He dozed off. Some time later, something jabbed him in the ribs. Before he could yell out about snakes or swamp rats, a hand clamped over his mouth.
"Trouble ahead," Blays said. "Dressed in green."
Dante peeked over the gunwale. They were stopped at one end of a hallway through the trees. At the far end, roughly five hundred feet away, a house-raft had been stopped by a double-hulled canoe bearing what appeared to be a roof. This would have been puzzling if not for the green paint on its hull and the piles of soldiers spilling from it onto the raft. It was a military vessel, and the roof was a shield against arrows.
Dante rubbed grit from the corner of his eye. "Can we go around?"
"No other routes. Growth's too thick." She curled her lip. "Just how they want it."
"No sense trying to hide. They're searching that boat."
"We could always act like we have nothing to hide," Blays said.
"And pray that they've chosen today to quit enforcing their laws? The ones they're clearly in the process of enforcing right now?"
"You never know when someone's going to make a mistake on your behalf." His tone went arch. "Besides, if they look at us cockeyed, we can always just kill them all."
For Volo's sake, Blays presented the idea as a joke, but Dante took his meaning clearly: they could, if necessary, brute-force their way through the situation. But that would mean revealing himself, not to mention massacring a score of soldiers, an event that was likely to be investigated by an even larger force of soldiers.
"We can't turn around now. It'll look like we're fleeing them." Dante gripped his temples. "When they're done with the raft, will they come over to inspect our boat? Or are they holding a static checkpoint?"
"Sharp eyes don't sit still," Volo said. "They'll come for us."
"Then Blays and I will swim over to the shrubs and hide there until they check the canoe. There will be nothing for them to find and they'll be on their way."
"But you don't get in the water. Not unless there's no other choice."
"Ah," Blays said. "There isn't."
At the far end of the tunnel, the soldiers had climbed off the raft and back into their war canoe. It was already paddling forward, heading toward their much smaller boat. Dante grabbed his sword from the bottom of the canoe and rolled over the gunwale.
He landed with a soft sploosh. The water was the same temperature as the air. He'd expected to be able to touch the bottom, but his feet kicked through empty water. He dropped below the surface. It was so murky he couldn't see anything except a vague sense of the light above him.
He swam hard toward the gnarl of trees hemming them in to the right, keeping one hand in front of him to ward off any submerged branches or rocks. His fingers caught in something slippery. He jerked back his hand, giving a short, bubbly shout.
He kicked on until he was out of breath, then broke the surface. The war canoe was shockingly close, as if it had teleported halfway across the tunnel through the trees. Praying none of the soldiers had spotted his head, he dropped back under the water. He passed under the deeper shadow of the wall of shrubs. Stray twigs and thorns dangled in the water, grabbing at his arms as he broke through them.
He emerged into an oval of relatively clear water surrounded by trees and undergrowth. Blays popped up next to him. Bits of leaves and flowers tumbled from the branches in a steady shower. Across from him, a giant fallen log rested in the water, its bark coated with green moss and orange mushrooms. Out in the waterway, the war canoe was backbeating its oars as it approached Volo, who now looked very alone and very small.
Dante was treading water; try as he might, he couldn't avoid making a few small splashes. With no dry ground in sight, he pushed toward the log. Most of its bulk was underwater, but at twenty feet long and close to four across, it could easily support both his weight and Blays'.
He grabbed a knob on the log's side, searching for a nub of branch to haul himself up with. Despite the time it had spent soaking in the water, the log's scaly bark was so hard it nearly cut his hands.
"What the..?" Blays whispered. "Stop!"
Dante glared at him. Blays was gesturing hard for him to back off. Baffled, Dante turned back to the log. A yellow circle had appeared near one of its ends, barely above the waterline. In its center, it was marked with a smaller black circle.
He was staring into a giant eye.
The beast jackknifed, lunging for him. He saw fangs, a gaping throat like a hole through the fabric of the earth. He grabbed for the nether, but the jaws were already snapping closed around his chest, pulling him under the surface of the water.
