“Yes, sir.”

  Lino attempted a bow as he was pulled, gently, from the room.

  Seto drummed his long fingers on the table. “So. A betrayal.”

  Flir moved around to the light. “Alvetti, the Shield?”

  “Yes. Solicci told me that the Shield on the gate claimed he did not know who brought the letter.”

  “You want us to round him up?”

  “Bring him to the council room. I’m going to visit Abrensi while you’re out, but I will wait for you after.”

  “And the messenger – one of Vinezi’s men?” Luik asked.

  “Doubtless.”

  “If we see him, do we take or follow? Might lead us to Vinezi if we let him.”

  “Take either. I don’t want to rush.”

  “We’ll be quick as we can.” Flir led Luik from the room, striding through the halls. Lamps were spaced widely here in the servant’s halls and she passed few people, though each bowed as she did. Silly. She wasn’t a lady, wasn’t a hero. She was just one of the few people willing to get things done.

  “Slow down, will you?”

  “You can keep up,” she said. “Besides, I don’t want to run into Pevin – he’s probably finished his errands by now.”

  He grunted, matching her stride. “What errands?”

  “He didn’t really say. Seto’s still having him watched. He doesn’t completely buy Pevin’s devotion, I suspect.”

  “Probably for the best. Gate first, then the barracks?”

  “Yes. And Alvetti better be there because I’m not trudging through a dozen taverns and inns,” Flir growled. “Or whorehouses for that matter.”

  “Think Vinezi has him in his nest?”

  “Looks that way.” She crossed an intersection, closing in on a long staircase leading down to the ground floor. Their boots clapped on the stone steps. “What would have made you turn on everyone, Luik? Poor pay?”

  “When I was a Shield? Pay was poor but...nothing would have made me do that.”

  “Nothing? The old King didn’t strike me as a person to inspire loyalty.”

  “Which old King?”

  “Pick one.”

  “Genatos was like Seto – only not as noble, down inside, I think. Otonos...well, you’re right. He was no good. But that’s not who I’d have betrayed. The Shield. They deserved my best.”

  “Well, Alvetti found something worthwhile.” Flir leapt down the last few steps and crossed the marbled floor to the great double doors. She gave the King’s Swordfish a shove, splitting the body from fin, light and chill air rushing through.

  Winter lurked on the landing. She exhaled, breath steaming. Below, across tidy lawns dotted with feature gardens, quiet fountains and statues of Kings, Heroes and Gods, stood the gatehouse and massive gates. They made even the wall seem modest. How heavy was the Gate? With both hands, she probably couldn’t open it. Probably.

  The Captain at the gatehouse checked his ledger, nodding as he rubbed at his stubble. “Alvetti’s got some time to himself. Most likely down at the Strong Arm.”

  “Second Tier, near the silk market,” Luik said.

  “Right.” The Captain paused. “He in any trouble? He likes to gamble, but he’s a good lad.”

  Flir shook her head. “Nothing like that. Thank you, Captain.”

  Outside, she tapped her foot while men rushed to open the gates. “What do you know about the Strong Arm?”

  “Been a soldier’s tavern for a long time. Generations. Quieter, not much in the way of trouble. Older soldiers mostly.”

  “That the kind of place young Shield frequent?”

  “Not often. Reckon I was one of the youngest when I used to visit.”

  The streets were full. The flow of people led to and from market squares. In no other city were there so many specific markets. Another curious Anaskari custom. A pair of Mascare walked in a pool of their own space. Flir inclined her head and a mask dipped. They knew her and Luik now. In the palace, people called them The Pale Girl and the Tree Trunk. One of those strange mixes of affection and distrust. Was it painful for Anaskari pride, to have two foreign heroes?

  Clamour from the silk market jumped up over the crowd, the riot of waving colours on flagpoles like a beacon, for the people who could afford it anyway. Before the old square, the ‘Seta Piazza’, stood a sturdy inn. The Strong Arm. Two storeys of stone, its beaten iron sign recently polished, it appeared orderly.

