by Callie Bates
I swallow at the thought of what would have happened had the mountain women remained at the palace. I somehow doubt Grenou would have treated them with any sort of respect.
The Caerisians have seen Rhia, Alistar, and Teofila now, and they sweep over to greet them. Rhia hangs on to each one of them for a long moment, though it seems to me she clings longest to Isley. My normally unflappable friend is wordless with shock at the sight of them, her face white.
I turn to Brigitte, who is looking amused. “You Caerisians,” she says. “There’s always such enthusiasm.”
“We care a great deal for one another.” I look at her. I can hear a thread of sound weaving through her, the texture of magic under her skin. Unlike the other women, she’s a sorceress. “How did you come to be here?”
The corner of her mouth tucks in. “I went to light the fire in my hearth one morning, a few months ago,” she says. “I was struggling with the tinder, and then I felt the strangest thing. Heat, like a flood, brighter than anything I have ever felt. I stared down at my own hand and watched a spark leap from my fingers and light the dry wood.”
Familiarity tugs at my mind. “I’ve heard this story before…Did your brother-in-law come to the city with this news?”
“Poor Franck,” Brigitte says, but her tone is more ironic than sympathetic. “He doesn’t know what to make of women, especially when we change so suddenly. He urged my husband to divorce me. My good man refused, but…” She sighs. “When the Duke of Essez seized the capital, it seemed safer to come here.”
“I’m glad you did,” Teofila says, putting an arm around Brigitte’s shoulders and hugging her.
Brigitte gives a sad smile.
“There was another woman,” I say, growing more suspicious. “Someone who was locked in her house—”
“Eugenie.” Brigitte nods grimly. “She’s here, too.”
So Juleane lied to me. It takes me a moment to digest this fact; I turn to Teofila. “Juleane told me they all refused to leave their homes!”
“She…prevaricated.” Teofila nods at the minister of commerce, who is behind us, talking to Demetra and Rhia. “She didn’t want these women’s locations to become public knowledge. So she arranged for Eugenie to be brought to a place of safety, then here when Rambaud took power.”
I glance at Juleane, who meets my eyes with an even glance before turning back to explain something to Demetra. It stings that she lied to my face—though in some ways, I can see that she may have been right. I would have tried to meet the problem head-on, whereas her way of handling the matter kept these women safe and protected.
“I was so worried,” I say to Brigitte. “I’m so glad to see you’re all safe.”
“We are. But come,” she says, gesturing me forward. “Come meet the rest of us.”
I follow her past the goddess statue. The tunnel opening is cunningly hidden behind a wall of sheer rock, the entrance so narrow my shoulders brush stone. But once we snake through the tunnel, the ceiling lifts and the cave is painted in warm orange light.
Women—for they are mostly women, with a few men and a number of children—rise from their tasks. There must be forty people here, all of them Ereni. A warm fire funnels smoke up through a small hole in the cave ceiling, and the walls are stacked with supplies—blankets, sacks of grain, bundled candles. This, Brigitte informs me, is merely a fraction of the supplies Teofila and Juleane have stockpiled. More caves branch out from this one, burrowing deeper into the ridge. People sleep in those, she tells me, because they are easier to guard.
I stop beside everyone in the cave, introducing myself, though they all seem to know who I am. “There are so many of you,” I marvel to Eugenie, the woman who was locked in her house. Apparently she sees spirits.
She looks entirely surprised. “But this is nothing. Magic is awakening in half the people I know, and none of them listened when I insisted they come with me here.”
I stare from her to Brigitte. “Half?”
They both nod.
“It’s even higher in Caeris,” Annis informs me, but then she snickers. “Though some of that could be wishful thinking.”
Of course, I reflect ruefully, Caerisians want to be latent sorcerers, and the Ereni are only admitting to their newfound abilities under duress. The cave practically vibrates with magic.
“Would there be room for more people, if they came?” I wonder.
