Forest Born (6 page)
T
en days after the departure, a messenger burst through the doors of the queen’s antechamber.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty, news from the T king’s expedition.” The messenger’s voice cracked from thirst. Isi arose from her seat, clutching Tusken. Dasha, Enna, three waiting women, the prime minister—all were standing, waiting for him to speak.
Razo,
Rin was thinking.
Razo, Razo . . .
The tension hurt her skin like a fever burn.
“We were northeast, a day’s ride from Kel.” He coughed, his dry throat refusing words. Rin shoved a jug of water into his hands, and he gulped it down, gasped, and continued. “The king was attacked. Your Majesty, should I deliver this news in private?”
Isi took in the room’s occupants, then asked her other three waiting women and two sentries to step outside. Rin observed Isi’s stature and pulled herself a little taller.
The messenger spoke again as soon as the door was shut. “Rumor led us to a village called Geldis, torched to its timbers. The king ordered a search of the area. As soon as we fanned out, the attack came. Fire out of nowhere. Brynn was killed right off, the king and others wounded.”
Who was wounded? Who?
Rin stared at Isi, willing her to ask.
“Brynn. Oh no, poor Brynn. He was engaged to be married.” Isi pressed both hands on her chest as if against a great pain. “He swore to protect him—that was the last thing he said to me, that he would protect the king with his life. How . . . how seriously was the king hurt?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty.” The messenger wiped his nose and frowned. “Burned, but alive when I left. The camp-master took him away, and I jumped on a horse to bring the news. I’m sorry. We couldn’t see where our enemies hid—or how they were lighting things afire, if you understand me.”
“I do.” Isi’s eyes were cold, intense. “Do you know the names of the wounded?”
The messenger’s face filled with regret, but he managed to keep his eyes on the queen. “I don’t, Your Majesty. I’m sorry.”
“Ma,” said Tusken, pulling on his mother’s sleeve. “Mama, this. Mama, this.” He stuck out his tongue and made a long, wet noise.
Isi rubbed his head. “You are so clever,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.
Enna said, “Let’s go after them! Right now, I’m ready. Isn’t that right, Isi? If Talone were here, he wouldn’t dillydally. Who’s in charge with Talone in Tira and Brynn gone? Ratger, isn’t it? I want him here immediately. You, messenger, whatever-your-name-is, draw a map of exactly where you left the king’s party.” Enna opened the door and shouted into the corridor, “You, waiting women, stop waiting and get parchment and food, find Ratger, and get the stable-master and the prime minister . . .”
Isi’s face was pale, and Rin was reminded that the queen had been born across the Forest and over the mountains in Kildenree, where most folk had fair hair and fair eyes and skin that burned easily in the sun. She stayed seated, her breathing stiff and slow as if she were forcing herself to stay calm.
In moments, Enna had given everyone assignments and sent them away, leaving Enna, Dasha, and Isi alone with Rin and Tusken.
“We’ll leave in the morning,” said Enna. “I wager Ratger will bring five hundred-bands.”
“An attack on the king is an attack on Bayern,” said Isi. “Close the city gates, call up the reserve guard, send messengers to warn the border towns. And send an advance party so he—so they know we’re coming.”
“I’ll tell Ratger. But we both know . . .” Enna paused, glancing at the room as if checking for lurkers. “We both know that one good fire-speaker could rout a battalion.”
“You think you and I should go alone,” Isi said flatly.
“Of course I do. We’ve the best chance out of anyone to find the fire-speakers and . . . and subdue them before they hurt any more people. A little whoosh-whoosh with the wind, a few well-placed fires, and we could wrap it up and send everyone home.”
Isi opened her mouth as if she would argue, then shrugged. “You’re right. If they hurt Geric, they might try to kill him next, and others besides.”
“Nightmares, but what a scene. I thought we were going to have some rest before my wedding.”
“I’m sorry, Enna.”
