“Stay here,” Lyle instructed, motioning for Iris and Clive to hide in the grass just off the road that led into Brey. “I’ll go into town and ask the caravan if we can get a ride.” He loped off down the road. He was in good spirits, but he couldn’t say exactly why.
He walked right into town, starting to limp from his wound as soon as he was out of Iris’s sight. To his relief, he saw four wagons loading up to leave. He skirted around all the people milling around and went to the head of the caravan, where he saw a sour, bony woman chewing tobacco and watching over it all. Her dark eyes flicked to him as he approached.
“Hello, Yelina,” he said happily.
She chewed and spat in the dirt. “You’re still alive, are you?”
“I haven’t been eaten by a bear yet, no. What direction is this caravan headed?”
“North.”
“Perfect. Can I have a ride?”
She shrugged. “They should take you, for a price.”
“I have the money.”
She looked down at him dispassionately. “Running away?”
“Taking a trip.”
“Sounds fake.” She nodded in the direction of the entrance to the town. “Stay away from them.”
Four men were walking down the main road, dressed in dark green. Their red and brown beards were dirty and braided. He could hear their boisterous voices but didn’t recognize the language. They were armed.
“Who are they?” he asked uncertainly. Weapons weren’t common here.
“Ordic soldiers.”
“What are they doing here?”
“Looking for some kids.”
Lyle’s blood went cold. “Whose kids?”
“Didn’t say. You want a ride or not?”
He nodded, still watching the Ordics nervously.
“Rowan!” Yelina yelled, making Lyle jump.
A tall, lithe girl of maybe nineteen appeared around one of the circus wagons. Lyle, who had seen a circus once or twice in his life, thought she was probably an acrobat. “What?” Rowan inquired.
“Got room for a kid?”
“Sure.”
“What about three kids?” Lyle asked her.
Rowan shrugged. “It won’t be comfortable, but yes. Can you pay?”
“How much?” he asked, pulling off his pack and digging inside to find the coin.
“How much do you have?”
He handed her half of his money, and she gave him a couple of coins back. “That’s plenty, love, we just need to help feed the horses. Where are the rest of you? And where are you headed?”
“Are you going anywhere near Northfort?”
“Sure, we’ll pass nearby later today. It’s just a military fort, though, why do you want to go there?”
“Family nearby,” he said quickly, watching the Ordics come closer out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll be right back with the others.” He darted off before she could ask him more questions, slipping between houses to hide from the Ordics’ view. His heart was pounding. The Ordics truly were after Iris and Clive. Did that mean their mother had lost the battle?
He found Iris and Clive hidden in the grass and explained the situation. Their eyes grew wide. “The caravan is leaving in a few minutes,” he added quickly. “We have to get on there. Just follow me.” He made eye contact with Iris. She gave him a solid nod, though she looked scared. Clive clenched his teeth, looking out at the town.
Lyle took a deep breath and touched the scars on the back of his neck. He knew the town well; he would be able to skirt around and avoid the Ordics, as long as he could keep an eye on where they were. He motioned for Iris and Clive to follow him. Iris grabbed Clive’s hand.
They slipped through the sleeping town easily enough, but when the caravan was in sight, Lyle couldn’t see or hear the Ordics anymore. He had Iris and Clive stay back and went to scope it out. The circus was finishing packing and everyone was hopping on. The horses snorted and chewed at their bits. He saw no one else on the road. Rowan was looking around too, and when she saw him, she motioned to him that they were about to leave.
He nodded, then went back and got Iris and Clive. As soon as the three of them were out in the open, he heard the Ordics again. They were speaking with Yelina, but they were just out of view—behind one of the wagons.
“No, we haven’t seen any kids,” Yelina drawled. “Why don’t you go find yourselves something better to do?”
“Why don’t you show us all the kids you got in town?” one of the Ordics asked in a thick accent.
Yelina suggested some obscene things they could go do to themselves instead.
“Aye, aye, woman, listen. We got orders.”
Rowan, who was also listening to the conversation, motioned Lyle forward urgently, holding a finger to her lips. They ran to her, and she had Clive jump into the back of an open wagon that was full of hay.
Lyle and Iris, who had larger bags on their back, and in Lyle’s case a bow, hurried to take them off and throw them up so they could climb in. Lyle let Iris go first while he looked back toward the Ordics, and just as she put her foot up, he saw the two Ordics give up on Yelina and start to turn the corner.
