Arienne suddenly realized she hadn’t given Cain any money. He had done this for her on his own coin. Would she ever see him again to pay him back? Regretfully enough, that would be difficult. She needed to get as far away as possible. Like in a book, she could choose to have adventures around the periphery of the known world. Maybe somewhere down south where it was never cold. Or stow away on a ship at shore and sail to an island in the middle of the Great West Sea where no one would find her. Kaya, the girl who taught Arienne the sleeping spell at the Academy, had confessed that she learned her spells from a witch in hiding, back in her homeland. Perhaps Arienne could learn Eldred’s sorceries and become such a witch herself…
She changed into her new clothes. It was good they were a bit loose, but the chafing of her skin against the rough fabric could become a problem. Arienne took them off again and washed her face and body with the hot water in the basin, careful not to splash too much on the floor. She then washed her dirty dress in the lukewarm water. It was torn, but it would be enough to wear underneath her new clothes. She draped the wet dress on the table and chair,pulling open the curtains so the wintry sunlight fell on it. She made sure the bolts on the door were drawn shut once more and went back underneath the covers.
After midnight, when the lower floors were still too loud and bustling for anyone to notice, she would take the window exit Lucretia showed her and slip into the unlit back alley. But she still hadn’t decided where to go from there. Well, she would have to leave the Capital and the Imperial heartland, and then she could go on to think of what was next.
She thought more about being a hermit sorcerer in some faraway place where even the Office of Truth wouldn’t bother to look. To do that, she needed to learn sorcery; she couldn’t move forward into the dark with the candle-lighting spell as her only weapon. Hoping Eldred wouldn’t hold her harsh tone from the night before against her, Arienne drifted off to sleep once more.
12LORAN
Loran was eager to continue her fight alongside the Kamori Liberators, but Gwaharad seemed to be a more cautious leader, as Emere suggested. Initially she was content to wait. Having allies, she felt like she could finally see a way forward, out of meaningless destruction.
Then a fortnight passed in the underground palace. Loran had done almost nothing but practice her swordsmanship out of habit and eat the food they brought her. She found her patience dwindling. She had volunteered to teach the Kamori soldiers, but Gwaharad refused her offer, saying her style of swordsmanship would conflict with their training so far. He seemed, in truth, reluctant to let her come in contact with his soldiers. Loran recalled Emere describing his brother as the jealous type.
Since that conversation, she had almost no occasion to have an audience with Gwaharad. As Loran was also not one to seek the company of others without having a clear reason in mind, she didnot make up excuses to do so. Only Emere visited her. He came by every day for lunch and conversation in her room.
That afternoon, over tea, Emere told her about a woman named Gladdis.
“Do you mean the one who left a little after I arrived here?” said Loran. “I only know of her by name.”
“She is a great merchant who comes and goes between the Capital and the Three Kingdoms. She is affluent, and well-connected. A generous sponsor of the Kamori resistance.”
“Ah. A formidable compatriot to have.”
This explained how an army of hundreds was being maintained.
“Yes, I didn’t have much chance to talk to her, but my brother holds her in great esteem… Not only does she support us with her funds, she also aids and unites our people living in the Capital. We call her the Liberators’ prefect of the Capital, in jest.”
“I see.” Perhaps Gladdis was more of a king than herself, Loran thought.
Emere took a sip of his tea and continued. “The king tells me that her sisters had been priests of the Tree Lords of Kamori, who all burned with the Lords in the conflagration of our sacred groves. Perhaps that is why she does what she does, even after becoming so successful as a licensed trader.”
Loran knew that the people of Kamori had once worshipped ancient trees that walked, much as Arlanders venerated the dragon of the mountain. Everywhere the Empire went, gods died and the faithful with them.
After a short lull in the conversation, Emere looked at her in amusement.
“What song is it that you are humming? I have never heard the tune.”
She was indeed humming to herself over the tea. Embarrassed, she stumbled to answer.
“My… my husband was a poet. This is something he wrote to mourn the victims of the purge in Kingsworth, on the tenth anniversary of the event.” She hesitated, then added. “My daughter sang it. They were killed for it, along with several others who organized the remembrance.”
Apologetic, Emere sighed.
“Princess, I am sorry to have pried. You have my deepest condolences.”
Loran forced a smile, then changed the subject.
“From what I understand, there are Arlanders in the Capital as well…”
During the purge, quite a number of Arlanders had taken refuge there, perhaps thousands. Because the Imperial Capital was home to people from all over the Empire, it was considered the best place in the world to start anew.
“Yes, and Gladdis is working to bring the Arlanders together as she has done for our own but… I haven’t heard much on that front so far.”
Loran imagined how many Arlander exiles must be living in the Capital now, what sorts of people they might be, whether they could be persuaded to fight against the Empire. “I’m sure such a person is a great help to our cause.”
“Of course, Gladdis exacts no small a price in return. What we did in the forest recently, that was also by her request.”
“You mean the metal box you took from the legionaries.”
