In Her Shadow (6 page)

Britta wasn't sure it was him at first, as she leaned against the window staring out into the darkness.

"What was he doing here?" she asked herself in a little whisper.

"Hm?"

Britta turned as Weboshi set a tray of food down on her table. "Dux Lucius. I just saw him leaving."

"Yes, he met with the Abbess of Night. Showed him there myself."

"I wonder what they met about."

"I couldn't say."

"Did he ask about me?"

"No," said Weboshi as she uncovered the tray of food. "Eat."

Which Britta dutifully did, bite by bite, slowly, not really tasting the food as she chewed.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. I mean, I understand why he'd want to meet with her. I thought, though. . ." Britta sighed and shook her head.

"'Thought' what, New Moon?"

"The Abbess gave me a speech last night about leadership and learning to do things my own way. I thought – since he's to be my husband – she would have sent Dux Lucius to me to deal with." Britta pushed the tray away from her. "The Goddess wants me to lead in my own way? That's just what I'll do." She snatched her cloak from its rack next to the door and threw it over her shoulders.

"Where are you going?"

"To catch Dux Lucius and talk with him."

"What?" Weboshi shook her head, eyes down. "New Moon, you mustn't."

"Why? Because it's dangerous? We both know that isn't true. I proved that last night."

"New Moon–"

"What?"

"Dux Lucius was attacked last night."

"I know. I was there."

"You don't understand, New Moon. He was attacked a second time, by assassins."

Britta cracked the door. "All the more reason for me to go to him."

"No." Weboshi grabbed Britta's arm.

"What is your problem, Weboshi?"

"Just because you stopped a group of muggers doesn't mean you'll stop a group of assassins."

"And how would you know?"

"Why shouldn't I know? The Abbess of Night didn't give the order to have him killed. That's what he was doing here. She's angry the citizens of this city acted without her order. And if they're willing to defy her, do you think they'd be afraid to kill you if you got in the way?"

"The Abbess of Night–"

"Had no idea. Heard it with my own two ears."

"She's a master liar. . ."

"Not if you've known her as long as I have."

Britta's head swam. Someone had acted without the Abbess of Night's express orders. It wasn't just a blow to the Abbess's authority, but a blow to the worldview of every native of Ankshara. The city really was changing, wasn't it? Not just a shift in attitudes and mores, but all its old power structures too. Or was the attack to preserve those power structures? Had it become necessary in the minds of some extremists to destroy Ankshara in order to save it?

"New Moon?"

"I'm sorry. I'm just. . ." She pulled the door open and stepped out.

"New Moon! Britta!"

Britta swiveled around, her cloak flaring out as she rounded on Weboshi. "I have a duty to this abbey and the people of Ankshara. I'm not Abbess yet, but I still have a role to play. Dux Lucius is to be my husband. If there's a good man beneath that harsh exterior, I'll have to find it, even if I have to mine it out with a pickax."

"Britta, his people–"

"I know what they did to you, to us. You don't have to remind me. No one has to remind me. It breaks my heart, but it's over. The war is over. The Siege is over. I'm supposed to lead us into the future. Well, this is how I plan to do it. Reconciliation. Isn't that what my marriage is supposed to represent? I'm not saying we have to forget what the Regnals did, what they took from us. I'm saying we have to move on, Weboshi, before our anger eats us up."

Weboshi's lips quivered. "What purpose does going to him when he's in danger serve? The Abbess still lives. Your waxing could yet be years away. Why take on this responsibility, this weight, before your time?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

Weboshi glared at the ground and shook her head. "May She hide you in Her shadow," she said.

"May She hide you in Her shadow."

***

Head down and cloak pulled tight, Britta slipped through the darkened street. She hoped to give the impression she was in no mood to stop to offer blessings, no mood to tell the men that might proposition her her gifts were not to be bought or sold. Unmolested, she passed by drunken sailors, merchants closing up their shops, her own sisters, pickpockets, soldiers making their lackadaisical way through a city that hated them. Would it hate her too? When she married the Dux, would its people revile her as a traitor? What about the citizens of the Regnal Empire? When they looked at her, was a foreign whore all they'd see? These thoughts hadn't occurred to her before; they were distractions keeping her from the task at hand. She shoved them deep down inside for further consideration later. Now was not the time to second guess. She'd made a decision to do her duty as the New Moon, and do it her way. So with a determination she hadn't felt before, she let no one stop her, slow her down, or even catch her eye. The crowd must have sensed her mood, because it parted for her, letting her move through it like a swallow through a storm cloud.

