by Alisha Basso
“Is it night?”
“Nearly. Now, eat.”
“That is enough,” the guard said from the doorway.
“Coming.” She pressed the bread and a tiny wedge of cheese into Lauren’s hand. “You need your strength.” She began to go, then added, “We all do.”
Lauren grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”
Jana nodded, left the lantern and pot and hurried out.
Again, the door shut and the bolt was thrown. Lauren would find that amusing if the situation weren’t so dire. The queen must really think she had some magical power. She quickly made use of her new facilities, making sure she didn’t stab herself with the knife. Was it for self-defense? To slit her wrists? Take out the guard and escape? Or simply to slice the bread? Whatever the reason, she felt less helpless with its chunky weight against her hip.
Soon, a table and two chairs were carried down, followed closely by the scribe, who made his way one step at a time, keeping a hand on the wall for balance. Watching him, Lauren’s steamy anger began to roil, then, just as quickly, it cooled and dissipated, to be replaced by sadness. Sadness for Cirq’s people and all they had lost, and for how close they were to salvation.
She hated big swings of emotion, or more precisely, events that elicited the feelings. In her previous life, she had purposely lived small to avoid this exact experience. Her time in Cirq had been a lot like watching a hard-played tennis match, only this time, she was the tennis ball, battered and bruised from being slammed back and forth. She’d opened herself to living bigger, thinking she was ready, and look where it got her.
Lauren took a seat, wary of this latest distraction, and watched the scribe lower himself into the opposite chair with a grimace. Yes, her situation was dire, and yes, fear clawed her belly, yet her mind still functioned, and her natural curiosity got the better of her.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
He looked up from organizing his writing utensils, his fingers twitching as if needing constant employment. She knew that feeling.
His eyes were gray-blue, like the sky after a downpour. He was younger than she’d first thought, perhaps not even thirty. The constant pain of his leg had scored his face prematurely.
“Gr—Greff. Greffer,” he said, shyly.
“Greffer,” she repeated. “I’m Lauren.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” He dipped his quill in the ink bottle and began to write, squinting hard at the paper.
Lauren nudged the lantern closer to him, overwhelmed by motherly compassion.
“From where did you come?” he asked.
“You want my life story?”
He paused and blinked. Once, twice. Did no one ever talk directly to him? She leaned back in her chair. “I’ll tell you about me if you tell me about you. What happened to your leg?”
Greffer rolled the quill between thumb and forefinger. “That…does not matter,” he said slowly. He considered the stalled pen for several moments. “Why do you wish to know?”
“I’m curious. Are we in a hurry?” She hadn’t meant to delay, to keep him with her longer, but all at once, it was all that mattered in this dark and stale hole. She didn’t fool herself into thinking that befriending the queen’s scribe would make any difference to her fate. She genuinely wanted to know more about him.
“I’ll start,” she said. “I come from Earth.”
He began to write, then stopped. She spelled it. “Another planet,” she said. “I came through the Ravery. Was brought through the Ravery, to be specific.”
“Brought?”
Lauren didn’t really enjoy being a never-ending source of wonder. “Let’s get some tea.” She hopped up with a growing sense of purpose, took the steps in two strides, and pounded the door with her fist. “A tray of tea, please,” she said when it opened.
The guard considered her, his lips drawn into a tight line, then shut the door. She went back to the table to wait. Greffer gaped at her.
“Now, tell me about your leg.”
He considered the offending appendage for several moments before answering. “It was an accident” he said slowly. “When I was a child. I climbed up on the roof of our barn.”
When he didn’t continue, Lauren prompted him. “For the view?”
“What? No. No, indeed. I intended to jump off. To…to fly.”
He sounded amazed. At what, his own temerity? That he had once been a boy who entertained the thought?
“The roof caved in. And the upper level.”
“You crashed through two stories? Sounds like you’re lucky to be alive.”
