by Jordan Rivet
Mica pressed her face to the carriage window as they approached their destination in the center of the immaculate city. Bont, the lord governor, lived in a large manor house that was the pride of Silverfell. The manor’s exterior was refined rather than lavish, and its every line complemented the mountain peaks rising behind it. The walls bordering the grounds were made of marble cut from those mountains, and the clay roof tiles had been painted with a graceful motif suggesting hawks soaring over peaks and rivers running through mountain ravines.
The carriage entered the grounds through a pair of silver gates and delivered them to a fine marble portico at the front of the manor. The Lord of Silverfell himself was waiting for them on the steps, a silk tunic straining over his corpulent figure.
“My most gracious and glorious Princess Jessamyn.” Lord Bont hurried toward her as she climbed out of the carriage, her movements stiff now from the cold. “It is the greatest honor in all the Windfast to welcome you to my home. I am devastated that you have endured such a terrifying ordeal.”
“I am quite all right, my lord,” Mica said. “I’d like all the information you can give me about—”
“You must be exhausted, my princess,” Lord Bont interrupted, looking almost as shaken as she was by her dip in the harbor. “We have prepared our best and most elegant room to ensure your comfort. Should you want for anything, it would give me the greatest of all joys to provide it.”
“I appreciate that. My lord, I understand the rebels—”
“Are you hungry, my princess?” He clutched her hand. “We have prepared an exquisite feast that is sure to delight your senses.”
“Thanks. The rebel raiders—”
“Come! I am sure you wish to rest and refresh yourself after your traumatic experience, although you are vibrant and beautiful even in distress. Let me show you—”
“My lord!” Mica snapped. “The empire is at war, and your harbor has just been attacked. I do not need a nap!”
“Forgive me, Your Most Glorious Majesty,” Lord Bont wailed. “I am mortified that you encountered trouble here, and I am only trying to see you spared any further inconvenience.”
“Convenience is the last thing on my mind,” Mica said. “We have work to do.”
Lord Bont looked stricken. Mica wondered if he had been hoping he could just brush the whole harbor incident under his finely embroidered rug. She understood that keeping up appearances was important to these people, but as Jessamyn would say, honestly.
Captain Karson had followed their carriage on horseback after talking with the commander of the Silverfell City garrison. Mica beckoned for him to join them, hoping the stalwart soldier would provide some much-needed practicality to their discussion. Lord Aren hadn’t caught up yet, but they’d have to start without him.
“Lord Bont, is there somewhere we can talk?”
“Of course. Please come inside, Your Highness.”
Lord Bont ushered them in to a vast atrium just inside the doors to his manor. Man-sized vases filled with elaborate flower arrangements were spread around the edges of the room, and a marble fountain bubbled in the center, its gentle music at odds with the chaos in the rest of the city. And the rest of the empire.
They formed a loose circle by the fountain: Mica, Jessamyn, Banner, Caleb, Fritz, Bont, and Karson. Mica felt her brother’s absence like a wound, but she focused on the task at hand. It was time to hold her first war council.
“Do we have any idea of the attackers’ goal?” she began. “Were they trying to take the city?”
“They only attacked with three ships,” Captain Karson said. “I doubt that was their objective.”
“Could they have captured the city if you hadn’t arrived with the HIMS Arrow?”
“They most certainly could not.” Lord Bont sounded affronted. “Silverfell has never fallen.”
“I agree, my lord,” Karson said calmly. “Though they did succeed in taking two ships from your waters, including the Silk Goddess.”
“Could acquiring new ships have been their primary aim?” Mica asked.
“Doubtful,” Captain Karson said. “Commandeering them out in open water is far less risky.”
Mica nodded, remembering the reports she’d heard back in Lord Gordon’s banquet hall. The rebels had been doing just fine as pirates. Why would they take the risk of attacking such a powerful city?
“So they were after something else?”
