Voice of Crow (33 page)

Marek turned to her. “What about you?”

“I’ll find my own way out.”

“No.” He took her arm. “You don’t want to be caught by these people.”

“I won’t be. We have a plan.”

“Which is working so far,” Arcas said. “Except for that.” He pointed to Basha. “We hadn’t planned to kill the senator.”

Marek turned to her. Her golden eyelashes fluttered, and her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Slumped on the bottom stair, she gazed into a distant horizon. He wondered if she watched the approach of Crow or one of her gods.

“A knife in the gut’s survivable,” Lycas said, “depending where it goes in.” The Wolverine pulled out a longer dagger. “She’s seen us. We should finish it.” He took a step toward her, then stopped. “I’ve never killed a woman.”

“Give it.”

Lycas looked at Marek’s shaky palm, then placed the dagger in it. “Under the ribs and up, left side.” Marek switched the dagger to his other hand, and Lycas added, “Her left, not yours.”

“I know.”

“And keep your grip far back on the hilt. If you cut yourself and bleed, it’ll be harder to hide you.”

Marek turned to Basha, avoiding Alanka’s eyes. He heard the Wolf woman stifle a whimper of protest. She didn’t know he was no longer her Spirit brother.

He put his foot on the bottom stair next to Basha so that he crouched over her body. With a sudden calm, he placed the tip of the dagger under her ribs, against the pink silk of her nightgown. He’d peeled this gown off her three times. He’d torn it once, on her command.

She stirred at the prick of the blade. “M-Mar—”

“Don’t speak to me.” He grasped her bloodstained chin and forced her to look at him. “Even at the end you tried to trap me. But I’m free now. If they catch me and hang me in an hour, I’ll be free of you forever.”

He tightened his grip on the dagger. Basha’s blue eyes sparked fear, then triumph. She let out a faint gasp and fell still, her gaze blanking.

“She’s dead,” Alanka whispered.

“What?” Marek put a finger to Basha’s neck. “She can’t be.” He dropped the knife and shook her shoulders. “Basha!” His vision reddened with rage. She’d escaped.

“That solves things.” Lycas picked up the long dagger. “Grab the one out of her stomach. We might need it later.”

Marek grasped the short dagger and twisted it hard as he withdrew it. Though her body jerked, it was only from the motion itself, and her face held no reaction.

He was seized by the desire to pierce her unbeating heart, to carve out a space as big as the one she had made inside him.

Arcas took the weapon from his hand, replacing it with a clean brown cloth.

“Come,” the Spider said. “It’s time to go.”

Marek wrenched his gaze from Basha’s corpse. When he stood, Lycas grabbed his elbow and led him to the pallet. Marek knelt upon it, making himself as small as possible, grateful for once that he and Alanka were so close in size. They draped him with the blanket.

Arcas lifted the cloth and placed the weapons beneath it. “Be ready to use these if anyone discovers you.”

A soft hand touched his shoulder. “See you soon,” Alanka said.

The pallet tilted as Lycas and Arcas lifted it. Marek concentrated on staying motionless. He held down the long dagger with his right hand and the Descendant fighting sword with his left, the short dagger tucked under his knee. Though he’d never been trained for combat, the solidity of the weapons, as well as the anger pulsing his blood, assured him he could thwart any enemy. It was delusion, a part of him knew, but a calming delusion.

They reached the rear courtyard, where the sun beat hard on the dark blanket. Marek licked the sweat from his upper lip and prayed they would make it past the gate.

“She didn’t like it?” came a voice he recognized as one of the exterior guardsmen.

“A bit wild for her tastes, I’m afraid,” Arcas replied. “She paid me in full, though, so I can’t say I care. Artists can’t afford to be too sensitive if they hope to eat.”

The guard chuckled. “Good way to think of it. Mind if I take a look? Maybe I’ll buy it myself.” He touched the edge of the blanket. Marek’s hand tightened on the sword.

“No.” Arcas’s voice deepened in warning. “She ordered me to burn it, said no one was to see it.”

“Why?”

“How should I know? Maybe she’s embarrassed by this passing fancy. But if she found out you’d had a peek—you know how she is.”

