SIX

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Shouts in the night roused us from an otherwise restful slumber. I was first to hear them, I think, perhaps not resting so soundly for my earlier worries; but even as I strained to lift my head and tilt my ears toward the window, Rebecca shifted atop me, mumbling in the way the just-awakened do.

The window was closed against the November rain, but I could still hear cries of alarm. And in one sudden burst of noise, one of those words came through.

“Fire,” I repeated, throwing the furs back. Rebecca scrambled off of me before I could make another move; I rolled off the bed, striding over to my closet and seizing two robes. One I tossed over to her, and the other I shrugged into myself, saying, “We might be able to see where it is from the cupola. If it were anywhere near here, someone would be around to rouse us already…”

I wasn’t sure we would actually be able to see where the fire was. Unfortunately, I needn’t have worried; as soon as we emerged from the ladder, it was painfully obvious.

Weston House was ablaze, from one end to the other. Screams rose into the night, shouts of panic, precious few voices trying to bring order, to fetch water.

“Good heavens,” Rebecca breathed, staring out over the rooftops at the flickering light. “You were right.”

“Gods keep me from being so again,” I said. “…Perhaps it’s a coincidence?”

Rebecca wavered on her feet, staring at the flames in sick fascination; I took hold of her shoulder to steady her, and she leaned right against me. “Edmond, Weston House is made of stone. There are some things in it that will burn, yes, but it should never have spread so much. And… and all fires are not the same.”

“What do you mean?” As far as I knew, fire was fire; fickle, unpredictable, voraciously destructive.

“The colour is wrong. That isn’t a wood fire, or anything that might have been at the House to set ablaze.” She shook her head. “Naphtha. I’ve seen it burning a few times before, when the soldiers were practising with it. Good heavens, someone must have spread it all over the House…”

“Heavens, that’s your family that lives there.” The weight of it sank in; I started for the door. “We should dress, get help…”

She seized my arm. “Edmond, wait. Think. We aren’t close enough to offer any help that someone nearer can’t, but I don’t think there’s anything to be done but keep the blaze from spreading.” Her voice was flat. Numb.

For the first few seconds, I tried to pull away – not very hard; but on some level I was trying to pull her along with me, and instead, she was just… standing there, staring at the blaze in horrid fascination, and keeping me with her. I gave up trying to move, but my thoughts were running so much in circles that it took me all too long to realize what she’d meant.

It was too late to do anything… because whoever had set this fire would have seen to it as such. They would have ensured that the people they wanted to be caught by the fire, would be.

They might even have… dealt with… anyone who had tried to flee. If the captain of the night watch had been involved, so too might all her soldiers. Or maybe…

Maybe she had other soldiers to command…

That thought was what shook me from stasis. “Rebecca, Angelique said something about Asterian soldiers coming into the city. They… they might start searching. Trying to finish their awful work. What should we do?”

She turned to look east, toward the castle. There was no sign of a fire from that way, but I gleaned her thoughts readily enough: if there was some sort of attack going on, then the fire at Weston House, where the cadet line lived, would only be a diversion. The greatest part of their grisly work would be at the castle, striking at the heart of the royal family.

But if they were attempting to exterminate the royal line, Rebecca would not be safe just because she had escaped the fire.

“You need to get out of the city,” I said. “Is there anyone you can truly trust, someone you know couldn’t possibly be a part of this, who could keep you safe?”

She turned to look up at me. “For a start, there’s you.”

That… was a shock. “Me?”

“Yes, you. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have been there when the fire started, Edmond. Heavens, I don’t know who to trust anymore, but I do know that you aren’t a part of all this!”

I sat against the rail, scarcely noticing the cold. “But… but I’ve never been out of the city. And if someone comes for you here, I… I don’t know how to fight, to keep them away from you.”

