by Shannon Hale
“Really? All of us?” Razo peeked up from where he’d been lounging on the carpet, fiddling with a loose nail on the underside of a table.
Isi barked a surprised laugh. “How long have you been there, Razo? I guess I should know to check under rugs and tables for you. Yes, Geric wants all of Bayern’s Own who are currently in Bayern. No time to send for Talone and the rest in Tira, of course.”
“Just as well,” said Razo. “I was getting bored. I mean”—he shot a glance at Enna, who was still draped in cloth—“not that Enna and Finn’s wedding preparations aren’t thrilling. I guess I’ve never had such a good time in my life as Enna’s discourse this morning on which style of slippers are most—ow! ”
Razo was interrupted by the slap of Enna’s slipper against his head.
“You’re not going anyway,” said Enna. “You’re the Tiran ambassador’s personal guard now, and that trumps your other duties.”
“That’s right,” Razo said, knuckling his forehead. “Finn, promise me you’ll have an extremely boring time—no adventures whatsoever.”
“None whatsoever,” Finn said.
“That wasn’t convincing at all.” Razo turned to Isi with a pleading expression.
“He’s subtle, isn’t he?” Isi said, looking over her shoulder at Rin.
Rin nodded. “From birth. As a little boy, he was known to scream ‘Smell me!’ whenever he—”
“That’ll do, baby sister,” said Razo. “No one wants to reminisce.”
“You can go if you like, Razo,” said Isi. “I’m sure Geric would be grateful for your eyes and your sling, if the ambassador gives you leave.”
“After some well-placed compliments, she’ll be clay in my fingers. Just wait and see.”
“I’ll wait and see just how eager she is to have a break from you,” said Enna.
“I should report to Captain Brynn,” said Finn. “He’ll want to leave in the morning.” He held out his hand to Enna, helping her stand, letting the cloth tumble to the floor.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
Enna shrugged, though Rin could see she cared quite a bit. “As long as you didn’t invent the trouble to get out of marrying me.”
Both Isi and Razo made doubtful noises.
Enna leaned back to look at Isi. “Am I going too?”
Isi shook her head. “Don’t bother, Enna. It doesn’t sound dangerous. You may as well stay and get everything ready so you can marry that troublesome scoundrel the instant he gets back.”
“He’s some trouble, it’s true, but he’s only a scoundrel when I ask him to be.”
“And only when she asks nicely,” said Finn.
Razo covered his head with his arms. “Ugh, save me from the sauce of their loveyness.”
Isi laughed, but Rin frowned, still going over Isi’s words in her mind. She’d implied that if the situation had been more dangerous, then Enna would have been asked to go. Why? No one else in the room had seemed surprised by that exchange, except perhaps the other waiting women, their faces bowed over their darning, the window light at their backs hiding their expressions.
Enna’s arms were around Finn’s neck. “You be careful. I’ve already had you fitted for your wedding clothes, and it’d be a nuisance if you went and lost a limb.”
Finn whispered something in Enna’s ear. She half-laughed, half-sighed, and he kissed her cheek and then her lips.
“All right, all right,” Razo grumbled, pulling himself off the floor. “If it’s going to get all sticky around here, then I’d best be off to find Dasha and do my duty. She’s bound to get grumpy if she doesn’t get her fair share of farewell kissing.”
“That’s so noble of you, Razo, to make the sacrifice,” said Enna.
“That’s me, all sacrifice and nobility. And charm. Don’t forget the charm.” He kept talking as the three left the room. “And we’d better stop by the kitchens to get our own supplies. They never pack the right kinds of food . . .”
At dawn the next day, King Geric rode out with thirty of his personal band of soldiers, Bayern’s Own, Finn and Razo among them. The king was taller than Finn, though not as broad. Even dressed in the same subdued colors for travel as his men, he had something about him that reminded Rin he was the king. Confidence, perhaps, boldness, and an awareness of everyone around him. He shouted to his wife, “No worrying, now!”
