Chapter Thirty-One: Fugitives
When Val finally stopped, the sounds of combat still rang out over the hills, the sounds of clashing metal and the screaming injured or dying, but they didn't last long. The mist of rain and the uniform gray of the clouds made it seem like everything was playing out under a little gray dome for the amusement of some twisted god. She wondered if anybody else had survived. What if she was the only one? What if they came after her? Tulip picked up on Val's agitation and started to snort, so she calmed the filly down, which calmed Val a bit. Violet head bonked Val's thigh from her perch in the saddle bag, which calmed her a bit, too. Still, it was a perilous situation.
As Val watched the rise of the hill, she slowly realized that nobody else was coming and despair started to well up in her. Her friends… Niko, Pudge, Levin… he was a sort of friend… all of them had been captured or killed. It was only her. What would she do? She started to tear up and very nearly missed the movement in her peripheral vision.
Niko waved to her. Val waved back, wiping her eyes against the back of her hand. Her heart hummed in her chest and she broke into a grin. Just because they hadn't followed right after her didn't mean nobody else had made it. She waved to Pudge, who was even further away and hadn't spotted them yet.
"Anybody else?" Levin said.
"Ahh!" Val almost fell off of Tulip. "Hell's bells, Levin. I… I think it's just the four of us."
The greenspear nodded gravely. "We should get rid of our armor and get away from here," he said.
"Get rid of our armor? Are you crazy?"
"Anything with ducal colors. They'll be after survivors and looking for those. Without ducal mail, we're just three kids and their chaperone riding stupidly close to a war zone. So get that mail off and take the markings off your horses."
"You're not in charge, Levin. I technically outrank you…"
"The duke is dead. Or king. Or whatever…" Levin looked visibly distraught at the thought. "There is no rank out here, so either listen to me or we can part ways."
Val hated to admit it, but Levin was right. Her mail was custom-fitted and probably cost as much as a farmer made in a year. Tulip's caparison was beautiful with its blues and grays and intricate floral patterns. But they were dead giveaways that they were Aurilic. She took them all off and tossed them to the ground. Then she harrumphed slid her mail back on, and changed its colors with her disguise spell. She could keep the illusion up all day long if she liked even if the others couldn't. With that done, she waited for the others to finish and started westward toward home.
"We can't go that way… the Bolearic forces are going to be looking for people at the mouth of the valley. We should keep heading south through the hills," Levin said. "I… I think I know what we need to do…"
As they rode - anywhere was better than half a mile from the battlefield - Levin told them about a dream he had during their night in the glade by the deep pool. At the time, he'd thought it was just a dream spurred on by one of the history books he'd been reading, as he often had dreams about whatever material he'd been reading. And he'd also been worried about Val after she'd been brought back to camp unconscious and unresponsive.
He'd dreamt of himself and Val exploring an underground crypt and coming to the statue of Friyja, the Sleeping Queen. Friyja was Val's ancient ancestor, but she'd been betrayed and turned into a statue hundreds of years ago. So the legend went. And the legend also stated that the blood of the queen's true heir would be able to bring her back to life.
In Levin's dream, he and Val had gone into a dim underground crypt, where Val then bloodied her hand and placed it over the statue queen's heart, restoring her to life. Two other people had been there, too. People who, at the time, Levin didn't recognize. But now… well, he recalled that they looked a lot like Niko and Pudge.
Val was convinced, and so she started southward and the others followed. They trotted along the rolling hills, through meadows and isolated homesteads and past copses of trees.
"But how could I have been in your dream? You only just met me," Pudge said.
"Exactly… how else do you explain the dream?" Levin said.
"It was just a dream," Niko said. "You can't tell the future in dreams…"
Val shook her head. "You can't really teach somebody divination… it just comes to them. Usually with a dream of the past or the future. I've had them before, too…"
Niko and Petunia pulled even with Val. "Why am I only hearing about this now?"
"Because I didn't believe it until the battle just then. I'd dreamt it before, after I fought off the Penitent Brothers back in the woods. I dreamed about the battle… only… well, in the dream I died. And this time, I didn't, obviously. When I realized that things were happening exactly like in my dream, I shouted for everybody to make the arrow barrier, and that changed things. The duke still died, though…"
"The king," Levin said.
"When you capture one town and then die in a stupid attack a day and a half later, I’m not sure you get to call yourself king," Val said. "The duke wasn't a bad man, but he wasn't exactly king material."
"Fair enough," Levin replied. "So you'll do it? You'll ride to St. Sylvestine with me?"
"The Sleeping Queen is in the capital city?" Niko asked.
Levin shrugged. "According to legend. And, if not, I guess we'll cut our losses and try to make our way home."
"Then I guess we're riding to St. Sylvestine," Val said. "Lead the way, Sir Greenspear."
+++++
They couldn't make it to St. Sylvestine in one day, not even close. They found a passable road after going south for a bit, one that would eventually take them to the capital, but Boleares was a large country - larger even than Aurilicht, which took about three days to cross on horse if you took the coastal road. The largest city in Boleares happened to be four hours' ride from Verdenlecht, but that was a happenstance of history that made the two nations seem a lot closer than they actually were.
