I had to have taken dozens of different paths, and I’d have to search every one. I absolutely could not leave that paper for someone else to find.
3.
BY THE TIME the moon rose, I’d retraced my steps two or three times without finding the note. Eventually, Iriinet gave up calling for me and headed to bed. Now that the kitchen was empty, I slipped back inside to search again. But after an hour spent peering into crevices and ovens, searching countertops and under barrels, I had to accept that the note was really gone.
And since I hadn’t found it, most likely someone else had.
I slunk toward the bunkhouse, preparing my excuse for Iriinet. But as I laid a hand on the door latch, I thought about what Trader Ulstat had asked. He’d wanted to speak with his elite guard.
My fingertips went cold. How had I failed to think about it before? Certainly, the man had plenty of reasons to speak with his soldiers. But I couldn’t ignore the timing. Swallowing, I kneaded the air, clenching and relaxing my fingers.
If someone had found the note and had brought it to Trader Ulstat, wouldn’t he send trusted men to investigate? He was far too concerned for the security of House Ulstat to disregard the find.
The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that he’d seen the note. Eron had said that the paper held directions to tonight’s secret meeting. And his friends had no way to know that Trader Ulstat had received the address.
They’d be caught entirely flat-footed. Captured, maybe killed. But I had no way to warn them. I cursed my slow progress in learning to read. If I’d been able to decode the words, I’d know the location, too. I could get there first. I could warn them.
But I didn’t even know how to contact Eron outside of our prearranged meetings. He’d never taken me to his home because he wanted to wait until he could show me something he was proud of. The city was far too large for me to strike out and hope to find him by chance. In the morning, I could go to the docks and catch him before he went out fishing.
But morning would be too late.
I felt sick, my stomach rolling over. While thinking, I’d wandered away from the bunkhouse, following paths at random. Though I couldn’t contact Eron’s people, maybe I could still interfere with Trader Ulstat’s plan.
I crept through the grounds, following the narrowest paths under twisted trees and around groups of boulders. When I neared the gates, I slipped along the wall that fenced the Ulstat domain, trusting the shadows to hide me. Unlike most nights when the gates were shut and locked, now they stood open, guarded by four armored men.
My heart sank. I’d hoped I’d been wrong, but the sight lent strength to my suspicions. Most likely, the guards had been instructed to hold the gates until the elite squad returned.
I crouched against the wall, screened from sight by a prickly bush. There was little I could do against four armed men. But at least I could watch. Maybe it would help Eron if I brought him details about what had happened.
As I waited, I selfishly thanked the leaders of Eron’s group for failing to promote him to their inner circle. As a mere messenger, he wouldn’t be invited to this meeting. I felt relieved to think of him home and safe even if his friends were in for an unpleasant surprise.
Because the day had been so hot, the stone wall still radiated heat. I leaned against it and waited, hoping I was wrong about everything.
After maybe an hour, my legs had cramped, and my tired eyes had filled with sand. I yawned, regaining alertness as the glow of a lantern approached from the street. The guards straightened, laying hands on weapons. I moved into a crouch, ready to run if necessary.
Moments later, the guards relaxed. One of the men stepped into the street to meet the arrival.
I couldn’t understand the low voices as the men spoke. But after a moment, the guard trotted across the courtyard leading to the front door of House Ulstat and rapped gloved knuckles against the heavy wood. The door flew open, light from a candle chandelier spilling into the night. Roakiev Ulstat, the cruel, eighteen-year-old heir to the family title, and his younger sister, Ashiril, stood silhouetted in the doorway. Did that suggest Trader Ulstat had gone out with his guardsmen? It didn’t really matter, I supposed.
After tossing on a padded jacket, Roakiev stalked from the house to the street, a twisted grin on his face. I needed no more confirmation that the ambush had succeeded. After maybe ten minutes, the sound of marching feet filled the street. A group of elite Ulstat soldiers in leather armor reinforced with metal plates stamped into the courtyard, dragging a string of chained commoners. At least seven of Eron’s friends had been captured.
