Dara wished she could have left a note for Selivia, but the princess would trust her. Tirra and King Atrin would have to forgive her for escaping if she brought Siv back safely. The city guard was searching for him too, but Dara didn’t know if they had any Air Sensors in their employ. If Siv had truly been taken out of the city, she and Vine might be his only hope.
The sun climbed farther into the sky. They exited the wide-open city gates and eventually left the outer sprawl of Rallion City behind. They followed the High Road south into the vast expanse of the Horseplains. The well-maintained road ran through the rolling, grassy center of the country in the opposite direction of Vertigon, leading all the way to the other side of Trure, where Kurn Pass and the Linden Mountains marked its southern border.
Dara was surprised Vine wanted to go south instead of north toward Vertigon.
“I’m surprised too,” Vine said when Dara questioned her. “Isn’t it interesting that your father may not have been the one to capture him? I do love a good mystery.”
Dara was less enthusiastic about the prospect, but this was Vine’s realm of expertise. She had to believe her friend knew what she was doing.
Rumy caught up when they were a safe distance from the bustle of the city. He trotted along beside them, occasionally veering off to explore a curious dip in the road or chase invisible creatures through the brush. He wisely made himself scarce whenever other riders approached in the distance. They didn’t want to draw attention in case King Atrin decided to send soldiers after them.
The road was rough and pockmarked after all the rain, giving Dara some hope that she and Vine could overtake Siv. His captors likely couldn’t travel fast if they had to haul him along. He wouldn’t make it easy on them.
But after they’d been riding confidently onward for a few hours, Vine stopped Goldenflower in the middle of the road. Dara tugged on her reins until Storm halted too. He snorted irritably at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Give me a moment,” Vine said. She patted her horse’s neck and breathed deeply.
A party of riders passed, babbling and kicking up dust all around them. Vine didn’t seem to notice. She sat with her eyes partially closed and listened to the Air. Dara shifted in her saddle uneasily, but none of the riders asked why the two women were sitting motionless in the road. They rode on toward the city without a backward glance.
Vine still didn’t move. Storm huffed and meandered to the edge of the road to chomp on some dead grass. Rumy swooped low overhead and squawked a question. Dara shrugged.
“Vine?”
“I believe we are on the wrong road,” she said at last.
“What? I thought you said—”
“The Air does not give explicit instructions,” Vine said. “I have a general sense of where we need to go. The High Road took us in the right direction for a time, but I believe our quarry is actually traveling overland now. This way.”
Vine squeezed her knees into her horse’s side, and they trotted into the brush beside the road.
“Are you sure?” Dara called, hesitant to set off into the vast expanse of the plains.
“Nothing is ever sure,” Vine said. “But I have a good feeling about this direction.”
Dara gritted her teeth, indecision warring within her. If they left the High Road, there was no telling where they’d end up. She didn’t know much about the Truren countryside, but she didn’t like the idea of getting lost in the middle of nowhere. Vine’s vague statements didn’t inspire confidence.
A wind rippled across the plains, making the winter grasses shimmer like silver. The smell of dirt and rain swirled through the air. A few farms dotted the landscape here and there, but most of the plains were vacant and wild.
Rumy released a brief burst of flame near Dara’s shoulder, as if to prompt her to hurry up. Vine was already shrinking in the distance, her long hair floating on the breeze.
Dara had no choice. Vine’s method may be imprecise, but it was all they had. Siv could be getting farther beyond her reach by the second. She clutched her reins tighter and followed Vine into the wilderness.
17.
Council
SORA sat at the head of the polished wooden table in the royal council chambers, with Rafe Ruminor on her right and Daz Stoneburner the Firesmith on her left. A mixture of noblemen and Fireworkers filled the rest of the table, trying to crowd each other out with elbows and strategically angled chair backs. Rafe had selected the Workers for the royal council, but he hadn’t stopped the noblemen from assuming their usual positions.
