My rumbling stomach wakes me at dawn. For a few minutes, I lie still on my cot and gaze around the dark infirmary, enjoying the lack of pain in my head. Soft snoring across the room tells me Somre must have spent the night here as well, so I rise in silence and take some of the dried meat from my pack for breakfast. When I finish, I take a moment to heal the burns on my arms, relieved to find I can do it without incurring a headache. Then I shoulder my pack and satchel and slip outside, whispering goodbye to the sleeping physician.
The sky is gray and heavy with threatened rain, and moisture crawls along my skin as I step out into the yard. Perhaps my Wordweaving had something to do with it. Maybe the concentration of fog drew more clouds in, and now all the surrounding areas will suffer for the Awnians’ cruelty. I send up a prayer of protection for the villagers who will be traveling through the rain. Maybe Captain Bayal will let them wait until the weather improves.
The others are waiting for me as I approach the gate—all of them, even Redge. Each man wears his usual leather armor and brown-and-green clothes, with the addition of a heavy traveling cloak. When I get close enough, Orami offers an extra one to me.
“From Vikko,” he says. “He found them with the Awnian supplies. He said they might help disguise us.”
I wrap the cloak around my shoulders over my pack, fastening the clasp at my throat. “There’s an Awnian division south of the fort,” I tell Six. “Chass said they’re patrolling along the river near Andred.”
He accepts the information with a nod and turns to the gate. The rangers all carry unstrung bows thrust through their packs, with capped quivers on their backs or hips. Swords and knives and small axes are strapped everywhere they possibly could be, and I set my hand self-consciously on the hilt of my stolen sword. It’s the only weapon I have, and I barely know how to use it. It’s heavy and awkward, dragging at my belt and tangling with my legs when I turn. I wish I could leave it behind.
No one speaks as Six unbars the gate and steps through. Their silence is as oppressive as the threatening rain, hanging over our heads like a premonition. Iorin waves me ahead, wordlessly offering to take the last spot in the line, and I settle in behind Orami.
Barely an hour into our march, the clouds give up their fight against the rain. Thunder rumbles in the distance, but Six says we will walk on until we see lightning. The landscape is barren, flat and marshy and miserable. I long for the cover of the trees and my lofty mountain, but I keep my complaints to myself. No one would hear them anyway—the wind whips across our faces, throwing back rain and making speech impossible. Once Orami tries saying something to Thare and Redge, and I think I hear the word “prince” over the roar of the wind, but eventually he too falls to silent.
We walk on.
Somewhere around midday, Six calls a halt inside a stand of birch so we can eat a hasty, soggy meal. The others scatter to the side of the faint road we’ve been following, and I move to sit beside Six. Before I can reach him, he turns his back and marches away, dropping himself onto the wet earth several yards from the rest of us. He hadn’t seen me approaching, but I stop awkwardly and stare after him, feeling as though I’ve been slapped.
“Don’t take that personally,” Iorin says. He’s closest to me, tucked with his back against the trunk of a tree, so I alter my route and sit beside him instead. “He probably wants to keep watch away from the group.”
“Did things not go well last night?”
Iorin shrugs, opening his pack and withdrawing his meal. “There was a lot to take in, and these—erm, gentlemen—don’t exactly excel at discussing their feelings.”
“He told you who he really is?” I say.
“Yes, and some of his story.”
“How did everyone react?”
Iorin chews thoughtfully. “I think we all figured Six was involved in something bigger than the Border Patrol. The way he talked with Captain Bayal, as though he was an equal instead of a subordinate, and the way he spoke of King Aquillis as though they’d met… It was like finally getting the missing piece to a puzzle. Then he explained Captain Bayal’s dismissal of the group and his plans to travel to Bresne.” He pauses to swallow and gestures toward my pack, but my stomach is too knotted to think of my own meal. “He gave us the choice,” Iorin goes on. “Go with him or remain with the captain, with the promise that he’d convince Bayal to let us stay.”
“But no one did.”
“No. We all voted to go with him.”
“Then why is everyone so upset?”
Iorin sighs, ripping off another bite. “Redge was tense before Six came to speak with us, and they both said some things that were probably best left to themselves. It’s hard to believe that he’s been with us for so long without telling us who he is. No one enjoys being lied to, and we’ve just found out about two lies in as many days.”
He smiles to soften his words, but they sting anyway. I ask no more questions, and Iorin settles into his own thoughts as he eats.
A few minutes pass, and then Six rejoins us so suddenly that I don’t even know he’s there until he starts speaking. “We should keep moving,” he announces. “If you’ve all finished, let’s head out.”
“Come on, Six,” Redge grumbles. “We’re drenched. The rain isn’t going to stop for hours. Can’t we wait out the storm?”
