In Her Shadow

by Boyle, Sally Beth

"Indeed. Then why were you in such a hurry to return?"

  "To beg your assistance on behalf of the Dux."

  "My help? They don't suspect us having done it."

  Britta shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe."

  "Odd."

  "Did we?"

  The old woman's face resolved into form, its paleness a sharp contrast to the darkness surrounding it. "Do you think I would do such a thing?"

  "That's not an answer."

  The Abbess of Night sighed. "No, it's not. My apologies. I'm so used to these games now that it's difficult to give a straight answer even when I mean to. I did not take the girl."

  "Then who?"

  "That's a good question, one I don't know the answer to."

  "How–"

  "How do I not know something that happened in my own city? I'm not magic, Britta. Oracles and diviners are a lie. Fortunetelling bunco-artists all. I rely on an army of spies. Good spies. Spies that infiltrate every facet of this city at every level. From street sweepers to accountants, to first mates of pirates, I have eyes and ears everywhere."

  "Which means the person who did this would have to know that. There's more, though, isn't there?"

  "Think it through, New Moon."

  "Someone the spies would know and trust. Someone who they knew was close to the Abbess of Night, worked closely enough with her that his or her word would be as good as your own."

  The Abbess of Night didn't say anything, her lips pulled thin as she waited for Britta to work it out.

  "Weboshi."

  The Abbess of Night gave a slight nod.

  A vein in Britta's abbey throbbed to life. She rubbed it, trying to quell the ache. It couldn't be. Britta had spoken to her just before she'd left. There was no way Weboshi could have beat her to the Governor's manse and staged a kidnapping, even with her knowledge of the city's shot cuts and secret passages. But then, she wouldn't have to do it personally. Isn't that what Britta herself had just deduced? The Governor's guard and his various ministers were Regnals, but surely he didn't import household staff. A paid off maid, cook, maybe even an actual nanny.

  The vein in Britta's throbbed again. This was insane. Weboshi had been her mother, or near enough. Now Britta had to hunt her down. Perhaps Weboshi was completely innocent, but if she wasn't, Britta would have to watch the woman who suckled her from the edge of death met with death herself.

  "Britta?"

  "I'm sorry, Abbess of Night, I'm thinking."

  "About where Weboshi might be? Have you figured it out?"

  "I can't."

  "You can, New Moon. Think aloud if you have to."

  Britta tried, visualizing it in her mind's eye. She saw Weboshi's henchmen, dragging Ava through the streets. But no, too obvious. Plus, the girl could cry out. So perhaps they had drugged her, or gagged her, and stuffed her in a sack. Focusing on the "how," however, only distracted Britta from the more important question of "where?" There was nowhere in the city for Weboshi's accomplices to hide with a little girl that either the Abbess or the Governor couldn't find them – and if they could hide, the question of how Weboshi had pulled that off became important again.

  "We have to figure out who helped her," Britta said.

  "All right. Who were they?"

  "I'm not sure. Other cloaked sisters? But to go against you, they would have to be especially sneaky or especially disloyal. I find it hard to believe."

  "So–"

  "So I think Weboshi's betrayal is an aberration. It might not even be a betrayal, in her eyes."

  "So not one of us."

  "No ma'am. But outside forces, people who want to see conflict between the abbey and the Regnals."

  "Who would gain from that?"

  "The Regnals. But–"

  The Abbess of Night smiled. "Go on."

  "But they wouldn't dare. Pretext isn't enough. There's no way they have enough troops to put down a riot in the city. Any move on us without absolute proof we were responsible. . ."

  "Ah, but if Weboshi is caught with the girl."

  Britta shook her head. "No – no. She wouldn't help the Regnals betray her own. She hates them."

  "So, who then?"

  "The merchants, maybe."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know. I – I just intuited it."

  "Not good enough. Think, girl."

  Britta furrowed her brow. Was she sweating? She felt like she was sweating. "They might think the Regnals will clean up the city. They wouldn't have to pay us protection anymore, nor would they have to worry about crime – or not as much."

