Marya was surprised to find herself laughing. The audio had been off, but from the reactions of the crowd, whatever Okner had shouted must have been impressive. She paused to rub her eyes before continuing her vigil. Okner and Elle were returning to the group. . .
The door opened.
Marya turned quizzically. Malcav had made it clear that she was in an isolated location where no one but himself would disturb her, and he had already said there were no further orders for today. At her first glimpse of his tense, slightly smiling face, her heart sank.
“What news?” she asked, looking up at him. He traced the edge of the Device with his finger, his smile growing. Just when she was about to repeat her question, he spoke.
“News at last. Orders. . . from the king.”
Marya closed her eyes, her thoughts plummeting.
“And?” she asked. Now was the time. Oh, she hated Malcav.
“We have been observing the group. Not as much as you have, but plenty.”
And the king. She hated the king.
“It is time.”
Most of all. . .
“You will kill one of them today.”
Most of all, she hated herself.
Make some defense, Marya. It was not an order, but a plea.
She cleared her throat twice before she could speak.
“Wh-why? What have they done?”
“This particular one? Led the group away – held associations with –”
Malcav did not seem to have anticipated Marya’s question, and it made him angry.
“You do not need to know. It is the king’s decision, and the king’s order. Have it done by tonight, or we will know the reason why.”
He moved to the door. He meant to make her ask. She hated him for it, hated herself even more, but the question must be formed.
“Malcav.”
He turned, satisfaction pooled on his smug face.
“Yes?”
Marya closed her eyes for an instant. She was within inches of heroism, close enough to grasp it, but. . .
“Which one?”
“Ah, yes. One of the boys. Let me see, he styled himself. . .”
He was toying with her. Her fists clenched under the desk. She would scream if this went on much longer.
“. . .leader. Solldero Noy.”
The door shut.
Marya screamed.
Okner Annersap looked over his shoulder hungrily. The scent of meat pies that wafted from the bag as it was passed from hand to hand behind him prevented him from sinking back into thought. Solldero had insisted that they move on right away, and he had waved away the proffered food, which apparently meant that no one in the front row was getting breakfast. Looking away from Cay biting into his second pie, Okner caught a heavy stare from Leera.
“Do you require my assistance?” Okner asked politely.
“Noy does,” she replied, tilting her head dangerously. Okner was reminded of a painting he’d once seen of a goddess from a forgotten religion; Solldero’s voice caught him before he fell into a reverie.
“Those people who threatened you, was the crowd against them?”
Okner glanced at him. He sounded really worried.
“On the contrary. I observed that about seventy percent of the crowd sympathized with the instigators. I would hypothesize that this number will remain constant throughout our trip. The question is, must there be instigators for a threat to form? Using an efficacious formula that originated in the time of the-”
“The question is,” Leera broke in, “Can we defend ourselves?”
Solldero was silent for several more steps. Then he said slowly,
“The question is, can we avoid large groups of people? Every city has smaller markets, mazes of alleyways . . . frequented by the disreputable, of course, but we are more able to handle those.”
He nodded at Leera, who somehow exuded gratification without changing expression.
“The best thing would be to travel quickly and inconspicuously. We’ll have to find a way to draw less attention to ourselves, or at least make people less suspicious.”
Okner nodded thoughtfully. Elle had broken her position for a moment to pass him a meat pie. It tasted as flavorous as it smelled.
