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With a deep breath I began to sum up the exploration of the garrison. Telling the story made me feel like my actions were very reckless. I winced as I related my impulsive strike on the men in the girl’s room, and made sure to prominently mention Olena’s news that our family had already been moved. They already knew about the harrowing escape through the tunnel so I didn’t dwell there. My brothers could well remember the unpleasantness of such a project, and the others would never know anyway. I tried to gloss over the skirmish with the patrolmen at the river, and summed up as quickly as I could our getting over the wall and crawling to the woods. I was relieved when Jemin stepped in again to relate his side.

Jemin explained his diversion, that he had gone to the main road and—using those sad remaining sheaves of wheat—lit a fire in the street roughly the shape of a prancing horse, the old seal of Gillenwater.

Quill and Vaudrin were both nodding. “It is too early to involve Dalyn publicly, and under the circumstances implying Galhara’s involvement would be unwise also,” commented Vaudrin.

“Does anyone in Gillenwater actually oppose the Nether Queen?” I asked.

“None love her, but few would have the courage to stand up to her without some great aid,” replied Jemin. “Perhaps the burning horse will give them courage.”

“Perhaps,” said Quill, “But we should move on from this place immediately. If the garrison searches the countryside, we need to be farther than half a day’s walk.”

I felt despair rising in me as I realized there would be no rest. “But we have walked all night, I don’t think the women can keep going like this.” I couldn’t go on like this.

“They have to,” said Namal, looking at me compassionately, “But they can take turns riding Sinker—he can likely carry three at a time.”

A sigh escaped the depths of my being. “Very well. But I would like to change my clothes.” I picked up the hem of my very humble homespun, which was looking even worse after the night of abuse I had given it.

“It will take a little while to get ready to leave, so you have time to freshen up,” Quill looked to Vaudrin. “Have the men get ready, we leave within the hour.”

Vaudrin rose and immediately set about the business of recalling their scouts and sentries.

“Come on, Zare,” Ayglos stood and offered me his hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I took the hand up gratefully, and Ayglos led me over to where our packs sat in a tidy pile at the base of a tree. He located mine and handed it to me. I deposited my crossbow and daggers on the ground to take the pack. I rummaged for a clean tunic, trousers, and a linen wash cloth, then ducked behind a larger tree to shed my filthy clothes and shoes. I scrubbed myself quickly, then with a shiver slipped into the dry clothes. I had forgotten what dry clothes felt like—and just how much warmer they were than damp! There was no help for the shoes, and damp shoes were better than nothing. Wadding up my rags I came back around the tree. Ayglos was waiting.

“At our next stop I want to burn these,” I held up my bundle. “They are not worth—nor likely to survive—the effort to scrub the blood out.” I stuffed my distasteful wad in the pack. I wished I could leave it under the tree, but if it was found then the Nether Queen’s soldiers would know they were headed in the right direction.

“How are you?” Ayglos asked, searching my face with his green-flecked eyes.

I shrugged. “Exhausted.” I picked up the leather belt and sheathed daggers and strapped them back around my waist. “And I already feel naked without these.”

“You’re not wounded?” he prodded, pulling out one of our cloaks and draping it around my shoulders. “Or otherwise scarred?”

“Not wounded. If you mean mentally scarred…I don’t know yet.” I sat down and pulled my knees up. “I think I’m fine, but I’m too tired to know for sure. I don’t think I killed them all—there are a couple that I just knocked out. Is that bad? Should I have killed them?”

My brother looked at me, tenderness radiated from him like heat from a hearth fire—a welcome refuge after being out in a storm. “Not necessarily—even if they recognized you, they might not want to own up to being so thoroughly trounced by a seventeen-year-old girl.”

I smirked. “Some girls my age are already ruling kingdoms or raising children, it’s not such an insult.” Though, not many girls my age were running around with knives and swords.

Ayglos smiled, then said, “I guess we always forget that you lived through the siege, too.”

I cocked an eye at him. “And that I fought by your side.”

“Yes, and that you fought by my side.”

“And survived just fine,” I added, “Valiantly. Better than you, even.”

Ayglos prodded me with his foot. “Don’t push it.”

