It only took them until dusk to finish. Satina sat by the menhir while they built it, one stripped sapling at a time. The final product swayed and complained against its lashings, but she judged it safe to climb. Safe enough and just the right height to reach the pocket. All she had to do was push Vane through first.
Except he’d vanished again.
Throughout the building of the scaffold, Vane had drifted to and from the courtyard to inspect the progress. He barked orders, tested the strength of a few of the lashings, and scowled at the men when they slowed or rested. The remainder of the time he’d taken to disappearing.
Satina tried to figure out where he’d gone, but the rubble heaps had grown into small mountains, and the best she could guess was that he returned repeatedly toward the tents and the camp where the gang women continued to cook and wash. She shifted position and watched him as far as she could, but didn’t risk standing to peek or following him outright. She didn’t have to fake her exhaustion. The woods run had winded her, and her scratches still complained. Whatever energy she had left she’d do best to save for getting the last of her part in the plan properly completed.
Now they’d built his ladder, and Vane would appear any moment to make her climb it with him. She inhaled and tried to find her center, her power. Fear scattered her attempt. Her hands shook. She scooted closer to the big stone and let its shadow soothe her. The lines danced in the half light and she could catch their faint glowing now. Vision. She looked to the mark, to the familiarity of it, for reassurance.
Instantly she was swept up and away. The sigil carried her to Westwood, over the trees to the buildings ringing the town square. From that vantage she could see the alleys. She could see the shadows moving behind each building. She could see Vane, standing by the fountain, pointing and shouting to the few Starlights who’d remained in town. But it wasn’t Vane. She knew that as well as she knew the little skip in his step and recognized the flash of a mirror shard at his throat.
Marten led four of the members away, down the road toward the twin tree pocket. The rest split in twain and headed in other directions. The shadows surged and she saw for the first time what the imp had been up to. The townspeople of Westwood poured from the alleys. They surrounded both groups, and though the Starlights drew steel, they faced many more axes and pitchforks.
Vision shifted her away, following Marten and the group he led. They never made the pocket. This four didn’t even have time to draw. Satina saw Cygnus in the mob that swarmed them. She saw the blacksmith’s huge hammer and her mind flinched from the scene. Vision threw her back to the courtyard and her own body, safe from the violence where Marten had entrenched himself.
She flung herself forward, placed both palms against the ancient stone and thrust her will blindly at it. She didn’t know its symbols, but if Vision understood her, perhaps the others would as well. Her power burst through her hands, heated the points of contact and she begged it, begged the menhir, the sigils and whatever hands had hewn them, to protect and defend those fighting tonight because of her.
Keep them safe. Keep Marten safe. Her mind chanted to the rock, and it gave her no response. How could it? She knew bloodshed when she saw it coming. To imagine the night ending without loss…not even a Granter could be that naïve.
“Goodmother.” Vane’s voice broke the silence. He stood behind her, and when she turned, offered a slippery smile. “It is time, Satina.”
She took her time standing, made a show of scooping up and straightening her skirts. The ruins had grown quiet. No shovels scraped the courtyard, and the constant swish of dirt piling had stilled. The light already shifted toward dark, lengthening shadows and trailing a crisp chill against any exposed skin. She shivered and turned to face her task.
Vane had Maera at his side. The girl glowed up at him, tucked close under his arm. Satina blinked and scrambled for an explanation. It came when Maera looked at her. Hatred burned in that expression. Her young eyes glinted with it. In an instant the girl’s trips through the weeds changed meaning. Her nervousness, her flight back into the field each time she was discovered. How much had she overheard?
The triumph in Maera’s smile said enough. It said she’d betrayed their plan for her own ends, ends that had put her exactly where Satina had refused to—in Vane’s arms.
The gang leader dipped his head to her and maintained his smile. His eyes had hardened, however. The treasure lust dimmed and only cold dismissal replaced it. He’d kill her now, if she so much as flinched.