Just then, a swelling cacophony of caws arose above.

The guard stepped back, boots clicking the pave stones. “What in the name of Atreus?”

Marek felt the sun’s glare soften, as though a cloud had passed before it.

“A bad omen,” the guard muttered. “You two, get out.”

“Good day,” Lycas told him as they passed by. “And good luck.”

They hurried onward, down the street, and Marek felt his lungs expand.

He was free.

The surrounding light darkened further. Arcas and Lycas set the pallet down carefully.

“Be quiet a while longer,” the Spider whispered. “It won’t be easy.”

Marek pushed off the blanket. They were in an alley. He looked up to see hundreds of crows pass through the narrow piece of visible blue sky.

Whispers came from behind a large flat piece of wood that stood on its end. He approached slowly, taking care not to kick any of the refuse strewed about the alley.

A woman knelt on the ground, hair covered in a gray cowl. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew the hands that were raised in supplication.

Rhia.

Arcas held him back. “Don’t interrupt.”

“What’s she doing?” he whispered.

“Saving Alanka.”

Sitting at the edge of an alley across the street from the senator’s mansion, he let his mind flit from one bird to the next, until he was dizzy with flight. He broke the connection, opening his eyes to regain balance. The iron fence surrounding the mansion was lined with a hedgerow more than twice his height. No one could see in or out.

He looked at the roof of the mansion. Gods be blessed, a crow sat on the corner. He reached out.

Through the bird’s eyes he saw the expansive front garden. Colors flared sharp and bright, and every distance came into focus at once. The garden held mostly ornamental bushes, some of which could provide cover for Alanka as she made her way from the living-room window to the outer iron fence. Adrek waited in a tree that grew over the fence. Koli sat within his line of sight a block away, within her hearing distance of Bolan, who stood across the street from Filip. They all waited for his signal.

The crow showed him the guards patrolling near the window, then it shifted its gaze to watch the rest of its incoming flock. Filip cursed and searched for a better-positioned candidate.

One of the birds glided from the roof of the house to the top of the gazebo, which was barely visible over the hedge row. He checked the crude map in his hands, the one Adrek and Koli had constructed from their spy mission. The gazebo was about halfway between the window and the tree.

Filip’s mind reached out again. The crow eyed the ground below it, looking for food or shiny objects to collect. A movement caught its attention—the guards were running for the front door, from which shouts emerged.

The bird’s gaze swept the garden for its mate. No one but crows as far as Filip could see. The yard was empty, for now. He lifted his hand and gave the signal.

Bolan responded with a softly whistled tune—nothing that would garner attention, but one that Koli’s Bat ears would pick up immediately, though she couldn’t see him. She would send a signal to Adrek, who would beckon Alanka to run.

Which she did. A glint of metal caught the crow’s eye, the shutter swinging outward. Alanka climbed out of the window, then scuttled low to the ground toward the tree. Filip switched back to the rooftop crow.

Guards were coming around the back of the house. There wasn’t time for Alanka to make it to the tree without being detected. Filip held up his hands, and Bolan stopped whistling. The gazebo crow saw Alanka dive behind the small structure.

He let out a breath and rubbed his temples, which throbbed from wielding the power for so long in such a jerky manner. He hoped it would last without breaking his mind.

“Please,” he whispered to the Horse Spirit, resisting the temptation to pray to one of the gods. “Just a little longer.”

He reconnected with the rooftop crow, who watched the guards approach the gazebo, swords drawn.

Alanka held her breath when she heard booted footsteps. She couldn’t shoot both in time, and with Adrek’s fading powers, he might miss if he tried.

One of the guards cried out. She peered around the edge of the gazebo to see the man fall, clutching his leg, which held an arrow. His companion stopped, and an arrow whizzed over his head. He ducked, and she saw her chance.

Alanka sprinted across the open grass, straight for Adrek. A shout came from behind, then the thump of boots against grass as the other guard pursued. There was nowhere to hide now.

Adrek dropped his bow and crouched down, hands extended toward her.

My first flight, she thought.

She leaped into his arms, and he launched her straight up, using her momentum and his own strength to throw her into the tree.

