by R. K. Thorne
She raised her head and scanned the room quickly. Her things were nowhere in sight. The ragged bed was broad enough for at least two, if not more, and nothing else filled the dim room. The only light came in under a dark door, dim, like firelight from a hearth.
A foggy memory of the home she and her parents had shared before the betrayal, before the Devoted, before Mage Hall, reared up and tightened her throat. She shoved it away and clutched the rough burlap as she sat up. The room was as empty and as poor as a room could be.
She swung her legs to the floor and winced when her ankle slammed into a stool, pain shooting through it. She reached down to rub the pain away, nudging the stool aside. It scraped loudly across the floor, and she winced again.
And to think, she prided herself on her stealth.
Footsteps sounded outside the door, and Miara caught her breath, clutching the blanket harder and tensing for whoever might open that door. A lock clicked open, pouring ice into her veins. She anchored her feet against the floor, ready for a fight with whomever would steal the queen’s pendant and lock her in this dark room.
She needed to get back to Aven, and if Evana hadn’t stopped her, this certainly wasn’t going to either. Whatever it was.
Warm firelight poured in and revealed the silhouette of what looked to be a pale-haired woman—and a veritable herd of children clutching her skirts. Behind her, two older girls peered curiously over their mother’s shoulder near a far wall. A boy of maybe fifteen eyed her more warily, face stony and eyes narrowed.
“You’re awake, my lady?” said the woman, in a voice sweet and lilting.
Miara blinked. Well, this was not exactly what she’d expected. “Where are my things?”
“Just out here. My girls and I washed them for you. Dress is almost dry. The emerald is lying on the table where we’ve all been admiring it. I hope you’ll pardon us the violation, but the rain had gotten them muddy as a pig in his sty.”
“Why did you lock the door?” she said, a note of warning in her voice. A lock hung from the latch on the outside—it wasn’t even built into the knob. In fact, the door had no knob, or even a handle.
The woman glanced over her shoulder, revealing for a moment rosy cheeks and full features, a blond braid swinging over her shoulder. “I beg your pardon again, my lady, but our constable, if he found you…” she trailed off.
“What about him?”
A long, tense silence settled around them.
“We don’t know what he’d do,” said the boy by the fire.
“Aye, that’s a fair description of it. Thought it best in case he came nosing around, but he hasn’t. Can we get you some food, my lady? Meager as it is, I figure you must have been quite ill to collapse like that. Are you feeling well?”
“Quite better now,” Miara said. In truth, magic and sleep had worked wonders. Her stomach growled as if to willfully spite her. “But, uh, I am a little hungry.” She hated to even admit it, what with the number of them and the look of the house. They couldn’t have much to spare.
The mother looked back, and one of the girls scurried out of view. “All right, you’ve got your chance to gawk, my sweet ones. Go play and leave the fine lady alone.”
“I’m no fine lady,” Miara said reflexively, and then winced. That was really no longer true, but she didn’t want them to think of her as above them. She’d spent her life in just this sort of situation. Even if Mage Hall had had food and shelter to go around, it had still starved and tortured the soul.
“I beg your pardon again, but I’ve never met someone who wore silk dresses in the rain or emeralds around her throat who wasn’t a fine lady.”
“Thank you for bringing me back here,” Miara said softly, remembering herself. “I, uh, I have come into those things only recently. I suppose you are right. But there’s no need for such deference. I’m not so different from you.”
The woman stepped aside, the light from the fire revealing sharp, dark eyes and a stained, amber apron over a dress brown as soil. One of the girls came through and brought a hunk of bread and stew Miara quickly discovered was more water than anything else.
“Check her dress, sweet,” the woman said to one of her horde, turning her eyes back to Miara. “I’m sure you’d like to be back in your own things. I am Vayna.” She bowed now, the children studying her. “And you might be…”
“You can call me Miara,” she said.
“Only that, my lady?”