“Shall we?” He waved her toward the ladder and Maera giggled. The sound grated, too high in pitch and wild with the girl’s excitement.
Satina moved to obey. She walked from the stone sentinel, leading the way to a scaffold that he couldn’t possibly let her climb now. Whatever he had planned, he didn’t offer any clue, only followed in her shadow with the blacksmith’s daughter tucked protectively under one arm.
At least Marten had succeeded. The town had even stood beside him, followed his direction. Maybe they could rout the gang without her help? Hadja was safe in her pocket, and only Satina needed to suffer Vane’s wrath. Only she had fumbled her portion and—she could hear Marten’s echo—put her trust in the wrong young girl.
“Stop.” Vane snatched at the back of her cloak. His fingers twisted in wool and hair alike until her feet stilled. They’d reached his scaffold, and a ring of Starlights watched like vultures. Pale, unfriendly faces ringed the spectacle and waited for her sentence. “Now prove it.” Vane spoke to Maera, and a flicker of hope drew Satina’s gaze to his face. He doubted the girl’s story then? His greed wanted that workroom to exist. He wanted her story to be true.
“She’ll have it in her pocket.” Maera stuck out her chin and glared at Satina. “Inside her cloak.”
So much for hope. Vane spun her around and Maera crept forward. The fist twisting at the back of her neck kept Satina from kicking at the girl, but only just. Her cloak was thrown open, and Maera fished through her pockets like a ferret. The spool of thistledown fell to the stones. The remains of her dust, the girl tossed aside without a glance. Finally, Maera made a short, satisfied grunt and plucked the mirror shard from the garment. She dangled it from the thong and let the glass spin and flash.
“Is that it?” Vane snarled enough that the girl jumped.
“Y—yes.”
“Can you use it?”
“I think so. I heard her explain it.”
“Try it now.”
Maera nodded and slipped the thong around her neck. She tossed a look in Satina’s direction, and then closed her eyes. At first, nothing happened and Vane shifted his weight to his other foot. His grip on Satina loosened a tiny bit. But Maera had listened well. Her body blurred and shifted. Her grin morphed into Vane’s smug smile. She triggered the illusion exactly as Hadja would have, until Satina stood with two Vanes, and both of them sneered at her.
“That’s a pretty trick.” The real one shook her, lifted her by the hair until only her toes had contact with the ground. “Your friend has filled me in on the rest.” He turned his head up, eyeing the platform and the pocket he couldn’t see. “Are you sure it’s not lethal?”
“Yes.” Maera answered, and Satina could only guess at how much she’d heard. She had some details, knew about the drugged wagon. Had she missed anything? Had she known about her father and Marten’s militia, and if so, had Marten walked into a trap as well? “She has to open it though.”
They still needed her for the pocket. Why? Surely Vane wouldn’t fall through now, but they pushed her to the ladder, and Maera already climbed. Looking exactly like him. Satina twisted and reached for Vane’s hands. “I won’t do it.” She clawed at her hair, but he only pushed her into the ladder. “I won’t open it.”
“You will.” Vane pinned her between the lashed branches and his body. He leaned in and whispered so close his lips brushed against her ear. “You will open the pocket, of I’ll gut your little traitor friend like a pig.”
<
br /> Maera. She should let him do it. The idiot child had killed the plan. Her blind adoration would sacrifice Hadja next, and maybe her father had already turned on Marten. She reached up for the next wrung and Vane let her hair loose. He snagged her cloak lower down, though, and she climbed behind Maera with his weight dragging at her hems.
The scaffolding swayed, and each cross bar bowed under their weight. The lashings held, but the whole platform shifted and leaned in one direction. Vane shouted, and a crowd of Starlights rushed forward. They leaned with shoulders and backs into the construction, and the platform stabilized. Maera already perched on the top of the thing. The gang had built it to hold two and, for a moment, Satina imagined Vane would have to let her go. She could open the pocket and slip through with the girl. She could warn Hadja. They could make a run for it.
