Touch of Power

by Maria V. Snyder

  Even knowing Kerrick and company crouched in the nearby woods just in case we ran into trouble, I planned to fully enjoy the day. Another bright cold morning had arrived with the dawn. I wore the skirt and tunic to keep the peace, but my cloak covered the clothes, anyway, so there was no real reason to wear them.

  Located in the center hub of the city, the market bustled with shoppers, merchants and various undesirables seeking to prey on the unwary. Most of the merchants had set up their tables in three-sided huts with wooden roofs. Others hawked their wares from wagons, carts and blankets spread on the ground. Children dashed between legs. The general noise of voices arguing and haggling blended together into a happy, prosperous hum. I basked in the market’s energy, filling my lungs with the heady smell of fresh bread.

  Flea and I walked a circuit first to orient ourselves to the sellers and goods available for purchase. Although we had agreed to stay together—well, Kerrick had insisted—I held the list. I also brought along my remaining coins, hoping to secure a few needed items.

  At one point, Flea touched my shoulder. “See that kid?”

  “The girl with the red hat?”

  “No, the boy with the long black hair.”

  “Yes, I see him by the applecart.”

  “Watch.”

  When the customers around the cart captured the owner’s full attention, the boy pocketed as many apples as he could before slipping away unnoticed.

  “Nice technique,” Flea said.

  “How did you know he was going to steal?”

  “Coat too small. Pants threadbare with holes. No hat or gloves. Plus he had that look.”

  “A hungry look or an I’m-about-to-do-something-illegal look?”

  Flea laughed. “He doesn’t consider what he just did illegal, Avry. It’s survival. He had the worried look. Worry over where he’ll find his next meal. It’s constant. It doesn’t stop even when you have a full belly and a few slices of bread tucked away.”

  My enjoyment of the day faded. “You’d think with the town back on the mend, no one would starve.”

  “You might think that, Avry, but I know better. Even before the plague, people starved.” Flea glanced around. “At least there’s no immediate danger. According to Belen, it was pretty much every man for himself when the Booze Baron ruled the town last year.” Flea gestured to a pair of well-armed soldiers, watching the market with keen interest. “Estrid’s men.”

  “Then her presence here is good for the town.”

  “If everyone is so happy, then why are there so many soldiers around?” Flea asked.

  I peered at him with suspicion. It sounded like Kerrick had schooled him on what to say to me today. “You have a point,” I said. “But we can’t linger too long or Kerrick will have a fit. I suggest we purchase the lighter items first and save the heavy stuff for last.”

  “Now you have a look,” Flea said.

  “What kind?”

  “The shopper’s glow. If I were still a street rat, I’d try to pick your pocket before you spent your money.”

  “Good thing you’re no longer one.”

  “Thanks to Kerrick.”

  Ignoring Flea’s comment, I strode to the merchant selling jerky. We moved from stand to stand, buying the items on the list—basic supplies and travel rations. Flea caught one of the street rats before she could steal the bag of coins from my pocket. He admonished the girl for her poor technique and pointed her toward an easier mark.

  But I stopped her before she could dash off. “Here.” I gave her a few of my coins—I didn’t really need a comb or new undergarments; the ones I had would last a few more months. I still had enough to buy another set of travel clothes.

  She stared at me as if I had lost my mind, then nodded a quick thanks before disappearing into the market’s crowd. Flea peered at me, as well.

  “What?” I asked.

  He didn’t say anything.

  “That’s one meal she doesn’t have to worry about.”

  “No. That’s five or six meals.”

  “All the better. Come on.”

  We shopped for the rest of the morning. I was surprised that only a few people wore the red acolyte robes that marked them as devout believers in Estrid’s creator. Perhaps she had relaxed her laws.

  At one point I asked Flea, “Do you think Kerrick would mind if I bought a few spices? Herbs are going to be harder to find as it gets colder.” The winter season was in its infancy. The real nasty weather lurked a few weeks in the distance.

  “If it improves the food, no one will mind.”

  Almost finished with the list, we waited for the beef merchant to settle with the elderly lady in front of us. My arms ached from carrying our purchases. Flea was also loaded down. Now I was glad Belen and the others waited nearby.

  After the lady paid for her rib eye, she turned toward us and stopped in astonishment. “Noelle! I thought they took you. When did you get back?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry. You must be mistaking me for someone else.” Named Noelle, like my sister.

  “Oh, sorry, dear. With my old eyes, you looked just like her. But now I can see you’re older.”

  My insides turned to ice. “Do you know where she’s from?” I asked. The woman appeared uncertain, so I added, “I have a cousin named Noelle. She’s about fourteen, and my family lost track of hers during the plague.”

  “Oh, yes. So many lost.” The woman tsked. “I know she was on her own. She’d do odd jobs for me, such a sweet girl. But when Estrid of Ozero’s army arrived, they recruited the young men and women without families.” She lowered her voice. “More like conscripted.” The wrinkles on her face doubled when she frowned. “That’s why I was so startled—I thought she escaped. Bah! More bad times.”

  “Did she say anything about her family?” I asked.

