River Secrets

by Shannon Hale

  “You really never learned to read? Well, the scribbles are directions to the Rosewater River, west side, lower docks near the river mouth. It’s all shipping warehouses that far down the Rosewater. One of my father’s warehouses is in that area. So, when do we go?”

  She smiled, her eyebrows up.

  He swallowed his bite of ham. “We?”

  “Come on. I shared my breakfast with you.”

  “Dasha, I don’t think…I’m just going to scout it out, and scouting’s better with one…. I’m not even going to ask Conrad to come because…I mean, we could be seen, and there’re fire-speakers on the loose … um, no.”

  “Hm.” She pursed her mouth, looked at her fingernails. “You know the assembly court requires two witnesses to support an accusation. I suppose you have some other Tiran to go with you?”

  “Oh.”

  By the time Razo had finished the breakfast platter, she was ready. He had insisted she wear something drab and unassuming, so she replaced her Bayern-dyed blue lummas for a quiet peach one and took the silver butterfly pins out of her hair. She combed it and plaited it on each side, and he watched, as mesmerized as though his gaze were caught in the melting gold of a campfire.

  “Something wrong?”

  Razo blinked. “Huh? Uh, no, let’s go.”

  He thought of trying to get to Enna, Finn, and Talone, but he knew how the heart was during other feast days. During one festival, he’d not been able to actually walk through and had moved by leaning into the crowd, traveling slug slow as the people adjusted around him. That would waste hours—Ledel might move locations by then. No, he had to go now, before someone else died. He would not try anything foolish, just peep a bit, like his old scouting missions during the war.

  In and out, nobody hurt.

  25

  A Slinger and a Spy

  Dasha was chatty at first, and Razo tried to follow her conversation, but his thoughts were looping, his muscles twitching for action. By the time they had skirted the chaotic stirrings in the heart, he realized she had been silent for some time.

  “Why didn’t you go with the other women this morning?” he asked as they hurried down a side street.

  “I was in no rush to arrive.” She shrugged. “I’ve had apple cakes before.”

  A doubt tickled him, a flea bite in his mind. He ignored it.

  The morning was dirty gray, the sky musty with clouds. All the women were in the heart, the men and children home, and business on hold for the sake of the feast day, leaving the streets sad and empty. The mood was lashing around Razo, and he felt tethered by anticipation.

  They crossed the last bridge over the Rosewater and continued south, civilization beginning to thin out. For long stretches, the west bank of the Rosewater was weedy and desolate, dotted with isolated shacks. The mouth of the river widened toward the peculiar flatness of the gray sea, and the banks became messy with docks in different phases of newness and decay. Warehouses crammed together, elbowing for a bit of river side.

  In case of an unexpected plunging into the river or other mishap that could damage parchment, Razo had left the map with Conrad, so Dasha was looking for landmarks from memory.

  “That one…No, wait, that’s it. That’s the one.”

  They hunkered behind some crates at an adjacent building and watched for guards before moving in closer. The wooden docks scraped the banks as the water heaved up and down in a tired rhythm, the wet breath of river sloshed against the shore, an open door clacked in the wind. No human sounds. Then the wind blowing off the ocean shifted, swooping between them and the warehouse. Razo smelled smoke.

  They dashed from their hiding place and crouched beneath the warehouse window. Razo inched up to peer through the slats and felt Dasha move beside him.

  There was Ledel, sitting at a table in the nearly empty building, looking over a book. Two soldiers stood behind him, one his secondman, the other the young soldier Dasha and Enna had identified as a fire-speaker. Crates in various stages of ash were stacked and flung in every corner. Ledel pointed at an empty crate in the center of the room. The young soldier’s squinty-eyed expression became even more crooked in his concentration, and a hiss of smoke puttered from the crate’s corner. Ledel shook his head and gave some command to his secondman. Now the crate ruptured with flames.

  Razo turned his back to the wall and slid down to sit. Dasha was beside him.

  “Did you see?” he whispered.

  She nodded.

