by Kyra Halland
Lainie walked over a little closer to the activity. “What’s in that crate?” she asked one of the workers, who was holding two of the canvas-wrapped bundles over each shoulder. He was a big, burly man, shirtless and sweating even in the cold breeze, darkly tanned although his hair was pale blond.
“Silk from the Islands, Missy,” he replied. He spoke in a soft Plain accent, close to a Wildings drawl.
“This is interesting. I’ve never seen a ship being unloaded before.”
He grinned. “It’s a fine sight indeed, ain’t it, Missy. That ship’s a beauty, all right.” He put his load in one of the wagons, then returned to the crate.
Lainie studied the hook as the beam swung back towards the ship. It looked about the right size for her purposes; maybe a little big, but better that than too small. “I wonder where I can get a hook like that,” she said to the same man as he passed by with some more bolts of cloth.
“What’s a pretty little thing like you want with one of those hooks?”
“Bet with a friend back home in the Wildings. To prove I’ve really seen this.” She gestured towards the ship and the bay.
“The Wildings, huh?”
“I’m here to visit some kin, try to convince ’em to come out there.”
“I’ve thought about it myself, but there’s no sea there,” the worker said. “If I can’t live by the sea, I’d sooner be dead.”
“There’s Amber Bay, way out on the western coast. I hear it’s expensive to get out there, but there’s lots of shipping there, and they say the sea shines like gold in the sunset.”
“Well, then, maybe I ought to think on it. Especially if all the Wildings ladies are as pretty as you.” He gave her a grin and a wink that were just this side of being too friendly.
“Prettier, in truth, though my husband would disagree. So, where can I find a hook?”
“Foreman’s over there, signaling the tower. Might be he can tell you.”
Lainie thanked him, then walked over to the foreman. He was a big man with a beard done in three braids, a colorful kerchief tied around his bald head, and big gold earrings. He looked intimidating, but Lainie knew that, often, the rougher they looked, the less scary they really were. “Hey there, Mister,” she said to him.
He nodded and grunted, “Morning.”
“This is something,” she said. “I’m from the Wildings. Ain’t never been here before. Never seen boats like that.”
“That ’un’s a beauty, all right,” he said, keeping his eye on the movement of the next crate. The mage shouted out an instruction, and the foreman signaled it up to the man in the tower.
“I was told I can maybe get one of them big hooks from you,” Lainie said. “To prove to my friends I’ve really been here.”
“Trash heap’s over there.” He jerked his head in that direction. “Might be some discards there.”
“Thank you kindly.”
Lainie wandered over to the junk pile. It looked like it was mostly broken equipment that was beyond repair; she didn’t have to dig too deep before she found a hook. It was rusted over; to test it, she banged it hard against a broken piece of stone that looked like it had come from a knocked-down building. Some rust flaked off, but the hook’s core appeared sound. She guessed they took extra care not to use hooks that might have been weakened by rust, in case one gave out under the weight of one of those giant crates and let the expensive payload come crashing down, maybe even on top of the workers. She hefted the hook in her hand; it had a good weight and balance to it, heavy but not too heavy. Satisfying, in a way. She pictured herself heaving it up to the window of the room where Silas was – she’d have to put some strength into the throw, but she could do it – and imagined it smashing through the window. Maybe even conking one of her grandmother’s flunkies in the head. The thought made her smile again.
“Found one!” she called out to the foreman. “Thank you!” Busy with directing the hoisting and lowering of another crate, he just nodded once towards her.
Lainie stood and watched a little longer; who knew if she’d ever have another chance to see a sea-going ship? Or the sea, for that matter, she thought, looking at the narrow section visible between the hilly arms on the other side of the bay, that went on and on until it faded into the cloudy blue-gray horizon.
She would, she promised herself. She’d rescue Silas and they’d go back to the Wildings, and once he was all fixed up from what her grandmother had done to him and once they’d made sure the Wildings was safe from her grandmother’s schemes, they’d go out to Amber Bay and see what it was like. Not to stay, but just so they could say they’d seen it.
She laughed at herself. She had an awful lot of work to do before she could dream about things like that. With one final look at the ship, she walked away. Not far from the docks, she stopped at a boat supply shop and bought a good length of rope, about five measures long, sturdy enough to hold her and Silas’s weight but thin enough that she could carry it easily and tie knots in it. She also bought hard flatbread, dried fruit, and jerky, and a sack of grain for the horses in case there wasn’t enough forage up high in the pass; it looked like travel rations were the same no matter whether you were traveling on horseback or by boat.
Back in her room, she tied knots in the rope about every arm-length, then tied the end through the eyelet on the big iron hook. Growing up on the ranch, she had learned how to tie all kinds of knots, and she knew this knot would hold. Then she packed her and Silas’s bags, to have everything ready to go. In the morning she would add some fresh fruit and rolls from the breakfast table downstairs; that would make a nice treat for Silas.
As she finished her preparations, another note was brought to her room. Though it was unsigned, she recognized the elegant handwriting as Lady Venedias’s. Your message has been conveyed.
The last piece was in place; her plan was moving into action.