“Oh, yes,” Brigitte says. “There are dozens of caves. Legend has it half of Laon hid here when the Paladisans invaded.”
“The Paladisans claim they died here,” I say softly.
“No, they didn’t.” Her voice is firm. “They stayed here, and they fought. And eventually, they won.”
I look at them, this circle of women standing around me. “Then that is what we will do. If you’ll have me—not as your leader, but as one among the rest of you. I didn’t spend my early years in Duke Ruadan’s household, you know. My mother was a Caerisian rebel, and a commoner at that. We spent our lives on the run. Once we even took shelter in a cave much like this one.” I pause. “So I am just like the rest of you. A commoner at heart and…a sorceress.”
There’s a silence. Then Annis says, “You’re a sorceress?”
I finger the bone flute in my pocket. Its hum steadies me, and I nod. “It seems I am. I’m still trying to understand my abilities.”
“We all are,” Brigitte says wryly.
Eugenie is looking at me. “I think you’re being too modest,” she says at last. “Maybe the Duke of Essez has seized power, along with that Euan Dromahair, but you’re still the queen of Caeris. I wager you have a plan.”
I glance over my shoulder; Juleane and Teofila have gathered behind me, along with Alistar, Rhia, Demetra, and Victoire. Fiona and the mountain women are behind them. They’re all listening. Waiting.
I draw in a breath. These caves seem an unlikely place to launch a rebellion from. Yet, I remind myself, Ruadan began his campaign against the crown while sequestered at Cerid Aven. Great things can begin in the smallest and quietest of places.
And we are not small or quiet people.
“Before I was betrayed by Lord Gavin and captured, we had begun to make a plan in Caeris,” I say. “It involved negotiating with our neighbors in Baedon and Tinan, as well as Paladis. Trapping and isolating Euan, Rambaud, and the Saranons, much the same way we were trapped.”
Juleane nods. “Baedon and Tinan will be more hesitant, now that Leontius is on the throne.”
“But if we trap them, we make them desperate,” Brigitte points out. “It’s hard to say what a desperate person will do.”
“It seems to me that’s a risk we have to take,” Victoire says.
I glance at Teofila and Alistar. “Did Ingram Knoll send that message to Count Hilarion, before I was captured? Do we know if he made contact with him, and if Hilarion talked to King Alfred?”
In answer, Juleane reaches into her pocket. “This came yesterday morning, from the warden of the mountains.”
I unfurl the small, crumpled note.
On Ard, outside Longlais. Alfred will arrive tomorrow. I shall proceed unless you advise differently.
“With you captured, we thought Ingram Knoll might negotiate with Alfred himself,” Teofila explains. “It would have been more leverage to get you out, had we needed it.”
“Now I can meet him myself.” I look around at the group. “If that’s the choice of the majority?”
Eugenie laughs a little. “Do you Caerisians do all business by popular acclamation?”
“Only the most important,” I say with a quick grin.
The other Ereni are conferring among themselves, and now Brigitte says, “If Sophy is willing to take the risk, we approve of the idea.”
“I am.” I nod. “From what I understand, King Alfred is a bit of an opportu
nist—but he’s also pragmatic. I think he’ll hear us out—and he’ll be interested to know what Euan’s plans really are.” The king of Tinan is perhaps twenty-five years my senior, having inherited the throne from his grandfather. His kingdom is fiercely independent; if Euan Dromahair is proposing to conscript Ereni into an army, there’s a good chance Alfred will see it as a threat to his own lands.
The others are murmuring agreement.
“I can shift the land,” Rhia says. “If we leave in the morning, we can arrive on the border in a few hours.”
“That’s perfect.” I smile at her. It’s good to see she’s getting some spirit back.
Teofila looks at me. “There is Baedon, as well.”
I nod, even though the back of my neck immediately tenses at the thought of sending her away, through the dangers of a hostile Eren. “Are you still willing to go?”
“Of course I am,” she says quietly. “You know that.”
“I’ll go with you,” Annis says immediately. “I gave you my word!”
