Now Spider was more crafty than any of his brother or sisters. And he was the only one who wept not a single tear when his parents met the World After.
—COLLECTED FOLKTALES
The cock of a hammer made Jasminda freeze. Slowly, she pulled away from Jack and turned around. Wargi held a pistol trained on them. He shook with fear and made little hiccupping sounds.
Jack raised his palms; Jasminda did the same.
“W-Wargi?” she said, voice shaking. “Please.” The boy looked broken, so unsure.
His grip tightened on the gun, and with his unsteady hand, she was afraid he might shoot them without even meaning to.
“There, there, my boy,” Tensyn said, rising. “Give that to me, then.”
With relief, Wargi gave the revolver to his sergeant. Jack’s shoulder brushed against hers as they stood side by side. Jasminda closed her eyes on a long blink, then opened them to face her fate.
Tensyn glared at them. Soot covered half the man’s face, and his normally coiffed hair stuck out all over his head. Part of his mustache had burned off. He looked from Jack to Jasminda, taking in their close proximity, and snorted.
“You think this Elsiran will think twice about you when he no longer has use for you?” He sneered and lowered the gun, pushing forward the hammer and placing it in his waistband. “But by all means, run off with this scum and see for yourself.”
His yellow smile gave Jasminda a chill. “Y-you’re letting us go?”
The sergeant turned so his face was in profile. He affected a magnanimous expression and shooed them away with a flick of his wrist.
“I don’t understand. Why would you do this?” Jack asked.
Tensyn tsked. “I’ve lost the bulk of my squad.” He motioned to the dead men, the dwindling fire. “I doubt very much that Wargi and I could get you back to Sayya with our necks intact. Let us call it a tactical relinquishment. Now go, before I change my mind.”
Suspicion had both Jasminda and Jack backing away. She fully expected the sergeant to shoot them in the back as they fled, but he paid them no attention. They walked backward to the tree line, then rushed behind a large trunk.
“What was that?” she asked.
Jack’s face was drawn, worried. “I have no idea. I don’t trust it.”
“He wants us to leave. But why?”
Jack lifted his shoulders. “I think we have little choice but to go.”
Jasminda forced herself to view the wreckage. The barn did not appear in danger from the rapidly dying flames. Some idiot had left the door unbarred, but perhaps that was for the best. The goats would be able to leave and forage for food. They were tough animals and too stubborn to die.
She led Jack through the grove of crab apples, deeper into the valley. Once they were a good distance from the ruined cabin, she stopped. Tears stung the backs of her eyes as the reality of the night’s events sank down on her.
“What do you think Tensyn and Wargi will do?” Jack’s voice cut through her self-pity.
“Go back. The speaking stone—that woman, I heard him talking to her before. She ordered him back to Sayya. I’d thought he would kill you first, but…” Her head was clouded from grief, and she couldn’t connect all the dots clearly.
Jack bent over and breathed deeply. His face was ghostly pale, and the energy that had been fueling him seemed to ebb.
“I need your aid,” he said.
She rushed over to help him sit. “I’m surprised you’re even standing.”
“That is not what I meant. The cornerstone.” His gaze held hers, and she couldn’t look away.
“Jack, I want to help you, but in five days I will have no home.” At his incredulous look, she went on. “This valley is so far out, so isolated, the Prince Regent didn’t even know we were here for many years. But when the crown found us—found me—they determined I owed a small fortune in back property taxes.” She took a deep breath. “I researched the statutes. By law, since we didn’t get any notices for all that time, we can apply for something called safe harbor and not have to pay.”
She blinked back her tears and sniffed. “I sent an appeal detailing everything, but it doesn’t seem to have helped. According to the magistrate, on Seconday of next week they will auction the land if I don’t come up with the money.”
Jack reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. The sensation calmed her, gave her something to hold onto.
“What will you do?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Renounce my mother and save my home. And then rebuild.”
“Renounce your mother?”
She told him of her call with the solicitor and her grandfather’s offer. The paperwork he wanted her to sign. “I don’t want to, but I don’t know what else to do.”
Jack was quiet for a moment. He reached into the bag he’d slung across his back. The bit of silver he pulled out took Jasminda’s breath away.
“I found it in the back of the pantry when I was gathering food. It was your mother’s?”
The pendant hung on a slightly charred chain. Snaking lines of metal had been designed to curl in on themselves in a beautiful tangle. Jasminda smiled at the familiar necklace.
“The sigil of the Queen,” she said, running her finger along the warm metal, tracing the endless curving line. “I haven’t seen this in many years. All in the Sisterhood wear them. I always thought it looked much like a spider.”
Jack smiled and tilted his head. “I can see that. Here…” He grasped the chain with nimble fingers. “Let me fasten it for you.” She swept her hair from her nape and presented it to him. His fingers brushed her neck, leaving goose bumps in their wake. She swallowed as the weight of the pendant settled just below her collarbone.
Rubbing the silver charm between her thumb and forefinger was soothing. It was an action Mama had done several times a day. Jasminda used to wonder if the motion aided in prayer. The Queen Who Sleeps visited the dreams of some—a very rare few—though Papa was included in the number.
He’d never spoken of the words of wisdom he received during these dreams, so Jasminda could only guess. Her own dreams had always remained silent, though she prayed for a visit just as most Elsirans did.
Mama had described joining the Sisterhood and devoting her life to service of the Queen as the best decision she’d ever made. Even when she’d left the order to start her family. That hadn’t stopped her generosity. She’d made up baskets for the sick, those who would have benefitted from Papa’s healing but refused it out of fear. She was kind to those who shunned her, and even coolly polite to those who only accepted her and the twins—who all three appeared Elsiran and had no magic—not Papa and Jasminda.
Her mama had been too good for this world and was needed in the World After to spread her love there. At least that’s what Papa had said. It was just a platitude to soothe grieving children, but as Jasminda grew older, she believed it more and more.
She released the pendant and spun around, the realization hitting her like a blow to the chest. “I can’t sign those papers, Jack.”
His eyes rounded with concern. “They burned, did they?”
She paused, thinking. “No, I never took them out of my bag. But I wish they had, because I won’t sign. Mama never distanced herself from me. She walked away from everything she knew and everyone just for us. I can’t—I won’t disrespect her memory by giving in to my grandfather’s shame.” She stood and paced, her boots rasping across the fallen leaves.
A nagging doubt had chafed against the back of her mind since her call with the solicitor. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but her gut told her there was more to her grandfather’s offer than what had been stated.
“You do have another option, you know,” Jack said.
She stopped her pacing.
“The in-person appeal. Go to Rosira. Your grounds are sound. There’s no reason why the Taxation Bureau won’t listen.” He reached for her hand, and she gripped him. “I will help.”
“You’ll help me get to Rosira? I don’t have any money, and”—she motioned to herself—“traveling across the country would be difficult for me.” She could only imagine that the rest of Elsira would be far worse in their regard for her than those in the tiny Borderlands town.
Jack pursed his lips. “Yes. Of course I’ll help you. I could even…” He bit back whatever he’d been about to say. “I will do whatever it takes to help you save your land so you can rebuild.”
Her free hand found the pendant again, worrying the smooth silver. “All right. And I will help you with the cornerstone … as much as I can.”