Lyle grabbed Iris’s arm and pulled her away, having to catch her unbalanced fall, and then they ducked around the next wagon. They looked back to see if the Ordics had caught sight of Clive, but all they could see was Rowan moving some hay around to make room for some bags.
Lyle knelt to look under the wagon and saw the two Ordics’ feet as they approached Rowan. “Seen any kids?”
“We’ve already told you that we haven’t,” Rowan replied.
The Ordic turned to his companion and said something in their own language, a question. Apparently Rowan understood them, though, because she growled, “Try it.”
“I’m only joking, little girl,” the man said, then laughed brashly.
The hair on the back of Lyle’s neck prickled. Iris squeezed his arm nervously.
The Ordics kept walking, and Lyle, heart pounding, pulled Iris along as he kept them on the opposite side of the wagon. He glanced around for the other two Ordics, but they were nowhere in sight.
Lyle and Iris came to the open back of a covered wagon, full of someone’s belongings. It looked familiar, but Lyle didn’t have time to think about it—they jumped in and hurried to find a place to hide. To Lyle’s surprise, there was a yellow bear skin hanging on the wall, and they both ducked behind it and covered themselves up. They pulled their knees up and huddled close together, breathing hard.
They heard footsteps around the wagon. Then more on the other side.
“Oi,” came a sharp voice. “What do you think you’re doing?” It was a young man’s voice, and he had a Slovic accent.
“Just looking,” an Ordic replied casually.
“Get your mangy face out of my wagon before I bash it in, Ordic scum.”
“Watch yourself, boy.”
“Problem over here, Stien?” came a deep man’s voice, and Lyle finally understood: it was the Slovic family he had guided last week. He had helped them pack and leave yesterday, but they must have stayed the night in Brey—maybe to watch the circus. This was the father, Torsten, and the son, Stien.
There was silence, then the Ordic said, “We’re looking for some kids, have you s—“
“Yes, we’ve heard,” Stien snapped. “And if we’d seen them, we wouldn’t tell you.”
“Is that right?” came the second Ordic’s voice. “How about we search your wagon, then?”
“How about we cut you open and search your insides?” Stien hissed.
“Would you like to try?” the Ordic snarled.
“Stien,” his father said calmly, “there’s no need for that. Lads, who are you looking for?”
Silence. Then, “Two kids. Black-haired girl, brown-haired boy.”
“Not very helpful. Whose kids?”
“Doesn’t matter. Have you seen them?”
“No, we haven’t. And if you’d be so kind to get out of our way, we’re trying to leave.”
“In a hurry, are we?”
A woman’s voice came, then, that Lyle recognized as Torsten’s wife: “Lads, we’ll mind our business if you mind yours. We’re just trying to get home.”
The Ordics muttered to each other in their own language.
“You know what we do in our country to Ordics who don’t keep to their own damn business?” Stien inquired.
Silence. Then, “Cheers, lads. Ladies.” Footsteps retreating.
“Really, Stien?” his mother asked him.
“Bloody Ordics,” Stien muttered.
“All right,” Torsten said with a heavy sigh, “come on, let’s get going already.”
More footsteps, and then the wagon dipped in the front twice as two people sat up front, and twice more as two people stepped into the back of the wagon. Lyle couldn’t see them, but could hear that they were nearby. He quieted his breathing. This family might not like Ordics, but it didn’t mean they would help them out if they discovered Lyle and Iris stealing a ride. And who knew what would happen if they discovered who Iris was?
“I bet I know whose kids they are,” a girl’s voice said—the second person who had gotten into the back of the wagon, Lyle realized—the daughter-in-law. The widow of their other son. What was her name?
“Whose?” Stien asked in a bored drawl.
Lyle heard the slap of reins, and the wagon jolted into motion. Iris touched Lyle’s arm and mouthed, “Clive.”
He didn’t want to risk speaking, so he nodded to let her know her brother would be fine. He wasn’t actually sure of that, but it seemed to him that Clive was in better hands than the two of them. Besides, the caravan was all heading in the same direction, so they could find him later.
“Queen Tahlia,” the daughter-in-law said.
Iris stiffened.
