She found Charlie standing by his favorite fireplace playing with spiders. At ten-feet tall, he could easily reach into the spider habitat in the ceiling.
The giant giggled as the eight-legged critters covered his arms. He brought his wrist close to his face and babbled at the insects in his strange, secret, non-language.
“OK, Charlie,” Moxy said. “Now bring them over here.”
The big guy frowned and gave a little mournful moan.
“They’ll be fine,” Moxy said. “I’m just taking them to a new home.”
It was then that Astrid noticed all the webs were gone. She also noticed that half the longhouse was filled with villagers.
“They came to wish my babies a good journey,” Moxy said, nodding to the crowd.
“Ha!” somebody in the crowd said.
“I heard that, Darien,” Moxy said.
“More like good riddance,” Darien replied. Everyone laughed, especially Moxy. “They’ve been so patient with my project,” Moxy said to Astrid. “I don’t understand why your people are so afraid of insects. Especially spiders.”
“I’m not afraid of them,” Astrid said. “I mean, I respect nature and all. It’s just… I don’t really like spiders and the creepy crawlies.”
Moxy shrugged her head as she flicked the spiders off Charlie’s arms and into large, screened cages.
“Is that all of them?” she asked Charlie.
“Hoon,” Charlie said. It was the closest he got to an actual word.
“Charlie…” Moxy said, folding her arms and tapping her foot.
Charlie made a keening sound, then reached up under his tunic. He drew out a hand covered in spiders. He frowned when he put the critters into one of the cages.
“You can come visit them in the blacksmith’s,” Moxy said. “Most of them will eat each other, then lay eggs that won’t hatch until spring.”
“Oh, how delightful,” Astrid said, clasping her hands in front of her chest. The crowd laughed at her sarcasm that was lost on Moxy.
“Isn’t it, though?” Moxy said.
Astrid didn’t want to have fun at Moxy’s expense, so she confessed. “I really didn’t mean that.”
“Oh,” Moxy replied as she picked up her cages. “It really is amazing, though. The colony sustains itself, and their kind goes on. Most people think of spiders as loners, but they’re really not. They provide for each other.”
Astrid suddenly found herself with a new appreciation for nature. “Thank you, Moxy,” she said. “I didn’t know that.”
“Oh, don’t thank me now,” Moxy said as she made her way through the door. Charlie helped her carry the cages. “Thank me tomorrow when I bring you your gift.”
Astrid was rarely surprised. “My…gift?” she stammered and smiled in spite of herself. She hadn’t received a gift since she was a child. “OK, then,” she said quickly, then walked away to the kitchen side of the longhouse for some hot tea.
By the angle of the sun, it was time for her to meet Pleth’s son, Adi, for his meditation practice. To help him keep his discipline, she’d told him to at least come around to the kitchen at the same time every day, even though she didn’t know how long she’d be. She was a bit disappointed to see him on the other side of the longhouse playing with some other children.
They made eye contact across the big space. Adi froze, then turned back to his friends.
“Huh,” Astrid muttered to herself. Usually, he was happy to see her and ran up to her. “Is he angry?” She asked aloud.
It was hard to tell with kids. She barely remembered being one. The career path for Knighthood left her with a very brief childhood. Maybe the kid just didn’t notice she was waiting for him.
She picked up some tea and kept looking his way until he glanced up again. She waved him over, and this time, Astrid was dead certain that the boy ignored her.
She headed his way with a sigh. The children fell silent when she approached. Sometimes, they were a bit intimidated by her and the other fighters.
“Hello, there,” Astrid said to the group. “It’s nice and warm in the longhouse, isn’t it?”
“Uh huh,” a little girl said. She held up a carved horse, then a carved figure of a person. “This is you!” she said. “You’re fighting bad guys.”
Astrid noticed that all the kids had little carved figures. One of them was big and round. That had to be Vinnie.
The table was divided into two sides. One was obviously the Core, and the other side was the bad guys.
“I’m on the good side,” the little girl said.
