Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Ivy
Stavros appears to cheer up at the sight of the first fortress. My skin crawls with apprehension even noting it from a distance, but I keep my qualms to myself.
“That’ll be Fort Alnaw,” he says with a weary smile. We’re well into our fifth day of near-constant tramping and riding. “Regica, which holds the palace I expect the royal family has moved to, is about four hours’ hard riding from here. We won’t risk getting that close just yet.”
Julita sounds as if she’s as tired as the rest of us. Yes, let us not walk right to the front doorstep of the ungrateful king who wants us killed for saving him.
I stifle a yawn, propelling my feet onward one after the other. “Where are we going, then?”
The former general pauses in thought. “If we take the next crossroads, we’ll reach the town of Iblin before nightfall. It’ll give us an opportunity to reequip ourselves and possibly pass on another warning, but it’s farther from the military outposts, so there’s less chance we’ll run into trouble.”
Alek lets out a weak laugh where he’s tramping beside me. “I approve of that plan.”
Casimir had been dozing in the rough sling of blankets we’ve formed on the second horse’s back, just as Rheave currently is on Toast. At our voices, the courtesan stirs and pushes himself more upright.
“Iblin… There’s a fairly large temple of Ardone near there.
We’re close to the border of the current Darium empire. ”
Stavros’s expression darkens. “Yes. King Konram will be maximizing his military resources. A significant portion of the army is already posted in this province, but Dariu hasn’t staged a major attack in over a year, and they rarely attempt even minor offenses during the winter months.
He’ll count on that threat being relatively low, but this way he’s surrounded by his soldiers without needing to draw them away from their typical posts. ”
A shiver ripples down my spine. I’ve never actually seen a Darium soldier, but the stories passed around of their efforts to regain the western half of the continent could make one’s blood curdle.
I once overheard a retired captain comment that the Darium emperor is like a jilted lover who’d rather see his former paramour savaged to death than in the arms of another.
I try to keep my tone light. “So we don’t have to worry about an invasion on top of the uprising?”
“I shouldn’t think so.” Stavros shoots me a smile that’s more wry. “In the extremely unlikely chance that the empire launches a larger offensive, it’ll be easy enough to know who to avoid. They dress their soldiers in black uniforms painted with bones, as if they’re walking skeletons.”
Casimir grimaces in disgust. “That sounds awful—and awfully morbid.”
“From what I gather, they want to horrify their opponents and remind us of the fate they expect us to meet.”
Here’s to those horrors staying on the other side of the Seafell Channel, then, Julita mutters, a sentiment I fully agree with.
We veer right at the crossroads, picking up our pace despite our fatigue at the thought of almost reaching our destination. All the names Stavros mentioned spin in my head.
I glance over at Alek. “Were there any former bug club members from this province?”
His bright eyes go distant as he considers. “Not that I recall. We do know one prominent figure from this region, though. Romild—her parents are the current provints.”
Julita gives a faint groan that I can almost feel reverberating through my response. “Wonderful.”
Romild is probably still off in Florian attending her leadership classes at the royal college, which is for the better.
She never went out of her way to harass me like some of the other noble students, but she made it clear that she believed I’d nabbed my position as Stavros’s assistant—a role she coveted—through unfair and unsavory means.
As the shadows stretch longer, the town Stavros mentioned comes into view up ahead: walled as you’d expect in territory that sees a lot of military conflict, red and brown rooftops poking up over top, and a gold spire in the middle that indicates the local temple of the All-Giver.
My pulse gives a tiny hitch, a mix of anxiety and longing. The latter sensation spreads up through my chest.
Gods above, I could use some guidance right now. More than any of my men would know how to supply.
I’ve already burdened them with enough troubles anyway.
“We’re going into the town?” I ask.
Stavros shakes his head. “We’ll find a sheltered place to set up a camp a safe distance away.
We should be able to do a little business with merchants coming and going thanks to the bit of money you were able to lift from the scourge sorcerers.
Passing through the gate will put us under too much scrutiny.
Even Rheave’s description may have been passed on after our last encounter with the patrols. ”
I pick my next words carefully, far too conscious of the shakiness of my thoughts that could be due to more than just exhaustion.