Val's earliest years had been somewhere in the borderlands, presumably on the Bolearic side, where she'd lived in a country cottage with her mother. She could remember other people, too, but the only name she remembered was Nanny Patri, who sometimes looked after her, but who wasn't her real grandmother. Memories of her face were even hazier than those of Val's own birth mother, which slipped from recall whenever she tried to firmly recall it. Now Val had another family, but they would be learning that she'd probably died any minute now.
"Val, what's wrong?" Niko asked. "Are you crying?"
Val nodded. She felt stupid for being so weak. It had been a very bad day, but she had to be strong. She was a survivor and always had been.
"I need to send a letter back to my parents to let them know I'm still alive. To let everybody know that we're still alive."
"The post isn't exactly running across the border these days," Levin said. He pulled his horse up even with Val - however unwittingly, she'd taken the lead in their group, though Levin still thought he was leading them. "And we'd out ourselves the moment we tried to spend anything. We haven't got any Bolearic currency…"
"I've got four shillings," Pudge said. Good old Pudge.
Val willed her tears away and looked Levin dead in the eye - a look that made it clear her stance would brook no further discussion. "I'm not going with you to St. Sylvestine until I know Ginn and Ette won't be broken up thinking I’m dead. If one of them died, I'd be a wreck for weeks, and I like to think they're fond of me, too."
"Val, be reasonable…"
"This is me being reasonable," Val said. "I'm not a little kid chasing after legends hidden in secret vaults, Levin. This is the real world and I've got people who care about me and who I care about. Some of them are here… and, yes, that includes you… and some of them are back home. Don't you think your parents would want to know how you're doing?"
Levin sighed. "Honestly? It's just my dad and I'm not sure he'd care one way or the other. But… I think I might be able to help. This town up ahead looks to be a pretty decent size. Why don't we stop here for the night and I'll see what I can do."
It was late afternoon and slowly dimming into evening when they finally arrived at Feldrinung, a little town nestled in the Upper Sudric range. Their path had led them through a long and narrow pass through the mountains, starting with farmland running in terraced ridges up the hillsides like the farms in Aurilicht - Val hadn't known any farms like that existed in Boleares but wasn't too surprised to see them. But the terrain gradually became rockier and less fertile, the mountains growing bare and craggy, even if they still weren't particularly tall or snow-capped. There, they saw little zigzagging trails running up the mountainsides into mines and, occasionally, spotted big carts being hauled up or down by teams of sure-footed mules.
Feldrinung was a little mining town built at the base of a mountain, a town of perhaps a thousand people with a few homesteads and vegetable fields surrounding it where a brook trickled out of the mountain and provided water and fertile soil. They passed an old church with a new and shiny Pale Circle large and proud on the front. Val thought of making a rude gesture, but there were enough people milling about the town that somebody might have seen.
They stabled their horses for one of Pudge's shillings and proceeded to the larger of the town's two inns, where Levin announced them as traveling entertainers in fluent but slightly-accented Peliac. Once the innkeeper was satisfied that they weren't Sheore, she offered them a meal and free room for the night if they could keep thirty people in the tavern between evencall, which was in an hour, and three past (which, obviously, was three hours past that). That didn't give them much time to get the word out, but if it got them free food and saved them a shilling for the room, it would be worth it.
"I want you to go to wherever you see a lot of people and say exactly these words," Levin said. "Hail, friends! Tonight, come and witness an elevated and ancient tradition in entertainment at the… um… Four Mountains Tavern! Witness wonders and heroics in seven entertainment spectacles!"
Val frowned. "Seven entertainment spectacles?"
"Can you say those exact words? It's important."
"Hail, friends. Tonight, come and witness an elevated and ancient tradition in entertainment at the Four Mountains Tavern. Witness wonders and heroics in seven entertainment spectacles," she repeated.
They stowed their things in an upstairs bunkroom and spread out through the little town, announcing the show to some considerable interest. A town of a thousand probably got a fair number of traders coming through but, if they weren't friendly to the Sheore, might not get much in the way of entertainment beyond mummery and religious plays. Val made an announcement to a group of grubby miners returning from a shift and was asked for a demonstration, to which she did a handstand, switched from one hand to another, and then hopped back to her feet. It wasn't Jasil-level acrobatics, but they seemed impressed.
"That's just the free sample," she added, making a little fiery flash of pyrotechnics above her palm.
They probably had close to fifty people cramming into the tavern by evencall, men, women, and even a few children gathered to watch the spectacle that Levin had promised. They didn't even have seven people, let alone seven spectacles, but Val figured they could spread seven acts over three hours.
Levin started with something for the kids, recounting the story of the Friyja, the Sleeping Queen, in dramatic detail. He had a directional lamp pointed up at him, which he used to cast shadow puppets against the back of the wall. As he told the story, Val realized he was making the gas lanterns in the room flare and dim with the drama of the story - a magical trick that she hadn't yet learned, though she could certainly do it with one lamp without much trouble. He was a much better story-teller than Val would have given him credit for, and when he finished with the legend of the queen's eventual return, he earned decent applause and a few coppery half-pence in the cap he'd placed at the front of the little stage.