“What?” Stien asked, surprised.
“I heard the Ordics talking about Whitehall a few minutes ago. It sounded like they stormed it yesterday.”
“They finally kill that queen they hate so much, then?”
“I doubt it. She’s too well-protected.”
Iris’s nails bit into Lyle’s arm.
“Yeah, I bet they’d look a lot happier if they had.”
“Maybe they captured her kids in the attack, but they escaped.”
Stien snorted. “You’re talking out your ass, Gertrude. I’ve never even heard that Queen Tahlia had children.”
Gertrude ignored him for a few moments, then informed him sourly, “You’re an ass.”
After that there was silence. Lyle could feel that Iris was tense next to him, but after a few minutes, she relaxed and let go of his arm. So her mother was probably safe, but nothing for sure. He leaned his head back against the wall and felt his eyes drooping. There was nothing more they could do except stay quiet and wait for the caravan to stop, and he had been up all night and then walked for two hours on an injured leg. So he let himself slip into a warm, musty sleep under the bear skin, pressed close beside Iris.
*****
He woke to a particularly harsh bump in the road that knocked his and Iris’s skulls together. They both hissed in pain as quietly as they could and lifted their heads.
From the sunlight through the slats of wood it looked brighter than it had before, Lyle thought. Midday, perhaps. Maybe they would stop for lunch soon, and they would be able to sneak out and make sure Clive was all right. He wondered if Rowan had let the boy up into a wagon or kept him under the hay the whole time.
The two of them sat there for a while, just breathing under the stuffy bear skin, and then Iris leaned her head back on Lyle’s shoulder, where he realized it must have been for their heads to have hit the way they did. He didn’t mind it—his shoulder would certainly be softer than the boards behind them. He wanted to lean his head on hers, just for a more comfortable position, but didn’t want to risk another bump giving them a concussion.
He was about to drift back to sleep when he heard the clopping of hooves and snorts of horses coming closer—lots of them.
“Halt!” a man’s voice called distantly.
“Whoah!” Torsten called to the horses, and the wagon slowly came to a stop. “What’s the news, lads?” he called.
“Quick search, if you please.” The man sounded like a soldier, but he had an accent Lyle didn’t recognize. Iris’s eyes had gone wide, though.
“Sure thing, lads, if that’s what it takes to pass. Can I ask why?”
“Where are you coming from?”
“Um—Brey, I believe it’s called.”
“Headed to Slovland?”
“Yes.”
“All right. We’re looking for some children, seen any around? Girl with black hair and boy with brown.”
“Those must be some important children,” Torsten commented. “Everyone’s looking for them, eh?”
“Who else is looking for them?” the man demanded
“Some Ordics.”
“Where?”
“Brey.”
The soldier swore under his breath, then gave a hushed order to someone else.
Iris grabbed Lyle’s arm and nodded excitedly toward the back of the wagon. Friendly, then. Lyle nodded.
“Whose children?” Torsten inquired.
The soldier sighed harshly. “Doesn’t matter. If you see them, or hear that anyone has them or has seen them, tell us or bring them to Northfort. Reward of a hundred thousand Ordivician coin.”
Lyle looked at Iris to make sure she was ready. He didn’t know how Stien and Gertrude would react when they burst out, but if they did it fast enough it wouldn’t matter. All they had to do was get in sight of the soldiers—or make enough noise to get their attention. He took her hand and counted down from three with his fingers.
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“That’s a hell of a lot of coin,” Torsten guffawed. “They the queen’s or something?”
“Mind if we take a look?”
After the last finger was down, Lyle threw the bearskin off them. Gertrude was sitting to their left, and Stien was standing to the right, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as he looked out the back of the wagon. Both their heads whipped around at the sound as Lyle ran for the exit, pulling Iris with him—but Stien was quicker. He grabbed for them—Lyle tried to duck under his arm, but Stien still managed to throw Lyle against the wall and hold him there with his forearm.
Lyle tried to slide out of the grip, but Stien shoved him against the wall again, this time so hard it jarred his teeth—and then pressed something cold and sharp to his throat. Lyle froze.
“Get back under there, girl,” Stien hissed. He pressed the tip of the blade into Lyle’s throat and looked over at Iris. “Now!”
Iris’s wide eyes darted between the open exit and the knife at Lyle’s throat.
