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9-Handmaiden

The great hall of Wuhnravinwel had a vaulted ceiling and was filled with sunlight from tall slender windows that were flanked by heavy drapes. It filled the entire top level of the keep, and long trestle tables ran the circumference. Braziers marked out a path from the huge double doors. It was petition day, and a line of people waited outside the hall for their turn to walk the path to the Countess on the dais. There were some knights, lesser lords and handful of the household also in the room. Either there to watch or working quietly. Six leanyodi and a handful of men, including the Chief Advisor, Pontikel, who took the time to glare at me when we arrived, were close to hand.  We handmaidens all wore matching blue silk and thick kohl on our eyes with a streak of white painted across our cheekbones just beneath our eyes. The Countess’s white streak enveloped her eyes to symbolize the blindness of justice. Her face was not powered to oblivion today, but her lips were again painted dark and her gown was so dark it looked black until the sunlight hit it.

Though the Countess would rule Wuhnravinwel after the marriage, the schedule was packed as if her people never expected to see her again. This wasn’t true, as Ilya Terr of Linden lived only a few day’s ride away, and technically each retained rulership of their own holdings after the marriage. But half the people who entered the hall didn’t have a question or dispute for the Countess to settle, they just came to look at her and offer a gift. They brought whatever they had, and the gifts ranged from flowers or grain, to bolts of cloth or beads, to chickens or even cattle. Some of the people were solemn and funereal, others practically danced with happiness. The end to a blood feud was, I supposed, emotionally very complicated. The Wuhn were largely olive skinned, with black or brown hair, but I noted with some surprise that there were a few who had slightly darker skin and pointed ears that hinted at the blood of the Terrim elves. Had every Wuhn half-elf come to see the Countess off for her wedding?

Galo and I stood behind the Countess as she accepted her gifts and settled the occasional dispute. The other leanyodi inventoried and sent each gift off to appropriate parts of the fortress.  Very occasionally the Countess would speak to us or ask our opinion. But mostly, we watched. Pontikel sat beside the Countess, surprising me with his silence throughout most of the proceedings. When he did speak, he was predictably curt, but usually he had an insightful question. Druskin spent most of the morning standing to Galo’s right, taking breaks to prowl around the room and speak to the knights or others of the household.

Lunch was a surprisingly informal affair. Petitioners were shown out for a time, the doors to the hall were closed, and the household gathered at the long tables to eat. The Countess gestured for me to sit across from her, the other leanyodi settled like flocking birds all around us.

“What do you think of all this, Zephra?” asked the Countess, accepting a goblet from a servant.

“I think that your people are very fond of you, Grofnu. And some are frightened by this treaty,” I replied.

The Countess nodded gravely. “They are. We have been spilling blood over the springs for generations. No one knows what it will mean to share them.”

“I didn’t expect to see so many half-elven here.”

Servants settled platters of meat and steaming root vegetables and cabbage on the table. I breathed in the delicious aroma.

Before answering me, the Countess lifted her hands and prayed, “The blessing of Eloi and his servant Tirien, our protector, rest on the food from this land.”

We began to eat. After a moment the Countess said, “There aren’t many. I believe all of them have visited Wuhnravinwel since news of the treaty.”

I supposed it made sense. Elves didn’t live underwater, so they had much more opportunity to mingle with mankind. Most nymphs didn’t live entirely underwater, either, but they didn’t have large kingdoms on land. When I was a child, every one of the cities around Daiesen Bay had nymphs and half-nymphs among its subjects. Elsewhere on land, nymphs had mostly small holdings, hidden enclaves, hard to get-to places…the kingdom Under Daiesen was the largest I knew of, and…well…it was under Daiesen Bay. I studied the Countess, once I might have been in her place. I was surprised at how foreign the idea felt now. Even my sister, who had once been engaged to a prince, before our lives were upended, had married for love in the years since. I ate for a moment, trying to decide how impertinent I could be on my first day.

“I can see the question, Zephra,” said the Countess. “Ask.”

I glanced up at her sharply. It wasn’t that she knew I had questions, she was looking at me, and I felt seen. My own gift of seeing was so small as to be inconsequential most of the time, but the Countess had a stronger gift. Nymphs knew water, elves knew trees, and mankind knew things they should not. I set down my fork. “What is your opinion of the treaty and the marriage?”

“I believe it is a good thing,” replied the Countess without hesitation. “I am tired of shedding blood over water and agree with my King that peace will come through shared blood and shared water.”

“Have you met the Lord of Linden?”

She smiled, her teeth bright white against her dark lips. “I met Lord Ilya Terr during the treaty negotiations.”

One of the leanyodi, Brell, broke in with a grudging tone, “The Lord of Linden is well to look upon, at least.”

Several of the others smiled, but Galo shot Brell a silencing look.

“He carried himself well,” said the Countess, “I think he is good.”

I glanced at the other leanyodi. “I want you to know that I appreciate the honor it is to serve you in this manner, even for a short time.”

“This peace is of the utmost importance,” replied the Countess. She looked at Galo, “To that end, I have asked Galo to show you the letters that were waiting for me when I returned to Wuhnravinwel after the treaty was signed. You will go after the audiences for the day.”

“Very well,” I bowed my head. “I also needed to speak with you about a good time and place, both here and at Gar Morwen where I can meet with Quilleran every day without arousing suspicion. I thought, perhaps, I could be sent to the library every evening?”

“The library?” laughed the Countess, “Every day? I’ll be planning a wedding, not a war.”

