Riki had ten minutes to find another way out of the cellar.
The room she had been locked in was halfway down the corridor. It was too dark to tell how many other doors there were, but the reduced risk of Loke hearing was as good a reason as any to start with those farther away from the exit.
The first door Riki tried opened easily, but touch revealed that the room contained only crates and barrels, stacked floor to ceiling. The second door was locked, and forcing it would be too noisy for anything other than a last resort. Riki crossed to the other side of the corridor and began working her way back,
As soon as she opened the next door, Riki saw the faint glimmer of moonlight in a far corner. Moving carefully so as not to bang into anything and knock it over, Riki edged past piles of sacks. The air was full of dust and the scent of grain. The ground felt gritty underfoot. Many farmers paid their taxes in goods rather than coin; this presumably was where their payments were stored.
Soon Riki was directly under the source of the moonlight. She grinned. A trapdoor. She guessed that the room extended beneath the street outside. The trapdoor allowed farmers to deposit their goods without having to lug the sacks and barrels through the council building. The moonlight was squeezing in through the crack by the hinges. It would be too faint to be seen were it not for the otherwise total darkness.
The ceiling was just low enough for Riki to reach. She ran her hands around the edge of the trapdoor. It was locked, of course. Otherwise the cellar would not be a secure place to keep a prisoner. The key was probably in the room with Loke. Riki examined the lock mechanism. Even working by touch, she recognized the type immediately. One advantage of her youthful misdemeanors was a familiarity with such things. Although the lock was big and heavy, as if hoping to impress by its size, it would be easy to pick—but not with bare hands. Riki needed a metal spike, and time was running short.
Riki slipped across to the room opposite, the first one she had tried. People were always careless when opening crates and rarely tidied up afterward. Riki knelt and ran her hands over the floor. In under ten seconds she found what she wanted, a discarded nail. In fact, she found several. Riki selected the straightest two and returned to the trapdoor.
The lock surrendered without a fight, but Riki was still nowhere near tall enough to push open the trapdoor. Possibly there was a ladder or removable ramp somewhere nearby, but Riki did not have time to hunt for it in the dark. Instead, she assembled a pile of grain sacks and then clambered on top. Riki placed her hands on the underside of the trapdoor, but then paused, listening for movement above. She thought she could hear faint voices, but no footsteps.
Cautiously, she raised the trapdoor a few centimeters and peered out. No more than twenty meters away, a group of women were huddled in conversation—undoubtedly discussing the next day’s trial. Riki chewed her lip. With gossip like that, they could be nattering away for hours, and she could not afford to wait until they went. Not that the gossipers were showing any sign of being on the lookout for escaping prisoners. Their heads were clustered close together, and fortunately, the spot where Riki was emerging was in deep shadow.
Even so, she did not want to throw the trapdoor fully open. Apart from the extreme visibility of such an action, it would fall back with a crash. Far safer to squeeze herself out through a gap, although this was not without pain. The heavy wooden boards raked her back, even through her clothes, but worse was where her bruised stomach was dragged over the metal frame around the opening. Riki clenched her teeth, ignoring the protest of her battered body. Once she was nearly clear, she caught hold of the trapdoor, pulled her feet free, and then lowered it back into place. Throughout all this, the group of women did not miss a beat of their intense debate.
Riki took a deep breath. She was out, but far from being safely away. She reckoned that Loke would give her the full ten minutes and a bit more, then search the entire cellar, before panicking for a while and finally raising the alarm. At most, Riki had half an hour to get out of Westernfort. After that, she would have a long trek across the wilderness, pursued by every Ranger at Captain Coppelli’s command, before she could reach the relative safety of the Sisters’ Homelands. She was going to need supplies and horses, and she did not have time for stealth. Her only hope lay with speed and nerve.
At the moment, nobody would expect her to be walking brazenly across the town. So that was what she was going to do. Riki shoved herself to her feet and set off at a crisp march, quick, but nothing that would attract attention. Only one moon was in the sky—Hardie at a shade off full. As far as she could, Riki kept it at her back, so her face was in shadow, and adjusted her route to keep as far from others as she could without making the avoidance too conspicuous.
The streets of Westernfort were quiet. Nobody gave a second glance to the woman in Ranger uniform marching across town. Most folk were in groups, walking slowly and talking together. The few loners were striding along purposefully, probably in search of home and someone to discuss the news with. Riki was just one more.
Soon she reached the patrol barracks. This was the most critical moment. If anyone was inside, they would not fail to spot and recognize her, but opening the door cautiously and peering round the edge would be too blatantly furtive. Riki glanced at the moon, judging the time. Three of the patrol were still out in the Wildlands. Loke was in the cellar. With luck, Gerry Baptiste would be making the most of the chance to catch up with her family, and Sasha would be in the tavern, telling everybody how evil Private Sadiq had handed Tanya over to the Guards. Surely nobody would be in the barracks.
Riki pushed the door open and stepped inside. As she had hoped, the room was empty. The only light was the dim red glow from the stove. Nobody lay on the bunks. Riki hurried to her locker and pulled out her pack. Then she went to the next one. Now was not the time to worry about stealing from your comrades. At the thought, Riki gave a sarcastic grin. When had that scrap of ethics entered her conscience?