“I’ll do it,” Stien promised her, eyebrows raised.
Gertrude got to her feet and pushed Iris back toward the bearskin. “He’ll do it,” she said flatly.
Iris reluctantly huddled back under the bearskin, frightened eyes never leaving Lyle’s until the bearskin fell back over her.
Lyle would have kicked himself if he were in any position to do so.
Just then, a soldier rounded the corner and peered into the back of the wagon. His eyes fell on the blade at Lyle’s throat and he looked at Stien suspiciously. “Everything all right back here?”
Stien shoved Lyle into the wall again but lowered the knife. “Try to steal my food again, see what happens.” He pushed Lyle to the ground and stood between him and the exit. “Everything is great back here, sir,” he said to the soldier smoothly.
The soldier eyed him warily, then looked around the inside of the wagon. It was full of various chests and belongings, and it did not look like there was room for anything else. Lyle had picked them a very good hiding spot. Too good, apparently.
After a moment the soldier nodded. “Carry on.”
“We’ll let you know if we see any stray children matching your description,” Torsten called, and Lyle heard the slap of reins. The wagon started moving.
Stien motioned to Gertrude and she pulled the canvas flaps down over the back of the wagon and tied them shut. Then Gertrude and Stien both looked down at Lyle.
“Hold on,” Stien said, squinting. “I know you. You were our guide.”
Lyle glared up at him, breathing hard. He had never had someone hold a knife to his throat, and he did not like it one bit. This was not going to plan. Not that he had had a real plan, but this was definitely not it. He tried to stand, but Stien made a threatening movement and Lyle slowly sat back down.
“Girl,” Stien snapped in Iris’s direction, “get out here.”
Iris cautiously pushed the bear skin aside and stepped out, but her eyes hardened when she saw Lyle on the ground. She boldly moved to stand between Stien and Lyle, forcing Stien to take a half-step back. “This has nothing to do with him,” she said bitterly. “And it doesn’t make any sense—turn around and go back. Hand me over, they’ll pay you the reward.”
Lyle grimaced—she probably should have tried a little harder to convince them that she wasn’t the one they were looking for, though he supposed Stien wouldn’t be easily fooled. Lyle carefully got to his feet, and would have moved to stand beside Iris except there wasn’t room among all the various belongings. Stien wouldn’t hurt her, anyway—unless he wanted to lose a lot of money.
“I’d like to hear the Ordics’ price before we decide who to give her to, wouldn’t you?” Stien asked Gertrude.
Gertrude shrugged, twisting her long, blond braid thoughtfully. “I doubt they have as much coin to spare as Queen Tahlia.”
“Is that who you are?” Stien demanded of Iris. “Queen Tahlia’s daughter?”
Iris took a few deep breaths, her hands balling into fists. “Yes. Which means your best option is to take me to her. She will pay you whatever you want, I promise.”
“We only have half the goods, though,” Gertrude said dispassionately. She pointed to Lyle. “He doesn’t have brown hair.”
“Good point,” Stien said. “Where’s your brother, little girl?”
Iris just glared at him.
“Where is he?”
“We were separated, I don’t know where he is.”
With a jolt, Lyle realized that he had not heard the soldiers speaking to any other wagons. And now that he listened closely, he could tell that the two horses pulling this wagon were the only ones on the road. Panic sparked in his chest. They weren’t with the circus caravan anymore. He and Iris must have slept through the separation.
“Separated when?” Stien demanded.
“Just take us back to the soldiers!” Iris cried. “What’s the matter with you, are you stupid? You’ll get the reward!”
“Why don’t you calm down?” Stien suggested.
Iris stepped even closer to him. “Why don’t you try holding a knife to my friend’s throat again and see what happens,” she snarled.
Stien’s eyebrows shot up. So did Lyle’s.
Gertrude started laughing. When they all looked over at her, she gestured to Iris. “We’ve got a real princess, Stien. Look at that.” She turned her head and yelled, “Torsten!”
“What?” came the distant reply.
“Stop the cart next chance you get!”
“What for?”
“Trust me!”
“What, you got the queen’s kids back there or something?”
Gertrude hesitated, then yelled, “Yes!”
“What?” Torsten’s wife, Frida, demanded.
