Marjorie struggled to her feet and went out onto the platform. “Rillibee,” she called.
He came into sight below them, moving wearily among the vines. “You look tired out!” His bony face was pale. His eyes were circled with shadow, making them look enormous, like a night-dwelling creature.
“Long climb,” he mumbled. “Long, long climb.” He pulled himself upward, slowly upward, sliding over the railing at last in an exhausted heap. “Oh, I’m thankful for all that climbing at the Friary. All those spidery ladders, all those bridges….”
“What happened?” Brother Mainoa asked.
“Highbones tried to catch me. He couldn’t. I led him off into the forest, a long, long way. Then I hid from him, let him pass me, and came back. I’d have killed him if I could have figured out an easy way to do it. Bastard.”
Marjorie touched his cheek. “We can go now. Back to Commons.”
Rillibee shook his head. “No. Not yet. We need … we need the foxen. I’m sorry to have wasted so much time on Highbones, but I didn’t know what else to do except get them away from here. I thought they’d all come. Highbones usually likes to outnumber his opponents. But you managed to deal with the others.”
“One of the foxen did.”
“Ah.” He sagged wearily. “I have to tell you things, Marjorie. Opal Hill has been burned by the Hippae. There’s a Hippae-hound trail half a mile wide leading toward the swamp-forest. The ambassador, your husband, is at the hospital. He’s going to be all right, but it was a close thing. Stavenger bon Damfels is dead, him and a dozen or so bons. They’ve found the bon Damfels girl in there, at the port. Dimity. The one who vanished this spring, just like they found Janetta….
“Both of them were taken by Hippae,” Marjorie said in wonderment. “And both of them ended up at the port!”
Rillibee nodded. “Naked. Mindless. Everyone at Commons is frantic over it. Janetta and Dimity got in there somehow. They couldn’t come through the trees unless the foxen carried them. If the foxen didn’t carry them, then there’s some other way in. Has to be. And if girls can get in, maybe Hippae can get in. We have to find how they got there—“
A troubled sound from the trees.
“Now they’re upset,” said Brother Mainoa, rubbing his head. “They’re angry. The foxen have never carried anyone anywhere until they carried you and your companions. Rillibee. The foxen thought the town was safe. They had encouraged men to build the port there, where the Hippae couldn’t get at it.”
“Encouraged?” asked Marjorie.
“You know.” Brother Mainoa sighed. “Encouraged. Influenced. As they do.”
She felt the foxen retreating. “Where are they going?”
“They’ve gone to look for the way Rillibee says must be there. As they went they were thinking of migerers.”
“Diggers? They suspect a tunnel, then.”
“Something like that.” Mainoa gave a weary shudder, putting his head into his hands. “Marjorie, at this moment, I’m a tired old man. I’m incapable of helping to look for tunnels.”
Rillibee put his arms around the old man. “I’m a very tired young one, Brother. If the foxen are searching, let’s let them do it. I need a little rest. Unless you think they need our help …”
“They’ll do it,” Brother Mainoa said. Whether they would or not, he could do no more. Marjorie crept back to her bed, feeling the pain ebb once more as she fell into sleep, empty this time of all foxen dreams. Rillibee lay sprawled like a child. Mainoa huddled into himself, snoring slightly. Father James sat by the railing, wondering what had really happened to Marjorie, what she had really seen or dreamed. Long Bridge and Steeplehands sulked and muttered to one another, chafing at their bonds.
Even before First returned late in the afternoon, they knew the way into Commons had been found. When He was yet some distance off, horses and riders swam into their minds, and they knew what He intended. Mounted once more, they were led in a circuitous route as they crossed quiet pools, forded dark streams, and rode down long, splashing alleys. Without a guide, it would have been impossible to find their way. Some pools were shallow water over sucking sands. Some were full of deadly sharp root knees. They knew, because the foxen showed them.