by Verity Moore
Castoff’s wet nose in her eye jolted her awake. “There are more pleasant ways to end someone’s slumber. It feels like I barely slept. Can it wait? My mind refuses to work.”
“Woof.”
“What? Lost your voice already?”
He pawed her arm, then tugged on her tunic, backing up until the garment threatened to tear.
“All right, my friend. Have you found a way?”
The clouds jostled for position in an almost-dawn sky too small to accommodate them. They created ever-changing layers. Cierra felt her way like a blind woman, after falling on her nose twice.
She followed Castoff in a meandering path, always out of sight of the guards on the wall, away from the city, across a ridge and into a meadow. When the dog flopped down, resting head on paws, she settled herself to wait. In the dimness she saw no signs of life. She buried her hand in his fur. He was alive and warm…and sturdy. It mattered not that his hair was scratchy instead of soft, or that he lacked grace and beauty. He would not abandon her. And he was all she had of Kyam. She winked away the tears. Crying didn’t lessen the ache in her heart—only added one in her head.
Trusting her companion to sound any alarm, she laid her head on his broad back and dozed.
A drop of moisture landed on her cheek and slid toward her ear. She brushed it away without opening her eyes. Plop. Plop. Plop. She opened her eyes and stifled a scream. A large nose with immense nostrils, sporadic whiskers, and a long pink tongue dripping saliva hovered above her. She scurried backward on elbows and heels and took another look. A cow. She glanced to her right: another cow. Tilting her head back, she stared upside down at yet another bovine. She was surrounded by an entire herd of curious, languid, cud-chewing milk-makers.
Castoff slipped between two of them to sit in front of her, ears cocked. For the first time since Kyam’s death she saw a hint of a doggy grin. And her own heart eased a bit.
“You think it’s funny, do you?”
He rolled onto his back.
“No, it is not hilarious. Besides, you were to defend me.”
Tail swishing, ears swiveling, he studied her.
“What is it about cows that pleases you so?” She knelt beside him to give a vigorous belly rub. “They won’t get me in the gates.”
“Trust me in this. You don’t want to enter Lipfar.”
Cierra whirled and rose to face the voice. A young woman stood, hands on hips, assessing her. There was something familiar about her, but she didn’t know any dairy maids. The rough homespun dress and encompassing apron were liberally splotched with grass stains and other signs of labor.
“Cierra? Is that you?” The maid grabbed both her arms and gave them a gentle shake. “It’s me, Rella.”
“Rella?” Cierra blinked. Her polished, sophisticated girlhood friend was tending cows? “What are you doing keeping company with a bunch of smelly animals?”
Rella’s face tightened. “Father is no longer Bell Master.”
Cierra hugged her. “Say no more. I understand.”
“You shouldn’t be here. There is a reward for your capture.”
“I must get to Father.”
Rella shook her head. “It’s too late.”
Cierra swallowed hard, her heart feeling as if it had plunged over a cliff. “He is gone?”
“No, but soon, very soon. He wouldn’t want you to walk into a trap.”
“I have the antidote.”
“Antidote?”
“I’m sure he was given same poison as the other Watchers.”
“Other… then we’re not alone in this peril?”
“It stretches across the width of Capular.”
Rella’s shoulders slumped. “Some of us who are loyal talked of moving to another city.”
“It’s the same everywhere. We can’t run from the danger. But if Father still lives, there may be a way to fight and win…”
“He was still alive last evening, but he’s very weak.”
“I must get to him.”
“It won’t be easy. They search everything that comes through the gates.”
“There must be a way.”
“How did you manage to reach Lipfar?”
“My husband.”
“Husband? Where is he? Is he strong, a fierce warrior? We need those.”
“He’s dead.” Cierra swallowed. “Protecting me.”
Tears pooled in her friend’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. He must have been an outstanding man.”
“A man unequaled in integrity and courage. If I quit, which I want to do, his death will be for nothing.”
They stared at each other.