The wagon slowed and eventually came to a stop. Moments later, Torsten and Frida appeared at the back of the wagon, and Gertrude untied the canvas to let them see. Torsten’s eyes immediately fell on Lyle.
“Lyle?” he demanded. “What are you—“ Then he saw Iris.
“Oh,” Frida said, covering her mouth. “That is indeed a black-haired girl.”
“They were hiding behind the bear skin,” Gertrude informed them.
“Why didn’t you tell us when we were talking to the soldiers?” Torsten demanded.
“I want to hear the Ordics’ price for Queen Tahlia’s daughter, first,” Stien said.
Everyone grew quiet.
“Lyle,” Torsten said, “what the hell are you doing here?”
Upset, Lyle gestured to Iris. “I’m trying to get her back to her mother. Is a hundred thousand not enough for you?” he shot at Stien.
“Lyle found himself a princess and decided he didn’t want to be a bear-hunter anymore,” Stien summarized. “He wants to be rich, too.”
Torsten eyed Lyle, then his eyes fell on Iris again.
“Take me to my mother,” Iris said firmly. “She will give you whatever you want.”
“You see,” Stien mused, “Tahlia wants her daughter back. But imagine what the Ordics would pay to have Tahlia’s daughter. Imagine the leverage, Father. Imagine what they would give to win their war and keep their lands. With this,” he said pointing to Iris with the knife, “they could ask Tahlia to turn herself in to them, and she might do it. Just imagine what they would pay for that.”
“No,” Iris moaned. “No, please—“
“Be quiet,” Stien snapped.
“You be quiet,” Iris shot back.
“You’re the one who hates the Ordics,” Frida said to her son, exasperated. “Why are you on their side now?”
“Think about the money, Mother. We could do with some of that. We’re going to need it soon, aren’t we?”
Silence.
“If we hold the girl hostage,” Gertrude said mildly, “we can ask any price we like from either of them. But Tahlia has more money. Holding a princess hostage doesn’t sound very safe, so I think we should go back to the soldiers.”
Torsten held up a finger. “How about we sit down and discuss this over lunch. Stien, make sure they can’t get out of the wagon.”
*****
“You know these people?” Iris asked Lyle after Stien tied the flap shut behind himself.
Lyle nodded warily. “I guided them last week. Frida and Torsten are the parents—Stien is . . . well, you saw how Stien is. Gertrude is the wife of their older son, who died recently. That’s what my aunt said, at least. She spent all week with them.”
Iris looked around nervously. “What are we going to do if they decide to sell me to the Ordics?”
“We’ll escape.”
She looked at him curiously. “How?”
“We’ll—find a way.”
“Where do you think Clive is? We’re not with the caravan anymore, are we?”
“No, I think we must have taken another road. But the soldiers—I bet they’ll find him.”
She bit her nails. “I hope so.” She eyed the canvas flaps. It was getting hot in there quickly, having no airflow. “Do you think we should try to make a run for it? Now?”
“Do you think you can run faster than Stien?”
She grimaced. “No, but . . . Lyle, I can’t let them hand me over to the Ordics, they . . . they do terrible things to people. Really terrible things.”
“I won’t let that happen.” His mind ran through scenarios—could he take down Stien on his own? If he managed to get hold of Stien’s knife, he probably could. Stien was bigger than him, but Lyle knew he was quicker. Torsten, though? The man was huge. How fast could Iris run? She probably didn’t run much in that castle of hers. “Do you know how to fight?” he asked her.
She hesitated, then shook her head. “Do you?”
“Yes. But four against one isn’t good odds.” Not to mention he was shorter than the entire family, even Gertrude. He clenched his fist, imagining if he had his bow with him, but he didn’t—it was in the wagon of hay, with Clive and all of their supplies. He tried to find some advantage—maybe if nighttime came around before the family could find any Ordics, or . . .
He went to the canvas flaps and pulled them apart so he could look outside, but all he could see was grass. Five strings held the canvas shut, and it would take some maneuvering, from the way Stien tied them, to untie them from the inside. They had nothing to cut them with, unless they looked through the family’s belongings and happened to find a blade. It didn’t look good.
Just then, he heard footfalls and closed the flaps. A moment later, the flaps were being untied, and Torsten’s face appeared. “Lyle, come out here and talk with us.”
Lyle took a step back.
