by Shannon Hale
“I meant Selia, you goat brain.”
“Oh, right. Selia.” Razo began stacking rocks on top of each other. “She wants them alive for now, or else she wouldn’t bother kidnapping Tusken. Otherwise, you think I’d risk waiting till nightfall? She came for the boy on purpose, sneaked into Geric’s camp, talked her way near Tusken and meant to take him alone. But I came along. Don’t know how I managed. She was telling me to give her the boy and leave her alone, but I clung on. I believed every word she said and I felt like a fool for not obeying—she’s gotten scary good with that people-speaking—but I’d promised you I’d take care of Tusken and I didn’t let go.”
“You managed to defy her?” Rin marveled, remembering the power of Selia’s words the night before.
“Just in that. When I wouldn’t put Tusken down, she seemed to change her mind anyway, saying two prisoners were better than one and it’d save her having to carry him. She told me to bring him along, and I trotted after her with Tusken in my arms like a good boy carrying wood for his ma and never so much as called out a warning to Bayern’s Own. I tell you, when I think about it, I get an itch right here”—he pointed to the spot between his eyebrows—“that about makes me insane.”
Rin recalled asking Razo to watch Tusken, keep him safe. Ordering him? Was it her own people-speaking that had helped him stay with Tusken? The idea did not please her—it filled Rin with shame. She tried to shut it off.
“Selia called Isi something odd.” Rin closed her eyes, looking for the memory. “Princess. Something princess.”
“Right. Isi was—” Razo put up his hand for silence, listening. Rin listened too. The wood croaked and shook and swayed—clicking of insects, moaning of trees, and silence that was heavy with air and sunshine—but she could hear nothing human. When Razo spoke again, his voice was even quieter than before.
“Isi was the Crown Princess in Kildenree before her mother decided to marry her off instead of letting her inherit the throne. Don’t know why Selia still calls her Crown Princess—just to mock her, I guess. She is rotten and wormy and so far gone I wouldn’t be surprised to see her bite the head off a songbird for fun. Seriously, people-speaking might as well be a wasting disease.”
Rin shuddered, wishing she could rest somewhere far away from herself. “What’s it like when Selia tells you what to do?”
“Like she’s cast a line and hook down my throat, and is pulling fish out of my belly, and all I can do is sit and watch. And gag.”
Rin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Eww. Was Selia always like that—controlling people with her words?”
“No, not like last night. She probably always had a way with people, could be very convincing and all. But when I first saw her, the king ordered her to be put in chains, and despite her fussing and screaming, the guards still carried her away. Seems like she’s grown in her talent, hasn’t she? Even now . . .” He scratched his head. “You feel it too? Even though she’s not here and talking in my face, I still feel . . . kind of foolish not to like her. My head knows she’s rotten, but I want to keep believing her.”
“I was wondering—you know, just musing—when I asked you to take care of Tusken, if you felt at all like you do when Selia—”
“It’s funny you should ask, because I’m always confusing you with Selia . . . Wait, which one are you again?”
“Never mind, I was just—”
“You were serious?” Razo squinted at her. “Why would you even ask me that? Rin, you and Selia are about as much alike as a pig and a raven.”
“And I would be . . . ?”
“The raven, of course. Selia just sits around and squeals. Ooh, it’s going to be fun to see my Dasha roast and drown her! I wish this day would hurry along already.”
Razo thought he heard something, and he quieted to listen. But the noises of the wood seemed normal to Rin. She raised her hands to swat a leaf. A long thin touch of coolness ran across her bare wrist, though nothing was there. She kept sweeping her arm as if reaching for the sky and saw it at last, a single strand of a spider’s web stretched between two trees. She felt it stay with her, lengthening as her arm moved, until it snapped and floated down.
Rin stared at the broken ends, twisting and drifting in and out of sight. If she had been with anyone else in the world, she would not have spoken aloud her fear, but to Razo she said, “They could already be dead.”
“Not my Dasha. Don’t let her fool you with her smiling and hopping around all the time. She’s smart as a mongoose. And Isi and Enna aren’t exactly thick in the head either. You’ll see. They’ll stay nice and alive as long as they can. You can bet your boots on that, Rinny-roo.”
