A cook fire in a square where three roads met had melted a patch of snow, exposing the cobbles. Some scary men sat on stumps or stood warming their hands and holding mugs. The smell of roast goose tormented Rennika’s stomach so she wanted to cry, but Meg stopped her beyond the reach of the fire’s light.
“Sulwyn!” One of the men came forward, arms outstretched, his hood falling to his shoulders.
Sulwyn Cordal—the nice one, who’d built a shanty next to his wagon—clapped this new man on the hand. “Colm. Good to see you. It’s been a long time.”
Colm gestured to the stumps. “Sorry for the rough welcome, and no place to stay. I’m sleeping on the tavern floor, myself.”
Would he give them food?
Sulwyn accepted a mug from one of the men, and Colm nodded to the others around the fire. Sulwyn wasn’t as old as the others, but still they looked at him like he was.
“These are all reliable men,” his cousin Colm said. Everyone they’d met in the last weeks seemed to be someone’s cousin or brother-in-law or aunt.
Finn, the one who’d grabbed Janat, pulled a spit from the heat. He sliced Sulwyn a portion of dripping goose meat, and it was all Rennika could do to keep from rushing forward.
“Who’s them?” A man jerked his head in their direction.
“Thieves,” the house owner said, giving Janat a shove into the firelight. Janat had her hood up again.
“Spruce Falls has no thieves,” the man said, biting into his dripping meat.
“No? What of the man who was robbed of two hens just last week?” the house owner said.
“Stolen by a fox, old man.” Finn laughed at him. Good.
“I tell you,” the house owner with the pigs warned. “Orumon isn’t as safe as it was last summer.”
Sulwyn took a barley dumpling from a pot beside the hearth. He spoke to Meg but held the dumpling out to Rennika. “Come, girl. For the child. Tell us your story so we can decide what to do with you.”
Rennika was a bit insulted to be called a child, but she looked to Meg for consent, then darted into the warmth and snatched the dumpling, cramming the sticky lump into her mouth, barely chewing.
Janat slumped onto a stump by the flames, holding her stomach. Rennika huddled close by her, licking the oil from her palms. Meg came forward and reached for the offered food.
“Wait.”
Rennika stilled, watchful, holding Janat’s fingers.What did Colm want?
Colm’s hand clapped on Meg’s exposed arm. The men eyed her hand, their meal in abeyance. Colm tugged Meg’s hood from her head. He pushed Janat’s hood back as well. “Magiels.” He pulled Rennika’s hood back, too.
He said it like it was bad.
“Just village magiels, Sieur,” Meg said, and Rennika knew she was trying to speak the way the others spoke, but not very well. “Only refugees turned out when our home was burned.”
Colm held out the pot of barley dumplings to Meg but peered at her closely. “You talk odd, for a village magiel from these parts.”
Meg shrugged and lowered her eyes, taking a dumpling.
The tightness in Janat’s hand told Rennika running would come soon and suddenly.
The nice one, Sulwyn, narrowed his eyes and studied them more closely in the firelight. “Three sisters.”
“Gah! What are you after?” Colm said, giving the nice man a mug of beer. “A magiel and a half-magiel. The young one’s a worldling.”
Sulwyn waited as though his words were a question.
“No, sir,” Meg mumbled after a moment. “What he said.” She nodded at Colm.
“You all have a semblance.” Sulwyn considered them carefully. “Narrow faces. Oval eyes.”
Meg said nothing but looked down. Rennika watched the men’s expressions for a sign she’d be sprinting again.
“High-talking magiels,” Finn said, putting a stick on the fire and giving it a stir so the flames leapt up, making light. “Probably servants for a lord.”
Janat lifted her face. “Yes, sieur. That’s it.”
“So are you village magiels, or aren’t you?” Colm pressed.
Janat stopped chewing. Rennika couldn’t understand why they talked as if being magiels was a bad thing, but she ate a dumpling and got ready to bolt.
“Where are you from?” Sulwyn asked Meg, and his voice was nice.
“Up valley,” Meg replied. She looked at him as though she thought he was familiar but couldn’t remember.
“Where, up valley?”
She hesitated.
“Archwood?“
“Archwood’s under siege,” Finn said, nudging Sulwyn’s arm, filling the wagon man’s cup. “No one’s getting out of Archwood.”
“Where are you going?” Sulwyn persisted, still scrutinizing Meg.
She shrugged. “Down valley.”
“Just what we need,” Colm said, but his voice wasn’t as nice. “Hey, Sulwyn. Couldn’t we avoid the king’s men better with a little magiel magic?”
Sulwyn drank deep and pulled a stump closer to the fire. “Leave them be, Colm. Let them eat a little and go.” He eyed the man with the pigs. “You want to take these girls to the reeve? Hmm? I wouldn’t want to anger a magiel.”
The man’s eyes darted from Meg to Janat and back. “No. By the Many Gods, no.” He bowed to them uncertainly and backed away, picking up his pace as he left. Rennika stared. How odd, the way the house owner listened, even though he looked old enough to be Sulwyn’s father.