I bit my lip. Hard. If I hadn’t been so clumsy with the letter, this wouldn’t have happened. What would I tell Eron? Could I admit the truth?
Until I saw his friends chained and bruised and bleeding, it hadn’t been real. But now I knew what I’d done. I’d ruined his rebellion. Quite likely, he’d never forgive me.
Even if he did, I could never forgive myself.
As the last of the prisoners stumbled through the open gates, I forced myself to look up one last time.
The sky crashed down, smashing me flat. I didn’t want to believe what my eyes told me. At the end of the line of prisoners, Eron staggered through the gate. One of his eyes had swollen shut, and the leg of his pants was torn open, revealing a deep gash in his thigh.
If I’d had a voice, I would have screamed. As it was, I sagged against the wall as I watched my beloved limp forward under the evil stare of Roakiev Ulstat.
Eron? I asked, willing my thought to enter his mind. But he just continued forward, head rolling loose on his neck, shoulders slumped. Maybe his pain kept him from hearing me, or maybe he was too far away. Or maybe he already knew that this was my fault. Maybe he could hear me and had chosen not to react.
I dug my fingernails into my thighs as Trader Ulstat followed the procession into the courtyard. He clapped a hand on a guard’s shoulder and ordered the gates closed. He and his son conferred, malicious grins on their faces. I wished I could hear their words, but at the same time I didn’t want to. Were they planning the captives’ imprisonment? Their execution?
I understood now why Eron had wanted to unseat House Ulstat. The traders could treat us however they liked, kill us if they wanted, and none of us had the means to fight back.
But a few, brave commoners had tried to fight anyway. And I’d betrayed them by losing a note.
I watched guardsmen drag the line of prisoners away until they passed out of sight behind a storage building. The traders followed behind, nudging each other in celebration of their triumph. I wanted to follow to find out where they locked the captives, but couldn’t cross the courtyard without being seen. As silently as I could, I crept around the back of the house, then dashed from outbuilding to outbuilding, peering around corners in hopes of catching a glimpse. But I was too late. The Ulstats were already returning to the house and the guards to their barracks. The captives were locked away.
All that remained now was to learn their fate.
4.
I WAS ACCUSTOMED to loneliness. In truth, I felt comfortable that way. No one had ever loved me—at least no one that I remembered. I’d come to work in the Ulstat kitchens when I was six. Surely, I’d been somewhere before. But all I had were scattered glimpses, nothing coherent. My young life was veiled by a fog that grew thicker and thicker the farther back I tried to look.
Iriinet was kind to me, but our relationship stopped there. As for the other servants, my silence made them uncomfortable. So I’d existed in isolation.
And then I’d found Eron. A person who could understand me and hear me. And more, a person who genuinely cared for me.
And now he was gone.
When I finally climbed into bed, I curled my knees to my chest and felt his absence as a bottomless pit.
IRIINET SHOOK ME awake after the sun had risen. She why I’d disappeared before cleaning the kitchen. Maybe she sensed more than she let on. Maybe she
even knew how badly I’d failed.
I doubt it went that far, but she must’ve seen something on my face that told her to let me rest. As I blinked the sleep from my eyes, she hurried about the bunkhouse, collecting my clothing. We had to hurry, or breakfast would be delayed.
When I stood, she looked at me with concerned eyes. “Are you okay?”
You aren’t married. I thought to her. Did you ever meet someone? Did you lose him?
I’d only known Eron for a couple months, but it felt like so much more. I didn’t know what I was going to do without him.
As I stood there, numb and unmoving, her brows drew together. “Leesa?”
I swallowed and shrugged. Iriinet and I used a few gestures to communicate specific things in the kitchen. But none of them could come close to describing my regret and heartache.
Once I’d dressed, we stepped out onto the path leading to the main house. I scanned the grounds for some sort of clue about the prisoners. But there was nothing. I trudged behind Iriinet, eyes on the ground. Despondent.