Extra chairs had been brought in, and the council chamber felt stuffy and hot with so many people. Sora had always wanted to be allowed to attend these meetings, though this wasn’t quite what she had in mind. This room definitely needed a window to let in the sharp mountain air.
She shifted in her chair, wishing she could truly lead the meeting. She’d prepared a neat list of items to address, but every time she tried to speak, Rafe would jump in to carry on the topic. He made it look as if he’d coached her to begin conversations only so he could take over and guide the discussion as her Chief Regent. She had stopped trying lest she give the impression they were truly working together. Unfazed, Rafe had carried on without her. The council members didn’t even look at her now.
“The Square Workers wish to revisit the matter of establishing our own guild,” Daz Stoneburner was saying. He was a short man with thick, muscular arms and white hair. Sora noted that he addressed the full assembly whenever he spoke. Most of the others directed their comments directly to the Lantern Maker. “We’ve agreed it is more beneficial for us to draw on the Fire together after our success with the Wall.”
“We only need one Fire Guild,” Lima Ruminor said.
“Our interests have diverged from those of the King’s Peak Guild,” Daz said. “We’ve made great strides, and we want to focus on our collaborative Works now that the Fire is free.”
Lima looked down her long, proud nose at the man across the table from her. “I don’t see how setting up a new guild will help you.”
“Forgive me, Madame Ruminor,” Daz said. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Excuse me?”
“You cannot Wield,” Daz said. “With all due respect to your husband, I don’t know why you’re even at this council meeting.”
Lima’s lips thinned dangerously.
“Come now, Daz,” Corren the Firespinner said. “You know what an important role Lima has played in our work over the years.”
“The changes we’ve brought about have gone a long way toward restoring the Workers to their former power,” Daz said. “We wish to keep the distinction between Firewielders and cold-fingered men and women clear.”
“Who is ‘we’ exactly?” Lima demanded. Daz’s face remained placid, despite the daggers Lima was sending in his direction with her eyes. Sora would be running the other way if Lima looked at her like that.
“‘We’ Square Workers agreed to help you so the Fireworkers could regain our rightful place,” said a woman with bony features and thick, dark eyebrows giving her face a skeletal look. Madame Pandan was a Metalworker from Square Peak, though Sora had never spoken with her before. She knew many of the Workers, but she still had some catching up to do now that they were taking on more-prominent roles.
“Are you not aware you’re at a royal council meeting in the presence of the queen?” Lima said, not even bothering to glance at Sora.
“Yes. Along with the same old nobles.” The Metalworker made no effort to hide her disdain as she waved a bony hand at the men and women crowding around the table. “Are we to have our efforts sullied by nepotism too?”
“Madame Pandan is correct,” Daz said. “There has been an imbalance against the Workers for a long time. We have done well in banding together of late. If we’re to start anew, the Firewielders ought to carry more weight—in the council and elsewhere.”
“No one is disputing that,” Lima sa
id. “But Square can’t just form their own guild.”
Madame Pandan raised a thick eyebrow. “Can’t?”
“My friends, let us not argue.” Rafe stood, looming over the table. Sora felt like a doll sitting beside him. His presence oozed command, perhaps even more than her father’s had. She sometimes found herself wishing she were a large man instead of a small, round girl.
“The Square Workers have been doing impressive work since they began pooling their Fire shares,” Rafe said. “In fact, I have a few ideas I wish to discuss with you in that regard. Would you be willing to stay after the meeting, Daz? I’d appreciate your expertise.” He looked directly over Sora’s head to meet the Firesmith’s eyes.
“Very well.” Daz folded his hands and rested his muscular arms on the table, looking unconvinced. “I’m sure the topic wouldn’t interest the non-Workers among us anyway.”
“Excellent.” Rafe turned to the others, perhaps choosing to ignore the blatant skepticism on Daz’s face. “Shall we discuss the status of the winter food stores?”