“Isn’t the obvious answer that they wanted to take the princess hostage?” Caleb said, glancing between Mica and Jessamyn.
“That’s possible,” Mica said. “Rebels from the Twins could want to make demands of my father.” She glanced at Jessamyn, relieved that she didn’t look like herself right now. “And they sent three of their Fifth Talent fighters out to the Goddess.”
Caleb looked up sharply. “Their what?”
“You didn’t see any? There were fighters out there with all four Talents, like our hostage back in Carrow.”
“Side effects?”
“Not that I saw.”
Caleb rubbed a hand through his hair, his face grave. He knew the implications as well as Mica did. They might already be too late. On the other hand, if he hadn’t seen any at all, maybe there weren’t as many of them out there as Mica had feared.
“Excuse me, Your Highness,” Captain Karson said. “But I’m not so sure this assault was aimed at you. They couldn’t have known we’d get to Silverfell so soon. We’ve had the Muscles on double shifts since Pegasus, and we’re here earlier than planned.”
“You mean the attack should have been over by the time the princess arrived?” Caleb said.
“That’s right—and by the time our warship arrived.” Captain Karson straightened a bit. “They weren’t expecting us to turn up and give them such a hard time. Trying to kidnap the princess must have been an afterthought.”
Mica chewed on her bottom lip, thinking back over the battle. The longboat full of Blurs had attacked them first, and it was only later that the trio of invincible fighters had come after them. If the Fifth Talents had gone straight for the princess in the first instance, Mica would probably be halfway to the Twins by now. Or Timbral. Or the barren fortress. They’d only known about her later in the game.
“So they weren’t here for me,” Mica said.
“They knew we—you’d see the aftermath, though,” Jessamyn said, belatedly adding, “Your Highness.”
Caleb nodded, his face grim. “They wanted to make a statement.”
“Aye,” Captain Karson said. “They showed they can intimidate one of the most powerful cities in the empire.”
“Intimidate is a powerful word,” Lord Bont cut in. He smoothed his hands nervously over his tunic. He had been looking increasingly ill as the group discussed wars and kidnappings in his atrium. “Please don’t trouble yourself so, Princess. If the emperor knew I made his daughter worry about—”
“You must remember that I am your future empress, not your houseguest,” Mica said firmly. “Nothing is more important than understanding this threat. My father would agree with me.”
Jessamyn shifted beside her. Mica had addressed the issue without looking to her for guidance. She had been doing that more and more of late, and she wondered if it made Jessamyn uncomfortable. Mica wasn’t sure how she felt about it herself.
“My apologies, Your Eminence,” Lord Bont said. “I don’t wish to allow these unfortunate events to further disturb my precious daughter’s—”
“Where is Lady Lorna?” Fritz interrupted. He had been standing on his toes and staring down the corridors leading away from the atrium, barely listening to their discussion. “Why hasn’t she come out to greet me?”
“She should be here by now,” Lord Bont said. “I told her that when the princess arrived—”
“My lord, it is a calamity!”
A steward hurled himself around a corner and ran headlong into the atrium, his feet skidding on the marble floor. He had olive skin, graying
hair, and a look of deep alarm in his dark eyes.
“Lady Lorna is gone!”
“What?”
“We could not stop it, my lord! When our men went to assist the brave fighters in the harbor, those infernal scoundrels stole into the manor and abducted her.”
Fritz seized the steward by the front of the tunic, his scar stretching grotesquely. “Who was it?”
“No one saw them arrive or leave,” the steward said.
“What do you mean ‘no one saw them’?” Lord Bont demanded, his face as white as an Obsidian’s. “Where are her Shield guards?”
“Dead, my lord,” the steward said. “The enemies somehow got close enough to poison them.”
Gasps escaped from several members of their group, including Banner. It was rare indeed for Shields to be killed in the line of duty. Muscles could drown them or force them to consume a deadly potion—if they could catch them—but such a struggle would surely have raised alarms throughout the manor, even with all the excitement in the harbor.
