An Accident of Stars (18 page)

Hands grasped Saffron's shoulders, pulling her up and away. She lurched to her feet, blinking spots from her vision.

“Well,” said the man in blue. “That was interesting, wasn't it?”

“Was it?” Saffron asked. Her tongue felt muzzy and slow, as though she were talking underwater – but then, dreams were often like that.

The man raised his eyes as if in prayer. “Come on. Walk with me.”

He held out a hand, and Saffron took it. His palm was calloused and warm. As he led her forwards, the world around them changed again, the long grass turning ruby-red, punctuated here and there with golden flowers. The white sun dipped low and the sky grew darker, a deep, friendly indigo streaked with lilac.

“You're not from Kena, are you?”

“No,” admitted Saffron. “I don't really know what I'm doing here.”

“That's true of most people, never mind where they've ended up or how it happened. But like I said before, it's odd that you're here, specifically.” He gestured at the never-ending fields.“You said it wasn't a dream,” said Saffron. She frowned, her thoughts flowing thick as treacle. “So what is it?”

“A crossroads, of sorts. A way for me to try to find the patterns in the world. Or in this world, anyway,” he amended, grinning. “It's not like there's only one.”

Abruptly, Saffron stopped walking. She pulled her hand away, vaguely resentful of being told she was trespassing in her own subconscious. “Why am I here, then? What's happening?”

The man cocked his head and looked at her. “I'm not quite sure. Well, that's not true – you must be part of events, or else I couldn't have found you. But that's true of lots of people, and they don't all show up on my patch of the dreamscape. No. It's something else.”

Movement flashed in her peripheral vision. Wary of what had happened last time, Saffron tried to refrain from looking, but the motion was insistent. Slowly, she turned her head. Away to her right, the grass was catching fire – no, turning into flames, a spreading carpet of red tongues crackling and dancing.

“Do you see that?” she whispered.

“I do.”

“Can it hurt us?”

“I wouldn't think so.”

“Good.” But still, she felt uneasy. “The ground keeps changing.”

He gave her arm a gentle pinch. “Do you still think this is a dream?”

“All dreams change,” said Saffron. “That's how you know they're dreams.”

“So does reality,” he replied. “That's how you know it's real.”

The fire was closer now, licking towards them like an incoming tide.

“Tell me your name,” he asked, suddenly. “Who are you?”

“I'm Saffron. Saffron Isla Coulter.”

“I don't know you in waking then. That's not it.” He went silent for a moment, then his eyes lit up with delighted suspicion. “You didn't come alone to Kena. Who brought you here?”

White smoke rose up from the fire-grass, blooming in clouds like mushrooms.

“Gwen Vere,” said Saffron, coughing. “A worldwalker. She didn't bring me though. I just sort of… followed her in.”

But the man was grinning in triumph. “Hah! Of course you did!” His gaze turned serious. “And don't ever make the mistake of thinking that things you didn't intend or plan don't matter. It's a big, disorganised multiverse out there – an accident of stars. Almost nothing ever works out like we want it to, and when it does, there's guaranteed to be unexpected consequences. Randomness is what separates life from entropy, but it's also what makes it fun.”

“Who are you?” Saffron asked. The smoke was boiling everywhere now, wreathing them so thickly that she could no longer see the fire, the grass, or anything but the strange man's face and torso.

He smiled at her sadly. “You'll probably forget this meeting, Saffron Isla Coulter, or else brush it off as just another dream. But if any of this breaks through as real–” and here he kissed the tips of two fingers, touching them to her forehead, “–you tell Gwen Vere that Luy ore Jhesa'yu of the Shavaktiin is helping as best he can. You tell her–”

But then there was only smoke, and white, and silence.

“
W
ake up
, Gwen. Please. There isn't much time.”

Gwen struggled into wakefulness, shrugging off sleep like a borrowed shawl. Her dreams had been flat and unmemorable, and yet her brain was reluctant to let them fade. “Trishka?” she said, blinking up at her friend. “What is it?”

“Leoden,” Trishka said. “He's coming for us. We have to get out now, as quick and quiet as possible.”

