by Kate Elliott
“Uncle, let me take her back to General Esladas’s tent, I pray you,” says Kalliarkos. “You can see she is overset by this news.”
“Yes, these adversaries form tight bonds, do they not? I’ll come when I’m finished.”
With all eyes on us, Kalliarkos leads me out. When the night air hits my face I sway, the world spinning Rings around me, and he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me.
Tana is dead. Dusty taken. Bettany betrayed us. She is in part responsible for the death of people I cared for. My own sister, my twin.
I sob into his shoulder.
Kalliarkos carries me straight through the outer chamber of Father’s tent and into the space where Father sleeps. He sets me down on Father’s camp bed and kneels beside me. I am woozy with grief.
“Jes?”
“It was my idea. I made the other adversaries come because I was so sure I could find and rescue Bettany. I got cocky, just like they warned me against. Now it’s too late.”
“You’re not the one who attacked.”
I try to rise but my head swims and the world tilts, and he eases me back down.
“Lie here and don’t move. I’m going to find Doma Ganea.”
He kisses me on the lips so briefly that, after he is gone and I lie in darkness, I am sure I dreamed it.
I close my eyes. Grief and exhaustion overwhelm me. I fall asleep, or maybe I pass out.
When I wake Amaya is shaking me, whispering in my ear.
“Jes? Jes, wake up! Help me! Father is furious and you can’t believe what he’s done.”
I swing my legs over the edge of the camp bed. My clothes are rumpled and my head is clear. A streak of pale light shines along the bottom of the tent: I’ve been left to sleep all night, and dawn has come.
She shakes my arm so hard I think she is going to shake it right off.
“Ouch! Stop it!” At once I’m sorry I yelled at her, and my voice trembles. “Amaya, I have to tell you about Bettany.”
“Bettany! As if I care about Bettany. She stood right next to Lord Agalar as he tried to negotiate with those of us trapped in the citadel, and then when Lord Gargaron told him to go soak his head in a vat of piss, she rode off with those foul murderers and thieves like they were now her best friends. She chose her own path, Jes, and I spit on her. I’m just glad you survived.”
“Did you tell Father about her?”
“Of course I didn’t tell Father, and you shouldn’t either!”
“Then what else could possibly have gone wrong… oh no! Has Lord Gargaron figured out who you are?”
“Oh indeed, no! No! Father saw to that, didn’t he? He wants only to torment me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Lord Gargaron and his guard are leaving to return in haste to Saryenia.”
“They are?” Where is Mis? I should have sought out Mis, trapped alone among people who care nothing for her. I rise.
Amaya grabs my arm again and proceeds to attempt to yank it off. “Father said that rather than have Doma Denya endure another grueling march, he would take her as a camp-wife!”
“Denya?” I can’t even make sense of her statement.
“Oh, he doesn’t care about Denya. He doesn’t want her. He’s just doing this to ruin my life. He is furious at me.”
“As he should be!”
“But Jes—!”
We hear Father’s voice. “No, Haredas. Let Lord Gargaron believe I am keeping both girls with me. They must wear disguises and be placed on the ship with the wounded. Let no one know.”
Sweeping the curtain aside, he enters. Amaya and I bolt upright to attention.
He is literally shaking with anger as he fixes an accusing gaze on me. “How comes it you were traveling all this time with your sister and did not see fit to warn me, Jessamy? If Gargaron had recognized her and realized your mother is alive…!”
He is too stricken to finish the thought.
“Amaya can explain herself,” I say.
Amaya pinches me.
“Ow!” I step on her foot.
“Enough!” Father’s voice whips down over us, and we both straighten. “Is there anything else you are keeping from me, Jessamy?”
Amaya nudges me with a knee.
“No. Nothing else. Am I to sail to Saryenia with Amaya and Doma Denya as well?”