Cay Vojen licked his fingers contentedly. He wasn’t used to having breakfast this late – on his uncle’s farm, they’d risen early – but at least there was breakfast. Cay had noticed the hungry pigeons waddling behind them. Dropping some greasy crumbs for them, he turned his head to watch them gobble the food, then hastily faced front again in case Solldero had given one of his strange signals. He hadn’t. The three in the front were talking earnestly, and Solldero and Leera kept glancing around and up as though they were looking for birds. Cay had often done this himself, and he was good at it. Leera’s scans were much too fast, he thought. Patience was essential in birdwatching. . . in anything to do with animals, for that matter. Food was useful, too. He watched as Leera’s steps clicked even more precisely in response to something Solldero had said. She looked rather like a bird herself, sort of strutting. She didn’t waddle like a pigeon, of course, but the way her braid swung reminded Cay of a pigeon’s bobbing head. He opened his mouth to make this observation, but fortunately tripped and flopped full-length in the street. At the abrupt thud and grunt of pain, Zinn gave a shriek and Joran, who had been whistling softly to himself with his hands in his pockets, crashed into Okner, who had stopped and turned with the others on Solldero’s quick signal. Cay had skinned both knees, but the embarrassment was worse. Scrambling up, he blurted,
“I’m fine! I’m just fine! Not hurt at all! I just tripped. Thinking too hard, I guess, or not enough. . .” He laughed nervously, eyeing the thunderous expressions on some of his companions’ faces. “But no harm done. I hope. Except everyone had to stop, but that isn’t harm. . .?”
Solldero tipped his head at Zinn.
“Zinnia. If you could assist Vojen. I suppose this is as good a time as any to discuss our plan.”
Zinn moved forward, her hand still pressed to her mouth, and the others drifted politely away. Cay shrank as much as possible and fixed his eyes on a nearby pigeon. It swallowed a crumb and tilted its head to one side, gazing placidly at him. Pigeons, Cay thought, had it easy.
Zinnia Questel frowned. She had always found it easiest to focus on one thing at a time – right now, Cay Vojen’s badly scraped knees and hands – but the others kept trying to include her in their conversation. In the middle of Solldero’s recap on their positions once the group reached the Doar blockade, she turned around and glared at him.
“I need supplies.”
Leera glared back.
“Did you hear anything he just said? About you staying safely in the middle and taking care of everyone else?”
Zinnia hadn’t.
“Yes. I can’t do that without bandages and herbs. And premade medicines, if possible.”
Solldero gave an almost imperceptible sigh.
“I’ve been thinking about that. I hoped Friya might have some extra clothing she wouldn’t mind donating.”
“In the best-case scenario, we won’t need it,” Elle pointed out hopefully.
“We can’t rely on getting the best-case scenario. Opening the Doar blockade. . . things are already not best-case. As for the herbs and medicines-”
“Fortunately, neither is this the worst-case scenario.” Okner mooted optimistically.
Leera whipped around.
“You’re not taking this seriously enough! We’re trying to do something that whole countries haven’t been able to do for years. What could possibly be worse?” Okner steepled his fingers dreamily.
“Ruling out all impossibilities, I shall begin by assuming that ‘worse’ scenarios involve death and serious injury. The difficulty of the task is also a factor, of course. The first area of consideration is crime. I do not mean to suggest that our ruler would order anything of the sort, but a few possibilities involve theft, assassination-”
“If you don’t mind.”
Solldero hadn’t raised his voice, but Zinn shivered at the unexpected accent in it that sliced through Okner’s rambling.
Okner’s eyebrows twitched.
“My apologies. Carry on.”
Solldero looked at Zinnia.
“I’m afraid we can’t afford to buy medicines. Will you be able to find herbs around here?”
Zinnia shot him an incredulous look over her shoulder, her fingers deftly wrapping Cay’s hands with the silk Friya had shyly given her.
“No. Most of the herbs I know are in the mountains. And this is a city. The only plants are these – these –” She gestured at the gloomy bushes looming over them disconcertingly. The plants and their soft, round seeds were all over the city, even taking over abandoned buildings. Actually, she might be able to use some of the seeds, but they couldn’t replace herbs for burns, numbing pain, and treating infections. “I could find them out in the countryside.” Probably. The free-spoken part of her dissolved as she moved away from Cay, who was babbling thanks and apologies.
Solldero looked at Okner, who nodded coldly.
