“You will answer yes, your ladyship or no, your ladyship, and in a respectful tone,” the woman said.
“Yes, your ladyship,” Nan mumbled. “No, I didn’t steal them, your ladyship.”
“And if you lie, your punishment will be the worse. Get those off, and we’ll find you something suitable. And then get down to the kitchen—they are behind with the peeling. Tula!”
Half an hour later, Nan felt herself reviving just enough to pay attention to her surroundings. Someone had taken away the pretty clothes Sarilda had given her. Wet and grimy as they were, Nan was sorry to see them go. Instead she had on a rough long dress made like a gray sack with arms. Around her waist was tied a heavy apron.
Another girl took her down to the kitchens, where at least it was warm. She was told to sit on an upturned bucket, and someone pressed a knife into her hand and set down next to her a huge basket of green vegetables with hard skins.
Slowly she recovered enough to worry about how she would bear the miserable hours stretching ahead. It wasn’t her fault. None of this terrible place was her fault. She had done the right thing, she had done the right thing... as she peeled the vegetables, she fell into a rhythm, whispering with each stroke, “I... did... right!”
And she knew that, despite her tiredness (which would end) and her hunger (that, too, would end), she would always have that feeling to cherish and remember: she had not given in to the bullies. She’d done the right thing.
So she sliced away, and when her stomach grumbled and cramped she sucked it in, and she had so many times in the past. She knew the feeling would go away.
But her pride in doing the right thing would stay.
Thirteen
“She’s up at the castle,” Noss said, his brown-green eyes round with excitement. “We haven’t been able to get anyone near her yet. The only one who was by when Nitre brought her out was Coll, who can’t talk. But he can sign to Taliath, our other person there.”
Everyone looked at him. Joe felt his guts tighten.
“She didn’t blab.” Noss’s eyes widened, his relief obvious. “Not a word. Said she didn’t know anything.”
Joe’s breath expelled in a sigh, and most of the others whispered, exchanged comments, laughter, whistles of relief.
Blackeye didn’t say anything, she just grinned.
Noss went on, “Taliath said she was able to warn her about Olucar’s worst spy, but that was it, because one of the warts was standing right there.”
Blackeye gave a long sigh. Warron smiled slightly.
Tarsen whistled—very softly. They were gathered in a circle on the shops’ side of one of the narrow cliff-hugging streets, supposedly watching the weaver’s girl and Sarilda play a fast, complicated game with little notched sticks of various colors.
Blackeye said, “It’s good to hear, but while they have Nan she—all of us—are still in danger. We’re going to have to act fast.”
“It’ll be really hard to spring her,” Noss said doubtfully. “The best we have now with the bond-children is some communication going, and that’s hard enough. No one gets up to Rotha easily. All the access-ways are watched. Anyway, what’s the hurry? She didn’t blab, so she’s safe enough. As long as she works.”
“I overheard the Duke of Lorjee talking, just before we came to Fortanya,” Blackeye said. “We know now that Todan is expecting to get a sorcerer from Sveran Djur.”
Noss made a face. “So the rumor is true, eh? That’s nasty news.”
Blackeye leaned forward. “Do you think it’ll make a difference with the other gangs?”
Noss rubbed his nose. “Maybe.”
Bron said in his low, quiet voice, “Could be a few of ’em will have to be turned into toads before they’re convinced.”
“But then it might be too late,” Kevriac muttered.
Noss looked from one to another and grimaced again. “Look you, we’ve talked about this before. The wharf runners, Torka’s gang—some of my own group, all of them just want to have fun with the warts. All the palace slubs are on your side, and there’s also Imic’s gang, but that’s because they’re like you. They all had nice families before Todan killed the queen. They want the old life back. The wharf rats were always poor, and I’ve talked and talked to One-Eye, their leader. He says they aren’t about to risk their necks messing in royal affairs when as far as they know things would be exactly the same under Prince Troial.”
“But if Todan gets a sorcerer, life might get worse.”