20
The black carriage rattled through the streets, its driver yelling and swearing at any pedestrian who dawdled in its path. Inside, Raxa settled into the velvet seats. The air was awash in rosy perfume.
"My apologies for the wait you had to endure." The woman across from her spoke Gaskan at a rapid clip. She sounded like one of the aristocrats from back home, but to Raxa's relief, she bore a light Mallish accent. "The guards who were assisting you were under the perverse impression that I value sleep more than the execution of justice. Needless to say, they're being flogged as we speak."
"Ah," Raxa said. "Thank you."
"My name is Maura of Boscayne. I am going to ask you some questions. And then I am going to help you."
The carriage's sashes were open, letting in plenty of light. Lady Maura was fifty years of age and her face was tan even by Bresselian standards, but as she gestured, Raxa caught glimpses of lighter skin around the collar of her dress. Spent a lot of time outdoors for a noble. She had thin, quick fingers. Deep laugh-lines entangled her mouth and eyes, although she looked and sounded like the sort who never belly-laughed, and settled instead for a constant state of low-level amusement.
Raxa had no idea who she was, but she could already tell that the lady would want something from her.
"You are from Gask," Maura said. "But Gask is so large its own weight caused it to collapse. Which fragment of the whole is yours?"
"Dollendun," Raxa said. "The Jorrelun family."
"Unfortunately, it has not been my pleasure to make their acquaintance. Most of my summers in the former empire have been spent at the lakes of Gallador. A picturesque place. Do you know it?"
"When I was younger. But not in years. Like you said, Gask is a big place."
"Large enough that one could tour it for decades without running out of new sights. Why, then, would one need to travel to Bressel?"
"It's not a pleasant story."
"Most true ones aren't. But in the sharing of them, we understand that we are all bent beneath the same burdens."
The carriage rocked through a pothole so deep Raxa's rear left contact with the bench. "My husband is the youngest of four brothers. With no fortune guaranteed to him, he had to make his own. The war that cracked Gask into fragments—as you put it—also opened the door to opportunity. You know about norren art?"
"Know it? In Bressel, I am its champion! I'm an avid collector of norren line paintings. My favorites originate from the Broken Heron Clan."
Raxa nodded as if she knew who that was. "I'm less than an expert myself. But my husband seized on the bossen trade. Started selling it across every corner of Gask. He did well. Well enough to get ambitious. Last year, he brought a caravan of norren goods to the Collen Basin."
Maura wrinkled her nose. "Why would an upstanding and well-blooded Gaskan want to do business with the Collen Basin? They care for nothing but spears and hoes."
"In Gask, competition is fierce. Others had already established markets in Mallon. My husband thought that if he was the first to open up the Collen Basin, he'd make all three of his brothers envious of his wealth."
"Spiting one's family is such wonderful motivation."
"When he first got to Collen, he sent me letters weekly. Three months ago, the letters stopped. I waited as long as I could. And then I came to find him."
"What? All by yoursel
f?"
"I brought ten men-at-arms," Raxa said. "Along with two of my husband's men who knew the way to Collen. Bandits ambushed us in the woods north of Bressel. Killed everyone."
"Outrageous. Outrageous. Did they really think the woods' cover would hide them from the gods? How did you come to elude them?"
"When it was clear we couldn't win, one of my guards grabbed me. He tried to sell me to the bandits. I had to…" She looked down, biting her lip. "To stab him. I ran then. Hid in a stream while the bandits hunted for me, shouting what they'd do to me. It was so cold. I think I fell asleep for a while. When I came to, I went back to the site, but all my guards were dead. They'd taken everything but a few clothes." She gestured at herself, smiling wryly. "This was the best I could do."
"And then? You came to the city with nothing?"
"I didn't know what else I could do. Last night, I was trying to find someone to take me to Collen when I was robbed. If the town watch hadn't saved me, the thieves would have killed me in the street."
Maura regarded her for several seconds. Raxa had the idea it was the longest the woman had gone without talking in some time.
