There were people everywhere, or so it seemed to my agonized eyes. Archers practicing, arrow-makers, people practicing movements with long sticks meant to be swords. The camp was much bigger than I had imagined. And where did one go to pee in peace?
“Dina—” Nico put his hand on my arm.
“Back in a minute,” I snapped, taking off at a run. Through the camp, into the woods, behind some shrubbery. Saints, what a relief.
Nico was waiting where I had left him, by the shelter that had apparently been my night lodgings.
“All better now?” he said with a crooked smile.
“Much better,” I said. “Such a big camp!”
“Yes,” he said, the smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. “The Weapons Master has gathered more people than I thought he could.”
“Isn’t that good?”
“I suppose so.”
But he didn’t sound very happy.
“He has been gone on some business, but he has just returned,” said Nico. “And he wants to talk to us both.”
“Can I have something to eat first? And a drink?”
He gave me his water bottle.
“Here. There’s no time for breakfast, though. He is a busy man, and we had better not keep him waiting.”
The Weapons Master was watching the archers with a critical eye.
“Tell number three from the right that he is clutching his weapon too tightly,” he told the lean, sinewy figure by his side.
“I did,” said the man. “About thirty times, just today. But no one has so deaf an ear as he who does not want to hear.”
Rover! It was Rover, standing there looking all normal and untramplike. But there was a bit of rhyming left in him still, it seemed.
“Well met, Dina,” he said. “We thought you had decided to play the bear and not wake until springtime.”
Play the bear?
“How long did I sleep?” I asked Nico.
“A little over two days,” he said. “So if you are hungry, it’s no wonder.”
No. And no wonder, either, that I had needed to pee.
Two days!
One of the archers was Carmian, I suddenly noticed. Her hair had been tamed and hidden under a tight scarf, so I hadn’t recognized her right off. She sent an arrow whizzing toward the painted target, and it hit the bull’s-eye, straight on.
After a last sharp look at the archers—especially number three from the right—the Weapons Master turned to us.
“Nicodemus,” he said, making it a careful greeting. “Saint Magda be praised. I feared the worst when we heard that Drakan had moved into the Highlands.”
Nico looked ill at ease. “I was on my way to somewhere else.”
“He was heading for Dunark in order to kill Drakan,” said Carmian sharply, lowering her bow. “Alone.”
The Weapons Master looked at Nico. “Is that true?”
Nico shrugged. “More or less.”
The Weapons Master looked around. “Have you gone stark raving mad, boy?” he said, his voice so carefully low that the archers couldn’t hear him.
“It was the best solution I could think of,” said Nico tiredly. “I’m not saying it was a brilliant plan.”
The Weapons Master looked as if he could barely grasp the scope of Nico’s foolhardiness. Or did he think it merely stupidity?
“If we thought an assassination were possible,” he said slowly, “do you really think we would have hesitated?”
“I had an advantage,” said Nico. “I would have come face-to-face with him in the end. Drakan would never have had me killed without being personally present. And I was going to have a hidden weapon. It would look as if I were bound and unarmed, even though I was neither.”
The Weapons Master shook his head slowly.
“Holy Saint Magda,” he said, very quietly. “Holy Saint Magda and all her Celestial Sisters. Boy, do you think Drakan’s bodyguards are complete morons? Do you really think they wouldn’t check? In your wildest dreams, had you imagined that would actually work?”
“I knew it was a risk—”
“A risk! It was madness!”
“But what else was I to do?” Nico’s voice rose sharply, edged with despair. “What else was there? It was going on and on, people getting killed every day, and we knew… we knew it was just a matter of time before he attacked the Highlands. What was I to do? Put myself at the head of the line of people his army would slaughter anyway? I might as well do it myself, then.”
“Nicodemus Ravens. Have you no concept of your own value?”
“Value? To whom, Weapons Master? For what? I cannot conduct a war. I cannot conceive a strategy that calculates that our left flank will be ground to pieces by his first wave of attack, whereupon our right flank will have the chance to attack from the rear. I cannot sacrifice people like that. I’m not even a very good swordsman!”
“You weren’t that bad. Your heart just wasn’t in it.”
“No! Because I hated it! I still hate it. But if anybody is going to get killed in this war, it had damn well better be Drakan. Or me, so I won’t have to see the rest of it!”
The Weapons Master seized Nico’s arm.
“Watch your tongue, boy! Don’t say such things when your men can hear you!”
“They are not my men,” said Nico, but he did lower his voice. “They are yours.”
“That’s where you are wrong. They aren’t here because of me. They are here because they want Drakan gone—and the House of Ravens back on the throne. And if you detest that plan so much, why are you here at all?”
Nico was silent for a while.
“Because I no longer have a choice,” he finally said. “If Drakan takes the Highlands, what is left? We will never be rid of the Dragon then.”
The Weapons Master nodded. “That is why we have come out of hiding,” he said, waving a hand at the camp. “This big a camp, it will not be long before it is discovered. But the days when we could meet in somebody’s barn are long gone.”