Captain Brynn rode beside him and made his own farewell salute to the queen. He was fair-haired by Bayern standards, and though captain of the king’s hundred-band, he had the clever and anxious look of a scholar. Rin could not see Isi’s face, but it must have betrayed her worry, because Brynn shouted, “I’ll protect the king’s life on my own, my queen. I swear it!”
“Thank you, Captain,” said Isi. “You all come back to me as fast as sparrows!”
Rin held a very sleepy Tusken. She’d pulled him from bed to see his father off, and he still had not so much as squeezed open an eye. His ability to sleep like the dead through all that clamor amazed her, and she wondered if she had ever felt so completely content, even as a small child.
“I always worry,” Isi said to Rin, watching her husband ride through the palace gates. “But they’ll be fine. Of course they will.”
The chilly calm in Isi’s voice made Rin take a second look at the departing figures, searching for a head shorter than the rest, his hair standing straight up. Razo was her favorite person in all the world, besides Ma. Her other brothers treated her like a smaller and quieter version of their mother. But Razo . . . he wrestled her and let her face get dirty, put a sling in her hand, and showed her the gut-tickling satisfaction of a well-played prank. Each time he’d left the Forest, she’d felt a slap of grief that she’d kept quiet and close. But he always returned a little braver, a little smarter—even a little taller.
She spotted his head there among the dozens, almost too far away to see. Instead of filling her with loneliness, this time his leaving made her afraid.
Chapter 6
Ten days after the departure, a messenger burst through the doors of the queen’s antechamber.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty, news from the king’s expedition.” The messenger’s voice cracked from thirst. Isi arose from her seat, clutching Tusken. Dasha, Enna, three waiting women, the prime minister—all were standing, waiting for him to speak.
Razo, Rin was thinking. Razo, Razo . . . The tension hurt her skin like a fever burn.
“We were northeast, a day’s ride from Kel.” He coughed, his dry throat refusing words. Rin shoved a jug of water into his hands, and he gulped it down, gasped, and continued. “The king was attacked. Your Majesty, should I deliver this news in private?”
Isi took in the room’s occupants, then asked her other three waiting women and two sentries to step outside. Rin observed Isi’s stature and pulled herself a little taller.
The messenger spoke again as soon as the door was shut. “Rumor led us to a village called Geldis, torched to its timbers. The king ordered a search of the area. As soon as we fanned out, the attack came. Fire out of nowhere. Brynn was killed right off, the king and others wounded.”
Who was wounded? Who? Rin stared at Isi, willing her to ask.
“Brynn. Oh no, poor Brynn. He was engaged to be married.” Isi pressed both hands on her chest as if against a great pain. “He swore to protect him—that was the last thing he said to me, that he would protect the king with his life. How . . . how seriously was the king hurt?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty.” The messenger wiped his nose and frowned. “Burned, but alive when I left. The camp-master took him away, and I jumped on a horse to bring the news. I’m sorry. We couldn’t see where our enemies hid—or how they were lighting things afire, if you understand me.”
“I do.” Isi’s eyes were cold, intense. “Do you know the names of the wounded?”
The messenger’s face filled with regret, but he managed to keep his eyes on the queen. “I don’t, Your Majesty. I’m sorry.”
&n
bsp; “Ma,” said Tusken, pulling on his mother’s sleeve. “Mama, this. Mama, this.” He stuck out his tongue and made a long, wet noise.
Isi rubbed his head. “You are so clever,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.
Enna said, “Let’s go after them! Right now, I’m ready. Isn’t that right, Isi? If Talone were here, he wouldn’t dillydally. Who’s in charge with Talone in Tira and Brynn gone? Ratger, isn’t it? I want him here immediately. You, messenger, whatever-your-name-is, draw a map of exactly where you left the king’s party.” Enna opened the door and shouted into the corridor, “You, waiting women, stop waiting and get parchment and food, find Ratger, and get the stable-master and the prime minister . . .”
Isi’s face was pale, and Rin was reminded that the queen had been born across the Forest and over the mountains in Kildenree, where most folk had fair hair and fair eyes and skin that burned easily in the sun. She stayed seated, her breathing stiff and slow as if she were forcing herself to stay calm.
