“How can you wear that coat all the time? It’s a thousand degrees in here,” Jilly said.
Anthea ignored her. It wasn’t a thousand degrees in the stable. It wasn’t even particularly hot. But it was warm: all the straw insulating the floors and the large animals raised the temperature significantly, but Anthea still wore her long army coat.
There was a little trickle of sweat running down her back under the coat, it was true. But what was also true was that if she took the coat off, she felt vulnerable. The coat soothed her, like getting under a heavy blanket on a cold night. When she took it off she felt … light, but not in a good way. As though any breath of wind could blow her over, or anything could cut or bruise her.
There was no one at Last Farm who would hurt her, she knew. And she had Florian to protect her, not to mention the other horses, and Jilly and Keth, the household staff, even her fierce little owl, Arthur. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, something big and dark and terrible was about to roll over them, and she didn’t want to be unprepared when it came.
In her typically uncannily shrewd fashion, Jilly said, “Keeping warm won’t prevent you from getting the Dag.”
Anthea shuddered. “I know,” she said. “I just … feel like wearing my coat. I like this coat.”
“We’re going to be fine,” Jilly told her.
“I know,” Anthea said.
They were both lying, and they knew it. Over the past few days that they had been back beyond Kalabar’s Wall, at Last Farm where Anthea’s father and Uncle Andrew had sheltered and trained horses since before Jilly and Anthea were born, a great deal had happened in the south, and none of it was “fine.”
There had been an outbreak of a terrible form of the influenza that had quickly been christened “the Dag” because the cough felt like daggers tearing through your chest. The brigade had all been terrified that Keth had it, since he still could not shake the racking cough he had developed when he was stationed near Travertine, which was where the sickness had started.
But Keth never had a fever or any of the more debilitating symptoms of the Dag; he just couldn’t stop coughing. Dr. Hewett had mixed honey cough syrup and even boiled up some lozenges that Jilly and Anthea both kept stealing, because they were so delicious, but the doctor couldn’t seem to cure his cough permanently.
Even more worrying were the continued rumors of war. No one seemed to understand what had happened that day on the river. No one seemed to want to take responsibility for it. Kronenhof swore that they had not sent those ships, and the Crown swore that they had not given the order to fire on the Kronenhofer ships, and certainly had not given the river guards the authority to completely destroy any ship. These answers, which Anthea pictured in her head as rooms full of men just shrugging and looking confused, were unsatisfactory to everyone.
Kronenhof was refusing to accept Coronam’s apology, and Coronam, it must be said, wasn’t actually apologizing. Anthea had pointed out that saying “I didn’t do it” wasn’t apologizing, and a few days later the newspaper pointed out nearly the same thing. Kronenhof had recalled their ambassador from Coronam. Coronam had taken theirs back from Kronenhof. Now other countries were involved, saying that they were going to remove their ambassadors and cut off trade if Coronam and Kronenhof didn’t apologize to each other.
Anthea knew King Gareth; he would never apologize. Orders had come from Travertine that the brigade should learn to shoot and ride “defensively.” Andrew had sent his own orders, instructing them not to tell the Crown that they already knew how to shoot and that the horses were trained to fight as well. What else he had heard and seen from his new post in Travertine, Andrew didn’t say.
“You see, fine,” Jilly said when they left the stable.
There was a rider coming up the long drive. When some of the men in the paddocks along the drive saw him, they waved and whistled.
“Is that …?” Anthea began.
The Soon King, the horses in the paddocks began to say. The Soon King! He returns! They whinnied greetings as Finn rode up to the yard between the Big House and the stable.
From inside the stable, Florian and the others who had been put in their stalls for the night began to stamp and call out as well. Anthea and Jilly assured them that it really was Finn, which became unnecessary because as soon as Finn dismounted, in his private paddock Constantine the herd stallion reared onto his hind legs and let out his ear-splitting scream.
Anthea hated that scream. She had first heard it the night she had come to the farm last year, and it had terrified her then. It still sent a shiver through her, reminding her of the time that she had gone into Con’s paddock “uninvited” to prevent him from trampling a little owl that had wandered under the fence. Anthea had gotten the owl and herself out safely, largely thanks to Finn jumping in to pull her out of harm’s way, but Florian had been badly hurt coming to her rescue. She had been so caught up in the horror of watching Florian allow his herd stallion to bite and kick him that she had not even noticed the owl—Arthur, though he hadn’t been named yet—biting hard into her hand. She had a scar from the incident.
So did Florian.
Constantine screamed again, and Anthea shuddered. Behind her, she heard Florian and Leonidas calling out, greeting Finn loudly now that the herd stallion had already done so. Marius and Caesar bugled, too, and Gaius Julius, and the other stallions that were in the stable.
But not the mares. Anthea still didn’t understand the mares, and apparently neither did the stallions. Florian had once told her that the mares had other names, given to them by their mothers, shared only among themselves or with a mate, and sometimes not even then. Florian had also told her that it was “not his place” to directly address a mare, and even though he and Bluebell got along very well (as far as Anthea could tell), they would often speak through her even when they were walking side by side, like young schoolchildren having a fight.
