Her thoughts were interrupted when Shira grabbed her arm with a gloved hand and pulled her through the doorway and into the inn.
* * *
All of her belongings on her back, Mariah made her way down the rough wooden stairway behind Shira. After a brief argument, they agreed that they would have breakfast before restocking their supplies and moving on. If they couldn’t learn anything by then, Mariah didn’t think it was worth staying. Shira had begrudgingly agreed that Mariah’s near capture eight years ago must have been quite the event for the townspeople, one that they’d be unlikely to have forgotten, and that they shouldn’t risk staying too long.
The Rookery’s old innkeeper, who’d said his name was Ollen Bray, had barely looked at them the night before; he had only taken their money and shown them up to a small, fire-warmed room. A tavern maid had followed soon after with a hot brick for their bed and some stew, ale, and chunks of tough bread. As she came to gather their dishes a short time later, the ruddy-skinned young woman had asked, “What brings you two out in this weather, Miss …?”
“Ansell,” Shira replied, giving the name they had agreed to use with people they didn’t know. Kadne and Kala Ansell.
“Well, Miss Ansell. Surely whatever it is can wait until spring?”
Mariah had kept her head down, ignoring her, while Shira had smiled and answered her gruffly. “Lost our pa, we did, and with him, our keep. Got family up north.”
The woman nodded, near homelessness apparently a good enough excuse to travel through the winter, before she bustled out of the room.
There was a different maid this morning, this one older and plump but with the same dark hair and ruddy complexion, and Mariah realized they must have been kin.
When their breakfast of tea, freshly baked bread, and eggs stuffed with raisins and spices was laid out before them, Shira spoke to the woman, who had introduced herself as Seraphina. “Miss, I was wonderin’ if you could tell me about that house down the road, the one all in ruins? Looks like it burned a while back. Forgive my pryin’, I’m just ever curious, as my sister can attest.”
Mariah grunted around a mouthful of egg but kept her focus on her food. Before the maid could answer, the front door creaked open, and a gust of cold air blew in, sending a shiver down Mariah’s spine. She risked a glance up and saw a tall, broad man covered in fur and leather duck through the door. A glint of black showed through the front of his cloak, and Mariah quickly looked away. A soldier? Here?
I must stop being surprised by them. They’re everywhere.
“Seraphina,” the man said in a friendly voice.
“Oh, Han!” The woman’s face stretched, her uneven teeth bared in a wide grin. “Essie was wondering if you’d be by this morning. She’ll be down shortly, I expect. In the meantime, have a seat, and I’ll make you a cup of your favorite tea.”
He nodded, his face still hidden beneath the gray fur edging his hood, and moved forward to the bar. Uneasy, Mariah nearly pulled up her own hood but instead went back to her breakfast, anxious to leave as soon as possible.
Seraphina had turned to leave the table when Shira touched her arm. “The house?”
“Oh, yes! It’s quite an interesting story, Miss Kadne,” she said, giving her attention back to Shira. “I didn’t live here at the time. See, me and my daughter, we like to travel, keep the wind at our backs and a song in our heart.” She grinned again, nodding at the man now sitting at the bar with his back to them. Continuing in a gruff whisper, she said, “Though I imagine that one’s gonna have Essie singin’ a different tune soon enough.”
Shira cleared her throat, trying to keep the woman on track, and Mariah wondered if her friend had finally met her match in the talking arena.
“Right, the house down the way. Well, way I hear it is that the guard tore it down years ago and then burned it for good measure. The folks there, they were bad news, traitors. The husband was a smith, worked for the king’s guard itself.” Mariah couldn’t help staring now. Her eyes were riveted to the maid’s face. “Well, it turns out, he was sellin’ weapons to Adis Ador right under their noses. And they wouldn’t have even found that out if it hadn’t been for their daughter, who turned out to be a—”
“Now, Seraphina, what would you know about any of that?”
All three women started. The man from the bar—Han, was it?—was standing right next to the maid now, his cloak open wide enough now to reveal the black leather armor beneath it. Definitely a king’s man. He was smiling, and it warmed his whole face. The shaggy haired guard was probably no older than Mariah, but there was a warning in his voice. Seraphina seemed to take no mind of it.
“Hanas Vasdaf! You oughtn’t go sneaking up on a person like that! Your mother would whip you, no matter how big you are!” She huffed, turning back to the table. “Besides, there’s no harm in a little gossip, is there, ladies?”
Mariah looked down again. The man’s bearded face, soft but for its straight nose and the long scar on his cheek, looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Vasdaf, Vasdaf …
“’Course not,” Shira pressed. “No harm at all. So, what happened to that family … the traitors?”
Seraphina shook her head. “Don’t know. I imagine they’re dead. All I do know is that the soldiers decreed by royal order that the spot is to be left as is, as an example to anyone who might get it in their head to—”
“Han!” The squeal came from Essie, the young maid from the night before, who was now running down the stairs. She sailed straight across the room and into the arms of the soldier standing before them.
After kissing her briefly on the forehead, the large man put an arm around her waist and led her over to the bar. “Seraphina, what about that tea?”
