twelve

“Yes,” I said louder. “Though I don’t agree. But that’s just what Peitar really did say at the trial. People should have free speech. Exchange ideas. But it has to be ideas, not threats. Or else we’ll be fighting each other forever.” My eyes stung, and, oh, I missed my brother. “We can’t fight each other, we just can’t. Or we’ll be all ready for Norsunder to come get us. That’s what Peitar said. At the trial.” My voice broke on the word trial.

Everyone was quiet, then Landos said, “How’s this. Since none of us knows what really happened, let’s call a truce.”

“All right with me,” the gilder agreed after a pause. “Though no truce is going to bring back my dad and uncle.”

“Well.” The housemaid squinted up at the sky as cold raindrops spattered our faces. “One thing for sure. No one is going to do much fighting if that storm coming on is as bad as it looks.”

The female driver turned around. “You all right back there? Anyone have anything that melts in rain?” Laughter. Surreptitiously I pushed the fashion book down farther into my waistband, until it crowded my bag of thief tools into my hipbones.

The downpour started. I hoped my two layers of clothes would keep the worst off, and curled myself in as tight a ball as I could. I was glad of the bodies pressed up against me, for they kept me warm, and I was lulled to sleep by the steady jolt of the wagon.

I woke when it stopped. We were in a half-burned barn, moonlight glowing through cracks in the roof. The prentices climbed out, someone saying, “I’ll find the lanterns.”

Golden light soon illuminated people stretching, others scouting around for fodder, and someone else unpacking baskets. There had been a lot of us crammed into that cart. The gilders stood aside in a group until a glazier girl approached them. “We’ve got bread and cheese. Plenty,” she said.

“Thanks,” the red-haired boy responded.

Soon everyone was eating. I picked a spot on a fallen timber near the barn door. People talked quietly around me. It seemed that the city guards were fighting each other, so nobody knew who was in control for sure. Some thought the king still was, others that Captain Leonos (“The traitor!” “No, the hero!”) was. The two armies were forming up in the land east of the city, but no one was certain where. I’d have to be careful, then, for I was determined to find Derek and Bernal’s army, because I knew the foresters would have taken Peitar to them.

After that, the talk turned to friends and families, sleep and shelter. Once I heard the name Diamagan, but then the voices dropped into whispers.

“Who are you?” Landos came up to me. Lamplight from the wagon reflected in his dark eyes and threw his features into high relief.

“I’m Larei,” I said.

He sat beside me. “I’m Landos Gilad. You know Lord Peitar Selenna. It was the way you said his name. Like you were friends. Or . . . family.”

Oh, no! I stared, trying to put together a convincing lie.

He continued, with a friendly smile, “I like solving puzzles, and you’re making more pieces by the moment.”

I remembered what he’d said earlier about my brother. I whispered, “Lilah Selenna.” He looked baffled. “My name. Larei is my . . . disguise.”

He blinked, his brows knit in confusion. “But you’re—”

“A girl,” I admitted.

“Well, I was going to say a kitchen boy. But . . . there was a rumor, just before we left. About the Sharadan brothers and the rescue. Someone even said that boys were part of the Sharadan brothers.”

What did it matter now? “It’s true. Well, two boys were Sharadan brothers, and two girls. I’m one of them.”

His gaze stayed on my face like he was trying to read a book. “You’re Lord Peitar’s sister and a Sharadan brother? Hoo!”

“Where are we? I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“We’re on the East Road. Come morning we’ll turn south into Orleos.”

“I know that road,” I said, thinking out loud. “We’re on the border of Selenna. I could go home.”

“You can’t go up there alone!”

“Aren’t we too far east for trouble? Everyone says the armies are right outside the city, and we left Miraleste a long time ago.”

“The army might be spread out,” Landos said. “We passed several parties of warriors riding around, searching.”

Even though Selenna House had been burned and looted, and held such bad memories, all of a sudden I just wanted to go home. I’d figure out my next step from there. “I’m good at hiding,” I said.

“I can’t stop you,” Landos said, looking unhappy. “But even for a Sharadan brother, I think it’s dangerous.”

“My whole life has been dangerous lately,” I said. That came out sounding so pompous my face burned, and I got up. “In fact, seems to me, since the moon’s out, the best time for me to go is right now.”

“At least let me give you another sandwich.”

“Thanks!” I said gratefully.

I stashed it in my tunic next to my book, and was on my way.

• • •

THE MOONLIGHT MADE travel easy. I walked until my knees ached so much I couldn’t go on. When I spotted a haystack in a nearby field, I crawled into the middle. It was dry and warm, and I slept until dawn, when a snuffling sound woke me. I pushed the hay aside, and there was a loose horse lipping at the hay. When I stood and laid a hand on its neck, it shook its mane and shifted position. Oh! Waiting to be saddled—that meant it was a riding horse.

I found an upturned wheelbarrow to help me mount, and trotted northward, holding on to the horse’s mane with both fists.

When I saw more bad weather coming, I gobbled down my flat, stale sandwich and braced myself. The deluge was soon so strong that I could barely see an arm’s length ahead. Oddly, the horse seemed to like the rain. The storm moved on near sunset, and there was a familiar line of hills not far ahead. I was near Riveredge.

When the horse began drooping, I slid off. It walked toward the river as I headed for the wall around Selenna House. With the sun gone, the cool air rapidly chilled. My teeth were chattering by the time I spotted the glowing windows of the Riveredge cottages.

I climbed over the wall and made my way through the garden toward Selenna House. I was surprised to see light in Father’s rooms and a distant twinkling, like someone swinging a lantern. Had Lizana come back? Or maybe villagers had taken over the house. At least I was dressed as Larei.

I scaled the argan tree to my room and eased through the now-broken window. The floor was covered with dirt, but the glass had fallen outside.

I was home.

What next? I pulled out the fashion book. It was damp but not soaked. I shoved it under my mattress, then headed downstairs, readying my story. But when I got to the bottom of the stairs, two warriors closed in from either side, one carrying a lantern.

They walked me to Father’s parlor, which had been swept, the ruined furniture replaced with benches and a rickety table from the barn, on which was spread a large map. A man in velvet and jewels held Peitar’s old lap desk, on which he had written so many letters to Derek. He and a burly warrior faced someone by the fire.

It was my uncle in full war gear—a long purple battle tunic over chain mail, gauntlets, sword strapped over his back, knives in the top of each boot. I lurched to a stop, my mouth open.

Uncle Darian gave me a wry glance.

“I am sorry about your father,” he said.