EIGHT

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Rebecca looked up as I came near her shoulder, her expression unreadable. She turned her gaze back down toward the campfire, and for a moment I thought she wished to be alone; but before I could draw away, she reached over toward me. As I set my hand in hers, she took hold of it, saying, “How are you feeling?”

I sat on the ground beside the stump she was perched on, and answered in the most straightforward and honest way I could: “Better.” With a fresh breath to bolster my resolve, I asked in turn, “And yourself?”

She let out a heavy sigh, leaning somewhat onto my shoulder. “I… heavens, I don’t know. I feel as though I should be feeling more. The city attacked, my home put to the torch, who knows how many of my kin dead… but somehow, I just feel… empty.”

I drew her into the crook of my arm, nuzzling at the back of her head. “I wish I knew what to say,” I admitted.

“Don’t fret about it, Edmond. No words can make everything right.”

“I know that. I don’t mean to undo what’s been done… though if I could, I’d certainly do that, too.” How to say it…? “I only meant that I wish I could offer some… comfort. Reassurance. Make it, perhaps, a touch easier to bear.”

She turned to give me a small, wan smile. “You’re a dear,” she said, reaching over to pat my hand. “Trust me, knowing that I have your support helps. You’ve given up a great deal for someone you hardly know, and it is appreciated…”

Jacob, somewhat around the fire, suddenly sat bolt upright. “There’s the signal,” he said.

I blinked. Signal? But then Nancy took a breath and uttered what sounded for all the world like the cry of a night bird, apparently issuing a corresponding signal. How they could tell that cry from any of the other birds making a constant racket among us – if indeed they were all birds, which I honestly didn’t know – was beyond me, but moments later there was a rustle in the bushes, and Helen stepped into the firelight.

She looked worn; I went to dish out a bowl of stew, while Elizabeth came up to her and asked, “Any news?”

“I managed to find a few people that I know to be reliable,” Helen replied, sitting down with a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure what these tidings actually mean, but the word is that all of the Asterian soldiers have been rounded up.” She glanced over at Rebecca, then turned her gaze downward. “But not before everyone within three generations’ connection to Queen Meribeth was killed. Nordport is in turmoil – there are already three different candidates contesting for the royal succession, and there are fears that some of the contenders will stoop to any means to secure it for themselves.”

“But I’m – I was… second cousin to her, once removed,” Rebecca protested.

“I’m not sure they’d care, right now,” Elizabeth said darkly. “They’ve had an opportunity dangled before them – there are some who’ll not look kindly on it being plucked away.”

“She’s right,” Helen confirmed, reaching up to take the bowl I offered. “Thank you; it’s been a long trek. There’s something else I learned that bothers me, and makes me think there’s more to this. The Duke of Wafret was quick to round up the assassins – very quick. His soldiers didn’t account for all of them, but of the eighty killed or captured, he took three in four.”

“They snuck eighty soldiers into the city?” I could hardly believe it. I knew they’d gone through great pains to be discreet, but eighty…

“If they’d brought in two hundred, it wouldn’t have been enough to hold Nordport,” Elizabeth snapped. “Helen’s quite right. The issue isn’t how many they managed to get in, but how few they tried to act with. We’d have noticed any ships standing off-shore that might have tried to land troops, and – did anybody try, Helen?”

“Nobody said,” the riflewoman replied. “I should think all coming ships were kept out of harbour until the Army restored order.”

“Just so. There’s something strange about this. They’ve thrown us into some disarray, yes, but what could Asteria truly hope to gain by sending only eighty soldiers here? It’s not as though they can influence the royal succession, and we’ll be all the more watchful now.”

“Asteria doesn’t stand to gain,” Rebecca spoke up, a look of horror dawning on her face. “The dukes do.”

Each man and woman fell silent and still.

“Good heavens, that must be it. The Army and Navy won’t be crippled by the Queen’s death – Asteria won’t be able to find us easier pickings for being alerted.” She slowly stood, wringing her hands. “This isn’t an Asterian plot at all – it’s a bid for the throne.”

“Good heavens,” Travis echoed. “Leaving the city truly was the only thing you could do.”

“Nor will I be able to go back,” Rebecca went on, her voice growing to a growl, “until the one behind this… treason… is found and dealt with.”

Nancy took a breath. “So… what next? Do we know anything about who might have been responsible?”

“Nothing definite, of course. I don’t doubt the knowledge we need died with the assassins,” Helen sighed. “But half the Dukes and Duchesses have left the city, making for their own estates. For their own protection, they say, but any one of them could have been responsible. Wafret was among them, they say.”

“I never did like the man,” Rebecca grumbled. “I wouldn’t have thought he had the spine for this, but he’s always been outspoken against the Queen’s government. And if he knew to have his guards ready… that’s somewhat questionable right there. He knew something was going to happen, but he didn’t stop what did.”

“To Wafret, then?” Travis enquired.

“Not for another day,” Jacob cut in, directing a stern look my way. “At least.”

Elizabeth followed that look, and the scowl that was so quickly growing familiar returned to her face. “As soon as we might, then, we’ll make for Duchy Wafret. Once there, hopefully we’ll be able to get some answers.”

Rebecca recaptured my hand. “Oh, we’ll get answers,” she breathed, her eyes smouldering. “One way or another, we’ll get answers.”

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