Liviya nodded. “The window isn’t facing the homestead. We shouldn’t be spotted.”
The barn smelled of hay and dirt and animal. A couple of cows lowed grumpily in their stalls. Miren stepped inside, uncertain.
“We can sleep here for a few hours,” Liviya said, “but we need to leave by dawn. Are you hungry, Ori?”
“Uh-huh,” the boy moaned, clearly exhausted. Liviya pulled her pack from her shoulder and produced a wedge of cheese. Miren knew better than to ask for food, though she wished she had eaten more of that salmon.
Miren saw a flash as Arten cupped a spark and carefully lighted a rusty oil lantern he’d found by the entrance. The barn filled with a faint, warm light, and Miren could see the family clearly for the first time. The resemblance between Liviya and Arten was striking; they had the same straight nose and prominent jawline. Liviya had a stocky build, though; Arten was rail thin with a hunch in his shoulders as he knelt over the lantern. Ori sat between them, chewing slowly on a piece of cheese. He had his father’s dark hair and his mother’s bright eyes.
Miren was struck by how desperate they looked, and she wondered if she looked that way too.
“Who are you all?” she asked.
They turned toward her, but it was Davri who answered. In the dim light, he spelled out a word.
“Planters?” Miren said. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a term used for Avi’ori farmers who come to work on Kaleo farms,” Hana said.
It suggests that Avi’ori do not know how to farm, Davri signed. As though they just plant seeds, though it could also reference how Avi’ori “plant” themselves in Kaleo once they have completed their contract. It was coined by the Fourth and Fifth Circle farmers who resented the competition.
“You know quite a bit,” Liviya said.
Davri shrugged. I like to read.
“An expensive hobby. Are you nobility?”
Davri nodded. My father is a Fifth Circle lord.
“Explains why you haven’t been drafted,” Liviya said. “And why you thought Cheliem would help you find your friend.”
He and my father have done business in the past, Davri signed.
“And so you thought he would do you a favor?” she said. “Noblemen are not so generous.”
Davri grimaced.
Miren felt a spike of anger at him. She had believed he had a plan to find Kesia—or at least knew enough to point them in the right direction. Now they were worse off than they had been in Crescent Bay. At least people arresting her there would have been reluctant about it.
Hana nodded. “Cheliem is a horrible man,” she said savagely. “I knew what he would do even before he sent a servant to town to get the Crown’s Guard.”
“But why did you run away?” Miren asked. “What you did took a lot of planning.”
“It was all Liviya’s idea—”
“Hana,” Liviya cut her off.
“You don’t have to tell me how,” Miren said to Hana. “But why did you do it?”
“When we came to Kaleo, we signed contracts to work for Cheliem’s estate for a set number of years,” Hana said. “Once we completed those years of service, we were to receive our pay in a lump sum, enough to start our own small farm. But we realized too late that the contract was written so that a lord can extend a worker’s service until he receives a certain amount of profit, and he can deduct from that profit by claiming expenses—food, housing, clothes. There is no recourse, and workers are forced to endure terrible conditions without hope of relief. I didn’t know that when I signed on to finish my father’s contract of two years after he injured himself,” she said. “That was eight years ago. Liviya and her family came here ten years ago with a four-year contract. When she realized the contract was designed to trap her, she escaped. Then she came to find us.”
Miren raised her eyebrows. She knew vaguely that Avi’ori farmers often came to work on Kaleon estates before the war began, back when Avi’ori crops were failing and many poor farmers had been bought out by coal mines and expanding railroad companies. She hadn’t known they were being exploited and abused.
Hana met Miren’s gaze. “Cheliem would have kept us there for the rest of our lives. We had no choice.”
“Why do you feel the need to join us?” Liviya cut in.
Miren turned to face her. “Hana warned me that Cheliem was going to have Davri arrested for the Singer bounty. We had to escape.” Liviya gave a wry laugh. “Well, thanks to you two, our escape route was cut off before I even started that fire.”
