Chenaol scratched her head for a moment, then offered, “Would my lady like to see our armaments, and choose something more to her taste?”
“I would,” Nuritin replied stoutly. “This is a bit heavier than I can manage easily.” As the two women walked to the back of the house, carrying spears, Nuritin added, “And since we are to be comrades in battle, we had best do away with this ‘my lady' nonsense.”
Dove was seated at the foot of the stairs, her arms wrapped around her knees. When Aly looked at her, Dove said, “Next time, I want a saddle.”
Fesgao and the rest of their group, who had been catching their breath until now, knelt as one and bowed their heads to her. Aly followed suit.
“Mama, why did they do that?” asked Petranne. “They're only supposed to bow like that to the king.”
Winnamine turned, Petranne still in her arms, and saw their escorts and Dove. She set Petranne down. “Because Dove is to be the next king,” she replied, and curtsied deeply.
Petranne did the same, as well as her six-year-old coordination would allow her. Despite that, she said, “But Dove can't be king. She's a girl.”
Dove rose and walked over to them. She said, her voice shaking, “And this girl isn't going to be that kind of king. Get up, all of you, please. I never want to see any of you on your knees again, for anyone. Winna, please, don't. You're my mother, Petranne's my sister.” Her chin wobbled. “Please don't close me out.” She looked at Aly. “That applies to you as well.”
Winnamine rose and hugged her stepdaughter. Kissing the top of Dove's head, she said in a mother's croon, “It's all right. We're all home and safe.”
Safe for the moment, thought Aly. The riot in Rittevon Square had not diminished once Dove had gone. If anything, it had intensified, spreading north and east through Middle Town. The household had lost three men-at-arms, killed in the fight. Five more were seriously hurt. Boulaj had dislocated her shoulder.
“If you will excuse me, I need more information,” Aly told the others, and headed for her workroom. Passing a door that opened out to the pool courtyard, she saw the great chestnut kudarung there, drinking sedately. Three full-sized mares and a handful of miniature kudarung cropped the grass that grew outside the tiled court.
So much for secrecy, Aly thought tiredly, and walked on. She ducked into her workroom to collect herself. Nawat was there, to her surprise, caught in the act of placing a lotus on her worktable. He swept her up for a hard kiss and embrace. “My kin told me you were well and fighting your way home,” he said, “or I would have come for you. Were you pleased when they came to help Dove? I didn't even ask them to, or the little kudarung. They did it because they wanted to.”
Aly pressed a hand to his mouth. “I'm very grateful,” she said. “Is anyone in the meeting room?”
“Many of your spies, and Ulasim, and Fesgao, and Quedanga,” replied Nawat. “They have information for you, as have I, from my kinfolk.”
“Information is good,” said Aly as they crossed the hall. They could barely fit in, so many sat in the chairs and on the floor. She managed to wriggle her way through to a counter along the wall. Sitting there, she had a view of everyone's face. Nawat remained by the now-closed door, leaning against the wall. Guchol took a few slates from her lap and handed them over; Atisa provided a lump of chalk.
Aly murmured her thanks, nodded to Ulasim and the other senior conspirators, then looked at her pack and their recruits. Placing a clean slate on her knees, she said, “Very well, my children. Since we all have much to say, let us be organized about it. Who has word from Downwind and the Honeypot?”
She released them to go learn more once they had emptied their budgets of news. She noted that Fesgao and Quedanga came and went, pursuing their own duties. Dove arrived at some point, followed by Nuritin and Nomru. The last three stayed, as did Ulasim, while still more messengers arrived. Dove even took over the note-taking briefly so that Aly could ease her writing hand and eat something.
Aly took a short walk to unwind and visit the privy, then stepped out into the garden and looked up. Was it her imagination, or were the multicolored sparks that represented the Trickster now brighter?
When she returned, she reviewed the notes for what she had missed, then began to take things down again. Finally Ulasim called for lamps. Aly hadn't even noticed it was growing dark; she had simply shifted her Sight so she could work without interruption as the light grew dim. Knocked from her concentration, she looked up and around. Winnamine had come, as had Baron Engan, Ferdy Tomang, and Lord Obemaek. Nawat returned soon after lamps were lit. As Aly stretched her neck to ease a cramp, Imgehai Qeshi arrived, her black priestess's robes disordered, her hood shoved back.
