Caught by a boy. Hinck should be humiliated, but compared to the entire realm thinking him a traitor, such a thing didn’t really matter.
Until Hinck was marched past his father, who looked upon him as one whose heart has been ripped from his chest.
Wilek
I request we postpone any trial until we reach land,” Kamran said.
“And give the mantic traitors time to find more evenroot so they can attack again?” Wilek asked. “Do you take me for a fool?”
In the aftermath of the skirmish, Wilek had gathered Rayim, Novan, Dendrick, and what remained of his Wisean Council in the captain’s dining room for a quick vote to sentence the traitors, but it was already taking longer than necessary to reach a consensus. And Kamran’s presence here, rather than in the hold where he belonged, annoyed Wilek deeply.
“Everyone knows there is no evenroot on board,” Kamran said. “They can do no harm in the hold.”
“Master Harton found evenroot,” Danek said. “As did Duke Canden.”
“Yes, Oli,” Kamran said. “Where did you get your evenroot?”
“Kamran shouldn’t be here,” Oli said. “His mother’s involvement in all this is a conflict of interest.”
“Nor should I be here either, by that logic,” Danek said. “My son is also involved with these traitors, though I cannot fathom why. I apologize again, Your Highness.” He paused to compose himself, but when he spoke again, his voice trembled. “I don’t know what has come over him.”
“Oli has broken the law by his use of evenroot,” Kamran said. “He should be in the hold with the other mantics.”
“He saved the sâr’s life!” Rayim said.
“Magic is still against the law, is it not, Sâr Wilek?” Kamran asked.
Wilek rubbed his face. “We will discuss Duke Canden’s infractions another time. Right now I want to deal with the traitors in the hold. I intend to execute them first thing in the morning.”
“A wise decision, Your Highness,” Rayim said. “One should not harbor dissidents for long.”
“I agree in theory, Your Highness,” Danek said, “but wouldn’t it be fairest to conduct individual trials?”
“Would that change the outcome?” Novan asked. “If all are guilty in any way of plotting a mutiny, shouldn’t they all hang?”
“Indeed they should,” Rayim said.
“But if some were coerced . . .” Danek said.
“Hinckdan is guilty, Highcliff,” Kamran said. “He dragged Sârah Zeroah up onto the stern deck himself. I saw it with my own eyes.”
Danek buried his head in his arms and began to sob.
Wilek took a steadying breath. The situation with Hinckdan had gotten out of control. Perhaps it was time to confess the young earl was his spy. He certainly wasn’t going to let Hinckdan hang. “I blame myself for the earl’s involvement. The truth is, I sent him to—”
“—to Sâr Janek as a backman, we know, Your Highness,” Oli said, meeting his eyes. “But you could not have known what it was like to be part of Janek’s crowd. If anyone is to blame, let it be me for not warning Hinckdan to take caution.”
What was Oli playing at now? Why would he want Wilek to keep Hinckdan’s status as a spy a secret? He supposed another few hours would make little difference. “Let’s recess until dawn,” Wilek said. “I will have Captain Rayim question everyone again tonight and inform them they are to be executed in the morning. Perhaps such an appointment will inspire any hidden truths to be revealed.”
“Your merciful nature is a comfort, Your Highness,” Danek said.
Being known for mercy would not make Wilek feared by his enemies. He only hoped he would not regret stalling a bit longer. “Dendrick and Rayim, remain behind with Duke Canden. We must discuss his crimes next. Novan, stand guard outside. The rest of you are dismissed. If I determine there is reason to conduct individual trials, I will inform you at dawn.”
Everyone moved to obey. When Novan closed the door behind the last of them, Wilek folded his arms and regarded Oli Agoros, who sat at the end of the table on the right. “Why did you stop me from—”
“Six, Your Highness,” Oli said. “There are six traitors in the hold who must be sentenced.”
Wilek shivered, catching on to Oli’s message. There were four men present, which meant two shadir had entered the room. They could not have a private conversation if the creatures were here listening. Or did it matter? If the mantics had no evenroot, what could the enemy gain by eavesdropping?
