North Star Guide Me Home (11 page)

Feeling numb, her eyes blurred with tears, Sierra padded back to the makeshift camp. She crawled back onto her bed at Isidro’s side and she knelt beside him, laying a hand on his forehead and then on his chest. For a moment he seemed about to stir — his eyelids flickered, and he shifted his head on the bundled shirt.

Sierra froze, and bent close to whisper his name. ‘Issey?’

There was no response. He settled into a deeper sleep. Sierra lay down, resting her head on her folded arms. He would wake soon, and when he did, there was no way of knowing if he would ever want her to sleep beside him again.

‘What do you mean, he’s gone?’

‘He left in the middle of the night. He took two horses and rode away. He’s gone.’

‘Are you sure? He’s got that wretched camouflage device. He could be lurking around here, out of sight.’

‘Why? There’s nothing for him here, and he wouldn’t lie to me.’

Cam frowned into his bowl. It held only hot water. There was no tea left. ‘What makes you so sure? And what in the hells is he playing at, anyway?’

Sierra bunched her fists. ‘By the Black Sun, I am not going to keep justifying my opinion of him to you. Do you really think I know nothing of him? He’s never lied to me. That has been the foundation of everything we’ve achieved since last winter.’

Cam huffed a sigh. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You’re right. I just lose all rationality when it comes to that wretch. It’s probably for the best that he’s not our problem right now — Gods know, we’ve got enough to deal with. Did he say where he was going?’

‘East. Back home.’

‘By himself? With the Akharian legions in the way?’

Sierra shrugged. ‘He can look after himself. But I doubt he’ll be on his own for long. There are more slave-trains out there and he’s taken a liking to freeing them.’

Cam fell silent, gazing into the middle distance.

‘How’s the girl this morning?’ Sierra asked. ‘Greska?’

‘Better,’ Cam said. ‘Still sore, but in good spirits — a little too good, maybe. When she heard we’re marching on the mines, she begged to join the assault. I told her no chance unless she can demonstrate some skills that would be useful in a fight. Poor girl was so desperate that Delphi took her off to go over the basics.’

‘The men you sent to the rocks were successful?’ Sierra said.

‘Yes. We’ve now got armour, weapons and mounts for nearly a hundred and fifty men. We’ll be breaking camp tomorrow. According to the maps, it should only take a day or two with folk well-conditioned for the march. Madric’s rounded up those with training in war. I’ve arranged to meet with them in an hour or so to go over the plan. I want you there, Sirri. You’re a key part of the force.’

‘Of course,’ Sierra said. ‘You’re the commander, I’ll do as you say.’

‘Now that we don’t have to worry about Rasten, I want us to move to the main camp,’ Cam went on. ‘These folk only know Akharian mages and the mad dog who freed them — I want them to know they can trust you, Sirri.’

Sierra nodded. ‘I’d like to spread the word that anyone with an injury can come to me to ease the pain. I know there are plenty out there — I can feel them.’

‘That’ll help. We don’t have any true physicians, just a few priests and midwives …’ He broke off then, frowning. ‘Ah, Sirri … there’s something else I need to tell you —’

A sound from behind them cut him off. It was soft, but unmistakable — the rustle of blankets from the shelter behind them. Cam and Sierra both turned to see Isidro pushing aside the blankets and struggling to rise.

‘Issey!’ Cam reached him first, but Sierra was only a couple of strides behind him. Isidro looked down in bewilderment at the bandages wrapped over his chest and the stump of his arm. ‘What … what happened?’ He spoke slowly, his voice hoarse and slurred. When he reached for the bandages wrapped over the truncated limb, Sierra caught his hand. ‘Issey, no, don’t touch them. Don’t make it start bleeding again, you’ve lost too much blood already.’

He frowned at her. She knew that look, it was an expression of utmost concentration. ‘Blood?’ he said.

‘Those cuts you took fighting Kell, remember?’

His frown deepened. ‘Kell … is he dead?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He’s dead. I promise you he’s dead.’

He shifted his bewildered gaze to the stump again. ‘But … what happened?’

‘The wound turned foul … I’m sorry, Issey, we had to do it, you would have died.’