Finn tied Marius’s reins behind his neck so they wouldn’t get tangled and sent him into his paddock with his bridle and saddle still on. He threw his saddlebags over his shoulder and came toward Anthea and Jilly, who were hurrying over to meet him. He grinned when he saw them and held out his free arm.
Anthea stopped short, but Jilly went ahead and gave him a hug.
“You’re finally back from your mysterious mission!” Jilly said.
Finn made a face. “Just more nonsense messages. Honestly, at first I thought Gareth just wanted to give me extra work.”
He turned to Anthea, hesitated at her stiff expression, and then patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. He had kissed her once, on the cheek, and they had never spoken of it or repeated it. Anthea wondered if he remembered. She certainly did.
“Where’s Dr. Hewett?” Finn said. “I need to speak to him immediately.”
“Oh, in his cottage, I think,” Anthea said. “Why? Are you sick?”
She and Jilly both took a step backward. Anthea couldn’t even feel embarrassed: the Dag sounded horrible.
“No, no, I’m fine,” Finn assured them. “But I’ve got a bunch of people with me, and they need lodgings and a place to work.”
“What?” Anthea looked around. “Where?”
“Back at the station,” Finn explained. “Scientists studying the Dag.”
Jilly put her hands on her hips. “What did you bring them here for?”
“It wasn’t my idea!” Finn held up his hands in self-defense. “The king ordered me to lead them here!”
“You could have at least sent a warning ahead,” Jilly grumbled.
Finn sighed. “Con does not like this idea. He doesn’t want any strangers near the herd. He flat-out refused to pass along the message.”
Anthea shot a look at Constantine, and found to her discomfort that he was watching her already. She looked quickly away but could feel that the herd stallion did not. She turned her back on him and covered her unease by peering down the lane in the deepening twilight, even though she couldn’t see the Wall, let alone the train station.
“We need to get out the motorcar to fetch them,” Finn said. “That’s why I’m looking for Dr. Hewett. He knows how to drive.”
“So do I,” Anthea said.
Although she had no memories of the last time she had driven. She knew she had done something with a motorcar on a moving train, but there was a large blank spot after that, and Florian refused to talk about it. It was far too terrifying, he claimed.
Still, her former headmistress, Miss Miniver, had insisted that all the girls learn to drive, and Anthea was sure she could remember the basics. Certainly well enough to drive down the lane and out to the train station to fetch a few scientists.
“If you’re sure,” Finn said doubtfully.
“You can drive?” Jilly sounded jealous. “You’ve never driven me anywhere!”
“We have horses,” Anthea pointed out. “And no motorcar.”
“Right, true,” Jilly agreed easily. “Finn, you want to go find Dr. Hewett? I’ll show Anthea the Thing.”
“What thing?” Anthea asked nervously.
“You know, Papa’s motorcar. The Thing.”
“That … that thing Caillin MacRennie fetched me from the station with?”
Anthea stopped dead as Jilly led her toward a shed that she had never noticed before, tucked between the Big House and the cottage where Nurse Shannon and Keth lived. Anthea remembered that motorcar, if it could even be called such. It looked like an old oxcart someone had strapped an engine to.
“Yes, that’s why we call it the Thing,” Jilly said.
She grabbed one of the doors of the shed without waiting for Anthea to follow and hauled it open. In the dimness within Anthea could barely make out the awkward bulk of the Thing. Maybe she should wait for Dr. Hewett.
While she hesitated, Jilly grabbed the back of the Thing and tried to drag it out of the shed. Anthea heard a grinding sound and saw the way the wheels were locked and ran to stop her cousin.
“Stop! There’s a brake on,” she said. “Just … I’ll do it.”
“Can I come?”
“Will there be room for us all? How many scientists did he bring? And will they have luggage?” Anthea looked doubtfully at the two rough bench seats and the little luggage space at the back.
“Oh, fine.” Jilly pouted as Anthea tried to find the brake release. “I’ll saddle up Caesar and—”
“Could you please get some rooms ready?” Anthea said. She released the brake and Jilly had to jump back as the Thing rolled backward and nearly went right over her foot. “Find out from Finn how many we need and just … play hostess, all right?”
“Fine,” Jilly agreed, but she stayed to watch Anthea try and figure out the controls of the Thing.
Anthea was convinced, after about five minutes, that neither Uncle Andrew nor Caillin MacRennie had ever seen an actual motorcar. Everything was sort of, but not really, in the right place, and they were sort of, but not really, the right shape and size.
The Thing didn’t purr like her uncle Daniel’s elegant new motorcar: it coughed and spluttered and gasped. Jilly moved even farther away, which Anthea thought very wise. She cranked the steering wheel, which was not a circle but shaped like the number eight lying on its side, and managed to get the Thing pointed toward the lane without smashing into the wall of the shed, which she thought rather a triumph.