Miren blinked. “How is that our fault?”
“Because that one’s arrival”—she pointed at Davri—“caused Cheliem to send for the Crown’s Guard, and now they’ll be looking for all of us.” She crossed her arms. “I paid a lot of money to a merchant ship to smuggle us out of here, but with the Crown’s Guard searching every ship, they won’t take us.”
Arten glanced up at his mother. “What’s the plan, now?”
Liviya didn’t answer him. “You,” she said, pointing to Davri again. “You’re a Water Singer?”
Davri nodded.
“Your sister is a Singer,” Liviya said to Miren. “What kind?”
“Fire.”
“Hmm,” Liviya said. “So you think the pirates have taken her to military recruiters for the bounty.”
“Yes,” Miren said.
“Even if you do find her, how do you plan to keep her out of the military?”
Miren glanced at Davri. “We’re saying that she is betrothed to Davri. He’s a baron’s son.”
Liviya made a disbelieving tch noise. “That won’t get you far.”
“So we’ve noticed.”
The fire was roaring now. Miren worried that it would be too easy to spot through the high window, but Liviya seemed unconcerned, and Miren found herself trusting the older woman’s judgment. Liviya’s dark eyes darted between Miren and Davri.
“What would you be willing to do to help your sister?”
“Anything,” Miren said.
Liviya leaned back. “Three years ago, Cheliem sold mine and my husband’s contracts to Third Circle lords. My master, Lord Barwick, had a Water Singer son who decided to give up his exemption from military service and become an officer.”
Miren raised an eyebrow. “Nobility fight in the war?”
“Some of them. They’re given a rank based on which Circle they’re from, and they have more choice than other recruits about where they are stationed. And they don’t have to pay the exemption tax, of course.”
Miren glanced at Davri, but he was staring at the fire, avoiding her gaze. She had never heard of a tax.
Davri avoided the war using his father’s money, she realized.
“Do you know this Water Singer?” she asked Liviya.
“No,” Liviya answered. “I doubt he would even recognize me. I served on Barwick’s kitchen staff, so I was able to eavesdrop whenever his son visited.”
Miren narrowed her eyes. “You can’t eavesdrop on a Singer.”
Liviya waved a hand. “You know what I mean. I served them dinner. The son told them all about his exploits in the navy, his training, his assignments—”
“Why would he just say all of that over dinner?” Miren said.
“To impress his father, I think. Noblemen don’t appreciate Singing the way the rest of us do. His son would brag about the ships he sank, the storms he steered them through, all that.” She looked at Miren. “He also mentioned what happens to Singers who are caught avoiding the draft.”
Miren felt her blood turn cold. “What do you mean?”
“Usually a non-Singer who avoids the draft is tried and thrown in prison, but the navy is desperate for Singers, so they have to serve with worse conditions than Singers who reported willingly—less food, less pay, no chance of advancement—though your chances are slim already unless you have a title.” She gave a humorless smirk. “Singers charged with avoiding the draft are essentially treated like
us planters.”
“But Singers are still valued, right?” Miren said. “They’ll still want to keep her alive?” She thought of Jonath, Haro’s Earth Singer son, who no longer sent letters to his parents. And of her mother, who had never written in the four years she’d been gone.
“So long as she’s useful,” Liviya said. “But you can’t guarantee a life in war.”
Miren’s insides were in knots. Noblemen don’t appreciate Singing the way the rest of us do, Liviya had said. Did they think Singers were expendable?
She glanced at Davri, but he was staring at Liviya with his arms crossed.
Understanding flared in Miren. “Did you know this?” she asked him.
I didn’t want to worry you.
“You—” Miren clenched her jaw. She could strangle him. She would strangle him. Later.
She swallowed her anger. “Where are the Singers taken?” she asked Liviya. “They’re put on a navy ship?” Based on her father’s letters, she knew that most of the combat occurred in the northern half of the Tehum Sea.