“So stay with what you can do,” she replied. Her eyes were focused not on me, not on the fire anymore, but on her own thoughts. “You will attract less attention than me if seen on the streets, for one. You could carry a message, as you already carried your own – and that seems to have worked once for us already, though I didn’t take such pains keeping hidden that I wish to rely on it doing so for long. I can’t trust that if people are questioned, they will not break and bring attention on me should I remain here. So you were right, I need to leave the city – but equally, I need your help to do so.”

I swallowed my objections and fears. There would be time to worry later. “What must I do?”

“First, you were also right that we should dress,” she said, leading me toward the ladder. As we descended, scarcely noticed in the hall, she went on, “There is… one soldier I trust, an old friend. I played with her as a child; she I would trust above any others… and she was not on duty tonight. As she is no kin of mine, she should be safe. I hope. She will be at the north guardhouse – do you know it?”

“Of course.” It wasn’t the largest guardhouse in Nordport – in fact it was very easy to miss – but it was one of the three nearest the Blue Ribbon House.

Back in my room, I supplied her with writing materials, and she penned a quick note, leaving me to seal it while she dressed – I was dimly aware that she was helping herself to such of my clothing as could be made to fit, but I didn’t even consider objecting. “Edmond, what I will tell you now is for nobody’s ears but hers. There are hidden ways out of the city, ways that will bypass the gatehouses. Some of them are known only to those of royal blood. Even Elizabeth will not know of the one I have in mind – it hasn’t been used in some time, but it should still be sound. Along the west wall is the White Rooster Inn – it hasn’t been open for years, but I know where a key can be found. Its cellar has a boarded-up tunnel that will lead out of the city. I need you to find Elizabeth at the guardhouse and deliver that note to her – it will tell her that I am safe and that you can be trusted. With that ring, it should convince her. Bring her, and no more than a half-dozen soldiers that she trusts best, to the old inn-yard, and I will rejoin you there.”

The White Rooster… yes, I’d seen it, though not recently. I could find it. “I will. And then?”

“Then we leave Nordport behind, and find a safe place,” she replied.

Again I was stunned. “We?”

“We.” She took hold of my shoulders. “Edmond, in this moment I trust you more than I trust even her. I need someone reliable with me. Especially if you do have some telepathic ability, that might be essential to warn us of anyone untrustworthy before they act against me.”

Disbelieving, I shook my head. “This is all so much. I don’t know what to do, what to bring…”

“Pack light,” she advised me. “In fact, ask Elizabeth to prepare a pack for you; it will have everything you need to survive out in the countryside, and she and I will help you.”

The countryside. Home to trees, snow, biting bugs, and all manner of wild beasts. I confess, I was torn. I had grown accustomed to my comfortable life, and I was loath to abandon my obligations here. I was only two years into the ten I had signed for; to simply walk out now would risk a stiff punishment indeed.

But I had gone through hard times before, and I could do so again. And it would be better by far to make amends for my departure later, than to leave to her own devices this woman who, strange as it still seemed, needed me. Me, not just a man’s body.

Once again, I forced my objections and worries aside, and I turned to my closet again. What I sought now was not the finery I had donned to go to Weston House, but simple clothes, clothes that would seem more at home among the common people in that area of the city. Clothes that were durable and would better tolerate a few rips and tears. Warm clothes, dry clothes.

Once I had dressed, Rebecca nodded her approval and placed her missive into my hand. “Remember, you are looking for Lieutenant Elizabeth Barton at the north guardhouse. If you are questioned, speak these words exactly: ‘The hawk who misses her first dive must turn for another.’ Can you remember that?”

I repeated the words aloud, nodding.

“Good. Now… how can we leave this place without being seen?”

“Does it matter if anyone later learns how we left?” I asked after a moment. “The best way I can think of is to knot some sheets together and lash them to the rail of the cupola.”

“That will do,” she agreed, and helped me both to bend the sheets to one another and to test the knot, and again to bear them up the stairs.

With the winter rain upon the shingles, the roof was treacherous; without the sheets to cling to, we would surely have slipped and fallen. I was shaking by the time my feet touched cobblestones.

“Bravely done,” she murmured, stretching upward to plant a soft kiss on my jaw. “Now go swiftly, Edmond. I will keep safe, and meet you where I said.”

