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12-Tribute

I made a careful search of my tiny chambers before cleaning up and again crawling into the deliciously comfortable bed. I didn’t find any peep holes or slits in the walls, just a fresh set of clothes hanging in the wardrobe. It wasn’t unreasonable for the Captain of the Guard to talk to one of the most influential leanyodi, but he’d made such a big deal about rumors I found it irritating that an entire day hadn’t gone by before he’d blabbed.

Quill and I had lingered over the letters after Eliah had gone to bed. He sifted through them over and over, and I’d told him everything Galo had told me. Galo hadn’t anything about the young Empire to the north beyond Angareth’s desire to remain independent. But when I closed my eyes, I could almost feel its borders, far north and east, like an old sadness lingering at the back of my mind.

It took longer than I wanted to fall sleep, and when I awoke in the morning my fingers were curled around the hilts of Shiharr and Azzad. I itched for a fight but had to content myself with stretches before I dressed for the day. The clothes were the same cut as the day prior, but a deep purple. I had just finished applying generous kohl to my eyes when Galo arrived in the same purple clothes and applied the white streak across my cheeks to match hers. Another morning of audiences before we spent the afternoon preparing for the trip to Gar Morwen.

“Galo,” I said, as soon as she was putting the white paint away, “How did you know I used the Villaban salute? I have never saluted the Countess in that fashion.”

A faint red flush tinged her cheeks and she straightened her back, tucking the paint case into a pocket. “It’s my business to know.”

I arched my brow, “The Captain of the Guard reports to you?”

“Only when he’s been shut up in the chambers of one of the leanyodi,” retorted Galo with more bite than I’d expected.

I recoiled a bit, “Galo,” it was as unsettling as calming a spooked horse you’d previously found unshakable, “Captain Druskin insisted on testing my fighting skill. I insisted on not being the only leanyodi to train with him in the yard because I’m supposed to blend in. Sparring with the door open would have been worse.”

“Yes,” Galo sniffed, “I’m aware.” She pushed the bedroom door open and I followed her out, wondering what in Serrifis Quill had gotten me into. We were almost to the kitchens before I felt Galo’s hackles lower.

The kitchen was a long, bustling room with a stone floor and a ceiling of wooden beams. Pots, pans, and drying herbs hung from the beams, and long wooden table filled the whole center of the room. A fireplace flanked by a company of stone ovens took an entire wall. A doorway led to another kitchen on the other side of the fireplace wall. Servants were everywhere, either eating at the long table or tending the fires or chopping or stirring. The scent of onions and herbs tickled my nose. Three leanyodi also clad in purple were just finishing their breakfast at the table. I recognized two of them as having been with us in the hall yesterday. Both brunettes, the brown eyed one was Brell—who had said Ilya Terr was handsome—and the blue eyed one was Karolya. I did not know the third, who had black hair and was bent over a ledger, with a pile of papers and her half-finished breakfast beside her.

“Good morning,” said Galo, brightly, as if she hadn’t steamed at me the whole way down here.

“Galo,” smiled Brell as she stood up, “Karolya and I were just about to go to the hall to make sure everything is ready for the last of the audiences.”

“Perfect,” Galo sat at the table, and I slipped onto the bench across from her.

Karolya looked at me as she stood up, “How are you feeling after your first day of standing?”

“I’m well,” I gave her a small smile. I probably looked tired, but it was due more to fitful sleep than the prior day’s duties.

Karolya reached over and squeezed my hand, “You’ll get used to it. The first week is the hardest.”  She looked to Galo, “Galo.”

“I’ll see you in the hall,” replied Galo in acknowledgement.

As soon as Brell and Karolya walked away, a servant placed bowls of white mush in front of us. Galo bowed her head and I followed suit before digging in. I did not love the white mush, though it was rich in onion and bacon flavors for some mysterious reason. It was food, so I ate it.

“Hadella,” Galo turned to the remaining leanyod, “How are preparations for the journey?”

Hadella’s head snapped up as if she hadn’t even noticed we were here. “Galo, good morning.” Her eyes shifted to me, “Zephra, is it? Good to see you.”

“Good morning,” I replied.

“These are the accounts from yesterday, I’ve been working on them since audiences ended yesterday.” Hadella sighed heavily, “It’s always this way before a long journey, everything has to be done ahead of time and then new work appears where there wasn’t any.”

“Are there normally gifts when she holds audience days?” I asked, making myself start another bite of mush.

“No,” Hadella took a quick bite of her own food before turning back to the ledger, “Tribute is in the fall. This…this is sentiment.”

Galo put in, “These are wedding gifts, they are proper.”

“They are,” said Hadella, making a little mark in the book, “But I have a great many letters to write this morning once I’m done here, and before I review the steward’s preparations for the journey to Gar Morwen. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course,” Galo shifted so she was turned slightly away from Hadella, signifying just how much she wasn’t going to interrupt the leanyod’s work. “Hadella runs most of the day-to-day for Wuhnravinwel,” Galo explained. “Brell has a gift for languages, Karolya understands farming and the needs of the earth…Each of us has a particular role to play for the Countess.”

“What’s yours?” I asked, before I could evaluate if that was a safe question.

“I manage the leanyodi,” answered Galo, “I make sure the Countess has everything she needs.” Her eyes flicked at me, “I’m in charge of you.”

I swallowed the last of my mush in a final effort and flashed her a smile. “Lucky you.” I tipped my head at Hadella, “What letters is she writing?”

“One of the reasons the Countess is so loved: they are letters of thanks for the gifts. Normally, at the time of Tribute, she sends one letter to each town. On good years, there is a gift with it of some sort—usually a cask of something intended for the Festival of Lights—but when even a lowborn family brings her a gift, she sends a letter saying thank you.” The leanyod’s face softened, “Even those who cannot read treasure her letters. What lord bothers to say thank you for his due?”

 

*

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Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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10-Letters

At the end of the audiences, my muscles ached from standing and the only thing I wanted was the gorgeous sunken tub. And dinner, of course. The Countess also looked tired, and left the great hall immediately to have a private dinner in her chambers. A different set of leanyodi went with her while the six of us who’d been with her all day scattered. Before I could sneak off to find the kitchens, Galo caught my eye and beckoned me to follow. She led me through the fortress and back up the winding stairs to the chamber with the bookshelves and the telescope where we’d met the Countess the night before.  Galo went to a little desk tucked behind one of the bookshelves and unlocked a drawer. She handed me a stack of letters ten deep, tied with a ribbon. I untied the ribbon and thumbed the stack. “This seems excessive.”