“We will indeed pass through a portion of the countryside before we reach the town situated by the Doar blockade.”
Solldero extended a hand to Cay, helping him up.
“Thank you, Zinnia. We rely on you.”
For some reason, she blushed.
Joran Arundasi couldn’t believe his ears. Were the others actually planning a seed fight?
“…enable us, to use a colloquialism, to hide in plain sight,” Okner was saying, and Solldero was nodding along. Even Leera looked approving. A delighted grin slipped over Jor’s face. Granted, most of his experience with seed fights had involved twenty hostile village kids against himself, but having a good-natured battle would be. . . fun. That was something he never would have expected from a group like this, with the weird exercises and long marches. He looked over at Elle, who was smiling. It had been her idea.
“Hey, Elle, I’m not very good at making plant jokes, but thistle do.”
He waited for her laugh, then looked up at the sky and started whistling. Things had been getting boring, but now the bounce was back in his step.
When Solldero and Leera had finished plotting their route during the proposed fight, Solldero told them all to start gathering seeds. Joran headed for the nearest bush and crammed fluffy handfuls into his pockets. His hands full, he turned back to the others, itching to fill the air with seeds. No one moved. They stood awkwardly, clutching piles of seeds, casting sidelong glances at Solldero and Leera. Solldero motioned for them to start moving, and Jor’s face fell. Were they not going to have the fight after all? He was about to discard his seeds when Leera dropped back and fired a seed at Okner. It bounced off his shoulder and landed on Joran’s chest. There was another pause. Solldero looked around encouragingly. Then Okner threw a seed back at Leera, narrowly missing her. She gave a small smile, and the battle was on. Joran quickly depleted his pile, but there were plenty more on the ground and bushes nearby. He ran a bit ahead and ambushed Zinnia as she ran past. Leera and Okner joined forces and attacked Elle; Joran ran to her defense, finding that he had quite good aim, and Cay leaped in front of her, flinging handfuls indiscriminately. Okner peeled off and joined Zinnia against Friya, whose seeds rarely hit anyone. Solldero, remaining mostly aloof from the game with an eye for their surroundings, gently knocked Zinn and Okner’s seeds out of the air with impressive accuracy.
Friya Aztlán, covered in dust and fluffy white blobs, found herself giggling. Giggling! The others were no better. More than one person had tripped and fallen during the seed battle – which had turned into a seed chase – and they were all dirty and laughing. They were also out of the city. As the laughter died away and the eight teens began picking seeds off their clothing, Friya looked around nervously. It wasn’t that she had never been out in the country before, but when she travelled with her parents, there was always a carriage, and servants, and a certain time when they must arrive. Now it was all frighteningly free. For the first time, Friya was grateful for Solldero’s orders as he reformed the group. She watched as he restrained his exasperation, asking Okner if he wouldn’t mind explaining to Cay what dust was really made of after they’d both gotten into position. No wonder Cay was wondering, Friya thought. His blond hair and rough brown clothes had become a uniform tan. Still, peasants such as he were probably used to it. She paused to brush ruefully at her own dress, which had once been of Prime 2 silk. But it was worth it, wasn’t it? The thought startled her. She’d never before had the chance to find out. Everything was about appearances, in her family. Her parents were anxious about her father’s political standing, which went hand-in-hand with social standing for everyone except the king’s new advisors, whom her father disliked. You have the social standing you seem to have, her mother had always said. Chin up, dress well, court speech, and curtsey your finest. The curtseys had never satisfied her mother. Friya wondered what she would say if she could see her now.
“Fri-ya! Cay!”
Friya jumped guiltily and hurried up to the rest of the group, Cay following her. What had he been doing, anyway? She doubted he had gotten lost in thought; he was more likely to get lost trying to find a thought. Had he dropped back to stay with her?
“Are you two listening?”
Leera’s voice was much sharper than Solldero’s had been during the lecture Friya had ignored. Friya met her gaze and wished she hadn’t.