Sulwyn found a second cup and poured a splash of water into it as they watched the farmer go. “So,” he said to the others. “Business?”
Colm shot Sulwyn a look of shock.
“They’re only refugee magiels.” Sulwyn turned back to them. “You’re not going to tell King Artem what we say.” He gave Janat the water. “Are you?”
Janat shook her head sharply.
“There.” Sulwyn smiled at Janat.
“So?” Finn asked Sulwyn under his breath, his voice eager. “Rumors are that everyone in the valley is ready to fight. Is it true?”
“Aye. Most.” Sulwyn refilled his own mug. “Some are afraid, keeping out of trouble, and some...it’s hard to tell. But most.” His voice, too, was quiet, almost masked by the crackle of the fire. “The men of my village, and those in Larch Meadow and Storm River and Fisk support King Ean of Orumon. We have some wealthy and influential traders and guildsmen, and we look to band with others. Send a delegation to King Artem. Get our country back. Get our capital out of siege.”
“A delegation?” Finn spluttered. “Traders and guildsmen? Artem came here with an army.”
“We don’t want war,” Sulwyn said.
War...
“We’ve got war,” Finn shot back.
Colm glanced at Meg and spoke so quietly Rennika could barely hear him. “As near as we can see, King Artem, with all respect, is mad. Madmen don’t listen to argument. We’re with the men who sent you, Sulwyn, but we can’t be naive. Even our reeve is on board, though he makes a show of cooperating with the king’s men.” He shook his head. “He has no choice.”
“If it comes to fighting, it comes to fighting,” Sulwyn whispered. “But if we can make the king listen without bloodshed, we will. Send one of your number to Black Earth Creek by midwinter. There’ll be a council of commoners.”
Rennika squinted at Janat. What’s a council of commoners? She shrugged. But Janat frowned in annoyance, not understanding.
Finn whistled. “Commoners.”
“Yes.” Sulwyn nodded significantly. “No matter how strong or respected a king might be, he can’t just take away his allies’ freedoms. Trample their fields, steal their food, hunt their rightful king.”
“A king can do as he pleases,” Colm said. “He’s appointed by the Gods.”
“He can’t,” Sulwyn repeated. “It’s wrong.”
“Well, make your delegation,” Finn said. “But men will rise up. The people will overthrow him.”
“Yes, but how?” Colm argued. “How do we organize? Where do we get weapons? How can we possibly succeed if we oppose the will of the Gods? Men won’t rise up for that.” He shook his head. “People won’t risk their lives and their families. They’ll grumble and live with what Artem Delarcan gives them.”
“Then we need to find men willing to fight.” Finn’s words were soft, but they rang with conviction. “I’m a smith. I’ll make swords. Armor. Arrow tips. Whatever we need.”
“In secret,” Colm finished for him. “With no money and no iron. When your master’s looking the other way.”
“We don’t have answers yet,” Sulwyn reminded him, draining his mug. “That’s why we’re having a council.”
“All right, fight. Fine. And then what?” Colm said. “Taking this matter—the governance of a country, for the sake of the Gods!—into the hands of men?” He scoffed. “Men? It’s blasphemy, and we’ll pay for it.” He looked at Meg, as if to invite her opinion. But Rennika didn’t think he believed what he said so much as he wanted Sulwyn to correct him.
Meg said nothing.
“Our cause is moral and right, and the Gods are on our side,” Sulwyn said quietly. “The Gods will right this wrong. But they’ll do it through the actions of men.”
Janat’s fingers tightened in Rennika’s.
“I’m going to Coldridge to see if we can find allies there,” Sulwyn said.
Coldridge—where Uncle Chirles lived.
“Coldridge? In Teshe? You’re leaving the country?” Finn leaned forward and whistled with appreciation.
Rennika looked at Janat’s face, stiff with tension in the firelight. Ready to run? Or ready to vomit again, more like.
Footsteps crunched in the snow behind them.
“Cover their faces.” Sulwyn’s voice, and a hand pushed Rennika’s hood down.
“Colm Cordal.” A man spoke.
Janat kept her head bowed. The man sounded annoyed, though not, she noted hopefully, angry.
“I told you before, there’s too many of you here. Go to your homes.”
“Sorry, Sieur.” Colm Cordal. Sulwyn’s cousin.
From beneath her hood, Janat saw the feet of the men around the fire shuffle as they rose to comply. She nudged Rennika.
“There’s more here now than there were before.” The man’s legs appeared before them, barring the way. “Here. Show yourself, woman.”
Janat raised her eyes in question but said nothing. None of the men in the ring spoke.
“Yes, you,” he barked. “And the little one.”
These were King Artem’s men. She’d met King Artem. He was a kind man. He would never hurt them. All she needed was a bed. But once they saw who she was—Meg was wrong—they’d take the three of them to safety.
One of the soldiers came forward and took Janat’s chin and held it up in the firelight.
She froze, shocked at the unwanted touch. Men did not touch women this way. And certainly not magiels.
