“So where are we exactly?” Siv asked. “I’m still a little disoriented after my stint in captivity.”
“We’re less than a day’s journey from Roan Town to the south,” Kres said. He brushed flatbread crumbs off his red baldric and pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his mouth. “We’ll find nothing but farms along this road. After Roan Town—which has a delightful tavern on the main square, I might add—the Ridge Road turns to the west and eventually joins up with the High Road in Tollan. We’ll take the High Road through Kurn Pass and all the way south to Pendark.”
“Roan Town is the last settlement before then?” Maybe that would be a good place for him to lose them.
“There are farms and villages here and there.” Kres swept his hand over the rolling plains. “It’s not an especially exciting country.”
“You know, Kres,” said Fiz. “We could skip Roan Town and cut straight across the plains to the High Road.” He leaned casually against the ruin. He had elected not to sit on the wall in case it collapsed under his weight. “It’s easy countryside the whole way. No point going through Roan Town if we can shave a day or two off our journey by cutting straight.”
“Are you sure you’re not just trying to avoid Roan Town?” Gull said.
“Why would I do that?” Fiz said innocently.
“Doesn’t Zenny live there with that new fellow of hers?” Gull leaned toward Siv. “She’s his wife. Or was.”
“You were the one complaining about the delay yesterday,” Fiz grumbled, his wide face reddening.
Kres chuckled. “Very well. I fancy the overland route myself. We’ll head straight for the High Road, then. Now, finish up, lad. It’s time for your first knife-fighting lesson.”
A breeze blew strong across the plains, and for a moment Siv felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He got the feeling they should go through Roan Town for some reason. He rolled his shoulders to shrug it off. He’d probably just been looking forward to sleeping in an inn that had ale and hot food. There’d be plenty of time for that when they reached the High Road. He might as well stay with the team until then. He’d head back to Rallion City from there.
He finished his jerky and hopped down off the stable wall. In the meantime, Sivarrion the King was no more. It was time to make a knife fighter out of Sivren Amen.
23.
Winter Market
THE crowds parted before Sora and her companion as they meandered through the Winter Market. Lady Zurren was a harsh-tongued woman, with a hawkish nose and dark hair. Lima had assigned her to “keep the queen company” and make sure she behaved herself during her public appearance. The noblewoman held Sora’s arm as they strode among the stalls, complaining animatedly about a set of stoneware she had purchased here last year.
Winter Market was a three-day affair held in King’s Arena each midwinter. Tables covered in handicrafts, textiles, preserves, and Fireworks filled the wide dueling floor. Winter Market was one of the most-popular festivals of the year, designed to break up the monotony of the long Vertigonian winter. Vendors large and small had a chance to display their wares inside the warm hall, followed by dancing and drinking each night.
The atmosphere was more subdued than usual this year. The people of the mountain were still wary after what had happened the night of the engagement feast. Few knew what had occurred within the castle, but everyone had seen the wall of Fire burning around Square and entrapping a third of the populace. They were loath to trust the Fireworkers after that. The Workers’ stalls had less business than the others. People shied away from the glittering Firegold, burning Heatstones, and shining Everlights, focusing on the jars of soldarberry and apple preserves and the stone and wooden crafts at other stalls.
People seemed pleased to see Sora, though. Women stopped to curtsy and squeeze her hand, and men bowed low and offered her their service. Their statements of support were blatant, even fervent. Sora wondered how much the Vertigonians knew about her current status. Even if there was nothing they could do about it, at least they wished her well.
It was nice in a way. Sora had often faded into the background at public events. Her father and brother had been charismatic men, tall and attractive and likable. Selivia was the perfect little princess: adorable, friendly, and easy to love. Sora had always been more interested in what was going on behind the scenes in the kingdom. She’d spent her time having tea with influential ladies and sniffing out possible alliances between the businessmen and the nobles. She knew a lot of people, but she had always drawn less attention than the other members of her family.