“But,” put in Galo, “She doesn’t need to be doing research for you, my lady. She will want to meet as openly as possible with Quilleran to make them less interesting to everyone. Could she be teaching him a language, perhaps?”

“Maybe…” I frowned. “I am not fluent in Terrim.” Since he obviously did not need lessons in Angari.

“Teach him about our customs and genealogies, then,” said the Countess, “Or pretend to,” she added when she saw skepticism in my eyes.

“That would work,” agreed Galo. “The library has histories for each tribe, you will not run out.”

“Then it’s settled,” the Countess lifted her glass, and just like that the conversation was over.

 

*

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4-Breakfast

I arrived at Curry’s Catch at seven. The long building was a glorified shack sitting right on the dock, and it reeked of bait, fish, and fried food. I could hear voices and the occasional laugh inside. A handful of horses loitered at the hitching rail, and his bay, Brimborren, was among them. I noted a crossbow and sword nestled among the saddlebags. Dismounting, I flipped Hook’s reins over the rail, and gave both horses a scratch as they greeted one another. It’d been awhile.

I touched my knives, scanning the docks as I approached the open door. Ayglos was somewhere nearby, wandering the docks and keeping a weather eye. One could never be too careful when your invitation had come on a wanted poster. Even if—especially if—it was from an old friend.

As I stepped into the dim interior, my nose wrinkled as the scent of fried food and bait became overwhelming. I found him immediately; he was standing at a long counter to the right talking to the large woman behind it. And he was already looking at me, a smile teasing at his lips, as if he’d sensed my approach. Eloi, he looked good. His hair and skin had been burnished by weeks in the southern sun. He wore traveling clothes in mostly worn browns, tall boots coated with road dust, not a few knives tucked here and there. In the cool of the morning he wore a leather jerkin, but it hung open over his open collar shirt. He looked fresh off the road and fresh off success. I hadn’t seen him since he’d left on that job on the southern tip of the continent last fall, and my whole soul warmed to see Quilleran Rhydderick alive and well.

Quill stepped away from the counter carrying a platter. He jerked his chin for me to follow him to a spot removed from the other patrons. There were a goodly number of patrons—all of whom I’d glazed over entirely when I’d seen Quill. Bad form. I scanned the room quickly, they were hairy fishermen mostly, a few cattle hands mixed in, and they didn’t care at all about us. I strolled after Quill, turning my attention back to him, looking him over for injuries or anything out of place. He moved easily, strong and light on his feet.

He picked a spot where we could both keep an eye on the door. “You’re early,” he set the platter down and slid onto the bench.

I dropped onto the bench across from him and slapped the folded paper containing my likeness onto the table between us.

His smile broadened into a roguish grin, his eyes bright, “Did you like my note?”

I frowned at him, but it took an effort. “You’d better hope the servants didn’t see it; some people would turn their mothers in for less.”

“Please. You eat assassins for breakfast.” He picked up the paper and flicked it open, making a show of admiring my likeness. “I thought you’d appreciate seeing the latest price.”

I did, in fact. “Where did you get it?”

“At the border crossing between Magadar and the Empire.”

I smirked. Maybe hitting that caravan this past winter had been a little much, but it had been very satisfying. “Any for Ayglos?”

“No,” his grin quirked, “There was one with a description of a handsome dark-haired companion, but no picture. So vague as to be useless. Almost as if no one spent hours gazing at his face before giving a description.”

My eyes rolled. One mistake. One time. “Really? You, too?”

He folded the paper and slipped into a pocket inside his jerkin. “Have you had breakfast?”

I shook my head, turning my attention to the platter for the first time. Fried fish, biscuits and…some sort of white paste…it smelled good. Once I sorted the smell of the platter from all the other smells in the room. Quill handed me a fork. “Lucky for you, I knew you’d be early. I got enough for two. Though, Ayglos will have to fend for himself out there.”

I took the offered fork and twirled it through my fingers. “Why the note? Why not join us at the inn last night?”

“Ayglos was making a killing, you were reading.” He shrugged. Then, seeing my look, he added, “I felt my visit would make far too great an impression on the other guests. Word travels.”

I thought of the fancy merchants but decided to leave it for now and speared the fish with my fork. Internally, I blessed the food, adding a prayer for Eloi to preserve me from harm. Just in case. Eloi must’ve heard, because the first bite melted in my mouth just the way fish should, and I nearly moaned from pleasure. Inspired, I dipped my fork in the paste and tried it. Holy heaven. Butter and spices and a faint burn sizzled through my mouth. I smeared some paste on the fish and tried them together. Blessed harmony. I caught amusement in Quill’s eyes as I scraped extra paste onto another bite of fish. As if he’d drag me from the second most expensive inn in Tanglewood Springs to a dumpy fish shack for bad food. I arched a shoulder at him. Point.

We ate listening to the hum of fishermen discussing the morning’s catch, and our meal was mostly gone before I asked, “Why are you here, Quill?”

“Because I was told this place,” he waved his fork at the unremarkable shack surrounding us, “was the best breakfast in Tanglewood Springs.”

Very funny. “Why are you in Tanglewood Springs?”

“Looking for you.”

“Really?” I was surprised. “Why?”

Quill finished his half of the fish before replying. “I’ve got a job for you, if you want it.”

My brows went up. “What kind of job?”

“A job that requires a woman’s touch.”

I stared at him.

Quill set down his fork and stared back, one brow raised.

“What in Serrifis kind of job is that?”

