Valiant (6 page)

A week later, Will walked up, a bit of hair in his hand—the hair I’d hidden in the trunk.

“You’re a girl,” he said in a canny, calm voice.

I hid my surprise as I rested my sewing in my lap. “You find some hair and decide I’m a girl?”

Will blinked to hear his argument put so plainly and looked down. Then he dashed forward, holding the hair up to mine.

“It matches,” he announced. “You walk funny, sometimes. I noticed that first. And your voice goes high. You’re a girl.”

There was no point arguing with him. I’d have his loyalty in exchange for the truth.

“You’re right.” I picked up my sewing again. “Now throw away the cutting scraps.”

“What?” I heard him step back. “Why?”

“Because I told you to.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Why am I a girl?” I said, hiding my smile. “It’s the way I was made, I suppose.”

He faced me, hands on his hips.

I took the hair from him. “How did you find this?”

“I like finding things.” He jutted his chin. “I’m good at it, too. Most people hide secrets deep, like you did, so I look under things. And there’s lots of room for ‘under’ in a trunk. If you really wanted to hide that hair, you should’ve left it on top.”

I held the hair up in a sort of salute. “How does a tinker’s son know so much about finding things?”

“Tinkers like to know how things are put together. People, too.” He shrugged. “And there was something about you I couldn’t figure out. Now”—Will screwed his face up into as fierce a gaze as he could muster—“why are you dressed like a boy?”

“Ah. Now that’s a better question.” I twirled the length of my hair around a finger. “I’m the Tailor’s daughter. We came here from Danavir just as winter was breaking.”

“That’s no reason to wear pants.”

“Hush!” I scolded. “The Tailor was skilled, so skilled that he began sewing differently from Danavir’s tailors’ guild. The nobles liked it, but the guild did not.”

Will rolled his eyes. “They fought over
clothes
?”

“The old way of sewing put as much brocade and velvet and lace as possible onto a coat—to show off the fabric. The Tailor liked to show off the man wearing the coat. He knew how to make a man’s shoulders look broader, his hips trim.” I shrugged, just like Will had. “He fought the guild and lost. That’s why we came here. Reggen doesn’t have guilds. But then the Tailor fell ill. So I became Avi.”

“Just like that?” Will asked.

“I helped the Tailor in Danavir when his apprentices left. It wasn’t hard to dress as his apprentice. We already had lads’ clothing. I just needed to cut my hair.”

“Wasn’t your hair I wondered about. How do you hide—?”

“
That
is none of your affair. Enough to say it doesn’t hurt that I know how to shape clothes.” I leaned forward until I had Will’s full attention. “What do you think will happen if someone discovers I’m a girl?”

“Oh, you’d be in trouble! Men wouldn’t like finding out a girl measured them. They’d hang you, sure. Folks don’t like being fooled.”

I didn’t think they’d hang me. It would be a slow sort of death. It’s hard to live if you can’t work.

I leaned even closer. “And how would you eat if I couldn’t sew?”

Will looked thoughtful. “I’d find a way.”

I held his gaze.

“I won’t tell, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said. “This is your soft spot, isn’t it?”

It was only one of my soft spots. “If you tell … so help me …”

“I won’t. I like finding things, but I like fooling people more.”

R
umors of an
approaching army circled Reggen as summer began, like crows around a carcass. I heard stories in the streets as I walked to the palace to consult with the king. I heard whispers in the palace itself.

There were no witnesses. Not even the rangers, who extended King Eldin’s rule into the lands beyond Reggen’s walls, returned bearing news. The villagers who straggled into the city couldn’t tell us what they were fleeing, for they hadn’t seen anything. One old man sensed a darkness in the north. Someone’s neighbor’s cousin had seen monsters.

Will listened for news of Kellan and visited the fountain each morning, his face tight with worry every time he returned without finding his father.

I trusted Reggen’s walls and tended to the Tailor, counting the days until his strength would return. Week after week, I told Will the Tailor would recover.

Week after week, I believed it.

Then, one morning, the sunlight streaming harsh and bright through our window, I watched the Tailor try to feed himself. I held the bowl of milk-soaked bread beneath his chin
while he gripped a spoon in his fist and brought it, shaking, to his mouth.

The Tailor’s hands had always been strong, his long fingers nimble. He’d been able to guide a needle through any sort of fabric with stitches so fine you could hardly see them. Now he could hardly move the spoon.

The Tailor would never hold a needle again—I knew it.

And I would never be free. I’d have to play his apprentice until he died. He’d dragged me to Reggen, and his illness had trapped me here, pinned to this garret room.

I’d been a fool to think I could get away.

I stood slowly, still holding the Tailor’s breakfast, the milk dancing against the lip of the bowl.

I didn’t turn when the door slammed, and Will thundered up the stairs.

I heard Will slide to a stop. “Sir?” he whispered.

I stared at the Tailor as the shaking spread through me.

“Sir?” said Will, louder this time.

I dropped the bowl and turned on my heel, dashing toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Will stepped in front of me. “Where are you going, Sir?”