"But who wants old stories when you could witness real excitement?" he said, and he made a dramatic flourish toward Val, who just stared at everybody, unsure what to do or what was even expected of her beyond a nervous smile and wave. "My two colleagues are schooled in the ancient art of luvi-rei, also known as knife-dancing." As far as Val knew, luvi-rei was a completely made-up word. But Levin knew about three languages that she didn't, so maybe not.
"Exercises fourteen through nineteen?" Niko whispered.
"Let's give them a real show. Twenty-nine through forty. I'll do left, you do right."
They had to borrow steak knives from the tavern to do those exercises, because they required two knives and each of them only carried their one dagger. But they'd practiced those exercises as tirelessly as any of the others they knew, albeit always with dulled practice weapons and not ones meant for cutting steak or poking into people on the battlefield. Oh well… as Ette sometimes said, a trial by fire is the greatest test of skill.
They spun and slashed and spun their knives around. They jabbed and blocked, making the huh-huh exhalations of effort in unison… Val and Niko had always been more in sync with one another than any other two students in their fighting classes, even if they usually did things with opposite hands. Almost like they were mirror images of one another… the thought made Val's heart sing, and it gave a little extra pep to her routine. Niko picked up on it, obviously, and returned with her own energy.
Then it was time for thirty-eight through forty, which were actually a two-person combat sequence. Their knives clinked and clanked against one another. During the double-parry, their blades sparked against one another and, in a moment of inspiration, Val used a tiny pulse of shaped spirit to turn the spark into a brilliant flash that wowed the audience. Then, at the end, they flipped their fighting daggers, sheathed them, and then did a ceremonial bow with the steak knives in the guard position.
"Holy macaroni!" Pudge shouted.
The audience agreed. It was holy macaroni. They got quite a bit of applause and some coin in their cap, even a tuppence or two. A few people fled out of the room after their act, which Val worried about. What if they were getting the authorities…
"They're getting their friends," Levin whispered. "Great job. Next, on a more sober note, my colleague Frowland will demonstrate expert memory!"
This was more of a filler act, consisting of Pudge recalling from memory the Regency Council's edict of war against Aurilicht. He'd been responsible for typesetting the damn thing for four different runs, so he knew it by heart. Val picked up on the general pattern of things - they would alternate between subdued and exciting acts so nobody would become too bored but they'd be left wanting more. Levin would later explain to them that he'd read a whole book on the history of stage performances, which turned out to be pretty useful knowledge to have in a pinch.
Next, Levin did fire-juggling. Technically, a real mage couldn't do the sort of fire-juggling that a street performer did, since you couldn't actually create a solid object and light it on fire. But you could conjure flames at particular angles that made it look like you were juggling actual fire. It was, magically speaking, much, much more impressive, though only somebody who knew magic was likely to appreciate the difference.
After that, Val coaxed Violet into doing some cat tricks, which the children loved but which didn't earn any coin. They managed to keep the act up until four past evencall, which was around Val's usual bedtime. The innkeeper confirmed that they'd kept up their end of things and she'd give them the room for free and throw in the bath, since they all smelled like they'd been on the road, which they had been. Meanwhile, Levin quietly spoke with one of the stragglers who'd stayed behind to drink and converse after the performance was over. He waved Val over.
"This is Cousin Auberge of the local sept," Levin said.
"We haven't got but twenty members," Auberge said. "But we got your message."
"Message?" Val whispered, and she had to smack herself. Of course there was a message. She repeated back Levin's message from earlier: "Hail, friends. Tonight, come and witness an elevated and ancient tradition in entertainment at the Four Mountains Tavern. Witness wonders and heroics in seven entertainment spectacles. Those are all words we use in the Old Sudren church… well we use sept, but seven means the same thing."
Auberge nodded. "Clear as a bell. Your friend tells me you've got a message to relay?"
Val could have kissed Levin, but she didn't because they both needed baths. She bounced on the balls of her feet. "Yeah, but I haven't written it yet. Give me a sec."'
+++++
It was two more days before they reached St. Sylvestine, the capital of Boleares. During the days of the old kingdom, it had been called Kelsudris, but the Pale Order had renamed it when they rose to prominence in the city during the early regency. Boleares still considered itself to be the central principality of Sudria and the Regency Council ruled in place of a king or queen, considering itself to be the rightful arbiters of all of the old kingdom's lands, though they had only occupied about a quarter of them and the borders hadn't changed since the end of the great war, which had ended around the time Val was born. She wondered how the current war matched up against that… her guess was it was pretty small potatoes.
They rode into the city along the main road - there was only one predominant entrance to the city. Like the little town of Feldrinung, it was built against the base of a mountain. But, unlike the mining town, it was a large city, a bit larger than Verdenlecht and perhaps a third of the size of Wayfair, which had over a million people. And, unlike the mining town, St. Sylvestine was built into the mountain. The sides of the mountain had been chiseled away to build the stone structures of the city, shaped into a series of terraces fifty feet high with buildings excavated back into the rock face and dozens of ramps and stairways connecting the different levels. At the highest terrace was the royal palace, looming over the whole city. For centuries, it had been the seat of power for the Regency Council. Before that, it had been the home of Val's ancestors.