His grin returned, slow and enthralling, “You’ll love it.”

“I’m less sure about that.”

“Three words,” he held up three fingers and ticked them down as he spoke, “Private. Hot. Baths.”

I leaned back. “You do know the way to a girl’s heart.” Also, how to find me in any city anywhere in the world. “How long?”

He considered. “By midsummer we will either be successful…or not.”

“Where?”

“Angareth.”

My brother and I had planned to spend the summer working our way southeast through Villaba toward the coastal city of Cartahayna, a glittering bed of silversmiths and tall ships. Angareth was southwest. Completely the other direction “What’s the job?”

“It involves twenty thousand gold, saving a woman’s life, and hopefully stopping a war before it starts.”

“That’s all?” my scoff was entirely ironic. I tapped the table as I considered. Or, pretended to consider. Fact was that I could never resist when Quill had a job. He had this gift for impossible things which I found utterly thrilling. “I’m interested,” I leaned forward, “Come to my suite and we’ll discuss the details over tea.”

*

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2-Teeth

The river was clear where it closed over my head, but just a few feet away the cloud of silt roiled through the water. Dark shapes thrashed in the cloud but judging by the amount of red tainting the river, the cow didn’t have long. I swam toward the fray, my efforts hampered by the current. I reached out to the river, just make room for me, I coaxed, that’s all.

It ignored me.

Fine, then.

Even without help, a few powerful strokes pushed me into the cloud of silt and immediately a long hard shape slammed into me. I tumbled, my free hand scraping against scales. I grabbed ahold of a ridge of spikes and found myself whipped through the water. I bumped over the now limp form of the cow and then slammed into another coil of scaled muscle. Large savage claws were in the bleeding flank of the cow. Eloi, what was this thing?  I hoped it had an obvious head. I let go of the coil and grabbed the claws, thrusting my long knife at the creature’s wrist. The impact jarred through my arm as the knife barely pierced beneath the scales. The claws yanked from the cow, nearly tearing the knife from my grip.

With a swoosh of current I came face to face with the jagged teeth and wide fish eyes of the head. For one heartbeat my whole soul was overcome with conviction that in front of the teeth was the one place I did not want to be. I dove toward the creature, closing the distance between us and striking out with the knife. The monster slipped to the side, easily dodging my blow. I swept past it, turning to attack it from behind. A coil slammed into my back, forcing me down until I hit the river bottom. My ribs protested. For a few seconds I struggled to push off the coil, stirring up silt in blinding clouds. The rocky bottom offered tantalizing leverage, but I couldn’t get my legs under me to push upwards.

Even with those teeth and claws, I realized this creature preferred drowning its prey. A wry smile touched my lips; we could be here a while. I willed my body to relax. My hands floated up from the coil, limp and moving gently in the river’s current. I could see shadows moving around me in the murky water. The legs of the cow rolled by in a sickening motion before vanishing again. I waited, listening to the water and the beat of my heart. The silt had nearly settled, outlining the long body of the beast moving gently through the water, by the time the hideous head again turned toward me.

Stay still. Stay relaxed, I reminded myself. I hoped it wasn’t smart enough to know the knife I still held wasn’t a part of my anatomy.

The creature nosed my body, moving from my legs toward my head. The urge to strike burned inside me, stoked by every proprietary touch from the monster’s snout. The monster shifted its coil, loosening so it could get better access to my torso. The jaws opened, its teeth tearing at my shirt. I struck. Blood stained the river as I drove my knife into the monster’s eye. The beast jerked back, wrenching the knife from my hand. I let it, putting both hands on the coil and writhing free.

Bubbles exploded everywhere as another body hit the water. Loops of long, scaled body flailed, knocking me back and then going rigid. I caught the river bottom with one hand and pulled another knife with the other. Shudders ran through the scaled body, I saw a clawed foot flex and pull at the riverbed. Swimming through the silty water, I angled the knife carefully ahead of me. The monster’s head appeared in the glittering silt, my knife sticking from its eye still, its jaws slack. Behind it, shadows took form into the familiar shoulders and bleached head of Ayglos. His hands were still wrapped around his own knife hilt where it protruded from the base of the monster’s skull, leeching blood into the water.

Our eyes met, and Ayglos asked, “Are you alright?” using the language of clicks and whines nymphs used under the sea.

“Splendid,” I replied in the same language. I sheathed my knife and caught hold of the monster’s jaw, helping Ayglos tow it to the shore.

The cows were long gone when we broke the surface of the water and hauled the heavy carcass up behind us. It was thirty feet long when we finally got the whole thing out of the water. We stood back, hands on our hips and regarded our catch. Covered in muddy green scales, the back third was nearly flat for powering through the water, four short legs with webbed feet and savage claws in the middle third, a long flat neck crowned with glassy eyes and massive toothy jaws…

“It looks like an eel with legs,” I said.

“Crossed with that…dinrodile monster from Haim.” Ayglos gestured to the head. “Teeth of a dinrodile.”

“What’s it doing up here?”

My brother shrugged. It was a good question, but the answer wasn’t our business. Unless someone wanted to pay us to find out. “The real question is, will Hook and Rood be willing to haul it?”

I wrinkled my nose. Our horses were all the way back at the main barns for the cattle operation, since we hadn’t wanted to risk them getting eaten by whatever took the cows. I didn’t want to walk back for them and didn’t think we could whistle loudly enough to summon them. My lips twisted as I pictured them, ears askance and eyes wide, should they arrive and see the monster. “Let’s just take the head.”