Nico looked at the archers. Number three from the right sent his arrow so far wide of his target he nearly hit a different one.
“They’re not ready,” he said. “How many have had weapons training before? Half?”
“Barely that. And no, they are not ready. But, Nicodemus, we will always be too few, we will always be too badly armed. If we have to wait until we are ‘ready,’ we might as well give up right away. And it is time. Don’t you feel it? You said it yourself. If he takes the Highlands, we’ll not be rid of him in my lifetime. Not that my lifetime is likely to be a long one in that case.”
Nico kicked at the snow with one foot. “What if this is a war that will not be decided by weapons?” he said. “Or not only by weapons?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you looked into Dina’s eyes lately?”
The Weapons Master glanced at me without really meeting my eyes.
“I know Dina has her mother’s powers. But how many people can she look in the eye at a time? No, Nicodemus. I prefer to have as many real weapons as I can lay my hands on.”
“Dina has her gift back,” said Nico. “You can sense that from half a mile away. But it’s more than that. Isn’t it, Dina?”
“I… I don’t know,” I said. “Azuan gave me something called dream powder and it did things to me. But, Nico, I hardly know myself what really happened.”
“When you came riding into camp two nights ago, whatever it was, Dina, it was so strong that no one dared go near you. No one except Tano.”
“Not you?” I burst out. “Were you afraid too?”
“Tano did it first,” he said evasively.
I stared at him, or rather, at his chin, because I knew he would look away if I tried to catch his eyes.
“I’m no monster,” I whispered.
“Of course you’re not,” he said. “But there is no running away from the fact that you are different.”
Misery hit me like a club. Nico, who want
ed to be neither hero nor monster. Nico who only wanted to be himself, how could he stand there and make it sound like I was some kind of alien creature?
Without another word, I turned and left.
“Now you’ve upset her,” said Carmian, not exactly sounding as if that made her want to cry. “You really will have to learn that little girls have big emotions, Nico.”
♦ ♦ ♦
I didn’t know what to do with myself. Everyone else was so busy, but I couldn’t really see the point of me trying to learn how to use a bow right now. And if I did get in line with the others, they would probably only run away. Like you would if a monster suddenly sidled up next to you.
Then I heard a familiar sound, that of a hammer pounding away at an anvil.
Rikert. He didn’t meet my eyes either; he never had. But I had always been welcome in his house all the same. And I had not forgotten that the first thing he had done when he found me knocking on his door was to hug me.
But it wasn’t Rikert doing the hammering. It was Tano. I stopped a little way off and stood watching him. He was so intent on what he was doing that he didn’t notice me at first. His dark hair was sticking to his forehead, and he had taken off his shirt. Even during winter and out of doors, the work of a smith could make you sweat, it seemed.
Rikert saw me and came over.
“That boy will be a good smith one day,” he said, quietly, as if he was afraid to disturb him.
“That’s good,” I said. “Are you training him?”
He nodded. “He has the knack, but it’s more than that. He can see what isn’t there yet. He will be one of those smiths who do things that have never been done before. And there aren’t all that many of those.”
I looked at Tano’s bent back. It was scarred with marks from beatings and burns from sparks from the forge. He looked like someone who had never had an easy time of it but had just kept going anyway. The devil takes care of his own, people said, but I didn’t think Tano belonged to the devil. What I didn’t understand, though, was how his thread in the Ghost Country had come to be so closely twined with mine. I had hurt him so much already. But on the other hand, Drakan’s thread ran close to mine too, and that was hardly because we were the best of friends. There were such things as close enemies.
Then Tano straightened, and I could see what he was working on. It was a shield, a shield with a black raven on it. He smiled at it, pleased with himself and his work, and the smile made his whole face light up.
“Is it done?” asked Rikert.
“Just one boss left to do,” answered Tano. “Which is just as well, ’cause I hear we’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Really?” said Rikert. “Says who?”
Tano shrugged. “Everyone knows. Now that the Young Lord has arrived.”
It was more than the Young Lord himself knew, I thought, but “everyone” might turn out to be right after all.
“Take a breather,” said Rikert. “Get yourself something to eat. And take Dina with you; she has had neither food nor drink since she woke up.”
Not apart from a few swallows from Nico’s water bottle. But I didn’t think Tano wanted to share his lunch with me.
“I can find my own—”
“Go with Tano, Dina. He’ll show you where the food wagon is.”
Tano dug up a few handfuls of snow and scrubbed his arms and chest with it.
“Dirty work,” he said, looking almost shy. I nodded and thought that I had been right. He wasn’t madly keen to be playing guide to the Shamer monster. And he had better reasons to avoid me than most people. Rikert meant well, I supposed. But good intentions were not enough.
“It’s over there,” said Tano, lacing up his shirt. “It’ll probably be kale soup. It was kale soup yesterday and the day before that.” He smiled crookedly. “Probably tomorrow as well, if we are still here. But at least the food is hot.”
My stomach rumbled. “Anything,” I said. “Anything as long as it is edible.”