Enna shook her head. “Please. Brynn is dead and Geric is hurt—but not dead. You hear me, Isi? He’s not dead. You think he’ll retreat to Kiltwin, hole up at his cousin’s castle?”
“No, he’ll make straight for home. Straight for me and Tusken.”
“I will go too,” said Dasha.
“That’s not necessary, Ambassador.”
“Please call me Dasha, and I think it is. Since coming to Bayern, I’ve met countless people who lost family members in the war my country started. Every day I’m mindful of that horrible suffering. I don’t want to stand around, being a statue in honor of Tiran cheerfulness. If I go with you, perhaps I can help prevent more suffering. Besides, if the king is hurt, what of Razo? And Finn—”
“Finn is fine,” Enna said.
“But—”
“Razo is fine, Finn is fine,” Enna said with so much heat in her voice Rin almost believed it was true, though surely Enna had no way of knowing.
“And what would happen to our currently amicable relationship with Tira,” said Isi, “if the Tiran ambassador was injured or even killed in Bayern?”
“I just won’t get killed then,” said Dasha. “And I think I’ll avoid injury too while I’m at it.”
“That’s a good idea,” Isi said.
“Thank you, I thought so too.”
“Dasha’s getting pretty good with fire,” Enna said, with some reluctance in her voice. “And she does have the water part that we don’t. Might come in handy.”
Rin’s skin began to tingle.
Fire-speakers. The queen’s wind. Razo asking Dasha if it would rain. Fire. Water. Wind.
They spoke casually, as if, perhaps, they assumed Razo had explained it all to her. Curse him.
Isi glanced her way and Rin remembered herself, thrusting her attention back to Tusken, who was clambering on her back. She was a waiting maid, there to watch the child, not take part in the queen’s council. But her thoughts still churned like leaves in the wind. Everyone knew that in the war between Tira and Bayern, a so-called fire-speaker had burned a tenth of the Tiran army, turning them back from invading the capital. A fire-speaker who could send attacks of fire, burning from a distance. That had been Enna, Rin now guessed. And the rumors about the queen and wind . . . So, both Enna and Isi could control wind and fire, and Dasha too. No, with Dasha it would be fire and water.
Rin felt like half a girl, a scrap of a person, sitting at the feet of these fearless women who were confident, wise, grown. With a hunger and a hope that felt bigger than her body, Rin yearned to be like them. Especially the queen. If only she could stay close to Isi, listen to her, watch her, perhaps she could learn how to be. Perhaps she could become someone new, someone fixed and good, someone who could go home again.
R
in woke to the morning drum making rounds through the palace corridors, calling out those who were to leave on the expedition. It did not R call for Rin, but she sprang up anyway, sneaked past the sleeping waiting women and ran down to the horse grounds. She’d slept in a travel tunic and leggings, even in her boots, and her leather knapsack was already packed with a hunting sling, a cloak, a change of clothes, a leather waterskin, and bread left over from supper.
The grounds were crowded with wagons and horses and men with weapons. The quaking calm of early-morning bustle surrounded her, the intensity and hurry jarring with the dark sky and sleepy light in the east. She eyed a wagon and considered crawling in and covering herself up with feed sacks. Instead she stood beside it, trying to look bold but feeling pathetic.
Her unease had been bad enough of late, but worry for Razo seemed like to kill her. She needed to know that he was all right.
Keep moving. Stay with the queen,
that was what she had to do.
“Rin?”
Rin startled, her limbs running with cold. Isi was dressed in a brown tunic with leggings for riding, her hair in one long plait down her back, unadorned. She did not look royal. But for her yellow hair, Rin thought she might have fit right in at the homestead.
“Did Enna ask you to come?”
Rin’s heartbeats scrambled in anxiety. “No. I’m . . . worried about Razo, and—”
“Majesty.” The chief steward rushed to the queen. He had slicked hair and a nose so tiny he seemed to be always sneering. “Majesty, the girl Cilie you sent to me . . . she didn’t return to quarters last night.”
