Books of Bayern Series Bundle

by Shannon Hale

  The third day of travel, they met the king’s company as it retreated toward the city. Geric was riding at the head. That he was on horse back seemed an excellent sign, but from a distance Rin could see the bandages. She was standing in the wagon, straining to spot Razo.

  Isi cantered her horse forward and Geric set his dappled mare to meet her. They dismounted, Isi throwing herself off her horse, Geric climbing off gingerly. Isi’s hand wavered over her husband’s bandaged face, white strips of cloth wrapped around half his head and covering one eye, extending over his right shoulder and arm, down the right side of his body. She kissed his left cheek.

  “Da!” Tusken was shouting. “Dada! Win—Dada.”

  Rin helped Tusken out of the wagon and they ran across the field toward Geric and Isi, Enna and Dasha keeping close beside them. Razo was suddenly there, Finn too, unsinged and smiling. Rin discovered she was smiling too, so much that it hurt, and hard dry sobs shook out of her chest.

  “Razo, you’re all right,” she said.

  He scoffed. “Of course I am. Who could hurt me?”

  “Make camp!” shouted Captain Ratger at a nod from the king. There was a squeaking of leather saddles as riders dismounted, horses nickering at the lift of weight, muffled thumps as packs were dropped. Isi and Geric stood together, talking, a moat of solitude surrounding them. So intently did they look at each other, Rin wondered if anything in the world could have called them out but Tusken.

  “Dada!”

  “There he is!” Geric scooped up Tusken with one arm.

  “What dat? What dat?” Tusken reached for the bandage on his father’s face, grabbing a handful of cloth. Geric groaned and pulled back.

  “Ooh, careful, Tusken. Da’s hurt. Here . . .” Isi took Tusken from his father, and Geric half-sat, half-fell to the ground, his left eye squeezed shut. A physician was at his side at once, feeling his forehead for fever, touching his pulse, calling for water.

  Tusken wriggled out of Isi’s arms and squatted by his father, patting his good shoulder, his expression mimicking an adult’s seriousness. “Sowy, Dada. Sowy, sowy.”

  “It’s all right,” Geric said in a croaky voice. “Everything’s fine.”

  All around, cooking fires were being built, horses unsaddled and brushed, bed rolls prepared. The late-afternoon sky was limpid, blue and cool, no need for tents. Dasha and Enna sat on low stools by the king, Razo and Finn at their sides. Rin stood behind them, expecting to be asked to leave, but no one addressed her.

  “. . . out of nowhere,” Geric kept saying. “Just, whoosh—fire, all at once. I fell backward off my horse. The worst of it caught Brynn, who was no doubt rushing to save me—a stupidly brave thing to do. The rest got my horse. Poor Springer. She was hurt, and they had to . . .” He cleared his throat. “In moments it was over. The attack wounded eight others, but only Brynn was lost. He died quickly. I’ll be thankful for that at least, though I’ve wished every moment since that I could at least face Brynn’s murderer with a sword in my hand.” Geric grinned bleakly. “Good time to be clumsy, eh? If I was as skilled a horse master as my wife, I’d be dead.”

  Isi laughed once, hard, and it made her eyes water.

  “They attacked as we approached the village of Geldis. It had been burned completely, its inhabitants taking refuge in Hendric to the east. Sudden fire, and then nothing. I left five men in the vicinity to try and track them. The size of our battalion was a disadvantage when facing this kind of danger. I’m eager to return to the capital and get aid sent to that village. We left supplies in Hendric, but the people of Geldis will need help rebuilding their homes.”

  “The men you left . . . do you think they’re fit to root out a fire-speaker?” Isi asked.

  Geric shook his head helplessly.

  “Well, you all know what I think we should do,” said Enna.

  “I can guess where this is going.” Geric squinted at Isi. “I don’t suppose you’re expecting another child, my dear, as you were the last time you ran off on a mission without me?”

  “Not at the moment, my dearest. I’m quite fit to travel.”

  “So you plan to—”

  “To track them down, whoever is burning villages and trying to kill you. Enna, Dasha, and I will find them and stop them.”

  Rin heard Razo whisper to Finn, “Told you they wouldn’t let us go.”

