Elli
We don’t bother to disguise our reentry into the city—the gates are open, hanging crooked from a part of the wall that has crumbled away, and the guards seem to expect our arrival. They watch me as I ride through, flanked by Oskar and Sig, tailed by Raimo and Kaisa. I can tell that all of my wielders are trying to project confidence and strength, just as I am. But I can also tell they are unsettled, fighting the pull to turn inward.
The bloodless land seems to be calling to them—maybe warning them.
I don’t feel it, nor do most of the people in this city. We only see the wounds—the collapsed buildings, the crumbled walls, the crack that runs jagged like a lightning strike from the gateway up the main road, toward the temple at the tip of the peninsula. It’s not a wide fault—perhaps only one to two feet wide in most places, deep enough that you wouldn’t want to fall in—but it makes it look like the city is about to break in two and fall away from its center.
We steer our mounts up the road. The courtyards are full of grumbling, anxious people, some of them with bandages on their heads and limbs. We pass several people carrying buckets of water, and one little square in which maids are ladling soup into bowls for hungry children and grizzled-looking old men and women. I am happy to see the people taking care of each other, but they turn cold gazes upon me as I wave and smile. One man spits on the ground as I pass, but then he yelps as a nearby fire lashes out at his backside with its flames.
“Sig,” I whisper sharply. “You’re not helping.”
His lip curls. “I didn’t hurt him permanently.”
“The people are already suspicious of wielders,” Oskar says from my other side.
“I could give them something to be scared about.”
I close my eyes and ask the stars for patience. “They’re already terrified, Sig. Many of them have lost their homes. They’ve just made it through a terrible winter. They’re hungry and thirsty. They’re scared to death that the Soturi are coming. You’re drawing on a well that’s running dry. And there’s only hatred at the bottom.”
Behind me, Raimo chuckles and mutters to himself. Then he says, “Where is the Saadella exactly?”
“They said they were taking her to the council hall,” says Kaisa. “Part of it is still standing.” Her face is tearstained, and her robes are torn. She and the others fought—even Helka and Janeka, who have no magic at all, tried to keep the mob from getting to Lahja. Apparently, Janeka was hit in the head during the struggle and injured badly. As for Kaisa, she fought with her magic and her body. She muttered to me earlier that she tried to give her life, but they wouldn’t kill her. They told her to deliver the news to me instead.
“Did they say what they wanted?” I ask. We were in such a mad dash to get here that I didn’t bother to inquire before.
“The council announced your belief that copper was the reason the earth shakes, and told of your desire to throw the temple stores into the ground. People were outraged. They stormed the temple to confront you, but not finding you there, they decided to take the Saadella. But some of them remain, trying to dig out the copper from the catacombs. They want to distribute it among the people.”
My face flushes hot with anger. “So they merely pretended to help, and then they betrayed me. How lovely.”
“They don’t sound that scared,” said Sig. “If they were, they wouldn’t have challenged you like this.”
“What do you want to do, Elli?” Oskar asks.
“I need Lahja back,” I murmur. “I can’t think of anything else while she’s in danger.”
“If she dies, the magic will truly be lost,” says Raimo. “Besides, we’re not sure the copper is actually—”
“It will work,” I snap. “We’re giving the land back what we stole.”
Raimo sighs. “It might not be enough.”
I give Oskar a worried look, but he is turned toward Raimo. “What do you mean?” he asks. “What else would the land want?”
“We can talk more of it once the Saadella is back in our hands,” says Raimo, his voice a little too light.
Sig shifts on his saddle and curses. “Hopefully that will be soon. I feel so . . .”
“I feel it too.” Oskar lifts his calloused palms from the reins and peers down at them. “I’m not sure how well I can control it.”
“We can make a big entrance,” says Sig. “Shock them into giving her up.”
“We have to be careful,” I say as the council hall comes into view. Up ahead is a huge crowd of people. The morning sunlight glints and sparkles off newly forged blades and sharpened scythes. We armed the people to defend themselves against an invasion—all blacksmiths in the city worked night and day for weeks—but now it seems they might use them to attack us, the very people who would protect them. “We don’t want to hurt any of them—and we especially don’t want to put Lahja at more risk. I will go in alone.”
“No,” Oskar barks.
“You can stay near, but they need to see that I mean no harm.”
“Forget meaning no harm,” he says. “You can’t do any—”
I touch his sleeve, the one that hides his terribly injured hand, then look over my shoulder at Kaisa, who doesn’t know I’m not the true Valtia. “I can do anything I need to do, but my people are mine to protect. I refuse to try to intimidate them with my magic.”
She gives me a grateful, hopeful smile I don’t really deserve.
“Raimo,” Oskar growls. “Talk some sense into our Valtia, please.”
I laugh. “Am I a stubborn child now? Or am I the queen?” The edge in my voice seems to keep all of them silent. We reach the edge of the crowd, and I dismount. People back away from our little group of wielders, and I walk toward the badly damaged council hall through the space they create. Topias has been told of my approach, clearly, for he stands just outside the entrance, which is blocked by shattered stones that have fallen from the outer walls.
“Valtia,” he says. “We came to talk to you at the temple last night but discovered you had fled the city.”
