Chapter 21
Ivy
As we pass through the city gate in the midst of a stream of chattering revelers, the back of my neck prickles with apprehension. Two guards in a new uniform of crimson shirt and dun slacks stand on either side of the arched entryway, their hands resting on the pommels of their sheathed swords.
But the Order of the Wild’s version of the Crown’s Watch doesn’t appear to be monitoring the new arrivals all that closely. Their gazes slide over our humble cart without any more interest than they give the other folk around us.
Of course, Lothar’s new Festival of Freedom is being held in every city and town across the country. His people have no reason to think the small group of resistors he wants to stamp out would be here in Tupno.
As far as we know, Filip didn’t even pass on word that we were heading somewhere to the north. The men we sent to monitor the Order defector’s loyalty returned a couple of days ago, reporting that they’d seen no sign that Lothar was searching for us at the location we planted as a false lead.
Nothing else has gone wrong since we left Florian. I’m starting to think we weren’t betrayed at all, only had a particularly unlucky moment.
All the same, we didn’t invite Filip along on this particular mission.
I tap one of the horses’ flanks to direct it to the right where the street splits. From the map we studied yesterday, that should lead us to the city’s largest square.
It’s just a few blocks away from the palace I can already see, silvery spires rising above the nearer rooftops. Tupno is one of Silana’s largest cities and also the closest city to the Temple of Tranquil Skies that holds one of the royal residences.
Because of that royal presence, it’s a major hub for travel, trade, and all the communication that goes with those endeavours. We’re counting on a lot of people seeing our demonstration today—and spreading the word far and wide.
Even this street leading to the square buzzes with activity. Our trickle of visitors mingles with the flow of locals heading toward the main festival areas. Eager voices warble around us in a blur of words.
Crimson banners painted with the inverted All-Giver sigil dangle from lampposts and drape across building fronts. Streamers in the same color wave in the breeze.
Like streaks of fresh blood. After the carnage I’ve seen the scourge sorcerers carry out, the vivid color makes my stomach churn.
I restrain the urge to glance back at the cart, where our five companions sit in the shade of a canopy. I don’t know what Order members might be watching the crowd and whether they’d pick up on my nerves.
Beside me, Casimir takes in our surroundings with a thoughtful air. When he speaks, he keeps his voice low enough to pass beneath the clamor around us. “We should have a good-sized audience.”
I swallow a grimace. “All these people happily going along with a festival to celebrate murder. How can they be okay with it?”
The courtesan shrugs, his shoulder brushing mine. “They aren’t necessarily okay. It’s been weeks of confusion and uncertainty, especially for people living so close to Eppun where the uprising started. Lothar was smart—he realized they’d be craving a chance to put their fears behind them, to pretend there’s nothing to worry about. But the worries will still be lurking underneath.”
And I guess a fair number of Silana’s citizens have bought into the Order of the Wild’s rhetoric. They’re not worried at all.
We have to convince them they should be.
My back prickles with my awareness of the figure lying on the bottom of the cart beneath a blanket as if napping. Really, we wanted to conceal the man’s mutilated body so no onlookers would notice anything odd before we get into position.
The sacrificial accomplice who agreed to accompany us sounded nervous when we talked him through the plan, even though his loyalties to the scourge sorcerers have faded during his time recovering at a temple near Pima. He thanked Casimir for the courtesan’s instrumental role in getting him out of the brothel where he and his few companions were held, but he also tensed up when we talked about speaking to the crowd.
In the end, he agreed. He was the steadiest of the four, according to Voleska—which is why she had her people smuggle him to us for this operation. But that doesn’t mean the task will be easy for him.
“Are you sure we should have pushed this role on Poltus?” I can’t help asking. “To have to tell a heap of strangers what he’s been through—he’s risking the Order capturing him again, and gods know what they’d do to him…”
Casimir aims a gentle smile at me. “I wouldn’t say we pushed. We told him what we were hoping for, and he embraced the challenge. How many times have you put your neck on the line to protect this country despite the horrors you’ve already faced? We’ve got to give the scourge sorcerers’ victims the same opportunity.”
