On the Meldon Plain (The Fourline Trilogy Book 2) (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A circle of broken glass surrounded the guard. He sank to his knees on the rotted floorboards. Oberfisk’s boots crunched against the glass as he took a wide step back from the kneeling guard.

“Deserting, you say?” Andris stroked his beard. A look of sympathy passed over his face. “I can understand that. We all know Mudug’s a phony usurper,” he said encouragingly to the man.

“I wad lookin for rebels, to join dem.” He glanced at Andris expectantly.

“Of course you were.” Oberfisk nodded in agreement.

Andris leaned in, inches from the guard’s face. “What I don’t get is if you were looking for rebels, why were you traveling toward Rustbrook instead of away? That’s what’s got me a little tripped up.” He fluttered his fingers in front of the guard’s swollen nose.

Nat watched as the guard’s eyes shifted away from Andris toward her. He remained mute.

“I wouldn’t look at the Sister,” Andris advised. His voice held no hint of friendliness. The guard’s eyes darted back toward him. Nat’s orb hung directly above his head, casting an eerie glow over his sweat- and blood-drenched face. “You didn’t see her markings, did you?”

The man’s head twitched.

“She’s a Warrior Sister. Your like eviscerated her House, killed her Sisters. I wouldn’t expect much in the way of friendship from her.” Andris smiled. Nat narrowed her eyes and glared. “Let’s try a little truth, shall we? Or I might have to step away for a moment, and I can’t promise that she won’t take that blade of hers and finish you like you were some scum of a Nala.” Andris knelt next to the man and clamped his hand over the now-quaking guard’s shoulder. Glass crunched under his high leather boots.

“See, I’m not buying any of your story, friend,” Andris said, his tone light. The man said nothing. “He’s all yours, Sister.” Andris stood and lowered his head as if in sorrow. Nat stepped into the light and reached for her blade. She caught Ober winking and smiling at her from behind the sniveling man. She kept her expression stony.

“I’m delling the drood,” the guard whined. “Mudug’s mines are a nydmare. They have us working dwendy-hour shifd. No breaks above ground, no fresh air, jusd the dark pid day afder day. And de duozi and de scum from de Rewall working . . .”

“What duozi? Mudug has duozi children working in his mines?” Nat interrupted. What else was Mudug doing to the duozi, and what was the Rewall? Andris shot her a scathing look. He wanted her to act like a vengeful thug and keep quiet.

The guard babbled on, oblivious to Nat’s blunder. “No children, he has de older duozi working in the pids. I even saw a Nala creeping around when a load of workers from de Rewall came in. Duozi and Nala probably plodding do join dogeder.” He twisted his face upward and searched for some agreement from Andris. Andris nodded understandingly and handed the guard a soiled cloth. The guard gingerly cleared his nose.

“You ran away because of the duozi? I thought Mudug had the duozi under control,” Andris said, sounding uninterested.

“No, no, he sends the adult duozi to the mines with the Rewall filth, but some escape,” the guard said, his enunciation much clearer now that a good deal of the blood was gone from his nose. Nat wondered if he knew about the other place Mudug was sending duozi.

The man waited for some response from Andris. Nat’s eyes landed on the leather pouch and she cleared her throat. “What’s in the pouch?” she asked, ignoring Andris’ repeated glare.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. Fresh beads of sweat sprouted on his forehead. Andris smashed his fist against the guard’s broken nose. The guard let out a gurgling scream and Andris snatched the pouch free, jerking the guard forward so his hands landed on the shards of glass.

Andris opened the pouch. “Recognize this?” he said, ignoring the guard’s agonized wail, and passed it to Nat.

Purple-tinted crystals lined the inside of the bag. Nat didn’t bother looking deeper into its contents. She recognized the crystals. “Riven.”

Oberfisk let out a low whistle. Andris lifted his hand victoriously into the air. “Mudug’s guard with a bag of riven on his way to Rustbrook.” He clapped. “It’s so clear now, my friend.” The guard shrunk back, whimpering. “We have ourselves one of Mudug’s own, his inner guard. Sent you on a little mission to bring back riven, didn’t he?”

The guard said nothing, clutching his nose with his bloody palms.

“Sister, come with me.” Andris turned and gestured toward the door. “Shoot him if he moves,” he said over his shoulder to Oberfisk. He and Nat ducked under the crooked doorframe.

“With pleasure,” Oberfisk responded and bumped the tip of his crossbow against the guard’s head. The guard made a pitiful blubbering noise.

Andris veered away from the barn, taking her past the ruined buildings and skirting the snares. A weak morning light covered the eastern foothills. He rubbed his face. The lines around his eyes deepened as he squinted against the daybreak. For a moment, he had the same focused expression Soris had when contemplating a problem. Nat felt an odd pang of sympathy.

“It would be easier to kill him, but Oberfisk will have to take him back to base. He may have some helpful information for them that Gennes can use when they attack the mines.”

Nat thought about losing Oberfisk. He was the one neutral person in this mixed-up group. She wondered how they would function without his easygoing manner buffering Benedict’s animosity toward Soris and Annin, and Andris’ obvious dislike for her.

“We can’t risk his seeing Benedict, and that old man couldn’t handle the trek on his own, anyway, let alone guarding one of Mudug’s men,” Andris said as if reading her thoughts.

“What about Annin?” Nat suggested.

Andris shook his head. “We can’t risk that, either. If Mudug found out we were working with duozi, he would just use it as another weapon to poison the minds of the people against the rebellion.”

“What?” She shook her head in confusion.

“Don’t be so naive, Natalie. No one trusts the duozi. Everyone believes they are tied to the Nala.” He said it as if he held a similar sentiment.