Within a few minutes, she had everything she needed. A new cloak was wrapped around her shoulders and a broad-brimmed Rangers’ hat was pulled low over her face. A sword and trail knife hung at her side.
Riki carefully hoisted the full pack over her shoulder, trying not to strain her damaged muscles, and turned to leave. At the door she stopped for a last look around, checking off her mental inventory for anything she had overlooked. The corporal’s single bunk caught her attention. Tanya would never again sleep there.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could have stuck the bitch for you. I didn’t have the chance. I—”
Riki was surprised at the unexpected surge of emotion that choked her throat. They had not liked each other. Their relationship had started off on the wrong foot and gone downhill from there, but it had not all been Tanya’s fault. She was, in Riki’s estimation, no worse than any other officer, and regardless, no Ranger should be sold out by her supposed comrade and handed over to the Guards. Loke deserved to pay, but there was nothing Riki could do. She wished things were different, that she could let Tanya know her outrage over Loke’s treachery and take revenge on behalf of them both. For once, they were on the same side. Riki’s jaw clenched. Wishing was pointless. She gave a small formal nod of solidarity to Tanya’s bunk and returned to the night.
The gate guarding the path down to the stables was less than half a kilometer away; five minutes’ walk. How much longer did she have? Riki set off, wishing she could run without attracting attention. However, the adrenaline was kicking in and she felt a grin settling on her lips.
At last, the wall rose before her. Riki could see Rangers on duty, silhouetted against the backdrop of stars over Westernfort. Torches burned on either side of the gate. When she passed them, she would not have the benefit of shadow for concealment. Riki was sure that the sentries had seen her approach, but if their suspicions were not aroused, they would not watch her every step. She shifted the pack as if to settle it more comfortably on her shoulder, while incidentally obscuring slightly m
ore of her face, and raised a hand in greeting.
“Evening, all.” Riki kept on marching, fighting not to limp from her bruises.
“You going?”
“Just dropping this off.” She was under the gate and still walking.
“See you soon, then.”
“Right.”
Now, Riki was on the path down and the torches were behind her. She heard soft voices from the sentries.
“Who was that?”
“I thought it was Julie.”
“Oh.”
Each step down the pathway felt like a new barrier passed. Riki raised her eyes to the moon. Well over twenty minutes had elapsed since Loke left her in the cellar. By Riki’s reckoning, she had only a few minutes more before the alarm was raised, but now she was ahead of any pursuit with nothing left to block her way. She was not yet safe, but the feeling of triumph was growing.
Riki reached the lowland, and still no shouts sounded from the wall. The patrol stable was less than twenty meters away. Riki crossed the space, expecting chaos to erupt from the upper valley at any moment. She reached the door, pulled it open, and stepped inside. The warm smell of animals and hay enveloped her. Now at last, she could run.
Riki raced to her horse. She grabbed the saddle and flung it over its back, and then ducked to grab the girth strap. Never had her hands performed the task quicker. The pain of her injuries was forgotten. Within minutes, her horse was ready.
Riki turned to the stall next door. Taking Loke’s horse was not much by way of reprisal for her crimes, but Riki liked the thought of annoying her. She slipped a halter over the horse’s head, and tied the loose rein to her own saddle. A second mount to swap with would increase her speed dramatically, as well as providing insurance should one go lame.
Riki led the horses to the door and paused. Still no shouts broke the quiet night air. Was Loke being even slower at raising the alarm than expected? Or was she playing the innocent, now that she had discovered that her scheme was not going to plan this time? Maybe she hoped to cover her own involvement. At that moment, was Loke looking for a way to fix the blame on the Ranger who took watch after her? It was the way her mind worked.
Riki paused, wondering if she might even have until breakfast the next day before the pursuit started, but then shook her head. Maybe. Maybe not. She should not rely on it. The sentries would see her ride off with two horses. It would alert them that something was wrong, but they would know that soon enough. Speed had served her so far and would serve her again. If she could get clear of Westernfort and into the wilderness, then she could slow down.
Riki smiled and looked up. Hardie shone overhead, bright enough to see by, and small Laurel was rising in the east. She led the horses into the open and swung up into the saddle. Another five kilometers and she would be clear of the animal pasture. Then she would see if any other Ranger could match her in bushcraft.
Laughter bubbled in Riki’s throat. She dug her heels into her horse’s flank and urged it into a canter.
*
Eighteen days later, Riki stood on the northern foothills of the Longstop Range. She had made good time, pushing the horses in the effort to stay ahead of any messengers from Westernfort. She was now close to the point where Tanya had been captured, and in the region patrolled by Coppelli’s Rangers. Slipping by would be easier if they did not know they were supposed to be looking for her.
Riki pursed her lips. In truth, she was sure enough of her abilities to think that she would have no problems anyway. She even toyed with the idea of finding a patrol, letting them know she was there, and then giving them the slip, just so they would know she had the edge on them. But it was not a sensible idea. She had seen quite enough trouble for one month. Now was the time to play it safe. Riki grinned at her own expense. Avoiding unnecessary risk? Maybe she was finally starting to grow up. People had been telling her to do it for long enough.