Liviya held up a hand. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you help me get my family out of Kaleo, I’ll tell you everything I know to help you find your sister.”
Arten and Hana exchanged glances.
“What?” Miren said. “What do you mean? You won’t tell us now?”
“I’ll tell you everything I can,” Liviya said. “I’ll answer every question you can think of—after my family is safe.”
Of course, Miren thought: this woman wouldn’t just offer information for free.
Arten looked up at Liviya. “Mother—”
“What about Cale?” Hana asked.
“I will get Cale,” Liviya said. “Once you three are off Kaleon soil.”
“No, Mother,” Arten said. “You shouldn’t go after him alone.”
Miren wondered who Cale was but didn’t want to interrupt.
“You’d let Hana and Ori wander around Avi’or on their own?” Liviya countered.
Arten stared at his mother.
Liviya softened. “I got you three out, didn’t I? Trust me with this, Arten. Please.”
Arten turned away with a sigh.
“What kind of information do you have?” Miren asked Liviya. “What specifically are you offering?”
Liviya smirked. “That’s a little difficult to say without revealing the information, isn’t it? I can tell you where she’ll likely be taken.”
“To a navy ship, right?”
“Eventually, yes, but there’s often squabbling among navy officers about who gets new Singers for their fleet. She’ll be detained for a while until that’s decided, especially if she’s a Fire Singer.”
“How long?” Miren said.
Liviya shrugged. “Weeks, I imagine. I can’t guarantee you’ll find her, but I can point you in the right direction.”
Miren narrowed her eyes. “That isn’t much.”
“It doesn’t seem you have many options. Even if Cheliem doesn’t connect you to our escape, he’s still interested in the bounty on your friend’s head.” Liviya gestured to Davri.
He’s not my friend, Miren thought instinctively. “What do you want from us?” she asked. “I don’t see how we can help you.”
“You, no.” Liviya jabbed a finger in Davri’s direction again. “But that one can.”
Startled, Davri sat upright.
Miren said, “You need a Water Singer.”
“I don’t need either of you,” Liviya snapped immediately. “I have planned for every way this could go wrong.”
Miren paused. She wanted to doubt Liviya’s confidence, but it was difficult to argue with her results so far.
Liviya continued, “There is a river north of here in Fisher’s Canyon, about three days’ travel. It flows eastward toward the coast, but every night a large gate is lowered into the water from a bridge, blocking the boats that might pass. The only way to get past the gate is to go over it.” She turned to Davri. “You Sing the current up enough to push us over the top, and then we head straight for the sea. If you get my family safely to the open water, I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Davri unfolded his arms. You’re asking us to risk our lives, and yet all you’re offering to do is tell us where Kesia might be.
“And?” Liviya said. “Do you expect to find more than that?”
Our goal is to get Kesia out of military service. Finding her is not enough.
Liviya shrugged. “Maybe you bribe some guards. Maybe you fake her death. I don’t care. My offer is to help you find her likeliest location.”
“You just said you can’t guarantee that,” Miren said.
“I can tell you where Singers are first detained, and I can even make a few educated guesses as to which fleets will likely get her. You won’t find better.”
Miren stared at the ground. The problem was that she believed Liviya—they probably wouldn’t find a better option. After their experience with Cheliem, they couldn’t trust the nobility. And if Miren could at least find out where Kesia was, perhaps a chance to rescue her would present itself.
Miren glanced at Davri. He raised his eyebrows, questioning.
Miren nodded for Davri to follow her. “Give us a moment, please,” she told Liviya.
Liviya waved them off, looking uninterested.
Miren stepped into the yard, staying out of sight of the farmhouse. She turned to face Davri. It was just light enough that she could see his hands.
“Are there any other nobles who would be willing to help us?”
Davri signed slowly. Not many nearby, and none that would know me like Cheliem.