"The Sleeping Queen is somewhere… in there?" Val asked. She pointed up to the palace, to its imperious granite face with the great silver seal of the Pale Circle now surrounding the crest of the regency. It left little doubt who was actually in charge of the city now. The tier of the palace was visible from the front gate, sitting at least four hundred feet above the base of the city with its tallest spires nearly doubling that height. It was the tallest building Val had ever seen… she didn't even know they made buildings that tall.
"Not necessarily below the palace," Levin said. "I don't know how we'd even get up there. The only way looks like that big lift, which I imagine they limit access to."
They'd passed the Shrine of St. Sylvestine half an hour earlier in the sparse suburbs of the city. It was a spot for pilgrims with a natural springs that was said to have healing properties, but Val sensed no enchantment from that direction, nor any great source of natural magic. Allegedly, it was the spot where Sylvestine had been executed for his faith and the spring had welled up from the spilling of his blessed blood. It didn't surprise Val in the least that the church would lie about something like that.
"Do you guys have papers?" Val asked. She had a decoy set on her, of course. So did Niko - she was Sabine's apprentice, so that was a given. Pudge had his papers from when he'd started at the print works. And Levin's papers were from Aurilicht and listed his religion as Old Sudren. There was no way he was getting through the gate. They might even arrest him on the spot.
So Levin stepped off into a little alcove along the shops and inns leading up to the gate and, when he emerged, had enchanted his outfit to look something very much like the cloak and robes of a Brother of the Old Benediction. It worked well enough - the guards waved him through without even asking to look at his papers. Val, Pudge, and Niko all managed to pass muster, and they headed off into the city proper.
Niko covered her nose. "It smells here," she said.
She was a forphan and used to the canals and alleyways of Verdenlecht, but that was a much cleaner city than Wayfair, and the lower tiers of St. Sylvestine were even worse than that. It appeared that the richer you were the higher you lived, which made the lowest level within the walls a sprawling mass of poorly-maintained hovels and warrens. One in five buildings had collapsed, at least partially, and even then some of them were inhabited. The sewage that slopped out of pipes draining down from the nicer parts of the city above reeked as badly as any alleyway in Wayfair's Burrowing Rounds. Mendicants pulled at their clothes, begging for coin. Many had missing limbs or big, weeping sores.
Val wondered why they didn't just run away to another city - living rough in the countryside would have been preferable. But then she recalled that she'd had no idea how to do that before Ginn and Ette had taken her in. As a city girl, she'd have had no idea what to do in the open country. She'd learned a lot since then.
A beggar tugged on Val's mail. "Please, squire! A pence? A farthing for an old man?"
It took Val a moment to register that - she still wore the custom-fitted mail of the duke's standard bearer, though she'd changed the colors to match those of the Brothers of the Resplendent Order, a chapter of the Pale Order that was markedly less odious than the Penitent Brothers. They were wandering knights tasked with doing holy deeds rather than acting as strongarm thugs for the church. It was Val's understanding, though, that sometimes 'holy deeds' could be pretty odious, too.
"What do you say we venture to the next level up before we decide what to do?" Pudge asked. That sounded like a good plan to Val - anything to escape the muck and the smell and the pleading of beggars.
Val had an ambivalent view on beggars. She understood from personal experience that sometimes people fell on hard times and there wasn't anything they could do to dig themselves out. But she'd also always tried to pay her way, or at least to work hard enough that nobody could say she hadn't. And, sure, she'd nicked things from folks more times than she could count on her fingers, but that was always when she was pretty sure they hadn't come across their wealth through honest work. That said, Val suspected it was more an indictment against the nation that the beggar lived in than the beggar themselves. There were no beggars in Verdenlecht, unless you counted street performers, which Val most certainly didn't. Even the mendicant brothers knew better than to beg for alms on the street.
After half a mile, they reached the stairs leading up to the second tier, a great stone staircase about ten feet wide zigzagging right up the cliff face. There was a ramp for horses that couldn't do stairs, but the staircase was broad and shallow enough that Tulip would have no problem. Pudge looked a lot more uneasy, but Val could keep his mount calm as long as he was nearby.
"You're a squire?" the gatekeeper at the base of the steps said.
"I am," Val said. "Squire to Brother-Knight Obscurius of the Resplendent Order…"
"You're a girl."
"You're an observant one," Val said. "The Resplendent Order chooses based on talent and holy disposition, not sex. There are even a handful of Sister-Knights, one of whom I wish to be some day," she added. As far as she knew this was all absolute rubbish, but if she didn't know it for sure then the guard most certainly didn't. "Brother Lev can vouch for me."
Levin smiled diplomatically. "Sister-Squire Val is one of the order's finest squires. She's escorted us safely all the way from the borderlands, where we do holy work against the heathen."
The gatekeeper chuckled. "A girl squire…" he shrugged and waved them all past. "If the church hasn't got a problem with you, then neither have I."
