The Queen of Crows

by Myke Cole

  She tried to jerk to the side, but the weight of the cart held her in place, and she was only able to move a hair’s breadth. The Pilgrim compensated, adjusting his wrist and moving the flail head over, so that it grew in Heloise’s vision, arrowing straight for the helmet’s wide slit and her face beyond.

  Her mind whirled with so many options that it froze. She should pull her arm from the metal sleeve and unbuckle her chest so she could slide down … she should drop the carts and move … she should … In the end she did nothing, only forged ahead, closing her eyes and praying the man would miss.

  She heard a loud thunk, a gurgle, and a clang of metal as the flail struck the machine’s shoulder, at least ten handspans wide of the mark.

  Heloise opened her eyes to see the horse galloping away, whinnying madly. The Pilgrim slumped in the saddle, an arrow protruding from his neck.

  She looked up in time to see the archers on the ramparts nocking arrows and loosing them over her head. She realized with a start that she was no longer squinting against the sun, that the wall’s shadow loomed over her, cloaking the wagon train in half-light.

  She turned. Three knife-dancers were fanned out at the rear, the Pilgrims were wheeling away, at least one with a horse gone mad from an arrow in its rump. She could hear the thunk of the locking bar, and the slow creaking of the gates swinging open, see the relief on the faces of the drovers as they shook the reins and set their teams to running as hard as they could. She saw Barnard and Wolfun immediately, and turned back, moving again at what she’d thought had been a run, but now seemed so much slower. The sentries stood aside, staring at her in open-mouthed awe as she pulled the wagon through the gate and inside the walls of Lyse.

  Sigir and her father came at a run. “Heloise!” Samson shouted, “Are you all right?”

  “I’m all right,” she said, “but I didn’t get the forage.”

  “Looks like you got something,” Sigir said, looking over her shoulder as the last wagon rolled in and pulled off to the side, the sentries rushing to slam the gates shut behind it. She could hear the Pilgrims making to rush the gates, and the whoosh of a fresh flight of arrows driving them back, cursing.

  With the danger finally past, Barnard dropped his hammer head-down in the mud and bent over, panting, hands on his knees. Wolfun leaned his dripping spear against his shoulder and shook his head. “Sacred Throne, that was a near thing.”

  “No,” Barnard managed, “we are beloved of the Emperor. We were never in danger.”

  “Tell that to the Kipti.” Wolfun turned and quickly counted his men. “We got lucky, but they lost at least two of their…”

  “Sindi knife-dancers, and a caster of my band,” Mother Florea said, descending from the lead wagon with the cooking pot symbol. “The Great Wheel has borne three of us under.”

  “Onas…” Heloise moved closer to the Sindi wagons, saw Mother Leahlabel emerging from one of them.

  “He is well, Heloise,” Leahlabel said, as Onas appeared from behind the wagon, pale but smiling, his blades still bare and dripping gore. “Thank you for saving us.”

  “You are lucky we came when we did,” Wolfun said. “We were only out for forage and heard the fighting…”

  “That’s not luck.” Barnard stood. “It is the Emperor’s divine hand. He sent us to your aid so we could bring you into Lyse.”

  “Aye, and gave us fifty-odd more mouths to feed,” Poch Drover said, coming down from the rampart.

  Leahlabel crossed her arms as the rest of the Sindi Mothers emerged. “Our wheels have turned, nothing more. For now, they turn together.”

  Onas ran to Heloise, embraced the machine’s metal leg. “You were amazing! You threw those horses in the air!”

  Heloise smiled back at him. “It was the machine. But why are you here? I thought you were moving on. Did you convince them?”

  “No,” Onas began, “they’d never listen to a boy, especially when…”

  “I convinced them.” Mother Florea walked over, put her hand on Onas’s shoulder. “Though the lad’s enthusiasm for your cause helped sway Mother Leahlabel, I’ll admit.”

  Heloise looked from Mother Florea to the Sindi Mothers and back again. “Why?”

