father?” It was a guess, a risk, but I needed to know who the man who should have been duke was.
Onderaan’s eyes widened. “Who told you?”
So it was true.
“No one. Jeatar has the Duke’s eyes and lots of money, and he keeps trying to help people without anyone knowing he’s doing it.” I’d figured that out not long after we’d left Baseer. “And I saw his burn scars when he pulled me out of the Luminary’s office. He was in Sorille when the Duke burned it, wasn’t he? Plus little things he’s said and done. It all filled the same bucket.”
Onderaan smiled at me the way Papa had when I’d done something well. “You have a way of seeing what no one else does.”
My face warmed and I looked away. It wasn’t anything special, just what you had to do to survive. “Does anyone else know?”
“Ouea. She’s been with his family since he was your age. A few others, loyal supporters of his father’s, but they’re all over the Territories now.”
“Causing rebellions?”
“Gathering support for when the time is right to move against the Duke.”
“But that’s now!”
He shook his head. “No, it isn’t. We have no army, no defensible base.”
“So we’ll tell everyone who Jeatar is and we’ll get their support. We build the army, we march back to Baseer and take over, save Tali, then free Geveg and Verlatta. It’s a good plan.”
Onderaan looked at me, a sad smile on his face. “Nya, that’s not a plan, it’s a wish.”
“Maybe not.”
We could do it. How hard could it be to raise an army? The Duke did it, and no one even liked him.
“Nya, one day we will stop the Duke, but not now.” Onderaan stood and looked around the room. “Let me get you what pynvium I can. No bricks, but I think there are some orbs left.”
“What about Jeatar?”
“I’ll tell him you’re leaving after you’ve gone. He won’t be happy about it, but he’ll understand. Once we get the refugees settled in Veilig, I’ll come meet you in Geveg.”
“How will I find you?”
He paused. “Be in Analov Park at sunset in six days. Right under Grandpa’s statue.”
We decided to leave at night. The man who’d attacked me still hadn’t been found, and we agreed it was safer to travel when no one was watching. Quenji found a horse and wagon – which I suspected Onderaan had something to do with by the way the wagon was stocked – and had it tucked away at the edge of the woods down the road.
“Why can’t we come with you?” Jovan asked. His twin brother, Bahari, had been the one asking all afternoon, but he’d given up. Or they were taking turns.
“Because it’s not safe,” Danello answered, same as he’d done all day. He hadn’t snapped, hadn’t yelled, hadn’t done any of the things I might have done if my little brothers had been pestering me for hours. “Stay with Ouea. She’ll take care of you until we’re done in Geveg.”
“And then you’ll come back for us?” Halima asked, twisting one blonde braid around her finger.
“Promise.” He knelt and hugged her tight. “I’ll always come back for you.”
Was being able to say goodbye harder or easier than just losing someone? I didn’t know if I’d have had the strength to let Tali go, knowing I might not ever see her again.
“Find Da,” Bahari said, hugging him when Halima was done. “Bring him back with you.”
“I will, I promise.”
We all got hugs too, and Ouea herded the little ones back inside the house. I took Danello’s hand. It trembled, and he grabbed mine tighter.
“They’ll be OK, right?” he whispered.
“Safer than we’ll be. Ouea won’t let anything happen to them. And Quenji’s pack is staying, too, so Zee and Ceun will look after them as well.” So much more than Tali ever had.
He took a shaky breath and nodded. “OK, let’s go.”
“We’re all loaded up,” Quenji said, smiling from the driver’s bench of the wagon. “How far to Geveg?”
“Two or three days.”
He made a face. “Sounds boring.”
We climbed in the wagon and took seats on the wooden benches on both sides. Not the most comfortable ride to Geveg, but we’d manage.
Quenji snapped the reins, and we rumbled down the road, everyone quiet save for the occasional cough. I watched the farm fade away in the night, unable to shake the feeling I was leaving family behind.
We rolled into Dorpstaad, one of the few places in the marshes big enough to be called a town. It sat on the edge of the lake, with blue-reed marshes on one side and rich farmland on the other. Wasn’t much more than a few dozen trader posts, but it did have the ferry dock to Geveg Isles, a traveller’s house, and one coffeehouse – a welcome sight after two days on the road.
Beyond the buildings the lake sparkled, but Geveg was hazy, and thin tendrils of smoke curled above the rooftops. Fires.
“Jeatar did say they were rebelling.” Danello sounded calm, but he had to be worried about his father. “Doesn’t look too bad though. No worse than the riots a few months ago.”
It had to be worse than that if the Gov-Gen had been killed. But I knew hope when I heard it.
Quenji parked near the stables and arranged for a paddock and a place to store the wagon. It was too expensive to ferry them across, and there were few places to store them in Geveg if we did. Between what Quenji had no doubt stolen and what Danello had won from the soldiers playing cards, we could afford a few days’ keep.
I stretched my sore muscles. “Let’s find out when the next ferry is.”
The ferry dock was empty. Not even the usual beggars crouched by the pilings or resting under the mangrove trees. The ferry itself sat empty at its berth at the far end of the dock.
“Maybe it’s not running?” Aylin shielded her eyes with her hand and gazed over the water. It was flat today, barely any breeze to stir the surface.
“Or they’re not letting it dock at Geveg,” Danello said. “That’s the easiest way to keep people from leaving the city.”
“Or coming into the city,” I added.
This