  “Blast, this is not what I want!” Geric seemed to want to stand, but he glanced at his bandages and stayed down.

  “I know,” said Isi. “I’m sorry. I almost can’t bear to think about it, leaving Tusken, leaving you. But I have to.”

  “You don’t have to—,” Geric started.

  “You think I’m going to let itchy-skinned fire-speakers come into my country, attack my husband, and hole up somewhere only to attack again? You think I’m not going to hunt them down and burn every hair from their heads and make sure they’re too scared or too dead to ever come near you again? If you think I’m that kind of a woman, then you don’t know whom you married, King Geric.”

  She huffed an angry breath. Geric smiled mischievously.

  “Stop it,” Isi said with warning in her voice.

  “What did I do?” said Geric. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “But I know what you’re thinking, and just because you’re all bandaged and in terrific pain and looking pathetic doesn’t mean I’ll let you get away with those little knowing smirks.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Enna.

  Isi sighed. “Nothing. He just likes to see me get angry.”

  “I don’t just like it,” said Geric. “I—”

  Isi gave him a warning look. “Not another word, Your Majesty.”

  “I’ll go.” Finn spoke to Geric but his eyes strayed to Enna.

  “That’s right.” Razo straightened up. “If there’ll be a hunt for fire-speakers, you’re going to want me along.”

  “I should go too . . . ,” Geric began.

  “Oh for all the silliness,” said Isi. “Half your head and arm are burned, you can barely stand up. And when unknown fire-speakers are trying to kill the king, that’s when the king needs to get behind a very tall wall. Besides, someone has to stay at the palace to take care of Tusken and everything else. Yes, I can see that you’re prepared to argue with me some more. Good luck.”

  Geric groaned in defeat.

  “So it’s settled,” said Razo. “The five of us go.”

  “Sorry, Razo,” Isi said. “Our party should be as small as possible, so we can be quick and inconspicuous, and I don’t dare bring anyone along who can’t face down a fire-speaker. I’m feeling quite stubborn about it. Brynn is dead, my husband was nearly killed, and I’m not in a good mood. You know what damage a fire-speaker can do—and there may be more than one. Enna and I . . . and Dasha . . . we’re the best hope for ending this quickly. You all know it’s true.”

  Finn was frowning, but he did not argue.

  Geric sighed. “You’re right. I don’t like it, but you’re right.” Tusken plopped down on his father’s lap and began to click two stones together.

  “Keep close watch on Tusken. Cilie may mean harm, and she’s disappeared.” Isi heaved a sigh as she sat beside him. “I’m just so relieved you’re alive!”

  Geric rubbed the back of her neck with his left hand. “I’m sorry I made you worry,” he whispered.

  She cut her eyes at him. “Whoever started that fire—that’s who will be sorry.”

  “Ooh, are you going to get angry again?” He grinned with half of his mouth, and she rolled her eyes.

  A physician lifted Geric’s arm to remove the bandage. Geric clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, his face turning red with the effort not to scream.

  “Sorry,” he said through gritted teeth. “Should. Take care of this.”

  Isi held his uninjured hand while the physician peeled back the bandage. The sight of Geric’s raw, blistered skin made Rin’s own arm throb in empathy.

  To give the king his privac
y, Enna departed with Finn and Dasha with Razo. Rin stayed nearby with Tusken, chasing him around and around to get out the cramped energy. Soon Isi called for Tusken, and he ran to his mother and father. He did not look back at Rin, and neither did the queen, her thoughts no doubt with her husband. Rin hesitated but did not think she should follow if they did not call.

  She felt forgotten, alone and left with the night. It was what she had been dreading. Nothing to distract her now.

  Just beyond the road, a wood beckoned. These were not the trees of her home—their shapes were almost disturbing in their unfamiliarity. She ducked between trees and felt a subtle relief wash over her, brief and distant. For the moment, she just felt glad to be near living things that demanded nothing of her.

  She placed a hand on the bark, longing to feel more than pale relief. Her heart cramped with homesickness for that calm that used to root her drifting soul. But the memory of the elm stopped her—no peace, no relief, just a nauseating wash of slick black hopelessness. She moved her hand away, afraid to try, and sat on the ground.