  Flir pushed on the heavy door and stepped inside. Shield, both in uniform and out, lined tables in a room with a high ceiling. A fire roared in the corner, lighting the way for serving girls, who carried more platters than mugs. Most of the men were older. They sat and spoke quietly, few glancing up when Flir entered, but one short man slapped his table.

  “Luik, you giant.” He crossed the room to thump Luik on the back. “Didn’t think I’d see you here again. What happened? By the Gods, you didn’t re-enlist, did you?”

  He laughed. “It’s good to see you, Gin, but no. Flir and I are looking for an off-duty Shield. Alvetti?”

  Gin jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Blond lad in the corner. Dicing.” He rolled his eyes. “Come visit again, we’ll tell tales.”

  “I will.”

  Flir followed Luik to the table. Four men diced. The youngest was out of uniform and his blond hair, rare for Anaskari, had been cut close. He looked up, eyes widening. Before Flir could speak, Alvetti overturned the table with a crash.

  She leapt back, but Luik sidestepped and caught the fleeing man. “In a hurry, aren’t you?”

  The young Shield slumped against him. Flir smiled. The Tree Trunk was quicker than he looked. When he wanted to be anyway.

  “What’s going on?” A big man in an apron, whose arms alone were half the size of Luik’s chest, came around the bar. Most of the inn was on its feet.

  Flir stepped forward. “Just a gambling debt, nothing too serious. Do you have a room we can use to discuss it with him?”

  “I might remember you,” he said to Luik before giving them both a look then a short nod. He produced a set of keys and unhooked one. “Round back. Second on right. You break something I break you, got it?”

  “We’ll be gentle, Balsa,” Luik said.

  He gave another nod.

  Behind the bar was a door and a staircase. Luik hauled Alvetti up the stairs and into the room. A clean bed lay beneath a window, shelves set high. Luik dumped Alvetti on the bed and stood before him.

  “He doesn’t smell too good, does he?” Luik said.

  “Not really.”

  Alvetti frowned. “I’m too busy to bathe in winter.”

  “Aren’t we lucky?” Flir said. “Now. Tell us about the man who hired you. He has a limp.”

  “Who?”

  She kicked the bed. The damn thing still creaked; she’d barely put any effort into the kick either. The young soldier flinched.

  “Next time it’s your face.”

  Alvetti shuddered. “Julas is the man that owns me.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know.” He slumped against the wall, head in his hands. “He bought my debts and now I have to do whatever he tells me.”

  Flir glanced at Luik. “Like delivering letters?”

  “All over the city. Mostly to...people from other nations. There’s a Mascare too, but a lot of the time I’m told to listen to people in inns or markets. I blend in as a Shield in a lot of places.”

  “Who gives you these assignments?”

  “The Mascare, Julas.”

  “Where?”

  “He finds me.”

  Flir leant closer. The little idiot might be useful yet, but who was the mask? Another fake? “You’re going to help us, Alvetti.”

  “He’ll kill me.”

  “Not if I kill him first.”

  “You can’t do that. He’s too smart.”

  “Let me worry about that. Help us trap him and I’ll have the palace clear your debts.”

  The young man’s eyes lit up, but he looked away. “You’re lying.”

  “I understand. You should be wary.” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her leathers, and flipped it open. “See that seal on the bottom? It gives me permission to do things others cannot. It might be squashing pieces of you into a box and dumping you in the harbour, it might be paying off your debts. Which sounds better?”

  Alvetti gaped at the seal. “You can help me?”

  “Come with us to the palace and you can speak with King Oseto about your role in catching Julas.”

  He swallowed. “And what will that be?”

  “The hardest role, kid.” Luik said. “Bait.”

  His eyes widened. “And you’ll protect me?”

  She nodded.

  “All right. I’ll go with you.”

  Flir snorted. “You didn’t really have a choice.”

  Chapter 14

  Skink was waiting for Kanis in his cabin, having been deposited there earlier. He was tied to a chair, eyes wide. As was customary, Yaev remained out of sight. Above decks probably. His friend didn’t approve, but wasn’t willing to object too loudly. After all, who would want to contradict the will of the Goddess?

