by Connie Ward
At Sestus's prompt I spilled Uncle's campaign secrets. Repachea bombarded me with questions. Through it all Ginger stood in a corner, staring at me with those shrewd mage eyes, and never uttered a word.
By nightfall the Citizens Risen Up to Stand Against a Dread and Errant Regency knew everything of strategic importance the Gryphon Highlord knew, which, when I thought about it, was not a hell of a lot.
"It's my understanding,” I said, “that in the beginning Bertrand and his advisors never considered your revolt anything but minor unrest. It would pass. A shove here, a nudge there, would put the unruly in their place. Even when you evolved into a nuisance they didn't consider you a real peril. After all, what threat could a rabble of exiles pose to the might and will of Castle Gryphon? No one seemed to worry until mercenaries began to appear."
"It was a mistake for the Regent to ignore us,” Repachea growled. “We will make him rue it."
"Nevertheless, the Regent has lost patience. The Citizens Risen Up to Stand Against a Dread and Errant Regency have proven themselves dangerous. It is no longer a matter of subduing you, but one of eradicating you completely. He is done playing games. He means to kill the Crusader movement for good."
"The Gryphon Highlord won't let him,” Repachea replied, managing to startle me.
"How so?"
"Through everything, she has remained tolerant. There were times when she could have run us into the ground, but she refrained. She is torn between her people and the Regent ... and that will undo her. The Gryphon Highlord is weak. She lacks conviction. Though she does not realize it she has crippled the Royalists with her own indecision, her inability to do that which is sometimes necessary. Her guilty conscience is our greatest asset. While she dithers, pleading for leniency, pleading for compromise, we grow bigger, stronger, smarter, until Bertrand is no longer in any position to stop us."
I went rigid with indignation. Is that truly how the people of Thylana perceive me? As weak? Spineless? Wishy-washy? Is it strictly a Crusader point of view or simply Repachea's?
It was then I resolved to show them all—Crusaders, Sestus and Uncle—a thing or two. By the time this was over, no one in Thylana would ever underestimate the Gryphon Highlord again.
Repachea sat there in his chair, looking so smug, so superior, I actually considered letting him and his assortment of Crusader know-it-alls go down with their sinking ship. But if they continued to rely upon the Gryphon Highlord's indecisiveness it would mean the end for us all. Therefore, I swallowed my pride and decided to set them straight.
"You will need to readjust your strategy.” I chose a tone as smug, as superior, as Repachea's expression. “The Gryphon Highlord is no longer a factor. In the days preceding my flight from the castle, rumours circulated she was to be retired."
That wiped the smirk from Repachea's face. His expression darkened, turned suspicious. “Why would Bertrand clip the wings of the Gryphon Highlord?"
I shrugged. “I know only that the Regent announced her betrothal to a distant relative named Lesuperis."
"Marriage? Unbelievable! When?"
"Probably as we speak she is already a married woman.” It unnerved me to think that such a statement would be true had I remained at Gryphon.
Repachea turned thoughtful. “Retirement, eh? You can bet she did not go willingly. But why would Bertrand deliberately put her out of action at this most crucial stage? It doesn't make sense. Her Teki powers are an invaluable asset to the Regent. Surely he knows this. We respect her presence on any field of battle, wizard and woodsman alike. True, she is young and inexperienced as a commander, but her finesse amply compensates. She grows bolder, stronger..."
He paused, twisted in his chair to face Ginger. “Could that be it? Is it possible her powers have grown in strength, become harder for Bertrand to restrain?"
"Or maybe,” Ginger murmured, “Bertrand fears his darling niece has grown powerful enough to challenge his claim to the throne and bring about a peaceful end to the revolt. A marriage would serve as a clever means by which to get her out of the way."
Well, they were half right. It was in my best interest to let them draw their own conclusion, if it led them away from the truth.
Warily, Repachea asked me, “Why didn't you mention this earlier?"
"You didn't let me finish,” I reminded him. “As I was saying, the Royalists think there are only two outlaw commanders of any significance. They believe one is dead or permanently out of action—Belvemar. The other they believe is in Pixley, where Fleurry will post his Tenth."