He blinked in slow confusion. Sierra had the distinct impression he hadn’t understood a word she’d said. ‘I … I don’t …’

Cam leant close. ‘Don’t worry about it. Just rest, Issey, we’ll figure it out later.’

Isidro shifted his gaze to Cam’s face. ‘Cam? Where … when did you get here?’

‘Just last night. We’ve been trailing along behind you since you left the ranges.’

Isidro stared at Cam’s face while he spoke, but his expression of confusion didn’t diminish. Sierra bit her lip and met Cam’s gaze. He seemed as worried as she felt. ‘Losing a lot of blood addles a man’s wits,’ she said. ‘That’s what Rasten told me.’

Cam scowled at the mention of his name. ‘He’s been through a lot,’ he muttered. ‘He’ll come good in a few days.’

Isidro turned back to the stump of his arm. He pressed his fingers to the dark stain and hissed in pain. Sierra hastily pulled his hand away. ‘Don’t touch it,’ she said. ‘The wound’s still fresh.’

He scowled at her again. ‘What?’

‘We should send for Delphine,’ Cam murmured, and he leant forward to catch Isidro’s gaze. ‘Are you hungry? Thirsty?’

Isidro turned to him, again with that slow and bewildered blink. ‘Need … need to piss.’

‘Well then, let’s take care of that first. Do you want to get up, or shall I find a basin?’

Another blink. ‘Up.’

‘Alright.’ Cam crouched on his heels and pulled Isidro’s good arm across his shoulders. ‘I’ll take care of this, Sirri. Go find Delphine. She’s off to the south.’

She went, to give them privacy. And perhaps for her own sake as well, as burning tears began to spill. She’d seen that frown of deep thought and absolute concentration on his face before — but back then he’d been puzzling out the secrets of mages dead for a century, or forming a battle plan against an enemy that far outmatched them. Not trying to understand simple sentences or struggling to comprehend why his brother was here when he hadn’t been before.
Rasten warned me of this,
she reminded herself.
He said we’d see the effects of losing so much blood. He said he’d recover, in time.

Probably. Rasten said he’d
probably
recover.

By the time she found Delphine and Greska, she’d brought herself under control, turning her insides to ice the way she had so many times on the rack in Kell’s dungeons.

The women were sitting in the shade of an overhang with legs crossed and palms resting open on their knees. At the sound of her approach, Greska lifted her head and cleared her throat, but it was only when Sierra called Delphine’s name that the other woman looked around. ‘Delphine …’ Her voice came out as a croak, and she coughed to clear it. ‘Delphine, he’s awake.’

Delphine started as though a fly had bitten her. For a moment, she only stared at Sierra wide-eyed, but then she scrambled to her feet and broke into a run.

They reached the camp as Cam guided Isidro back to his bed. Isidro didn’t look around as the two women approached. He was breathing hard, panting open-mouthed like he’d run a race. Cam helped him onto the felt pads and he lay down at once, closing his eyes, but when Delphine flung herself down beside him he opened them again and regarded her with the same slow blink before letting them drift closed once more.

Delphine caught his hand in hers. ‘Oh, Issey! I’d hoped and prayed I’d see you again.’

At the sound of her voice he smiled briefly, a mere quirk of the lips that was there for an instant and then gone. Then, he frowned and lifted his head, forcing his eyes open with an effort.

Sierra was hanging back, blinking away tears and clinging to the ice at her core as though it was a lifeline.

‘Delphi?’ he mumbled. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I came after you, you great fool, what do you think I’m doing here?’

His frown deepened, and he scrubbed his hand across his face. ‘But … you were supposed to stay with Mira …’

‘We couldn’t, it was too dangerous, my people were hunting for us both …’ She trailed off when she saw the same confusion and bewilderment that had left Sierra so unsettled. She sat back on her heels and glanced at Cam, muttering something in Akharian that Sierra couldn’t catch.

Staring intently at Delphine, Isidro pushed himself up. ‘What … what’s that?’ He reached forward, and pressed his hand to her belly. ‘Delphine! What is that?’

Delphine gasped and clasped her hands over his. ‘Good Gods! How can you know?’

Understanding hit Sierra like a slap in the face.