“We shouldn’t stop until we reach the forest,” Six argues. “We need some cover. If anyone—”
“No one else is stupid enough to be out in this weather,” Redge says.
“That’s exactly why we should take advantage of it.”
Redge glares at him, but after a moment he stands, shoulders his pack, and makes an exaggerated bow to Six, who scowls and turns away.
“Move out,” he says, and we march again.
The rain slows to a drizzle a few times throughout the afternoon, but it never stops. Every step is made more miserable by my clinging, chafing clothes, and as I wipe my dripping hair out of my eyes, I notice most of the tea stain has faded away.
Slowly, I am becoming Ynria again.
As the sun sets, Six sends Thare ahead to find a place to set up camp. He returns after ten minutes and leads us to a rock formation jutting out of the muddy earth. A hollow at the base will give us shelter for the night, and the thick stand of pines around it offers even more security.
“See if you can find anything to burn,” Six says, bending to search inside the hollow.
Redge scoffs. “Everything is soaked. Might as well just accept the fact that we’re going to be wet all night.”
The thought is unbearable. I haven’t fully recovered all the energy I expended yesterday, but it shouldn’t take much to dry a few sticks. Besides, I’ve never really tested my limits before. How will I know what I can do if I don’t keep pushing?
Wordlessly, I drop my pack inside the hollow and gather a handful of fallen twigs. It’s all pine, so the smoke will be horrible, but it’s better than nothing. I make a pile under the shelter of the rocks and brush my fingers across the wet bark.
“Dry.”
The word tastes brittle and earthy, like the herbs hanging in Fryr Edlan’s supply room. My energy sparks to life and leeches through the wood, drying it in a moment. “Fire,” I say, twisting the energy back into the bark, and it ignites.
“Handy,” Iorin says.
He and Orami bring me more wood to dry, and we stack it under the outcropping for use during the night. “Do you have provisions?” Orami asks as we finish.
“Yes.”
Six catches my eye and signs, “Eat now.”
“I will,” I sign back, though I don’t think I taught him that. I make a fist with my right hand, but then drop it to my side when I notice Orami staring.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Signing,” Six says. “Come here, you can learn, too. It’ll be useful on missions.”
“What missions?” Redge says. He sits inside the hollow with his back against the wall, and the way he’s hunched in his cloak makes it seem as if he’s hugging himself. “We don’t have missions anymore.”
Orami tips his head. “Isn’t this sort of a mission?”
“No knowledge is useless,” Six adds, his eyes flicking to Iorin. “Isn’t that right?”
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“It certainly couldn’t hurt to learn,” Iorin says.
“Go on,” Six tells me. Orami nods eagerly, his green eyes wide with curiosity.
Self-conscious, I place my right fist in my left palm and push them both away from my chest. “This means ‘help’,” I tell him. “I thought it might be good to learn as a command.”
“Like ‘I need help’?” Orami asks.
“Like ‘Go help Thare’,” Six says.
Thare grunts, but his eyes stay on Six as he copies the sign.
“How would we know who to help?” Iorin asks.
“You could spell out the name,” I say, turning my fingers in a quick spelling of ‘Iorin’. “But it might be faster to attribute signs for each of you.”
“You mean make them up?” Orami asks.
“Think of it as picking a name in a different language,” I say. “If you could call yourself anything, what would it be?”
Orami’s lips twist in a show of thoughtfulness. “My name means ‘homeland’.”
I press my right hand over my heart and then motion wide. “Homeland,” I say. “Now Orami.”
“Wonderful,” Iorin says. “We should all have new names. Six of course will be ‘six’.”
I lift my little finger and make a fist with the rest.
“And Iorin, you should be ‘advocate’,” Orami says. “That’s what you were studying to be, isn’t it?” He looks at me expectantly, but I shake my head.
“I’m not sure what that is.”
Iorin smiles. “An advocate defends others in the courts of law,” he says. “I was lucky enough to earn a patronage at the university in Elni through a friend of my father’s. I spent eight years learning rhetoric, philosophy, and law with the Advocate Guild, and serving as a public defender when citizens appealed to the guild for help. Only fully trained guild members can choose their own cases and take on apprentices, and that’s what I was working for before…”
He trails off, clearing his throat. Before his brother died—before Redge left home to enlist. I glance at Redge, and for once, the simmering emotion in his eyes looks less like rage and more like...
Guilt.
Despite everything he did to help Jayr, Redge wasn’t able to save him. That would be hard enough to live with, but to also feel responsible for Iorin giving up his dreams after almost a decade of study? It’s no wonder he’s taking out his frustrations on me. He has to release them somehow. It’s a miracle he hasn’t burst.