"We must warn Gregaris,” Sestus mumbled.
Repachea flashed him a glare. A silent rebuke, I surmised, for name-dropping in my presence. “That is precisely what we want them to think."
"I don't follow."
He regarded me a moment, then seemed to decide that if I were indeed a Royalist spy, I was no danger while in their custody. “There are two other teleportals in Thylana, concealed in a manner similar to this one. They were, until now,” he said, pausing to direct another sharp glance at Sestus, “inaccessible to outsiders."
I began to see the broader scope. And frankly, I was startled by the Citizens Risen Up Against a Dread and Errant Regency's ambition, not to mention a little scared. “An audacious strategy. Let the Royalists believe the majority of the Crusaders’ strength is concentrated in Pixley and so divert their attention. Meanwhile, you gather your supporters and launch an assault on Castle Gryphon via these teleportals."
"Smart girl.” Repachea unleashed his winsome grin. “But the retirement of the Gryphon Highlord changes things. You see, she had unwittingly bought us time. We are not yet fully prepared to mount a siege. If what you say is true, we have some serious re-planning to do."
A palpable silence followed while Repachea's insinuation hung in the air, as decisions were being weighed and balanced. Finally he turned to Sestus. “Do you trust her?"
"Implicitly."
I had yet to determine Sestus's position in the Crusader hierarchy, but his opinion obviously carried a lot of weight. Repachea nodded. “That's good enough for me. We'll grant her second level clearance. We can put her in charge of the map room. The place is a dump. She can clean it up, file stuff away. After all, isn't that what a librarian does? Organize and sort? While she's at it, she can act as your assistant. You know, keep track of reports and duty rosters, things like that. But remember, Sestus. She's your responsibility."
"I understand."
A knock came at the door then. Ginger opened it at Repachea's cue. A frazzled, tired-looking Biddy shuffled into the room. Blood splattered her apron, and a few strands of grey-shot hair dangled down her brow. Fearing the worst, the men greeted her with a barrage of questions.
She silenced them with an impatient gesture. “Be quiet. All of you,” she snapped. “I'm in no mood for twenty thousand questions. I know as much as you do, which, when I stop to remember that you're all a bunch of lunkheads, is nothing to brag about. All I'm going to say is he's asleep and resting comfortably, thanks to Ginger."
Nevertheless, Repachea demanded, “Did you talk to him? Did you explain the severity of his injury? Did you tell him he should be at home with his wife and daughter and grandchildren instead of rotting a slow death in this hellhole?"
"Yes, yes, yes. I told him. He won't listen. He's just as stubborn as the rest of you. You who call yourselves freedom fighters, liberators, crusaders, and all that rubbish. You're all the same. Only know how to kill and maim and destroy. If he wants to die here, if you all want to die here for the sake of your own stubbornness, then I say rot the lot of you."
"Calm down, Biddy,” Sestus cooed. “You're just upset."
"Stuff it."
"Don't blame yourself. You can't help someone if he doesn't want to be helped."
Sighing, she slumped into the chair Repachea had vacated. “I know. But I feel so bloody useless. I've been here, how long? watching friends die. I can't take it anymore. I just can't.” She pulled a crump
led hanky from her pocket to dab at her puddling eyes. “I hate to admit it, Sestus, you old fool, but when you die your blasted hero's death I'll cry for you, too. After I dance my jig, of course."
Sestus smiled, touched I think. His smile brought some light to Biddy's weary face. She composed herself, sniffed a last sniffle, and glanced at Repachea, her belligerence restored. “Well? Have you decided what you're doing about the girl?"
"We're keeping her.” Repachea grinned. “Sestus's stray puppy has put us on a whole new scent to victory."
Biddy rolled her eyes, conveying her limited faith. “Anyway, I'm glad. I have a job for her, if that's all right with you.” Not waiting for permission, she turned to me. “I want you to help me take care of Belvemar."
Taken by surprise I babbled, “Oh, Biddy, I don't think that's such a wise idea. I don't know much about that sort of thing."
"Well, I can't do it all myself, can I? I have other patients to look after too, you know. I have to sleep. I have to eat. I just need some help, is all. Someone to feed him and bathe him, or just keep him company. Someone to ease him through these last few days"
"Why me? Isn't there anyone else who can help you?"