  “Nice to see you, Skink,” Kanis said, pausing by a series of costumes hanging from pegs.

  The old Captain’s quarters had been refurnished with a wide desk and a proper bed beneath the row of portholes on the stern. The new pegs were installed by a carpenter before leaving Whiteport – a short stopover to resupply. A longer stay would have been pleasant. He could have hidden away in the Far Islands for the rest of his life. And maybe he should, after they finished with Anaskar.

  Kanis ran silk between forefinger and thumb. The deep purple was cut to conceal. Formal robes after the Goddess herself. “Do you know what these are for?” He waved a hand at the row of costumes.

  “No, dilar.”

  He moved to the next costume, red robes of Anaskari cut; the famous Mascare. “To keep life interesting.”

  “D-dilar?”

  “Look at this one.” He raised a deep green tunic. “How simple, but in the forests of Braonn, I would blend in quite naturally. There are threads of brown woven within the green here.”

  “What are you going to d-do to me? I truly am sorry, dilar.”

  “I know, I know.” Finally to a coat of black with gold buttons, three lines crossing on the collar. Heavy boots, polished back and plain black pants with a heavy belt, its buckle carved from onyx to resemble a snowflake. Not something he’d wear anytime soon. “Kink, I’m going to spare you.”

  “Oh, thank you, dilar, thank you!” His eyes shone.

  Kanis shook his head. “Not yet, son. There’s a condition. I’m going to Bind you. Do you know what that means?”

  His expression crumbled. He fell back against his ropes. “I think I do, dilar. I will be your slave.”

  “Good. That’s a start. But it is more than that. You will live only for me. To be bound to a Dilar is a holy rite. It is everything. You will have no desire that is not one I have given you. No dream, no hope – and yet, you will not know a second of sadness either. Or fear.” Or happiness, for that matter. “Do you understand?”

  Skink met his eye. “Do you mean, if I see my family again, I won’t even care that they need me?”

  “Not unless I tell you to.”

  He looked away.

  “Don’t worry, Skink. Who knows, maybe I’ll release you someday?”

  Skink turned back. “That’s possible?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I will serve you faithfully.”

  “Yes, you will.” Kanis stood before the boy. “Hands out now.” Skink complied and he took them. The boy was sweating.

  “It won’t hurt,” Kanis said. “Just repeat these words ‘My eyes, my heart, my mind for Mishalar’ until I say stop.”

  Skink swallowed then started the chant, his voice squeaking at first.

  Kanis waited.

  The longer Skink spoke, the more he calmed, until finally his heart beat steady and slow enough. Kanis matched his breathing to the boy’s and the familiar warmth soon bloomed from his chest, running down his arms and into his hands, where it spread into Skink.

  The boy’s voice faltered but he kept chanting up until the warmth reached his own chest, enveloping his heart.

  And then he stopped.

  Kanis released the boy and checked his eyes. Calm, expectant. Barely a spark, and yet his spirit lurked somewhere back there. They always did. But for now, the boy was malleable. No will of his own. Kanis drew a knife and sliced through the ropes.

  “Skink, go and lie down. Rest until I need you.”

  Skink stood and walked to Kanis’ bed, lying down and laying still, breathing evenly.

  Perfect. The young were usually easier, not like some men or women. They always had to fight. Kanis returned above decks. Yaev stood beside the helmsman, his face set. Kanis gave him some space, moving to one of the rails and glancing across the water.

  Sometime overnight, they’d drifted out of formation enough that it was now being corrected. Men swarmed over the other ships, readying planks as they pulled closer. One of his own men roared to keep steady. Sailors clung to ropes and beams above, just in case a rough patch of sea tangled ships.

  But the transfer looked to be smooth enough. Two ships across, a figure in grey and black furs crossed makeshift gangways, hunched but moving swiftly. A ‘proper’ healer as Atilus wanted. It had taken most of the night to locate him, coordinating by shouts with the closest ships and flags to bring the outliers closer, and now Svek the healer was scurrying toward him, weighed down by heavy leather bags.

  Yaev appeared beside him. “He’d better know what he’s doing.”