“Might you have some ink and parchment?” Oli asked.
Hope kindled in Wilek’s chest. He waved at Dendrick, who brought forth both and set them on the table before Oli.
Wilek couldn’t wait. He rose and went to watch over Oli’s shoulder as he wrote.
If you reveal Hinck as a spy, he will be killed at some point by one of Rogedoth’s people.
Oli glanced up, peering from Wilek to Rayim to Dendrick until all three men had read his words, then flipped over the parchment and continued writing.
My shadir made Hinck a seer. If he were to escape before his execution, he could go to Rogedoth and—
Wilek interrupted Oli’s writing. “Now that would kill him,” he said. “You can’t be serious.”
“I have to agree with the duke, Your Highness,” Rayim said. “If he stays here, he’s already dead. At least this way he has a chance.”
Could that be true? Wilek had already asked too much of Hinckdan Faluk. Sending him to Rogedoth seemed downright cruel. “Why did you do this?” he asked Oli. “For that matter, you continued to take evenroot after I forbade it and used your shadir to do magic when you attacked Harton. How much root do you still have?”
“One flask.”
“Give it to me now.”
Oli reached for his belt, hesitated, then removed his hip flask and handed it over.
“Such carelessness risks Arman’s wrath against our realm.” Wilek walked to the window and dumped the contents. When he turned back, Oli was on his feet, staring longingly out the window.
“The evenroot is gone, Duke Canden,” Wilek said. “Now why did you disobey me?”
Oli slowly took his seat again. “I thought it was what you wanted.”
“I specifically said it was not!” Wilek said.
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but your exact words were, ‘It is an order I cannot give.’”
“Sounds clear to me,” Wilek said.
“Yet a misunderstanding remains,” Oli said. “My father has said as much to me or his men time and again. Those words meant that while he could not ask me aloud for the sake of his reputation or the law, he wanted me to act anyway. It is a common practice in the military when something of questionable morals needs to be done.”
Wilek turned his attention on Rayim. “Is that true?”
“Not all officers make use of the practice, but it happens,” Rayim said.
How did Wilek not know of this? Because he was the Dutiful. No one would have dared suggest such a thing to him. “It is now a forbidden practice,” he said. “If something is of questionable morality, the Book of Arman will give us our answer. Is that understood, Captain?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Rayim said. “I will see that word is passed through the ranks.”
Wilek would have to do so much more to retrain his people. He needed the nation to submit to Arman, to obey his decrees. But how?
He would have to think on it. There had to be a way.
In the meantime he would execute the traitors, then get his father back aboard the Seffynaw. But first he needed to get a message to Hinckdan Faluk, and if the shadir were watching, he must take care how he communicated the possibility of sending the earl into the enemy’s lair. No matter what options were presented, he would let Hinckdan choose for himself how he would like to proceed.
Wilek would force him no longer.
Hinck
Hinck sat leaning against one corner of his new prison cell. Captain Veralla himself
had brought him here, and without speaking a word, Hinck could tell from the gentle way the man had handled him that he knew Hinck was Wilek’s spy.
Yet hours later, here he remained, haunted by the look on his father’s face when he realized his only son was a traitor.
Hinck’s new cell was no bigger than his last had been, but it had a clean privy bucket, fresh hay covered the floor, and a warm tub of seawater and a hard bar of soap had been waiting when he’d first arrived. He’d wasted no time dousing his head and scrubbing his face and hair. The salt water had made his skin tight and grimy, but he’d felt so refreshed that he’d tried to wash the rest of himself too. Sadly, Captain Veralla had not thought to bring Hinck fresh clothes, though he supposed that would have looked suspicious should he be questioned again.
They had separated the traitors this time. With two dead and Fonu overboard, there were only five left imprisoned—six counting Agmado Harton. Hinck bet they were none of them near each other.