OvidLemma
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-Ovid
Chapter Thirty-One: Fugitives
When Val finally stopped, the sounds of combat still rang out over the hills, the sounds of clashing metal and the screaming injured or dying, but they didn't last long. The mist of rain and the uniform gray of the clouds made it seem like everything was playing out under a little gray dome for the amusement of some twisted god. She wondered if anybody else had survived. What if she was the only one? What if they came after her? Tulip picked up on Val's agitation and started to snort, so she calmed the filly down, which calmed Val a bit. Violet head bonked Val's thigh from her perch in the saddle bag, which calmed her a bit, too. Still, it was a perilous situation.
As Val watched the rise of the hill, she slowly realized that nobody else was coming and despair started to well up in her. Her friends… Niko, Pudge, Levin… he was a sort of friend… all of them had been captured or killed. It was only her. What would she do? She started to tear up and very nearly missed the movement in her peripheral vision.
Niko waved to her. Val waved back, wiping her eyes against the back of her hand. Her heart hummed in her chest and she broke into a grin. Just because they hadn't followed right after her didn't mean nobody else had made it. She waved to Pudge, who was even further away and hadn't spotted them yet.
"Anybody else?" Levin said.
"Ahh!" Val almost fell off of Tulip. "Hell's bells, Levin. I… I think it's just the four of us."
The greenspear nodded gravely. "We should get rid of our armor and get away from here," he said.
"Get rid of our armor? Are you crazy?"
"Anything with ducal colors. They'll be after survivors and looking for those. Without ducal mail, we're just three kids and their chaperone riding stupidly close to a war zone. So get that mail off and take the markings off your horses."
"You're not in charge, Levin. I technically outrank you…"
"The duke is dead. Or king. Or whatever…" Levin looked visibly distraught at the thought. "There is no rank out here, so either listen to me or we can part ways."
Val hated to admit it, but Levin was right. Her mail was custom-fitted and probably cost as much as a farmer made in a year. Tulip's caparison was beautiful with its blues and grays and intricate floral patterns. But they were dead giveaways that they were Aurilic. She took them all off and tossed them to the ground. Then she harrumphed slid her mail back on, and changed its colors with her disguise spell. She could keep the illusion up all day long if she liked even if the others couldn't. With that done, she waited for the others to finish and started westward toward home.
"We can't go that way… the Bolearic forces are going to be looking for people at the mouth of the valley. We should keep heading south through the hills," Levin said. "I… I think I know what we need to do…"
As they rode - anywhere was better than half a mile from the battlefield - Levin told them about a dream he had during their night in the glade by the deep pool. At the time, he'd thought it was just a dream spurred on by one of the history books he'd been reading, as he often had dreams about whatever material he'd been reading. And he'd also been worried about Val after she'd been brought back to camp unconscious and unresponsive.
He'd dreamt of himself and Val exploring an underground crypt and coming to the statue of Friyja, the Sleeping Queen. Friyja was Val's ancient ancestor, but she'd been betrayed and turned into a statue hundreds of years ago. So the legend went. And the legend also stated that the blood of the queen's true heir would be able to bring her back to life.
In Levin's dream, he and Val had gone into a dim underground crypt, where Val then bloodied her hand and placed it over the statue queen's heart, restoring her to life. Two other people had been there, too. People who, at the time, Levin didn't recognize. But now… well, he recalled that they looked a lot like Niko and Pudge.
Val was convinced, and so she started southward and the others followed. They trotted along the rolling hills, through meadows and isolated homesteads and past copses of trees.
"But how could I have been in your dream? You only just met me," Pudge said.
"Exactly… how else do you explain the dream?" Levin said.
"It was just a dream," Niko said. "You can't tell the future in dreams…"
Val shook her head. "You can't really teach somebody divination… it just comes to them. Usually with a dream of the past or the future. I've had them before, too…"
Niko and Petunia pulled even with Val. "Why am I only hearing about this now?"
"Because I didn't believe it until the battle just then. I'd dreamt it before, after I fought off the Penitent Brothers back in the woods. I dreamed about the battle… only… well, in the dream I died. And this time, I didn't, obviously. When I realized that things were happening exactly like in my dream, I shouted for everybody to make the arrow barrier, and that changed things. The duke still died, though…"
"The king," Levin said.
"When you capture one town and then die in a stupid attack a day and a half later, I’m not sure you get to call yourself king," Val said. "The duke wasn't a bad man, but he wasn't exactly king material."
"Fair enough," Levin replied. "So you'll do it? You'll ride to St. Sylvestine with me?"
"The Sleeping Queen is in the capital city?" Niko asked.
Levin shrugged. "According to legend. And, if not, I guess we'll cut our losses and try to make our way home."
"Then I guess we're riding to St. Sylvestine," Val said. "Lead the way, Sir Greenspear."
+++++
They couldn't make it to St. Sylvestine in one day, not even close. They found a passable road after going south for a bit, one that would eventually take them to the capital, but Boleares was a large country - larger even than Aurilicht, which took about three days to cross on horse if you took the coastal road. The largest city in Boleares happened to be four hours' ride from Verdenlecht, but that was a happenstance of history that made the two nations seem a lot closer than they actually were.
