Legs stroked the ring. “Flax is teaching me the Kains’ lore.”
“When did this start?” she asked in surprise.
“Yesterday.”
“Nobody talked to me about it.”
Legs shrugged.
A faint alarm rose in Sugar’s mind. “Does the Creek Widow know?”
Legs didn’t reply.
“Legs, we aren’t supposed to accept weaves from anyone without her approval,” she said.
“The Creek Widow and Argoth are too busy to help me. But Flax isn’t. Besides, I was going to talk to her.”
“Sure you were,” she said, not believing a word of it. She could see this was going to be a problem. Legs had seen an opportunity, and he wasn’t going to let it slip away. It didn’t matter who he learned the lore from. Of course she couldn’t blame him. Wouldn’t she do the same? “I think I’m going to have a talk with Flax when he comes back. Take it off.”
“You’re going to push me aside like everyone else? You run off, risking your life, and leave me behind. Why can’t I learn just a little bit?”
“You know I’m not pushing you aside.”
“Let me keep it. I’ve been studying it, following the pattern. I’ll be careful.”
She knew it would be hard to always stay behind, fretting and worrying. Da had made sure she could fight. To be something that acts for herself, and not just something to be acted upon. He’d probably want Legs to do the same. “I don’t know,” she said.
“There’s something about it,” he said. “Something odd.”
“I should say.”
“No, not the fact that it moves. There’s something else. I can’t quite describe it. But I feel it’s important. Please. I’ll make sure Flax goes and talks to the Creek Widow. We’d do it now, but they’re both out.”
“Let me look at it,” she said.
Legs hesitated, then he wrested it from his finger and gave it to her. She held it up to get a better view. Its legs suddenly moved, and then it flipped over and latched onto her finger. She gave a startled yelp.
Legs laughed.
“Do you have to quicken it?” she asked.
“It’s already quickened,” he said. “It doesn’t do anything. It’s just a piece to learn on.”
She waited expecting it to reach out to her in some way, but nothing happened. “Did Flax make this himself?”
“I think so,” Legs said.
“It’s a powerful lore to animate such a thing. From what the Creek Widow said about that monster the Devourer controlled, it’s very rare.”
“Which just goes to show they shouldn’t have left Flax behind.”
The ring clung to her finger with its legs, but it released when she gave it a good tug. “You promise to talk to the Creek Widow?”
“Promise,” Legs said. “I’m just practicing feeling its weave. Flax says that’s one of the first lessons.”
She looked more closely at the beetle: it was a wondrous thing, and she felt a little stab of jealousy—she wanted to learn this lore as well. And what harm could this do? Flax was obviously a master. “I think it’s nice that Flax has taken an interest in you,” she said, “but we still need to be safe.”
“Flax is safe.”
“I don’t want you wearing it until you talk to her. Promise.”
His shoulders slumped. “Fine,” he said.
Satisfied, she handed it back. Legs took it and put it in his pouch.
Down below, Urban exited Shim’s quarters. He walked over to the cellar where she and the washerwomen slept. The Mistress was there with a few of the women. He spoke to them, and then the Mistress pointed up at the wall where she and Legs were. He turned to look, and the Mistress pinched his bottom. Urban jumped and backed away to the merriment of the other washerwomen.
“I’ll be right back,” Sugar said. “Don’t go anywhere.”
She ran along the parapet, then down to the bailey and caught Urban as he was coming over to the stairs.
“A man is not safe with the company you keep,” he said.
“And yet you keep returning to them,” she said. “You talked to Argoth?”
His face went hard. “Yes,” he said.
Behind them, a number of soldiers were filling a wagon with bedrolls and packs. “Let’s talk where it’s less busy,” he said and led her out of the inner bailey to the empty goat pens.
“I explained my issues,” he said.
She waited.
“And they didn’t want to hear them. Shim says there’s a woman who can get them into the fortress.”
“Do you believe him?”
“He’s grasping at straws. Even if he could get in, I want you to think about what happened on the street today.”
“I don’t fear a little danger.”
“I’m not talking about danger. A man ran out onto the road and alerted the captain of that Fir-Noy terror. He pointed right at us. How could anyone have known we were there or what we were doing? We were all just part of the crowd trying to get a view.”
“What are you saying?”
“Somebody betrayed us.”
“Who?”
He shrugged.
“Not the Creek Widow. Or Argoth or Eresh or Shim.”
“I don’t know who it is, and we don’t have time to find out. More importantly, the facts are laid out in front of anyone with eyes to see. This army is going to be decimated and their souls carried off to Mokad’s Devourer.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’ve learned by hard experience not to ignore my instincts. There are many who depend on me.”
“We just need to remove a few of their men.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying. Just a few men guarded by thousands of dreadmen. Not to mention their Walkers that can see at night. Or the dogmen that surely will be on patrol. Sugar, even if Shim and Argoth do take this Skir Master, they still have an overwhelming army to contend with. There will still be Divines among them. I will not waste my men. Three died this morning. It was a risk we knowingly took. But facing Mokad’s army at this time in this place serves no purpose.”