Galo crossed her arms, “It’s a blood feud.”

I looked up at her in surprise, “Some of these have seals!”

She nodded.

As if she’d misunderstood me, I held up the stack, pointing to red wax pressed deep by a signet ring.

“It’s a blood feud,” repeated Galo. “Many of the lords were very angry when they heard what the King had agreed to.”

I walked to one of the narrow tables and sank into one of its chairs, flipping through the letters more slowly this time. “This really doesn’t seem like…the sort of thing one does if actually contemplating treason.” Fully six of the letters had seals.

“It is unlikely any of these lords will take further action,” said Galo, closing and locking the drawer again and coming to sit in a chair across the table from me. “They have made their statement.”

I tapped one of the letters, “This one isn’t very threatening—Adorjan Bulgar sounds more like a disconsolate lover.”

Galo pursed her lips. “Well, he’s disconsolate. Certainly.”

“‘The flower of your beauty should not be uprooted and flung on the ungrateful elves,’” I read, “Or further on, ‘Do not waste your heart so,’ then ‘it would pollute the springs.’”

“As if she could deny our king,” muttered Galo, plucking lint off her sleeve.

I turned to study her. Though we’d been standing a few feet from one another most of the day, I hadn’t had much chance to evaluate or speak to Galo. I knew from our first meeting that she was direct, at least. She had thick, straight hair that was almost black. It was currently twisted into an elaborate pile on her head but strands were escaping after so many hours. Her skin was olive, darker than mine, and the white streak painted across her cheekbones stood out starkly in the fading light. “How do you feel about the treaty?”

She returned my measuring look. “I support my lady.”

I waited.

With a sigh Galo continued, “The treaty is difficult for her, but she has been expecting it for some time. Neither Angareth nor Terrimbir can face the Empire of Daiesen alone, and neither wishes to forfeit their freedom. We need more than uneasy peace, we need alliance. This marriage binds the royal families and settles the oldest part of their dispute. My lady understands its importance, as do I and the other leanyodi. Lord Ilya Terr seems noble enough, but even if he was not, my lady would bear it.”

Nodding, I turned back to the letters.

After a moment of silence, Galo asked, “How did you become a mercenary?”

When I looked up, Galo was watching me closely, and it took great effort not to stiffen.

She continued, leaning forward, “Female mercenaries are usually the daughters of knights, but you are not just the daughter of a knight. You speak Angari with the accent of a noble, and carried yourself all day as a lady of breeding. You have clearly studied our customs but they are not your customs, and you use the Villaban salute. You are of marriable age—probably should be married already—yet wear no ring.”

I swallowed.  So, Galo had talked to Druskin. The man would start rumors himself.

“Are you a bastard?”

My mouth opened in surprise.

Galo’s lips tipped in a satisfied smile.

Recovering, I sucked in a breath and asked, “Why are you not in charge of this investigation?”

She snorted. “I am a leanyod. Answer the question.”

I looked at the letters, measuring my response before I looked back at her. “My father is a lord in Cartahayna.” Smuggling lord. “I have not been home in some time.” Not to any of the places I’d called home.

Galo sat back, pleased with herself. Then she said, “Has anyone told you what prompted the King to hire Quilleran?”

“No, but I’m interested.”

“Someone tried to drop a roofing tile on my lady when she was walking in the King’s garden. Druskin barely pulled her away in time.”

“It wasn’t an accident?”

“Of course not. No one was supposed to be working on the roof that day, and when the guards made it to the roof there was no sign of anyone. Two days later, there was a venomous snake left in a basket outside the Countess’s door.”

“Did no one tell Quilleran when he was hired?”

Galo shook her head.

“He was hired to find who wants to kill her, and not told there had been attempts made—just a stack of mean-spirited letters that are signed?”

“He was hired in public; the King did not see fit to tell the public everything.”

I bit my tongue. Galo didn’t need to hear me snarling about how there were plenty of opportunities to give Quill information in private.

“Besides,” continued Galo, “It is Druskin who needs to keep guards on the rooftops now. Not Quilleran.”

My scoff slipped out, but before Galo could respond the door opened and a servant came in carrying a tray of steaming food. I brightened. The servant set the tray on the table next to us, and left when Galo thanked and dismissed her. There were two bowls of stew, along with two cups and a decanter of wine. I moved the letters aside, breathing in the sage and rosemary scent of the stew. “Tell me about the lords who sent these letters, Galo. And anything you know about the treaty negotiations.”

*

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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7-Proper Greetings

 

 

The five of us fell in behind the servant. He hauled all our weapons in a roll of canvas as he led us down a different winding stair and down a long hallway lit by iron lamps faced with colored glass. A pair of heavy doors at the end of the hallway led to a long and relatively narrow chamber. Windows covered with heavy drapes lined one wall, a huge hearth flanked by four ornate doors dominated the inner wall. Cushioned furniture was arranged in little conversational groups throughout the glorified hallway. We filed in like ducks, and the servant deposited the roll of weapons on a narrow table by the entrance. He proceeded to the furthest doors and opened them, bowing saying, “Kimro Ruddybrook,” then opening a closer set, “Quilleran.” The servant bowed again and exited back the way he’d brought us.

As soon as the door closed Eliah looked at me, “Rabbit!”

I threw my arms around her. “Butcher.” Then I turned and embraced Jemin. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Zephra,” replied the burly man, his teeth flashing white behind his beard as we stepped away. He clasped hands with Quill and Ayglos. “Always good to see the Ruddybrooks.”

Jemin and Eliah both knew our real names, and why we weren’t using them.

Ayglos started to prowl around the room, looking at the furniture and tapestries. “You were not exaggerating when you said they treat the Countess like a queen.”

Quill crossed to a couch near the fire and sprawling across it. “My impression has been that the old clan chiefs—who are now Counts and Countesses—are treated like kings and queens in their own holdings. They serve the King with the same reverence they themselves command.” Quill looked at Eliah, “Anything interesting happen while I was away?”

I moved to the weapons and began picking out my knives and returning them to their hiding places. No one else moved toward the table, but no one else was moving to a different part of the castle. Rabanki left Ayglos’s shoulder to come alight on the table of knives, plucking at the pommels. I glared warningly at the bird. Rabanki cocked his head in innocence.

