by Sarah Dalton
The Sisters lit a fire and passed a small bowl of nuts around the group. There was dirty water to drink, but at least the fire warmed them. It was colder here. They were further north than Reva had ever been before. She glanced hungrily at the Sister wearing her cloak. The ball of hatred hardened inside her. Her dress had torn at the seams when that monstrous sensation had taken over her. Now her dress was airy, letting in the cold breeze of the night to tickle and cool her ribs.
Even the girl was silent as they sat and ate their nuts. They ate to the music of the wolves, while the Sisters held their weapons tight and gazed into the shadows of the forest. Reva thought of the ghosts and wondered if Ammie was walking lost through the trees. The thought of her restless spirit made her throat tight. No, Ammie was with her family now. She had to be. The alternative was a weight that Reva did not have the strength to bear.
The Sisters sang back to the wolves, intoning yet another song to Anios.
We are going to the gardens,
To find our prince of truth.
We are going to the gardens,
Our worship it does soothe.
Heal me, Anios!
Love me, Anios!
See me, Anios!
Prince of truth.
We will fight against the magic,
It will be our way.
We will destroy those with magic,
And to our prince we pray.
Heal me, Anios!
Love me, Anios!
See me, Anios!
Prince of truth.
Reva knew little of the God of Insight, except that His followers were devout and strange. There had been gossip that the Brothers of Insight created strange potions from the blood of the sacrificed. Word spread through the kingdom that Prince Stefan had turned his mouth blood-red from the potions, and that they made him part snake. They said his skin was scaled when he was naked, and that his tongue was forked. They said the potions made him more cunning than any other man in Estala, and that he was crueller than them, too. Reva had dismissed it all as ridiculous gossip. She had almost been a sister to Stefan and he had seemed a normal boy to her. He was not as well liked as Luca, Matias, or the rest of King Davead’s children, and there were times when Stefan sulked mightily if they did not let him join their fun, but she had seen nothing unusual in him. He was a mere boy.
At least she had thought so back then. Now she was not so sure. Not after tasting sour injustice from his men.
“What kind of Menti are you?”
It was the girl again. Now that they were sat side by side, she could make out her features. Reva had walked for hours with the girl at her back, hearing only her voice. Sometimes she pictured it was Ammie speaking to her; other times she pictured a skinny, tall girl with bright eyes. Now, she saw that the girl was in fact stunning, and for some reason that surprised her. She supposed she had never imagined common-born girls to be beautiful, and that was stupid of her. The girl was golden-skinned and golden-haired, as though she had been moulded from honey. Her eyes were a deep brown with golden flecks, and her lips were full. She was right about the bright eyes, though. They gave her face animation and made the girl appear intelligent and full of wit.
“What?” Reva blurted out.
“What kind are you? You were stopped mid-shift so I didn’t see. You looked a little… reptilian. Maybe a snake.”
Reva thought of Stefan and shivered. “I am not a snake.”
“Then what are you?”
Reva sighed. “I do not know. And I do not want to know. I will never be doing that again.”
“You will,” the girl said. “At least, you will if you ever get out of these irons.” She held her hands up and shook the heavy manacles. “So did you get driven out of a town by Prince Stefan’s men too? Those spies of his sniff out Menti from all across Estala. If you ask me, it’s eerie. After they’ve sacked some poor town, the Sisters mop up his leftovers, ridding the world of us.” She stopped for a moment and gave a little shake of her head. Then she continued after regaining her composure. “Your dress and boots are too fine. You must be the daughter of a Lord. I never talked like this to a girl of good birth before. You know… sat down and talked like we’re both equal. I used to take butter to Lord Coren. Do you know him?”
“No,” Reva lied. Lord Coren had spent time at court while she was living there. He was a rotund man from the east coast of Kestalon, with a plump daughter he had hoped to marry to Luca or Alberto.
“I can change my face,” the girl said. “That’s my Menti gift. When I’ve seen a face, I can think of it and become them. My body changes. I almost am them. Anyway, I pretended to be a stable boy once so I could get a better price. Lord Coren was so tight he would buy his own goods rather than send a man. But they said he gave the boys better prices. And I did. I got a better price, but he pinched my buttocks as I turned to leave.” The girl watched Reva as she giggled, but when Reva did not react, the giggle faded. “It’s good to know what kind of Menti you are. There was a time when I felt a bit lost. I hated it. I didn’t understand what was going on or why I kept changing. I’d look in the mirror and see a different person one day to the next. My own mother shooed me out of the house thinking I was an intruder. She locked the door behind me and it took me three days to figure out how to change back into me. Mother even told the town guards that a traveller had stolen her daughter.”
“Who did you turn into?” Reva had not meant to listen to her story, but somehow she was drawn into the tale.
“Some man I saw outside a tavern,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t know why it was him. I think he frightened me and then I dreamt of his face. The next morning I was him.”
It was then that Reva realised she did not know the girl’s name, but she was afraid to ask. She had already spent too long learning her story. When Reva thought about her friend, all her thoughts were consumed by the image of Ammie falling to the floor after being cut down by Valeria. What if she became attached to this girl and it ended the same way? What if she brought this girl bad luck like she had brought everyone else in her life? Reva rubbed the tenderness in her abdomen and tried not to think of it anymore.
