The Book of Forbidden Wisdom

by Gillian Murray Kendall

  “I don’t understand,” said Jesse. “I don’t understand why they’d pursue Silky and the Lady Angel and the Lord Trey so far and for so long.”

  “Oh, they don’t want to capture you,” said Petro. “Not yet. At least Lord Kalo doesn’t—­and Lord Leth is letting him take the lead. You’re being followed to The Book of Forbidden Wisdom. Do you really think a soldier is so incompetent he would not check under floorboards for fugitives?”

  “You know a lot,” I said.

  “He’s a bard,” said Renn. “Knowing a lot is his job.”

  “Thank you, Renn,” said Petro. “I listen. And ­people talk. Incessantly. You’d be surprised at how interested in themselves ­people are. Now let’s enjoy these ill-­gotten chickens, and I’ll be on my way.”

  The chickens were almost buttery in texture, and with the herbs Jesse had picked, oozing flavor inside them. ­Coupled with the salt from our precious reserve sprinkled on their crispy outsides, they were indescribably delicious.

  When I had eaten my fill, the world seemed a better place. I felt slightly sorry for the Lady Rose. All those witnesses. She’d be stuck with Leth forever.

  As for being caught between two lethal powers, well, we would just have to move on and hope for the best. Not, perhaps, my most clearly thought-­out plan.

  In the morning, Petro prepared to leave; he said his good-­byes quickly, as if chagrined by the whole encounter. We sent him on his way with one of the remaining live chickens and a clutch of boiled eggs.

  “It’s a long walk to Southern Arcadia,” said Renn.

  “I don’t plan on encountering those soldiers again,” Petro said. “And besides, somewhere along the way I can probably steal a donkey.”

  “You’re a scoundrel,” said Silky.

  “Yes, Lady,” said Petro. And he set off, the chicken hanging from his belt, the eggs in a bag.

  Chapter Twenty-­two

  What Happened Next

  Petro went south; we broke camp. Renn spent some time improvising a sling for the live chickens, and we wrapped the boiled eggs in soft cloth and put them in the saddlebags. Finally, Trey, Jesse and I spent some time trying to disguise the fact that we had been there—­while Silky critiqued our efforts—­but it proved difficult to hide the fact of the fire. We smothered it with earth and then covered it over with brush, but anyone looking closely would see the marks of our passage.

  “Maybe Leth and Kalo will confuse our tracks with those of the ‘Lidans,” said Silky.

  “That’s possible,” said Jesse. I just gave him a look.

  We mounted and took the Great North Way. Ahead of us were eighty ‘Lidan troops, and ahead of them lay The Village of Broken Women.

  All the gold that I had worn at my wedding had initially come from that village. Once it had been a prize, the jewel of Arcadia. Back then, it had been called Gold River, but the gold was long played out. One of my lady maids had come from The Village of Broken Women and had told Silky and me about it.

  Bards, too, sometimes sang the story. Renn, I thought, probably knew the tale. For years the river had yielded up soft lumps of gold—­some the size of a baby’s fist. But as time passed, and the gold in the river was depleted, the men had gone farther and farther into the hills in search of more. As years went by, they brought back less and less gold. Many of them left Gold River, while the widowed and unmarried women stayed. My lady maid had told us that now the village was almost entirely without men—­some had moved on, some had died of Gold Lung, some had disappeared into the hills. A few stayed as shopkeepers or gardeners, she said, but gardens didn’t flourish there, and no one had money to buy from the shops, and the shopkeepers had very little stock to buy. It sounded an empty, desolate kind of place.

  But it was a weak spot. Largely inhabited by low-­caste women, who, according to Arcadian law, were forbidden to carry weapons, the place would have been tempting as a point of invasion—­had it not been for its rugged canyon and cliff topography. No large army could pass into Northern Arcadia there, but eighty troops? Eighty troops might be able to make it over the rough terrain before the villagers could sound the alarm. Garth’s heir might be seeking Silky and me, but I was now more than willing to believe he was also seeking a way into the northern territories of Arcadia.

  Late afternoon on the day that Petro left, after a hard day’s journey, we saw a glow on the horizon. Eighty men move more slowly than a group of five; we were catching up to the soldiers in front of us.

  “I have an idea,” said Silky.

  We turned to her politely.

  “I say we get ahead of the troops,” she said. “We do it now. This night. Then we warn The Village of Broken Women and send some of the villagers to warn the rest of Arcadia. Just in case these troops want to use Angel and me as an excuse for an invasion. By the time the ‘Lidans arrive, there’ll be an empty village and Arcadian troops massing on the other side of the canyon.”

  There was a silence.

  “It makes sense,” said Trey.

  “It’s a good idea,” said Renn.

  “It’s absolute brilliance,” said Jesse.

  I was proud of Silky. I was deeply annoyed by Jesse.

  “All right,” I said. “We’ll muffle the horses’ hooves and check that none of the tack jingles or squeaks or otherwise gives us away. We move in absolute silence, no matter what. Silky?”

  “What?”

  “You know what.”

