A Deliverer Comes

by Jill Williamson

  High Shield? Hinck wondered what else Trevn had neglected to tell him. He didn’t like how awkward he felt standing here with Pia, as if he were speaking to a complete stranger. “Could we talk now, then? Cadoc and this man can see the queen clearly.”

  “Go on,” Cadoc said to her.

  The sailor glared at Hinck, and he recalled that this was the man who’d taught Trevn to brawl. He made a better pirate than sailor.

  Lady Pia sighed, as if terribly inconvenienced, and pulled aside the curtain, which revealed an open space with tables holding pitchers and trays and servants bustling about.

  “This is terribly embarrassing,” she said as he followed her into the antechamber. “You do realize everyone in the great hall likely saw us exit together?”

  “So?”

  “What do you want, Lord Dacre?”

  Such coldness made Hinck feel foolish. “I have thought about you ever since I left, though I can see now that I wasted my time.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered. “I didn’t expect you would think of me—not when you could be with Nellie.” A glance to his eyes. “You stayed with her, didn’t you?”

  “You told me to!”

  She nodded, and her eyes hardened. “Because I didn’t want you feeling guilty when it happened. She was good to you, wasn’t she?”

  He frowned, thinking it best not to answer.

  Lady Pia folded her arms. “I knew she would be. She’s good at her job, but even more so when she feels indebted.”

  Hinck suddenly understood. “It was your idea I rescue her from her cell on the Seffynaw?”

  “I didn’t think you’d survive, honestly.”

  “Well, I did. And I’ve come back. To you.”

  She glanced away. “You’re very kind, Your Grace, but since you’re still so terribly naïve, I’ll make this very clear. I release you from whatever promise you think you made to me. I’ve moved on. So should you.”

  Her words stung like the scratch of an angry cat. “Moved on? With who?”

  “Master Nietz. You saw him standing beside me moments ago.”

  Hinck couldn’t believe it. “The pirate?”

  A smirk. “He’s one of the king’s guards and a good man. He’s had a hard life, like me. We understand each other’s pain. He and I . . . we fit.”

  “And we didn’t?”

  She smiled then, and Hinck caught a glimpse of her former beauty. “Not in the slightest. What we had was a game. You were always above my station, and now you are a duke and the Second Arm of Armania. And I’m no longer a concubine. Find someone who fits your rank, poet. It will be easier for everyone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my duties await.”

  She stepped past him and her familiar smell of spices wrenched something in his heart. He reached for her hand, caught it ever-so-briefly, but she tugged it away.

  Hinck stood awkwardly in the antechamber and watched her go. In all of his eavesdropping for Trevn, he’d learned that women rarely said what they meant. Had Lady Pia spoken the truth? Or was this some kind of test, and she was secretly hoping he would chase after her and fight for their love?

  Did they have love? While her words had been shocking and had stung his pride, he didn’t feel overly sorrowful about her rejection. Did that mean he’d never loved the woman? After all this time, had he been clinging to a lie?

  How ridiculous that moments ago he had pondered in awe the passing of his childhood, yet here he stood, completely baffled over the rejection of a woman.

  An idea came to him. It felt deceitful, yet at the same time necessary. To be certain he wasn’t making an error, he reached for Lady Pia’s mind.

  So many times since learning the voicing magic he’d wanted to reach for Pia, to speak with her and ask how she fared. But he’d been afraid. Perhaps that hesitation had cost him.

  He easily found her mind and drifted inside, listening for her thoughts. But she wasn’t thinking. She was speaking. Whispering, actually.

  “Don’t worry about him,” she said. “I’m shocked he even remembers me.”

  A man replied, “Any man who would forget you is not a man. Are you sure you feel nothing for him?”

  “I told you, it was my occupation. He romanticized that it was more, but I never loved him.”

  “I love you,” the man said.

  Lady Pia’s heart soared at those words. “And I you.”

  Flustered, Hinck withdrew.