Her shoulder slammed the thick branch, but she wrapped her arms around it, then heaved a leg up and shimmied toward the trunk, awkwardly, to get out of Adrek’s way.

She looked down. Adrek had looped the strap of the bow over his back and was ready to jump. With the guard ten paces away, Adrek would have one chance, with diminished powers, to reach the limb.

He bent his legs and jumped. His palms met the branch, then slipped, until he was holding on by his fingers.

“Adrek!”

“Go!” he said.

She stretched forward along the branch.

“Don’t.” The Cougar’s face was red from the strain. “Branch’ll break. Save yourself.”

“Shut up and hold on.”

She slid forward on her stomach. The branch cracked. She froze. It held, for now.

In the front garden, more guards ran over, brandishing short swords. If Adrek slipped, he’d be killed—or worse.

She scooted out farther onto the branch. More creaking of wood. Adrek’s fingers were slipping.

She lurched forward and grabbed his forearm. Her legs twisted tight around the branch, summoning all the strength in her body.

She couldn’t lift him, but her grip gave him enough leverage to get a better hold of his own. Adrek flexed his arms and flung a leg over the branch—a far cry from his usual graceful vault. She slid down the limb to the trunk, bark scraping her stomach. Another crack, the loudest yet.

Alanka leaped to the next branch, facing the street. Her foot slipped, and she tumbled, bouncing from limb to limb. She fell on the sidewalk in a bruised, scratched heap.

Adrek grinned at her from the tree above. “Pure grace as always.”

She glared at him, then grinned. “Get down here so we can run away.”

He leaped to the ground, stumbling a bit on the landing. A shrill whistle cut the air.

“Let’s go,” she said.

When Rhia heard the whistle, she opened her eyes and lowered her trembling arms. She released the crows, ending the chant of beckoning.

Someone whispered her name, and the haze left by the chant made her think, for a moment, that she was dreaming.

She shoved back her cowl and looked up.

“Marek…”

He fell to his knees beside her. She touched his face, his hair. Her vision blurred with tears.

“It’s you,” she said.

“And you, too.” He pulled her into his arms, and she closed her eyes, savoring the smell of his skin and the feel of his body against hers at last. For a moment, it was enough.

She opened her eyes to look at her brother and Arcas over Marek’s shoulder. “Where’s Nilik?”

Marek let her go. “They took him away this morning.” He held a finger to her lips. “We’re going to get him back.”

“When?”

“Today.” He stood, holding her hands. “If we leave now.”

Lycas stepped forward. “We’ll split up like we planned and rendezvous with the others back at the inn.”

Rhia and Marek ran down the alley into the street, dodging carts and other pedestrians. Everyone else was running toward the senator’s mansion, captivated by the sight of the crows and the sounds of chaos within the iron gates.

“Rhia, wait.” Marek pulled her to a stop as soon as they left the northeast quadrant. He took her face between his hands and touched his forehead to hers. “I just want to look at you for a moment.”

But his eyes were closed. His hands crept over her face, outlining her nose and jaw. One of them smelled of blood.

“Marek—”

“I’m sorry.” His breath came hard and sharp. “Rhia, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault they took Nilik.” She stroked his hair. “I swear, I’ll never blame you. I love you.” She pressed her cheek to his, both of them wet, then moved her mouth to kiss him.

He turned his head away. “I can’t.”

Her heart twisted. “Why not?”

“Not until I tell you. Not until you know what I’ve become.”

“Marek—let’s get our son, then we’ll talk.”

“You’re right.” He took her hand. “Let’s go.”

They raced back to the inn. No one was in the room Rhia shared with Koli and Alanka. She knocked on the men’s door.

Adrek opened it and threw a shout of delight when he saw Marek. He hugged Marek hard and dragged him into the room. Alanka jumped up to join the embrace.

They both sobered to hear the news of Nilik. “If only we’d done this a day sooner,” Alanka said, “then you’d both be here.”

“You had no way of knowing.” Marek touched her shoulder. “Thank you for saving my life. It was a well-timed shot.”

The corners of her mouth drooped. “No, it was far too late.”

While they waited for the others, Alanka told Marek how she had lost her Wolf powers. “You lost yours, too, didn’t you,” she asked, “because you were in the city? Don’t worry, they’ll come back once we get out into the wilderness.”