I ball my fists and cross my arms over my chest, then spread the thumb and forefinger on my right hand and draw them downwards in front of me. “I don’t know a sign for ‘advocate’,” I say. “But this means ‘defender’.”
Iorin copies the sign with a wistful look on his face.
“Now Redge!” Orami says. “He should be—”
Redge pulls his hood over his head. “I don’t want any part of this.”
“It’ll be helpful,” Orami says.
“Then what’s the sign for ‘stupid’?” Redge asks, sharp reds and violets streaking through his voice. He lifts his head to glare a challenge at me, and I meet it without flinching. After a moment, I make a slow and deliberate fist, turning the back of my hand out to face him, and set my knuckles against my lips. I make a small motion to pull it downwards and then drop my hand to my side.
Redge makes the sign at me, his eyes hard. Then at Orami, then Six, then Iorin, each movement tight and angry. Then he stands, yanks the hood down over his face, and stalks out into the rain. “I’ll take first watch,” he snaps, disappearing into the trees.
I stare after him, exhaling through my nose. Iorin glances between the two of us before jogging after his brother, leaving the rest of the rangers in the little clearing.
“Things may be difficult for a while,” Six says, running a hand through his wet hair. “Redge is… well…”
“Stubborn?” I mutter.
“Loyal,” he says, closing his eyes. “Loyal to the point of fear.”
A drop of pitch pops in the fire, sending a spray of sparks into the gathering darkness. “He’s afraid to lose the people he cares about,” I say.
“Terrified,” Six says. “And I don’t think he’s used to being afraid.”
That doesn’t excuse his behavior. I understand being suspicious, but haven’t I proved myself by now? What else can I possibly do?
“I wish you didn’t tell him the sign for ‘stupid’,” Six says. “That’s all he’s ever going to use now.”
“Well...”
He blinks his eyes open, a smile quirking up one corner of his lips. “Unless you gave him a different word?”
“I may have.”
Six sits up, leaning forward eagerly. “What did you tell him?”
I smile. “Beloved.”
***
That night, I sleep with my back against the rock wall, listening to the drizzle outside and the crackle of the fire. I spared enough energy to dry my clothes and those of the other rangers before bed (Redge refused, insisting on changing into a spare set of clothes and hanging his wet ones near the fire), and the exertions are enough to send me into a deep sleep despite the discomfort of the rocky ground. I wake when Iorin rouses Six at dawn, and thank Ieldran for the silence outside our shelter.
“Get the others up,” Six says. “We’ll get an early start and see if we can’t get a little more rest this afternoon.”
In silence, we rise and scatter the coals of the fire. Redge rolls up his still-damp clothes and stuffs them into his pack, glaring when he catches me watching. I don’t offer to dry them again. If he changes his mind, he can ask.
Outside the rock formation, Six pauses and studies the forest. “If the Awnian division is nearby, they’ll stay near Andred,” he says. “So we’ll keep west of the city and take the old highway. It used to run from Bresne to the mountains, back when trade with Ieli was still common.”
“Won’t that be a little obvious?” Redge asks.
“It’s the quickest route to Bresne,” Six says. “Surprise is our best ally now. This will only work if Ambritten doesn’t know we’re coming, and the longer we spend in Awnia, the more chance there is that he’ll hear of us.”
No one can argue that—not even Redge—so we follow Six into the trees without comment.
Birds dart from the branches overhead, chirping and fluttering as the sun rises, heralding a morning that promises to be dry, if not quite warm. I keep my eyes on the ground as we march, searching for medicinal plants to add to my collection. Thare ranges ahead as usual, but the others stay in a silent line.
We have been walking for about two hours when the drone of a river reaches my ears. Six angles us toward it, searching the earth and pausing frequently to readjust our course. When at last the river becomes visible through the trees, Six leads us along the banks until we find a flat bridge with low guard rails stretching across the length of the river. The area on both sides of the water is wooded, but the traces of an old road disappear into the trees on the far bank.
“This was a highway?” Orami asks doubtfully.
Six nods. “A long time ago. It leads past Andred and south to Bresne, connecting all the port cities along the coast. Most traffic from the north uses the Andred ferry instead of the old highway, so we shouldn’t run into anyone else until we pass the city.”
“How did you know about the bridge if people don’t use it anymore?” Orami asks. “Did you have to study maps of your country when you were taking prince classes? You probably have all sorts of secret paths memorized!”
“He didn’t take prince classes,” Redge scoffs. “He was fourth in line to the throne, and that’s only assuming none of his older brothers ever had sons.”
“No prince classes,” Six confirms quietly. “I found this on accident after my family was attacked in Andred. The ferry was being watched, so I had to cross the river another way. I got lucky and stumbled on the old highway, which led me to this bridge.”
