Antiphon (36 page)

He hoped that Renard would bear the boy to safety if such a thing could be found.

And he also hoped that Renard was wrong about an encampment. They could not afford to face more of this Blood Guard. He did not fully comprehend what was happening—but he knew that the mechoservitors in their hidden valley were critical to something greater than he could comprehend.

It requires a response.

And his response was to ride for them with what few men he had, to somehow guard them like a shepherd from the ravening wolves that sought them and sought to snuff out the light.

He knew his paths would cross with the boy soon enough.

Until then, Petronus would also shepherd the dream.

Each morning, they walked deeper into the forest and Winters found herself wandering a Whymer Maze of questions that tangled her more and more with Ria’s cryptic answers. Her older sister was far more forthright with the answers when it came to her vision for the Machtvolk and the Named Lands beneath the reign of the Crimson Empress.

But simpler matters, like where she’d grown up or how she came to share Winteria’s name, were brushed aside with briefest mention. It was perfectly obvious that they shared the same parents. The more time she spent with her older sister, the more clear their similarity of appearance and even mannerisms were, but their beliefs were vastly different.

Today, they walked alone down an unfamiliar path. “You’ve stopped dreaming about the Abomination again, haven’t you?” Ria asked as they paused to watch the sun rise behind them.

She means Neb.
Winters looked from the smear of red on the white horizon. “I have. For three days now.”

Ria smiled. “Good. Those are the hardest. Though the Home dreams are also difficult. I could show you meditations that have helped me with them.”

I do not want help with them.
She craved them. She longed for them. Though lately, the ones Neb screamed in felt like blades twisted in her guts, and the metal men that continued to devour her family’s dreams devoured her each night, spitting her onto the top of the white tower. The dreams were definitely difficult, but she was glad they were back even though they were different.

“In time, the dreams will change,” Ria said as she turned to walk. “You felt them change when Jakob was born.”

She remembered.
Begone kin-raven. Your message is not welcome in this house.
It reminded her of the old blind prophet Ezra, and she realized she’d not seen him since her return. It was a question she nearly asked her sister but held back at the last moment.

While they walked the last league, Ria talked about the growing stories of the evangelists as they bore the message into the villages scattered around the ruins of Windwir. Traditionally, these had been protected by the Androfrancines, but after the last Council of Kin-Clave Ria had made it clear that those lands were now hers. They had just circled back and could see the lodge when a Machtvolk officer approached her.

“Queen Winteria, your man has arrived from the Emerald Coasts.” Behind him, she saw Garyt ben Urlin’s familiar face.

Ria smiled. “Excellent. I will begin my work with him later this morning.” She looked at Winters. “I need to leave you now, little sister. But tomorrow we’ll walk again.”

Winters curtsied. “I will find my way back.”

Ria smiled and looked to the officer. “Escort her, Captain, or have your man do it.”

The captain inclined his head. “Yes, my queen.”

But when he glanced to Winters, she saw something in his eye that caught her own. Her sister’s voice distracted her. “You are still accompanying me to the mass?”

Winters nodded. “Yes. And I will see you in the morning.”

Ria smiled. “Bring your questions.”

“I will,” she said.

After Ria had left, Garyt’s hands moved.
The captain follows your dream.
He stepped aside, and the captain moved beside her.

“Walk with me, my true queen,” the officer said, “and I will see you safely back to the lodge.”

She took his arm. “I am dreaming again,” she said.

“Yes. I took them down into the caves myself. There is more that you should be aware of,” he said, his voice low. “The book has been disturbed.”

Metal mouths chewing paper.
“Yes,” she said. She felt no surprise by this. And she knew by whom . . . or what. And she also sensed that it was important that she continue writing down the dreams just as she received them and making sure they were added to the book. Each day, she carried them in her gospel and left them on the rock at the edge of the clearing where she fought with Jin. Each day, they were taken by a magicked courier.

She glanced at the captain. “I think the book is safe for now,” she said. “These disturbances are in my dreams as well.”

His face flushed at a question he did not want to ask. At last he did,
and the words tumbled out of him. “Do you think the Homeseeker truly will prevail?”

She looked at him, and she willed every stone’s weight of conviction she could find into her voice. “I know he will.” She met his eyes and was surprised at the faith and adoration she saw there. “The dream is true.” But even as she said it, she did not know if it was true. She only wished it to be so.

She wasn’t even sure that Neb still lived. His last dream had slipped quietly away.

Winters forced the memory of him away, feeling the knots grow in her stomach. She turned her thoughts instead to the Book.
There are metal men in my library.
She wondered what they were doing with her family’s book.

And how had they come to enter the caves beneath the watchful eye of Ria’s guards? What’s more, where were they from? Rudolfo’s library? She didn’t think they were. In her dreams, these looked older than Isaak’s generation, though not by much. And she couldn’t imagine that the Ninefold Forest would place them here and not share that information with her. Still, she intended to find some way to bring it up with Jin Li Tam during their knife dancing later that morning.

They walked quietly, and as the lodge drew closer, they slowed. The captain inclined his head toward her, his voice low. “Is there anything else I can do to aid you?”

She looked at him again.
He sees me as his queen.

And Winters smiled because she knew what to ask him for and knew exactly where he could find it.

“I need something from my former quarters,” she said.

That afternoon, the voice magicks were underneath her pillow and Winters smiled again.

Rudolfo rubbed ice water into his face and grimaced at the sour taste of last night’s firespice. It wasn’t the first night he’d drunk himself to sleep since the explosion and since coming north.

Or since my family rode east into someone else’s care.