Delphine laughed, a sound of mingled nerves and happiness. ‘I was going to wait until you were stronger — I didn’t realise that a Sensitive like you would pick it up right away. Isidro, I’m pregnant.’

She was speaking in Akharian, and Sierra could tell at a glance that Isidro hadn’t understood. Beyond Delphine, Cam caught Sierra’s gaze.
We were going to tell you,
he silently mouthed.

Sierra turned away, hiding her face in her hands. ‘He can’t understand you,’ she said. ‘He’s too weak to think clearly in our language, let alone yours.’

Instinct urged her to leave — to take her shock and retreat, to find a safe place to lick the wound the news seemed to have opened in her soul. But that would mean walking out on Isidro, and she couldn’t do that, not again. Sierra drew a deep breath, and let the ice fill her once again.
You left him, remember? You gave up any claim you had. If there was any betrayal here, it wasn’t on his part. Besides, you’re a grown woman, not a jealous child. If she makes him happy, you should be glad of it.
She lifted her head and lowered her hands, hiding all she felt as Kell’s dungeons had taught her.

As Sierra turned back, she found Delphine watching her with shining eyes, but she hastily looked away, focusing on Isidro once again. ‘I’m going to have a baby,’ she said in halting Ricalani.

It took some time to explain everything to Isidro, using small words and simple sentences. Still armoured against emotion, Sierra dipped out bowls of broth for each of them and passed them around. Isidro drank half of it before falling asleep between one mouthful and the next, slumped on the rumpled pads. While Cam made sure he was comfortable, Sierra finally permitted herself to retreat to the fire.

After a few moments, Cam came to join her. ‘I was going to tell you, Sirri. I was just … I was trying to find the right moment, but every blasted time I ended up picking a fight over Rasten instead. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.’

‘It’s alright,’ she said, never lifting her gaze from the shifting flames. ‘You couldn’t have known he’d see it and spill the news like that.’

Cam reached across to lay his hand on hers. ‘It was an accident. Rhia gave her the herbs, but we had to leave them behind when we ran. And Delphine … look, I know the two of you didn’t get along back in the Spire, but she’s not the same person she was then. She’s a good woman, and she’s made herself an enemy of her people by helping us. Give her a chance.’

At last she turned to him. ‘I don’t bear her any ill will. How could I, after all she’s done for him? Whether he still wants anything to do with me has no bearing on what lies between them. Besides, we’re all in this together, aren’t we? We’re going to need her. I have power, but I’m not the calibre of mage she is.’

Cam squeezed her hand. ‘Are you alright, Sirri?’

The honest concern in his voice threatened to make tears spill, but Sierra clung to the ice around her bones. ‘I’m just tired, and I want to go home. And I’m worried.’

‘Rasten said he’d recover, didn’t he?’

Sierra nodded. ‘He always tells me the truth. I don’t know why losing blood would steal his wits, but Rasten’s seen it happen, down in the dungeons.’

‘Well, with his experience, I suppose we ought to trust him on that,’ Cam said grudgingly. ‘So, we’ll just take care of him and give him time to recover. However long it takes.’

Sierra drew a deep breath, and felt the ice within her crack. ‘Oh, Cam … what if he never forgives me? I still love him. All that time, I thought about him every day.’

‘Sirri, he never stopped caring for you. There was just nothing he could do to help you.’ He heaved a sigh. ‘Look, we’re supposed to be meeting the rest of the camp. Would you rather skip it?’

‘No.’ Sierra straightened and threw her head back. ‘No, I’ll come. I can’t sit here wishing and hoping for something that may never happen. It’s time to make our own plans instead of reacting to others. Let’s go and take what we need from this wretched mine, and then we can set out for home.’

The rocking was soothing as Mira dozed; the ship’s creaking, the distant slap of the sail and the moan of the wind around the portholes lulled her to sleep. Of course, having given birth not two days ago might have something to do with that …

Even a month ago, she’d have laughed at the thought of finding herself on a foreign ship. But the encroaching winter and the Akharians and her own clan had driven her southwards, close enough to see the unfamiliar vessels tracking along Ricalan’s coast. They weren’t Akharian, her people were sure of that much: the blue, green and gold banners the ships flew were like nothing she’d seen with the imperial legions.