Miara hesitated, unsure exactly what answer she preferred to give anymore. Vayna wanted to know not her name, but her station. She was unpracticed at her new truth, but even Vayna knew she was no average woman. She weighed whether there was a risk in the truth, but there were too many unknowns to be sure. They’d brought her back here and hadn’t killed or hurt her, so she’d just have to hope they were worthy of her trust.
“Miara Floren, arms master of the realm and… betrothed to the king.”
Vayna’s eyebrows flew up as a flurry of murmurs swept the children. Only the boy didn’t react much, narrowing his eyes at her.
“That is, if we are still in Akaria?” said Miara slowly.
“Yes, of course we are.”
“Where are we exactly?”
Vayna frowned. “Faeren territory, near the northern border to Shansaren. The deep forests begin not ten miles to the north.”
Good thing Miara had decided to go south, then. “And how far from Panar?”
“I couldn’t say precisely, my lady. I’ve never been. I believe four days’ ride. Maybe five.”
Thankfully still a flight she could make in a few hours. That made sense; the Devoted couldn’t have taken her far. Thank the gods she wasn’t in Takar. She’d feared perhaps they were near the main Devoted monastery. It must have been some monastery, just not the important one.
“If you’re an arms master, why weren’t you armed?” said the boy, eying her like a wolf in the forest.
“My weapons were stolen.”
“But not your emerald?”
“I grabbed that on the way out.” She smiled wolfishly at him and ripped up an unladylike hunk off the bread with her teeth. She was too tired and too starving to be bothered with manners here.
“Is it— You said betrothed to the king?” said Vayna.
“It’s the queen’s emerald, yes,” Miara said matter-of-factly.
Even the boy’s eyes widened this time.
“It’s dry, Mum,” said the girl, approaching.
“I, uh, yes,” Vayna muttered, looking flushed. Miara tore off another hunk of bread and chewed it, eying her. “Well, then. That is something. Um, here—you put this on and come out, and we can eat and talk like civilized folk.” Vayna smiled, bowing again. She sat the dress beside Miara on the bed and scurried out, pulling the door shut behind her by its top edge.
Setting the bread and bowl on the stool, Miara cast aside the rough blanket and dressed quickly. The dress was indeed in better shape, cleaner and softer, although no washing was going to hide the tattered hems or the extra gash or two she’d picked up.
Murmurs from the children and the sound of a flute drifted in, and Miara paused to listen for any cause for concern. For once, she found none.
Wolfing down the rest of the bread, she picked up the bowl and swung the door open cautiously, but sure enough she bumped it into a small child anyway. A little girl as high as her hip laughed once and skittered away.
“It’s here,” came Vayna’s voice.
Most of the children were gathered around a large table, peering down at the emerald that lay quiet and inconspicuous on the dark wood.
“Thank you,” she said softly, quickly drawing it up and reclasping it as best she could around her neck. She took a deep breath, and indeed it did feel better to have her things back. How odd that such fine things were hers, and that they provided any comfort just from their familiarity. “I need to get back to Panar,” she said quickly. “If you have things I could borrow, I can pay you now or send paymen
t when I reach the city.”
“Do you have news from the city?” Vayna said softly, not reacting to her other words. “We’ve heard civil war is imminent, the prince deposed, the lords at war with each other.”
“Did you now?” Miara couldn’t help but smile. “From Lord Sven, no doubt.”
Vayna nodded slowly. “Well, from the constable. But he gets all the official word from the city. Is that not true?”
“It’s not. The Akarian Assembly voted in favor of Prince Aven’s ascension to king. Unfortunately, King Samul has been gravely injured. He’s chosen to abdicate, so Prince Aven has been crowned king. I know not what he’ll make of Lord Sven, but I can’t imagine he’ll forget his lack of support.”
“The prince is king?” Vayna said slowly. “And pardon me, my lady, but, did you say—”
“She can’t be,” the boy cut in, glaring at Miara. “Lies. What would a future queen be doing out here in Faeren anyway?”
Miara narrowed her eyes and scowled right back. “I don’t need to convince you,” she said, surprising herself with the touch of disdain in her voice. She’d been through enough, though, she had no interest in convincing anyone of anything. “I just need boots and a cloak to get back to Panar.”
