Anna Stephens - Godblind

‘The Mireces are hunting you,’ he said and saw her shudder, ‘so we will protect you. But you need to help us do that.’

Lim looked at him, surprised, and Sarilla and Ash turned from their study of the terrain with identical expressions of disbelief. ‘We’re helping her,’ Dom said firmly. He ignored the mutters and focused on her again. ‘Are you Rilporian?’

The girl nodded and Dom felt a flicker of triumph. ‘Were you captured by the Mireces?’ Another nod. ‘I need you to say something now, lass,’ Dom murmured, taking a soft step forward. She wasn’t fooled; she slid sideways out of his reach. He stopped moving and exhaled softly. ‘I need you to tell me where you escaped from. Can you do that?’

As expected there was silence and Lim puffed out his cheeks. ‘It’s important, child. We need to know which village was tracking you, who it is we’ve killed on your behalf.’

‘Eagle Height.’ The girl’s voice was rusty with disuse, her accent thick with Mireces harshness. ‘Two days ago.’ Lim’s eyes narrowed, and Dom flinched.

‘You’re sure it was Eagle Height? Seat of Liris, King of the Mireces?’ Lim asked and then grimaced. The girl’s filthy robe darkened down the front, steaming piss streaking her legs and soaking into Dom’s careful bandaging.

‘Take her away, Ash, we need to talk,’ Lim grunted in disgust. ‘I’ll fill you in later.’

Dom opened his mouth to protest but Lim gave a hard shake of his head and he waited until Ash had escorted her out of earshot. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Dom hissed then.

‘I agree with Ash. She’s likely a spy.’

‘Really? You think she pissed herself on command?’

‘Yes.’

Dom’s eyebrows rose. ‘She’s Rilporian and she’s managed to escape after who knows how many years serving the Mireces and you say she’s a spy. She needs our help.’ He flicked hair off his forehead and rubbed delicately at his right eye.

‘Don’t be taken in by a pretty face,’ Lim said.

Dom scowled. ‘Don’t you be taken in by her accent,’ he retorted. ‘She’s Rilporian.’

‘So she says,’ Sarilla interjected and Dom threw up his hands in frustration, staring from one to the other.

‘It’s more than that,’ he insisted.

‘This is really what you meant, then?’ Lim asked. ‘You said a message, or a messenger. She’s it? What can she tell us?’

Dom bit his lip, shook his hair out of his eyes again and stared at the girl. She was looking around, backing off slowly. Ash grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt. ‘I’m not sure, but she’s important. I just don’t know how yet.’

‘Then find out,’ Lim said, ‘one way or another. Either she’s important or she’s dead, but we need to know which and we don’t have time. Gods,’ he muttered and rubbed the back of his neck.

‘You said there was no immediate danger,’ Sarilla said in a tone that was nearly accusatory.

‘I said there was always danger,’ Dom contradicted her, but quietly. Last thing he needed was to start an argument.

Lim growled in frustration. ‘Fine, take her back to the village and get her some decent clothes or she’ll have her throat opened for her, Rilporian or not. I’ll stay here for a day or two, make sure they don’t come back with reinforcements. When I get back to the village, she’d better be ready to talk.’

‘I’m staying too,’ Sarilla said. ‘You’ll need my bow,’ she added when Lim would have protested.

‘Thank you,’ Dom said.

‘Just make sure you’re right about this, and about her,’ Sarilla muttered. ‘We don’t want to start a war over nothing.’

Rillirin sat and watched. She was good at watching, and she was very good at sitting still. Being unobtrusive had kept her alive. It wasn’t as cold as Eagle Height, so she didn’t allow herself to shiver, to move, barely to blink. Instead she curled into the protective angle of the wall of Dom’s house and the woodpile, and she watched.

She watched the men do the chores alongside the women, and she watched the women work with weapons alongside the men. Mostly, though, she watched the short, spiky-haired spearwoman who’d come to visit Dom and sat by the small fire outside his door.

Her name was Dalli and she had a spear as long as she was tall, plus the leaf-shaped blade at one end. Rillirin watched her rub a fine layer of beeswax into the grain of the wood, and then rub most of it back off again. There was an expression of absolute concentration and contentment on her face as she worked, oblivious to Dom clanging the cooking pot or whistling through his teeth.

Rillirin had never touched a weapon, if you discounted the knives in the kitchens of Eagle Height. Her palms itched at the thought of picking up a spear and knowing how to use it. A prisoner in a Wolf village was much the same as a slave in a Mireces village, though, so she didn’t move.

Dalli gave the spear one more rub-down and stood up, hefting it in one hand and then the other. Then she spun it and it hummed through the air. She smiled, shifting her hands and whirling its length through a series of figures of eight, spinning it around herself, spinning herself with it, feet dancing through the snow.

‘Show off,’ Dom called from inside, breaking the spell, and Rillirin blinked and exhaled; she’d been holding her breath. I want to do that. I want to fight, to dance like that. To be strong.

Dalli laughed, leapt at the door and stabbed through it into the gloom. Rillirin clapped a hand over her mouth and lurched to her feet. The movement alerted Dalli, who dropped into a crouch and spun, spear suddenly pointed at Rillirin’s chest. Rillirin flattened herself against the woodpile, a branch digging hard into her kidney, and put both arms over her face.

‘Hush, girl, I’m not going to hurt you,’ Dalli said, and Rillirin chanced a look. Her heart was thudding high in her throat. Dalli had straightened and was cradling the spear in the crook of her arm, its butt resting on the top of her boot.

‘Maybe I’ll teach you one day,’ she said and Rillirin’s mouth formed an O of surprise. How does she know? ‘Every woman should be able to protect herself,’ Dalli added and Rillirin’s face twisted with shame. The woman was mocking her weakness. She lowered her arms and stared at the snow, feeling her face heat up.

Dalli pursed her lips and then stepped forward and proferred the spear. ‘I didn’t mean anything by that,’ she said quietly. ‘Here, do you want to hold it?’ she asked and from the corner of her eye Rillirin saw Dom appear in the doorway, knife in one hand.

It’s a trap. They’ll kill me if I take the spear. They can say I attacked them. But Rillirin looked at it, at the warm rich wood, the curves of the grain and the faint sheen of beeswax. She could just make out the hatchings carved into its middle for grip. It was beautiful.

Dalli ran her free hand through her short spiky hair. ‘Go on if you want,’ she said. ‘It’s up to you.’

Rillirin licked her lips, fingers twitching; then she shook her head and looked away, shoulders creeping up around her ears. I remember this game. Drink the wine, wench, you’ve earned it, then a punch in the face if I did. Punch in the face if I didn’t, sometimes.

Dalli tucked the spear back under her arm. ‘Another time maybe,’ she said easily, with a smile Rillirin didn’t – couldn’t – trust. ‘You just let me know and I’ll be pleased to teach you. We all would, whatever weapon you fancy.’

Rillirin didn’t reply. She slid down the wall on to the ground, arms around her knees. Still.