The Great Unravel, page 4
part #3 of Riddle in Ruby Series
He reached out to ruff her hair?
She jerked her head out of the way, and his eyes widened in surprise.
“You must have your secrets?” said Ruby.
“Well, yes.” He cocked his head. “That’s the way it works.”
“The way how works?”
“I’m your teacher. I am, you know, mysterious.” He shrugged. “It’s part of the—”
“You parcel out your wisdom like breadcrumbs, leading me placid as a well-fed cow through your training.”
He frowned. “Well, cow might not be how I would—”
Ruby stood. She could not sit any longer. Her heart hammered at her chest. She had to know. “Tell me the truth.”
Gwath looked up at her. “I’m sorry?”
Her hand burned, and she thought of her friends and father, of her inability to protect them because of what this man had withheld from her. A thumb’s width of brass spike emerged from her finger. “This.” She poked him in the chest, and she didn’t care that the point pierced the flesh. “Why don’t you tell me about changing?”
“Oh.” His mouth quirked up at the side in a larger grin. Ruby hadn’t thought she could get any more angry.
“Yes. Oh.” She couldn’t yell, so she whispered so hard it tore at her throat. “You can do it. And I thought you were just a master of disguise.”
“I’m terrible at disguises.”
“Stop trying to distract me. You knew I had it in me, didn’t you?”
Gwath blinked. “I knew that you could have.”
“So why didn’t you teach me?”
“It was too early.”
“Why?”
“It’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous? Do you know where I have just been? What I have been doing? Are you saying that changing is more dangerous than secret missions with deadly explosive salt metal, huge men with pickaxes that want to skewer you, drawing the ire of a mad tinker, being the target of, I imagine, every reeve on this continent?”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .”
“Well?”
Gwath looked her dead in the eye. “Yes.”
It took Ruby a moment to get the word straight in her head. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, it is more dangerous?”
Gwath stood, serious as stone. “It is more dangerous than all of those things. Changing can erase who you are forever. I had to be careful. You were not ready.”
“But you took me on all manner of dangerous assignments. You routinely exposed me to fire, guards, acid, blades, and once even a rabid ocelot.”
He took her hand. Hers was a miniature of his. She had never noticed. “Those were dangers to the body. Changing is a danger to the very heart of you. You can forget who you are. And not just for a little while. For good.”
“Fermat told me that it, changing, was a family thing.”
“Fermat? The chemyst?”
Ruby looked down at his hand. “Are you my father?”
He swayed, just a little. His hand twitched around hers. “I am.”
A faint ringing filled her ears. So many questions, like a song just on the edge of hearing. “Does Fa—Captain Teach know?”
“I—I am not sure.”
The ringing strengthened to clanging. Someone was beating her heart on an anvil. “Thirteen years, and you are not sure?”
His smooth face tightened. “It was never— Your mother—”
“Thirteen years, and you never told me?”
Fear in his eyes, uncertainty. Things she had never, ever seen before. “I . . .”
That was all he could say. Her mentor, her teacher. Her father? He had always known what to say. What to do. And now, nothing. Providence had given Gwath back to Ruby, but he wasn’t Gwath anymore. He stood there, bald in the moonlight, looking like some strange, broken automaton.
She pulled her hand from his. “Fine.” The hurt roiled about in her belly, a terrifying storm threatening to eat its way out. She couldn’t keep talking to him. But she couldn’t go. Not now. He wouldn’t let her leave him. Gwath would follow her and probably raise the whole camp for good measure. Besides. Two fathers. Was one real? Was one not? Her head whirled. She took a step back toward the cave, then looked over her shoulder. “You coming?”
He sighed a deep, deep sigh and stood.
“Yes, but—”
“You want me to keep this a secret?”
He nodded.
“Why? Why?”
He parsed the words out as if dropping them on the ground would break them. “I don’t trust Alla Ferra. I want to protect you and the others. If I am revealed, we lose an advantage. If we tell . . . Captain Teach or your mother, their reaction might spoil the sharp.”