Lima and Madame Pandan were busy staring each other down and didn’t object as Rafe steered the conversation away from the issue of a Square Peak guild. For her part, Sora had nearly forgotten that Lima couldn’t Work. At times, the woman seemed more dedicated to the Fireworkers’ cause than the Lantern Maker himself. She showed little interest in winter storage, bridge repair management, and even hobnobbing with the nobility. Sora had gotten the impression that Lima was one of the main driving forces behind the coup. What kind of work was left for her now that it had succeeded?
“Does anyone have other business they wish to discuss before we adjourn?” Rafe asked. A warning glance suggested he didn’t include Sora in this invitation.
“Soole,” said Lord Roven. A broad-shouldered, jovial man who had a daughter not much younger than Sora, he was the first among all the non-Fireworkers to speak during that day’s meeting—apart from Lima—and he didn’t look so jovial now. He met the Lantern Maker’s eyes levelly. “Soole invaded Cindral Forest without provocation. After what the Soolen assassins did to our king, we want to know how you plan to deal with them.”
Lord Roven didn’t mention the Soolen swordsmen that still lurked in the castle itself. Sora wondered how many people knew about them. But the implication was not lost. Lord Roven wanted to know whether the Chief Regent had officially allied with Soole to attain his position.
“I am mindful of Soole’s aggressions,” Rafe said, “but you needn’t fear, Lord Roven.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take you at your word, Master Ruminor,” Lord Roven said. The other nobles shifted uncomfortably. Lord Roven’s gaze didn’t waver. “What do you intend to do if Soole attacks?”
Rafe smiled. “Our kingdom has restricted experimentation with Fire Weapons for many years. Thanks to the edicts of Queen Soraline, we have been released from that limitation.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a piece of parchment—one of the many Sora had signed that first day. “The mountain will protect itself from Soole—and anyone else who crosses us—with Fire.”
Lord Farrow muttered a foul curse, not quite under his breath, and even Lord Roven looked shocked. The nobles did not like the idea of Fire Weapons. The prospect made Sora nervous too. Unlike Fire-forged steel and blades imbued with a Fire core to make them faster, Fire Weapons used the molten substance itself to burn and maim. Outlawing them had been one of the First Good King’s most-important acts—one that she had reversed. She glanced at the parchment on the polished wooden table. That was the most-troubling edict she had been forced to sign. No wonder Rafe had waited until now to reveal it to the others.
Using Fire Weapons to defend the mountain was one thing, but she doubted it would end there. If the Fireworkers started making the Works, what would happen if they disagreed with one another?
The nobles murmured amongst themselves. Some scooted their chairs farther away from the nearest Workers. Even Lord Samanar and Lady Tull, who had supported the Rollendars in their part of the coup, didn’t like the turn the conversation had taken. They had been notably subdued since Lord Von—their choice to ascend the throne in Siv’s place—had been killed. The Lantern Maker had used the Rollendars for their men and conspired to put Bolden on the throne instead of his father because they deemed him easier to control. The Rollendar supporters had thrown themselves behind the Lantern Maker after Bolden’s death, but Sora wondered if they would be uncomfortable enough with this new turn of events to take action. They couldn’t want the Workers to produce Fire Weapons.
On her left, Daz Stoneburner and Madame Pandan whispered to each other, blocking their words with their hands. Daz at least looked troubled by this development. Another Worker from Square leaned in to join the discussion. If the Lantern Maker noticed their rapid chatter, it didn’t disturb him. On the whole, they seemed less enamored of Rafe’s control than the others. Sora had already seen what the Square Workers could do with the Fire Wall the night of the coup. What would they be capable of if they turned their attention to creating Weapons? The idea of a fight of Fire between Worker factions filled her with dread.
The nobles left quickly when the meeting ended, not waiting to chat with their new peers. Sora leapt up and eased around the Lantern Maker to intercept Lord Roven before he got to the door.
“Do you have a moment, my lord?”
“My queen,” Lord Roven said gravely. “I am glad to see you. Are you well?”