To pass the time, he sang to himself and recited his favorite plays. Someone shoved a meal under the door. A tray of warm food as fresh as one could get aboard the Seffynaw these days. Again Hinck suspected Sâr Wilek was trying to make up for the unfortunate situation.
He was mumbling the words to Magon’s Betrayal when the lock of his cell clicked and the door slid aside. He straightened, expecting to see Captain Veralla or Sâr Wilek, but the lithe, black-clad female who entered was far more welcome.
Lady Pia slid the door closed behind her and knelt at his side, facing him. “I am told you can see shadir.”
“Oli put a spell on me, apparently. And here I thought he was my friend.”
“He is a better friend than you think. Do you see any now?”
“No. I haven’t seen any since Captain Veralla put me here. I think the guards spread us out so far apart that the shadir can’t remember where we all are.”
“Listen well, poet. You are in the fore of the ship. Here is a key to the cells.” She placed a cold piece of metal against his palm. “Lady Mattenelle is in the first cell on the left, just before the stairs. You are to rescue her and take her to the boat fall where Sâr Wilek has arranged there to be no guards.”
“Why her?”
“It was my idea. I thought people might think it sweet when they heard that the Earl of Dacre had run away with one of Sâr Janek’s concubines.”
Was she joking? “That’s not very funny.”
“You’re so serious, Lord Dacre. The truth is, it would look suspicious if only you escaped. Sâr Wilek feels he can part with Nellie since she is useless to Rogedoth now that Sâr Janek is dead.”
“What about the others?”
“Our Dutiful sâr wants to watch them hang before he eats his breakfast.”
Hinck shivered as he pictured the scene in his mind. “And where am I going? Another ship?”
“Of course you must board any ship if you become desperate, but Sâr Wilek hopes that you might consider boarding the Amarnath.”
Hinck sputtered. “Rogedoth’s ship?”
“Oli thinks Nellie could ask her shadir to lead you there. If you can keep up the ruse long enough that you are one of them, you might yet be able to help stop Rogedoth.”
“If . . . might . . . I don’t know if I can act well enough to fool Rogedoth.”
“Shh, I’m not finished. If you’d rather not do this, Sâr Wilek will admit to all that you are his spy. That would free you from your prison cell and give you back your life. But Kamran and the shadir would know the truth, and word would eventually get to Rogedoth.”
“He’d kill me. Or send someone to.”
“That is our fear as well. Sâr Wilek leaves the choice to you.”
Hinck could only laugh at the ridiculousness of his choice. “Oh, how thoughtful.”
“Isn’t it? I rather like Sâr Wilek as a ruler.”
“How would I get in contact with Sâr Wilek if I learn anything important?”
“I knew you would go.” Her fingernails lightly scratched up the back of his neck and into his hair. Her touch soothed his frazzled nerves. “I have never met a braver man than you, Hinckdan Faluk.”
He chuckled darkly. “Truth is, I’m terrified to do this.”
“Yet you do it anyway. That’s what makes you brave.” She kissed the side of his neck, his ear. Her warm breath tickled and he shrugged away.
“Lady Pia, I’m fairly disgusting.”
He heard a smile in her voice when she said, “Yes, you were always the fashionable one, weren’t you? Which drives you madder—being locked up or covered in filth?”
He contemplated. “It’s a draw.”
“Janek is dead and still we cannot be together.”
Hinck could not answer that. It was too horrible to think about. All of it.
“Everything about our circumstances has the stench of waste,” Pia said, then kissed him full on the mouth. With lips still touching, she asked, “How was that for poetry?”
He smiled against her. “That’s not poetry, really, though the double meaning is clever.”
“Listen to me,” she said, tone commanding while she splayed her hands on either side of his face. “If you must carry on a romance with Nellie to keep up your ruse, I will not hold it against you.”
He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t—”
She set her forehead against his. “Do not argue. I want you to live, and Rogedoth will test you. You must behave like them. There is no room for a kind, gentle poet in their society.”
“I don’t wish to go.”
“This is the only way to keep you safe. Oli says not to take any evenroot and not to let them know you can see shadir. You can do this. I believe in you, Lord Dacre.”
