by Sam Hawke
Without another word, Aven stood, swift and graceful, and left the tent. I sat, feeling helpless, as Aven’s harsh voice barked orders outside. Moments later, a great horn rang across the camp, three times. Then Aven came back into the tent. “We’re mobilizing, little bird, packing up the camp right now. We’ll be on the boats and back to the city before you know it.”
“Thank you.” The dizziness returned, dousing me with relief.
Aven smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “Rebels, you say? Traitors, and a peasant rabble to boot. We’ll pen them in the city they tried to steal, and crush them against the rock. We’ll take Silasta back, don’t fear.”
* * *
Much as I resisted, it was impossible not to be impressed by Aven. The Warrior-Guilder was undeniably magnificent, striding around the place with such palpable authority that people reacted to her presence before they even saw her.
Though Sjon nobility by birth, Aven rejected all the civilized trappings of the Families. She was loud and ill-mannered, tolerated by the rest of the Council only for her undeniable skills in her Guild, and rarely publicly referenced by her own family—even Credo Lazar, who loved to brag about his family’s accomplishments, rarely mentioned his cousin. Yet seeing her now, in her element, I understood Tain’s infatuation. Aven was attractive in the rawest sense of the word, with an imposing presence and power that derived both from her physical prowess and her apparent lack of need for external approval. I could see now why Tain, surrounded as he was by willing partners who were clever and beautiful and artistic but nevertheless cut from the same cultured, pampered cloth, might have seen the Warrior-Guilder as someone refreshingly different and desirable.
It made me feel smaller than ever. A little bird, indeed. Aven had bidden me to stay in the tent and attempt to rest. It was the middle of the night after a hard day of riding and walking, and the cushions were inviting. Even with the lanterns off, I couldn’t sleep, instead staring at the faint pattern of the tent roof lit by the moon above. Impatience rather than relief itched at me as the army packed up the camp. Perhaps once we were in the boats and on the way home downriver, I’d be able to sleep properly.
But even if the city is saved, Tain is still dead. My eyes stayed dry this time. I’d moved beyond tears.
“Not sleeping, little bird?” Aven’s gravelly voice interrupted my thoughts. The Warrior-Guilder came inside as I sat up.
“I’m so tired,” I admitted. “But whenever I shut my eyes…”
Aven nodded, understanding softening the sharp lines of her face. “We’ll move within the hour,” she said. “We’ve half-loaded the boats already.”
“What about the mines? Will we lose them to the Doranites?”
The Warrior-Guilder shrugged. “I think not. We’ve beaten them decisively twice now. They don’t have the men left to attack again. I’ll leave a small group here to protect the workers, but I think this dispute’s settled, for now.” She sat down cross-legged beside me. “Since you’re awake anyway, why don’t you tell me everything you can about the rebel army.”
When I grew hoarse, Aven finally took pity and ceased her relentless questioning. She surprised me with her gratitude. “You’ve been very brave,” the Warrior-Guilder told me. “And you’ve probably saved Silasta. If you’re strong enough, we’ll get you to a boat, and I’ll leave instructions that no one is to disturb you. I can see you’re not well, Credola, and though you’ve not said anything about why, I can tell the difference between ordinary exhaustion and the kind that comes with a serious illness. Even the healthiest runner would need rest after what you’ve done. You’ve earned it.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I can help, if there’s something…” I trailed off, embarrassed; of course she wouldn’t need the help of a spoiled, wealthy invalid, the epitome of the Silasta she eschewed.
But instead of mocking, Aven patted me on the shoulder kindly. “You have helped, and you’ll do more, but you have to rest first. I’ll likely need more information when we get back to the city.” She glanced out of the tent and dropped her voice. “We’ve already had more than one traitor in the camp, Credola. From what you’ve told me, it would be foolish to assume there is no one in the army involved in the plot. Only my most trusted men and women know the details of why we’re returning. It would be safest if you spoke to no one.”
“How long will the boats take?” I asked. “How soon will we be back?”
