Akila stood up. “Have you heard this, lads? The prince here has a plan to take the Empire’s ships from them.”
Thanos saw the rebels start to gather round.
“What good would it do?” Akila asked. “We take their ships, but what then?”
Thanos did his best to explain. “At the very least, it will provide an escape route for some of the people of the city, and for more of your soldiers. It will take away supplies from the Empire’s soldiers too, so that they can’t keep going for long. And then there are the ballistae.”
“What are they?” one of the rebels called out. He didn’t look much like a long-term soldier. Very few of those in the room did, to Thanos’s eyes.
“Bolt throwers,” Thanos explained. “Weapons designed to damage other ships, but if they were turned against soldiers near the shore…”
Akila, at least, looked as though he was considering the possibilities. “That could be something,” he admitted. “And we can set light to any ships we can’t use. At the very least, Draco would pull his men back to try to get his ships back. But how do we get these ships in the first place, Prince Thanos? I know that where you come from, if a prince asks for something, he gets it, but I doubt that will apply to Draco’s fleet.”
Thanos forced himself to smile with a level of confidence he didn’t feel. “That’s almost exactly what we’re going to do.”
Again, Thanos had the impression of Akila working it out faster than any of his men could. The rebel leader smiled.
“You’re mad,” Akila said. Thanos couldn’t tell if it was intended as an insult or not.
“There are enough dead on the beaches,” Thanos explained, for the benefit of the others. “We take their armor and head to the ships. With me there, it will look like a company of soldiers returning from the battle for supplies.”
“What do you think?” Akila asked.
In the firelight that flickered inside the cave, Thanos couldn’t make out the men who spoke. Instead, their questions seemed to emerge from the darkness, so that he couldn’t tell who agreed with him, who doubted him, and who wanted him dead. Still, it was no worse than the politics back home. Better, in a lot of ways, since at least no one was smiling to his face while plotting to kill him.
“What about guards on the ships?” one of the rebels asked.
“There won’t be many,” Thanos said. “And they’ll know who I am.”
“What about all the people who will die in the city while we do this?” another called out.
“They’re dying now,” Thanos insisted. “At least this way, you have a way to fight back. Get this right, and we’ll have a way to save hundreds, if not thousands, of them.”
Silence fell, and the last question came out of it like an arrow.
“How can we trust him, Akila? He’s not just one of them, he’s a noble. A prince.”
Thanos whirled away from the direction the voice had come from, offering up his back for anyone to see. “They stabbed me in the back. They left me to die. I have as much reason to hate them as any man here.”
In that moment, he wasn’t just thinking about the Typhoon. He was thinking about everything his family had done to the people of Delos, and about everything they’d done to Ceres. If they hadn’t forced him to go to Fountain Square, he would never have been there when her brother died.
“We could sit here,” Thanos said, “or we could act. Yes, it will be dangerous. If they see through our disguise, we’re probably dead. I’m willing to risk it. Are you?” When no one answered, Thanos raised his voice. “Are you?”
That got a cheer in response. Akila stepped close to him, clapping a hand on Thanos’s shoulder.
“All right, Prince, it looks like we’re doing things your way. Pull this off, and you’ll have a friend for life.” His hand tightened until Thanos could feel pain shooting through his back. “Betray us, though, get my men killed, and I swear I’ll hunt you down.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
There were parts of Delos where Berin didn’t normally go. They were parts that stank to him of sweat and desperation, as people did whatever they needed to in order to get by. He waved away offers from the shadows, giving the denizens there hard looks to keep them back.
If they’d known about the gold he carried, Berin knew he would have found himself with his throat cut, the purse beneath his tunic divided up and spent in the local taverns and gambling houses before the day was done. It was those places he sought out now, because where else was he going to find soldiers when they were off duty? As a bladesmith, Berin knew fighting men, and he knew the places they would go.
He had gold because he’d visited a merchant, taking with him two daggers he’d forged as examples for those who might have employed him. They’d been beautiful things, worthy of any noble’s belt, worked with gold filigree and etched with hunting scenes on the blades. They were the last things of value he had left in the world. He’d stood in line with a dozen other people in front of the merchant’s desk, and hadn’t gotten half of what he knew they were worth.
To Berin, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was finding his children, and that took gold. Gold he could use to buy ale for the right people, gold he could press into the right palms.
He made his way through Delos’s taverns, and it was a slow process. He couldn’t just come out and ask the questions he wanted to ask. He had to be careful. It helped that he had a few friends in the city, and a few more in the Empire’s army. His blades had saved more than a few men’s lives, over the years.
He found the man he was looking for half drunk in the middle of the afternoon, sitting in a tavern and stinking so much that he had clear space all around him. Berin guessed that it was only the uniform of the Empire’s army that kept them from throwing him face first into the street. Well, that and the fact that Jacare was fat enough that it would have taken half the inn’s patrons to lift him.