Behind me, Jemin said, “Eliah had a shooting contest with Druskin.”

“Rat,” quipped Eliah.

“Very low profile,” said Quill dryly. “Who won?”

Eliah gave an indignant snort. “I did!”

When I looked, Quill had his face in his hands.

“He started it,” continued Eliah, “he invited Jemin to spar and didn’t believe me when I said I was a good shot.”

“And being right is no fun if no one knows,” put in Jemin, then he laughed.

I turned in time to see the dark look Eliah had leveled at the burly man. The daughter of a king’s huntsman, Eliah had turned out to be a natural with a bow. A skill that had radically changed her life and made her an asset to any crew. In the three years I’d known the gregarious woman, archery was the only thing for which she had patience. I picked up my last, and finest, daggers, and slid them into the sheaths on my back, “How was the southern tip of the continent?”

“Hot,” said Eliah.

“Did you see any dinrodiles?” asked Ayglos, coming to sit in a nearby chair. Rabanki left the knives and alighted on the back of Ayglos’s chair.

“Only at dinner. Tastes like catfish scrambled up with boar,” said Jemin.

“That sounds disgusting.” I dropped onto the chair closest to the fire. It was undoubtedly stuffed with feathers, and I thought I might never get up.

“I liked it well enough,” shrugged Jemin, crossing to the fireplace and investigating the tea service that dominated a small table.

“While we’re all here,” interrupted Quill, collecting himself from his sprawl to an upright position that still, somehow, took up the entire couch, “And before Zare is swept away from us, we need to talk about a few things.”

“Yes, as it turns out there are great many things I don’t love about this job,” I crossed my ankles and folded my fingers across my stomach.

Eliah smirked. “Lucky you with the upbringing and language training to fit in with courtly functions.”

“I should have been a peasant.” But I smiled as I accepted a cup of hot tea from Jemin.

Quill ignored us. “Zare will be a leanyod, so we won’t be able to communicate freely with her. If anyone asks, we met her in Wuhnravinwel when we met the rest of the Countess’s people. Everyone at the court knows that the King hired me to snoop around—not that he asked in public—they also saw Eliah when we made our initial visit. So, Eliah and I will play the part of visitors at court, mingling, doing as much investigating as we can with everyone well aware of our purpose.” Quill paused to accept the cup Jemin offered him. “They have not seen Jemin or Ayglos, so they are our shadows in the city. I expect to be kept apprised of all the gossip in the taverns and alleys and marketplaces.”

Ayglos and Jemin both grinned.

“We need to find out who stands to gain from the death of the Countess,” I added.

“Or from a war with Terrimbir,” said my brother.

“That’s where we start,” agreed Quill. He turned to me, “Once you leave this room tonight, we’ll need to be very careful how we communicate with you. Only a handful of people here are to know about your connection to me, and no one at Gar Morwen does. We need to establish a time and place to meet daily, both here and at Gar Morwen.”

I nodded, “I’ll talk to the Countess tomorrow.” Then I doffed my tea, “Find out what they’re going to do with me.”

“It’ll be fun, Zare,” Ayglos steepled his fingers, “Code words and secret meeting places.”

“Just another day in the life, Fox,” I replied, “I meant, what sort of responsibilities they’ll give. There is always at least one leanyod with the Countess. They stand behind her chair in meetings, on judgement days, sit beside her at feasts…At night, two of them sleep in an antechamber should she need anything…they go to meetings and represent her to the farthest reaches of her holdings.” I paused to sip my tea, then added, “I might be chained to her side for the next while.”

“You’ll have to find some way to get away,” said Quill, “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to kidnap you.”

 

*

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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6-Angareth

Wimshel was four weeks from the borders of Angareth, but we made the journey in three. Our horses were fit, and Quill was in a hurry to get back. Our longest waking stop was to deposit our cash from the last few jobs and for Ayglos to dye his hair dark again. He dyed his hair nearly black, so he could more easily blend in amongst the dark-haired peoples of Angareth. I was glad of the travel days to get used to the new color when I looked at him.

We kept the Mountains of Imbir always on our right, the monstrous Mount Anlor at the end of the range coming closer with every stride. We spent the whole trip going over everything we knew about Angareth, Terrimbir, their customs, history and powerful players. When we were alone, we spoke in Angari. Brushing up on a tongue my brother and I hadn’t needed much since we’d been taught as children.

Quill explained that his arrival at the court of Angareth had been public, and he suspected half the nobility knew the King had hired him. Ayglos and I would not be known to the court or associated with him or his mission and could more easily spy. He had, in fact, been avoiding the Angari merchants on the off chance that they’d recognize him, or me if they if they returned to Angareth during our job. I’d tossed my hair and warned him that his plan would never work because I was nothing if not memorable.

Once we rounded the tip of the mountain range and cut west, the land before us rose and shifted into rolling hills that were shrouded in heavy mist every morning. We were in Angareth, headed for Wuhnravinwel, the seat of the Wuhn clan. It was a small fortified enclave near the Juni River situated between the contested hot springs and the capital city, Gar Morwen.

“Will we see the famous hot springs?” I asked.

“No time,” Quill replied, “We’d have to cut back north and head for the border with Terrimbir. It’d add at least a day to our journey, maybe two.”

“Pity, I wouldn’t mind a soak in magic healing water,” I stretched my arms and arched my back, reins abandoned on the saddlebow as our horses jogged.

Quill glanced at me and arched a brow, “What do you need healing for?”

“I have this awful sore spot where my money used to be.”

Occasionally, we saw herds of sheep in the distance, or a tendril of smoke from a homestead, but we managed to avoid people even when we crossed roads. When the stone walls of Wuhnravinwel rose on the horizon we held back and spent the afternoon sitting in a dell playing cards and waiting for Rabanki to return. The raven rejoined us just as our refuge dropped into twilight and I started to wish for a warm fire. Ayglos received the canister in Rabanki’s claw and withdrew a tiny scroll. He read it and looked up, “They’ll be in the observatory,” he said, handing the scroll to Quill. “Instructions for getting in.”

We saddled up our horses and waited until the hills were truly black, illuminated only by the faint glow of the city lights and the spectacular spread of stars above. Then, wrapped and hooded in cloaks, we crossed the grasslands. We circled wide around the stone walls until we reached the fortress rising from the walls in a glorious array of towers. A guard was waiting for us by a narrow door cut directly into the stone, I saw the gleaming teeth of a portcullis above our heads as the guard exchanged a few words with Quill. We dismounted when instructed and led the horses right through the wall and down a tight little hallway which dumped us into the stables. The horses stayed behind with a couple stable hands while we followed the guard.

