Valiant (22 page)

“What will happen to the Tailor?”

He sighed. “Most people are buried out beyond the Kriva, but now … we’ll have to burn him, Saville. You’ll have the ashes.”

“When?”

Lord Verras swallowed. “Now.”

Releasing the Tailor’s hand was harder than I would have thought. I settled it back on his chest, then followed Lord Verras out of the room.

I did not look back.

T
he shouts of
the people beat against me as I stood on the balcony, their fear real as the summer heat. Yet neither their fear nor the heat could touch me.

I kept feeling the Tailor’s cold hand beneath mine.

Finally, I roused myself and shouted something about courage and hope, and about how I would help them. I thought of the time I’d spent in the caves. That, at least, was not a lie. I hummed some of the giants’ song as I left the balcony.

Lord Verras was waiting. “What song is that?”

“The first one we heard on the walls.” I rubbed my forehead as if that might clear my muddled thoughts. “I like it.”

“Like it?” he echoed. “Have you forgotten what we saw in the camp?”

I shook my head. “It was lovely and …”
It was all I had to hold on to
.

“I—I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” He stepped close, eyes worried. “Saville, go rest. You can stay in my room. I’ll give you all the privacy you need. Just …” He shook his head. “… look to yourself.”

I must take care of myself. No Mama to hold me close. No
friend in the castle to let me sit beside her and cry. I looked at the man before me, dark head bent, eyes that witnessed how deeply I grieved, even if I didn’t want them to.

I’d see so little of him once the giants were gone. There’d be no reason to talk in his rooms or walk out with him on the ramparts.

There was no Lord Verras for me, not really.

He disappeared behind a blur of tears. I turned on my heel before he could see them and ran. He called after me, but I didn’t stop.

And he didn’t follow.

I went to his room anyway. I closed the door, locked it, and sat slowly in a chair—Lord Verras’s chair, the one that smelled like ink. The grief was like a toothache: gnawing, twisting pain. I couldn’t stay still, I—

Where had Lord Verras put the map?
I wouldn’t desert Will, but I could leave Reggen for a little, couldn’t I?

I darted to Lord Verras’s desk, wondering how he could find anything in those piles. Yet he’d notice if they’d been pawed through. He noticed every detail.

I didn’t care.

I rummaged through the papers until I found the map and spread it before me, humming the giants’ tune. I wouldn’t take the tunnel to the cliffs. Or the one to the East Guardian’s head. I finally found one that led to the river. I could swim out of the city entirely.

To the giants’ camp.

I’d visit the giants. Hadn’t I been wanting to all along?

I traced the path with my finger. It was one of the older tunnels, but it led to the banks of the Kriva right below where the walls met the cliffs.

Leymonn said the river might mask the sound of a boat. Why couldn’t it conceal me? I’d swim toward the boulders on the opposite shore, where Lord Verras swam as a child. The roar of the water would be even louder there.

There was more to this war with the giants than the duke’s claims to the throne, more than Lord Verras believed. And if I went on the adventure so I wouldn’t have to sit and cry myself pale and tired, well, that was my choice.

I looked down at my clothing. The champion’s pants were too fine for an evening in the Kriva. I went to one of the cupboards in the corner. Just as I’d suspected, Lord Verras had tucked some clothing away—he had everything here. I flipped through the pile until I found a pair of homespun pants, wrinkling my nose when I pulled them out. Where had he worn them last? The stables?

I glanced over my shoulder at the locked door, then quickly changed into the reeking pants, cinching them around my waist with a belt. One last look around the room before I left …

Will
.

I went back to Lord Verras’s desk and found a sheet of paper and ink. I
would
return safely, but Will deserved something, just in case.

I paused, pen hovering above the paper. Hadn’t I learned that words left unspoken wounded as much as those that were?

I
reached the beginning
of the tunnel to the Kriva in no time. Holding the lantern aloft, I squinted down at the map in my hand. I wanted to race down the tunnel, but there could be no hurrying. I needed to mark my path with linen strips so I could retrace my steps when I returned. I reached for my satchel.

