“We gonna hit them back?” Idrian asked.
Tadeas shook his head. “The Fourth will deal with that. We just got new orders.” He scowled as he said this. “The Seventh is making a go at the ducal palace. General Stavri figures if we can capture that, we can force the duke to consider an early surrender. It’ll satisfy the bloodlust of the masses angry over Adriana’s death, and we’ll have suitably slapped Grent on the wrist for their political meddling.”
“Over bloody and quick.” Idrian nodded. “That’s what I like to hear. Are we helping the Seventh go after the palace?”
“That we are. From what I heard, the fighting is even hotter than what we saw yesterday.”
Idrian groaned. He liked the strategy; he just didn’t like the idea of spearheading it. But that was, he reminded himself, their job. To his surprise, Tadeas shoved something into his hand. It was a letter, still sealed with purple wax stamped with the Grappo silic sigil. “What’s this?” he asked.
“Letter from my nephew.”
Idrian broke the seal. It said:
The Duke of Grent has a large piece of cinderite in his art collection at his palace. I’ve arranged for the Ironhorns to be moved closer to the fighting there. Fetch me this piece of cinderite undamaged, and you have yourself a deal.
“What does it say?” Tadeas asked.
Idrian shook his head, reminding himself that he’d promised Demir not to say a word about the phoenix channel to anyone. His heart was beating hard now, a pleasant tingle between his shoulders. Not only had Demir accepted his offer, but he’d done so quickly. With a working phoenix channel, Idrian could restore the sorcerous resonance in his eye. He wouldn’t need another master siliceer. Idrian might actually be able to save his sanity. He thought hard, back to a meeting at the duke’s palace some months ago where he’d gone along as a ceremonial guard, and realized that he’d actually seen this piece of cinderite. It was on display in the foyer of the palace.
He needed to be the first person through the front doors of the palace, and since he was a breacher that wasn’t completely unlikely. Never mind the brutal fighting. He’d do what needed to be done if it meant saving civilization – and his own damned sanity.
11
Thessa was loaded unceremoniously into a cart and bundled off north by her Ossan captors, taking the exact highway around Ossa that she had intended to use in the first place. She watched forlornly while they passed by the road she would have followed down into the city.
She couldn’t stop thinking of Serres and his family. The adults and teens impressed into naval service; the elderly and the children chucked off to one side, robbed of all their possessions. Would they even survive the cold winter night? Would they find help or succor? All she could do was hope that they managed to reach their relations and scrape together enough of a bribe to get their family back from the navy. If she wasn’t thinking of them, she was thinking of Ekhi. She tried to reason to herself that he’d gotten away, but she’d heard that pained screech. Even if he survived the shot, an injured falcon was as good as dead in the wild.
She did not have much hope for Ekhi, but perhaps Kastora had gotten through unharmed. Palua too, and all the other apprentices.
Thessa’s captors handed her off to a pair of Magna enforcers – a man and a woman in their mid-forties, heavily armed and silent, with pinkie nails painted red to show their guild-family allegiance. They did not mistreat her, but they made it very clear that an escape attempt would result in broken bones. All three of them slept crowded together in the back of the cart that night. Thessa dreamed of fires and screaming once more, but this time she saw the solemn little figure of Leone standing in the muddy streets, holding his toys, staring at her unblinking.
In the morning they continued their journey. Thessa wrestled with her despair, trying her best not to give in to the abject terror swirling in the back of her head. This was just a hiccup, she told herself; a side trip on the way to her ultimate goal. She would escape. She had to escape. The future of silic science was stuffed in her boot.
It was mid-afternoon when they trundled into a smoky, downtrodden town on the edge of a dark forest. Thessa was pulled from the back of the cart and marched through the front gate in a high wall. She instantly recognized the type of place: it was a large glassmaking compound, much bigger than the Grent Royal Glassworks, with proper streets and dozens of buildings spewing black smoke into the air. Everything was coated with soot, and the streets were packed with hundreds of people – laborers, siliceers, assistants – all heading in different directions.
There were also enforcers carrying bayoneted muskets, and they watched the crowded streets in a way that made it clear that they weren’t a normal garrison. These were prison guards.
Thessa’s escort pushed her into a small room just inside the gate and closed the door behind her before she could ask any questions. She found herself staring at the door in frustration, a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue, worry, anger, and fear causing a maelstrom of emotions that made her want to cry or punch someone.
“Thessa?”
She whirled, reaching for a belt knife that had been taken away from her, but her hand immediately fell away from the empty spot. Sitting on a little wooden bench in the corner of the room was Axio. The young assistant looked exhausted, his face streaked with tears, expression wide-eyed. He leapt to his feet and ran to her, catching her up in a hug before she could respond.
Thessa hugged back, a wave of relief rushing through her. A familiar face, even in a place like this, was as refreshing as a sip of cold beer. Her raging thoughts calmed instantly and she took a deep breath.
“Axio, what are you doing here?” She broke the hug, pushing him out at arm’s length and looking him over. His left eye and right cheek were both blackened from a beating but he seemed otherwise unhurt. She wasn’t sure if it was some kind of motherly instinct, or just her position as an authority figure at the Grent Royal Glassworks, but she felt instantly protective. She wanted to know who had done that to him and then make them hurt. As she had with the thoughts of that family who helped her yesterday, she forced herself to let go of her fury as pointless.
Axio shook his head. “That soldier gave me a bit of a beating, but they were soon calling for a retreat. I tried to get away, but they dragged me with them when they withdrew.”
“And Master Kastora?” Thessa couldn’t imagine the sweet old master fighting enemy soldiers, but it seemed he had rallied the garrison. She wished she’d listened to her instincts and returned.
“I didn’t see.”
Thessa pulled him back into a hug. “You did well. Thank you for distracting that soldier. Master Kastora sent me…” She paused, considering her story. Best not to mention the schematics in her boot to anyone, even Axio. “He told me to flee to some Ossan allies of his, but there were soldiers guarding the border.”
Axio sniffed and wiped a grimy sleeve across his nose. Like her, he was still wearing the same clothes from the previous morning. She paused at that thought, shocked. That was only yesterday morning? It felt like weeks had passed. She laughed out of horror more than anything else.