“The fighting has reached the middle of Market Town,” she told them, panting. That was where her temple was located.
Aly looked at Ulasim. “There's been no dwindling of the riot since we got home,” she told him wearily. “It's spread. And don't ask me how I know this bit, but Rubinyan has sent two hundred of the Rittevon Guard and four decades of Rittevon Lancers out. Their orders are to beat the fighting back to the lower edges of Middle Town, but they're stalled at Rittevon Square. The Honeypot is burning again. Who knew they had anything left? The King's Watch is trying to contain another riot in Downwind. With a little help from people who know what they're doing, their lines can be broken there, if you are in the mood. That riot's spreading to Dockmarket and up to Flowergarden. That is the state of affairs in Rajmuat at this time.” She massaged her neck. “What are your orders?”
Ulasim sat, his eyes going from one conspirator's face to another's, ending on Dove's. For a very long, still moment the big raka said and did nothing. At last he made a face. “I think it is plain to all of us that the war has begun ahead of schedule,” he said drily. “Any child knows it is better to swim with the tide than against it. We attack in force at dawn.”
20
BATTLE JOINED
Messengers left the house with orders for the fighter groups hidden all over the city. Members of the luarin conspiracy sent their loved ones, with some guards from their own households, to the Balitang home. Lord Obemaek told Fesgao that if worse came to worst, the families could flee Rajmuat from the house closest to the docks. Aly thought it sweet, though unrealistic. If Crown troops showed up in the Windward District at all, it would be because the rebels had been beaten, and no ship would be able to sail.
Ochobu made certain that everyone who entered Balitang House first had to submit to truthspells wielded by Ochobu, Ysul, or the handful of Chain mages who had entered the city, or to questions under Aly's Sight as she looked to see if they lied. Those who failed the test of loyalty were locked up rather than executed. It was time to start changing their old policies, Ulasim had told the conspirators. If people who were not on their side were spared when possible, it might create goodwill after the fighting was done.
As everyone bustled about in the hours after midnight, Aly sought a private moment with Ulasim. “You'll see Nawat later,” he said before she could open her mouth. “He and his fighters will meet you and Chenaol.” When Aly did not leave, he sighed. “That's not it? Well, can the rest wait?” he asked, trying to tie back his hair and write at once.
“It cannot,” Aly said, taking control of his hair. “Believe me, I'm not here to waste your time.” She did an efficient braid and tied it off.
Ulasim finished his document and handed it to a waiting messenger. “Close the door,” he ordered her. As the door thunked shut behind her, Ulasim looked up at Aly. “What is it?” he demanded.
Aly crouched and held out a hand. “Lace,” she called. “It's time.”
The darking had been hiding under Ulasim's chair. Now it rolled forward onto Aly's palm. Aly picked it up and showed it to Ulasim.
“This is Lace,” she told her general, whose eyes had gone wide at the sight of the odd creature. “I cannot tell you how I came to know it, or where it comes from. You would really dislike the answer.
Lace is a darking. Say hello to Ulasim,” she instructed.
Lace stuck up a neck and head. “Hello. What one of us knows, we all know. We can even show sometimes, if you are not in a hurry.”
Aly offered the darking to Ulasim. “I mean to give one to Fesgao, Ochobu, Chenaol, Nomru, Her Grace, and Dove.” Gingerly Ulasim accepted Lace. “They're all I have left,” Aly continued as he rolled the darking on his palm. “The others, but for my personal darking, are at the palace. You keep yours by you, as I always keep mine by me. Say hello, Trick.”
Trick put its head up from its necklace shape. “Hello,” it said. “It is a fine thing to say hello to you people at last.”
“How long have they— No,” Ulasim corrected himself as Aly raised a finger. “No questions. But can we trust them, whatever they are?”
“We have kept your trust for weeks,” Lace informed him. “We have heard everything, and we have told only Aly.”