  The Abbess of Night smiled her toothless smile. "Good. Now, where is she?"

  "With access to merchant ships, they could smuggle her out of the city."

  "True, but to what end?"

  "You're right. They want to make a statement of some sort. Anyway, it's the obvious solution."

  The Abbess's grin grew broader. "Go on."

  "You told me Weboshi is a fool, but she's not. You've had her as your right hand for decades. Even if you've taught me nothing, you must have taught her a lot. She knows the best place to hide is in the open, where anyone might find her."

  "She's still in the city."

  Britta's lip quivered. "She's not just still in the city. She's here, in the abbey."

  The Abbess of Night rubbed her whiskery chin. Her eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to say something, but before the words escaped her lips, Britta dashed out of the room and down the hall.

  ***

  Britta pressed her ear to the door and listened. She'd never done such a thing before, never had reason to. What had she expected to hear? She wasn't sure, and indeed, not a sound came from within. Around her, though, rustled her sisters' cloaks as they shuffled towards her. The Abbess of Night must have summoned them. Good, because if Britta's hunch was right, she couldn't stomach the idea of facing Weboshi alone.

  She shushed the girls as they huddled around her. None of them spoke, their eyes darting to one another nervously. Did they know what was happening, or simply sensed something in the air?

  Britta pushed the door open, leaning into it as if it needed more force than was necessary. She peeked through the crack. Ava slumped in Britta's own chair next to the window. Weboshi stood beside her, brushed the girl's hair. Was the girl even alive? Britta shoved the dark thought down inside her as far as it would go.

  "Come in," said Weboshi, without looking up from her work on Ava's hair.

  Britta pressed her fingers to her lips, then pointed to the floor, hoping her sisters understood to stay put unless they were needed. They all nodded, slowly. She stepped through the doorway and stood, bathed in moonlight. From here, she could see Ava's pale little face clearly. The girl's eyes were closed and her expression limp. The fear she might be dead fought its way back to the forefront of Britta's thoughts.

  "Weboshi–"

  "Don't lecture me. These Regnal sonsofbitches have taken everything from us – from me. Soon they'll take you. And when they're done turning you into a proper Regnal wife, they'll take this abbey too."

  "So it's revenge? Did you kill her?"

  Weboshi set the brush down. "I was going to. Goddess help me, I was going to."

  Britta inched her way toward Weboshi and the girl. "But you're not going to now?"

  Weboshi's eyes glistened with tears. "No. I couldn't. I wanted to strangle the life out of her. I wanted to take one of their daughters the way they'd taken mine. But then I saw her sleeping so quiet. Can you hear her little snores? How could I, Britta? How could I even consider it? What have I done?"

  Weboshi broke down into sobs. "New Moon," she said, voice quivering, "I am undone. They'll kill me for this."

  Britta threw her arms around the crying woman. "Yes." Britta choked on her own tears as the words rose in her throat. "They will."

  Chapter 10

  The soldiers snapped to attention when Britta returned, Ava bundled in her arms, Weboshi bundled in fetters behind her surrounded by c
loaked sisters.

  Captain Marcus stepped forward and said, "What's this?"

  Britta pulled back the blanket covering the girl's little face.

  "Sun Triumphant, is she–"

  "She lives, but call for a physician right away."

  Marcus sent Valex after a doctor. Britta breezed through the gate, not bothering to wait for permission, and carried the girl up into the manse.

  The Regnals had worked quickly, turning the ballroom into a command center. Gathered round a table with a map in the center were the Dux, Governor and other Regnals of import. Obviously, they'd decided not to involve the locals in the search. Reasonable, Britta thought, considering it had been a local responsible after all.

  They stopped talking one-by-one as they realized who she was and what she held.

  The Dux rushed forward. His face showed no expression, but his stride said everything. He snatched Ava from Britta's arms and cradled her in his own.

  "I called a physician," Britta said.