  Not a test, then. Pia hadn’t been awaiting his return, and she really did love the pirate. But she’d lied about one thing. Hinck had sensed her thoughts and felt the nervousness of her fib.

  She had loved Hinck once.

  He supposed that would have to be enough.

  Grayson

  With the battle over, and Grandmother safely rescued, Grayson’s time was again his own, and so he went back to spying on Porvil. He found the boy in the wine cellar, unloading crates and organizing the bottles.

  Discouraged that he had nothing to tell the queen, Grayson also returned to his search for the Puru orphans. The giants he’d been tracking before were hunting in the mountains, so he ventured back to where Queen Mielle had been living with the Puru and moved south, looking for signs of life as he went.

  It took three hours until he found any giants. Unfortunately, the dead deer they were hauling marked this as another hunting party. Grayson followed them for a while. When he got bored, he memorized the leader, then practiced popping away until he could do so easily. Then he returned to Armanguard and spent a few hours on the roof, playing with Lady Trista and Princess Rashah. He checked back every hour or so until he saw the giants had made camp. Grayson slept in his own bed, and when he woke the next day, he found the giants on the move again. He went back and forth, which allowed him to go to school in the great hall, practice swordplay with the Duke of Canden, and continue shadowing Porvil.

  Two days passed uneventfully. Around midday on day three, the giants had reached a settlement that brought Magonia to mind. No snow. Few trees. A ground of thick reddish-brown clay and rocks. Rounded huts stretched into the distance. Those he could see from the road had pit fires outside their front doors—doors that were nothing more than a hole cut through the wall and covered with a mat of woven straw or bark. The rat birds were all over, perched on the roofs of huts, on carts, or hopping on the ground and nipping at bugs.

  Grayson looked ahead to see how far the settlement might go, and a looming building stopped him on the path. Shaped like a pyramid and made of the same brown clay as the huts, it rose up in the center of the city, taller than even Castle Armanguard.

  How did the center not collapse?

  Grayson abandoned the hunters and popped closer to the pyramid until he was standing just outside the entrance where the ground fell away in a sharp cliff. A bridge crossed over a moat of dark, flaming liquid to an archway in the center front of the building. Rat birds had perched on the railings. Grayson shifted through the Veil to the other side of the bridge and went inside.

  He looked up, surprised to find the structure hollow like a tent. Dozens of black birds had clustered on the rafters in the top point. There were four entrances, one in the center of each wall. Long stone steps descended on all four sides and met in the center at a square platform.

  Grayson crept his way down. The knee-high platform sat on a dirt floor and supported a shallow stone cistern big enough for him to lie in. What could be the purpose of such a place?

  He went about exploring the pyramid as families of giants came inside and took seats. Three of the exits emptied into the city. The fourth led to a clay hut, larger than those Grayson had seen on his way into the village. Inside, two giants stood over a Puru woman with orange hair, who lay on a table between them. They were feeding her some sort of black liquid from a bowl. She squirmed, her face pinched. Grayson was contemplating grabbing her and popping away when he heard a child scream.

  He followed the sound to the back side of the hut, where he came upon a large pit with a rope
d railing. Rat birds had congregated along the wooden posts at each corner. Three giants stood at a cart holding about a dozen Puru women and children. A giant pulled a child out of the bed and dropped him into the pit. The boy yelped as he fell. Voices rose from below.

  Grayson popped to the roped railing and peered into the depths. The pit was twice as deep as Grayson was tall and filled with Puru people—women and children mostly. He spotted one young man.

  This must be it! Grayson had found the prisoners. Queen Mielle would be pleased. Now he must see about rescuing everyone.

  He popped to the bottom of the pit and entered the physical realm. The heat surprised him. How could it be so warm here when there was snow in Armanguard?

  A little boy with beige hair and skin saw him and gasped, his bright blue eyes fat and round. A girl not much taller with brown curls screamed. Some of the others glanced her way, but most were too busy trying to catch the newcomers being dropped down.

  Grayson crouched in front of the little boy. “Uma,” he said in the Puru language.