More secrets. “Very well.” More lies. She was beginning to loathe the things. Something scratched at the back of her brain: something shadowy and sharp. She turned to him as they walked back. He was Rafa again.
“Gwath?”
“Yes, Ruby?”
“Changers are liars, aren’t they? They’re liars.”
It tore at her: seeing that look, so full of regret, not on Gwath’s face, but on someone else’s.
CHAPTER 5
Judge a man by his questions,
rather than his answers.
—Voltaire
Henry threw himself to the ground between two boulders, right next to Athena Boyle. The grass was still cool here under the trees, and he pressed his cheek into it. Their second day on the run had somehow been even more taxing than the first. Petra alla Ferra had set the whip to Los Jabalís’s flanks, turning the rush through the forests into a headlong sprint. He turned this way and that on his back, trying to find a comfortable position for his leg; the day’s march had it throbbing as if it were trying to send him coded messages.
The small and larger thumps just beyond his head had to be Ruby and her father, and the clattering on the other side of the boulder told him Cram and his bag had survived the punishing trek as well. Still on her back, Athena tossed a half-empty waterskin onto Henry’s heaving chest. He patted her on the shoulder in thanks. The water trickled relief down his throat. It took an effort of will to give it back to Athena and another not to just fall asleep where he lay. Instead, he stifled a groan and maneuvered himself to an only mildly uncomfortable seat with his back to one of the rocks.
Los Jabalís had led them up a steep track into a boulder-filled grove atop a windswept bluff, perched above yet another burned-out village. The bluff commanded views in every direction, the better to spy pursuers, and yet the trees, boulders, tall grass, and the height of the plateau itself concealed the company handily from below. The mercenaries scattered about the grove at random, drinking water or just lying there, bits and pieces of them—a head poking above a rock here, some feet up a tree there—the only indicators that anyone was in the clearing at all. Their Catalonian companions had proved as adept at hiding as they were at flight. It had been a mad, looping getaway. As far as Henry could tell, they never maintained the same direction for more than a few hours, doubling, sometimes tripling back, crossing streams and rivers, tiptoeing full speed over scree fields. It seemed impossible that anyone could evade an angry flock of reeves, but they might just be doing it.
Cram’s head popped over the boulder like a woodchuck. “What about a teakettle?”
“Cram, I told you.” Ruby banged her head lightly against the ground.
“Now, Ferret, you telled me you couldn’t change yourself into a wagon, a bear, a church, a pudding, Lady Athena’s sword, or me.”
“So?”
“So you hain’t told me you could not turn into a teakettle.” The boy sighed. “I would truly love some tea right now, wouldn’t you, Professor?”
“Cram—well, yes, I would adore a hot cup of anything not in a leather skin right now, but that is beside the point.”
“Which is?”
It was all he had been thinking about all day. He lowered his voice, and the others leaned in. “We have rescued Ruby, yes, and Los Jabalís have sworn to take us to safety, but what kind of safety? Who is their mysterious employer?”
Athena seemed to come to a decision. “Well, I know the one paying the bills.”
Henry blinked. “Who is it then?”
Her lips made a thin line. “Godfrey Boyle. Grand master of the Worshipful Order of Grocers. My father.”
Henry didn’t know whether to be encouraged or sick to his stomach. The Worshipful Order and Henry’s old master, Fermat, did not get along. Not at all. What did this mean for him? “How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Well, it didn’t matter until now, did it? If we all were dead in the cellar of Reeve Mountain, no one would care who was behind this mad expedition.”
Ruby frowned. “Well, can you just pull rank or something? Take control of this loony band?”
Athena hesitated. “I am not certain—”
Wayland Teach cleared his throat, drowning her out, and glanced about, checking for eavesdroppers. “The order doesn’t work like that. Athena’s being Boyle’s daughter means nothing. Petra alla Ferra is doing her best to sneak us and her people to safety across an actual war-torn landscape. Besides, Los Jabalís don’t answer to the order. They answer to the money they were promised. The only reason they helped us get Ruby was anticipation of a greater reward.” His eyes flicked between them. “Anyone here secretly carrying a massive pile of loot?”