"Your story is dreadful," the woman said. "I consider it an affront to the reputation of the entire city. How can I help you reattain your footing?"
"I've heard the Collen Basin is at war with Mallon. Is it true?"
"Collen has rebelled. Again. This time has been more successful than past efforts, thanks in large part to the aid of a grotesque sorcerer who summons abominations to use as weapons."
"Collen broke free? Will Mallon go back to war?"
The woman made a flicking gesture. "The rebellion makes King Charles look weak. His pride might lead him to strike back, even as others in the palace wonder if we wouldn't be better off without the troublesome Basin."
Raxa gazed at the floor of the carriage. "I can't travel there to find my husband alone. I'll write home. And find a way to care for myself until my family sends my men-at-arms."
"Nonsense. There's no need for you to care for yourself. You'll be staying with me."
"But we've just met. Why would you help me?"
"Because I have a keen interest in all things Gaskan." Maura smiled, crinkling the corners of her eyes. "And because I am a person who enjoys ruffling feathers. I think your story will turn some heads at court."
Raxa smiled hesitantly, then gratefully. The carriage passed under the shadow of a wall: they had entered the palace grounds. All the secrets of the kingdom were no more than a short walk away.
~
Lady Maura, her husband, and their staff were housed on the third floor of one of the Fadrians, the wooden buildings ringing the palace. Their apartments were stuffed with fancy rugs, plush furniture, all the usual rich person junk. Raxa's room had beeswax candles and a feather mattress. As she sank into bed for a nap, enveloped by the cloud-soft bedding, Raxa wondered if once she was done spying on Mallon's plans for Collen, she could find a way to stay and spy on someone else as well.
When Raxa woke, Maura took her for a stroll around the mall between the palace and the Fadrians. The shade trees were starting to push out new leaves. Upwards of fifty people were out enjoying the temperate morning, all of them well-dressed, all of them useless. How much silver did it cost to dress them in linens, to feed them beef and quail eggs, to house them in their lordly quarters? Why didn't the peasants rise up and take back what these leeches had bled from them?
With that thought, she stiffened. She'd always considered herself to be fighting against these people. Now, she was working for their equivalent in Narashtovik. That was the way, wasn't it? Whatever you thought you were, the world corrupted you.
She set her jaw. The mall was only a small fraction of this gathering of parasites. The palace and the Fabians must be filled with hundreds of courtiers and nobles. Finding the few of them who knew what she needed would be rough.
The afternoon was spent fitting her for court-appropriate dresses. By the end of it, Raxa felt martyred. At twilight, the door flew open, admitting a man of fifty whose hair and beard were frosted with silver.
He seemed to close on Lady Maura with a single step, hugging her tight. "Nothing best terminates a woeful day like the embrace of one's wife." He noticed Raxa, his bushy eyebrows climbing. "Ah. We have company?"
"This is Lady Yera of Dollendun," Maura said. "She is currently suffering from a surfeit of bad luck. We are going to reverse that trend."
"We are?" He sized Raxa up, then smirked at his wife. "A northerner bearing a story of sorrow. Tell me, this wouldn't have anything to do with your dispute with Loris?"
Maura smiled thinly. "It is purely an act of altruism. If that act also has the consequence of thwarting Loris, I can only ascribe it to the gods showing their approval for my good deed."
Lord Boscayne winked at Raxa. "Well, Lady Yera, please see that my clever wife doesn't get herself into too much trouble."
Raxa smiled back at him. If they thought she was a pawn, she was happy to let them. Because Maura was a mark. And the key to working a mark was to find out what they want from you, then pretend to give it to them. As long as she could do that for Maura, she'd have the run of the palace.
They ate. It was opulent. Raxa tried not to enjoy it as much as it deserved. After, she declared she was tired and retired to her room.