“Just boots and a cloak?” the boy shot back. “For a four-day ride, with no horse? You’ll freeze to death, fool woman.”
Vayna caught her breath.
Miara scowled harder but ignored the comment. “If you have a dagger, that might come in handy.”
“I might. But that won’t keep you alive in the snow.”
“I’m not worried about snow.”
He scoffed. “It’ll be here any day now.”
“I’m sure I can find some boots,” Vayna said, nervous.
“That’s all right. I’ll be back in Panar in a day.” Although, she’d likely need to take breaks to rest and eat between flights, especially with her recent troubles. And night was not far away. Perhaps it’d be more like two days.
“You can’t walk to Panar in a day,” he snapped.
“You’re right, I can’t.”
He blinked. “Then how—”
“I’m going to fly.”
His mouth dropped open, eyes round like an owl’s. Miara smiled at him and turned back to Vayna, who mirrored a similar expression. “A cloak, my lady?”
Flustered, Vayna jumped to her feet and started hunting through her things.
Bare minutes later, a threadbare cloak graced Miara’s shoulders. The boots were a little big but better than nothing, and she’d be transforming into some other form in a few minutes anyway.
“Uh, my lady, pardon me but…” Vayna started.
Miara raised an eyebrow.
“Your hair… One piece is shorter than the others.”
She looked down. Ah, yes. Evana and her dagger. “Ah, I forgot. Thank you. You couldn’t… trim it for me, could you?”
“Are you sure?”
“It will grow back.”
As Vayna buzzed around Miara’s head, nervously wielding their one dagger, Miara hoped she hadn’t put her trust in the wrong place. But crooked would be better than a chunk missing. She glanced at the boy, who’d returned to glowering suspiciously at her.
“Are you willing to sell your dagger or no? I hear arms masters should be armed.”
“How did you get to Faeren?” he said instead.
“I was kidnapped,” she said plainly. “I escaped, though. Where is my bird, by the way?”
“Oh, you’re the reason that falcon keeps diving at me at the door?”
She sighed and smiled in spite of herself. “Oh, good, I’m glad he’s all right. Nearly died in the process.”
“All right is a matter of opinion I guess.” The boy rubbed his neck absently. “How are you going to fly? Ride the falcon?”
“I’m a mage,” she said simply. If they were ever going to make it safe to be a mage, this seemed like a good place to start. “I won’t ride the falcon. I’ll transform into one. Or maybe an eagle. I prefer their size.”
“You’re serious,” he said incredulously.
“Yes. Now, dagger or no? I need to be on my way.”
“Uh, what are you willing to trade for it?”
Miara looked to Vayna. “What do you all live on?”
“We’ve got a field for turnips and potatoes, but it hasn’t been the best since my husband ran off last spring.” Ah, that explained the boy’s attitude then. He knew someone should be playing the role of protector but wasn’t quite sure how to do it himself. “We forage in the forest when we have to. Which we were doing when we found you, if that tells you much. We don’t have much saved for the winter.”
“It’ll be enough,” the boy said sharply.
“Not at this rate,” she shot back quickly. “We can’t be stubborn about this, Serol, or we’ll starve to death.”
“Where is the field?” Miara said briskly.
Serol jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Out back. Now, back to this trade of yours. Since you don’t seem to have anything—”
Miara held up a palm as she groped for the soil of the field, sensing the few struggling turnips remaining in the ground, perhaps missed or perhaps not worth harvesting just yet. “One moment.” Yes, she could make this field work. It was overgrown a bit, the soil overworked. Hmm, what did the gardeners at Mage Hall follow potatoes and turnips with? “Can you grow other things?”
“Nothing’s worked,” Serol said quickly. “We tried radishes and beets, but they’re as bad as the turnips.”
“Never mind the past. If you could grow whatever you like, what would you choose?”
“Oats will last,” Serol replied. “And catch a fair market price. Why, though? Don’t see what that has to do with my dagger.”