I grinned and closed my eyes. “I wished for you often, never fear.”

Ayglos laughed.

He had beaten me in every single duel we had ever fought. Usually I pretended that wasn’t the case because it was more fun that way. “Wake me up when we’re leaving,” I said.

“Of course.” I heard him walking away as I gave myself to the dark of my eyelids

When Ayglos shook my shoulder I swore that no time had passed—and I was nearly right. It had only taken Quill’s men a half an hour to get ready. Even with finding cloaks for all the girls. It appeared that they simply existed in a state of being able to pick up and run at a moment’s notice. My horses, Sinker and Hook, were standing in the center of the glen, and Gabe was boosting women onto Sinker’s back. I smiled at the women but went straight to the horses and let them sniff my hands. They remembered me. They’d better. I scratched Hook’s neck, and he relaxed into my touch just as much as I into his.

Quill approached. “You should ride, my lady,” he said.

“I still have legs,” I countered, “You’re the one who needs to ride.”

“I will, later,” He stopped next to me. “Jemin and the red-head—Olena?—told me of your deeds. You have earned a ride.”

I was puzzled. “Didn’t I tell you my deeds?”

Quill smiled and arched his eyebrow, my heart flopped. “An abbreviated version, yes. Jemin expounded on your inventiveness, and Olena on your prowess—taking on three men with naught but your daggers and a broken bottle after swimming for two hours with barely a break.”

“Olena killed one of them,” I corrected.

“And playing a ghost to haunt the men on the wall,” his smile broadened to a grin. “I wish I could have seen it. Jemin said you gave him a bit of a turn himself.”

I looked down, then at Hook’s ears. My cheeks were warm from Quill’s praise and I didn’t know what to say. Princesses should know what to say, but my ingenuity was apparently spent for the time being.

“Did you know that this week should have been the Feast of Maten?”

“Maten?” I furrowed my brow. I had forgotten about that feast. The mountain cities observed this feast, it had to do with the man and woman—Maten and Nelia?—who lead the mountain cities to victory against a warlock. “Maten died,” I said slowly, “because he took the warlock personally to the gates of hell…and then didn’t make it back?”

“And after helping the cities rebuild, she disappeared. They say she left to find him, that she roams the earth to this day looking for him.” Quill’s eyes were sparkling. “She had dark hair like you, as the story goes.”

My ears couldn’t get redder as I discovered that the feeling of accidently achieving something incredible felt awfully similar to nearly falling off a cliff. I shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t know that.”

“Jemin also told me that you overrode him and kept him from sacrificing himself to cover your escape. I am grateful to you for preserving one of my best men. There aren’t many your age—man or woman—who would have performed so well. Were you not born with rank, I would gladly give you one,” Quill bowed at the waist, “Rest a little, and later I will ride. It’s not a short journey to Dalyn; you’ll get your chance to walk.”

If he was going to insist, I wasn’t going to argue. My spirits bolstered, I mustered enough energy to jump on Hook’s back—rather less gracefully than usual—and once we were underway I nodded off to the rhythm of his walk. Maybe Eloi hadn’t forgotten us.

 

What remained of the night passed in a blur of olive and pine trees. I mostly remember the scent of the earth, and those horrible little vines which trail along the ground solely to trip unsuspecting travelers. I gave away my curtain to one of the smaller girls for whatever warmth it could offer. I remembered no color, and only a vague surprise when I realized I could see the trees I touched. The world crept into gray, then eventually grew brave and donned green, then all at once the sun covered the forest in brazen gold.

Even though I felt dead, I lifted my face to the sun’s touch and let myself smile a little. We’d been out of the city for hours and were still alive, and still free. I looked at the women, nine were my circus girls, three I didn’t know before last night. My girls were dirty, pale, one or two were sniffling after a cold night in damp clothes, but their eyes were bright with freedom.

“I have never been so glad to see the sun,” whispered Olena, pausing to look around. Her eyes fell on me and she reached for my hand. “Thank you.”