That brought her up cold. “Devils and gods in an orgy!” she swore. “
Damn
him!”

Muscles protesting the sudden movement, she swung herself out of bed, grabbing for her boots and belt while Trishka spoke, her voice unnervingly calm.

“Some of the Uyun ambassador's men are with his honoured swords. I don't know why, but he's told them where we are. There's about fifty of them. I think…” She hesitated, voice trailing off as her vision went far away. “They have torches,” she said at last. “I think they want to burn us out.”

Gwen went cold all over. The compound's roof, flooring and outbuildings were wooden, as were the stables and gates. Fire wouldn't destroy the building, but it could certainly drive everyone into the open, trapping them between flame and stone. Though Yasha's Vekshi were proficient staff-fighters, their hardwood weapons strong enough to match all but the sharpest swords, they drilled to fight either in ordered ranks or alone. But in darkness, disordered, with children and animals underfoot and no space to either form up or retreat? It was a recipe for a massacre.

Gwen's thoughts raced ahead of her pulse. “We need two groups,” she said. “One to travel north, and the rest to head to safety.” Her gaze darted to Trishka, who was perched on the end of her bed, and weighed her next words carefully. “Do you trust Sashi as a leader?”

So briefly that anyone else would have missed it, a shadow of fear passed over Trishka's face. But when she stood, her back was straight and her voice firm. “She's a good choice. Yes.”

“And Yena?”

“Should come north.” Her response was instantaneous. “It's time they travelled apart from each other.”

The braided path
, Gwen thought, but even so, the weight of the choice wasn't lost on her. She reached out and squeezed Trishka's shoulder. Their eyes met in silent accord. “Go wake your daughters. Tell Sashi to round up everyone who doesn't know about Viya – they'll be the eastern group – and get Yena to grab as many supplies as she can. I'll have Zech and Jeiden go to the stables: roas and horses both, as many and as quiet as they can manage. Then I'll wake the others and meet you out front.”

Trishka grinned savagely. “Yasha last?”

“Yasha last,” Gwen echoed, and as though they were still young and miscreant enough for that ancient pact to apply, they pressed their foreheads together in brief affirmation. “How long do we have?”

“Twenty minutes at most, I'd guess.”

Gwen swore, borrowing a favourite Vekshi curse of Yasha's. Literally translated, it meant
arsegullet
.
We'll never get clear of the compound in that time, let alone free of the city.
But there was nothing to do but try.

They parted – Trishka one way, Gwen the other.

She went to Jeiden first. The boy woke easily, eyes wide in the darkness, and hurried off almost before Gwen had finished explaining the need. Zech, though, famously slept like the dead; rather than wasting time, Gwen simply pinched her nose shut until she came to, gasping indignantly. Still, she sobered quickly enough when told about the troops and went to join Jeiden, slipping down the hall like a dappled shadow. Next came Matu, who swore furiously under his breath, hauled on a tunic and promised to help Yena get her supplies out to the pack animals; and then, finally, Pix, who reacted – typically, yet unnervingly – with her trademark vicious calm.

“What do we do about Viya?” she asked, binding her marriage-braids back in a tail. “Maybe she set this up somehow. Leoden's always loved twisted plots – that pustule has a brain like a rat's maze.”

“He couldn't have known that Zech and Jeiden would bring her here.” Yet even as she said it, Gwen felt an unpleasant stirring of doubt. The last time she and Pix had underestimated Leoden, thousands of people had died. Better to play it safe, at least until they were out of Karavos.
Assuming we even make it that far
. She shook her head, frustrated. “Even so. There's a jar of moonsleep in Yasha's chambers. Knock her out with that, then have Matu tie her to one of the horses – sitting stance, though, not slung sideways like a carcass.” She'd been carried once that way herself, and still had faint scars on her arms and hips to prove it.

Pix eyed her coolly. “And is Yasha awake?”

“Not yet,” Gwen admitted. “I was leaving her for last.”

“Coward.”

“You say that like it's an insult.”

