Within seconds, Tristan was mounted on Altair and riding out with Jeremiel to form the front line. Jos and Garet were already in the air, scouting ahead, while Mathos and Rafe would follow a few minutes later to form the rear guard. Once they were safely through the city gates, they would separate to tackle their different tasks, avoiding being seen together in a conspicuous group.
Nim turned to Tor. “Shall we go then, brother?”
He didn’t answer, simply kicked his stallion into a sharp trot, and she clicked to hers to follow.
It took a little less than an hour to reach the city, with the roads becoming increasingly busy with every mile they traveled. Farmers going to market, porters, peddlers, even a few ornate coaches, gilded and trimmed, surrounded by footmen and burly guards.
Tristan had learned that there was to be a huge banquet at the palace that night, and many of the wealthy nobility were making their way into Kaerlud to join the amusements, showing their allegiance and hoping for favors in the last days before the troops were gathered to travel north.
The plan was for Tristan and Nim to attend—and hopefully to find Val, or at least find the truth of what had happened to him.
Thinking about what Val was enduring made her heart race nauseatingly, so Nim chatted and asked Tor questions to distract them both. Gradually he started to reply with answers longer than one word. Once or twice, she was sure he almost smiled.
By the time they approached the gates, the road was thronged with people of every race, some with tattoos, some with wings, several with scales. Even the occasional Pythic Seer, eyes bound, being led slowly by the hand.
And through it all a heavy presence of uniformed soldiers, rough and loud, making coarse jokes and dominating the passing travelers with aggressive stares.
A subtle, but disturbing, space was left around the troops as people hurried past them, avoiding eye contact. In a way it helped; keeping her hood up and her eyes lowered fitted in with everyone else around them.
A glance at Tor showed that he had noticed it too. A muscle ticked in the corner of his jaw as he guided their mounts forward into the middle of the road—as far from the soldiers manning either side of the gates as possible.
The cavalry soldiers passing through their local country village had been increasingly belligerent. Ever since Ballanor had taken over as Supreme Commander, his soldiers had grown more arrogant, prone to making unreasonable requests and demanding overblown respect. But this was even worse. And by the look on Tor’s face, not something he had expected either.
And the worst of it was that not all these soldiers wore the black uniform of the cavalry—soldiers the Hawks would have spent little time with. Some of them were Blues, the new group of guards that had been recruited after their ranks were decimated at Ravenstone. Damn, it was going to hurt the Hawks when they realized what had happened to the company they had been so proud to serve with.
Nim stared at her saddle, taking care to let her sleeves fall back enough that anyone watching would catch glimpses of the swirling ink on her arms. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest, her hands sweating as she concentrated on keeping her breaths even and her shoulders relaxed as they walked the horses slowly into the city.
And then they were through.
Relief flooded her, and she had to hold in a giggle that she knew would sound slightly hysterical. She glanced at Tor again, and he gave her a subtle nod, eyes flicking back to the latest group of soldiers following a few yards behind them making rude comments at the expense of their fellow travelers.
Eventually they emerged into wider streets, and the crowds dispersed about their business, and, finally, Nim was able to take a long breath.
Before they could go to meet the rest of the squad, they had to make a few stops at the market. Tristan planned for them to join Ballanor’s banquet as minor nobles, which meant that Nim would need something to wear.
Jos had promised that one of his sisters would have a dress she could borrow, something in gray or silver, but she would need to alter it before it would pass as rich enough for the palace. She also needed stockings, drawers, and a chemise for underneath her dress. There was no way she could get away with her leather breeches.
Tor knew the city well from his time as a Blue, and he led them down a winding path of cobbled roads. Some were so narrow that the windows of the flats above were close enough to almost touch, others wide and airy, bordered by high walls and hedges enclosing private gardens.
Eventually they turned the corner into a large avenue flanked by a multitude of shops with colorful awnings, displaying an array of every kind of clothing, haberdashery, and fabric, from bolts of homespun brown cotton through to shimmering silver silks. One storefront held only ribbons in a rainbow of different shades, another only shawls.
Costermongers had set up their stalls and carts down the middle of the avenue, some laden with secondhand clothes or pieces of used fabric, too cheap for the fancier stores. On one end of there was an area dedicated to meat and produce, carts selling hot food and autumn harvest fruit and vegetables.
All around was a great swath of people and noise as customers haggled over prices and sellers cried their wares.
Nim and Tor dismounted, and Tor took the horses so that Nim could wander slightly ahead and look for what she needed.
It didn’t take long before she found a gleaming silk offcut in deepest midnight blue, a color that she had always loved, and she imagined that she might drape it over the skirts of the dress Jos brought her. Sparkling paste earrings followed, good enough quality to withstand a cursory glance, as did silk gloves and a used but serviceable pair of deep blue velvet slippers. Nim passed each purchase back to Tor, who dutifully packed them away into the saddlebags.
At last she only needed underwear, and she grinned at the stricken look on Tor’s face when she pointed toward a discreet store tucked away to the side of the market.
She took pity on the poor man and told him that she would go in and he could wait outside, all while chuckling at the relief on his face.
It didn’t take long to find what she needed, although each new purchase left even fewer coins in her rapidly diminishing purse. Well. She wouldn’t worry about it. First, they had to survive the night, then they could think about money.
She stepped out of the store and looked around for Tor. He was down the road a little way, where the fabrics gave way to food sellers, buying what looked like several large meat pasties.
Her tummy rumbled, and she realized that she was starving. A hot pasty, thick with meat and gravy, was exactly what she wanted. Perhaps followed by one of the gleaming apples being inspected by a mother and her little boy at the next cart over.