He led us through a very tidy stable, then turned up a narrow stone stair that climbed in circles up into the keep. We passed narrow arched doorways looking into stone rooms and stone halls, all hung with tapestries I wished I had time to examine. My legs were starting to wobble when the guard stopped, moved aside and motioned to an archway. Quill nodded and stepped through, I followed and Ayglos came behind me. A short hallway, where we were received by a pair of guards who made us disarm, then we were in a circular chamber with a domed roof. Bookshelves lined the walls and several tables with chairs were scattered around the room. I saw a telescope by the window on the far side of the room. That was another thing I would like to examine further given the chance.

There were six people waiting for us. I grinned when I saw the familiar barrel-chested, full-bearded, form of Jemin and the choppy blonde hair of Eliah. Eliah’s answering grin was a wicked white slash while Jemin simply dipped his chin. Proper greetings would come later.

My eyes skipped to a young woman with dark hair, standing ramrod straight in a long burgundy gown. A collar of dyed red feathers swooped up and fanned behind her head like a peacock’s tail. She was beautiful, or I thought she would be under all the cosmetics. Her face was powdered an unnatural white, kohl lined her eyes in exaggerated swoops and her lips, which were pressed in a thin line, were painted as dark as her dress.  She was flanked by two men, one of which had a long white beard and long collared coat, while the other had a long black ponytail and a sword strapped to his waist. Behind them, a few steps away, was another young woman, clad in a sweeping collared coat in a similar style to that of White Beard, but burgundy like the Countess’s gown, most likely one of her leanyodi, her handmaidens.

Quill bowed deeply, Ayglos and I followed suit behind him, Rabanki spread his wings to keep his balance on Ayglos’s shoulder. I thought I saw the eyebrow of the black-haired man twitched upward. I held his gaze when I straightened. He was probably in his late thirties, with black eyes and a scar on his jaw. Druskin, the captain of her guard, judging from Quill’s descriptions.

“Grofnu Adelheid,” said Quill, in Angari.

The woman inclined her head, replying in Angari “Quilleran, we’re glad to see you returned, and in good time.” Her eyes swept over me and Ayglos. “I trust these are the crew members you were seeking?”

“Indeed. Allow me to introduce Kimro Ruddybrook, my new shadow,” Quill gestured to Ayglos, “and Zephra Ruddybrook, your new leanyod.”

Her eyes flicked back to me in surprise. “New leanyod?”

“That’s preposterous!” barked the man with the white beard. Pontikel, her Chief Advisor.

The girl in robes, the real leanyod, looked like she agreed.

“Leanyodi are always with the Countess, always female, and no one would expect one so trained in combat,” Quill explained.

“You were not hired as a bodyguard,” reminded the Countess, her tone unruffled, as if she had no stake in the exchange.

“I was hired to find out who is trying to kill you,” Quill continued carefully, “The best way to do so involves someone I can trust close enough to you watching what’s going on.” Quill’s eyes flicked to Druskin, the captain of the guard, “And I’m sure you can see how having someone without entanglements in Angareth or Terrimbir, whose only priority is this mystery and the Countess’s safety, is valuable. Even without considering her fighting ability.”

Druskin was stone faced.

“Leanyodi are her most trusted advisors and servants,” Pontikel shook his head, “They carry out her most sensitive errands.” He shook his head again, “It’s a tremendous honor. You cannot desecrate the tradition in this manner! It’s an affront! An abomination!”

“Pontikel,” the Countess lifted a hand and the white beard cut off his tirade. But he threw up his hands, snarled, and spun on his heels like he was going to leave, then he thought better of it and circled back. When he stopped moving the Countess gestured to her captain of the guard, “Druskin?”

Druskin looked at the Countess, then turned an appraising eye on me. I lifted my chin. If there was anything I could stand under, it was the critical eye of a warrior. After a moment he said, “Quilleran’s idea is a good one.”

Pontikel threw up his hands again.

The Countess turned to the leanyod, “Galo?”

Galo looked at the Countess, rolled her lips together, and looked at me. I met her eye. She looked back at the Countess, “Can she read?”

My mouth opened.

“Because,” continued Galo, “If she can’t read it doesn’t matter what I think.”

Quill turned to me, brow arched. “Can you?”

I was filled with an overwhelming desire to slug him. Instead, I took a step forward, “My Lady,” I said in Angari, “I can read, and I would be happy to demonstrate.”

“Please do,” said Galo, pulling a book off a random shelf and walking up to me. She offered me the leather-bound volume.

I accepted it, “You could have picked something more scintillating than The History of Ink.”

Galo’s lips twitched.

I flipped open the book, “‘Chapter One: Cephalopods,’” I glanced up, “More interesting than I expected.” Then I began, “‘The cephalopod family of sea creatures is most known for its tentacles and for the ability some have to secrete a cloud of black or blue ink when attempting to confuse predators so it can—’”

“Stop.” The Countess held up her hand.

I stopped, closed the book and handed it back to Galo. Any feeling of smugness was tainted by the ridiculous.

“Very well, Quilleran,” the Countess dark lips tipped upward ever so slightly, “Your Zephra Ruddybrook will be one of my leanyodi, starting tomorrow. If she succeeds while here in Wuhravinwel, then she may stay in that position in Gar Morwen, also. Galo, make sure she is provided with clothes and a room near the other leanyodi.”

Galo nodded, expressionless as she tucked the book under her arm and returned to her place behind the Countess.

“Is there anything else?” the Countess was looking at Quill.

“I’m sending Kimro and Jemin ahead of us to Gar Morwen, they will leave tomorrow.”

“Very well. Your quarters are the same, I will have a servant bring you there. Galo will fetch Zephra when her rooms are ready.” The Countess turned and glided out of the room, her back straight and her gown trailing behind her, her captain of the guard just a step beyond it. The white-bearded counselor spared me a sour look as he, too, followed the Countess. Galo was the last to leave, pausing to the re-shelve The History of Ink before heading to the arched doorway. The moment she stepped out, a servant stepped in and gestured for us to follow.

*

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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Title Reveal

It’s all fun and games until someone is stuck wearing hoop skirts and playing bait for an assassin. 