Even here, she didn’t dare speak it aloud; not with so many people tramping along the street, not far off. I took her example, and merely nodded. “And I will bring friends.”

“Good man.” And with one last squeeze to my arm, she drew away and into the shadows, pulling the hood of her cloak down over her face, and in so doing, vanishing almost entirely.

I squared my shoulders, and slid into the throng on the streets as unobtrusively as I could, shifting from one current of people to another, easing around clots of clustered onlookers, making my way north. It took all my willpower to avoid breaking into a run. I could not afford to attract attention; too much was at stake. But each minute felt like an eternity.

The north guardhouse, normally so quiet, was abuzz with activity. The duty captain tried to send me away, but when I told him the phrase Rebecca had impressed upon me about the hawk, his manner changed entirely; minutes later I was speaking to a stocky, hard-eyed young woman in the grey cloak of the Army.

She accepted the instructions I bore with ill grace; from the way she looked at my ear, I think she thought me an inappropriate and unreliable messenger, no matter the recommendation that accompanied me. But accept them she did, and told me to wait while she fetched her most trusted soldiers and some kit.

In a quarter-hour, we set out for the west quarter of Nordport: myself, Elizabeth Barton, and her soldiers. Introductions were cursory. There was Jacob Keller, the medic, a muscular but kind-eyed man in his forties; two riflewomen, Nancy Williams and Helen Dougherty, respectively quite short and quite tall; and the marksman, Travis Baker, who despite his common-sounding name was slender and white-furred and much like Rebecca in aspect. All of us bore heavy packs, some more so than others; as I didn’t have a gun to encumber me, mine was one of the heaviest. Heavier by far than I was accustomed to, but not so much that I couldn’t keep up; I bore it without complaint.

We walked in silence; Jacob knew the way best, and so he took the lead. With every minute my anxiety grew. What if some awful person had found Rebecca? The news I’d heard was horrible – the entire royal family dead, fighting in the streets, the army suddenly beset by invaders from within their own ranks. Nancy especially had not wished to abandon her fellows to their fate, but if so much royal blood had been shed, it was that much more important that we preserve what we could. But what if we were too late?

We reached the dilapidated inn-yard, thickly overgrown with weeds and bushes. Elizabeth instructed Travis to cover the gate, and the white-furred man crouched behind a tangle of brush, attaching a small stand of sorts to the end of his gun and resting with it aimed outward, while the other soldiers searched the yard. They hadn’t covered half of it before a low voice hissed, “Elizabeth? Liz?” and Rebecca stepped out from the shadowy stables, pushing back her hood.

There was no time for courtesies. Elizabeth brought her team back in, and Rebecca took us to the side door, where she fitted a key into the rusty padlock and worked it open. She waited just inside the door for the rest of us to enter, and then she reached back through the grille to shove the lock back into place.

With not much else to do, I was given a bullseye lantern, holding it up front with the riflewomen advancing before me, as we descended the stairs and made our way through the dank cellars at Rebecca’s direction. Then we came to a section of wall that looked much like any other, save that Rebecca instructed us to stop and tear it down.

Jacob and I did the work there, ramming pry bars behind the boards and hauling on them. When the first one came free, there was no doubt that Rebecca’s information was sound; a great black emptiness stretched out behind it. We worked as quickly as we dared without getting in each other’s way, and soon we had cleared a large enough gap that we all could file through. The tunnel beyond was crude, and some of the shoring looked to be in a questionable state; nevertheless, it held up long enough for us to reach the other end.

We emerged in the basement of what seemed to be a disused hunting lodge. For a moment I thought this would be our home for the next little while; but when Rebecca moved directly toward the door, I knew that was not to be, and on reflection I knew why. We had tried to cover our tracks as far as the inn, but if anyone went looking there, they would find the opened tunnel and know it had been used; we needed to keep moving, to go someplace where we could not be so easily followed.