  “Because you had us in your power,” Florea said. “You had the town and could have given it over to the sack. Yet you did not. You could have stripped us of our supplies, or pressed our men into your service defending the walls. You did not. The Traveling People desire freedom above all else, and this you gave to us willingly, when it hurt your cause to do so.”

  “We are most grateful for your help,” Sigir said, “but that freedom will be short-lived. Those Pilgrims are an advance guard. They have sent for the army, and we will soon be invested here. If you remain, your traveling days may be brief.”

  Leahlabel answered Sigir, but her eyes were on Heloise. “It is easy to mistake fleeing for traveling. There are many among us who would prefer to run no longer.”

  “There are a few of us,” Mother Analetta said, “who would prefer to keep moving.”

  “A very few,” Mother Leahlabel added. “Too few to sway the band, and so we are here.”

  “I am the sole Mother of the Hapti band,” Florea said. “The Order would not suffer more to be raised while we traded here, so it is my word that passes for us all. We are in accord. The Sindi and the Hapti will join you, if you will have us, Heloise Factor. Together, we will hold these walls, and either we will throw off the Empire’s yoke, or else we will show the other Traveling People that there is another way to ply the roads. A braver way.”

  “You showed us that.” Mother Leahlabel came to stand beside Onas. She reached inside the machine and touched Heloise’s ankle. “And we are grateful.”

  Heloise swallowed a lump before she could speak. “Thank … thank you. Thank you for coming.”

  “Those knives won’t do much good from a rampart,” Wolfun said, “but I think we’ve bows enough for a few of you.”

  Florea shook her head. “A Hapti knife-caster can put a blade through a bird’s eye at twenty paces. We will earn our keep.”

  “Aye.” Wolfun cocked an eyebrow. “I think we can scare up a few short blades for troublesome birds.”

  “I hope those wagons are full of supply,” Danad said, standing beside Poch. “Extra hands are good in an assault, but only when they’re fed.”

  “That they are,” Mother Florea said. “We carry our forage, and we’re supplied for a fortnight, at least.”

  “Then we’re no worse off than we were before,” Wolfun said. “Still, we’d best pray that they try to take us by storm. We’ll not long withstand a proper siege.”

  “They will,” Heloise said, with a sudden certainty that surprised even her.

  “How can you know that?” Poch asked.

  “What was it you said to me of foolish words, Master Maior?” Heloise asked Sigir.

  Sigir shook his head. “I don’t remember, your eminence.”

  “You said that foolish words are the only things that travel faster than horses.”

  Samson smiled. “That does sound like something Sigir would say.”

  “He’s right,” Heloise said. “How many left when we took the town? Enough to spread word of what’s happened, that mere villagers took a walled town out from under the Order’s noses, and that the Traveling People have joined with them.”

  She thought of the stories she used to swap with Basina as they picnicked on the standing rock that overlooked the road, breathless whispers that grew grander as each saw the excitement in the other’s eyes. A frog a handspan across became two-handspans. A rumble of thunder became a storm that shook the earth. “People tell tales,” Heloise said.

  “That’s true,” her father said. “They will say we are an army. Or that we breathe fire, or turn to shadows.”

  “They will say we are blighted,” Poch groused, “and now they will say that we consort with heretic Kipti. It will not earn us allies, nor sympathy.”

 
; “You’re right,” Heloise said, “but it will mean they will not bother with a siege. Because every day we hold this town is a day they look like fools. We are making the Order look weak. Not only can they not stop a small village from fighting them, they cannot keep us from a town, and now they could not stop the Traveling People from joining us.”

  “They will fear that, if they do not crush us quickly, people might come to believe that they can be openly defied,” Samson agreed. “They may come to believe we have a chance.”

  Leuba appeared at her husband’s elbow. “Do we, Heloise?” she asked. “Do we have a chance?”

  And Heloise felt her heart swell as she saw the villagers and the few townsfolk that remained clustering about her, the Sindi and Hapti, all fixing their eyes on the scratched and faded sigil on the machine’s chest.

  Because she realized that they did.