#mondayswithzare

I’m so excited you guys! Next Monday is the official release of the First Episode of The Hoopskirt Job. Can you believe it? You’re all like, “Yeah, we’ve been waiting for three months.” Yeah, yeah,  know. But if you rush a miracle you get a rotten miracle (Miracle Max was so wise).

Many thanks to my patrons, who’ve supported me as I wrote and brainstormed like a really stormy storm mage.

See you Monday!

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Legendary Art

Took a break to paint!

Typically, I have The Badlands Job, The River Rebellion, and the new story open all at the same time so I can work on them concurrently. There are so many moving parts, I’m so looking forward to launching this in the new year.

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100 – The Road Ahead

At dusk, we laid the King of Dalyn to rest in an over grown walled garden beside the ruined house. The knights had slowly gathered stone rubble on their patrols throughout the day, and now we all helped raise a cairn over Tarr Kegan’s body. We had nothing to bury with him to indicate rank or honor besides the thin circlet he’d worn in the ballroom. We had no flowers. No tapestries. Not even a sword we could spare. Just broken stone. Hess watched us work from nearby, Tarryn in her arms and Naran clutching her skirt. The other four children clustered around her, watching solemnly as the cairn rose higher. I wondered if any of them had met the man assumed their sire. The man whose generosity and craftiness had backfired on them and torn them from their mothers. Would they hate him if they did understand?

Rock after misshapen rock passed from one calloused hand to another until Tarr’s form was entirely protected by the shattered pieces of Rhydderhall. Nothing but starlight and the glow from the rising moon illuminated Trinh as he climbed up our little mound and set a white piece of marble at the pinnacle. The marble was part of a carved frieze, but all that remained was a ship with three masts riding a wave. Trinh stepped back down and stood facing the cairn, his hands hanging at his sides. For a moment, I could almost see his thoughts: They swirled around him, condemning ghosts crushing him with the enormity of his defeat. It was as if he finally believed, for the first time, that his family had died six years ago and his beloved had not been seen or heard from since. He finally believed, and it would tear him apart.

Hesperide approached the cairn and sank to her knees, putting one hand on the stones. Naran, still at her side, did the same, bowing his little head. Her presence calmed the chaos radiating from Trinh with a leaden blanket of sorrow.

No one said anything.

After several long moments, Trinh put his hand on Hess’s shoulder. She looked up at him, then accepted his help up. Time to mourn was another thing we didn’t have to give Tarr.

We had miles to go tonight, to get as far as we could in different directions and fade into trade routes from different cities. Eventually, we’d all flee west. West, to bright Magadar. To lick our wounds, and to hide Tarr’s heirs. And for my brothers and me, to find our court.

Trinh led Hess back into the ruin where our carefully portioned packs and supplies waited. The rest followed one by one; knights, children, and my brothers each laying a hand on the cairn in farewell before filing back into the desolate villa. I heard one knight mutter, “May the immortal Breath bear you swiftly to Eloi in paradise.” Traditional words.

When it was only Quill and I left in the walled garden. I approached the cairn, stopping at the base and staring at it while I fingered my gold pendant with the sailing ships. How could this cold white pile of rocks contain the red tipped hair and burning blue eyes of that mad, brave, king?

I felt Quill stop beside me. The few hours we’d both been up had been busy dividing the supplies and the money from Tarr’s gifts between the four traveling groups. We’d talked just enough for me to learn that he had barely a scratch after last night’s battles, and that he and the doctor’s son were going with Hess and her children tonight. The children were divided among Trinh’s knights. The Galhirim would be entirely on our own for the first time in our lives. Strange to think we’d made it this far without experiencing that.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you we were staying to face the Huntsmen,” I said, eyes on the cairn, “I wanted to thank you for coming back for us.”

Quill nodded, “It’s what we do, come back for each other.”

I looked at him, then. The moon touched the angles of his face, and I found myself wanting to do the same as he gave me a small smile. I didn’t, but my answering smile felt like a promise. Even as I said, “You still owe me.”

He scoffed, “I don’t think the doctoring counts as many times as you think it does.” He plucked my sleeve right above my stiches. “And stop using your arm to block blades.”

My lips quirked. “I learned from the best.” I tugged his sleeve where he’d taken a sword in Gillenwater, so long ago.

His eyes sparked. Then he asked, “Which of you killed Khattmali?”

I drew a breath and let it out, “I did.”

A pause as satisfaction painted itself across every line of his face.

I continued, “She said she was the foremost of the Queen’s Huntsmen. That she had been rewarded the position in Dalyn to woo Tarr.”

“Huntsmen,” repeated Quill. “Ayglos mentioned them. Said they hunt without hounds.”

I thought of the golden woman who’d helped both Ayglos and I; who had undoubtedly been the one to keep Ayglos from being hit squarely in the spine when the Huntsmen first caught up with us. “I think they hunt,” I hesitated, “…by magic. And I don’t think we killed them all.”

Quill looked thoughtful. “I will find out more about them. Once Hess is safe.” He looked over his shoulder at the villa.

“You’re coming back?” I asked. No one had discussed coming back yet, and I feared he would say no. That he’d stay with Hess, wherever she holed up, and leave this fight for good. For me, the only road away from Dalyn curved right back to it.

Our eyes locked, the moon brightening his gaze with white fire. He was angry. I realized with some surprise that I’d never seen his anger before. Not like this. Quilleran Rhydderick was angry. Not at me, but at Narya Magnifique. Perhaps at himself, too. His voice was low, “We still have to be the ones to write the history.” To tell the real story of Tarr Kegan.

Something in me unfurled, like someone breathed on kindling at just the right moment to give life to fire, and I nodded. Then, crouching, I placed my hand on the stones. My fingers curling around a jagged edge as if I were holding Tarr’s hand. “We’re not done here,” I said half to Quill, half to the silent cairn and the man underneath. “We will be the ghosts who haunt the Nether Queen. The ones she could not catch. Could not kill. The light she could not smother.”

*

This is the end of The River Rebellion. Zare Caspian will return.

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97-Stone

A figure loomed above me, black against the lamplight. I stiffened, then I recognized Ayglos and bleated in relief. I went limp as he grasped Khattmali’s shoulders with bloodied hands and pulled her off me. He crouched by my side, “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned. Since I wasn’t dead, I decided to try pushing my arms under me and sitting up. My right arm protested, and my chest seized a little…but I sat up.

