by Shannon Hale
Rin moved faster, but Enna would not be left behind and broke into a jog. Enna’s foot came down on a stick. The crack seemed to make the entire wood tremble. Rin froze. They all did, breaths held, feet midstep. The door did not open.
Enna exhaled softly and started to whisper, “I think—”
The door slammed against the house and a bolt fired from a crossbow. Rin felt a shout heave from her throat as she raced forward. Wind howled. Fire burst in the air, lighting the scene in a brief, eerie flash of orange. The man hollered and dropped the crossbow before he could reload, the weapon ablaze in his hands. Then Finn was upon him, yanking both the man’s hands behind his back. Rin glanced down at her own body, at the other girls—no sign of the bolt. She had a nudge of instinct to look high to her left, and by the light of the burning crossbow she saw the bolt stuck in a tree where the wind must have blown it off course.
“Back into the house,” said Enna.
“We won’t hurt you,” said Isi.
“I don’t think we can promise that exactly. But we won’t unless we have to.”
“We just have some questions,” Isi continued as if Enna had not spoken.
Finn pushed the man inside. Rin followed, last this time. She looked back at the bolt, stuck deep into a solid trunk. The wood was quiet and so dark. There could be others out there in the trees, pointing loaded weapons at her even now. Rin had never realized that the world was so full of sharp things, and how many people were eager to use them.
She turned her back on the night and hurried into the house, pulling the door fast behind her.
A small, mean fire sputtered in a hearth so full of ashes, Rin wondered the flames did not suffocate. By the halfhearted light, she could see the man’s face—he was old enough to be a grandfather, though she could not imagine that haggard face ever kissing a child. His hair was probably white, but so greasy it turned a mottled gray, and his beard grew patchy across his jaw. If he’d been a dog, Rin would have assumed he had the mange.
“Have a seat, sir.” Isi pointed to the room’s only chair, and he took it roughly, sitting down so hard the wood complained. Finn stood behind him. “I believe you aren’t the one who set fire to the inn to night—”
“Ha!” said the man.
“And I also believe you know who did. Who was it?”
The man spit on the floor. Enna shoved her way between Isi and the man.
“She asked you a question, and we’re not leaving until we get a good answer. So tell her, what do you know about the burning?”
He spit again on the floor, marking the hard-packed dirt with a splatter of wet.
“You just keep at it,” Enna said, folding her arms. “Spit all night and all day too. I don’t have to live in your slimy house.”
The man gathered more saliva in his throat, taking his time with it, making an unappetizing grinding sound before he pointed his lips at Enna’s face and spit. Before the spittle could reach Enna, wind flew between them, smearing the wet glop over his own face.
“Argh!” he yelled, scrubbing his cheeks with his soiled tunic.
Enna laughed, a surprised, ecstatic laugh that bounded out of her belly, and she exchanged pleased looks with Isi. Rin guessed that both of them had sent wind.
Then Enna was in the man’s face, holding his tunic by her fist. She stared straight into his eyes, and he blinked for the smoke. Because smoke was twisting out of his tunic above the spot where she grabbed him, curling into his face. Unease made lines around his mouth.
“I could fizzle your little abode into ash in the time it takes you to spit again. And I’d enjoy it. Are you starting to comprehend your situation?”
The man blinked rapidly, the gray plumes drifting through his lashes.
“I think you know that I don’t care two eggs for you or your saliva-strewn home, and the only reason I’ll leave it standing is if you give me a more interesting direction to go. So tell me—where?”
Rin could see the man was both angry and afraid, but he shrugged in an attempt to pretend indifference. “Doesn’t hurt me to tell you. She’ll want to see you, way I hear it. Go on to Kel, then. Go north across the border from Saxmer, that’s where her boys came from. You’re bound to find her. Or she’ll find you, the way I hear it.”
“She?” Isi frowned. “Who is she?”
“Who? The one who’ll fry you up for breakfast.”
“Not ringing a bell,” said Enna.