He nodded, but she wasn’t convinced he agreed. They were quiet a moment. Jana brought a pot of tea and a plate of dried fruit and a few nuts. She gave nothing away, but a certain gleam in her eye suggested she’d had everything to do with the success of Lauren’s request.
When Greffer poured tea for them both, Lauren noted that his hand trembled. Was this a vestige of the accident or was he nervous?
“Your horse is glorious,” he whispered as though afraid someone might hear. “The queen requested a drink for her head. He can be heard from upstairs.”
“Heard?” Whatever could he mean? Pindar was long gone, wasn’t he?
“The boy—”
“Malek?”
“He remained out there on the plain, until he was forced to come back. And your horse has stayed near.” Greffer took a sip of tea. “Calling for you.”
Lauren’s stomach did a flip. She wanted Pindar to go far away. To be safe. Why was he hanging around? For that matter, what had made him break out of his stall and come to her in the common room? Was he calling her? Had she called him? The implications…
Greffer set the tea tray on the floor and once more picked up his papers and stacked them together, neatening the edges. “Now, please tell me how it is you were brought here.”
Lauren gathered her thoughts and began to tell him about that day. He stayed her with his hand and pulled a small miracle from his pocket. A pair of eyeglasses. “Do you mind?” he asked before putting them on.
“Mind? Are you kidding? I’ve been wondering if I could get a pair. May I?” She held out her hand and he placed the spectacles in it. She put them on. They weren’t the right magnification for her, but if she squinted, they helped. She could read the journal Marzak had brought her if she had a pair.
“You need help to see?” he asked, a note of awe in his voice.
“Just up close. Lots of people do. I use them for reading and when I’m at the computer—” At his quizzical look she waved her hand, as much to brush away his question as to quell a wave of nausea. “Never mind.” She gave him back his glasses.
Casting around for anything to take her mind off the inevitable, she asked, “Why hasn’t Marzak healed your leg?” She didn’t appreciate the full extent of a sage’s power, but given what Vraz had been able to do with her ankles, surely something could be done for Greffer’s leg. The oversight—if that’s what it was—bothered her.
A lengthy silence followed. Clouds blew through his eyes. At first, it was as though she’d spoken another language—no comprehension at all. Then, bit by bit, he pieced together a puzzle that had long eluded him. Awareness, hurt, betrayal. Somehow, she understood at the same time as he that a remedy had purposely been denied him. But he’d never realized. Until now.
“Please,” he said stiffly after a prolonged silence. “Continue your story.”
She continued. He wrote it all down. For what? Posterity? Cirq wouldn’t be having any posterity if they didn’t get their horses back. Her voice grew hoarse as they finished.
Greffer collected his notes and stashed his glasses. “Thank you,” he said with a small bow. “They will come for you at daybreak.”
“How will it be done?” Lauren blurted. She’d tried to put it out of her mind, but it was there, front and center.
“It?”
“The ex…” Her voice faltered. “The exec—”
“I do not know,” he answered quickly.
Perhaps so she wouldn’t have to force out the word.
“There has never been one in Cirq.”
Chapter 24
IT had been her turn to blink stupidly at him.
Never?
With Greffer and the table gone and the candle burned out, and tired of pacing, she’d curled up under the steps, feeling a half portion safer there than out in the open. She didn’t think she would sleep, tried not to think at all, but before long, her eyes dropped closed.
Again, she drove that empty back road, grass waist high to either side, where moths and lightning bugs and mosquitoes pinged her windshield. Soon, she would find her way home.
But after a time, the road became pot-holed, and the jarring banged her head.
Lauren woke confused, being lifted from below. A flash of light—there, and gone. She scrambled back. A square of the floor heaved again, an inch. Dazzling light poured in. Someone said her name, a barely audible exhale. Still dreaming? She rubbed her eyes. There, a straight crack in the floor. A trapdoor, buried by dirt. The light receded. A hand reached through.
She grabbed it, put her face close and whispered, “Pheeso?”
