by Jo Spurrier
The guardsman was looking worried, too. ‘They ought to be here by now. Commander Madric said he’d have folk standing by.’
‘Perhaps you should see what is taking so long?’ Nikala said.
The guard shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘My duty is to stay with Madame Delphine. You go.’
‘But … what if something befalls her? The king will not be pleased if she or the babe come to harm.’
‘Listen, southerner,’ the guard said. ‘I’ve seen babes born before. Nothing’s going to happen so quickly you can’t run up to the big house and back. I’m not leaving our lady unguarded.’
‘Nikala, he’s right,’ Delphine gasped. ‘You must go.’
Nikala scowled at her and the guard both, but then she bowed her head. ‘Very well, madame. I will be swift.’
She stole away, soft-soled boots quiet over the cobbles. Trying to rest her aching back, Delphine sat on the bench again, but that made things no better — if anything, it was worse. In an effort to find some comfort she squirmed around until she found herself kneeling on the ground, bent over with her head and shoulders resting on the sun-bleached wood.
‘My lady,’ the guard said, starting towards her with a crunch of boots on gravel.
Delphine twisted around to look at him. ‘Please wait by the gate. Keep watch.’
He bowed with a fist over his heart. ‘As you wish.’
She could relax a little with him gone — having a stranger stare at her when she was in such pain was deeply discomfiting, but now she just leant into the bench and drew deep breaths, trying to calm herself.
Something was wrong.
Each wave of contractions stole her breath away, making her head spin and turning her thoughts sluggish. She turned to her training. Novices spent long hours learning to keep breathing steadily through the most complex workings. She had to think.
Nikala. Nikala should have foreseen this, she should have recognised labour coming on. Looking back, Delphine could see it herself: the radiating ache in her back and the contractions, which she’d first taken to be the same random and irregular events that had been plaguing her for weeks, finally falling into a pattern that she’d been too distracted to notice. But Nikala should have seen it. This was her profession, and she was no witless and distracted creature — she’d proven herself highly capable after helping other women with difficult and dangerous deliveries.
It didn’t make any sense.
Something else was bothering her. Delphine scowled to herself as she pressed her forehead against the smooth wood, tears wet on her cheeks and her breath sobbing in her throat. Something else …
In a flash, she saw it. The blank look the woman had given her when she asked about Ricalan. Nikala had been with them for months — had she truly never considered what would happen when the army set out for their lost home?
Bent over the bench, her cheek pressed against the smooth wood and breathing hard, Delphine bit her lip. Was she being ridiculous? Or was she being played?
It was very quiet. The guard was perfectly still at the gate, and there were no other people nearby. Here in the poor quarter there was nothing of value to loot. It seemed utterly deserted.
Alright, she said to herself, let’s look at the situation. The Akharians had spies among the army, that was known. Some had been dealt with long before they came close to the inner circle, but there had to be some who’d succeeded. A woman like Nikala, a skilled midwife with the marks of slavery on her skin — who better to avoid suspicion? And truly, what was more likely: that someone with her experience would miss the signs of labour and bring Delphine by accident to an uninhabited region of the village, or that it was done deliberately? Or was she just being foolish? What were the chances that a timid, slightly built woman like Nikala would risk taking on a pair of armed guards, and a mage?
Delphine gritted her teeth and hauled herself up. ‘Hello, there,’ she called. ‘Guardsman?’
The soldier peered back around the gate. ‘Madame?’
All of a sudden she couldn’t bring herself to voice her suspicion. What if she was wrong? The poor woman would be ostracised. But what if she was right, and Nikala was an Akharian spy? If it was true, she wouldn’t be acting alone. She must have accomplices nearby. Perhaps that explained what had happened to the other guard.
‘I … I need some water,’ she told the guard, struggling to her feet.
‘I’m not leaving you alone, my lady,’ the guard said.
‘There must be a well somewhere. I can walk a little. Let’s see if we can find it.’
The guard shrugged, and nodded. ‘As you wish, my lady.’
