The girl’s face turned from one of steely calm to one of red-hot rage, and the Prince registered that this was cause for concern. But he couldn’t seem to muster up the energy to do anything about it. Tomaz laid a large hand on the Prince’s shoulder and turned him around.
“What are you saying?” he rumbled quietly. Before the Prince could respond, the girl spoke:
“You knew they were here.”
It was a simple statement, but it caught the Prince’s attention. His hearing, still enhanced from the soldier’s death, caught the whisk of metal being drawn from a sheath and he turned back just in time to see the girl launch herself across the clearing, daggers in hand. With a roar of alarm, Tomaz interposed himself between the two of them, and just in time. The girl pulled up short, held back by the big man’s outstretched and warding hands.
“You were going to offer us up to save your own hide!” she snarled at the Prince, shouting past Tomaz.
“I thought they were here to rescue me!” he shouted back at her, shocked at the state she was in.
“NO ONE IS GOING TO RESCUE YOU!” she screamed.
She turned back to the clearing and gestured in a wide circle, taking in the bodies of the men lying dead on the ground.
“They were hunting you, oh great Prince of Ravens! I don’t know where they got their orders, but do you really think that once it’s clear they’re dead there won’t be more? You were kidnapped in the capital city of the Empire, right under the Empress’s nose. You survived, barely clinging to life long enough for Tomaz—an Exile, which I know must gall you to no end!—to save your worthless life. Now Death Watchmen appear in the middle of the ElmistMountains to finish the job and KILL YOU, and you’re still clinging to the hope that someone is going to come save you?!Wake up, princeling!”
And with that, she spun on her heel and made her way back into the trees in the direction of where they had first been ambushed. The Prince stood staring at her, mouth open, as Tomaz slowly lowered his hands and walked over to him. The big man grabbed him by the arm and pulled the soldier’s notched sword out of his grip.
“Come,” he rumbled, helping the Prince, limping on his bad ankle, in the direction the girl had gone.
When they reached the end of the ravine, they saw that the girl had already repacked their bags and was tending to the horse that had been hit by the Watchmen’s arrows. She had removed the arrows and staunched the bleeding with strips of cloth from the same blanket that had provided the material for the Prince’s restraints and gag. As they came closer, they saw her reach up her sleeve and bring out a rudimentary set of needle and thread, and after the wounds had been stitched and covered with bandages, the horse seemed, if not fine, at least ready to ride again.
“You do him,” she told Tomaz, jerking her head at the Prince. Her jaw was clenched, and it seemed to be taking all the will power she had not to turn and launch herself at him again. “You don’t want me around him right now.”
Tomaz made no comment. He simply nodded and pulled his own needle and thread from a pouch at his waist, and, after removing the Prince’s shirt, began to stitch him up. The needle hurt, but the Prince was still in a state of shock and could barely form coherent words, much less protest the giant’s ministrations.
Once Tomaz had finished, he pulled a few of the strips left from the torn blanket and attached them to two long, straight pieces of wood, which held the Prince’s ankle straight. Then, without any more exchange of words, the big man threw him another spare shirt, fashioned new bonds for his wrists, and tied him to the pack horse once more. The girl grabbed the reins, viciously threw thecloak and hood over him, and then the three of them were off once more, almost as if nothing had happened.
As if they hadn’t just been ambushed. As if one of the Death Watchmen hadn’t just tried to kill the Prince in his Mother’s name.
It occurred to him that maybe the girl was right.
No!No,there is another reason. It must all be a misunderstanding, it’s impossible that…
But it wasn’t. Here was the hard proof. Not only had he been kidnapped from the Fortress itself, but the Death Watchman had told him its orders had come from the Empress.
Mother…
No. No, it wasn’t possible. He shook his head to clear the treasonous thoughts. It had to be one of the other Children. Ithadto be. But if it was one of his siblings, how had they corrupted the Watchmen? The ordinary soldiers could have been bought or bribed but the actual Watchmen, the Death Watch constructs that formed the center of the group, they cared nothing for money or material gain.
This thought led him back to the ordinary man he had killed, and the memories of the man’s life came back to him, jumbled and confused and already fading as time passed. Desperate, he did something he had only done a handful of times before: he dredged up the other man’s memories from the back of his mind where he had forced them, and began to go through them, one by one, looking for anything useful.
The process was painful. Not physically so, but mentally, and the Prince tried to make it go as quickly as possible. Memories of a wife flashed through him, and a sudden font of love sprang up and began to flow in his heart. Yes, his wife, Maya. Memories of making love to her, of their young children and his pride that his son was growing tall and strong. He had to get back to her; she would be waiting for him to return—
No!the Prince said harshly, reasserting control over his mind. He wasn’t this man. He was… he was the Prince of Ravens, even if he had no name. Even though Mother had stripped him of it, even though he was being hunted, he was still a Prince. He had to be, or else what was he?
Sweat had begun to bead on his forehead with the force of his concentration, and the hood was now uncomfortably stifling, but he couldn’t stop. He needed answers.
So he waded once more into the mire of memories.
After another few minutes, he found what he was looking for: the memory of when the man had received the order to move out from the Fortress.
The orders had come from the true Death Watchmen. The two skeletal creatures had called together a cell of the lesser foot soldiers, and they had set out the next day. There was no memory of a conspiracy, no memory of anything but the man’s fear at meeting the two creatures, and of their briefing that they were to hunt down and assassinate a dangerous traitor to the Empress.
Angry and exhausted, the Prince shoved the memories away, and as he did, felt them fade completely from his mind, along with the rest of the soldier’s strength. His vision returned to normal, as did his hearing and other senses, and his emotions were once again his own, calm and under his control.
So it was the Death Watchmen themselves who’d received the orders. That meant one of two things: either they had received their orders from the Empress through her Hand, or one of his siblings had managed to corrupt them. If the former, the girl was right and he truly was a marked man. If the latter… the magnitude of the task amazed him. He didn’t even know where one would begin to attempt to corrupt a Watchman. But then again, his siblings had been alive much longer than he, and until he received his Inheritance, as was custom, he was only privy to certain information. Rikard alone had been born over half a millennium ago. It was quite possible that he—and the others—had access to knowledge far beyond what the Prince had. But even if it was possible, would one of his siblings truly move so openly against him?