One of the boys on the other side said, “It’s my turn now. I want to be Tarkon!”
“OK,” said the little girl. They all changed action figures, except for Adi.
Astrid cocked her head. “Adi, you don’t want to change sides?”
“He can’t,” the little girl said, folding her arms. “He has to be the bad guy.”
The other children seemed to agree. Astrid felt a pang at the casual cruelty of children.
“That doesn’t sound very fair, or very nice,” Astrid said. “It’s nicer if you all take turns.”
“But his dad’s an Assessor. We’re playing Astrid vs the bad guys.”
“Well,” Astrid said, trying to keep her voice even. “Adi isn’t an Assessor and Mr. Pleth isn’t an Assessor anymore, either. In fact, Mr. Pleth is helping Mr. Gormer do a very important job for me.”
“Mr. Gormer is weird,” the little girl said, wrinkling her nose.
“I can’t argue with you there,” Astrid said with a laugh. “Come on, Adi, we have work to do.”
She took Adi’s hand and walked away. They found a table where they could have a bit of privacy.
“Do you want tea or anything to drink?” Astrid asked.
Adi said nothing and shook his head, looking down at the table. She sat with him for a while, and he maintained his painful silence.
“Did you have another seizure?” she asked after several moments of silence.
“No,” Adi said. “Moxy came by when you were gone and gave me the medicine.” He gave the ghost of a smile when he talked about Moxy. “It felt like one was starting, but I did what you told me. I think I drew from the Well.”
Her eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you. I told you that you could do it.”
Adi looked down at the table again and frowned.
“Adi,” Astrid said. “You seem unhappy. Is it the other kids? They don’t know what they’re doing. They don’t mean to hurt you. Next time you play that game, just ask them if you can play the other side. If they say no, you don’t have to play the game. Just stay calm and say thank you, then walk away.”
“I can’t,” Adi said.
“Of course, you can.”
“My daddy is a bad guy,” Adi said.
“Adi, look at me,” Astrid said firmly. Adi met her eyes. “I’m sorry that you had to find out so early that your father is a real person. Real people make mistakes. Sometimes they do bad things. Things go wrong.”
It’s a hard lesson to learn at any age, Adi. I’m telling you to believe me when I say your daddy is not a bad man.”
“Well, you don’t make mistakes,” Adi declared.
Astrid smiled and tried not to laugh. “Yes, I do. I really do, and I have.” Then, she grew serious again when she realized what she had to say. “I made a mistake, Adi. I didn’t stand up for what I believed in soon enough. I didn’t find the courage to do what I needed to do, and I lost everything. I lost my home.”
“I’m sorry,” Adi said.
Astrid blinked back the mist in her eyes. “And you know how else I can tell that your dad is a good man? You. You’re a good kid. You’re kind, and you’re smart. Stay that way.”
Adi finally smiled freely. “Can you show me how to draw from the Well so I can help fight the bad men?”
“No,” Astrid said. “I’m going to show you how to draw from the Well, so you won’t have to fight anyon
e.”
“I don’t understand,” Adi said.
“Well, let’s get to work so that you will understand.”
Raluca Estate
“I didn’t think you were coming back,” Raluca said as Cosmin stepped down from the wagon.
“I almost didn’t,” the Reacher replied.
The young pages helped the wounded down from the wagons. They’d left with four wagons filled with fighters, equipment, and supplies to last the trip up north and back.
Cosmin returned with one empty wagon, one wagon loaded with the dead, and two wagons loaded with thirteen men. She’d sent him out with a party of thirty-three.
Raluca fixed him with a probing stare, then went around to the meat wagon. “Where are the rest?” she asked.
“We had to leave them,” replied the highest-ranked fighter in the party besides Cosmin. He was just twenty-two.
“See to the wounded,” she said to him. “You’re now First Charge of this Platoon.”
He looked confused.
“Field promotion,” Raluca said. “Hard way to gain rank, but that’s how it works. If the healer clears you, come back to me after you square your fighters away.”