She had to lean on his arm for support, and the two of them made a slow progress along the road into the village. After only a dozen paces, another contraction hit, but she forced herself to keep walking through it. By now, the guard was looking down at her with faint alarm. ‘My lady —’
‘Just keep going,’ she hissed, and ran her fingertips over the collection of stones tucked into her sash. Dipping into it, she found the one that Isidro had given her, and activated it with a touch. She might be wrong … but what if she wasn’t? He was too far away to help her, but if he saw it he could have the other mages send word to Madric. It might help. And after all, he’d asked her to tell him when the baby was coming. ‘Tell me …’ she gasped. ‘Nikala. What do you make of her?’
‘The midwife? I’ve heard good reports of her skill, my lady. Beyond that I couldn’t say. She doesn’t talk to men much. But then there are a few southerners like that, the shy ones.’
The guard seemed unconcerned. Perhaps she was being irrational. Perhaps the strain of going into labour when those closest to her were so far away was toying with her mind.
‘Ah,’ the guard said, ‘here we are, there’s a well just up ahead.’
It was a low wall of moss-covered rocks, topped with a thatch roof. There was another bench nearby, and the guard helped Delphine settle onto it before he strode over to winch up the bucket.
Another contraction made her moan in pain. It felt like a knife through her vitals, her belly turning as hard as rock. Delphine hissed through her teeth, trying to breathe through it and the guard paused in his work, turning to her with a frown.
Then, over her gasping breath and the thunder of blood in her ears, she heard a low, rumbling sound — the wheels of a wagon. Looking up, she saw it, an oilcloth-covered bed drawn by a single horse. The driver had a thick, dark beard and a shapeless cap pulled down low over his eyes, and perched beside him on the seat was Nikala, holding something in her hands.
Delphine’s breath caught in her throat, and she found her hand moving towards her sash. This wasn’t her wagon and that was no guardsman at the reins. She reached into the folds of cloth, found the largest of the stones and with a touch, woke it to life.
‘Guard!’ she called, trying to speak loudly and softly at the same time. Why hadn’t she asked the man’s name? She’d meant to, before a contraction distracted her and stole her breath. ‘Guardsman!’
He looked up at the sound, and then took a reeling step back. Of course. She’d disappeared, along with the bench she sat on, hidden by the camouflage enchantment. ‘Come here,’ she called. ‘Quickly! For the love of life —’
The wagon had come into view now. Nikala stood up, nudging the driver and handing him the contraption she carried. The driver snatched it from her and brought the thing to bear.
The guardsman started towards Delphine, confusion plain on his face, but he only made it three steps before he pitched over, a feathered shaft jutting from his back. With a horrible, strangled cry, he tried to push himself up, while Nikala halted the horse and the driver jumped down. He paused to haul the string of his crossbow back, and started forward again as he slapped a fresh bolt against the barrel.
Delphine gripped the stone so tightly that it bruised her palm. She got to her feet, and began to creep away, though her eyes never left the guardsman on the cobbles. His ey
es searched the yard, glossing right over her, but his lips were moving. He knew she was there, somewhere. My lady, he silently said. Run.
The driver raised the crossbow, taking aim. He squeezed the trigger, and with a thunk the guardsman’s head fell forward, driven into the cobbles with a bolt in the back of his skull.
With that, the driver turned back to the wagon.
Her stomach churning, Delphine swallowed hard. A spreading pool of blood was seeping from beneath the man’s body. She forced herself to turn away from it, and with a hand pressed to her belly, she walked away on shaking legs.
The Akharians were waiting in the village Makaio had named for the negotiations. Isidro was somewhat surprised to see them. Perhaps they truly were afraid of what Sierra would do if they refused to parley.
Isidro watched her from the corner of his eye. The prince’s pavilion had been set up again to house the negotiations. Sierra sat between Isidro and Cam with a bolt of power arcing through her hair. Another danced between her fingertips as she scored the surface of the table, giving off curling wisps of smoke. She kept her gaze on the Akharian leader, her eyes as cold and hard as ice.