“I asked you to get her out of the palace while I’m away.”
“And I would have, Your Majesty, but she never checked in after chores. No one knows where she is.”
Rin felt sick. She’d assumed Tusken would be safe in that big palace surrounded by soldiers, but perhaps not with Cilie slinking about.
Isi was already running back toward the palace, and she shouted over her shoulder, “Rin, come with me.”
Soldiers stood guard outside Tusken’s nursery. Janissa was asleep at the foot of the prince’s bed, and she startled when Isi and Rin entered. Tusken lay curled up in a ball, mouth open, chest rising and falling. Rin bowed her head with relief.
The queen was all focused energy. “Rin, take him down for me? Janissa, help me gather his things.”
“Down?” Rin asked.
“He’s safer with me and Enna out there than he is alone in a palace with a missing girl who might mean him harm.”
A roundish soldier with kind eyes escorted Rin and offered to carry the prince. Rin shook her head. She was not a large girl, but her child-carrying muscles were as strong as pine branches. She set the sleeping boy against her chest and gave him a little squeeze, his heart pressing closer to hers. Warmth gushed through her.
“I love you, Tusken,” she whispered.
He moaned in his sleep and stubbornly did not wake even after she clambered into the back of the wagon and the company began the bouncy trek down the city streets. He slept for hours, giving Rin time to think as dawn broke into day.
Keep moving,
she thought. Back home, fleeing into the deep Forest had been a temporary reprieve. Escaping to the city had not cured her either. It seemed she was the problem, not the trees. She wished she could run away from herself.
Tusken’s wagon stayed in the center of the small army, flanked by Dasha, Enna, and Isi. Rin knew Isi would not casually risk her son’s life, so he must be safe with those three women. Everyone must be safe with them somehow. Even Rin. Hopefully Razo too. What a big open world they rode into, how many strange dangers—not the kind she knew, like unexpected falls into Forest ravines or cuts that did not heal. But fire coming out of nowhere, people who wanted to kill. It made no sense. She wrapped her arms around Tusken and imagined how her mother might have felt when she embraced her little girl.
Isi and Rin took turns in the wagon, keeping Tusken entertained or holding him while he napped. When Isi sat with her son, Rin rode the queen’s horse.
I’m going to die,
Rin thought,
and when Razo hears it was because
I couldn’t stay upright on a horse, he’ll be laughing too hard to mourn.
In truth, the horse was gentle and walked so carefully, her balance never wavered. But he was a
horse
, a large beast with unfamiliar movements and no expressions to read except the undoubtedly murderous thoughts in his huge eyes.
The third day of travel, they met the king’s company as it retreated toward the city. Geric was riding at the head. That he was on horseback seemed an excellent sign, but from a distance Rin could see the bandages. She was standing in the wagon, straining to spot Razo.
Isi cantered her horse forward and Geric set his dappled mare to meet her. They dismounted, Isi throwing herself off her horse, Geric climbing off gingerly. Isi’s hand wavered over her husband’s bandaged face, white strips of cloth wrapped around half his head and covering one eye, extending over his right shoulder and arm, down the right side of his body. She kissed his left cheek.
“Da!” Tusken was shouting. “Dada! Win—Dada.”
Rin helped Tusken out of the wagon and they ran across the field toward Geric and Isi, Enna and Dasha keeping close beside them. Razo was suddenly there, Finn too, un-singed and smiling. Rin discovered she was smiling too, so much that it hurt, and hard dry sobs shook out of her chest.
“Razo, you’re all right,” she said.
He scoffed. “Of course I am. Who could hurt me?”
“Make camp!” shouted Captain Ratger at a nod from the king. There was a squeaking of leather saddles as riders dismounted, horses nickering at the lift of weight, muffled thumps as packs were dropped. Isi and Geric stood together, talking, a moat of solitude surrounding them. So intently did they look at each other, Rin wondered if anything in the world could have called them out but Tusken.