“Then a lot of them will stow away on the far-going ships and try another land.”
Sarilda sighed. “We have to restore the prince for everyone’s sake,” she said. “Even if they don’t see it because they can’t. Or won’t. And I can’t imagine he won’t be grateful enough to grant changes to whoever helps him recover.”
Noss grinned. “You mean, you want to be toffs?”
Tarsen leaped up and swanked around the circle, pretending to be a snob. Everyone laughed, then Sarilda picked up her sticks and restarted the game.
“I want the Falcon back,” Blackeye said. “I want to go to other countries and trade, but here’s my home. What I’d ask the prince for is schools for any kid whose family can’t, or won’t, send them to prentice out where they want to learn. Not a Work House. I know those. A school, where Bron could learn to manage great estates, and Shor could learn painting, and so on. Think you those wharf runners would want to sleep on nets in the winter and eat old garbage cast off from inn-yards if they could have real work and earn a real living?”
Noss sighed. “You have thought these things out. I haven’t, not that far. I just want my freedom, and warm food, and a safe place to sleep, and maybe some laughs. I suspect there are some who’ve been out on the streets too long, and wouldn’t welcome any kind of work. Not when stealing can be so much fun. But others...” He tipped his head back and stared up at the gray, cloudy sky. “I’ll have to talk to them.”
“Talk, then,” Blackeye said. “But only recruit those you can trust. It’s just that we need to act fast, and I’ll need a lot of help if this plan is to work.”
“But it could be a year or more before Todan gets that sorcerer.”
“Lorjee said he expected Averann to be back by month’s end. It’s he who Todan sent to hire the sorcerer. And there’s something else in the wind,” Blackeye added. “Lorjee and his sister are plotting against Todan with some other man. Wears a blue starstone ring, with the carving of a bird on it.”
“Blue starstone ring,” Noss repeated. “Bird carving. I can ask around. Between one kid and another just about all the toffs are known at least by sight—hi! You cheated!” He leaned forward suddenly and grabbed the sticks from Sarilda.
“I did not!” she shrilled.
“Give me my sticks back,” the weaver’s girl yelled.
Confused, Joe looked from one to another, then he heard the rhythmic tramping of boots, and a squad of warts came marching round the corner. Everyone started making noise about the game except Warron, who drifted away, watching the sails in the harbor down below them. Warron was in a good position to attack from behind—if he had to.
But he didn’t have to. The warts marched by, giving the kids only the most cursory glance.
The kids played a little longer, then Noss said abruptly, “I’ll talk around. Send a message when I know anything.” He got up and ran off, disappearing in the crowd of people moving along the narrow street.
Warron lounged forward and thumped Joe on the shoulder. “Time for a run.” He flicked his thumb at the next bend in the street. “All the way down to the wharf, then back up again. Twice.”
Joe sighed. He was getting to know the turns and twists of the streets zigzagging up the steep palisades—not that he would ever need the knowledge, he thought sourly.
Warron grinned. “And again after supper.”
Joe winced. “What is it, my fault Nan’s gone?”
Warron stepped closer, cast a quick glance to eithe
r side. “See that castle?” he asked.
Joe turned around. His gaze traveled up the cliffs to where the castle perched high on the very tallest. Wisps of clouds obscured the top of it.
“The only way up is steps,” Warron said. “You’ll be going up there to the prince’s wing. He’s kept in the high tower. All our lives are going to depend on how fast you can make that run.”
Joe squinted up at the castle, trying to estimate how many flights of stairs it equaled. Twenty? Sixty? Might as well be a million, he thought dismally, and turned away.
Warron was watching him, his eyes speculative. He didn’t say anything, though.
Joe immediately felt bad about his attitude. This is what I’m here for, he thought as he wiped his hands down his pants. “Well, let’s get moving.”
Warron grinned.
And started to run.
o0o
“Sundown,” the cook said, peering through the window. “You four get upstairs to your beds. I want the fire laid and the cook pots ready when I come down at dawn.”
