Huge Ajax's Arc

Chapter 211 of 619

They left the shelf at first light. Ajax rode point with Rowan beside him. Chalam followed with the book wrapped in oilcloth in his satchel. Marco, Asher, and Elara rode behind. The split pine came at midmorning. Rowan turned east into the ridges without a word. By noon they crossed the creek Rowan had marked. The water ran the wrong way, north instead of down. Rowan swung off his horse and knelt at the bank. He pressed his hand to the mud and smelled his fingers. "Ground is turned," he said. "Something moved under it. Not old." "How far," Ajax said. "Half a ridge east. Maybe less." They walked the horses up the slope. Marco raised his hand at the top and closed his eyes. Ajax stopped the line. Marco held still a long moment, then opened his eyes. "One man in the hollow. Sitting. Reading." "Reading," Ajax said. "A book. He is quiet in his head. Careful. He knows we are close." "Collar?" "No collar. No mark I can find." Ajax looked at Chalam. Chalam shook his head. "I feel no working from here." They tied the horses in the pines and went down on foot. Ajax kept his father's blade loose at his hip. Rowan moved ahead through the brush without sound. He raised two fingers at the tree line and Ajax came up beside him. The hollow held a flat stone the size of a table. A man sat cross-legged on it with an open book across his knees. He was not old. He wore a wizard's blue robe, open at the chest. A staff lay beside him in the grass. He turned a page. Chalam went very still. "You know him," Ajax said, low. "I know the book," Chalam said. "It was burned three hundred years ago. Every copy." The man on the stone looked up. He did not stand. "Chalam," he called. His voice carried easy across the hollow. "You brought company. Sit. I have almost finished this chapter." Marco touched Ajax's arm. Two taps. Truth. Ajax stepped out of the trees. Rowan followed with an arrow on the string. Elara came up on the left with her hand on her band. Chalam walked to the stone and looked down at the pages. "Where did you get this," Chalam said. "Under the floor of a house two ridges east. The old woman was reading it before she died. She had marked her place." He turned the book so Chalam could see. "Binding words. Old ones. Enough to lock a god without a seat." Ajax stood over him. "Who are you." The man closed the book on one finger. He smiled at Ajax like a man greeting a guest at his own table. "A reader," he said. "And you are the mason's son. Sit down. We have a great deal to discuss."