Flora's Fury: How a Girl of Spirit and a Red Dog Confound Their Friends, Astound Their Enemies, and Learn the Impo

by Ysabeau S. Wilce

  “Give me to Buck to raise as her own child.”

  “Ayah, so. I knew she could keep you hidden. I knew she would love you like her own. I knew she would keep you safe. And be a better mother to you than I could ever be. So we kept ahead of Espejo until you were born—”

  I interrupted her. “Where was I born? Buck told me I was born by the side of the Shasta Road during the Trinity campaign, but obviously that wasn’t true.”

  Tiny Doom laughed. “You were born in an encampment of the Red Turtle clan, up north, in the mountains. It was thanks to them that we were able to avoid Espejo for so long. I owe them an awful lot. Tezca may be pretty powerful, but he’s no match for the power of the Dithee.”

  “So I was born in Arivaipa? I’m not even a Califan?”

  “It’s not where you are born that counts, it’s how you live. I’d say you rate pretty high as a Califan, honey. Anyway after I sent you to Buck, I gave myself up to Espejo, but first I made him promise to persuade the Virreina to allow Buck to ransom Hotspur. And he did. He’s many things, dear Xava is, but he is a man of his word.”

  “But why did Major Sorrel give himself up, too? He was safe.”

  She sighed. “Oh, Sorrel. He was so honorable, sometimes he was downright idiotic. He had this idea that I should not face the plinth alone. I couldn’t persuade or even order him out of that notion. Califa forgive me, but in the end, I was glad he was there, though it left his children fatherless.”

  “But you didn’t die. Or you did die, and then you pulled the Ultimate Ranger Dare. You came back.”

  She shook her head. “He cut my heart out and ate it, honey. There’s no coming back from that. Even Nini Mo herself couldn’t have managed that trick.”

  “You aren’t a ghoul, are you, or a vampire?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

  “No, yuck—Goddess, no. I am a revivifico. My Anima remains here, in the Waking World, but my body is gone. Consumed by Espejo. This body you see belonged to another. I have borrowed it, kept it sweet with a sigil. Soon it will decay and I shall have to borrow another. And then another and another. And so it goes.”

  A revivifico! My mother was a revivifico! I stared at Tiny Doom in horror. Revivificos aren’t as ravenous as ghouls or mindless like zombies, but they are still animated corpses. Where did she get the bodies? I didn’t want to know. Nini Mo was right. Ignorance is bliss. My hands were shaking. I clenched them so she would not see. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of being proven right that I couldn’t handle the truth, so I swallowed my horror and said, as airily as I could, “Well, at least you aren’t a ravenous ghoul.”

  “Absolutely. There are advantages to this state. I don’t need to sleep, I don’t feel pain, and I don’t need to eat.” She laughed, but the sound was not mirthful.

  “If you aren’t really alive, then Espejo could not have killed you. You were never in any danger at all.” This, more than anything else, enraged me. I had risked so much and for nothing. Nothing at all!

  “Not true. Technically, the bodies I borrow are dead, so he can’t kill them. But he could have destroyed my Anima, and then I would be done for permanently. And he certainly could have killed you. The danger was real enough.”

  “But it’s over now. Espejo is taken care of. You have to come back to Califa.”

  She shook her head. “No. No.”

  “The people worship you. They’ll rally to you. It’s all well and good to have a blockade, and the jade stuff, but that’s not the same as a leader. Rebellions need a leader, someone to rally around.”

  “Buck is the leader of the rebellion. And the return of Sylvanna Abenfarax is the rallying point.”

  “But she’s been Birdie-ized!”

  “No, she has not. She’s made very nice to the Birdies so they would let her go home, but once she’s there, they will find they have been mistaken about her. Badly mistaken. Listen, the woman they call Azota—she doesn’t exist anymore. She’s dead. I am not her. I am someone else entirely Flora! Don’t you understand?”

  “Nyana! My name is Nyana! And I do understand. I understand that you are a coward!”

  She sighed heavily, rubbed her face. “Nyana. I have done all I can for Califa. I have to let Buck do the rest—”

  “You just don’t want to face Poppy. You don’t want to tell him you’ve been dead—alive—whatever the fike it is you are. You are a coward.”

  “Perhaps I am,” Tiny Doom answered. “But what I do is my choice, not yours.”