Val's earliest years had been somewhere in the borderlands, presumably on the Bolearic side, where she'd lived in a country cottage with her mother. She could remember other people, too, but the only name she remembered was Nanny Patri, who sometimes looked after her, but who wasn't her real grandmother. Memories of her face were even hazier than those of Val's own birth mother, which slipped from recall whenever she tried to firmly recall it. Now Val had another family, but they would be learning that she'd probably died any minute now.
"Val, what's wrong?" Niko asked. "Are you crying?"
Val nodded. She felt stupid for being so weak. It had been a very bad day, but she had to be strong. She was a survivor and always had been.
"I need to send a letter back to my parents to let them know I'm still alive. To let everybody know that we're still alive."
"The post isn't exactly running across the border these days," Levin said. He pulled his horse up even with Val - however unwittingly, she'd taken the lead in their group, though Levin still thought he was leading them. "And we'd out ourselves the moment we tried to spend anything. We haven't got any Bolearic currency…"
"I've got four shillings," Pudge said. Good old Pudge.
Val willed her tears away and looked Levin dead in the eye - a look that made it clear her stance would brook no further discussion. "I'm not going with you to St. Sylvestine until I know Ginn and Ette won't be broken up thinking I’m dead. If one of them died, I'd be a wreck for weeks, and I like to think they're fond of me, too."
"Val, be reasonable…"
"This is me being reasonable," Val said. "I'm not a little kid chasing after legends hidden in secret vaults, Levin. This is the real world and I've got people who care about me and who I care about. Some of them are here… and, yes, that includes you… and some of them are back home. Don't you think your parents would want to know how you're doing?"
Levin sighed. "Honestly? It's just my dad and I'm not sure he'd care one way or the other. But… I think I might be able to help. This town up ahead looks to be a pretty decent size. Why don't we stop here for the night and I'll see what I can do."
It was late afternoon and slowly dimming into evening when they finally arrived at Feldrinung, a little town nestled in the Upper Sudric range. Their path had led them through a long and narrow pass through the mountains, starting with farmland running in terraced ridges up the hillsides like the farms in Aurilicht - Val hadn't known any farms like that existed in Boleares but wasn't too surprised to see them. But the terrain gradually became rockier and less fertile, the mountains growing bare and craggy, even if they still weren't particularly tall or snow-capped. There, they saw little zigzagging trails running up the mountainsides into mines and, occasionally, spotted big carts being hauled up or down by teams of sure-footed mules.
Feldrinung was a little mining town built at the base of a mountain, a town of perhaps a thousand people with a few homesteads and vegetable fields surrounding it where a brook trickled out of the mountain and provided water and fertile soil. They passed an old church with a new and shiny Pale Circle large and proud on the front. Val thought of making a rude gesture, but there were enough people milling about the town that somebody might have seen.
They stabled their horses for one of Pudge's shillings and proceeded to the larger of the town's two inns, where Levin announced them as traveling entertainers in fluent but slightly-accented Peliac. Once the innkeeper was satisfied that they weren't Sheore, she offered them a meal and free room for the night if they could keep thirty people in the tavern between evencall, which was in an hour, and three past (which, obviously, was three hours past that). That didn't give them much time to get the word out, but if it got them free food and saved them a shilling for the room, it would be worth it.
"I want you to go to wherever you see a lot of people and say exactly these words," Levin said. "Hail, friends! Tonight, come and witness an elevated and ancient tradition in entertainment at the… um… Four Mountains Tavern! Witness wonders and heroics in seven entertainment spectacles!"
Val frowned. "Seven entertainment spectacles?"
"Can you say those exact words? It's important."
"Hail, friends. Tonight, come and witness an elevated and ancient tradition in entertainment at the Four Mountains Tavern. Witness wonders and heroics in seven entertainment spectacles," she repeated.
They stowed their things in an upstairs bunkroom and spread out through the little town, announcing the show to some considerable interest. A town of a thousand probably got a fair number of traders coming through but, if they weren't friendly to the Sheore, might not get much in the way of entertainment beyond mummery and religious plays. Val made an announcement to a group of grubby miners returning from a shift and was asked for a demonstration, to which she did a handstand, switched from one hand to another, and then hopped back to her feet. It wasn't Jasil-level acrobatics, but they seemed impressed.
"That's just the free sample," she added, making a little fiery flash of pyrotechnics above her palm.
They probably had close to fifty people cramming into the tavern by evencall, men, women, and even a few children gathered to watch the spectacle that Levin had promised. They didn't even have seven people, let alone seven spectacles, but Val figured they could spread seven acts over three hours.
Levin started with something for the kids, recounting the story of the Friyja, the Sleeping Queen, in dramatic detail. He had a directional lamp pointed up at him, which he used to cast shadow puppets against the back of the wall. As he told the story, Val realized he was making the gas lanterns in the room flare and dim with the drama of the story - a magical trick that she hadn't yet learned, though she could certainly do it with one lamp without much trouble. He was a much better story-teller than Val would have given him credit for, and when he finished with the legend of the queen's eventual return, he earned decent applause and a few coppery half-pence in the cap he'd placed at the front of the little stage.
