Fen started to reply, then realized he didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t have any choices. Then something occurred to him. “I’ll take a horse and go after her right now. I’ll catch up to the girl before they do. Together we might have a chance.”
“Um…” Gage said hesitantly. “The horses sort of bolted when that fire shot up into the sky. I’ll be able to catch them again, but not in the dark.”
Fen muttered a curse and kicked at a saddle lying on the ground.
“This doesn’t really change anything,” Lowellin said.
Fen whirled on him. “You said they would take the key and leave us alone.”
“No, that’s what they said. It’s what they told me.” Lowellin shrugged. “They still might. Maybe their queen will find this world too insignificant to bother with.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Not sure I do either. But our best bet is still to bide our time and wait for our chance.”
Fen glared at him for long moments. Finally, he said, “Okay. But I make my own decisions next time. I won’t listen to you again.”
“I’m not sure you actually have been listening to me at all, but okay. That sounds reasonable. The important thing is you don’t run off all crazy right now and do something you’ll regret. Are we agreed on that?”
Fen ignored him and went and sat down.
“I’m glad we could have this talk,” Lowellin said. “You know, it’s times like these I miss my fellow Shapers. A couple hundred of them would come in handy right about now.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled at the ground. “Wake up! Get up and do your job!”
Chapter 39
“I don’t think they’re planning to attack. I think their orders are to keep us bottled up,” Rome said to Quyloc. It was the next day, and they were standing on the wall overlooking the besieging army. No enemy soldiers had yet come within bow range. No one had attempted to get a closer look at Qarath’s walls. “I’m not surprised. The thing they came for isn’t here anymore. Their job now is to keep us from interfering.”
“It appears that way,” Quyloc replied.
“Discipline looks good. The camp is laid out right. I’d say their commander knows what he’s doing,” Rome noted, looking the enemy camp over critically. The tents were pitched in orderly lines, cook tents set up, latrines dug. Breakfast was being served, and the men were standing in orderly lines for their food. “He knows what he’s about with the trenches too. He should have the first line finished by midday.” The invaders had begun on the trenches soon after encircling the city, and there’d been men working on them all night. The trenches were still shallow, but they would provide cover in the event of a sally from the defenders. They had spears planted in the defensive earthworks, making it harder for a mounted force to break through their lines.
Rome turned to Quyloc. “What do you think? Has it been long enough?”
Quyloc shrugged. They’d already talked about this. “It’s hard to tell.”
“It can’t hurt to try.”
Quyloc gave Rome a sidelong look. “Unless he doesn’t honor the truce flag and sticks you full of arrows.”
“That’s the thing about war. There’s always risks,” Rome said agreeably.
“You could send out a general first. That would be the smart thing to do.” Quyloc had already suggested this twice, and his tone indicated how low he thought the chances were it would be accepted this time around.
“If I do that, I don’t look serious. If I go in person, he’ll be able to see that I’m a man of honor.”
Quyloc sighed. “What if he takes you hostage?”
Rome grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “Then you’ll come save me.”
“Or maybe not. I have to admit I’m curious what it would be like to be king.”
Rome looked at him in surprise. “Why, Quyloc, did you just make a joke? Was that a joke I heard?”
“Maybe.”
Rome laughed. “Now I’ve seen everything.” He knew Quyloc had no interest in being king. Quyloc was one of those rare men with no desire to rule. “I’ve decided. I’m going out there.”
“I know that,” Quyloc replied. “I knew that the moment you came and asked my advice about it.”
“I’m that obvious?”
“Yes.” Quyloc rubbed his forehead like he had a headache. “Sometimes I wonder why you have an adviser. Maybe you should get a life-size doll or a dog or something to advise you. You’d take their advice more often than mine, I’m thinking.”
“But it wouldn’t be as much fun,” Rome said, still grinning. He started for the stairs. “Wish me luck.”
“You’re the last person who needs more luck,” Quyloc replied, turning back to stare out once more at the enemy.
Rome reached the bottom of the stairs. Nicandro was waiting there, leaning up against the wall. “You up for a little adventure?” he asked the man.
Nicandro smiled broadly, showing off his white teeth. “Are we going to take them on by ourselves?” While speaking he pulled on his black, kid-leather gloves. He claimed they gave him a better grip on his sword hilt.
“In a sense.”
“I’m in. It’s not fair to them though. I don’t think they’re ready for both of us.”
“What’re you planning on doing?” General Harvis asked, walking over to them. He was a good leader, if a bit unimaginative. And he had a tendency to worry.
“I’m going out to have a little chat with their commander. Someone get me a white flag.”
“Is that a good idea?” Harvis replied. “We don’t know anything about these barbarians. What if they don’t recognize a truce flag?”
“I guess we’ll find out. Don’t worry so much.”
Brecken came up then. The prince was wearing the new armor he’d only had made recently, and it was clearly not riding right because the whole morning he’d been shifting and tugging at it. “I’ll come with you.”