  We reached the place that had produced the glow. Once it had been a thriving farm, or so it seemed by the number of outbuildings and corrals. Now it was a smoldering ruin. Bodies were lying in a long row across the farmyard. So silent. So still. So damaged. I tried my best to shield Silky from it.

  Not long after we left the ruined farmstead, we entered a wood. We were off the road now but running parallel to it. Daylight was fast disappearing. From under a thousand trees grew a thousand shadows.

  We moved to the left until we were in untouched forest, and the devastation of the ‘Lidans was to our right.

  We went single file. Trey, Jesse, Silky, me, Renn.

  We suddenly realized we were too near. Steaming horse piles and razed vegetation that still oozed sap showed that we were in their wake. We moved more to the left.

  And we were upon them.

  They had stopped to set up camp, and we passed so close to the troops that I could see the light of their fires and hear their voices carried on the wind. As we neared the back of their camp, I could smell hot horse and hear the sound of grazing. I thought perhaps they had corralled their horses, but I had no intention of getting close enough to see.

  We were careful. We kept checking that none of us was silhouetted against the sky—­a person-­shaped darkness blotting out the stars would give us away.

  And then, finally, I could no longer hear the voices of the troops, and their campfires were behind us.

  I turned to look back at Renn, but it was too dark to make out his face.

  When I looked forward again, something was wrong.

  I couldn’t hear Squab.

  Squab was a stocky pony, and he had a heavy gait. The hoofbeats I could hear were coming from too far ahead, and they weren’t Squab’s. They belonged to Trey’s horse, Bran.

  Right in front of me, where Silky should be, was only empty night.

  I stared ahead as if Silky might materialize if I looked hard enough, but she had simply disappeared.

  It took only moments for me to gather everyone together. We could no longer hear the troops, but we knew we had to be very quiet.

  Trey rode up to me. His face was a shadow, and he looked like a thing of darkness.

  I wanted to cling to him.

  “We’ll find her,” he said to me.

  “It’s all right,” said Renn. “When you turned to me, Angel, she slipped into the bushes. I think
she had to—­I thought—­“

  “You thought she had to pee,” I said.

  There was an uncomfortable silence. The subject was taboo. Renn wouldn’t have questioned her.

  “Silky would never have to—­you know,” said Jesse.

  “Everyone has to pee,” I said.

  “Stop saying that word,” Trey said.

  We stood in silence for a minute.

  “But how do we find her?” asked Jesse, at last.

  “She’ll come back,” said Renn. “It shouldn’t take her long. You know.”

  But in fact, I knew that Silky was at the time of women. The shame she would have felt at leaving a mark on the saddle would have been greater than her fear of the woods. But the mention of such a thing was beyond. Just—­beyond.

  Women’s business. To speak of such a thing in the hearing of men would have beggared belief.

  But I had already broken a lot of rules, and now was no time for niceties. Especially so close to the troops.

  “It’s the moon-­time with her,” I said. “She wouldn’t have talked about it. That’s why she slipped away—­she probably went farther than she should have so none of us would stumble on her.”

  They stared at me blankly.

  I became exasperated.

  “The time of women,” I said. “The cloths that must be used. She would have needed privacy.”

  Immediately Renn and Trey looked as if they would have liked to disappear beneath the earth. Women’s bodies were supposed to be whole things, objects of integrity. I had gone far beyond the boundaries and found myself in uncharted territory.

  Jesse just looked bewildered. “I don’t understand the words you’re saying,” he said.

  I sighed. I was not going to explain women’s business to Jesse.

  “Renn,” I said. “You tell him. I’m going to go in the direction she took. Take Jasmine, Trey—­I’ll go faster on foot.”

  “I’ll go,” said Jesse, but I was already among the trees.

  There was no way I’d let Jesse embarrass her. If I let Jesse come across her doing what she was doing, she might never forgive me, and she’d be absolutely justified.

  Immediately it was as if a curtain had been drawn between the others and me. Darkness. Silence.

  I pressed forward.

  Only minutes later, I could hear men speaking in normal tones of voice. I pushed myself against a tree, my face against its bark so that the whiteness of my complexion wouldn’t give me away.

  I had to get closer.

  I crept forward until I could see the light of a small fire and the shapes of two small tents. Then I moved toward the fire some more until I was crouched in the bushes right next to it. I was perfectly visible to anyone in the camp if one knew where to look.

  There were five men. Two of them were playing Nancalo, and I could hear the counting stones clicking against one another. The other three were huddled by the fire, eating something that looked like spoosh from a pot.

  “I don’t care what you say,” said the spoosh-­eater closest to the pot. He spoke as he chewed. “The captain won’t stop till he be getting those women.”

  “Or till he be getting a piece of Arcadia,” said the second man.

  “Not our business.”

  The third man looked thoughtful. “I don’t know why the new Lord be wanting these harlots so much—­even if they killed Lord Garth. After all, the new Lord hated his father.”

  “Enough of that.”

  The third spoosh-­eater wasn’t satisfied. “The other woman—­why does he want her?”

  “Maybe because she don’t want him.” The man closest to the spoosh pot laughed.

  Meanwhile, I began to wonder even more about this other woman. Perhaps our paths would cross; perhaps we could help her.