If Urban, who was brave and skilled, saw no hope, then how many lesser men would be seeing the same? For the first time since the caves, she began question Shim’s odds. But running just didn’t feel right.
“Your hesitation does you credit, and I wouldn’t expect less. But consider what’s to be gained and lost. I’m a fair master. You’ll have equal rights with all the others.”
He reached out and lifted her chin with two fingers so he could look her in the face. “Purity’s daughter, carry on your mother’s legacy. Don’t waste her gifts.”
She looked into his glittering, but weary eyes. He’d never given her any reason to doubt his intentions or abilities. And it was true that he cared for his men and put them first. If she went with him, she could travel away from all these dangers and worries. She and Legs would finally be safe with people who accepted her as she was. And yet, it still felt like betrayal.
“Tomorrow the armies of Mokad will spread out,” he said. “Their ships will move away from Blue Towers and lock up the ports. My ship is faster than most, but I can’t outrun a chaser racing with a skir wind. Tonight is our window to escape. I’m all for fighting and risking my life in a good cause, but I’m not going to participate in a mass suicide. Meet me at Potter’s Crossing. Bring Legs.”
She couldn’t believe he was saying this.
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I’ll wait until sunset.”
She didn’t know how to respond.
He released her hand, smiled, then put on his hat. “Think about Legs,” he said. Then he turned and walked away, leaving her standing by the pens, the remnants of his kiss still tingling the back of her hand.
&nbs
p; She watched him stride out the gate, and then she looked about her, at the men still on the wall, and the fortress where she’d spent the last months learning the lore. She thought about Legs. When all was said and done, her first duty was to protect him. And if Shim fell, that task would be impossible.
She walked back through the inner gates and into the inner bailey, lost in thought. All about her, the remaining soldiers and support folk were preparing to leave, but she didn’t really notice them. Nor did she notice the Mistress and two of the other washerwomen until they were almost upon her.
“There she is, ladies,” the Mistress said. She and the others were carrying baskets of rosemary for the laundry.
Sugar looked up. The Mistress smiled. “And are his lips honeyed? His bum certainly is.”
“What?”
“Honey, indeed,” the rotund one said. “Look at her. His presence has put her in a daze.”
The Mistress tsked. “I can’t blame you; he tempts the best of us.”
Sugar shook her head. “I’m not in a daze.” She turned to the Mistress. “I need to talk to you.”
“Oh,” the rotund one clucked, “it is serious.”
Sugar gave her a look.
“I suppose we can’t talk here,” the Mistress said.
Sugar shrugged.
The Mistress read her look. “I suppose not,” she said and stacked her basket in a wagon. She took Sugar’s arm, then led her away from the others.
“I warned you,” The Mistress said, patting her hand. “Foreigners are tempting. You haven’t been rash, have you?”
“No,” said Sugar. “Nothing like that. He’s been nothing but considerate.” And kind, and helpful, and about as decent as any man she’d ever known.
“Well then?”
“Did you hear about Mokad’s army?”
“Honey Cake, nobody’s talked about anything else since Shim and Argoth rode through the gates.”
“There are some that say it’s hopeless to fight them.”
The Mistress looked down at her, gave her hand a squeeze. “It was bad this morning, wasn’t it?”
“It was close. The men were burning. We fought a dogman who struck with the force of a sledgehammer.”
“A dogman of Toth?” The Mistress said and raised her eyebrows. “Lords, girl, but you’ve got guts. Probably more than I do. You’re going to have to tell us this tale. I insist on it. And I think the ladies and I deserve the first audience.”
“You’ll have the details in full.”
The Mistress nodded, then took on a reserved air. “Were the dogmen at all”—she paused—“fetching?”
“Lords,” Sugar said, “you’ve got to be joking.”
“Maybe a little.”
“Only a little?”
“A woman can be curious,” the Mistress said.
“Of course,” Sugar said. She shook her head to herself. Where in the world would she find another like the Mistress? And how could she leave her? Or the others? How could she not fight to give them a chance?
She’d run away once before, when the odds were against her mother and Da, and she regretted it every minute.
Sugar said, “So if you thought this fight was hopeless, what would you do?”
The Mistress narrowed her eyes.
“We’re outnumbered ten to one,” Sugar said.
“Aye,” said the Mistress, “that’s what I heard.”
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“I’ve faced ten to one odds before.”
“You have?” Sugar asked.
“You’re not the only lass who’s had to pick up a sword. Or know that men are coming for you with murderous intent. I know what’s going through your head. Don’t let it take you. Don’t give into the battle dread. Everyone’s feeling it. But you hold on; it will pass.”
Battle dread—those were the words Da had used with Mother on that awful morning. But he’d misdiagnosed Mother’s intent just as the Mistress misdiagnosed hers.
The Mistress said, “This was your first encounter. It’s always the worst. Listen to me. When those Mokaddian whoresons come, I will be standing up on that wall, my staff sling in hand, throwing murder down upon them. And if not that wall, it will be another.”
“And their skir?”
“Let them come. That’s Lord Shim’s and Commander Eresh’s province. My job is to wield my pile of stones. Your job is to do whatever you do with that foreign crew. And”—she took a confidential tone—“wield your slethery.”