“Pretty.” Then the man’s hand dropped as if he had contacted something hot. “Your face has some blur to it.” He blustered. “Did your mother lie with a magiel, girl?”
Janat felt herself blush, but she didn’t speak.
“Get away, you.” The lieutenant slapped his man’s hand. “Stand back there, girl, until I tell you different.” The leader nodded at Meg. “And this one?”
“Lieutenant.” Finn interposed himself between Meg and the soldier, his voice sweet as honey. He pushed a cup into the captain’s hand. “This is the third time today you’ve inspected us.”
“I know. Listen, I have orders.” The one who spoke, the one with the metal pin on his neckband and the mug in his hand, looked doubtfully at Finn. Three men stood behind him, all wearing cloaks of green. He scrutinized Meg, still seated and clutching her stomach as if she were ill, her head bowed beneath her hood.
Finn produced a wineskin, adjusting his posture to direct the soldier toward the fire. “Sieur, these young girls just brought us food and drink,” he soothed. “Come, eat something with us, and we’ll be finding our beds.”
Colm Cordal pulled the last spit from the fire and cut meat for the soldiers. “These men harm no one. The winter stores in their villages have gone to support the king’s troops and they’ve been displaced, looking for charity. The butcher gave us a goose.” He held a savory chunk of meat on the point of his knife for the lieutenant.
Janat backed toward Meg, clutching Rennika. They hadn’t recognized her. Hadn’t offered them help. But the lieutanant had seen she was a magiel, and it made him afraid.
If only she could lie down. Sleep.
“There’s a new decree,” the lieutenant said. “Magiels aren’t to mix with worldlings. You shouldn’t be eating from the same stew pot.” But he took the hot meat and juggled it between his fingers.
Finn poured mead into the lieutenant’s cup. “Sulwyn, why don’t you take your cousins home?”
“Your...‘cousins.’” The lieutenant shook his head at the deception. “Listen, if it were up to me, we wouldn’t be here. I’ve a wife and three daughters in Arcan.”
“So, why are you?” The young man, Sulwyn, put an arm around Janat’s shoulder. His sudden closeness was unnerving and somehow pleasing at the same time, though she didn’t have the energy to resist. By Ranuat’s murderers, what role was she to play in this charade? Nothing made sense.
“Common knowledge soon enough. I may as well tell you.” The lieutenant tore a chunk of meat with his teeth. “Worship of the Many Gods has been outlawed.”
What?
There was an audible gasp among the men.
“Outlawed?” Finn blurted.
The lieutenant drank his mead. “All but the One God.”
The men stared at him. Finn stiffened as if he held himself back from striking out.
Rennika hugged Janat’s arm to her chest.
The world had turned into a mad house. Janat tried to glance at Meg, but Meg sat, unmoving, her head down, feigning illness. Too dangerous to run, even if they wanted to, with all these soldiers, and her stomach roiling. And Sulwyn’s arm still draped across her shoulders.
“Don’t blame me.” The lieutenant shoved the last of his meat into his mouth. “But the prayer stones have been destroyed, so there’s no way for a magiel to deliver your prayers to any God but the One. All the prayer stones, but the Ruby, of course. Well, and the Amber, but it’ll be captured when Archwood falls. Maybe ten days, at most.”
Mama’s Amber.
“That’s—that’s—” Finn sputtered. “Outrageous! The king—”
“By the Gods, why?” Colm asked.
The soldier who’d touched Janat took a threatening step forward. “We don’t question King Artem Delarcan.”
Sulwyn Cordal released her, and interposed himself between Colm and the soldier.
They had to leave. Oh, Gods, they had to get home.
“Sergeant!” the lieutenant snapped.
The soldier stepped back insolently.
The lieutenant washed his meat down with wine. “Just let the others know,” he said to Finn. “Times have changed. Don’t look to King Ean for help. Or the Gods.”
“But the king’s authority comes from the Gods!” Finn purpled. “Artem can’t—”
“It comes from the One God.” The lieutenant shoved his cup into Finn’s hand. “King Artem can. And he has.”
Colm glowered at the ground, his fists balled.
Janat looked to Meg, but Meg’s face was covered by her hood. Gods, why wouldn’t she look at her? They had to do something. Step across the circle and align themselves with King Artem’s men, perhaps?
“Men can only pray to the One God.” The lieutenant’s gaze swept over each man in the circle. “And only through the Ruby. The sooner everyone understands that, the better off we’ll all be.”
King Artem Delarcan had the Ruby.
The lieutenant stepped away from the fire. “Oh.” He turned back, looking at Janat curiously. “By the way. There’s a rumor in the valley. That a magiel escaped from Archwood. We have orders to bring him to Holder’s Crossing.”
It was all she could do not to lock eyes with the lieutenant, signal, show him again her likeness.
“Him?” Sulwyn asked.
“Or her.” The lieutenant wiped his fingers on his pants, his gaze lingering on Janat for a moment before dismissing her.
He thought she had only half blood. Thought she wasn’t the magiel from Archwood. Nausea rose up again in her stomach.
The lieutenant stepped away from the fire. “When I return, you’d all best be gone.”