Ulasim started to speak, then stopped. He looked at their surroundings, the conspirators' meeting room, then at Lace. “For weeks,” he repeated, his voice very dry. “And you reported only to Aly.”
“We do not lie,” Trick said in reproof. “Not much.”
“Lies are boring,” added Lace.
“A good thing we never planned to betray you,” Ulasim told Aly.
Aly smiled at him. “Now you're being silly,” she replied. “The best place to wear one is around your neck. That way they can speak in your ear.”
Lace rolled up Ulasim's arm, raising goose bumps on the man's skin. It shaped itself like a band around his neck. “I tell you what is happening around other darkings,” Lace explained.
Ulasim hitched his shoulders. “It is the strangest feeling,” he remarked. “Bright Eyes, it is always something new with you. Fesgao, Mother, Nomru, Chenaol, Her Grace, and Lady Dove?” Aly nodded. Ulasim smoothed his bearded chin. “And you. Very good. The Crown's mages can interfere with the communications of our mages. Will that affect these creatures?”
“No,” said Trick, authority in its tiny voice. “We are not shaped from the Gift of mortals, but by Stormwing blood and magic in the Divine Realms.”
Ulasim looked startled.
“It will go better if you treat them as people,” Aly said gently. “With their own minds and thoughts. Treat them as you would any message runner. The only differences are, these never leave you, and they get news from widely scattered forces more quickly than any runner.” She raised her eyebrows. “Have I permission to give one to the others?”
“I would be a fool to stop you,” said Ulasim. “Though if your sources are limited, I would keep one back for Nawat. He will be meeting Chenaol's party.”
“Quartz,” suggested Secret. “Quartz came with Countess Tomang. Quartz doesn't want to stay while we hunt.”
“Good idea,” Aly told it.
Ulasim gazed at Lace with a frown. “These . . . darkings . . . are in the palace?”
“We hear things and we tell Aly,” explained Lace. “Fun.”
With his free hand Ulasim rubbed his eyes. “I bless the day the god sent you to us, Aly.” When Lace squeaked in indignation, he added, “And you darkings. I hope the god has no more surprises left. I have had all the surprises I can wrap my mind around.” He flapped a hand in dismissal.
Aly had similar conversations with Fesgao, Ochobu, Duke Nomru, Chenaol, and Winnamine as she introduced them to their darkings. She made sure to talk to each of them alone. It would be a bother to explain her small friends to even more members of the conspiracies. As it was, Ochobu threatened her with blisters for keeping them to herself.
The last person she sought was Dove. The girl sat on the edge of the courtyard pool, little kudarung tucked and slumbering all around her, the big stallion and his mares dozing nearby on the grass. Though there were no torches lit in the garden, Aly could see Dove's face plainly. It was the face of mutiny.
“If you've come to say I serve best by waiting here . . . ,” she warned as Aly approached. “‘Stay safe,' they tell me, while people are dying in my name. What kind of queen sits around eating guava while her people are in danger?”
“A creative one,” Aly told her, kneeling beside Dove. “I have someone I want you to meet, my lady. Secret.”
There was a squeak from her left shoulder. While Trick, on her right, had spoken up with its own firm opinions as Aly introduced the others to their darkings, Secret had shriveled against Aly's skin, making itself smaller and smaller. Secret had believed it would have to stay with Aly.
“I have to meet someone secret?” asked Dove, confused.
“No, someone named Secret,” Aly said, holding out her left arm and open hand. Secret rolled down her arm and into her palm, producing its head the moment it came to a stop. “I kept you back for Dove,” Aly explained to the darking, which shivered with excitement. “I wasn't going to leave you out.” She made her introductions and explanations and transferred Secret to its new friend. It gave her a pang to part with the little darking, but she could tell from the way Secret wrapped itself around Dove's slender neck that it had badly wanted work of its own.
Aly got to her feet, her heart pounding. She kept her voice even as she said, “It's important that you stay safe. Without you, we have nothing to secure any kind of victory with. But there's safe and there's safe, if you take my meaning.” Dove stared at her, then frowned. Aly continued, “True, it would do the fighters good to see you, but not if it will bring you within arrow-shot.” She bowed to Dove. “My pack and I go hunting at dawn,” she said. “If I don't see you again, I just want you to know, I would have worked for you gladly even without the god's involvement.”