She moved to the window and gazed across the dark mall, where young courting couples now wandered in the night, working up the nerve to kiss. Raxa could only slum around in the shadows for a few minutes per day. Unless she knew the exact time the king's ministers were slated to discuss their plans for Collen, and then showed up at the precise moment they quit the pleasantries and got down to policy, she had no real chance of hearing what they intended to do about the Basin.
She'd need to steal documents. She supposed she should start with the Lord and Lady Boscayne—try to figure out what they were up to, whether Raxa was getting herself into any trouble. She'd already made an assessment of the apartments. After napping, she crept out into the moonlight hallway and headed for the lord's study.
The door was locked. Interesting. Hadn't been earlier. She had it open in seconds. She moved to the writing desk. The surface was scattered with blotting sand. She picked up a page and held it to the moonlight.
And saw it was written entirely in Mallish. Which she couldn't read. Cursing herself, she set it down and returned to bed.
The entire morning was spent having her hair done and modeling for the finishing of her dress. Once it was done and on her, she was paraded in front of a mirror. The woman who stared back at her looked very elegant and nothing like her.
That afternoon, Maura took Raxa around to tell her story to a few friends. Raxa played her part. The other women looked suitably horrified. Raxa could tell Maura was sowing the seeds of gossip, but she still wasn't sure what the game was.
On their way back to their apartments, Raxa asked, "Is it possible I learn to write Mallish?"
Maura cocked her head. "We're going to be quite busy. Why would you wish to learn the writing of Mallish?"
"Because to not know it and to be in Mallon is to look like you are stupid."
The lady laughed warmly. "The fight against ignorance is our noblest war. I will secure you a tutor."
Meaning Raxa would soon have access to all the writing materials she needed, too. During dinner, she did her best to not sound too distracted. She was due to meet Sorrowen that night. After days of trying to figure out a way to break into the palace, she now found herself trying to break out of it.
As midnight neared, she changed into her old clothes, bolted her door, opened the window, and slipped into the shadows. She dropped down to the balcony on the second floor, grabbed its rails, and lowered herself, dropping lightly to the ground. Still in the nether, she sprinted across the cobbled span between the Fabians and the outer stone wall. She ran right through the wall, found a dark street, and returned to the normal world.
She jogged
most of the way to the park. Even then, she was late. Sorrowen didn't mention it.
"Well?" he said. "Did you make it into the Ghosts?"
"I stopped trying to join them when they tried to kill me."
"They tried to kill you? But if you can't get in with them, how are you going to find out if there's going to be another war?"
Raxa shrugged. "Thought I'd get into the palace instead."
The boy laughed, trailing off as he saw she was serious. "The palace? Like the palace where the king lives? How?"
"Ask the lady who's housing me there. I'll pick up what gossip I can, but the good stuff's going to be in the ministers' documents. I think I can get to them, but there's one problem: I can't read them. I'm going to start learning to read Mallish tomorrow."
"Why would you do that?"
"So that I can read Mallish."
"You don't have to do that. Just copy them and bring them to me."
"You can read them. Because you were born here. And spent years in the priesthood." She grinned at him. "Quit making me look like an idiot, will you?"
"I wish I was in the palace. They have me chopping wood and reading about Gashen's victories all day long. It's so boring. He always wins!"
"Picked up any dirt yet?"
"It mostly just seems normal." Sorrowen tilted his head. "But yesterday, I was going in to sharpen my axe when I heard two of the masters talking. Master Jameson said…" The boy closed his eyes, remembering. "'If the war brings the foreigners to us, I wonder how merciful they'll be after all?'"
Raxa snorted. "They can't seriously believe the Collen Basin's going to invade them. Galand's not sure the Colleners can keep their own borders safe. That's the whole reason we're here."
"Maybe so, but Master Waymore thinks they might counter-invade, too. He replied, 'They will spare us. They need us to keep peace among the people. Remember that it is our only chance for reform.' Then I dropped my axe on my foot and yelped and they stopped talking."
"Well, pass it along to the bosses. Then if they get it wrong, they can only blame themselves. Heard from them lately?"
The Wound of the World Page 34