It wasn't long before she came to the gate house of the Governor's manse. Unlike last time, the guardhouse at the gate was surrounded by soldiers milling about. Not the mercenaries the Governor usually employed either, but a proper Regnal cohort. They played cards, dice, laughed as they chattered. They didn't stop as she neared, either. Usually, a priestess approaching with her cloak drawn elicited quiet respect, but these men – foreigners all – payed her no mind until she was upon them, ready to pass them by.

One, a tall slender man with a wicked scar across his nose, jumped to his feet and leaned his spear across the gate. "No you don't," was all he said.

"I'm here to see Dux Lucius."

"Too bad," the soldier said. "No one's allowed in. No locals, and especially no priestess of your whore-goddess."

The soldiers laughed. Britta grit her teeth, narrowed her eyes. "I'm his intended."

"So? You're not his wife yet. And that means–"

A bell – or maybe an iron triangle – rang high and tinny from the porch in the distance. Not once or twice, not in any pattern that seemed like a code, but a long string of frantic reverberations. The soldiers grabbed their things, but didn't say anything, all straining to hear something else, as if expecting more.

A young Regnal boy came running down the path, his feet kicking up dust behind him. Red faced, he bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.

"What is it, Valex?" asked the tall soldier.

"Ava," the boy said between gasps. "The Dux's daughter. Someone has taken her."

Britta gasped. She covered her mouth as every eye shifted from the boy to her – except the tall soldier. "You two," he said pointing to a pair of soldiers. "No one gets in or out of this gate. You two take the north edge of the wall. You two south. Search the perimeter until you meet in the middle."

"What about her?" said one of the soldiers, thumbing a finger at Britta.

The tall soldier grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her through the gates, heedless of her station or how rough he was being. "She's coming with me."

He hauled her up the path and through the front door, the boy trailing behind them. For a place that seemed like it should be in a tizzy over the absence of a favored child, the ballroom was oddly silent. The soldier's fingers tightened around her arm. He pulled her up the stairs and down a hall that led, Britta assumed, towards the girl's room. And she wasn't wrong, mostly. It wasn't a child's room, but a soldier's with a little cot in the corner upon which rested a handful of stuffed animals and dolls. The Governor, the Dux, and a few others Britta didn't recognize, gathered around it in silence, as if each lost in his own thoughts, trying to figure out how this had happened, where Ava could be and what to do next.

Dux Lucius was the first to notice Britta and the soldier's arrival. He swiveled towards them, his face as blank as ever. "Captain Marcus?"

The soldier snapped his heels. "Dux Lucius, I dispatched men to secure the walls as soon as I heard."

"Good. But why did you bring her here?"

"She was at the gate when we heard the news. I don't know. I thought maybe. . ."

"That I was involved?" Britta yanked free from the soldier's grasp. She'd had about enough of people jerking her around by that particular appendage, and was glad she'd left her dagger back at home because she was sorely tempted to gut the man.

"I don't blame you for considering the idea, Captain Marcus, but I doubt she had anything to do with this," said the Governor. "Take her away."

The soldier reached for her again but she stepped away. "I'm not leaving. I can help."

"Help?" asked Dux Lucius, his voice cool, measured. How could a man whose daughter was missing be so restrained? If it had been her own, Britta knew she'd be up the wall with panic. "How can you help?"

Britta furrowed her brow. "I don't know, but I want to."

The Governor gave a little shake of his head. "Get her out of here."

Britta threw up a hand. "Wait!"

"What?"

"I really can help. I can talk to the Abbess of Night, get her to marshal our forces. Between your soldiers and the abbey, we can find her."

"Assuming you didn't take her in the first place," said the Governor.

Britta's gaze swung wildly between the Dux and Governor. The abbey did bad things, yes, but only insofar as they controlled those bad things. People were going to rob, loot, and smuggle no matter what. The abbey controlled that, measured it, kept in and check. Britta would have wagered the abbey caught and punished more criminals than the Regnal garrison ever had. The implication they – and by extension, she – would be involved in the kidnapping of a nobleman's daughter was ridiculous and offensive.

Britta stomped one foot forward then thought better of it. Mid-stride, cheeks burning with rage, she swiveled away from them. Someone grabbed her arm.

"I swear to the Goddess, the next person who grabs me there–"

The hand yanked her around until she faced the Dux himself. "Help us," he said, his voice firm, commanding.

"Why should I?"

"Please." Something about the Dux's voice shifted. Slight, nearly imperceptible, a ripple under the surface of a calm lake. "She's my daughter."