  The air changed with the nearness of night, blowing damp and cool, as if the oncoming darkness were a wave rolling in from Kel’s ocean. Rin shivered and tried to take comfort in the fact that good things like night still existed.

  Alone, aimless, her thoughts tumbled around her. What did she want? To be all right with her own heart. To lose the dread and disquiet that gnawed at her chest. To go home to her ma and play with her nieces and nephews, and eat bread hot from the oven pit and roast pine nuts and just lie back and feel home again.

  But she could not go back where her mother still believed she was a good girl, where family barely noticed her, where Wilem hung his head. The city was so many walls and roofs and talking faces. The only place lately she had felt at home was with Isi. And now Isi was going where neither she nor even Razo or Finn were allowed to follow. Sitting on firm earth, Rin felt as if she were sinking.

  Through the trees, she spotted three girls. Their hair was hidden in Forest women’s headwraps, but Rin was certain that underneath the cloth, one had yellow hair, one black, and one orange. They were walking to the far edge of camp nearest the wood with Razo, Finn, Geric, and Tusken, making farewells. The fire sisters—that was how Rin had begun to think of them. Three girls who could speak the language of fire. She had no place with those girls, but she ached to. Rin stood, hesitated, tripped forward, and finally ran. Maybe Isi would let her come, if she asked. No, she could not ask, but if she followed . . . By the time Rin emerged from the trees, the girls were lost to the light of campfires, swallowed up by night.

  Rin dragged herself back to camp. Both sorrow and relief warred in her chest, and she slumped against a wagon, startling when she realized what was inside. A body covered by a blanket, one scorched boot peering out. Brynn. She remembered when he’d promised Isi to guard the king with his life, his aspect anxious and curious. His hair had been a paler shade of brown, his face long, his build . . .

  Something glittered on the edge of her memory, and she looked up into the stars as if for help recalling. Rin had seen him before the day of departure. In the stable yard. In the distance. The man arguing with Cilie. That had been Brynn.

  Rin backed away from the wagon, her fingers and toes tingling. Cilie had wanted to be near Tusken, but not because she loved him, as she claimed. She and Brynn had argued together. Over what? Now Cilie had disappeared and Brynn was dead. Were those events connected?

  Rin ran for her pack, her heart thudding in her chest, in her ears. She had to tell Isi . . . well, someone should tell Isi. But now Rin had an excuse to follow, and she seized it like the last hold on the edge of a cliff.

  The queen had brought her to watch Tusken, and she could not abandon him.

  But he’s with his father and an army of soldiers, she reasoned. And I’m not good to anybody half-crazy.

  Still, she cramped with guilt and worry at the thought of leaving the boy. So she would not leave him without a caretaker. Her pack on her shoulders, she ran toward the edge of camp where she’d last seen Razo, finding him ambling back alone, his hands in his pockets.

  “Whoa there, Rinna-girl, what’s your hurry?” His gaze roved over the pack in her hand, her boots, her hood. His eyes narrowed, an expression meant to convey wariness, but on Razo it looked comical. “What’re you up to? Something sneaky.”

  “I’m in a hurry, but I need—”

  “Uh-uh. Just you remember that I’m your big brother, even if you’re as tall as me, and . . . hold on, you’re as tall as me! I thought I’d outgrown you last year. How did that happen?” He checked her boots. “You’re not stuffing extra socks in there to boost you up? That would be sneaky.”

  “I need a favor. I need you to keep an eye on Tusken from now on, until Isi gets back.”

  “And does this mean that my baby sister is planning on leaving us?”

  Her eyes flicked again to the edge of camp.

  Razo caught her arm. “Why’re you being so mysterious? What’s cooking in that head of yours? Hey, is your hair puffed up higher than normal? Is that why you’re taller? I bet it’s your hair. That’d be triply sneaky if you puffed your hair just to be taller than me.” He patted her head, testing for unnecessary puffiness.

  “Please, Razo. You’re more experienced with children than half of these soldiers combined and far better at keeping someone safe than I am. Just promise you’ll watch Tusken.”

