by Wren Handman
“David? Do you…” She hesitated, remembering her earliest decision not to speak of important matters. Who knew who might be listening, and even though her future gnawed on her at present, it was best to wait until they arrived…wherever it was they were going. “Do you have a handkerchief?” she finished lamely, and he raised an eyebrow slightly.
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”
“No matter,” she murmured, looking down at her feet. Ashua, he must think I’m daft.
She was startled from her self-pity by the sudden appearance of a handkerchief in front of her face. She followed the hand that held it back to Ryan, who was staring at her with a total lack of expression. She stuttered a thank you and took the proffered cloth, and as silently as he had stepped forward, he stepped back again, disappearing into the crowd. Smooth as a shadow, and as far as Taya was concerned, about five times as terrifying.
It took them almost an hour to reach a destination which Taya guessed was about twenty minutes from their starting point. They were ten minutes deep into warehouses by the docks when David abruptly turned down an alley (which could be called an alley only because it was a break between buildings, not because it seemed to lead anywhere), pulling Taya along by the elbow. Ryan appeared a few moments later, walking along the top of the building to their right. It was an abandoned warehouse, one of the larger two story buildings in the area. Its windows had all been boarded over, but there was a large sign on the front of the building painted with a giant red cross. It meant that though the building was not currently being used, the owners were paying someone to patrol and keep security. It wasn’t a foolproof method of ensuring your building stayed empty while you were gone, but it generally kept out the less determined street dwellers.
The trio passed down most of the length of the building, and Taya saw that there was a door set into the very back of the side wall, almost hidden by scattered debris. As Ryan deftly scrambled down the brick side, David moved toward the door and knocked in quick succession upon the wood, three short taps followed by one long and then another two short. It was, Taya realized with surprise, the opening refrain to Miranov’s Independence song. Children used the knock all the time, and even adults when they were in the right frame of mind. David must have caught her surprised look, because a wide smile split his face.
“If anyone overhears, it won’t sound like a secret knock, just a fellow with a sense of humor,” he confided.
Taya glanced nervously down the alleyway at the idea of prying eyes, but there was no one to be seen.
After a long moment a panel in the door slid back to reveal two gray eyes. They examined David and Ryan cursorily, and then moved on to Taya. Her they tracked from nose to feet, apparently memorizing every detail. David seemed unconcerned at the pause, and after an uncomfortable span the panel finally slid closed and Taya heard the sound of bolts being thrown. When the door was wrenched open it proved to be thick oak, well-made for defending the rebel fort.
The gate guard was a young man with messy hair and a suspicious look to him, the kind of person Taya would cross the road to avoid if the two were alone on a street. He held the door as all three entered, and then barred it behind them.
“My liege,” the man said, with a sarcastic twang and a deep bow directed at David.
The recipient of this behavior frowned gruffly. “I’ll have none of that,” he admonished, and the man smiled. Taya didn’t understand the joke.
“They’s all in the hall, goin’ over plans,” he said, addressing only David.
She was surprised to hear that he was Miranovo and, from his accent, possibly one of Darren’s shipmates. Though sailors hailed from all over the continent, Sanitas was the most common language and all travelers spoke it, or their own version of it, at least.
“My thanks,” David responded politely, but his manners were with met with only a rude snort. He seemed not to notice, and smiled at Taya.
“This way, m’lady.” He inclined his head down the hallway, which was the only way to go, and with a faint smile on her lips she took the lead. As she started down the path, she noticed that Ryan paid no attention to the guard, offering him not even a nod as they left his presence.
The building had been modified within, no longer the wide open space of a traditional warehouse. The interior had been divided into rooms, with plain wooden walls that were crudely mortared to the ceiling. The path they were walking down met with several intersections which David motioned for her to ignore, and as they approached what Taya suspected was the middle of the building, the pathway dead-ended into a set of double doors. David reached around Taya and caught one of the handles, pulling it open for her and smoothly bowing her through in front of him. She couldn’t help but laugh at his overly solicitous manners, and so it was with a smile on her face that she made her entrance into the rebel headquarters, and every head in the room turned to watch her.
That was a sizable number of heads. The main hall was bigger than she had expected, taking up almost a quarter of the warehouse and stretching up both floors. There were benches set in neat rows along the back half of the room, where a handful of people were sitting and polishing swords or, in one case, playing a hand of cards. Toward the front of the room a large table had been set with a collection of chairs that seemed to have been scavenged from wherever they could be found. There were five men and two women seated around the table, all of whom rose when she entered. Darren was not among them, and for a moment her heart skipped a beat. She was reassured by David’s presence at her side, however, and so it was with a steady gait that she made her way over to them. As she went she tried to count the people scattered around the benches—mostly men, but a few women as well. She thought there must be fifteen or sixteen, but they kept moving and throwing off her count.
