by Lori Martin
The two soldiers nearest to them were called to by another at the fire, who was holding out a steaming mug. The two men paused in their pacing and conferred briefly, and the one closest to their hiding place turned and headed for the fire. The second had his back to them, waiting. “You first,” Dalleena whispered. “Pillyn and Baili next. I’ll go last. Ready?” Lilli nodded.
The first soldier stooped over the fire, far off to the side, and accepted two mugs. The other, cold and eager, took several steps toward him, away from their hiding place.
“Now!” Dalleena hissed.
Her legs shaking straight up into her rattling chest, Lilli slipped out. She walked as swiftly as possible from tree to tree, trying desperately to be noiseless. If they turned her way they could not help but see the movement. Pillyn and Baili, moving together, followed one tree behind. Dalleena came after, moving mechanically, her eyes fixed on the two men. The first was coming back, his eyes downward on the mugs as he kept them from spilling. He reached his companion and handed him one. The man took a quick gulp and turned, facing squarely in their direction.
All four froze where they stood. Pillyn and Baili were behind a tree; so was Dalleena. But Lilli, caught in mid-movement, was in the open. She stood perfectly still with her head averted, praying the faint moonlight would not expose her, and closed her eyes to keep them from shining. Now she did not even know what the men were doing. She could barely force air into her lungs, waiting for a sound. A sound that would tell her they had gone about their business – or a sound that meant they had seen her. Though she would not have believed it, it was only a split second later in coming: the noise of spitting. The soldiers turned their heads and spit the first mouthful onto the ground. Then they toasted each other, their backs to her.
Pillyn and Baili recognized the custom, paying the spirit of the wine. Lilli came slowly out of her trance, and crept to a tree. She seemed unwilling to move farther.
The soldiers were talking quietly. In a few moments they would be finished, and return to their pacing.
“Go!” Dalleena’s voice was suddenly there. She had come up behind them. Huddling together, they rose and slipped to Lilli’s tree. She was breathing heavily, her face pressed to the bark.
“We have to keep moving,” Dalleena whispered in urgency. Lilli remained immobile. Dalleena motioned to Pillyn and Baili. “Go ahead. Straight past those trees you’ll be out in the open. Stay low and keep moving. It’s past the firelight and pitch-black – they’ll never see you. Go!”
Pillyn grabbed the boy’s hand. They ran forward. Dalleena shoved Lilli’s shoulders. “Get up! In the name of the gods, get up!”
The soldiers had drained their mugs.
Lilli got shakily to her feet. “I’m sorry –” Dalleena clapped a hand over her mouth. When the men stopped talking their own whispers would carry. She pushed her forward.
At that instant Pillyn, leaving the protection of the last tree, tripped. Her foot had collided with a stone. She managed not to cry out as she fell, but her hands flung out and clutched at branches. They snapped. The sounds were a scream in the quiet. The soldiers whirled.
“Back!’ Dalleena shouted. “Come back!”
Frightened, floundering in the snow, Pillyn could not get up. Baili went down on his knees beside her, trying to help. The soldiers shouted. One dashed forward. The other called, “Light! Light here!” and swerved in the direction of Dalleena’s voice. Both drew their swords. Suddenly there were running soldiers everywhere, carrying torches from the fire. Pillyn and Baili were open targets, cut off. They ran in blind panic, straight ahead, pursued by a half dozen shouting men. A dozen more entered the trees, throwing firelight into the shadows, looking for the woman who had cried out.
“Come on!” The terrible suspense was over; Lilli could face her fear. She turned to flee back into the thick trees. But now it was Dalleena who would not move, Dalleena who stood staring with her eyes on Pillyn’s back. Paither –
Lilli tugged violently at her cloak. The torches were dangerously close. “We have to go back!”
She grabbed Dalleena’s wrist and yanked her forward. They ran together, back along the way they had come. If they could penetrate deeper into the undergrowth, they could hide, and let the Mendales swarm over them. Clutching each other’s hands, they ran, and could not look back.
