Over The Sea (30 page)

Most of the girls' journeys were uneventful, including mine. (So if you want to read only about our adventures, you can go ahead and have some chocolate pie through the next bit. What I'm putting in here is a record of our doings — our really big adventures came later.)

I transferred to their biggest city, Ujey. They had a transfer place in a big square outside the royal palace, like most countries seem to have, Clair said. It was the same destination pattern as on the map, which suggested no terrible changes there, and the city was clean and pleasant. Streets leading away from the square were all paved with brick-colored stone, in patterns, and the buildings were tall, also stone, with big windows, mostly inset into archways, and lots of flower boxes. It was warmer there than home. Clair had said that it might be, as they were closer to the equator.

I was wearing my nicest dress, my midnight blue velvet one, and my pair of good shoes, though my outfit didn't look anything like the clothes the people around me wore. They all wore bright colors in varying shades and layers.

It was easy to get an audience. The queen, a grandmotherly woman, was kind enough to me, though I could tell she thought that it was charming that Mearsies Heili was ruled by a little kiddie; I would have resented that, but Clair had warned me straitly to expect it and not to mind. We'd prove ourselves one day — and in the meantime, she really hadn't done much of a job.

That was your mother's fault I thought, but didn't say it. Just.

Anyway my resentment disappeared when the queen asked me if it was true we had granted the Auknuges proprietary rights, and I filled her in, with details, on just how wrong that was. I could tell she didn't like Fobo, had never liked her ever since they were young princesses, and the smile she gave me at the end of my description of some of our adventures was maybe thin, and maybe grownup, but I could tell she'd enjoyed hearing about how we were reclaiming our land and its assets, bit by bit.

We then talked about the Chwahir, and this time she flushed with anger. “It isn't Kwenz,” she said quickly. “So much as how your words about him remind me of the dreadful news I hear from Chwahirsland over on the Sartoran continent.” She leaned forward, frowning. For a moment I sensed she wasn't talking to a little kiddie, but to a representative of another government. “I hope, I trust, that we shall have naught to do with King Shnit Sonscarna over here. He is Kwenz's younger brother, did you know that? Yet there he is, king of the mighty Land of the Chwahir, and the older brother is here in this strange little outpost on your border.”

“Are there any more of them?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.

:It is said, and I believe it, that there were other brothers, but Shnit had them all killed.”

I remembered what little Puddlenose had told us, and found it easy to believe. “We're too small for the likes of him,” I predicted confidently.

“As well,” she said, rising. “As well. Oh.” She lifted her chin as bells rang in the distance. “An ambassadorial party at which I must appear and eat food I don't want and drink wine I dislike, but such is duty. “ She hesitated, then looked at me with a frown — not a nasty one, more like a puzzled one, and I realized she was thinking that I was an ambassador, and she ought to invite me, but would I like that party.

“I think I ought to report to Clair,” I said. “This is important news you've told me.”

Her brow cleared. “Indeed. Return to your Clair, and tell her that I shall send her an envoy, since you do not have a court and therefore have no need of an ambassador in residence. I know just the person. She can wait upon your queen to open trade and communication.”

Seshe, next country over in Reyte, had pretty much the same sort of welcome, though it took longer. They are governed by representatives from each of the Free Cities, and that means you have to listen to a lot of opinions, not just one. Though they do have a chief of their council (who they call a monarch if people from outside expect one, but they rotate the job). They were unanimous about hating the Chwahir, who seemed to like stopping their trade ships and either taxing them or stealing them outright. They also rejected the Auknuges' claims. Fobo, it seemed, had been far too greedy (surprised?) when she first declared herself queen and demanded trade rights, and at the same time heavily taxed imports. (To “protect” her artisans, she said.) But because she claimed the Chwahir as allies, and insisted that Mearsies Heili had granted her rights (and no word from us countering her claims) they had to deal with her. Seshe was told that they let Fobo's ambassador talk a lot, eat a lot, dance at their balls, and throw parties a lot, but they tried to arrange as much of their own trade as they could to the west and north, though it was more expensive that way — and the Free Cities magistrates were delighted with the idea of getting around Fobo and establishing trade with our southern areas, and even farther south, once again.