As she approached, a man stepped away from the group, and she recognized him as one of those who had been in her home at the time of the fire. He had changed his clothing since the night before (had it been so recent as that?), but his hair was unbrushed and there were ashes on his cheekbone. Still, he managed a very polite bow, and as their gazes met she felt as if a weight was lifting from her shoulders. There was something reassuring about his deep brown eyes, about the confident set of his shoulders. She took a deep breath that she realized was her first since the fire. It tingled through her fingertips, and she had to shake off the feeling of floating.
“You look lovely, my lady. Would that I could come out of a crisis looking so composed.”
She narrowed her eyes as the spell broke, and resisted the urge to reach up and touch her tousled hair. She knew it was empty flattery, and that put her on guard. People only showered you with praise when they wanted something in return.
“I’d say you have,” she answered, deciding that for now it would be best to play her cards close to the chest. Answer flattery with flattery—and she had to admit, the words weren’t entirely empty. He was a striking man, with the posture of a soldier. In different circumstances he was the kind of man she would stop to admire. Maybe linger to watch him walk away. Behind him the group at the table seemed to be returning to their deliberations, speaking quietly in a hurried Sephrian that she couldn’t understand.
The man laughed her flattery away. “You’re so kind you’ve edged right into lying. And we haven’t even been properly introduced. My name is Jeremy.” He reached out and caught her hand, his lips forming a delicate kiss just a second before they touched her palm.
His skin was softer than she was used to, and its warmth spread surprisingly through her. She had thought in this rebellion she would see no one whose manners could surpass those of David, but Jeremy put his friend to shame. There was a natural grace to his movements that spoke of power, of inherited nobility. He hadn’t given a family name, so he wouldn’t be a noble. Unless he was hiding his own lineage, fearing it would be unwelcome in a group so opposed to the current royalty. He was making no secret of his breeding, though, so that couldn’t be the reason
he hadn’t given a family name. Taya’s head whirled, and she wondered what it was about this stranger that had her so flustered.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. If only the circumstances could be better,” she said ruefully, and with a sigh he nodded.
“That is our never-ending mantra, it seems. I’m sure Darren is anxious to know you’ve been found hale and healthy. He’s right this way.” He offered his arm, and she took it though she couldn’t stop from rolling her eyes. It was such an unnecessary courtesy.
She turned to thank David and Ryan, only to find that David was already seated at the table among the rebel leaders, thick in the heat of the discussion. She looked around for Ryan, but he had vanished.
“He does have a habit of doing that, doesn’t he?”
“Pardon?” she asked, as if she didn’t know full-well what he was asking. She knew she was acting unkind, but she was feeling abandoned and out of her depth. She didn’t even know this man, though Darren claimed him as a friend. And to have her silent protectors leave her side so quickly…but that was stupid, of course. They had never been protecting her, just following Darren’s orders.
“Oh, forgive me. I thought you were looking to see where Ryan had gotten to,” he said apologetically, and something in his tone made her regret her prickly attitude.
There was something very disarming about this man, though she couldn’t define what it was. She decided to attempt a little trust, though she did remove her hand from the crook of his arm. His touch was too distracting.
“I was,” she admitted. “I just wanted to thank him, and David too.”
“I’m sure they know you appreciate it. They spoke quite highly of you.”
“Ryan speaks?” she asked with a laugh. “I haven’t heard him utter a single word yet.”
Jeremy grinned, leading her down a twisting series of hallways. “Yes, he tends to conserve his words. A handy trick—it means any time he deigns to speak, everyone listens as if he’s a prophet. I could learn a thing or two. I’m afraid succinctness is not often one of my many virtues.”
“Have you known him for very long?”
“Sometimes I think I don’t know him at all, but it has been two years. Almost three now,” he said, surprising himself with the figure. “Incredible fighter, you should see him throw a knife. Fiercely loyal, too. I once saw him drag David bodily through—Sorry, that’s a bloody story, I forgot myself. You’ve fallen in with the very best, I can assure you of that.”
“I don’t know if you could say that I’ve fallen in with them. I’m not really a part of all this,” she said with a rueful laugh. She had never felt so out of place. Imagine, judging character by how well you could throw a knife. She would fail that test and others besides. She looked over at Jeremy, intending to make some joke along those lines, but was surprised to see him looking at her with something very like sadness.
“I’m afraid that events have made you very much a part of all this. I would it were not so, but I believe Darren shares my feelings. It has become far too dangerous for you here. They obviously intend to use you to reach Darren, and we can’t allow that. You will have to leave the city.”
He obviously expected shock or tears, but what kind of a fool wouldn’t have known that already? She didn’t intend her words to mean she wasn’t caught up in this story—she just meant that she wasn’t one of them. She was neither a rebel, nor a fighter. Couldn’t throw knives or do much more than bind a wound. She was here now, though, was caught up like a leaf in a raging river, and she intended to be more than that. She wouldn’t be swept away. She would be a raft, and help guide them to shore.
“Well, I have always wanted to go on an adventure,” she said with a grin, and he laughed in surprise.
“In all my days, I have never met someone quite like you,” he said.
