The Crow God's Girl (32 page)

The crow king groaned and rolled, curled up. He was naked, hadn’t even clothes to protect him, and she felt triumphant and sick to her stomach both.

“He’s doing it,” she said, shrill and furious. “He made them go malcra.”

There was a strange sound from the walls. Kate turned as if in slow motion to see this fresh danger. Grigar shouted something she didn’t understand and then he pulled her up and away, dragging her. With a whoosh a flaming projectile roared overhead and plunged into the camp. A tent went up in a fireburst, and for a second she had an image of a human caught in the flames.

They were being killed. She had lost all control and she could not get it back, and they would all die because of her.

Another projectile soared overhead, and another. The sky was filled with flame. She smelled a thick chemical smell. Naptha, she thought, dazedly, remembering honors chem class. And then, Weird. Oil? If she survived this, she would have to investigate.

The crows pulled back, as if the danger had begun to overcome the malcra. Or maybe, there was just a delay before the crow king’s spell or whatever it was faded and they regained their senses. Now they were running and screaming away from the walls and the fire, not toward them. The gates began to swing open, and the soldiers of all the Houses surged out in controlled formation, swords and crossbows at the ready, the spine-sharp points of the long lances piercing the air. Black smoke drifted across the field and fires burned fiercely.

The crows would live, Kate thought, a lump in her throat. They would go back to being the crows they had always been, living on the edges of the bounty of Aeritan, but they would live. The dream they had of a homeland, of a say in their fortunes, that dream was dead, but the crows themselves would live.

That was, only if she secured their safety.

She turned to Grigar. “They’re calming down. Find your brothers and Ossen and get everyone away.”

He shook his head. “No. Kett. Come now.” Again he tried to pull her with him.

“Grigar, go. It’s over. Otherwise you’ll be captured with me. Go.”
And no sense in anyone’s head but mine being at stake
. She pushed at him and he stumbled backward as if he had lost all of his strength.

“Do this last thing for me,” she begged him through an aching throat. “Please, Grigar. Find your family, take everyone to safety. Go.”

He shook his head but he took a step back and then another. His eyes flicked over to the approaching army, and she could see him consider the odds. Then Grigar did something surprising–he pulled her to him and kissed her full on the mouth.

“We’ll come for you. I promise it, my lady. Do not despair.”

He backed away, and she turned to face the soldiers, hands over her head, to distract them from his escape.

She hoped that hands up signified surrender. She had no white flag, and she doubted that even meant the same thing here. So her hands in the air would have to do. She flinched at every crossbow bolt and lance leveled at her and tried to steel herself.

Someone called out an order and the soldiers halted. She swallowed hard and came forward a few more steps, out of the smoke and the fire. The air was acrid with the smell and her nose and eyes burned. The captain, the same one who had let her and Grigar go through the postern gate, held up his hand.

“Hold.”

She stopped. She stayed quite still as two soldiers came up to her, tying her hands roughly behind her back. She forced the tears to dry up. Lady Wessen wouldn’t cry, she was sure of it.

They hauled her forward, and she stumbled over the rough footing, risking a glance behind her for Grigar. He was gone. Good, she thought. Go to safety. She hoped Balafray would talk him out of any crazy rescue plan. If they died because of her stupid pride and ignorance, she could not bear to live.

She tried not to look at the dead. It had not been a battle; it had been a massacre. The proof lay in the bodies of the crows, strewn outside the walls. She knew many of them, if not by name then by their faces, because the camp was so small.

Pride and ignorance indeed. She had failed because she wanted revenge on Lord Terrick, and she had not spared one thought for the army that she had so blithely manipulated into following her. They were dead because of her, and there was nothing she could do to bring them back or make their deaths mean anything.

The army and their prisoner came through the main gate. Kate kept her head up while the people of Salt lined up to see her, the strangeling imposter, the crow queen, who had brought down death and madness on their city. Someone threw a clot of dirt at her, and she flinched as it bounced off her shoulder. As if that broke something, the shouting and jeering began, and the city folk entered their own kind of malcra. Even with the soldiers surrounding her she got hit with mud, with horse manure, with rocks. Despite her efforts not to cry, she was in tears by the time they reached the stairs to the palazzo.

They placed her in a holding cell built
below the massive city walls. Corroded iron bars caged her in, and dank straw was strewn across a stone floor. A shallow trough against the wall was the latrine and smelled like it. There was daylight from the staircase leading down to her prison, but that was all.

The iron hinges squealed as the soldiers closed the door and locked it behind her. They said not a word to her as they filed back up the stairs, their boots thudding on the stone, and then fading into silence

She was alone. She heard water dripping somewhere, and the acrid smoke drifted in from an open window upstairs. The air was thick with the smell of body odor, urine, and feces. Kate stirred herself and edged over to the front of her cell, sliding down against the bars for support. They hadn’t untied her hands, and she rubbed her wrists against the rusty bars. She twisted her wrists experimentally, seeing if she could loosen the rope but it was no use–the only result was rope burn.

And even if you get your hands free, what then? How do you plan to get out of your cell?

No matter how many movies she had seen, there would be no jailbreak. But Salt would send for her. She knew that. No way would she be executed in secret. Salt would want to make an example. So she would be hauled in front of the Council and humiliated first, then executed.

But Lady Trieve couldn’t afford for that to happen–if it did, she would lose Favor. And neither could Lord Terrick. She was his foster daughter, and it was the same as if she were his own. If she could count on Red Gold Bridge and Wessen–and she grimaced at the thought of Lady Wessen. Maybe if she hadn’t mouthed off to her, she would have made an ally of the crusty old noblewoman, but no, Grigar was right–she had to believe her own game.