The woman smiled apologetically at Shira and Mariah. “Duty calls.”
After the maid had disappeared into the kitchen and Essie had begun chattering at her soldier, Mariah risked another glance at him.
She was surprised to find his hazel eyes staring right back at her over the young woman’s back.
Chapter Eight
Discovery
It took Shira quite a while to get Seraphina’s attention again, even after their tin plates and mugs were empty. She was too busy doting on the soldier who held her daughter’s attention—Han, she had called him.
“Maybe we should just hunt,” Mariah whispered.
Shira stared back at her. Mariah had argued against hunting before, at least as a reliable source of food. They would end up lean and hungry trying to hunt in this weather. It would be a risk, as Mariah didn’t know the area, but at the moment—with that soldier looking at her again—she was willing to risk it.
“Fine,” Mariah said, finally giving into Shira’s glare. “We’ll wait.”
Looking appropriately mollified, the other woman rose and went to the bar to get the maid’s attention. “Excuse me, miss? Do you have any honeycakes or something we could add to our packs to tide us over for a bit? We are willing to pay, of course. It’s a long way, and we’ve already been traveling awhile.”
“Oh, yes, of course. How many do you need?”
The two women discussed the purchase and haggled for a few minutes before Seraphina gathered up her reluctant daughter and went back into the kitchen to get what they needed.
Mariah’s stomach dropped when the soldier rose and followed Shira back to the table when he was left alone.
His expression was friendly enough, but Mariah felt a sense of foreboding when he got close.
“I couldn’t help but hear that you two are traveling. I’m surprised to hear it, with the snow and all.”
Shira repeated her story about their losing their father and their livelihood, and the young man nodded, rubbing at his beard.
“Lieutenant Hanas Vasdaf.” He introduced himself without offering a hand.
“I’m Kadne,” S
hira muttered. Mariah remained silent.
“You know, I’m here on leave, visiting my mother before heading back to the capital. If you are willing to stay a little longer, no more than a few days, I could accompany you.”
Shira was shaking her head before he even finished speaking. “Oh, no. Not that we don’t appreciate it, but we need to move on. ’Sides, we’ve done all right so far. Wouldn’t want to slow you down when you have to get back to … work.” Her mouth was tense in a way Mariah didn’t recognize, and she wondered what about this man—besides the obvious fact that he was a soldier—bothered Shira.
“All right,” he replied. “But if you change your mind, just tell Seraphina or Essie. They know where to find me.”
And with that, he turned, pulled his hood up, and left the inn.
When the door had closed fully behind him and they were alone again, Shira muttered, “I don’t like that one.”
Mariah nodded. Curiosity had her wanting to press more. Shira had gotten on fine with the soldiers on the mountain, at least until Xae had manage to set them against the little group. Why was this one setting off her alarm bells? But it could wait until later when they were on the road and had more privacy.
“He seemed familiar—” she started when Shira interrupted.
“What do you think happened to that old innkeeper? Even with me and Grelem around, my parents—or at least one of them—always greet guests in the mornin’.” The man had been behind the bar in the common room when they had come down but had scurried into the kitchen without saying a word before they reached the bottom of the stairs. Seraphina had come out to greet them just a minute later.
“Don’t know,” Mariah muttered in response. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
Before Shira could reply, the kitchen door swung open, and the two women emerged, each with a napkin full of food. As Shira settled up the bill with Seraphina and Mariah found places in their packs for the food, Essie kept glancing toward the door and then at her mother, and Mariah could see the irritation on her face that the soldier had left while she was occupied.
At the last minute, Mariah spoke to the older woman. “Do you know where I can get a message sent?”
“Where to?”
“Um … Cillian. We have family there too that need to be notified of my father’s passing.”
Seraphina shook her head. “Maybe in a few months, but no one’s going down to Kilgereen in this weather, and that’s the only way a message is gettin’ across the sea.”
Mariah’s lips thinned, but she nodded. “Thank you.” She and Shira would have to find another way to get word to Xae.
Shira was quiet as they pulled up their cloaks and left the inn, weighed down once again by all their belongings.
“Where next?” Mariah asked in a low voice.
It was going to be difficult and risky to find support for their cause when they hardly knew anyone in the kingdom, except in Grof. All that planning, and they hadn’t really decided anything. The time they had discussed it had not come to much. Shira had quickly axed the idea of their returning to Kannuk and seeking help from the Keepers. What if they did suspect her of having something to do with Cam’s disappearance? What if someone knew they had killed him? Finally, after hearing Shira’s story about how the Keepers had refused to help Rose, one of their own, when Shira was a baby and putting it together with what Keeper Dennari had said, Mariah had to admit it probably wasn’t a good idea. Still, she wished there was a way.
They also knew the wolves, but even without Shira’s protests, the thought of returning to Laikos made Mariah’s stomach roil. She wanted to see Ruby again, but she could certainly do without seeing the others. She thought back to her mother’s letter. Ashanya had originally intended for Mariah to go to Direstrand. There might still be people in that village who would be sympathetic to her and her cause, if the king hadn’t flushed them all out by now.