That night, Lainie couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow, finally, she would rescue Silas from Madam Lorentius and her gang and have him back safe with her – if nothing went wrong. And there was a lot that could go wrong. The Mage Council might miss her hint entirely and not attack the Hidden Council. Or Lord Astentias, or whoever her grandmother’s Mage Council connection was, might find out about the raid and warn the Hidden Council. Or Silas’s mother might have told the Mage Council that Silas was at the Hidden Council headquarters and that Lainie would likely be there too. Or Madam Lorentius might have done something even worse to Silas than she already had.
None of those things were in her control, Lainie told herself sternly, and worrying about them wouldn’t do any good. She had made the best plan she could, and was as ready as she could be to carry it out. This would work. It had to work. If it didn’t work, she would have tipped her hand to her grandmother as to her true feelings and intentions about joining her, which would make any more rescue attempts impossible. And she would have revealed Silas’s location to the Mage Council. If it didn’t work, she didn’t know what she would do next, and she would probably never get the chance to do it. This was her last, best, and only hope; if she was going to fulfill her vow, this was it.
None of those thoughts did anything to help her go to sleep.
At last, the sky outside her window faded into dawn. Even though Lainie had barely slept, the nervousness and excitement buzzing through her body made her feel wide awake and ready to go. She forced herself to eat a good breakfast even though her stomach was tied in knots, then stopped at the front desk to tell them she was leaving that morning and to settle her bill.
Back in her room, she added the fruit and rolls, wrapped in a napkin, to Silas’s knapsack and checked to make sure everything was packed and ready to go. She put her duster in her knapsack; it would only get in her way when she was climbing the rope. Then she took her and Silas’s gear to the stables, where she asked the hostler to look after it and to have the horses saddled up and ready to go soon after the start of the third quarter.
For the last
time, she returned to her room. She coiled up her rope, checked that her gun was loaded and that she had plenty of extra rounds in her gunbelt and her pants pocket, and made sure she also had her heavy gloves tucked into her belt and plenty of money in her pockets. She slipped her right arm through the coils of the rope to carry it on her shoulder, arranging the rope so that it concealed her gun. With any luck, she would look like just another laborer out on an errand, carrying some rope to wherever it was needed. Finally, she rolled up Silas’s hat and tucked it inside the front of her shirt. He was in a bad way, and she didn’t know if he would be able to take an active part in his own rescue or if she was going to have to pull and push and prod him the whole way, but if anything might help bring him back to himself, it would be his hat.
With everything ready, she set out from the hotel on foot; a laborer wouldn’t hire a carriage. It was just past the start of the second quarter of the day, and she would reach the warehouse well ahead of time, which would give her time to scout out the situation before the Mage Council showed up to arrest the members of the Hidden Council. If they showed up.
After a cold, rainy night, the sun was showing through scattered clouds. In just her shirtsleeves, without her coat, Lainie got goosebumps from the chill, made worse by the sweat of nerves and excitement that dewed her body. Along the way, she passed a shrine, and went inside to the Sunderer’s altar. The Sunderer wasn’t one of the more popular gods, and few worshipers were at His altar that morning. As the priest led the chants, Lainie sent up a prayer that the Sunderer would use His swift and sharp-edged sword to sever her and Silas from their enemies. She left a handful of ten-gilding pieces among the offerings on the altar, and also prayed and left offerings at the other gods’ altars. She was going to need all the help she could get today.
Chapter 11
LAINIE REACHED THE intersection where the Hidden Council’s building stood a short while before noon. Keeping her power deeply suppressed, she stayed back behind the corner of the same building across from the empty lot where she had caught out the ambush set for her several nights before. The side door that served as the entrance to the headquarters faced to her right; it was closed. To the left, near the far end of the building, was the upper-floor window. It looked like the curtains were drawn, but from this angle she wouldn’t have been able to see what was going on inside, anyway.
The street was quiet. A couple of wagons were bringing goods to a warehouse a short distance down the street from the headquarters, but the men driving and unloading the wagons were busy with their work and didn’t seem to notice Lainie. Still, she felt too exposed where she was. She sidled around back of the building she was hiding next to and up the other side through a narrow gap between that building and the warehouse next door, to within an arm-length of where the gap opened onto the street. Concealed in the shadows between the two buildings, right across from the Hidden Council headquarters, she hunkered down to watch and wait.
A couple of carriages drove up to the empty lot next to the Hidden Council building. Two men in fine suits got out and went inside, then the carriages drove away again. Over the next quarter-hour, two more people arrived, a man and a woman, also in separate carriages. As well, more people could have arrived at the headquarters before Lainie got there. She didn’t care how many members of the Hidden Council showed up, as long as there were enough of them to put up a good, hard, loud fight against the people she hoped the Mage Council would send to arrest them.
Time passed. Four more people arrived one at a time at the headquarters and went inside. The sun reached its high point, the start of the third quarter, then slipped into its downward arc. A short while after noon, a man stepped outside the door and looked up and down the street, then went back inside. Probably wondering where she was, Lainie guessed. If the carriage they were going to send for her came back without her, they would know something was up. She doubted they would believe she was too ill to come.