But a Fifth Talent . . .
A Fifth Talent could use their Impersonator ability to transform into a member of the Bont household staff. That would get them close enough to force poison down the Shields’ throats with their unnatural strength. And it all could have happened very fast.
Hopelessness welled up in Mica like water in a fountain. Who could stand against an enemy with that kind of power?
“There’s more, my lord,” the steward said. “The kidnappers left a note atop the slain body of Lady Lorna’s maid. It’s here in my—”
Fritz snatched the parchment from the steward’s hand, ripping it in the process. He read the pieces frantically.
“My poor Lorna,” he moaned. “We should have eloped in Jewel Harbor.”
“Pull yourself together, my lord,” Mica said, plucking the torn papers out of his hands. She read the note aloud, only just remembering to use Jessamyn’s voice.
To Lord Governor Bont of Silverfell,
The people of Dwindlemire and Cray have spent years being ignored by our rulers. We are hereby divesting ourselves of any bond to the Windfast Empire. Our neighbors on Timbral Island have agreed to back our bid for independence. In return, we will defend the passage to their waters. We call on the Lord of Silverfell to join us in breaking with the empire. Each of our islands will be entirely independent, able to raise our own armies, arrange our own trade agreements, and keep our Talented sons and daughters close.
We will return your daughter unharmed when you agree to support our right to secede.
“The nerve of them!” Lord Bont said in a shocked whisper.
“There’s more,” Mica said.
Do not attempt to rescue Lady Lorna. We have acquired abilities from a noble benefactor that ensure we can meet any challenge, Talent or otherwise, that you send against us. You have seen evidence of our power in your harbor today.
You may approach Birdfell with a party of no more than three people to give us your assurances of support. We will send a guide to escort your representatives tomorrow at dawn.
Signed,
The Independent Republic of Dwindlemire and the Free Nation of Cray
Mica lowered the scraps of paper. “Where’s Birdfell?”
“In the mountains on the western side of the island,” Lord Bont said. “It is an abandoned tower—”
“Beside a pond,” Caleb said quietly.
“That’s right.” Lord Bont glanced curiously at the younger lord. “It’s a grim place. It was a mine long ago, and it has been left rather barren since its riches were exhausted. They must be using it as a base.”
Barren.
Mica felt a tingling sensation in her fingertips, and it wasn’t just from the cold. She felt as if she were poised on the brink of a cliff, ready to jump off into the sea.
An abandoned tower.
Mica might feel ready to leap, but Caleb looked as if he was about to keel over. He probably was, if he’d used his Talents out on the harbor.
She stepped toward him. “You’ve been to this place, haven’t you?”
“Once, before I started spending so much time in the capital. It’s where . . .” Caleb trailed off, and he was silent for so long that Captain Karson cleared his throat. Caleb looked up, his face gray. “Birdfell Tower overlooks a murky pond.”
“More of a cesspit,” said Lord Bont, his mouth twisting distastefully.
Caleb’s body was still, meditative. “I nearly drowned in that pond in my youth.”
A cesspit of abomination and corruption.
That was what the mad Talent had said at the anniversary ball, when he’d screamed about the barren fortress where his suffering began, about the abominable cesspit. Could he have meant a literal cesspit?
“I should have thought of it sooner,” Caleb said. “I . . . I had hoped never to visit Birdfell again.”
The place where you least wish it to be.
Caleb had feared Haddell meant his home in the Pebble Islands, where Lord Ober had spent so much time. But the man had been elusive, avoiding the spies who’d searched for him in Timbral and Pebble. What if he’d been hiding out in western Silverfell all along, perfectly positioned to help the people of Dwindlemire and Cray strike at Lord Bont?
Mica still didn’t know why Ober would want to be their benefactor, but the other pieces were coming together. Lord Ober’s potions were certainly abominable, and Caleb’s near-drowning could have been the exact moment when the corruption of his body occurred. Mica met Caleb’s gaze, wondering if he was coming to the same realization.