Diana's trip to Wesset South and Faline's to the Lake province were quiet, the mayors both old, cheerful people, glad that the new queen was ready to take on royal affairs again. And so was Ka Nos, the mayor of Seram Aru, but Clair already knew that.

Clair said privately to me after one of his visits, “Sometimes he talks as if someone sent him, or someone wants to know about me. Not just me as queen, but me as Clair.”

“You mean he asks nosy questions?” I asked, all ready to get affronted on her behalf, even though I liked Ka Nos, who, though he was tall, thin, white-haired and bearded like Shnit and Kwenz, was pleasant, his voice quiet and friendly.

Clair grinned. “It's strange. When you like someone, questions aren't nosy, they are
interested
. If you don't like the person, then you feel like they're poking their nose into your life. Ka Nos seems interested. And he's kind, and I never feel he's nosing. And, well, he could have taken over and set himself up at king without the slightest effort, but he never did, nor does he tell me what to do. Just tries to help me see all sides, and listens while I try to guess the consequences of any decision.”

“Humph,” said I, with my usual fairness. “Well, if it's all right by you, it's all right by me. But if he really is reporting to someone, that's kinda weird.”

“Yeah,” she said, a slight frown between her brows.

So then there was Sherry.

It surprised me a little, that Clair would send Sherry to the place where she expected the possibility of danger. Sherry had volunteered, and it wasn't Clair's way to say
No, I'd rather send one of the other girls
because then she might have to say why, and she would never do that.

Instead, we spent the evening on magic preparations, and before Sherry left, Clair quietly repacked the knapsack Sherry had made up, putting in her magical aids in place of the extra clothes Sherry had thrust in (forgetting that she'd have to lug around all that stuff).

So the knapsack was nice and light when Sherry left — not that she noticed. That's Sherry! She was just glad it was lighter than she'd remembered. The transfer happened, and when she recovered, she found herself on a road alongside one of the smaller rivers that feed off the Wesset, which meanders its way through the Wesset provinces toward the sea.

Wesset North shares its capital, Ladina, with Wesset South. It's a big trade town, but that was not where Clair felt the problems lay. So Sherry was in the northern part of the province, which was marked off by a road and by a series of old forts built by Mearsieans ages ago, to keep an eye on the Shadowland and the Chwahir.

The road stitched the forts and some small trade towns, the biggest of which was at the northwest corner of the province before the river that marked its border from the wild lands at the heart of the country — and where we girls had our hideout.

Sherry had left in the late afternoon, having wasted most of the day seeing everyone off, then eating, then looking at the map, and then at last leaving. So, because the days were still short, the sun was already going down while she made her way westward toward a small village she could see ahead. The land around her was flat. To the south she saw mainly sky, and occasional clumps of trees. To the north, hazy in the distance across No Man's Land, lay the mountains framing the Shadow, no more than a sinister dark line from Sherry's vantage.

But the sight of it was enough to get her moving briskly — until she saw two figures making their way toward her. Kids, a boy and a girl, both somewhat older than her. The girl was red-haired, the same bright, crackling red that Faline had, and this girl had the same number of bright freckles, but where Faline was short and sturdy, this girl was tall and very weedy. She gave Sherry a merry grin, and that's all it took for Sherry to like her instantly.

“Hullo,” Sherry said. “Are you from around here?”

The girl looked surprised, opened her mouth, cocked her head, then said slowly in a distinctive accent, “No. I do not know where we are, but we are not from here, we.”

The boy, who was ordinary, his skin browned and hair bleached by the sun, nodded.

Sherry felt that inward bloom of delight whenever magic brought new kids. “You're Visitors!” she exclaimed.

The two looked at one another, and the boy shrugged, his hands turned out.

The girl said, “It must be so. But how we came to it, that I know not.”

