by Kate Elliott
“I was desperate, so I tried to impress him. I said he should choose a girl like me to be his assistant, that I knew a great deal about herbs and medical care and also that I could take care of household tasks for him.…” Her hesitation makes my skin crawl with disgust at how vulnerable she was and still is. “I said I would do whatever he wanted if he would save the people I came with. It seemed better than the alternative.”
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur. “It’s not your fault, Bett. It was really courageous of you. What did he say?”
Her smile, like Father’s, comes rarely, and it shines now. “He asked me what seemed like a hundred questions about plants and their efficacy, about wounds and diseases. I couldn’t answer most of them! I thought I knew something about healing but I really don’t, not compared to him.”
“Yes, he seems to think a great deal of his own knowledge,” I mutter, for I have never heard Bettany speak with such enthusiasm of our own parents; she only ever criticizes them.
“But he was satisfied with my performance because then he insisted I accompany him on his afternoon rounds. He treated me as if I was his assistant and observed how well I was able to complete the tasks he gave me, whether I flinched at blood, and if I could manage a neat stitch sewing up a gash in a man’s leg.”
“You were always good at helping Mother with sick people.”
She isn’t listening; she’s caught in her memory, a little glassy-eyed. “After that he told the mine supervisor he was impressed by my intelligence and calm—”
“You? Calm?”
“Shut up!” But she grins and elbows me. “I can be calm when I’m doing something important, like trying to save a person’s life. My hands never shake. He took me on as an assistant. Of course they all thought he meant he was taking me as a lover but it isn’t like that, Jes. It isn’t.”
I want to grab her chin and force her to look me in the eye and repeat it, but I know her too well—she’d rather kick than cooperate. “Then what is it like?”
“Beauty?” an unfamiliar female voice calls from the kitchen gate, in accented Saroese. “Are you out here?”
She grabs my shoulder and whispers, “When the collapse in the mine happened and so many people were injured and killed, we took advantage of the disorder and got all of Mother’s people put on the wagons for the injured and dead. They are at the hospital here in town, pretending to be dead.”
My mouth drops open. “You saved them!”
“Them and myself. Are you angry I stole your chance to rescue us?”
“Of course not! Why would you even say that?”
“Beauty?” the unknown woman repeats, as if she’s heard our voices. “We’re leaving.”
Bett pulls me close. “I was joking! Anyway I haven’t saved them yet. They could still be discovered at the hospital.”
“Where do they take the dead?”
“There are tombs outside of town, in the desert. But without water and food they’ll die, and this oasis is so isolated they can’t possibly walk anywhere without help. I have no reason to think anyone here would assist us. Agalar only knows the Patrons who run things, the mine supervisor and those sorts of people. Of course they’d just turn them back over to Gargaron.”
Ro isn’t the only Efean angry at the Saroese who rule us. “I have an idea, but I don’t know if it will work. Will you be going to the hospital later?”
“Yes. He has surgeries to do.”
“Go.” I step back from her. “If I can manage to get help I’ll find a way to come to the hospital tonight. Have our people ready.” I kiss her good-bye.
She smiles with her typical blend of mocking me while still being proud of me. “I’ll be impressed if you can actually pull something off. Why won’t you and Amaya run away and come with me, so we can all be together?”
“That’s sweet of you, Bett. But Amaya and I have things to do here.”
“But Jes—” She pulls a hand over her head: her hair has been shorn short in the fashion of prisoners, giving her a stark look as she breaks off and changes her mind about whatever it was she was going to say. “Never mind.”
“Beauty? I know you are out here. Come along! You know he hates to be kept waiting.”
I shove her. She slaps me on the shoulder the way she’s always done, then lopes off.
As soon as I hear the sound of carriages rolling away I head back inside.
If is a slender word to hang a rescue on, but right now it’s the only one I’ve got.
