by Shannon Hale
When night pulled down over his ears, Razo burrowed in his cot, his arms around his face. His bandaged wrists smelled of greasy burn ointment, his sleeves still whiffed of smoke, and on his skin lay the thin, cold smell of apples.
28
A New Ship in Port
Razo woke to the sound of rain pouncing on the barracks roof. Thunder hissed and lightning scratched the sky, then the rain calmed and curled up, intending to stay. The purr of storm drowned out the hourly bells, and Razo found he could roll over and dream some more. He slept until noon. When his stomach and curiosity finally sent him running to the pastry kitchen, a few minutes of floor sweeping earned him a plate of painfully spicy fish patties and a bucketful of news. The girls talked over one another, practically skipping about with the happy tidings of a fresh scandal.
“Never mind the weather, Razo, business in the heart will be brisk all day. No one could rest comfortably at home when scandals are afoot.”
“It’s simply too juicy—Captain Ledel and many of his men arrested, one killed, several trained as fire-witches . . .”
“A conspiracy to frame the Bayern, Lord Kilcad’s daughter herself an eyewitness and nearly a victim . . .”
“This will be a trial that ruins nobles and military men and catapults attorneys into assembly seats.”
Razo wiped a tear sparked by the awe-inspiring spice in his food. “From all I’ve heard, Tiran attorneys are slipperier than sausages. Any chance Ledel could get off?”
The pastry chef shook her head. “I doubt it. The city already hates the man for his duplicity, and public opinion is half of any trial.”
He was not eager to share the news of Pela but finally told all, including the poisoned pastry and her murder. The kitchen went so quiet, all he could hear was the hearth fire nipping at the wood. A quick scan of the faces—surprised, sickened, solemn—made him believe that Pela had been acting alone.
That afternoon, Razo shared the pastry girls’ assessment with Talone in Megina’s receiving room, where they drank purple grape juice as thick as food and watched the rain smear the world away.
Megina nodded, her eyes on the blurry world outside the shutters. “I’ve made some mistakes. . . .”
“Megina,” said Talone.
She shook her head. “There were times when I was too cautious, particularly after Veran was murdered. Razo was an ambassador for the people I couldn’t reach. I’m trying to say thank you.” Megina smiled. “And I have more good news. This morning, three separate citizens offered up the names and locations of the remnants of Manifest Tira. The chief of assembly told me the informers had known of Manifest Tira and their plans for some time. When asked why they came forward now, all three mentioned the disgrace of a military leader trying to trick the public into war. Two also cited the rumors that the prince’s choice of bride would cement relations with Bayern.”
“Razo, you’re friendly with the prince,” said Talone. “Do you know whom he intends to marry?”
“No, I don’t.” Frustration seeped through his words. Talone apparently mistook it as anger for not having better information.
“No matter, Razo. If you never discover another secret, your duty to Bayern has been paid in full. And I’m grateful to you, son.”
Razo could not help but grin foolishly. Talone’s compliment put him in hasty danger of crowing like a rooster and strutting along the back of the sofa, so he changed the subject.
“What about Enna, Captain? Ledel and his burners, down in their dungeon, know that she’s—”
“Last night, Megina told Lord Belvan about Enna. He’s taken it upon himself to be the only person to interrogate the prisoners, and he has assured us that he will keep Enna’s secret until she leaves for Bayern with the next traveling party. She will be safe.”
The next day, the assembly voted for peace.
The celebration banquet was subdued, more an exhale of relief than a shout of joy. Only the prince was all sparkling eyes and graciousness.
“Razo’s-Own! Of course you single-handedly used those villains’ faces to clean your sandals. Pardon me, I meant to say, perhaps handedly but certainly not single, or so I have heard. Well done, Lady Dasha.”
“Thank you, Radiance.”
Dasha smiled at the prince, and Razo watched her nose very carefully for any signs of crinkling. She was polite, but she did not oversmile or ask the prince if he would prefer to be horsewhipped or pecked to death by tiny fish. Razo took this as a good sign, until an exuberant Victar swept Dasha into his entourage and got her laughing at a face puppet he had carved from an apple. Now there was definitive nose creasing.