It was Alameda who identified the flag — they came from Tomoa, a nation south of the empire, across the warm southern sea.

Over the summer, the Akharians had pushed south, sweeping across the Mesentreian-held cities and harbours and driving Mira and her people to stay ahead of them. But what role these foreign ships played had remained a mystery. As the cold season approached, it appeared they were retreating for the winter, except for one ship that was forced aground for repairs after an early storm. When an Akharian patrol happened along, Ardamon’s men watched from a distance as the two groups met. There was nothing good-natured about the ribaldry that passed between them, with no aid offered or accepted on either side.

Once the soldiers moved on, Ardamon sent some folk to make contact, and found the men willing to trade for supplies as well as information. They spoke Mesentreian, although it was not their native tongue, and for the most part they were dark-skinned, even darker than Delphine. After a couple of exchanges, Ardamon’s men then met with the captain, who warned them the Akharians would soon be returning. When that patrol came through, the path they followed was well away from where the Ricalanis and the foreigners met: the Tomoans hadn’t given them away. A few days after that, Ardamon went to meet them himself.

The Tomoans had been employed to resupply the empire’s troops, and in between supply runs were taking the opportunity to gather information of their own. The captain, a tall, barrel-chested man named Bayard, knew a great deal of what was happening in the north and knew the Akharians and the Wolf Clan both were hunting for a young woman rumoured to be carrying the last heir to the throne of Ricalan.

While Ardamon gave the Tomoan very little, Bayard was happy to share what he knew of the Akharians and their plans. The Mesentreian settlements fell one after another, with the inhabitants rounded up as slaves; the spring and summer fevers had hit the foreigners hard, and now, he said, there seemed to be some problem with the supply lines back in Akhara.

The situation might have remained as it was, with Ardamon learning all he could but offering only scraps in return, if the Wolf Clan hadn’t succeeded in turning one of Mira’s inner circle. Weeks away from giving birth, she’d been forced to seek another shelter. With winter drawing near, food in short supply, and both their enemies closing in, things were growing desperate. Just how Captain Bayard learnt of this was never clear, but it seemed the Akharians knew of the Wolf Clan’s discovery, too. The captain guessed at what was going on and offered his assistance.

It was a huge risk. They had no way of knowing if Bayard meant to turn them in for a reward, but they had little choice. If they stayed, it would be down to the flip of a coin whether Wolf men or Akharians found them first.

She’d gone into labour less than a week after stepping on board.

Somewhere, the babe began to cry, and Mira was instantly awake. She sat up, fumbling with bedclothes, as Rhia slipped inside with the wailing baby. ‘He’s just woken up, my lady.’

‘Thank you, Rhia. Ah, hush hush, little one. If you didn’t fall asleep so quickly, you’d eat enough to stay full longer …’ As Rhia propped cushions behind her, Mira opened her shirt and began the unwieldy procedure of attaching the disconsolate baby to her breast. ‘Bright Sun, I swear, I’ve never seen any beast struggle so to get their babes to suck.’

Rhia watched with her lips pursed. ‘I wish I could be of more help, my lady, but my master was a surgeon and a pharmacist, never a midwife. That said, you’re not truly having trouble, I think. It’s just that you and the lad are still learning how it works.’

It took several tries, but after a few minutes Mira leant back against the cushions to smile down at her son. ‘There we are, hungry little beast.’

The baby wore a little tunic that had been cut down from a man’s
yaka
-cloth shirt. Around his neck on a red cord hung a bright gold amulet that was said to frighten off evil spirits. Captain Bayard had bestowed it on the baby, just as he’d given her the feather bed and the cushions stacked behind her. Bayard was ecstatic that a prince had been born upon his ship, and at least once a day he found some small luxury to send to his guest. He had daughters her age, he told her, and it seemed he looked upon her with a paternal pride. It felt very strange to Mira, for her relationship with her own father was formal and distant, as he belonged to another clan and had no formal ties with her mother. Her nearest male relation was Dremman, and though she’d doted on him — and he on her — as a child, she knew he’d never gaze on her with such unabashed delight again, not after she’d turned her back on her clan.

