She climbed the great stair on legs that shook and threatened to give her away. The stones themselves held, as they had through the ages, stout and unrelenting. Still, the absence of walls to either side slowed her steps, even though each stair stretched easily the length of a man in either direction. The Gentry had run this gauntlet, streaking like crazed demons to the diving platform. Satina climbed one terrified step at a time toward the narrow landing.
It had been three days.
As she neared the halfway mark, Vane’s stretched voice reached her. “Can you see it?”
Satina scooted toward the stair edge, and her stomach clenched. She leaned out just enough to see him standing in the middle of his crater. He held his necklace out and turned this way and that, testing it for warmth, looking for magic.
“Satina! Can you see anything?”
They hadn’t found so much as a broken pot, and she’d been hard pressed to keep him digging at the spot for three days. As it was, he’d split the men off into smaller teams, reworking the other digs—the ones that continued to turn up the occasional relic. Now he had a small cart full of dishes, scraps of tapestry and silver along with the remains of an unfortunate servant. But he had no magic.
“I’m not sure.” She shouted down at him. She’d “felt” a surge of power only moments before, and Vane had scrambled in answer to the revelation. He had his necklace out, and she had his full attention. “I think it’s a little to the right.”
Vane pivoted to the right and held out his device. Even at this height, she could tell he was scowling. Good. As it happened, his finding nothing at all fit right into her plan. Before he could order her down, before she could lose her nerve, she ducked back to the stair’s middle and continued her climb. To either side she saw treetops. In one direction lay the other stair, the little one beside the road where she’d begun this journey. In the opposite, Hadja’s cottage waited, warm and surrounded by sweet, calming herbs. Behind her, through a narrow swath of forest, the town of Westwood waited, Marten waited.
They all waited for her to fall.
She reached the top before her thoughts could collect. The next step would put everything in motion. She peered out over the courtyard. The next step went nowhere. Far below, Vane spun his misunderstanding in an arc, looking for magic that wasn’t there. Between them, a narrow strip of air shimmered and hinted at the pocket beyond.
Had they pulled the cart back into position? A breeze that had felt light and friendly closer to the ground whipped at her hair and cloak, tugging her in the wrong direction, the safe direction back down the stairway. Had this really been her idea?
“Satina!”
She leaned out. The courtyard made a pattern from up here. She could see the slight shades of gray, the way the stones fit together. The digs marred it, but it was there, a soft herringbone of hewn rock. It would hurt, if she missed the pocket, if the wagon wasn’t back in position. The fall would kill her.
“I see it!” She hollered down at him, but the wind tore her words away. He frowned. His hand pointing at the necklace. Satina shook her head. She threw one arm out and fixed her gaze on the pocket. The Gentry had done it. They’d done it at a run, like children at the bank of a creek, gleefully, with no fear. But they’d known where the wagon was.
“There!” She pointed down and wavered on the lip of the landing. Vane’s eyes flew wide. He shouted her name, screamed for his men. Satina let her arms flail, waved them through the air as if she struggled for balance. She bent her knees, and the wind snagged her cloak and whipped it high behind her. Like wings. She leapt into thin air and fell.
Vane’s scream followed her down. “Noooooooooooo!”
The air beat at her face, stripping tears from her eyes and blurring her vision. The pocket, she fixed her mind on the pocket. Any second now.
The familiar ripple surrounded her. She reached for it with her mind. Clawed at it, and kept falling. The world blurred past, a golden streak. She flailed through warm air, cried and, for a second, imagined Marten’s face above, smiling.
The impact threw straw into the air. It knocked the wind out of her, but at least there was still a her to be breathless. She lay in the yellow blur for a moment, gasping for air and watching the rain of golden grass bits.
Straw. Straw fell from the sky. It scratched her cheek and arms and squished under her back when she shifted position. Hadja’s voice spoke from behind her, from the back end of the wagon.
“Well, you made a pretty show of it. Come on now.”
Her bones hurt, but she sat up just the same. The straw clung to her cloak and skirts. Satina dragged herself around and peered at the woman standing behind the cart. Hadja can handle the pocket. “You have the powder packets?”
“Just you hop out of there and we’ll stuff ‘em in.”
She slid to her feet and wobbled to one side, using the wagon to steady her legs. Hadja wasted no time. She dove on a stack of paper packets and began to cram them into the straw. “Take some up front. We need to spread it around, make sure he pops a few of them. Just be careful you don’t squeeze any.” The old woman’s eyes twinkled, even without the glow of the Gentry. She chuckled softly and continued to work her way around the wagon, lacing the straw with her herbal bombs.