  “My bet is Ledel tried to learn fire-speaking himself and failed, and so enlisted others,” said Razo, thoughts pulling through him like a tug-of-war he was winning. “He must’ve read about fire-speaking in one of those books and is training some of his men, but not doing such a great job of it. They burn themselves up while trying to learn fire-speaking, and then he makes use of their deaths by planting the bodies near the Bayern to increase public suspicion. Ingridan will believe there’s a Bayern fire-witch running rampant, increasing the desire for war, and after the assembly votes for war, Ledel will have half his crew to offer up as flame-tossing warriors.”

  Razo’s grin at his own cleverness shifted into a grimace, and his voice croaked. “He’s making an army of fire-witches, Dasha. He’ll set Bayern blazing.”

  Dasha’s eyes were gray-blue today. “We need to tell Lord Belvan and the chief of assembly.”

  “Right.” Tell Lord Belvan, let someone else take care of it. Razo wished he were armed with fire-speaking or wind-speaking, could swing a sword like Finn, could rush in right now and end it. What was he doing here, anyway? A Forest lad, the weakest member of the Own?

  You’re a slinger and a spy, he reminded himself. Your job is to find, war scout, not to fight. He looked at Dasha, her ear cupped to the wall, and felt glad, at least, not to be alone.

  With a warehouse full of danger pressed to their backs, Razo’s thoughts jumped to a tiny shack, rain seething outside, his arm around her shoulders. He thought it would feel awfully nice to hold her again like that but reminded himself that she was the prince’s intended bride. He tugged playfully on her lummas.

  “You were right about coming along. They might not believe a Bayern boy, but a noble Tiran witness…”

  “And a pretty one at that,” she said.

  “I didn’t say that. I mean, but I will, if you want.”

  She considered. “Let’s get out of here first.”

  They crept away, testing the quietness of their own toes against stone, and huddled outside the next warehouse.

  “I heard something,” whispered Dasha.

  “I did, too, coming from the way we want to go.”

  “Let’s go back and skirt around….”

  “But if we get caught, there’s no way out except the river.”

  “Oh. Well, if we need to, I could make the river a way out for us.” She clenched her hands. “If we have to.”

  Razo nodded. “Only if we have to.”

  They listened to the uneasy silence, edged out, and sneaked toward the river.

  Then came the unmistakable congested grumble of Tumas. “Where in the blazes is it? Captain, you around here?”

  In the narrow alley between two warehouses, there was no place to hide. Tumas rounded the corner, his gaze grabbing them.

  Dasha cried out and sprinted toward the dock, Razo right behind. The sound of running feet followed. Razo pushed himself harder, loosing the sling at his side.

  Before he could get a stone in his palm, a fist came down on his head. He thudded to the ground as he saw Tumas grab Dasha by her hair.

  Razo fumbled for his sword, but another set of arms encircled him, lifting his feet from the ground.

  “Almotht got away,” came the voice of Tumas’s friend.

  Thick, hairy arms held Razo from behind, pinning his arms to his body. Razo bit into a hand and heard a yelp, but the soldier adjusted to the hangman’s hold—arms under his, hands locked behind his head.

  Dasha was screaming and kicking in T
umas’s arms, and he yanked her head back until she whimpered and stilled. Her neck was exposed, and as Tumas reached for his dagger, Razo understood, with a shock that burned as it burst through him, that Tumas would kill them both.

  Tumas looked at his captain, who was standing in the doorway of the warehouse. Ledel’s frown was frightening.

  “Bring them inside,” he said, and disappeared.

  The soldiers threw Razo and Dasha on the floor of the warehouse, tied their hands behind their backs, and bound their ankles. Tumas ripped off Razo’s sword, sling, and pouch of stones, but just like the assembly guards, he mistook the distance sling cinched around Razo’s waist for a common belt.

  “Here.” Ledel tossed the short sling to his secondman. The tanned, lean soldier held it between two fingers. The ends began to smoke, and he shook it away as it fizzled and trickled into ash.

  “Shame,” Razo breathed. He had made that sling himself, braided it from the black and white hairs of the sheep he used to watch for the king. He looked at Dasha. Her face was down.