“Cut them off!” the soldier shouted.
Panting, Pillyn glanced over her shoulder, and saw that it was no use. Even as she turned back, gasping, they had been caught. A ring of glittering swords surrounded them. She sank into the snow, the cold air hurting her chest. She could not see past the flaming torches. The threatening swords hovered without support in the air. Baili’s harsh and rapid breathing came to her, as he stood behind her, his fingers biting into her shoulders. “Please,” she said to the sword. “Please don’t kill us.”
“Will you look at this,” a voice said in disgust. “A couple of children!”
“Not alone, though,” someone said.
The first man came forward, past the blazing row of lights and into her vision. He towered over them, huge in his thick clothing. “Who was with you?”
Pillyn could not speak. From far away she heard more shouting and scrambling, as the search of the woods began.
“Well?” the man barked.
Underneath her cloak the baby kicked hard against her stomach. No amount of wine could dull him to this. Dizzily she wondered if he was suffocating.
“Nobody. Nobody was with us.” It was several moments before she recognized the voice as Baili’s.
“Lindahnes,” someone else said.
“What else?” the first man answered. He seemed to be the leader. “Stand up, girl.” He waited. Baili tugged at her arms. “Stand up or I’ll haul you up.”
Pillyn got to her feet. He was still tall, but life-size now. She could see faces behind the torches, faces of men who were cold and out of breath from the chase. Her tongue came back to her. “We ask you for shelter,” she said with some measure of calmness.
“Shelter?” The man was taken aback, but only for a moment. A corner of his mouth twisted down. “You’ll get it, all right. But you might not like the accommodations.” Two or three of the soldiers laughed. “The woodlands are off limits to all Lindahnes. You’ve broken the law and you’re under arrest. Tomorrow you’ll have a chance to explain yourself, if you can.” He paused. “It will be better for you if you tell me who you are and who you were with. And what you were doing. We deal very harshly with rebels, girl.”
Baili’s hands, still holding her cloak, clenched into fists. Pillyn reached inside her garments and exposed the baby’s head, taking the gag from his mouth, to let him breathe better. He began to cry.
“Look at that,” a soldier said.
“We’ve got the whole family.”
“Must be the parents the others are chasing. Where did they think they were going?”
“Silence,” the tall man ordered, watching Pillyn speculatively. “Any other surprises, girl? No? So you just want shelter, is that it?”
“Come on, it’s cold.”
“Can’t you talk to her by the fire?”
“Shut your mouths,” he ordered. They were silent. With heavy sarcasm he said to Pillyn, “Any other requests, my lady?”
“Just one,” she said. She stared straight into his eyes. “A dry blanket.”
He was startled. “A dry – ?”
“Blanket. Yes. No matter how many men you have, Mendale, or how strong you are, no soldier can keep a baby dry.” The baby continued to cry loudly. “He’s wet.”
The ring of men roared with laughter. The tall man said, “Not having a lucky night, are you, girl? Well, it’s going to get worse, not better, I promise you. All right. Take them back!”
They were marched off. There were makeshift buildings here and a few tents, out of the sight of the woods. The walk was not far, but to Pillyn it felt interminable. The snow seeped into her boots and froze her feet
.
“Prisoners!” the men shouted. “We’ve got prisoners, coming out of the woodlands.”
“Throw them in for the night!” another soldier answered. “The ranking will see them in the morning.”
“Is he here yet?”
“Yes, he got here just – oh, here they are behind you.”
The soldiers came to attention hastily. Two horses rode up. Pillyn, forced to a halt, swayed on her feet.
“Good even’, Ranking! You’re in early. And good even’ to you too, sir.”
“We rode out early,” the man addressed as “sir” said. “A bitter night for you, men.”