Rome shook his head. “Nope. Your mother would kill me if I took you along.”
“She’s going to kill you when she finds out you did this instead of sending someone else.”
“You’re not going to tell her, are you?”
“No. But she’ll hear. You know that.”
It was true. There was no way Bonnie wasn’t going to hear about it, and when she did, she was going to pitch a fit. But she didn’t understand. He had a feel for these things. Something about this…he couldn’t put a finger on it, but he had a feeling he could talk to their commander, get him to see reason.
Rome winced. “You’re right.” He brightened up. “I can always hope they stick me with an arrow or something. Assuming I’m still alive, she’ll take pity on me if I’m injured.”
“That’s not funny,” Harvis said.
Rome laughed. “It’s war. Everything is funny. That’s how you keep your mind when others are losing theirs.” He turned to the gate. “Open up! I’m going out!”
The gates slowly creaked open and Rome strode out, accompanied by Nicandro, carrying the white flag. “Hold it up nice and high,” Rome told his aide. “We don’t want there to be any confusion. Now come on. Follow me. Chin up. Walk like we’re out for a stroll.”
It wasn’t like he needed to tell Nicandro any of those things. Nicandro had confidence oozing out of him. His normal walk was a swagger. Whatever they faced—and they’d faced some dire situations in the past, during the war— Nicandro rarely so much as blinked.
As they approached, Rome studied the enemy, waiting behind their defensive earthworks, watching him silently. No one was nocking arrows, so that was good. But neither were they rushing out with open arms. Despite his words, there really was no way to be sure what they would do. They came from across the sea. The rules of warfare might be completely different there. Maybe a white flag was a deep insult there. All he really had to go on was a gut feeling that the commander facing him wasn’t all that keen on having a fight. It wasn’t much, but then he’d gotten
where he was by following his gut feelings. He saw no reason to stop now. And if he pulled this off, a lot of men who would have died would get to go home to their wives and children.
He did wonder if maybe he should have followed Brecken’s lead and worn full plate armor. It would do a lot more to stop an arrow than the leather armor and chain mail he was wearing. But he really hated walking in the stuff. It was so cumbersome. Plus, he thought it might make him look scared, and that would make the parley a lot harder.
He stopped within hailing distance of their defensive line. “I’ve come to parley,” he called out, holding up his hands to show that they were empty. He was carrying his axe, strapped to his back, but he’d made sure to keep his hands far away from it the whole walk out here.
At first there was no response, and he began to wonder if they didn’t understand him. But then a soldier came walking up from the rear, followed by another soldier. Judging by the silver and red cuirass and the knee-length cape the one in the lead wore, he was some kind of officer, though he looked a little young to be more than a captain. A broadsword hung at his side, and his knee-high, black boots were highly polished. He wore no helmet.
As he reached the defensive line, the soldier following him—an aide by the look of him—took his arm and spoke urgently to him. The officer hesitated, then shook his head and continued walking forward.
“Stay here,” Rome said to Nicandro and walked forward. Up close the officer was even younger than he’d thought at first, barely thirty, if that. He had a thick, sandy mustache and shoulder-length hair, cut straight. He might not even be a captain. There was no way to tell from his badge, which Rome didn’t recognize at all. It wasn’t the rank he was hoping for, but Rome knew he had to start somewhere.
“I’m Wulf Rome,” he said, “macht of the city of Qarath. Do you understand me?”
The young man’s eyebrows drew together as he pieced together what Rome was saying. Then, in a thick accent that was difficult to understand, he replied, “I am General Kemp, of Samkara. I am the commander of this army.”
That surprised Rome. How did he get to be in charge of an entire army at such a young age? He glanced at a cluster of other officers who had moved forward while his attention was fixed on the young general. All of them looked terribly young as well.
Just like that he understood. There’d been some kind of purge recently, probably when the Devourers arrived. He should’ve thought of that. Purging those officers loyal to the previous ruler was a good way to keep rebellions from cropping up.
Feeling a lot better about his decision, Rome continued, “Let’s talk peace.”
That surprised the young general. He looked from Rome to Qarath’s walls and back. Rome knew what he was thinking. General Kemp clearly did not have enough men to take the city, especially without siege engines, so there was no way Rome was there to surrender. But neither was his force weak. Rome’s soldiers would be hard-pressed to ride out and defeat him. Which made it unlikely, from his point of view, that Qarath was offering to surrender.
Finally, he said, “We will not surrender.”
Rome smiled. “I’m not asking you to.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I don’t want to fight you.”
“You wish to surrender?”
“Not a chance.”
“I am confused.”
“Look, I have a feeling you don’t really want to be here. I’m thinking those…things showed up, killed your king, took over, and then told you that you were sailing off to attack a place you’d never heard of.”
The young general looked at him in surprise. “How do you know all that?”
“I’ve been at this a long time.” Rome hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Here’s another thing. I’m betting you’re not all that happy with your new leaders.”
