they vied for position on deck, no wish to squeeze past pirates and novices for the chance to sight land. Kjellrunn had never left Nordvlast before, never gone more than a dozen leagues from Cinderfell in any direction, and now the Watcher’s Wait approached Svingettevei with all its wonders and dangers but she felt nothing.
She had endured three weeks of nightmares, endlessly seeing her Uncle Verner killed by the Okhrana, and feeling her powers swell again with murderous fury. Over and over she dreamed of smashed corpses and the desolation she visited on the Imperial agents sent to hunt down Mistress Kamalov.
‘Kjellrunn. Do not tell me you are still in bed?’
Kjellrunn groaned and squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of Mistress Kamalov’s voice. She turned over in her bunk as the door creaked open and the renegade Vigilant pushed into the room. The old woman shook Kjellrunn firmly by the shoulder.
‘Up! There is much to do. We have made port at last.’ Kjellrunn pulled the blankets higher, as if they might fend off the day’s problems.
‘Come. I know you are dressed.’ Mistress Kamalov spoke Nordspråk with a harsh Solmindre accent that left no one in any doubt where she hailed from. ‘It’s time for you to get off this ship. We will have meat and wine and conversation with someone other than pirates and children.’
Kjellrunn rose from the bed without a word. It wasn’t wise to disobey the old woman once she’d set her mind to something.
‘I suppose Steiner has already gone ashore?’ Her voice was a sleepy mumble as she pulled a comb through the tangle of her blonde hair.
‘Of course,’ replied Mistress Kamalov as she fixed her headscarf. ‘But Kimi went first. She could barely wait for the boarding ramp to fall.’
‘Wouldn’t it be wiser to wait until they come back? We don’t know what we may run into.’
‘Wise? Yes. But ship’s biscuit and dried meat are no good for children already half-starved from Vladibogdan. We must eat! And you most of all. Like a bag of bones, you are.’
Kjellrunn’s stomach rumbled as if on cue and she smiled with reluctance. ‘I’d just rather avoid running into the Okhrana again.’
‘This is good. It means you have some sense, but sense is no good if you starve to death on this stinking ship! Come on now, out of this cabin.’
They made their way through the dark confines of the Watcher’s Wait and up creaking steps to the main deck, where the escaped novices of Vladibogdan waited. The children were pale and slender in the main and numbered around two dozen.
‘Never much food on Vladibogdan,’ Mistress Kamalov had explained. Steiner had been little more than sinew and scars when he’d returned. The novices’ clothes were ragged and threadbare and many had naked feet. The faraway look that so often haunted the children’s eyes during the journey had been replaced by the fervour of excitement. The cadre of children fell silent as Mistress Kamalov crossed the deck. That she had escaped the Empire and lived as a renegade Vigilant had imbued the old woman with a legendary status among the children. But none had been told about the day a dozen Okhrana came for Marek and Verner in the woods north of Cinderfell. None knew that Kjellrunn had defended her father and the old woman. Not a single novice would be able to imagine Kjellrunn’s fury, manifested in such a display of arcane power that she had almost destroyed the old woodcutter’s chalet. Kjellrunn still saw the faces of the men she had killed when she slept, swept up in a storm of her vengeance, dashed against the trees and ground until they were bloody pulp.
‘Come,’ said Mistress Kamalov with a clap of her hands. ‘Cease your wool-gathering. You must keep your wits about you today, yes?’
Kjellrunn flinched and shivered. Even a passing thought of the dead Okhrana was enough to distract her.
‘We go to the city,’ said Mistress Kamalov to the children. ‘Stay close.’ Mistress Kamalov had never been given to ceremony or pomp and today was no different. The rag-tag band of two score children followed the elderly woman down the boarding ramp. Kjellrunn ushered the last of them off the ship and encouraged them to keep together. Such a large rabble of children attracted stares and comments from the dock workers as they went. Kjellrunn fell into step beside the old Vigilant and returned the hard stares of the locals, daring them to make trouble for her charges.
‘Kjellrunn. You are clenching your fists.’ The old woman directed a forced a smile at a nearby port official. ‘Try to relax, yes?’
‘This isn’t just a bad idea,’ said Kjellrunn under her breath as the children followed behind. ‘It’s a terrible idea.’
‘These children have been incarcerated for years,’ said Mistress Kamalov. ‘They have faced each day not knowing if they might live or die. Do you really think there is anything we can do to keep them on that ship?’ The old woman frowned. ‘Better we keep an eye on them if possible.’
Kjellrunn thought of all the times she had gone to spend the afternoon in woods north of Cinderfell.
‘I suppose I slipped away often enough to come and see you in the forest.’
‘Yes, for training. But these young souls want to spend their coin on stew and bread, clothes and boots, and Frejna knows what else.’
‘I don’t know how they’re going to pay for all this,’ said Kjellrunn, glancing over her shoulder at the ragged children in their threadbare clothes.
‘They looted the corpses of their captors.’ Mistress Kamalov grinned wickedly.
‘Corpses?’
‘There were a lot of soldiers on the island, a lot of loyal novices and Vigilants. These children have fought and killed for their freedom.’
Kjellrunn looked back over her shoulder at the novices with renewed interest. Some of the children were her own age but the majority were much younger.
‘Hah. You thought you are the only one who has killed, yes?’
Kjellrunn shivered as she tried not to think about the dead Okhrana. ‘I still think it’s a bad idea to head into Virag …’ Kjellrunn trailed off as they reached a wide thoroughfare, far more imposing than the crude roads and humble tracks of Cinderfell and Nordvlast. Carts and wagons filled the view and the various ethnicities of Vinterkveld hurried in all directions, bearing heavy loads.
‘Are you unwell, Kjellrunn?’ said Mistress Kamalov. Kjellrunn had stopped walking to take in the vista while the novices clustered around them, all whispering, bickering and laughing.
‘I …’ Kjellrunn blinked and looked around. ‘We’re really not in Nordvlast any more, are we? Cinderfell, I mean. We’re not home any more. We can’t go back.’
‘Darling girl,’ said the old Vigilant in a rare moment of tenderness. ‘We spend three weeks cooped up on a stinking ship, and only now you begin to understand.’ The old woman squeezed her close. ‘It’s to be expected, I suppose. Do not worry. We will make a new home, yes?’
‘Where?’
‘I do not know.’ Mistress Kamalov looked away. ‘But I do know two children have already slipped away.’ The old woman pointed down the street and frowned. ‘Come now. Quickly.’
Mistress