They all shook their heads, and a quiet came upon them.
The captain’s joints creaked as he pushed himself up and grabbed an armful of waterskins. “I’m going for more water,” he said, and wandered off.
Athena groaned and levered herself from her elbows onto her hands. Part of her braid had come loose, and a splay of straight black hair plastered itself to her cheek, wet with sweat. “I for one have a different question, a more important one.”
Henry didn’t like the look in her eye. “And what is that?”
Restraining a grin, Athena turned to Ruby. “Can you make yourself a bird?”
Ruby pulled up a handful of grass and threw it at the other girl. “No, I can’t.”
“But you made yourself a pumpkin?”
“Yes, but I didn’t mean to at the time. I was scared, and it just—”
“What about other kinds of plants then?” She wiggled her fingers. “Sunflower, go!”
“Athena, it’s not like that.”
“Persimmon, go!”
“Stop it.”
“Carrot, go!”
“Athena—”
“Rutabaga!”
“Athena, I swear to Providence if you name one more vegetable . . .”
But Ruby was smiling. She even laughed a little. It warmed Henry to see her thaw just a bit, but he could not relax. Couldn’t they see? But when he looked about at them, the knowledge hit him hard. They couldn’t see the challenge waiting for them, like a ball-tail cat hiding in a tree above the trail. “That’s not the most important question,” Henry whispered, talking himself through it.
“Well, what is it then, Henry?” said Ruby.
Someone needed to say it, terrifying as it was. “Ruby’s power is important, but something has been eating at me since we’ve heard about the events at the fort.” He chewed his lip. “Here it is. What does it mean that Ruby’s secret—Marise’s formula for pulling the energy out of folk— is loose in the world?”
Ruby went still. “And in the hands of a madman.”
It had been hard the night before, hearing Ruby’s tale. The man Swedenborg had turned her into an experimental specimen, a thing, not a person, and Henry had listened to one terrifying detail after the other with growing horror and rage. No, this adventure was not over. Henry shuddered to think of what a man like the Swede might do with such a powerful tool as this machine.
“Too many secrets,” said Athena.
It broke Henry out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry, what?”
Athena plucked a handful of grass. “We need information. And Los Jabalís”—she glanced at Ruby—“and even the others like your father and mine . . . they are keeping us blind, perhaps for our own sakes. But we cannot allow that to happen. We need to know everything. That is why I told you of my father.”
Henry chewed on his lip. She was right. Had he been entirely truthful? Had he told them enough of the spying he had done before he met them? Of Fermat’s interests and Nasira’s network of spies? He hadn’t. Should he? “I’m not certain—”
Athena interrupted. “Ruby, there is something else you should know.”
Ruby stared at her, and with her voice barely above a whisper she said, in time with Athena, “Gwath is here.”
Cram’s mouth hung open in shock.
Henry’s head spun. “Who? The cook from your ship? Isn’t he dead?”
Athena’s eyes widened. “How did you find out? Did he tell you?”
Ruby scowled. “Well, you didn’t tell me, that’s for certain.”
“It—it was not my secret to give.” Athena looked about, but all the Jabalís, at least the ones Henry could see, seemed to be out of earshot. “Besides, when would I tell you? There are mercenaries in our boots, in our coats, up in the trees . . .”
“Doesn’t matter.” Ruby searched Henry’s eyes and then looked at the other two. Her cheeks were flushed; she looked almost sick.
“Isn’t this good news, Ruby?” asked Henry. Something was eating at her. Ruby was strong, but there was so much she was carrying.
She took a breath. “Gwath is not just my teacher. He’s my father.”
The wind whirred through the trees.
“Well, that makes sense,” said Cram.