He lifted the trapdoor, tugged her through the opening, set her on her feet, awkwardly patted her cheek, then pulled her along, saying only one word. “Hurry!”
A long, dark tunnel. He extinguished the torch, but emanated a glow of his own, enough to light their way. They ran uphill for several minutes. Lauren lagged behind, gasping for breath, her legs like leaden noodles, a stitch stabbing her side. Pheeso lifted her as if she were no heavier than a bouquet of flowers, and continued moving swiftly upward. If his feet touched the floor, she couldn’t tell.
She heard Pheeso’s fist against a wooden barrier, another opening, more light.
A cottage. Jana’s house.
“We have all your things,” she said. “We must go before first light.”
“Pindar is close by,” Artepa said.
They moved swiftly.
She imagined hoofbeats nearby, and that was all that mattered.
~~~
Lauren woke from a dream of Pindar. She snuggled down in the fur, imagining his warm breath fanning her cheek. Sweet horse breath. It was so real, she could smell the rich, earthy scent of him. She opened her eyes. And met his. Large, brown, and liquid. He made the soft wuffling that sounded like someone chuckling. She laughed and stroked his cheek.
Happiness rose in her chest. Sweet and painful as an icy drink of heavenly nectar. She squinted at the bright sunlight, looked around, didn’t know where they were, didn’t care, except that she was free and alive. And Pindar was next to her. Pheeso sitting on one side, staring into the distance. Artepa to the other, busy with a pot of something that smelled good. Armody and Jana were nearby, but they watched her rather than talking to each other. Not far away, Captain Geed and the Horseguard, at attention and alert. Others she did not recognize milled around, waiting. For what?
“Where’s Lei—”
“Shhhhh,” Artepa soothed. “Have a bit of soup.” She ladled a serving into a bowl and handed it to her.
Lauren did as she was told, knowing it was the only way. She scooted herself to a sitting position and began to eat, Pindar nuzzling her hair and rooting in her neck, tickling her with his whiskers. After one bite, she realized how hungry she was and began to shovel in spoonfuls as fast as she could swallow.
Pheeso crouched before her, drawing a stem of green grass through his teeth. “Easy now,” he said. “Do not make yourself sick.”
He waited while she slowed, compassion in his eyes and a bittersweet smile curving one side of his mouth. She’d never seen any hint of vulnerability in him, toward anyone let alone her, and that scared her.
“What?” Lauren sputtered. “What’s wrong? Where’s Leinos?” Her eyes searched the area again, this time with more purpose. “And Malek?”
Pheeso and Artepa exchanged a look. Lauren caught a glimpse of Jana and Armody. They, too, shared a speaking glance. Captain Geed was within hearing distance but kept his back to them. Her stomach began to cramp, and it wasn’t from the soup.
“Leinos bartered for your life,” Artepa said gently.
“And to give you a chance to find the horses,” Pheeso added, his tone flat and gaze far away. “In exchange for being disrequired.”
Her mind seized on what that meant for them. “Okay, so he isn’t Supreme Guardian. So?”
“She has taken him,” Artepa said, nearly choking on the words. “As her consort.”
“And Malek as her son,” Pheeso added with disgust. “To complete the family she never had.”
The empty bowl slipped away. Lauren lurched sideways like she’d been slammed in the head with a bat. If possible, she felt more stupefied than after receiving the death sentence.
Before she could form words, Artepa said, “The order of execution still stands. Unless…”
“Unless?”
“You deliver Cirq’s horses in twenty days…from yesterday.”
Lauren pressed the heels of her hands deep into her eye sockets to quash the intense emotions erupting inside.
Rage propelled her to her feet.
“That bitch!”
She kicked the fur, strode a short distance away and bellowed incoherently at the sky, not caring what anyone thought. Her fingers pushed into her hair, whether to tear it out or keep her head from exploding, she didn’t know.
“I’ll…I’ll…” She stormed back to the others.
“Goddess help that woman when I get my hands on her.”