“Perhaps…”
“You could…”
Both stopped and waited for the other.
“Oh, Cierra, just like it was. Both with ideas at the same time. I thought we might hide you in the herd.”
“With guards on the wall? My idea will work better. I’ll give you the antidote and special water, along with a message for my parents. Then I’ll wait for you here to learn the results.”
Rella frowned. “I’ll do it, and gladly, if you don’t think my idea will work. But think carefully. You can rally the loyal citizens; you can tell of the grave danger; and you can lead us in resisting. You have seen and heard and discovered. I could only repeat your story, which would lose much in the retelling. Are you sure you should relinquish the task to another?”
Cierra sat down and chewed on a grass blade. “The danger is far greater to you if you try to smuggle me inside the gates. If we’re caught…”
Rella closed her eyes, drew a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Early or late, danger will spring in my path. If it must come, let it come now.” Her grin wobbled. “Besides my idea is so ingenious we won’t be caught.” She tossed her head in the old familiar sauciness. “When did my plans ever fail?”
“I seem to remember a disaster or two.”
“Poof!” Rella brushed them away with a wave of her hand. “Small problems when I was still young and inexperienced.”
“Very well, how do you propose getting me past the gates?”
Rella grinned. “Go under the wall.”
“I’m to dig like a mole?”
“The digging is done—at least I hope so. When we saw the city’s peril and realized we couldn’t mount a successful revolt, we devised a plan to escape. They guard the harbor as well as the gates. We couldn’t leave that way. So we began to dig a tunnel.”
Cierra groaned.
“What?”
“I’ve become well acquainted with underground passages. Be very careful what you vow never to do again.”
Rella cocked her head and raised an eyebrow.
“Later, when we have leisure, I’ll explain.”
“Very well. As I was saying, the tunnel was to be finished today. It stretches from the north wall to your parents’ house and on to the old bell tower.”
“The tower? Praise The Masters.”
“We needed an entry point for our people that was not under close scrutiny. Even before your father fell ill, the tower was not in use.”
“All of that is wonderful. But we can’t approach the wall until after dark. According to you, Father does not have that long.”
“Maybe we will not have to wait for sundown. A storm is coming.”
Thunder rumbled overhead and lightening flashed in the distance. “Will the storm panic the cows?”
“Perhaps. Which means they will rush the gates. And that will be a good thing.”
“Explain.”
“We will hide you in the herd. Next to Eenow would be the best place.”
“Why that particular cow?”
“Her place is in the center of the herd.”
“You have assigned each of them a spot?”
“Not me, the cows. They adore order and routine. Eenow’s spot is in the middle and that is where she will be.”
“I had not thought cows so intelligent.”
“
Not smart, habitual. Here is how it will work. When we reach the gates you will hug the base of the wall and follow it around to the north side. I will take the cows in, crawl through the tunnel, and open the hatch for you.”
“When can we try your wild and improbable scheme?”
Rella checked the sky. “See how quickly the clouds advance? The Masters have set our plan in motion already. Come, it is time to free Lipfar and save your father.”
✽✽✽
Cierra crouched between Eenow and one of her stable mates. Her nose was buried in coarse hair and warm hide, enveloped in rich, pungent animal smells. Walking in such a position was uncomfortable, but possible. Trotting could be done if necessary. But galloping was out of the question.
Clouds scurried across the sky, turning the day as dark as dusk, except for the flashes of lightening. There were no longer several heartbeats between the lightning’s crack and the thunder’s rumble—they were practically simultaneous. Eenow trundled on.
Lightning struck a tree not ten farthongs away. With a bellow, the herd lurched into a gallop. Faced with necessity, Cierra discovered she could run while crouched. Where was Castoff? There he was, loping at her side, mouth wide in a canine grin. “Males. The more danger, the better.”
Up ahead she could hear shouts; they must be near the gates. Her heart pounded in her ears. Sweat popped out on her forehead and ran into her eyes. She ignored the sting. So much depended on the next few minutes. A sharp-eyed guard on the wall could spot her.