“That would be my preference but unfortunately by express command of Lord Gargaron, you will be riding with his guard. Doma Ganea has left your clean clothing on the side table. You were sleeping so soundly I told her not to wake you.” He shakes his head. “My girls… my own girls… have I taught you nothing that you defy me like this? Have you no respect for your father? No thought for your precious mother’s safety and that of your sisters and of the infants your mother has safely borne beyond all chance and hope?”
Amaya and I clasp hands in solidarity. His anger is so rare and so forbidding.
Never in my life did I think I would welcome the sound of Lord Gargaron’s thin voice raised from the tent’s entrance.
“General Esladas? Are you here? Where is my adversary?”
“Just making ready now, my lord, with the aid of Doma Denya’s maidservant.”
Cursed if Lord Gargaron does not push the curtain aside and walk right into this intimate space as if he has every right to, which he does. Amaya drops immediately to her knees and makes herself busy unfolding my gear. He glances at her short cap of hair and the back of her slender neck, which is all he can see.
“I have promised the maidservant to Captain Neartos as a reward for his loyal service, General.”
A spasm of pure fury passes across Father’s normally controlled expression. Amaya ducks her head, digging into the clothes as if to hide in them.
“Yes, indeed,” says Father in a tight voice that may fool Gargaron but does not fool me, “and when Doma Denya has found and trained a new maidservant to her satisfaction, I shall have this one sent along to you.”
“I am surprised you have taken a liking to Denya. She’s a pretty morsel and has more spine than I expected, but that’s nothing you can’t find in a hundred women in this camp.”
Amaya’s hands wring the fabric of my tunic like she is wringing the neck of a chicken.
“Her father was my rival captain in Lord Ottonor’s retinue and often made light of my low birth.”
“Ah! Now you will have the last laugh, will you not?”
“So I will,” murmurs Father as I stare firmly at my hands and Amaya keeps her head bowed.
But as Amaya knew all along, there was never any reason for Gargaron to remember her face. We are trivial compared to the danger Efea is now in.
“Can you defeat the old Saro alliance, General Esladas?”
“I can slow down their advance, but to defeat them, my lord, I need more troops.”
“I and my guard will ride at speed to Saryenia. We may need to take drastic measures sooner than expected if Kliatemnos refuses to fund new soldiers.”
“Take Kalliarkos with you, my lord.”
“Is he so hopeless that you rid yourself of him?”
“Not at all, my lord. Quite the opposite. He is a promising commander, cool-headed in action and with a rare instinct for how to keep up the morale of his troops. But our situation here is precarious. I advise you not to risk him.”
“You’re afraid we are going to lose.”
“If we can win against such odds, we’ll win whether he is fighting with us or gone with you. But if he is dead, we cannot win.”
“I understand. I will take him with me in case I need to act precipitously against the king and queen upon arrival in Saryenia.”
“Do not underestimate him, my lord. He is a stronger weapon than you may believe. Now, with your permission, may I have a moment alone with my daughter?”
“One moment only, General. The horses are being saddled as we speak.”
Gargaron goes out.
I embrace Amaya, hold her close, wish her well.
She kisses my cheek and lets me go. At least she will be safe on a ship.
We do not speak of Bettany.
Father examines me. He wears his military uniform because he must be ready to defend Efea, because he is always ready to defend the country he made his home, yet in his gaze I do not see the stalwart, brave commander but just my father struggling to make sense of the people his daughters have become.
“Act boldly when you need to, and be cautious when you must,” he says.
I want to tell him that Kalliarkos kissed me, that he’s wrong about us, but this isn’t the time. Yet maybe Father understands because he takes my hand and Amaya’s, his grip strong and comforting.
“Run your Fives, Jessamy. Whatever comes, do not fear to climb the victory tower.”
He kisses my forehead in the familiar way, and he lets me go.
23
After fifteen brutal days and nights of travel, our three carriages and ten guards—survivors from the attack at Crags Fort—reach the gates of Saryenia at dusk.