He spoke slowly, as if they were hard of hearing. “The queen of Kel. Imagine not knowing who it is wants you dead.”
“We’re being truthful with you, sir,” Isi said in her most regal voice. “I expect you to be the same.”
“I think he believes what he’s saying,” Rin whispered. It was one way she could be useful.
Isi gave Rin a curious look.
Enna leaned her hand on a small table, her attitude unimpressed. “And just how do you happen to be chummy with the queen of Kel?” He coughed as a tendril of smoke tickled his nose.
“Don’t know her myself. But I met a couple of her boys—they’d been staying in town, though they’re gone now, I’ll wager. They gave me gold to keep an eye out—didn’t know there’d be five of you, said there’d probably be two, and when I heard you were poking around last night at the inn, I told ’em. They made you a little wake-up present, did they? Wakey-wakey, little girls!”
The talking brought back his gall, and he laughed in Enna’s face, spit flying at her eyes. She blinked, and the small wood table beside her exploded into flame so hot it crumpled and died into a heap of cinders. A pool of water curled around the spot, cooling the remains and slicking the floor with ash. The man’s eyes widened, and he swallowed.
“If you follow us,” Enna said darkly, “or let her know we’re coming, that black greasy clump will be you. We have ways of knowing.” Rin could tell Enna was lying about that last part, but the man seemed convinced.
Then Enna smiled brightly. “Good evening to you, fine sir!”
The five of them walked toward the inn, Finn and Enna keeping an eye on the house until they were out of sight. Isi fell in next to Rin.
“You believe he was telling the truth?”
“He thought he was. I’m pretty sure.” Rin shrugged. “My brothers play a bluffing game, but a few years ago they stopped letting me join in, ’cause I never lost.”
“I wonder . . . do you think there’s something about tree-speaking that gives you a talent for seeing others more clearly?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I thought about what you said, how animals don’t care what people say and do. The same would be true of trees, I think. Why would they care or notice if a person lied?”
Well away from the house, they paused to pull clothes from their packs and dress. Isi sat on a fallen log, Dasha and Enna on either side. Finn positioned himself behind Enna. Dasha made room on the log for Rin, but she leaned against a tree, tucking herself in between its thin branches. There was a hollow comfort standing like that, and while the others spoke, Rin thought of the crossbow bolt. Of the whoosh and sting of wind and fire heat and the man who would have killed her. Of pushing in front of Enna. Of almost dying. Of home and Ma and being farther away than the lands in tales, and maybe never going home. Of standing by a strange tree in a faraway wood with girls who spoke the language of fire. Of a queen of Kel who wanted them dead.
The girls talked. Rin listened and thought about the crossbow bolt.
“I think my tactics worked rather well,” Enna was saying.
“Diplomacy might have been more efficient,” said Dasha. “And spared us some of the spitting. People appreciate it when you take the trouble to flatter and understand—”
“People like clumpy-head back there appreciate exactly two things—their own smell and the fear of an immediate and uncomfortable death.”
“Perhaps next time we could try my way. Is that all right, Isi? We might take turns with our various approaches and so perhaps avoid having to wash our bo
ots after each encounter?”
“My questioning got at who’s behind all this, at least.”
“Actually, we still don’t know much,” said Dasha. “You see—”
“There is no queen of Kel,” Isi finished.
“I knew that. I was just . . .” Enna sighed. “Never mind, I didn’t know that.”
“Rin says he believed what he claimed,” said Isi, “so either he was lied to or things in Kel have changed quickly. It’s only been a few months since our ambassador was dismissed from Bressal. I wonder what is happening there, what King Scandlan is doing . . .”
Enna picked up a stick and began to dig at a root. “I couldn’t care less for Kel or her queen. But someone who claims to be the Kelish queen is sending fire-speakers out in the night to burn Bayern villages, and that makes me grumpy. So I’m all for tracking down this ‘she’ and telling her, very politely, that in Bayern, burning down inns just isn’t good manners. And then char every hair from her body.”
Finn smiled behind Enna’s back, enjoying every word.