In moments, Enna had given everyone assignments and sent them away, leaving Enna, Dasha, and Isi alone with Rin and Tusken.
“We’ll leave in the morning,” said Enna. “I wager Ratger will bring five hundred-bands.”
“An attack on the king is an attack on Bayern,” said Isi. “Close the city gates, call up the reserve guard, send messengers to warn the border towns. And send an advance party so he—so they know we’re coming.”
“I’ll tell Ratger. But we both know . . .” Enna paused, glancing at the room as if checking for lurkers. “We both know that one good fire-speaker could rout a battalion.”
“You think you and I should go alone,” Isi said flatly.
“Of course I do. We’ve the best chance out of anyone to find the fire-speakers and . . . and subdue them before they hurt any more people. A little whoosh-whoosh with the wind, a few well-placed fires, and we could wrap it up and send everyone home.”
Isi opened her mouth as if she would argue, then shrugged. “You’re right. If they hurt Geric, they might try to kill him next, and others besides.”
“Nightmares, but what a scene. I thought we were going to have some rest before my wedding.”
“I’m sorry, Enna.”
Enna shook her head. “Please. Brynn is dead and Geric is hurt—but not dead. You hear me, Isi? He’s not dead. You think he’ll retreat to Kiltwin, hole up at his cousin’s castle?”
“No, he’ll make straight for home. Straight for me and Tusken.”
“I will go too,” said Dasha.
“That’s not necessary, Ambassador.”
“Please call me Dasha, and I think it is. Since coming to Bayern, I’ve met countless people who lost family members in the war my country started. Every day I’m mindful of that horrible suffering. I don’t want to stand around, being a statue in honor of Tiran cheerfulness. If I go with you, perhaps I can help prevent more suffering. Besides, if the king is hurt, what of Razo? And Finn—”
“Finn is fine,” Enna said.
“But—”
“Razo is fine, Finn is fine,” Enna said with so much heat in her voice Rin almost believed it was true, though surely Enna had no way of knowing.
“And what would happen to our currently amicable relationship with Tira,” said Isi, “if the Tiran ambassador was injured or even killed in Bayern?”
“I just won’t get killed then,” said Dasha. “And I think I’ll avoid injury too while I’m at it.”
“That’s a good idea,” Isi said.
“Thank you, I thought so too.”
“Dasha’s getting pretty good with fire,” Enna said, with some reluctance in her voice. “And she does have the water part that we don’t. Might come in handy.”
Rin’s skin began to tingle. Fire-speakers. The queen’s wind. Razo asking Dasha if it would rain. Fire. Water. Wind. They spoke casually, as if, perhaps, they assumed Razo had explained it all to her. Curse him.
Isi glanced her way and Rin remembered herself, thrusting her attention back to Tusken, who was clambering on her back. She was a waiting maid, there to watch the child, not take part in the queen’s council. But her thoughts still churned like leaves in the wind. Everyone knew that in the war between Tira and Bayern, a so-called fire-speaker had burned a tenth of the Tiran army, turning them back from invading the capital. A fire-speaker who could send attacks of fire, burning from a distance. That had been Enna, Rin now guessed. And the rumors about the queen and wind . . . So, both Enna and Isi could control wind and fire, and Dasha too. No, with Dasha it would be fire and water.
Rin felt like half a girl, a scrap of a person, sitting at the feet of these fearless women who were confident, wise, grown. With a hunger and a hope that felt bigger than her body, Rin yearned to be like them. Especially the queen. If only she could stay close to Isi, listen to her, watch her, perhaps she could learn how to be. Perhaps she could become someone new, someone fixed and good, someone who could go home again.
Chapter 7
Rin woke to the morning drum making rounds through the palace corridors, calling out those who were to leave on the expedition. It did not call for Rin, but she sprang up anyway, sneaked past the sleeping waiting women and ran down to the horse grounds. She’d slept in a travel tunic and leggings, even in her boots, and her leather knapsack was already packed with a hunting sling, a cloak, a change of clothes, a leather waterskin, and bread left over from supper.