It was night-time in the Dourwood Forest, and there was little light except for their fire. The Sisters carried on singing in low voices, never dropping their weapons. The chained girls fell to sleep one by one, while Reva sat and stared at the shadows between the trees. Slowly, her eyes began to droop and her head lolled forward. But she did not lie down for a time; she let her eyes open and close, never wanting to stop watching Sister Valeria. And as she sat there with her mind succumbing to slumber, she saw dark shapes moving through the shadows.
“What is it called?” Reva whispered to the girl.
“What?” the girl answered, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
“The place they are taking us… Where we work. What is it called?”
She rubbed her eyes again. “The Gardens of Anios.”
Reva did not think that sounded so bad. A garden was a pleasant place. A place of beauty. She frowned down at her chains. No. She must not believe in how things appeared to be. The Sisters had seemed safe, yet they had been the most dangerous of all. A garden could be ugly as well as beautiful. Still, she drifted into sleep, dreaming of the blue meadow where she had stood with Ammie, and in her mind the meadow was the Garden of Anios. They ran together through the flowers, and the next morning her cheeks were damp with tears.
After the girls woke and the Sisters pulled them back to their feet, they stumbled through Dourwood Forest in a disorderly line. The chain from the girl in front yanked Reva forward. Every time it yanked her, she tried her best to move her feet faster until the aching tiredness overcame her and she slowed back down. The girl behind her was not as chatty today. No one had slept well the previous night. Wolf-song and Sister-song had woken them many times. Reva forced herself to concentrate on moving one foot and then the next. She watched her feet, checking the forest floor for roots to trip her toes.
She had fallen once, and it dragged two girls down with her and bruised her neck, wrists, and ankles with the iron manacles. She would not make that mistake again.
Sister Valeria was an ever present threat, stalking up and down the line with her monstrous iron whip. There were times when the Sister gave a sardonic half smile that Reva felt sure was aimed at her, though the woman never so much as glanced her way. Reva could not take her eyes off the tall, muscular woman. All she could think about was the moment Valeria plunged a knife into Ammie’s chest. There was a stain on the Sister’s dress, an ugly, brown stain that had once been red. Reva could not stop looking at that stain.
Though there was the occasional wolf’s howl as they walked through the forest, the wolves left them alone. As Reva concentrated on her steps, she found that the path began to widen, and the trees cleared. They stumbled out of the dark forest and blinked at the afternoon sun. It was bright, yet here, sunshine came with a bite of cold.
The chained girls hobbled on, cresting a hill of emerald pasture. The field tumbled down the hill into a valley of farmland. Golden crops met stretching orchards and olive groves. Acres and acres of land nestled in the valley, surrounding an uninviting collection of outhouses and buildings. Reva viewed the high fence with a hard knot in her stomach. There was a gate facing them, built of thick wood, like the gates outside Nesra’s Keep in the south. Beyond that she could see a courtyard dotted with animals and people, flanked by two tall towers of stone. Guard towers, she thought. The fenced building was a slab of drab grey amidst the colourful rolling fields. It was a garrison without a battalion, but more importantly, it was a prison. A work prison.
As they walked closer, Reva saw people in the fields, collecting crops, turning the soil, picking olives. They were girls in irons, with the Sisters overseeing their work with whips at their hip. One small girl looked up at the new arrivals, and wiped the back of her hand along her forehead, smearing dirt there. Reva’s heart panged as she saw the girl’s young face. She cannot be more than ten. When the whip came down on the girl, Reva’s body convulsed with hers. She had to bite her lip to stop herself crying out when the girl screamed in pain.
I am a slave, she thought, a prisoner and a slave. They will work me until I am on my knees.
It was no garden.
They trudged the last few steps. She stumbled, and almost pulled the girls down with her. Reva’s companion, the girl with honey hair, was silent as they passed through the gates. No one made even a peep of noise. All those in irons were women, but the guards were men. The men wore swords at their belts, and mail under their boiled leather. Reva watched the men turn towards the new batch of slaves, and she saw their eyes scrutinising every girl. She wanted to go home then. For the first time in many years, she wanted to go home to Avalon Towers on the Fiuryn Coast, and run into her mother’s arms. She wanted the salt air back, and the taste of freshly baked white fish. She wanted the hot southern sun on her skin, and the jagged rocks of the cliffs. But instead she was here, with murderess Sisters and strange men looking at her all wrong.
When the gate locked behind her, panic took up home in her chest.
Stefan
Stefan could not contain his excitement as he strode into his father’s council chamber. The king had summoned him to give a report on Luca’s whereabouts, but rather than speak in his father’s chambers, they were to talk in the council room. Stefan was rarely allowed in this room. It was where Father talked to his advisors, and where Matias had updated the king on important matters. Stefan rarely updated the king on important matters. For the most part, he worked on his own schemes. But since Matias had died…
The large table hosted twelve chairs, one for each of King Davead’s advisors. Matias used to sit next to the king, or at least that was what he had heard. Stefan was disappointed to see the table empty apart from his father, who sat with his squire pouring wine into a goblet over his shoulder. The room smelled old and musty, like a mossy forest.