But Jacob did call for a brief rest, and for that quarter-hour without the pack on my shoulders, I was very grateful indeed.

Then we set out again, and this time it was right into the woods. It was hard going; the soldiers were accustomed to catching branches that their fellows had pushed past, but most of them stung my shoulders or even my face. I was forever stumbling on tangles of brush and roots, and with the heavy pack on my shoulders I had trouble righting myself; ultimately, we paused while Jacob and Travis took some things from my burden. It was still an uncomfortable load, tired as I was and unused to carrying its like, but at least I could pick myself up without a hand up.

Around the two-dozenth time I took such a fall, though, Rebecca was there to help me up anyway. “Enough,” she declared. “I know you mean well and want to find a good campsite, Elizabeth, but can’t you see the man’s exhausted? He’s gone far beyond what we’ve any right to demand of him, and on scant sleep at that; the least we can do is try not to run him into the ground.”

The lieutenant frowned. “Very well,” she sighed, looking around. “The sun’s coming up anyway; best we find a place to lie low before anyone thinks to comb the woods.”

“We’re actually in a fairly good spot, Lieutenant,” said Jacob, leaning in to peer at some of the scratches I’d gained. “We certainly can’t guarantee finding better anytime soon.”

The frown became a scowl. “Oh, very well. Make camp, then, and be quick about it.”

I hadn’t realized just how heavy was my load until it was finally lifted from my shoulders, nor how tired I was until I didn’t need to keep walking. I could barely move, I was so stiff all of a sudden. When I tried to rise again, to help with the tents, with hammering pegs at least, Jacob stayed me with a hand on my shoulder, bending down to apply some bandages here, some soothing creams there. As his ministrations continued, I almost felt alive again.

“Here’s yours ready, milady,” Helen announced after a few minutes.

“Thank you, Helen. How is he doing – ah – Jacob?” Rebecca enquired, moving over toward me.

“I think we’d best stay here a few days,” the medic replied with a frown. “He’s overextended himself greatly, trying to keep up with us. I want time to make sure he hasn’t done any lasting damage, and time to let the superficial injuries mend.”

It was strange, hearing that grim tally and knowing it was me he spoke of. I’d just kept walking, putting one foot after the other. Had it really been so different for them? Yet when I tried to wave off Rebecca’s hand and rise on my own, I nearly fell over again – partly from stiffness and poor balance, and partly from a sudden surge of pain. Certainly I wasn’t going to be moving as easily as the soldiers did.

“Thank you, Jacob,” said Rebecca, giving the medic’s shoulder a squeeze. “I owe him a great deal; I’m glad you take him seriously.”

“How could I not?” the burly man replied, turning to give me a soft smile and pat my shoulder. “Listen, man – the lieutenant,” who was out hunting breakfast, it seemed, “is a hard woman, I know. But you’ve put yourself through enough today that I for one don’t doubt your loyalty.” His smile turned a bit wistful. “Now go rest. You’ve certainly earned it.”

A down-filled bedroll on the cold ground was a far cry from the soft, comfortable bed I’d had these past two years. But it was still a bit softer than some beds I’d had before that. I settled myself as best I could.

“How are you feeling?” Rebecca murmured, smoothing a hand over my cheek.

There was, I figured, nothing to be gained by complaining. I tried putting a playful smile on my face, ill-fitting though it felt. “On the good side, I don’t really feel my ear hurting anymore.”

She sighed, leaning in to nuzzle at my ear – the left one, not the recently-pierced right. “Thank you, Edmond. For everything. I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for you, and you’ve been wonderful ever since. I know I’ve pulled you away from your old life, and I want you to know that it does mean a great deal to me. But for now, I need you to rest and mend, all right? The worst should be done, now.”

The smile that next touched my muzzle was an honest one, and felt a little better. She brushed her lips against mine. “Sleep well,” she breathed over my jaw, and drew away somewhat to go to her own bedroll.

I was expecting to have difficulty falling asleep, now that I was truly feeling the aches and pains of the morning’s journey, but mercifully, fatigue conquered.

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