by Myke Cole
“War-engines,” Barnard answered, “and more than you should see.”
“I may see whatever I like when I am about the Emperor’s business,” Tone snapped. “Those blades look sharp on both ends.”
“They are, Holy Brother,” Barnard answered. “The shorter end is the tang.”
“Tang? So they attach to this . . . war-engine?”
“To the fists, lord. Aye.”
“Extraordinary,” Tone said. “What is the blanket covering?”
Me, thought Heloise, her lungs beginning to burn from holding her breath. Had Tone already found her father? Her mother? Her eyes were dry from staring, tears starting to form at the corners, but Heloise didn’t blink. No movement. Not a breath. He must not see you.
Barnard stuttered for a half-moment as he saw the blanket and likely guessed what lay behind it. “The tinker-engine, lord. You’ve seen them before, they contain the seethestone that drives all such works. They must be kept dry, and even drafts carry water. A blanket suffices in here. If I were to move it, I’d use salted cloth.”
Over Tone’s shoulder, the workshop doors were flung wide. She saw a tiny white shape dart past them, tow-colored hair flying back from its shoulders. Basina. Heloise had to stifle the urge to cry out to her. Her best friend raced through the workshop doors and vanished into the night. Where was she going? To warn Sigir? The sentries would have sounded the alarm if the Order approached. He should already be warned.
Tone shifted his flail to his shoulder and stroked his chin. “Still. It must be enormous. Let me have a look.” He stepped into the darkness of the vault and Heloise had to stifle a scream.
“Holy Brother!” Barnard shouted, snatching Tone’s arm. “I could lose my head for allowing anyone to set foot in here!”
“You will lose your head if you do not take your hands off me at once!” Tone shouted back, shaking his arm loose and reaching with his free hand for the blanket over Heloise.
Horses whinnied outside the workshop doors, and Heloise heard the pounding of hooves against stone and earth. Tone turned, his flail head bouncing on his shoulder. One of the other Pilgrims was already racing out the door. He looked outside, turned back to Brother Tone. “The horses are gone, Holy Brother!”
Tone turned back to Barnard. “Don’t think that I don’t know what’s happening here, Tinker.”
Barnard bowed. “Forgive me, Holy Brother. Might be my hitching post is rotten.”
“As rotten as your traitorous heart. If those animals are not found, it will come out of your skin.”
“I will send my sons to help you look for them, lord. They won’t go far, horses go to where there’s grazing, and the best is on the common green.”
“You had better be right,” Tone said. He gave a final, long look at the vault. “Those really are extraordinary machines, Tinker. You do good work.”
“Thank you, Holy Brother.” Barnard bowed again as Gunnar and Guntar raced out the workshop doors, lighting torches as they went.
Tone swept out after them, his gray cloak swirling around his feet as he disappeared around the workshop doors, Bolt and Blade barking fit to wake the dead, following behind. Barnard went to the threshold, hand on the heavy wood, looking out into the night, no doubt making sure Tone was gone.
At long last, he hung his head and sighed. Only then did Heloise take a gasping breath, her vision going gray as she suddenly realized how hungry for air she had been, how badly the blanket had itched her face, caused sweat to run down her back. Barnard winced at the sound of her gulping air, looked back out the door, then turned back to her.
“You’re fortunate he didn’t hear that,” he said.
“Is he gone?” she asked, throwing off the blanket and clambering down from the machine.
“For now. I never thought he would make me open the vault. These damned Pilgrims are only pious when it suits their needs.”
“I think Basina spooked their horses.”
“She did, brave girl. He’d have found you for certain otherwise.”
“What about Papa? Mama?”
“I will go and see, but I don’t think he found them, either. Tone would have enjoyed that too much to keep it quiet.”
“Please,” Heloise gasped, feeling her stomach tighten again. She couldn’t bear not knowing if her parents were alive, “you have to find out and tell me.”
Barnard knelt and ran a trembling hand through her hair. “I promise I will, Heloise, but it won’t help anyone if they come back and you’re found. We have to close the vault door now.”