The snow was trampled by many feet, mostly human, but horse and goat tracks were visible as well. I slipped in the slush, and Tano had to seize my arm to keep me upright.
“Slippery here,” he said. “Watch out.”
I nodded, and felt myself blushing. Now he would think me clumsy as well. But perhaps I should be grateful that he had dared touch me at all and hadn’t just let me drop.
He got us two bowls of kale soup from a little old woman stirring a kettle nearly bigger than she was. Some rough tables and benches were set up next to the food wagon, but most were occupied already, and I didn’t really want to see people edge away from me, or leave the table because I had joined it.
“Is there somewhere else we can sit?” I asked.
“Over there?” he said, gesturing with one bowl. “On the log?”
“That looks fine.”
We ate our soup in silence, and it tasted just fine, even though kale was certainly the chief ingredient. At least Tano hadn’t moved away from me at the first opportunity. But then, I already knew that he did not scare easily.
“How did you end up with the Foxes?” I finally asked.
He shrugged. “Not a lot of other places for me to go,” he said. “Not once I had escaped from Dracana. The Order of the Dragon takes a poor view of runaways.”
I could imagine.
“Was it hard?” I asked. “Escaping?”
“Not easy. Particularly not since, well, there were two of us. And Imrik couldn’t walk very well.”
Imrik. The boy whose foot had been crushed in the weapons smithy of Dracana. That was what Tano had been most ashamed of—he had promised to look after Imrik, and Imrik had been hurt despite his care. But as with the girl—what was her name? Milena? No, Milona—as with her, I didn’t think Tano ought to blame himself.
“How did you do it?”
“I carried him. For two days. Until we succeeded in stealing a donkey.”
I looked at him sideways. I knew he was strong, and the man who had once sold them to Drakan had called Imrik a puny runt. But still… two days. He had to have been absolutely desperate.
“Where is he now—Imrik?”
“Life in the woods was hard on him. But he is good with his hands, very careful. Meticulous, like. He is helping the Widow with the medicines. Weighing stuff, and so on.”
“But not here?”
Tano shook his head. “Right now they are in a village not far from here. But they won’t be able to stay much longer. Not all the neighbors can be trusted.”
“Are you two related?”
“No. But neither of us had anyone else.”
“Why not?”
“In Hazelford—that’s where we grew up—there was an illness. Some said it came from the animals, others that it was the water. But a lot of people died. Imrik’s parents and his little sister. I had just my Ma. And then she died too.”
So lonely. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the village had let the little peddler take the two boys. Although to be fair, they hadn’t known he would sell them to Valdracu and Drakan.
“My papa is dead,” I said.
“But you knew him.”
“Yes. For a little while.”
And apparently that was more than Tano could claim.
“If I ever have children,” he said quietly but in an edged voice, “I’ll never leave them. Never.”
I thought about his faithfulness to Imrik.
“No,” I said. “I don’t think you will.”
It had started snowing again. I put the bowl down and rubbed my chilled fingers. And then Tano did something that took me completely aback. Quietly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he took my hand between two of his.
I was utterly stunned.
“Do you like me?”
“I might. Is that so bad?”
“No. No, I… it’s just… I thought you hated me.”
“Only every once in a while.”
I couldn’t tell whether he meant t
hat for a joke or not. The snow seemed to be falling more slowly around us than it had been a minute ago.
“Do you like me?” he asked. And he looked at me. Right into my eyes, though he knew the cost.
I think I sat there with my mouth open for quite a while.
Then I nodded.
“Yes. I like you.”
He put his head back and laughed out loud, his dark eyes sparkling.
“What are you laughing at?”
“I’m not laughing.”
“Yes, you are.”
He shook his head. But his eyes were still laughing. Or smiling anyway.
“Your hand is cold,” he said. “It’s a cold day.”
And then he brought my hand up and blew on it gently, like you do to a child.
“I have to get back to the forge,” he said. “I still have one boss left to do on that shield.”
“Yes, I know you do.”
I wanted to ask him what happened when he looked into my eyes. But I didn’t dare. I could barely make myself look at him now. I was utterly confused. Did he like me, or didn’t he? Why had he laughed like that? But he must like me a little. I mean, you don’t blow on a girl’s fingers if you really detest her. Do you?
Tano and “everyone” in the camp were right. The very next day we broke camp and headed into the Highlands, me and Nico, the Weapons Master, Carmian, Rikert and Tano, and a few hundred other people who had had enough of Drakan and his rule.
We were so ridiculously few, reckoned against the Dragon Force—hadn’t Nico said something about eight thousand men? It was hard to imagine what we could do. Yet there was a strange mood of… expectation was perhaps putting it strongly, but still. Some were singing as they walked. And everyone had the feeling that the long wait was at an end.
“They are out of their minds,” said Nico. “If my plan was madness, what is this?”
“The sting of a wasp,” said the Weapons Master. “But even a wasp may be lethal if you aim its sting at the right place.”
DAVIN
A Foul Stench
The sun was down. Not just setting, not anymore. It was down. And still nothing had happened.
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