He’s probably right about that too, but it’s hard for me to compare Poltus’s situation to my own. He was groomed from childhood and left a mangled version of himself. At least I’ve always had most of the control over my fate.
Possibly I should be more concerned about the other passenger we’re concealing. As the street opens up ahead of us to reveal a teeming swarm of festival-goers, Petra scoots to the spot right behind our driver’s seats.
The Melchiorek heir has tucked her smooth black hair beneath a mousy brown wig for the ride. A baggy wool dress covers the finer gown that indicates her actual station.
I still would rather our future queen was safe back in the temple while we carried out this mission, but she rightly pointed out how upset people were that she didn’t show herself properly when she spoke in Florian. She wants her citizens to see how far she’s willing to stick her neck out to win them over.
“The river’s to the right, isn’t it?” she says. “Which building do you think will work best for our… presentation, now that we can actually see the options?”
We pull the cart over to the side of the square, and I take in the sprawling space.
More inverted All-Giver banners hang all around the square. Not far from us, several long wooden tables have been laid out with glasses of ale and platters of stuffed rolls, dumplings, and cut fruit. The mix of savory and tangy scents wafts through the air.
As far as I can tell, the attendants in crimson shirts behind the table aren’t charging for the refreshments. They smile and nod to the people who stop by, many gaping at the spread wide-eyed before plucking up some morsels.
A lot of the revelers look oddly scruffy in their elegant clothes. Most of the men are sporting embroidered tunics or vests, the women in brightly colored silks, but looking a little too loose or too tight. Their hair is rumpled and loose—some look as if they haven’t bathed in at least a week.
When my gaze snags on another table across the square, I understand why. This one is heaped with fabric that newcomers are snatching off it.
Casimir has spotted it too. He arches his eyebrows. “It looks as if the Order of the Wild is supplying the costumes too.”
And where did they get all those fine clothes? It’s not hard to guess.
“Looted from the noble estates they’ve taken over,” I mutter. “And probably the royal residences too.”
Or bought with all the gold the scourge sorcerers have looted as well. What is Lothar sacrificing of his own rather than giving away what he’s stolen?
“Come play the games of old!” an announcer is calling near the center of the square. “Let’s reclaim the heart of our heritage!”
A few older kids are already jostling each other between chalk lines marked on the cobblestones. It looks like one of the games Alek told us he’d found references to.
A game that often ended with broken bones when the revelers of the past got particularly caught up in it. For now, the children are simply giggling, but we’ll have to keep an eye on it in case it becomes more intense.
A woman in a deep red dress has gotten up on a platform near the games area. She holds out her hands, her voice projecting over the crowd with magical amplification. “The king can’t hold us back any longer! We’re free to get back to our roots, what connected us to this world and the gods who made us.”
Spirited music blares from a cluster of musicians behind the platform, and the woman whirls into a flailing sort of dance.
We were prepared for dancing too. I was hoping the civilians would be put off by the chaotic cavorting Alek described, that we could point to it as evidence of the Order’s ill intents, but I can already see an echo of the woman’s movements spreading through the crowd around her.
Oh, well. We can still challenge the Order of the Wild’s appeals to history. Something has to snap these people out of their stupor.
I return my gaze to the buildings along the right of the square. We want a position that puts us a safe distance above the crowd but still easily visible to the people below—and within easy reach of the river that’ll serve as our escape route.
I point to a two-story stone structure with a flat roof and a narrow alley between it and one of its neighbors. “That place looks promising. Let’s go around back and make sure it’s got everything we need.”
Rheave scrambles out, followed by the soldier and the devout who’ve accompanied us. They help Poltus off the back of the cart. Thankfully, the winter is chilly enough that the low hood and scarf obscuring most of his head don’t look all that unusual. We’ve padded his clothes beneath the cloak so it’s less obvious how much of his body is missing.
Skirting the crowd, we ease through the milling bodies toward the alley. I scan the revelers around us—and nearly walk right into a little boy who steps in front of me as if unaware of anything except the scene he’s staring at.