With a tap at the door, Amaya slipped inside, bearing a steaming beaker and a dish of pastries. ‘Lord Ardamon wishes to speak to you, my lady,’ she said, ‘and I brought these in case you were hungry.’

She was always ravenous these days. Mira bit into one of the pastries, tasting sweetened goat’s milk cheese and sending a dusting of crumbs over the baby’s head. The little lad was oblivious. Mira held the pastry in her teeth while she hastily brushed the crumbs away, just as Ardamon ducked through the low door. ‘How are you, Mira?’

‘Mm … still weary, but getting better. Is there news?’

‘We saw sails in the west before the clouds moved in. Bayard thinks it might be the ship coming to meet us.’

Mira frowned at him over her half-eaten pastry. ‘Have you managed to find out how they contacted the other ships?’

Ardamon shook his head. ‘Alameda says it’s mage-craft. She says there are enchantments all over the ship, but she’s been particularly curious about a particular contraption, up high on the mast. The first mate asked Floren to keep her off the main deck, saying she’s distracting the men.’

‘Smooth,’ Mira said. It was plausible too. Alameda was as sweet and lovely as a spring flower. ‘Has the whole crew been trained in diplomacy, do you think?’

She meant it as a joke, but Ardamon seemed to take the question seriously. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if the officers were, at least. I’ve not spoken to one of them that made me think he couldn’t be a spy.’

‘Well, they tracked us down neatly enough, didn’t they?’ Mira said, adjusting the baby in her arms. ‘Do you still trust them, Ardo?’

‘For now,’ he said, ‘but keep your wits about you. If this ship is the one they’ve been waiting for, I have the feeling things are going to start moving, very soon.’

Mira pursed her lips, nodding, and called for Amaya.

The girl peeked in from the cramped chamber outside. ‘Fetch me some hot water for bathing, please, and ask Anoa to come help me dress and fix my hair.’ As the girl withdrew, Mira eyed Ardamon. ‘Go and put on your best shirt and wash your face. Make sure the men are presentable, too.’

He raised one eyebrow, but didn’t bother to argue. ‘As you wish, your grace,’ he said with a sardonic tone, and left, leaving Mira frowning after him.

‘Well, really,’ she said to the babe at her breast. ‘There’s no need to be like that.’

Some time passed before the little lad had finished nursing and Mira was clean and dressed with her hair bound up in elegant braids, but as she emerged from her cabin, Ardamon was waiting to help her to the upper deck. She’d been offered the captain’s rooms, but had demurred, preferring to keep her people together. Instead, they had been granted the officers’ quarters, below the rearward deck. To emerge, one had to climb a steep ladder. Mira hadn’t faced it since she’d last made an undignified descent with her vastly pregnant belly in the way. Now, still aching from the labour and wearing the babe strapped to her chest with a wide band of cloth, she felt only slightly less ungainly, but she kissed the lad on the top of his head and began to climb with Ardamon right behind her.

Above, a fitful breeze carried the scent of snow. The sky was grey, and to the west the horizon was lost in fog.

Captain Bayard was pacing back and forth by the ship’s wheel with the stately meander of a man who prefers to think on his feet. He wore a jacket of dark blue wool, a finer garment than the well-used grey coat he usually wore. As Mira approached, he hurried forwards to offer his arm. ‘Good afternoon, my lady. I trust you are well? And the little prince too?’

‘Very well, thank you, captain. Ah … is it afternoon already?’

‘My dear lady, please don’t concern yourself with such trifling matters. New babes keep their own clocks, and make a mockery of any efforts to teach them time by the sun and stars.’

Mira painted a smile with her lips, but she made a mental note to have Rhia or Anoa come and wake her at a reasonable hour.
But for what?
she asked herself.
We’ve been driven out of Ricalan, and the Akharians and the cursed clan likely know where we found shelter. We’ve run out of options, and our friends are thousands of miles away, with a whole cursed army between us.
She had been worrying the matter over while she had hauled her ungainly bulk around the ship, alternately dreading and praying for the first pangs of labour. She needed a plan, some way to keep the lad safe and to find his father. What came after that, was even more of a mystery …

‘Captain Bayard, I understand we’re expecting visitors,’ Mira said.

