Green Jack
Page 42
Chapter 42
Jane
Jane tried not to look as self-conscious as she felt. They had stopped so she could change into her chiton and it felt strange to her now, as if it belonged to someone else. She tried to remember the ballroom in the castle, the elegant dresses, her mother’s poise. When the gate swung open she met the guard’s scowl and raised rifle with a haughty stare. “I’m here to see the Green Jack”
He barked a laugh. “Sure, sweetheart.”
Caradoc’s hand drifted to his sword. Jane angled between them. “Now,” she insisted, turning her head so he could see her numina mark. She hoped the torchlight and solar bulbs weren’t bright enough to show the scab bisecting the eye. Or the fine trembling in her hands.
He gaped at her. “Beg pardon, Numina.”
She nodded once. “Let me pass, if you please. We’ve had a rough night. The roads are not safe.”
“Of course, of course. Apologies.” He scrambled out of her way. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Of course you weren’t.”
He frowned at Caradoc. “This is your only escort?”
“Private security,” she said smoothly. “And thank goodness for that. As you know, the Directorate has called all available soldiers home. The two soldiers I was given didn’t survive when we were ambushed on the road.” The compound was dark except for solar lights set around the domes and torches along the fence. “Are we quite safe here?”
“The rain shorted out the power. It happens. Nothing to worry about,” he assured her. “Gareth has gone to have it sorted. If you’ll come with me.”
“Thank you,” she said, feeling both unbearably pompous and secretly proud that her plan was working. She slid out of the saddle and he steadied her politely. Caradoc stiffened. “And you are?”
“Petrov, Numina. I…” he paused, as they crossed the grounds and ducked under the covered walkway. “That is…”
“Yes?” She clasped her hands behind her back, knowing it made her look chilly and austere. Better, it covered the trembling in her fingers.
“I wondered if you might—only if there’s time—.”
“I’d be happy to read your omens,” she said, reminded so strongly of her duties at the Elysian cellas that she felt momentarily disoriented. “After my other obligations, of course.”
“Of course.” He quickened his pace. “Sir Summervale is away.”
“Yes.”
“You knew that.”
“I did.”
“I can see you to the guest quarters. But we have no cella, I’m afraid.”
“I’d like to start the rituals now, if it’s not too much bother.”
“Shouldn’t you like to rest?” Petrov asked, surprised.
“I’m far too awake after the ambush. It would be better if I had some occupation.” And the dome called to her, the reflection of the rain and torchlight making patterns of oak leaves and swans and horses. Caradoc still hadn’t spoken. The shadows swallowed him. Petrov led her inside. “May I get you anything, Numina?”
“Silence for my work, and privacy. Interruptions can cloud the reading, you understand.”
“Oi,” he called out, his voice ringing between the curved glass walls. “Guards outside.”
“What the hell for?” a guard grumbled, stomping up a walkway between rows of ginger and wheat. “We’ve already had to---.” He stopped when he saw Jane in her chiton.
“Shut your hole and you might get a reading,” Petrov barked. “Out.”
“You did that very well,” Caradoc murmured when they were alone. “We’ll make a Greencoat out of you yet.”
Pleasure snuck a tingle down her spine, even though this was hardly the time to be distracted by kind words and hushed tones. The dome was like the ones in the Enclave—humid, green, and thick with pollen. It was like breathing perfume. Caradoc stalked straight to the central pit. Saffron glared up at them. “This is so embarrassing.” There were fresh bruises on her cheek and she was covered in mud.
“You’re hurt.” Jane knelt at the edge of the pit.
“You didn’t have to put on a dress to rescue me, you know. Society girls,” she winked. “Always overdressed.”
“Your face,” Jane murmured.
“Yeah, that’s thanks to lovely Green Jill we were here to rescue. She punched me in the stomach and into a tree.” She touched her swollen cheek. “Someone needs a hug from the Mother Tree. Not to mention a boot to the head.”
“She punched you?” Jane dropped the ladder down into the pit. Saffron clambered up like her boots were on fire.
“Right before she left me to the guards chasing her out. So they grabbed me instead.” She bent to reclaim her pile of knives by Caradoc’s left boot.
“No alarm?” Jane asked, surprised. “Augusta’s that good?”
“Yes,” Caradoc said. “She is. But most of the regular soldiers wouldn’t ever have seen the Green Jill, not up close. That’s only for captains and Sir Summervale.” He nudged Jane. “Now, let’s go,” he said. “We’ve been here too long.”
“Slight problem,” Saffron pointed out. “There are guards every-damn-where.” She stayed hidden behind a trellis of flowering peas. On the other side of the windows, soldiers stood under the pavilion, glancing with studied casualness sat the dome. “And they’re acting weird.”
“I can take care of them,” Jane said, nerves fluttering in her belly. When she moved, their gazes followed. She realized she glowed in her pale chiton.
Caradoc looked at her sharply. “There are four of them.”
She smiled. “And they all want to know their future.”
“I’m predicting violence,” Saffron said. “And pain.”
“I’ll keep them occupied,” Jane said. “Just find the others and get to the gate.”
“And then what?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea.” She walked out into the misty darkness. She heard him swear softly behind her and then nothing. She was scared enough to feel nauseous, and not quite connected to her own body. But she had to do this, had to prove herself. If not to the others, as Saffron claimed, then to herself. If she wasn’t Jane of the Enclave, then who was she?
Time to find out.
The soldiers turned in unison at her approach. “That was fast,” Pretov said.
“There’s too much electricity still lingering,” she explained. The last of the rain clung to her eyelashes. “Even with the power down, the lightning of the storm is too much. I’ll have to wait until morning when it’s cleared. But I still won’t sleep, so perhaps I might read for you now? If your duties allow?” She exaggerated her Enclave inflection, the faint accent her mother and teachers had drilled into her.
Petrov glanced at the others. “It’s quiet enough now. Shall we go to the quest quarters?”
Where she’d be trapped.
“It’s best if my feet touch the earth to open the connection,” she said. ‘The rain seems to be stopping, you don’t mind, do you?” She stepped off the flagstones before they could object, and onto the wet grass.” You want to know about Samuel,” she murmured to Petrov. She’d never been given clear names before, only images.
His eyes widened, and then narrowed suspiciously. “How did you know that?”
She looked down her nose at him in disdain. She had a fleeting thought that her mother would finally have been proud of her. “I am a Numina, am I not?”
He bowed, slightly awed. She didn’t stop until she was in the darkest part of the field, between the gate and the domes, knowing he would follow. She forced herself not to glance around for the others. She needed to focus, to offer a few omens too accurate to be doubted, and true enough to be worth the threat of Protectorate punishment for leaving their posts. She slipped out of her shoes and pressed her heels into the soft earth. She held anise seeds in her hand--- the familiar tradition helped the soldier relax, even if they didn’t realize it. It was tradition, ritual, power.
She lifted her chin,
feeling her pupils blanch again.
Chapter 43
Saffron