Shadow's Voice

by Natalie Johanson

  Rose’s eyes widened.

  “It will be easiest to devise a plan if we understand how you do what you do,” Captain Sayla said.

  Rose pressed her lips together, but before she could protest, Mariah continued, “as I’m sure you’ve guessed, I can read minds. I can see and hear what you see and hear but only as you are thinking it.”

  Rose tipped her head to the side. She stared at the captain who started right back at her. These people had no idea. They talked about magic as if it was normal, as if people weren’t beaten for having magic in other parts of the country. As if Rose hadn’t spent her life hiding hers. This woman across from her thinks a little sharing will make everything all right.

  Captain Sayla sighed, though it sounded more like a growl. “I am trying,” she bit out, “to extend some trust. You might try returning it.”

  Rose clenched her fists against her lap and clenched her jaw. Taking a deep breath, Rose ignored the captain and turned back to the king. With a deep breath, Rose spoke her secret. “I can be shadow. I don’t know how. I just can. If someone is in a shadow, I can see them and hear them if they speak, with some effort.”

  “And if they are not?”

  Rose breathed out through her nose, tried not to growl.

  “Then . . . it is difficult. The more light they are in the less detail there is.”

  “Extraordinary,” King Micah murmured. He rubbed his chin. “And can you go anywhere there are shadows?”

  Rose hesitated, not wanting to continue and tell them more but not knowing how to avoid it. “I . . . not anywhere. I can travel through the shadows but not very far. I’ve never tried, anyway.”

  “Travel?” Captain Sayla frowned.

  “Think of it as tunnels. Tunnels . . . or roads. Think of roads. When I am in the shadows I can see tunnels—roads.” Still seeing confusion on the faces of the two, Rose tried again. “Um . . . I enter that shadow,” Rose pointed to the shadow in the corner of the room, “and I can see a road to come out of the shadow under the captain’s chair.”

  “Fascinating.” Micah sat up in his chair.

  Rose shrugged a little. “Fascinating” was never a word she had thought to associate her magic with; but before this week, “skill” was never a word she’d heard it called either. She had never tried explaining her odd ability to anyone. Her father hated her even more when he realized she had it. He had been furious when Rose had learned she could use it to escape his beatings. Then he’d realized the potential of it and had recruited her into spying on his competition and then . . . more.

  “There have already been other assassination attempts. I know he’s building an army.”

  “Why do you need me then?” Rose asked.

  “Because I cannot prove he is planning a coup.” King Micah admitted. “We were never able to tie the assassin back to the lord. I do not have enough information to challenge him. He has more pull with the northern lords than I do. What I know and what I can prove are different.”

  Rose swallowed and nodded. “What am I looking for then?”

  “Logs, invoices, plans . . . Things that support proof of any army.”

  Rose nodded. “Has anyone else been sent to gather this information?”

  “It’s what Nico was doing.” Captain Sayla spoke quietly. “He had been on a long-term assignment trying to gather information.”

  “We are running out of chances and it will be more dangerous now,” the king spoke gently but with no mistaking his authority.

  “I know what to expect.” Rose tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She’d tried so hard to escape that life, her father, the nightmares. Having to go back to it . . . No, not all of it.

  Micah watched her face and Rose tried her best to keep it blank. They were not getting all her secrets. Rose continued with the planning. “Is there a map of the layout of the Penish Keep? It will be easier if I know where I’m going.”

  Micah nodded. “The cartographer has maps. Captain Sayla will show you to his office before the day is over. Over the years we’ve been able to estimate the general layout of the Clan’s home though various reports. It isn’t very accurate, but it is all there is.”

  “Why this lord?” Rose asked.

  “Sorry?”

  Rose shifted. “Why lord . . .”

  “Damian,” Captain Sayla supplied when Rose didn’t continue.

  “Why Lord Damian?” Rose met the king’s eyes. “Why does he want you dead so badly? If he’s caught, he’ll be hanged. So, why?”

  King Micah drummed his fingers on his desk. “His family is one of the original clan lines. You can trace his family back to the days before there were kings. When the first High King was selected a civil war broke out between the clans. The Penish clan was the one leading the charge against King Jonas. He believes the throne should be his. Always has.”

  “And he’s making his move now because?”

  “I’m new to the throne and I have yet to establish new or stronger political ties. My father left me with a bit of a mess with some of the lords. The northern ones particularly. He probably thinks now will be the easiest chance to gain support if he were to seize the throne.”

  Rose nodded. “He’s taking a huge risk hoping you’ve more enemies than friends.”

  King Micah gave her a crooked smile. “I said he was determined and bitter, never said he was incredibly smart.”

  “Sometimes the most dangerous people are the dull, determined ones.” Rose echoed his crooked smile.

  The king seemed to think about her answer, rubbing his chin and giving a slight nod. “I’m sure you understand this must remain between the three of us.”

  “Of course, Sire.” Captain Sayla finally spoke up and stood.

  “Then I believe that is all. I wish you luck, Miss Trewin.”