Marek’s gaze dropped to the floor. “We’ll see.”

He looked so broken. Rhia moved to put her arms around him.

Just then the others entered, Arcas first, out of breath. “Good, you made it,” he said to Marek, who stood and embraced him.

“I’ll never forget this,” he said to the Spider. “I didn’t deserve your kindness.”

Arcas scoffed. “You’re not sorry you stole Rhia from me.” He winked at her. “And neither is she.”

“And you.” Marek approached Filip. “You had every reason to hate me, and no reason to help me. Why did you do it?”

Filip looked past him at Alanka. Marek turned to her, then glanced between her and Filip.

“I’ve missed a lot, haven’t I?” Marek said.

Lycas hugged Marek and said, “I’m getting really tired of rescuing you.”

They all shared an uneasy laugh. Then Marek explained the Descendant army’s plans, which made Rhia quake inside. If Nilik were to die in Velekos, as she and Damen had foreseen, it could be as part of a Descendant invasion. He could slaughter and be slaughtered by his own people.

She might never see him alive again.

Filip led the mission out of Leukos and forbade himself to look back. He knew his city would be gleaming in the midday sun.

With the money Senator Mylosa had given Arcas in advance for the nonexistent carving, they had bought two more horses, bringing the total to seven. Filip had sent Koli ahead on the fastest steed to act as a scout.

Alanka sat with him on the other Ilion horse, arms encircling his waist. “You think we’ll catch them by nightfall?” she asked him.

“They’ll be traveling slowly—one, because they have children with them, probably in carts, and two, because they have no reason to suspect they’re being pursued. We’ll have surprise on our side.” He touched her knee. “Are you ready?”

He heard her pat the bow strapped to her back. “Ready to kill again,” she said with false cheerfulness.

“It’s the only way. We can’t let any go free to send a warning. Besides, we won’t kill everyone. The wet nurses can go back to Asermos as prisoners. The Council can decide what to do with them, maybe send them home.”

“Maybe?”

“Alanka, this is war.” He heard his own voice harden. “They’ve invaded your lands, taken your villagers, and now they want to raise your own children to destroy you. Your survival trumps the fate of a few soldiers and wet nurses.”

“They’re still people.”

“They’re not people. They’re the enemy.” He shut his mouth tight, knowing he’d said too much again.

Her arm tensed around his waist. “That’s what you thought of us before you invaded, wasn’t it? That we were beasts?”

“Yes. It was necessary.” He turned his head so he could see her face. “I’ve chosen my side, and it’s with you. Forever. But it doesn’t change what I am, and what I am is exactly what we need to rescue Nilik.”

A cloud of dust appeared on the distant hillside. Filip shaded his eyes to see a dark chestnut horse galloping toward them.

“It’s Koli.” He waved his arm. She returned the signal, then slowed the gelding to a trot to start its cooldown.

The others dismounted and led their horses into a cover of trees by the side of the road. Koli rode up, her mount dancing under the restraining reins, his neck arched and his hide spotted dark with sweat. She dismounted and let Bolan take the gelding for a hot-walk.

“That horse,” she said, panting, “he doesn’t like stopping.”

Filip offered her a waterskin. “Fast, though, right?”

She widened her eyes and nodded, then took a series of greedy gulps.

“It’s two carts, with two guards each on horseback,” Koli said. “Looked like soldiers driving, so that’s six total.”

“How many children?” Rhia asked.

“Twelve, plus four wet nurses. I didn’t recognize any of the women, so they could’ve been Ilion or Kalindon.” She looked at Adrek.

The Cougar shifted his feet. “Was there—a young girl, maybe three years old, dark curly hair?”

Koli nodded. “That sounds like one of the older children.”

“Daria.” Adrek clasped his hands together and closed his eyes.

Koli continued. “There were four baskets, which I assume contained babies. Two of them were crying.” She closed her eyes and recited the rest of the details. From the description of the caravan guards’ uniforms, Filip surmised they were cavalry officers, possibly even his own former comrades.

“Will that make it harder for you to kill them?” Alanka asked with a directness that never failed to stun him.