Not so fast, he wanted to scream. Slow down! But he was afraid to say anything that might distract her.
Then abruptly they were on the ground and Rocan was peeling him off Seelah’s back, trying desperately not to laugh.
“You should see your face!” he exclaimed after extracting Shea and setting him back on his feet. “You look like you just witnessed your own death!”
Shea grimaced. “That’s not so far from the truth. And it’s not funny!”
He stood there shaking, rubbing his arms and legs to make the tremors stop and to regain some feeling in limbs gone numb with the effort of clinging to his rescuer. It took him a moment to regain his composure, then he remembered to turn to Seelah and give her a smile and a few quick words of thanks. The shape-shifter, her beautiful features beaming at him, returned the smile twofold.
“Come away,” Rocan urged the boy and the old man. “We’ve gotten you both safely out of the cell, but we’re not free of trouble yet. We can’t linger.”
He bundled them off toward the gates they had come through, providing each with a heavy cloak to guard against recognition, shooing them along with words of encouragement, glancing back over his shoulder anxiously. Shea found himself wondering how they were going to get through the gates. While there had been no problem getting inside Assidian Deep, thanks to Rocan bribing one of the watch, there was no reason to assume they would have help getting out.
And he was right. As they neared the gates, he saw three guards standing in their path with the opening behind them tightly sealed. In spite of everything they had accomplished thus far, they were still trapped.
He glanced around for Seelah, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Abruptly, Rocan made a sharp right turn, steering them away from the gates and the men. Shea waited for someone to try to stop them or to call out, but none of the men made any effort. They just stood there watching.
“Why aren’t they coming after us?” the boy asked Rocan in a hushed voice. “Don’t they know who we are?”
Rocan smiled. “Maybe they do, and maybe they don’t. But they don’t care. If we leave them alone and don’t try to get through their post, they have no interest in us. If anyone asks later, they can say they saw us but did as they were ordered and stayed put. After all, how could we possibly get out of here if all the gates were closed and guarded?”
He paused and smiled. “Enough credits will buy you anything, so long as what’s asked doesn’t inconvenience those who are bought. Men like those three just need to be able to say they did what they were told and the fault, whatever its nature, must lie elsewhere. Remember, this isn’t exactly the sort of job that anyone who holds it feels much attached to.”
Shea wasn’t sure he understood this rationale, but he was willing to accept it if it got them out of there. But that if remained a matter of concern. All they seemed to be doing now was following the wall of the prison to where they would find yet another closed gate with yet another contingent of guards.
Instead, though, they reached a set of stables with horses and feed, positioned back in the shadows of an overhang jutting from the north wall. Wagons and carriages in service to the men who worked the prison were parked off to one side, some of them dusty and worn, only one or two still in good working order. Here, the wall dropped lower to allow for a smaller set of gates where only a single man stood, rigid and unmoving as they approached. As they drew closer, Shea realized the guard was armored from head to foot, holding a halberd in one hand, butt resting on the ground.
When they reached the man, Rocan went right up to him and put a friendly hand on his shoulder. “All right with you if we leave through these gates, my friend? It won’t get you in trouble, will it?”
The man said nothing.
Rocan nodded. “Silence is a sign of acquiescence, I believe.” He glanced back at Shea and Tindall. “Come along. These service gates will provide us with the exit we seek.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Shea asked as Rocan unbarred the smaller gates and pushed one of the two doors ajar. “Is he dead or something?”
The Rover shrugged. “He’s just the shell of the man he once was. He hasn’t been the same since he suffered a real out-of-body experience sometime last night. You know, like those astral projection followers believe happens to you once you get far enough into your own self. Never bought into it myself, but some do. Maybe this fellow was one of them.”
Shea realized, giving the motionless man another glance, what he was looking at. “He isn’t in there, is he? That armor is empty.”
Tindall gave a low chuckle. “Nothing gets by you, boy, does it?”
Shea felt like telling the old coot that if he called him “boy” one more time, he was going to flatten him. But by then they were on the other side of the wall and Rocan was pulling the door of the service gate closed behind him. There, Seelah was waiting with a carriage, holding the lead rope on a pair of horses as they stamped and shifted about impatiently.
Rocan ushered Shea and Tindall inside, then climbed into the driver’s seat. The boy looked, but he couldn’t tell what had happened to Seelah. “Hold on. The ride may get a bit bumpy before we get to where we’re going. Hah! Get on there!”
His yell sent the pair in the traces charging ahead, and the carriage and its occupants were off.
* * *
—
Assidian Deep was left behind after only a few minutes. They were traveling swiftly over whatever avenue of passage the Rover had settled on, and Shea found that even by looking out the windows of the carriage he could not tell where they were, let alone where they might be going. Seated across from him, Tindall bounced and squirmed as the wheels passed down a series of rutted and heavily pocked surfaces, groaning and grumbling the entire time as if escaping the prison wasn’t worth the cost.
Shea ignored him. Served him right for being such a grump. Maybe all the jouncing and discomfort would shake the bad disposition and lack of gratitude out of him.
The ride went on for a long time—an endless time, it seemed—leaving the boy wishing they had simply settled on walking to wherever it was they were going. On the other hand, he had gotten his wish for Tindall to stop griping. The old man was collapsed on the carriage seat and had somehow managed to fall asleep.
Several times, Shea peered out the windows to see what was happening. Not once did he notice anything troubling. No one was behaving as if an alarm had sounded or anything at all was wrong with the new day. It was as if they had moved into a different time and place entirely. The buildings and the people they charged through barely gave them a glance, save in the few instances when they were almost run down. Apparently what happened in Assidian Deep was not something that any of them cared about.