“She’ll still be here when you get back, lad.”
Lyle glanced at Iris, then hesitantly followed Torsten and stepped out of the wagon. He watched the man tie the flaps shut again. It was tight.
“Come, sit down with us.”
Lyle followed him to where the family sat around a fire. Frida handed Lyle a plate of food. Stien lay against another rock with his arms crossed behind his head, watching Lyle with cold eyes. Gertrude was picking at her food and sighing.
Lyle looked around the landscape and his heart just about stopped—they were on an empty road in the middle of nowhere. Somehow, his mind had not processed that he had actually left the valley . . . the ragged mountains that surrounded his home were to his left, but to the right were empty fields that seemed to go on forever. It was yellow grass, though not quite the same kind as he was used to. It was shorter and interspersed with other plants, occasional trees, and some small boulders.
He felt extremely uncomfortable and exposed.
He turned around to see it all—yellow fields, then the dark shape of the mountain range—he could see to the north where the mountains grew smaller and smaller until they sunk back into the ground. The mountain range ended? Where did it begin? He looked the other way and saw dark rock, like a spine, rising from the earth and stretching into the distance beyond sight.
He looked hard at the mountains, but didn’t recognize any of the peaks that he had used to orient himself all his life. Then he saw something strange on the side of one of the mountains—he squinted. A rock slide, or some strange rock formation?
“Iridia,” Frida said, following his gaze. “You’ve never seen it before, have you, dear?”
At first he didn’t understand what she meant, but then he remembered the map in which Iris had pointed to a city just north of them—called Iridia.
Then he understood, but his brain could not quite comprehend it. It was no natural formation, but a city carved from the side of the very mountain. It went on and on—up and up into the rock—arches, towers, the gigantic shape of a castle, just like the pictures in Brandon’s books . . .
It was so large that it seemed to have stolen the breath from him. He did not know anything man-made could be so huge . . . how many people lived there? Could it fit all the people in the world?
“You’ve never seen Iridia before?” Stien inquired. “You live just a few hours from here.”
Lyle’s mouth was open, but no words were coming out. All his life, this thing had been a few hours’ travel from him? He had heard the name every once in a while, but had never stopped to ask about it. He had thought it was just a town like Brey. He slowly shook his head. “What . . . what is it?”
“Nothing but ruins, now,” Torsten said, gazing in that direction. “It used to be one of the greatest cities in the world.”
“Wh—no one—no one lives there?” Lyle stuttered.
“It’s cursed,” Gertrude said, looking only at her food. “Everyone who tries to move back in there is wiped out. Disease, famine, war. They gave up a long time ago. It’s falling apart anyway.”
Stien started laughing at him. “I’d like to see his face if he ever saw Breden. No, kid, no one lives there but ghosts.”
Lyle was too stunned to be embarrassed. “What does Breden look like?”
“It’s about five times that size, for one,” Torsten said. “It has a wall built all the way around it—huge, huge wall. The city is impenetrable by land or sea, it’s been proven time and again.” He nodded toward the wagon. “Ask your princess about it, her mother owns it.”
“Five times?” Lyle whispered, staring at Iridia and trying to imagine it. “Owns it?” Clouds passed over the city and didn’t even reach all of it with their shadow.
“Aye,” Torsten agreed, “but not many are built into the rock like that one. It’s based off ancient Astheldian cities over in the Black Mountains.” He pointed at the mountains that sprouted out of the earth near them. “These are tiny. The Black Mountains are so big you can’t even see their peaks because they’re up in the clouds and covered by snow.”
“Careful, you’re going to make him faint,” Stien said as Lyle lifted his head to stare at the clouds.
“Sit down, dear,” Frida said, taking Lyle’s arm and putting him on a rock.
Lyle was looking at Iridia again, could hardly tear his eyes from it—it was magnificent, impossible—“How did they make it?” he asked. “What did they do, chip away at the rock until they made a whole castle?”
“No idea,” Torsten said. “We’ve lost whatever technology they had. No one knows.”
Lyle frowned, pained—for some reason he felt angry with Uncle Roderick, who had been out of the valley before. His uncle had never spoken of anything like this. He’d made it sound like there was hardly anything out there. All of the stories of kingdoms and oceans . . . Lyle assumed they had happened in some far-off land. But this. Had this been purposefully kept from him, or did no one else in the valley know, either? Or did they just not care?
