"What are you planning to do?" Shailiha asked the privateer.
After draining the rest of her wine, Tyranny rolled the glass back and forth between her hands. She looked up at Scars and the other three women.
"What I must do, if he is ever to be defeated," she said. "First we will surround him. Then we will attack with all sixty-three ships, and every crewman and Minion we can muster. We have to stop him here." Her jaw set, she looked to the east once more.
"And may the Afterlife save us if we fail."
CHAPTER LXX
Crouching on the damp forest floor, Satine looked out over the glowing Minion campfires. The night was dark. She shivered with the cold. She hadn't eaten any warm food for three days. From this distance, she couldn't smell the cooking aromas that would be coming from the warrior camp in the small valley below, but she could imagine them.
The Gray Fox had patiently followed the prince, Wigg, Celeste, and the Minion phalanx for the last three days. Bratach and Ivan had told her that the Jin'Sai would be leaving the palace, but they hadn't known why. She still didn't know where the prince and his group were leading her, and she didn't care. All she wanted was to complete her sanctions.
The royal party's pace had been agonizingly slow, with the Minions continually circling overhead so as to not hurry on before them. At first she had been certain that the accompanying warriors would make her job all the more difficult, and she had cursed their presence. As time went on, however, she realized that by watching the warriors in the sky, she could follow from a far greater distance and still not lose track of her quarry. This advantage-coupled with her disguise-added greatly to her hopes for success.
Still, she hadn't found an opportunity to act. With so many warriors guarding the royal party both in the air and on the ground, nighttime would provide the best opportunity. She would follow them for as long as necessary to find the perfect moment to strike.
Tonight would not provide the chance she sought. These Minions weren't fools. Each night they made camp in an open spot where cover was scarce. Two tents always sat in the center of the camp, surrounded by the others. She was sure that those belonged to the Jin'Sai, Celeste, and the wizard. Tonight was no exception. Deciding that she would have to wait yet again, she retreated into the woods.
Her campsite was sparse, allowing her to move quickly should she need to. She had tied her gelding and her packhorse to a nearby tree. The saddlebags containing her food and weapons lay within easy reach on the forest floor. She had no fire, for she couldn't risk being discovered. A blanket lay on the ground, and her saddle served as her pillow. When dawn came she would rise, eat something quickly, and then set out again to find the warriors circling the sky in the distance.
She reached into a pocket of her tattered dress and removed a piece of folded parchment. She had been carrying it ever since Ivan had first given it to her in the dank cellar of the archery shop. At the time, she had thought his self-important skulduggery silly. But now-two kills later-she had to admit that the traitorous consuls and their unknown confederate in the palace had been immensely helpful.
She unfolded the parchment and held it up to the moonlight, memorizing the address on it and its related code phrases.
She looked back up at the three magenta moons. It would be at least ten hours until dawn, so she should have plenty of time to visit the nearby village. Besides, she thought, maybe they'll have some real food. She refolded the parchment and hid it in her boot.
After changing from her disguise into her usual clothing, she strapped her daggers onto her thighs and put on her cloak. She made certain that her packhorse was securely tied to the tree, then she mounted her gelding and set off. It would be slow going through the forest until she came to the road, but it would give her valuable time to think.
So far, the Jin'Sai and his group seemed to be sticking to the roads, heading northwest. They had avoided the few towns along their route. Only three hours earlier the royal party had gone around a small hamlet called Morningshire-no doubt in order to avoid the Minions frightening the inhabitants. Satine had chosen to continue following the royal party, rather than risk losing them by detouring through the village, which her parchment listed as the location of one of the rural consular sanctuaries. Once the prince and his companions had made camp for the night, she would be free to double back to the village and check to see if there was a message waiting for her there.
Once she emerged onto the road, she memorized the spot where she exited the forest, then turned her horse southeast and spurred him into a relaxed gallop.
Half an hour later, she could see the lights of Morningshire. She slowed her horse and entered the village cautiously. Few people were out and about; those on the streets took little heed of her. Morningshire struck her as the kind of place that wanted little to do with the rest of the world, and that suited her just fine. She passed a schoolhouse on her right, and then a small inn on her left. As she continued, a livery, a general store, and a bakery appeared out of the darkness and then retreated again, each of them closed.
She recalled the address: 555 Everwood Lane. It certainly sounded innocent enough-hardly the kind of place that might harbor dangerous, endowed rebels against the crown. She finally saw a sign marked Everwood Lane, and turned her horse at the corner.
The sanctuary proved to be a modest, thatch-roofed cottage. Warm light could be seen coming through the front windows; a swinging bench hung beneath the porch roof. Hickory-scented smoke curled out of the chimney, reminding her how cold she was. And a wreath of wildflowers hung from the door, indicating that a message awaited her inside.
She climbed down off her horse and looked around. Everything seemed peaceful. She tied the gelding to the rail. Without a sound she stepped onto the porch and walked to the door. After knocking twice, she reached beneath her cloak and settled her hands on the hilts of her daggers.
The door swung open. An old man stood there. He had to be ninety Seasons of New Life if he was a day. He very much reminded her of Aeolus. Despite his advanced age, he stood erect. He was bald, dressed in simple peasant's garb, and his sharp eyes looked her up and down. In one hand he grasped a long-stemmed clay pipe.
"Can I help you?" he asked quietly. His graceful fingers guided the clay pipe into his mouth and he clamped down on it with his teeth. This old man didn't seem like the other two consuls she had met. Satine wondered if she had come to the wrong place.
"Pardon me," she said, "but I'm looking for the master of the house. Can you tell me if he's here?"
"You're looking at him, lass," the man said. His voice was strong and deep.
Surprised, Satine continued to size him up. He didn't look like a threat to anyone-much less like one of the vaunted Consuls of the Redoubt.
"I've been told that calmatrass berries are in season and that you sell them," she said, using the code phrase she had read on the parchment.
"Right on both counts," he answered. A whiff of smoke escaped his pipe bowl. "I sell them by the pound."
Upon hearing the proper phrase come back in return, Satine raised an eyebrow. "In that case I'd like to buy some," she answered back. "I want to make a pie."
With a wry smile, the man pushed the door open wider. Her hands still lightly on her daggers, Satine walked inside.
The cottage was modest, but it was warm and clean. On the far side of the room a fire danced in a fieldstone hearth. A stout, elderly woman with a bun of gray hair bustled about in the adjoining kitchen. The smell of warm food made Satine's stomach growl.
The man closed the door behind her. "How long has it been since the Gray Fox has eaten?" he asked. His endowed hearing had apparently not missed the rumbling of her gut. She began to relax a little.