  “And what about Axacaya? You said in the letter you left for me that you were coming for him. Where are those brave words now?”

  “Oh, I have plans for Axacaya, but now is not the time for them. I can’t go back to the City. But you should.”

  “Why should I?”

  “You are the Head of the Haðraaða family. You are the focal point of Bilskinir House. Califa needs you. The City needs Bilskinir, needs our family’s power. Getting rid of the Birdies isn’t going to be easy Buck will depend on you.”

  “Are you fiking me? Califa doesn’t need my kind of help. I’m the last thing Buck needs,” I said bitterly.

  “You have fiked up plenty of this, it’s true,” Tiny Doom said. “But you’ve also stepped up and followed through when you had to. You saved the lives of those troopers and brought them home safely. You saved Tharyn’s life not once, but twice. You stood against a nahual. Don’t be so sorry for yourself, kid. Life sucks, you know; it’s full of crap we don’t want to do, but sometimes we have to suck it up and do it, anyway.”

  “Because it’s my destiny?” I said bitterly “Because I am a Haðraaða?”

  “No. I can’t afford to believe in destinies. If I believed my entire life and death had been ordained, I’d go insane. Instead, I’d rather believe I made my own fate. Just as you will make yours. Go back because Califa needs girls with sand, and you, Nini, have a fikeload of sand.”

  Instead of soothing me, her words filled me with rage. How dare she tell me what to do? I hadn’t come all this way and risked so much for her to lecture me. Let her stay in Arivaipa. Why the fike should I care? She had given birth to me, but that was all. In all other ways, she’d abandoned me. She couldn’t tell me what to do now. She wasn’t anything to me, just a moldering corpse. I didn’t care what she did.

  I sprang to my feet and ducked out of the wickiup. Tiny Doom called after me, but I ignored her. Flynn scrambled behind me. Tiny Doom could go to the fiking Abyss for all I cared. Tomorrow I would leave Fort Sandy and I would never look back. You are either with us or against us, Nini Mo said. Well, I was going to be neither. I was going to be far away from Califa and its problems.

  At the parade ground, I stopped. The flagpole was empty. But in my imagination I saw the colors fluttering there: the blue and white regimental flag; the red and black insignia of the Warlord; the gorgeous purple flag of the Republic of Califa.

  Califa. A wave of homesickness washed over me. I had been too frantic to think about Pow or Poppy or Paimon. Was Poppy still sober? Could Pow talk yet? I thought of Paimon alone in giant Bilskinir House, waiting for his family—for me—to return someday The cozy clerks’ office. Bilskinir’s clean towels. Faithful Sieur Caballo. My annoying sister Idden. Buck.

  If I went with Tharyn, it might be years before I saw Califa again. Pow would be grown. The rebellion would be over. Buck and Poppy would be old. Maybe even dead.

  But how could I go back now? How could I explain to Buck what had happened? Why I’d run from the Dainty Pirate? Where I’d been all this time, and why? I couldn’t reveal Tiny Doom’s secret, and who knows how Buck would take my silence. Maybe she’d court-martial me. Worse, be disappointed in me. She had done so much for me, and see how I had repaid her?

  And if I went back, I’d still be Flora Segunda. Always second to the lost Flora. I’d be trapped in family obligations, in duty and honor. I’d lose my chance to be my true self Nyana, to have a job I’d earned, to be my own person, to see the world. And I’d lose
Tharyn. I did not want to lose Tharyn.

  “You know one of the things I miss most about Califa?” Tiny Doom asked quietly She stood next to me, but I didn’t turn to face her.

  When I didn’t answer, she said, “It’s stupid, but I really miss the waffle dogs at Waffle Doggie Diner. We used to go there, late, after hours. It was always packed, so cheerful. You’d see the strangest people there and no one ever paid any attention to me. It was comforting. I am almost afraid to ask if it’s still there.”

  “It’s still there,” I said. “Poppy and I ate there a week or so before I left.”

  “Do they still have pigeon-fat fries?”

  “Ayah.”

  “And orca bacon burgers? They were Hotspur’s favorite.”

  “That’s what he had. With extra blue cheese.”

  “Ugh, disgusting.” She shuddered and I shuddered with her, for she was right. Then she said, “I shouldn’t lecture you. I haven’t the right. I’m sorry You must do as you think best. You are an adult now and can make your own decisions.”