I squeezed her hand and said nothing. It was a miracle, I noted, that we’d gotten this far. I wasn’t about to take credit for that. We walked all morning without a rest. I think Jemin was afraid that if we stopped at all we would never start again. So while our pace dwindled and hunger began to rear its head, we kept on. It’s not as if we had any food anyway. I remembered mournfully the supplies we’d left at the little inn in Gillenwater…and my donkey! When I remembered Line I spun as if to go back for him before realizing it was impossible. I hoped the tavern keeper would be good to him.

Our pace was such that it was afternoon when we reached the dancing little stream that would lead us to the camp. We all knelt gratefully on the stream’s banks and drank our fill.

Jemin made us cross over to the other side before following it south. “In case they bring out their hunting hounds,” he explained.

I didn’t think they would if they hadn’t yet, but one never knew. We’d only been walking an hour or so more when one of Quill’s scouts hailed us. Another twenty minutes and we walked into the little camp by the gorge. The score of men loitering around the glen leapt to their feet at our approach. Everyone looked stunned.

The awkward silence was broken by Gabe—the circus strongman—who pushed several men out of his way and ran across the stream crying, “Adva! Adva!”

One of the acrobats threw out her arms and ran to meet him. “Gabreal!” When they met, Gabe scooped the slight acrobat into his arms and collapsed to his knees weeping. She wrapped her arms around his neck and cried, too.

Then suddenly my brothers and Balleck were splashing across the stream and I realized that I was still at the back of the group and Olena was with me.

Jemin realized it, too, and quickly held up his hands, “Lady Zare is here!”

I grabbed Olena’s arm and pulled her forward. The others made way and we met our kin next to Jemin in a gasping mess of suffocating embraces—family first, then friends. My brothers and Balleck, who had obviously been worried, were now alarmed that they had not been worried enough, but were giddy that we’d turned up anyway. In all the excitement even Balleck gave me a fierce embrace, and I was pretty sure that Ayglos kissed Olena. For several minutes there was nothing but hugs and exclamations as they greeted all the circus women—and even the girls they didn’t know—with warmth and rejoicing. Returning to Olena and I, they fell upon us again.

“Zare—what has happened?” demanded Ayglos, after my bothers had crushed me with a second round of affection. “Your clothes are damp—is that blood on them? Are you alright? How did you get the women back? And where are our parents and Nadine?”

I swallowed. “They were already gone.” I felt so very many things, but at this moment I felt more like crying than anything else. “May we have food and sit down?” I asked weakly.

This set off another flurry of activity as the rebel soldiers hurried to help the women across the water, make places for them to sit, and bring out cheese, dates and bread for us to eat. Namal guided me over to a spot near a large rock where I saw Quill standing squarely, his arms crossed. I sat down on the ground without waiting for a bedroll and curled my fingers into the scrubby grass. Sitting down: The only thing better would be laying down.

Namal sat down beside me.

“Welcome back, my lady,” said Quill, lowering himself to the ground.

“Thank you.” I watched him—he was favoring his wounded leg but making a real effort to use it. My eyes narrowed. “No one changed your bandage while I was gone.”

“And yet I still live,” returned Quill. “It appears that you had an eventful scouting mission.”

I nodded, I felt like a pound of sand was in my eyes. “I lost my donkey.”

Namal looked at me incredulously.

Quill’s face twisted as he tried to stifle a laugh.  “For a start, anyway,” coughed Quill as Ayglos, Jemin and Vaudrin joined us.

I felt a smile tug at my lips.

Jemin handed me food and I fell upon it without mercy. The others waited patiently as Jemin and I ate, and when we were done Namal said, “Report.”

I arched a brow at him, but Jemin began to relate the whole story—starting with our arrival in the city, the opinions of the people, and the plans we made to find out the lay of the garrison.

When he got to the water tunnel everyone looked sharply at me—but for different reasons. Quill and Vaudrin, at least, looked at my brothers also, with the revelation that they were also half-blooded. My brothers’ eyes bored into me and I could already guess their reproaches. Yet with our mother a prisoner, secrecy about our blood was almost certainly pointless. I returned their looks tartly, and then gave my attention to Jemin just in time to hear him say, “When Lady Zare returned she brought one of the kidnapped women back with her through the tunnel, and then spent the next two hours extracting all the others. I have not heard her portion of the tale.”