“Sorry,” she and Cay chorused.
Solldero looked at them wearily, then moved back to the front of the group.
“Stay focused, please. We’re almost there.”
Raising her eyes, Friya saw a low, black wall gleaming in the sunshine. It was partially hidden behind groves of trees, but the wild fields were beginning to flatten into the outskirts of the town. They were getting close.
“Friya.”
Cringing, she concentrated on Solldero, but he was still walking, looking straight ahead.
“Any more herbs, Zinnia?”
Zinnia was folding a bunch of plants into her pouch as she and Joran resumed their places.
“Something for burns. I don’t recognize anything else around here.”
Solldero nodded.
“Aztlán, with Questel. You will protect her and help her gather this herb. We will continue; rejoin us as soon as possible.”
Friya hesitated. Something about Leera’s ears. . .
“Er, yes, sir?”
She turned and followed Zinnia to a patch of spindly plants.
Elle Tonarych crouched nervously beside Zinnia, grateful for Cay and Okner’s presence. Joran and Friya were approaching the Doar, Friya dressed in the style of one of the country noblewomen, the sort that were shunned at court but put on airs around peasants. She looked uncomfortable, but her acting was good enough that she seemed merely put out.
“Really, to have to be called all the way out here simply because the Doar needs to be fixed. I don’t see why one of the peasant overseers couldn’t manage it,” Friya complained to one of the four guards, who looked suspicious.
Elle could tell by the way Joran’s head moved that he’d rolled his eyes at one of the guards, which was unscripted but a good move.
While Friya babbled imperiously, Jor set to work on the Doar, pretending to patch a section with the block of matching wood they’d been sent, but in reality picking the lock.
“We received no orders…” began a guard uncertainly. Solldero and Leera walked up briskly.
“Soldier?”
Leera had been disgruntled at the idea of Solldero taking the lead, but Elle now realized it was a good idea. Solldero’s air of confidence went perfectly with his natural authority. The guard hesitated.
“Orders from Commander Orgel. Sorry to be late; we had a bit of a problem. Repairs for the Doar and four other areas on the blockade begin today. You’re to keep a close eye on all workers, and by no means allow anyone through the blockade.”
Elle held her breath. It was dangerous, but perhaps the very rashness would allow the plan to work. For a moment the guards looked convinced, but then one of them shifted forward.
“Hey, look, they’re just kids. All of them.” He gestured at Joran and Friya accusingly.
Leera and Solldero tensed.
Suddenly, several things happened at once. Two of the guards tried to seize Solldero and Leera, who fended them off skillfully. Joran shoved open the Doar with a grunt and was yanked back by a guard. A man burst through, carrying a round copper machine under his arm. He ran straight up to Elle and dropped it into her hands.
“Clear the sky,” he hissed at the four of them. “King’s orders: clear the sky.”
And he sprinted off.
The guards had seized Joran and Friya, one was starting after the man, and then the sky seemed to darken and mist over. The device in Elle’s hands lifted and vanished. There was an explosion, thick red flames printed before her eyes. The world cleared, and stopped. Solldero lay moaning on the ground.
Elle’s thoughts retreated to the back of her head as her body rushed forward.
Friya and Joran stumbled away from the horrified guards.
“Let’s get out of here!”
Leera grabbed Solldero’s arms, and the others numbly helped to carry him away. The guards let them go.
The numbness was dissolving into terror by the time they stopped in a grove of trees and bushes. They lowered Solldero onto a patch of grass.
Friya was sobbing in quick, high-pitched gasps. Elle went up and put her arm around her, but she could feel a scream burning in her own chest.
There was . . . blood. A lot of it.
Solldero’s dark skin was turning waxy. His hand fluttered on the ground. Zinnia was working frantically over him, tears in her eyes.
Leera ripped the bag of clothes from Friya’s shoulder and dumped the contents next to Zinn.
“The purple herbs. Now!”