“Cram!” Henry said. “Have some— Don’t just—”
“Well, it does, you know.” His face scrunched up like a raisin. “If you mull it about a bit, and the tension between the Captain and Ruby’s Mam, and the way Ferret has Gwath’s coloring, oh, and their hands. Hold up your hand, Ferret. It looks just like a little Gwath’s—I never forget a hand—even the way the thumb has that crook—”
“Cram.” Athena stopped him cold.
On seeing Ruby’s face, the boy covered his mouth with his hand. “I’m so sorry.” The voice came out muffled. “I didn’t mean—”
Ruby sighed. “It’s all right. He told me last night. I didn’t know.” The words came slowly, like the drops from melting ice. “I thought I was one thing, but I’m not. I’m . . . something else.” Ruby shrugged.
She looked at Henry, and there was a sadness there so deep. He had no idea what to say.
Athena sat up, all business. “I have some experience in being one thing but having others think you are something else. There is a thing you must know.” She moved over and put her arm around Ruby’s shoulders. “You are you, Ruby. That is all that matters to us.”
He and Cram nodded, but Henry kept worrying at it. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to say the thing that would make it all better, but the more he thought about it, the more a solution seemed inconceivable. It was just . . . hard. “How can we help?” he said finally.
Ruby eased back into Athena’s shoulder and stared off into space for a while. “Keep this secret among us at least. Besides that? I don’t know,” she said, “but you can start by promising never again to ask me to turn into a carrot.”
Henry woke to see Vera Medina looming over his bedroll, the first hint of dawn glowing behind her. “Alla Ferra would like to see you.” She looked about at the little group. “All of you, except Captain Teach.”
The captain grumbled but nodded his assent.
Henry, Ruby, Athena, and Cram found Petra alla Ferra sitting on the sunrise edge of the butte. Next to her, on a little flat rock, sat a tiny traveling chess set. The thick, heavy blade of her hunting knife moved as smoothly as silk as she sharpened it on an oiled whetstone, and the taut muscles of her forearm clenched and released in perfect rhythm. Coiled. Predatory.
Henry swallowed his uneasiness. “You summoned us?”
The heavy rasp of the blade on the whetstone did nothing to soothe his nerves. Snick. Snick. Only a hair’s breadth away from cutting the tip from her thumb. “Yes,” she said, eyes never leaving his.
“Why did we have to leave Captain Teach behind?” Ruby said. “If you wish to speak to all of us—”
“I agreed with Henry Collins that I would exchange the aid of Los Jabalís in rescuing you, Ruby Teach. For your cooperation as well as for his translation of the journal of Marise Fermat—” She glanced up at Ruby. “I believe you and Madame Fermat have met? As I said, I agreed to this exercise with Henry here”—she pointed the knife at Henry’s left eye—”and my employer is the father of Lady Athena Boyle”—the knife shifted—“so she is here as his representative.” She raised an eyebrow when none of them expressed any surprise. The knife shifted again to point at Cram. “And I find the servant amusing. Plus he did not disappear into thin air, like the woodswoman, so he must be trustworthy.” She went back to sharpening the blade. “Captain Wayland Teach is not a factor in my decision making, and certainly Marise Fermat is not. It is to you four to whom I wish to speak. Would you like me to call your mommy and daddy so that they can hold your hands?”
When none of them answered, she pointed to the chess set. “Do any of you play?”
They each looked at one another. Henry ran his tongue along the back of his teeth. “I do.”
She pointed the knife to the seat across from her. “Mr. Collins.”
He sat. The pieces were scattered about the board, so he set them in order for the beginning of the game.
After a moment alla Ferra tapped the point of the knife on the board next to his hand. “Which side will you choose?”
From the look on her face, she was asking far more than whether he wanted to play the red pieces or the white pieces. He didn’t know the rules to this game yet. He played for time. “Which do you prefer?”
“But I asked you, Henry Collins.”
She was watching him so closely. Something else was definitely happening here. “I will play red then.”
