The Silvered

by Tanya Huff

She’d been nearly drowned, captured by the Imperial army—twice—tied, drugged, and she’d killed two men. She wasn’t going to be recaptured because she was too missish to take off a man’s trousers, particularly when she’d seen that man naked on more than one occasion. Tugging the rough wool over damp skin, she clenched her teeth and kept her eyes locked on her hands. There was, after all, a difference between seeing and looking.

  Like between killing and murdering.

  Hysteria began bubbling up through the cracks. Mirian shoved it back down.

  Untied and unclothed, Tomas began to thrash in earnest, arms and legs flung wide. Mirian rescued the lantern and slid back to the very end of the wagon. Mouth open, Tomas panted, every exhale a small cry that sounded equal parts pain and anger. He rocked up until he was half sitting, his eyes so wide they showed white all around—Mirian doubted he saw her—then he fell onto his side and changed.

  He continued to pant in fur form, whining, still under the control of the drug.

  Leaving the lantern where it was, Mirian crawled up beside him and lifted his head onto her lap. “Change again, Tomas. Please. One more time.” Curling forward, she pressed her face to his, breathing with him then slowing the rhythm. He slowed with her. They were breathing the same air. From her mouth into his. “Change, Tomas.”

  A paw pushed at her leg, then a hand grabbed her skirt. “Mirian?”

  Forehead to forehead, she kept breathing with him. “I’m here.”

  “Head hurts.”

  “I know.”

  “Hungry.”

  Her stomach growled and she straightened. “Me, too.” How long since they’d eaten? “Stay here. I’ll go get food.”

  He started a protest but didn’t manage to finish it. While no longer under the control of the drug, he hadn’t managed to quite make it back to himself. By the time Mirian returned with a hunk of salt pork and half a loaf of dark bread, he’d changed again and gone to sleep. His tail twitched, but he didn’t wake when she stroked his shoulder.

  She brought the lantern closer.

  His fur now had a silver streak over the place the pin had been for the last two and a half days. The silver that had shattered his shoulder hadn’t left a mark, so this must have been the result of time.

  “Tomas?”

  His nose twitched when she waved the pork in front of it, but he didn’t wake. He’d slept after the last time he’d healed himself, so she stroked his head and backed away.

  She was a little worried about the food. If she could purify water, could she purify pork? Would it be like water because it was being purified, or would it be healing because it was meat?

  “Maybe they teach something useful in second year,” she muttered, leaving most of the meat and half the bread for Tomas. She emptied a canteen, set the last full one by the meat, and gathered up the rest.

  The horse snorted, tail sweeping great arcs, as she moved upwind of him. He danced sideways until he was as far from the creek as he could get and remain in the clearing. Fine. They didn’t need to be friends. She filled the canteens, purifying the water, and left them by the wagon. The packs turned up two bedrolls, another fire-starter, and more money. A lot more money. As she slipped the worn leather purse into her jacket pocket, she touched the edge of something hard and had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. She’d tucked the telescope into her jacket that night in the shelter. The Imperials took everything else, took their clogs, tied her up and drugged her, and had carefully tucked the telescope she’d taken from a dead Imperial soldier back where they found it. And they had found it. She’d been half aware as a frowning woman had pressed careful hands against her ribs.

  The world was strange and getting stranger.

  She found the oil in time to refill the lantern, then almost couldn’t find Captain Reiter out in the woods. He was lying where and how she left him; legs bent, one arm by his side, the other thrown wide. She thought about taking his watch, but that seemed unnecessarily rude when she’d been left her stolen telescope. His chest rose and fell. She prodded him with her foot. He didn’t wake. I woke and they were gone wasn’t much of an excuse. She knew the feel of silver, so she pulled the shot from his ammo pouch and sent it down into the ground.

  Still not enough.

  Standing so close she could slide her toes under the edge of his thigh, she reached into herself the way they’d taught her and thought of blowing out a thousand candles burning in a circle around them.

  Trees shattered.