The very next day, Razo was leaving the barracks for the palace when he spotted Dasha’s orange hair across the courtyard. He jogged toward her, intent on pinning her down about the prince and marriage once and for all, but she cut off his greeting.
“Can’t talk now, Razo. I have something I have to do.”
“What is it?” he asked. “Maybe I could help.”
“Uh, sorry, it’s nothing really, but someone is waiting for me, and I can’t . . . I’ll see you later, all right?”
Razo watched her twitter away and felt as though someone had whipped a tree branch into his gut.
“Razo!” Enna hurried toward him. “Have you seen Finn?”
“Finn’s gone, too?”
“What do you mean, ‘gone, too’?”
“Nothing, it was a stupid thought, never mind.”
“I can’t imagine where he’s . . . he used to be so . . . it’s like he’s pushing me away on purpose, like he really wasn’t . . .” Enna’s interest in scanning the horizon faltered. Her eyes fell to her ragged fingernail. “Never mind, you don’t want to hear this.” She cleared her throat. “I wanted to tell you something else. Your friend Dasha, she did well, you know? She distracted the burners with the water, keeping them from slipping fire past me to hurt you or Finn. And soaking the scoundrels like she did probably saved them from burning themselves out.”
“I think it was hard for her.” Razo chose his words carefully, aware that if he played it wrong, Enna’s current agreeable state could vanish in a huff. “She got really spooked when her grandfather drowned himself. She pretends not to worry, but I know she’s fully anxious that what she did back there will plunge her headfirst into his fate.”
Enna nodded. Razo suspected she understood more than he did.
“I looked over the book Ledel had found on fire-speaking,” said Enna. “It’s ridiculous, just fragments of ideas and none of it clear about exactly how to push all the heat back out of you again. No wonder they burned themselves up. If there’s bad information out there, someone desperate, like Dasha, say, could stumble on it and try to learn fire speech and get herself burned. What I’m saying is, I’ll teach her.”
Razo leaned back against a tree and breathed out. “That’s about the best . . .Will you really, Enna-girl? Really?”
“Yes, of course.” Enna smiled her good smile. “When the weather chased us away from the apple cakes festival, Conrad was all anxious about you, said you tried to act composed but your worry was pretty easy to read, and he showed me and Finn your map, said he was supposed to keep it safe for evidence or something but thought you might need our help now instead. Right when he said that, it was like something struck me. There aren’t many people in the world I trust, but you’re one of them, and if you say that Dasha’s trustworthy, even though she’s Tiran, and if you say she’ll do good with it, then I believe you.”
“Thanks, Enna.” He smiled, showing off the space between his teeth. “So, what is happening with you and Finn? Are you still . . . ?”
“I don’t know, Razo.” Her voice dried up, and she shook her head as she left.
Razo hurried the opposite way, following the direction Dasha had gone. He had to know. He skulked outside her chamber, listening. No voices, no sound but the clatter and ting of a harp played dreadfully. Was Dasha plucking it with her toes? The noise jarre
d Razo like his teeth scraping metal, and he waited by the door, arms folded. A serving boy with a tray sneered at him as he approached, nudging him out of the way to knock.
“Lady, I have the food and drinks you called for.”
Dasha opened the door, her cheeks turning red when she saw Razo. Behind her in the room, he could see Finn, seated with his back to the door. Without a word, Razo left.
He wandered the palace grounds, kicking loose rocks hard enough to bruise his toes. He stooped to pick up an egg-shaped stone to add to his pouch, remembered Ledel had destroyed his slings, and hurled it into a whitewashed tree planter.
“There you are!” Conrad jogged toward him. “Talone sent me to find all the Bayern stragglers. We’re meeting at the stables in half an hour. You’ll never guess—Isi and Geric are in port!”
“Something good today, anyway . . .”
“What do you mean? What’s—”
“Never mind. Conrad, could you go tell Lady Dasha? She’s in her chamber. I’m going to go fetch His Radiance.”
“Excellent!” said the prince when Razo extended the invitation. “I was very much in the mood for an outing. A man needs to stretch his legs, see the world! Now, who is it again we are going to see?”
