Chapter 167: What We Do With It

Saera hadn’t asked me to keep it secret, which seemed important, so I told Renn. Renn told the magistrate. Elizabeth heard, because Elizabeth heard everything. And now the four of us stood in what had become the investigation room, while the magistrate looked at me as though I had personally invented international complications.

"Absolutely not," she said. "They cannot remain indefinitely under Academy protection."

"I didn’t say they should."

"You said they cannot be returned through normal channels."

"Saera said that."

"Based on what?"

"The person who sold them was beastkin."

"One person."

"With four Tiger warriors."

"Five people."

"That’s more than one."

The magistrate closed her eyes for a second. Elizabeth looked suspiciously neutral, and Renn studied the wall.

"Her concern is understandable," said the magistrate. "It does not establish that every western authority is compromised."

"I didn’t say it did."

"No. You’ve learned that phrasing very quickly."

"Renn teaches well."

Renn looked at me. Elizabeth stepped in before anyone could remove me from the room.

"She isn’t asking us to distrust every beastkin official. She’s asking not to be handed over blindly."

"Those are different things," said the magistrate.

"Yes."

The magistrate considered it.

"The delegation at Fort Halden includes recognized beastkin representatives," said Renn.

"So do we wait for them?" asked Elizabeth.

"Or send word ahead. Secure Crown relay, under diplomatic seal."

The magistrate shook her head. "That becomes a matter for the Foreign Office."

I looked at Elizabeth, and she saw me do it.

"No," she said.

"I didn’t say anything."

She turned back to the magistrate. "Then involve the Foreign Office."

"The signing is in less than a week."

"Which means the relevant officials are already at Fort Halden."

A pause. "Yes."

"Then involve them."

The magistrate looked at Renn, and Renn nodded once. "Reasonable."

She looked back at Elizabeth. "You understand that if we delay their return, Lord Merrow’s counsel will argue that the Crown is improperly holding foreign civilians."

Elizabeth’s face changed, slightly. "Lord Merrow can argue from wherever you decide to put him."

I looked at her. She looked back. "What?"

"Nothing."

The magistrate wrote something down. I was beginning to understand why adults were afraid of princesses.

***

The convoy’s route changed before lunch. Not because anyone knew what had been waiting on the marked stretch of road, but because nobody did, and Renn preferred his uncertainty at a distance. Four Crown riders went west to inspect the marked section between the hills. Another team rode back toward Waystation Fourteen to trace who had accessed the convoy’s route. The signing party would stay at Merrow’s estate for one more night, under Crown control, which made it sound much safer than it felt.

James disliked the decision. "Four riders."

"Yes," said Renn.

"We could..."

"No."

"I didn’t finish."

"You were going to suggest going with them."

James looked offended. "I might have suggested something else."

"What?"

A pause. "Going ahead of them."

Renn stared at him, and James sighed. "Fine."

Sophie looked relieved. Daphne didn’t react. Elizabeth looked at the map. I looked toward the east wing, where my pillow was. Different priorities. Some things survive every emergency.

***

By afternoon, Merrow had a lawyer. I hadn’t known lawyers could arrive that quickly; apparently guilt improved transportation. His counsel came through the gate with three cases of documents and the expression of a man already disappointed in everyone, and I avoided him, which was one of my better decisions.

Instead I found some food, and then I found the east guest rooms again. The thirteen names were still in my pocket. The younger child was still asleep on Dream Haven. I considered reclaiming it, but she was asleep, and there were rules, and I had standards. I sat down against the wall.

Saera looked over from the window. "You came back again."

"My pillow is here."

"Of course."

"I have priorities."

"So I have noticed."

She didn’t ask about the Crown, so I told her anyway. "They won’t send you west yet."

Her shoulders lowered, barely. "Why?"

"Because a princess is being difficult."

From the next bed, the young woman who had written the names made a sound that might have been a laugh.

Saera looked at me. "And you?"

"I was also difficult."

"I believe that."

"Everyone does."

The child rolled over on Dream Haven, and I watched the pillow compress beneath her. It had survived worse, probably.

Saera looked at the door. "Will they question us again?"

"Yes."

"Good."

That surprised me, and she saw it.

"We want them to know," she said. "All of it."

"Even what you don’t know?"

"We will say we don’t know."

That was the most sensible thing anyone had said all day. I nodded.

Saera’s expression shifted. "Your princess."

"What about her?"

"She believed us."

I thought about Elizabeth in the courtyard, and about thirteen people and two children, and about "And this one still does."

"Yes."

"Why?"

I thought about trying to explain Elizabeth, and decided it would take too long. "Because she’s learning."