Berin saw the fat man’s eyes lift up as he approached. “Berin? My old friend! Come and have a drink with me! Although you’ll have to pay. I’m currently a little…”
“Fat? Drunk?” Berin guessed. He knew the other man wouldn’t mind. The soldier seemed to make an effort to be the Imperial army’s worst example. He even seemed to take a perverse kind of pride in it.
“…financially embarrassed,” Jacare finished.
“I might be able to help with that,” Berin said. He ordered drinks, but didn’t touch his. He needed to keep a clear head if he was going to find Ceres and Sartes. Instead, he waited while Jacare downed his with a noise that sounded to Berin like a donkey at a water trough.
“So, what brings a man like you to my humble presence?” Jacare asked after a while.
“I’m looking for news,” Berin said. “The kind of news a man in your position might have heard.”
“Ah, well, news. News is a thirsty business. And possibly an expensive one.”
“I’m looking for my son and daughter,” Berin explained. With someone else, it might have gained him some sympathy, but he knew that with a man like this, it wouldn’t have much effect.
“Your son? Nesos, right?”
Berin leaned across the table, his hand closing over Jacare’s wrist as the man went to take another drink. He didn’t have much of the old strength left that he’d built wielding forge hammers, but there was still enough to make the other man wince. Good, Berin thought.
“Sartes,” Berin said. “My eldest son is dead. Sartes has been taken by the army. I know you hear things. I want to know where he is, and I want to know where my daughter, Ceres, is.”
Jacare sat back, and Berin let him do it. He wasn’t sure he could have held the other man in place much longer anyway.
“That’s the kind of thing I might have heard,” the soldier admitted, “but that kind of thing is difficult. I have expenses.”
Berin brought out the small pouch of gold. He poured it out onto the table, just far enough from the other man that Jacare couldn’t snatch it ea
sily.
“Will this cover your ‘expenses’?” Berin asked, with a look at the other man’s drinking goblet. He saw the other man counting the gold, probably gauging whether there was any more to be had.
“Your daughter is the easy one,” Jacare said. “She’s up at the castle with the nobles. They announced that she was to marry Prince Thanos.”
Berin dared to breathe a sigh of relief at that, even though he wasn’t sure what to think. Thanos was one of the few royals with any decency to him, but marriage?
“Your son is trickier. Let me think. I heard that a few of the recruiters from the Twenty-third were doing the rounds down by your quarter, but there’s no guarantee that it’s them. If it is, they’re camped a little way to the south, trying to train up the conscripts to fight rebels.”
Bile rose in Berin’s mouth at that thought. He could guess how the army would treat Sartes, and just what that “training” would involve. He had to get his son back. But Ceres was closer, and the truth was that he had to at least see his daughter before he went after Sartes. He stood.
“Not going to finish your drink?” Jacare asked.
Berin didn’t answer. He was going to the castle.
***
It was easier for Berin to get into the castle than it would have been for almost anyone else. It had been a while, but he was still the one who had come there to discuss the requirements for combatlords’ weapons, or to bring special pieces for the nobles. It was simple enough to pretend that he was back in business, heading straight past the guards on the outer gates and into the space where the fighters prepared.
The next step was to get from there to wherever his daughter was. There was a barred gateway between the vaulted space where the warriors practiced and the rest of the castle. Berin had to wait for that to open from the other side, pushing past the servant who did it and trying to pretend that he had important business elsewhere in the building.
He did, just not the kind that most of the people there would understand.
“Hey, you! Where do you think you’re going?”
Berin froze at the rough tone of that. He knew before he turned that there would be a guard there, and he didn’t have an excuse that would satisfy them. The best he could hope for now would be to be thrown out of the castle before he could get close to seeing his daughter. The worst would involve the castle’s dungeons, or maybe just being dragged away to be executed where no one would ever know.
He turned and saw two guards who had obviously been soldiers of the Empire for a while. They had as much gray in their hair as Berin did these days, with the weathered look of men who’d spent too much time fighting in the sun over too many years. One was a good head taller than Berin, but stooped slightly over the spear he leaned on. The other had a beard that he’d oiled and waxed until it looked almost as sharp as the weapon he held. Relief flooded through Berin as he saw them, because he recognized them both.
“Varo, Caxus?” Berin said. “It’s me, Berin.”
The tension hung there for a moment, and Berin found himself hoping that the two would remember him. Then the guards laughed.
“So it is,” Varo said, unbending from over his spear for a moment. “We haven’t seen you in… how long has it been, Caxus?”
The other stroked his beard while he considered. “It’s been months since he was last here. Haven’t really talked since he delivered those bracers for me last summer.”
“I’ve been away,” Berin explained. He didn’t say where. People might not pay their smiths much, but he doubted they would react well to him looking for work elsewhere. Soldiers didn’t usually like the idea of their enemies receiving good blades. “Times have been hard.”
“Times have been hard all around,” Caxus agreed. Berin saw him frown slightly. “It still doesn’t explain what you’re doing in the main castle.”
“You shouldn’t be in here, bladesmith, and you know it,” Varo agreed.