For once, Redge has the grace to keep any more thoughtless comments to himself. The last time Six was here, he had just lost everything—his entire family, all his friends, everyone and everything he had ever known. He’d been running for his life, lost and alone, with no hope of finding help except to seek it from his enemies.
By unspoken agreement, we wait for Six to take the first step onto the bridge. He looks over his shoulder as we hesitate and forces a laugh. “Come on, we’ve got a lot of traveling yet today.”
He starts out, and we follow in single file. “Can you imagine Six studying geography?” Redge says in a loud whisper.
“Skipping out on class, more likely,” Thare says.
Six turns his head. “I’ll have you know I was a model student. All the tutors said—”
Heat flares across the back of my neck, followed by a rash of itchy, buzzing sensations that shoot down my spine. I gasp at the suddenness of it, stopping short, and Six cuts himself off and jerks to a stop beside me.
His hand is on my arm, a frown between his brows. “What is it?”
“Brayam,” I say, rubbing my neck. “He’s nearby.”
“The other Wordweaver?” Iorin asks.
I rub my neck, searching the far banks. “Chass said—I mean Tenant Gryfalkr, at the fort—he said Brayam might have gone to join the unit, or he might be on his own, waiting to go back to the fort or... or to challenge me. Chass said he was unpredictable.”
“And your tenant just told you all of this?” Redge asks. “After the fort under his command was captured by the enemy soldiers you were helping? Why would he do that?”
I glare at him. “Chass is a friend. And he guessed Six’s identity and tried to release him when he was a prisoner. He wants to help us.”
For once, Redge doesn’t have a comeback. He just blinks at me, his mouth parted in surprise.
Six presses on my arm, guiding me back along the bridge. “We’ll discuss it later,” he says. “For now, we should retreat. We’ll take the western ford. It will cost us a few days, but it’s better than—”
“If she can sense him,” Thare interrupts. “He can sense her. It’s too late to retreat. We should keep going, and if he wants to challenge her, he’s welcome to. We outnumber him. We should make our stand now.”
Iorin nods. “And if she already beat him, he may retreat instead. Especially once he sees all of us.”
Six hesitates, his hand still on my arm. “It could be dangerous.”
“We’re on a mission to overthrow a violent dictator,” Orami points out. “The whole thing is dangerous.”
Six snorts. “Fine. Keep your eyes open. Iorin, bow.”
Iorin is already moving, pulling his bowstring from his pocket and kneeling to slip the loops into the notches at either end of his weapon. His actions are quick and sure, but I fidget as he works, unable to tear my gaze from the far bank. I only managed to hold off Brayam before because he was injured—by now, he’ll have had enough time to heal himself, and I still haven’t recovered all the energy I spent yesterday. If he wants a rematch, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand against him.
As if sensing my thoughts, Six gives my arm a squeeze. “We’re with you,” he whispers. I blink at him, at the raven-black hair curling over his forehead, at the dark blue eyes still focused on the far bank. He notices my attention and glances down at me, drops his hand to his side, and winks. “Ready?” he asks over his shoulder.
“To face an angry Wordweaver?” Redge grumbles. “Why not?”
“Maybe this’ll give you a chance to work out some of your resentment,” Thare says, knocking him in the shoulder as he pushes past. “Let’s go.”
“Let’s,” Iorin agrees, nocking an arrow to his bowstring. “There’s nothing better than a morning stroll and a little violence to start your day.”
Redge frowns at them, but draws his sword and follows when Six leads the way off the bridge. He doesn’t command the rangers to spread out, but they do—fanning into a diamond formation with Iorin at the back, Redge and Orami at the side, and Thare walking between me and Six. I end up in the middle, defended on all sides while maintaining enough space to attack in any direction.
The morning is still and quiet, broken only by the drumming of the river. Nothing moves in the trees, no birds call from the branches—and I feel eyes on me with every cautious step. The burning along my neck stays the same, never fading or growing more intense, a constant reminder that we are not alone.
That something is coming.
Six ducks a low-hanging branch and glances back at me. “Is he still there?”
I nod.
“Handy ability,” Redge mutters. “Would be better if you could tell us where he is.”
“Think of this as an opportunity to practice your powers of observation,” Iorin says.
“Seems like I’m doing plenty of character work this morning,” Redge says. “What are the rest of you doing?”
“The rest of us don’t need it,” Iorin says.
Redge bends to toss a branch out of Iorin’s path. “Well I think—”
An arrow slices through the air above his head. Iorin spins, loosing his arrow into the trees almost before he’s stopped moving. There’s a grunt and a clatter, and an Awnian soldier staggers out from behind a pine to collapse across the path behind us. For a moment, no one else moves. Then there’s a cry in the brush, and half a dozen soldiers burst onto the path, swords raised.
We’re surrounded.