As I jerk myself backward, the kid—who can’t be more than six or seven—stays focused on the mass of festival-goers in the wider square. His gaze is avid, but something about his expression makes me think he’s unsettled as well.
Then he turns his head toward me, and I freeze.
His eyes are nothing but whites and pure black, as if the pupils have swallowed his irises. The fathomless gaze takes me back weeks to the strange man we crossed paths with on the road to Nikodi—who warned us of impending doom and then vanished.
But that man had the wizened face and hunched posture of a body that’d passed through many decades, and there’s no way the kid in front of me has lived for even one.
The boy peers at me for a moment before his lips curl with a small smile, as if we share a secret. He looks at the revelers again, and the smile falters. “It’s all a mirage. They don’t know what lies underneath.”
“What—” I start, but he’s already darting forward to merge with the crowd. In a matter of seconds, I’ve lost sight of his pale hair.
Petra touches my arm from behind. “Is he someone to worry about?”
I shed the sudden bout of nerves with a shake of my head. It’s not as if two people in the country couldn’t have the same oddly dark eye color. Just a weird little kid.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “Let’s keep going.”
Around the back of the building I suggested, we find there’s only a narrow strip of path between the rear door and the walled bank of Tupno’s broad river. A rickety fire escape will take us most of the way to the roof.
Petra nods in approval. She motions to the soldier. “Let’s get everyone up to the roof, and then you can scout down the river for a vessel we can… borrow.”
Poltus needs both the soldier and the devout supporting him to make it onto the fire escape. As I gird myself to follow them, Casimir touches my shoulder.
“We’ll make them see the truth,” he says. “No matter what Lothar does, he can’t stop us from fighting back.”
Then he kisses me, swiftly but tenderly enough to send a tingle down to my toes.
When the courtesan releases me, Rheave pushes in with an intense expression. “I’ll be right there with you too,” my daimon-man says, and claims a scorching kiss of his own.
By the time I’m scrambling up the fire escape, my cheeks are flushed and some of the tension inside me has loosened.
We aren’t going to win over everyone today, but we can make a dent in the image the Order of the Wild has built up. We’ve come with proof.
I won’t let Petra down any more than my men would fail me.
We clamber onto the roof and stay at the back to prepare while the soldier hurries back down. The music, laughter, and excited shouts from the crowd in the square make my gut twist.
What Julita would have thought of this celebration, all this revelry centered around the villains she knew as torturers, I can’t imagine. I’m glad she never had to see the scourge sorcerers gain so much ground.
How can the civilians below sound so joyful when this festival is meant to rejoice in their former ruler’s murder? King Konram might have neglected some of his people and come down hard on the riven, but he never acted like a tyrant.
I’ve seen more brutality from the scourge sorcerers in the past few months than in all the years Konram and his father before him reigned.
But then, the Order of the Wild has been hiding many of the horrors of their founding from the rest of the country. That’s why we’re here—why Poltus is here.
With her wig and plain dress set aside, Petra steps to the edge of the roof. Delfis was able to obtain an amplifying charm for her, which sits on a silver chain at the base of her throat. The devout who came with us stands at her side.
As Petra draws her chin up regally, Rheave and I flank them, ready to protect them if need be. Rheave adjusts his bow against his shoulder.
My magic tingles through my chest, stirred up by all the energies below that have discomforted me.
“Good people of Tupno.” Petra’s amplified voice rings across the square, and dozens of faces throughout the crowd turn at just the first few words. “I come to you as the heir to the Melchiorek line and the rightful queen of Silana to expose the true enemy in your midst. My family has guided this country for nearly a century without incurring any wrath from the gods, and I intend to take care of all of you as well as I can from here forward. My parents were struck down by the traitors who’ve wrenched our home from us, not any divine intervention.”