Finn and Dr. Hewett came out of the Big House just then, but Anthea had the motorcar going and feared—from the noises that it made—that if it stopped it would not start up again. She waved with what she hoped was a casual air as she passed them and then turned her attention to keeping the Thing headed down the drive. It had the tendency to veer to the right, and she didn’t want to crash into the fence.
As she made her loud, slow way to the Wall, Anthea thought how much easier it would have been on horseback. Of course, none of the scientists could ride, and if they brought large trunks they would be impossible to tie onto a horse’s back. She began daydreaming about ways that she could hitch an oxcart to a team of horses, using straps attached to their saddles instead of a heavy ox collar.
Beloved? It was Florian, suddenly, in her thoughts. Where are you going? What is that thing?
Oh no. She was almost to the Wall and Florian … she hadn’t told Florian what she was doing. He had probably smelled the grease and dust of the Thing as she went by the stable, and sensed her presence moving away from him.
I have to take this motorcar to the train station, she sent back. I have to pick up some men who cannot ride.
Motorcar? Florian’s mind filled with panic. Her motorcar?
Anthea realized that the only motorcar that Florian knew was her mother’s. Even if her memories of it were few, his were not. He hadn’t been sick; he had been the one who had gotten her safely away from her mother.
No, no, she assured him as she slowed down within sight of the gates of Kalabar’s Wall. It’s Uncle Andrew’s motorcar! Caillin MacRennie used it to bring me to the farm. To you, my love! Do you remember? I will be right back. Jilly is home, and Finn.
She had thought this would be reassuring. She was wrong.
You are alone?
Don’t you dare try to break out of the stable and follow me! she replied swiftly.
She had finally brought the car to a creaking, coughing halt at the gate, and she was sure that the guard would think she was daft. She had her face screwed up and was holding up a finger for silence to make sure that she sent the right combination of words and tone to Florian. The last thing she wanted was for him to injure himself trying to bash down the door of his stall and come to her, and she told him so.
I will be back tonight, she said firmly. And you will wait there for me. I am sure that Finn and Marius are coming to help me. Finn did not take off Marius’s tack. I am sure they are riding out again.
A tangle of worry was still coming from Florian, but the Wall guards were now staring at her. She had a hard time talking to Florian and humans at the same time, so she just sent her horse a reassuring pulse of love and smiled charmingly at the guards.
The chief guard recognized her, but his eyes went immediately back to the Thing. He looked far more shocked to see her driving a motorcar than riding a horse, and came over to the side of the vehicle with a worried frown.
“Miss Thornley, is something wrong at the farm?”
“No, no, it’s just that I have to fetch some people from the train station,” she assured him.
“You alone, miss?”
He was just as bad as Florian, Anthea thought. And so she used the same technique on him. “I am indeed alone,” she said. “But I know how to drive, and I am quite capable.”
“My next question,” the guard said, “is, are you sure this thing is safe? For anyone?”
“That’s a grand deal o’ smoke,” the other guard observed. “I’ve ne’er seen a mo’orcar smoke so much.” He hesitated. “Even this one.”
“Oh, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Anthea said. “May I?”
“Well, all right, but you be careful,” the guard sergeant said.
He and his fellow guard undid the bar and slid back the heavy iron gates that guarded the four-foot-thick gray stone wall. Anthea managed to get the car into gear again and moving, but it was a near thing. She wondered if she should drive slowly past the train station and tell their guests to just jump on. The sergeant was still shaking his head in worry as she passed.
“He is worse than Florian,” she muttered to herself.
Although it was certainly a nice change from the way they had come and gone through the Wall before the king had acknowledged them. It used to be that you had to use papers to get through, and there was a check of your luggage, and they didn’t dare bring the horses through at all. The guards had suspected that the animals at the Last Farm were … unusual, but had turned a blind eye to it. Anthea suspected that her uncle had bribed them. She had been confused, too, when she had first arrived last year that she hadn’t needed some sort of documentation to travel past the Wall, but it turned out that that was because she had been born in the north. The next time she had passed through that gate, on a mission, going from the north to the south, she had had to show her Leanan birth certificate and state her business for the official record.
But then, the last time she and Jilly had gone through, with several of the other riders, they had gotten a friendly wave from that same sergeant, and nothing more. Things were certainly very different now.
She made it to the train station without the Thing stopping or exploding. It was past sunset, but the lamps around the station were lit and she could clearly see a group of adults standing around the edge of the platform with a large cluster of trunks. She would have to make several trips, or they would have to see if the station master could hire them an oxcart this late in the day.
“About time,” someone said as she pulled up next to the platform and slipped on the brake without turning off the engine.
“At least they’ve sent a woman this time,” another voice said.
Anthea looked up at the group gathered on the platform and saw that they were all women. She blinked rapidly. Women scientists? Were they real? She barely kept herself from saying it aloud.
“Well, a girl,” the scientist said when she got a good look at Anthea. “But at least it’s a start.”