I backed away steadily, remembering my hidden knife. In the absence of her power, she advanced on me bodily. She was a full head taller than me, far broader at the shoulder. And the way she moved…she’d had training, I could tell.
I darted backward, moving my hand toward my knife, but as well as being strong, she was frighteningly fast. She launched herself forward, grabbing me by the shoulder. Grunting, I tried to twist from her grip, but her arm, leather clad and solid as steel, slipped around my neck and held me fast.
She had no weapon—she’d been relying on that flame—but I didn’t think she’d have a problem removing me if she chose to. Our standoff had pushed us toward Miss Haney’s office, and my stomach flopped as I glimpsed the dark hump of Debry’s body on the floor. I could see no sign of Tigo and Mawre. Had Nemaine disposed of them, just as she was about to dispose of me? The thought made my pulse sound louder in my ears, made my palms go clammy.My fault. My fault.
I felt Nemaine’s hand dig around in my cloak. The knife wasn’tthere—that was in an inner pocket—but the laconite was, and she tossed it away.
Then, in the near distance: ragged shouts, hoarse cheers. The gatehouse guards fending off Crake’s attack? Or, more likely, Crake’s forces celebrating breaking through.
The Sparkmouth paused, though she didn’t break her hold.
“They’re here,” she said, her voice low. Fervent. And she began to drag me to the nearest window.
35
Nemainepulled me to a tall, unglazed opening that looked out into the shadowy inner ward. The chill air was like a slap to my cheeks, smelling of brine and acrid smoke. The mist had thickened, drifting wraithlike through the cloisters, and I stopped struggling, peering out fearfully. Clangs and shouts rang out from the darkness. Somewhere a man shrieked, over and over.
It wouldn’t be long now.
As Nemaine looked on eagerly, I pictured Crake sweeping in. Cutting down the Shearwaters; Catua and Llir. Uirbrig Crake sitting in the Chamber, any chance of rights crushed beneath his armored boots. He and Shrike would fill the Court with their cronies, with those who shared their penchant for violence. And then…Breova. We’d soon be at war.
What future for me, others like me, in that world? For Rhianne and Mawre and Tigo? For Llir?
Scant guards streaked from the curling mists, staggering into the ward, seeking shelter. A few of them made it to the keep’s main doorand disappeared through it, barring it behind them. But Crake’s forces were roiling up behind the rest, a tide of bristling blades and axes. One by one, those left were cut down, skewered at swordpoint or battered around the head.
A cheer went up as two men rode through the barbican. Dark dread bubbled over in my stomach. The one in front was squatter, uglier: Uirbrig Crake, showing teeth as he smiled. Behind him came the man I feared much more, at least here, on this isolated island. Six and a half feet, hair black as charcoal, he sported a silver breastplate and a cloak. His gaze swept over the ward, the walls. I tried to shrink away, but Nemaine held me tight.
Crake’s soldiers soon filled the yard, holding torches. The fog was thin, hanging motionless, ghostlike. They brought in the battering ram I’d known was coming and carried it, chanting, to the keep’s main door.
Iovawn Crake murmured to his father, and the older man laughed: a croaking guffaw. Then the Mudmouth spoke again, his eyes on the ground, and a shiver ran through the stones beneath my feet.
Boom.
The ram began its work, each deafening thud making my teeth knock together. And in between them, a growing judder. Cracks appeared in the walls around the door.
“Shearwater!” Uirbrig’s voice rang out over the ruckus. “Show yourself! I hadn’t pegged you for a coward.”
The ram pounded a few more times. Then, on the third floor, near to West Tower, a window opened and Rexim leaned out.
Uirbrig gave a wave of his hand. The battering ram stilled, and the ground stopped shuddering. For a moment, there was only mist and muffled silence.
“Coward?” Rexim called. My stomach flipped over. Was Llir there, standing just behind him? Emment, Vercha, Catua? Rhianne? I felta sudden longing to see them, to be with them, a burning want like a torch in my chest.
“I, the coward?” Rexim continued. “When you are the one too afraid to wait for the vote?”
Uirbrig chuckled as though he’d expected the reply. “You know me, Rexim. I’m a man of action.” His watery eyes narrowed, his smile turning pinched. “I’m what this nation really needs.”
“And when they find out what you’ve done? You think they will vote for you?”
“Come, friend. We both know many of them would. The Hundred, much as you try to deny it, are still a bloodthirsty rabble at heart.” Uirbrig shifted heavily in his saddle. “But in any case, they won’t find out. As far as they’ll know, House Shearwater’s unfortunate destruction will have come at the hands of that scourge, the Cage.”
The bottom fell out of my stomach at his words. Rexim, stunned to silence, simply stared. Nemaine must have sensed me stiffen, as she chuckled. With disgust, I felt her breath tickle my ear.
“Oh, yes,” Uirbrig continued, looking gleeful. “Sending the Cormorants turned out to be fruitful indeed. Your old allies would have the run of the island for an extended time, where my son and I couldn’t. Access to all your weapons, your laconite.
“And then, just a week ago, I received a crow…” He smiled, showing his teeth, slowly shaking his head. “You should keep a closer eye on your own servants, Rexim. I’m told there was a cuckoo under your beak all this time. Shameful. And now, for all the Hundred will know, your downfall has been yet another violent victory for those”—he spat on the stone—“traitors.”
His eyes, and Iovawn’s, roved the high windows, perhaps wondering if I—the cuckoo, the traitor—cowered somewhere behind the thick walls. I tried to rear back but was blocked by Nemaine.