The devout tugs his robes straight. His voice carries through the startled silence that’s gripped the crowd. “I am swore to serve Elox, and I can vouch that you’ve been told lies. The godlen haven’t given this treachery their blessing. They didn’t call for the king’s death. That was all human greed, fueled by the same brutal magic that once brought the gods’ wrath down on us. Surely none of us wants to return to a history where our cities broke and burned? That’s where the Order of the Wild will lead us. The woman beside me is the rightful queen and dedicated to putting Silana on the right path to harmony and happiness.”
A muttering is spreading through the civilians below. I tense instinctively, remembering the reaction of the people in Florian.
“If the gods wanted that girl on the throne, she’d be there!” someone hollers loud enough for us to hear, followed by a swell of approving murmurs.
“The gods can’t interfere quickly or directly,” Petra says. “But the Melchioreks have always served them and you well, no matter what Lothar claims. We pulled the country together after the Darium empire was driven out. My great grandmother started a program of training more medics to be sent all through the country. My grandfather saw new roads built to the most isolated parts of?—”
A volley of voices cuts through her speech.
“I don’t even remember any of that! What did King Konram do for us lately?”
“Why didn’t the rest of them have to fight for the throne like that first king did?”
“Right. King Konram just got the crown handed to him. He didn’t care about any of us!”
Petra holds up her hand. She must decide it’s time to move from addressing Lothar’s lies to stating her own worth as a ruler. “I promise you, I care. That’s why I came here to speak to you in person. I realize that my forebearers weren’t perfect, and I aim to do better. I want to listen to all your grievances and make?—”
The crowd doesn’t give her a chance to finish her statement of devotion. More voices interrupt, hollering up at us.
“You care now because you lost your fancy palace!”
“I got to eat more today than I have in years. It’s the Order of the Wild who gave us that, not you.”
“They’re making things better, not just talking at us.”
“The royal family never bothered with what anyone except the nobles needed.”
“They did one good thing and figured they should get to keep lording it over us forever. We all have to work for anything we want.”
The devout spreads his arms pleadingly. “My fellow citizens, if you’d just listen. We can show you?—”
“We’ve seen enough,” someone snaps back. “We know who’ll look out for us.”
“The Order of the Wild set us free!”
Both Petra and the devout glance back at me, with a flick of their gazes toward Poltus, who’s sitting awkwardly on the roof’s tiles with Casimir. That’s my cue to help the courtesan bring the sacrificial accomplice forward.
They must be hoping the sight of him will shock the protests out of the crowd.
I mean to move, but all at once my feet feel heavy as lead. My attention leaps back toward the crowd—the fists waved, the voices raised in frustration. All the shouted words jostle in my brain.
We’ve been wrong. Both those of us supporting the queen and the Order of the Wild.
The common people of Silana don’t give a shit about how people lived hundreds of years ago. They aren’t trying to get back to their roots or any of the other metaphors the Order members toss around.
They just want to survive now. To have their needs met, to know they have someone to turn to for help.
To be heard.
But Lothar’s approach has catered to them so much better than our own, whether by design or inadvertently.
How could it not? He has the manpower to give away a banquet and heaps of fine clothes, to throw a country-wide festival where everything is provided. He has followers in every city and town assuring the locals that they’ll set everything right in the most fundamental possible ways.
At this point, is there anything we can show them that will sway their opinion? So many people were fed up under the Melchioreks, tired of seeing those titled or rich favored.
Are they really willing to wait and see if Petra will be better, no matter what we tell them about the Order? Will they believe us even with the proof in front of their eyes?
Poltus sways where he’s sitting with a ragged mumbling under his breath. A shudder runs through his body.
He can hear everything the crowd is saying, singing the praises of the people who mutilated him. And now we’re going to put him to their judgment when they might hurl the same harsh words at him—when it might not make any difference?
Hasn’t he been traumatized enough? How are we better than the scourge sorcerers if we use their victims for our own cause without caring how it harms them?
In that moment, there’s nothing I’d rather do than gather my companions and run away from here. Far, far away to some other country where we can escape the Order of the Wild and at least live in some kind of peace.