Stefan stood opposite his father and awaited his commands.
“You may sit,” said the king.
It was not easy being a king’s son. A man who is king is always king first and foremost, and a father second. A man who is king does not ask of his son, he commands. Stefan had spent his life taking commands—though at least now he knew one day he would get to give those commands. One day he would have his own sons, and he would be able to command them—not that he would do it in the same way as his father.
“You have news of Luca?” King Davead took a sip of wine before gesturing for the squire to pour Stefan a cup. One thing Stefan always noted was how the king had a fresh goblet of wine when he met with subjects, advisors and the like, but he never drained the wine. He sipped, and he filled the cups of his advisors or guests, but he never finished his own.
Stefan sipped his wine, making sure he did not guzzle the drink out of nervousness. “We found the captain of the ship that took Luca to the Golden Bay in Xantos. Axil arranged it all, with Luca disguised as a Brother. It seems Axil was at least prepared enough to take money and some belongings with him. I think it’s safe to say that Axil was the mastermind behind the murder of Matias. I believe him to be with the Menti. The sea captain said Luca looked ill and could barely stand.”
“The boy was on his deathbed,” the king grumbled. “Or so the healer said.”
There was a pause. Neither Stefan nor his father had visited Luca when he was taken with the fever. Matias, Stefan’s sisters, and little Alberto had all been to see the sickly boy, but Stefan could not stomach weakness. He suspected the same of his father.
“Where is this sea captain? I wish to speak with him.” The king raised his hand and gestured towards the door.
Stefan’s skin grew cold. He had not expected his father to demand to see the captain. And now that he was here—in the council room, with the king staring down at him—that seemed like the most foolish thought in the world. Why had he not anticipated his father’s wishes? When he had been in the cave with Brother Mikkel it had seemed so clear: The captain had to die.
“We… He is not here, Your Majesty.”
The king knitted his fingers and rested his arms on the table top, leaning in towards Stefan. It reminded Stefan of his father’s size. He was an intimidating man, bearlike, with broad shoulders and a thick beard.
“Where is he?”
“Brother Mikkel thought it best we sacrifice him to Anios. The man heard too much… He… We spoke of travelling to Xantos, to the Ash Mountains where the rebel Menti have gathered.”
“There are no rebel Menti!” the king boomed. “We destroyed them all!” His fist slammed against the table, and Stefan desperately tried not to flinch. “I cannot believe the impertinence of my own son! Did I command you to kill informers?”
“No, but—”
“What did I command?”
“A report, but—”
“A report includes words from the man’s own mouth, not second-hand words from yours. He might have known more. You are a fool! A fool! What will the common folk make of this? Do you think you will find more informers once word gets around that you kill them? Well?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
The silence that followed was oppressive. Stefan could barely breathe. Sweat broke out on his forehead, which he longed to wipe away but dared not do. He could not move.
“You say it was that Brother who told you to kill the captain?” asked the king. By now his voice had calmed from a shout, but the gravel in it still unnerved Stefan.
“Mikkel suggested it, but I agreed, Your Majesty.” Stefan tried to force himself to meet his father’s gaze, but instead he found himself staring at his hands.
“It is time to stop hiding behind that Brother. I do not like him. They told me he was a man of discipline when I found him, and I thought that was what you would need. You were a disobedient child who needed a firm hand. But I see now that I made an error. This Brother Mikkel has made a zealot of you. His warped idea
s about this Anios are no good. I want the Menti dead or enslaved just as well as you, but I dislike this method you have of working, Stefan. It is not befitting of a prince. It is not my way, and I think it is time you learned my way.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Stefan continued to stare at his hands, with his cheeks burning hot under his father’s intense gaze.
“It is time for you to sit on the council.”
Stefan’s head snapped up. “On the council, Your Majesty?”
The king grunted. “You will not participate for at least a month. You will listen, and you will watch. You will hear the counsel I receive from my advisors and you will ruminate on that counsel. You will pay attention and learn. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” It was more than he had hoped for. He had thought the king would wait until he was a man to include him on the council. But a month until he could participate? This was good news, indeed. He pushed away the thoughts of Brother Mikkel and the incident with the sea captain. That was unfortunate, yes, but a blunder he could rectify with time.
“You will travel to Xantos and follow Luca’s tracks. If he has travelled to the Ash Mountains, then so be it, you will too. Take as many men as you need. A battalion. Wipe them all out if there are in fact Menti there.” The king tapped his fingers on the wood of the table. “It was not easy, but I have secured safe passage to the Ash Mountains for you and your men. It meant grovelling to the Gold Council of Xantos like a sycophantic fool, and allowing them further trade inside the walls of Reyalon, but as long as your men leave the people of Xantos be and fight only the Menti hiding in the mountains, it is permitted. I’ll deliver all the relevant paperwork to you before you depart. You may take several ships from the Royal Fleet.” He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Now, listen carefully. I want you to heed my words. If you believe Axil is a Menti, there is a chance Luca has been dragged into something in which he did not wish to participate. Perhaps it would be wise to keep my son alive after all.”