Britta dashed through the streets. She'd opted not to go under guard – too slow. The soldiers didn't know the city the way she did, the divots, the back alleys, potholes and gutters, especially not at night. The Governor had tried to insist, but she rebuffed him for that reason and another: the political situation was tenuous. Did he know it? Could he feel it in the air the way she could? She didn't have to eavesdrop on the whispers and murmurs of the citizenry, she could sense it. The whole city knew, the Abbess of Night most assuredly did. In that, Britta wasn't bringing news to the old woman, but acting as an envoy. If she had soldiers with her, that might make the Abbess nervous, make the abbey think their New Moon had already slipped into Regnal hands. Britta knew that. If she wanted the Abbess of Night's help–

Britta froze in place at the old gate leading to the abbey. A shiver shot through her. Of course the Abbess knew. She'd probably orchestrated it. Right? Was going to her a mistake? Not the sort Britta would be punished for, most likely. Assuming her suspicions were true, the Abbess had planned for this too. So should she play along or what?

Indecision was her only response. So she stood in the night air, counting her breaths as she considered the situation. Could the Abbess of Night have done this? Could – yes. But could have and would have were two different things. The second one was what vexed Britta. The old woman was sneaky, duplicitous by nature. Worse, she was grumpy, querulous. That being said, she wasn't stupid. She lived in a dubious political situation. This was the sort of pretext the Regnals needed to bypass their treaty and simply annex the city. They could skip all the formalities of power sharing, the slow absorption of Ankshara into the imperial fold. No, kidnapping Ava was much too dangerous for the abbey, for Ankshara. There was no way the Abbess would have risked giving the Governor the excuse he needed to crack down.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it hadn't been the Abbess of Night, but one of the Regnals. Not the Dux. No. Perhaps she might have suspected him of such cold calculation before, but seeing him tonight, the split second where his practiced calm faltered and genuine concern for his daughter shined through, erased any of her doubts.

The Governor himself, however; he might have. He barely knew the girl, most likely, having lived so far apart for so long. More, Regnals didn't value daughters as much as they did sons, and he might have seen her as the key to political expedience. Was he capable of that level of cruelty? To steal his own granddaughter to use as a pretext for conquest? Maybe. Britta didn't know enough to say.

There also remained the possibility the girl had simply wandered off. But the Regnals didn't seem to be under that impression. Britta hadn't thought to ask why.

Whichever of these things were true, it did no good to stand outside all night pondering. She had to act.  Britta took the steps to the porch two at a time, and breezed inside, then up the steps of the main hall and down to the Abbess of Night's room. The door cracked before she could knock, and she stepped inside.

"You've been to the Governor's manse," said the Abbess from her darkened corner.

"Yes, Abbess."

"And you rushed right here to tell me the Governor's granddaughter is missing."

"Yes, Abbess. Well, no. I know you'd know already."

"Indeed. Then why were you in such a hurry to return?"

"To beg your assistance on behalf of the Dux."

"My help? They don't suspect us having done it."

Britta shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Odd."

"Did we?"

The old woman's face resolved into form, its paleness a sharp contrast to the darkness surrounding it. "Do you think I would do such a thing?"

"That's not an answer."

The Abbess of Night sighed. "No, it's not. My apologies. I'm so used to these games now that it's difficult to give a straight answer even when I mean to. I did not take the girl."

"Then who?"

"That's a good question, one I don't know the answer to."

"How–"

"How do I not know something that happened in my own city? I'm not magic, Britta. Oracles and diviners are a lie. Fortunetelling bunco-artists all. I rely on an army of spies. Good spies. Spies that infiltrate every facet of this city at every level. From street sweepers to accountants, to first mates of pirates, I have eyes and ears everywhere."

"Which means the person who did this would have to know that. There's more, though, isn't there?"

"Think it through, New Moon."

"Someone the spies would know and trust. Someone who they knew was close to the Abbess of Night, worked closely enough with her that his or her word would be as good as your own."

The Abbess of Night didn't say anything, her lips pulled thin as she waited for Britta to work it out.

"Weboshi."

The Abbess of Night gave a slight nod.

A vein in Britta's abbey throbbed to life. She rubbed it, trying to quell the ache. It couldn't be. Britta had spoken to her just before she'd left. There was no way Weboshi could have beat her to the Governor's manse and staged a kidnapping, even with her knowledge of the city's shot cuts and secret passages. But then, she wouldn't have to do it personally. Isn't that what Britta herself had just deduced? The Governor's guard and his various ministers were Regnals, but surely he didn't import household staff. A paid off maid, cook, maybe even an actual nanny.

The vein in Britta's throbbed again. This was insane. Weboshi had been her mother, or near enough. Now Britta had to hunt her down. Perhaps Weboshi was completely innocent, but if she wasn't, Britta would have to watch the woman who suckled her from the edge of death met with death herself.