Kemp scowled. “First the Ankharan sorcerers, now the Ichthalids and their puppet, Lowellin. They are a stain on Samkara.”
“In your place, I’d feel the same way.”
“What do you propose?”
“There’s no reason for us to be enemies. Those things, the Devourers, they’re your real enemy. Not Qarath. And they’re our real enemy too, not Samkara.”
“The Devourers?”
“The big, white-skinned guys.”
“The Ichthalids.”
“Is that what they call themselves? Whatever. It doesn’t matter. What matters is us, here. Your men don’t want to die for no reason. I know my men don’t. So instead of fighting each other, I offer an alliance.”
General Kemp shook his head. “I cannot betray my king’s orders.”
“I respect that. I really do. Who’s your king? Is it Lowellin?”
Kemp nodded.
“He’s not human. You know that, right?”
Kemp scowled again. “I do.”
“Is that really who you want to be loyal to?”
Kemp looked doubtful. “Even if I were to agree, the Ichthalids and King Lowellin are very powerful. When they return…”
“I know that. But we’re not helpless. You saw what the young girl did? There are others like her. We’re not done fighting back, not by a long shot. All I’m saying is, let’s not make a bad situation worse by killing each other.”
“We will not lay down our arms.”
“And I’m not asking you to. You keep your swords, I’ll keep mine. But let’s work together. You know, I just got an idea. You stay out here, make it look like you’re besieging us, but we agree not to attack each other. Meanwhile, we’ll make plans. Maybe when they return, we’ll have a chance to attack them, surprise them.”
Slowly a smile grew on the young man’s face. “It is a good plan.”
Rome’s grin grew broad. “Of course, it is.”
Chapter 40
In the morning the old woman kept trying to talk to Aislin, but Aislin had nothing to say. She could see that the old woman was sad, and it bothered her a little, but she couldn’t do anything about it. There wasn’t room inside her for the old woman’s feelings. Finally, she left the farmhouse and went to stand by the horse, which Randel had already saddled.
The old woman followed Randel out the door. Randel was carrying some food that she’d pressed on him. As they came closer, Aislin turned away and closed them out, willing herself not to hear either of them. Once they were on the horse, the old woman touched Aislin’s knee and said something else, but Aislin didn’t reply or look at her. She thought this might be a day where she had no words, a day when other people all seemed very far away. She hoped it was. There were too many things going on inside her. She couldn’t make sense of them all.
They rode away, and Aislin sank into herself. Emotions she didn’t understand swirled within her. Only one thing felt clear, and that was her desire to protect the piece of the key that she carried. She wished she didn’t feel that way. She wished she could throw it away and sneak back home. It all seemed terribly dear to her right now, the little hut where she and Mama lived, playing with Liv, swimming in the sea. She even missed the things that had always irritated her so much, her mother trying to brush her hair, all the people she didn’t understand.
She should have tried harder to enjoy it all. She should have tried to be a better daughter. Now maybe she would never see Mama again. Maybe she would never see Treylen or Liv again either.
“Are you crying, Aislin?” Randel asked.
“No.”
“It sounded like it.”
“I’m not crying. I’m mad. I want to show those Devourers they shouldn’t have come here.”
“It’ll be okay,” Randel said, patting her on the shoulder.
“You don’t know that.”
“No, I don’t,” he admitted.
“And stop patting me on the shoulder. It doesn’t help.”
He stopped. “I want you to feel better, but I don’t know how. I feel a lot like crying myself.”
That surprised her. “I thought boys don’t cry.”
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“Most of the time we don’t, but sometimes we do. Usually when no one is watching.”
“If you don’t tell anyone…about me,” she said, unable to openly admit that she had been crying, “I won’t tell anyone about you.”
“It’s a deal,” he replied. “It wouldn’t go very well in the story anyway. ‘The hero and her servant cried for no reason.’ That doesn’t seem to be the sort of story people would like.”
“Are you going to keep pretending this is an adventure story?”
“At least until I stop being terrified. So probably yes, the whole time.”
“Is it making you feel better?”
“Not really. Maybe a little. But it’s better than panicking and running around crazily until I hit my head on something and knock myself out.”
The image she got when he said that made her smile. “That would actually be kind of funny. In the story I mean.”
“Maybe I’ll try it out later, during a boring part.”
“If this is a long trip, we’re going to need coins to buy food,” Aislin said. “Do you have any?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re not very well prepared, are you?”
“Not even a little bit. When I left home yesterday morning I didn’t know I was going on an adventure.”
“Do you at least have your sword?”
“I do. It’s tied to the saddle. It kept banging against my leg. I have to tell you, I’m not very good with it. I just wear it because that’s what guards are supposed to do.”
“Maybe you could use it to get us some food.”
“You mean, like hunting? I know even less about hunting than I do about using a sword. I’ll say this much though: I don’t think a sword is a good thing to hunt with.”
“Probably not,” Aislin agreed.
“Maybe you could use your power to get us some food.”
“I don’t see how that would work.”
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