She laughed at the idea. “Try to tie him there. You won’t live long, but, all the more reason to try.” Morte collapsed in a moss pile a few feet away and began eating all the wild grasses within his reach. The Spade began gathering sticks into a pile. Dinah realized too late what he was doing. She dashed dirt toward the pile with her foot. “Stop! What are you doing? Don’t build a fire, they’ll see it!”
The Spade laughed as he produced a tiny muslin bag. “Ever see nightpowder?” Dinah shook her head. The Spade lit the fire with a flint, but as soon as he saw the first hint of a flicker, he dropped a pinch of the powder onto the growing flame. “Aye, the trick is to get it on when it’s just a tiny thing. It won’t work on a raging fire, or even a burning log.”
Dinah watched in amazement as the flame grew, only instead of glowing with an orange heat, it was black, and emitted a clear smoke that disappeared into the sky. The flames still burned hot, and Dinah enjoyed the first feel of heat she’d felt on her face in a long time. The Spade roasted two rabbits he had speared that day and generously gave Dinah a whole one. She dove into it, relishing the drip of grease on her face. She threw the rest of her rabbit over to Morte, who cracked the bones between his teeth.
The Spade watched with disgust. “Unnatural, that is.”
Dinah shrugged. When the Spade finished eating, he dropped the smallest portion of nightpowder into his pipe and leaned back against a rock. His ease infuriated her, and Dinah could contain herself no longer. “Wardley. What has become of him? And Harris? Tell me now, or I’ll run with Morte, I swear.”
The Spade inhaled a deep mouthful of his pipe and cleared his throat.
“So yeh want to know of the kingdom yeh left behind?”
“Yes.”
He let a black puff of smoke drift out of his mouth and waft over Dinah’s face. “So be it. What is yer one question?”
Chapter Five
Dinah thought long and hard before asking. “I would like to know any and all information that pertains to Wardley Ghane and the reasons behind any harms or dangers he might have encountered.”
The Spade’s drawn face scowled. “That seems like more than one question.”
Dinah grinned wickedly. “I don’t think so, I think it seems like a valid question. After all, I’m just asking about Wardley.”
“Yer asking a bit more, and I believe yeh know that.”
“I believe that is what you believe.” Dinah continued smiling. She watched his features change through the flickering onyx flame. Dinah didn’t know much about the Spades—of all the Cards, they were the ones most shrouded in secrecy—but she did know that Spades loved to tell a good tale with their comrades, bloody tales of wars fought, of limbs lost, and of battle fever, tales that would make any other Wonderlander squirm. Dinah was baiting him—she could tell by the way his mouth twitched and the grinding of his filthy teeth. Sir Gorrann longed to tell her everything. Dinah began her push.
“That’s my question. I didn’t try to flee today, though I think we both know that I could outrun your horse quite easily.”
“Yeh wouldn’t have made it to yer horse,” replied Sir Gorrann with absolute certainty. “I can throw a knife into yer back faster than yeh can mount him. I’m not as skilled with a dagger as the Diamonds, but I can throw one. I can see easily that yer greatest weakness, Princess, is that yer impulsive, just like yer father. I can teach yeh to be better. Yer will training will begin tomorrow.”
Dinah hated the way he so casually insulted her, and how he assumed that he knew her the way Wardley or Harris did. Once upon a time, she could have sent him to the Black Towers for such insolence. She instantly regretted her thought; thinking of the Black Towers made her stomach churn uneasily around the rabbit she had eaten. She would never send anyone there, not after seeing Faina Baker, not after feeling the black roots twist into her nostril. She trembled.
“Something bothering yeh, Princess?”
Dinah gave a haughty toss of her head, assuming a confidence she did not feel. “No. Answer my question, Spade.”
The Spade stood up in the clear night, the black flames of the fire kissing the tip of his boots. A thin trail of smoke curled out of the side of his mouth and he began. “Well, if yeh must know, Wardley Ghane is alive.” Dinah felt a sweet wave of relief wash over her, sweeter than anything she had ever tasted. The tremendous weight of worry broke from her shoulders and poured down her body and she wished that this feeling of clarity and respite would remain forever unblemished. A sob escaped her throat.