Unclean

by A. M. Manay

  Lord Mosspeak’s weary face greeted Silas as he emerged from the tunnel into the damp dungeons of Fountain Bluff.

  “I feared never to see you again,” Mosspeak confessed as he hauled a filthy Silas to his feet.

  “I feared the same, my lord.” Silas grinned.

  “Jivan tells me my wife is well?” Mosspeak asked, eyes searching Hatch’s face.

  Silas nodded. “Yes, she seems to have survived her ordeal in the Citadel relatively undamaged. She assisted Shiloh with the great escape and has borne up well during the journey.”

  “And your wife?” Mosspeak inquired.

  “She is too thin, and I expect that as soon as we reach a modicum of safety, she may collapse entirely. But she looks better than I feared she would,” Silas confessed. “She rescued me from the Dark Tower on the back of a flying steel horse, if you can believe it.”

  Mosspeak laughed. “I can believe just about anything where that girl is concerned. Queen Penn will be relieved. She has prayed for Shiloh day and night.”

  “Did Jivan share the plan with you?” Silas asked as they ascended the stairs into the castle proper.

  “He did. I have a casket of gold for Keegan, as instructed. But I must admit, I am reluctant to depend upon Feral hospitality,” Mosspeak replied, clasping his hands behind his back.

  “You and me, both,” Silas confessed. “But I see no other choice except to flee the country entirely and thereby consign it to Gerne’s possession. And I see no way to cross the mountains to Estany without Keegan’s help.”

  “That was my conclusion as well, alas,” Mosspeak agreed. “The Gods know I don’t wish to spend another day locked up in here.”

  “I have no love for Keegan, nor he for me, but he seems determined to win Shiloh’s trust,” Silas continued.

  “Why should he care to do that?” Mosspeak asked, forehead furrowed.

  Silas looked up at him from beneath his eyebrows. “Paternal aspirations.”

  “You don’t mean?” Mosspeak protested as realization dawned. “She’s Keegan and Alissa’s daughter? Elder’s beard!”

  “Afraid so,” Silas confirmed.

  “Well, that . . . explains a great deal,” Mosspeak conceded.

  “That it does. The princess Loor, how is she?”

  “Quite well, thankfully,” Mosspeak assured him. “Penny, Her Grace, has taken to her quite strongly, as you might imagine. My wife will be jealous, I fear. Keelie also enjoyed playing surrogate mother before the gray-robes took her away.”

  “You’ll have to give Lady Mosspeak one of her own, then,” Silas grinned.

  Mosspeak laughed again. “Let’s hope Keelie agrees with you. Perhaps she’s forgotten me these last months.”

  “I very much doubt that,” Silas replied.

  Mosspeak shook his head. “I was not a particularly good husband to her. Too many mistresses. I intend to do better, given a second chance.”

  They came to the Great Hall to find Jivan, Penn, and Loor prepared to travel. Penn was dressed in men’s clothes, her platinum hair hidden beneath a hood and a sling for the baby hanging across her body. Loor slept in a nurse’s arms. The poor woman had obviously been weeping in anticipation of parting with her charge.

  Silas clapped Jivan on the shoulder. “Job well done,” he declared.

  “Thank you, sir,” the boy replied with a rare smile.

  “Your Grace,” Silas greeted Penn with a bow. The dowager queen, for her part and to Silas’s great surprise, threw her arms around Silas.

  “I’m so glad you aren’t dead,” she declared.

  “As am I, Your Grace,” Silas replied, extricating himself from her unexpected affection.

  “Jivan said that we’re travelling with Feralfolk?” Penn asked, unable to hide her trepidation. “I know they aren’t admirers of my late husband, His Grace.”

  “No. But they are, evidently, rather taken with Shiloh. She has spoken for you. I wouldn’t expect any bows or curtseys, though. That goes for you, too, Lord Mosspeak.”

  Penn gave a wisp of a smile. “To be honest, the way this year has gone, I would be more than happy to be simply Penn once more.”

  “Are we ready, then, to make our escape?” Silas asked.

  Mosspeak nodded and gestured across the room to where two figures stood near the fire. “My footman and Queen Penn’s maid are prepared to keep up our routines for the sake of those who watch from outside these walls.”