But as she opened the kitchen door and held it for me, anger seeped into me. This was my fault, and all I was doing about it was moping. I owed Eron more. I owed myself more. I had to at least try to fix this.
As I kneaded the evening’s bread, punching my fist into the fleshy ball of dough, I considered where to begin. Eron’s friends believed the maid had information that would ruin House Ulstat. I doubted I could figure out which of the maidservants had approached his group. But if the maid could find those secrets, why couldn’t I? I’d worked in House Ulstat for ten years. More than that, I couldn’t even speak. Who better for the family to trust with their secrets then an illiterate mute? If I could uncover the same information that the maid had found, I could figure out a way to use it. Maybe I could even pressure the Ulstats into freeing Eron.
“Easy, Leesa. You want to work the dough, not pummel it to bits.” Iriinet laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed the tension from my neck.
Yes, but I’m practicing for Roakiev Ulstat’s face.
I forced myself to take a deep breath and relax. If I was going to succeed, no one could know my true feelings. I couldn’t appear angry or sullen or calculating. Only obedient.
Ordinarily, Iriinet delivered the breakfast tray to the great room. But this morning, I grabbed the handles and raised my brows questioningly.
“If you’re trying to apologize for skipping out last night, Leesa, don’t worry. We all deserve to rest sometimes.”
She talked a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled. The gesture raised my spirits a little. Maybe she cared about me more than I thought.
Now is not a good time to get close to me, I thought. Look what happened to Eron.
But even as I thought it, I smiled back. Selfishly, I was glad she was trying. She glanced again at the platter, but I didn’t release the handles. After a moment, she nodded.
“Suit yourself,” she said. “My tired back wouldn’t mind the break.”
When I entered the great room, only Lady Ulstat looked surprised to see me bringing the meal. The others didn’t notice. Ashiril curled her lip at the sight of the food, probably judging ham and stewed fruit inadequate for her delicate pallet. Roakiev and Trader Ulstat sat side-by-side on one of the padded benches. Roakiev held a nightforged dagger, likely purchased at great cost from another trader family, House Yiltak. The Yiltaks sailed to a volcanic island, Ioene, once every eight years when an unnatural night fell over the island. Each time, they returned with great riches, but only people invited on the expedition learned the location.
Weapons forged on the island were unnaturally responsive, almost seeming to move in response to the wielder’s thoughts. Or so I’d heard. I’d hate to know what Roakiev was thinking. Nothing gentle, no doubt.
Among the commoners, there were rumors that madness ran in the Ulstat family. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn they were true, but more likely, people had come up with the madness as the only explanation for the family’s cruelty. In any case, I wouldn’t want to be alone with Roakiev and his knife.
I wanted to linger and see if I could learn anything about the prisoners, but that would harm my standing with the family. They desired obedience, privacy, and discretion. Curiosity was not among those traits. After setting the food on the table, I quickly hurried out.
As I slipped into the corridor, I heard Lady Ulstat ask, “Ashiril, who was that bringing our food?”
“Who, Mother? I didn’t see.”
I smirked. She would. Lady Ulstat already had enough maids. But Ashiril would soon see the value of an additional servant.
At noon, a few maids were whispering in the corridor as I carried the food to the great room. Most likely, they’d heard about the events last night. When I stopped to listen, one of them cast me a confused glance. I moved off before she took offense.
Only Ashiril and Lady Ulstat were in the great room. As I sat down the heavy tray, Ashiril glared at me. “Didn’t someone tell you? Or are you too dimwitted to remember? My father and brother won’t be joining us. You may feed their portions to the dogs.”
No one told me anything, Mistress Ashiril. But if you prefer to think of me as dimwitted, I won’t try to correct you.
I shook my head and shrugged, then fluttered my fingers before my mouth.
“What are you—“
Ashiril’s mother cut her off. “I remember now. She’s the tongueless girl from the kitchens. Iriinet’s favorite helper.”
Actually, I have a tongue. Would you like to see?
Ashiril grimaced. “How does Iriinet manage? A mute kitchen wench and a head cook getting too old for her job. It’s a wonder we eat at all.”
