Forest Born (12 page)

The mercenary was frowning. The sword in his hand lowered, just an inch. Rin kept talking.

“Someday when she’s grown with children of her own, she’ll still love to run so fast she’ll think her hair is turning into wind, and she’ll still climb trees as long as her knees can bend. And her whole life will be long and good too, because you let her live. Because of you.”

While Rin spoke, she kept moving forward, very slowly, and the armed man’s feral eyes stayed on her. The girl still hung from his arm, tears leaving streaks on her dirty cheeks, just like her mother’s. Aileann had not moved, though she gasped and sobbed with her mouth open.

The man seemed confused. He looked at the girl again, as if he did not know what kind of beast she was after all.

“How . . . how you are knowing?” He sounded as though he believed Rin, every word.

“I
know
,” said Rin, then she was close enough to touch him. Her hand reached out, but her eyes strayed to his blade, held there inches away, sharp enough to swipe through her wrist in one stroke. She trembled all over. “She needs to keep on going. She’s got running to do and a boy to meet someday, and children waiting to be born. You should let her go run so fast her hair can turn into wind. Let her go. Fast as wind.”

Twice Rin hesitated, but finally she placed her hand on the man’s arm. She used to soak in the calm of the trees when she was touching their bark, breathing in the exhale of their leaves—perhaps she could offer this mercenary some calm in her touch. Perhaps she could be his tree.

“Nothing wrong in all the world,” Rin said softly. “No need to make a fuss. Let her go running, let her grow up to be a ma—a ma like your own, who cuddled you close and kissed you fast. No fuss at all.”

His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked at the girl, then down at her mother.

The mercenary let go.

The little girl yelped as he dropped her. She scrambled into her mother’s arms, and they sat on the ground, gripping each other and sobbing, their eyes shut.

Rin began to back away very slowly, not wanting that mercenary’s attention to return to her, not with that sword in his hand. He was staring at the child and shaking his head.

Another mercenary ran past, heading north of town. He saw his companion and stopped, asking him a question in Kelish.

The squat mercenary looked at his friend, half-dazed. “I was . . .” Then he pointed at Rin and spoke in Kelish, sounding confused and half-asleep.

The new mercenary growled. He came at Rin so quickly that she spooked and fell backward, striking her head on the ground, the sweep of his sword cutting the air just above her. Her tongue was salted with the taste of blood. Dizzy, she searched for sight of the mercenary’s sword—there above her. He was swinging for another strike. She covered her head with her arms.

Chapter 13

R
in hid her face, her whole body tense as she waited for the sword to slice her. But nothing happened. She heard a gurgle and peeked. The mercenary’s face was red, and he dropped his sword, his hands flying to his neck. The gurgle was coming from his throat. He fell to his knees, tearing at his shirt, slapping at his lips. When he leaned over, water poured from his mouth, but still he choked, scratching at the earth and coughing. His wet hand reached for Rin, and she scuttled back on her hands and feet.

“Go away!” Rin pleaded. “Go away!”

The squat mercenary grabbed his comrade around the shoulders and ran away. Rin could hear the man heave the last of the water from his lungs, gasp and breathe at last. But they did not stop running.

Aileann and her child had fled too. Footsteps hurried toward her from behind, but she did not flinch, guessing who it was.

“Are you all right, Rinna?” asked Dasha. “Come on now, let me put my arm around you, that’s right. Let’s go back to Mistress Mor’s, shall we?”

Rin wondered why Dasha seemed to be trembling harder than an aspen in a windstorm. After a few missed steps, Rin realized she was the one still trembling.

Inside the cottage, Isi was kneeling beside the bed, wrapping Mistress Mor’s leg with strips ripped from the queen’s cloak.

“Good luck for opening home to travelers,” Mistress Mor was muttering. “Good luck break my bone.”

“Mistress Mor—,” Isi began.

“Which is strange.” Isi rubbed her eyes. “Is the king even aware that a so-called queen resides at Daire and is amassing an army of mercenaries?”

Enna came through the door, wafting a strong whiff of smoke—some wood smoke and some not, announcing other things had burned. It was not a comfortable scent.

“All’s quiet, and the fields are full of fleeing villains,”

Enna said, dropping onto a stool. “The cowards. They love a midnight attack when there’s no one to fight back, but one little push and they run away. They make me want to spit in their eyeballs.”

“And the villagers—,” Isi began.

“None dead,” said Enna. “But not for lack of trying. Those goat-faced pigs went crazy as soon as the villagers started fighting back. This would’ve been a slaughterhouse. I saw women setting up house for those whose roofs were burned through. I think they’ll be all right, Isi, if you’re thinking we should scurry after a certain queen.”