‘I hope so, my lady. I confess I’d be glad of reinforcements. As it is we have only my ship’s mage and your young lass on hand should the wretched imperials try to snatch you from us.’

‘And are you sure the ship that was sighted is Tomoan? Do the Akharians ever impersonate your vessels?’

‘It’s been known, my lady, but we have good reason to trust this vessel — it is simply a matter of when they arrive, and whether the cursed fog sends them off course.’

‘I see,’ Mira said. The hilt of a knife pressed against her ribs beneath her breast-band. Their situation could change in a heartbeat, but what could she do if the Akharians attacked, or if their new allies pulled the little lad from her arms?

As they waited, Mira took the opportunity to show the new babe off to the men. An air of relief hung over them as they gazed down on the sleeping lad — if Mira or the babe had died in birth, it would have laid them all to waste.

It was past mid-afternoon and Mira was contemplating returning to her cabin and her bed when a sailor perched high in the rigging gave a low shout and waved a signal to the men below, pointing to the southwest.

‘Lights!’ Floren said, squinting into the haze. ‘There are lights out there. Can you see them?’

Mira frowned into the featureless mist, but it took her long moments to pick them out: a faint, distant gleaming like fireflies in a field. Then, straightaway, she spotted sails with vertical red and white stripes. The ship was surging forward at an angle to them, but as the sight of it became clearer, the vessel altered its course, speeding straight towards them. It was, Mira realised, simply covered with lights, and not the paltry gleam of oil-lamps or flickering candles, but the steady, solid glow of mage-lights in a warm, yellow hue.

As the ship surged towards them, with no sign of slowing, Ardamon settled a hand on Mira’s shoulder and drew her back to a cluster of his men, with one smaller figure among them. Alameda had bundled her hair up under a knitted cap, and wore an over-large jacket to hide her girlish shape. ‘Mira, stay here until we know what’s happening,’ Ardamon said, glancing back at the charging ship. The men were tense, but none of the ship’s crew seemed concerned. They were alert, even excited, but there was no fear mixed in with their anticipation.

One of the officers, a lanky, stretched-out fellow, came towards Mira with a bow. ‘Do not be concerned, my lady,’ he said in heavily accented Mesentreian. He was the ship’s mage, the only other mage on board aside from Alameda, or so they had been led to believe. ‘Do you see the flag at the stern? The one bearing a sword and crown? It shows there is royalty on board, and princes do not have the patience for wind and tide. They will not strike us, do not fear.’

As the ship grew near, Mira saw men and women arrayed along the rail, clinging to it against the force of the ship’s surge. She watched with her heart thudding in her throat as the oncoming ship turned on the spot and abruptly slowed, coming to rest beside them. The people arrayed along the deck — mages, Mira belatedly realised, perhaps two dozen of them or more — staggered at the sudden shock. The ship’s abrupt halt sent waves rippling through the water around them, setting their own vessel rocking so sharply that Mira grabbed for the men around her to steady herself. She’d been on her feet too long, she realised, and her legs were trembling with strain. Well, it was too late to do anything about that now. She kept her expression in a smooth and neutral smile as she watched the sailors throw ropes between the vessels.

As men hauled on the lines, drawing the ships together, Mira picked out a figure standing amidships on the other craft. He started forward before the ships came to rest, leaping up the stairs to the rear deck. ‘Hello there!’ he called in unaccented Mesentreian. He was very dark-skinned even for a Tomoan, with close-cropped curly black hair, and wore a green jacket trimmed with gold, and a creamy-white shirt. ‘Do I have the honour of addressing Mirasada of the Wolf, mother of the heir to the north?’

Mira drew herself up and stepped out from the circle of guards and started towards the rail. ‘You do,’ she called in reply. ‘Might I have your name, sir?’

The fellow returned her greeting with a broad grin. ‘Certainly! I am Makaio Jemacar Trestrail of Tomoa, and my uncle the king has asked me to make your acquaintance.’ The sailors and mages continued to pull the ships together as they spoke, and by this point there was barely a dozen feet between them. ‘In deference to your condition, my lady, I believe it would be simplest if I were to attend upon you, but first I must beg your indulgence as I debrief Captain Bayard. If it suits you, your grace, shall we convene in an hour?’