His hands went to my arm, gleaming with blood, and then he gingerly touched the gash in my breastplate and whistled. “That blow would have felled a boar.”

Craning my head down, I could see the ravaged leather. And beneath…shining silver links caught the lamplight. The links were damaged, but not sundered. I touched the gash. I’d gotten used to the weight of my chain link armor and had forgotten about it. I drew a deep breath. Dear Heaven, breathing hurt. But it wasn’t the same sort of pain as the pain from my broken ribs. It was more radiating than stabbing. I turned to him. “What about you?”

He grimaced. “That fight was a long time coming. I’m fine.”

I looked him over; in the lamplight, I could see the blood slicking his shoulder, and over his armor. It didn’t appear to all be his—couldn’t all be his. “You look terrifying.”

“Thanks.”

I looked over at Khattmali, tumbled where Ayglos had left her. “Is she dead?”

Ayglos crawled forward and put his fingers to her neck. After a moment he said, “Yes,” and crawled back to me. The Ambassador who’d killed and imprisoned the nymphs of the Bandui was dead. The irrational, slinking, terror that had filled the passages was gone, leaving nothing but quiet in its wake.

We scooted to lean our backs against the wall, the space so narrow Ayglos’s knees bent to fit, and his feet propped against the opposite wall.

“I don’t like Huntsmen,” I said after a moment.

Ayglos coughed a laugh. “I’m sure they don’t like you either.”

In silence we took inventory of our bruises. It was a small victory. But it was a victory. I waited for pain, or joy, or perhaps sorrow…now that the deed was done, and the lightning had ebbed from my body. Instead of emotion, I became acutely aware that we were still in the palace and needed to get out. Now.

I grunted, “We should go,” and shifted to crawl across the passage and pick up Shiharr and Azzad from where they’d fallen. I wiped them clean before sheathing them on my back.

Ayglos was also moving carefully as he gathered his feet under him and walked to retrieve the lamp. When he reached the lamp, he froze, head cocked and one hand raised to signal a halt.

I was on my knees still but obeyed, holding my breath to listen. There were footsteps running toward us…from the direction our friends had gone. Ayglos doused the lamp and I bit back a curse as total darkness enveloped us. The footsteps slowed to a cautious pace and got very, very quiet.

Aching, I got to my feet. There was no light at all in these tunnels. I drew a knife from my thigh and edged along the wall, wincing when I came to the Huntsman’s corpse, his sword still wedged in the wall right at head height. I ducked under the sword, right at the crossroads, with Ayglos only steps away.

“Zare?”  The voice was right beside me.

I jumped straight up, and narrowly stopped my hand mid-strike. “Quill!”

“You’re alive!” his voice had the gasp of relief.

“You gave me a heart attack,” I replied, sheathing the knife. “Why are you back here?”

He snorted. “Needful heroism aside, Namal would kill me if I left you two behind. Even if you did try to get left behind.” The last few words had a bite that made me blink.

“Are you…angry with me?” I asked.

“Even if you were obvious about trying to sneak off, you should have said something.”

“Wouldn’t you have just tried to stop us?”

A match fizzed to life as Ayglos re-lit the lamp.

Golden light again illuminated our pale faces, Quill looking straight at me, eyes burning with fury. He’d certainly processed his relief quickly. “Holy heaven, no! I know what needed to be done. But you don’t leave without saying something. Even if–especially if–you think you’ll die.”

“You would have let us go?” I asked again, sharply. “You wouldn’t have argued or tried to go in my place?”

The fire in his eyes flickered, but he growled. “You don’t leave your unit ignorant they’ve lost their rear guard, you don’t leave your friends wondering what happened to you.”

Ayglos broke in, “You’re right, we’re sorry.” He looked between us, his expression firm. “I’m glad you came to get us.”

Then I noticed that Quill’s clothes were spattered with blood, and he was holding a long talon shaped knife that was dripping red.  “What happened?” I demanded, cold fear shooting through me.

“Met some soldiers on my way back to get you.”

Ayglos whistled. “That could have been more exciting than I would have liked. Again, thank you.”

Quill had the good grace to tip his head in acknowledgement before looking us over critically. He noted the jagged hole in my breastplate, and then looked at the corpses past us. “Is that…a woman?” he asked.

I glanced back, “Khattmali.”

Quill paused, obviously collecting all the questions he wanted to ask and putting them somewhere safe to bring out later. “We should go.” He turned to leave, offering his free hand to me. “You can douse the lamp again, I know the way and I would rather not broadcast our presence.”

I took Quill’s hand and offered my other to Ayglos. My brother again killed the light, finding my hand in the darkness as we already started to move. I could still feel Quill’s anger simmering off him as we moved through the tunnels. I wanted to talk to him, to explain, to justify, to argue. Then I thought of the blood covering all of us, and instead squeezed his hand in silent apology. His fingers tightened in response.

Quill led us quickly, and silently, stopping only once or twice to listen. The only noise we made was when we tripped over the bodies of the men he’d killed. I had no notion of where we were in the palace, and thought ruefully that Ayglos and I would never have found our way if Quill hadn’t come back for us. Eventually, Quill stopped and let go of my hand. I heard a clank and the sound of a heavy door swinging. Quill’s fingers closed around mine again and we stepped through the door, he turned back to close the door and I heard the grind of a lock. This passage was colder than the other and felt damp. Our breaths bounced off the walls and echoed back at us. Here, everything was stone. The floor dropped in a smooth, steep descent, that had us shuffling our feet for fear of slipping before it leveled off. I heard water dripping somewhere. The sounds bouncing around us changed, and I guessed that the passage had widened into a proper cavern. I couldn’t sense the walls close beside us any longer, and Quill moved more slowly.

Pausing, Quill crouched and tapped his knife on the rocks, the same little knocking pattern that opened the King’s secret door. I fully expected the rumble of moving rock, but instead there was an answering tap from somewhere ahead and to the left. Quill adjusted his course and I stumbled as my foot caught on the uneven floor. The tap sounded again, much closer this time. The walls were getting close, not because the cavern was shrinking but because we were heading into a small corner of it.

“Stop!” a voice hissed from the darkness ahead.

I froze, sensing Ayglos go rigid behind me, and Quill said, “Lord Rakov?”

“Quilleran, you return. Were you successful?”

“I have them.”

“Good, come ahead—careful, it’s narrow.”

Quill led us forward. He grunted in pain, “You aren’t kidding.”