  “Point is,” said the first one, “the new Lord can’t have ­people murdering his father and getting away with it. Looks bad.”

  “Master Garth were the better master,” said the other.

  “Best be quiet about that.”

  And they continued to eat their spoosh in silence. Not a word about Silky.

  Then there was a disruption: one of the men playing Nancalo suddenly stood and tipped over the board.

  “You cheat,” he said.

  “Say it again,” said the other.

  I used the diversion to creep away. If Silky wandered too close to their camp; if she were just a little careless and they a little more vigilant, she wouldn’t stand a chance.

  But perhaps she was already back with the others.

  I was among the trees again when I found her. She looked at me and started; then her arms were around me.

  “I was just going back, Angel,” she said. “I’m sorry I took so long—­the belts got all tangled, and I couldn’t see what I was doing at all. And then I got lost.”

  There was one moment of complete silence.

  Just as I was starting to release Silky and lead her back, the ‘Lidans came crashing through the trees.

  I didn’t hesitate; I pushed Silky in the direction of Trey, Renn and Jesse, and I took off running, making sure to make plenty of noise as I went crashing through the underbrush. If I lived, I was going to have to have a word or two with Silky later. I loved her for not being a squashed cabbage leaf of a woman, but sometimes her willfulness in wandering off maddened me.

  At any moment, I thought the soldiers would catch me. But then I heard Silky call out, “No.” There was a muffled sound and the low growl of men’s voices.

  My attempt to draw them away from her had proved useless. Not one of them had followed me.

  They had her.

  Still—­if I could get back quickly, I had a chance. The ‘Lidans thought of their prey as two silly, frightened, fragile women—­like those in Garth’s restricted women’s quarters. Like Charmian.

  We could use that to our advantage.

  The others were where I had left them. I burst through the underbrush and panted out, “They have Silky.”

  And then I realized that Renn and Jesse and Trey were holding raised crossbows, and those crossbows were aimed at my heart.

  “It’s me,” I hissed. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. “ ’Lidans. Silky. Hurry.”

  “Let’s go,” cried Jesse.

  “We go quietly,” said Trey. “If they hear us coming, they’ll use Silky as a shield.”

  “You’re—­you’re right,” I said.

  Trey reached down. He knew, as I did, that the time of contagion had ended when the open sores closed, and now he freely took my hand.

  “We’ll get her back, Angel,” he said. “I promise you.”

  “Stop promising and start rescuing,” said Renn. “And you might give the Lady Angel back her hand.”

  “And you might remember who and what you are,” said Trey. I had never heard him speak so arrogantly.

  “We’re a little beyond the Arcadian niceties of caste,” said Renn. “I would never touch the Lady Angel without her consent. And I had it. Her consent.”

  “You didn’t even think about—­“

  “For Heaven’s sake,” I snapped at both of them. “Enough of this—­I’m standing right here, and you’re bickering over me as if I were a haunch of goat. The only thing that matters now is Silky. The only thing.”

  They both looked abashed.

  We moved through the trees on horseback. The height would give us an enormous advantage over the ‘Lidans.

  As long as they didn’t think to shoot the horses out from under us first thing.

  When we got closer to the ‘Lidan camp, we could hear men’s voices, and, for a moment, muffled cries. I was terrified for Silky.

  Silence.

  Deep dead silence.

  My heart was pounding so hard I thought the so
und would give us away.

  “Come on,” Jesse whispered.

  We were on the outskirts of the ‘Lidan camp, but there was no noise at all. Nothing.

  We slowly became aware of the bodies. Five of them. Four in the open area near the glowing fire. One half in and half out of a war tent.

  I dismounted and ran to them. No pulses, no signs of life, but they were still warm.

  In a minute I could see that Silky was nowhere in the camp. But even had she escaped, even if she had somehow gotten a weapon, she would not have been able to kill them all. They would have quickly taken her down.

  “I don’t understand,” I said.

  That’s when I knew that we weren’t alone. In a semicircle around the camp, silent and still and blending into the night, stood—­women. They were women of all ages—­from a girl younger than Silky to an elder—­but all were dressed in muted colors and all were shadowed by the shifting patterns of foliage and shadow. They carried crossbows and longbows, and their raised weapons were pointed at my heart.

  Chapter Twenty-­three

  The Village of Broken Women

  One of the women, who was perhaps in her thirties, stepped forward into the firelight. They did not lower their weapons.

  “Lady,” she said to me. “Are these your men?”

  For a moment I had no idea what she was talking about. Then I heard Renn murmur, “This isn’t a time to be silent.”

  The woman looked toward him.

  “You’re right, but it definitely isn’t your turn to speak,” she said. She looked at me.

  “Wait—­yes.” I was stumbling over my words. “We’re traveling together. We’re Arcadians.”

  “Zinda,” said a woman from the shadows. “Let the young one see them. See if she confirms their story.”

  “All right, Caro,” said Zinda. “Let her come forward.”

  And there was Silky. She ran straight into my arms. “Those ‘Lidans took me back to the camp,” she said, “but right away, the sisters came.”

  On my right, Jesse exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath for a long time, and I saw his immense relief.