  The boy reached a pale finger toward Grayson’s mottled gray hand. Amused, Grayson let the boy touch him. As soon as that tiny finger slid over his skin, the little girl pushed close and grabbed his wrist. Her face lit up in a smile that made her eyes nearly close. The boy touched Grayson again and smiled, revealing a missing front tooth.

  More were watching him now. Above, the giants were rolling away the cart. The boy and girl were taking turns touching Grayson’s hand when an old woman pushed between the children and yanked them away by the arms.

  “I didn’t see you arrive,” she said in the Puru language. “You are also from Shelosh?”

  “I’m from Armania,” Grayson said. “Why are we in this pit?”

  Another boy gestured to the pyramid. “Jiir-Yeke offering.”

  A chill ran over Grayson’s arms. “You die?”

  The young man stepped forward and glared. He had beige hair like the little boy. “We rest. To save our kin.”

  “They’re lying.” This from an older girl who looked about Vallah’s age. “They’re going to kill us.”

  “Hush, you!” the old woman yelled, jerking a hand toward the girl as if to slap her, but the girl ducked into the crowd. The pale-haired boy ran back to Grayson’s side.

  “You don’t have to die,” Grayson said. “I’m here to rescue you.”

  The old woman narrowed her eyes. “How?”

  “I’ll show you.” He picked up the boy, concentrated on the servants’ side of the curtain behind the dais in the great hall, then popped there. He appeared in front of a maid holding a tray. She screamed and dropped her load.

  “Sorry!” Grayson set down the boy and knelt to help the maid pick up the food.

  The boy fell to his knees, grabbed a chicken leg, and bit into it.

  “You’re a hazard, you know that?” the maid said.

  “It was an accident.” Grayson scooped two handfuls of chicken onto the tray and voiced the queen. “Your Highness? I think I found your Puru children. I carried one to the serving antechamber in the great hall.”

  “I’m on my way,” she replied.

  Bootsteps behind Grayson sent him to his feet. Guards from the dais, pushing through the curtain that separated the serving antechamber from the high table. Sir Cadoc, Lady Pia, Master Nietz, Bero . . . Where was the queen?

  “It’s okay!” Grayson said, hands held out. “It’s just me.”

  “Appearing from out of nowhere and making me drop my tray,” the maid added.

  Sir Cadoc reached him first, slowed to a stop with his hands on his hips. “You’re going to kill someone if you keep that up.”

  “He should have a room of his own to appear in and out of,” the maid said. “That way he won’t terrify people left and right.”

  “An excellent idea, miss.”

  Grayson winced at the sound of King Trevn’s voice.

  The king slipped between the guards and took in Grayson, the maid, the mess, and the boy, who was holding the drumstick, his mouth and cheeks greasy. “Who is this?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, sir,” Grayson said. “I just this moment rescued him from a pit.”

  “What pit? Where?”

  “In Jiir-Yeke territory. I think this is one of the orphans Queen Mielle asked me to find.”

  The king frowned. “She asked you?”

  “You found them!” The queen strode toward them from the curtain.

  The boy’s face lit up. “Mismelle!” He ran toward the queen, still holding his chicken leg.

  “The rest are in danger,” Grayson said. “I must go back.”

  “You asked Grayson to look for the Puru orphans?” the king asked his wife.

  Queen Mielle crouched down and embraced the boy. “Um . . . months ago, yes.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell him to stop? After we talked about this? After I explained Conaw’s side?”

  “You said the others are in danger, Master Grayson?” the queen asked.

  “They’re going to be sacrificed,” Grayson said, shrinking back from the king.

  The queen lifted the boy onto one hip. “Then you must bring them here this instant!”

  “Not here.” The king stared at the queen through narrowed eyes, his face darkened. “Carry them to the council room, Master Grayson. We will take this boy and meet you there.”

  Grayson bowed and popped away, worried about how angry the king had seemed. He hoped he wasn’t in too much trouble.