“So you think that the burnings were caused by cultural impoliteness?” said Dasha. “Interesting. You will notice that there are several buildings in this quaint little hamlet, and the one we happened to be sleeping in was the only one marred by fire.”
“You noticed that too, did you, Ambassador? Well, Isi, I guess I’m going to have to take back some of the things I said about Tiran lack of observation.”
“Wonderful. My real concern right now, not an hour after someone tried to murder us in our sleep, is what you think about the perception skills of my countrymen.”
“Thank you, girls,” said Isi. “That will do. What do you think, Rin?”
Rin startled. She’d been feeling invisible all night, a stranger lurking on the edge of big events. Isi’s attention pulled her from the shadows and surprised her thoughts out of her.
“I think that Enna and Dasha don’t really dislike each other as much as they pretend.”
Enna and Dasha both made surprised noises in their throats, something like, “naw” and “yee.”
Isi smirked. “Indeed. What I meant to say is, do you think we’re being targeted?”
Rin had thought about this too. “First a village was burned. That brought the king. He was burned, though not killed. That brought the queen. Then the inn was burned, though again, you weren’t killed. Either they’re trying to kill Bayern royalty and they’re failing, or the point of the attacks is to provoke you. To do something. Maybe to go somewhere?”
“The Tiran,” said Enna. “They’re trying to restart the war.”
“Enna,” Isi said with warning.
Enna rolled her eyes. “Or I guess it could be Kel. Maybe they’re using the tension between Tira and Bayern as an excuse to spark a conflict with us. See, I don’t always jump to the Tira-is-evil conclusion.”
“Kel doesn’t usually tend toward belligerence,” Finn said.
Isi nodded. “Their navy is formidable, protecting them from a Tiran sea invasion. Their most serious threat would be a Bayern ground attack, but the rough terrain isn’t hospitable to an invading force—bogs, woods, crags. And they’ve always been eager to make treaties and be a valuable trade partner. Why would they suddenly stir up trouble? It doesn’t make sense.”
“So it isTira,” said Enna. “See, I knew they were evil.”
Dasha made a noise of annoyance.
“I was kidding, I was kidding!” Enna said, then she added in an undertone, “Mostly. Anyway, we don’t know if Isi was the target in the inn. I’m the one who burned a tenth of Tira’s army. If anyone’s looking for vengeance—”
“If we are coming up with reasons people might want us dead,” said Dasha, “I think I can play that game. I am the ambassador of Tira, responsible for thousands of deaths and injuries during the war.”
Enna looked at her blankly. “You killed and injured thousands of people?”
“I meant,” Dasha said through gritted teeth, “that my country’s army caused the damage.”
“Oh, because that’s not what it sounded like. I would’ve thought that, being a well-versed diplomat, you’d know how to speak straight.”
Dasha threw up her hands at the sky.
Enna sat down and started to laugh so hard her body shook. “I’m sorry, it’s just that we were almost burned alive tonight, and someone’s hunting one of us down and is not afraid to kill anyone who gets too close . . . and I haven’t slept well in a week, and I’m supposed to be married by now and . . . and . . .” Her voice squeaked as she tried to suck in more breath through the laughter. “And Dasha said she killed thousands of people . . . and . . .” She took two deep stuttered breaths, wiped her eyes, and looked up at Finn, who stood behind her, touching her hair. She flexed her shoulders as if about to shrug him off, but then just sighed. “And I forgot what was funny. I wish something was funny. Nothing’s funny.” She looked at the queen. “Sorry, Isi.”
Isi shrugged. “I have an unreasonable hope that things will be funny again soon.”
“Promise?” Enna’s voice was soft and pleading, a tone Rin had never heard from her before, making her sound like a small child in need of comfort. Finn squeezed her shoulder.
“We’ll figure this out and get you and Finn married in a few days,” said Isi. “And then we’ll laugh for hours.”
Enna put her hand on top of Finn’s and looked at the huge darkness before them. “All right. All right. That’s all right. A few days.”
“Finn?” said Isi. “What do you think we should do?”