From where she stood, Riki could see the land ahead flattening out into the plains around the Coldwater River, still four days’ ride away. Somewhere between the Longstops and the Coldwater, the Wildlands ended and the Sisters’ Homelands began, although no map would show the line.
The Sisters claimed divinely sanctified dominion over all the planet and would consider it blasphemy to concede control anywhere to the heretics. They would never draw a line on a map to show where their power ended. For their part, the heretics were not bothered with claiming land and concentrated merely on keeping the Guards away from their settlements.
Riki looked back. She had never wanted to join the heretics and had never been happy with them. Now she was leaving their Wildlands for good. Would she get on any better in the Homelands? Surely she would be able to make a life for herself. The risk of Guards arresting her as a heretic was small. After all, she had never fully renounced her belief in Celaeno. When she left, she had been only twelve. Who now would recognize her with certainty?
Riki’s expression softened. Of course, there were some people she wanted to recognize her—her sisters and her gene mother. She could reclaim the family she had never wanted to leave. Riki urged her horse forward, wondering why the idea did not make her quite as happy as it should.
Part Two
Games With The Matriarch
Chapter Seven—Opening Gambits
Tanya stood and braced her shoulder against the wooden slats of the prison wagon so that she could see out through the bars above the driver’s head. Sitting on the bench opposite, both Guards from the Intelligence Corps sneered but made no move to stop her. For additional support, she rested her knee on the bench and clung to the iron ring that was riveted to the wagon frame. The short length of chain between the ring and the manacles on her wrists swung against the wooden side with each pothole-induced lurch.
However, the shaking was getting less. The sound of the wheels had also changed. The road was improving and had gone from rutted earth to cobblestones. At the moment, these were poorly maintained, chipped, and cracked, but it marked the change from country to town. They had reached the city of Landfall. This would undoubtedly be Tanya’s only chance to see the place where her birth mother had been born and had grown up. Relatives still lived here. It would most likely also be her last chance to see the open sky. She did not want to miss it.
After her capture, Major Kaur had needed ten days of increasingly desperate meandering to get her troops out of the Wildlands and to the Homelands town of Longhill. As far as she could judge, Tanya had spent a month in an underground cell at the Guards’ fort on the outskirts of town, waiting for the Intelligence Corps to take charge of her. The four corps members who had turned up with the enclosed prison wagon had then taken the best part of another month to cover the 800 kilometers between Longhill and Landfall.
Loke Stevenson had turned her over to the Guards at the beginning of May. It was now mid-July and the wagon was arriving at Landfall at the end of a long, hot afternoon. The enclosed caboose was a meter and a half wide and two meters long. The temperature inside was baking, and unlike the Guards, Tanya did not get to take turns sitting outside with the driver. As she stood looking out, the breeze through the bars was wonderfully cool, drying the sweat on her face, although her clothes still stuck to her. Tanya tried not to remind herself that her conditions of imprisonment were about to get far worse. Since the moment of her capture, she had known what awaited her in Landfall. Giving in to fear would do no good.
Landfall was the biggest city in the world. Seeing the great capital was a dream that Tanya had never expected to realize. She had been born at Westernfort, and had no more than touched the borders of the Homelands while on patrol, but she had heard stories from her mothers and from other heretics. The current circumstances were material for nightmares rather than dreams, but she should not let panic ruin her chance to fulfill this one last wish.
Landfall was home to the Coppellis, one of the most powerful merchant families. According to her mother, they owned a third of the city and controlled the
rest. An unwillingness to be drawn into the corrupt political maneuvering had driven a young Chip Coppelli to run away from home and enlist with the militia. She had then advanced to the Rangers, the branch of the Homelands military who patrolled the borders of the Sisters’ territory, battling wild animals and bandits. Chip had been a member of the elite force for over ten years before her entire squadron had deserted to join the heretics at Westernfort.
Through the bars, Tanya could see down the length of a long, empty street. On either side were single-story huts. The roofs were red tiles, although many were cracked or missing. Plaster on the walls was flaking so that the timber frames beneath were exposed in places. Weeds grew along the edges of the road and the breeze carried the stench of decaying waste.
At first, Tanya assumed these buildings were abandoned, or animal shelters. The sounds of squabbling chickens aided this impression, but then she saw girls playing in the alleys between, and old women sitting in doorways. A few able-bodied adults were working on vegetable plots to the rear. Tanya was shocked to realize that these were family homes. Nobody at Westernfort lived in such squalor.
At the end of the street, the wagon turned onto another road. The buildings here were bigger and in better repair. The weeds had gone. A steady drone of voices had been rising for a while. Tanya did not know when she had first noticed it, but now the occasional shout caught her attention. The road turned a bend and a bridge stood before them.
On her journey across the Homelands, Tanya had seen longer bridges but never one so wide. Four wagons abreast could have crossed it, were it not for the crowds packing it out. The road had joined another busier one, and the cobbles were overflowing with horses, wagons, and pedestrians.
Dynasty of Rogues Page 10