15
I walk into the kitchen to find all of Agalar’s people already gone. Dusty, Mis, and Tana are standing awkwardly to one side of the dining shelter since it’s now clear the Garon servants would very much prefer we Efeans had never come into their eating area at all, but we haven’t been dismissed by Gargaron and so can’t leave. Amaya’s distinctive laugh rises from within the inner house.
Captain Neartos strides in as if looking for someone and stops short, as surprised to see us in the Patron kitchen as the kitchen staff is unhappy we are there. “Are you still here? You may return to the stable.”
“With your permission, Captain, I need to speak to Lord Gargaron,” I say as Tana gives me a stern look. “May I ask when we are leaving Akheres Oasis?”
“Tomorrow, after all the cargo has been loaded, inspected, and sealed.” He doesn’t need to say the main cargo is gold bullion. We all know it. “We’ll make a dawn journey to the tombs, then travel at night along the desert road with the waxing moon to light our way. Why do you wish to speak to His Lordship? He’s gone to take his afternoon rest.”
I repress a shudder, thinking of Denya and then of the fate Bettany has, I hope, narrowly escaped. But I plunge onward, for I must move quickly. “After my victory today the adversaries I defeated invited me to join them for a drink as a gesture of goodwill. Didn’t I come here to build my reputation and make a memorable impression on behalf of Garon Palace?” I give a half-smile to remind him of our greater purpose, for any captain in Gargaron’s household must be aware of the plot to elevate Kalliarkos and Menoë to the throne.
“No need to bother His Lordship. Such a scheme fits our purpose exactly. I give you permission on his behalf, and you can take the carriage so you needn’t walk. Let all of you adversaries go.”
Just as we start to leave Amaya minces into the kitchen. “Wine for His Lordship and Doma Denya, if you please,” she says with a sweet smile for the cook, who pats her kindly on the arm. Of course all the servants love her.
Captain Neartos speaks as abruptly as if he’s been waiting here hoping she would appear. “May I carry the tray for you, Orchid?”
“Oh, no need, Captain. But my thanks for the offer.” She casts him a coquettish smile that actually causes him to blush, and I shudder to a stop, wondering if I will need to defend her too. But then I recall with what incredible self-possession she faced down Agalar’s dangerous accusation, and I realize that maybe there are some things my baby sister can do better than me. Her gaze flicks my way, and I dip my chin in the hope she’ll understand I spoke to Bettany and will communicate with her later.
Tana says, “Dusty, come along!” as Mis rolls her eyes at him.
As we walk back to the stable through the heat, Tana adds, “Dusty, don’t stare at that girl. She’s not for you.”
He sighs. “Yes, Honored Lady.”
When Tana turns to me I’m afraid she’s going to scold me for looking at Amaya also. “My thanks for that brilliant piece of management, Jes. I’ve a hankering for some of the special date wine brewed here in the oasis, and just between you and me, I’m happy to have a chance to socialize with people who won’t look down on us. For that matter, you need it too.”
“What do you mean?”
“The trial today is over. You can relax now and again.”
“I can never relax,” I mutter.
The driver sets us down in a dusty square surrounded by a warren of streets too narrow for vehicles. Tana beckons to a pack of gigglin
g children and gives them each a copper coin to lead us to the Adversary Kiss. Mis grabs Dusty’s hand and hauls him after the children. I think Mis is infatuated with him even though it is blindingly obvious that he mopes after my unobtainable sister, to whom he has never even spoken.
Drowsy Akheres Town comes to life at the end of the day. Vendors sell grilled whitefish caught from the oasis lakes. Shops display brass lamps, decorated leather footstools, and glass beads. Gates into elegant wine gardens and raucous beer taverns stand graciously open. In one garden people dance side by side, not touching and yet deeply in contact with each other. I have never seen dancing like this in Saryenia. The slow curl of arms and the sway of bodies are enthralling. It makes me think of how it felt to kiss Kalliarkos. It makes me think of how happy Amaya and Denya always look when they are together, how they didn’t let impossible circumstances keep them apart.