  Rose nodded and left with the captain. Outside in the corridor, the captain took her elbow and steered her down the hallway.

  “The Quartermaster is located out on the grounds behind the militia’s barracks. The cartographer is in the lower levels. We’ll go there first.”

  Rose silently followed the captain’s brisk walk down to the chilly levels and through barren corridors. Captain Sayla opened a dark, weathered door at the end of a quiet hallway. The smell of ink and old leather assaulted Rose’s nose and she sneezed from the sudden cloud of dust. Someone actually works down here? Rose thought with a small amount of horror. They walked through the dark, musty room. It is like a tomb.

  “Not just work.” Captain Sayla said in a low voice, “he lives down here as well.”

  “What did he do to warrant this?” Rose whispered as they moved through the shelves of parchment and inks.

  “He enjoys it down here.” Captain Sayla said, “it’s people he hates.”

  The captain called out softly. “Peter? Peter.”

  “Busy.”

  They turned toward the raspy voice and saw a gray-haired man hunched over a splayed parchment. On his face was monocle. Absently, he reached for a magnifying glass and held it above the paper. “Busy,” he said again.

  “Peter, we need a map.”

  Peter looked up and his one eye was huge in the eye glass. Rose smothered a grimace.

  Peter went back to his paper. He dipped a pen in ink and began sketching. “There is a list, Captain, proper order. You know this.”

  “This is a request from the king, Peter. Is has top priority.”

  Peter made one last flourish and set his pen down gently. Then he looked back up and with a jerk, ripped off his eye glass. “But Captain-” He trailed off in a huff. “I have a system.”

  Captain Sayla tried to cover her groan with a cough. “The king values your work and does his best to humor your ways; but Peter, we need this as soon as possible
.”

  Peter huffed but took the paper from the captain. “I hope the king knows how much this inconveniences me.”

  “I will inform him of your disgruntlement.”

  When it became evident Peter wasn’t going to say more, the captain grabbed Rose’s elbow and eased them out of the room.

  “Is he always so . . . odd?” Rose asked once they were back in the hallway.

  Captain Sayla waved her hand in a dismissal. “He is set in his ways, no doubt. But he is the best at what he does. At least he didn’t throw any ink at me this time.”

  Rose shook her head at the thought of the little hunched over man throwing ink at Captain Sayla.

  “He has done it many times. Even hit me on occasion. The little man has ruined three of my greatcoats.”

  “And I missed this? Such a shame.”

  “Stay long enough and I’m sure you’ll see it. I think he enjoys it,” the captain said dryly.

  Rose chuckled and shielded her eyes against the sudden sun as they walked outside. Rose squinted through the sun and looked around her. The servant door had spat them out near the stables and practice fields behind the castle. The captain turned briskly toward those busy fields and the squat barrack buildings past them. Past those buildings, Rose could see the tops of the trees of the King’s Forest; the one protected patch of land in the country. No hunting, no building, no lumber mills. Only acres of forest.

  “Don’t dawdle. We still need to see the Quartermaster,” Captain called to Rose without turning around or stopping.

  Rose tripped over herself and ran after the captain. As they approached the barracks, more and more militia officers appeared around them. A few nodded to Captain Sayla, who returned the gesture. They slipped between two buildings and walked out into a small courtyard hidden behind the barracks.

  “The militia was the earliest to be housed on the castle grounds. Their barracks are the oldest, and the largest,” Captain Sayla said as they crossed the small courtyard. “So of course the Quartermaster was housed with the militia. Eventually the militia became the infantry. It’s been proposed over the years to move the Quartermaster to a more central location, but it’s never gone past mere proposals. So here it sits.”

  She let them into the building. “To the left is the supply room, the room in front is an armory of sorts should you need a new weapon, and right down the corridor is the office.”

  Rose looked down each hallway then back at the captain. “What am I going to need?”

  Captain Sayla opened her mouth, paused, and seemed to decide against it. After nodding toward the left, she walked into the supply room. Rose jerked to a stop when she saw quantity of the items.

  “Wool.” She pointed to the barrels along the wall. “Leather, lined coats, fur.” She continued to point out all the barrels and stacks of goods. Rose stopped at a pile of deep blue coats. She ran her thumb over the fine cloth. Deep and even dye. Expensive dye. Good wool. The weave was very tight. She looked around the room. “Thousands of pounds of gold is sitting in this room.”

  The captain stopped next to her and leaned against the shelf. “Yes. Not all of it is ours, most of it is the army’s. Our supply has gotten a little,” she paused and surveyed the room. “A little worse for wear.”

  “Who are your suppliers?”

  “We have several.” She went about the room, glancing first at Rose then back at the clothing while speaking. “What does your family do?”

  “My father is a merchant. I helped with trades, the accounting, other things.”

  Rose watched the blond woman pull different length coats from the walls and tunics from the crates. “My father trades wool and leather mostly, cotton if the price is worth it, dyes occasionally.”

  “A textile merchant, no wonder this room made you drool.” Captain tossed a pair of boots at Rose. “Will those fit?”