"Take a look around you, girl. There's not much to choose from. Soldiers aren't any good for anything but soldiering. Besides, Belvemar requested you."
"I think it's a great idea,” Sestus spoke up, to my dismay. “C'mon, Ruvie. What do you say?"
I looked from him to Biddy, swayed by the plea of her woeful eyes. Reluctantly, I agreed.
Biddy's smile said she'd never doubted my compliance. “Thanks, girlie. Come see me tomorrow, when you get a minute. I'll be in the infirmary if anyone wants me.” She rose, gave Sestus her customary parting scowl, and rejuvenated, marched out the door.
Repachea wore a strange look. He did not seem happy with Biddy's decision to enlist my aid. Nevertheless, he had not objected and did not bother to do so now. He returned to the trunk and began to stuff a pack with the clothes he'd previously dumped on the floor. “Ruvie can take my quarters if she likes,” he told Sestus, without glancing up. “I imagine it's pretty cramped in yours."
"Not really. I have some extra ... wait a minute. You're leaving?"
"I won't be gone long. The better part of tomorrow. But I'll be in and out of Idyll a lot in the weeks to come, so my quarters will just go to waste. I'll bunk with Ginger. Anyway, we passed a sad, destitute little village on our way back. Looks like they had a tough winter and could use a few sacks of meal and other foodstuffs. I know we don't have much, but its still more than they've got. Since Ginger's field of expertise requires him to be here, it seemed only right that I should be the one to go. Or do you think otherwise?"
"It's fine with me."
It wasn't really, but Sestus chose not to disagree. An objection might arouse suspicions. I didn't like it either. I'd rather see Ginger gone on a mercy mission than Repachea. He would be easier to bluff than the mage.
"Thank you, captain,” I said. “That's kind of you."
"Yeah, well, don't get too attached. I'll want it back eventually. ‘Course, that doesn't mean you'll have to move out.” Again with the lecherous wink.
As Sestus and I rose to go, Repachea told my benefactor, “I'll head out at first light, but I think the three of us should meet first.” He tossed a meaningful glance at the mage. “Ginger and I might have a few more questions."
Well, they weren't the only ones. I had plenty of my own. But while they had the luxury of directness, I did not. My position called for diplomacy and discretion. Therefore, I would choose a gentler, subtler approach. Sestus would not, could not, tell me everything. But I was confident that with a little tactfulness and a lot of patience, I would eventually possess the information I required to manipulate the circumstances to my benefit. I need only listen and observe ... and control my restless Teki blood.
CHAPTER TEN
I awoke late the next morning, stiff and sore, thanks to my ribs, but otherwise refreshed. I dressed quickly and emerged from my room to find Sestus already gone. I stepped over the pallet he'd prepared for himself by the hearth and helped myself to the pot of gruel on a hook above the fire. I ate, thinking on Valleri. My mood soon soured. I would accomplish nothing sitting around feeling sorry for myself.
Ignoring my pangs of guilt I poked around Sestus's quarters—Sestus, who had been so kind and generous to me—looking for what, I didn't know, yet convinced I'd recognize it once found. I uncovered nothing of enlightenment, just some books of leisure and a drawer full of letters from Biddy, chiding him for some reason or another. No documents. No personal journal. No confidential reports.
But my search was not entirely fruitless. At the very back of a cupboard, I discovered my benefactor's secret stash of contraband. His horde contained spell books, grimoires, charms—all sorts of magical texts and devices that Uncle had ordered banned and confiscated. I sifted through it with reverence and painstaking care. I had never seen such oddities, such wonders, though mundane they must seem to any other Umagi. The thought occurred, or conceit really, that if Sestus refused to instruct me in the ways of magic, I might teach myself.
My education would have to wait, for the moment. Sestus was due back from his meeting and I had a previous obligation to Biddy. Replacing my treasures, all save one, I headed for the infirmary to seek out the irascible herbhealer. Looking pale and weary, she sat alone with the wounded outlaw leader. Belvemar's condition appeared unchanged, while Biddy seemed on the verge of collapse.