He wished that Brandon could be here to see this. He had to show his brother—as soon as he got back, he would take Brandon on a trip straight here.
“All right, Lyle,” Torsten said, sitting across the fire from him, “We brought you out here to talk.”
Lyle blinked. Iris. The Ordics. It had all been blown to the wind.
“First of all, how did you even manage to get mixed up in this mess?”
Lyle moved his eyes to the plate of food in his lap that he had also forgotten about. He began to eat to give himself more time to think of a safe answer. “I found her in Brey,” he said after a few moments. “I was there getting supplies for my grandmother. I found her, she didn’t tell me who she was—“
“We were in Brey all of yesterday,” Frida interrupted. “We didn’t see you there.”
“I was in my cousin Victoria’s house, she lives on the edge of town.”
“Didn’t come out to see the circus?” Torsten inquired.
“No, I don’t like the circus.”
Torsten cocked an eyebrow.
Lyle went on, hoping Torsten would forget that unlikely statement. Everyone loved the circus. “I found her outside, she was hungry so I brought her some food. She didn’t tell me who she was, just that she needed to get to Northfort—that her mother was waiting there for her. I could tell she had money from her clothes, so I figured I would get a reward from her mother if I protected her and got her home.”
“How did she get to Brey?”
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me.”
“Where is her brother?”
“I never saw him.”
“Hmm. So you left with her, and the relatives you were staying with had no say in this?” Torsten inquired.
“No, she—she didn’t trust anyone, barely trusted me. She made me swear not to tell anyone. I told them I was heading back home, but stayed out in the grass with her. We waited up all night to make sure we could catch the circus when they left this morning. That’s it.”
They were all quiet for a while, so Lyle continued eating, wondering if there were any holes in his story.
“Who are your parents, son?” Torsten asked.
Lyle looked at him strangely, wondering why that was relevant. “Um . . . they’re dead.”
“Both of ‘em?”
“My mother is. I . . . don’t know who my father is.” He bit the inside of his cheek—he didn’t usually tell people that, but he was nervous. Had Iris heard?
“No?” Torsten asked curiously. “No idea?”
“Um—” he lowered his voice. “A Cambrian soldier who was passing through Brey.”
“You don’t look Cambrian,” Stien said shortly. It was true. Lyle looked more like them—Slovic. He knew that, but he didn’t know much about Cambria and had assumed that was what the people there looked like, too.
Torsten cocked an eyebrow. “How old are you?”
“Fifteen.” Lyle’s heart raced. Did Torsten have an idea of who his father was?
Torsten looked at his wife. “You know who he reminds me of? Since the first time I saw him, I thought of Lyd—“
“Oh, don’t start with that again,” Stien complained. “Yes, we all know you met Lydian Torrey one time.”
Torsten gestured to Lyle emphatically. “Lydian Torrey was a Cambrian soldier, but his mother’s got a good amount of Slovlish blood. He’s as blond as a baby and pale as a bat.”
“Bats aren’t pale,” Stien pointed out. “They’re black.”
“Aye, but they should be, since they hide from the sun all day.”
Stien cocked an annoyed eyebrow.
“And babies aren’t all blond,” Gertrude said.
“Oh?” Torsten said. “Well, both of ours were.”
There was a heavy silence for just a moment, and Lyle took the moment to shovel food into his mouth.
“Your mother never told you the soldier’s name?” Torsten asked.
Lyle shook his head.
“Then I’ll keep my theory,” Torsten said jovially. “Lydian Torrey came through this part with his emperor about fifteen years ago. You look the part. Your name is even similar.”
Lyle had often tried to ignore his curiosity about who his real father was, but it never quite worked. Cambria had been the only place outside of the valley he’d ever wanted to learn more about—his father’s home. He thought that he’d never know who his father was, that it was pointless to hope, but . . . what if Torsten was right? What if his father was . . . whoever Lydian Torrey was? What if he was the son of someone important? Someone who was still out there?
“Who is he?” Lyle asked tentatively.
“A great warrior and strategist. Right-hand man of Emperor Jacen, the last emperor of Astheld. No idea where he is now, but—great man. You should hear the Bredish talk about him—they’ve a whole epic about him, by now. Are you any good with a lute?”