“Go to Kel,” he answered without hesitation. “Cross the border by Saxmer, like clumpy-head said.”
“That could be this so-called queen’s intention all along,” said Dasha. “To herd us into Kel.”
“I worry about that,” said Isi, “but it’s our only indication where to find these burners. I don’t want to see another village razed like Geldis, another victim like Brynn or Geric. And sadly I think that will be our last inn on this journey. If we’re attacked again, I don’t want to be around others who could get hurt too.”
Finn was looking over Isi’s small map. “If we cut through this wood, head north by northeast, we should get to Saxmer in . . . maybe four days? We’ll have to go on foot. This isn’t a path for horses.”
“And so we lose ourselves in the wild,” said Dasha.
“Right.” Enna stood, brushing off her skirt, and her manner was so Enna again, Rin questioned her memory of the girl’s momentary insecurity. “I can help with the losing ourselves part, but as for surviving in the wild on these meager provisions”—Enna shook her bag—“I’m one Forest girl who never cared for straying far from my bed.”
Dasha hooked Rin’s arm. “So what do you say, Rinna-girl? Think you and Finn can keep two city-bred noble ladies and a home-fond Forest girl alive in all these trees?”
Rin’s eyes went wide. She whistled a note that plunged from high to low, and she said as Razo might, “City-bred is half-dead.”
Finn snorted.
Since they would be going on foot, someone needed to return to town and arrange for their horses to be sent back to the capital. Enna’s gray Merry was virtually her pet, and the queen was very attached to her black stallion Avlado.
Finn volunteered. He’d been carrying the packs Rin salvaged from the inn, and he set them now at Enna’s feet. She did not acknowledge him, though he waited for a few moments before turning toward town.
“Wait, Finn.” Isi’s hands clutched together, suddenly nervous. “I . . . I didn’t want to do this, but Geric should know. He needs to know where we’re going, that there’s a rumor of a queen in Kel, that she wants us dead. He should know soon.”
“Send a message with someone in town, Isi.” Enna stood up, a touch of panic in her voice. “Write a note and send it.”
Isi shook her head. “I don’t trust a message to be kept safe, or fly with the speed we need. Finn, I’m sorry, I’ve got to send you back.”
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He stepped forward as if he would argue, but checked himself, nodding.
“Rin,” said Isi.
“Please, no.” The thought of being sent away created eddies of panic inside Rin.
Isi considered, then nodded. “Rin, you stay with us, but be careful, no more rushing ahead of everyone.” She gave Finn some coins. “Give three to the innkeeper to help with repairs, the rest are to get you back. I doubt you’ll be able to buy supplies in Hendric tonight, but it’s not far to Keltwin, and there is a little food and water in our saddlebags. Don’t kill yourself or the horses, Finn, but go quickly.”
He nodded again, then his eyes went to Enna. She moaned sadly, came forward, and melted into his arms. He lifted her up and squeezed her hard, sighing as he did, his face relaxing. He pulled back to kiss her, three long farewell kisses, then left without another word.
Enna watched him go till he was out of sight. Then she sighed, and the look on her face left no doubt in Rin’s mind that Enna loved Finn more than the moon and the night.
She whispered, “I’m going to have to have a little chat with the queen of Kel.”
Chapter 11
No one felt sleepy, and the night was chilly enough that the thought of sprawling on hard earth made walking on preferable. Near sunup, they snuggled into cloaks and rested for a few hours, waking to glare at the late-morning sun as it slanted into their eyes.
“I hate them,” Enna said. “Whoever is responsible for making me sleep outside without pillows, I hate them.”
“Mmm-hmmm . . . ,” Dasha said. Rin had noticed that the Tiran girl often had trouble remembering how to speak in the morning.
“If Finn were here,” Enna continued to mumble as she rewrapped her head cloth, “he’d let me rest my head on his chest at night. Or leg. Or arm. And then he’d find whoever was responsible for the whole sleeping outside with no pillows situation and hold him while I kicked him in the shins.”