Maybe that’s actually the best thing I can do for Petra and her siblings, before her quest for the throne ends in more tragedy.
Maybe all those people down there deserve to find out exactly who they’re supporting when the scourge sorcerers finally stop giving and start taking. What have the people of Silana ever done for me except talk about how my kind should be sent to the gallows?
I take a step toward Poltus, on the verge of suggesting we flee, when one more shout reverberates from below.
“The Order is looking out for all of us. They want us all to have good lives!”
Poltus flinches and then goes rigid, his jaw clenching. I can see the rejection of those words etched all through his mottled face.
He knows they’re a lie just as much as I do. It’s like that strange kid said to me—Lothar has created a mirage.
Gods smite me, I can’t blame the people for listening to the scourge sorcerers when we haven’t given them a chance to see the truth.
I crouch down next to Poltus. It should be his choice.
“Are you ready to give your story?” I ask. “I don’t know how they’ll respond.”
He draws his armless frame taller with an air of resolve. “It doesn’t matter. They should know what Lothar’s people did.”
My chest tightens around my heart, but when I look at Casimir, he nods.
We’re in this together, all of us—even the people down there who’d throw Petra’s words back in her face.
The scourge sorcerers are the only real villains here.
And maybe Poltus couldn’t live with himself any more than I could if we don’t expose them in every way we can. This isn’t my fight alone.
I help him to his feet, supporting him on one side as Casimir guides him from the other. We unfasten the cloak that’s concealed the worst of his deformities and let it fall. He’s already discarded the scarf.
Seeing us coming, Petra and the devout step to the side. “Behold what the Order of the Wild has done to your children,” the devout calls out. “This is how they fuel their magic—not through their own work, but through the immense sacrifices of others.”
“What have you ever—” someone starts to yell, but even that voice cuts out with a gasp of horror.
Cries and startled murmurs pass through the crowd staring up at Poltus. I restrain a flinch.
Even if they believe his story, it mustn’t be easy for him to hear their reactions.
Petra sets her amplification charm around the accomplice’s neck. He lifts his voice despite the noises of revulsion rising from below.
“Everything Queen Petra has said is true,” he says, his voice thick but steady. “The Order of the Wild is run by people who get their magic by borrowing it from other people. When I was little and had just lost my mother, a woman who worked with the Order convinced me that the best way I could protect the rest of my family and the country was by giving the most immense sacrifice I could.”
He tilts his head to make it easier for them to see his missing features. “I gave up my eyes, my ears, my nose, my arms. They took even more from inside me. I thought I was helping bring about a better world. But if they want a world that’s better for everyone, why did they keep me and all the other people who sacrificed like me shut away like prisoners? Why have they hidden us so that you won’t find out?”
A voice breaks through the uneasy tumult below. “They did this to other people too?”
“Lots of other people,” Poltus declares, his voice getting even more forceful.
I squeeze his side encouragingly, and he hurtles onward. “There were three others kept in the same room as me. Since then, I’ve met eight who were kept elsewhere. I’ve heard of dozens more. How do you think they managed to overwhelm the entire royal army? Where could all that magic have come from? It was stolen from people they lied to, and they’ll keep lying to you too until it’s too late. Unless we bring this madness to an end!”
An uneven roar of agreement ripples through the crowd. Relief surges through me.
At least some of them believe him. At least some are questioning what they’ve been told.
Several people have spun toward the Order member who was leading the dances. I see a woman pull a girl away from the dancing area while others jab their fingers as if asking accusing questions.
“Where’s the Order?” someone hollers.
“What else are they hiding?”
“We need some answers!”
A flash of crimson at the edge of the crowd brings my head jerking around. A bunch of armed figures in the new Order uniform are shoving along the edge of the crowd toward our building.
My heart lurches. I reach for Petra. “Your Highness, it’s time to go. We have to get to the river.”
The devout has already dashed to the back of the roof. His face pales. “They’re coming from both directions. I don’t think we can make it down in time.”
We were prepared for that. I sling my arm around Poltus’s back and brace myself. “Then we’ll have to jump.”