Aly left the garden, thinking, If she takes the hint, Ulasim will kill me. She grinned. Though he'll have to dethrone Imajane and Rubinyan first. I can live with that.
Her pack and their recruits assembled in her workroom while Aly changed into a specially made sarong that included hidden sheaths for her thin, flat knives. The sash also had a few surprises in its folds. Breifly she envied her mother, able to tuck herself into armor with a number of weapons at hand. Aly felt virtually naked. There was nothing more she could do apart from settling a length of chain in her sash. Her work was different from Mother's, that was all.
“We've been taking orders from a girl who's younger than any of us?” cried a recruit who had never met her.
Boulaj and Junai fixed him with stony eyes. “She is the god's gift,” Boulaj said in a voice like ice.
“I have a daughter her age,” protested a woman who loaded grain at the Dockmarket as she gathered information for Eyun.
“I am ancient in treachery,” Aly said with an agreeable smile. “If you're going to whine, you may stay and tend the real children here.”
Someone whispered, “She brought down Topabaw. She said she would do it, and she did.”
“He still rots out by the harbor,” added Vitorcine, Aly's first double agent. “I haven't had to betray my masters since he got dead. I'll follow her wherever she likes.”
After that, there was no more discussion. They all checked weapons and each other's clothing. Chenaol arrived as they were doing a final count. The cook was also dressed to fight, a cutlass belted at her waist. In one hand she carried a heavy ax. Light slid along its curved, sharp edge.
“Let's go, my dears,” she told them. “We have to cross the city by dawn.”
Getting to Flowergarden, the district west of Downwind, took them triple the time it would have taken if conditions had been normal. Royal patrols that numbered twenty and thirty grim-faced men roamed the streets. They did not submit to the rain of garbage and stones that fell from the buildings, but killed anyone foolish enough to be caught outside. Any fighter who shot at people who threw things went down the next moment with an arrow in his throat.
After her people's fifth plea to help those attacked by the soldiers, Aly asked Chenaol for a quick halt and gathered them close. “We cannot stop and fight every fight alon
g the way,” she told them softly, firmly, keeping anger and nerves out of her voice and face. They had to see her calm and in control, these people who had only ever known the pack member who had recruited them. “If you want to drop out and die foolishly, do it without argument. The rest of us have a mission, a vital one. We can't afford distractions, however many old ladies douse the King's Watch in night soil. Either leave or be silent.”
After that, they kept silent. Aly wasn't sure if it was her words or the glares of those who had recruited them. Either way, no one left their group. They moved on through the night, through tunnels, alleys, and sometimes up stairs and over rooftops, any course that would keep them clear of the patrols and the pockets of fighting scattered throughout the city. North and across Dockmarket, Market Town, then Middle Town they followed Chenaol, who seemed to know exactly when to hide and when to advance. As they crossed the city, Trick whispered in Aly's ear. Ulasim and his fighters had met Crown troops on southern side of town. These soldiers came from the Greater Fortress. They were hesitant and inclined to run. As the survivors of the deadly raids and fires at the fortress, they lacked the spirit of other men who had come to battle on the Crown's behalf. Ulasim told his darking that he thought these soldiers felt that they'd had enough raka fighting the night the two fortresses had burned. They would be remembering that there should have been more of them, and that many of them should have been whole and strong, not marked with burns.
Fesgao's soldiers collided with nearly one hundred men-at-arms in service to loyal luarin families on the northeastern edge of the Swan District, where it met Market Town. The luarin troops were outnumbered but fighting well, his darking reported. Fesgao was far short of his destination, but Ochobu, hearing of his delay, sent two Chain mages to his aid. Three more mages joined Ulasim, while Ochobu herself led a small group of mages, hooded and cloaked like the Black God's priests, up Rittevon's Lance, straight into the fighting on the square. They started to blast their way through the soldiers of the hated King's Watch.
Trickster's Queen Page 38