“Beans can be dried and cellared. Peaches would be lovely, but they don’t grow well up here,” Vayna mused.
Miara nodded crisply. “One moment, then.”
Closing her eyes and her fists to concentrate, she called them up, slowly at first—turnips and potatoes, but also beans, oats, carrots. A peach tree just outside the garden. Lavender could be sold, couldn’t it? It was all over Estun, and Ranok too, though she’d rarely seen it in Mage Hall. As she pushed the field to ripen, she found an open spot nearby. Lavender burst into life and bloomed fiercely, long stalks waving in a breeze.
She opened her eyes. “Let’s go see our payment, shall we? And see if you think it adequate.”
She strode outside, Vayna following her now barefoot. Scri dove angrily at first at Vayna, but then righted himself at the sight of Miara, changing course to land on her shoulder. She winced as he landed; she really needed to get some shoulder padding for him. Good thing she could heal herself.
The dim twilight couldn’t obscure the now-crowded field, and Vayna stopped short, hand over her mouth. Serol ran forward, stopped, and ran a hand through his hair in shock. He whirled back on them. “You did this?”
She nodded, her expression neutral. “Tell me truly, can you trade it for what you’ve given me? If not—”
“Oh, this is much better than that,” Serol breathed. “This could feed us for a… a long time.”
“But you’ll need to replace those things. Can you—”
“Yes, we’ll find a way,” said Vayna. “Aros, Leso, Peras, go help your brother bring some of that inside. Hurry.”
Miara frowned. “Even in the twilight?”
Serol strode over and frowned right back. “A dagger doesn’t go too far in defending something this valuable, especially if I don’t tell them I have it. I keep it for emergencies.”
She winced. “You’ll get one right away then?”
“I’ll get something better if I can find it.”
“Who will this need protecting from?”
“The constable, for starters.”
“Tell me about this constable.”
Serol shook his head. “You don’t want to hear about him, my lady. An awful man that.”<
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Miara stifled a smile, amused that her honorific had appeared now that she’d helped them. But her smile faded quickly. “He’d come after your livelihood? In the name of the king?”
“Taxes,” Serol said, practically spitting the word out.
“Hmm. Give me a moment,” said Miara. She closed her eyes, reaching out into the forest. Looking for friends. A ground hog, a beaver, a hibernating bear—no, no, no. Then off in the distance, she found them. A wolf pack.
She opened her eyes and looked at the boy. “You do any hunting?”
“I did when we had a bow.” He shrugged. “Can’t kill much with a dagger.”
Scri, she whispered. Go to town and see if you can steal one of these. She sent him the picture of a bow. Hopefully he’d pick the constable to steal it from.
Then she reached out to the first wolf that perked up at her mind’s brush. Care to make a deal, young wolf? In exchange for some meat?
The wolf laughed softly. I’m not young. But I do like meat.
There’s a field—territory I need protected. This family needs the food in it. If you defend it from anyone other than them for seven days, the family will leave what meat they can out for you this winter. All winter. She pictured rabbits, foxes, deer hanging on their back porch.
What they can? Hmm.
Ah, but aren’t you also looking for something different? Some new game for your pack to play? What better to toy with than evil humans? She softened her tone. Please, Sir Wolf, they deserve the food. The human pups will die without it.
She could almost hear the wolf sigh. Tell them I like birds. Big ones. They catch those, don’t they?
I’ll tell them. Seven days? And leave these ones alone.
Seven moons and suns. On our way.
She opened her eyes. “Some rather vicious friends are coming to defend the patch. They’ll be safe for you—but no one else. That should buy you some time to store things. You’ve got seven days.” She explained the rest of her deal to Vayna and Serol just as Scri returned and dropped a longbow, knocking the boy in the head with it. He swore, but stopped short when he saw what lay at his feet.
“You’ll have to hide that,” she said. “And make your own arrows. But pay back the wolves for this deed they do for you, please. And I’ll do my best to return to you and address this issue of the constable in the future.”