  He glanced up from staring at the girl's face long enough to give Britta curt nod. Then he swiveled away from her, and dashed upstairs. She wanted to follow him, throw her arms around him and tell him it would be okay, but her duty was here. Weboshi had done a terrible thing, unforgivable maybe, but she'd done it for love; just as Britta felt some obligation to fulfill her duty as the New Moon, she also felt a duty to the woman who had raised her. She couldn't rush off after her future husband without seeing to Weboshi's fate first.

  "You found her," the Governor said, his voice low with an edge to it.

  "Yes," said Britta.

  "And I'm assuming this woman you have trussed up is responsible."

  "Yes."

  "She's one of yours."

  "Yes."

  "And the Mother of Night didn't know about it?" The Governor narrowed his eyes at her. "I find that hard to believe."

  So did Britta, on some level. She did her best not to let her face show it. The illusion of omniscience the Abbess had created worked against the abbey now, casting suspicion on the cloaked sisters. But Britta didn't say anything, allowing the Governor to stew in his paranoia. Would he formally accuse the abbey of wrongdoing?

  The room fell still except for the sound of breathing.

  This was his opportunity. At this moment, the Governor could accuse the abbey of having broken the treaty, call off the wedding, shut down the abbey, and seize Ankshara. No more power sharing. No integration. He could have it all, answerable only to the Emperor himself. He knew it. She knew it. The whole room knew it. Would he?

  "Take this woman into custody," he said, indicating Weboshi. "We'll try her in the morning when we can put together an impartial triumvirate."

  Britta relaxed a little, but only until the Governor's household guard surrounded Weboshi to take her away. In that moment, every bit of tension returned. Britta wanted to chase after them, grab the guards manhandling the woman she thought of as her mother, scream and shout, beg for mercy, but she couldn't. She couldn't do any of those things. Instead, she buried the pain in her heart as she watched Weboshi dragged away.

  "You look upset, dear," said the Governor.

  "I am."

  "She's important to you?"

  "She raised me."

  "Ah."

  "She lost her daughter during The Siege. She took me as her own, raised me. She thought. . ."

  "'She thought' what?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  The Governor clasped both hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. "I see."

  Did he? "Is there – Is there anything I can do for her?"

  The corners of the Governor's lips turned down slightly. "Do you know what we do to traitors?"

  Britta shook her head.

  "Good, because it's terrible. If you saw it. . ." He shuddered. "Anyway, you'd never forget it."

  "What are you suggesting?"

  He leaned into her and whispered in her ear. "Make it easy for her."

  A cry caught in Britta's throat. He didn't have to spell it out. She knew what he meant. She hated it, but feared he was right. She would do it too, the only thing she could think to comfort the Weboshi. It might even be easy; certainly easier than trying to help her escape.

  "But after," the Governor said. "After the trial, for both our sakes. Because, should something happen to her beforehand–"

  "The people will think it suspicious. Better the truth come out first."

  He smiled. "You have the mind of a politician. You'll make a fine daughter."

  Britta wasn't sure the former was much of a compliment. She forced a polite smile. "Can I see her? I mean Ava."

  The Governor swept an arm behind him towards the stairs. "Be my guest."

  ***

  Lucius pushed Ava's matted bangs back from her eyes. Sticky from sweat, her cheeks apple red, her body burned like a bundle of embers. He'd only seen her like this once before, during the pestilence that had cost him Shavana. This was worse though, because then Ava had moaned some, groaned, complained of aches. Here she was now, eyes closed and lips silent, her breath shallow and weak. He tried to reason his way through the memory, the worries, but couldn't. Anger formed a fog of its own, making it hard to concentrate on anything except visions of gutting the woman who'd done this. He wanted to drag her entrails through the streets, mount her head on a spike, post her limbs around the city as warning to all of his wrath.

  Where was that damn doctor?

  His fingers clenched the hilt of his sword so tight, the knuckles turned white. This painful void of rage is what he'd spent the last few years trying to avoid. Muscles tense and taut, he drew his sword before he even realized it, pressing the tip against Britta's neck as she stepped through the door.

  "Dux Lucius," she said with a voice calm and steady.