  Heloise raised her voice. “Freedom is … it’s like a mountain. Impossibly high, impossibly steep.” She didn’t know where the words were coming from, only that they were coming quickly, boiling up from inside of her almost faster than she could get them out. “And we have climbed it, step after impossible step. It was impossible that we should survive a wizard, that we should face a devil and live, that we should ambush the Order and escape, that we should travel with the Sindi, that we should take this town, that we should leave the safety of its gates and return.”

  She met her mother’s eyes, saw the awe there. All eyes were locked on Heloise, all was silent save the sighing of the wind over the rampart. “And yes,” Heloise continued, “it is impossible that we will hold this town against the might of the Empire. And before … before all this, that would have made me despair. But now, I know it is just one more impossible thing, and like every other impossible thing that we have done, we will do this one as well.”

  She turned back to Leuba. “So, yes, Mother. We do stand a chance. More than a chance. And the Order knows it, and that’s why they will not wait. That’s why they will storm the walls.”

  “And we will beat them,” Barnard said.

  “We will,” Onas added, raising his blades, “for the Traveling People are with you now, and we are through running.”

  10

  SIEGE

  The “Free Peoples” of the Gold Coast bend the knee. All of their so-called senators are lords in their own right, rich men who claim to serve the will of their subjects, while lining their own pockets from their labor. Greatest of these is the “Red Lord” Ludhuige. He is that rarest of things: a rich man, refined and educated, with the soul of a killer. He is as wild and vicious as a starving wolf, and he will not rest until he has battered down the palace gates, and taken the Sacred Throne as his own.

  —Letter from Brother Witabern to Lyse Chapter House

  The first riders arrived the following day.

  Not gray-cloaked Pilgrims this time, but soldiers with steel caps, breastplates, and long spears, each tipped with a black pennant, blazoned with the golden throne. A wooden frame was affixed to the back of their saddles, rising and arcing over the horse’s rump. Black feathers filled it, so that it appeared as if each rider had a single outstretched wing behind them.

  “The Emperor’s uhlans.” Samson shaded his eyes with his hand. “His light horse. They scout ahead of the main army. The rest can’t be far behind.”

  “How much farther behind?” Heloise asked as Brother Tone trotted out to meet the lead uhlan. They exchanged a few words, pointed at the walls. A moment later, one of uhlans reined his horse around, dug in his spurs, and galloped back the way he had come.

  Samson sighed. “That’d be their rider going to tell the army that we are few in number and badly supplied, and to hurry to the attack. He’s not taking supplies with him, so I’d wager not far at all.”

  He turned to look up at her. “They will be here soon. We should make ready.”

  “And part of making ready,” came Mother Florea’s voice as the old woman ascended the ramp and joined them on the parapet, “is seeing to your safety.”

  Florea gestured to two Traveling People coming behind her.

  “You already know Onas,” Florea was saying, but her voice was receding into a low buzz. “This is my daughter, Xilyka. She casts better than anyone in any band.”

  Xilyka would have been of an age with Basina, had Basina still lived. But where Basina was light, with tow-colored hair and pale eyes, Xilyka was dark, her black hair falling past her shoulders, gathered here and there into copper rings. Basina had spent her life in a tinker’s workshop, and her strong arms were thick and solid. Xilyka’s bare arms were long and lean, the muscle visible under her dark skin. She wore knives like Onas, but where his were silver and hooked, hers were straight and gray, without even wooden handles over the flat, metal tangs. She must have had twenty of the narrow blades thrust into her belt, a circlet of steel that wrapped her waist.

  Xilyka’s dark eyes locked with hers, and Heloise looked away with an effort, feeling heat rising up the back of her neck to color her cheeks. “I … I…” she stammered.

  Florea smiled, misunderstanding Heloise’s discomfort. “There’s no need to worry, she can be trusted. The Mothers have been talking, and we’ve decided that you shouldn’t go unguarded.”

  “She is never unguarded.” Barnard folded his arms. “She hasn’t had a moment’s peace since this all started.”

  “That’s all very well,” Florea said, and Heloise risked a look back up at Xilyka. The girl was still looking at her with a mixture of curiosity and fascination. “But she is too important to trust to her friends and relations. Two bands of the Traveling People have thrown in our lot with you, and it is Heloise’s…” She waved a hand, searching for the words.

