The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy (85 page)

“I’m sorry. I did not…realize…”

She trailed off, her apology left unfinished as the woman strode past while shooting Kenders and the Alshers a look of open disgust as she disappeared down the way. Kenders shared a glance with Tiliah and Debrah, both of whom shrugged their shoulders at the woman’s rudeness.

Moving Smoke completely clear of the entranceway, she stopped again, and ran her gaze over the building beside them. A faded red sign with white script letters proclaimed the location to be Thanon’s Arms for Let. The door was shut and wide-planked boards covered the windows. Looking up and down the street, she noted that most of the building here were in similar condition.

As Tiliah directed Goshen to stand between her and the mercenaries’ office, Kenders turned back to eye the stockades office and offered a quick prayer to Ashana, looking for a bit of inspiration. She was still absent a plan.

Debrah asked, “How exactly is this going to work?”

Kenders looked over and found the Alsher matriarch staring across the crowded street at the stockade walls. The hope in her eyes was fading fast, the leftover void filling quickly with doubt and worry. Tiliah, too, eyed the stockades, although more with anger than anything else.

“Three weeks,” muttered Tiliah. “For three blasted weeks they’ve been in there, housed with murderers and thieves.”

Kenders did not want to leave the children in there a moment longer, plan or not. Swinging her leg over Smoke’s rear, she dismounted, moved to the front of her horse, and reached up, handing the reins to Tiliah.

“Hold these. I’ll be back shortly.”

Tiliah stared down at her but did not take the reins.

“You are going alone?”

Kenders paused a moment before saying, “Yes. I am. Now, hold these.”

Still, Tiliah did not take the leather straps.

“What are you going to do?”

“First, I’m going to ask them nicely to let Jerem and Jezra out.”

Debrah stared at her as if she was mad.

With a deep frown etched on her face, Tiliah asked pointedly, “Are you going to
ask
them like you
asked
the guards to let us into the city?”

“Let’s hope I don’t have to,” answered Kenders. “But I will if I must.” Shoving the reins against Tiliah’s leg, she added, “Will you please take the reins?”

Ignoring them still, Tiliah’s tone turned even sharper as she asked, “I appreciate what you are trying to do, but you are risking much. Much more than you should.”

Debrah leaned to the side to stare at her daughter.

“What does that mean?”

Both young women ignored her question.

“We can still go back, Kenders,” said Tiliah quietly.

Kenders shook her head and said, “No. Someone once told me that I have good instincts. That if I follow them, trust myself, and do what comes natural, things will work out. I think I’ll do that.”

Both Tiliah and Debrah’s expressions changed in an instant. Apparently, they both recognized Joshmuel’s words of wisdom. Before either of them could protest, she took Tiliah’s hand, placed Smoke’s reins in them and said, “Hold my horse, please.”

She started to turn toward the street but stopped short. With a short sigh, she looked back.

“Should things…not work out, though. Head back to camp and wait for Zecus and the others. Tell him what I did and where I am.”

Tiliah nodded slowly.

“Be careful. Think before doing
anything
in there.”

With a single nod, Kenders turned away and stepped into the crowd. Two steps in, she mumbled to herself, “Don’t I always?”

Kenders stepped inside the stockades office and skidded to a stop. The cramped room smelled like a horse stall that should have been mucked out two turns back. Saying a silent farewell to the relatively cleaner air outside, she closed the door behind her. The room darkened considerably, lit now only by the diffused light coming through four small, square windows along the front wall.

On the other side of the room, two light-skinned Reed Men stood behind a wooden counter, slouched over a parchment and ogling her, the lopsided grins on their faces owning a certain leering quality that she did not appreciate.

She suppressed a grimace and approached the counter, studying the room as she walked. Two rickety wooden tables and seven chairs were jammed against the wall to her left, while, to her right, eight rusty metal shackles were bolted into the wood, four up high, four down low. It was easy to imagine two souls clamped within.

As she looked back to the men, the overweight soldier on her right elbowed his companion, a short a man with thinning brown hair and jagged scar across his forehead. The scarred man smiled wide.

“Good days ahead, my lovely.”

