The Walls of Westernfort

by Jane Fletcher

  Natasha looked to the other side of the room. Cal and Rohanna between them had one Militiawoman held down securely. The other was motionless, sprawled across the table. Rohanna glanced up at the same time as Natasha. Their eyes met, and Rohanna grinned. “That’s part two gone to plan. Now let’s get these locked up and reclaim our things.”

  Natasha’s opponent still had not regained her breath by the time she was shoved into the cell. She made no resistance as she was tied and gagged. The other conscious Militiawoman was outnumbered and unable to cause problems as she was also bound. Rohanna felt for a pulse in the neck of the third woman.

  “She’s alive.” Rohanna’s voice made her relief plain.

  With Cal’s help, the woman was carried into the cell, and the door was locked. Meanwhile, Natasha searched the room. Their rucksacks, boots, and outdoor clothes were in a pile under the bench beside the lockers. In little more than a minute, they were all ready to go. Rohanna edged the street door ajar and peered through the crack; then she gestured to the others to follow and slipped out noiselessly into the night.

  The town streets were as silent and empty as when they had been taken to the station. Rohanna led the way along alleyways and around the edges of darkened squares. At one point, they heard the sound of heavy Militia boots on cobbles, but it came from an adjoining street and was only the unhurried tread of a routine patrol. Rohanna and Cal moved without sound. Natasha tried to copy their stealthy progress, but she felt clumsy by comparison. It was a skill that the other two had learned in the course of their duty, Cal in the Rangers and Rohanna in the Intelligence Corps.

  Newsteading was not large. Soon, the buildings became spread out. Terraced rows changed to detached houses surrounded by walled gardens and then open plots of vegetables. Without any marked transition, Natasha found that they were on a rough track through farmland. The route carried on across the fields for a couple of kilometers, but not too far ahead were tree-covered hills. The dark, rounded shapes were clearly visible in the light of the second rising moon. Cal led the way, wherever possible keeping to the shadows of the hedgerow.

  Natasha started to feel less tense, but she was not really relaxed until they reached the trees and the town was hidden from sight. The road went straight through the forest, but before they had gone far, Cal called a halt.

  “Do you think it might be an idea to leave the road? They’ll overtake us quickly enough on horseback, but I’d challenge any Militiawoman to catch me in a forest.”

  “Yes. A very good idea,” Rohanna agreed.

  It was dark under the trees, but with Cal in the lead, they made better progress through the snarled undergrowth than Natasha would have thought possible. Still Cal moved without sound. In the dim light, Natasha could not understand how the ex-Ranger managed to avoid the twigs that snapped under her own feet, and she noted that Rohanna now did little better than herself.

  After a couple of hours, they stopped for a rest. Everyone was in high spirits, and for once, even Rohanna did not try to keep in character. But then, the chances of being overheard in the middle of a forest were very slim. When she thought about their escape, Natasha felt a childish urge to giggle. She smiled at her two comrades. She had come to respect them as people, and now she could see that their skills were also something to be admired. Rohanna in turn was looking at her with approval.

  “You did well with your opponent. You had her flattened without a squeak, and she wasn’t a small challenge—a lot bigger and tougher than I expected. It was hard to judge from looking at her under the door. But like I said, you coped with her easily.”

  “I can’t take too much credit. She was drunk,” Natasha admitted honestly, though she felt herself blushing at the praise.

  “Don’t be so modest. Women like that are at their most dangerous with a bit inside them.”

  “And you didn’t do badly yourself,” Cal joined in, addressing Rohanna.

  “A touch too well. I wanted to be sure I overpowered the woman, so I went in hard and overdid it. I was frightened I’d killed her. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for the death of a faithful daughter of the Goddess.”

  “In the circumstances...” Cal began.

  “For the glory of the Goddess, I’ll do whatever I have to, but it would still have been a little too close to murder.” Rohanna’s voice held grim undertones that spoke of bad memories. “We had to escape, but if I’d been thinking properly, we wouldn’t have been caught in the first place. I’m afraid the local Militia were a bit more effective than I expected. In most towns, they’re no use for anything other than common criminals. This lot must have paid attention to the alert for a group matching our descriptions.”