*

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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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98-Rhydderhall

By the time we arrived at the ruins of Rhydderhall I had forgotten we had a destination at all. The tunnels let out north of the city, and near the Bandui. We’d crossed the river in the same little boat Trinh and his knights had used when they first returned in secret to Dalyn. The children were in cold stupors, and Quill was all but carrying Hesperide when we stumbled down the remote lane to Rhydderhall. Namal and Baldric were waiting for us in the desolate little garden outside the kitchen, presumably alerted to our approach by sentries. Their eyes went wide as we dragged ourselves in, the sky graying to dawn behind us.

Baldric took one look at Hesperide’s pinched face and darted forward to scoop her into his arms. She sagged against his hulking body as he turned and rushed her into the ruined house. We followed slowly, unable to muster any enthusiasm to cover that last few steps with anything resembling speed. Quill lifted Naran from my arms and I was too tired to protest that I could carry him.

Namal swept his gaze over us, taking in the extra tiny beings bundled in miscellaneous fabric and the blood frozen to our clothes. I could see him putting all the pieces together. We were alive, walking, and he knew exactly why we had so many children with us. He turned and gestured us to follow, “Come, there is water and a little food.”

“Did you have any trouble?” asked Trinh, his voice gravelly with exhaustion.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” replied Namal. “We set the horses loose well away from here and made good time over bare ground. The men are covering your trail from the main road. We should be able to rest the day, at least. If the cold masks our scent.”

As we entered the narrow stairwell down to the old wine cellar a woman’s groan floated up to greet us. Fantasies of curling up someplace warm to sleep for a few hours vanished like little puffs of breath on a cold wind. I should not have been surprised.

Trinh finished the stairs in two leaps—impressive with the pack on his back and the child in his arms. Namal and Rakov were right behind him, but Quill didn’t bother to rush. He knew already, of course. He’d been her walking stick for the last few hours. My feet were dragging as I closed the cellar door behind us and descended last.

“She’s in labor,” Baldric was standing in gap in the furniture wall that split the room, holding a steadying hand out to Trinh. The rightful king looked very much like he should be holding a giant sword in his fists instead of a heavily bundled child. He stared blankly at Baldric a moment before all the action drained out of him, leaving him with a dazed expression.

I had never been anywhere near a woman in labor—and though the cooks at Galhara were very educational human beings. I looked around the cellar. A few lit candles showed that it was as we’d left it. It was, while not warm exactly, warmer than it was outside. A couple of Trinh’s knights were standing on one side of the room, rumpled blankets on the floor behind them as if they’d been trying to rest before we arrived.

“I don’t think it will be long, now,” continued Baldric.

“Her labor started when running in the tunnels,” said Quill very quietly.

She hadn’t said a word or made a sound. Tears stung my eyes.

“We have to risk a fire,” I said, “We’ll need hot water.” Babies needed cleaning, if nothing else. We needed heat, too, and there were plenty of wounds which also needed attention if we were to survive long enough to escape.

Two of the knights sprang to action, darting past me and up the cellar stairs into the dawn.

I slung my pack off my shoulder, dropping it with a heavy thunk next to the lone table before opening it to fish out Boitumelo’s satchel. Satchel in hand, I headed behind the make shift wall. Hess was hunched over, back propped against the cold stone wall, her head in her hands. Her underthings were already in a pile next to her and her dress was hiked over her knees. A knight was crouched beside her, stroking her hair. I blinked in surprise when I realized the knight was a woman. She was dressed in warm clothes reinforced with leather armor. Her hair was restrained in a long dark braid. She turned to look at me when I entered, her chin dipped, “Your Highness.” She was a few years older than me. Her face was not delicate, but she had a fearsome sort of beauty with thin lips and large dark eyes.

My steps slowed as I approached. “I don’t remember you,” I said. Too tired, apparently, for manners.

She gave me a small smile, as if I’d revealed her greatest secret. “I am Athrynel Hasreda, the King’s Marksman.”

Pausing, I looked at her again, remembering the hail of arrows which held the Nether Queen’s soldiers back while Quill and I leapt into the river. I met her eyes, “You probably saved our lives.”

Her smiled broadened a little. “You’re welcome.”

I opened the satchel, surveying the contents as if I had any idea what I was looking for. Athrynel stood and came to look over my shoulder. “Do you know how to use this?” she asked, eyeing the kit.

“For wounds,” I replied, helplessly. “I grew up during a war.”

Hess moaned again and my eyes flew to her. She still had her head in her hands.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you’d learn midwifery in peacetime either,” Athrynel clucked and crouched to sift through the satchel.

She pulled a couple bottles out, then pushed the rest of the satchel back to me. “Most of the men have one scratch or another, do what you can. I’ll stay with Hestria. You find me some blankets or something and hurry them up on that fire.”

“Do you know anything about midwifery?” I asked, picking up the satchel and gladly moving away.

“No,” Athrynel turned back to Hess. “But I helped a cow once, long ago. And someone will fetch Gyreon off patrol. He picked up some of his father’s physician trade before deciding war was easier.”

I didn’t know who Gyreon was and wasn’t sure how much help he’d be if he’d left doctoring because he preferred fighting. Perhaps still more helpful than me. I returned to rest of the cellar to find that Trinh had recovered somewhat from his shock. He and his knights were busy unwinding children from their individual bundles, chafing cold little hands back to warmth, and rearranging the clothes and blankets into a den where they could tuck all the children together for maximum warmth. I stole one of the blankets, and as an afterthought pulled the servant’s warm clothes out of my pack, carrying it all back to Athrynel and Hess. As I left them, a knight came barreling down the cellar stairs and straight past me to Hess. Gyreon, I guessed.