“Would they turn you in for a bounty?”
He frowned. It’s possible.
“Is it riskier than going with these people?” she said. “Do you think Liviya made all of that up?”
I know of Lord Barwick, Davri said. And his son. As far as I can tell, she wasn’t lying. It’s not uncommon for Singers of nobility to serve as military officers.
“What do you know of the Kaleon military?” Miren said.
It mostly consists of naval fleets, which are usually stationed along the northern coast near the capital, except for Kilithis Bay, which is the most naturally defensible stretch of coast due to—
“Stop, stop,” Miren said. “I don’t care about all that. Where would they take Kesia? Is Liviya right about her being detained for a time?”
I don’t know, Davri signed.
“Do you think she would be at a military base?” Miren said. “Do you know where those are?”
No.
“Is there anything you do know?” she demanded.
A muscle twitched in Davri’s jaw. My meeting with Cheliem wasn’t just about finding Kesia. We want her exempt from military service.
“What difference does that make? We have to find her first.”
If we make her exempt, then she’ll be released and sent home. We won’t need to look for her.
“Will that work? Even if she’s already been assigned to a ship by then?”
I don’t know.
“If Cheliem won’t help us, who will?”
We can go to the capital, Davri signed, though he looked uncertain. There is an appeals process. If I can convince a court that she is my betrothed, then they won’t deploy her. We won’t have to look for her. But . . .
“What? But what?”
Given that Kesia is . . . not nobility, it might be difficult to convince them she’s my betrothed. I would need . . . confirmation.
“Confirmation? Oh. You would need approval from Darius,” she finished. “I doubt you have that.”
But we could still try, Davri signed. Even if we can’t get her exempt, we might find out where she is. I know of a few nobles we could ask for help. It could still work.
“No, it won’t.” Miren rubbed her forehead, frustration welling in her. Davri was naive—she should have recognized that from the start. He had put faith in the way of nobility and nearl
y gotten arrested for it. And even if he was right and managed to convince some military officers that Kesia was his betrothed, would they really release a Fire Singer from service? No. To find Kesia, they would have to work outside the aristocracy. “It will take us too long to get to the capital. We need to find her before she’s assigned to a ship.”
I think you’re assuming too much—
“Were you not paying attention? We don’t have time to wait for an appeals process. Even I know that Avi’or has better ships, better cannons. By the time she’s on a ship, she’ll—” Miren stopped. “We have to get her out. We’ll get this family on a boat, and then we’ll go and find Kesia.”
Davri shook his head.
“This is what we’re doing, Davri. We tried it your way already.”
She glared at him. He looked away first.
She marched past him and back into the barn. Four expectant faces turned to look at her.
“Liviya,” she said. “We have a deal.”
Eleven
Kesia
The ship Darkcrest was a small trade vessel, tightly crafted. Kesia could feel the heavy surf pulling and slamming against the hull even from inside her metal cage, while above her, the crew shouted and complained and laughed as they worked.
She would fall asleep a few times throughout the day, but the night was too cold to rest. She shivered horribly, sometimes standing to escape the freezing metal until the sun rose. Once a day, she was given stale bread and dried meat and water. She forced herself to eat despite the churning in her stomach, never looking at the gun barrel that stared at her until she was finished.
Miren’s screams for help replayed over and over in her mind. They had fought that morning; Kesia couldn’t even remember why, only that it had been petty. The last time she had seen Davri, he had been waving to her through the baron’s front gate.
That fateful thud as the pirate had brought his pistol down on Miren’s head; Miren’s unmoving form lying on the ground.
She might be dead.
Miren was fine, she told herself. Miren was tough. But even if the blow hadn’t killed her sister, Kesia was still alone. She was so, so alone.
I’m so sorry.
She tried to think of good memories with Miren or Davri or her parents, letting them cover her like a blanket. But comfort was fleeting—a jarring comparison to her new reality.
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