Her eyes darted about frantically until she spied her saddle partially covered by a fur. She snatched it up and stalked over to Pindar who moved sideways, away from her. Firmly, she told him to halt, and he stood for her to heave the saddle to his back and tighten the girth.
“My lady—” Artepa started.
“Don’t call me that.”
She ignored the alarm that passed between the dear woman and Pheeso, and Jana and Armody getting to their feet, and Captain Geed’s open scrutiny, and rummaged through the area where she’d found the saddle, heedlessly flinging supplies. Nothing would get in her way.
“Where is my bridle?”
She finally found it at the bottom of a bag, got it untangled and on Pindar, and mounted, clenching her teeth against a moment of dizziness and grabbing his mane to steady herself. She hadn’t eaten or rested enough and didn’t care.
“Which way did they go? Lerom? That’s south, right?” She had no idea which direction that was, had no bearings. It was midday, the sun high above, no help.
Captain Geed, Captain of Cirq’s Horseguard, her Captain, positioned himself in front of her. What nonsense. What utter and complete nonsense this entire business was. She had to get Leinos and Malek away from that spiteful, vengeful, hateful woman.
She pulled Pindar right. Geed cut her off. With very little guidance, the horse parried left. But Geed was quick on his feet for such a big man. Even loaded down as he was with weapons, he moved nimbly. Technically, though, he took orders from her.
“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” She kept her gaze over his head.
Geed moved to her side, and cautiously put one hand on the rein and one on the saddle in front of her knee. It wouldn’t stop her. Pindar’s ears were up, his energy coiled. One signal from her, and he’d spring away.
“You cannot go against all of the queen’s guards and guardians alone,” he said reasonably, almost matter-of-factly, but quietly, for her ears only.
“Then, you will come with me.” Still, she didn’t look at him.
He appeared to give this serious consideration. The rest—Pheeso and Artepa, Jana, Armody, some of the Horseguard, Greffer…Greffer—what the hell?—gathered at a polite distance.
“We are already nearly two days north of the crossroads,” Geed said, his voice neutral, simply stating facts. “The queen will be at least that far south. It would take
us five, maybe six days to catch them.”
Pheeso moved into the intimacy of their conversation. “And as many to return.”
Lauren exhaled loudly. Pindar, sensing the urgency of the situation waning, cocked a hind leg and relaxed. She shifted to one side to stay balanced in the saddle, lowered her eyes to the faces of the people around her. Some of them must have come from the village. All of them anxiously waited to see what she would do. Twelve days out of the eighteen she had left. To accomplish…maybe nothing. There would be a fight. People would get hurt. Because she was angry and upset.
And selfish.
Leinos had made a deal. He knew what he was doing. She had to believe this. She had to trust.
She took a deep, deep breath, blew it out, more slowly this time. And sat, gathering her thoughts. She’d let fear take control when she’d been alone in the dark. But she couldn’t allow it continued rule over her. If she loved them, she must capitalize on the opportunity Leinos had provided.
Loved them?
She let this concept sink in. The notion wasn’t one she could grasp with her mind, but it raced along with her blood into every fiber and tissue of her being, to be absorbed on a deeper level entirely. Her skin prickled with comprehension as if feeling a breeze for the first time. Little by little, her muscles loosened, her bones settled more deeply into their joints. Air moved in and out of her lungs with new ease, and upon each exhalation, her heart expanded a touch. Even her eyes softened.
Pindar balanced on all four legs again, coming to attention and tossing his head as if in agreement with this latest adjustment. Absently, Lauren stroked his neck and shoulder, delighting in his smooth silkiness, his warmth and strength, grateful to be reunited with him.
The best thing she could do for Leinos and Malek—the only thing—was to call Cirq’s horses and take them to Lerom. And be quick about it. Twenty days? With two already gone? To get to the mountains, find the herd, call them, and then shepherd them all to the capital. With not one other experienced horse person to help.