Rin snorted with disgust. “You tried that one before and it didn’t work then either.”
“Rinny-roo doesn’t enchant you?” He mouthed it a couple of times, then shrugged. “You’re right. I’ll find the right nickname sooner or later. And the moment nightfall gives me some good shade for sneaking around, I’ll find a way into the castle.”
But how? And if he did manage to get inside, what good could he do? While Selia had been speaking, Isi could not manage to answer, let alone free Tusken. Then again, Rin could not imagine that Selia stayed with the three girls in the castle, speaking to them constantly. They must be jailed—and surely no jail could hold Enna, let alone Isi and Dasha.
“We need to get to them when Selia’s not there,” Rin said. “When they hear you and Tusken are safe, they’ll break free.”
“See, I tried to convince you that you’re almost as smart as I am. But you always insist, ‘No, no, Razo, you’re the smart one. I’m just happy to be your baby sister. I’m just thrilled to—’ ”
Rin’s water skin smacked him in the shoulder, and he stopped talking to take a long drink.
Tusken sat up, rubbed his eyes, and blinked at the world. Rin and Razo were immediately at his side. Rin stroked his hair, and he blinked at her several times, yawned hugely, and looked at Razo, who was grinning.
“Morning, Tusk! Look who joined us! See, I told you we’d find our Rinna-girl sooner or later.”
Tusken lay his head against her shoulder.
“Win,” he said happily. “Win, Win, Win . . .”
She hugged him and hugged him, relishing the tingling gladness that filled her. And thinking of Isi, she kissed him all over his face and neck and hands, and loved him as much as his mother might if she were there herself. He laughed and wriggled until he grew tired of the affection and rolled back to Razo and into his lap, the spot he had no doubt occupied for days.
“Ma?” Tusken asked, his fingers scratching Razo’s unshaven cheeks.
“We’ll see her soon too,” Razo said. “Maybe tomorrow. That cage game was getting old, wasn’t it? Whoo-wee. But just you wait, little man, all the games we’re going to play today—hide-and-find-me, and squirrel’s tail, and if Uncle Razo is lucky, maybe even bathe-the-stinky-boy-in-the-nearest-body-of-water. How’s that, huh? I told you and told you we were going to have the best time ever. Now I want to see if you’ve grown any more ribs this morning—better count them to make sure. One, two, three, four—no fair wiggling and laughing. You’re making me lose count! I’ll have to start over. One, two . . .”
The boy had endured days of cramped travel, not enough food, crying for his mother and father, and not understanding what was happening. And now all he wanted was to play. So as they walked north, they played chase, sometimes hopping on one leg for a stretch or running backward. Whenever Tusken spoke loudly, Razo pretended not to hear.
“What’s that?” Razo said in an exaggerated whisper. “I can only hear you when you sound like this.”
Tusken seemed to enjoy making whisper noises, and for the most part kept his voice quiet. When Rin found a hazelnut tree and stopped to pick clusters of the fruit for breakfast, Razo taught Tusken to climb.
“What a smart boy. Look how he’s found a handhold. A Forest boy, natural as can be, no fancy folk weakness in our Tusken.”
“Take care
he doesn’t fall and break an arm.”
Razo scoffed, one hand resting lightly on Tusken’s back as he climbed higher. “Really, as if I haven’t been around plenty of children. We were scaling trees like this before we could walk, and we never—”
Tusken’s hand slipped, and he gave a strangled call. Razo dove, catching the prince a few handbreadths above the ground and groaning in pain. He stared at Tusken and Tusken stared at him, his eyes wide and mouth open as if deciding just how loudly to wail before letting it all out. Tusken took a deep breath, then shouted, “Again! Again!” banging happily on Razo’s head.
“Shh,” Rin reminded the boy.
Razo forced a smile. “Right. Again. Um, how about we take a nice easy walk for a bit, toward that noise that just might be a stream? Huh? And wash out Uncle Razo’s scrapes? That sound like buckets of fun?”
Razo moaned again as he got to his feet.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Rin asked.
