Chapter II

AILIS

I was hungry when I heard the boots.

That was my first thought.

Not rescue.

Not soldiers.

I had been wondering whether there might still be bread in the kitchens when footsteps entered the passage.

My head came up. Tessa woke against my shoulder.

“What?”

I put a finger to my lips.

Several men. Walking, not running.

A voice spoke.

I did not know the language.

The footsteps stopped outside.

There was a scrape of metal.

Then another voice.

Veyrathi, badly spoken.

“Locked.”

I looked at Tessa.

She looked at me.

Something struck the door.

People cried out behind us.

I stood and pulled Tessa with me.

The blow came again.

Wood cracked near the lock.

A third strike broke it.

The door opened.

Light entered first.

Then a soldier.

He was not Vaelir.

His sword was drawn.

He looked at us.

His eyes moved over the room, from the old man against the wall to the kitchen women near the door, then farther back where one of the children had begun to cry.

His sword lowered. He shouted over his shoulder.

More men appeared.

One of them spoke Veyrathi.

“How many?”

“Thirty-four.”

He looked at me.

“Wounded?”

I turned.

The old man had a bad leg. A boy near the back had been ill before we were brought down. The kitchen woman had wrapped one hand in a piece of her apron.

“Three need a healer. Perhaps four.”

“Can they walk?”

“Two can.”

He nodded and called something into the passage.

I looked at the broken lock. Then at him.

“Aedrath?”

“Yes.”

My mouth went dry.

“Who holds the stronghold?”

“We do.”

I waited.

He seemed to think he had answered me.

“What happens to us?”

His brow furrowed.

“You are prisoners?”

“Slaves.”

“Then you come out.”

I looked through the open doorway.

“And after?”

He glanced at another soldier.

The other man said something I did not understand.

The first looked back at me.

“You are free.”

I stared at him.

He stepped aside.

I did not move.

“You are free,” he repeated.

“I heard you.” He waited.

So did I.

I waited for more.

None came.

“Free to go where?”

“Where you wish, when it is safe. Not through the stronghold now.”

That made considerably more sense.

“Are we prisoners of Aedrath?”

“No.”

“Will someone stop us if we leave?”

“Until the fighting is finished here, yes.”

The soldiers began helping people through. I waited until the old man had been taken. Then the feverish boy and his mother. Then the kitchen woman with the wrapped hand.

We stepped into the passage.

No one stopped us.

The route became familiar again above the stairs.

The lower stores first. Then the kitchens.

I knew the kitchen immediately.

I had never seen it empty.

A table lay on its side.

Two stools were broken.

A pot had spilled across the floor, and someone had walked through it, leaving dark prints all the way toward the outer door. The woman with flour on her hands stopped beside me. She stared at the prints.

“They ruined my floor.”

I looked at her.

Her mouth trembled.

I laughed.

I covered my mouth.

“Sorry.”

“No.”

She began laughing too.

“They did.”

For a little while neither of us could stop.

One of the Aedrathi soldiers looked back at us.

Then I saw what lay beyond the kitchen door.

Daylight.

I had seen daylight that morning.

There had been windows in the workroom. This was not remarkable.

I stopped anyway. The door stood open.

Outside were soldiers and smoke and winged averrens and voices speaking a language I did not know.

A standard hung from the wall where Veyrath’s colors had been.

Beyond all of it was sky.

Tessa tugged my hand.

“Ailis.”

“Yes.”

“We’re going outside.”

“I can see that.”

“You aren’t moving.”

I looked down.

I wasn’t.

So I stepped through.

Cold air touched my face.

I breathed it in.

Someone behind me needed the doorway, so I moved again.

A soldier brought water.

I took the cup.

“Thank you.”

He nodded and reached for another.

I drank.

Warm. Slightly leathery. Wonderful.

The Aedrathi soldiers kept working.

A healer was already kneeling beside the feverish boy.

Two men carried someone wounded across the courtyard. Near the wall, a soldier with pointed ears was speaking to another whose face had scales along one cheek.

I looked at the scales longer than was polite.

He turned his head.

I looked at my cup.

Freedom had not improved my manners either.

The soldier who had opened our door called for us to keep together until the stronghold was secured.

I listened carefully this time.

There would be food.

The wounded would be treated .

They would take our names.

They would find somewhere for us to sleep. After that --

I looked toward the gate.

People were passing through it.

No chains.

No guards turning them back.

My shawl was still upstairs.

Blue wool. Loose hem.

The only piece of Eilin work I had managed to keep.

I wanted it.

I wanted my embroidery frame too.

And the silver border.

I wanted bread.

Clean stockings.

A bed that belonged to me.

I wanted --

That was becoming a very long list.

For now, I had a cup of warm water.

The water was gone before we reached the gate. I tipped the cup anyway. One drop landed on my tongue.

One drop.

Better than none.

“Give that here.”

I looked up.

An Aedrathi soldier had his hand out.

For the cup.

Of course.

I gave it to him.

He dropped it into a wooden tub with the others and pointed through the gate.

“Keep with your group.”

I nodded and went after Tessa.

My group.

I was not entirely certain when thirty-three people I mostly did not know had become my group, but everyone else seemed willing to accept it.

Outside the stronghold, the ground sloped toward a collection of tents and wagons. More soldiers moved between them. So did people who did not look like soldiers at all. Men carrying baskets. Women with bundles of linen. Someone leading two draft averrens that appeared deeply offended by the war.

I understood them best.

Tessa slowed until I caught up.

“Where are they taking us?”

“I don’t know.”

“You keep saying that.”

“I keep not knowing.”