Satina picked up a handful and went the other way, tucking packet after packet into the fluff. Her hands shook, and she still had to lean against the wagon as she went, but her legs at least supported her weight again. When Vane landed, so long as he managed to burst a few packets, he’d be unconscious before he could sit up.
That took him out of the picture, but they still had an entire gang to deal with. She’d planned for the Gentry on that count, and the backup plan left a lot to be desired.
“Hadja?” She stuffed her last pack in just as they both rounded the front of the wagon. “I’m not sure about you managing the pocket alone.”
“I’ll be fine, dear.”
“There are over twenty men, and the women…” She thought, just maybe, the women would be even worse.
“You’re forgetting who I’ll be.” Hadaja plucked her mirror shard out from under her shirt. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Unless they get suspicious.” Satina frowned. Vane was nothing to take lightly, his gang even less so. If Hadja did get them to follow her into the pocket, she’d need to get herself out fast. “Listen, he never asks nicely for anything. You’re going to have to play the part.”
“And you’re going to have to get moving. Here.” She thrust a heavy bundle into Satina’s arms. It only had the size of a bowl or cup, but whatever was wrapped inside the rough cloth weighed twice as much as it should.
“What’s this?”
“The relic you found in the workroom.” Another twist in the plan she hadn’t been informed of. Another treasure from the woman’s cellar.
“Hadja.”
“You need to hurry, dear. Worry about your own task. We knew what we were getting into.” They had, but Satina had been kept in the dark. “We’d better rough you up a bit as well.”
“All right.” She shoved the bundle into her cloak pocket and plucked a few stray straws from the wool. “But I want you to be careful.”
“Of course.” Hadja’s smile did little to convince. “Now hold still.”
☼
The trek from the little staircase to the castle clearing did more for her ragged appearance than the artifice she and Hadja concocted. Where they had gently frayed her hems, the roots and stickers tore great rents in the fabric. And by the time Satina stumbled back into the courtyard, only half the red scratches on her face and limbs were from the berry juice paint. The rest stung and reminded her that she was about to do something both serious and dangerous.
The gang’s work had ground to a halt. Though the slant of sunlight indicated several more hours of daylight, they sprawled or sat around the stones. What conversation existed happened in hushed tones. Satina couldn’t see Vane, and her heart stuttered at
the thought that he might have already rushed after Marten, bent on some twisted punishment.
She whimpered, and then groaned loud enough to turn a few heads in her direction before limping from the surrounding trees. One of the men shouted. Satina moaned and stumbled. A few more steps and the courtyard filled with activity. The Starlights rushed in two directions, half of them toward her, and the other half toward the tents. She heard Vane’s name pass between them, heard someone call for the man.
Maybe he hadn’t gone anywhere.
She stopped moving and shifted her weight from foot to foot, intentionally wavering, still making soft noises in her throat. The gang members formed a circle around her, but not one came close enough to touch her. They exchanged glances, shuffled blue boots and waited for Vane.
He charged in like a bull, breaking the circle and tossing his members to either side. Satina choked and staggered toward him. She let one leg falter and fell forward. Would the bastard even catch her? She ground her teeth together and focused on not trying to save herself another bump.
Vane grabbed her. He flipped her around less than gently, however, and his eyes drilled into her. “Where?” He growled and shook her once, frowning when she whimpered. “What happened? Where have you been?”
Satina took a ragged breath, only half act at this point. She leaned heavily against him. He reeked of ale and fury, and his hands still pinched against her skin. This would have to be good, or he’d probably kill her on the spot. She clawed at his shirt, surged forward into his face and watched his eyebrows rise. Her breath hissed once, between her teeth and she stretched her eyes wide, nodding like a mad woman.
She opened her mouth and held while the emotions on his face shifted. He’d get it, the urgency, the wild expression. She wound her fingers into his shirt and gave him a little shake in return. Vane’s gaze softened. Hope sparked in his eyes. It was all she needed.
Satina twisted her lips around the word. She made it a long sound, a conspiratorial whisper. “Workroom.”
Vane’s arms tightened. He pulled her into his chest, until his heart raced under her cheek. His words echoed through that rumble. “Get water! Move! Our goodmother has returned!”
If he expected cheers, he didn’t show it. The Starlights turned to obey, but their steps didn’t exactly spring. If Satina interpreted correctly, they dragged a touch, and just maybe, a few of the hostile glances were aimed at more than her. She hadn’t expected dissent amongst his group and didn’t need the complication either. The time had come to hurry.