“That it is, sir. But there’s a fire waiting, if you and the ranking will come inside –”
“What’s this?” The rider, in the act of swinging down from his horse, almost kicked Pillyn. Her tired mind tried to register the fact that he was a listtel. “She’s a bit young for an archer, isn’t she?”
“They’re Lindahnes, sir. Caught them coming out of the woodlands, completely prohibited. There was someone else with them but we lost her. We’ll catch her in the daylight.”
Thank you, Pillyn said inwardly, to no god in particular. They’re safe. So far.
The listtel frowned, “A baby, too? Whose is it, child?”
Pillyn focused her eyes on him. “He’s mine,” she said clearly. Her hood, already half off, fell to her back.
The second rider’s horse shied violently. The listtel reached up and grabbed the reins. “Steady,” he said, apparently to the rider. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ll be putting them in now,” the soldier said. “Will you want to see them in the morning, Ranking?”
Pillyn’s eyes traveled up the horse, past the mane, past muscular legs, past the dark skin of the hands.
“Ranking?”
Her eyes reached the face, and widened in final shock.
“Yes,” he said very quietly, his eyes meeting hers.
It was Nichos.
CHAPTER 25
She was ushered into his headquarters the next morning. The building was the confiscated home of a villager, dead, no doubt, in the war. It was cramped, though the rooms were stripped. The only remaining furniture was in his room: two battered chairs, an even more battered footstool, and a lopsided table that served as his desk. He was sitting behind it.
“You may go,” he told the guards.
“Yes, Ranking.”
The door closed and they were alone Pillyn stood very straight, looking away from him.
“Sit down, Pillyn.”
“Thank you,” she said coldly. “I prefer to stand.”
“As you wish.”
They were silent. Nichos fidgeted. His fingers played absentmindedly with an open scroll on the desk. It was a message, from MenDas.
After a few moments she said in the same tone of ice, “Baili and I just spent the night in a filthy, freezing cell with one torn blanket between us.” She studied his face. “But do you know something, herald? You look worse than I do.”
Gray roots had sprung at the ends of his dark hair. The brown skin was etched with deep lines of fatigue. His eyes were bloodshot. “The cells don’t come equipped with blankets, or with the milk you were sent for the baby. We’re short on supplies this far out. There’s barely enough for my men. I had the blanket brought to you – it’s mine.”
“I see. I’m supposed to be grateful.” She had had no rest. Shock, fright, and confusion are not conducive to sleep.
“No.” He pushed back his chair and came slowly around the desk. “Please sit down. You look very tired.”
This time she complied, stiffly.
“I hoped to meet you again,” he said, “but not like this.” She said nothing. “And yet I am happy to see you and to know that you’re alive. Alive and unhurt.”
“Unhurt?” she repeated, shaken into bitter emotion. “You – what do you know about how I’ve been hurt?”
Nichos ran a hand over his face, fighting back an impulse to take her in his arms, to shield her from what might happen. Whatever she had been through had left a thousand marks on her, from her pinched-in mouth to the tight way she held her body together. “Where is your father?”
“Dead.” It was an accusation.
“And your brothers? Dead also?”
Her face was stone.
“My dear, I’m so very sorry. Please believe me.”
“How dare you?” she said in anger.
Nichos flushed. He paced over to the window. His manner changed, as if he had made a decision. He tried to recover the brisk business tone of a leader, which he had possessed only yesterday. “So you are on your own, with Baili in tow. What were you doing in the woodlands?”
Hiding, she thought. No, I can’t say that. What crime could I have committed?
“Where were you trying to go?”
“To the Second.”
“Why?”
“To surrender.”
“To surrender?” It made no sense. “You’re a Lindahne. You’re already conquered.”
Her mouth tightened even further. Already she had made a mistake. She was not Dalleena but an ordinary citizen, one of many.
“How long were you in the woods?”
“A – a while.”
“How did you live?”
“We managed.”
“Just you and the boy? And that baby?”
“Yes.”