“Dada!”
“There he is!” Geric scooped up Tusken with one arm.
“What dat? What dat?” Tusken reached for the bandage on his father’s face, grabbing a handful of cloth. Geric groaned and pulled back.
“Ooh, careful, Tusken. Da’s hurt. Here . . .” Isi took Tusken from his father, and Geric half-sat, half-fell to the ground, his left eye squeezed shut. A physician was at his side at once, feeling his forehead for fever, touching his pulse, calling for water.
Tusken wriggled out of Isi’s arms and squatted by his father, patting his good shoulder, his expression mimicking an adult’s seriousness. “Sowy, Dada. Sowy, sowy.”
“It’s all right,” Geric said in a croaky voice. “Everything’s fine.”
All around, cooking fires were being built, horses unsaddled and brushed, bed rolls prepared. The late-afternoon sky was limpid, blue and cool, no need for tents. Dasha and Enna sat on low stools by the king, Razo and Finn at their sides. Rin stood behind them, expecting to be asked to leave, but no one addressed her.
“. . . out of nowhere,” Geric kept saying. “Just,
whoosh
—fire, all at once. I fell backward off my horse. The worst of it caught Brynn, who was no doubt rushing to save me—a stupidly brave thing to do. The rest got my horse. Poor Springer. She was hurt, and they had to . . .” He cleared his throat. “In moments it was over. The attack wounded eight others, but only Brynn was lost. He died quickly. I’ll be thankful for that at least, though I’ve wished every moment since that I could at least face Brynn’s murderer with a sword in my hand.” Geric grinned bleakly. “Good time to be clumsy, eh? If I was as skilled a horse master as my wife, I’d be dead.”
Isi laughed once, hard, and it made her eyes water.
“They attacked as we approached the village of Geldis. It had been burned completely, its inhabitants taking refuge in Hendric to the east. Sudden fire, and then nothing. I left five men in the vicinity to try and track them. The size of our battalion was a disadvantage when facing this kind of danger. I’m eager to return to the capital and get aid sent to that village. We left supplies in Hendric, but the people of Geldis will need help rebuilding their homes.”
“The men you left . . . do you think they’re fit to root out a fire-speaker?” Isi asked.
Geric shook his head helplessly.
“Well, you all know what I think we should do,” said Enna.
“I can guess where this is going.” Geric squinted at Isi. “I don’t suppose you’re expecting another child, my dear, as you were the last time you ran off on a mission without me?”
“Not at the moment, my dearest. I’m quite fit to travel.”
“So you plan to—”
“To track them down, whoever is burning villages and trying to kill you. Enna, Dasha, and I will find them and stop them.”
Rin heard Razo whisper to Finn, “Told you they wouldn’t let us go.”
“Blast, this is not what I want!” Geric seemed to want to stand, but he glanced at his bandages and stayed down.
“I know,” said Isi. “I’m sorry. I almost can’t bear to think about it, leaving Tusken, leaving you. But I have to.”
“You don’t have to—,” Geric started.
“You think I’m going to let itchy-skinned fire-speakers come into my country, attack my husband, and hole up somewhere only to attack again? You think I’m not going to hunt them down and burn every hair from their heads and make sure they’re too scared or too dead to ever come near you again? If you think I’m that kind of a woman, then you don’t know whom you married, King Geric.”
She huffed an angry breath. Geric smiled mischievously.
“Stop it,” Isi said with warning in her voice.
“What did I do?” said Geric. “I didn’t do anything.”
“But I know what you’re thinking, and just because you’re all bandaged and in terrific pain and looking pathetic doesn’t mean I’ll let you get away with those little knowing smirks.”
“What’s going on?” asked Enna.
Isi sighed. “Nothing. He just likes to see me get angry.”
“I don’t just
like
it,” said Geric. “I—”
Isi gave him a warning look. “Not another word, Your Majesty.”