Beside her, Cam leant back in his chair. ‘My demands are simple,’ he said. ‘Your people will withdraw from Ricalan. All prisoners will be released, and the goods and supplies you have looted will be relinquished. The stolen relics and artefacts will be returned, and all slaves taken from among my people will be released and provided with supplies and safe passage to their homeland. Your emperor will cease hostilities against the Ricalani people and their holdings, and will do nothing to interrupt our withdrawal from the empire together with whatever goods and supplies we wish to take. In return, I will cease my army’s southward advance, and withdraw from Akharian lands. Do you have any questions?’
The leader of the Akharians was a broad, fleshy fellow with a bushy beard that was mostly white but had a sprinkling of darker hairs. Above it, his face was turning steadily crimson. Cam spoke in clear but accented Akharian. Cam had learnt a great deal from Delphine over the last year, Isidro realised. Until then, he hadn’t known just how much.
‘No questions,’ the Akharian said through clenched teeth. ‘Your request is simple enough for a child to understand. But you must realise, northerner, that your words must be relayed to the emperor for due consideration.’
Cam waved a hand. ‘Of course. I don’t expect a mere functionary to give a decisive response. Go and send your message, but tell the emperor my patience is short. An army of this size requires a great deal of food, and I know there’s more to be had in the south.’
The man bowed his head, but beside him, a young officer leant forward, his face pale with fury. ‘This is all well and good, barbarian, but what reparations do you propose for the damage done by your army of thieves? Children are starving in Akhara and hard-working citizens are ruined by the theft of goods and property. What recompense do you offer the innocent souls whose only crime is the misfortune of falling in the path of your savages? You —’
With a hiss of irritation, Sierra raised one hand. A jagged bolt of blue shot across the tent and wrapped around the officer’s throat, choking off his voice. Eyes growing suddenly wide, he raised both hands to claw at it.
‘Hold your cursed tongue, Slaver,’ Sierra said, her voice as cold as the heart of winter. ‘You brought this on yourselves. If you’d left my people untouched none of us would be here now. You put me in mind of a bully, snivelling because the child he thought a weakling bloodied his nose. You attacked a herd of goats, only to wail with indignation when one turned out to be a tiger in disguise. You dare speak of reparations? That’s what you’ve had these last few months, your fair reward for ravaging the north. Perhaps next time you’ll think twice before striking at others.’
Still holding the young officer, his face turning purple, Sierra turned to Cam. ‘We’re wasting our time. We should just march on Akhara. It’s the largest city in the world, they say, home to a million people. I’ll melt the whole cursed thing into a lake of glass and be done with it. Settle this matter once and for all.’
Cam raised a hand to stall her. ‘Sirri, Akhara is twelve hundred miles away. If they won’t agree to our terms, we’ll ride, but I’d rather go home than face another half-year of tramping around the empire. Let them have a day to consider their situation.’ He turned to the Akharian leader. ‘Does that seem fair to you, southerner?’ He laid a hand on Sierra’s arm, and at his touch she withdrew her power. The young officer collapsed, ribs heaving as he gulped for breath.
The Akharian seemed to be chewing on his tongue. ‘I will relay your words to the emperor at once,’ he said, and stood with a perfunctory bow.
Isidro stood as Cam did, with Sierra and Mira following suit, and the four of them left, heading to the tents Cam’s men had set up within a ring of guards.
As he left the pavilion, Isidro felt a tingling rush of energy centred on his sash. Frowning, he pulled out the stone Delphine had given him. When he’d looked at it that morning it had been as pale as snow, but now it pulsed with light.
Cam glanced back, and when he saw the stone in Isidro’s hand, he stopped. ‘What’s that?’
‘Delphine’s signalling device.’
‘Is it the baby? Already? I thought she had weeks yet.’
Mira laughed at that. ‘It’s hardly an exact science, Cam. Babes come when they’re good and ready.’
Isidro gazed down at the stone. Sierra peered at it as well, power still rippling through her hair and over her skin. ‘Have one of the mages make contact,’ she said. ‘Madric promised to send word.’