“We have the current,” she said. “It’ll depend on the wind. But we’ll be back by the day after tomorrow, at latest.”
“Tain want—I mean, the Chancellor wanted to negotiate a peace,” I reminded her. “The rebels were provoked and manipulated, and he didn’t want any more people to die. Could you just get them to surrender? Surely they won’t try to fight once they have enemies on both sides.”
The Warrior-Guilder looked me over for a long time. Then she sighed. “I will do what seems best. If they surrender, fine. It is no grand thing to slaughter our own countrymen. But you have to understand, Credola, my soldiers are patriots. Their capital was betrayed in their absence, and they will want to avenge it. We’ll do what we can, but the Chancellor is not with us to negotiate anymore.”
The dull, hollow place inside me grew a little bigger, but I pressed on. Aven was angry, and probably felt that she had been made a fool to be distracted by the Doran shenanigans, but I worried that those feelings would prevent her from seeing the rebels’ side. “But someone will negotiate,” I said. “The Council will probably have voted on a leader, at least until Tain’s cousin Merenda can take over.”
“If she is still alive,” Aven said grimly. “If she wasn’t in Silasta, where was she?”
I had no answer for that. Hopefully Merenda was safely in Telasa and nowhere near the Iliri estates. Bad enough that an untrained relative, not even a formal Heir, should become the Chancellor. But if Tain’s cousin was dead, I didn’t even know who was next in line. Merenda might have had a brother, but I couldn’t remember. Casimira’s scandalous exit from Silasta had dramatically reduced the viable number of Iliri heirs. Perhaps none of Tain’s relatives had survived at all. Which of the scheming, self-interested Credol Families would replace the Iliris?
“It doesn’t matter now,” Aven said. “The Council will decide what to do once we’ve secured the city. But that is my priority, Credola: securing the city. If we have to carve our way through some traitors first, I can’t pretend many here will lose sleep over it.”
With that less than reassuring thought, Aven swooped out of the tent.
* * *
A short time later I was bustled from the camp and down to the river, where the large military boats awaited. My assigned guard was the scout who had found me. He told me his name—Garan—but admitted he’d been asked not to speak to me except as necessary.
“Surely the Warrior-Guilder doesn’t think you’re a spy,” I said, as he showed me into a small cabin. After days of silence, I didn’t much fancy the idea of having no one to talk to. The cabin already felt claustrophobic.
Garan leaned against the door. “No, but best to be safe, I s’pose. We already had a few incidents. I thought you were another Doranite spy, when we first saw you out there.”
“So … you’ve found spies before?” I asked, hoping to keep him talking. Any conversation was better than none, even if we couldn’t talk about what was happening in the city. The boat wobbled and I stumbled, then regained my balance. Military boats differed from the smooth, plump passenger boats I’d traveled on in the past.
“We’ve caught a few skulking around the camp since we’ve been here,” Garan said. This time when the boat wobbled he was quick to offer a steadying hand. He gave me a shy smile. “The Warrior-Guilder trusted me to guard one of them, too. I—” He broke off, looking ashamed, as a group of soldiers walked past. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Best take to your bunk and rest.”
He shut the cabin door behind him, leaving me with nothing but the light of a s
mall lamp and my thoughts. I explored the tiny cabin, but it was barely a few paces in total, windowless, just a box with a bunk and an empty chest. I sat down on the bunk. Even though the guard was for my protection, I felt rather trapped.
Poison rookgrass
DESCRIPTION: Fine-stemmed, attractive silvery grass, producing dry clusters of seeds in late summer. Seeds relatively harmless to birds, including bindies, but toxic to humans if consumed directly or through eating flesh of heavily affected birds.
SYMPTOMS: Extreme dryness of the mouth and throat, scarlet rash, dilated pupils, convulsions.
PROOFING CUES: Seeds carry a harsh, dry flavor. Affected birds, particularly bindies, demonstrate a yellowish tinge to the flesh and a pungent, enlarged liver.