Unexpectedly, one of the Ereni women steps forward. “I’ll go, too. I can help you commandeer a ship. My son captains his own merchant vessel; I’m sure I can persuade him to sail. With the Paladisans’ arrival, there’s bound to be some chaos in the harbor. No one will notice us slip out.”
We all smile at one another, with the surety of a plan in place.
“Now, our northern people,” I say. “Has anyone established contact with Caeris? With Hugh?”
Teofila smiles a little. “I’ve been in touch with him by mirror. He’s readying a force to bring south.”
“Perhaps with the folds in the land, we can bring them here without Rambaud or Euan being any the wiser,” I say.
She nods. “I’ll contact him before I go.”
The thought of her leaving still makes my chest ache, but this time I feel more prepared to let her go. We need to attempt everything we can.
“There’s another matter,” Alistar says unexpectedly. He’s been whispering to Victoire and now faces us. “Euan and the Saranons are a foreign power. We can force them out. But Rambaud and his followers belong here—they’re Ereni, and they’re the reason we’re in this mess in the first place.”
“We can’t just march on Laon the way we did before,” I agree. “What’s your idea?”
He looks around at us. “I’m convinced that someone close to Rambaud has magic. I just have to find out who. When I was tailing Ciril, I saw a lot of Rambaud. Believe me, he’s no longer campaigning on hatred and distrust of sorcery. He might have been at first, but now…” He sends me an apologetic glance. “Unfortunately he’s found other ways to attack Sophy—slander, namely, and xenophobia surrounding the refugees. He has said very little about sorcery one way or another in the time I’ve spent watching him.”
“I wonder…” I think back to my encounters with Rambaud. He was carrying a witch stone when Ciril was paraded through the streets, but otherwise, have I seen him working against sorcerers? Grenou has, certainly, along with Lord Devalle. But perhaps not Rambaud himself.
“Magic is awakening throughout Eren and Caeris,” Demetra says. “It’s in your stone circles and humming through the land itself. People who’ve never had magic have discovered that they do. Perhaps it’s the same for someone close to Rambaud.”
“There’s a house he’s been visiting outside the city,” Alistar says. “I’m convinced the truth is there, if I can get in and find it out. I’ll go and see what I can discover.”
I nod slowly. “If you can do it safely…”
“I can,” he promises. He grins at me, then, as if it’s only the two of us in the room. “You can’t lose me that easily, Sophy Dunbarron.”
Some of the others laugh, though kindly, and I feel myself blushing. Maybe, when all this is over, I can marry Alistar Connell after all. Not one of these people has reproached me for carrying a child out of wedlock, nor made me feel small for the way Alistar looks at me.
“Very well,” I say, shaking off these idle thoughts of the future. “Hugh will bring the Caerisians here. Alistar, you’ll see what information you can get about Rambaud. Teofila will go to Baedon…”
“And we’ll spread word through the city and countryside,” Victoire says, gesturing to Juleane and the other women. “We’ll make sure everyone knows this is the place to rally. By the time you return from the border, anyone interested in resistance will know where to find us, and that we’re going to act now, before Euan Dromahair has a chance to take this regime further.”
“Elanna will be back soon, too,” Teofila adds. “Along with Jahan. Make sure the people know they’re rallying not only to us, but to the Caveadear.”
A ragged chorus of applause runs through the chamber. My heart lifts.
“Euan Dromahair isn’t going to give up easily,” Juleane says. “Neither will the Saranons. This is their last resort—they have no other home. They’ll fight to keep it. And Rambaud has staked his career—and his life—on this coup. He won’t go down without a struggle.”