They had taken no more than a few steps out onto the road when Mariah noticed a group gathered across the street. At their head was the Rookery’s old innkeeper, Ollen, a spare man with a bald pate. Even in his tattered wool coat, there hardly seemed anything to him. The few bits of dark gray hair on his scalp stuck out at odd angles, and his cheeks were flushed, as if he had been running.
When he saw the women, recognition lit his eyes, and he turned to his fellows, pointing in their direction. “There! That’s her! That’s the old blacksmith’s daughter. I’m sure of it!”
The group around him, several men and one woman, looked up. Soldiers every one. Lieutenant Hanas Vasdaf stood at their center, his wide eyes staring right at them.
“Wait!” One of them called, but waiting was the last thing on Mariah’s mind.
“Shira, run!”
But Shira had already grabbed her arm and started pulling her down the road. The creaking of armor and clomping of boots followed only seconds later as the soldiers gave chase.
“Lady,” Shira breathed as they ran. “We can’t outrun them. Not like this.”
Mariah looked back over her shoulder, her heart sinking as she saw swords drawn and a bow readied even as the others closed the gap. “They’ve got weapons!”
“Yeah, well, we’ve got claws.” There was a predatory look on Shira’s face, and her mouth was set firmly, her eyes gleaming. Still running, she transformed, the warmth of her magic rushing into Mariah, who followed suit without stopping to judge whether it was really a good idea.
Instead of waiting to be shot or cut down from behind, the two Ceo San whirled around to face the soldiers, Shira rising up to her full form, towering over the group, which was still several yards away. She roared, and the air trembled. Two of the guard—Mariah could see now that there were five—had stopped in their tracks, mouths agape at their sudden change. Not Trappers then. There were no dragon-engraved chestplates to be seen. No cuffs or chains.
Small blessings. The woman with the bow, however, was already taking aim at her, and Mariah moved quickly, darting to and fro in the air, refusing to make herself an easy target. The old innkeeper helped; he kept grabbing at the woman’s arm and screeching, “See! See! I told ya! She’s one o’ them.”
The soldier jabbed him in the side with her elbow, and he stumbled backward before falling onto his rear. Mariah took advantage of the distraction to beat her wings swiftly, arcing around behind the group. Shira charged the ones with swords, her powerful legs bringing her upon the group so quickly that no one had the chance to get their sword back up.
Shira’s great paw swept down, knocking one of the soldiers onto his back, while Mariah extended her claws and tore at the hood of the archer, sending the innkeeper scrambling further away for cover.
Then, Mariah was diving for another guard, the one who had his sword out and was moving toward Shira’s back. Mariah went for his wrist. Memories of the owl man’s head in her claws flashed through her mind, but she remained steady, and in another moment, the soldier’s blade clattered to the ground as he clung to the bloodied remains of his weapon hand.
Shira, on all fours now, growling and snarling, backed a hefty, black-armored soldier down the street until he tripped and dropped his weapon. As she laid one massive paw on his chest, Mariah turned back to finish off the female soldier, the bow woman, who was clutching at her head, her weapon discarded on the ground. At the last second, Mariah dove and retrieved the bow instead, climbing quickly over the village’s houses until she had reached the trees beyond. There, she dropped the weapon before making a hairpin turn and plunging back into the fray.
The third soldier was down, dead or unconscious, and the fourth, the archer, was cowering on the ground before Shira’s great brown bear, her arms over her head. One of the soldiers was unaccounted for. Mariah quickly scanned the area between the town’s buildings and found Vasdaf leading the innkeeper back inside the Rookery, a beefy arm around him. The guard glanced b
ack at Mariah, and she was surprised to find no hate in his face, only knitted brows and a tightened jaw. He nodded at her, and she turned away, shrieking at Shira.
Taking her cue, the bear aborted her attack on the last soldier and began to run at full speed, following Mariah’s lead as she wove between the houses to the east and toward the cover of trees beyond.
Chapter Nine
Run
Mariah flew as hard as she had ever flown. Shira ran along behind her, zigzagging until they were through the houses and past the edge of the village. When they came to the village wall, Shira leapt over it without hesitating. Just inside the tree line, Mariah turned north, and the two continued to move at full speed, using an established trail to cross back over the road north of the village and head west. Mariah wasn’t sure if changing direction would throw off their pursuit, but she had to try to put as much distance between them and Eaglespire as possible. Her heart beat hard in her throat when she spotted the heavy tracks Shira left in her wake, but there was nothing to do about it now, with the ground covered in snow and no time to cover them.
They had been discovered, and this time it was real. They were not going to be remembered simply as nosy, troublesome thieves, as they had been that day with Xae in the Highlands. No, this time, she had been discovered for who she really was. For the first time in so many years, she had been identified as the blacksmith’s daughter, Mariah Griven, the one who was supposed to be deformed and broken but who was really a Ceo San, a hawk and a human all rolled up into one. She had apparently left legends behind when she had fled or at least stories big enough that they had lasted for eight years. And now, she had exposed Shira as well. Until this point, as far as Mariah knew, no one except her friends and family had known she was also a bear.
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