Jin Li Tam’s most recent note had arrived last evening, outlining her experience with the ancient mechoservitor known as the Watcher, and some so-called regent’s request that the library’s mechanicals—and Isaak—be surrendered into Y’Zirite safekeeping.

He’d become angry when he read it and had poured another glassful of the strong liquor before fading to sleep.

Just a few hours ago.
He blinked against the pounding in his temples and cupped more water into his hands, drinking it down. Outside, the camp stirred as mail was delivered, the couriers having plowed their way into the training camp.

And here, in his new quarters—a simple windowless wooden structure—Philemus and Lysias stood waiting for him with sober faces. He did not bother with his green turban of office. Instead, he shook the water from his hair and turned to them.

It cannot be good news.
That was plain to see, and his first thought was to the prisoner they’d taken. He’d been quite surprised that she’d survived. If the wounds she’d taken being struck by the platform hadn’t
killed her, the blood magicks that burned through her system should have. But three days later, she’d been alive. Already, Lysias had logged hours interrogating her, sometimes with Rudolfo in attendance. And so far, that questioning had yielded nothing.

He looked first from Lysias to Philemus. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to two wooden collapsible chairs. He walked to his worktable and sat in the chair behind it.

“I have word,” Philemus said, “regarding our investigation.”

Rudolfo felt his eyes narrow. “Of the attack?”

The second captain shook his head and glanced quickly at Lysias, who nodded encouragement to the man. “The Y’Zirite shrines, General.”

He felt his stomach twist. “How many?”

“Three. Each within a similar grove.” The man swallowed. “Each in use.” He fumbled with a courier pouch, withdrawing a bundle of coded pages and passing them to Rudolfo.

Rudolfo took them and spread them out on the table. His eye went to the list of names first, and he scanned it quickly. “Are these what I think they are?”

Philemus nodded slowly. “We’ve observed each of them entering or leaving the groves. I’ve magicked scouts stationed at each.”

Rudolfo heard the sound of papers rattling and realized it was his hands, shaking upon the table. He held his breath and willed the red haze to leave his vision. When his anger subsided, he found his next question waiting. “How many Y’Zirites in my Ninefold Forest, Captain?”

“Nearly two thousand, General.”

Two thousand.
He’d been worried about the Machtvolk evangelists while all along, Y’Zirites were already living quietly among them, worshiping in their hidden groves. Somehow, these seeds had been sown decades earlier, and he had to believe that it was somehow connected to everything that happened now. He’d seen the book that Vlad Li Tam’s father had written. If he’d been a secret Y’Zirite or possibly even the author of this particular resurgence himself, it was certainly possible that others had made their way into the forests of the northeast. He looked from the Gypsy Scout to the Entrolusian general. There was more they weren’t saying, and he could feel the weight of Philemus’s dread in the room.

Rudolfo’s fingers moved, fumbling into the hand language of his people.
What aren’t you telling me?

Philemus cleared his voice. “House Steward Kember is on the list, General. As is his wife.”

Rudolfo felt his face flush. “Kember? You’re certain?”

The second captain nodded slowly. “I am certain.” His next words were a near whisper. “We think he may be one of their priests.”

The air went out of Rudolfo, and he slumped in his chair. Kember had been like a father to him after his own had died. He’d been steward of the Seventh Forest Manor since Rudolfo was a boy—he and his wife and children had been an anchor to the boy king.

“This,” he said in a quiet voice, “is unexpected.”

“All of it has been,” Lysias said. “From Windwir forward.”

Rudolfo nodded and looked back to the papers. He scanned the lists and found his house steward’s name. He also saw other names he knew—friends of his father’s and mother’s or the children of those friends. He had not imagined this path, and his mind—numb still from drink—worked hard to map a clear direction.

I wish Gregoric were here.
This was one of those times that his friend would drop the title, call him by name and suggest the best course of action without Rudolfo’s request that he do so. It was always a good path—though not always the one Rudolfo ultimately settled upon. But Gregoric was gone now these two years, dying on Rudolfo’s back as they fled Sethbert’s camp on the heels of the liberated mechoservitors.

He looked to the two men who sat near him. “What are your thoughts on this development?”

Philemus said nothing. Lysias looked to him, then fixed his eyes on Rudolfo. “They should be watched, certainly. A more conservative course of action may be to intern them until such time as we’ve learned more about any potential relationship they have with the Machtvolk.”

Philemus scowled, and Rudolfo turned to him. “You have a difference of opinion?”

“We are spread too thin, General. I cannot keep the Gypsy Scouts tasked in this way. We’re in the Wastes. We’re underground. We’re in the Marshlands and at the Wall. And now we’re policing our own?” His face was red, and Rudolfo found himself growing angry at the man’s honesty. “I’ve nothing left in reserve. Your resources, General, are spread too thin.”

Rudolfo looked back to Lysias and found himself suddenly surprised by the question that leaped into his mind. His mouth opened to ask it of the old general, and then suddenly he closed it. Because he
knew that if he asked, the old Entrolusian would rise to the work and they would be continuing a path he’d already started.

What would it take to create an intelligence division within this new army they built here in the north?

They made eye contact again, and he saw resolve behind Lysias’s gray stare.
He knows what I’m thinking,
Rudolfo realized. But in the end he did not ask it. Instead, he closed his eyes. “Your concern is noted, Philemus.”

He waited for a full minute, then opened his eyes. Both men sat still, their eyes still fixed upon him, and he felt naked beneath their stares.
They’re waiting for me to say more.
But he couldn’t find words that he could attach to the storm brewing inside of him. Clouds of despair, winds of rage and a downpour of sorrow tangled him, and the air of his inner landscape smelled like the wet iron of fear. “I will need time to form my thoughts on this,” he finally said.