  “Who’d have sent them our description?” Natasha was confused.

  “Well, strictly speaking, it’s the description of the three real heretics, but it fits us as well, of course. When the family first fled, the word went out. Which was how we caught them in Landfall. We couldn’t then send another message telling everyone to stop looking for them. If the heretics heard, they’d know that the real family had been captured.”

  “People have been hunting us ever since we left Landfall?” Natasha said in surprise.

  “Yes. Weren’t you warned?”

  “Sort of, but we haven’t had any trouble so far. And I just assumed...” Natasha’s voice faded, she was not too sure what she had assumed.

  “Ah, but I know the net set to catch heretics, so I know the holes in it.” Rohanna spoke with a faint tinge of irony. “That’s why we haven’t had any problems. But my information for this region was obviously out of date. There used to be an old captain who was utterly incompetent. It would seem that she’s been replaced.”

  “Typical Militia. You can’t even trust them to make a mess of things when you want them to,” Cal joked.

  “True. It’s always awkward when you end up fighting people who are on your side when they don’t know it. If things had turned nasty during our escape, I wouldn’t have been the first intelligence agent to be killed by her allies,” Rohanna concluded, and again, there were the echoes of old regrets.

  “You did well with the lock pick,” Natasha said, to change the subject.

  Cal laughed. “What other surprises did the Intelligence Corps send you out with?”

  “It wasn’t from the Corps,” Rohanna said. “Like you, I don’t have a single thing that wasn’t taken from the heretics when they were captured. I told you they were thieves. When we found the hidden lock pick, we weren’t too sure whether I should keep it. It wouldn’t make us popular with our new friends if they found it on me, but in the end, we decided it gave authenticity to my impersonation.”

  “Obviously, the Goddess guided your decision,” Cal said piously.

  “Obviously,” Rohanna agreed.

  “And you knew how to use the lock pick,” Natasha added—something else that had impressed her.

  Rohanna smiled at the tone of admiration. “Oh, yes. One picks up all sorts of useful skills in the Intelligence Corps.”

  Chapter Five—Rendezvous

  Two days later, they stood atop an open ridge. The ground was covered in untidy tufts of rough grass, bent by the cold wind blowing from the north. A blanket of heavy cloud hung low overhead. The air felt damp. Behind them in the valley, a few squat huts and barns were strewn around a muddy farmyard. Natasha stood for a moment, looking back on the scene in the dismal light; then she adjusted the straps of her rucksack and turned to follow the other two over the brow of the hill and into the straggly brush land of the next valley. They had passed the boundary of the Homelands. Ahead was nothing but wilderness until they reached Westernfort.

  They walked for another three hours, while the light faded to a premature dusk. It would rain before nightfall. In the middle of a broad expanse of grass, Rohanna called a halt. Nothing around them on the hillside grew more than knee high. The other two huddled close, trying to provide mutual shelter against the biting gusts of wind.


  “Okay. I think there’s no risk of being overheard.” Despite the obvious truth of her words, Rohanna’s voice was a whisper. “However, the site for the rendezvous is on the other side of this hill, an abandoned homestead, and we are most likely being watched right now. One reason people were happy to let me try this scheme is because even if we’d sent a company to arrest the heretic guide, it was by no means certain the attempt would have succeeded. Heretics can be very hard to sneak up on. Once they meet us, they may realize we aren’t the people they were expecting, but this is still the best chance of getting close enough to capture or kill them. Of course, if they fall for the disguise, killing the sacrilegious Imprinter and the other leaders in Westernfort will be a far greater prize.”

  Natasha’s stomach contracted. Suddenly, everything was very serious.

  “If we’re being watched, won’t they wonder what we’re talking about now?” Cal asked.