  “All the decisions I make are wrong,” I said bitterly.

  “Do the best you can, Nini told me. And let the chips fall where they may. That Tharyn, do you like him?”

  “Ayah, and he seems to like me, even though I’m hopeless.”

  “We are all hopeless in our hearts. I can see he does like you, very much. Go with him if you like. Enjoy him. Love him. Have adventures with him.”

  “What about Bilskinir, Paimon, the rebellion, the last Haðraaða, all that?”

  “Aw, fike ’em. They got along without me, they’ll get along without you. You have to follow your own Will. If it isn’t your Will, don’t force it. I forced it, and look where it got me. What do you want? What is your Will?”

  When it’s your true Will, you’ll know it, Nini Mo said, without having to think about it.

  I thought about it, and I still didn’t know.

  FORTY

  Hassayumpa. A Dilemma. A Delivery.

  THARYN, FLYNN, and I left Fort Sandy the next morning, on borrowed horses, along with Sieur Taylor’s cowboys. Before we mounted up, I paid a quick visit to the corral, where I fed Evil Murdoch half a pound of sugar and got spat on in thanks, then went to the post hospital, where I said goodbye to Munds. His shattered knee had earned him an early discharge, so he was in a pretty chippy mood; he thanked me profusely for saving his life.

  As we rode off the post, I saw Major Rucker standing in the ramada of the COQ, Sally beside him. He waved, but I thought he wasn’t as much saying goodbye as making sure that I left. No fear of that, Major Rucker. After we crossed the river, La Bruja jogged up on Evil Murdoch and fell in next to Sieur Taylor.

  “Nice day for a ride, Taylor!” she hollered. Whatever the magick was that kept her going, it must pretty strong, for even now that I knew she was just a reanimated corpse, I would never have guessed. She was greasy, dirty, and her hair looked a rat’s nest, but none of that awfulness was corpsey at all. Her current body must be fresh. Once again, I decided not to wonder where she got her supply. Don’t spit in your own well, Nini Mo said.

  “Nice day for a drunk, you mean,” Taylor hollered back, but I knew now that the drunkenness was part of the act. La Bruja might look like a pickler, but Tiny Doom was always stone-cold sober.

  Tiny Doom went all the way to Hassayumpa with us but never dropped her cover. That was just fine with me. For now, I knew all I wanted to know. Maybe someday I’d be ready for more.

  We spent the night in Hassayumpa and caught the stage to Angeles the next morning. The cowboys rode off at first light, but the stage didn’t go until midmorning, giving us time to lay in a hamper of chow at the café and for Tharyn to take an order from the general store. Tiny Doom had vanished into the saloon as soon we hit town and I hadn’t seen her emerge, but when Tharyn and I got to the livery stable, she was already there. She traded insults with the stage driver as the freight was loaded, and I fed Evil Murdoch the last of my breakfast burrito. He didn’t seem particularly appreciative, but he didn’t try to bite me, either. I guess that’s as grateful as a mule can be.

  “I’m glad I’m not riding your spine all the way to Califa,” I told him. He snorted mule goo all over me.

  “Oh, ya leave ol’ Murdoch alone,” La Bruja said. “I’ll fatten him up and when you come next, ya’ll think yer riding on a featherbed.”

  “Major Rucker told me not to come back.”

  “Oh, Pow, don’t mind him. Yer gonna work for the Pacifica now—we get mail sometimes, and send it, too. Speaking of which, can you deliver this letter for me when you get to Angeles?”

  “Who told you I was going to work for the Pacifica?” I asked.

  She grinned. “I hear things on the wind. Ain’t I got the best hearing?”

  “I’ve not been officially hired yet.”

  “Consider it a trial run, then.”

  I took her letter and slipped it into my jacket pocket. The other passengers were boarding the stage; Tharyn had already climbed inside. La Bruja kissed Flynn’s nose and hoisted him up onto Tharyn’s lap. She said something to Tharyn that I didn’t quite catch, then turned back to me.

  I was the only passenger left. The driver bawled at me and Tharyn leaned out the window, calling, “Come on, Nini!”

  “Adios!” La Bruja said cheerfully.

  “Adios!” I said.

  “Come on, girlie! Git yer moving!” the stage driver bawled.