  “Legend,” Xilyka finished for her, quirking a smile. Her voice was smooth and dark, just like her hair and her eyes.

  Florea shrugged. “… Her legend that has brought us here. The Mothers agree. If she is lost, our people’s will goes with her. She must be protected.”

  “She is safe enough with…” Barnard began, but Heloise stopped him with a wave, and Florea went on as if he hadn’t spoken.

  “Each band wants to post one guard to her, to be with her always. We offer the best dancer of the Sindi,” she gestured to Onas, “and the best caster of the Hapti,” she gestured to Xilyka. “Both are children of Mothers, to bind us to you. Surely,” she eyed Barnard and put some ice into her voice, “you will not refuse this gift, intended as it is to ensure your safety.”

  “Surely not,” Heloise spoke before anyone else could. “Thank you, Mother Florea. I will sleep safer knowing they are with me.”

  “If I speak true, Onas would probably have gutted me had we picked someone else.” Onas reddened at the words, but he did not look away. “And when you come to know my Xilyka, you will see she would never have allowed any other Hapti to take the post if she could.”

  Xilyka rolled her eyes. “Mother…”

  “All right.” Florea threw up her hands. “Thank you, Heloise. Take good care of our children.”

  “It is we,” Onas said, “who will care for her.”

  But Florea was already starting back down the ramp, waving a hand in dismissal. “Sort it out amongst yourselves.”

  “Mother Florea,” Heloise called after her, and the Hapti woman turned. “The Talent. I know that Leahlabel and Giorgi have it in the Sindi. We may have need of it if any of your…”

  Florea shook her head. “Then I must disappoint you, Heloise, for I am the only one among the Hapti, and I am an old woman at the end of her days.”

  Heloise’s eyes widened. “What is it? What can you do?” She realized how excited she sounded, reeled in her ardor. “I’m sorry, Mother Florea. It’s just that, if we knew, it would help us to better plan the defenses.”

  “The Talent is like a person’s virtue,” Florea said. “It is hers to bestow or to retain, as she sees fit. I do not see fit to bestow it now, and so you should plan as if it does not exist
. But I promise that, should I use it, you will know it at once.”

  Heloise opened her mouth to protest, but Xilyka reached a hand inside the machine to touch her knee. She looked down at the Hapti girl and the shake of her head was so beautiful it nearly took Heloise’s breath away. “It is not our way,” Xilyka said. “Let her go.”

  Heloise swallowed her impatience and nodded.

  It was silent for a moment, Barnard, Samson, and Sigir looking at Heloise, and Heloise doing her best not to stare at Xilyka, who clearly had no problem staring at her. Onas pointed to the box on the war-machine’s shoulder. “The devil’s head,” he said to Xilyka, “is in there. I saw it myself. It’s been there for days and hasn’t rotted at all!”

  Xilyka ignored him. “Do you ever come out from there?” she asked Heloise.

  “That,” Samson said, “is a very good question.”

  Heloise felt her cheeks flush again, was suddenly keenly aware of how dirty she was, of her scars, of how strange she must look wedged into a cage of metal and leather and covered with straps and buckles. “It’s … safer this way,” Heloise said, the words sounding foolish to her own ears. “You never know when the enemy might come. Best not to be caught unawares.”

  She expected Xilyka to laugh, or wave away the excuse, but the Hapti girl only looked at her. “That’s wise,” she said, “but you can come out if you ever want to. We’re with you now, and we will keep you safe.”

  The words were so confident that Heloise, in that moment, believed them. For the first time in days, she felt as if she might safely step out of the machine, that with Onas and Xilyka at her side, nothing could harm her. “Thank you,” Heloise said, her voice thick, “truly.”

  The feeling was followed by a flash of guilt. She pictured Basina’s face, bright and smiling, as she had been before the fight with the devil. I will never forget you. I will never stop loving you. But the guilt and the fascination mingled in her gut, and Heloise found herself staring at the Hapti girl, unable to look away.