The Invasion of the Tearling

“To the front, Julie,” she replied dismissively, moving to look out the western window. “To the Tearling.”


ALL THE WAY up the stairs, Ewen kept his eyes on the Mace’s back. He was scared, but there was no question of not following; Ewen knew that much from Da. When you were summoned by the Captain of Guard, you simply went. The Mace carried a large grey bundle under his arm, and he hadn’t even looked at Ewen since they’d left the dungeon. Worse yet, the Mace had left another jailor to take Ewen’s place while he went upstairs. The new man was not as big as Ewen, but he was certainly smart, with quick eyes that darted around the dungeon. The one remaining prisoner, Bannaker, had completely recovered from his injuries, and Ewen, knowing that Bannaker would be dangerous when fully healed, had moved him to Cell Two. But the first thing the new jailor did was to walk over to Cell Two and check its locks, and this made Ewen angry: as though he would leave a cell unlocked, with a prisoner inside! The new man then sat down at the desk as though he owned the place, putting his feet up, and at that moment Ewen knew that the Queen was going to remove him from his post. He had been a good jailor for almost five years, but the Queen must have found out that he was slow. With each stair that Ewen climbed, he became more sick to his stomach. Their family had been jailors in the Keep forever, all the way back to Da’s grandfather. Da had only given up the job because he could no longer walk. Ewen couldn’t bear to tell Da this news. He felt naked without his ring of keys.

But they did not leave the staircase at the ninth floor, the Queen’s Wing. Rather, they kept on going, several floors up, and the Mace led him into a large room that was lit up like Christmas, more than a dozen torches lining the walls. Two Queen’s Guards, one large and one small, sat in chairs just inside the door, and in the center of the room was a tall cage, but Ewen couldn’t make out what was inside.

“Morning, boys.”

“Good morning, sir,” they both replied, standing up. The smaller man had eyes so light that they seemed white, and they reminded Ewen of the woman Brenna. Three Queen’s Guards had removed her from the dungeon several days ago, which had relieved Ewen no end. Bannaker’s eyes might plot escape every moment, but still he seemed less dangerous than the woman. A witch, Ewen was sure of it, powerful and terrible, just as Da had always described them in stories.

“El. Keys.”

The big guard came forward into the light, and Ewen recognized him now: the man with the scary teeth. He tossed the keys to the Mace, who slammed them against the bars, a metallic clanging that hurt Ewen’s ears.

“Wake up, Arlen! It’s your big day.”

“I’m awake.” A ghostly thin shape unfolded itself from the ground inside the cage, and Ewen recognized the scarecrow. But he was dressed differently now, in a white linen shirt and trousers, and even Ewen knew what that meant: it was the uniform of a prisoner sentenced to death.

“Are you going to behave, Arlen?” the Mace asked.

“I’ve made my bargain.”

“Good.” The Mace unlocked the cage. “Tie him up.”

Ewen was beginning to wonder if the Mace had forgotten that he was there, but now those sharp eyes found him. “You! Ewen! Over here.”

Ewen moved forward, almost tiptoeing.

“Listen carefully, boy, for we haven’t much time.” The Mace pulled the bundle from beneath his arm and shook it out, and Ewen saw that it was a long grey cloak. “You showed great courage in capturing this man, and the Queen is grateful. So today, you will be a Queen’s Guard.”

Ewen stared at the grey cloak, mesmerized.

“You and Elston will transport this prisoner to the New London Circus. Elston is in charge. Your only job is to guard the prisoner, to make sure he doesn’t escape. Do you understand?”

Ewen swallowed, found his throat almost too dry to speak. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Here.” Mace held out the cloak. “Put it on and come help us.”

The deep grey fabric was soft, softer than any clothing Ewen had ever owned. He fastened the cloak around his shoulders, trying to puzzle out what was happening. He knew that he could not be a Queen’s Guard; he was not smart enough. But they were waiting for him beside the cage, so he hurried over and stood at attention. The short guard had already tied the prisoner’s wrists.

“We’re taking him out the Gate.”

“Christ, they’ll slaughter him before she can execute him.”

“Maybe, but she wants to give them a show.”