“Alastair and I saw them. He and Akarra are warning the nearby villages now. The horde’ll be here soon. Everyone’s gathering in the Great Hall to lay our plans.”
“Well then, what are we sitting here for?” Mama cried. “Girls, go with Aliza. Robart, come; we’d best help Madam Farris with her boys. Quickly now!”
I snatched a slice of toast from the table before hurrying after my sisters. We joined a stream of Manor-folk emerging from their rooms with various exclamations of annoyance at Henry, only to sober when they saw me in my Rider’s armor. Leyda plucked at my sleeve as we approached the Great Hall. “You and Master Daired do have a plan, right?” she asked.
“Working on it,” I whispered. “You two go in; I’ll be right behind you.”
Henry stood at the door, waving the last of the Manor-folk through. “Inside, everyone, quickly!” he cried. “Yes, Master Farris, I’m sure I’m interfering with something terribly important. Quickly now, Madam Moore! Everyone! Jenny, fetch Cook! Ah, Aliza,” he said when he saw me. “That’s everybody, or nearly everybody.”
“Thank you.” I cast my eye over the gathered crowd. Familiar faces, mostly. People I had grown up with, played with, argued with, but not warriors. Farmers, tailors, blacksmiths, and apothecaries; scholars, accountants, bards, and children: poor defenders against direwolves and banshees. Then again, I was hardly better. A few battles under my swordless sword-belt only qualified me to properly appreciate the danger, not to stop it.
I caught a glimpse of Madam Carlyle near the front, and next to her, Gwyn stood with her little son in her arms. My friend’s expression brightened when she saw me, then grew worried.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please!” Lord Merybourne boomed from the front of the Hall. “We must— No, there’s no fire, Martell. And no, no flood either. Listen, we—listen, please!”
I put my fingers together and whistled as I had seen Alastair do when summoning Akarra. The note came out sharp and clear and much, much louder than I’d expected. Every head turned in my direction. Whispers rippled through the crowd as they recognized me.
“Manor-folk!” I cried. “Aye, it’s Aliza Bentaine. There’s no time for details; Tekari are coming. Banshees, direwolves, maybe others.” Whispers rose to full panicked conversations and I heard at least one voice mutter something about the rumors being true, but I waved my hands. “Listen to me! My husband and his dragon will be back to guard the Manor House before they get here, but we need to prepare.”
“How?” a man I didn’t know asked.
I relayed Alastair’s instructions. “With any luck they’ll pass by the house altogether, but in the meantime, block off any way they could get inside,” I said as the crowd dispersed to begin siege preparations.
“What can we do?” Leyda asked.
I looked at my sisters. Mari clutched her bestiary to her chest, eyes wide and wary. Leyda stood with arms folded and chin thrust out, as if defying all the Tekari of Arle at once. She’d abandoned the crutches she’d been using when I last saw her and her broken leg seemed to have healed straight, but I didn’t for a second imagine that meant she’d forgotten the War of the Worm. Wydrick’s betrayal on the battlefield had left scars deeper than the skin.
“Find a mallet and meet me out in the garden in ten minutes,” I said.
“Find a what?”
“Just come on!” Mari said, and dragged Leyda away.
“Aliza! Over here!”
I dodged the barrel-chested farrier and his son, ducked beneath the angry gesticulations of Madam Moore, and met Gwyn in a tight embrace. Tight but brief; her son at once made clear his disapproval of a stranger commandeering his mother’s attention. She released me and took my hand. “I wasn’t sure . . . but gods, I’m glad you came.”
“I’m sorry it couldn’t be sooner. What was it you had to tell me?”
She looked around. Besides the farrier and Madam Moore, Lord Merybourne and a handful of men stood beneath the massive windows debating the best way to barricade them. At the sound of overturning tables, the baby let out a piteous wail. Gwyn sighed. “I’m sorry, dearest. Later.”
It took everything in me not to press for answers, but with a fussing baby and the danger hanging over our heads, I knew better than to argue. I saw her back to her family’s apartments and waved a hurried hello to Madam Carlyle, Gwyn’s little sister Rya, and an astonished Wynce Curdred before jogging back downstairs to meet my sisters in the garden.
“Isn’t this supposed to work?” Leyda whispered.
“Shush,” I said, and hammered the ground again with the mallet. We crouched in a grassy patch of garden near the kitchens, or what would have been a grassy patch before the rain. Mud spattered my arms and trousers at each blow.
Leyda made a face and dodged the next shower of muddy drops. “What if they’re already hibernating?”
“Garden-folk don’t seal their Underburrow until after Saint Ellia’s Day,” Mari said from my other side. “Now shhh!”
I struck the ground once more, hoping I remembered the correct pattern in Low Gnomic earth-sign. The message Enemies approaching. Help needed! should’ve been traveling through the snug tunnels of the Merybourne Underburrow, stirring all the garden-folk to, if not our immediate assistance, then at least curiosity strong enough to send someone up to the surface to see what was the matter. I repeated the pattern a fourth time and sat back on my heels to stretch my aching arms. Mari shifted beside me, mud squelching beneath her boots. Leyda sighed loudly. I thought of Alastair, who’d returned soon after we’d left our family apartments with word that Trollhedge and Little Dembley were preparing for an attack. As yet neither village had seen any sign of the approaching Tekari, but he said they’d agreed to sound a hunting horn when they were spotted and so pass along a warning.
Mari, Leyda, and I had left him to preside over the tiny fighting force Lord Merybourne had cobbled together: three blacksmiths with their hammers and pokers, the woodcutter and carpenter with their axes, Madam Moore the apothecary with her healer’s pouch and a pair of silver daggers, a handful of hunters with longbows and crossbows, and to my surprise, Henry Brandon with an elegant and ornately impractical rapier. “A gift,” he’d said, reddening when Alastair examined it. “From the theater troupe in Edonarle.”
“Do you know how to use it?”
“I have it on reliable authority the sharp end goes toward the enemy, milord.”
Alastair only shrugged. “Good enough.”
My plan had met at first with exasperation, then with hesitation, but Alastair had at last agreed it was worth a try. Akarra had flown west to scout for any sign of the horde’s approach. I could see her in the distance, swooping low over the woods beyond the west pastures.
“What do we do now?” Leyda asked.
There was a rustling behind us. I whipped around, but there was nothing except sodden leaf litter, fallen branches, and the Manor wall. The drip-drip-drip of water from the bare shrubs beat like the tick of a clock in my mind. Late! Late! Too late! it said. I lowered the mallet for a fifth attempt when Mari tugged my sleeve and pointed.