“I did not flee,” I reply. “I went to heal my Suurin, who had been injured in a battle with rogue priests in the Loputon.” I gesture to Oskar and Sig, who loom on either side of me. “You see that they are strong again.”
Topias cringes back. “You bring your strongest wielders. Do you need them to protect you?”
I tilt my head. “Do you need to kidnap a little girl to get your way?”
He sputters, and I hold up my hand. “Let’s not continue to ask silly questions. I want my Saadella. She is my daughter in magic and our future queen, and she is no pawn. If you have issues with me, take them up with me.”
“We had to have your ear,” Topias says, looking around at the crowd.
“You have to listen,” shouts a woman in the crowd.
“You can’t just serve yourself and your wielders,” cries another.
“The Valtia is supposed to protect us,” roars a man, a sailor by the look of his weather-beaten skin and washed out eyes. “All we’ve had during your rule is hunger and death!”
Topias seems emboldened by this support. “Your plan to destroy the city’s wealth when we need it most was quite unpopular. As many of your decisions have been. We demand a change in return for the Saadella.”
“I must see her,” I say. “We can talk after I know she’s safe.”
Topias casts a nervous glance at the four wielders pressed in around me, shielding my back from the churning mob behind us. “You will come alone.”
My heart is racing. If my bluff is called, what will I do? I smile at him. “If you like. I am more than enough.”
The blustery council leader swallows hard, and this pleases me. “This way, then.”
I turn to Raimo and Sig, Oskar and Kaisa. “I’ll be back soon.”
Oskar looks like he wants to shake me, but instead he gives me a jerky nod.
I follow Topias around the side of the building, to a tunnel that has withstood the wrath of the earth thus far. I barely pay attention to where I am going—my mind is whirling with all the things I must do, and my heart is craving my Saadella. We reach an enclosed courtyard with walls covered in budding vines. In the center, what used to be a fountain has crumbled. On the far side is a canopy made of rough burlap skewered on wooden poles, and beneath it sits a knot of perhaps a dozen people or so. Some of them rise when they see me coming, and then I hear the one voice I need shriek, “Valtia!”
I open my arms to receive her, but a brown-haired woman grabs her and holds her back.
“Let me go, Mama,” Lahja screams.
My stomach tightens. They’ve brought her parents to be with her, people who tried to escape the city rather than give her to the temple. I let my arms fall to my sides. “Lahja, it’s all right. I see you, and I’m glad you’re safe.”
“Where did you go?” she asks, still squirming in her mother’s arms, her coppery curls loose and bouncing. They’ve dressed her in a simple peasant’s gown and put little leather slippers on her feet.
“I was needed outside the city.”
“With the outlaw wielders?” Agata steps from behind Lahja and her mother. The woman has her hair wrapped in a cloth and a plain dress on instead of her usual richly embroidered garb. “Do you care about them more than you do about the people?”
“You are all my people,” I say, forcing patience into my tone. “And there are no outlaw wielders. There are only citizens who defend Kupari using their gifts, whatever those might be. . . .” I glare icily at her. “And those who don’t.”
Agata purses her lips. “Does that include you?”
“I won’t dignify impertinent questions.”
“How about this one—will you use your magic to defend the city and rebuild it?”
I blink at her. “You may rely on it.”
She gestures up at the crumbling edifice of the council hall. “Then why not start right here, right now? You can mend our hall and make it safe to meet there once more.”
“You kidnap my Saadella and draw me here to test me?”
She gives me a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Valtia, I only ask for a small thing that will restore the confidence of your people. Why do you deny us even the smallest display of your magic?”
“Because my magic is meant for great things,” I say. “Not as a tool for pettiness.”
She drops her veil of guilelessness and looks around her at the council members and other prominent citizens gathered beneath the canopy. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“It’s as you said,” Lahja’s father, a tall man with a weak chin, says.
Agata nods, looking satisfied. “I told them you wouldn’t show us your magic. I knew you wouldn’t.”
I clench my fists—my palms are slick with sweat. “Because I was brought up knowing that a queen does not have to justify her decisions as long as she always focuses on protecting and nurturing her people.”
“A real queen, yes,” says Lahja’s mother. She clutches my Saadella tightly. “I thought I had offered my baby to a real queen.”
I hold out my arms to Lahja, and she kicks and struggles to reach me. “And that is what I am. Lahja knows this. She feels the bond.”
“She’s a child,” barks her father. “She sees a pretty lady in a fancy dress. Nothing more.”
The citizens spread out in the courtyard, surrounding me. Agata waves her hand, and one man pushes a wooden door open—it reveals the street outside, just up the road from where I left my wielders. The townspeople see the opening and push inside, flooding the tiny courtyard as I try to backtrack. Sig and Oskar are nowhere to be seen, and they might not even realize what’s happening. Fear trickles down my back. Lahja’s father and another man, who I realize is Yrian the bereaved blacksmith, take hold of my arms. They are not gentle.
“The Valtia won’t show us her magic,” Agata shouts. “Would you all like to know what that means?” She turns and points to me, hatred burning in her eyes. “It means our supposed queen is an impostor. She has no magic at all.”