"No," replied Adras. "Only red glows, like a distant sunset."
"That's good, I guess," said Tal. "Hopefully they've given up looking for us."
"Perhaps they have," said Jarnil. He came over to the well and used his good hand to scoop up a handful of water to splash upon his face. "The Day of Ascension dawns just hours away, and all Chosen will be preparing for the journey to Aenir."
"Hours away?" asked Tal. He'd lost track of the days since his initial fall from the Castle. Time also flowed differently in Aenir. He looked at his Sunstone. It was the second hour of the morning, still the middle of the night, at least above the Veil. "That's great! It will be so much easier to get to the Red Tower."
"Don't forget that the Spiritshadows remain behind," warned Jarnil. "Once I would have said they will stay close to their masters' bodies, but now I am not sure."
"Have you… have you thought of going to Aenir to get a new Spiritshadow?" asked Tal. Jarnil shook his head.
"It would not be safe for me. Remember, all the Chosen think I am dead. Anyone who saw me would think I was a creature that had taken on the shape of Jarnil Yannow-Kyr, and they would blast me to cinders. Besides, I am not sure I could bind a Spiritshadow now."
Tal nodded. Adras nodded, too.
"Crow and Ebbitt are preparing clothes and equipment for you," Jarnil continued. "Crow has decided that it is best if only the two of you attempt the Tower."
"What about me?" asked Adras.
"And you, of course, Master Storm Shepherd," said Jarnil. "I should have said three."
"Master Storm Shepherd! I like that," boomed Adras. "You should call me that, Tal."
Tal sighed. He was missing Milla and Odris already, though he didn't want to admit it.
"I'd better go and get ready," said Tal. "Where are they?"
Jarnil pointed. But before Tal could walk away, he gripped the boy by the sleeve and leaned in close to him.
"I know only what Ebbitt has told me of the Icecarls, and that he gained from you," he whispered. "Are they as strong and warlike as Ebbitt says? You see, I am not sure we have done the right thing in letting Milla take any news to them."
"They are warlike," Tal answered, his voice low. He bit his lip a little before continuing. "But they are also honorable. They helped me return to the Castle. Milla has saved my life several times."
"I know, it is hard to think of someone who has saved your life as an enemy," Jarnil observed. "But what do you think the Icecarls will do when they hear of a way into the Castle? Ebbitt tells me Milla came here for a Sunstone, that they are rare in the world beyond. I understand that there are many different bands or tribes. What if one of them sees us as a storehouse of riches to be plundered? Would they risk attacking us, even knowing of our superior magic?"
"I don't know," Tal replied slowly. "They might."
"We must be careful, Tal," Jarnil muttered. "These Icecarls are outsiders. While I am keen to raise up suitable Underfolk, they are at least Castle-dwellers. I want you to promise that if the right opportunity comes along, you will warn the Empress, or some safe Chosen, about the possible danger from Icecarls raiding the Castle."
"I'll think about it," said Tal. It was hard not to promise. He still reacted to Jarnil as if he were a Lector, and Tal a small boy. He felt like he should be bowing and giving light in respect from his Sunstone.
"Do so," instructed Jarnil. He let Tal go and stalked away, his bad arm fluttering at his side. "Forget you heard that," Tal instructed Adras as they went over to the cottage Jarnil had indicated. "Forget what?" asked Adras.
"Forget it." Tal shook his head.
"What?" asked Adras. "What?"
"Nothing!" shouted Tal. "Never mind!"
Adras snorted and shot up to hover over Tal. A moment later, shadow-rain fell harmlessly on Tal's head. He ignored it and opened the door. Adras stayed outside, rumbling.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Inside the cottage, or rather the large cellar room underneath, Crow was sorting through a collection of strange garments. Great-uncle Ebbitt was asleep in a hammock strung up across one corner, his Spiritshadow beneath him. As Tal came down the steps, Ebbitt and his Spiritshadow opened one eye each.
"Beware the voices of sensible men, who sing almost in tune and know all the words," said Ebbitt.
Tal scowled. Sometimes Ebbitt was as bad as Adras.
"Come over here and try these on," instructed
Crow. He sounded friendlier than he had in the past.
Crow passed him two sets of white robes. The first was light, probably the standard Underfolk wear, but the other set was made of a heavier, shinier material. Crow also gave him a long-snouted mask that had clear crystal eyepieces, and a pair of crystal clogs.
Tal put on both sets of robes. The outer ones were heavy and hot, as if the fabric did not breathe. The mask was like a giant rat's head, the snout easily as long as Tal's forearm. It had holes in the end, but most of the snout was filled with a spongelike material.
"What is this?" asked Tal, before he slipped it on. The mask fit very tightly to his face and under his chin, and was secured behind with adjustable straps.
"Filter mask," Crow replied. "We're going to be disguised as caveroach sprayers. The masks keep the poison out. Put these gloves on, too."
Tal put on the long, almost transparent gloves. They came up to his elbows and were made of something like the gut of an animal. He was flexing his fingers and being thankful that they were so light when Crow threw him huge, heavy gauntlets made of the same material as the robes.
"Do we have to wear all this stuff?" Tal asked, his voice muffled behind the mask.
"Yes," said Crow. "The caveroach sprayers do all the corridors while the Chosen are away in Aenir. We will be able to get right up to the base of the Red
Tower. But we'll have to spray on the way so we don't look suspicious."
"Your great-uncle thought of the disguise," Crow added reluctantly, nodding at Ebbitt. "It might even work, since he says your Spiritshadow can change its shape enough to be a normal shadow."
"Yes," said Tal. He hadn't really thought about it, but being a Storm Shepherd, Adras was much more malleable than any normal adult Spiritshadow, which had to basically conform to its Aeniran size and shape.
"I always wanted to be a caveroach sprayer," said Ebbitt from his hammock. "But I was doomed to a career as a Chosen."
Both Crow and Tal frowned at him, though for different reasons. Since Crow had just put his mask on to adjust it, Ebbitt couldn't see either boy's expression and continued.
"I have often wondered where I might have ended up if I'd been a caveroach sprayer."
"Dead, like most of them," said Crow, taking off his mask. "Even with the suits, the poison gets them after twenty or thirty years."
"Why don't they change jobs?" asked Tal innocently.
Crow stared at him.
"Underfolk can't change jobs," he said scornfully. "We get written into the records when we're born. If you're a boy, you get your father's job. If you're a girl, you get your mother's. We don't even have names in the records. Just 'born to Sweeper #1346, a son, Sweeper #3019.' We make up the names later."
"Who keeps these records?" Tal was puzzled. He'd never heard of Chosen doing something so much like work, or of Underfolk having numbers instead of names.
"We do it to ourselves now," said Crow, his lip curling into a sneer. "The Fatalists. The Chosen started it long ago, and the Fatalists are so convinced we are here only to serve that they just keep doing everything as it has always been done. Are you ready?"
The sudden question surprised Tal. He stammered out a yes.
"We'll go, then," said Crow. "It'll take a few hours to get up to Underfolk Seven. We '11 have to pick up some poison sprayers on the way."
"We're going right now?" asked Tal. "What about the others?"
"They've gone to get the airweed and scrounge for food. The sooner we get this over with, the better. That Milla had the right id
ea. No waiting around. I reckon she'd be a good looker, too, once she washed up."
"What?" asked Tal. he'd never had time to spare any thought to what Milla looked like. He was confused about how he felt about her. He'd just got used to the guarded enmity between them, which was better than when she'd wanted to kill him.
"Milla," said Crow, twisting his face into an exaggerated leer. "I wouldn't mind--"
"She'd kill you," said Tal.