“It should be.” Pix made a face. “Fine. I'll wake her once our pet Cuivexa's safely trussed and bound. Always best to greet her with good news – that little wretch ground so much salt into her godslapped pride, I'm surprised they both survived it.”

Gwen snorted. By now, she gauged, most people were awake: the compound was tense with whispers and muffled movement.
Why now?
she wondered. Leoden had known where Yasha was for years, but had never attacked like this, so satisfied with the presumed impotence of his adversaries that it was easier just to let them be. He'd briefly come after her and Pix in the aftermath of his betrayal, but he'd never bothered the rest of their allies. Maybe Pix was right; maybe it was down to Viya. But then she remembered the arakoi: sniffing around the warehouse, keeping watch at the gates. Was it arrogance to think he was after
her
?
Not arrogance,
she cautioned herself.
Prudence
. But even so, something had changed beyond the mere fact of her return to Kena. Leoden had a plan, and until she knew properly what it was – or better yet, was in a position to stop it – Gwen could assume nothing.

“My thanks,” she said to Pix. “I doubt she'd welcome the sight of me right now under any circumstances, good or bad.”

“You owe me.” Her knife-belt now buckled, Pix pulled on a fingerless pair of fighter's gloves, the padded leather studded with sharp metal. Gwen raised a brow at her armoury. “Planning ahead?”

Pix's smile was sharp as winter. “Always.”

As they parted ways, Gwen experienced the sudden, nagging sensation that she'd forgotten something. The reason struck her a moment later: Saffron. She bit her lip to keep from swearing, abruptly furious at herself for having let the girl slip so thoroughly out of mind.
If I'm not responsible for her, no one is.
Irritation and sympathy flashed through her in equal measure: irritation that Saffron had followed her through the worlds; sympathy because she of all people knew how irrevocable a choice it was, no matter how thoughtlessly made.
Well, at least Pix has Yasha in hand,
Gwen thought wryly, and walked to the white girl's room. Saffron slept curled up, knees to chest with an elbow crooked under her head. Her lips moved soundlessly – she was dream-talking, Gwen assumed – yet when she reached out and touched her shoulder, her eyes snapped open instantly, as though she'd been only dozing. “Smoke and fire,” Saffron whispered. “Everything burned. Didn't it?”

Gwen gaped at her, momentarily stunned. Maybe it was a coincidence, but just at that moment, it didn't feel like one. “Not yet,” she found herself answering. “But that's why we have to go. Leoden is coming.”

Saffron sat up, her mouth an O of surprise. “But I thought – he said to tell you…” She frowned, her words trailing off like the tail-end of clouds. “I don't remember.”

“It was only a dream,” said Gwen, because there was no space in which to consider otherwise. “Come on. There's not much time.”

To her credit, the girl dressed quickly and quietly, pulling on the Vekshi clothes she'd been given the day before. She reached for her school shoes too, but stopped.” I don't have any socks,” she said. “They went to the wash.”

“Go without?” Gwen suggested, trying not to sound impatient. The imminent threat of danger itched in her skin.

Saffron shook her head. “I'll just go barefoot. Those shoes give me blisters, anyway.”

Sighing with suppressed relief, Gwen nodded and motioned Saffron out. The girl obeyed without another word, and together they navigated their way through the compound and out to the dimly lit courtyard, where – thank the Many! – two separate clusters of people and beasts had gathered. One, the largest, was under Sashi's supervision. Comprised mostly of Vekshi expatriates and their children, the group waited nervously by the main gates, mounted on roas and with plenty of staffs in evidence. Between the two groups stood Trishka. Supported by Yena, she swayed within her magic, eyes closed. And then, finally, there was their own small party: Pix, Matu and Yasha, all on horseback; Viya strapped firmly to the same roa she'd ridden in on, its reins tied to Pix's saddle; Zech scuttling about in response to Yasha's whispered commands; and Jeiden standing by, his hands full to brimming with the reins of six more horses and two supply-laden roas.

“What's wrong with Viya?” Saffron asked nervously. “Why's she tied down?”

“Do you trust me enough to believe it's for a good reason?” Gwen asked.