The boy gave her a crisp salute by clicking his heels together and slapping his hands against his legs. “Yes, First Lieutenant!”
She and Cosmin watched the fighters unload the dead and the remaining supplies. When they were all gone, she turned to Cosmin. “I respect your honesty. But don’t ever say something like that in front of the fighters. It harms unit confidence.”
Cosmin blinked rapidly. “That is what you’re concerned about?”
“Of course not,” Raluca replied. “But first-thing’s first.”
“But I lost twenty of your fighters,” Cosmin said.
Raluca sighed. “We lost twenty of our fighters,” she corrected. “I told you that you were part of this fighting family, and I meant it. Your failure to understand this point is suddenly of greater concern. Do you think I’m just talking shit? You’ve earned your place here.”
“I… I…” Cosmin stammered. “I failed.”
“Welcome to your leadership trial by fire,” Raluca said. “I believe you told me that you left home to expand your horizons, to become what you were meant to be: a warlord.”
“I did,” Cosmin said.
“Congratulations. You’ve had your first failure. After I debrief you and the survivors, we will mourn. Tomorrow evening, you and I will sit down and create the next part of our plan.”
Cosmin appeared far older. Some of the confidence had left his eyes, but that confidence was replaced by something that looked suspiciously like wisdom.
“Hell of a way to learn, isn’t it?” Raluca asked. Cosmin nodded. “Are you injured?”
“No,” he said. “But I encountered something up there.” He paused. “I encountered someone in those mountains.”
“Collect your thoughts,” Raluca said. “Save it for the debrief. Sometimes it helps to write it down.”
Cosmin gave a solemn nod and walked off.
Raluca took a moment to arrange the horse blankets that covered her dead fighters. They only managed to recover five. The fighting must have been fierce. She hated to lose people, but that was how the game was played. She couldn’t walk away from the game. Not ever.
The entire expedition up north had taken a week. She’d spent the time training with her army in the forest. They’d learned a great deal without too many cases of frostbite. She had only lost about a dozen to non-fatal casualties. Those fighters would be back on their feet in no longer than a week. When she met with the survivors of what she was calling the Cosmin Expedition, she’d have even more knowledge to add to their collective experience.
She had a nagging suspicion, though, that she’d have to commit her entire army of four-hundred fighters. That would leave only a skeleton crew back at her estate. She’d have to think about this very carefully.
If she played her cards right, and if Lungu was desperate enough, she could send him quite a juicy bill for expenses and negotiate a very lucrative contract for Keep 52. She had no doubt that idiot Balan would fail at the task of running the Eastern District.
He was already making critical mistakes. Purging loyal civil guard from the keep and making their families move to the Fortress Wards in winter was just plain stupid.
He was probably wondering why so many guards decided to resign or retire. He probably also had no idea that his boneheaded moves caused Lungu to issue his asinine order suspending the authority of the Commissioners.
That last bit was the wild card. That, she was not expecting. Raluca’s plan depended on chaos, but not a complete breakdown of the Protectorate Charter. For her, that was new territory.
The loyalty of her fighters hinged on that order. She’d sold them on the belief that they were defending the true principles of a centuries-old code. In reality, they were priceless tools in her drive to gain as much power as she could.
That was her game. It was all she cared about.
“I know something you don’t Lungu,” Raluca said to her absent Protector over the dead bodies of soldiers. “Convincing people to die for a principle that you represent is a much more potent form of power. You squandered that power over a pissing contest. Now, you’re just a strong man in a bar fight. I’m going to take what I want from you.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ward 52
It took nearly a week for Gormer and Pleth to recover and heal. They’d sent word to Argan for reinforcements, but the uncomfortable truth was that their forces were spread thin. Astrid couldn’t afford to cover the area between the Hideaway and Argan both. Everybody knew it.
Their only option was to take Keep 52. Everybody knew that, too. So, Pleth and Gormer set out on day six, ready or not. Pleth just wished it was under different circumstances.