Nan dropped her arms heavily into her lap, slumping on her stool. The red-haired girl working just behind her whispered, “That’s us. We’re off.”
Nan watched the girl rise and make a little business of wiping her knife and board. The cook turned away, and quick as a blink the girl grabbed a fistful of the bread bits she’d been cutting for some kind of bread-stuffed meat pies and stashed them under her apron. As she passed Nan, her hands were empty.
Nan was too tired to smile, but she thought of the bits and scraps she’d sneaked herself four or five times during that endless day. As she got to her feet, she realized she’d never been grateful for her time with the Wheelwrights and Evanses before. She’d learned how to sneak food by the time she was in second grade.
Her urge to smile disappeared when she saw the narrow stone stairs awaiting her. Every single muscle in her body ached, from her forehead to her feet. She leaned against the doorway, tears of self-pity burning her eyelids.
“Come on,” a quiet, gruff voice said behind her. “Move fast, and you can have first bath. Water’s hotter then.”
A thin girl her own age nudged her, hesitated, then took Nan’s arm. Nan tried not to lean on her for about three steps, but by the time they reached the top, the girl had nearly taken all her weight.
When they reached the room where the bonded girls had to sleep, Nan saw rows of narrow cots.
The red-haired girl came forward, smiling. “Here’s one for you,” she said. “How about a bath first?” She leaned toward Nan and whispered, “I saved it for you.”
Nan just nodded, and wearily followed the girl down the long row of cots to a room by itself. Sleep was the first thing on her mind, but she felt so grubby and gritty from the dungeon, she knew she needed a wash. When she’d changed her clothes, the frightened girl who brought the gray dress had hardly given her time to exchange Sarilda’s outfit for the new. There’d been no water, and no opportunity to even rebraid her hair.
As she followed, she heard a low, rumbling sound that she couldn’t identify. None of the others reacted, so she decided it was nothing to worry about. She was too tired to open her mouth and ask.
The red-haired girl opened a door, and turned to grin at Nan. “Here you go.” She waved a freckled arm at a big wooden tub with a two troughs above it. One came from the wall, behind which that sound was now a dull roar, and the other from a huge metal pot next to the bath.
The girl did something to the troughs, and steaming water poured from the one leading to the pot, and plain water came from the other. As Nan slowly approached the bath, she saw another trough leading from the bottom of the wooden tub back to the wall. A drain, she realized.
“I’m Giula,” the girl said with a quick grin. “We red-heads have to stay together. What’s your name?”
“Nan.”
“A very nice name! The rule in here is, we’re only supposed to fill the tub once. We have lots of water—you can probably hear the falls just behind our wall. But it’s cold, and heating it takes forever. If we keep ourselves to one tub apiece, everyone gets a hot bath, or at least a warm one. We take turns making sure the heater is filled.”
Nan watched in fascination as the water filled the tub, and then Giula did something and the water slowed to a trickle, then a drip.
“Get in, quick! It cools off fast.”
Nan winced as she pulled the scratchy gray dress over her head and draped it carefully over a hook. Her underthings came next, and Nan noticed the smiling girl looking curious, and wished she’d go away. “That’s an odd type of underclothes,” Giula he said. “I’ve never seen them before.”
Nan was just about to say, “They’re normal where I come from,” and remembered just in time that Earth was a secret.
She glanced up at Giula, who was still smiling, and hesitated. Again she wished very strongly that the girl would just leave her alone, but of course she wouldn’t say anything. Giula—who looked to be Nan’s age—seemed friendly enough, which in Nan’s experience was a miracle, and Nan would be very glad for an ally. She sensed that she could really impress this girl by admitting to being from another world—but then her princess lie came back to mind, and she winced. “Got them from a trader,” she said. “Can I wash them out?”
“We always do, at the end of the bath, before we let the water out,” Giula replied. “Hang them on your hook by your bed. They’ll be damp but wearable by morning, this time of year. Also your towel—they’re here, and the one you pick is yours for the week—and the nightgowns as well. Only old ones left. You have to get here right after the laundry crew brings the dry things up to get a thick one. Our dresses get washed once a week, did someone tell you?”