“Your brother is not tied to the Nala. Annin is not tied to the Nala.”

“Don’t lecture me about my brother,” Andris cautioned.

“You could take the guard back,” she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“No,” he responded, “I’m not turning over command.” He gave her a curious look. “I’m almost tempted to send you, it’d be one less headache to deal with. But I hate to admit it, I need you to keep the peace between Benedict and the others.”

She clamped her mouth shut, wanting nothing more than to curse Andris up and down. But fear of him ordering her to leave Soris kept her quiet.

“Soris and Annin should be back from searching for more guards. Tell them and Benedict to stay out of sight. And get Ober’s and Benedict’s horses ready. The guard can ride on Benedict’s horse. One of us can double up with Benedict until we reach the river.”

Nat nodded and hastened down the hill.

“Natalie!” he called after her. “Out of sight,” he repeated.

Nat sighed.
Even his own brother wants him out of sight
.

Nat yawned, tired from the previous night’s interrogation of Mudug’s guard. She pulled the thick leather tongue of the saddle’s cinch. Her horse waited, holding his breath as she fed the tongue through the buckle.

“Come on now, let it out,” she coaxed. The horse snorted. She yanked on the tongue, pulling it tighter before the animal took another deep breath. She touched the straps of the bridle, felt the edges of the saddle blanket, and gave the stirrup a rough tug. Now that they were a horse short, the last thing she wanted was a loose saddle or buckle if Annin or Soris were riding with her.

She slopped through the mud surrounding the barn. Strong morning light warmed her face. She closed her eyes. The smell of the mud and horses and the peaceful quiet of the morning reminded her of home.

“I’m not riding any of those creatures. They’ve been fouled by carrying duozi.” Benedict’s voice sliced through the serenity of the moment.

“Don’t test me, Hermit, or I’ll set you in front of a duozi for the rest of the day. Pick a horse to ride,” Andris replied, gesturing to the animals. Nat opened her eyes. Benedict hesitated in front of Annin’s and Soris’ horses.

Not wanting to listen to Benedict’s invective, Nat slipped behind the barn and away from their bickering. She unhooked the vine-shaped clasp of her cloak, rolled up her sleeves, and walked up the hill. She wandered up to the spot where she’d captured the guard, thinking about Mudug’s mines.
The Nala enslave duozi children while Mudug enslaves the adults and people from the Rewall, wherever that is. No one is safe, especially not Annin or Soris.

A blur of movement caught her attention, and she dropped to the damp ground, fumbling for her dagger. She peered through the branches and climbed back to her feet. Annin’s wild curls sprang around her head like Medusa’s snakes as she and Soris ran up to Nat.

Nat sheathed her dagger and brushed the clumps of mud off her knees. “I didn’t know Andris sent the two of you out again,” she said, feeling rattled that she’d mistaken them for someone or something else.

“He wants us out of the way until Oberfisk and that guard are long gone.” Annin’s flushed face matched Soris’. Nat caught herself staring at him, remembering how his hand had felt on her face when they’d talked alone in the barn. He came to a stop next to Annin. Sweat covered his forehead.

“We figured we may as well do something useful,” Annin added. “Scouting is a long sight better than hiding away in the barn with Benedict and a bunch of jumpy horses. Feels good to get out and run, doesn’t it?” She placed her hand on Soris’ shoulder. A look of contentment passed over her face. Nat averted her eyes and rubbed the remnants of dried mud from her hands.

“It does.” He paused and scanned the foothills. “Do you sense anything?”

“No. Do you?” Annin tied her hair away from her face with a worn leather cord.

“Something.” He hesitated. “Must have been another predator.” He shook his head.

“A gunnel?” Annin’s hands slipped from her hair. Nat wondered what a gunnel was.

“No. It was probably nothing.” Soris settled his gaze on Nat. His breathing slowed but damp curls now framed his face. Nat let her eyes wander from the curls to his full lips. “Natalie?”

“What?” she asked quickly, feeling utterly foolish for staring at him like a smitten schoolgirl.

“Is Andris ready to leave yet?” He gave her a curious look.

“Um, I think so. He and Benedict were loading the horses when I came up here,” she said, keeping the details to herself. No need to let them know about their argument.

“Stop straightening your legs.” Benedict sat in the saddle with Nat and whipped his head around.

“Then stop fidgeting. Every time you move, it pushes my feet out of the stirrups.” She thought of the almost gleeful look Andris had given her when he told her Benedict would ride with her to the river.

Benedict hunched over the saddle horn and grumbled, ignoring her complaint. Soris’ and Annin’s horses wove around Andris’ horse far ahead of them. They’d spent the morning working their way deeper into the foothills of the mountains, then turned west. Tall grass replaced the scrub, and the tips of the blades brushed against the bellies of the mounts. The sun warmed the air. The heat and change in scenery should have helped her mood, but with Benedict sitting in front of her grousing about the duozi, nothing helped. The breeze flipped loose strands of hair into her eyes, and she frowned.

“Hold these.” She handed Benedict the reins and twisted her hair into a tight knot at the nape of her neck, catching all the strands. The sun highlighted the markings on her arm.

“Still haven’t learned to keep those covered.” He pointed at her bare forearm. “You never know when we could run into someone.”

“We haven’t yet.” She grabbed the reins and purposely straightened her legs, sending him into the saddle horn. “Besides, being recognized as a Sister is low on my list of concerns.”

Benedict let out a wheezy laugh. “We’re approaching Rust River, the main trading route leading to Rustbrook, and you’re flashing your markings like a squirrel scampering in front of a bear den in April.” He gestured toward Soris and Annin, now riding astride Andris. “You’re no better than those two.”