  “I agree.”

  “Skink?”

  “Resting.”

  Yaev grunted, but said no more.

  Svek arrived, placing his bags down to bow. “Dilar.”

  “Up you get, Svek. I have a patient with a fever, can you tend to him?”

  He shrugged. “I will cure him.”

  “That easy? You haven’t seen him yet,” Yaev said.

  Svek waved his hands. “Not to worry, you eastern folk are always suspicious at first, but my results will speak for themselves.”

  Yaev flushed. “You should have left that Chosen People rubbish at home, highlander. We’re born of the same ice.”

  “Of course we are,” Kanis said, glaring at Yaev. “Why don’t we move it below decks? I’m sure Atilus is fuming by now.”

  “Of course, dilar,” Svek said. He collected his bags and followed Kanis down the nearest ladder, with some mumbling, and to Atilus’ cabin. This time he’d had someone open up the room earlier and it didn’t smell so bad.

  Atilus groaned, stirring on his cot, blankets twisted. The man placed a bone charm aside, muttering something at it under his breath. A curse?

  Svek clicked his tongue. “He’s bad.”

  “Can you restore him?”

  “Assuredly, but I can’t have anyone hovering over me.”

  Kanis stepped into the hall, Yaev following. He scratched at his beard. “I wonder.”

  “About?”

  Yaev’s expression was dark. “Just how much Atilus is holding back.”

  “I don’t want to risk a mistake with the acor. That demonstration was impressive, in a terrifying way.”

  “No. I mean about he and Vinezi. And you know what I think. They have goals they aren’t going to share.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as we’re fodder for some larger scheme. Who knows what he’s up to in Anaskar? He’s not interested in looting the city.”

  “Of course not, but we are.” He shrugged. “And whatever he wants he’s welcome to it so long as we get our share. I told you, Yaev, I’ll be watching them.”

  “Don’t get so confident that you end up snowblind.”

  “Stop that. You sound like my grandmother.”

  “A wise woman.”

  “Just let me worry about him. I’ve already dreamt of the city in flames. If I do so again, you know Mishalar foretells it.”

  Yaev grunted. “You didn’t mention that.”

  “That’s because I didn’t want to mention it until I dream it a third time. To be sure.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Come on, let’s go get something to drink. Watching Svek do all that work is making me thirsty.”

  Chapter 15

  Notch paused. “Look.”

  Ahead, the trees remained brown and orange for the most part, their trunks gleaming in a faint rain, but the forest was changing, as hints of green appeared in the dim light. He exhaled. Good. Any longer in the Grove and he’d snap.

  “This is the end of the grove then?” Sofia straightened in Swift’s saddle where she rode beside him.

  “Looks like it.”

  “Finally. I’m starving,” she said.

  “I think we should eat here.”

  “Why?”

  He pointed. “The rain’s harder beyond.” Puddles were forming across the trail, green leaves battered by the water. And yet, here in the Autumn Grove the rain fell gently, the thunder of water distant. It should have been louder, seeing as it fell mere yards away.

  Sofia slipped down and picketed Swift to a tree. “Is there any chance of shelter? I’m getting sick of the rain, even when it’s light.”

  “Not much. And I think we should camp here too.”

  She stretched. “Good idea. It must be close to evening and it seems safe.”

  He snaked a hand into a saddlebag and withdrew two apples, throwing one to her. “I’m not sure about being safe.”

  “Well, we’ll be drier at least.” Her voice echoed behind the mask.

  “You’re right about that.” He turned a half circle. There had to be some fallen branches somewhere, or at least – wait. A flash of colour, ducking behind a stand of thick trunks. Purple and pink? “Someone’s watching us.”

  “Where?”

  “Those trees, four close together.” He drew his sword. “Can you use Argeon?”

  Sofia hesitated, reaching into the saddlebags. “Are we in danger?”

  “Let’s be ready.”

  “I’ll try.” She switched masks, the blackened bone of Argeon a stark contrast to Osani. With the white stripe, she had a fearsome look. In her robes the effect would have been more powerful still.

 

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