“Sorry,” Rakov’s voice floated ahead of us, “The door is very heavy, we didn’t open it far.”

“Watch your feet,” muttered Quill. I felt him swivel ahead of me and I copied his movement best I could. I sensed stone at my back and leaned into it, shuffling gingerly until my boots bumped the threshold and I could step up and wiggle through the narrow opening. I would have been more graceful if my hands weren’t monopolized holding onto Quill and Ayglos. Once Ayglos cleared the door I heard Rakov say, “Watch yourselves.” Then a slow grind rumbled behind us and the distinct sound of a lock thunking into place. This space was significantly smaller than the cavern on the other side of the door. The air was colder and more fresh.

Rakov moved around us, I felt him brush against my shoulder in the cramped space. “The others are this way, a little closer to the cave mouth.”

Ten more steps, then we stopped again, and I noticed new smells: dirt, straw, and possibly animal scat.

“They’re back,” said Rakov.

Movement, shifting clothes and the faint clink of armor. Trinh’s voice came from the left, and low, “Good. We should get moving. Only a few hours before dawn.”

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96-Blood and Blade

 

I felt her presence only a heartbeat before her voice slivered through the darkness, “Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”

I turned, fighting the irrational terror that assaulted my senses. Lamplight was already brushing her clothing as she approached, and I shifted my grip on my knives. I didn’t dare look over my shoulder where I could hear the clang and shuffle of Ayglos’s fight still going. Seconds, only seconds had passed since the fight started.

“Ambassador,” I said.

She stopped just as the light illuminated her eyes. She was dressed in leather armor, not the gown and layers of jewels that I’d expected. Her dark hair was pulled back in a braid and she carried two wicked fighting knives. My skin crawled at her aura even as thoughts of revenge thrilled through me.

“Regent, now,” corrected Khattmali. “I confess I’m surprised to see you here, Analie Meredithe…or should I say Zare Caspian.”

So, Bel had told her. The brooch felt like it might burn a hole through my armor.

“Is that betrayal I see in those eyes?” She laughed softly, “All my warnings about the charms of men, and you don’t heed a single one. Valredes is exceptional, isn’t he?”

I forced my lips to tip knowingly. Inside, I hated her for talking about him that way, and hated myself for caring.

She continued, “…and I almost didn’t believe Valredes when he told me.  After all this time I’d started to think Gillenwater had been lying about their catch, despite our problems with rabble rousers.” A measured glance behind me at the Huntsman slumped against the wall, dying. At the fight still going on beyond that. “How many are you?”

I didn’t answer.

Her eyes returned to me, coldly taking in the Galharan albatross emblazoned across my breastplate.  “Did Kegan know who you really were?”

“You don’t know? That must gall you,” I purred.

Khattmali’s lip curled, “To think I had a Galharim drugged and helpless in my control. You certainly convinced Valredes you were a harmless doe when that sap sent you back to your lover.” She struck, quick as a viper, but I dodged.

“Just Valredes?” I crooned back to her, throwing a strike of my own.

Khattmali blocked and countered.

“When did you sleep?” Khattmali asked, following up her strike with another which I barely parried, “Out all night causing trouble, then a king to please, and then making appearances around the palace—though,” she tipped her head, “Is that why we never saw Kegan’s little lover at court? Why you never bothered to politic?” Her dark eyes glinted, “How did you stomach sleeping with him after he ordered all those nymphs—your people—killed?”

Your order. “You’re just jealous,” I replied, trying a quick one-two attack, managing to rip her sleeve.  “Do Regents usually prowl around doing their own dirty work?” I asked, “Or are you in trouble for failing to control the King?”

“I was first of the Huntsmen and awarded my assignment here; It was a privilege to manage the wayward oaf of Dalyn, to rule in his place,” she moved closer again, “I would have seduced him eventually, but you interfered, and my Queen was done waiting. I was done waiting.”

My gut tightened at her inference that it was my fault they’d resorted to killing Tarr Kegan. “You’ll pay for what you did to him,” my voice was low as I again saw the light wink out of Tarr’s eyes.

“Unlikely,” Khattmali shrugged, her lips turning up at anger in my face. And then she struck so quickly I didn’t dodge fast enough. Her blade bit into my arm as I tripped over the fallen Huntsman. I pushed off the wall and ducked to strike low. Khattmali dodged easily and slashed back. She taunted, “How did it feel to watch your king die?”

It felt like hell, thanks for asking. Snarling I caught her knife with Azzad and slipped Shiharr though her defenses to leave a bleeding tear across her right arm. I would finish this. Blood trickled down from the gash above my bracers, I ignored it.

She spared her arm a glance and advanced on me again. A cruel sneer curled her lips, “You cared for him.”

We met in storm of blows, steel ringing with every strike until I feinted high with my knives and aimed a kick at her knee. Khattmali cried out as her knee cracked and buckled under the blow. Her guard waivered and I struck again, landing a hit on her good leg before realizing the trap. Her bared teeth were the only warning before her knife slammed into my chest, the force of the blow knocking my breath from me.

I stumbled back, stunned, and gasping down at the knife sticking out of my breastplate.

Khattmali watched me reel, then she straightened and took a step toward me on her smashed knee.

Holy Heaven. That shouldn’t be possible. I gaped, struggling for air like a fish on land.

Our eyes met, she said, “You won’t die. Yet. I have so many questions for you, we’ll spend a lot of time together these coming weeks.”

Shiharr and Azzad slipped from my fingers and I grasped the hilt of the knife in my chest. Gritting my teeth, I tried to yank it out but Khattmali launched herself at me, slamming my body against the wall. I couldn’t help the strangled cry as we both toppled to the floor with Khattmali on top. The knife in my chest was slammed aside by her weight. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs and arms around her before she could pull back and stab me again. I would not be staked to the floor until her minions came to help her. I would die here or not at all. Lessons from Quill in the squat little house in the garden came flooding back as Khattmali struggled to escape my grasp. I didn’t feel pain as I trapped one of her arms with both hands and shifted my legs, using her attempts to pull back to shift until I was controlling her shoulders and head in a vice. A vice that closed slowly, crushing Khattmali’s neck against her own shoulder until she stopped trying to free her hand and clawed at my legs trying to free her head. I laid both my hands on her hair and pulled down. Her fingers on her free hand fumbled with the knives strapped to my thighs. I let her.