25
Jovan
The Stone-Guilder stared up at us, eyes wide, mouth open, like a frightened child. The shrine behind her bore a sigil I now recognized as the mark of the lake spirit. It had been built with great love and care against the damp wall out of woven lockwort branches interspersed with bluehood and surrounded by little ceramic pots of scented oil. The floor was protected by reeds, and a well-made blanket covered the pallet. She had taken time with this place, used it the fortunes knew how many times, all the while pretending to know nothing of the catacombs.
“You know, you’re quite the liar, Eliska,” I said, and meant it. “All those times you pretended not to sympathize with the Darfri. You helped us when that boy was beaten but then you wouldn’t back Tain in Council afterward. You pretended not to believe people when they said they’d seen Darfri magic at the siege. And all the while, here you were. Honor-down, you had us fooled.”
Eliska didn’t respond, just stared at us, stricken.
“There is no secret now,” Hadrea said. “You had just as well finish getting dressed, and talk to us.”
The Stone-Guilder dropped her head and cried.
Hadrea glanced at me, eyes narrowed with the same doubt piercing me. I’d thought of the traitor as a merciless killer; after all, they’d murdered the Chancellor and my Tashi, as well as several other innocent people. They’d helped orchestrate an attack on the city, destroying the lives and homes of thousands. They’d tried to murder Tain. I struggled to reconcile my mental image with the pathetic figure quaking before us. And yet, there was no good reason for what we had uncovered down here.
“Eliska, why? We trusted you.”
She sobbed louder. “Please don’t tell anyone,” she said. She looked up at me with red eyes, her face streaked with tears and cosmetics. “You’ve no idea how hard I worked, Jovan.”
I almost laughed, the comment was so absurd. “You want me to feel sorry for you because your scheme took a lot of effort?”
“What do you mean?” Then she clutched at me, eyes wild. “You don’t think it was me? Who poisoned them? I’m not the traitor! Fortunes, I know this looks bad, but Jovan, I’m not the enemy, I swear to you.”
I stepped out of reach. “Clearly you’ve been hiding your religion—you’re down here performing some kind of ritual every night—what for? And where are we, Eliska? How did you know about these caves, and why didn’t you tell us if you’re not our enemy?”
She dropped her head in her hands. “I … I found them marked on an old map at the Guildhall. Months ago, Jovan, I swear, it has nothing to do with the siege. I was going to do a full exploration, but Chancellor Caslav told me not to.”
I frowned. “You went to the Chancellor?”
“Of course! No one seemed to know about this place anymore—it predates the lower city. A lot of it’s natural. There are bones down here, skeletons of some giant tunneling creature. But you can see on the map that some of it has been expanded or extended. I found the entrance and this part of the system seemed sound, but when I went to the Chancellor he told me it was dangerous and that he didn’t want people trying to go treasure hunting and getting hurt. I put the maps away and didn’t think about it again.”
“You’re saying the Chancellor knew about them already? Then why wouldn’t he have—” I shook my head; it didn’t matter. “You lied to my face. I asked you if the Guild had records of tunnels this side of the lake.”
“I did.” Her voice shook. “But I knew there was nothing down there. I got the maps out and checked; there’re no exits from the city—it doesn’t go anywhere near the walls—or passages to the other side of the lake. And the Chancellor was clear that it was unsafe. It was no use to the defense of the city. I only lied because it was my only private place.”
Hadrea and I looked at each other. The trickle of doubt inside me wound its way deeper. Eliska caught the look and for the first time calculation passed across her expression. “I’ve seen you before,” she said. Her gaze lingered on Hadrea’s neckline and the charms hanging there. “You’re Darfri, too.”
But Hadrea offered no solidarity. “Yes. That only means I know perfectly well what you were doing here and who you were trying to summon.”