The prince did not ride horses, so a carriage was assembled. Finn and Dasha showed up late, Finn going to Enna’s side as though all were normal. When he rested his hand on his sword hilt, Razo noticed Finn’s fingers were red in the very same places where Dasha sported harping calluses.
The docks were lively and jammed, heavily salted from the briny air and the sweat of sailors. One ship in the harbor bore a banner carrying Bayern’s sun and crown. A rowboat worked the waters toward shore, Isi and Geric on the bow, their cheeks tanned from the sun. Shouts of greeting erupted from both sides.
“Hello!” Geric waved, full of energy. “Well, that was very pleasant. No reason for the travel to take two months—we spent six days on horseback, two days on a river, four days on the ocean, and here we are!”
“It’s not always so fast, Your Majesty,” said a bearded man whose face was as weathered as oak bark. His accent was crisp, his words lilting up, marking him as a man from Kel, Bayern’s northeastern neighbor. “That was an abominably good wind we followed.”
“Just happened to have a good wind, did you?” said Enna.
She and Isi exchanged devious looks.
As soon as Geric’s foot touched soil, Conrad leaped at him, pulling him into a grappling hold. Enna was the first to grab Isi coming down the plank.
“Where’s Tusken? He must be huge!”
“Poor lamb, we had to leave him home! I know, I know, but I couldn’t inflict that journey on a one-year-old. Finn, I cajoled your mother out of her Forest house and into the palace for once. I couldn’t trust my boy to anyone but Gilsa.”
“I can’t believe you actually left him!” said Enna. “You must feel wretched.”
“Wretched and lonely and torn in half, but if you think I’m suffering . . .” Isi glanced back at Geric, who now had Conrad in a choke hold, and lowered her voice. “You should’ve seen Geric. The first two nights away, he actually—”
“What are you telling them?” Geric looked at her suspiciously.
“Nothing!” said Isi with an impish smile. “Nothing. I’m not saying a peep.”
Geric released Conrad and shook his hands out in front of him with a gesture of defeat. “All right, all right, I might’ve been upset—”
“Upset? He sobbed!”
“—but I’m no more upset than any father would be. It’s not that I don’t trust Gilsa, but . . .” Geric had to pause for emotion. “But he’s my boy.”
Enna stared openmouthed, as though she saw some strange new creature in a menagerie. “He’s more heartbroken than you are, Isi.”
“I know! Who knew Bayern men were so demonstrative?” She pulled Geric in to kiss him.
Enna’s glance slid ever so briefly to Finn, and Razo thought again of her saying, Why don’t you make a fool of yourself for me?
Then someone stepped off the boat whom Razo had never met before. Someone as yellow-haired as Isi.
“What a sight!” she said, holding her hands to her chest and taking in Ingridan as though she drank honeyed milk. “It’s positively delicious. Look, I can see three rivers from here. How many are there again?”
“Seven, my dear. Seven rivers.” The prince stepped from the shade of his carriage. He looked striking, his green- and blue-dyed clothing brilliant against the backdrop of white city and red-tiled roofs.
“Isi, Geric,” said Razo, “may I introduce His Radiance, the prince of Tira.”
“Oh!” said Isi. “This is wonderful.”
“A pleasure, sir,” said Geric.
“Please, Radiance,” said Isi, “allow me to name to you my sister, Napralina-Victery Talianna Isilee, second daughter of the queen of Kildenree. She was visiting us in Bayern when Lord Kilcad suggested we travel to Tira to address the assembly before their vote. We passed a trader ship en route who gave us the news—we missed the vote but are here in time for the celebration!”
“I could not be more delighted.” The prince crossed his hands on his chest and bowed his head in a pleased and solemn manner that Razo had never before seen on his face.
Napralina curtsied prettily. She had the light eyes and happy smile of someone who has never known hardship and thinks the whole world a bunch of grapes. Razo was thinking her eyes were not as interesting as Dasha’s when Isi gave him a significant look.
“Oh!” said Razo, understanding.