Saera waited. "Learning what?"

I leaned my head back against the wall. "That being responsible for people is exhausting."

She looked at me for a long moment, and then she laughed, quietly, so as not to wake the children. I decided that was enough for one day.

***

The riders came back before sunset, all four of them, which was the first good thing. None of them was hurt, which was the second. The third depended on how optimistic you were.

Renn called us into the investigation room, where the magistrate and Sorel were already waiting. The riders had brought something back: not a body, and not a weapon, but a piece of heavy black canvas with one edge torn. On it was the same symbol: three curved lines around a narrow center. A tiger.

James leaned in. "Where?"

"At the marked stretch," said Renn.

Elizabeth’s face hardened. "What else?"

"Wheel marks," said the rider.

"How many carts?"

"Three at least. Maybe four."

"People?"

"Tracks. Mixed."

"Beastkin?"

The rider shook his head. "I can’t tell reliably. The ground’s too broken up."

Renn nodded his approval at that. No pretending.

"Was there a camp?" asked Sophie.

"Recently cleared."

"How recently?"

"Before sunrise. Maybe a few hours earlier."

James looked at the map. "They knew."

"Maybe," said Renn.

James opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

"If they cleared out before sunrise," said Elizabeth, "they might have known something went wrong here."

"Or they always meant to leave before sunrise," said the magistrate.

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes."

Nobody tried to make the evidence say more than it did. I was finding that strangely comforting.

Daphne pointed at the canvas. "The same mark?"

"The same shape," said the rider.

"The same hand?"

He looked at her. "I don’t know."

Daphne nodded, and accepted it.

I looked at the mark. Marrowfield, the crate in Merrow’s cellar, the carts, and now the road: four places. Too many for coincidence, and not nearly enough for an answer. Saera’s words came back to me. Men who arrived before people disappeared. I put a hand in my pocket, where the paper with thirteen names still was.

Renn noticed. "What?"

"Nothing."

He waited, which was unfair. I sighed.

"Saera told me something. Where she comes from, the tiger mark appeared before people disappeared."

The room changed. Nobody gasped, and nobody reached for a sword. Renn simply looked at the canvas again. The magistrate’s pen stopped. Elizabeth went still. Sophie looked toward the east wing. James stopped leaning on the table. Daphne looked at me.

"Slavers?" said Renn.

"Sometimes."

"Soldiers?"

"Sometimes."

"What does the mark mean?"

"She wouldn’t say. Couldn’t, I think."

The magistrate’s eyes narrowed. "Is there a difference?"

"Yes."

Renn nodded. "What did she ask you to do?"

"Tell Lyssairia where I’d seen it."

Elizabeth looked at me. "The woman who gave you the token."

"Yes."

"Do you expect her to be at the signing?"

"I don’t know."

"But she might be."

"Maybe."

James looked at Renn, and Renn looked at James.

"Don’t," said Renn.

"I didn’t say it."

James looked offended. I almost felt sorry for him.

The magistrate folded the map. "This goes to Fort Halden now."

Renn nodded.

"And to the beastkin delegation," said Elizabeth.

The magistrate looked at her. "If the Foreign Office approves."

Elizabeth’s face went very still. The magistrate sighed.

"I’ll request it."

"Good."

Apparently that counted as compromise. The room started moving again: papers, orders, riders, people who knew how to turn one torn piece of canvas into six new tasks. I stood up. My chest hurt less than it had that morning: not enough to use a Barrier, but enough to leave.

Daphne followed me into the corridor. I noticed after several steps.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You’re following me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

She looked at me. "My room is this way."

I looked ahead. It was.

"That’s unnecessarily reasonable."

"Yes."

We walked a few more steps, and I looked at her wrists. She didn’t turn her head.

"Still attached."

"I know."

"Good."

We kept walking. Three of the four vessels were bonded now, and one wasn’t. I didn’t look back at Elizabeth behind us. Not because I had forgotten. Because I hadn’t. The System stayed quiet, and for once I appreciated it.

At the guest stair, Daphne stopped. "Alash."

"What?"

"Saera. You remembered her name."

I looked at her. "Apparently."

Daphne nodded once, and went toward her room. I stood there for a moment. Thirteen had become names. A cellar had become evidence. A suspicious road had become a real place with wheel tracks and torn black canvas. And Daphne had become something the System could see but couldn’t explain.

It had been a productive two days. I hated productive days.

[Your assessment is incomplete.]

I sighed. ’Goodnight.’

[It is not night.]

’Then learn from context.’

The System didn’t answer, and I went to find my pillow.