“Right,” Sugar said. Her fearful slethery, which consisted of nothing more than being able to run fast. And use her mother’s necklace. But neither would defeat Mokad’s army. She looked at the people milling about the bailey. Chances were they would all die.
“Look there,” said the Mistress. “Here comes our charge.”
Legs was exiting the stairway to the parapet.
She called out to him. Legs turned toward the sound and made his way to them, feeling his way with a stick, his other hand out in front.
“He’s got all the ladies eating out of his hand,” the Mistress said.
“Is that our lovely Mistress of the tub?” Legs asked and walked over to them.
“Charmer,” the Mistress said and pinched him on the cheek. “Too bad he’s not a few years older.”
Legs blushed, and the Mistress laughed.
Sugar smiled, but inside she was roiling. Inside she was imagining the Mistress being battered by a troop of Mokaddian soldiers. The Mistress had not seen the power of the skir nor the dogmen nor the endless ships. Confidence only took you so far.
“Thanks for your wise words,” Sugar said.
“You’re a good lass,” the Mistress said. “You’ll do what’s right.”
At that moment, Argoth exited Shim’s quarters. He began to walk toward hers, then spotted her and turned to talk to her.
“It seems you’re very popular today,” said the Mistress. “But you remember your promise—we have dibs on first audience.”
“Of course,” Sugar said.
The Mistress nodded, then walked away to join the washerwomen as they continued to load a wagon.
When Argoth was close, he called out to Legs. “How’s our singer?” he asked.
“In want of sweetcakes,” Legs replied. “And pillows. And a few silks. I’m terribly underpaid.”
Argoth laughed. “Yes, Lord. I shall work on the pillows. In the meantime, may I speak to your sister?”
“I just got her back.”
“I will return her as soon as I can. She needs to do some studying.”
“Another mission or patrol?” Legs asked.
“Perhaps,” he said.
Legs squeezed Sugar’s hand tighter, reminding her about his desire to be useful and fight.
“Let me go with Argoth for now,” she said. “I’ll meet you a bit later.”
He let her go, the frustration of being left behind yet again clear on his face.
She walked with Argoth back to Shim’s chambers. They passed by the clerk and climbed the stairs to the waiting room above. The doors to Shim’s audience chamber were closed. Argoth stopped, and motioned for her to sit down with him on a bench. Across the room, a small window let in the light and sound from the bailey.
He pitched his voice so low she had to lean forward to hear. “You’re going back to Blue Towers. You’re going in.”
“But—”
“Not through a gate or over the wall. And not alone. The Fir-Noy have many enemies. And that is to our advantage. Especially when one of them knows a secret way, not only into the fortress, but into Lord Hash’s very chambers. A woman came to us with information. She was one of Lord Hash’s servants who cleaned his chambers and filled some of his other needs. But Hash is heartless, and so are his men. Sh
e was treated worse than a dog. I won’t go into her tale, but the short of the matter is that she knows the way in. It’s how she escaped.”
“So why do you need me?”
“She’s not coming with us. Furthermore, this has to be done in complete darkness. We need your eyes. We need you to guide us through the pitch black passages, scout ahead, peer through doors.”
“You yourself are going on this mission?”
Argoth nodded. “A handful of men stand in our way of victory. Eliminate them, and humanity rises to stand upon its feet. Today we finished off some of the Kains. Tonight we’ll take the Skir Master.”
“How do you know this woman isn’t a plant sent to lead you into a Fir-Noy trap?”
“We don’t know that for certain, but she came to us two weeks ago, before Mokad stationed itself in Blue Towers. And we’ve confirmed her story. The Fir-Noy killed her family. They have no leverage with her.”
Sugar said, “Urban thinks this is suicide.”
“Urban thinks a lot of things,” Argoth said.
“Be honest with me, Zu,” Sugar said. “Do you think this is possible? The Skir Master will have guards, Walkers. Those dogmen and their maulers will be on patrol.”
“If we were just a fist of dreadmen, I’d say we had no chance. But we have you, my dear. You’re our secret weapon. You’re the key.”
“I see,” said Sugar. She saw it all very clearly. They were desperate, grasping at straws. If she left, they would surely fail. If she stayed, they might fail anyway. But she might be able to help give them a chance, even if it was a small one.
A beat passed.
“Did you poison my mother?”
“What?”
“Did the Grove order her death?”
Argoth shook his head. “Urban’s been talking to you, hasn’t he?”
“I deserve to know the truth.
Argoth blew out a breath. “Indeed, you do. Here are the simple facts. We went to her, down in the cleansing room at Whitecliff. We wanted to save her, but there was no way to accomplish that. In the end, she herself asked for the poison to protect all of us so that we could protect you and Legs.”
That sounded exactly like Mother. She shook her head and thought about Urban, his pleasant smile, his eyes, the beauty he held on the inside. She thought of Soddam and Withers. Of freedom. Of being among those that treated her as a person of worth. Urban was probably right—going into the heart of the enemy camp was suicide.
Curse: The Dark God Book 2 Page 38