A Song for Orphans

by Morgan Rice

  “We should bury them,” Cora said. “We should give them that much dignity at least.”

  “There’s no time,” Emeline replied. “What if the thing that did this comes back?”

  They looked over to Sophia, and it seemed that she was going to get to make the final decision. Before she could do so, however, she felt the flicker of a mind in the trees near the road.

  A wolf padded out, and it was a long way from being one of the scrawny pack wolves that people sometimes hunted to keep their animals safe. This thing was at least as high as Sophia’s waist at the shoulder, with dark fur and a ruff at its throat almost like a lion’s mane. Its eyes had a golden shine to them, and its teeth, when it bared them, seemed like daggers.

  It growled as it approached.

  “Send it away,” Emeline said to Sophia. “If you manage to control that cat of yours, maybe you can manage it with this wolf.”

  Sophia wanted to point out that Emeline had her own powers, but this wasn’t the time. Instead, she reached out, touching the mind of the advancing wolf, trying to soothe it. She found only madness and violence. This wasn’t an animal that could be soothed or persuaded. It was a thing without a pack, driven to kill by an anger that nothing could control.

  Even as Sophia thought that, it leapt. The horses reared, and one screamed as the lone wolf’s teeth fastened onto its throat. Blood splashed, and Sophia felt the head of it against her skin.

  “Get up into the trees,” she yelled to the others.

  They didn’t need to be told twice. Emeline ran from the cart to the nearest tree, with Cora following in her wake. Sophia had a moment of staring at the wolf as it brought down one of their cart horses, then she slashed through the reins that held the other with a knife, at least giving it a chance at survival.

  She sprinted for the tree, and as she ran, she heard the wolf bark, rushing in behind her. She ran to the trunk and leapt, grabbing for the branches even as she felt teeth pulling at the hem of her dress. She heard it tear and didn’t care, just struggling to get up out of the beast’s way. Emeline and Cora caught her arms, pulling her up onto the thick branches near the heart of the tree.

  “Wolves can’t climb, can they?” Cora asked.

  “They can’t climb,” Emeline said. “But they can be patient.”

  Sure enough, the lone wolf was down on the ground, staring up at them. Would it go away, given time? Sophia had to hope so. She tried to push it away with her talent, but its mind was still a closed thing of hunger and violence.

  “There’s something wrong with it,” she said. “It feels like there’s no way into its mind.”

  “It might be rabid,” Emeline guessed. “Or it might just be something so violent that even you can’t affect it. Probably it was forced out of its pack for a reason.”

  Whatever it was, Sophia couldn’t affect the creature, which meant that they were stuck. They could sit there until the wolf got bored, but if that didn’t happen, then they would stay there until they slept or starved, or just got too weak to cling onto the tree. Then it would have them.

  Then Sophia saw a familiar flicker of soft gray fur, and her heart tightened.

  Sienne, don’t!

  It was too late though, because the young forest cat was already flinging herself forward. She was smaller than the wolf, and younger, and certainly less insane, but the forest cat still slammed into it in a flurry of fur that knocked the wolf to the ground.

  The next few seconds were impossible to follow, as the two animals struck and wrestled, growled and fought. The wolf tried to bring its teeth to bear, but Sienne struck out with both teeth and claws, twisting impossibly as she raked the wolf with them. In an instant, she was behind it, and her teeth clamped down on the wolf’s neck.

  Sophia heard a crack, and the wolf went limp.

  She rushed down from the tree, hurrying to Sienne. The forest cat had blood on her coat, but it was impossible to see if any of it was her own. Sophia hugged her close, not caring if she got blood on her dress.

  “That was such a dangerous thing to do,” Sophia whispered. “You could have been killed.”