You do look half starved.
I kept my eyes on the floor as I laid Ashiril’s meal before her.
“I could say whatever I wanted about you, and you wouldn’t fight back, would you? You can’t.”
I shrugged as if beaten. Or perhaps I’m too dimwitted to understand your words, I thought.
“At any rate,” Ashiril said turning her attention away from me, “the hangings are set for midafternoon. Roakiev is nearly vibrating with anticipation.”
Hangings? I thought, my heart suddenly pounding. Who?
A troubled looked crossed Lady Ulstat’s face. “He would do well to hide it, but I suppose that would be too much to hope for from Roakiev.”
Ashiril’s eyes were immediately keen. “Hide it in front of father, you mean? Because of the inheritance?”
Tell me who’s going to be hung!
Ashiril’s mother glared at her and flicked her gaze to me. I realized I was standing frozen and quickly folded a napkin to set beside her plate.
“You know that matter’s closed,” her mother snapped. But Ashiril didn’t seem to listen. Her eyes still gleamed. Whoever inherited the title of Trader Ulstat would have power over everyone in Ilaraok. Ashiril wanted it.
“In any case,” Lady Ulstat said, “Roakiev will be disappointed. Your father has decided to hang just two of the leaders. A married couple for extra effect. The others will rot for quite some time. But they may be useful someday.”
Oh thank the tides. Not Eron. But how can you talk so lightly about killing people?
I narrowly avoided a grimace that would reveal my true thoughts about the Ulstats. Instead, I centered the two spare meals on the tray so that I wouldn’t accidentally spill them. I felt Ashiril’s eyes on me as I started for the door.
You see how obedient I am, don’t you? Nearly as entrancing as a hanging.
“Wait a minute,” Lady Ulstat said. “Can you give a message to Iriinet?”
Hands full, I faced her. I kept the blank look on my face. Of course. Would you like me to tell her in ancient Kiriilti or stick to the common tongue?
“I thought you said she couldn’t talk, Mother,” Ashiril said, rolling her eyes.
Color flooded Lady Ulstat’s cheeks. “Well, if you have any way to communicate with her, inform her that H
ouse Yiltak is sending a delegation. It seems they have business to discuss. We’ll need to plan meals accordingly.”
I shrugged apologetically and turned.
“Might as well tell the wall,” Ashiril said as I retreated from the room.
5.
OVER THE NEXT few days, the rumor spread among the servants that the remaining captives had been locked away in the Ulstats’ secret prison, an abandoned mine in the nearby hills. I tried to focus on my goal of gaining information, but at night, I couldn’t help imagining Eron locked in the dark and the damp, alone and afraid.
Sometimes, I even thought I heard the ghosts of the executed leaders. They came into my dreams to tell me how it felt when the floor dropped away, the loud sound of their own necks cracking when the nooses snapped tight.
But during the day, I managed to channel my guilt into determination. Mostly.
The Yiltaks arrived within the week. Clad in the finest nightweave, the prime trader and his daughter entered the house with an air of arrogance not even the Ulstats could match. Belted to his waist, Trader Yiltak carried a nightforged sword that seemed almost to sing with the desire to kill. On his daughter, Vaneesi, the nightweave melded like liquid to her body. Her hair, a light auburn uncommon in our islands, hung down her back and shimmered in the light. Even I stared.
According to the schedule Iriinet had been given, the Yiltaks would not stay long. Just a day or two. Over the first dinner, I did my best to linger around the table after delivering each course in hopes of gathering information.
“The journey is dangerous,” Trader Yiltak said to Ashiril as I entered the room bearing a haunch of venison.
“Will I—”
Trader Ulstat cut his daughter off. “But there will be wealth, correct? And nightforged goods?”
“Plenty. More than we can handle on our own. We usually invite talented girls from the other trader Houses on Stanik Island, and they’ve all fared quite well. But none of their daughters are the proper age this cycle.”
Silent Queen Page 2