"But who wants old stories when you could witness real excitement?" he said, and he made a dramatic flourish toward Val, who just stared at everybody, unsure what to do or what was even expected of her beyond a nervous smile and wave. "My two colleagues are schooled in the ancient art of luvi-rei, also known as knife-dancing." As far as Val knew, luvi-rei was a completely made-up word. But Levin knew about three languages that she didn't, so maybe not.
"Exercises fourteen through nineteen?" Niko whispered.
"Let's give them a real show. Twenty-nine through forty. I'll do left, you do right."
They had to borrow steak knives from the tavern to do those exercises, because they required two knives and each of them only carried their one dagger. But they'd practiced those exercises as tirelessly as any of the others they knew, albeit always with dulled practice weapons and not ones meant for cutting steak or poking into people on the battlefield. Oh well… as Ette sometimes said, a trial by fire is the greatest test of skill.
They spun and slashed and spun their knives around. They jabbed and blocked, making the huh-huh exhalations of effort in unison… Val and Niko had always been more in sync with one another than any other two students in their fighting classes, even if they usually did things with opposite hands. Almost like they were mirror images of one another… the thought made Val's heart sing, and it gave a little extra pep to her routine. Niko picked up on it, obviously, and returned with her own energy.
Then it was time for thirty-eight through forty, which were actually a two-person combat sequence. Their knives clinked and clanked against one another. During the double-parry, their blades sparked against one another and, in a moment of inspiration, Val used a tiny pulse of shaped spirit to turn the spark into a brilliant flash that wowed the audience. Then, at the end, they flipped their fighting daggers, sheathed them, and then did a ceremonial bow with the steak knives in the guard position.
"Holy macaroni!" Pudge shouted.
The audience agreed. It was holy macaroni. They got quite a bit of applause and some coin in their cap, even a tuppence or two. A few people fled out of the room after their act, which Val worried about. What if they were getting the authorities…
"They're getting their friends," Levin whispered. "Great job. Next, on a more sober note, my colleague Frowland will demonstrate expert memory!"
This was more of a filler act, consisting of Pudge recalling from memory the Regency Council's edict of war against Aurilicht. He'd been responsible for typesetting the damn thing for four different runs, so he knew it by heart. Val picked up on the general pattern of things - they would alternate between subdued and exciting acts so nobody would become too bored but they'd be left wanting more. Levin would later explain to them that he'd read a whole book on the history of stage performances, which turned out to be pretty useful knowledge to have in a pinch.
Next, Levin did fire-juggling. Technically, a real mage couldn't do the sort of fire-juggling that a street performer did, since you couldn't actually create a solid object and light it on fire. But you could conjure flames at particular angles that made it look like you were juggling actual fire. It was, magically speaking, much, much more impressive, though only somebody who knew magic was likely to appreciate the difference.
After that, Val coaxed Violet into doing some cat tricks, which the children loved but which didn't earn any coin. They managed to keep the act up until four past evencall, which was around Val's usual bedtime. The innkeeper confirmed that they'd kept up their end of things and she'd give them the room for free and throw in the bath, since they all smelled like they'd been on the road, which they had been. Meanwhile, Levin quietly spoke with one of the stragglers who'd stayed behind to drink and converse after the performance was over. He waved Val over.
"This is Cousin Auberge of the local sept," Levin said.
"We haven't got but twenty members," Auberge said. "But we got your message."
"Message?" Val whispered, and she had to smack herself. Of course there was a message. She repeated back Levin's message from earlier: "Hail, friends. Tonight, come and witness an elevated and ancient tradition in entertainment at the Four Mountains Tavern. Witness wonders and heroics in seven entertainment spectacles. Those are all words we use in the Old Sudren church… well we use sept, but seven means the same thing."
Auberge nodded. "Clear as a bell. Your friend tells me you've got a message to relay?"
Val could have kissed Levin, but she didn't because they both needed baths. She bounced on the balls of her feet. "Yeah, but I haven't written it yet. Give me a sec."'
+++++
It was two more days before they reached St. Sylvestine, the capital of Boleares. During the days of the old kingdom, it had been called Kelsudris, but the Pale Order had renamed it when they rose to prominence in the city during the early regency. Boleares still considered itself to be the central principality of Sudria and the Regency Council ruled in place of a king or queen, considering itself to be the rightful arbiters of all of the old kingdom's lands, though they had only occupied about a quarter of them and the borders hadn't changed since the end of the great war, which had ended around the time Val was born. She wondered how the current war matched up against that… her guess was it was pretty small potatoes.
They rode into the city along the main road - there was only one predominant entrance to the city. Like the little town of Feldrinung, it was built against the base of a mountain. But, unlike the mining town, it was a large city, a bit larger than Verdenlecht and perhaps a third of the size of Wayfair, which had over a million people. And, unlike the mining town, St. Sylvestine was built into the mountain. The sides of the mountain had been chiseled away to build the stone structures of the city, shaped into a series of terraces fifty feet high with buildings excavated back into the rock face and dozens of ramps and stairways connecting the different levels. At the highest terrace was the royal palace, looming over the whole city. For centuries, it had been the seat of power for the Regency Council. Before that, it had been the home of Val's ancestors.