Sweat trickled down her back and she was starting to feel pins and needles in her legs. She shifted a bit and bounced impatiently on her haunches, hoping the Mage Council people would show up before the Hidden Council folks started to get suspicious. If the Mage Council didn’t come, or if the Hidden Council figured out that something was wrong, she would lose this chance to rescue Silas, and she didn’t know how or when or even if she would get another chance.
A tingle of magic in the air, strong enough that she could sense it even with her power so deeply suppressed, caught her by surprise. The air in the empty lot shimmered, then the magical shields disappeared to reveal about three dozen mages wearing the plain black uniforms of Mage Council enforcers. Four of them blasted the side door apart and charged in, magical attacks flying, followed by the rest. Shouting and more explosions erupted from the building.
Time to move. Lainie called up her power and threw a concealing shield around herself. The huge amounts of violent magic being used inside the building would camouflage her own use of power, and right now it was more important to keep herself from being seen. She ran from her hiding place to the Hidden Council building, below where the window was. Eyeballing the distance to the window, three and some measures above the ground, she uncoiled her rope and gathered it loosely in her left hand so that the rope wouldn’t tangle. It was going to be a tricky throw, but she had roped running cattle at a greater distance than that; she should be able to do this. Holding the hook in her right hand, she wound up and threw it upwards with all her might.
The heavy iron hook flew up, trailing the rope behind it, and hit the window with a shattering sound that Lainie could barely hear over the explosions, shouting, and crashes coming from inside the building. She tugged at the rope and found that the hook had caught. She pulled on her heavy leather gloves, then, using the knots she had tied in the rope as handholds and bracing her feet against the wall of the building, she quickly climbed up to the window.
Clinging to the window frame, she peered through a gap in the curtains to confirm that no one was moving around in the room. With one gloved hand, she smashed away the rest of the glass, then pushed the curtains aside and climbed into the room.
She removed her gloves and tucked them inside her shirt as she took a quick look around. Silas was sitting huddled against the wall to her left, his head buried on his knees. He was shaking so hard she could see it from where she stood. He must have been terrified by the explosions and shouting from downstairs. Next to him was a bucket for a necessary and a tin cup, and nothing else, not even a blanket to keep him warm during the chilly nights. The chain on his legs was locked to a metal loop set into the wall. The sight of him chained and bound made a hot, sick fury burn in Lainie’s chest.
A door opposite the window, which looked like it opened onto the stairs, stood ajar. To Lainie’s right stood a desk with a tipped-over chair beside it. The keys to Silas’s chains were probably in the desk; she hoped it wouldn’t take too long to find them, if she could find them at all. She supposed she could blast the chains off with magic, but that might hurt Silas. Behind the desk, Silas’s gunbelt and holstered gun were hanging from a nail high up on the right-hand wall, and his duster hung from a second nail next to them. Lainie ran to the gunbelt, jumped up to reach it, and knocked it off the nail. She caught it before it hit the floor – she didn’t want to risk the gun going off and alerting the people downstairs that something was going on up here – then buckled it on. Silas’s gun hung against her left hip, feeling twice as large and heavy as her own weapon.
With another jump, Lainie pulled down his duster, revealing a round ring of keys hanging from a nail below that one. She snatched the key ring and ran over to Silas. She knelt in front of him, and he shrank back. “Silas,” she said. “Look at me. It’s Lainie. I’ve come to get you out.”
He raised his head. Fresh cuts, scrapes, and bruises marred his face. His glance skittered away from her, came back briefly, then went off the other way.
She fumbled with the keys until she found t
he one that unlocked the chains from the loop on the wall. Then she found the key for the manacles around his ankles and unlocked those. The sounds of the fight downstairs covered up the clanking of the chains as she pulled them away from him; if the racket started to settle down, she would know that the diversion was almost over and she was running out of time.
She stood up, leaving the keys on the floor, and tugged at Silas’s arm, trying to pull him to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
From downstairs came an even louder explosion, followed by a woman’s screams. Silas let out a frightened moan and pulled back, hiding his head in his arms.
She tugged at him again. “Come on, Silas. I know it’s scary. But this is our only chance to get you out of here.” He didn’t budge. Tears of frustration stung her eyes. “Move your ass, Vendine, we don’t have all day!” She pulled on his arm with all her strength, and finally got him on his feet. They both stumbled, and Lainie grabbed on to Silas with both hands to steady herself and him. At the close contact, a rush of emotion she hadn’t expected surged into her. She wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him and laugh and cry at the same time, and shoot the people who’d done this to him, and bear him down beneath her and ride him until they were both exhausted…
With an effort, she forced the jumble of feelings back down. She had to keep her mind clear and stay focused. “Come on, let’s go.” She scooped up his coat in one arm and took his hand. To her relief, he didn’t try to pull away this time.
She led him over to the window. He moved slowly, hunched over in obvious pain and shuffling his feet, but without resisting. She felt a pang of pity for him; climbing down that rope was going to hurt, but there was no other choice. She showed him the rope. “See this? Hold on. The knots will help you keep your grip. Use your feet against the building to help take your weight.” She took his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Do you understand me? Climb down the rope.” She tossed his duster out the window to land in a heap on the ground.
