“Perhaps that’s the difference between us, Borund. I don’t look at the surface of a thing and make judgment.”
“ Nyet, you pitter and patter like your sisters, pretending to play at games where you hardly know the players much less the rules.” Borund waved a hand at the cabin door. “Go. I can’t stomach to look at you. Get belowdecks and stay there until we meet with the Fierga.”
The Fierga was an old warship that had been relegated to patrol duty around Vostroma. Atiana was surprised it had been sent, and even more surprised it had made the journey across the Neck. Still, it made it clear that Mother had ordered her home, and this was something she could not allow.
Summoning all the authority she could muster, Atiana stood and stared at Borund squarely. “I would stay, Borund. I wish to remain until the conflict is over.”
“And I might have allowed it if our Matra hadn’t already spoken. You will return home, Atiana.”
“Let me stay until I can speak with her.”
He shook his head.“Mother has been awake for nearly a week preparing for this day. Her hands are full, and as soon as the violence has eased-which should be soon-she will sleep.”
“A few days will matter little, Bora.”
“I have given my word.” Borund stood and pointed at the door again. “Now go.”
Atiana stood, her shoulders square, refusing to move.
“Go!”
She knew that to stay and argue would only harden his stance, so she bowed her head and left the cabin, hoping she could speak with him once more before she left, though she already knew that if she did his answer would be the same.
When Atiana reached the Fierga, the kapitan of the ship escorted her to an empty cabin, a spare place that smelled of garlic and windsmen. It was a room that was meant to sleep four, but with only a skeleton crew aboard, there was plenty of room to spare.
She sat there for a long while, wondering how she was going to escape, when she heard a scratching at the oval window. She opened it to find a black rook flapping its wings to remain standing on the narrow sill. It was Zoya, Mother’s favorite. It hopped down to the floor and then flapped its wings to sit upon one of the top bunks.
Atiana bowed her head. “Matra.”
The old rook cawed. “I see you made it back alive. Perhaps next time you won’t be so quick to ignore our warnings.”
After a moment of confusion, Atiana recognized Ishkyna’s biting tone, even through the raw voice of the rook.
“You said you’d never take the dark again.”
“And leave my poor sister alone in the world? Never.”
Atiana scoffed. “I should burn this old rook while you writhe inside it.”
The rook craned its neck and cawed. “Why, because we gave you more time to do what you needed to do?”
“You left me on Khalakovo.”
“A place you clearly wanted to remain.”
“The Duke nearly murdered me.”
“But he did not. It would have been an utterly foolish thing to do.”
“ Da, and men think so clearly when their blood has risen.”
“The Duke of Khalakovo, no matter how much you might admire him, dear sister, is nothing if not calm of heart. He might have tried to scare Father-he might have even meant in his heart to kill you-but his tender soul would not allow it.” By tender, she meant weak, something she had said while referring to Atiana, as if tenderness were a vice to be rooted out as quickly and efficiently as one could. The rook stretched its chipped beak wide, shook its head furiously, and continued. “Now that I think of it, it was a terribly apt union Mother had arranged. Too bad it will never happen now.”
Atiana reached up and grasped the body of the rook, pinning the wings tight. “If you’ve only come to chide me”-she moved toward the open window-“then I’d rather be alone.”
The bird pecked at her hand. Atiana ignored it until blood was drawn from her knuckle, at which point she flung the rook away. It flapped to the floor and hopped back up to its previous position on the uppermost bunk. “So defensive, sister. I’d have thought you’d be glad to have company aboard a ship like this.”
“Not if all you’re offering are barbs.”
The rook cawed. “Barbs aside, I did want to make sure you were healthy and hale. We were worried.”
Atiana laughed. It was as close to an apology as she was going to get from Ishkyna. “You can see well enough I’ve made it through the war alive.”
“War… This is hardly more than posturing, Tiana. A rustling of feathers.”
“Says the woman speaking from the depths of Galostina.”
“Well, since you’re in the thick of it, why don’t you share with your dear sister what you were about? Surely the need for secrecy has passed-or are those pretty lips still sealed?”
Atiana could ill afford to give her sister too much, so she gave bits and pieces: her time in Radiskoye, her escape through the sea, the mad dash through Volgorod and the explosion at the bridge-only enough of what really happened to appease her and only because she had to give information in order to get it.
“And what now?” Atiana asked when she was done. “What has happened to the eyrie?”
“If you couldn’t guess by my presence, the eyrie is ours.”
“And Radiskoye?”
“It has been left intact for the time being. The attack on the eyrie was largely symbolic. The true threats are the ships massing near Mirkotsk.”
“Then why take it now?”
“To pressure Khalakovo to step down peaceably. Father has said that he would accept a written declaration of fault, a ceding of his seat to Ranos, and a grant of a dozen ships.”
“Iaros will never agree to that.”
“Don’t be so sure. No one wants war, least of all the most remote of the Duchies. Rhavanki and Khazabyirsk have been even harder struck by the blight than we have, and Lhudansk practically begged Khalakovo to settle this before Father left. The only Duchy that has any strength of will and the canvas to back it up is Mirkotsk, but even they would stop beating the drums of war if an opportunity for peace presented itself. Khalakovo knows this, and even if he does urge for an attack, he knows it may push Lhudansk to step down, and if one goes, all will follow.”
“You underestimate Saphia. She is a persuasive woman.”
The rook bobbed its head up and down, releasing a ragged call. It sounded more than a little like Ishkyna’s grating laugh. “You have not seen much of her since the attack, Tiana. She is feeble now, both in heart and in mind. She can hardly take the dark for more than a few hours at a time.”
This was surprising and unsettling news. Atiana had thought Saphia a woman who would never weaken, never break. But perhaps her ordeal with Nasim had been more taxing than she would have guessed.
“Shkyna, I need your help.”
The bird flapped its wings, a small loss of control by the inexperienced Ishkyna at this sudden and perhaps unexpected request for help. “What could a young bride need from an old matron like me?”
“Do not jest. My need is great.”
The rook stared at her for a long time. Its eyes blinked, as if Ishkyna were trying to measure the truth in her words but was having difficulty through the foreign eyes of the rook. It reminded Atiana of Ishkyna so much that she felt suddenly homesick, and the cumulative weight of the events since she had arrived on Khalakovo threatened to bury her. She nearly cried, but this was not a time for such a thing. She needed now more than ever to keep her mind to the task at hand.
“I need you to speak with the kapitan. I need you to tell him that we are to return to Duzol and for him to leave me there.”
“And why would the kapitan believe…”
The rook stopped. Ishkyna had realized what Atiana meant for her to do. She wanted Ishkyna to present herself not as the daughter of the Matra, but as the Matra herself. The old kapitan had worn a soulstone around his neck, but he was a lesser officer, a man relegated not just to the rear of the blockade, but to transport duty-hardly a position of importance-and so the Matra would hardly know him and he would hardly know her.