And on it, the Cage. Their marching forces. Closer, maybe half an hour off.
Except, I saw now…something looked wrong.
Muted moonslight glinted off steel plate, off swords, halberds, helmets, cuirasses. A pair of figures was riding up front: one squat, the other one towering, wide shouldered. Behind them, banners I hadn’t spotted before. They fluttered silver gray, dun green, and black, and on them…I could only just make it out. A small, plump bird: black feathered, crimson eyed.
My legs were shaking. I sank to the damp ground, grasping at the trunk of the nearest tree.
The army on the causeway wasn’t the Cage. It was a House. And there was only one House it could be.
With a monumental effort, I pulled myself up, turned tail, and sprinted back to the castle.
33
Thistime I didn’t bother to avoid the gatehouse. The guards there couldn’t know I’d been spying for the Cage, and in any case, my caution was eclipsed now by shock.
Crake.
I lurched up the path as guards ran back and forth. One, a rat-faced man I recognized—one of the three who’d carted me to the cove all those weeks ago—stalled and sneered, hefting a longbow and quiver. “You,” he shouted, “get that Mudmouth! Where is he? He needs to throw up some earth defenses!”
I didn’t, couldn’t, force out a reply. I darted past him, ignoring his yells. My chest was thumping; every breath burned my lungs.
My mind flashed back to Rexim’s luncheon: our unexpected visitors, the knowing glint in Crake’s eyes. Had their intrusion been a ploy to scope out the island? And his request that Rexim stand down as a candidate…maybe that had been a last chance.
And these were the consequences of refusing.
Behind me guards barked orders, hauled weapons. They were organizing themselves as best they could around the gatehouse, liningthe ramparts, readying behind the arrow slits, but the forty or so of them wouldn’t hold off Crake’s men. Even with the drawbridge, the moat, the barbican…with Tigo out of action and the laconite useless, Iovawn Crake would crush them all.
The inner ward was surprisingly empty, only the odd soldier streaking through the fog. As I loped toward a servants’ entrance, trying to ignore the roaring in my head, I heard shouts from inside. Thecrackof a pistol. My stomach pitched, and my thoughts flashed to the siblings.
I changed direction, digging out my knife.
As I slipped into the keep, Nemaine’s words drifted back to me:“I take it you know ourmutual friendsare arriving…”I remembered her captives’ grim understanding. They must all assume I was allied with House Crake. Nemaine had never mentioned the rebels. The thought of it made nausea rise in me.
Then—shouting. It was coming from the ballroom. I stopped short, my stomach roiling with dread.
Part of me wanted to flee, find somewhere to hide. The ruins of the old tower might suffice. Rhianne’s dark cellar, with its nooks, its hidey-holes…Crake surely wouldn’t venture down there.
But another part of me—a part that frightened me—was urging me to the ballroom. To do what I could. For now, in this moment, things were starting to become clearer. I cared about Rhianne, Mawre, even Tigo. The siblings…my thoughts there were blurry, jumbled. But Rhianne loved Catua, and Catua had always been kind to me. And the prospect of Llir getting hurt made me feel ill.
As though propelled by some unseen force, I jogged to the ballroom, where the great doors stood open.
I glanced inside, and for a few dizzying seconds, I thought the Shearwaters and the Cormorants were acting again. Playing out another scene, spouting lines at each other. But then I saw the grimace onEmment’s wine-stained lips. Catua’s pale, almost colorless complexion. The haze of pistol smoke wafting over their heads.
The tableau was laid out like a painting before me: Avrix, gun in hand, aiming it at Rexim. Swords, the same ones used for the play, and crossbows in the hands of the Cormorants’ Orha. Morgen, flanking her brother with a blade. Vercha and Llir in the wings, wan faced.
I’d expected to see someone bleeding on the floor, but Avrix’s shot, it seemed, had been a warning.
I staggered, trying to take in what I was seeing. My feet scuffed the floorboards as I caught myself on the doorframe.
Avrix’s head whipped around. “Ah, there you are.” His dark eyes glittered, as genial as ever. “I’m glad you popped up. Means we get the chance to thank you.”
Beside him, his sister was smiling at me, something almost predatory in her gaze. “Indeed,” she added. “Our efficient little helper. You’ve made our job, and House Crake’s, much easier.” She frowned slightly. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever caught your name?”
I stared at them as the others turned their gazes on me. I must have looked like a fish caught on a line: eyes bugging, mouth opening and closing mutely.
Morgen laughed. “Never mind. Now, where were we?”
“What do you mean,Corithhas made your job easier?” It was Catua, her white face now blooming scarlet. “Your job of coming here under the pretense of a visit, scrutinizing our defenses and doinggodsknow what else, sending word back to Crake, plying us with drink, making sure all our weapons were here, where you could take them? Your job ofbetrayingus? What’sCorithgot to do with that?”