  * * *

  Dirt under his paws. Hackles up. Heart pounding. Lips drawn back off his teeth. His nose said power. Familiar power. Tomas ran toward it.

  Past a narrow band of woods, he found Mirian standing in a circle of downed trees, everything from oaks to underbrush flattened to the ground, the man he’d helped her escape from once before, lying at her feet.

  And it all came back. The market, the garrison, the wagon, trapped in his head by the drugs, held to two legs by silver, Mirian waking him…

  He staggered a bit as he changed. Would have stayed on four legs except he needed his voice. “What did you do?”

  Her fingers went white around the handle of the lantern and he thought for a moment she might drop it. “I blew out a candle.”

  “A candle?”

  “Maybe a few.” Stepping over the captain’s body, she picked her way carefully toward him, wincing as she stepped on shards of branches. As she reached him, he ducked his face into the curve where her neck met her shoulder and took a deep breath. Her hand felt like ice against his chest as she pushed him away. “The food, money, and bedrolls go with us. Everything else we leave.”

  He tipped his head to the side, caught sight of the Imperial on the ground, and, reminded, growled.

  Mirian grabbed his arm before he could change. “Leave the captain alone. He released me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there’s a difference between killing and murdering. Come on.”

  He had no idea what she was talking about, but he couldn’t decide if that was because of the drugs or her scent or because it didn’t make any sense. He followed her anyway. When she stumbled as she stepped out into the clearing, he got his arm around her waist before she fell. “Are you hurt?”

  “Tired.” As she sagged back against him, he twisted a little to keep his reaction from rubbing against the wool of her skirt. “The horse is gone.”

  Tomas inhaled and coughed. “Smells like you scared the crap out of him.”

  Mirian half giggled, the noise not quite escaping although he felt her body shake. Stepping out of his hold, she hurried toward the embers of a small fire, her movements a combination of fragile and frantic he didn’t much like. She looked as though she might break herself into pieces at any moment. “We have to hurry. If the horse has bolted along the road, the Imperials will look for where he came from.” She threw a wool blanket to the ground and began tossing things onto it. “There’s not much food, but we’ll take what there is. Did you eat the pork I left in the wagon?”

  His stomach growled and his nose twitched and the pork smelled good enough that he went over the sleeping body of another Imperial without pausing on his way into the wagon. Mirian’s scent was on the meat, so he had to assume she’d eaten. He barely stopped himself from swallowing it whole. By the time he jumped back to the ground, she had the bedroll tied and hanging from her shoulder. He could smell the clothes he’d been wearing, biscuits and dried meat and…

  “Stop it.” She pushed his head away. “The captain said we’re close to the old Imperial border.”

  Tomas rose up on two legs. “And you trust him?”

  “Yes. No. But he wasn’t lying.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Probably not. We don’t need all six…” She stared at the canteens hanging from her hand and dropped four. “…I don’t know why I filled them all. Why would I…No, never mind.”

  “Mirian?”

  “We need to head east. There�
��s no point in taking the lantern, they could track the light. You’ll have to get us across the border and find us somewhere safe. As soon as you can.”

  If they were that close to the old Imperial border, the enemy would know the ground. “We should keep moving.”

  “We should.” Her eyes were enormous, her cheeks pale. Nearly overwhelmed by her scent, he hadn’t really looked at her face. Her lips trembled slightly as she spoke. “But we won’t be able to. One thing I learned as a banker’s daughter; bills always come due.”

  Most of Mirian’s weight hung off his back by the time he found the overhang. With one side open to the elements, it wasn’t a proper cave, but it was deep enough that it was dry in spite of the rain. Slabs of rock thrown up by artillery practice made it nearly impossible to see from any distance. The surrounding scars from repeated shelling made it obvious why no animal had chosen to den here. He’d have preferred to be farther from the border, but he no longer had a choice.

  He felt her slip, changed as she fell, and went down with her, managing to keep her head from hitting the rock—although collapsing beside her seemed like a better idea. “You still with me?”

  Her fingers moved against his arm.