Ayglos was sitting at the table, his wounded arm hanging limp. I started pulling things out of the satchel. “Namal, help him take the uniform off.”

Namal joined us in the puddle of candlelight and helped Ayglos unfasten the buttons of the uniform and shrug it off his good shoulder. Ayglos leaned forward and just gritted his teeth as Namal peeled the blood stiff jacket off the wounded shoulder and down the arm. Domjoa would not be pleased we’d destroyed his expensive fake uniform. The shirt underneath was thoroughly dried to Ayglos’s skin, and after prying at it we decided to wait for water.

While we worked, the door opened again, and another knight came down the stairs. I was surprised to see another woman, this one with short, dirty blonde hair, wearing the same sort of clothes and armor as Athrynel. She carried a bundle of wood in her arms. She scanned the room till she found Trinh, and said, “We’ve got a little fire going, and I found a pot for boiling water. I think we should consider building a fire down here so the babes don’t catch their death.”

The knights had wrapped themselves in their cloaks and alighted around the bed of children like migratory birds. Hew was burrowed in the center of them, his nose and his tail just visible amongst the folds and mounds.

“There’s no chimney,” protested one of the knights.

“We could use the stairwell,” countered another.

“And leave poor Jasem and Rae’d stranded on patrol all day?” teased a third.

Trinh jumped in, “Jasem could jump over the fire—and Rae’d is very lucky, I’m sure he’d be fine.”

Gruff laughter rumbled through the flock of knights.

Laughter.

I dragged my eyes to Trinh, surprised to see a smile teasing at his mouth.

“The bigger problem is we’ll have to jump to get out,” someone said.

“Better rest up, then.” The blonde smiled and dumped her armload of wood right next to the stairs.

Quill emerged from the huddle to help the blonde set up a make shift hearth just a foot away from the stairs, and to prop the door at the top of the stairs so it stayed open wide enough to lure the smoke out.

While we waited, I laid out astringent, salve, and the few bandages we still had. Namal hunted down the pitcher and basin we’d used last time we were here. Then we sat shredding a sheet from the villa into long strips. Who knew cloth would become so precious to us?

And while we waited, Hess’s moans became cries.

Quill had just coaxed the flame to life when the blonde left again and returned carrying a steaming pot. She edged around the fledgling fire and brought the pot to the table, filling the pitcher and basin I’d set out. She took the pitcher and headed behind the furniture wall.

Then, like the bells of the Cathedral calling worshippers to prayer, the squalling of a baby filled the cellar, reverberating off the stone walls. We all stopped to listen. Relief blossomed so tangibly from the cluster in the blankets that I turned to look at them. Soft voices slowly soothed the crying behind the wall. Quill left the fire and went to stand hesitantly in the opening. Tarr should be here. Trinh was staring, obviously feeling responsible, but also uncertain what his role should be. Quill was family by blood. After a moment, Quill disappeared into the back.

I turned away and soaked a rag in the basin—the water was warm, but I doubted it had been boiled. I added a splash of astringent and set to work on Ayglos’s shoulder, wetting the shirt enough to peel it away, then off entirely. The throwing knife had left behind a fairly small slit, but it was deep. I cleaned the wound as gently as I could before pasting it with salve and awkwardly wrapping bandages around his entire shoulder and across his chest to get them to stay. Ayglos had a few other nicks and slashes, and I treated them all. He bore the sting with a few hisses, and Namal helped him re-dress with clothes Quill and I had brought from the apartment.

I did my best to clean out the cloth and Namal took away the basin to dump the water and refill it with clean water.

“Who’s next?” I asked the room.

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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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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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93-Doors

Behind us, I heard Trinh suck in a breath through his teeth, then command Hew in that language only he and the hound knew.  Hew hesitated, then skidded to a stop, looking pathetically over his shoulder at Trinh.

“We’re near the ambassador’s chambers,” explained Trinh quietly, catching up with Ayglos and me.

“Do you think they’re in her chambers?” I asked.

Trinh gave me a look, “Would you wish a frightened child in your rooms? No. But I imagine they are close.”

“We’ll have to check each room individually—”

“—dealing with whatever we find there—” cut in Ayglos.

“–or use Hew,” I finished.

Trinh looked down at the hound, who was looking down the hallway as if staring could transport him. “We can’t have him baying and bringing the whole army to investigate,” said Trinh “We check the rooms.”

Without a word, we split to different sides of the hallway. Trinh and Rakov slunk along one side, Quill and Ayglos along the other. I walked a little ahead, keeping a tight hold on Hew. The gentle swish of our cloaks mingled with Hew’s panting and the click of Hew’s nails.

The hound glanced from Trinh to me to the hallway over and over again as we walked. I got the impression that the hound’s distress wasn’t about the hunt any longer, it was about Naran being close by. I considered letting him off the leash to find Naran on his own, but a vision of him spitted by soldiers stopped me. The first door we came to was locked. Quill started pulling out lockpicking tools and I kept walking with Hew. As we neared the end of the hallway I slowed, listening. Hew whined. I put my hand on his head and found wet nose instead. There were voices coming from the right. I leaned against the wall, as if that would help me listen.

“…heard a dog…”

“…You’re a…”

“…not…”

“…doesn’t matter.”