Now, though, she felt the affection and concern of the crowds as she made her way through the market. A woman selling colorful silk scarves pressed an Amintelle-blue one into her hands and refused to accept payment. A cider vender offered her a steaming mug and bowed almost to the floor. An elderly woman cupped her face in her hands and told her she was “a precious child.”
Lady Zurren eyed the commoners distastefully when they crowded in on the pair, but Sora did her best to respond to all the attention with grace. She waded through the throng, trying to appear brave and strong, like a queen the people could trust.
Inside, she felt like nothing of the sort. Lima Ruminor hovered at the edge of the crowd, watching her. Sora ducked her head, trying to ignore the fear that wormed through her at the sight of the woman. She was ashamed at how easily Lima had cowed her. Sora had told the Ruminors what she could remember of Trure’s defenses after they threatened her with violence. At first she’d tried to tell outright lies, but Lima had realized it and smacked her again while the Lantern Maker sat there and did nothing. Sora had managed to hold back some information only by feigning ignorance. From then on, Lima had used more-aggressive tactics to control her behavior. Sora had begun seeing the harsh, cold woman in her nightmares.
She shuddered, trying not to look at Lima, and made sure her friends were still around her. She had four guards today: Kel, Telvin, Yuri, and Lieutenant Benzen, the leader of the Vertigonian contingent of her Guard. Benzen still believed Kel would help him keep an eye on Telvin and Yuri in addition to guarding the queen. Captain Thrashe and one of his countrymen lurked in the crowd too, disguised as traders.
“My queen, may I offer you a salt cake?” Kel moved in closer to her. Lady Zurren was busy grilling a vendor about his clockworks, and she wasn’t paying attention to the queen.
“I’ve already had one,” Sora said.
“Are you sure you don’t want another?” Kel said. “Salt cakes always cheer me up.” He held one out to her. The cake had a fine dusting of sugar on top, and some had gotten on the sleeve of his blue Castle Guard coat.
“All right, then.” Sora was surprised Kel had noticed she needed cheering up. She accepted the cake and bit into it, enjoying the mix of sugar and salt on her tongue.
“Are you well, my lady?” Kel asked. “You seem a little subdued lately.”
“I’m okay.” A lump formed in Sora’s throat without warning, and she did her best to swallow it down with the salt cake. She hadn’t told her allies that Lima had hit her. They would only try to talk her into leaving Vertigon again. She still didn’t want to do that, not when the people seemed to want her. Whenever she was allowed outside the castle, they gathered in around her, offering their condolences and telling her how pleased they were to see that she was well. She may feel like a terrified child on the inside, but she wanted to become the queen they deserved. She could never leave them in Lima’s hands.
“Sora.” Kel rested a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. She looked up, surprised. The gesture was brief, but it was surprisingly comforting. “You can tell us if you need anything. We’re here for you.”
“Thank you,” Sora said, swallowing again. “I will.”
“There’s someone we want you to meet.” Kel lifted a salt cake to his mouth to hide his words. “Go with Yuri as soon as the distraction begins.”
“What distraction?�
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But Kel had already put distance between them again, staring idly around the crowd like just another guard.
A moment later there was a loud crash, followed by a chattering, squawking sound, and a dozen juvenile cur-dragons burst into the arena.
Chaos erupted immediately. The knee-high dragons rushed through the crowds, making men jump and women snatch their children out of the way. The cur-dragons scrambled over tables, knocking food and crafts and colorful bolts of fabric to the floor. A few let out little bursts of flame as they gamboled through the market. A display of expensive papers imported from Cindral Forest went up in flames.
“Stop, you burning hell lizards!”
“Who’s going to pay for this?”
“Catch them!”
Screams and shouts—and a fair amount of laughter—echoed around the arena. A bucket of Firesticks fell off a table and scattered light across the floor in a wide arc. The cur-dragons were chasing something. Sora caught a glimpse of bright-red fur before she felt a hand beneath her elbow.