  “No. She never said a word about anyone. Just did the work, thanked me for the coins and left. When the money ran out, she’d show up, asking if I had any work for her. I sure miss her. My legs are getting too old to be gallivanting around the market.”

  “Thanks for your time,” I said.

  The woman waved goodbye and headed home.

  “Do you really have a cousin named Noelle?” Flea asked me.

  “No, but I have…had a younger sister by that name.”

  “You don’t know?”

  I told him a condensed version of my arrival home from Tara’s. “For all I know they could be buried in the mass grave in Lekas.”

  “That’s tough.”

  I tried to shrug it off. “Lots of girls have that name. The odds that it’s her are low. Besides, you heard the lady—the girl’s gone.”

  “Still…” Flea scanned the market. He put his packages down. “Wait here. I’ll go make a few inquiries for you.”

  “We don’t want to attract notice by asking a bunch of questions.”

  “I won’t. The street rats don’t care about politics. I’ll be back.”

  Before I could protest, he slipped into the flow of people and was gone from sight. Various emotions churned in my stomach as I waited for him.

  What if she wasn’t my sister? Then I’d return to wondering where she might be.

  What if she was my sister? Nothing I could do. Estrid’s army had her. Unless she wasn’t taken. Then we might be able to find her in town. Hope wanted to grow, but I squashed it flat. Hope led to despair.

  What if Flea was caught? Kerrick would kill me. No. He would make me wish I were dead.

  Unable to just stand there, I organized our purchases, redistributing the heavier items to make it easier for us to carry. Flea still hadn’t returned by the time I finished. Worry swirled. My muscles itched for action, but I forced myself to remain in p
lace.

  What if Flea didn’t come back? Do I search for him? Get Kerrick? I sorted through my meager options when Flea appeared.

  “Where have you been?” I demanded.

  “I’ve been gone for ten minutes,” he said.

  “Ten torturous minutes.” I drew in a deep breath. “These are yours.” I gestured to a pile of packages. “Let’s get moving before Kerrick comes looking for us.”

  He gathered his half. “Don’t you want to know what I found out?”

  “I do. But move first.”

  We headed toward the road leading east. When we had put the market behind us, I asked Flea what he’d learned.

  “Lots about Estrid’s army. The people they gathered were mostly street rats. And they’re all being held at a training camp about five miles north of town.”

  I sensed he had more. “Don’t keep me on edge, please.”

  “Noelle was one of the street rats taken. No one knew much about her. But they knew where she came from.”

  I stopped to face him. “And?”

  “She’s your sister. No doubt about it.”

  Chapter 11

  “How can you be so sure?” I asked Flea.

  “The street rats kept mistaking you for her—except the one who tried to pick your pocket. They said she was from Lekas. That’s in Kazan, isn’t it?”

  “Why did they tell you all this?” I’d been searching for any sign or clue to my family’s whereabouts for three years. For this to just pop up now…seemed suspicious. Perhaps a trap?

  “I was a street rat.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And I spread a few coins around. Happy?”

  “That makes more sense.” I kept a firm grip on my emotions. Flea might not doubt who she was, but I did. “Did you learn anything about the training camp?”

  “It’s guarded, but not locked tight. Let’s face it, most of the recruits went from worrying about their next meal and where they would sleep when the snows came to having food, shelter and warm clothing.”

  “But they have to fight for Estrid.”

  “Like I said before, street rats don’t care about politics. Treat them good, and they’ll be loyal. Besides, it’s not like anyone’s at war or rebelling or doing much of anything.”

  “Now. What happens when Tohon and Estrid decide they want to occupy the same town?”

  Flea didn’t respond. He put a finger to his lips just when I heard the sour rustle to our left. I grabbed the hilt of my knife, but relaxed when Belen emerged from the forest. We were soon surrounded by the others.

  “You were gone longer than expected,” Loren said. “Did Avry have a hard time finding the market?”

  Quain chuckled.

  I glanced at Kerrick to gauge his mood. Nothing. I’d get more information staring at a stone. Belen tried to take all my packages, but I kept a few. Loren and Quain helped Flea.

  Finally, Flea said, “We had an opportunity to discover a few more details about Estrid and her forces.” He explained about the training camp as we headed to the cave. “And we need to rescue Avry’s sister.”

  This last bit was met with stunned silence, including me. Then the questions started. Flea told them about Noelle.

  “There’s no proof it’s her,” I said.

  “We’ll do a reconnaissance first,” Flea said. “We’ll verify she’s there, then we’ll sneak in—”

  “No. It’s too dangerous,” Kerrick said, as if that ended the discussion.

  I had been thinking the same thing, but when Kerrick said no, my first instinct was to argue with him. “It wouldn’t be that dangerous to go have a look. If it’s her, then I don’t have to keep wondering if she’s alive or dead.”

  “We’re not going near the camp. You can come back after…” An evil gleam shone in Kerrick’s eyes. “Promise you’ll heal Ryne, and we’ll take a look and see if it’s her.”

  I felt as if he shoved his sword deep into my chest. Perhaps this was payback for making him choose between Belen and his prince.