I edged forward trying to get an eye around the corner. There were four guards standing in front of a door at the end of the hallway. I pulled back and looked over my shoulder, beckoning to the men. Ayglos was the first to join me. Then, with a glance back at the others, he stepped around the corner and strode toward the guards.

I peered after him, aware of the others approaching as quietly as they could.

The guards straightened, watching Ayglos’s approach with interest. “What is it?” asked one.

“Have you seen or heard anything unusual?” asked Ayglos when he was just steps away.

“I heard a dog,” replied one.

“He thinks he heard a dog,” said another.

Ayglos’s fist cracked across the jaw of the first guard and he dropped. I ran forward, but before Hew and I could reach the conflict it was over. Ayglos was even better than I remembered. He clearly had not been sitting on his hands these months. Ayglos stooped over the bodies and looked back at me, “Look for keys.”

By the time Quill, Trinh, and Rakov arrived I was handing Ayglos a key pulled from a dead man’s pocket. We all stood poised for action as Ayglos turned the key and gently eased open the door. The room beyond was dark. Hew whined when we didn’t go in immediately. I looked at him, then I took a few steps out of the torchlit hallway and into the dark of the room. Hew followed eagerly. To our left, the only light came from an orange glow seeping under the bottom of a door. Quill and Trinh moved in flanking us. We stood for a moment, listening.

When we heard nothing over Hew’s panting, Trinh spoke, “Find a lamp.”

There was carpet under my boots, and it swallowed my and Hew’s footfalls as we proceeded into the room using the light from the door. A lamp sprang to life to the right, casting a warm light around the room that grew in strength as Quill turned it up. This was a sitting room, well furnished with plush furniture. The fireplace to the right was cold, and there was no one else in the room.

Rakov and Ayglos dragged the bodies inside while Quill and Trinh silently walked through the room checking for anyone or anything dangerous. Hew was interested in the other door but I held him back.

Once the four guards were inside, Ayglos stepped out, mostly closing the door behind him.

Trinh and Quill approached the door with the light behind it. I joined them, gathering Hew’s leash in my left hand and drawing a knife from my thigh with my right. After a grim exchange of looks, Trinh turned the knob and gave the door a push. It swung open slowly, revealing a fourposter bed and a fireplace with a healthy fire.

“Who’s there?” a woman’s voice demanded.

Quill exhaled, “Hess!” and sheathing his blades he rushed into the room.

“Quill!” Hesperide rose from a chair by the fireplace and Quill engulfed her in an embrace. Her dark hair was a loose tumble as she buried her face in Quill’s shoulder. Quill curled around her, as if he could shield her from everything that had happened this night. A rock strangled my throat. I felt like an intruder as I stood in the door. I wondered if Trinh felt the same way, because he didn’t move to enter either. I dropped Hew’s leash and the hound bounded to the bed. He stood on his hind legs and thrust his nose into the face of the redheaded child sleeping on the pillows.

Naran sat up with a cry and threw his arms around Hew’s neck.

I started when the bedcovers began to move, rising and falling like the coils of a sea serpent. Then, other heads popped up from the pillows, faces white with fear, eyes red from tears. There were more children here. The rock sank from my throat to my stomach as I looked at five little faces. The children Tarr supported. The Nether Queen was taking all of them.

Posted on

92-Into Danger

 

The next part was my idea. Trinh’s tunnel connected us to the warren of narrow passages the guard and the servants used to move about the palace, and there we divided. Rakov and Trinh went ahead to scout Naran and Hess’s quarters while the rest of us went to get Hew, Naran’s favorite hound, from the kennels. The palace was unnaturally quiet, as if all the inhabitants had disappeared into thin air. They had probably all done their very best to do just that rather than risk becoming a target of the Queen’s wrath. We didn’t pass close to anyone until we were entering the servant’s quarters with Hew in tow. A few men in servant’s gray, who had clearly been on their way somewhere, stopped moving when they saw Ayglos—who was walking in front wearing the black uniform of the Queen’s guard. They shrank against the wall, eyes averted, until we passed by in a swirl of dark cloaks and silence.

When we reached Hesperides’ door, Quill pushed it open without knocking. Rakov and Trinh were waiting inside, weapons drawn.

Putting away his sword, Trinh stepped forward and crouched in front of Hew. The hound, being only half bloodhound, was enormous and stood nose to nose with the crouching King. In the weeks I’d known Hew he’d already started to fit his long limbs far better than he had when we’d met. He’d come with me eagerly when I’d woken half the kennel to get him. Though I’d never taken him anywhere he followed with the trustful enthusiasm which made dogs so disarming. Sensing our urgency, he hadn’t made a sound for the entire trip, and had stayed so close to me that the leash seemed entirely unnecessary. It would be different once he was hunting.

Trinh held a bit of cloth out to the hound and Hew reached for it eagerly. My heart seized as I realized that it was a shirt. Was Naran really so small?

Trinh said something in a language I didn’t recognize but Hew did. The hound immediately dropped his nose to the ground and headed out the door. I had to trot to keep up and could hear the others fall in behind us.

Hew’s nails clicked on the polished wood floors, and I was grateful he didn’t bay as he darted down the hallways with unwavering fervor. We quickly left the servants quarters and entered the main palace, passing anti-chambers and ministerial rooms until we came face to face with a wall of black clad guards.

Hew would have plowed through the wall without stopping, but I checked him. Without missing a beat Ayglos strode past me and snarled at the guards, “Let us through, the hound is on a scent.”