Satina coughed and cleared her throat. Vane supported her still, but when she twisted, he let her go. She fumbled in the folds of her cloak, making sure to wobble a touch, to keep her shoulders sagging. “Vane.” She groaned and stumbled to one side so that he was forced to grab for her again. “Found.” She pulled out Hadja’s bundle pushed it at him. “Just one to show, prove.”
He snatched the thing away and, when she crumpled this time, he let her sink to the stones in a heap. Satina watched him through the veil of her hair. He turned his body to shield the bundle from his men. His fingers ripped at the wrapping. It had better be good. She could see that on the man’s face. Once again, she’d put her trust, her life, completely in Hadja’s hands.
His brow lowered. His lips pressed tightly together and something reflected a yellow sheen onto his skin. His eyes darted to her and back to what he held. Satina concentrated on her breath, tried to still her racing pulse in case she had to run.
He cradled Hadja’s bundle to his chest and turned his attention to her. Her body tensed, ready to bolt though, after the trip here, she didn’t relish another run through the woods. Nor did she fancy her chances at escape. Vane dropped into a crouch beside her. He hid whatever she’d brought him, and his voice came out in a rasp.
“You.” His mouth curled into a grin. “One of you is worth all of these idiots.”
Satina swallowed. She blinked at him and let her body settle just a little. He didn’t want to kill her, sure. But whatever gift Hadja had provided lit a light inside Vane, it was brilliant and twisted and drenched in murderous greed.
“Hit hard,” she whispered. “Grabbed that, but…”
“I’ll have you tended to.”
“There’s more.” Satina peered into his eyes and shivered inside. “There’s much more.”
Vane held himself in check, but he trembled around the edges. “The workroom?”
“Intact. The pocket is isolated, hard to get out of. I fell.” She worked up another sob then bit her lip as if she’d slipped.
Vane barely noticed her at all. He nodded, and his lips moved, but whatever conversation he participated in happened in his own head. No sound came out.
Two of the women arrived with a clay bowl and a jug of water. Vane waved them at her, not noticing the sneers they turned in his direction. He ignored them all and curled around his treasure, debating with his own mind. “Could use a rope to lower down,” he mumbled. “Safer to go up, though.”
She let him sort it out. All she needed was him interested in that pocket. How he got in there didn’t matter much. The first woman set the bowl down, hard, on the stones. It cracked. Satina heard it. They heard it. They grinned at her and thunked the pitcher beside it. She answered their scowls with a blank stare.
Vane continued to debate his options, and eventually, the women left. Satina dipped her hands directly into the pitcher and cupped enough water to scrub at her face. The cool eased the blush of exertion, but the water stung in the bramble lashes. She dipped again anyway, cleaned her face and then went to work on her arms while Vane mumbled like a lunatic beside her.
“We’ll need a scaffold.” His head snapped up and his voice held more lucidity. “Hold this.” He shoved the bundle into her arms and leaned in as if they were on the same side, a team against the rest of his gang. “Don’t show anyone.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Of course not.”
“Good.” He patted her shoulder and stood up, grinning again. She’d slipped into his confidence, had vanished and returned, and now the man truly believed she belonged to him. She’d come back, after all. She’d brought him his treasure. Except Vane craved magic most of all.
Satina hefted the bundle in her hands and imagined what could possibly have driven Vane to trust her? She peeled back Hadja’s homespun wrapper and caught a glint of golden metal. Why had the woman parted with something of enough value to affect Vane like this? She pulled the fabric lower, checked around her for Starlight spies and then opened the binding enough to see clearly.
She had to fight against laughing out loud. As it was, her shoulders shook enough to give her away. Hopefully, anyone watching would write it off to fatigue. Inside the wrappings she found a golden ball. It looked arcane enough, the surface completely covered in swirls and squiggles, but the marks were not sigils. They held power only to amuse. Hadja had sent Vane a child’s toy, and he had seen in it exactly what she’d expected him to.
Maybe they had a chance. With Hadja’s mind and her magic, with Marten’s militia, maybe they could actually succeed. Satina rolled the cloth back around the plaything and scanned the courtyard. The men had returned to their digging, but now a separate crew attacked the surrounding forest. They swung axes, dragged back branches and chipped away at the castle’s last defense.
Vane strode across the stones with a new purpose. His steps clipped with the promise of power. His gaze drifted up, to the hanging pocket, to the imagined treasure trove of a made-up sorcerer. Satina’s insides went cold. He wouldn’t find what he sought. They’d baited him, and what they’d roused was more than she’d expected. She had no idea if they could handle him now.
The Starlight leader threw his arms wide and shouted at the world. “Now!” He turned to her, framed a smile that burned into her vision. “All we need is a ladder!”
Chapter Nineteen
Unlikely Page 19