  But the cat hadn’t been. Instead, she’d slain the wolf, and now she purred, licking Sophia’s hand as Sophia made sure the cat wasn’t wounded. She wasn’t. More than that, she’d saved them. Sophia held onto her, looking around. One of their horses was dead, while the other had run and was nowhere to be seen. Their cart was too heavy to move by hand, and anyway, there were only so many supplies left on it. She looked ahead to where the estate still sat, beckoning her onward, then turned back to the others.

  “It looks as though we have to walk from here.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  By the time Sebastian reached the town of Barriston, both he and his horse were exhausted. He felt as though he might fall from it with every stride the creature took, while his horse was lathered in sweat, ridden far too hard for far too long. Sebastian had changed mounts a half dozen times at coaching inns along the way, but even so, he knew that he had pushed this one close to its limits.

  He’d hoped that he might overtake Sophia on the way, but it seemed that with her head start, even the narrow width of his mother’s domain was too much to cover before she made it to the town.

  Barriston. Sebastian looked at it from the top of a rise leading down to it, and his first impression was of a large brown stain on the landscape. Unlike Ashton, which had long since spilled past its walls, Barriston had managed to keep adjusting itself to fit, even rebuilding them after the civil wars. Sebastian knew that had nothing to do with defending it, though. It was simply the easiest way to ensure that the town’s burgomasters got the tolls for the roads in and out.

  “Why would you come here, Sophia?” Sebastian asked the air, but there was no obvious reason. Maybe she’d thought that a town that produced half the things Ashton needed would be a good place to find work, or maybe she just wanted to lose herself. Maybe she had friends here, or maybe it had simply been a random choice.

  Whatever the reason, Sebastian would find her.

  He rode down, and there were watchmen on the town gates, armed with clubs and short swords, looking as though they were mostly there to look after the short man in a clerk’s clothes who sat by a table there.

  “State your name and your business in the city,” the man said, barely looking up, “then prepare any bags for inspection for goods taxable under the town statutes.”

  The watchmen stared at Sebastian in a way that said that, even if they didn’t know quite who he was, they still recognized someone of importance when they saw them. The clerk, meanwhile, barely glanced up from his ledger, his quill poised.

  “Quickly now,” he said. “I don’t have all day.”

  “Prince Sebastian of the House of Flamberg,” Sebastian said. “I’m here because there is someone I need to find, and as for the taxes, since they ought to be remitted to my mother’s treasury, maybe we should ignore them for now.”

  He could see the shock on the other man’s face as he looked up. Sebastian waited. He didn’t like relying on his position like that, but he also didn’t like men who tried to use their minor roles to bully others.

  “So, may I enter the town?” he asked.

  “Of course, your highness,” the man said. “I am sure that the burgomaster will be honored to see you.”

  Sebastian didn’t particularly care about that. He just wanted to dive into the city and find Sophia. Of course, the problem with that was that there were too many people to sort through them all, even if Barriston was smaller than Ashton. Maybe accepting the burgomaster’s hospitality would help.

  Which was why he found himself given an escort through the streets and led to a town hall that looked as though it had only just been finished in gleaming marble. There were statues outside, and unlike Ashton, these weren’t the usual blank-faced accolades to the Masked Goddess, but instead seemed to be of merchants who had, the inscriptions said, rebuilt the city after the wars. Seba
stian wondered if any of the builders or stonemasons or carpenters actually doing the work had statues.

  He found himself led inside, through a series of offices where priests and clerks worked at ledgers without looking up, to an office where he found himself greeted by a middle-aged man in rich purple and red.

  “Your highness, welcome to Barriston. I am Sir Julian Moreston, burgomaster of the city. We were not expecting your visit. Is this an official matter on behalf of your mother?”

  “A matter of importance to me,” Sebastian said. “There is a young woman I am trying to locate.”

  He saw the burgomaster frown. “And does Ashton not have many young women?”

  It seemed clear that the other man didn’t want him there. Who could blame him? Probably he suspected that a visit from Sebastian would be like one from Rupert: a dangerous disruption, and a threat to anyone who contradicted him.

