Visitors (Pathfinder 3)

The old carpenter looked at him and there was something sly about him. “How could you not know that?”

“Two years gone,” said Umbo—a bit of an understatement, but close enough. He could have named the time to the hour.

“Yes, they had a baby,” said the carpenter. “About old enough to toddle about. But not able to fly, poor boy. Had no wings, not him, and so he broke on the ground, and they threw him into the river along with his ma and da. The river must be near full of the king’s justice by now. They must have a dam of such justice right across the mouth of it, down at Aressa Sessamo.”

“By Silbom,” murmured Umbo. “I didn’t know it was like that.”

“How can you get from Upsheer all the way to here, and not know how it is? Did you fly?”

“I slept, mostly,” said Umbo, “and the rivermen were not disposed to converse with me. Now I think I see why. Not knowing who might be hearing with the king’s ears, or seeing with his eyes.”

The old carpenter grunted and turned back to his saw. “Report me if you want. I’m nearly ready for the river as it is, without any help from the king’s men, nor the queen’s either. My children live far away now, but not far enough. The Wall itself isn’t far enough to suit me.”

I have a way through that Wall, thought Umbo. But not one that I can share with you. Nor would your life be all that much better if you left this wallfold.

Yes it would. Because now Umbo understood it all, or supposed that he must. Stabbing Loaf wouldn’t have killed him. The facemask would have healed him by the time he reached the farther shore. But it would have done nothing for Leaky or their son. They would be dead.

Then Loaf would have gone in search of one of the timeshapers. Then he would go out raiding in the name of the Rebel King, going back in time in order to . . .

Who is the Rebel King, if not Param’s husband? Wouldn’t that be me?

Or has Rigg decided to claim the throne as firstborn child of Knosso Sissamik and Queen Hagia Sessamin?

Why not the Rebel Queen? Had something happened to Param? Or was this one of the places that preferred a King-in-the-Tent to a Queen?

But no, that wasn’t why it all seemed wrong to Umbo. This whole thing was not possible because as long as there was a timeshaper in the world, this would not be allowed to stand. All of them were friends of Loaf’s. Once they learned what Haddamander Citizen had done, one of them would have gone to Loaf and Leaky and warned them to take their son and flee.

Umbo’s first thought had been that Loaf, with his facemask, must have been the person who, serving the Rebel King, had given rise to the stories of Captain Toad. But the only way Loaf could have traveled back in time to lead raids against Haddamander Citizen would have been with the help of a timeshaper, and any timeshaper would already have prevented the deaths of Leaky and her firstborn son.

So Captain Toad could only have been Rigg. Descriptions of his facemask would match Loaf’s well enough to explain the soldiers’ certainty that they had found their man. It would not excuse what they did, but it would explain why Loaf was ­targeted for retribution.

Umbo understood it all now, or enough of it. Now it was time to set about undoing this disastrous outcome. If he could save his reckless younger brother, he could save his most beloved friends.

Someone came to the door of the carpenter’s shop. The carpenter nodded.

Fearing a trap, Umbo whirled around. But it was only a woman. By no means old enough to be the carpenter’s wife. She held a bundle under one arm.

Not a bundle. A baby. Wrapped so as to look more like a package than a child.

“You have to take him,” said the carpenter.

Umbo said nothing.

“The soldiers didn’t know about their second child,” said the carpenter softly. “Leaky couldn’t nurse, so the boy was at Dariah’s house during the roadhouse working hours. Only the older boy was home, because he was early weaned. We’ve kept this little one safe and not a soul has breathed a word, but he’s a danger to us all the same.”

“Why are you telling me?” asked Umbo. “How can you trust me?”

“Do you thin

k I don’t know you?” asked the carpenter. “So many times you stayed with Loaf and Leaky.”

“In the old days I did,” said Umbo. “But as I said, not for—”

The carpenter grew fierce. “If I was going to betray you, it would have been King Haddamander’s men, and not Dariah at the door. We know who the Rebel King is, Queen Param’s husband, the true master of Stashiland. The bane of the Sissaminka. I’ve said it. If you have to kill me now, do what you must. But take this child, the last that’s left of Loaf and Leaky. And then go on until you bring down this evil king and serve him as he served Loaf and Leaky and their older boy.”

So I am the Rebel King. But how do they know it? What have I been doing during these years? How could my face be known to them? Or how could they guess that the boy who periodically stayed with Loaf and Leaky was now the Rebel King?

If they know, others know. General Citizen must have learned of the connection between me and Loaf—that was why they died, not because of mistaken identity.