“That’s where the mercenaries are headed. We’d be wise to go on, finish this before she can send more soldiers in retribution.”

Mistress Mor eyed the girls. “You are . . .
yunik fam
. . . how do you say?”

Isi smiled. “Odd?”

Mistress Mor nodded. “Odd, yes. And dangerous too.” She laughed with her head back, and seemed pleased to do so. “My son will come soon for seeing me. You go.”

They were at the door when the woman gestured to the table where the loaves of bread sat under a white cloth. “And one bread for taking, please.”

All four girls sighed with relieved delight, then giggled at their joint sigh.

“I would politely decline,” said Dasha, “if that amazing smell hadn’t been teasing me to near insanity.”

They thanked Mistress Mor, Isi placing something in her palm that most likely was round and gold. Then they jogged to the edge of the village, each tearing into a chunk of the bread. The crust was crisp and thin, the inside nutty and dark, and Rin could not remember ever enjoying food so much. It smelled like home, but it tasted different—new and strange and full of hope. She let the first bite mellow on her tongue, let the softness dissolve until the flavor changed.

“Enna, did you find any signs of horses we might buy?” Isi asked.

“There weren’t many to begin with, and the cowards took those as they fled.”

Dasha sighed. “It will be a long walk to Daire.”

Rin was secretly relieved. She felt tilted and quavery from her encounter with the mercenary, and she wanted to feel herself moving, use her walking muscles, not clutch to the saddle of an uncertain beast.

Enna began to trudge northeast. “There weren’t any fire-speakers in the village tonight, near as I could tell. Those fires were started by cowards with torches, punishing the villagers for fighting back. Filthy-fingered, litter-born, rancid—”

“I can’t fathom what is happening,” said Isi. “A queen in Kel, a secret queen, who attacks Geric, attacks us, houses mercenaries on the border with Bayern. What ever the reason, we have to stop her—or whoever is behind these attacks.”

“We are in Kel now,” said Dasha. “Shouldn’t this be King Scandlan’s matter?”

“When fire-speakers burn houses and attack people, that’s my matter,” Enna said. “And if the burners are hiding behind a queen in Kel, that’s where I’ll go.”

“You’re right, Dasha,” said Isi. “We’re stepping into dangerous diplomatic territory. But our ambassador in Kel was dismissed, and Scandlan has been unresponsive. If we go to Bressal first, it could take weeks to find safe paths through the bogs of Kel. We need to act quickly before more people are hurt.”

“Still,” said Dasha, “this seems risky.”

Isi nodded, her eyes sad. “But I think it’s a risk I need to take. Dasha, if you are at all concerned about being involved—”

“I am concerned,” said Dasha, “but I still want to be involved. You’re right that something is amiss in Kel, and by virtue of our talents, we are bound to help.”

“Thank you. We’ll need to get inside the castle and take down the fire-speakers as quickly as possible. Wind can push back fire attacks, but with your water, Dasha, you might be able to stop them cold.”

“I am ready.”

“Good,” Isi said. “I want to lock up whoever is behind this for Scandlan to judge. Let’s always keep in mind that we’re in Kel, and if we trip up, Scandlan might feel it his duty to declare war on Bayern. Especially if this person really is his wife and the rightful queen. So we tread carefully.”

“Carefully,” said Enna, her eyes focused on the way before them. “We can do that. Absolutely. And then we’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Carefully,” Isi warned.

“Right.” When Enna spoke again, her voice was so soft, Rin had to strain to hear. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I swore I never would again. But you should know, I will if I need to, Isi. If I need to keep Bayern’s queen safe, I will kill.”

Rin could see Isi’s profile as she looked at Enna, lines of sadness in her face, torment almost, and Rin expected the queen to declare that Enna need never go back on her promise. But then Isi raised one eyebrow.

“As if you could.”

Enna stared at Isi so intently she tripped over a rock. “Excuse me?”

Rin and Dasha gaped. Enna sighed and waved a hand as if trying to sum up a lot of information quickly. “One time I tried to kill her and I failed. It wasn’t . . . I didn’t mean . . . it was a long . . . well, anyway, after that, there was nowhere for our friendship to go but up.”

“I can depend on Enna for just about anything,” said Isi, “but I could never make her a court assassin. She’d fall flat on her face.”

“Ho there now, my queen, I can slay with the best of them. If you just weren’t so good at defending yourself—”

“No excuses. You can set fire to an army, but when it comes down to it, you’re really bad at individual murders.”

“Fine.”

Rin watched Isi closely. There was a tightness in her voice, a sadness in her eyes. Despite the teasing, the queen cared very much whether her friend killed again.