The grounds were crowded with wagons and horses and men with weapons. The quaking calm of early-morning bustle surrounded her, the intensity and hurry jarring with the dark sky and sleepy light in the east. She eyed a wagon and considered crawling in and covering herself up with feed sacks. Instead she stood beside it, trying to look bold but feeling pathetic.
Her unease had been bad enough of late, but worry for Razo seemed like to kill her. She needed to know that he was all right. Keep moving. Stay with the queen, that was what she had to do.
“Rin?”
Rin startled, her limbs running with cold. Isi was dressed in a brown tunic with leggings for riding, her hair in one long plait down her back, unadorned. She did not look royal. But for her yellow hair, Rin thought she might have fit right in at the homestead.
“Did Enna ask you to come?”
Rin’s heartbeats scrambled in anxiety. “No. I’m . . . worried about Razo, and—”
“Majesty.” The chief steward rushed to the queen. He had slicked hair and a nose so tiny he seemed to be always sneering. “Majesty, the girl Cilie you sent to me . . . she didn’t return to quarters last night.”
“I asked you to get her out of the palace while I’m away.”
“And I would have, Your Majesty, but she never checked in after chores. No one knows where she is.”
Rin felt sick. She’d assumed Tusken would be safe in that big palace surrounded by soldiers, but perhaps not with Cilie slinking about.
Isi was already running back toward the palace, and she shouted over her shoulder, “Rin, come with me.”
Soldiers stood guard outside Tusken’s nursery. Janissa was asleep at the foot of the prince’s bed, and she startled when Isi and Rin entered. Tusken lay curled up in a ball, mouth open, chest rising and falling. Rin bowed her head with relief.
The queen was all focused energy. “Rin, take him down for me? Janissa, help me gather his things.”
“Down?” Rin asked.
“He’s safer with me and Enna out there than he is alone in a palace with a missing girl who might mean him harm.”
A roundish soldier with kind eyes escorted Rin and offered to carry the prince. Rin shook her head. She was not a large girl, but her child-carrying muscles were as strong as pine branches. She set the sleeping boy against her chest and gave him a little squeeze, his heart pressing closer to hers. Warmth gushed through her.
“I love you, Tusken,” she whispered.
He moaned in his sleep and stubbornly did not wake even after she clambered into the back of the wagon and the co
mpany began the bouncy trek down the city streets. He slept for hours, giving Rin time to think as dawn broke into day.
Keep moving, she thought. Back home, fleeing into the deep Forest had been a temporary reprieve. Escaping to the city had not cured her either. It seemed she was the problem, not the trees. She wished she could run away from herself.
Tusken’s wagon stayed in the center of the small army, flanked by Dasha, Enna, and Isi. Rin knew Isi would not casually risk her son’s life, so he must be safe with those three women. Everyone must be safe with them somehow. Even Rin. Hopefully Razo too. What a big open world they rode into, how many strange dangers—not the kind she knew, like unexpected falls into Forest ravines or cuts that did not heal. But fire coming out of nowhere, people who wanted to kill. It made no sense. She wrapped her arms around Tusken and imagined how her mother might have felt when she embraced her little girl.
Isi and Rin took turns in the wagon, keeping Tusken entertained or holding him while he napped. When Isi sat with her son, Rin rode the queen’s horse.
I’m going to die, Rin thought, and when Razo hears it was because I couldn’t stay upright on a horse, he’ll be laughing too hard to mourn.
In truth, the horse was gentle and walked so carefully, her balance never wavered. But he was a horse, a large beast with unfamiliar movements and no expressions to read except the undoubtedly murderous thoughts in his huge eyes.
The third day of travel, they met the king’s company as it retreated toward the city. Geric was riding at the head. That he was on horseback seemed an excellent sign, but from a distance Rin could see the bandages. She was standing in the wagon, straining to spot Razo.
Isi cantered her horse forward and Geric set his dappled mare to meet her. They dismounted, Isi throwing herself off her horse, Geric climbing off gingerly. Isi’s hand wavered over her husband’s bandaged face, white strips of cloth wrapped around half his head and covering one eye, extending over his right shoulder and arm, down the right side of his body. She kissed his left cheek.