“Quickly, my queen.”
Yuri led her through the heaving crowds. She glanced back to see Kel stepping forward to block Lieutenant Benzen’s view of her, waving frantically as the cur-dragons ran toward them.
Yuri hurried her toward the athletes’ trunk room, which wasn’t being used while the market was in full swing. A few people called to her as she passed, their words snatched away in the chaos. She couldn’t see Lima or Captain Thrashe. The crowd quickly became a stampede as half the attendees tried to get out and the other half joined the fray, trying to catch either the cur-dragons or the creature they were chasing. Sora had a brief moment to wonder where her friends had gotten the dragons before she and Yuri rounded a corner into the trunk room and the arena disappeared from view.
Sora caught a whiff of old sweat and rusting metal as they made their way into the darkened trunk room.
“Apologies, my queen, for bringing you into the men’s side,” Yuri said, blushing as red as his beard. “We figured it would be the last place they’d look if they notice you’re gone.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
The trunk room was a long, thin space where athletes prepared for their duels during the competition season. Sora spotted a large, hulking shape at the far end and made her way toward it, trying not to trip over any trunks or benches.
The dark figure pulled back his cloak and uncovered a small Fire Lantern on a nearby bench, throwing his features into sharp relief. The man was big and bearish, with strong shoulders, salt-and-pepper hair, and a bit of a gut.
“Coach Doban!”
“Hello, my queen,” Berg grunted. “You are okay?”
“Yes. It’s good to see you.” Sora smiled shyly at the sword master. Berg Doban had coached her brother for many years, but she had always been a bit scared of him. He had a gruff manner, and she’d heard him yelling at Siv often for being lazy, his foreign accent twisting the words.
“We have not much time,” Berg said. “I am thinking you must leave the mountain. Go to Trure, my queen.”
“I can’t,” Sora said. “Like I told the others, our only chance to defeat the Lantern Maker is to work against him from the inside.” She didn’t add that she wouldn’t be safe in Trure either. It was only a matter of time before the Ruminors put the information she had given them to use.
“It is not worth the danger, my queen.” Berg stepped forward and took her small hands between his big, meaty ones. “I have seen too much of this Lantern Maker. Your father and your brother did not respect the danger. I could not save them. Please, my queen, let me take you from this city.”
“Why?” Sora asked. “I thought you wanted to help Vertigon. Don’t you think it would be better for me to stay?”
“My queen, it is not Vertigon,” Berg said. “This land is my home, yes, and it has been a place of peace for me. But the Amintelles made it so. I am owing a debt to your father far greater than my debt to the mountain. I failed to protect his son. I must save his daughter, or I no longer deserve to live.”
“What debt?” Sora asked.
“My queen, your father gave me mercy many years ago. He gave me a life and a second chance when I was a broken man.”
“We need to go back soon,” Yuri said nervously. He was keeping watch on the door at the other end of the trunk room.
“Do not interrupt me!” Berg roared, making Sora jump.
Yuri’s face paled, and he ducked his head obediently.
“Sorry, Coach Berg.”
Berg rounded on Sora again, lowering his voice. “Your father made me whole once more,” he said. “He is doing the same for others. He was the good king in more than name.”
Sora didn’t know what to say as the big man clasped her hands, his palms callused and rough but his grip gentle. She wished she could let him carry her away to safety, leaving the Ruminors to the mountain they wanted to control so much.
It would be the easy option, and it might even be wise. But it wasn’t right. Rafe was creating weapons of Fire, and he was already gathering information on the Lands Below. He was a conqueror in the making with a cruel partner at his side. The Ruminors needed to be stopped—and she was the only one left to do it.
“I can’t go,” Sora said. “If you truly owe my father a debt, I need you to help me drive a wedge through the Fireworkers. We can’t defeat them outright, but we can keep them distracted and fractured so they can’t do further damage. I think the Lantern Maker has ambitions beyond holding Vertigon.”