And suddenly Heloise was frightened again, as if she had used all the courage in her on keeping still when Brother Tone came into the vault and reached for the blanket. She was so tired, so relieved now that the Pilgrims had gone and the warm light of the workshop was spilling all around her. She couldn’t bear to give it up again so soon, not before Basina came back. But Barnard was right, and after all Basina had done for her, the least she could do was be brave. “All right,” she began.
“She doesn’t have to go back in,” Sigir said. “Not for the moment, anyway.” The Maior stood in the workshop doorway, Gunnar and Guntar to either side.
Heloise ran to him, hugging him around the waist. Sigir put his arm around her and held her close. “There, there,” he murmured. “It’s over now. It’s all right.”
“Did you bring Papa?” she asked, all thought of bravery gone. “Please let me see him.”
“Maybe tomorrow, Heloise,” Sigir said. “They’ve gone for now, but they might come back.”
“The horses . . .” Barnard began.
“Were on the green, as you said, Father,” Gunnar answered. “They mounted up and rode off as soon as they had them in hand.”
“That was a brave, stupid thing you did, girl,” Barnard said, as Basina appeared from behind Sigir, her skirts in her hand.
“I had to do it,” she answered, head high. “He’d have found Heloise for sure.”
“Tone’s no fool,” Barnard said, “he knows it was no rotten hitching post what led to them getting free. We can only hope he thinks it a child’s prank and not some kind of subterfuge. We’ll know when he returns.”
“He may not return,” Sigir said. “He seemed convinced that Samson had run and taken his family with him.”
Barnard snorted.
“I did right, Papa,” Basina said. “You’d have done the same.”
Barnard sighed, shook his head. “Being a father means being frightened every damned day of your life.” He turned to Sigir. “We are betrayed. Poch, or maybe Sald.”
Sigir shook his head. “You don’t know that.”
“Why else would Tone have wanted to look in the vault? Why would he even think—”
“No,” Sigir cut him off with a wave of his hand. “They spoke against Samson, but that is not the same as betraying him to his death. Tone is a beast, and a clever beast at that. He will not leave stones unturned in his search. If it hadn’t been for your daughter, he might well have found one of the Factors. We don’t know that it was a villager what told him to look here.”
Barnard shook his head. “I don’t like it.”
“There is nothing to like in any of this,” Sigir agreed.
“Thank you, Basina,” Heloise said, reaching out an arm and gathering her best friend into a tight embrace.
Basina hugged her back. “You’d have done the same for me.”
“And I will,” Heloise said with a sudden heat. “I will never let anyone hurt you. If Tone comes back I’ll . . .”
“If Brother Tone returns, you will hide and keep quiet.” Sigir said, “That is the best way you can keep Basina safe, keep all of us safe.”
“Boys,” Barnard said to his sons, “go down to the sentry tower and make sure they’re well down the road. I’ll put Heloise back to bed. I know you don’t want to go back in the vault, girl, but there’s nothing for it.”
She felt Sigir stroke her hair, saw the Maior exchange a glance with Bar
nard.
“They could come back,” Barnard said, but there was no resolve in his voice.
“I know,” Sigir said, looked down at Heloise, “but I cannot bear this. Putting a girl in a prison. I don’t think they’ll come back tonight, Barnard. I just . . . I cannot bear it.”
“Nor I,” Barnard’s voice was thick. “I’ll set the boys on watches. If the sentry fails to raise the alarm, they’ll call out should the Order return.”
“Will that be enough?” Sigir asked.
“Enough time to get her into the vault if she stays just outside the door. There’s the hounds, too,” Barnard jerked his thumb at Bolt and Blade, already lying across the entrance to the workshop, backs to them, eyes warily set on the darkness outside.
“You mean I don’t have to sleep inside?” Heloise asked, a smile already straining her cheeks.
“Close to the door,” Barnard said, “and you sleep with one eye open. If riders do come, we’ll need to get you inside as fast as a thought.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Basina said. “You know how lightly I sleep.”