  Tiny Doom smiled a mossy green smile and said in a low voice, “Don’t fret, honey. There’ll be time for us yet. Dare, win, or disappear!”

  “We’re leavin’!” the shotgun warned. I climbed into the stagecoach, and Tiny Doom slammed the door, then slapped the stairs up. With a jolt that threw me right into Tharyn’s lap—squishing Flynn—the stage lumbered forward. By the time I got myself out of Tharyn’s lap and leaned out the window, all I could see behind us was dust.

  “What did she say to you?” I asked Tharyn.

  “That she’d skin me alive and make my pelt into a coat if I let anything happen to you,” Tharyn said, and laughed.

  The trip to Angeles was grueling. Across the Sandlot Dry Drive—forty-five miles with no water—then through the Grivalda Pass, down into the Palma Valley and eventually into Angeles. It took four days. The stage halted every few hours to change horses, take on passengers, drop off or pick up mail or freight, and give us a chance to piss and eat, but otherwise we bounced along, day and night.

  The chow hamper stood Tharyn and Flynn well, but the rocking motion of the coach made me feel so pukey that I had to resort to the bottle of Tum-O I’d picked up in Hassayumpa. I spent most of the trip in a stupor, lulled by the heat and laudanum, buttressed from the worst of the jolts by Tharyn’s furry bulk. If he’d been traveling alone, he would have reverted to his bear form and run the distance in half the time, so I knew the slow trip grated on him.

  On the fourth afternoon, a cool breeze began to waft through the open window, and the dust was leavened with the smell of orange blossoms. The road smoothed out, and the mules put a spring in their steps. I rousted from my haze and looked out the window to see green rolling hills, festooned with grazing cattle, and long, low valleys filled with orange trees. We rounded a curve, and there on the horizon was a distant blue smudge of sea.

  The stage had barely hit the outskirts of Angeles when a kid on a shaggy pony rode up alongside it, shouting that the Infanta Sylvanna’s flotilla had arrived in the City It had been escorted by three Kulani warships and the Dainty Pirate’s flagship, and the Warlord had retired in her favor. As soon as we disembarked, I wobbled over to the news-hawk standing in front of the apothecary shop and bought a copy of the Angeles Monitor, so fresh the ink was still wet. On the front page was an engraving of the new Warlady and a copy of the speech she had made upon her arrival in the City.

  Tharyn reading over my shoulder, I scanned the speech quickly The new Warlady praised her father’s wise rule, thanked General Fyrdraa
ca for her loyalty to the City, expressed gratitude to the Virreina for providing her with such a fine education (did I detect a whiff of irony there?), and announced the formation of a new alliance between Califa and the Kulani Islands.

  This was not exactly a declaration of separation from Birdie rule, but it was a start. Tiny Doom had been right. If the new Warlady was already making alliances with one of the Huitzil Empire’s rivals, then she wasn’t nearly as Birdie-ized as everyone had thought.

  “The Virreina isn’t going to like that one bit,” Tharyn said as we headed toward the hotel. I glanced at him; he didn’t look particularly happy about any of this exciting news. But he had had no stake in Califa’s freedom. Nor, any longer, in Kulani matters.

  I did.

  But I wouldn’t if I went with Tharyn to Porkopolis.

  In the zocalo, a horn band was playing the Califa National Anthem over and over while people danced and sang, and a portable grog-shop did brisk business. The rousing choruses of “Cierra Califa!” gave me a twinge of nostalgia. You cannot toy with old sweetness, Nini Mo said. I swallowed the twinge down.

  At the front desk of the Angeles Hotel, the clerk knew Tharyn, of course, and greeted him effusively Tharyn introduced me as his new assistant, and after I signed the guest book, the clerk flipped it around and squinted at my name.

  “Nyana Romney,” he read. “Huh. I thought you might be someone else.”

  “Why is that?” I asked warily.

  “Well, I got some mail here for a Flora Fyrdraaca, and I thought she might be you ’cause in both cases I was told that this here Flora Fyrdraaca is a young woman with red hair, and you are the only young woman with red hair I’ve seen in a long time.”

  Fike. Who would have left me mail at the Angeles Hotel? I was dying to know, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to admit that I was Flora Fyrdraaca. The Dainty Pirate might be safely far away, but Buck could have noted me deserted by now, and put the guard on me.