“Who are you?” demanded one of the guards.

“We are the Queen’s Huntsmen,” replied Ayglos, stepping closer to the line of guards. “We are hunting an intruder.”

“No one is to be admitted to this wing by order of the Queen,” replied the guard.

“Fools, someone is already inside.”

“We have heard nothing.”

“Unsurprising,” snorted Ayglos.

The guard bristled.

We didn’t have time for this. In two strides I was holding a knife against the guard’s throat and stillness fell over the others. “Don’t risk the wrath of the Queen,” I purred.

He glared at me. “You Huntsmen,” he spat, “So high and mighty. You think you’re the only ones worthy to serve the Queen.”

So, there were Huntsmen. I thought Ayglos had been making things up.

The man continued, “No one has entered this wing, and even if they had, half the army is behind us. We can protect the Queen just as well as you.”

He wasn’t going to let us through. As tremulous and desperate as this plan was, it was our only plan. If we didn’t get Naran and Hesperide out tonight, there might not be another chance. We were too few, and she had too many and too much. For a single breath I considered the blade against the guard’s skin and thought of the blade in Tarr. My voice was thick as I asked, “Can you protect her from ghosts?” I stepped back and swung my free hand flat against his temple; senseless, he fell back into the other guards.

Startled cries and the sing of weapons filled the hallway. Hew backed up a step, his tail tucked. I dropped the leash to reach for Azzad.

A guard swung his sword at my head and I dodged, my knife sinking into him and my other hand clubbing his temple with Azzad. I was aware of the men tearing into the other guards without a word. The fight was over in moments, and we were five cloaked figures standing over a pile of black uniformed bodies.

“I guess it’s time to adjust the plan,” commented Ayglos, stooping to clean his knives.

“Well, they’ll know something is up,” replied Trinh drily.

“Do we leave them here?” I asked.

“Hide half of them,” said Quill. He opened a nearby door, revealing an empty anti-room.

The bodies were heavy and awkward, but we moved six bodies out of the hallway and scattered the others a little to obscure the streaks on the floor. Some were just unconscious, we tried to make sure these were in the room. Anything to add confusion and delay to any who hunted for us. Perhaps they would think they had traitors among them. It was gruesome work and I was as glad to leave as Hew, though perhaps for different reasons. Trinh offered the hound the shirt again, in case he’d forgotten because of the fight, and Hew barely looked at it before returning to the trail only he could find.

Ayglos kept pace with me, the other three fell in behind us like geese.

“How did you know she has Huntsmen?” I whispered.

My brother glanced at me, “They are why I was late getting back. They sensed me one night when I got close to the Queen’s camp. I spent the rest of the trip trying to stay ahead of them without running into the armies or patrols.”

“Sensed?”

“They never used hounds—at least that I saw—but they always seemed to find me. Or, to get close,” replied Ayglos, keeping his voice low. “I gathered from listening in at campfires that they are called Huntsmen, but not for hunting game. They hunt people, mostly. Special order of the Queen, and some serve as her personal guard. They are disliked and feared by the army.”

I frowned. “They sound more like…assassins?” Hew charged brazenly around a corner. When an empty hallway opened before us I asked, “How did you elude them?”

“I…” Ayglos hesitated, “…don’t…know…”

“You don’t know?” I was incredulous.

“There is a lot going on here that doesn’t make sense,” added Ayglos hurriedly, as if getting words out before he could change his mind, “I am good at remaining unseen and leaving no trail, but they would find me anyway—it was either the worst luck or magic because they nearly caught me dozens of times but…” he swallowed, “an apparition of a woman with golden-hair always warned me. I know it sounds crazy, but she stayed with me that whole scouting trip. I couldn’t always see her, but I know she was there and she saved my life on several occasions.”

My steps faltered. “You—” I stammered, “You saw her?”

Ayglos shot me a startled look: As if that had very much not been the response he’d expected. “You saw her?” he demanded.

“No,” I shook my head, “Not exactly…She slapped me—and she yelled at me—to wake me up when I was drugged—did you hear about that?”

“You were drugged?” asked Ayglos, then he shook his head, dismissing his own question. “We’ve hardly been in close conference these months. But I am comforted that I’m not alone in encountering her.”

“Assuming it’s the same spirit,” I replied. My mind was sprinting from one thought to the next, barely holding an idea long enough to draw conclusions I was so excited. Golden hair, though, ruled out Nelia. “Did you talk to her?”

Hew bayed, causing both of us to jump in a manner quite unbefitting our rank and costume. The hound lunged eagerly against the leash. We must be getting close.

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91-The Tunnel

Before departing, we tossed the office. We left the windows open, and as a final touch Rakov smashed the lock on the door. If any of our people came back to the warehouse, they ought to see the door and windows and stay away. If they got all the way inside, they shouldn’t linger. I sent Domjoa off with a long list of tasks—including finding out what had become of my men who’d been distracting the garrison. The rest of us followed Trinh through the city.

There were still crowds in the streets, but the atmosphere had changed. It was only a matter of hours from the King’s death, but the column of smoke from the palace was much bigger and darker than the ones from the celebratory bonfires throughout the city. Rumors of soldiers on a manhunt poisoned the revelry and leached the joy out of the night.  The closer we got to the palace, the thinner and more furtive the crowds, until it was just the five of us slinking in the darkness between streetlamps.