Isi did not just like Enna, Rin considered. She needed her, and not just for Enna’s talents, her protection and power. The queen needed to hear a second voice, to have someone she trusted always on her side. Rin thought of her own mother, surrounded by people, all family and no friends. The homestead was frantic with people, but they were all people Ma fussed and sweated and cared for. Who cared for Ma?

“If it’s possible that this queen of Kel has been trying to herd us to Castle Daire, then why are we . . .” Dasha gestured with her chin toward the direction they walked.

“I know,” said Isi. “It’s an uncertain road. But I can’t imagine she could kill or even capture us. Enna alone can hold off an entire battalion of soldiers or a handful of fire-speakers.” She hooked arms with Enna at her side, and Dasha put her arm through Rin’s. “This queen of Kel thinks she can defeat us? Ruffle our feathers? Make us flinch? Ha, I say.”

“Ha!” Enna echoed with enthusiasm.

Recovered, Dasha held up her head as she tromped on. “That’s right. Ha to that burning queen, and
moo
too. There’s a good deal of water hanging in those clouds up there that is eager to meet her fire-speakers.”

Rin put her arm more firmly through Dasha’s, breathing in the good feeling of being with friends. And not just any friends. Joined with those three girls, she felt as insurmountable as a mountain, as solid as a forest of trees. It made her feel bold, almost as good as them, almost as strong.

“Have you been to Daire before, Isi?” Dasha asked.

“No, I believe both the castle and its town are small. Last year Geric and I traveled to the coast and took the sea route to Bressal to meet with the king. Scandlan was reserved but gracious, so his current silence troubles me. We stayed a couple of weeks, taking Tusken with us. He loved the sword dancing and drumming. Geric loved the roast boar and fishing with nets in the ocean. I loved the tales.”

“You’ve never told me any Kelish tales,” Enna said.

“Haven’t I? They’re . . . strange, in a wonderful way, but they don’t make good bed tales. I’ve wondered why the Kelish stories are about humanlike animals, as if in order to see the story it has to be a bit removed from what is actually real.”

“So go on, then,” said Enna.

“All right. So. The boar, the stag, and the eagle met on the last craggy peak of the world, looked down, and sighed at what they saw. The boar was a king, and he said, ‘There are not enough people.’ The stag was a poet, and he said, ‘There is not enough beauty.’ The eagle was a cleric, and he said, ‘There is not enough mystery.’ Then the wolf, arriving late, looked up instead of down and said, ‘There is not enough hunger,’ and promptly ate them all.” Isi cleared her throat. “And . . . that’s the end.”

“Oh,” Dasha said. “I see.”

Isi laughed. “The Kelish enjoy the unexpected endings, especially ones that involve death. All Kelish tales are questions, and this one asks, if the boar was king, the stag was poet, and the eagle was cleric, then what was the wolf?”

“A woman,” said Enna.

“Unkindness,” said Dasha. “Brutality, selfishness, people who play life like a game and kill to win. What do you think, Isi?”

“King, poet, and cleric are all professions, so maybe the wolf represents a profession as well, like a warrior. Or perhaps it’s something less tangible, like . . . time.” Isi shrugged. “It seems like a riddle, but then I think, maybe there isn’t one answer. What do you think, Rin?”

Rin still had not said a word since yelling at the mercenaries to go away. She cleared her throat and was about to agree with what Isi had said, but a different thought seized her. “Maybe the wolf isn’t a person or a thing. Maybe it’s something inside—inside us.” She imagined the wolf poised in her own chest with maw open at her heart, a beast that could eat her from the inside. The girls did not answer, and Rin cursed herself for speaking her thoughts.

“Huh,” said Dasha. “Well, I like the tale. It is sort of dreadful, but so is this night, and the distraction is constructive.”

A solitary tree lurked on a hilltop, its branches reaching high and wide. It was a perfect outline against the starlit sky, perhaps the loveliest tree shape Rin had ever seen, and it filled her with wonder for the beauty in the world, even here, so far from home that people spoke a new language and told animal tales that asked questions more confusing than dreams. It was not until they passed beneath it that Rin realized the enormity of the thing, and she held her breath in awe. She was reminded of the ancient elm in the palace yard, and marveled again at what a tree could become outside a forest. Isi, Dasha, and Enna had all left home and family, and they were doing fine. Rin had hoped that she too could bloom away from home, but passing beneath that tree, under a foreign night sky, she felt even tinier than before, a mote of dust that could be lost in the merest huff of wind.

On they marched, the hour moving through them and past them so quickly, Rin was not tired by the time they reached Daire. They halted at first sight of the castle, in a rocky field dotted with trees. The wind troubled the leaves and stirred them into a fluster, chattering and nipping at each other like kits. The moon revealed itself, leering over the castle battlement. In its shadow, the queen of Kel was waiting.