  Silas looked them over. They both had the right builds and coloring, and in their borrowed finery, they would certainly pass cursory inspection from afar. “The Gernish might harm them if they figure out the ruse,” Silas warned.

  “They know,” Mosspeak replied. “They insisted on helping.”

  “And for Loor’s double?” Silas asked.

  “We’ve borrowed a baby to appear in the window from time to time. The cook’s granddaughter has the same red hair as the princess,” Penn explained.

  “Splendid. Shall we depart?” Silas asked.

  Penn took the baby from the distraught nurse and settled her into the sling. The princess squirmed but did not open her eyes, and she settled against Penn as though well accustomed to the widowed queen’s care.

  “If she becomes too heavy, you must ask for help, Your Grace,” Silas cautioned her. “It is quite some ways through the tunnel, and a long night in the saddle after that. It is important that you not exhaust yourself.”

  Penn nodded. “Thank you. I have been building up my strength for months, carrying her longer and longer,” she said. “I wanted to be prepared.”

  Mosspeak looked at her in surprise. “Really? I had no idea.”

  A smile flashed across Penn’s face. “I didn’t want to be the one slowing us down when the time came to make a run for it. I knew Shiloh would come for me, eventually.”

  They kept to the main road the first night, choosing speed over stealth. When dawn came, they entered the woods and followed smaller trails until night fell once again. Silas had to admit that the Feralfolk were invaluable in that regard, knowing the land as well as they did. He only hoped that his trust would not be betrayed, as they would be doomed should Keegan turn his coat.

  The chief did seem determined to win Shiloh’s trust, which gave Silas some reassurance. As long as I have her protection, I should escape waking to a knife at my throat, he thought with a wry smile.

  “What?” Shiloh asked, handing him a bowl of stew.

  Dawn was just breaking, and all were grateful for a real meal, having collapsed from exhaustion the night before without bothering to eat. Silas’s every bone ached. He couldn’t imagine how terrible Shiloh must feel, or Mosspeak, who was, for once, showing his age as he stiffly made his way to the fire.

  “Nothing,” he replied. “Just grateful for you.”

  She blushed and turned her attention back to distributing breakfast. Finally, she took her own bowl and sat alongside Silas.

  “Keegan sent some scouts to look for evidence of pursuit,” Shiloh reported between bites. Silas was glad to see she had an appetite.

  “Good,” Silas replied.

  Mosspeak joined them, easing himself down to sit on the fallen tree trunk. “You still trust him, Hatch?” he asked softly before tucking in.

  “I trust that he wants to keep Shiloh safe. As for the rest of us, our primary value to him is Shiloh’s goodwill. And your gold.”

  “I suppose beggars can’t be choosers,” Mosspeak sighed. He eyed Shiloh. “Keelie told me what you did for her, back at the Citadel. You have my thanks, my lady.”

  Shiloh nodded, then looked away, lips pressed into a thin line. A wave of cold anger washed over Silas, and shame that he hadn’t been able to protect her. He supposed Mosspeak must feel the same about Keelie.

  “She seems like a sweet child, the princess,” Shiloh offered, plainly trying to change the subject. She gestured toward Loor and Penn, who fed the smiling toddler from her own bowl. Loor sat in Keelie’s lap, and they looked to be a co
ntented little trio.

  “She is,” Mosspeak confirmed. “Thank the Gods she seems more like Penn or Keelie in spirit than her own parents.”

  Silas snorted a laugh. “Zina must have been a terror as a child.”

  “Oh, she was,” Mosspeak said. “Tormented my daughter something awful, the brat.”

  “Your daughter is well, abroad?” Silas asked.

  “Indeed, thank heaven,” Mosspeak assured him. “I got Jann out while there was still time, and she likes her husband well enough.”

  Keegan’s men began to stand and stretch, and Silas swallowed his last bite.

  “We’d best prepare to press on,” Silas declared, then helped Shiloh to her feet.

  She leaned against him briefly, warming him in a way the fire and stew had not managed.

  “You’re going to have to help me onto my horse,” she confessed. Embarrassed tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away.