  Lucius blinked. His thoughts were a red swirl that only cleared when the piercing light of her eyes met his. He would have done it. Had anyone else walked through that door, he would have run them through. But not her. Not after rescuing Ava. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he tried to get regain his calm. As the cloud of anger faded, he couldn't figure out why he hadn't lowered the sword yet.

  "Dux Lucius."

  "I'm – I'm sorry." He sheathed his blade before the situation went any further.

  Britta rubbed her throat with one hand. She'd seemed so calm when it was against her, but now she trembled. "I didn't mean to scare you," she said.

  Dux Lucius didn't answer. He'd let his guard down. This whole situation had forced him off kilter emotionally, and he needed to regain control. The first step to doing so meant not looking at Britta, the woman who'd help pushed him off kilter. But then, when he swung around to look away, he saw his poor little girl on what might be her death bed. There was no way out. No way to protect himself from this. No matter how hard he fought them, his emotions bubbled up from the mental tomb he'd tried to bury them in. They were like angry ghosts. If he let them loose, they'd carry him away to his grave.

  He wanted to run, to escape, at least until he had a plan. But he couldn't. Not with his little Ava so sick.

  He knelt beside the bed and took her hand. It was so small in his own, each little finger nail perfect, her skin warm and smooth compared to his rough callouses.

  Britta put a hand on his shoulder. "How is she?"

  "The same. Worse. I don't know." He meant to sound as strong and detached as he always did, but a small quiver crept through.

  There came a shuffling from the hall behind them. Lucius glanced over his shoulder as the physician, carrying a large sack, came in. "Please, sir," he said and nudged Lucius aside. He knelt beside Ava and began to feel her, poke her. He opened her eyes with two fingers and moved a candle around as if looking into them. With every touch, every observation, the doctor grumbled under his breath.

  "Doctor?" When the he didn't answer right away, Lucius balled a fist. He raised it, ready to strike the oblivious doctor. Britta touched his wrist, and Lucius lowered
his arm.

  "We should go," she said. "Let the doctor do his work."

  "I want to be here if something happens," said Lucius.

  "Go," the doctor said. "Otherwise you'll get in my way."

  "Will she be okay?"

  "Yes, but not if you prevent me from doing my work."

  Lucius didn't like it, but he was too smart not to defer to the advice of an expert. He lurched away from the bed and out the door, Britta following close behind him.

  "Where are we going?" she asked.

  "We?"

  "Yes. You seem upset. Wouldn't want you to fall on your sword. I heard you Regnal soldiers have a habit of doing that."

  Was she kidding? He didn't dare turn around to see if her expression gave her away. "I'm not upset. I don't get upset."

  She chuckled behind him. "Of course not, Dux Lucius. I'm sure sticking a sword to my throat was a decision rationally made with pure, cold logic."

  "I said I'm sorry."

  "And you're forgiven. But now you must beg my forgiveness again for lying to me."

  Dux Lucius stopped mid-step. He whirled on her, grabbed her by the shoulders.

  "I wish people would stop doing tha–"

  Lucius shook her. Not hard, not threatening, but enough to get her attention. "What do you want from me?"

  She blinked. Her red little lips parted in a way he found hard to look away from. Her whole expression was one of charming confusion – and he hated being charmed.

  "What do I want?" she asked. "I want to be a wife to my husband."

  "We're not married yet. Anyway, it's just a political exchange. A formality. You make it sound like you want something more than a life of comfort and wealth. You sound like–"

  "I want to be involved."

  "Why?"

  "Because one day – maybe soon – I'll be Abbess of Night. I have to start taking responsibility. What better place to start than with my future husband?" She squirmed beneath his grasp. "Seriously. Let me go."

  He released her. Lucius tried to find a reason to fault her, but couldn't. Britta wanted to do right by her people. For that, he could only respect her. A pang of guilt shot through him. Dammit. What would Shavana think? It was one thing to be idly attracted to Britta, but to admire her? Respect her? It was a betrayal of Shavana's memory. So he swallowed whatever attraction he felt for Britta and said: "Thank you. Thank you for finding Ava. I hope, in the future, we can–"