“I think he’s dead,” the third added.
“He’s not dead.” Betzi’s chin rose. “I would know if he was.”
The men looked amused. “Oh? How so?”
She crossed her arms. “I would just know. Would one of you please escort us to him? I have something of great importance to give him.”
Rielle groaned silently.
“What would that be?” the shortest of the men asked, tucking his thumbs in his hip pockets and sauntering towards her.
“That is for him to know, not you.”
Oh, Betzi, Rielle thought as she reached out towards the girl’s arm. You rely too much on Kolz’s name to get you out of trouble. Not every soldier liked the captain, who had grown more inclined to punish their attacks on citizens since he’d met Betzi.
“Let’s go,” she whispered.
Betzi took a step back as the short man neared. “Well, if you won’t…”
He darted forward and grabbed the arms that she lifted instinctively to ward him off. “What little gift have you brought for the handsome captain?” he asked. Seeing the bundle tied to her waistband, he let go of a wrist and grabbed it. “Is it this?” The cloth covering tore as he tried to yank it off her waistband, and out spilled the scarf Rielle had watched Betzi make–hours of spinning fleece stolen from her own pillow then deftly looping it into a cloth with a bone needle using a technique Rielle had never got the hang of.
“Give that back!” Betzi demanded as he gathered up the scarf. As she made a grab for it Rielle caught her waistband.
“Let him have it,” Rielle advised. “You can make another from my pillow,” she added as the other soldiers moved close.
Betzi ignored her. “Captain Kolz will not be happy when he learns–ow, Rel!” Yet she didn’t fight as Rielle pulled her backwards. The short man had let her go in order to inspect the scarf, and to Rielle’s relief Betzi took the opportunity to reverse their path. Her expression shifted from defiant and angry to fearful as she faced Rielle. Then her eyes widened and they were both jolted to a halt. Rielle looked beyond to see that the man’s hand was still wrapped around the string secured to Betzi’s waistband.
And the other soldiers were striding forward to surround them.
“Rielle!” Betzi gasped as she tried to slap away the short man’s hands. “This is one of those times!”
Rielle’s stomach turned over. Betzi was right. If the threat of being reported to the captain didn’t worry them, then either Kolz was dead and the men answered to someone more powerful, or they intended to ensure no report could ever be made.
“Angels forgive me,” she whispered. Hooking an arm around Betzi’s, she turned to face the closest of the two men now reaching for her. Drawing a little magic, she grabbed his hand and thought heat!, hoping that she could still remember the trick her friend had taught her.
He recoiled, yelping in pain. As she turned to the second man a curse came from behind her. Betzi suddenly dragged Rielle forward, towards where the men had originally been standing. Trusting her friend knew what she was doing, Rielle twisted around and ran with her.
No footsteps followed behind them. As they reached the end of the street Rielle turned to see the trio standing together, glowering. Her senses caught two glimmers of Stain, the darkness where she or Betzi had removed magic from the world.
Magic that belonged to the Angels. Rielle shivered. Here, in Schpeta, it was believed that the Angels did not mind if magic was used in circumstances of extremity, to defend one’s life. The Angel she had met at the Mountain Temple had said as much to Rielle, before sending her across the world to begin a new life: “I give you permission to, if your life is in danger and you have no other choice.”
The words had echoed in her mind many times since the siege had started.
We can’t be certain they intended to kill us, Rielle worried. But I’m not going to wait until the moment a blade slices my throat to be sure. Too many other women had been found abused and dead on the streets of Doum for her to take the chance. Besides, if the Angels are as unforgiving as the priests of my homeland believe, my soul is already doomed. I’m not exactly in a hurry to find out who is right.
They emerged into the wider road that separated the town’s houses from its wall. The younger girl paused, arm still linked with Rielle’s, and steered them towards a stone staircase leading up to the battlements. The remaining soldiers of the king’s army fit enough to fight either stood along the top of the wall or rested below playing games, talking and attending to weapons, armour or injuries. Their ranks had thinned since Rielle had last come here, and nearly all wore some kind of bandage.
They look tired, she observed. Frightened. Angry. Or all three.