  “I was told that this particular one would be coming in this direction,” Sebastian said. “A red-haired young woman called Sophia, and possibly using the name Sophia of Meinhalt, traveling on a cart with two others. She would have arrived in Barriston recently, probably within the last few days.”

  “Many people enter the city,” Sir Julian pointed out.

  “And you keep records of all of them,” Sebastian said.

  The burgomaster shrugged at that, gesturing to the piles of paperwork that had made it to his desk.

  “I keep records of everything. The trick is finding what is needed. Is this girl rich enough that she would buy a house here to stay in?”

  Sebastian shook his head. “As far as I know, she has very little money with her.”

  “Is she connected enough to the right people that she would be invited to the parties my wife insists on throwing?” Sir Julian asked, with the air of a man who had sat through too many of them.

  Again, Sebastian shook his head, although this was less certain. “She might try to find a way in though.”

  He heard Sir Julian sigh. “I really don’t have enough time, your highness.”

  And Sebastian couldn’t afford to spend another moment away from Sophia if it could be prevented. “I know you must be a busy man, but please, will you at least ask the men who keep records at the gates if they have seen her?”

  “You think they would remember her?” Sir Julian replied.

  Sebastian couldn’t imagine anyone seeing Sophia and forgetting her. Just the sight of her was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

  “Yes, they would remember her.”

  “Oh, so she’s beautiful,” Sir Julian said. He went over to a window, pointing out to the city. “I’ll ask, but if a beautiful girl with no money or connections comes to the city, there’s really only one part of it she’ll end up in. Go to the theater district. If she’s here, she’ll be there. Just… be prepared for how you might find her.”

  ***

  As soon as Sebastian started to wander through the theater district, he began to understand Sir Julian’s warning. The district probably didn’t deserve its name, as there was only one real playhouse that Sebastian could see, standing in the middle of the district with its gaudily painted walls and its signs proclaiming the latest performances of Granston’s The Seventh King.

  Around it, though, there was plenty of entertainment of a more dubious character. The coffee houses looked as likely to sell dream resin or golden-smoke as the imports of the Near Colonies. There were warehouses that looked as though they’d been converted to fighting pits for men, dogs, or other animals. There were smaller supposed theaters, but one look at them told Sebastian that the “performances” they put on had little to do with high art. Then there were the brothels, which seemed to have sprung up on every corner like mushrooms, declaring that they catered to every possible taste.

  Not Sebastian’s. There was only one woman he was interested in finding in this mess.

  He searched through it anyway, looking out for anyone who might be Sophia, or who might have a clue where she was. It was hard to imagine her coming here, yet where else would she be able to go, given that she was running away? Where was better to hide than somewhere like this?

  Sebastian trawled through it all, doing his best to ignore what he saw even as his eyes skimmed over the writhing bodies and semi-conscious, drug-addled souls to try to catch any glimpse of Sophia.

  In a coffee house reeking of cheap perfume and sweat from the bawdy houses on either side, Sebastian thought he caught a glimpse of flame red hair. It was enough to catch his attention, and as he stopped he heard the argument.

  “You stupid bitch!” a man roared. He had the bulk and the muscles of a porter or a warehouseman, a shaven head and bare lower arms worked with tattoos that had little beauty to them. He stood over a woman, and all Sebastian could see of her was that flash of long red hair. “You don’t get to say no to me!”

  He pulled a hand back, and Sebastian heard the slap ringing around the room. He ran forward on instinct, slamming into the larger man, hitting him below the knees and sending them both crashing down into a table. Cups fell and shattered, while somewhere further away a woman screamed.

  “No one treats Sophia like that,” Sebastian said, coming up on top as the two fought for position. The big man tried to shove him off with all the strength of those huge muscles, but Sebastian was the one who’d been forced to train for battle, and he rode the movement, staying in place as he struck downward with closed fists. He felt his skin crack and scrape as his fists slammed into the other man’s shaven skull, but Sebastian didn’t care. All that mattered was that this man had just struck the woman he—

  He looked up and saw that it wasn’t Sophia. The woman there was older than her, and thinner, made to look almost skeletally so by whatever drugs she’d spent her life consuming there. It was only as Sebastian looked that he realized that she was the one who was screaming.