The herd slowed.
Too late to choose a different plan.
Thunder rumbled like a dozen barrels rolling down the road. She saw the gate posts jutting up beyond Eenow’s horns. Her eyes moved to the wall and straight into a guard’s face.
He stiffened and yelled. His arm pointed towards her.
Ya-Wyn, help!
Chapter 11
A javelin of lightning hit the wall scentons away from the guard, knocking him from his perch. No time to rejoice. If she didn’t leave the herd now, she would be inside the gates.
Cierra scrambled around cow horns and heels to reach the wall. There it was: the bush and hollow that had hid her so well before. She dove into it. Lightning flashes moved to the west. She waited, eyes closed and ears open. Would soldiers search outside the wall? Had anyone heard the guard’s warning shout?
The rain came in a rush—drenching her in seconds. It felt like spear tips, jabbing and stinging. She huddled behind the bush, listening for the sound of running guards. None. She drew deep breaths twice and then twice more. She stood up. Her pack scraped against the wall as she slid toward the corner. Surely no one on the wall could see her in this dim light.
A footstep for every heartbeat, she moved closer and closer to her goal. Now the north wall lay just tesos away. Her hand gripped the corner. She eased one foot around the bend, then turned her head so that one eye could see along the expanse of the north wall. Rain made it difficult, but it seemed empty. With her pack still scraping the wall, she moved three steps past the corner.
She needed a bush or depression in the dirt to hide her while she waited for Rella to come. Why had she not asked how long it would take her to crawl the tunnel? Why had she not asked where along the length of the wall the opening was? And where was Castoff?
A cold nose answered her last question. So much comfort. She hugged him. “Can you find the tunnel opening?”
The dog trotted along the base of the north wall and stopped perhaps a third of the way to the west wall, next to some tall grasses and a small shrub. She hunkered down and let the slashing rain beat against her neck. Castoff pressed close, sharing body heat. All she could do was wait and hope. Hope that Rella was not caught. Hope that the tunnel had been completed. Hope that it had not been discovered. Hope that her father still lived. She choked back a sob. For someone who thought hope was a cheat, she was placing her future in a series of improbable hopes.
Cold. Miserable. Endless thunder and lightning. She tilted her head skyward. Insignificant discomforts compared to reaching Father.
Castoff stood facing the wall. Beyond the bush a large stone moved. Not far enough away from the wall to allow entrance. It wiggled. She grabbed the rock and pulled. A space appeared. Followed by Rella’s grinning face. “Come.”
Cierra followed her into a cramped, musty space. Castoff waited until she was in before following her.
“We must put the stone back.” Rella grunted with every word as she tugged the obstinate rock into place.
The tunnel was barely wide enough for two and only high enough to crawl. She squeezed in beside Rella and tugged on a corner of the rock. Her hand slipped, a nail tore. She ignored the pain. A stone sticking out would give away their plans.
Rella panted. “So much easier to push than to pull.”
“Remember when our hands were soft and smooth?”
Rella shook her head. “Too long ago. That girl is gone.”
Finally they settled the stone into place. Rella led the way, her crawling-crouch pace hurried. Mud dribbled from the tunnel roof. The one torch Rella had brought gave little light. Cierra followed the scuffling sounds as much as the flickering light. What if the tunnel collapsed? The walls felt as if they were pressing in on her. When she breathed, she inhaled stale air. She had to keep going. The tunnel had no twists and turns; it ran straight and true.
The straps of her pack dug into her shoulders: she had to reach Father with the antidote while he still lived. That the cramped, dark tunnel frightened her was of no consequence.
Rella stopped at an alcove, felt around in the indentation, pushed with her shoulder, and tumbled through the wall. Cierra eased her head into the opening. It was a small underground storage space. Her heart pounded. She recognized this place. As a small child, she had hidden here among the potatoes and onions to escape Nanny Evnel. Barrels still squatted in one corner. Up that ladder was her parents’ kitchen. She was home.