I lean out the open window of the third carriage, where Mis and I sit crammed in with the traveling chests and provisions. The main avenues should be bustling this time of day as people make their way home, finish their errands, or get ready for an evening’s revelry, but the streets feel oddly empty. It’s almost like we’ve entered a foreign country, not our familiar and beloved hometown.
A militia patrol halts us. “Do you have a pass?” its captain demands of Captain Neartos.
“A pass for what?” asks Neartos with a look of genuine confusion.
“No one is allowed out after nightfall without a special pass stamped with the king’s seal. If you have no pass, I must arrest you.”
Gargaron climbs down from the front carriage, while Kalliarkos stays out of sight. “I am Lord Gargaron, head of Garon Palace. I have just traveled at courier speed from the Eastern Reach with news of the war that the king needs to hear immediately. You may either escort me to the king’s palace or move out of our way.”
The sergeant hesitates, measuring the carriages, our grim-faced guards, and his patrol of eight men.
Then he sees me looking out of the last carriage and takes several steps closer.
“Is that Spider, the adversary? They say you marched a spider right out from under the nose of the enemy and saved the life of Lord Kalliarkos during an enemy raid.”
“Ah, so the news out of Crags Fort has reached Saryenia before us?” Gargaron asks with his thin smile.
“Everyone has heard the rumors. You know how Commoners can hear every whisper on the wind. There’s even a song about it—fantastically entertaining! Well, we wouldn’t want to delay the arrival of this noted Challenger, would we?” He and his soldiers salute me with an adversary kiss, then start to sing as our party rolls on.
The general’s valiant daughter will fight for Efea,
She’ll fight for Efea, and win!
For days Mis has sat passively, wept quietly, and barely spoken, but now she peers out the window as we make our way up the Avenue of Triumphs to the King’s Hill. Patrols move along the streets in force.
“How odd they know your story already, Jes,” says Mis with an edge in her voice that makes me feel I walked right over a secret without seeing it. “Just like someone flew it here by messenger pigeon on purpose, to sweeten our arrival for their own gain.”
“You think Lord Gargaron arranged it?”
She just looks at me, saying nothing, and I feel ashamed.
We two adversaries are set down at Garon Stable, where we are greeted with a stunned surprise by our stablemates. Rejoicing turns to tears as we tell our stories. Afterward we wash and we eat. Mis leaves the table before I’m done and when I follow her I find her in her cubicle packing her belongings into a small storage chest.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m quitting the stable. I’m going home.” A lamp casts light on her determined face.
“How can you just quit?”
“Why do we run the Fives to enrich Patron treasuries and enhance their prestige? There was room in the front carriage for you to sit. You who leaped from Novice to Challenger at her first trial! The hero of Crags Fort! Now subject of a popular song! But even so the daughter of the great hero General Esladas is still crammed in with the baggage because her mother is Efean.”
I open my mouth to reply, then shut it.
“The enemy slaughtered Tana because we Efeans weren’t allowed into the citadel when we first arrived. Had we been inside, she’d be alive. And then the enemy took Dusty because he is young and strong enough to bear their burdens, and Efean enough to be discarded when they no longer need him.”
“He’ll survive. I’m sure of it.”
She straightens to look me in the eye. “Don’t pretend that things turn out all right for people like Dusty, Jes. Don’t insult him in that way.”
“But you escaped, Mis. It happens sometimes.” Her expression closes its claws around my throat, and I know I am just saying so because I don’t want to face the truth. “You care for him, don’t you? More than just as a friend.”
“Much good it did me! He only had eyes for a Patron girl, like I’m nothing.”
“Mis…”
“Do you know why I escaped?”
“Because Tana sacrificed herself to save you, me, and Dusty.”
“Yes, she did, but that’s not why I survived. After you ran off to warn the priest, the doctor and his servants broke open the gate, caught Dusty and me, and handed us over to the East Saro soldiers. They were to send me with the captured wagons as a beast of burden, like they did Dusty, but the doctor’s Efean concubine convinced him to leave me behind. I think she didn’t want me to suffer what she suffers.”