Nothing. I’d left it in Lord Verras’s room. I looked behind me, shadows flowing like water as the lantern moved. All I wanted to do was leave the castle and listen to the Kriva, let it drown the grief inside me.

And then there were the giants.

“I’m not going back for it,” I muttered.

I set the lantern down and pulled out the tails of my shirt. It was good linen and hard to rip. Perhaps Lord Verras’s pants …

The worn homespun tore much more easily. I sat down and worked at the pants legs until I had a fistful of strips. Finally, I stood and followed the map through the tunnel, dropping a strip every few steps.

The path to the Kriva had not been lost, though I did have to squeeze sideways through two rockfalls. I had three strips of homespun remaining when I neared the tunnel’s end.

I heard the song of the river first, the hushed roar of water. A few more steps, and I saw the slice of silver-blue moonlight. I snuffed out the lantern and tucked the map beside it.

Then I walked out onto the banks of the Kriva, picking my way through branches tangled with fishing twine, which shone like spider silk in the moonlight. Reggen’s walls rose up on my left. I looked across the river. The far bank was dotted with giant campfires. Campfires I didn’t have to visit.

I pulled in a deep breath, closed my eyes, and let the river sing to me while frogs chanted a chorus.

Then I opened my eyes and stepped into the Kriva.

I waded into the deep water as quickly as I could—I wouldn’t splash as much there. Then, blessing the summers Mama had let me play in the millpond near Danavir, I let the current catch me and bear me downriver to the boulders Lord Verras had shown me. Water foamed around them, and I aimed for the bank just above them.

The current tugged at me as I drew near the boulders, and I let it carry me partway around them, their sharp edges jabbing my arms and shoulders. The moment I saw a handhold, I pulled myself up out of the water, hoping the river masked the sound of my flopping up onto that slab.

I rested there a moment, my cheek pressed against the stone. It was still warm from the sun and was strangely comforting, even as I listened for shouts that the giants had discovered me.

Finally, I pushed myself up. I couldn’t see much—only
smears of movement against the campfires. The giants looked even bigger as the fire threw long, lurching shadows across the ground. Once, I thought I heard singing, but I wasn’t sure. The Kriva kept the giants from hearing me, but it also muffled their conversations. Even so, I heard giants talking in the same low rolling tones as the scouts had, their voices like storms singing.

A long shadow fell over me.

I froze.
It’s just the fire that throws the shadow so far
.

My heart would have nothing of it. My pulse roared as loud as the river—

Fingers thick as human legs wrapped around me, pinning my arms to my sides. The campfires tilted as I was yanked high into the air, too surprised to scream.… A great splash of water as the giant waded into the Kriva. I spluttered in the spray, trying to breathe.

It was going to drown me.

I fought, kicking and twisting. I even tried to bite one of the fingers, but the skin was thick as hide. The hand around me tightened, and my vision danced.

Finally, I felt ground beneath my toes, and the hand released me. I fell to my hands and knees, pulling in great gulps of air. When I raised my head, I saw him, a giant standing over me. I tried to scurry back on all fours, but collided with rock.

“Sit,” commanded the giant in a voice like thunder. I could hear the flash of anger in it.

Why was he angry?
My eyes never left his face as I reached
a trembling hand behind me, feeling for a place to perch. I’d dive away if he so much as twitched, even though I was still within easy reach of those long arms.

I risked one look around me. We were on the island in the middle of the river, Lord Verras’s island. A stand of trees shielded us from the giants’ camp.

The giant folded himself to sitting, his feet almost close enough to touch me. Too close. In the moonlight, I could see he was clean-shaven, with a long straight nose and thick hair. A pick was strapped to his back. He didn’t speak a word, but there was no hiding his fury. His breath rolled out in gusts, his hands were clenched. He looked at me as though I were a blight he longed to stamp out.