“Then we’ll have to make sure we’re all willing to fight as hard, and as cleverly,” I say. “Because this is our home, too, and we’re not giving it up without a fight, either.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Rhia’s waiting for me outside the cave in the morning, her breath fogging in the cool spring dawn. I can’t ride a horse with my pregnant belly, so we’ve decided that we’ll walk the folds in the land, all the way to the Ard. My lingering cramps have finally eased enough to make this possible—thanks to additional decoctions from Demetra—though I can only imagine that the long day will cause my aches to worsen again. I hope I don’t pay too severely for it, though Demetra gave me a vial of the honey-herb mixture to help mitigate the worst of the symptoms. I pause for a moment to look out over the panorama of the just-waking city. Over the jumble of roofs, the Hill of the Imperishable rises, looking mountainous in the flat light. Teofila and the others departed late yesterday, and I find myself wondering whether they made it to the port town where the merchant ship is moored.
“Ready?” Rhia asks.
I nod. Alistar’s already gone, too, out on his Rambaud mission. The others are preparing to disperse.
“It’s this way.”
We cross over the height of the hill, and the familiar twinge washes over us. A shift in the land. We’re walking now across a pasture, and a few minutes later crossing a marshy area beneath two hills. Rhia checks our location against a map, one she herself has been developing over the last few months. “Three more shifts will take us near my father.”
“Do you know that for certain?” I ask, curious how accurate her map is. My feet have already begun to swell.
“My best guess, but it’s good enough. Come on.”
As we walk down the hill, the land shifts again—this time to an open farm field. In the distance, a farmer rises, hoe in hand, to stare at us. “Who goes there?”
I wave at him, and we move off the field, onto the nearby road. Rhia peers both ways. “I think it’s down here…”
The next shift brings us to a line of standing stones on the outskirts of a small town—evidently a place Rhia recognizes, for she nods with satisfaction. We cross a narrow stone bridge, heading away from the town. It cuts away through a tangle of hazel to a larger body of water. We’re almost to the Ard.
Ahead, the road turns to skirt a small patch of forest. There’s a flash of metal among the trees—the mountain lords’ weapons. Rhia lets out an identifying whistle.
Two Hounds are waiting for us in the trees, on their small camp’s outskirts. They greet us solemnly, with a kiss to either cheek, and guide us past the small, temporary camp to the gentle riverbank, where stones make a rocky ford. Rhia’s father, Ingram Knoll, is waiting for us there, along with a small party of Hounds. In the middle of the river there is a small island
, made up mostly of grass and some shrubs. On the bank beyond it, I glimpse movement. The Tinani are approaching.
“Queen Sophy.” Ingram Knoll looks worn, his bright cloak mud-stained, but he still offers a smile. “It seems we managed our trick.”
I smile in return. “Indeed.”
He’s turned to his daughter now, though. Rhia throws her arms around him. They rock back and forth, whispering words I can’t quite catch.
I clear my throat and look away across the river, past the small, grassy island. Even when Ruadan was alive, I would never have embraced him like that, with such abandon and relief. An edge of formality always separated us; someday, we both knew, I might be his queen. And my blood father…
I focus on the figures occupying the Tinani bank. It doesn’t look like a large party, though it’s well armed—fifty, perhaps. They’re flying the royal flag of Tinan—a hawk on a red background.
“I take it we’re to meet on the island,” I say when Rhia and Ingram Knoll at last stop whispering to each other. “Neutral ground?”
“Aye,” he says. “Count Hilarion sent word this morning. He claims the king’s come himself.”
“Good,” I say, “he’s supposed to.”
A man on the opposite bank raises his hand in a wave. I can tell from his diminutive stature that it’s Hilarion, the Count of Ganz. I wave back, then lift my skirts and plunge into the ford. It’s a slow, rocky crossing, and each step builds the ache in my back. “We might have to take a coach home,” I say to Rhia.
Finally, my stockings spattered with water, I clamber up onto the island, and our people spread out, planting our flag in the turf. Guardsmen set down two stools in the exact center of the island—one for me and the other, evidently, for King Alfred. The party on the other bank has begun to cross.
I take off my hat and arrange myself on the stool. Even in the plain coat I’ve borrowed from Juleane, I want to look like myself. I ask Rhia how my hair looks.