Isidro closed his hand around the stone, feeling suddenly uneasy. He started walking again, falling into step beside Mira. ‘It takes a long time for a babe to be born, doesn’t it?’
‘Usually. With Cade I laboured for a day and a half.’
‘We made contact this morning and there was no news.’
‘It’ll be early yet. We might get back before it comes … and it can start and stop, too. It’s nerve-wracking, waiting for labour. There’s no sense guessing. Sierra’s right, wait for some solid word.’
Isidro frowned down at the stone again. Delphine wouldn’t send word rashly and risk distracting them. She was always cool-headed and calm in a crisis. She wouldn’t interrupt the negotiations without a good reason.
In their tent, Cam sent for the mages. Sierra could make contact in a pinch, but it was difficult for her as well as wasteful of her power and tended to cause blinding headaches in those at the far end. While Cam gave his orders, Isidro pulled out the map case and shook the crackling parchment from the tube.
After a few moments, Makaio joined them in the tent, and Cam and Mira both went to greet him.
‘That didn’t exactly go as we discussed,’ Cam said as a servant brought food and drink, ‘but it went well enough, I thought.’
‘Indeed. It might have been better to save the threats for when they dig in their heels, but it’s a sound tactic for a fast resolution.’
Isidro blocked out their words as he measured the distances on the map. A man on a rested horse could reach Delphine in three or four hours.
He felt someone come to stand by his side, and glanced up to find Ardamon peering down at the map. ‘Something wrong?’ he said.
‘I don’t know. I just … I have an odd feeling about this.’
He spoke softly, but across the tent, Cam turned his way. With a nod to Makaio and Mira, he left the conversation and came across to them. ‘What’s that, Issey? Another of your hunches?’
Isidro was silent for a long moment. ‘Yesterday, someone was talking of spies. The Akharians could have worked out where Mira was by our actions — there’s only so much distance we could have covered in one day.’
‘It’s possible,’ Cam said.
‘Right. But it must have been someone close. Which means they’re near Delphine.’
Cam nodded slowly. ‘Madric’s one of our best men,’ he said
. ‘He won’t take any chances. If there’d been an attack he’d have sent word straightaway.’
Isidro looked down at the stone again. ‘Delphi wouldn’t trigger this lightly. She must have a reason.’
‘You want to go to her?’ Cam said. ‘How many men do you want?’ He turned to Ardamon. ‘Do we have fresh horses?’
‘Yes, and if we need more, just have Sierra demand them from the Akharians. I doubt they’ll refuse.’
‘Isidro?’ Cam asked.
‘Five or six should do it. We’ll have to make good time.’
Cam turned to Ardamon. ‘Go talk to Tanric, tell him to ready the horses and pick some of the local lads. We need folk who know the ground around here.’
Everyone fell silent as Ardamon strode from the tent. ‘What’s going on?’ Mira asked softly.
Before anyone could reply, a messenger hurried in and pressed a note-tablet into Cam’s hands with a hasty bow. Cam opened it and passed it to Isidro.
Madame Delphine set out an hour ago to take the air with the midwife Nikala and a pair of guards, the message read. I’ll dispatch a party at once to ascertain her condition and return her to quarters. More word sent when we have it.
Isidro snapped it shut and dropped it on the table. Everyone followed as he strode from the tent, even the servants. Outside, grooms were already leading horses over. A handful of men had gathered, and near them was Anoa, wearing a sword at her hip. ‘I want to go with you,’ she said, as Isidro came over. ‘Please.’
‘She’s been training hard since you left us,’ Ardamon said. ‘She handled herself well last night, and she’ll sit a horse over cursed near anything. She won’t slow you down.’
‘I just want to get away from these Akharians,’ Anoa said, with a faint tremor in her voice.
There was no time to waste in arguing, and someone as small and light as her could be useful. ‘Mount up,’ he said, as a groom led a horse to him. Isidro gathered up the reins to swing into the saddle.
Cam came over with the map case, and tucked it into the saddlebags as Isidro knotted the reins. ‘Sirri will pass on any news from Madric,’ he said. ‘Keep in touch.’