Annice snorted. "The fact is, I don't believe he did it!"
"So your emotional response wipes out centuries of historical precedent?"
"Yes. You said yourself that selling out seemed at odds with his character."
"So?"
"So if there's even the slightest chance he's innocent, we can't let him die."
"We can't?" Stasya sighed, and turned to Pjerin. Over the brooding shadow, she laid her memory of the horrified disbelief she'd seen in his eyes when his mouth had spoken the words that had first condemned him. "Oh, all right," she snapped, "we can't." She scooped the lantern off the floor and handed it to Annice. "Light this off the lamp and let's get out of here. I refuse to commit treason in a potato bin."
"Wait." While Pjerin realized that Stasya had in no way been responsible for what had happened under her Command, she brought back memories of the trip down the mountain—memories he would rather have not had to confront. He found himself uncomfortable in her presence and he had no intention of following her blindly. "Where are we going?"
"Our rooms, I think." Annice handed the lantern back to Stasya and blew out the lamp. Losing the ability to confidently Sing fire was an irritating inconvenience. "No one will find it odd to hear voices from there in the middle of the night."
"No."
"Stasya, I gave him my word."
"Tough. You're not going."
"I'm not going without her."
Stasya whirled around and Pjerin stepped back a pace. "Fine. Die, then. But you're not taking her with you."
"I'm not leaving her here."
"In case you haven't noticed, Your Grace, she's seven months pregnant."
"With my child."
"Your child?" Stasya glared at him. "Oh, so you were the one puking your guts out from Ohrid to Elbasan. You're the one on the pot every second breath. You're the one who spent the last four months being poked and prodded by healers. You're the one who gets heartburn so bad you turn blue, screaming pains in your hips and butt, and nosebleeds every other sniffle. And you're the one who hasn't gotten a decent night's sleep for the last three months. And here I thought she's been going through all that." She swept a gesture over Annice on the appropriate pronoun, then stood, arms crossed over her chest, eyes narrowed, lip curled in a disdainful sneer. "Your child, my ass. You may have fathered it, but you don't own it."
"I'm thinking of its safety."
"And what about Annice's safety?"
Pjerin managed to keep a fingernail's grip on his temper. "She'll be in danger if she stays behind."
"She'll be in more danger if she goes with you, you moron! You don't honestly think the king will execute his own sister, do you?"
"Yes. And so do you, or you'd have convinced her to take her suspicions to the king."
Annice swallowed the mouthful of black bread she'd been chewing. As much as she'd been enjoying the argument, the time had come to put an end to it. "We're not going to the king—but not for my sake, for Pjerin's. We have no proof he didn't commit the treason he admitted to. His Majesty won't want to believe in the possibility of lying under Command, Stas, no more than you do. The difference is, you love me and you're willing to take a chance on what I believe. He won't be. Pjerin'll end up back in his cell, and I'll…" She sighed. "How many treasons can Theron forgive, Stas? I don't want to risk it. Besides, I'm the only chance Pjerin has of getting away."
"What? He's going to hide behind you?" Stasya threw both hands into the air. "Maybe we should steal him a horse; you could hide them both."
"Stas, how would you hunt for someone you can describe in detail?"
She shrugged. "I'd ask the kigh."
"You'd ask the air kigh," Annice corrected. "Because water is confined and fire is self-absorbed and earth keeps its own council. Only air has enough curiosity to be of any use in something like that."
"Yeah, well, I'd also ask air because that's all I Sing but I get your point." She jerked her chin at Pjerin. "The moment he steps out of a building, or even too close to a window, they'll spot him."
"I can change how I look," Pjerin grunted, pulling at the gray Judgment clothing like he wanted to begin the change immediately. "Cut my hair, grow a beard…"
"Change the color of your eyes? The way you speak? The way you move?" Stasya snorted. "The captain her-self has you on recall from the Judgment. You couldn't change enough to fool the kigh."
"But the air won't go near me. Tadeus said they're so jealous of me Singing earth that they're going out of their way to ignore me and anyone with me." Annice spread her hands. "If I go with him, he has a chance to stay free long enough to find out who did this to him and how. And we have to find that out, Stas, before it happens again and someone dies."
"I'll have to have a bard for that." Pjerin suddenly realized it himself. "I'll have to have someone who can try to get behind the lies."
Stasya ignored him. She slipped to her knees by the side of Annice's chair and gathered both the other woman's hands into hers. "Nees, love, it's too dangerous. You'll be on the run, living the life of a fugitive. You can't expose yourself, or the baby, to that kind of risk."
"So do I just let an innocent man die?" Annice tightened her fingers. "I can't do that, Stas. You can't either.
"Then I should come with you."
"You have to cover our tracks."
"But you're only two months from delivery."
"A lot can happen in two months."
"Maybe if you convinced the captain…"
"That it's possible to lie under Command? We'd have more luck convincing the king."
"Fine."
"No."
"He's your brother, Nees."
Annice pulled Stasya's hand forward until it rested under hers and pressed against the movement of the baby. "And he's the one who said that this is death."
Stasya laid her head on what remained of Annice's lap. "You're right," she admitted. "I hate it when that happens." She rubbed her cheek gently against the knee of Annice's breeches. When she continued, the clipped and matter-of-fact tones rang out in direct contrast to her position. "Well, after Vidor you can take to the countryside and there won't be enough people in all of Shkoder to find you, but getting to Vidor means the River Road, and that means we'll have to hide you in plain sight. How much money do you have?"
"I've been Singing earth for the city gardens."
"Good. I haven't had a chance to spend anything in months, so if we pool our coin, you should have enough. There's enough junk in the cellars to turn the two of you into a fairly believable pair of traders, but we'll have to hurry—we can't pull this off if you're not out of the Citadel by dawn."
"What are you talking about?" Pjerin growled. "Why are we going to Vidor?"
"We're not," Annice told him, her fingers stroking the velvet nap of Stasya's dark hair. "We're going to Ohrid. You told me that you haven't been farther into Shkoder than Lake Marienka in years, so if we're going to find out who's done this to you, we're going to have to look closer to home."
CHAPTER NINE
"Can't you move any faster?"
Annice shifted the straps of her pack and wished she was back in bed with Stasya curled up warm and protecting around her. "No. I can't. And you'll just attract attention if you try to hustle me along."
Unable to see around the edges of his much larger pack, Pjerin swiveled from side to side, trying desperately to pierce the surrounding shadows—there could be a guard in any one of them. Six times he'd escaped on the way to Elbasan, six times they'd captured him again. He wasn't going back to that cell. "The longer we stay on the streets," he ground out through clenched teeth, ignoring the pain from newly stressed ribs, "the more attention we attract."