But I let the thought go just as I let him go. It’s over. I made the choice to protect my family, and now for Mother’s sake I have to make sure the next time I see her I can tell her that her daughters worked together to rescue the people she herself rescued from difficult situations and gave a haven in our household. We girls can’t do less than she did many times over.
The Adversary Kiss is a wine garden catering to the Fives crowd. Tana makes a show of our entrance, and so many people compete to buy us drinks that it’s flattering. Women come right up to us in the direct way Efean women have, but it soon becomes clear some have been drafted by male friends or relatives to open the way for men to talk to us.
In a way I am excited at the attention. The chatter is lively, the wine quenches my thirst, and Mis and Dusty are immediately surrounded by admirers. I settle beside Tana, who is seated with older people who train adversaries in Akheres. We discuss strategies for a little while, until I spot Henta entering through the main gate. I excuse myself and go straight to her.
“Spider!” She grins as she introduces me to her companions. I make small talk for as long as I can stand, then hook fingers over her elbow and draw her aside.
“Listen, I have something to say to you in private, Henta. It’s a risky matter, and if you want nothing to do with it please forget what I’m about to say.”
“All right,” she says with a slow nod, but I can tell she’s curious as we make our way to a quiet corner.
“What if I told you there is an opportunity, tonight, to rescue the most recent group of women and children who were brought to the mine? Eleven in all.” Twelve if I can convince Bettany to escape with them, but I don’t say that.
She shakes her head with a regretful sigh. “Do you suppose we who live here in Akheres haven’t thought of plots and plans? That we don’t hate what we see? The punishment for runaways and anyone caught helping them is death. More than that, on the last occasion a prisoner escaped the mine, the Saroese who run this town chose by lot one of our own innocent young people to take the place of the criminal who vanished. I’m sorry. I hate this as much as anyone. But it’s too dangerous, and eleven people is far too many.”
“What if I told you the mine supervisor believes they are all dead?”
She crosses her arms. “Are you certain of this?”
“Yes.”
I see in the tightening of her jaw the moment she makes the decision. “Come with me. There’s someone at the Rasp and File I will introduce you to.”
The Rasp and File is a much fancier wine garden a few streets over. Servers carry trays of food in to private parties screened in small, separate courtyards. It’s the kind of place that in Saryenia would be a Patron establishment where a well-to-do captain like my father might take his family to dine once a year. That’s why it seems strange that every single person at the Rasp and File is Efean, and that they are all speaking Efean. On a far wall, beneath lamplight, I see a mural depicting the Mother of All that reminds me of the one in the Heart Tavern, right out in the open.
Henta greets the elderly dame seated by the gate, whispers to her, then escorts me to a tiny courtyard near the back with a single table and two cushioned chairs. She sits; I’m restless, so I stand at parade rest, hands clasped behind my back and my heart racing.
An older Efean man comes in. Having grown up with a father who is a soldier makes it easy for me to identify the squared shoulders and honed movements of men who have military training. He also has a mangled hand, badly scarred and healed, perhaps a legacy of battle. He looks at me, then at Henta. Of course he does not speak first.
“This is Emsu,” she says, rising. “I’ll wait just outside, Spider.”
He clasps his hands behind his back in echo of my own parade rest, but he’s as tense as a man who is thinking of reaching for his knife.
I know this moment well: in the Fives, when I’m in the air having rejected one landing spot, just before I reach out to grab for a new one. I have one chance to gain his trust.
So I say, “Efea will rise.”
A genuine smile of comradeship lights his face. In fact it staggers me how quickly he accepts me. He nods emphatically. “Efea will rise. But you are an adversary with Garon Palace. What brings you to me with that phrase on your lips?”
“Often we do not have a choice in what path we walk, Honored Sir. That is why I run as an adversary for Patron masters. But that is not all I am.”
“As I see by your looks.”