None of that, she told herself. Recriminations would not help her or the crows now. She had to keep her wits about her, and with a little help from the lords and a lot of help from the gods, she might survive this.

And if it came down to it, if the crows could pull off a rescue, that would be nice too.

The only sound was the dripping water and the only light came from the staircase leading down into her cell. Kate shivered and stamped her feet, trying to drive out the damp cold.

They had been so close. If the crows hadn’t gone malcra, if they had just kept their cool, they might all even be on their way back to Temia right this moment.

She had a flash of memory of her dead people lying in the field amid flame and smoke.

“I will not give up,” she said out loud. “It won’t have been for nothing. As the crow god is my witness, it will not end here.”

Colar stood with his wife and mother-in-law
, watching Lord Salt work the crowd of nervous lords. “It’s all right now,” Salt said urbanely. He patted a shoulder here, grasped a hand there. The nobles milled about, the news flying from one small group to another. The crows had attacked, the soldiers had united to put them down, the city was safe, Kate imprisoned.

He had to get to her. The problem was, if he tried to leave, everyone would know where he was going. That was plain from the number of considering glances thrown his way, and the way the whispers rose again afterwards. He wouldn’t get within fifteen feet of Kate’s prison before he was stopped.

Salt raised his voice over the hubbub. “Come everyone. Back to work. We need to decide what to do with the girl and the rest of the crows. I for one do not think leniency is the answer, for all she is so young. Who knows where her example will lead? Perhaps we’ll end up with another upstart who will give a try at ‘House Temia.’ Best to nip this in the bud.”

At his urging, his solicitous words, they all followed him to the dais, but they were not happy. Lady Wessen especially looked white and drawn around her mouth, and Lady Trieve much the same. Well, she could see her unexpected ally had disappeared as quickly as she arrived, and stood to lose Favor once more. Colar looked over at his father. Lord Terrick was haggard, gray, exhausted. Even if he fought for his foster daughter, he would not win. Salt had them all in his pocket now. At best his father could argue for her life, but he would not gain her freedom.

As if he knew his son was looking at him, Lord Terrick glanced his way as he took his customary seat at the end of the long table. Their eyes met. In the midst of the crowd, still chaotic and uncontrolled, it was a private communication. His father’s eyes flicked toward the double doors, now being pulled closed by ceremonial men at arms, and then back at his son.

Colar gave a tiny nod. Even so, Janye turned to look at him, her eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” she said.

“Nothing.”

“Look, Janye, there’s your father. Wave to him, dearest.”

Janye made a face and ignored her mother. “Don’t even think it.”

He leaned close to whisper in her ear, as if he were her lover, but at the same time he gripped her arm. “Don’t tell me what to think.”

Her face whitened. She tried to pull her arm free, but he kept his grip. The Council was beginning.

“I agree with Salt,” intoned Kenery. “The girl was a danger from the beginning. High time we put an end to this foolishness. Hang her and slaughter the rest of her crows.”

“No!” That was Lady Trieve, still fighting the good fight. She stood. “We recognized the girl as Lady Temia. She’s one of us now. We can’t execute her.”

Salt almost purred his response.

“It has been done, Lady
Trieve
, in days past. In fact, her namesake Lord of Temia, who once styled himself High King, enjoyed the view from a pike on the top of these very walls.”

“One of us,” Kenery spat. He turned to Terrick with relish. “This is your doing, Terrick. You fostered this commoner, brought her into your house, raised her up to think she was better than she was. It just goes to show, blood will tell.”

Terrick raised his eyes and looked at his ally and his enemy. “Kenery is right. The girl is my responsibility. I’ll take her home, see to it she is properly managed.”

Kenery snorted. “You couldn’t do that before. What’s different now?”

Salt grimaced, tapping his fingers on the table. “I’m afraid Kenery’s right, Terrick. We can’t risk it. She’s too dangerous. I say we make it quick and merciful.”

Lady Trieve looked over at Terrick and then she searched the audience. “Where in the name of all the gods is Camrin? He should be here. We will not make any decision without him.”

Thank the high god, another delay. Colar tucked his lady wife’s hand under his arm, pressing it against his side. She squirmed and fought, but he squeezed harder.

“Come with me,” he said, and began drawing her backward.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, under her breath. “Mother!”

Lady Niyani turned to look at them, her fatuous expression turning to bewilderment. “What?”

“It’s all right ma’am,” Colar said. “Janye and I want to be together for the moment. You stay here.”

He could tell by the way her eyes flickered over to her daughter that she didn’t believe him, but on the other hand, she didn’t know what to believe. Could it be that her daughter had thawed to her husband at last? He didn’t wait for her to make up her mind, but continued to draw Janye with him. She struggled, but it had to be discreet. If she made a scene here, it would go badly for her father and whatever game he was playing.

“Guard,” Salt said, and for a panicked moment Colar thought he meant to stop him from leaving the Council Room. “Send for Lord Camrin. Again. And don’t take no for an answer this time.”

The guard bowed and the doors were swung open for him. Colar and Janye followed him out as if it were the most natural thing in the world, except that Janye was breathing hard and struggling. Then they were through, and the doors closed on the Council. A rush of cool afternoon air flowed over the flagstones, and the lowering sun shone through the tendrils of smoke, illuminating it strangely.

“You disgusting pig!” Lady Janye shrieked, trying to twist free. He had to let her go and catch her by both arms before she could slap and scratch him. She was in a fury. “Take your hands off me!”

Colar scanned the palazzo, barely crowded now since the nobles were inside and it was only householders left on the square. There was Raymon, with a handful of Terrick men. Raymon caught sight of him and came over, accelerating at a run as Janye began to fight in earnest.