“Warrior-Guilder,” I said, “you have to ready the army. Silasta’s under siege.”
Aven started to laugh, then frowned. “Siege? What do you mean?”
“There’s been an uprising on the estates,” I said. “Honor-down, I know this must sound insane. We’ve tried to get word to you for weeks, but they have us penned in. I don’t know what’s happened to the other cities. The Chancellor is dead, Credola, and”—my voice cracked a little—“the Heir too, the new Chancellor, Tain. They were both poisoned.”
Aven’s face grew still and her gaze narrow. “An uprising? The Chancellor murdered? I hardly think this would be the first we’d hear of it, if so. Is this some trick of the Doranites, to have us abandon the south? We’ve beaten them decisively.” She leaned in, dark eyes glittering, menace emanating from her like a force. “You’re not the first spy we’ve had at this camp.”
I shook my head and blinked hard as tears of exhaustion and frustration built. “No. No, it’s all true. Honor-down, I wish it were otherwise. But the estates really have risen against us. The Chancellor was poisoned and they marched on Silasta during the funeral. They killed our birds and then our messengers when we sent for help. We tried as best we could to hold the city but we had barely two dozen Order Guards and they built siege weapons. We collapsed Bell’s Bridge and retreated to the upper city less than two weeks ago. We still held Trickster’s and the Finger when I left, but we don’t have long.”
The Warrior-Guilder leaned in closer. She looked me over, her gaze merciless as a razor. “What’s your name, little bird? I know your face.”
“Credola Kalina. I’m Credo Etan’s niece.” This time the tears did break free, and I looked down at her hands, my voice dropping to a whisper. “He’s dead, too.”
Aven lifted my chin with a surprisingly gentle hand. “Honor-down. How did you get out of the city? And why send you as a messenger? Forgive me, but you don’t seem an obvious choice.”
Again, I shrank back into my own body a little, even though she was painfully correct. “I swam under the gate,” I said. “They didn’t send me. I just … The Chancellor wouldn’t send any more messengers. The first lot, the rebels caught them and … and desecrated the corpses, terribly. Tai—the Chancellor, he wouldn’t risk it happening again. Then he was poisoned, and I just didn’t think we would last much longer if someone didn’t find you.”
Without another word, Aven stood, swift and graceful, and left the tent. I sat, feeling helpless, as Aven’s harsh voice barked orders outside. Moments later, a great horn rang across the camp, three times. Then Aven came back into the tent. “We’re mobilizing, little bird, packing up the camp right now. We’ll be on the boats and back to the city before you know it.”
“Thank you.” The dizziness returned, dousing me with relief.
Aven smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “Rebels, you say? Traitors, and a peasant rabble to boot. We’ll pen them in the city they tried to steal, and crush them against the rock. We’ll take Silasta back, don’t fear.”
* * *
Much as I resisted, it was impossible not to be impressed by Aven. The Warrior-Guilder was undeniably magnificent, striding around the place with such palpable authority that people reacted to her presence before they even saw her.
Though Sjon nobility by birth, Aven rejected all the civilized trappings of the Families. She was loud and ill-mannered, tolerated by the rest of the Council only for her undeniable skills in her Guild, and rarely publicly referenced by her own family—even Credo Lazar, who loved to brag about his family’s accomplishments, rarely mentioned his cousin. Yet seeing her now, in her element, I understood Tain’s infatuation. Aven was attractive in the rawest sense of the word, with an imposing presence and power that derived both from her physical prowess and her apparent lack of need for external approval. I could see now why Tain, surrounded as he was by willing partners who were clever and beautiful and artistic but nevertheless cut from the same cultured, pampered cloth, might have seen the Warrior-Guilder as someone refreshingly different and desirable.
It made me feel smaller than ever. A little bird, indeed. Aven had bidden me to stay in the tent and attempt to rest. It was the middle of the night after a hard day of riding and walking, and the cushions were inviting. Even with the lanterns off, I couldn’t sleep, instead staring at the faint pattern of the tent roof lit by the moon above. Impatience rather than relief itched at me as the army packed up the camp. Perhaps once we were in the boats and on the way home downriver, I’d be able to sleep properly.
But even if the city is saved, Tain is still dead. My eyes stayed dry this time. I’d moved beyond tears.
“Not sleeping, little bird?” Aven’s gravelly voice interrupted my thoughts. The Warrior-Guilder came inside as I sat up.
“I’m so tired,” I admitted. “But whenever I shut my eyes…”
Aven nodded, understanding softening the sharp lines of her face. “We’ll move within the hour,” she said. “We’ve half-loaded the boats already.”
“What about the mines? Will we lose them to the Doranites?”
The Warrior-Guilder shrugged. “I think not. We’ve beaten them decisively twice now. They don’t have the men left to attack again. I’ll leave a small group here to protect the workers, but I think this dispute’s settled, for now.” She sat down cross-legged beside me. “Since you’re awake anyway, why don’t you tell me everything you can about the rebel army.”
When I grew hoarse, Aven finally took pity and ceased her relentless questioning. She surprised me with her gratitude. “You’ve been very brave,” the Warrior-Guilder told me. “And you’ve probably saved Silasta. If you’re strong enough, we’ll get you to a boat, and I’ll leave instructions that no one is to disturb you. I can see you’re not well, Credola, and though you’ve not said anything about why, I can tell the difference between ordinary exhaustion and the kind that comes with a serious illness. Even the healthiest runner would need rest after what you’ve done. You’ve earned it.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I can help, if there’s something…” I trailed off, embarrassed; of course she wouldn’t need the help of a spoiled, wealthy invalid, the epitome of the Silasta she eschewed.
But instead of mocking, Aven patted me on the shoulder kindly. “You have helped, and you’ll do more, but you have to rest first. I’ll likely need more information when we get back to the city.” She glanced out of the tent and dropped her voice. “We’ve already had more than one traitor in the camp, Credola. From what you’ve told me, it would be foolish to assume there is no one in the army involved in the plot. Only my most trusted men and women know the details of why we’re returning. It would be safest if you spoke to no one.”
“How long will the boats take?” I asked. “How soon will we be back?”
“We have the current,” she said. “It’ll depend on the wind. But we’ll be back by the day after tomorrow, at latest.”