Page 63 of Aubade Rising
“It’s not stealing if I intend to return it. By definition, stealing is permanent deprivation.” I summon little balls of light to dance round him, trying to distract him but they flicker as my magic exhausts itself.
“Did the person give it willingly then?” If his right eyebrow goes any higher, it’ll be lost under his dark fringe.
“Does it matter if I didn’t intend to take it?”A bird call overhead punctuates my response.
Concern flashes through his eyes and he stalks closer to whisper. “Can you control it? I can’t have you wielding magic wherever you turn.”
Fair point. “Yes, I can control it. The circumstances where I obtained it were unique.” I blush. “I’ve been trying to return it but also learning how to make it respond to me.”
“Hmm, well, for now, given everything that’s going on, I’d put that aside. I don’t think you quite realise the danger you put yourself in practising in the open.” His hands ball into fists before he slips them into his pockets.
“Speaking of danger in Chi An Mor, I want to come with you to Tanwen. No one else will be able to identify the serpentine. I’ll be an asset.”
“I don’t doubt that, Sage.” His deep green eyes hold mine intently. “Don’t you trust me to do the right thing?” His voice is barely a whisper.
I don’t. Not even the slightest bit. He might think he’s helping or trying to make things better but his perspective is so limited and our situation so fragile. “I want to help.” Not technically a lie.
His mouth twists, recognising I’ve avoided a direct answer.
He’s hurt. But then the practised courtier is back and he’s a blank canvas again.
“If you insist: be ready to depart in a few days.” Turning, he walks off with no further comment.
Chapter 63
Leaving Pentargon to meet the King’s Navy off the coast of Porth was simple enough. The King commandeered a ferry for those Concord members travelling with us. There was a significant debate about the King’s attendance: most of the Concord preferred he stay safely ensconced in the palace but he refused to call a vote and made his own decision. As we travel along the coast, his face becomes lighter the further we get from the capital, whereas Dervla’s becomes more grave. We meet the Navy at Porth and it’s clear the fleet will struggle to travel all the way inland. The river is low and boats are scarce.
Dervla calculates supplies, rations, everything that will be required for the long trek to Tanwen and has no problem convincing the King and his Admiral that some of the Navy should remain in Cathair once we arrive. The journey will get harder after that.
Meticulously planted hanging baskets and window flowers that should still be in bloom have been ripped from the walls and swept away. The people we see in Cathair, peering from shattered ground floor windows, have cracked fingernails from digging in the mud for possessions, for family members and treasured animals. Their eyes are hollow and judging. We left them here to suffer the floods alone. I let Eskar convince me that the city had plans for flooding, that the people would be alright, but I think even he miscalculated the raging tsunami that would ravage the city. Up in the clefts of the valley, I make out his family estate. No longer standing in the shadow of the aqueduct, it appears undamaged, walls still glistening pearly white. I wonder how many Mordros families opened their doors to thosein need during the devastation? From the looks on the faces of the people we pass, it wasn’t enough.
The Navy gets straight to work, setting up search parties and organising shelter for those that are displaced. The hubbub of activity will have to suffice as our only cover as a smaller group leave the city for Tanwen. From here we will have to go on foot, the river will carry our supplies as far as possible but we will need to walk and ride on horseback.
The terrain is tough going, the ground cracked and dusty from lack of rain. Heavy clouds cover the sky, thick enough to depress the feeling of summer but not enough to give us the precipitation we need.
Twice, our horses have to be swapped out en route due to exposed tree roots tripping them. At one point, we are stuck for hours as a wagon wheel comes loose on the gritty stones and the men struggle to refit it. It’s clear Dervla was right: the Navy is used to being at sea, not on land.
Signs of the aqueduct failing become more apparent the further we travel, the roads are quieter and we’re told people are beginning to hoard water. There’s no longer any guarantee of a welcome reception at the next village.
Our final camp – in the impenetrable forest outside Tanwen – is miserable. The clearing we occupy is bleak. Here, autumn has come early. With little rain and scorched earth, everything smells of overripe berries left to fester. The mood of the Navy is equally sour: days of travelling have given many blisters and sore muscles. It’s clear we are a pampered lot by the disgruntled moaning whispered in corners.Our numbers are about a third of those we set off with, the dire need for support in Cathair and demand for discretion whittling down the troops. The King’s Admiral remained in Cathair, overseeing the troops; Cado and Dervla continued with us to Tanwen.
An old tree stump is cleared of crispy yellow moss and servesas the table for our makeshift war room. We pin Haelyn’s crude map across its surface, disturbing beetles. The tree sap curdles the paper. I’m sure Cado knows this map better than the palace floor plan by now; his thoroughness is reassuring. Arguments ensue as the rest of the Concord are made aware of Eskar’s mission. Nothing was discussed until now because we weren’t sure who we could trust.
After their initial outrage, they want to march on Tanwen now, trusting that Eskar will be able to escape in the melée. That’s not a chance I’m prepared to take, and reassuringly neither is Cado nor Dervla.
A scouting mission is needed before any further decision can be made. Cado summons one of the sailors to join the Concord around the tree stump.
“Follow the town wall until the mists, then make your way into town through the gates facing the Haag. Try to blend in with the townspeople; they will likely be taking shipments of serpentine into the town daily from the mines, so there will be plenty of rebels around. We just need eyes on Captain Devath,” the King instructs the scout who nods, his face burnt from the summer sun and makes to leave camp. Kaens is primed to fly between the scout and our camp to relay their messages.
When she returns late into the night, her haunting cry wakes me from a light sleep. I push back the heavy canvas tent flaps to hear the message.
Cado addresses the group gathered in the tent, his solemn face lit by a flickering table lamp. “The scout’s reports are concerning. He described more activity than we expected; the rebels are openly stockpiling the serpentine and preparing to leave the town. We need to find Captain Devath before they abandon their base. I’m sending more scouts now. We should know more in the morning.”
I nod and look at Dervla, signalling back to our tent to see ifshe’s going to join me. She shakes her head, forehead creased and her attention goes back to studying the map of Tanwen in front of her, fingers worrying the strap of her leather gauntlet while Kaens rests her head on Dervla’s shoulder.
Chapter 64
I wake disoriented. There’s a hush outside the tent wall that is unnerving. Not even a bird calls overhead. The canvas tent flaps softly. Dervla has gone. A fleeting panic that I’ve been abandoned while the Navy marches on Tanwen has me ripping open the tent door. I’m greeted with the backs of sailors, crowded in front of Cado’s tent, all standing to attention. A solemn formation, some are in full uniform, most are half-dressed as if they were commanded from their beds.