“A what?”
“The instrument bards use, you’ve seen one. Can you play music? Sing?”
Lyle frowned, confused as to what this had to do with anything. “I’ve never tried.”
“Then maybe you are! Back in the days of the Empire, Breden was causing the emperor a lot of trouble—as they always do, the drunks. Don’t tell your princess I said that, her mother’s Bredish. But anyhow, Lydian won over the leaders of Breden single-handedly, in one night.”
“Tell us what he did, Father,” Stien said in a monotone. “I’ve never heard.”
“He got so drunk with them that he ended up playing the lute, made them cry like babies. Next day, they swore allegiance to the empire. Said it was in good hands.”
“Oh,” Lyle said, vaguely amused. What strange bits of history he’d learned in the last few hours. He wondered if that was true, or if Iris would tell the story in a completely different way.
“Anyway,” Frida said pointedly to her husband, “we came to a decision.”
“Yes, we did,” Torsten said, straightening up. “You’ll be glad to hear that Stien was out-voted. We’ll give the princess to Tahlia, since the queen’s more likely to pay up honestly. And in general, we don’t fancy the idea of handing over a young girl to Ordics.”
Lyle relaxed. “Thank you.”
“But,” Torsten went on, “there’s still the matter of you, Lyle.”
“Me?” Lyle asked, confused. “Just let me go, I can make it home on my own.”
“Aye, I’m sure you could, but that’s not the point. Once your girl explains her story to her mother, there’s a chance Tahlia won’t pay up, since we captured her. You were the one who saved her.”
“Just don’t hand her over until you have the money?” Lyle suggested.
“We have a better idea. The queen has a lot of soldiers on these roads and there are only four of us. Who knows what she’ll do once she hears what we did? So here’s what we’re going to do—we’re going to take you with us, back to Slovland. Obviously, the girl cares about you—Stien said she stepped in front of you when he had a knife in his hand—so we’ll hold you hostage so that Tahlia lets us go no matter what she hears.”
“All . . . right,” Lyle said uncertainly. “And can I leave after that?”
Torsten shrugged. “We’ll see. We need an extra hand at home.”
Lyle stared at him. “You want to keep me—as what, a slave?”
Torsten tilted his head in mild disagreement. “That’s not the word I would use.”
“Is there another word for forced labor?” Lyle inquired, eyes narrowed.
Torsten shrugged. “Unwilling servant?”
Lyle looked around at the rest of them, baffled. Gertrude, leaning her back against a rock, met his eyes impassively. She didn’t seem to care about anything. Frida would not quite meet his eye, but it didn’t look like she was going to defend him.
Stien looked extremely disgruntled, but Lyle was pretty sure that was just how his face was. He was probably still upset about being out-voted.
Lyle suddenly found himself rather amused by their idea that they could hold him captive long-term. All he needed was a moment of hesitation from one of them, and he would run. And he was certain he could outrun any of them.
“That’s our decision,” Torsten said with finality. “Now—“
“If you’re not going to listen to me about any of that,” Stien interrupted, “will you at least take my other idea?”
“What, wait an extra day? She’s offering a hundred thousand right this minute, Stien. We can be at Northfort by the end of the day and by rich before the sun sets.”
“The price will be higher tomorrow, I promise you that. She’ll get desperate.”
Torsten sighed. He glanced at his wife, then said, “Fine. If you insist, we’ll wait until tomorrow. But if we see soldiers again, we’re handing them over.” He looked around. “Let’s find a side trail, get out of sight of the main road. Come on.”
Everyone slowly got up. Stien took Lyle’s arm and led him back to the wagon, untied the canvas, and shoved him inside. Iris was standing there. Her eyes flicked to Lyle when he entered, then to Stien as he stepped in and took his place between them and the exit.
“How much of that did you hear?” Lyle asked her quietly.
“Bits and pieces.”
Gertrude stepped in and handed Iris a plate of food. Iris took it calmly. Gertrude sat down.
As the wagon began to rumble down the road, Iris looked at Lyle intensely.
“What?” he mouthed.
She raised her eyebrows. “Slave?” she mouthed back.
He shook his head slightly. “I’ll escape.”
She glanced Stien’s way emphatically.
“Don’t worry about me,” Lyle said out loud, very quietly. “We just need to get you home.”