“Oh, what? What is it?” asked the prince, looking around eagerly as though afraid to miss whatever spectacular thing Razo had discovered.
“Oh, nothing, oh, it’s getting hot out here under the sun. Oh . . .” Razo fidgeted. “Oh, I mean, Radiance, why don’t we walk back to the palace? You could show Princess Napralina the docks and such.”
“Splendid idea, Razo’s-Own! I was weary of the carriage. Come, my dear,” he said, extending an arm to Napralina. “Those ships there with seven sails are from the Wasking Islands. You’ll adore the Wasking. They have the most musical accents. Nom, do say something so she can admire!”
They walked away, accompanied by the prince’s Wasking entourage. Geric was speaking with Talone, Megina, and Dasha, so Isi, Razo, Enna, and Finn took a moment to huddle together. Isi locked arms with Enna and Razo beside her. Razo noticed that though Enna and Finn stood side by side, they did not touch.
“Napralina was telling me how bored she was with Kildenree,” Isi said, barely moving her lips. “How she wished Geric had a brother, how much she would like to become a princess of a foreign land.”
All their eyes followed the pair.
“And then you got Enna’s letter, huh?” asked Razo. “About finding a bride for the prince?”
“It was Razo’s idea,” said Enna.
“Seems like it was a good one,” said Finn.
Razo thought so, too.
“Do you think it’ll work, Razo?” asked Isi.
Razo considered. The prince’s choices resonated with the citizens of Ingridan. Even so, marrying a Bayern woman when feelings were still tender could cause havoc among some groups. But an attachment to the queen of Bayern’s Kildenrean sister—unmistakable side taking without the risk of going too far. He wondered what name Napralina would give the prince.
“I think it could be rotten great.”
29
A Few More Secrets
Razo had not worn his old brown uniform since first adopting the Tiran clothing. He vaguely recalled rolling it up in a ball and stuffing it into Enna’s wardrobe some months back, so he stopped there a couple of nights after Isi and Geric’s arrival to prepare for their welcoming banquet. Finn was who-knows-where again, but Enna was in her room, sticking little silvery things in her hair the way the Tiran ladies did. Apparently, her distaste of all things Tiran had begun to wane.
He grabbed his ball of wrin
kled uniform and ducked behind Enna’s dressing screen to get presentable. He thought he would like to look good tonight, all laid out in his Bayern army splendor. Just to honor Isi and Geric. No other reason.
He pulled on his leggings. That is, he pulled them halfway on. He could yank them up his thighs, but the bottoms left his ankles bare like little-boy knickers.
“What mischief’s this?”
He wrenched his long-sleeved tunic over his head and tugged down. The hem used to hit the tops of his thighs, but it barely covered his waist, and the chest and shoulders were so tight that he had to pull himself tall just to breathe. And then, of course, his boots proved too short for his toes. He glared at the back of Enna’s head, then had to laugh. It was a pretty solid prank.
“Ha-ha!” he said, emerging. “Do you like my new attire?”
Enna’s eyes widened as Razo strutted a little circle. She choked, then leaned forward to laugh as though her delight were so heavy that it weighted her chest. He pranced on his toes as he imagined girls must do when showing one another new dresses.
“Tight tunic and short leggings, the newest Bayern fashion,” he said in a high voice. “It’s an Enna specialty.”
“I can’t take credit, though I wish I could,” said Enna, still laughing.
Razo ceased flouncing and set his features to look dead serious. “Don’t play, Enna-girl. You can’t make me believe Finn did this.”
“Finn? What’re you . . . ? Razo, it’s you.”
Razo re-firmed his expression to be even more deadly.
Enna barked a surprised laugh. “Don’t you realize, you Forest yokel? You hit a growth spurt this year.”
“Please, I’m not as gullible as I used to be. This’s another of your tricks, like the short stirrups on my saddle.”
Enna put out her hands as if to say, What can I do if you don’t believe me?
Razo snorted. “I’m eighteen years now, and my brothers stopped growing when they were . . .” How old had they been? Sixteen, seventeen? His clothing had seemed tighter these past months. Was it possible that all of a sudden his body took to the idea of getting taller?