  Tumas prodded Razo’s gut with his foot. “It’s that Bay­ern boy, the one that put himself on Hemar’s knife. Captain, I told you he was no good, always sneaking, looking around more than he ought.” He pressed a finger to one nostril and blew out the other. A lump plopped beside Razo’s sandal. “How did he find us here?”

  “He followed you, no doubt,” said Ledel. “How long have you been lumbering around, lost?”

  “Not long.” Tumas sniffed, embarrassed.

  “Look at his girl.” The squinty-eyed soldier was squinting now with purpose, his eyes on Dasha. “Isn’t she—”

  “Lady Dasha.” The scar down Ledel’s jaw was as white as teeth.

  Dasha tossed her head, flicking her braids behind her shoulders. “Captain Ledel, your men tied me up.”

  “Yes, I did not realize—”

  “So now that you realize, why don’t you untie me?”

  Razo’s stomach felt like a chunk of ice.

  Ledel crouched beside Dasha, lifted her chin with his finger, a gentle, mentorlike gesture. The hollows beneath his eyes were purple, as though he had not slept in days. “What are you doing with this Bayern boy?”

  “He was looking for you, and I wanted to see what he intended to do.”

  Ledel rubbed his scar. “But you ran from my men. You kicked Tumas in the face.”

  Dasha’s eyelids lowered and twitched back up, a half blink. Relief burst in Razo’s middle. He could read that expression—she was lying to Ledel, which meant she was not working with the burners. But apparently Ledel caught the lie as well.

  “I see. You’re on this boy’s side.” Ledel rubbed his eyes and mumbled to himself behind his hand. “I never wanted it to come to this. I would never harm a daughter of Tira. This is all for Tira … for Tira.” When he looked back at Dasha, the whites of his eyes were veined with red. “If only you understood. Lady, all of Tira aches for what I can provide—a justification for war. The incomplete conflict rankles this nation like a wound left unstitched and seeping.”

  “It was a hard loss,” said Dasha. “But—”

  “No, you listen to me.” He was on his knees before her, holding her shoulders. “You nobles make the decisions, but you need to listen to those of us who understand war, who do the work. War is the best tool of civilization. Rules must be followed, or the tool of civilization becomes the catalyst of chaos. Do you understand? The Bayern were the ones who twisted battle out of the ancient pattern of man to man and sword to sword, instead exploiting one fire-witch to burn hundreds. The thought even now brings bile to my mouth.”

  “Lovely thought,” Razo mumbled.

  “But what you do here,” said Dasha, “you’re taking up the tool you say disgusts you.”

  “I know! And I cannot abide my own face for the thought of it. But I love my country more than myself. I will sacrifice my own honor to redeem Tira.” His hands on her shoulders were shaking. “Will you, Lady Dasha?”

  The two locked eyes. Razo stared back and forth, his breath too large to come out of his lungs. Say what he wants so you can get out of here! he thought.

  Dasha blinked. “I will do—”

  “Stop. You are going to lie to me again.” Ledel stood, turning his back to her.

  “Captain.” Ledel’s secondman stood by his shoulder. “What do we do with her? If we—”

  “When all of Tira demands the Bayern be punished for burning Lord Kilcad’s daughter alive,” said Ledel, deadly calm, “he will rush home and demand we resume our war.”

  “You hypocritical monster!” Dasha’s voice lifted as though she addressed hundreds. “The assembly will find you out. My father will stab you through the neck in the assembly itself, and all of Ingridan will applaud.”

  “Tomorrow night, the assembly will be a smoldering clump of ash.”

  “Are we going to burn them, Captain?” asked the young soldier.

  Ledel stared at Dasha, his eyes vacant, but his forehead tense as though he were in pain. “Yes, you are going to burn them.”

  “But tied up like that, Captain? You have always told us—”

  “Soldier!” Ledel pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. His voice softened, pleading. “Yes, you are right. But Bayern’s foul play forces us to make exceptions to the rules. We are running short on time to accomplish our goal. That idiotic Manifest Tira is in very real danger of turning the entire city against its cause with its clumsy assassination attempts. Besides, rumors abound that the prince will announce an engagement soon, and the timing suggests he means to take sides. At just the moment when our mission becomes even more urgent, we are offered a means to accomplish it with Lady Dasha’s death.

