is false.
‘I am so sorry,’ the woman apologized to their leader. ‘From henceforth, you will be honoured as you deserve.’
The men nodded agreement to that, their faces wreathed in doting smiles.
‘Fitz? What are we doing? They will kill us!’ Per shouted.
Bee lifted her head from my shoulder. ‘Papa!’ she cried out in alarm.
‘Hush. It’s going to be all right,’ I told her.
‘All fine,’ Lant echoed me.
‘No!’ Per shouted the word. ‘No, nothing is all right! What is wrong with you? What is wrong with everyone?’
‘Papa, walls up! Walls up!’
My brother, they deceive you!
I laughed. They were being so foolish. ‘All is well. We are safe now,’ I told them and carried Bee toward the welcoming party.
THIRTY-FIVE
* * *
Confrontations
I am Bee and Bee is me. My mother knew this from the beginning. Sometimes, at the beginning of a dream, I see myself. I am a bee, gold and black, shining like sparks and charcoal. As I fly, my colours grow brighter and brighter, as does an ember when one blows on it. I am so bright I illumine places that are dark, and in those places, I see the important dreams.
From the dream journal of Bee Farseer