Eliska dropped her gaze and clutched her clothing more tightly around herself reflexively. “Dara saw right away how ugly this was going to turn,” she murmured. “I told her she was wrong—this is Silasta, by all the fortunes! I’d never advertised my beliefs because people look at you like you’re an infant when you do, but I didn’t hide them, and I’ve never had anyone be outright hostile. But as soon as we found out for sure this was a rebellion, Dara knew what would happen. She was right. I stopped wearing my charms.” She touched the back of her neck where a necklace might lie, and I suddenly recognized the movement; I’d seen her do it a hundred times when she was anxious or under pressure. A nervous gesture. Fingers searching for jewelry that wasn’t there. “Jovan, you don’t know how … Everyone was so angry with the Darfri, saying the stupidest, cruelest, most absurd things about us. I couldn’t see Dara in public or even in private. The other Councilors talk, when you’re not there, especially, and you should have heard the vitriol. I was too frightened we’d be caught, and everyone would turn on me. I’d lose my position.”
“And who is this Dara?”
A tiny smile brushed across her face for a moment, and her eyes took on a look … just a fraction of a moment, but that glimpse convinced me. Eliska loved this woman. “She’s a carpenter in the Darfri quarter,” she said. “She wanted to join the Guild, but no one in admissions would let her application progress. She had no one to vouch for her apprenticeship. But one day she found me in person, and shoved the most beautiful jointed toy under my nose and demanded to know why she could not get a place. I’d never met anyone like her.”
“And then she told you about all the ways the city was mistreating the country people, and you sympathized.” I kept my voice gentle. “And Caslav, Etan, Tain, the Darfri miner prisoner we had in jail? The murders were Dara’s idea?”
Her head snapped up. “No! It’s nothing like that! You have to believe me. Dara isn’t … She just wanted to be with me. She loves the city. And we love each other.” She slumped against the wall. “I grew apart from my Tashi—he’s just an angry old man now, and I’m not close to my cousins. I wanted … we wanted, to leave our family homes and live together instead. I knew it would be odd, and I’d never have lasted as Guilder if people knew. Guilders have to be beyond reproach. If it meant we had to leave the city, I was willing. I’ve been saving for months now. When we had enough, we were going to rent a place on one of the estates and live there together as our own family.”
“You know that would be just as unusual among the villages as in the city,” Hadrea put in, regarding the Stone-Guilder with a softer expression. “There would be talk. Smaller villages can be vicious.”
“Let them be!” Eliska cried.
“In that case, why skulk around in tunnels you’ve been told are dangerous?” I asked. “If you don’t care about talk.”
She shook her head. “They can talk all they like when I’m gone. But I wanted to help protect the city, and I’d have lost my Guild and been thrown off the Counc
il if they’d known about this.” Eliska looked between us. I realized I still held Hadrea’s hand, and dropped it quickly. “Being Darfri, or loving one, doesn’t mean you’d betray your honor or your home. Listen, yes, we were making an offering to the lake spirit. We want him to protect us, to end the fighting. He’s very old and powerful, and he sleeps deeply, but is it not worth trying? We were all his people once—would he not protect us from tearing each other apart?”
Hadrea gave a bitter snort. “Or rise from the depths to destroy the city, which has ignored and shamed him,” she said. “I can see why the rebels on the other side of the lake would be doing this.”
Fresh tears welled in Eliska’s eyes. She looked about fifteen years old. “I’m not a rebel and I’m not a murderer. How can I prove I didn’t do any of those things? What would convince you? You don’t have any evidence against me. I love this city, I love my Guild, and I was always loyal to the Chancellor. Both of them.” She wrung her hands together. “Please, Jovan. I would do anything to show you I’m not a traitor.”
“It’s too much, Eliska. Even if you’re telling the truth, I can’t risk it. You know Tain was poisoned—barely anyone knows that. It’s too much of a chance, trusting you after all this. We’re going to have to put you in jail until we can prove it one way or the other.” I could not trust my instincts or my emotions when it came to this decision. “Do I need to call an Order Guard, or will you come along with us and preserve your honor for a bit longer?”
Eliska wiped her tears with the back of her hand and sniffed. She scrounged around for her dress’s cording and wound it back on in silence. Only then did I dare look at Hadrea, who rocked on the balls of her feet, arms folded, frowning. “If you are not the poisoner, who is our enemy?” she asked Eliska.