“I’ll go.” Finn spoke to Geric but his eyes strayed to Enna.
“That’s right.” Razo straightened up. “If there’ll be a hunt for fire-speakers, you’re going to want me along.”
“I should go too . . . ,” Geric began.
“Oh for all the silliness,” said Isi. “Half your head and arm are burned, you can barely stand up. And when unknown fire-speakers are trying to kill the king, that’s when the king needs to get behind a very tall wall. Besides, someone has to stay at the palace to take care of Tusken and everything else. Yes, I can see that you’re prepared to argue with me some more. Good luck.”
Geric groaned in defeat.
“So it’s settled,” said Razo. “The five of us go.”
“Sorry, Razo,” Isi said. “Our party should be as small as possible, so we can be quick and inconspicuous, and I don’t dare bring anyone along who can’t face down a fire-speaker. I’m feeling quite stubborn about it. Brynn is dead, my husband was nearly killed, and I’m not in a good mood. You know what damage a fire-speaker can do—and there may be more than one. Enna and I . . . and Dasha . . . we’re the best hope for ending this quickly. You all know it’s true.”
Finn was frowning, but he did not argue.
Geric sighed. “You’re right. I don’t like it, but you’re right.” Tusken plopped down on his father’s lap and began to click two stones together.
“Keep close watch on Tusken. Cilie may mean harm, and she’s disappeared.” Isi heaved a sigh as she sat beside him. “I’m just so relieved you’re alive!”
Geric rubbed the back of her neck with his left hand. “I’m sorry I made you worry,” he whispered.
She cut her eyes at him. “Whoever started that fire—that’s who will be sorry.”
“Ooh, are you going to get angry again?” He grinned with half of his mouth, and she rolled her eyes.
A physician lifted Geric’s arm to remove the bandage. Geric clenched his jaw and shut his eyes, his face turning red with the effort not to scream.
“Sorry,” he said through gritted teeth. “Should. Take care of this.”
Isi held his uninjured hand while the physician peeled back the bandage. The sight of Geric’s raw, blistered skin made Rin’s own arm throb in empathy.
To give the king his privacy, Enna departed with Finn and Dasha with Razo. Rin stayed nearby with Tusken, chasing him around and around to get out the cramped energy. Soon Isi called for Tusken, and he ran to his mother and father. He did not look back at Rin, and neither did the queen, her thoughts no doubt with her husband. Rin hesitated but did not think she should follow if they did not call.
She felt forgotten, alone and left with the night. It was what she had been dreading. Nothing to distract her now.
Just beyond the road, a wood beckoned. These were not the trees of her home—their shapes were almost disturbing in their unfamiliarity. She ducked between trees and felt a subtle relief wash over her, brief and distant. For the moment, she just felt glad to be near living things that demanded nothing of her.
She placed a hand on the bark, longing to feel more than pale relief. Her heart cramped with homesickness for that calm that used to root her drifting soul. But the memory of the elm stopped her—no peace, no relief, just a nauseating wash of slick black hopelessness. She moved her hand away, afraid to try, and sat on the ground.
The air changed with the nearness of night, blowing damp and cool, as if the oncoming darkness were a wave rolling in from Kel’s ocean. Rin shivered and tried to take comfort in the fact that good things like night still existed.
Alone, aimless, her thoughts tumbled around her. What did she want? To be all right with her own heart. To lose the dread and disquiet that gnawed at her chest. To go home to her ma and play with her nieces and nephews, and eat bread hot from the oven pit and roast pine nuts and just lie back and feel home again.
But she could not go back where her mother still believed she was a good girl, where family barely noticed her, where Wilem hung his head. The city was so many walls and roofs and talking faces. The only place lately she had felt at home was with Isi. And now Isi was going where neither she nor even Razo or Finn were allowed to follow. Sitting on firm earth, Rin felt as if she were sinking.