“So, this is what fifty pounds of stolen cheese feels like,” Pleth said, adjusting his overburdened rucksack.
“Twenty-five pounds,” Gormer said, huffing along the untrodden path ahead. “We split it.”
“Not evenly,” Pleth replied.
They’d left in the predawn hours after stealing all of Woody’s cheese supply. It was the only way they could pass as cheese merchants. Besides, in the winter months, the stuff was more valuable than gold.
“Remind me why we had to steal his cheese?” Pleth said. “I mean, after everything we went through… I thought we were all friends.”
“It’s all part of the master plan,” Gormer lied. “You’ll see. I’m making moves that will fit together like puzzle pieces. You just can’t see the big picture right now.”
“Uh huh,” Pleth said, slipping but staying upright on the ice. “Sounds like more of your horse shit.”
The path they chose was a back trail to a back trail. They’d doubled over their tracks to throw off the inevitable pursuit. Gormer counted on the security situation to prevent Woody from going after him with everything he had. He chose this route because it literally took them farther than Woody could reasonably go. Or at least, that’s what Gormer had hoped.
“We needed this cheese,” Gormer said. “It’s from the Petran Protectorate. The wedges we took still have the seal in place. We have the import tax stamps. It all looks legal.”
“Why didn’t we just ask him?” Pleth asked, almost pleading.
“Because this is more fun,” Gormer said telling the truth, in spite of himself. “Also, we couldn’t risk him saying ‘no’.”
“He’s going to kill us,” Pleth said.
“Maybe,” Gormer replied. “But the Estate goons will definitely kill us if our story doesn’t hold up. The civil guard might just lock us up. Then, the Estate goons will kill us.”
“I really hope nobody’s left there who knows me,” Pleth said.
“Me, too,” Gormer replied. “But I have a solution for that.”
“Mind control?” Pleth asked. “I’ve seen you meditating…”
&nbs
p; “Yeah,” Gormer replied. “Something happened that night. I can’t explain it. That Reacher used mental magic to create fear in everyone. Something that came from me stopped that.”
“Is that what Astrid taught you?”
“No. She only taught me how to meditate. Back in Arcadia,” Gormer paused with a hitch in his voice. He cleared his throat. “The magic was much different. There were these rituals… But Astrid’s method is all internal. She knows nothing of mental magic. I don’t know anything about physical magic. But her techniques worked, somehow.”
“I don’t know anything about magic at all,” Pleth replied.
Gormer seemed to look for something in the icy branches. “I thought I knew what magic was, even though I never believed in the Gods. Matriarch, Patriarch… I thought they were just stories adults told to keep kids like me from getting in trouble. For me, magic was just some kind of angle. But now...what we’ve been through...”
They hiked in silence to save their breath, reaching the Toll Road just before noon. From there, it would be a two-hour walk. That was double the time it would take compared to a clear road. It had snowed steadily for the past two days. It was nearly up to their knees.
“Do you think we can eat some of this cheese?” Pleth asked.
Gormer was ravenous. His answer was to drop his rucksack and dig into it for the nearest wedge. He had the foresight to also steal Woody’s cheese knives, both the big one for cutting wheels and the little one for smaller slices.
He almost cried at the shocking discovery. “They’re frozen solid,” Gormer said.
“Next time, we need to steal a proper breakfast,” Pleth said.
Gormer struggled to get the rucksack back over his shoulder. “That would be going way too far,” he said, managing to keep a straight face.
Pleth burst out laughing behind him. It was good to hear. This was a dangerous journey. By the time they got to the keep gates, Gormer could hardly stand.
“Halt!” the gate guard guard ordered. “What in the world are you two doing here?”
“Ch—cheese,” Gormer croaked. He was off to a bad start. “M-merchants from Petran.”
The guard licked his lips, which was entirely unadvisable in sub-zero weather. He just couldn’t help himself. “Cheese… From Petran…”
Knight's Struggle Page 11