  He appeared in the pit outside the pyramid, and someone tackled him. His body slapped against the soft dirt. Grayson shifted into the Veil. He righted himself and watched the young man squirm until he realized Grayson had gone.

  Grayson crouched in front of the young man’s face and popped back into the physical realm. “Why did you tackle me?” he asked.

  The young man rose to his knees. His eyes were red and glossy. “It wasn’t Tiyo’s turn. What did you do with him?”

  Grayson hadn’t meant to scare anyone. “I took him to Armanguard,” he said. “To the woman some of you know as Miss Mielle.”

  “Mismelle?” The little girl with the brown curls crowded close.

  Other children joined in, many repeating the Puru version of the queen’s name.

  “Mismelle sent me to help you,” Grayson said. “Who would like to go next?”

  A half dozen children raised their hands, some of them hopping and shouting, “Me, me!” in the Puru tongue.

  “No!” The young man scrambled to his feet. “The sleep is our calling. We must not betray our elders.”

  Grayson grabbed the nearest child—a girl with yellow braids—and popped to the council room in Castle Armanguard.

  The little girl screamed the entire way and was still screaming when he arrived.

  “Come here.” Queen Mielle took her from Grayson and hugged her tightly.

  The child calmed at once, but King Trevn, who was now holding the boy with the chicken leg, was glaring at Grayson with such fury that Grayson immediately returned to the pit. He grabbed the next boy from behind and transported him to the council chambers.

  “—when I specifically said not to?” the king asked.

  “Had Grayson told me he’d found them and asked how to proceed, I would’ve come to you first,” the queen said.

  “Somehow I doubt that,” the king said.

  Grayson left before the king could ask him anything. When he reappeared in the pit, the children had been lined up against one wall with the adults standing before them like guards.

  “What is your name?” Grayson asked the young man.

  “I am Sosovik,” he said. “You must not free any more of us.”

  “You all want to die?” Grayson asked.

  “No!” the girl with brown curls cried. “I want Mismelle.”

  Grayson popped into the Veil, right in front of the girl, then shifted into the physical realm, grabbed her, and carried her to Armanguard.

 
; “—put the Puru tribes at risk,” the king was saying. “The Jiir-Yeke will likely retaliate against them. Or they might decide to attack us.”

  “I’m sure it will all work out.” The queen touched her nose to that of the little girl in her arms, and the child grinned. “The Jiir-Yeke would have killed them.”

  “And now they might kill us.”

  Grayson put down the girl and returned to the pit. This time the children were sitting on the ground in the corner while Sosovik and the women stood over them.

  “Why do you want to stop me?” Grayson asked. “I’m helping you.”

  “If you take us away, they will kill our elders,” Sosovik said. “Our parents.”

  “Your elders are leagues away from here,” Grayson said.

  “I want to go,” said a girl about Vallah’s age.

  “Me too,” said a boy sitting beside her.

  “We mustn’t!” said a woman. “If we leave, they’ll curse our families.”

  “It will cause a war,” the old woman added.

  “And many more than us will die,” Sosovik added.

  “Then fight back!” Grayson said. “Whatever they’re doing to you . . . it’s wrong.” It had to be. Didn’t it?

  “It is the only way,” the old woman said. “They are too strong.”

  “I am Masaoo,” Grayson said, using Muna’s title of Deliverer. “I freed the Puru captives from the Ahj-Yeke mines. I can save your people too.”

  The old woman looked skeptical. “Where will you take us where the Jiir-Yeke cannot go?”

  Grayson held out his hand to the woman. “Take hold and I will show you.”

  Qoatch

  For five days Qoatch had traveled northwest with King Barthel’s retinue until they reached a city of giants. The Puru prisoners had been taken away, and now the group stood inside a pyramidal temple with Abaqa mi Niseh. The interior was hollow, three or four levels high, and filled with wide steps that ran the length of each wall and down to a cistern of some kind, which sat on a square platform with raging fire pits in each corner. The steps were filled with spectators. Giant men, women, and children sat in groups, eating from baskets, talking, or staring at the cistern.