Razo shrugged. “It’s nothing, just bruised a bit.”
He was lying, Rin could see. But they arrived at the stream and Rin let the idea drop away as they washed and drank. Razo feared it was too good a landmark for the searchers, so they left quickly, crossing the water on stones, carrying Tusken over the muddy banks to firm dirt that marked no prints. For some time after, Razo would not speak, giving all his attention to listening.
“We’re mushroom hunting,” Rin told Tusken. “We have to be quiet or we’ll scare the mushrooms away.”
Tusken nodded seriously. “Sss,” he said, trying to make a shh sound. And he tiptoed noisily from tree to tree.
Talking to Tusken was a relief, and Rin wondered if young children were not affected by people-speaking, perhaps not until they were old enough to think about themselves more and care what others said. That was a good thought. Maybe after they rescued the fire sisters, Rin could travel from city to city and hire herself as a nurse-mary, caring for babies and young children, and . . . and never speaking to the parents and running off as soon as the children were old enough to be affected by her speech. She sighed with the ache in her chest. Imagining her future was like searching for a dropped needle with her eyes closed.
That was when a new idea began to poke at her. You should sneak into the castle. Razo could stay with Tusken and then they’d both be safe. If you’re caught or killed, no loss. Razo and Tusken could find Geric and save the girls some other way. You might even succeed. You’ve always been good at sneaking. Don’t make Razo risk his life. Risk your own.
She put a hand on her belly and felt how soft it was, imagined how easily a sword would part that skin, how simple it would be for a bolt to slide through her and end everything. And how Ma would ache to hear of it.
Razo’s better at this sort of thing. I don’t know how to fight or break into castles. All I can do is listen to trees. A tree isn’t like fire, a tree can’t end wars and stop bad people. A tree just . . . just is. I just am. And I don’t know how to people-speak, not like Selia. She can stop the fire sisters from burning—I could barely get a boy to kiss me. I should take care of Tusken, and Razo should be the hero. He’s smart, he’s been out in the world stopping wars and doing big things. He’ll be all right. There’s nothing to worry about.
And she worried all day.
Chapter 19
They walked, and Rin watched the shadow of the sun, feeling its downward plunge tug on her, promising afternoon, and after that, night. The day seemed motionless, a kettle of water waiting to boil; and yet at the same time, it sped recklessly forward to the moment when Razo would leave and might not come back.
Rin’s stomach was growling when they came upon a group of quail.
“Rin,” Razo whispered, and understanding, she dug through her pack and handed over her sling, as his had been taken by Selia’s men. She did not offer stones, guessing Razo would already have a pocketful. While Razo crept after the prey, Rin followed Tusken to a log to hunt for bugs. A few minutes later, she heard the crunch of a boot to her left and assumed it was Razo. She turned instead to meet the eyes of a soldier in a metal helmet and leather vest, his expression as startled as hers. Her heart banged once, as if just coming back to life.
Running to Tusken, she yelled, “Razo!”
At the same time, the soldier hollered, “I’ve got them! I’ve—”
She heard Razo’s footfalls, his sling whirling. The soldier veered away from Rin and toward Razo, his sword out.
Rin scooped up Tusken without stopping and fled toward the thicker trees. She heard a dull thud, glanced back and saw the soldier stagger. The sword was still in his hand, though his eyes looked slightly dazed. Razo placed another stone in his sling as he walked backward, buying himself enough time and distance to get in another shot before the sword reached him. The soldier lifted his weapon and roared as he swung at Razo.
Rin stumbled on a tree root and looked where she was going again, clinging to Tusken.
“Wazo?” said the boy. “Wazo doing?”
“Nothing, just playing,” Rin whispered, gasping through the fear for enough breath to speak. “Everything’s fine. But we need to be very quiet, all right?”
She peeked back again. The soldier lay on the ground, motionless. Razo was stooped over him, holding the soldier’s sword. Rin did not realize how hard she was squeezing Tusken until he started to cry.
“Sorry, lamby,” Rin said between pants as she pushed herself to race faster. “Hush now. It’s all right.”
In a few moments, Razo was hurrying beside them, his forehead damp with sweat. The soldier’s sword hung from his belt, clanging against his knee as he ran.