“I guess,” said Saffron, though she obviously wasn't happy about it.

“Good.” Gwen sighed, smoothing a hand over her flyaway hair. Braiding would have been convenient, but braids had meaning in Kena, and though her marriage entitled her to certain convenient styles (she winged a silent prayer of apology to Jhesa and Naku) their usage would have betrayed her privacy. “I'll explain later. Until then–”

“They're coming,” Trishka said, loudly enough to cut through the chatter. Everyone fell silent. “We need to leave. Now.”

Gwen hissed in surprise, urging Saffron to go and mount up – “If you need any help, ask Zech!” – before hurrying over to Trishka.

Though strong, Yena was visibly struggling to keep her mother standing. Slinging an arm round her friend's shoulder, Gwen took Trishka's weight onto herself. Yena didn't need to be told anything; she headed straight for the horses, trusting Gwen to see that her mother did likewise.

“You've done enough,” Gwen chided, frightened by Trishka's obvious exhaustion. “Come on, we need to get you mounted.”

Stumbling, they made their way to the others. Trishka was panting by the time she'd pulled herself into the saddle, but there was a glint in her eye that Gwen didn't like.“You're planning something,” she accused.

Rather than answer, Trishka turned and rode to Sashi's side. Gwen mounted and followed, her sense of foreboding now so strong that the hairs on her arms stood up. Beyond the compound walls, she fancied she could hear the soldiers forming up, then shivered with the realisation that it was no fancy. Leoden's men were here, their presence betrayed by the noise of strange roas, the tramp of feet and the flicker of torchlight under the gates. Were they close enough to know their quarry was awake and ready, preparing to flee? Gwen hoped not, but all too soon, she'd know the answer for sure.

“We'll ride through first, like you told us – half the fighters will engage, while the rest split off and take the children to safety,” Sashi said. She looked ageless to Gwen in that moment, both a woman grown and far too young to be facing any sort of battle. By Vekshi reckoning, Sashi and Yena were her nieces, and the thought of either of them being in danger almost overwhelmed her. But then Sashi said, “We'll buy you the time,” and all her fearful attention refocused on Trishka.

“You can't!” she hissed. “The compound is worn thin enough as a portal point. The risk–”

“There's no other way.” Trishka looked at her steadily. “You know I'm right.”

“We could cut through them, head for the city gates–”

“We can't.” She was calm, implacable, though already a ragged note had crept into her breathing. “You know we can't, Gwen.” She reached out to Sashi, briefly touching her daughter's face. “Zejhasa,” she murmured. “Still, you have my heart.”

Sashi grabbed her mother's fingers and kissed the tips. “I plan to be worthy of it.”

And with that, each of them pulled away. Sashi turned to face her charges, while Trishka wheeled her mare around, leaving Gwen no choice but to follow.

“You can't,” she repeated – pleading this time, even though she knew it was pointless. Trishka was right; there was no other way. “At least try t–”

A burning arrow sailed over the wall, streaking through the night like a tiny star. Gwen watched its trajectory with a lump in her throat. It struck the wooden roof. The fire spread with a cackling crackle, flaring along the wood; and then there were more lit arrows, and vials of oil flung in their wake to help feed the blaze. The courtyard was red-lit. Smoke began to pour from the roof, and the whooshing roar of fire filled the air.

“Now!” Sashi yelled, and on her order the gates were flung outwards, revealing a startled pack of soldiers who, by their faces, clearly hadn't expected any resistance. Shouting in unison, the Vekshi women charged forwards, scything their staves down and across from the backs of their roas, knocking the men to the ground. The lead fighters held firm in a wedge, keeping the soldiers occupied while Sashi led the rest of the riders out and away, bulling through the remaining men and into the city night. But the Vekshi fighters didn't follow, instead pulling back to fill the gates: a human blockade between Leoden's men and Gwen's remaining party. A shout from outside – more arrows began to fall, but unlike the first few, these were unlit and aimed at skewering anyone still in the courtyard. Matu's mount reared and screamed in fright as an arrow grazed its flank.