“Call me Hinck?”
“I believe in you, Hinck.” And she kissed him for a very long time.
When she finally stood to leave, he grabbed her arm. “I want Sâr Wilek to tell my parents that I’m no traitor. Please?”
“If Sâr Wilek refuses, I will make sure they learn the truth somehow.”
“Thank you, lady.”
She kissed the top of his head. “Until next time, sweet poet.”
She left the door cracked open behind her. Hinck glared at the dim stripe of light, tired of longing for things he could never have.
Fool! He had thought that in denying himself Lady Pia he would protect his heart from another disaster like Eudora. Yet here he sat, alone and without hope. No, not fully without hope. “Until next time,” she had said.
Hinck doubted there would be one.
Lady Mattenelle went eagerly with Hinck, clinging to his arm with every step.
“Is your shadir with you?” he asked, leading her up the fore companionway.
“No,” she said. “Why?”
“I was hoping it could lead our boat to the Amarnath.”
“We’re leaving the ship?”
“I heard a guard say we’re to be hanged in the morning.”
“Oh!”
“Shh,” he said.
“How did you get out?”
“The guard who put me in the cell didn’t fully latch the door. A piece of wood was wedged in the crack. I didn’t even notice it until my dinner came.”
“You had dinner?”
Oops. “You didn’t?”
“No. Where are the others?”
“I came around the corner just as you were being put into your cell. I don’t know where anyone else is. If we go right now, I think we can escape. But you don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.”
She squeezed his arm tighter, eyes round and shadir-like. “I’m coming with you.”
They continued on, slowing when they reached the foredeck. Hinck listened, heard no voices, peeked out, saw no one. He pulled Lady Mattenelle toward the boat fall, then helped her over the rail.
How was he supposed to lower the boat if they were inside it?
He was studying the crank when someone slid the flat of a sword alon
g the side of his neck. He choked in a deep breath, then dodged to the left and over the rail.
Now standing in the boat, he looked on his attacker. Kamran DanSâr? And behind him his mother, Lady Zenobia, with Lilou Caridod, Agmado Harton, Sir Jayron, and . . .
“Miss Amala?” Hinck said.
“She is helping us,” Kamran said.
“But why?” Hinck asked.
“Because she knows Sâr Wilek will ruin Armania,” Kamran said, tweaking her chin. “What are you doing here, Hinck? How did you get out?”
“Got lucky,” Hinck said. “Thanks for coming for us.”
“We could say the same to you,” Sir Jayron said.
They glared at each other until Miss Amala’s voice broke the silence.
“Why did you bring her?” Amala asked Kamran, glaring at Lilou as Harton helped the king’s young mistress into the boat.
“We couldn’t leave anyone behind for the sâr to kill, could we?” Kamran said.
“Except for me and Lord Dacre, apparently,” Lady Mattenelle said.
“We came for you, Nellie, but you were gone.”
“And Lord Dacre?” she asked. “You came for him too?”
“No,” Kamran said. “I do not trust Lord Dacre.”
“Well I do!” She folded her arms and glared out at the dark sea.
“Nellie, don’t be cross,” Kamran said, but she did not respond to his plea.
“When will I see you all again?” Amala asked, glancing at Harton.
“I am not going anywhere,” Kamran said. “We will see the others when we reach land.”
“But . . .” Amala gave another longing look to Harton as he climbed into the dinghy. “Can’t I go with you?”
“I need you here,” Kamran said, putting his arm around her. “Get in the boat, Mother. Miss Amala and I will lower it.”
Hinck watched Kamran and Amala work the cranks, nervous now that the other four had joined Mattenelle and him in the boat. When he finally lowered his gaze to those seated around him, he caught sight of the first shadir, a great golden bird hovering beside Lady Zenobia as it whispered into her ear. Hinck couldn’t tell whether or not the woman heard, for she made no response.
The dinghy reached the water, splashing a few cold drops onto Hinck’s arm.
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