Heloise’s heart leapt at the thought. At last the reality of her hiding from the Order matched her dream of it, alone with Basina at night, sharing secrets. She reached into her pocket and felt Twitch there, his little pink nose brushing her thumb.
Gunnar looked up, frowning. “Father, I’m not playing nursemaid to these two. You know how they get when they’re—”
“You shut your mouth, hammerhead,” Basina said. “I’m betrothed now, and never asked for your minding even when I was still a maid.”
“You are still a maid,” Barnard laughed, “and I’m not eager to think of you otherwise, but you two will bed down here tonight, and the lads will keep watch outside. I can’t sleep with the lot of you howling after one another. I’ve hounds for that work.”
The boys looked as if they would protest, but went silent at a look from Barnard. “Yes, Father.”
“You want to be sentries. This is what sentries do. Gunnar, you’ll take first watch at the well. Guntar will relieve you at a half-candle.”
“Yes, Father.”
“And keep an eye on Poch, and Sald, and . . . and everyone,” Barnard said to Sigir.
“You leave the village to me,” Sigir said, “as I leave tinkering to you.”
Barnard met his gaze, but said nothing.
“All right,” Sigir said. “I’d best return to Samson.” He gave Heloise a brief hug before letting her go. “I’ll send your father your love,” he said. “As soon as the Order moves on, we’ll have you together again. I promise.”
“Thank you, Maior,” Heloise said, and then the men left them and they were alone together, just her and Basina, and the scraped and cooling crucible casting a dull orange light over them both.
“You saved me,” Heloise said, felt how wide her eyes must have looked, how awed. Her belly tightened as she realized that she actually felt shy of herself before Basina, terrified she would say something stupid and ruin everything. That was silly, of course. She and Basina had been friends since they could walk. She was the same girl.
She wasn’t sure what to say, so instead Heloise said, “You saved me,” again.
Basina smiled. She might have blushed, but it was impossible to tell in the crucible’s red light.
Mahesh pierced Him with his spear, and the weapon stuck fast.
With his left hand, the Emperor did smite Mahesh on his crown,
So that his head was cleaved in twain,
And with His right, He drew the veil shut, sealing hell away forever,
And died with a glad heart.
—Writ. Ala. I. 5
CHAPTER 10: TOO FAR, TOO FAST
Heloise and Basina lay awake talking for the rest of the night.
The hounds were dim lumps in the dull glow of the cooling fires, curled protectively in front of the doors and the people inside. Heloise and Basina lay wrapped in blankets under the workbench. Basina giggled when Heloise showed her Twitch, and shrugged when she told her the mouse was a gift from Clodio.
“Promise you won’t tell anyone,” Heloise said.
“Why would I tell anyone?” Basina asked. “Rangers come and go as they please, mice are everywhere. There’s nothing to tell.”
Twitch scurried between them, nosing at Heloise’s blanket, climbing over her hand.
“Oh, he’s so darling!” Basina said, reaching out a finger for him.
Twitch gave a high squeak and Heloise giggled, picking him up. “It’s all right,” she said. “Basina is family.”
“Oh, stop, Heloise. He’s a mouse. He doesn’t understa—”
But Twitch was raising his body up, balancing with his tail as he had when Clodio had handed him to her. His tiny black eyes looked at Basina, nose twitching toward her. “See?” Heloise asked. “He just needs some coaxing.”
Basina drew back, eyes widening. “It’s like he understands you.”
“Well, maybe he does. He’s my mouse, after all. That’s what Clodio said.”
Basina laughed, and held out her hand. Heloise coaxed the mouse forward with her thumb. “It’s all right, Twitch. This is my best friend, Basina. If you’re watching over me, you’re watching over her.”
Twitch looked over his shoulder at Heloise, black eyes considering. She could almost believe he understood the words as he turned back. Both she and Basina waited, holding their breath, until Twitch finally crept forward and sat stiffly in Basina’s palm, tiny pink nose hovering over her thumb.