The boy spoke up for the first time. “This is not la France?”

“And have you Madame la Guillotine?” the girl added, making a face.

“It's Mearsies Heili,” Sherry said. “And I don't know who the other is.”

“Not so much who but what. But oh, she demands blood, and more blood, at the price of our heads.”

Sherry looked sick.

The boy said, “But we are alive!”

The girl said, “I don't understand.”

And Sherry put in, “Would it help to say that magic brought you here?”

The boy shrugged, his hands out. “Only a little. Me, I want to know not so much what — but who?”

“I can't tell you that,” Sherry said. “But when visitors come, there seems to be some reason. Clair said something about other worlds, and mirrors of worlds, kind of. Did you know a magician in your world?”

“Magician!” the girl exclaimed. “No, that we did not. The Terror has taken away any whose claims related to religion or rank. All are citizens.” She turned her hands out, much like the boy had. “We knew only that our lands were taken, our food as well, and finally our families, if they dared to speak against the Revolution. What had seemed good, the Rights of Man, became the Rights of Murderers.”

“And so we joined those who fought the murderers,” the boy said. He and the girl exchanged grins. “If any man can be cast down from king to peasant, then by rights anyone can become a king. And so I was the King of the Children, and it angered the Committee.”

“So you were some kind of royalty in your world, is that it?”

The two looked at one another and laughed. “But no!” the girl exclaimed. “We were fighting the Terror. But then, well, to talk too long is to be a bore. Let us say, we heard that ghosts of those whose innocent blood was being spilled every day joined the fight, and we hoped to become them.”

The boy added, “No strength on our own. As ghosts — maybe.”

“Anyway.” The girl shrugged. “Here we seem to be.” She rubbed her freckled hands. “So what can we do to help, as we find ourselves here.”

The boy said, “We know nothing of weapons, but you will be surprised, what a load of road mire will do to a secret meeting.”

“And altered maps.”

“And mysterious messages that send spies hither and yon.”

“And the listening ears of children, dressed as citizen-servants, who no one heeds. But who can warn those in danger.”

They spoke quickly, their accent quite strong. Sherry grinned, liking the two more by the moment. But before she could ask more, they finished rounding a gentle curve, and saw past a rocky, tree-lined hillock the first buildings of the village she'd seen earlier. The shadows were long by now, and orange light glowed in many of the single-story buildings, some with thatch roofs, others with the sandy-colored tile popular elsewhere in the kingdom. Most houses, again, like elsewhere, were round — built round the central fireplace.

Before they'd come far into the village they were met by a tall man who led an assortment of men and boys, most of them carrying farming tools.

“You are strangers, out after curfew,” the man said abruptly.

“Curfew!” Sherry exclaimed. “There are no curfews. Not anymore!”

The man snorted. “There are now. The Guard Captain's own orders. Chwahir are abroad at night, when they see best, and anyone caught outside their homes is carried away to the Shadow and put to work, usually never to be seen again.”

“Clair — the queen — needs to know about this curfew,” Sherry stated.

The man shrugged, and the others all looked at each other, some shifting grip on their hoes and rakes. “Well, the truth is, the Captain says that Wesset North is its own kingdom now. With its own laws.”

“And its own king?” Sherry asked, surprised.

“You can go along tomorrow and ask him. Tonight, for your own sakes, come along with us. You'll get free bed and board in the lockup, and out you go come dawn.”

The men surrounded the three kids, and marched them a little ways through the village. All three noted silhouettes behind curtains, or eyes peeping through shutters. Sherry decided not to make a fuss. She would have the evening to talk, free food, and they had been promised their freedom come morning.

The lockup turned out to be a small room annexed to a stable. No furnishings, but the hard-packed dirt floor had been piled with fresh straw. “You'll be glad you're here,” the man said, gesturing them inside as another lit a lantern for them. “If you hear the Chwahir ridin' through in the night. Two border forts have already fallen,” he added, “I'm told. There may be more.”