  “Why don’t you ride with me? Then Jivan can ride yours instead of sharing with Lady Mosspeak,” Silas suggested.

  She nodded gratefully. “Don’t let me fall off,” she said.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Keegan crossed to them, looking for all the world like a lumbering bear. “Hurry,” he told them without preamble. “My scouts have returned.”

  “And?” Silas asked, stomach clenching.

  “There is a group of soldiers too close for comfort.”

  How About Honey?

  Shiloh sat down in the shade to rest. Her basket was nearly full of berries, and it had grown heavy on her arm. She leaned against the tree trunk and closed her eyes for a moment.

  “What’s the matter, freak? Too weak to carry your basket home?” Meegan taunted.

  Shiloh’s eyes snapped open, and she leapt to her feet. Meegan had already snatched up her basket and begun to eat.

  “Give that back and leave me alone!” Shiloh cried.

  “Make me,” Meegan taunted, mouth full of berries. The girl bent, picked up a rock, and pulled back her arm, preparing to throw it at Shiloh.

  A screech sounded overhead, and both girls looked up to see a young falcon dive out of the trees, straight toward Meegan. The child shrieked and dropped both basket and rock in her desperate effort to protect her face.

  The raptor kept attacking her until she ran from the clearing, screaming, then it flew to Shiloh’s side and landed lightly on a tree stump. Shiloh’s mouth twitched, and soon a raucous laugh escaped her lips, continuing until tears poured down her face.

  “Thank you, my lord birdie,” Shiloh finally told him, her hysteria exhausted, and she offered a curtsey. She bent to pick up a handful of spilled berries. “You want some?”

  Carefully, the bird took one berry at a time from her juice-stained hand. Then he watched as Shiloh gathered up the rest of the fruit and refilled her basket for the walk home.

  “I’m Shiloh,” the little girl said. “What should I call you?”

  The bird shrugged.

  “How about Honey?”

  “From Fountain Bluff? The ruse has failed?” Silas demanded.

  “No, not Gernish. In Speckley’s livery, a small group, seemingly on an innocuous errand. They’re travelling in the same general direction as we are, though they do not appear to be following us. But if we’re seen . . .” Keegan explained. “We’re going to have to keep to the small paths. Might have to ditch the horses soon.”

  Mosspeak hurriedly doused the fire, and sooner than Shiloh would have believed possible, they had abandoned their camp and resumed their journey. Jonn gave Loor a few drops of comfort potion to quiet her, lest her babbling or cries give them away as they made their silent procession through the hills.

  Shiloh was glad to be riding with her husband, exhausted as she was. She leaned against him and dozed in the dappled shade. At some point, Silas woke her and handed her a strip of dried meat. It took all the energy she had to chew and swallow the tough fare, but her hungry stomach insisted once she had tasted the first bite.

  Keegan drew alongside them when the trail widened. “There is a place up ahead that we use sometimes when travelling hereabouts, a cave about half a day’s walk from a village called Panning. My scouts think that is where Speckley’s men are going, to collect taxes. If we hole up there for a day, they should pass us by on the main road and continue on ahead. With a group as large as ours, moving so slowly, that is the safest plan to avoid discovery.”

  “That seems reasonable,” Silas agreed.

  “I wasn’t asking you,” Keegan scoffed. “I was asking her.”

  Shiloh nearly smiled in spite of herself. “It does seem reasonable. And I would be grateful for a rest.”

  Decision made, they fell back into silence. Shiloh was nearly asleep when Keegan spoke again.

  “Don’t think I have forgotten the promise I made you, Hatch. The moment she is done with you, I intend to give you the end you deserve.”

  “I wish you luck,” Silas growled.

  They hadn’t been in the shelter of the cave for an hour when Shiloh began to bleed, a gash opening up on her back in the shape of a leaf.

  “Which one?” she asked Jonn.

  “It’s Sandoh’s Curse,” he answered.

  “That’s the itchy one, right?” Her toes began to prickle.

  “Indeed,” Jonn replied, rooting through the bag of medicines they had managed to pack before leaving Elderton, the village by the Citadel.