“What is it?” Caxus asked. “An emergency repair for some noble lad’s favorite sword? I think we’d have heard if Lucious had snapped a blade. He’d probably have flogged his servants raw.”
Berin knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with a lie like that. Instead, he decided to try the one thing that might work: honesty. “I’m here to see my daughter.”
He heard Varo suck in air between his teeth. “Ah, now that’s a tricky one.”
Caxus nodded. “Saw her fighting in the Stade the other day. Tough little thing. She killed a spiny bear and a combatlord. Hard fight though.”
Berin’s heart tightened in his chest as he heard that. They had Ceres fighting on the sands? Even though he knew it had been her dream to fight there, this didn’t feel like the fulfillment of it. No, this was something else.
“I have to see her,” Berin insisted.
Varo tilted his head to one side. “Like I said, tricky. No one gets in to see her now. Queen’s orders.”
“But I’m her father,” Berin said.
Caxus spread his hands. “There’s not a lot we can do.”
Berin thought quickly. “Not a lot you can do? Was that what I said when you needed your spear re-hafting before your captain saw that you’d snapped it that time?”
“We said we wouldn’t talk about that,” the guard said, with a worried look.
“And what about you, Varo?” Berin continued, pressing his point home before the other could decide to throw him out. “Did I say that it was ‘tricky’ when you wanted a sword that would actually fit your hand, rather than army issue?”
“Well…”
Berin didn’t stop. The important thing was to push forward past their objections. No, the important thing was to see his daughter.
“How many times has my work saved your lives?” he demanded. “Varo, you told me the story of that bandit chief your unit went after. Whose sword did you use to kill him?”
“Yours,” Varo admitted.
“And Caxus, when you wanted all that filigree work on your greaves to impress that girl you married, who did you go to?”
“You,” Caxus said. Berin could see him pondering.
“And that’s before we get to the days when I was following you all around on campaign,” Berin said. “What about—”
Caxus raised a hand. “All right, all right. You’ve made your point. Your daughter’s room is further up. We’ll show you the way. But if anyone asks, we’re just escorting you out of the building.”
Berin doubted anyone would ask, but that didn’t matter right then. Only one thing did. He was going to see his daughter. He followed the two along the castle’s corridors, finally coming to a door that was barred and locked from the outside. Since the key sat in the lock, he turned it.
Berin’s heart nearly burst at his first sight of his daughter for months. She lay in bed, groaning as she came to, and looking at him with bleary eyes.
“Father?”
“Ceres!” Berin ran to her, throwing his arms around her and crushing her tight to him. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
He wanted to hold her tightly and never let her go right then, but he heard Ceres’s gasp of pain as he hugged her, and he pulled back hurriedly.
“What’s wrong?” Berin asked.
“No, it’s all right,” Ceres said. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Berin said. His daughter had always been so strong, so if she was in pain, it had to be bad. Berin never wanted to see his daughter hurt like that. “Let me look.”
Ceres let him, and Berin winced at what he saw. Tightly stitched wounds ran in parallel lines across his daughter’s back.
“How did you get in here?” Ceres asked while he did it. “How did you even find me?”
“I still have some friends,” her father said. “And I wasn’t going to give up without finding you.”
Ceres turned to him, and Berin could see the love there in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I,” Berin said. “I should never have left
you with your mother.”
Ceres reached out to take his hand, and Berin had forgotten quite how much he missed his daughter until then. “You’re here now.”
“I am,” Berin said. He took another look at her back. “They haven’t cleaned it properly. Here, let me find something to help.”
It was hard having to leave even for that short time. Varo and Caxus were still outside, and it didn’t take much to get them to bring food and water. Maybe they saw the look on his face when it came to things that involved Ceres’s well-being.
He passed her the bowl of food, and the speed with which Ceres devoured it told Berin everything he needed to know about how they’d been treating her here. He took the bowl of water, using it to clean out the wounds she’d gotten from her fight.
Ceres nodded. “I’m a lot better than I was.”
“Then I don’t want to think about how bad it was,” Berin said.
He couldn’t keep the guilt from washing up over him. If he hadn’t gone, then his children would never have gone through any of this.
“I’m sorry, I should have been here.”
“It might not have changed anything,” Ceres said, and Berin could tell that she was trying to reassure him. “The rebellion would still have happened. I might still have fought in the Stade.”
“Maybe.” Berin didn’t want to believe it. He knew Ceres had always had an attraction to the danger of the Stade, but that didn’t mean she would have fought there. She might have been safe. “I could have protected you and your brothers.”
Ceres took his hand again. “I think there are some things even you can’t protect us from.”
Berin smiled. “Do you remember when you were little? You used to think I was the strongest man in the world, and I could protect you from anything?”
Ceres smiled back. “Now I have to protect myself, and I’m strong enough to do it.”
There was a part of Berin that was happy it was true, but he still wanted to be there for his daughter. “Either way, it’s over. We’ll get you out of here.”