Rising awkwardly, she snagged my arm and drew me a prudent distance from the bedside. “Glad you could make it,” she grumbled. “I've bathed him and changed his dressing. He's asleep now but if he wakes, you can give him some broth. What's that in your hand?"
I shrugged. “Oh, it's just a book I found in Sestus's room. I thought I might read to Belvemar, if he's agreeable."
Biddy pulled on her ratty shawl with a snort. “Suit yourself. But remember, he needs his rest. I'm going home to get some shut-eye, then I have a delivery to make. Here's the key to the dispensary if anyone needs anything. I shouldn't be long.” With that, she stomped out the door.
"Is she gone?” asked a voice behind me.
I smiled at my patient's eager tone and slipped the key into my pocket. “Yes, sir. Biddy's gone. I thought you were asleep."
Belvemar winked a mischievous blue eye. “Nah. I only pretend to sleep so she'll leave me alone. Don't get me wrong. Biddy's a fine, hard-working woman, and dedicated to her craft. But it's nice to see a fresh, pretty face and hear a sweet voice for a change. Come. Sit with me."
I pulled up a stool and lifted the lid on a steaming bowl of broth. “Hungry?"
"Only if it's not that rat soup of Biddy's."
"Oh, it's not so bad.” I fed him a spoonful and wiped his lips with a cloth. “I had some myself when I was...” I hesitated, regretting my loose tongue.
"Incapacitated?” Belvemar finished for me. “Yes, I know your story. Biddy got it from Sestus. She told me all about you. Don't worry. I won't pester you with bothersome questions. I'm sure you got your fill from Repachea."
He paused long enough to let me spoon him another mouthful of broth. “You're a sweet girl to do this for me. After all, I know you have no reason to be feeling kindly towards a man, even if he is a bedridden, harmless old fool. But if I must lie here dependent on someone else for my every need, it comforts me to know it is someone who understands my pain, and yes, my humiliation. Someone who survived and can give me courage. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all, sir."
"Don't call me that. I've always hated it."
He chatted easily between swallows, keeping the conversation light, and once he'd eaten, I fluffed his pillow and urged him to sleep.
"Plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead."
"Now, Belvemar,” I cooed. “Don't be stubborn. You know you need rest. Look.” I held up the book I'd brought. “It's a collection of heroic ballads. I thought
you might like to hear one or two."
He smiled. “Yes, I do believe I would."
Flipping through the pages, I selected a verse at random and began to read. An hour passed before Belvemar started to doze, and even once he dropped off to sleep I continued to read aloud for the company of my own voice. Thus occupied, I did not hear the infirmary door open.
"Well, now. Aren't you a clever girl?"
I stopped in mid-sentence and looked up to see that a young man leaned against the jamb, eyeing me with a huge grin. “Who taught you to read? And so eloquently, I might add."
"My father,” I said, embarrassed. “He was a scribe, and a collector of books."
He nodded, then pushed himself away from the door and walked towards me, his head tipped in a pose of consideration. His grin widened. “I'm Ragsey. I don't think I've had the pleasure..?"
I ducked my chin, feigning shyness in an attempt to guard my appearance. I wanted to avoid meeting too many new people. The lower my profile, the better. “I'm Ruvie."
"Oh, the librarian,” he said, shaking my hand. “I should have guessed. Ginger has the annoying habit of omitting details he considers trivial. He neglected to tell me how pretty you are."
Silly, gullible me, I sat there blushing.
Ragsey misinterpreted my reaction. “Don't get me wrong. Ginger isn't a gossipy old hen. But I am his personal courier. I carry messages to and from the other camps. Naturally, I'm kept informed."
"I understand. It sounds like a very important position."
"Aye, dangerous too. It can get damn scary sometimes, having to sidestep several different Royals at once. But I have no complaints. I've been with Ginger since the beginning of the revolt. He's a good man. There's not another like him I'd risk my neck for."
I filed that away in the back of my noggin for future reference. A man who inspired such loyalty and confidence had all the makings of a great leader. Ginger would prove a formidable foe. Therefore, it would be in my best interest to make him a friend. That, however, would be no easy task. Such men had only allies and enemies.