And he could if he wanted to. Finally, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and stared at me with a ferocity I’d never seen in the scouts’ eyes.

“You will not hurt them,” he rumbled. “I will not let you.”

Panic turned my skin to gooseflesh. This giant
would
protect them, whoever they were. He’d do whatever he needed to keep them safe. I wanted to explain that I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, but I didn’t think he’d believe me.

Then I thought of Lord Verras and how he often grew quiet when someone was angry with him. There was power in that silence. So I nodded to the giant but did not speak.

“You will not hurt my friends,” the giant repeated. “The ones near the river.”

I held up my hands to show I meant to harm.

“Will you not speak?” he demanded. “We are told your voices bring death, but I do not fear you or anything you might say.”

“You have no reason to fear me,” I whispered.

He flinched at my voice but immediately recovered.

“You carried me here,” I said softly. “You could have drowned me or crushed me. How could I hurt
you
?”

Some of the fire left the giant’s eyes. He folded his arms. “How, indeed?” he murmured.

He leaned closer until his face filled my vision. I could not look away. I didn’t want to.

A flash in the corner of my eye. Something slammed into my ribs, and I flew backward off the boulder. I scrabbled in the shrubs, desperate to right myself, and leapt to my feet. What—?

His fingertip. He’d prodded me.

“What are you
doing
?” I shouted, too scared to mimic Lord Verras’s wise silence. “That
hurt
!”

The giant reared back, surprised and … ashamed, perhaps? “Peace,
lité
. I meant no harm. Our scouts swore Reggen’s tailor possessed great strength. And the duke … I thought all
liten
were stronger.” He tilted his head as if he could hear something in the night air. “Please, I wish to speak to you.”

I sat again. Slowly.

Lité
. The scouts had used that word for me. I swallowed. “But the duke said—we’ve heard—you’re to kill us on sight.”

“I have no love for the duke.” The giant made a low sound
in his throat, too refined for a growl. “And I wish to hear a human voice.”

And then I remembered the pens. It seemed a betrayal to meet this giant, to sense I could trust him, and yet know that this army kept humans! I grew too furious to be afraid. “You’ve had a thousand chances to hear human voices. You keep people in pens!”

The giant jerked back as though I’d slapped him. “You are angry?”

“Of course I’m angry! You keep humans like cattle! If you want to know what we sound like, listen to what they say before you eat them!” My stomach turned just to say it. “I’ve seen the bones your captains wear. And you want to protect your friends from
me
?”

He drew in a great breath and nodded to himself. I couldn’t tell if he was pleased to learn I was angry or if he appreciated the explanation. “I have not seen these pens. They are guarded by the Deathless and I cannot approach them. We are told the voices of all
liten
deceive.”

Deathless. Was that what they called the captains who wore the bone collars?

“Who are you,
lité
?”

Again, my heart raced. He’d mentioned Reggen’s tailor. I didn’t dare speak of sewing.

“My name is Saville. I am”—what was I?—“my father and my mother’s only daughter.”

“A she, then? I thought so.” He bent forward so that his
head was near his knees, close enough that I felt his breath rush against me. He squinted, eyes trying to take in every detail. “But you are not dressed like a she, I think.”

“It is difficult to wade in a dress.”

“Yes. It must be. The water is big to you.” He nodded. “You are the size of our infants, though you would look odd to them.”

The giant chuckled silently, hands gripping his knees. Just as I gave myself permission to smile, he stopped and grew serious. “Now. Why are you here? It was not to speak with me, I think.”

“I wanted to see what the giants were like.”

“Giants? That is what you call us?”

“Yes.”

He leaned back, his face retreating into shadow again. “Why else?”

Did he think I was spying?

No. I couldn’t sense any of his earlier anger. For whatever reason, he didn’t believe that I would—or could—hurt his friends. Then I realized that I did not mind telling this giant the truth. “My father died today. I didn’t want to sit alone and cry. I needed to … go away. I wanted to see what the giants were really like. I have heard rumors of what your army has done, but …”