  “All right. We’re almost there. I’ll just carry you for the last bit, okay?”

  Except she wasn’t small or delicate like the beauties Harry and the other men of the 1st had exclaimed over and the rain had slicked his skin and weighted down her clothes. He settled for half carrying, half dragging her in under the overhang, then leaving her just out of the rain while he opened the bedrolls and spread the blankets in the back. They were thick enough wool that the parts folded to the inside were still dry. He ate two of the biscuits that spilled out before he realized he’d done it.

  He changed on the way back. It was easier to move on four legs, although his shoulders scraped the roof, and when he figured he was far enough away from both Mirian and the blankets he tried to shake some of the water out of his fur without knocking himself over.

  When he got back to Mirian, her teeth were chattering.

  “I thought you could keep yourself warm!”

  She didn’t answer. Apparently, that was one of the bills coming due.

  “Think of her like she’s Harry,” he muttered, breathing shallowly through his mouth as he unbuttoned her jacket. He set the telescope aside, a little surprised she was still carrying it. The tiny pearl buttons on the shirtwaist were rounded, so they slipped free with no trouble. The tie inside confused him for a moment before he realized it was part of the extra fabric holding her breasts in place. Once he worked that out, he could slide the jacket and shirtwaist off together. The skirt and the petticoat were held on by a buckle, a button, and a tie and were easy to remove. He paused, one hand resting on the curve of her waist and tried to decide the best way to hold her. He could think of her like she was Harry all he wanted, but his nose and his body knew better.

  He scraped his knees carrying her back to the blankets—nothing another change couldn’t heal—and narrowly missed cracking his head when he bent forward to lay her down. Breathing heavily, resting his forehead against hers, he wrapped her in the blankets and changed as he collapsed beside her far enough away he wouldn’t get the blankets damp.

  She whimpered, freed a hand, and grabbed a handful of fur. Her grip was barely strong enough to hold on, but when she tugged him toward her, he went. Later, he told himself, jaws cracking as he yawned, when she was able to keep herself warm again, he’d go hunting for something to…

  * * *

  Danika’s first sight of Karis was as a blaze of light though the small window in the mail coach door as they rounded a curve approaching the Vone River Valley. At first she thought it was a fire on the horizon and then, as the angle changed, she realized the lights were too regular to be anything but gaslights along the major avenues and shining out the windows of the homes of the wealthy. As they drew closer and the angle changed again, she saw there was so much light it couldn’t just be from the homes of the wealthy unless Karis forced its shopkeepers and skilled workers to live elsewhere. Ryder had planned for gaslights on the streets of Bercarit—and later Trouge once the more conservative population saw how useful they were—but she’d never heard him speak of running the lines into private homes.

  It was beautiful, in an extravagant way, and she found herself sharing it with Tagget who shifted forward nearly onto her lap to see what she was looking at, and grinned. “I gotta say, I’m glad to be home.”

  Carlsan, propped in the far corner, didn’t bother opening his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”

  Kirstin’s eyes were closed as well although Danika knew she wasn’t asleep.

  “You’re from Karis?”

  He scratched at his stubble and grinned. “Born and bred. We were all stationed there though. Shields never leave the…”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Carlsan repeated, this time with an emphasis Tagget couldn’t ignore.

  He settled back in his seat, glared across at her as if his indiscretion had been her fault, and closed his eyes looking more petulant than repentant.

  Danika sighed. I want to go home. She saw Tagget shift uncomfortably, reached over to touch Kirstin’s knee although she knew the other woman wouldn’t acknowledge the contact, and watched the lights of the city grow closer.

  The drivers, or the soldiers up with them, Danika didn’t know who, sounded the horns as they approached and clattered through the outskirts of the capital without slowing significantly. Finally, as buildings closed in on every side, the horses slowed to a trot. And then a walk.

  The lieutenant banged on the roof. “Shades down!”