Stopping at the counter and seeing no special markings on the soldier’s uniform, she said, “And good days behind, Footman…?” She trailed off, hoping he would offer his name. He did.

“Rias,” replied the man quickly. “Footman Ethan Rias.” He stood a bit taller before boasting, “Although, in short order, I’ll be a corporal.”

Sensing an opportunity, Kenders steeled herself, gave Footman Rias a sweet, syrupy smile, and swooned, “A corporal? Oh, my.”

The overweight soldier stared at Ethan, a gap-toothed grin covering most of his face, and laughed, “Corporal Rias? Hah! When the marshes turn to sand!” He shifted his gaze to Kenders, letting it drift from her face, to her waist, and back up again. “My name is Mitus. How can
I
help you?”

Suppressing another shudder, she said, “Well, I was hoping you could do something for me.” Glancing at the parchment on the counter, she saw a long list of what appeared to be names. Taking a chance, she asked, “Might that be a list of the prisoners?”

Short and bald Ethan leaned in front of Mitus and said, “Yes, my lovely, it is.” Mitus glared at him from behind.

“Wondrous!” said Kenders. “Could you tell me if you are housing a young boy and girl here? Two young Borderlanders named Alsher?”

The guards looked at one another briefly before Mitus turned back to her, a touch of suspicion in his eyes.

“That’s an odd thing to ask. Might I ask why you want to know?”

Kenders hesitated, trying to think of a plausible reason, before saying, “Yesterday, I spotted two young refugees stealing from my father’s cooling window. When Father reported it to a Reed Man today, the soldier told us to check here. He recalled you having already hooked a pair of bread thieves.”

Mitus’ eyes narrowed.

“Why did he send you here and not the Marshal House?”

Kenders stared at the man, a blank expression on her face.

“I don’t know why. He just said to come here.”

Ethan folded his arms over his chest and frowned.

“When did you see this crime occur again?”

“Yesterday?” offered Kenders. She did not know if the room was hot or not, but she was suddenly sweating.

“How did you know their names?” asked Mitus.

“And what did they take?” followed Ethan.

Kenders’ gaze danced between the pair as she wondered which question to answer. She chose the easier of the two.

“Two loaves of rye-grain bread.”

“Are you sure?” asked Ethan.

Kenders nodded.

“Yes.”

Mitus tilted his head to the side.

“Tell me, miss, has your family managed to craft a recipe for rye-grain bread that does not require rye-grain?”

A pair of deep furrows split Kenders’ brow.

“Pardon?”

“All rye-grain comes up from Nebekah,” said Ethan. “The fields here are too wet to grow it. And considering the road to Nebekah has been more or less free of caravans for three weeks now, there has been no rye-grain in the city for some time now. Hells, there’s no flour, at all.
Nobody
is baking
anything
. Even the duke’s table is without bread.”

Kenders glanced quickly between the two men.

“Ah…we had some in our stores.”

“Did you?” asked Mitus. “Where is your family’s bakery? Which district?”

“It’s in the…ah…”

As she stumbled with her answer, Mitus began to move down the length of the counter, heading to an opening. Kenders frowned. So far, trusting her instincts was not going well at all.

“Oh…Hells.”

If she wanted Jerem and Jezra free, she was going to need to use the Strands to do it. Eyeing the soldiers, she decided she only needed one of them to retrieve the children for her. The other one merely needed to be quiet.

Mitus was on her side of the counter now, only paces away from her, his hand on his hilt.

“What mischief are you up to, girl?”

Had she more time, she could have subdued Mitus using any number of Weaves. At the moment, however, she needed to stop him.

Now.

And quickly.

She stared at the advancing Reed Man, wanting nothing more than for him to fall into a deep, restful sleep. With a suddenness that startled her, a Weave popped into existence before her, fully complete and whole. Mostly silver with a bit of gold and white flickering at the center of the pattern, the Weave whipped toward Mitus. A wave of tiredness washed over her, but it was not as bad as she had expected.

The Weave touched Mitus, his legs gave out and he crashed to the floor like a sack of potatoes. As Ethan leaned over the counter, peering wide-eyed at Mitus, Kenders reached for the golden Strands of Will, knit together a quick Weave, and directed it over him.