She knew she was probably imagining the wonder in his voice, but felt her cheeks color anyway. “I should hope not. I do believe the novelty is all that stops me from being considered quite insulting,” she said, and he laughed.
Taya had been paying scarce attention to where they went, and she feared she would not be able to find her way back to the main hall should she need to. The door to Darren’s quarters was being guarded by two rough looking men, but they stepped aside when they saw Jeremy, and all three men exchanged polite Sephrian greetings. Jeremy knocked on the door, and waited quite patiently for Darren to call for him to enter before he opened it.
“I have a surprise for you, Your Majesty,” he announced and stepped aside to let Taya in.
Darren was lying on a makeshift bed in the middle of the floor, blankets piled haphazardly on top of his legs. There was a lamp burning against the far wall, giving the windowless room some illumination, and the sight it brought to light was a saddening one. Darren’s face was pale, his hair a tangled mess around his face. His lips were cracked and dry, but his eyes, when he opened them, were clear and bright.
“I told ya not to call—” he started in the tones of a long-held argument, but when he saw Taya he dropped the words, his face transforming. “Oh, Tay…”
Everything she hadn’t let herself feel was written on her face. She walked into the room, swallowing back unexpected tears, and forced a smile to her face.
“I never liked that store, anyway. I probably would have burned the place down myself if they hadn’t done it for me.” The smile stuck but her voice quavered, and she struggled to take an even breath. He smiled, his eyes still full of regret, but willing to put a light face on if that was what she wanted.
“Or one of your customers might’ve beaten you to it, when you dressed them so silly in satin and lace.”
“If you weren’t injured…” she said in a threatening tone and heard the sound of Jeremy chuckling as he closed the door, leaving the two alone in the room.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
She sank to the ground beside him. She took his hand in both of hers and leaned her forehead against it, not saying a word as her body shook with tiny, controlled sobs. He held her hands as quietly as he could, though she could feel the weakness and tremors in it.
After a few quiet moments she took a deep breath and released his hands, wiping her face and getting herself back under control.
“It was only a place,” she finally said. “Not worth your life.”
“I know how much I owe ya—more than just today. You’re me nearest an’ dearest, Tay, after me mum. I’d do anythin’ for ya, ya know that. We’ll figure somethin’ out, yeah?” he asked, and she nodded. She took the lacings out of her hair and combed her fingers through it, bringing it back into some semblance of order as they talked.
“I’m sure when you’re king you can shower me with gifts,” she said.
He smiled, and she blinked away the last of the tears.
“You can buy me a shop, and a beautiful, obedient husband who will do nothing but sit around looking pretty and taking customers’ money.”
“And where’m I going to find ya a beautiful husband?” he asked with a laugh.
“You’ll be king. I’m sure some upstart noble will have a handsome stupid man they can’t wait to get rid of.”
He smiled, but serious thoughts quickly pulled him down. He caught one of her hands; she squeezed his but took it back to finish tidying her hair.
“Did Jer tell ya…that it ain’t safe for ya here?”
“You know, I would have come with you with or without my store burning. We never talked about what would happen after your business here was done, but I mean to be of whatever help I can. And I certainly didn’t need Jeremy telling me the way of things. Believe it or not, the kidnapping helped me figure that out quite on my own.”
“Kidnapping!” he yelled. He tried to lurch into a sitting position, strained his shoulder, and sank back down with a groan.
Taya caught him by the shoulders, holding him in place. “Did no one tell you?” she asked innocently.
“Salty tears! Are you all righ
t? What happened! I’ll kill ’em!”
“Considering you can’t even sit up straight, I doubt you’re going to be killing anyone,” she admonished. “And I’m fine. Look.” She caught his face between her hands, calming him as they locked eyes. “Everything is fine, Darren. They snatched me from in front of the house, threatened to use me against you, fed me porridge, and then I threw myself out the window into David’s waiting arms, and we ran away like a bunch of naughty school children.”
“It’s my fault,” he whispered, and she touched her forehead briefly against his before letting him go.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, it is,” she said. “Now get over yourself.”
He laughed, settling back down, the anger quickly dissipating, though something serious still lurked. “I hate to think I bring ya harm, Tay.”
“I know.” She rubbed the bandages smooth across his shoulder, then fetched him a cup of water and gave him a sip as a distraction. “What’s done is done. Let’s discuss what comes next.”
“Aye. Yeah. We got a safe house, in Sephria, just a little ways from the border. I been there, folk that keep it are a good sort. Jer says you can stay there for a while, just till things get settled. We go straight from there to the Capital for the last strike. You shouldn’t have to wait more’n a month or so, and it’ll be safe to come back.”
“You want to leave me alone in some safe house in Sephria? Darren, it isn’t even my country!”
“Well, and so? Ya can’t stay here.”
“I don’t want to stay here. I want to stay with you! You’re the reason that I’m involved in all of this.”
Darren gave her a pained look, and instantly she regretted the cheap shot.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that I care how things turn out for you, and I want to be of help. What will I do alone in the woods?”