Trinh took an unexpected turn down an alley to the left, then he stopped and shifted some garbage bins around. Rakov stepped up to help and I tried not to think about the smells in the alley around us. The men grunted and metal clanked as they hauled open a sewer grate. I moaned at the thought of the things found in sewers as I watched Rakov nimbly sit on the lip and then drop from view. I didn’t hear a splash, but maybe I was deaf. Ayglos approached the hole, then after only a second’s hesitation followed Rakov. I made myself step up to the hole and peer into the darkness, Rakov stood maybe eight feet below, holding a hooded lantern. I didn’t see water, but I did see a ladder, which the men had forgone. Not to be outdone, I sat on the lip and then jumped into the hole, bending my knees and tucking into a roll before I could think through the wisdom of such a move. I bounced back to my feet, still on dry stone. Mercy of heaven. The lantern splashed patterns on the cylindrical room, and revealed two dark passages, one leading north toward the palace, one leading west.

Quill dropped in, then Trinh climbed down using the ladder as he lowered the grate.

“It’s not connected to the sewer,” said Trinh, answering everyone’s unasked question. “Though it does drain into the sewer.” He took lantern from Rakov and started down the northbound tunnel at a brisk jog, Quill behind him, then me, then Ayglos and Rakov.

The air was dank, but not foul. The tunnel was so narrow that occasionally Rakov’s scabbard scraped against the stones. The walls were dotted with carvings. Kings, castles, hunting parties, dragons, knights…I wondered if they told one story or many. Trinh led us with unfaltering steps through several junctions, as if he knew these tunnels very well. This must be how he went in and out of the palace so readily. Perhaps also how he got into the city without being seen that first time after he woke up.

Trinh stopped abruptly, holding up his hand to hold back the rest of us. Quiet, inconsistent murmurs accompanied by the occasional shuffle drifted back from around the bend ahead. Dousing the lamp, we edged forward until we were close enough that Quill exclaimed, “It’s Vaudrin!” and slipped by Trinh before any of us could react.

Trinh turned up the lamp and moved forward as cries of joy greeted Quill. Around the bend, the tunnel was strewn with men in blue uniforms who were scrambling to their feet. They saluted Quill, but when they saw Trinh they whipped to face him instead. Hope lit their faces at the sight of a living Kegan. Their uniforms were splattered with blood, and almost all of them were bandaged one place or another. Several of the standing men were missing shirts under their blue coats. The shirts, I realized, had been sacrificed to bandage the wounded. My heart twisted as I remembered days traveling with these men. I flinched for my pack. I still had the satchel from Boitumelo—I hadn’t used it since leaving Rhydderhall—but there was no way I could treat this many.

At a word from Trinh the men sunk back to the floor, exhaustion evident in their every move. Trinh and Ayglos walked to join Quill and Vaudrin in the center of the tunnel. Rakov stayed behind me.

I stopped at the first man and crouched to inspect the bandage on his arm—I met his eye and smiled at him, as if there was anything I could do about his wounds. I smoothed his hair off his forehead and he smiled back at me. I stood and turned to another man before I could drown in the emotions rising inside.

Vaudrin bowed to his King, “I am glad to see you, your Majesty, and your Highnesses.”

“I feared there would be no one,” Trinh was talking, “How many did you save?” Not, ‘how many did we lose.’

“I have forty here, only the men who could run were able to escape when we withdrew from the ballroom. The Queen must have expected the guard to react violently to the King’s murder, for she had us outnumbered at least three to one, and her army was clearly ready and waiting for the order to move in.” Vaudrin shook his head. “Jemin and I were lucky to pull out this many.”

Jemin.

I hadn’t gotten very far down the tunnel—stopping at each man to wish I could help him with more than a gentle touch—but now I stood and looked for the burly form of the guard with whom I’d stormed Gillenwater’s garrison.

“There is a chance the men in the barracks were able to escape to one of the other tunnels.” Vaudrin continued. “I have sent two of my men through the tunnels to see if they can find any others.”

I spied a hulk on the floor just past the conference of princes and hurried forward. Quill and Ayglos made room for me to pass and I dropped to my knees next to Jemin. He smiled wearily at me. Alive.

“Your Highness,” his voice was tired but lacked the rasp of death.

Tears pressed on my eyes and choked my breath, it took me a moment to manage, “Are you hurt?” I didn’t know why I felt so overwhelmed to find a friend survived even when I’d forgotten to worry for his life.

“I’ll look like a spotted cow tomorrow I’ve got so many giant bruises,” replied the guard. “But I’ll be alright.”

“We have returned for Naran and Hestria,” explained Trinh, and I blinked at Hesperide’s real name.

Vaudrin nodded, his expression turning grim. “I wish I could tell you where they were.”

“I believe they are still in the palace; we will find them or find where they are.” Trinh looked around the company, then said, “Focus on getting these men out. Fade into the countryside. Head for Magadar. If you find the men from Gillenwater, tell them the same.”

Vaudrin looked surprised. “My King, we’re leaving?”

“I will not lose more men in this fight,” replied Trinh, the blankness of his expression more frightening than anger, “You’re leaving. That’s an order.”

I waited for someone to argue with him, but no one did. Our plan for Naran’s rescue hadn’t factored them in, they were battered and had suffered heavy losses. Magadar seemed far for a regroup, but perhaps it was best given the Queen’s armies closing in on the city.

“Are we ready to go, then?” asked Ayglos after a moment’s silence.

Trinh nodded, and after clasping Vaudrin’s hand, he turned and led the way again down the tunnel.

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