26
Kalina
A queasy belly woke me; I sat upright, retching, and cracked my head on a beam. Groaning, I swung my legs from the cramped bunk, clutching my head with one hand and my stomach with the other. A vaguely familiar tune ran through my head, a fragment of my dream. It took several breaths to remember where I was.
Outside, someone stopped whistling, and I realized the tune hadn’t been in my head after all.
“Garan?” I called, trying the door.
He opened it, peering in with a furrowed brow. “Are you all right?”
“Sick,” I managed, trying to step out. “Can I come on deck?”
He bit his lip. “I don’t think … The Warrior-Guilder wanted you to stay belowdecks.”
“You can see I’m sick,” I wheedled. “Garan, don’t make me throw up down here. It’d stink for you, too.”
He looked back and forth down the corridor, wringing his hands. “I’m not sure…”
“We don’t have to talk, and I’ll keep a scarf up so no one notices me. Please?”
A moment’s hesitation, then he relented. “Come on, then. But scarf up.”
I unwrapped the sticky scarf from around my neck and threw it over my head like a hood, then followed Garan abovedecks. Late afternoon sun and lush green banks greeted me, and the freshness of the air filled my lungs sweetly. I sucked in several deep breaths, wondering how I had slept so long. Garan ushered me to the quietest part of the deck, looking nervous. “I’m not the traitor, remember?” I said, and he smiled in response, but his eyes still darted about as if expecting Aven to pounce on his disobedience at any instant.
“Where are we?” I asked, scanning the countryside. Our boat sailed along among dozens of others, a thicket of dark, quiet creatures making swift pace down the river. Unmarred green stretched away in both directions, giving no hint of our position.
Garan shook his head. “Not sure. I’ve been with you below, remember? But we look to be making good time; the wind and the current are helping us.”
“Honor-down, I hope we’re not too late.” I stared north. We’d see the city long before we arrived; would it be a smoking ruin?
A burly wetlander striding past the other side of the boat gave us a sidelong look, and Garan took my hand. “Please, let’s go below,” he said, and I agreed, with another sigh. I didn’t want to get my guard in trouble, but couldn’t help dreading returning to the damp little box of a room.
Soon. Soon we’ll be back, and Aven will save the city.
Garan shut my door behind me and I took a seat on the bunk. As long as I don’t go mad down here in the meantime. I shut my eyes and lay there, listening to Garan’s whistling and trying not to think too much.
False goaberry
DESCRIPTION: Fruit from the gravalana bush, often called “false goaberry” for its resemblance to the popular fruit, but distinguishable by the spiral pattern on the leaves.
SYMPTOMS: Contact with juice causes a burning rash on the skin, distinctive with large, hivelike growths, worsening with touch. Symptoms of consumption include burning sensation in mouth and throat, ulcers and bleeding from gums, internal bleeding, death.
PROOFING CUES: Intensely sour flavor, leaving the mouth dry; prickling, tingling sensation on tongue, cheeks, gums.
27
Jovan
It took me precious time to convince Tain to stay in bed. He staggered as far as his bedroom door, struggling to make his way in the blackness. “I need to be out there!” he yelled, some semblance of his old volume returning. But he was weak as a day-old kitsa, and it wasn’t hard to wrestle him to safety.
“And how are you going to defend yourself in this state?” I demanded. “And how easy would it be for Marco to finish you off in a crowd?”
“If you gave me something—I know you’ve got things that perk you up, what is it, that mineral the javelin thrower was using a few years back? I could—”
“Darpar? No.” I frowned. “It’s a poison. Even if you were at full health it wouldn’t be worth the risk. You need to rest. You’re staying here with Salvea and Davi and I’ll be back to let you know what’s happening as soon as I can.”
Salvea interrupted with a polite little cough before I could leave. “Credo Jovan, have you seen my daughter?”
“I’m sorry, Salvea, no.”
“Oh.” She twisted her hands together. At her feet, unusually silent, Davi leaned into her skirts and stared up at me, wide-eyed and accusing. “She wasn’t in bed when the bell rang.”
It wasn’t even dawn yet; still dark and a fraction chilly. What nighttime explorations had she gone on this time? My heart grew heavy as I imagined her spying on Marco or something equally dangerous. “I’ll look out for her down near the bridge,” I promised.
The city was buzzing as people streamed in one direction or another in the moonlight, some running toward the lake and others away. It was a starry, bright night and as soon as I had a clear line of sight to the water it was obvious what had happened. The far shore crawled with activity; the rebels had built what looked like portable platforms which extended out into the lake, and onto them were being wheeled great catapults, now with an angle to the Finger. On the west half of Trickster’s, a dark mass of troops advanced slowly. Out of reach of our torches and lit only by moonlight, I could barely make out their troops, shielded and in formation, presumably protecting further machines.
Their catapults were outside the range of the tower’s archers, and they wouldn’t risk advancing any of their soldiers across the bridge until they had done sufficient damage to the tower. They’d be open targets marching on the bridge, vulnerable to our archers from the shore and from the tower. By the time I reached the Finger, all the new archers’ slots on the wall extensions were filled, and flaming, oil-filled basins stood at the ready. Across the water, drums and a droning chant echoed eerily. It was meant to intimidate us, and it was working.
I raced up the back stairs and to the top level. Marco showed me to the arrow slits so I could see the catapults being loaded. “They have reassembled their machines,” he told me, grim. “That is what they have been waiting for. They will shoot at us from safety over there until they breach the gate.”
“What do we do?” I asked. “We can’t lead a charge over there; they’ve ten times the men we have, and it’d be us being picked off on the bridge.”
He ran a hand over his head. “The Builders’ Guild is bringing our other catapults down. We must destroy theirs before they destroy the tower. If their troops on the bridge advance, we will also need to be ready to meet them.”
It was only then I remembered Marco was our enemy; in the distraction of the attack I’d dropped back into old patterns. As he left the room, already shouting orders, I shook my head. Some part of me still found it difficult to picture the humble and competent man as a villain. Which is how he fooled us all for so long. But why?
As I descended, the atmosphere among the men and women manning it was cold as the round stone walls. Everyone looked frightened.