“I could get in without needing to go through a gate. Find out if there’s any talk around town about the uprising and their march—grab a few things we could use right away. ”
Stavros cocks his head. “‘Grab’?”
I lift my chin. “I’ll only borrow what can be spared from people who have more than enough already. They should be happy to support a good cause.”
The former general snorts, but he knows I picked my targets fairly when I roved through the outskirts of Florian as the Hand of Kosmel.
Alek touches the back of my arm. “We’ve been surviving all right—and now we can get more of a rest. You shouldn’t take the risk.”
I shoot him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be careful. I’ll feel better if we can understand more of the big picture.”
Casimir’s expression has shadowed with concern too, but he doesn’t argue with me. “I’d like to take a look at that temple of Ardone. My godlen’s followers have certain policies that might be helpful to us.”
Stavros hums to himself. “And I’d like to survey the area to decide on our best plan for passing on our warning.
Let’s pick a campsite in the woods over there.
Alek and Rheave can set it up and do a little foraging, Ivy will sneak off to the town, and Casimir and I will take the horses.
Assuming that beast will tolerate Casimir now. ” He motions toward Toast.
Casimir chuckles. “I’ve made better friends with him over the past few days. I think we’ll get along all right for a short trek.”
Another knot of anxiety forms in my stomach. “I don’t know how to keep you concealed when I’m not with you. There’s probably a way to work the magic, but keeping track of the consequences too when we’re all in different places—”
Stavros steps closer to grasp my shoulder.
“We can manage on our own for a few hours, Lady Thief. The patrols are looking for a group of four or five, not a solo rider. I won’t get close enough for anyone to notice my prosthetic, and I’d imagine Casimir knows how much caution is needed around his fellow dedicats.
We can always send out a signal through the lockets if we run into problems.”
I force myself to relax. If I’m asking them to trust me to take care of myself, I have to extend the same trust in return. “Sounds like a plan, then.”
Rheave finally rouses as Toast’s gait shifts when we leave the road behind. It only takes a little arguing to convince him that I don’t need him to attempt to shadow me on my stealthy mission into town.
We tap our fists together before we part ways as if reaffirming the bonds we’ve formed. I make sure that Toast isn’t looking to buck Casimir off, remind the stallion to be good, and then set off for Iblin with only my own scrawny body to conceal.
It isn’t hard to find a decent place to make my entry. I’ve got a lot fewer concerns about being caught when I’m effectively invisible.
I pick out a spot where the stone blocks that make up the wall are a little uneven, leap up to snag my fingers around one thin ridge, and scramble the rest of the way up and over just fifty paces from a guard standing watch.
I wasn’t lying when I said I’d like to know what sort of talk is going around in town. As I weave through the streets, I keep my ears pricked for any mention of the Order of the Wild, Eppun province and its counties, or uprisings. But with every turn, I work my way closer to the main temple.
You seem as if you know where you’re going, Julita remarks.
“There’s someone I’d like to talk to, if he’ll bother to talk back,” I reply under my breath.
We come around another corner, and at the other end of the street, the white-washed walls of the grand temple shine in the setting sun.
Julita goes still. Ah, I see.
I hurry along the road toward the temple, dread warring with hope in my chest. I haven’t felt Kosmel’s presence or heard his voice since the dream that led me to Sulla.
He told me he couldn’t interfere quite as much anymore. Maybe he’s angry that I was so quick to leave the sanctuary he directed me to.
Who can say what goes on in the mind of a godlen?
The square outside the temple is bustling with locals. No one looks or sounds at all concerned about an approaching army.
I dart between them and climb the steps to the arched doorway. The vast hallway beyond swallows me up.
It feels strange walking into the domed worship room, heading toward the statue of the Kosmel in his alcove.
This rendition has the trickster godlen in his typical hooded cloak, his marble eyes peering keenly from beneath, with carved playing cards fanned in one hand and the other raised over his lips as if to encourage secrecy.
As usual, a few dice lie scattered around the marble base, but the question I have can’t be reduced to a yes or no answer. I sink to my knees in front of the statue, feeling abruptly awkward.