  In that moment of distraction, the big man shoved him off, coming up on top with his own fists raised. Sebastian managed to dodge the first blow, then took the second on his arms.

  “Damn nobles,” the man roared. “Coming in here, thinking they can take what isn’t theirs!”

  Sebastian managed to get his legs in between them, then kicked up, catching the other man on the jaw. He rolled to his feet as the thug struggled upward, and the big man reached into his tunic, the hand coming out with a knife.

  With no time to draw his sword, Sebastian blocked the first thrust, punching him hard. He managed to get both hands onto the knife arm, striking with his head, his knees, his feet. He shoved the other man back, sending him sprawling as he wrenched the knife away.

  Then something hit him on the back of the head hard enough that he saw stars. Sebastian spun, and the movement only made him stagger. He saw the red-haired woman holding the remains of a bottle, the rest of which had scattered around him as she broke it over his head.

  He collapsed to his knees, and the thug with the knife was already retrieving it.

  “That, I think, is quite enough.” Sebastian recognized Sir Julian’s voice instantly. He spun and found the city’s burgomaster standing there, accompanied by a couple of burly watchmen. “If the man with the knife moves, deal with it. Your highness, if you would care to accompany me?”

  There was enough sharpness to the way he said it to make it clear that it wasn’t a request, whatever their difference in rank. It took Sebastian two attempts to get to his feet, but he went along with it because he still needed this man’s help, walking out while the watchmen kept their hands on their clubs and their eyes on the man Sebastian had been fighting.

  Out on the street, Sebastian threw up. The blow to his head was still making the world swim. As he came back to himself, he saw a carriage. He also saw the change in Sir Julian’s expression.

  “Get in,” the burgomaster said.

  “I’m still a prince,” Sebastian pointed out.

  “A prince who has been going around my city visiting every whorehouse and figh
ting with its citizens,” Sir Julian snapped back. “I had heard that was your brother’s manner of behaving, but now I see that it is his entire family. Get in. I will drive you to the gates.”

  Sebastian got into the carriage, sitting opposite the other man and trying to remain calm.

  “I have been searching through the worst of the city because you pointed me in that direction,” Sebastian said. He wasn’t going to be rebuked when he’d done nothing wrong. “I fought with that man because he was in the middle of attacking a woman. Maybe this is a city where you allow such things, but I will not.”

  “What we allow or disallow is a matter for the law,” Sir Julian said, “not a prince who thinks he can do as he pleases.”

  It made Sebastian wonder which side Sir Julian had been on in the last of the civil wars. The powers of the monarchy had been restricted for a reason.

  “I’m not trying to cause trouble,” Sebastian said. “I’m just trying to find someone I love.”

  “Well, you won’t find her in Barriston,” Sir Julian said. “That is why I came to find you. I did as you asked, and sought out the clerks who have worked on the gates in the past two weeks. None of them saw a cart with three women, one of them with red hair. None of them has heard of this ‘Sophia’ of yours. She is not in the city.”

  He said it bluntly, as if there were no other way that she could have gotten into Barriston. Sebastian suspected that it wasn’t as simple as that. There might be another way in, without being seen, but then, how would Sophia know it? Why would she bother, when this was a city where no one knew her?

  No, Sir Julian was right. Sophia wasn’t there.

  That thought hit Sebastian as hard as the musket ball that had struck him fighting on the Strait Islands. He didn’t want to believe it, but it was the truth, wasn’t it? He’d traveled so much faster than any cart could have, but there had been no sign of Sophia on the road. He’d asked around the city, and there was no word. Now its burgomaster told him that there was no record of her. The last time he’d heard anything of Sophia had been at the crossroads, when…