I took him by the shoulders and shook him—shook him because I had to leave. If I talked, I’d fall to pieces and never be able to gather them up again. But I released Will just as quickly, horrified at what I’d done.

“Stay with the Tailor,” I croaked.

I ran down the stairs and into the street. I’d go to the willows and sit in the shade where I’d buried Mama’s music box. I’d pretend I could hear her voice and her songs.

I darted through the crowded streets, desperate to be outside Reggen’s walls.

Yet I slid to a stop when I reached the gate. A single rider, dressed in black with a horse-skull helmet, galloped over the bridge. He held a staff decorated with bones, which made a hollow, clattering sound, like teeth chattering.

They aren’t human bones
, I thought.
They can’t be
. But the skull on the top of the staff? That was human.

The black rider’s horse reared as it approached the crowds, but he urged it forward. As he plunged into the midst of the people near the gate, the rider scattered pale leaves over the crowd. I looked down the road, anxious to see if other riders followed. No one.

He was only one rider, but I couldn’t control the dread rising inside me.

I’d visit the willows another day. I needed to know what the rider had scattered.

As I pushed into the crowd, I saw that some people held pieces of parchment. Snatches of conversations boiled up around me.

“Who’s this duke? Was he the one with the skull helmet?”

“Says he has a giant army.”

“Who’s foolish enough to admit he has a
small
army?”

“Princess Lissa would never have him—”

I plucked a sheet out of someone’s hands and read, all thought of the willows gone.

I reread the parchment, trying to make sense of it. I knew the Western Steeps—we’d skirted them on our long journey to Reggen. They were a stretch of desolate land far to the north, next to the Belmor Mountains: grim, gray peaks that
rose straight out of the sea. Few explorers traveled their barren passes to reach the ocean … and the ancient emperor had ruled Reggen and the River Cities centuries ago.

But I’d never heard of the Eternal Heart in history or legend or song.

Who was this duke? And giants?

He couldn’t be sane.

What had the young man in Fine Coat’s wagon said? That there was a man who couldn’t be stopped and there were monsters. This Duke of the Western Steeps, then, and his warriors—his
human
warriors.

I glanced up at Reggen’s walls. I didn’t care who this duke was. His army couldn’t breach our walls. And how
dare
he even try? We had done nothing to him.

I realized in a rush that my hatred of Reggen had faded to a dull dislike. The city was mine, somehow, and the badgerlike stubbornness I’d inherited from the Tailor didn’t appreciate anyone, not even a duke, claiming my city.

I stayed in the street till the sun slanted toward the west, hoping for more news of the duke. And then I remembered Will.

My heart dropped the moment I stepped into the garret and saw Will’s face. He tried to run past me. I caught him, but he twisted away.

“Don’t touch me, Sir! I’d have left already if it wasn’t for the Tailor.”

I held Will by the shoulders and knelt so I could look into his face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shaken you. I was—”
Half-crazy … and scared
. It didn’t matter. Didn’t the Tailor always have a reason for his outbursts? “I was wrong.”

Will folded his arms. “You bet you were.”

“I know.”

The silence drew out. Finally, Will tipped his head toward the window. “What’s happening? People have been crowding the streets.”

It was his form of a truce. I sat cross-legged on the floor and studied him. How exactly was I supposed to tell a boy that Reggen might be attacked?

If the boy was Will, you just told him. I took a deep breath and waved the parchment. “A rider came into Reggen, scattering these. Can you read?”

“Not good.”

I read the notice to him, then tossed it aside. “I don’t think we need to worry. We’ll be safe behind the walls. Even if there were a siege, the city has reservoirs that pull water from the river. But—you’re not to play in the fields past the Kriva. Not till we know more.”

“Does the duke really get to rule Reggen?”

“No. King Eldin is the rightful ruler, like his brother and father.” I shrugged. “The duke can’t be completely sane.”

Will sat down, too. “What if he
is
coming with an army of giants?”

“There’s no such thing as giants.”

“But there are stories about giants,” he pressed. “That they laid the city’s foundation … that they—”

“It doesn’t mean the stories are true! I told you about the dragon but it doesn’t mean one will ever fly over Reggen.”

Will didn’t seem to hear me. “I bet it was giants that attacked the villages. They’re the monsters everyone talks about! What if they’re the reason Pa hasn’t come back?”

I put a hand on his knee. “People could mistake warriors for monsters, especially if they attacked at night. Giants don’t exist.”

Will shook his head. “You don’t know that!”

For a moment, I almost believed him. Believed that monsters were traveling toward Reggen, that the Kriva wasn’t deep enough and our walls weren’t high enough to protect us.

Ridiculous
. But I wouldn’t argue with Will. He just needed to believe that his father hadn’t been captured.

“Very well, then,” I said. “Suppose giants do exist. Do you think they’d be able to sneak up on someone?”

Will stopped to consider. “No …”

“Your father, he sounds like a smart man. How would a giant sneak up on him? I’m sure there’s another reason why he hasn’t come yet.” I nodded toward the door. “Why don’t you run out and see if you can gather more news?”

Will looked relieved. There were few things worse than sitting still when the world was falling to pieces around you.

Even if it wasn’t really falling to pieces.