The Invasion of the Tearling

“He saved me.”


“You’re a fool. He abandoned you to save his own skin. You’re nothing but chattel to a slave trader.”

The woman flew at the bars, her arms flailing like the wings of a bird gone wild inside its cage. Even the Mace took a step back. But the Queen moved forward until she was only a few inches from the bars, so close that Ewen wanted to shout a warning.

“Look at me, Brenna.”

The ghost-woman looked up, her face wrenching, as though she wanted to look away but could not.

“You’re right,” the Queen murmured. “Your master will come. And when he does, I will take him.”

“My magic will protect him from harm.”

“I have my own magic, dear heart. Can’t you feel it?”

Brenna’s face twisted in sudden pain.

“I will hang your master’s corpse from the walls of my Keep. Do you see?”

“You can’t do that!” the ghost-woman howled. “You can’t!”

“Sport for vultures,” the Queen continued smoothly. “You can’t protect him. You’re nothing but bait.”

The ghost-woman screamed in fury, a high and unbearable sound like the screech of a hunting bird. Ewen covered his ears and saw several Queen’s Guards do the same.

“Be quiet,” the Queen ordered, and the woman’s screams cut off as suddenly as they had begun. She stared at the Queen, her pink eyes wide and frightened as she huddled on her cot.

The Queen turned back to Ewen. “You will treat all three of these prisoners humanely.”

Ewen bit his lip. “I don’t know that word, Majesty.”

“Humanely,” the Queen replied impatiently. “Enough food and water and clothing, no harassment. Make sure they can sleep.”

“Well, Majesty, it’s hard to make sure someone can sleep.”

The Queen looked very hard at him, her brow furrowing, and Ewen realized he’d said something wrong. It had been easier when Da was the Jailor and Ewen only an apprentice. Da could always step in when Ewen didn’t understand. He was about to apologize–for it was always better to do that before someone got angry–when the Queen’s forehead suddenly smoothed.

“You’re down here alone, Ewen?”

“Yes, Majesty, since my Da retired. His arthritis got too bad.”

“Your dungeon looks very clean.”

“Thank you, Majesty,” he replied, smiling, for she was the first person besides Da who had ever noticed. “I clean it every other day.”

“Do you miss your Da?”

Ewen blinked, wondering if she was winding him up. The Regent had liked to do that, and his guards had liked to even more. Ewen had learned to spot the telltale sign in their faces: a sly meanness that might crouch hidden but never went away. The Queen’s face was hard, but not mean, and so Ewen answered truthfully. “Yes. There’s lots of things I don’t understand, and Da always explained them.”

“But you like your job.”

Ewen looked down at the ground, thinking of the other guard, the one who had called him an idiot. “Yes.”

The Queen beckoned him to stand in front of Cell Two. “This woman may not seem dangerous, but she is. She’s also very valuable. Can you watch her every day and not let her trick you?”

Ewen stared at the ghost-woman. Certainly bigger and tougher prisoners had been housed in the dungeon. Several of them had tried to trick Ewen, everything from pretending to be sick, to offering Ewen money, to begging the loan of his sword. The ghost-woman stared at the Queen, her eyes gleaming with hatred, and Ewen knew that the Queen was right: this woman would be a tough prisoner, smart and quick.

But I can be smart too.

“I’m sure you can,” the Queen replied, and Ewen jumped, for he hadn’t said anything. He turned and saw something that made his jaw drop in astonishment: the blue jewels that dangled around the Queen’s neck were sparkling, glittering brightly in the torchlight.

“Once a week,” the Queen continued, “you’ll come upstairs and give me a report on all three of your prisoners. If you need to, take notes.”

Ewen nodded, pleased that she assumed he could read and write. Most people thought he couldn’t, but Da had taught him, so that he could keep the book.

“Do you know what suffering is, Ewen?”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Behind your three prisoners there is another man, a tall starving-thin man with bright blue eyes. This man is an agent of suffering, and I want him alive. Should you ever see him, you send word to Lazarus immediately. Do you understand?”