  “If you’re not ready to be a man, I’ll give this task to someone else.” Ledel stared at the soldier until the young man took a step back and shut his mouth. “I’m done waiting for the others. You four are my core warriors, and I need your skills perfected. Perhaps having live targets today will motivate you to—”

  “Having more trouble making fire-witches than you’d thought, Captain Ledel?” Razo’s voice scraped out of his throat, as dry as week-old bread.

  Ledel did not even look at him, just pointed his gloved hand. “You do not speak, prisoner.”

  “Had hopes of a whole army, did you, but they just keep burning themselves up? Just like the rest of you will. What, did he use poor folk at first, but they kept dying?” Ledel was crossing the room to Razo now, picking him up by his neck. “So he decided to use his own men. I count two of you gone already; how long do the rest of you have?”

  Ledel punched Razo in the gut and dropped him on the ground face-first.

  “What ith he talking about, Captain?” asked the large soldier.

  “When Bayern talk, they vomit lies,” said Ledel. “Ignore it. Burn them.”

  Tumas grinned, and the secondman cracked his knuckles and stepped forward. The young soldier kept staring at Dasha.

  “But … but, Captain … she’s a lady, and a Tiran—”

  “Tumas? Tumas, I’m here!” A girl entered the warehouse, smiling sheepishly, sashaying her way to Tumas’s side. It was Pela.

  “Pela, I told you not to come,” Tumas said through gritted teeth.

  Ledel growled. “Tumas, why is this girl here? What have you told her?”

  Pela sidled up to Tumas, putting a hand on his chest. “I want to learn the fire witchery, Captain Ledel, for Tira—” She recognized Razo and squealed. “Look! I told you that Bayern boy was trouble. He was always asking questions about Captain Ledel and the rest of you. I tried to take care of him for you, I promise I did. I don’t know how he survived the bloodbane berries I put in his tart, those Bayern aren’t all human. And when I tried to get him caught by Belvan’s men in Lady Dasha’s chamber—”

  “Shut up, will you?” said Tumas. “I told you all this was a secret—”

  “But I’m tired of waiting.”

  Pela and Tumas began talking
over each other, and Ledel just stood there and stared at Pela, eyes dark with some thought Razo did not want to guess.

  Razo seized the moment to focus around him. No weapon lay within reach. The warehouse doors opened to a gray glimpse of river, too far away to attain at the speed of crawl. He saw that Dasha was staring at the Rosewater, her hands trembling behind her back. In her eyes, Razo saw a little girl running after her grandfather, laughing behind her hand at the marvelous game, then watching as he slouched into the river, facedown.

  “Dasha,” Razo whispered, “they’re going to be shooting heat at us. Enna, she’d use the wind to blow that heat away, cool it off before it could become fire. Could water do something like that?”

  “It might, but what you’re talking about would take buckets of water.” She looked up, her expression somber. “The clouds are heavy today, and I might be able to nudge them to release the rain, but I’d have to be standing out in it to use it right. Maybe the river…”

  She closed her eyes. Through the open doors, Razo saw the river agitate, the waves flowing side to side, building momentum, getting higher, splashing up on the dock. A small pool formed on the sagging wood platform. Then it started to slide its way toward them, a tiny rivulet running just behind Tumas’s back as he argued with Pela. The sweat on Razo’s forehead pricked like needles. Don’t look, don’t look, he prayed. The stream found Dasha’s feet and wrapped around her ankles like a cat, curling up and settling into a pool. It fattened, and its edges crawled out, gushing over Razo’s toes, up to his ankles.

  Razo wanted to ask, Couldn’t you call the river to throw tidal waves at them or something? But he considered that water was not a weapon like fire, and Dasha had never used her gift for more than idle play.

  “That’s enough!” said Ledel.

  Razo jumped, but the captain was talking to Tumas and Pela. Dasha’s eyes opened, the river calmed, the water stopped coming.

  Ledel turned his troubled gaze to Dasha, and he pulled a fat dagger from his belt. “Tumas, your friend compromises our safety by coming here. I will show you all that I am not afraid to kill a lady for Tira’s sake.”