“Excuse me for being blunt, Honored Sir, but the matter is urgent. In the recent terrible accident in the mine, eleven women and children were claimed to be dead by the foreign doctor, Lord Agalar. They have been taken to the hospital basement with the corpses and can be smuggled out right from under the nose of the Saroese.”
“And taken where?”
“I need help to cart them out of the hospital, and if possible get them out of the desert and to a poet named Ro-emnu, who will see that they reach a safe haven.”
To my utter astonishment he murmurs, “‘This is your ugly history. The truth you’ve buried beneath the tombs of your dead. Hear my words! Heed my call!’”
“‘Efea will rise,’” I finish. “You know of Ro-emnu?”
“Of course we know of him. He is our voice. But what’s in it for you, Spider? You’re climbing the ladder of the Fives, and if you’re implicated, you’ll be executed.”
The path opens. It’s a huge risk, and I could fall to my death, but I make the leap anyway.
“I am General Esladas’s daughter.”
His laugh startles me. “Ah, yes, we know of him here. He gained his captaincy in the spider scouts who guard the chain of desert forts on the road south of this oasis.”
I’m pleased Father is so famous, and not really surprised, given what he’s accomplished. “Then perhaps you also have heard that my mother is an Efean woman he kept faith with for many years. Until the lord I now serve tried to kill her and sent her household here so their labor would enrich his treasury. Over the years my mother had rescued all those people from the streets of Saryenia. As her daughter I am obligated to rescue them again.”
He examines me. The silence weighs like pressure on my shoulders. Father taught us girls to always have a backup plan, but I’ve made my one gamble.
“Yes, I can arrange it,” he says.
Elation hits so hard I want to sit down and cry but there isn’t time.
He adds, “The man in charge of carting corpses from the hospital to the tombs outside town is a cousin of mine. We Efeans who live here in Akheres don’t take our dead to that place, but prisoners whether Saroese or Efean who die in the mine are taken there because they have lived and died under Saroese gods and Saroese laws.”
I’m stunned that this really could happen, and even better, that Gargaron will have no idea we’re stealing back the freedom he stole from them. “It will cost money to feed and clothe them, to help them travel to safety. I don’t have much but I can give you my victor’s earnings—”
“No need, Honored Niece.” It is the first time he has addressed me in the Efean w
ay, a sign of respect I never knew I could desire so much. “To rescue those who have been wrongfully punished by Patrons is a responsibility all Efeans take upon themselves. We need nothing from you but this chance you have given us to act. But you must come with me to the hospital.”
“Of course. I’ll have to introduce you to the girl”—I don’t want to say Bettany’s name; it seems safest to pretend we aren’t related—“who is in charge so she knows to trust you.”
As we step out of the tiny courtyard Henta lifts her eyebrows in a question. I nod, and Emsu says, “We will be gone for a bit.”
“I’ll pretend I’m sharing a private meal with the adversary,” she says.
He takes me out the back through an alley. In the east a three-quarter moon rises with a glory that dims the nearby stars. The world seems ablaze with hope.
“Did you serve in the army?” I ask.
“I served with General Inarsis. Many of us left the army with him, when it became clear we would not be given positions of responsibility even though we won a battle on behalf of our Saroese king.” He glances at me. “But of course you may know him, for he is employed by Garon Palace.”
“I do know him, and I’ve often wondered why an Efean man who left the army for the reasons he did would turn around and work for a noble Patron household.”
“Ah,” he says, and afterward there is a long silence as we walk through the dark streets. Wind scrapes across the nearby roofs.
“You don’t trust me, do you?” I say. “Why take this risk, then?”
“I happen to have heard that an unusual number of people were killed in the mine accident, so while it is possible you mean to betray me for some manner of reward, a spy sent to uncover disloyal subjects, it’s as likely that your request is an honest one, in which case I am obligated to act.”
“Thank you, Honored Sir. I won’t betray your trust.”
The hospital’s warehouse-like stone building stands by the southern gate, set against the town wall. At the far end of the building wait six mule-drawn wagons marked with the white death flag.
