All Saints, Isaak was tired of this charade already. But the princess had provided him an opening.
“If you can’t manage a short stint sitting on a rock, I don’t see how you could hope to fill the role of guard standing at attention for hours.”
“Then thank goodness I was born royal.”
“I confess I know little of the Tavgharad,” said Isaak, hoping his voice sounded natural. “Are they drawn from noble families?”
“They aren’t drawn from anywhere,” Ehri said, a surprising bite to her voice. “They come from every town and every village where they test and train and hope to be chosen. There is no greater honor.”
“Than defending you?” He couldn’t keep the smile from his voice.
Ehri bit her lip. “The Taban line. I’m one of the lesser jewels in the crown.”
Isaak found that hard to believe. She was awfully pretty. He couldn’t imagine what her sisters looked like if she was the plain one.
He pressed on. “It must be a hard life, even if it is rewarding. Do they leave their families behind as the Grisha do?”
She stiffened slightly. “They’re happy to do so.” She trailed a hand over the water. “I think it’s hardest for the twins.”
“Twins?”
“They’re very common among our people.” She bobbed her head toward Tolya. “Like the Keb-Bataar.”
“It’s an interesting word, kebben. We don’t have one like it in Ravkan.” It could mean close kin or twin, but also someone bound to your heart.
Ehri closed her eyes and recited, “Everyone mourns the first blossom. Who will weep for the rest that fall?”
Isaak couldn’t help but smile. It seemed Tolya’s advice would come in handy after all. “I will remain to sing for you, long after the spring has gone.”
“You know it?” Ehri said in surprise.
“I learned it when I was first studying Shu.” It was a poem simply titled “Kebben’a,” and there was considerable debate over whether the title should be translated as My Dear or My Kin or My Only.
“It’s an old poem, long out of fashion, but it describes the spirit of kebben well.”
“I believe it was set to music,” Isaak said. “I’ve been told you play the khatuur?”
She bunched her hands in her silks, her expression tightening again. “Yes,” she said curtly. What had he done wrong?
“I’ve found …” he fumbled, afraid he might be about to botch everything horribly. “I’ve found that this position, this life of display, can take the savor from many things I once enjoyed.”
For a moment Ehri looked startled, even frightened, then something sparked in her eyes and she leaned forward. “I know,” she whispered. “At least if we were guards, we could spend the day doing something more exciting.”
“We could go riding.”
“Eat with our fingers.”
Ehri lowered her chin and whispered, “Belch.”
“With fervor.”
“We could—oh dear,” said Ehri. “I think we have company.”
And sure enough down both garden paths he saw the hopefuls and their chaperones approaching like a flock of beautifully dressed birds of prey. “Someone must have reported we were in private conversation.”
“Perhaps they’ll all throw themselves into the pond to get your attention,” whispered Ehri, and Isaak had to resist the urge to laugh again.
“What amuses the king so?” asked the Fjerdan princess as she approached, her fan fashioned to resemble an elegant spray of frost.
“Many things, I must confess,” said Isaak. “The king is a simple man.”
It wasn’t true, but so little was these days.
NINA KNEW GETTING THE WOMEN out of the fort would be no small challenge. Security would be tighter thanks to her little stunt, but they could at least hope that the soldiers might think the breach had been the result of a novitiate out to pull a prank or attempting a meeting with a soldier, not the work of a Ravkan spy.
When Nina met with Leoni and Adrik to plan, they kept their discussions in Zemeni and made sure to talk well away from the convent, under the cover of one of their excursions to sell the loading devices. They’d actually made sales to a few of the local fishermen who were attempting to hunt game for hides and meat now that the fish seemed to be dying off. They would have to restock soon.
That morning, Nina had seen a flash of white fur appearing and disappearing through the trees as they trekked out of town. She’d strayed away from Adrik and Leoni and wended her way into the woods as silently as she could. There, she’d seen Trassel, prowling the far banks of the river. Her heart had caught in her throat when she’d glimpsed the other shapes in the woods. Gray wolves. But these animals did not seem to have the orange eyes and rangy bodies of those she’d encountered on the ice. Every time one of them moved toward the water, Trassel would snap his jaws and the gray wolves would edge farther back into the trees.
He’s herding them, she realized. He’s keeping them away from the poisoned river.
She wanted to stay and watch, to see if he might let her approach—even if he continued to turn his nose up at her kitchen scraps. But Adrik and Leoni were waiting. And so were the girls on the mountaintop. Reluctantly, she left Trassel behind and returned to the sledge.
The plan seemed simple enough: Get the women and their babies out and make it through the checkpoint at the base of the hill before anyone knew the prisoners were missing.
Leoni hadn’t been thrilled to learn they’d need explosives. “I have barely any training in blasting powders,” she said as they repacked their wares, “and long fuses are almost always trouble.”
“We need a distraction,” said Nina. “Once we get clear, the bombs will start a fire in the active portion of the factory that will spread to the maternity ward. By the time it’s extinguished and they realize there are no bodies to find, the girls will be well on their way to Hjar.” There, a whaler commissioned by members of the Hringsa would be waiting to take them to Ravka. Actually, the crew would be expecting Grisha fugitives, not a tide of young women and infants addicted to what Leoni suspected was synthetic parem or something very much like it. But Nina would find some way to explain. “We can’t tell the girls who we are. Not if we want them docile.”
Leoni looked uneasy. “Shouldn’t they have a choice in this?”
“Parem takes away choice. All they’ll be thinking of is when the next fix will come. If we want them to go with us quietly, they can’t know we’re taking them away from their supply. We should try to acquire some ordinary jurda for them too. It may help with the withdrawal.”
Adrik squinted down the road. “What happens when they realize that next fix isn’t coming?”
“Leoni, could you create a sedative mild enough to keep them manageable but safe enough for the mothers who are still carrying?”
“Are we really talking about sedating pregnant women?” Adrik asked. “What if we get the dose wrong?”