Keeping her tone firm and direct, Kenders said, “There’s no need to worry, Ethan. None at all. Remain calm and quiet.”

The man shifted his gaze to her and, without a moment’s hesitation, nodded.

“Of course, my lovely.”

“I said, remain quiet. And stop calling me ‘my lovely.’”

The man nodded once.

“Of course.”

Satisfied that the Weave seemed to be mostly working, Kenders said, “There are two Borderlands children here by the name of Jerem and Jezra Alsher. Bring them to me as quickly as you can.”

“Right away,” replied the man, already staring at the parchment on the counter while dragging a calloused, dirty finger along the sheet. Halfway down, he stopped, tapped it twice, and turned around, moving to a closed door on the back wall.

As he grabbed the handle, Kenders said, “Do not tell
anyone
why you are retrieving them. In fact, say nothing at all until you are back in this room.”

“Of course, miss. I’ll be just a moment.”

He turned and disappeared into a hallway, closing the door behind him. Kenders eyed the doorway, happy that the man had the manners to call her ‘miss’ now.

Looking down at Mitus, she wondered if she should move him from the middle of the office floor. Should someone walk into the stockades now, questions would surely fly.

She grabbed the man’s right boot with the intention of pulling him back behind the counter and began tugging as hard as she could, eyeing the door the entire time, expecting a Tracker to burst inside any moment. After straining for a short while, she managed to move Mitus only a pace or two. The man might only be as tall as Nikalys, but he weighed as much as Broedi. With a disappointed huff, she dropped his leg back to the floor with a thud.

“You’re staying there.”

She could move him with magic, but did not want to cause any more of an alert than she already had. A muted, metal jingling drew her attention to the back door. With a rattle and a creak, the door opened. A girl and boy, both dark-skinned with coarse, black hair, emerged from the darkened hall and stepped into the room. Confused yet hopeful expressions rested on their faces.

Jezra was twelve years old and not near the beauty her older sister was, but the resemblance to Tiliah and Debrah was still evident. Jerem was a nine year old, smooth-faced version of Zecus. Both were dressed in rags, their torn shirts and breeches shredded and filthy. Ethan marched behind them, his hands on their shoulders, directing the children.

Kenders allowed herself a small smile. She had found them.

Her smile fled.

Now to get them out of the office.

“Stop there, Ethan.” ordered Kenders. “They can come forward on their own.”

The soldier halted and removed his hands from the pair’s shoulders. Though free of his grasp now, the children did not move. Jerem was staring at the snoring Reed Man splayed out before the break in the counter while Jezra was glaring at Kenders, suspicion in her eyes.

Her tone firm and demanding, the girl asked, “Who are you?” If Jezra was afraid, she did not show it.

Offering a kind, reassuring smile, Kenders said, “My name is Kenders. I am a…friend of your brother’s.”

The children glanced at one another, their brows wrinkling in confusion. Kenders certainly understood why. They had not seen Zecus in a long time. And when they last had, he was marching west, back to the Borderlands. Her light skin and hair clearly marked her from the east.

Jerem looked back to her and asked, “What’s his name?”

“Zecus,” replied Kenders. “Zecus Alsher.”

“And how do you know him?” asked Jezra.

“We met a few turns past.” She paused a moment before adding, “In the Southlands of all places.” The truth might be hard for them to believe, but Kenders was done trying to make up stories after failing miserably with the Ethan and Mitus.

“Impossible,” said Jezra with a firm shake of her head. “Zecus left us. He went home to fight.”

Nodding slowly, Kenders said, “True. But something happened that brought him east. When we met, he helped my family, so now I’m helping his.”

Both children continued to stare at her, the skepticism on their faces as easy to spot as a full White Moon in a cloudless night sky.

“He’s here, you know,” added Kenders. “Out in the camps, searching for you.”

That revelation brought some light to Jerem’s eyes. Jezra remained dubious, however. Both remained silent.

“Tiliah and I were out—”

“Tiliah’s back, too?” asked Jerem, hopeful excitement in his voice.

Nodding, Kenders said, “Yes. She and I found your mother earlier. They’re outside, waiting for us right now.” She held out a hand. “Come with me and we can go see them.”