  Although it might have been because she could no longer see, the city seemed larger than Danika imagined possible. She heard people cursing the coaches. Once she heard people laughing. She heard music four or five times. The lights grew brighter again, turning the paper shade from brown to amber. Then darker. Then so dark she wondered how the horses, let alone the driver, could see.

  The coach stopped.

  She heard the lieutenant climb down. Knew it was him because he was the only one who kicked the wagon edge as he searched for the last step. She heard him challenged, but couldn’t hear his answer although she strained hard enough the net sent a pulse of pain for the first time in hours.

  Metal creaked and dragged across stone as gates opened. The coach moved forward, slowly.

  Stopped again.

  More voices.

  Carlsan, his eyes open now, straightened but stayed where he was. Tagget lifted the edge of the shade and peered out.

  Someone shouted orders. She didn’t catch what was said because the door was thrown open and they were ordered out.

  Kirstin opened her eyes as Tagget reached for her arm. Just for a moment, she looked to be in such pain that he froze and Danika reached for her instead. Then she blinked, and the blank expression she’d worn since leaving Aydori returned.

  “Come on, move.” Down on the pavement, Carlsan stretched an arm into the coach and grabbed Danika’s sleeve. Once he had her attention, he let go and stepped back. When she stumbled a little on the small step, Tagget caught her elbow from behind until she steadied.

  “Thank you.”

  He mumbled something that might have been no problem.

  When only Kirstin remained, Danika leaned back inside and took her hands, tugging her gently to her feet and out the door.

  They looked to be in a courtyard behind the palace. Dark and small, it had room for only one coach at a time and, unlike at the posting houses when they were allowed to mingle, Lieutenant Geurin gave orders to keep them separate. Tagget and Carlsan moved them over by the wall. Danika watched from between their shoulders as a few minutes later Jesine and Annalyse emerged from their coach. Annalyse looked as though she were barely holding it together, but Jesine, although she wasn’t much older, held her back straight and her head high, sweeping the assembled company with aristocratic disdain, the ne
t glinting within auburn curls like a crown. Before her marriage, her family had been as high in Aydori society as it was possible to get and not be Pack, and she intended everyone in this courtyard to know it. When she glanced her way, Danika smiled.

  To her surprise, Murphy helped Stina down from the third coach, the two of them laughing like they shared a joke. Which would be impressive as Stina spoke next to no Imperial.

  Now they were all on the ground, Danika ducked her head, found a breeze, and murmured, “Calm. Stay calm.”

  Lieutenant Geurin pinched her chin and lifted her head. “What are you doing?”

  “Praying.”

  He smiled. “Good.”

  There were suddenly a great many more men in the courtyard. Orders were shouted and the soldiers who’d taken them from Aydori were replaced by clean-shaven, unsmiling men in spotless charcoal-gray uniforms, with low brimmed caps instead of the familiar bicorns. Lieutenant Geurin was assured General Loreau would see him in the morning, and then their soldiers—the soldiers who’d been with them since Aydori—were gone.

  Eleven strangers watched them with cold eyes as though they were lesser beings. No curiosity. No sympathy. Two soldiers—no, two guards for each of them.

  Although they wore no visible rank insignia, she assumed the man standing apart had to be their officer.

  He gestured and the heavier of her two guards shoved Danika toward the open door.

  She stumbled, caught herself, and turned to glare. “There is no need to be…”

  “Silence.” The officer held up what looked like balls on leather cord. “Or be silenced.”

  Another time she might have argued, accepted the consequences, but she was tired and sore and hungry and her bladder was full and there were a hundred excuses available if she needed them.

  The building looked new. Something about the hard edges made her think it had been built purposefully for them.

  When she saw the six doors opening into the windowless hall, she knew it had been.

  But the guards kept them moving past those doors too fast for their exhaustion to be able to command their legs, stumbling, half-dragged at times, the lamps set high along the long wall flickering with their passing. At the end of the hall, a seventh door opened into a vestibule. Danika had almost no time to see it as one of the soldiers tightened his grip on her arm and dragged her through another door and down a flight of stairs. Heart pounding so loudly it was all she could hear, she started to struggle.