A man stepped from behind a cask. Cierra stumbled backward, clutching her staff.
“Not to worry. This is Cantor.” Rella ran a hand down his arm. “He has organized the loyalists.”
Cantor dipped his head. “My Lady, Rella says you bring us hope.”
“Perhaps.” How The Masters must be laughing. She, of all people, bringing hope. “My father?”
“He and your Lady Mother are in their room. One guard bars the door.”
“One guard can be overpowered.” Cierra started for the ladder that led to the kitchen.
Cantor stopped her. “First I will check. The soldiers have made free with Paro’s food. They stroll in and out as if the kitchen is their own.”
“And I will go next.” Rella grinned. “In case Cantor needs help hitting a few heads.”
Cierra stood at the base of the ladder—one foot on the first rung, hands holding the sides.
Cantor listened at the trap door before lifting it. He stepped up and out of sight. Rella was hard on his heels. Her grinning face reappeared. “Hurry, hurry.”
Cierra pushed off with her grounded foot and scurried up the steps, Castoff so close behind his fur rubbed her legs.
✽✽✽
Cierra entered the warmth of her parents’ kitchen. A tiny, gray-haired woman turned from the fire with a disgruntled scowl. “Here now, you lummox…Oh, Rella, I thought it was that ox of a guard demanding more food. I’ll not …” She stopped as Cierra stepped from behind Cantor. Trembling hands covered her mouth and she blinked back tears. “Child!” She hurried to hug Cierra. “It’s you. You’ve come.” The cook withdrew a little to hold Cierra at arm’s length and give her a shake. “You shouldn’t be here. How did you? What were you thinking?”
“Hush, Paro, we have a plan. All is not lost.” Rella pried the tiny woman from Cierra. “Has nourishment been sent to the Watcher recently?”
Paro shook her head. “They said it was useless.”
“Surely Lady Reg needs sustenance.”
The cook nodded, a smi
le crept her face. “I have her favorite soup simmering. And bread and cheese.”
“Just what we need.” Rella snatched a gray tunic and trousers along with a large apron off the hook where they hung by the stove and shoved it at Cierra. “The guard will not look beyond the signs of servitude to see your face. A menial is a menial.”
Cantor turned a discreet back while Rella helped Cierra switch garbs. A sigh shivered out of her. How wonderful to be dry and mud-free once more.
Paro bustled to the table and collected cups, bread, and tray. “He has been at his post for hours. Perhaps in his tiredness, he will not notice a different serving girl.” She handed a tray to Cierra. “May The Masters blind his eyes. If not, use this to close them.” She shoved a poker into Cantor’s hands.
Cierra set the tray down on the kitchen table and dropped her pack beside it. With shaking hands she poured river water into a cup and added the antidote. A quick stir and she was ready. Just one hallway away from her goal.
Cantor led the way to her parents’ room. Rella came next clutching Cierra’s staff. He halted them with an upraised hand, peered around the corner leading to Reg’s door and pulled back. “One, just as Paro said.” His whisper barely carried to her ears. “We will wait here. If there is trouble, we will fight.”
Rella held up Cierra’s staff and mimed swinging it like a club. Castoff bared his teeth.
Cierra nodded. Clutching the tray and trying to mimic the shuffling tread of a maid, she headed toward her father’s chamber. How many times as a little girl she had raced headlong to that room, eager to share some treasure or ask a question that could not wait.
“Brought me some food, missy?” The guard’s grin was three parts leer. “I’ll be off duty in an hour.”
She hid her revulsion and shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not done for two.”
“I’ll wait.” His pinch brought her up on her toes. He laughed and smacked the same spot. “Get your work done so it’s only one.”
He opened the door and winked. She slipped in and shut the door with her foot.
Her father lay pale and unmoving in the giant bed. The deep burgundy satin of the coverings leached whatever color he had. Her mother sat on a chair drawn next to the bed. Neither paid attention to her entrance. The bed, set against the far wall, was at least twenty steps away.