“It tickles!” Basina giggled, and Heloise felt as close to her as anyone in her life. Of course she could share Twitch with Basina. Of course Basina would understand.
Basina set Twitch to roam on the floor between them, but the mouse curled up in the folds of the blanket. Heloise left him, screened by her back from any curiosity from Bolt and Blade.
Heloise propped her head on her arm, looking at her best friend. The gentle glow of the crucible softened Basina’s lines, until she seemed to melt and shimmer like a setting sun. Heloise could have looked at her forever. She didn’t want to move, to speak, for fear that it would break the moment. It seemed as if all the heat of the workshop had gathered in Heloise’s belly and thighs, a wonderful melting feeling. Her head felt like it was about to float off her shoulders.
Basina shifted, rolled onto her side, big eyes sleepy. “What are you thinking about?”
“You,” Heloise said. “How you saved me.”
“All I did was untie the horses and say ‘boo’ at them a couple of times.”
“It’s more than that. You’re special. Like a hero from the Writ. I’ve never heard of a woman doing something like that.”
Basina laughed, making her so beautiful that Heloise thought her heart would break. “I’m not a woman yet, but I will be soon.”
“You mean your husband.” Heloise felt a spike of cold through the delicious heat in her belly.
Basina nodded, and the cold spike sank deeper, driving the heat from her utterly. Heloise grieved its loss even as she tried to smile for her friend.
“They say it hurts,” Basina said. “At least, it does for girls who don’t run or ride. I rode a horse once, and mother says because I run a lot that—”
“Your mother talks to you about it?” Heloise asked.
“Who else? She’s borne three children. She knows what she’s about.”
“My mama would never . . . she only said that when the time comes, I’m to lie back and be as quiet as I can.”
“That doesn’t sound nice at all.” Basina frowned.
“It’s not supposed to be nice.”
Basina grit her teeth. “It is. Mother says that when you love someone, it’s the most wonderful thing in the world, even if it does hurt at the start.”
“And you love him?” Heloise tried to keep her voice from shaking, failed.
Basina didn’t notice. “He’s strong, and he’s kind. He always calls me ‘my lady’ as if I were a prin
cess! I like the way he looks at me. I think he would get good children. That’s love, I suppose.”
Heloise didn’t think love was something you should suppose. She was sure she loved Basina. Sure in her bones and in her belly. She was sure that Basina was the most beautiful, the most wonderful person in the world, and that she would never love anyone else. More sure than she had ever been about anything in her entire life. That’s what love should be, sure as stone, as running water. Sure as the bite of winter and spring blossoms. Sure even when it was impossible. Even when they were both girls.
“And . . . and you’ll be happy, being married?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You know it’ll be you soon. Aren’t you just a little excited about it?”
Heloise thought about it. She knew she was supposed to be looking forward to her wedding day, to an honorable future as a wife and mother. But the thought of her mother, crouching under her wimple before the hearth, the same four walls about her day after day, made her sad and sick in equal measure. “I don’t know,” Heloise said slowly. “Sometimes I think maybe I don’t want to keep a home . . .”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know . . . I like going with Papa on his rounds. I like going to Lyse on market days. I liked meeting the Kipti. I wouldn’t want to stop doing that.”
“With the right husband, you won’t have to. Randal says I’ll be able to rule the roost.”
“Yes,” Heloise said, “but he still has to let you rule it.”
Basina shrugged. “That’s the Writ. The Emperor’s will, not ours. Anyway, I think you’re just being contrary. I bet you’ll love every bit of it, even the rutting.”
Heloise laughed at that, swatted at her. “Stop!”
Basina smiled and they were silent for a while. Finally, Basina spoke.
“I’ve never done anything, you know . . .” Basina’s voice was small, shy. She sounded very much like Heloise felt, a tiny thing in a bigger world that had plans for her whether she liked it or not.
“You never?”
“No!” Basina sounded annoyed. “I would never. I mean, once I would have, but Gunnar came along and ran him off. I was angry, but later I was glad. He didn’t tell Father. Mother said that when you’re young, your body can . . . betray you.”