Sora glanced at the open door, catching sight of her guards hovering outside the council chamber. Kelad Korran and Telvin Jale were on duty—both her allies, though the Ruminors still believed Kel was their loyal swordsman. The men guarding her were always Vertigonian when the nobles came to visit. Captain Thrashe and the other Soolen guards would be waiting somewhere out of sight. Still, the presence of her friends outside the door reassured her.
“I’m okay,” Sora said. “I wanted to ask if you’ve heard any news—news you might not want to share with the general council?” She glanced back at the Lantern Maker, who was speaking to Daz Stoneburner. Lima watched her suspiciously but didn’t stop her from talking to Lord Roven.
“We aren’t receiving any messengers right now, my queen,” Lord Roven said. He too looked over at the Fireworkers. “The Chief Regent is still restricting the flow of information to and from the mountain.”
“If you hear anything of Trure and my grandfather, would you let me know?” Even though the Soolen army hadn’t yet moved beyond the boundaries of Cindral Forest, she worried about her mother and sister. And Siv, if he still lived.
“Of course, my queen,” Lord Roven said.
Sora studied the broad nobleman, with his reassuring bulk and his height that almost matched the Lantern Maker’s. He had long been her father’s ally. Would he be hers?
“Do you know if any of the nobles are unhappy with recent events? And the Chief Regent’s rule?” Sora kept a neutral expression plastered on her face, nothing more than a queen making small talk with a subject.
Lord Roven frowned. “Forgive me for saying so, my queen, but I don’t think you should be asking such questions.”
“I’m just gathering information.”
“For what purpose?”
“You heard him talking about Fire Weapons,” Sora said. She knotted her skirt in her hands. “He’s destroying the Peace of Vertigon, everything my father worked for. We have to stop him.”
“You can’t stand against him.” Lord Roven abandoned his formal demeanor and rested a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You’re barely older than my Jully, Sora. Don’t put yourself at risk.”
“You don’t think I should even try?”
Lord Roven shook his head firmly. “The Lantern Maker has won. He will find you a foreign prince to marry, and then you can be rid of this place. All you have to do is hold on until then.”
“But—”
“I’d better take my leave,” Lord Roven said, raising a hand to stop her from saying more.
Sora realized that the last of the non-Fireworker nobles had already left, and Lima Ruminor was striding toward them, eyes blazing. “Be careful, and let me know if you need anything.”
He strode from the council chamber before Sora could say another word. She wanted to stamp her foot. She was being careful. And she needed information, not coddling.
“What are you doing?” Lima said as she reached her.
“Just talking to my friend’s father.”
“You are not here to talk,” Lima said. “We won’t have you attending another council meeting if you can’t follow instructions. Wait for us in the library. We have business to discuss.”
Sora lifted her nose in the air and glided regally toward the door—or as regally as she could when she’d been summarily dismissed. She would not apologize or make excuses to her captors. They wanted her in the castle so they could maintain the illusion that there hadn’t been a coup. They’d just have to accept that she wasn’t a stuffed doll. She had a right to talk to her subjects.
Sora’s guards fell in on either side of her as she left the council chambers. They only had a few minutes before Captain Thrashe joined them.
“Any word?” Kel asked, striding a little closer to her than a typical guard would. His polished boots tapped smartly on the stone floor.
“Lord Roven is loyal,” she whispered, “but he thinks I should keep my head down.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“There’s dissent amongst the Fireworkers, though,” Sora said. “The Workers from Square want to set up their own guild—and they’re not as afraid of the Lantern Maker as the others. Daz Stoneburner is the head of their faction.” She thought of Rafe meeting with Daz Stoneburner right now. He would try to lure him back to his side before the dissent got out of hand. She hoped Daz wouldn’t fall for it.
“Interesting,” Kel said. “We can use that.”
“There’s more.” Sora looked back, but the corridor was deserted. “The Lantern Maker wants to experiment with Fire Weapons. And I don’t think he’s talking about new Fire Blades.”
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