  “Well, at least that one’s not fatal. Just miserable.” She sighed. She began to squirm against the pile of furs upon which Silas had laid her. She looked up at the circle of worried faces looming down at her. “Are you all going to stare all night?” she demanded, exasperated.

  “Are you sure she’s in no danger?” Keegan pressed Jonn.

  “No more than usual,” the healer assured the anxious Feral chief.

  “You had best be sure she doesn’t suffer, or you will,” Keegan insisted. He poked Jonn in the shoulder and fixed him with a menacing glare.

  “Oh, for the Maiden’s sake, if you’re going to be my father, you’re going to have to be nice to my friends and get used to me being sick all the time!” Shiloh erupted. “Make yourself useful, or go away.”

  Keegan looked from face to face. Shiloh could tell that Silas was barely restraining his laughter. Penn looked alarmed, Hana impatient. Keegan’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “Tell me what to do,” he beseeched Penn, astutely judging her to be the most likely to offer sympathy.

  “Distract her with stories,” Penn suggested, softening, “after Master Jonn and I make her a little more comfortable.”

  “Come on, Chief Savage, get out of the way,” Hana ordered. “And don’t be such a bloody whiner about it,” she scolded, dragging the enormous man away from his stricken daughter.

  Shiloh tried to scratch through her leather jacket with her hook.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Jonn ordered. “The hook comes off, and we’re wrapping your hand. You’ll break the skin, erupt in boils, and get an infection if you scratch. I’ll get Riah to mix you up a salve.”

  “Fine,” Shiloh grumbled, and her friends began their ministrations. Soon, she was covered in ointment and stripped down to her linen and a thin blanket, for which she was grateful, as her skin had flushed hot and red, and sweat just made her itch all the more.

  She looked around the cave, trying to focus on anything but the infernal itching. It was enormous, and quite comfortable as caves go. The Feralfolk had made it rather homey, with multiple hearths and trunks full of furs and other supplies. The walls had been painted with colorful scenes: feasts, battles, dancing. She even saw a few images taken from scripture.

  Keegan approached carefully, his tentative steps hilariously incongruous with his size.

  “It’s all right,” Shiloh said, taking pity on the man. “I’m done yelling.”

  Smiling in relief, he sat down on a stool by her side. “What do you think of our cave?”
/>   “It’s actually quite beautiful,” she admitted.

  “You’re surprised,” he judged.

  “A little,” she confessed.

  “We’re not just thieves, you know,” he told her.

  She nodded, then regretted it as her neck began to itch with renewed vigor. “There’s a painting over there of the Mother, in that story where she has to journey to find a healer and gets attacked on the road. I didn’t think your lot was much for religion.”

  “Some are. Some aren’t,” Keegan explained. “Atheists tend to flock with us because we have freedom of conscience, but a good number of our people are believers. They simply want to worship and believe their own way, without bowing to the corrupt church or having to adhere to the Patriarch’s dogma. But I doubt Edmun gave you such a nuanced view of our ways.”

  The corner of Shiloh’s mouth twitched. “Yes, I suppose you could say that. But he took good care of me.”

  “So did Poll, I imagine,” Keegan replied. Shiloh closed her eyes, and Keegan hastened to add, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to cause you pain.”

  She swallowed heavily and pushed the image of her bleeding da out of her head. “I know. It was an accident, what happened to him. I see that now. At least as much an accident as what I did to your men after.”

  “He was a good man. I liked him, during the war. I wanted him to come back with us when it was over. When I found out he was the one who took you in, I was relieved.” Keegan heaved a sigh. “I would never have let her kill you,” he said. “Never. The Free don’t kill our Unclean children. You’ll see when we get home. We even take the babies in, when we find them left on the rocks. Blind ones. The ones with clubbed feet or a cleft palate.”

  “Really?” Shiloh asked, eyes filling with tears.

  “Really,” Keegan assured her.

  “Are there any like me? Hexborn?” she asked.

  “There were, right after the war, but . . .”

  “They died,” she finished for him.

  “That’s why I left you with Edmun and Poll, after I learned about you,” Keegan explained. “I hated Edmun, but he was a hell of a wizard. If anyone could give you a chance . . .”