  “They might. But I think even the real family might have stopped to discuss some of the things I intend to talk about.” Rohanna gave a lopsided smile. “If the information I got from the prisoners was correct, we’ll identify ourselves by giving the right answers to a set of three questions. The questions themselves are innocuous; it’s the wording that’s important.”

  “Does the blue pig sing at midnight?” Cal suggested with dry irony.

  Natasha looked at her in amazement. She understood the reference to the antics of heretic spies, but she could not understand how Cal could joke so casually.

  Rohanna was merely amused. “Nothing so melodramatic. In fact, the questions are structured to sound very ordinary in the circumstances, just in case an innocent traveler stumbles upon the homestead by mistake. The first question is ‘Are you lost?’ And the main thing I want to say is, leave it to me to answer. Neither of you say anything until I’ve completed the sequence and the heretic guide has indicated that we’ve been accepted.

  “The next thing I want to say is that it may all go wrong, and it’s hard to make plans. I don’t know how many heretics will be there—maybe only the one. Hopefully we won’t be outnumbered if it turns nasty. But if arrows start flying, try to do something sensible. I can’t give any better advice than that. If I sense things are going awry, but we have a little time, I’ll snap my fingers. Count to three in your head and then move. If it’s my left hand, turn and run. If it’s my right hand, draw your knife and leap on the nearest heretic.”

  Natasha’s mouth was dry. She tried to match Cal’s calm expression, but it was not easy with her jaw clenched. Rohanna looked at her and then wrapped an arm around her shoulders, reaching out with her other hand to include Cal in the hug—a nice family gesture for any observer. Whether it was part of an act or not, Natasha was grateful for the comfort.

  “There’s one more thing.” Rohanna’s voice dropped even lower. “This may be the last chance we ever have to speak without being overheard. During this past month, I’ve gotten to know you very well. No woman could ask for better comrades in arms. I want to say how much I respect you both, and how proud I am to fight and die by your sides, for the glory of Celaeno.”

  “The same goes for me,” Cal added solemnly.

  Natasha could do no more than nod, but the tension in her stomach melted a little. Instinctively, she put her own arms around the other two and squeezed them. Cal rubbed a hand over her head and smiled. Then Rohanna stepped back to break up the huddle and started on the way up the hillside.

  A light drizzle was starting as they reached the top, and their destination came into view. The deserted longhouse lay on the slope below them, with drystone walls and a turf-covered roof. The building was the typical homestead of poor farmers. At one end was a cattle byre; at the other end were the domestic quarters, with a dairy and workshop in between. It was obvious that no one farmed there currently. The vegetable patch contained nothing aside from weeds, and there were several holes in the roof, but the basic structure looked sound. Natasha did not know why anyone had chosen to live out here or why they had abandoned the building, but the sight was immensely comforting. The information acquired from the family of heretics had been accurate, at least in describing the location of the rendezvous.

  As they drew closer, it was also apparent that someone had arrived before them. A thin trail of smoke seeped from the chimney, and the faint sound of horses came from the byre. The women rounded the end of the building and paused at the door. Then Rohanna raised her hand and knocked. A voice called out in answer.

  Natasha could feel her pulse racing, and she fought the urge to look to the others for reassurance. But it’s okay, she told herself, surely a certain amount of nervousness won’t be out of character. Rohanna pushed open the door and stepped inside. Cal and Natasha crowded into the entrance behind her.

  The interior was dark and smelled of mildew and smoke. The earthen floor was uneven. A young woman was crouched by the hearth. She had obviously been tending the fire; one hand held a small branch, and the other was hidden behind a pile of kindling. The glowing embers in the grate did not cast enough light to show the details of the room.

  The woman looked up and asked, “Are you lost?” The delivery could not have been less dramatic, but Natasha felt her heart thump against her ribs.

  “Not anymore,” Rohanna answered firmly.

  “What brings you out here?”

  “We’re heading west.”

  “Do you know the way?”

  “We’d heard you could take us.”