Even when I prayed to Kosmel back in Florian, it was as much for show as out of any actual divine piety. For most of my twenty years of life, I never prayed to any of the lesser gods at all.
But he’s helped me. He’s kept me alive and directed my magic away from harm.
If anyone can help me through the mess I’ve found myself tangled in, it’s him.
I bow my head and think the words I want to say.
Kosmel, please hear me and answer. I’m trying to use my magic to do good using the strategies the woman you sent me to offered.
But I think it’s become too much. I’m seeing and feeling things that don’t totally make sense…
I don’t want to go mad. I don’t want to fail the men who’ve been counting on me.
I don’t want to see the country upended because I faltered. Where do I go from here?
A lump fills my throat as I wait. Faint voices drift from the other alcoves, but no divine words ring through my head.
I look up at the statue. As much as I’d like a real conversation, he’s answered with simple signs before.
Nothing appears to shift on the statue’s face. I peer into the shadows around the marble figure, the ache of dread expanding in my chest.
Is he totally ignoring me?
The shapes flicker with the lantern-light, and I have the impression of coins tossed as if at a betting table. When I blink, the cards seem to ruffle in Kosmel’s hand as if he’s adjusting them impatiently.
As if he’s waiting for me to call or fold.
Is he telling me I have to make the decision for myself?
That does fit with our past conversations. He’s always told me to figure out what I’m doing and then tell him what I need, not expect him to make my plans for me.
I guess I should be reassured that he thinks I can still figure my way onto a path that won’t ruin everything I’ve worked toward.
I wait a few minutes longer, but no other impressions jump out at me. Grudgingly, I push to my feet and stride out of the temple.
Julita doesn’t speak until I’m crossing the square. I have no idea what went on between you and the trickster, but I get the sense you’re not happy about the answer.
“More like the lack of an answer,” I mutter in return, and follow the scent of frying dough on the breeze. I want to come back to the men with something gained on this mission.
A bagful of dumplings would really hit the spot before the longest night’s sleep we’ve had in days. My only decision right now is whether I’m going to pay for or pilfer them.
One of the streets off the square has rows of restaurants, culinary shops, and food stalls on both sides.
I spot the stall the dumpling smell is wafting from down past a fishmonger and a fruit and vegetable stand.
But I’m only halfway there before Julita’s voice breaks through my thoughts in a panicked tone. Wait!
I freeze in the middle of the street and dodge to the side to avoid a local who was strolling along behind my invisible form.
“What?” I murmur.
I thought I heard… Look around, to your left. Farther behind you. Oh, maybe I was just imagining—
Her words halt as I catch the voice she must have heard before too. A harshly arch masculine tone drifting from the butcher shop a few storefronts back, muffled enough that I only catch one phrase: “…long will it take?”
With my heart thumping twice as fast, I backtrack and ease closer to the butcher’s entrance. Even though I can feel my magic wrapped around me, the sight within makes me want to shrink out of view—not least of all because of Julita’s cringe in my head.
Her brother is standing at the butcher-shop counter, his hands on his hips in an arrogant pose. “I rode ahead of most of my party to ensure that my companions will have all the necessary supplies when they arrive. Are you saying you can’t come up with the steers and fowl I asked for in time?”
The butcher glances around with a harried expression. “I suppose… If you pay in advance, you can have most of the next delivery I’m expecting. You said you need it for tomorrow evening?”
“That’s right. And I trust my money is good enough.” Borys slaps several gold coins down on the counter. “I can give you more if you’ll meet the delivery escort outside one of the gates with the fee to save me some of my hassle coming and going.”
The butcher mumbles instructions I don’t catch, and Borys bustles off without another word—farther into the shop, where there must be a back door.
I scramble away and scan the street for alleys. Where is he going?
Should I try to ensure he never sees his companions again?
But the buildings along the street are densely packed. By the time I find a narrow passage around the backs toward the far end, Julita’s brother is long gone.
I stand there in the dingy alley, another layer of dread settling into place.
He’s already here, Julita says in a strained voice.
“He rode ahead to make preparations.” I swallow thickly. “And the rest of the scourge sorcerer’s march is only a day behind us.”