His breathing was even and there was no response. Maybe the healer had given him something.
Behind me, Raquella whistled. “Maybe I’ll wander off to the court of Le Majest if it means bringing back captives like that one.”
“It also means having them hunt you down and try to kill you, Raquella,” Retger said gruffly. “Come and help Zayana support Wing Ivo. She can’t do it alone and you two girls aren’t strong enough to carry the hunter.”
He joined me beside Osprey’s bed.
“We’ll carry him but he’s going to be heavy. I’ll take his shoulders and you grab him around the knees.”
“I’m glad you made it here safely,” I said, wide-eyed. “I didn’t even know this place existed.”
“Neither did I,” he grunted. “But I found a Single Wing safe house and sent everyone I could to find you and they directed me here. It turns out that they know Wing Ivo and every Wing we can turn to the cause is valuable. Even this one, if he can be turned.”
“I told you before that he’s Single Wing,” I said, grunting as I lifted Osprey’s legs.
“And I told you that I don’t like the way you look at each other. It’s going to be trouble.”
We followed Zayana and Raquella down the stairs. Raquella looked over her shoulder to waggle her eyebrows at me. She was going to give me an earful by the time we found somewhere safe, I just knew it.
“Like you and Zayana?” I needled.
“Leave Zay out of it. She’s far from home and she needs allies who can keep her safe from the Empire and the Forbidding. Allies like House Shrike.”
“Are you planning to deepen your alliance?” I teased in a low enough voice that Zayana wouldn’t hear me.
He scowled and I smirked, but the humor was short-lived.
We reached the bottom of the stairs and found Oska and Abghar with weapons drawn before a knot of other rebels.
“We haven’t decided and that’s the point. You can’t take all the Wings except for Wings Essena and Sawet to your house, Shrike,” Chandres was saying. “We at House Pelican demand equal footing with House Shrike.”
Abghar made an exasperated sound through his teeth. “This isn’t about standing, Chandres. It’s about defending our own. We were supposed to all want the same thing. We’re supposed to be close to action. We have spies in every Far Stones city. As of yesterday, we have supplies in place, and marauding units in place, and havens within the Forbidding in place for strikes on Astar Harbor, Trakar, Karkatua, Far Port, and Portua Town. We’re ready. The only thing that can stop us now isn’t the Empire and it isn’t the Forbidding, it’s internal strife. And who is sowing that right now at the very cusp of our triumph? It’s Wing Essena. She’s created a conflict by accusing one of my House of treachery and demanding her death. Imagine if it was someone in your house, Chandres? Imagine if it was Eflan or Hiegar? What would you do? You’d do what I’m doing. You’d put them somewhere safe until cooler tempers brought wisdom. We’re not going anywhere except our assigned house. I suggest you do the same. Go and let your head cool and we’ll talk tomorrow morning.”
“And Wing Essena?” Chandres asked coldly.
“Take her with you, by all means. I’d prefer she was watched since she’s such a threat, and I’d prefer those pigeons were taken away and those two friends of hers – Francen and Chesma were watched, but there isn’t much I can do about that. I can only guard my own and stay true to the course. Please tell me your House will do the same.”
There were murmurs around Chandres and I realized that the men and women there weren’t all from his house. Was that Ames in his ranks? The blacksmith who had turned Single Wing in Karkatua? It was hard to see past the guarding bodies of Oska and Abghar.
“We’ll think on it House Shrike,” Chandres said, but despite his reluctance, the murmurs around him seemed to favor Abghar, and more than one person – including Ames – made the sign of the bird to him before hurrying off.
Beside me, the healer was slinging a pouch over my neck.
“If you really must take him then you give him a spoon of these herbs in hot water four times a day and the salve for the wounds to stave off infection. Some of these are going very bad from neglect and I’d like to wring the neck of his traveling companions for allowing it to get so far.”
She gave me a meaningful look – she must know I was traveling with him – and then she disappeared.
“Can we go?” Alect whispered.
“One more minute,” Abghar cautioned. “Let them watch our united front for one more moment before we move. They must have it impressed on their minds. How tonight plays out will affect the success of the entire revolution. Either they listen, and reason and hope prevail, or they do not, and all is lost.”
His words made us all feel sober as we waited until he made the sign of the bird and then led up across the darkening encampment to the house. Around us, the busy preparations were being put away for the day and the scent of food and tea was in the air, but in my heart, there blew a lonely wind of worry and loss. I caused trouble everywhere I went, even here with my family. And that just wasn’t acceptable. There had to be a better way, if only I could find it.
Elsewhere in the Winged Empire
“GENERAL PETREN?” THE voice speaking to him was tentative. He’d never liked that about the Canaht orphans. No backbone to them. Not like his boy. His Vasyklo.
He turned, his eyes glaring into the boy and he backed up a step. Nineteen years old. Same age as his Vasyklo. The boy had been twelve – the oldest of the children taken – when he’d rounded them up and torn them from their parents. Even now, he remembered the faces of those pathetic fools whenever he looked at these grown children. The youngest of them was seven now. He was at the front of the ship looking out over the sea with a fake spyglass made from a roll of parchment.
Vasyklo would have liked that. Petren could barely stomach the softness of it.
And yet here he was, vanishing into the horizon with the hostages he’d taken seven years ago. Not to use them against their parents – but to save his son from having them used against him by yet another enemy. Or at least, he assumed that was why the boy had asked him to save them.
He should have said no.
He should have left on his own as his emperor had bid him.
But in leaving, he’d left his men, left his post, left his life.
He’d lost his home seven years ago to the whims of the Emperor.
Lost his wife to those same whims thirteen years before that.
He wasn’t ready to lose his son. Not even if it meant obeying his mad request and filling a ship full of orphans he cared nothing for to set sail for a continent he hated. Ah, Far Stones. There’d been bloodshed there and so much of it.
He realized suddenly that he was still staring at the boy. “What do you want?”
“Your dinner has been prepared below, sir.”
He nodded grimly.
“If it’s not too bold, sir,” the boy continued, his face growing flushed with fear. And yet he was still speaking. “May we know now where you are taking us?”
“To fight a war, boy,” Petren said. He knew in his bones he was right. His son had told him to leave – but where would he go except to join the one person he still cared something for?