My body sags, and I brace myself against the wall. Bettany saved Efean women and children, including Mis. I see now that she tried to get Amaya and me out of the way, but no matter how I turn it, once she realized we wouldn’t leave she let us ride into an ambush knowing we could die.
“You saw the empty streets, Jes. Soldiers on patrol. A curfew in place. When we left Saryenia, grain prices were already so high people stood in line to get a ration of bread. Imagine what it is like now for hungry people. For poor people.”
“That’s why we have to fight for Efea. As the army does.”
“The Royal Army fights for the power of the king and queen, for the lords, for the Patrons, not for us! Never for us.”
She breaks off as we hear footsteps in the corridor. Talon pads past without even glancing in to see what we’re doing.
“I’ve been here a year and she’s never spoken to me because she’s too proud to speak to someone like me,” Mis whispers. “Don’t you understand? I’m going to find a way to fight for Efea. For Efeans. Not for them.” She grasps my hands. Her grip, like mine, is strong and true. “Come with me, Jes. My family will hide you. You deserve better than this, running trials so they can win.”
“Jes!” Darios calls from the entry of the women’s barracks, for it’s not proper for an unrelated man to step inside a dormitory where unmarried women sleep. “There’s a steward from Garon Palace here. You’ve been summoned by Lord Kalliarkos.”
Mis shakes her head in a pitying way, kisses me on the cheek, and releases my hands. “At least I can leave. You’re the one who is trapped.”
The steward escorts me through the servants’ entrance into Garon Palace. He guides me down servants’ pathways, out of sight of the residents, and up to a rooftop terrace that looks across the city. Princess Berenise sits in a cushioned chair, hands in her lap. I look around for Kalliarkos, but she and I are alone except for her attendants. I am brought before her and allowed to kneel. Age has bent her body but her gaze is fierce.
“Ah. Spider. Here you are.”
“Your Highness.” Mis’s anger still throbs in my ears, so I speak imprudently and perhaps a bit tartly. “Does this mean Lord Kalliarkos is not the one who summoned me?”
“Yo
u must show patience.” Her voice has a clarity that impresses me, each word so distinct I feel I could pluck it out of the air. “I can bring about many things, if I so choose.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” I wait as a servant hands her a cup. She sips, and the servant takes the cup and stands to one side, ready to offer it again.
“I recommend you listen closely. In the few months you have been gone from Saryenia, Menoë has begun a tradition of passing out bread to the populace at the weekly Fives trials. It keeps the Fives court packed, and of course it has made the citizens of Saryenia sing her praises.”
“A cunning plan, Your Highness, but I don’t see what it has to do with me.”
She lifts a hand. “Patience. Menoë has become the confidant of Queen Serenissima, who is weak but no fool. The queen sees the restlessness of the population but she only knows how to control people through force. It is Serenissima who pushed through the curfew to keep the streets quiet at night. She sees how detached Kliatemnos has become, sunk in his Archives as he hunts for this Efean poet who he is sure has a secret about our ancestors hidden away.”
I think of the oracle we rescued from Lord Ottonor’s tomb.
Expecting no reply, Princess Berenise goes on. “Menoë has a persuasive manner—”
Certainly Menoë seems to have persuaded my father of her keen strategic mind and her innocence in any plotting with Nikonos! But I can’t say that aloud until I understand where Berenise stands.
“—and has convinced the queen to allow Prince Temnos to make carefully supervised trips outside of the royal grounds. He attends the Fives trials every week now. The crowd loves him because of his delicate constitution and because he presides with Menoë over the weekly distribution of bread.”
A smile touches my lips. Temnos must love the adoration of the crowd as well as the chance to watch the Fives. I wonder if anyone has been training him or if they even really care about him except as a tool to use in their plotting.
“Prince Temnos took a strong liking to you, Spider. As it happens, tomorrow is Fivesday, and as a special surprise for the prince, who will be attending, you will run a trial so he can see you.”