His eyes were still wells, deep and dark.
The fountain burbled away beside them, adding music to the stillness.
Then another voice piped up, abruptly reminding Mica that she and Caleb weren’t the only ones in the atrium. Everyone else was staring at them.
“Forgive me for interjecting, Your Highness,” Jessamyn said in the humble voice of Myn Irondier. “What if the princess were to go to this Birdfell place herself and speak with the rebels?”
Lord Bont made a faint distressed noise and sat heavily on the marble lip of the fountain.
“To what end?” Mica asked.
“To persuade them to keep the empire whole.”
“It’s too late for that,” Captain Karson said. “I say my soldiers put them down quickly and be done with it.”
“It may not be quick, if they have a lot of Fifth Talents,” Caleb said. He sighed heavily. “But I agree that it needs to be done.”
Jessamyn shook her head, unwilling to admit that the construct she had worked so hard to preserve was failing. “The princess could make amends for the wrongs her people believe they have suffered. Maybe the rebels could even be persuaded to join us in defeating the Obsidian invaders.”
“I’ve haven’t seen any evidence that they’ll listen to reason,” Captain Karson said.
Mica studied Jessamyn, attempting to read her thoughts. She was no longer holding the coat up to hide her face, her disfigurement on full display. Was she going to reveal herself to help sway the rebels to their cause? Could this be the moment she had been waiting for? Or was she planning to send Mica in her place so she could investigate the barren fortress at last? Mica couldn’t believe she’d found it, not in Timbral or the Pebble Islands, not even in the Twins, but hidden just a few days’ ride from their current location. She had to go.
She opened her mouth to say as much, when Banner spoke up, inserting himself into the conversation for the first time.
“The journey would be too dangerous for the princess.”
“Dangerous but necessary.” Jessamyn laid a hand on his arm. “For all our sakes.”
“They would never let you walk away,” Caleb said then seemed to remember he shouldn’t be addressing Jessamyn directly. “They already tried to abduct the princess when they realized she was on the Goddess. They’ll kill her if she marches right up to their tower.”
“Aren’t you all forgetting that th
e note asks for Lord Bont?” Fritz said, taking the pieces of parchment back and holding them up. “If the princess goes instead, they might hurt Lorna.”
“Their clever benefactor will know to chase the bigger prize,” Jessamyn said. Then a beat later, she added, “my lord.”
Mica figured Lord Ober would be only too happy for the woman who had humiliated him at court and destroyed his influence with Emperor Styl to turn up at his front door. But Jessamyn clearly still believed it was worth trying, despite this risk. Mica agreed with her. They needed to end the rebellion through diplomacy for no other reason than that they couldn’t defeat a large force of Fifth Talents.
“Myn is right,” Mica declared. “I will go to Birdfell in Lord Bont’s place and attempt to negotiate.”
The lords objected immediately, talking over each other to declare how dangerous this decision was.
But Jessamyn turned on her heel and marched over to a magnificent flower arrangement by the atrium wall. Mica knew when she had been summoned.
“Excuse me for a moment, my lords.”
She joined Jessamyn behind the large vase.
“Please let me go to Birdfell,” Mica said before the princess could begin. “You should stay here where it’s safe.”
“I quite agree.”
Mica blinked. “You do?”
“I was going to suggest the same course of action.”
Mica couldn’t believe it. She was finally being allowed to strike out on her own, when Lord Ober was almost within reach. “You trust me to conduct the negotiation with the rebels?”
“I have great faith in you,” Jessamyn said impatiently, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Tell the rebels about the Obsidian hordes and how they’ll be the next targets if we don’t work together.”
“Right.” Some of Mica’s initial excitement faded, replaced by trepidation. She’d wanted to set out on her own for a long time, but this task might be more than she could handle. She’d been less worried when she thought she would be sneaking into another one of Lord Ober’s evil workshops, not attempting to win over his allies.