He turned. The winter sun was pale behind him. “You were with someone last night. My men found some tracks. They’re still looking. Two or even three, they tell me, one of them a woman who called out. Who are they?”
“We were alone.”
“I said, who are they?”
The blood came up into her cheeks. “We were alone!”
He abandoned it. “Pillyn, please. We’ll never get anywhere like this. You have to let me help you. Your life is in danger. Criminals, spies, rebels, or any poor man who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, are being executed every day. You’re going to have to trust me.”
His voice was gentle, the look the same as when he had been her helpful friend, so many days and days ago. Weak tears came into her eyes. She tried to resist. “I kept thinking,” she said, “last night I kept remembering how you told me that if – if I ever needed you, that you would help me. Why did you say that? Did you know this would happen?”
“This? How could I?”
“You must have!” she burst out. “You must have known about the war, you must have known everything! And you pretended you liked us, you lied to our faces!”
“No,” he said firmly. “Never. Oh yes, I knew the war fever was striking us. I was afraid of it. I don’t know if this will make a difference to you, but I was against the invasion. So was my uncle. Look at that scroll on my desk. Go ahead, take it. It’s from my uncle. Do you see? He’s lost his place as Tribune, because he opposed it.”
She skimmed it. He added, “He couldn’t hold back the tide. As for me, my being in the army is an accident. A ridiculous and ironic accident.”
She put the scroll back on the desk and glanced down at her fingers, watching them intertwine, as if they belonged to someone else. In her mind she heard a vague echo of Rendell’s voice, trying to explain the unexplainable to their father. After a time she said, “It does make a difference.”
He came over to her and knelt beside her chair, balancing on one knee. “I’m a Mendale, an invader of your country. I realize what I must seem to be to you. But if you could just try not to hate me – ”
Pillyn shook her head, keeping her face averted. “I don’t hate you.” There was a pause, and then she added his name. “Nichos.”
The next question surprised her. “Tell me, is the baby really yours?” She looked at him, but he was in earnest. What difference could it make to him? She hesitated. She still did not want to bring Dalleena into it, although she was beginning to trust him again.
Think it out, she told herself. Paither’s
a royal – the youngest in the Lindahne line, except for the girl, and heir to something that no longer existed.Dalleena thought they might have been valuable to the Mendales. They might also be dangerous to them, though she didn’t talk of that as much. They had been forced to take the chance. But now – surely he’s better protected by secrecy? No, I’m not Dalleena. I’m not clever enough for all of this.
“Pillyn?”
Even if I tell Nichos, is he strong enough, high enough in Mendale, to protect him? If I don’t say anything, he’ll just remain any little baby, not worth anyone’s thought.
And he’ll be mine.
“Yes. Yes, he is.”
“I see.” She saw his hands clench on the arm of her chair, then relax. “The father?”
The father? “Dead.”
He leaned back on his heels, thoughtful. “I see,” he repeated.
“Nichos,” she said with hesitation, “what’s going to happen to me?”
“I’m not sure, my dear. But I do have one suggestion for you. It has the advantage of keeping you from being executed as a rebel, and they can hardly blame Baili on his own, an eight-year-old boy. But I’m afraid to say it to you.”
“He’s nine now. Tell me. What can be worse than dying?”
He smiled crookedly. “You’ll have to tell me. Pillyn, I want you to marry me.”
If he had suggested an afternoon excursion over the unending Sea her expression might have been the same. She spluttered. “You want – you want to marry me? To keep me from being executed?”
“No,” he said with a hint of a smile, before becoming quiet again. “I want to marry you because I love you. I loved you in Mendale, and I love you here. I will always love you.”
“You’re in love with me?”
“Yes.”
“But – I –”
Suddenly he had to grin. “Don’t look so unhappy, little one. I can save you in any case, you understand. Being a ranking has a few benefits. You don’t really have to choose between marrying me or death!”
“You really love me?” It seemed to be the only thing she had heard.