Nan gave a tired nod as she climbed carefully into the tub. The water stung her skin for the first few seconds, but very soon the warmth soothed her aching body so much that she felt her eyes trying to close. “Told me,” she said, so tired she could hardly speak above a whisper. “Said if it gets real dirty before, and Lady Olucar sees, then I’ll get into trouble.”
Giula came closer, and Nan realized what was making her edgy: some of her movements, her smile even, reminded Nan of McKynzi. “True,” Giula said, with a little shrug and smirk just like McKynzi’s when a teacher was watching. “You don’t want to see seen by The Beast if you can possibly help it. The Beast is what we call Lady Olucar. She likes to sneak around listening, and she’s got sharp ears. Don’t be heard even saying her name, unless it’s to repeat an order.”
Nan felt bad even thinking of comparing Giula to McKynzi, and tried to smile, to be friendlier. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Oh, I always try to help newcomers,” the girl said with that little grin. “I just like to get along with everyone. Makes life soooo much easier. Especially smart people. They’re the ones who can make a difference. Most of those girls out there, if you want the real truth, are dumb as rocks. But they’re nice enough.”
Nan nodded, then forced herself to make the effort of washing herself. It would be so easy, she thought, to just fall asleep right there in the tub. She wondered if she’d even feel it if she drowned.
“Another one to watch out for is the ferret, which is what we call Ilda, the one with the streaky yellow hair and the long nose. She spies on everyone, and whatever you say gets reported back to The Beast. She’s got a room to herself downstairs now.”
“The one who helped me—I forget her name—seemed nice.”
Shrug. “That’s Amar. She’s all right, but a mouse. You did real well today in the kitchen, despite the horrible night in the dungeon, and having to come up the Death-stairs carrying stuff. Sometimes I think Taliath does it on purpose.”
“Taliath? Dark hair, round face? Kind of stocky?”
“That’s her.” Wrinkle of the lip. “Thinks she’s smarter than everyone else, but look where it got her—down working cleaning the garrison and running errands for Nitre. Oh well! We all have to work together
, and I try hard to bring everyone together. I hope you won’t mind my talking. No one does. They just think, oh, there’s that silly red-head Giula, she talks a lot, but she’s harmless.” Another grin, and another of those expectant looks—just like McKynzi, when she wanted the teachers to tell her she was a good worker, or talented, or clever, or a good leader.
And Nan remembered something else: that stocky girl, Taliath, saying, Don’t talk to Giula. What did that actually mean? Not to talk to her at all, or just not to tell her anything—and what if Giula, who seemed friendly, was on Nan’s side, but Taliath, who had made the journey up the stairs a lot worse than it ought to have been by loading her with that basket, wasn’t?
Nan dipped herself under the water, deciding she was too tired to think about it now. And another lie started forming in her mind, but this time there was no princess, no war, no mother or sister to sacrifice for. As she finished rinsing her hair and turned to wash out her underthings, she had a story all ready, about being a cook’s helper on a ship who accidentally got into trouble.
When she got out of the tub, cold air made her ache again. She pulled a thin towel off the stack, and began to dry herself off.
“I come from Waneldar,” Giula said. “Was supposed to go for a lady’s maid, but I got cheated out of my position. Where do you come from?”
Nan paused to wrap up her hair in the towel, and she pulled a nightgown from the pile of five or six left. It was almost as thin as a slip. She got it over her head, and sighed. “Cook’s helper. Another apprentice lied about me,” she said, and saw disappointment quirk Giula’s upper lip for just a second, then back came the big smile.
Giula continued to chatter, but Nan didn’t comprehend the words as she padded out into the big room and found her cot. Giula abruptly turned away and started talking to someone else, leaving Nan to unfold her blanket and climb into bed. Then, despite the candles, and the quiet murmur of the other girls, she was asleep within seconds of laying her head down on the flat old pillow.
Fourteen