I breathed slowly, surprised at the calm pulsing through my veins as I focused every last ounce of energy into holding her in place. Moments passed, her struggling subsided and her body sagged, but I kept holding. I needed to be sure.  Breathing hurt. My chest hurt. My energy began to fizzle out like kindling on wet wood. I wanted to sleep. I didn’t dare let go in case Khattmali was pretending. Or in case she wake up when I let go. I would not let go. I would hold until the world faded for me, too.

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94-Shadow

“Eloi,” muttered Trinh.

I just stared back at the children who were staring mutely at us. Dark cloaked strangers carrying weapons filled the doorway and they did not move or cry out. Naran was the eldest at six years, the others were clearly younger, two were only just toddlers. I wondered if they could see the blood staining our gear or knew the violence that had swept through the palace. Poor things.

Hess peeled back from Quill, and wiped her eyes, “What are you doing here?” Then, noticing his blood-spattered clothes and weapons, “How did you get in?”

“We’re here to rescue you,” replied Quill.

“Did Tarr send you? They told me he…” she trailed off. Quill said nothing, but his face must have conveyed the truth. Hess bowed her head, her grip tightening on Quill’s biceps till her knuckles turned white.

Quill squeezed her shoulders, “He was brave.”

“He died thinking of you and Naran,” I offered quietly from the doorway.

Hess’s eyes flicked to the door, noticing Trinh and me for the first time. “You’re alive, too,” she managed a weak smile, her eyes bright with tears. “He would be glad.”

“Did they hurt you?” asked Quill.

Hess shook her head. “No,” her lips gave a bitter twist and she laid a hand on her belly, “Too valuable. But these poor babies would be here alone if it weren’t for this child.”

Trinh took a step forward, “We have to go now.”

One of the children on the bed whimpered. Hess looked over and quickly went to them, reaching assuring hands to caress each, “It’s alright, little ones, these are friends.”

“I want momma,” sniffled one child, a little girl with wispy blonde hair.

“No, baby, I’m sorry.” Hess reached out and pulled the little girl close. “I can’t bring you to momma.”  She raised her eyes to Trinh, “I can’t leave them to her.”

Trinh hesitated, then he walked to the bed and sat on the edge. He opened his arms invitingly, addressing the little girl with a tenderness I found surprising from the taciturn prince, “You’re alright, I’ll keep you safe.”

The child looked into his eyes, and then, ignoring the blood on his clothing, reached for him. Trinh picked her up and snuggled her close. He looked at Hess, “There are five of us: We’ll carry them all out.”

One of the other children crawled toward Trinh, reaching to be picked up too. I turned to the closet as Trinh shifted the girl to one arm and scooped up the other child. These babies were not dressed for the cold outside, and if we got out of the palace they were in for a long night and a long cold day. After that, if we were still alive, who knew how far we’d go before sleeping indoors. The closet was about the size of Bel’s, and about as well stocked. Probably belonged to one of Khattmali’s entourage. I managed to find one fur lined cloak and three fine winter weight dresses. When I emerged, Rakov had joined the group in the bedroom. Hesperide had wrapped two of the children in the blanket from the bed, and these were in Rakov’s arms. There had been another blanket on the couch, and this was now wrapped around the children Trinh carried.

“Where is the nearest entrance to the servant’s passages?” asked Trinh as Hess finished tucking the blanket around his charges.

“The Ambassador’s rooms,” replied Hess, “But the next is in an alcove down the hall.”

I extended the fur cloak to Hess, who caught my hand and squeezed it before taking the cloak. I met her eye only briefly, not knowing what to say on this terrible night of terrible things.

“We’ll go there, then,” said Trinh. “Get out of sight as quickly as we can.”

Turning away, I moved where Quill was crouched by Naran. The little boy had one arm around Hew and was listening seriously to whatever Quill was telling him. Naran smiled when he saw me, “Miss Meredithe,” his voice was watery from crying.

“Call me Zare,” I replied, kneeling to wrap the dresses around him. I used their sleeves to tie them around his waist and crisscrossing his chest. Hopefully they would keep him reasonably warm.

“Zare,” Naran tried the name on his tongue. “That’s a funny name.”

I smiled. “No funnier than yours.”

“My name isn’t funny.”

“Exactly,” I patted the bulky knots. It would do.

“Ready, Naran?” asked Quill.

The boy nodded, and Quill picked him up. I collected Hew’s leash and got to my feet. With a glance at the others I led the way out of the room. The door to the hallway was cracked open, letting a thin beam of light slice the room. I could see Ayglos’s shadow shift as we approached, and the door pushed open slowly.

“Are you ready?” asked my brother, without turning to look at us.

“We are,” I replied, pulling the door open just a little further.

“Come quickly, then.”

“Turn right,” said Hess from behind me.

I strode out with Hew, my fingertips brushing the knives on my thigh for comfort. The others followed, Trinh, Hess, Rakov and then Quill. I could imagine the double take as my brother noticed the number of children. Other than Hew’s panting and the occasional sniffle, we were surprisingly quiet. It felt as though we were all holding our breath, and we certainly weren’t moving as quickly as on our trip in. We passed the hallway we’d taken to get here, continuing straight for an excruciating time before Hess whispered, “See those alcoves ahead? Just before that junction? We want alcove on the right.”

I nodded and angled for it. My steps slowed as we got closer to the junction, my skin starting to crawl. It took a second to place the feeling, but it was the same I had felt in the Queen’s rooms when Quill and I had found the remnants of that evil rite. Lightning crackled through me. I scanned the halls, looking for any sign, expecting to see ash, blood, and black feathers. There was nothing. I couldn’t hear anything over Hew’s breathing and my own heartbeat. Gingerly, I approached the alcove and peered inside. It was empty. A couple chairs and a table framed a tapestry. Hess touched my elbow and I jumped, “Behind the tapestry,” she offered, kindly not commenting on my spook.

I stepped into the alcove, every breath expecting something to jump out. I drew a knife before approaching the tapestry and lifting it aside. The passageway was dark. I hooked the tapestry over a knob in the wall and stepped in enough to look for a lamp. There was one, just inside, hanging on a hook just within my reach. Lifting it down, I lit it with a match stored in the base.

The lamp cast yellow light on the wooden walls of the passage, showing it was empty and devoid of dark rituals. Comforted, I handed the lamp to Hess. “Do you know the way?” I asked.

“Yes,” she looked at Trinh, he nodded. Hess took the lead, the men filing in behind her, each heavy laden with wide eyed and silent children.

*

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