“That one’s down.” Razo’s tone was casual, but his face was full of pain, and he was breathing hard. “Don’t know if there were others close enough to hear his hollering. Can’t chance it. Let’s go northeast for a bit.”
When Razo did not offer to take Tusken from Rin’s arms, Rin panicked, thinking that the soldier had gotten him with his sword after all. But she looked Razo over and did not see any blood, and he did not complain.
They ran hard to get some space between themselves and the soldiers, then changed course so there was no straight line to follow. Northeast they traveled, and then east, so as to confuse the searchers but still keep Daire close. Soon they slowed, taking care in their passage to leave no boot-print, no twig broken. Tusken sat on Rin’s shoulders, and he fussed and screeched from time to time, anxious to get down. Their pace was plodding and Rin itched to just bolt, but Razo insisted they keep on with the trackless sneaking. After a time, Rin just could not carry the boy anymore, and she let him down to run alongside them.
There were no human sounds from the wood, and Rin had finally let herself breathe easy when Razo flipped out his sling and let loose a stone. Her hands clasped her chest as she searched for sight of the enemy. It was a squirrel.
“Sorry,” said Razo. “I spotted dinner.”
It was afternoon when they stopped again, Tusken so tired of walking he was likely to draw notice with his howls of protest. They chanced a small fire, finding a nice dense glade to hide in. Rin gathered wood and fished her small flint bundle from the depths of her pack, where it had lain unused and unneeded while she’d been traveling with the fire sisters. She made triple sure each piece of wood was completely dry, and Razo hopped around, arranging each stick to keep the fire burning clean with no smoke.
They roasted a squirrel and a quail on sticks, then ate the bland, hot meat and licked their fingers. It was not enough to fill their bellies, but in the Forest, Razo and Rin were used to not enough. Tusken ate his fill and curled up beside Rin. Soon his head nodded onto her chest and his breathing went slow and soft. Rin pressed her lips to the top of his head.
“Thanks for keeping him safe.”
“’Course,” said Razo. “That’s what I do—keep people safe, and save people, and find murderers, and get a nice fat quail for lunch. Wasn’t that a nice fat quail?”
Rin smiled. It
was shocking to discover a smile on her mouth so soon after running for her life. Meat in her stomach, Tusken’s sleepy breathing, and the trees all around filled her with a delicious and rare contentment that made her feel indulgent of Razo, so she said, “It was. And you do keep everyone safe and make everything better.”
“Not always.” He dipped the roasting stick into the flames, and the bits of fat left from the quail sizzled.
She had expected him to agree and preen a bit, and maybe even tell some rousing story of his good deeds in Tira.
“Come now, Razo, what have you ever done that was bad?”
He glanced over his shoulder, the direction they’d left the soldier’s body some hours ago, and his face was tinged with pain. His eyes back to the fire, his voice went soft and simple, as if he were talking to himself.
“It should be a good thing to keep people safe, shouldn’t it? It should be. Except . . .” He stirred the flames with the stick. “I guess I never talked to you about it. At that, I don’t think I’ve talked to Dasha about it, or Finn. Or Enna. Never Enna.
“Well. Near the end of the war with Tira, Enna was dying from the heat of the fire inside her, I could tell that. Finn and I had been prisoners in a Tiran war camp, and everything was bad, bad, bad. The three of us were chasing the Tiran army, which was about to attack the Bayern capital. War was everywhere and nothing could get worse. Nothing seemed to matter except stopping the war, because any moment we would all die or the whole world would just crumple up and fall away. I don’t like thinking back on it. But I do. Think about it. More and more since I met Dasha, for some reason.
“So Enna, Finn, and I were riding after the Tiran army. And we were almost too late.
“The Bayern army met the Tiran in the battlefield, and both sides clashed. It was like banging two rocks together, the way they clashed—loud and hard and doing no good. People started to catch on fire. Is it so much worse in a battle to burn people than to hack them with a sword? That’s what I can’t figure. Death is death, right? It shouldn’t be worse. But it was, so much. It was . . . it was bad, Rin.”