The Vane above her shouted and pranced on the narrow platform. The one below wound his fist into her cloak and climbed on her heels. The Starlights groaned and held the platform from below, and a ribbon of Old Space rippled just over her head. She reached the top rung, and Vane shoved her. Maera dove for her as well, and together the two Vanes pushed and dragged her onto the platform. The real one clung to the ladder, but he still held fast to her cloak.
Satina reached for the clasp.
She jerked backwards. Vane’s hand wrapped around her ankle, and his face snarled over the edge of the platform. She ended up on her knees, flailing for balance and leaning way too far out over the edge of the thing. Maera grabbed her neckline and pulled her steady. The racing of her heart thrummed in her ears. She was caught fast between them, the girl and the man she looked like.
“Open it!” Vane below commanded. His fingers bit into her ankle. “And don’t move.”
They had her trapped and bound. The pocket rippled and, on the other side, Hadja waited for Vane to fall into a booby trapped wagon. Marten might be safe in town. They had the gang there outnumbered. But Hadja was one old woman against a horde of Starlights. If Maera came through looking like Vane, she’d take it as the go ahead for the next phase.
“Do it!” Maera snarled and shook her. The shard flashed against her chest. Vane’s chest. Hadja would see the shard. She’d know what it meant, know she had an imposter in the wagon.
Satina nodded and reached for the pocket. Hadja would notice the mirror shard. She’d stay safely inside the pocket. Marten would have his militia to protect him. She felt the membrane vibrate under her hand. They’d all be fine. The rift opened to her thoughts, and Maera/Vane leaped straight through it. She vanished, and the real Vane tugged hard enough on Satina’s ankle to twist her around.
“Now,” he shouted. “Back down.”
Hadja wouldn’t open the pocket. She’d know something was wrong. The others would be fine, but Satina was as good as dead. She climbed down Vane’s scaffolding, scrambling for an idea, a clue, anything that might get her away from him long enough to reach a pocket. She’d run the stairs if she had to. She’d run for the woods. Anything. But the gang leader pulled her into his arms before her feet hit the ground. He hugged her close and growled into her hair.
“Now we watch.” He laughed. “Let’s see what your friends do next.”
He dragged her around the ladder and up to the big heap his men had made at the new dig sight. Vane threw her down against the rubble and then sprawled beside her. He waved his arm, and his Starlights moved beyond them, into the open courtyard where the menhir stood. Maera had told him about the next phase. Now his gang arranged themselves around the pocket, waiting for the next Vane copy to show.
But Hadja would see the shard. She had to.
Satina wanted to look. She lay beside Vane and fought the urge to roll over and climb the pile, to peek beyond. He watched her, eyes flat and dark. The Starlights grew quiet, took position and waited for orders. What would he do to her when no one came? When nothing else happened? She hoped Hadja’s powder made Maera vomit.
Vane’s jaw twitched. The castle lay in a sheath of darkness now. The moon that just tipped the treetops had only a sliver’s status, but it draped the high spots in blue light, and made the long shadows all the more black. The canopy rustled under a soft wind, rattling and sending a few leaves skipping across the courtyard pavers. Someone coughed.
She listened to her breath slide in and out and waited for Vane to turn on her, to realize Hadja was on to them. Maybe he’d decide Maera had lied. Maybe she could convince him the shard had been for other purposes, that the girl had… Vane’s voice shouted into the night. It didn’t come from the man beside her, however, and she twisted, tried to see over the rubble despite the heavy hand that landed on her shoulder.
“Starlights!” Hadja shouted from the menhir, perfectly mimicking the gang leader’s tone. “We have succeeded.”
Beside her, Vane rumbled, low in his chest. He held her down, pushed her into the rubble while he scooted closer to the lip. Voices answered Hadja, but they remained too low, too mumbled to make out clearly. She heard footsteps, felt the weight of Vane’s anticipation through the pressure on her spine. The rubble dug into her cheek while the Starlights turned on Hadja.