Berg’s jaw set, and he studied Sora. Then he inclined his head. “I will do what you ask of me.”
“I need you to see if you can sway Daz Stoneburner to our side. I think he’s the key to splitting up the Workers.”
“I can try, my queen,” Berg said. “But Daz is strong, and he aided the Lantern Maker before. We must take care with him.”
“I trust you,” Sora said, squeezing Berg’s big square hands.
“I am in your service,” Berg said. “But trust no one.”
Sora nodded, though she didn’t entirely agree. She had to trust a few people if she was going to get anything done around here. She only hoped she had picked the right allies.
“I’d better get back out there before anyone notices I’m gone,” she said. “Are we all clear, Yuri?”
“Yes, my queen,” he said. “It’s still a bit mad out there.”
“Good.”
Sora crossed the trunk room but stopped to look back at Berg as he covered up the light again, plunging the room into darkness. If people like him were willing to risk their lives for her father even after his death, she was surer than ever that she wanted to be the kind of ruler he had been. Not only was she going to get rid of the Lantern Maker and his terrifying wife, she was going to rule Vertigon well enough to inspire that kind of devotion.
All but one of the cur-dragons had been captured by the time Sora and Yuri slipped out of the trunk room and rejoined the crowd. They surveyed the jumble of debris spread across the floor of the dueling arena, trying not to draw attention to their return. It looked as if the cur-dragons had had plenty of fun in their absence. A barrel of cider had burst, and children were splashing in the resulting puddle. More Fireworks had fallen to the ground. Sparks spurted from one unfamiliar Work and spattered across an unfurled bolt of black cloth like stars in a night sky. A woman was screeching hysterically at her husband for laughing at what looked suspiciously like cur-dragon dung on her shoe. Yuri couldn’t quite hide a grin at the results of their diversion.
Sora caught a glimpse of Lima, but a familiar—and very tall—man kept casually stepping in front of her, making it difficult for her to move closer to Sora and Yuri. Kel and Lieutenant Benzen joined them soon after their return. Benzen gave Sora a suspicious look, but he seemed more worried about the remaining cur-dragon than whether she had been up to anything in the brief moments when he’d lost sight of her.
The creature in question perched on to
p of a hat rack in the center of the arena, hurling small bursts of fire at the men trying to catch him. The cur-dragon looked more scared than angry, and it was making spitting sounds like an irate kitten. Sora’s brother would have said it sounded like a panviper with its tail in a knot. The hats from the rack had tumbled across the floor. A puff of red fur peeking out from beneath one of them suggested the creature the dragons had been chasing hadn’t been caught yet either.
It was another five minutes before a salt-cake seller managed to toss a blanket over the final cur-dragon and wrestle it out of the arena, leaving relative calm in its wake.
“Seems we ought to start the party early this year!” Kel shouted over the crowd.
Murmurs of agreement quickly followed. The frazzled vendors began gathering up their remaining wares and putting them away for the night rather than bothering to set everything up again. After the mess had been cleaned up, the tables were pulled back, clearing room for dancing. The cider vendors heated up fresh vats, and barrels of ale were rolled down the athletes’ entrance. A gaggle of musicians began tuning their instruments, and the conversations spreading through the arena grew festive. Sora smiled at the warmth and good cheer that had replaced the chaos. She loved Vertigon with a fierceness that surprised her sometimes. There were good people here.
“It’s time we returned to the castle,” Lima said, appearing so suddenly at Sora’s elbow that she jumped. “I’ve had enough of this foolishness.”
“Shouldn’t we stay for the party?” Sora said.
“I have work to do,” Lima said.
“I’m supposed to be reassuring the people. They’ll wonder if I leave too soon,” Sora said. “You go ahead. The Castle Guard can watch me.”
Lima frowned at her, and Sora flinched. She couldn’t help it, even though Lima’s arms remained firmly at her sides. She shouldn’t push the woman.
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