  “No deal,” I said. Proud my voice didn’t squeak, I increased my pace so I led the group back to the cave. So they couldn’t see the tears blurring my vision.

  We returned and the others unpacked the supplies. It was my turn to cook, and I focused on the task at hand. With fresh ingredients, spices and herbs it would have been difficult to ruin the meal. Loren, Quain and Flea made appreciative noises. Belen proclaimed the roast the best he’d ever had. But I had no appetite, and I slid into my bedroll as soon as I could.

  My thoughts returned to Noelle. If she was the missing street rat, being able to see her or even talk to her would be beyond wonderful. She probably knew the fate of Allyn and our mother, although just the fact she was alone meant bad news. They would never leave her if they were alive. Unless they had gotten separated by unexpected circumstances. Too many questions without answers. Were they worth my life? If she trained with Estrid’s soldiers, then she was relatively safe. And what if I’d promised to heal Ryne, and the girl wasn’t my little shadow?

  I’d made the right decision. Although the desire to sneak away to see the camp for myself throbbed in my heart. Even if I hadn’t given my word not to escape, I wouldn’t be able to go very far before Kerrick dragged me back.

  The knowledge that my choice was based in logic failed to remove the sharp knife of pain in my chest. Over the next couple days, I picked at my food, and stayed under my blankets as much as I could.

  On the third day, Belen hauled me to my feet and cajoled me into leaving the cave. I squinted into the bright sunshine as fingers of cold air stroked my face and ruffled my hair. Loren and Quain practiced sparring with sticks instead of swords. Flea napped in a patch of sunshine. Kerrick, of course, was gone to I-couldn’t-care-less.

  “See that target?” Belen asked.

  A red circle had been painted on a tree trunk about forty feet away. “Yes.”

  “Here.” Belen handed me my knives. “Even though my memories are fuzzy, I seem to recall someone needs to work on her aim.”

  I stared at the daggers. Both gleamed. I wondered which one had embedded into that man’s thigh.

  “That someone is you, Avry,” Belen said. “Try to hit the target with the knife.”

  “I’m not in the mood for this. Maybe later…”

  He refused to take the weapons or to move out of my way.

  “You’re not going back to the cave until you hit the target,” he said.

  I glared, but he remained unaffected. “Fine.” I grasped the end of the blade and threw the knife. It missed. So did the next one and the next and the five after that. Frustration welled. Focusing, I pushed all distracting thoughts and problems to the side and concentrated on the red circle. The knife hit the target and bounced off.

  “There. I hit it.” I moved to leave.

  Belen’s huge hand clamped onto my shoulder, stopping me in midstep. “Not so fast. It has to stick.”

  “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “Too bad. So sad. Try again.”

  My aim had improved, but none of the blades would pierce the bark. “It’s too far for me. I’m not strong enough.” My voice whined. Normally, I would have been appalled. Not today.

  “No. You’re not putting enough heat behind it.”

  “Heat?”

  “Yeah, heat.” Belen scratched his arm as he searched for the right words. “Heat like energy, desire, emotion. Think of that target as a giant spider and then throw the knife.”

  “I like spiders.”

  “Then think of it as something you don’t like. A snake or a Death Lily. Anything.”

  I aimed at the red circle and imagined an image on the tree’s trunk. Ang
er and annoyance in equal measure flowed through me. Whipping the knife, I put heat into the throw. A satisfying thunk sounded.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Belen said. “What did you think of? The Death Lily or the snake?”

  “Neither.” Could I do it a second time? Conjuring up the feelings the image evoked, I sent the second blade deep into the trunk next to the other.

  “Nice. See, you are strong enough.”

  I pulled the knives from the bark, returned to Belen’s side and buried them both again.

  “You got it. What gave you the motivation?”

  “Kerrick’s face inside that target.” I sucked in a deep breath. Pain no longer stabbed quite so deep. Perhaps I needed to throw a few dozen more knives right between his eyes.

  “That’s not nice,” Belen scolded.

  “Too bad.” Thunk. “So sad.” Thunk.

  “At least you’re smiling again. Think you can hit a moving target?”

  “Maybe.”

  “For any task, you need two things above all else. Confidence and practice. When you have those two, you can do anything.”

  “A cheesy motivational quote. Kill. Me. Now.”

  “Being nasty will only prolong your knife-throwing lesson.”

  I shrugged. “Not like I’m doing anything else.”

  “You could be running laps to get into shape. Climbing the Nine Mountains is strenuous in any weather, but particularly difficult in the winter.”

  Ugh. “Sorry. How do you plan to mimic a moving target?”

  “Quain rigged up a board with some ropes. Quain, are you ready to take a break?”

  He and Loren finished their bout.

  “Yeah, I’m tired of winning,” Quain said, wiping the sweat that dripped off his smooth head.

  “You call that winning? I’d call it barely keeping up.” Loren’s red face and damp tunic told another story.

  Flea woke, stretched and yawned. “Yep, that was a super exciting match. I’m glad you guys invited me to observe—I needed to catch up on my sleep.” He ducked as they flung their sticks at him.