"The Sleeping Queen is somewhere… in there?" Val asked. She pointed up to the palace, to its imperious granite face with the great silver seal of the Pale Circle now surrounding the crest of the regency. It left little doubt who was actually in charge of the city now. The tier of the palace was visible from the front gate, sitting at least four hundred feet above the base of the city with its tallest spires nearly doubling that height. It was the tallest building Val had ever seen… she didn't even know they made buildings that tall.
"Not necessarily below the palace," Levin said. "I don't know how we'd even get up there. The only way looks like that big lift, which I imagine they limit access to."
They'd passed the Shrine of St. Sylvestine half an hour earlier in the sparse suburbs of the city. It was a spot for pilgrims with a natural springs that was said to have healing properties, but Val sensed no enchantment from that direction, nor any great source of natural magic. Allegedly, it was the spot where Sylvestine had been executed for his faith and the spring had welled up from the spilling of his blessed blood. It didn't surprise Val in the least that the church would lie about something like that.
"Do you guys have papers?" Val asked. She had a decoy set on her, of course. So did Niko - she was Sabine's apprentice, so that was a given. Pudge had his papers from when he'd started at the print works. And Levin's papers were from Aurilicht and listed his religion as Old Sudren. There was no way he was getting through the gate. They might even arrest him on the spot.
So Levin stepped off into a little alcove along the shops and inns leading up to the gate and, when he emerged, had enchanted his outfit to look something very much like the cloak and robes of a Brother of the Old Benediction. It worked well enough - the guards waved him through without even asking to look at his papers. Val, Pudge, and Niko all managed to pass muster, and they headed off into the city proper.
Niko covered her nose. "It smells here," she said.
She was a forphan and used to the canals and alleyways of Verdenlecht, but that was a much cleaner city than Wayfair, and the lower tiers of St. Sylvestine were even worse than that. It appeared that the richer you were the higher you lived, which made the lowest level within the walls a sprawling mass of poorly-maintained hovels and warrens. One in five buildings had collapsed, at least partially, and even then some of them were inhabited. The sewage that slopped out of pipes draining down from the nicer parts of the city above reeked as badly as any alleyway in Wayfair's Burrowing Rounds. Mendicants pulled at their clothes, begging for coin. Many had missing limbs or big, weeping sores.
Val wondered why they didn't just run away to another city - living rough in the countryside would have been preferable. But then she recalled that she'd had no idea how to do that before Ginn and Ette had taken her in. As a city girl, she'd have had no idea what to do in the open country. She'd learned a lot since then.
A beggar tugged on Val's mail. "Please, squire! A pence? A farthing for an old man?"
It took Val a moment to register that - she still wore the custom-fitted mail of the duke's standard bearer, though she'd changed the colors to match those of the Brothers of the Resplendent Order, a chapter of the Pale Order that was markedly less odious than the Penitent Brothers. They were wandering knights tasked with doing holy deeds rather than acting as strongarm thugs for the church. It was Val's understanding, though, that sometimes 'holy deeds' could be pretty odious, too.
"What do you say we venture to the next level up before we decide what to do?" Pudge asked. That sounded like a good plan to Val - anything to escape the muck and the smell and the pleading of beggars.
Val had an ambivalent view on beggars. She understood from personal experience that sometimes people fell on hard times and there wasn't anything they could do to dig themselves out. But she'd also always tried to pay her way, or at least to work hard enough that nobody could say she hadn't. And, sure, she'd nicked things from folks more times than she could count on her fingers, but that was always when she was pretty sure they hadn't come across their wealth through honest work. That said, Val suspected it was more an indictment against the nation that the beggar lived in than the beggar themselves. There were no beggars in Verdenlecht, unless you counted street performers, which Val most certainly didn't. Even the mendicant brothers knew better than to beg for alms on the street.
After half a mile, they reached the stairs leading up to the second tier, a great stone staircase about ten feet wide zigzagging right up the cliff face. There was a ramp for horses that couldn't do stairs, but the staircase was broad and shallow enough that Tulip would have no problem. Pudge looked a lot more uneasy, but Val could keep his mount calm as long as he was nearby.
"You're a squire?" the gatekeeper at the base of the steps said.
"I am," Val said. "Squire to Brother-Knight Obscurius of the Resplendent Order…"
"You're a girl."
"You're an observant one," Val said. "The Resplendent Order chooses based on talent and holy disposition, not sex. There are even a handful of Sister-Knights, one of whom I wish to be some day," she added. As far as she knew this was all absolute rubbish, but if she didn't know it for sure then the guard most certainly didn't. "Brother Lev can vouch for me."
Levin smiled diplomatically. "Sister-Squire Val is one of the order's finest squires. She's escorted us safely all the way from the borderlands, where we do holy work against the heathen."
The gatekeeper chuckled. "A girl squire…" he shrugged and waved them all past. "If the church hasn't got a problem with you, then neither have I."
OvidLemma
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