My medallion gets me as far as the town of Ossifer’s Pass in the back of a hay cart. The farmer driving isn’t going into Tolukum, but perhaps feeling guilty about the high value of the silver in return for dropping me off short of my destination, he gives me a crescent, enough for a meal and a bed at the town inn.
“It’s another five miles to Tolukum,” he says, nodding up the track. “With the day getting on, you’d best stay the night—a crescent won’t get you far once you’re in the city.”
I thank him for the advice and the ride, watch as he trundles off toward the nearest livery, and promptly start walking, leaving the inn behind. I spend the crescent at a street cart selling hand pies, pocket the change, and then continue on.
I know what Lark and the others would say about me skipping the offer of a meal and a bed, but for once I’m not actually pushing myself. I planned for this. After leaving the others behind yesterday, I walked and walked, through Giantess, up the road beyond. I passed several travelers but only one with a cart, and they were going in the wrong direction. So I kept walking. When night crept up on me, I wanted to keep going—I wanted so badly to keep moving, step by step, toward Tolukum and Lark. But Mama was in my ear, and I was in my own head, knowing I’d be no use to anyone if I seized in the middle of the road in the dark of night. So I slipped into the cover of the redwoods, burrowing down into the bracken flanking the roots. And I slept. Wrapped in my cloak, a mere insect at the feet of giants, I slept better than so many other fretful, purposeless nights. I slept like I had a reason for it.
At the first cold, misty touch of morning, I woke damp and stiff and rested. I thanked the tree and got back on the road. Fifteen minutes later, the hay cart rumbled up behind me. After another five minutes, my silver was in the driver’s pocket and I was tucked into his prickly, musty-smelling cargo. And even though I’d had a good night’s sleep, I made myself rest more. I spent several bumpy hours dozing under the thinning redwood branches until they cleared into open sky.
I’m ready to walk now.
Five miles to Tolukum.
Five miles to Lark.
It’s only as I leave the last buildings of Ossifer’s Pass behind that I notice the old turquoise pennants that had been hanging in shop windows a few weeks ago have been replaced with fluttering gold. It’s the first of September. This shouldn’t be particularly noteworthy, except today was supposed to be the original end date for our diplomatic trip. If things had progressed as we had planned, Rou, Eloise, and I would be climbing into coaches right now, with our sights set for home. Instead, I’m putting one foot in front of the other, heading back to Tolukum. And instead of Rou or Eloise, I’m tracking down the lost princess of Lumen Lake.
Not lost anymore.
But definitely in trouble.
A week ago I might have been wrapped up in visions of heroically storming the castle and saving Lark from the gallows at some critical moment. My stomach turns at the thought. My fingers stray absently to Iano’s si-oque under my sleeve, then to my seal ring. I stowed it deep in my tunic pocket lest some street thief see it and demand it. The firefly insignia is the same as the one on my father’s crest, and my mother’s badge, and my sister’s ring. It’s the same as the insignia pressed into wax, alongside the crests of Lumen Lake, Cyprien, and Alcoro, on the letters we sent through the desert on the desperate outlaw road—the letters that started this whole tumbling mess. My hope is that between these two symbols, I can channel enough authority to at least stay the execution order. Then, somehow, I’ll have to get in touch with Rou or Colm in Callais. That’s my real power—a conduit for bigger voices than mine.
But first, I have to get to Tolukum in time.
I pick up my pace.