  “Uh-huh, and if I do that, you’re bound to do something silly like go chasing after Isi, aren’t you?”

  She looked at him sharply. He picked dirt from under his fingernail.

  “If you’re not going to talk I’ll have to figure it out myself, and I’m not half as slow as our brothers would make you think. Not half. Only about a quarter as slow and twice as charming.”

  He smiled at her. She smiled back against her will.

  “So why would you be following those girls? You just miss Dasha, do you? Or wait, you’ve been hired by our enemies to kill the queen.”

  She snorted.

  “Yes, I’m afraid that’s it. My sister is an assassin. That’s why she’s so tall. She’s hiding a sword in her boots and poisoned darts in her hair. Look, I’d like to go too, but Isi thinks they’ll do best alone, and maybe she’s right. Besides, Ma would scalp me clean if you got hurt.”

  “And then you’d be even shorter.”

  He glared in an attempt not to smile. “You might want to rethink your plan anyway. No chance you’ll catch up now, seeing as how they’re riding.”

  Horses. Rin had not considered they’d use those cursed beasts. How was she going to keep up on foot?

  “Rin, what’s going on?”

  Rin sighed. “Cilie, the waiting woman that was? She and Brynn knew each other, though she was from the east and rarely talked to anyone. I saw them alone by the stables, arguing. I don’t know what it means, but I think Isi will want to know. And you should tell Geric.”

  Razo rubbed his chin. “That is too suspicious to ignore. Why don’t you tell Geric, and I’ll run and tell Isi?”

  “No! I need to go. It’s not just the telling that matters. I need to keep moving . . . I need to stay with those girls.” She shuddered, feeling helpless, but pulled all her energy together to make one last plea. “Razo, please? Will you watch Tusken for me and let me go?”

  He stared for a moment before grabbing her and hugging hard.

  “Rinna-girl taking after her brother, sneaking around and making plans that’ll get her into trouble? I’m so proud of my little Rinny . . . no, that nickname doesn’t work. How about Rinna-minna?”

  “Razo, they’re already gone. I need to go quickly.”

  Razo stared at the black and exhaled loudly. “Fine. Just be careful. I can’t afford to lose my scalp.”

  Rin blinked, her face tingling with the heat of surprise. She had not expected him to agree.

  He jogged off toward the line of horses and came back so quickly she’d only ha
d time to stare at the wood and sigh. He was leading a dappled horse, still saddled.

  “This is Gladden. She’s nice and easy and was only ridden this past hour, so she’s fresh. I put her brushes and stuff in the saddlebag. You know how to brush down a horse? And saddle her?”

  Rin nodded impatiently. She had no idea, but she’d figure it out later. She had to go now. Fear was seizing her, and she was sure she would die if she did not stay with those girls. Irrational, unfounded, but the fear still felt as real as the night. Razo helped Rin mount and tossed up her pack.

  “You’ll watch over Tusken?” she said.

  “Not a problem. Children are easier than frogs. I had a frog in Tira, and I had to keep pouring water on it all the time and finding worms, and if I didn’t it would make these noises all night, like graaak, graaak, graaak—”

  “Razo . . .” The fear in her turned icy, the heat in her cheeks replaced by gray cold. She leaned down, grabbed his arm, and spoke with all the urgency she felt. “Keep Tusken safe, here and at home, until his mother returns. Promise me?”

  Razo’s eyes widened, surprised by her tone. “Of course I will, Rinna-girl. I swear it on my own life.” His briefly serious expression softened with a smile. “What do a bunch of soldiers and waiting women know about children compared to a fellow like me with twenty-two nieces and nephews?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “Twenty-three?” he muttered as he wandered back to camp. “When did that happen? I leave the Forest for a few months and everyone goes off and has babies . . .”

  She nudged her horse. The beast made a dry wheezing sound before starting a slow walk, and Rin imagined the mare was laughing at her ineptitude. On foot it was a simple task for her sneak around, but on a horse, she felt exposed, naked, as easy to spot as a full moon.

  The floor of the wood was damp from yesterday’s light rain, and she followed hoofprints all through the night, clinging to her horse’s mane and telling herself, It’s not as bad as leaping into a well. Not as bad as that.