Okner, moving slowly as though through water, knelt next to Zinnia and rummaged through her pouch to get the herbs she wanted.
Solldero’s eyes opened for a moment. He was hissing in pain.
“Leera,” he said, then gasped and fell silent.
She went down on her knees next to him.
“Take. . .” He closed his eyes tightly, his mouth working soundlessly.
“Take. . .” He whispered. It sounded as though he were choking. “Take care of the others. The others. Leera.”He struggled for breath.
“Beware the. The. King. Malcav is against us. Trying to. Kill. Us.”
She nodded, her face frozen.
“Elle.”
Elle forced her trembling arm away from Friya and sat down by Solldero’s head, taking his hand.
“Tell. My mother. . . sister. What happened.”
Elle was crying.
“I’ll tell them. I’ll find them, Solldero. I’ll tell them.”
His head moved in the barest nod.
“C–”
He gasped, coughed. Blood sprayed from his mouth.
Zinnia lifted his head.
“Breathe! Breathe!” With her other hand, she was applying pressure to the wad of cloth on his chest.
A tremor went through his body.
“Cay.”
Cay, his eyes huge, ran forward.
“Sol-Solldero?”
It was hard to tell whether Solldero was coughing or choking. His eyes lifted to Cay’s face, his hand twitched as if he wanted to move it.
“Solldero?”
“Cay.” The word came out as a hiccupped sigh. Solldero’s head fell to the side, and his body went limp.
There was an awful silence.
Leera Stern knelt frozen beside her dead leader. This shouldn’t have happened. She should have anticipated the attack. She should have stopped . . . whatever the thing had been. . . before it had fired at Noy. She should have jumped in front of him and died herself. But Noy had ducked. She’d seen him, in the split second when the device had materialized in the air and fired, throw himself to the ground faster than gravity could pull him. The shot should have missed him. He shouldn’t be dead. He shouldn’t be dead.
All her training with Father and Keern had prepared her for moments like this. She needed to pull herself together and organize the others. The noise Aztlán was making could bring soldiers on them, and their position wasn’t ideal.
“Listen, all of you.”
They turned pale, stunned faces to her.
“Listen!” She made her voice rough and angry so that they’d listen.
“You three. Dig a grave over there.” She pointed to Joran, Okner, and Cay, who mechanically began to obey.
“Tonarych. Stop Aztlán from making that noise.”
Elle was crying silently, but she moved over and sat down next to Friya.
“Questel. . .”
Leera hesitated. She could fight. She could give orders. She could handle death and injury. But Zinnia’s stony face disconcerted her.
“You did well.” She made her voice as matter-of-fact as possible.
Zinn turned to stare at her.
“No. I didn’t.”
Leera stared back. Noy would have known what to say, but Leera did not. She stood stiffly and walked over to where the boys were digging. Okner and Cay had found sticks and were loosening the dirt while Joran scooped it out of the hole. As she watched, they found a boulder buried in the dirt.
“Dig it out,” she ordered. They levered it out with their sticks in silence. Beneath the rock, the sticks splintered on the hard dirt.
Leera told them to stop digging, and she and Okner carried Noy’s body to the grave. As the boys filled in the hole, she felt her expression solidifying into grimness.
“Put the boulder on top.”
Everyone’s movements had become slower and slower, and now no one moved. Leera felt a slow wave of panic sweeping over her. Then Cay wearily walked over to the boulder and braced himself to push. The others, even Friya, went to help. It wasn’t necessary or even efficient, but Leera said nothing. It was the last thing most of them could do for Solldero.
Friya was crying again, but softly this time.
Leera turned and strode away.
The patch of blood-soaked dirt distracted her, and she had to wrench her eyes away from it.
“We’re moving on,” she snapped, more sharply than she’d meant to. It was for the best. There was only room for either weariness or pain, her father had told her. They would march until they were exhausted. They would sleep. The morning would be better.
It could not be worse.