  Rose fumbled and caught one boot. Holding it against the bottom of her own worn and cracked boots she said, “they’ll work.”

  “Good.” Captain Sayla dumped the pile of clothing in Rose’s arms. “Follow me.”

  Rose jostled the heavy load and followed the captain through the hallway down to the office. Standing in the doorway, Rose listened to a quill scratch as the captain wrote something in a ledger.

  “Normally officers are provided three sets of uniforms a quarter. Anything extra is paid for out of your own purse. These will be assigned to you for this assignment.”

  Rose nodded even though Captain Sayla couldn’t see over the pile.

  “And,” she continued, “regardless of it being assigned or purchased on your own, this ledger needs to be filed out every time. What you took, how it is to be paid for, who made the order, everything. Otherwise the Quartermaster will have my hide made into a pair of boots.” She stabbed the pen into the ledger and turned around. Standing up on her toes, Captain peered over the pile at Rose. “Understood?”

  Rose grunted and readjusted her grip before turning to head back to her room.

  “Good. I have other business to attend to and you have packing to do.” Captain brushed past her and out the door.

  Rose had only started packing her new items when a message runner knocked on her door with a summons from Captain Sayla. She sighed, dropped her pile of clothing and headed toward the captain’s office. She knocked briskly on the door.

  “Come.”

  Rose slipped inside Captain Sayla’s office and dropped into the chair. “You sent for me?”

  Captain Sayla shuffled the papers she was looking at into a neat pile and set them aside. “Yes. I want to speak about some things before you leave.”

  Rose shifted in her seat.

  “The king is choosing to trust you. I want to make sure that isn’t a mistake.” The captain folded her hands on top of her weathered desk. “I’ve a question for you. It’s been bothering me since our first conversation in the mending wing.”

  Rose waiting and folded her hands together.

  “It was a curiosity at first, but now that you’ve been given an assignment I need to clear this question up.” The captain paused and licked her lips. “Why did you think your name would be in the ledger?”

  Rose could hear her pulse in her ears. “Was it?”

  Captain Sayla clucked her tongue. “No. Why did you think it would be?”

  “It’s not so it doesn’t matter.”

  “It does,” Captain Sayla protested, “because the king is trusting you with an assignment. It does, because I say it matters.”

  Rose cleared her throat and shifted again in her seat. “Not every decision I’ve made . . . Everyone has a past.”

  The captain sat back and dropped her hands into her lap. “Yes. Everyone does. What I’m wondering is if we can trust you, with your past.”

  “I’ve been hired for a job. I always complete my jobs. You can trust me to do this.”

  “Is that your motivation for everything? A job to do?”

  Rose bristled and looked away. “Most things. Not everything.”

  “If you stay, become part of the Light Horse, you could learn to be part of something; give more motivation to your life.”

  “Nico said the same thing.” Rose looked away. “But I don’t think I fit in here.”

  Captain Sayla let out a deep breath. “All right, fine.” She brushed a loose blond strand out of her eyes. “Do you have the map from Peter?”

  Rose nodded.

  “Good. One last thing.” Captain Sayla reached down behind her desk and revealed a long sword. She stood and handed it to Rose over the desk. The captain spoke with Rose examined the scabbard. “I know you haven’t trained much with Archie, but take this just in case.”

  Rose pulled the blade from its plain scabbard, void of any decoration. The blade itself was
well made, light, balanced. She recognized the simple etching of the smith near the base of the sword as a well-known, accomplished swordsmith. “I’m better with small blades,” she said off-handedly.

  “I remember you saying that.” Captain Sayla placed a long knife on her desk. “Which is why you’ll have this as well.”

  Rose sheathed the sword. She looked at the knife, only slightly longer than her dagger, and grinned. “Thank you.” That she knew how to use.

  “Then you should be ready to leave tomorrow morning.”

  “I am.”

  Captain Sayla stared at her with hard eyes. “The king is choosing to trust you. Do not take that trust for granted.”

  Chapter 14

  Rose’s journey to Berthton had been quick and unhindered for the past fortnight. It was a pleasant change of pace from the last journey she’d taken. Now, with her destination only a day ahead of her, Rose was feeling the slightest pangs of nerves as she sat near her small fire; the moon high above her and the ground cool beneath her.

  She still didn’t know how she ended up at the castle or what happened to her in the woods. Something had changed with her magic, her shadows. It felt like they were still changing. They felt new. It unnerved her and made her angry. She had worked hard to gain the control she had, and Rose felt that control slipping away now. Taspa’s head hung low where he stood dozing. She rubbed the pink welt on her wrist, the flesh still tender and soft.

  “I want answers,” she muttered and sunk into shadows.

  Rose pushed herself deeper into the shadows, deeper than she normal went, until she was in the darkness between places. The cool mist swirled around her feet and she could feel the dew drops on her skin. Looking around herself, Rose saw the different openings into the world. Places where darkness touched light, the places of shadow that made openings for her. Rose walked through the darkness, looking briefly through the window-like openings into the world. She saw the forest through different angles.