Revolution (Chronicles of Charanthe #2)

  *

  Daniel was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sharpening his knives while Isabelle played by his side. He’d given her a whetstone so she could pretend to sharpen her own wooden blade, but instead she chewed on the handle.

  Eleanor scooped the girl up and kissed her. “Mamma’s home,” she said. “How are you getting on? No, no. You’re still holding it wrong – here, you need to do it more like so. Daniel, haven’t you been correcting her?”

  “She is very young. Let her play, there will be time for correction later.”

  “She’s falling into bad habits already. See, Bella, like this.” She picked up one of Daniel’s knives to demonstrate, holding it slanted against the whetstone, her thumb on the blade. Isabelle ignored the instruction and bashed her knife against the stone.

  “Did you succeed?” Daniel asked.

  “Yeah, I told you it wasn’t much. I’ve brought Lauren back with me, I suppose I’d better introduce her to the council later.”

  “You have done what?”

  “I’ve brought Lauren–”

  He cut her off. “Who is Lauren?”

  “She was my mole in the Shadows.”

  Isabelle tugged at Eleanor’s hair then, when she didn’t get the quick response she was expecting, started to hit her on the head with the wooden knife.

  “That’s not what knives are for, sweetie,” Eleanor said, catching the child’s hand and holding it. Then, to Daniel: “The one whose code word I was responding to, you know?”

  “I do not know, because you would not tell me where you were going.”

  “She was reassigned from the Specials to the Shadows last year, fell in with the revolutionaries, and I picked her up before she quit her job. She’s been passing information back – very useful stuff.”

  “I struggle to believe it.” He shook his head. “However well I know you, I struggle to believe it every time you do something this stupid.”

  “You didn’t say it was stupid when I brought you mistflowers.”

  “You have invited the enemy into our midst.”

  “We’re recruiting everywhere we can. How could I possibly turn down such a perfect candidate?”

  “When will you learn that you cannot do these things without permission? Recruit her to the revolution, by all means. But to bring her here?”

  “She stayed in the Shadows for us. With them. We owe her for that, we can’t just leave her to die of boredom guarding a rebel district somewhere.”

  “Better she dies of boredom than we all die of treachery.”

  “You are in a happy mood, aren’t you? Come on, Bella, let’s go and make a new friend.”

  Isabelle gurgled happily as Eleanor carried her into the hall, still clutching the wooden knife.

  “Oh, and you finally got me pregnant again,” Eleanor called over her shoulder, but she didn’t wait to see what he’d have to say about that. Not while he was in such a bad mood.

  “This is Isabelle,” Eleanor told Lauren. “You last saw her when she was just a lump in my belly.”

  “You’re keeping her here? I had no idea.”

  “Well I could hardly surrender her to the Imperial schools, could I? Not while we’re plotting to overthrow them.”

  Isabelle sucked on her knife blade.

  “Oh, absolutely. All the rebel families are doing it – holding on to their kids, I mean. I was just surprised to see her here. Rather than out in the districts. I didn’t imagine kids in the Association.”

  “Just the one, so far, but I’ve another on the way.” She patted her stomach though there was nothing to see yet, even if you knew to be looking.

  “Hi Isabelle.” Lauren waved but Isabelle had buried her head in her mother’s shoulder, looking out only from the corner of one eye.

  “Say hello to Lauren, sweetie.”

  Isabelle looked up briefly, then resumed chewing on her knife handle.

  “Nice to see she’s already got her own knife,” Lauren said, smiling. “It must be good to start early.”

  “We thought that, but she’s hopeless. She just hits things with it.”

  “Well, you’ve only given her a wooden blade. It’s not much use for anything else.”

  “I can’t give her a real knife until she stops eating everything in sight.”

  “It’s a bit circular, isn’t it? Until you give her something she can use, she won’t learn to do anything with it beyond hitting things and eating it.” Lauren crouched and pulled a dagger from her boot sheath. “Isabelle? Try this.”

  Isabelle reached for the sharp edge of the blade, and Lauren had to pull it quickly beyond her reach.

  “Okay, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.”

  Eleanor looked at Lauren’s plain, military-issue knife. “Do you want to come and meet our weaponsmith?” she asked. “You’ll need to come up with your own design before he can make you anything special, but I can introduce you, anyway.”

  Eleanor led the way through the corridors to the smithy.

  “Harold? I’ve brought someone to see you.”

  “Oh?” He hammered a few more times at the blade he was working, and plunged it into the cold bath. Plumes of steam rose around him, condensing in beads on his forehead. “Come in, then, don’t be shy.”

  “This is our newest recruit,” Eleanor said. “Harold, meet Lauren. Lauren, this is Harold, the best weaponsmith in all the Empire.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” He laughed and held out his hand. Lauren grasped it firmly.

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Lauren’s going to need some nice knives,” Eleanor said. “She’s got military junk at the moment.”

  “Well, we can soon fix that. Let me take your measurements, and then you can start thinking about a design.”