  That was three questions. In the following silence, Natasha began to relax. From what she could see over Rohanna’s shoulder, the heretic appeared to be satisfied with the answers. The kneeling woman stared into the fire, her lips pursed. Then she turned back and said deliberately, “And when shall we set out?” She looked at them steadily, expectantly, awaiting the reply.

  Rohanna floundered. “Er...she didn’t say...I don’t think...” Then Natasha noticed that Rohanna’s right hand was raised, fingers ready to snap, miming the gesture of someone trying to summon a memory.

  Natasha could not take her eyes off Rohanna’s fingers. Then a curt voice behind them said, “Dani, you’ve got to stop winding people up. This isn’t a game.”

  Natasha spun around, banging her shoulder against the door frame. In the open, a few meters away, stood a woman, dressed in clothes roughly approximating a Ranger uniform, a drawn bow in her hands. Natasha froze in shock. She had not heard this woman’s footsteps. Had Rohanna or Cal known that a second heretic was standing behind them? And were there any more? But even as these thoughts raced by, she saw that the bow was being lowered, and laughter came from inside the house.

  “Oh, come on, Ash. I’ve been really sensible all summer. You can’t expect me to keep it up forever.”

  Natasha’s head jerked back. The solemn expression of the woman by the hearth had dissolved in amusement, but it quickly shifted to something faintly apologetic as she considered the three in the doorway. “I’m sorry. I was joking. Come in, and close the door.”

  Natasha felt sick at the thought of how close she had been to getting an arrow in the back. Then the woman by the hearth rose, revealing that she also was armed. The pile of kindling had concealed a small loaded crossbow. Natasha stared at the weapon, trying to work out what the odds would have been had it come to a fight. Three against two, but the Guards would have been caught in crossfire. It was a pointless and unpleasant calculation.

  The second heretic was standing by Natasha’s shoulder and noticed the direction of her gaze. “I know; it’s worrying. With Dani’s aim, I was in just as much danger as you. I strongly suspect she’d be hard put to hit a barn from the inside,” the woman teased her companion.

  “Oh. Um...” Natasha’s mouth was too dry for her to answer. She jumped when Rohanna put a hand on her arm and gently pulled her farther into the room, clearing the doorway so that the second heretic could enter.

  People shuffled around to give one another space. The heretic by the hearth
put aside her crossbow, picked up an unlit lantern, and then made a spill by twisting strands of straw together. The sudden flare when she lit the wick highlighted her cheekbones, her head bent over the lantern. Natasha’s pulse slowed. They had passed the first real test. She fought to calm herself, trying to concentrate on the two strangers. She dared not make a mistake through inattention.

  Natasha estimated that the woman referred to as Dani was in her early twenties, lightly built and maybe a centimeter shorter than Natasha herself. Her face held an impish quality that was not entirely due to her mischievous grin. She gave no sign of being in the least offended by the aspersions cast on her marksmanship. The other woman was far older, easily past fifty, her skin etched by the weather. Yet her body was still strong and agile. Something about her made Natasha think of granite. You did not need to see the sword at her side to know she was a warrior.

  This woman was, in turn, subjecting them to a thoughtful examination. Then she addressed the Intelligence Corps agent. “You must be Rohanna Korski.”

  Rohanna nodded in reply.

  Natasha felt her tension reduce still further. Rohanna had told them that the heretics would have the names and descriptions of the real family. If the guide could “identify” Rohanna from the information, they must be believable in their roles.

  The situation was clearly one in which introductions were appropriate. Rohanna placed an arm around Cal’s shoulder and said, “This is my partner, Cal.” Then she indicated the corner where Natasha had wedged herself. “And our daughter, Jess.”

  The warrior spoke again. “I’m Sergeant Aisha O’Neil, or Ash, if you prefer—”

  She got no further; the other woman interrupted. “I think ‘Ash’ suits you best. It nicely suggests both wooden and burned out.”

  Ash sighed in mock exasperation and pointed with her thumb. “And that’s Danielle Diwan.”