Vane had her no matter what, but Hadja could still slip back through the pocket and be gone. Satina wriggled enough to catch a decent breath. She ignored Vane’s growling, inhaled and screamed as loud as she could manage. “Run!”
The courtyard exploded into motion. She twisted, and Vane dove on her, grappling at her thrashing limbs. “Hadja, run!” He smashed his palm into her face. The world spun and throbbed. She tasted blood on her lips, the sharp tint of iron. Her body lifted from the rubble as Vane stood. He held her out and shook her while the ruins spun around them at an angle.
“We have her!” A man’s voice called out.
Vane stilled, but the ruins still swirled and wavered through a sheen of tears. He lowered her body until she could have stood, but dragged her with him around the debris. She stumbled and hung in his grasp like a sack of beans. The Starlights stood in a ring around the menhir. Vane pushed two of them out of the way and broke through the line. “Hold her!”
Two Starlights held Vane’s twin by the arms. They stood only a pace in front of the pocket. It shimmered behind them. Hadja had nearly made it back through. A step, maybe two. Satina went limp. Her weight dragged Vane off balance, and he shifted his feet to compensate. She kicked out, landed her foot against his knee and began to thrash.
She had no purchase, and her blows made little impact. Vane just lifted her from the ground again and let her dangle, kicking and cursing. The Starlights took a step away, however and, as she spun around, Satina tried to catch Hadja’s eye. A little closer and the woman could bolt through the rift.
“Idiots!” Hadja screamed with Vane’s voice. “He’s an imposter!”
The ploy was too obvious, too desperate. Still, the Starlights exchanged a lightning quick glance before deciding to ignore her.
“He’s been working with her the whole time!” Hadja continued and struck a nerve. The gang had never liked Satina’s involvement.
“Ignore her.” Vane sighed. “Bring her away from…”
“Starlights to me!” Another voice screamed from the ruins and, it too, belonged to Vane.
Vane whipped around, and she swung along with him. The Starlights all turned to face the edge of the courtyard where a third gang leader stood outlined in the moonlight. He posed atop a short stretch of wall in a stance that she could easily label as belonging to Marten. The Starlights, however, began to murmur their confusion.
“They’re both impostors!” Marten shrieked.
“This is ridiculous.” The real Vane lifted her into the air again and used her to gesture with. “Kill both of them!”
The Starlights didn’t move. Blue boots shuffled against the stones. Vane set her down slowly, pulled her close and held her like a shield. One of the others spoke—she couldn’t see which one, and it hardly mattered. The words carried a chill that spr
ead over the crowd in an instant. “Why don’t we kill all three of them?”
“Fools!” Vane spat and hugged her tighter. “They planned this!”
The gang moved slowly. First the two men holding Hadja shifted position. They pushed their Vane to his knees, to Hadja’s knees, and stepped back just enough. A third Starlight drew his sword and moved in on the old woman.
“No.” Satina thrashed and twisted, but Vane pulled her with him, backing one step, two and three, away from the scene. A line of Starlights stood to either side, and the gang closed up the space behind them.
The sword lifted, catching moonlight. Satina watched it in a trance, pressed against Vane’s chest and held fast.
A scream erupted from the back of the group, from the tents where the women worked. Satina could see them running toward the courtyard, and shadows ran after them. Marten shouted from the wall, “Forward!”
The Starlights spun to face an attacking militia. Townspeople with homemade weapons leapt from the walls and alleys on all sides. Satina twisted and turned her head, but bodies ran everywhere and Vane already pulled her with him, scrambling for an escape route in the chaos. She struggled against him, saw Marten leap from his wall. She saw Hadja, fall backwards into the men who held her. The pocket rippled, and all three of them vanished. She saw the Starlights draw their swords, heard the clashing of metal. Then something slammed into her head, she spun, and all she saw was darkness.
Chapter Twenty
Unlikely Page 20