"Britta?"

"I'm sorry, Abbess of Night, I'm thinking."

"About where Weboshi might be? Have you figured it out?"

"I can't."

"You can, New Moon. Think aloud if you have to."

Britta tried, visualizing it in her mind's eye. She saw Weboshi's henchmen, dragging Ava through the streets. But no, too obvious. Plus, the girl could cry out. So perhaps they had drugged her, or gagged her, and stuffed her in a sack. Focusing on the "how," however, only distracted Britta from the more important question of "where?" There was nowhere in the city for Weboshi's accomplices to hide with a little girl that either the Abbess or the Governor couldn't find them – and if they could hide, the question of how Weboshi had pulled that off became important again.

"We have to figure out who helped her," Britta said.

"All right. Who were they?"

"I'm not sure. Other cloaked sisters? But to go against you, they would have to be especially sneaky or especially disloyal. I find it hard to believe."

"So–"

"So I think Weboshi's betrayal is an aberration. It might not even be a betrayal, in her eyes."

"So not one of us."

"No ma'am. But outside forces, people who want to see conflict between the abbey and the Regnals."

"Who would gain from that?"

"The Regnals. But–"

The Abbess of Night smiled. "Go on."

"But they wouldn't dare. Pretext isn't enough. There's no way they have enough troops to put down a riot in the city. Any move on us without absolute proof we were responsible. . ."

"Ah, but if Weboshi is caught with the girl."

Britta shook her head. "No – no. She wouldn't help the Regnals betray her own. She hates them."

"So, who then?"

"The merchants, maybe."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I – I just intuited it."

"Not good enough. Think, girl."

Britta furrowed her brow. Was she sweating? She felt like she was sweating. "They might think the Regnals will clean up the city. They wouldn't have to pay us protection anymore, nor would they have to worry about crime – or not as much."

The Abbess of Night smiled her toothless smile. "Good. Now, where is she?"

"With access to merchant ships, they could smuggle her out of the city."

"True, but to what end?"

"You're right. They want to make a statement of some sort. Anyway, it's the obvious solution."

The Abbess's grin grew broader. "Go on."

"You told me Weboshi is a fool, but she's not. You've had her as your right hand for decades. Even if you've taught me nothing, you must have taught her a lot. She knows the best place to hide is in the open, where anyone might find her."

"She's still in the city."

Britta's lip quivered. "She's not just still in the city. She's here, in the abbey."

The Abbess of Night rubbed her whiskery chin. Her eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to say something, but before the words escaped her lips, Britta dashed out of the room and down the hall.

***

Britta pressed her ear to the door and listened. She'd never done such a thing before, never had reason to. What had she expected to hear? She wasn't sure, and indeed, not a sound came from within. Around her, though, rustled her sisters' cloaks as they shuffled towards her. The Abbess of Night must have summoned them. Good, because if Britta's hunch was right, she couldn't stomach the idea of facing Weboshi alone.

She shushed the girls as they huddled around her. None of them spoke, their eyes darting to one another nervously. Did they know what was happening, or simply sensed something in the air?

Britta pushed the door open, leaning into it as if it needed more force than was necessary. She peeked through the crack. Ava slumped in Britta's own chair next to the window. Weboshi stood beside her, brushed the girl's hair. Was the girl even alive? Britta shoved the dark thought down inside her as far as it would go.

"Come in," said Weboshi, without looking up from her work on Ava's hair.

Britta pressed her fingers to her lips, then pointed to the floor, hoping her sisters understood to stay put unless they were needed. They all nodded, slowly. She stepped through the doorway and stood, bathed in moonlight. From here, she could see Ava's pale little face clearly. The girl's eyes were closed and her expression limp. The fear she might be dead fought its way back to the forefront of Britta's thoughts.

"Weboshi–"

"Don't lecture me. These Regnal sonsofbitches have taken everything from us – from me. Soon they'll take you. And when they're done turning you into a proper Regnal wife, they'll take this abbey too."

"So it's revenge? Did you kill her?"

Weboshi set the brush down. "I was going to. Goddess help me, I was going to."

Britta inched her way toward Weboshi and the girl. "But you're not going to now?"

Weboshi's eyes glistened with tears. "No. I couldn't. I wanted to strangle the life out of her. I wanted to take one of their daughters the way they'd taken mine. But then I saw her sleeping so quiet. Can you hear her little snores? How could I, Britta? How could I even consider it? What have I done?"

Weboshi broke down into sobs. "New Moon," she said,  voice quivering, "I am undone. They'll kill me for this."

Britta threw her arms around the crying woman. "Yes." Britta choked on her own tears as the words rose in her throat. "They will."