The Crimson Crown. Cinda Williams Chima

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СКАЧАТЬ protection while he was gone to Gray Lady. He let Amon Byrne know of his plans, and gave Cat orders to stick close to the queen, since Lord Bayar would know Han was away.

      That evening, he was on duty in Raisa’s chambers. He’d hoped for a chance to talk to her—they hadn’t spoken since that desperate dance at Marisa Pines. But she was embroiled in an endless meeting with Delphian officials over border security. Delphi was in a precarious position, sandwiched between the Fells and Arden, but the queendom couldn’t afford the wagon-loads of money the Delphians demanded.

      Raisa looked tired, her eyes smudged by shadow, her shoulders rounded under the weight of multiple demands. As her hands skittered restlessly across the tabletop, Han noticed that she still wore his ring next to her running wolves.

      The Delphians blustered and bullied, but Raisa stood her ground. The meeting dragged on. Han stood against the wall, seething, wishing he could throw them out the window. In the end, he had to leave for Ragmarket, where he’d meet up with Dancer to travel to Marisa Pines.

      The next morning, Han and Dancer rode out of the city hours before the sun grazed the top of the eastern escarpment. It was good to be riding with Dancer again. Han could almost pretend that all of the tragedies and triumphs of the past year had never happened, that they were hunters in search of smaller, less dangerous game.

      Their strategy was to travel to Gray Lady via Marisa Pines Camp, leaving a day early to avoid any possible ambushes. Also, Willo wanted to meet with them before the council meeting.

      They climbed steadily through the darkness, their breath pluming out, their horses swimming through a gray ocean of mist. They’d been traveling for two hours when the sun crested Eastgate, spilling into the Vale below.

      As the mist cleared, they passed through brilliant sunlight and cool shadow, between banks glazed with maiden’s kiss and starflowers. Tiny speedwell bloomed in the crevices, monkshood and larkspur in the creek beds. Spirea and columbine smudged the slopes in sunnier areas. Once, Dancer pointed out a half-grown fellsdeer fawn.

      They paused at midday to rest the horses and eat a meal of biscuits and ham. When they passed the turnoff to Lucius Frowsley’s place, Han wished he could stop and tell the old man that his friend Alger Waterlow still lived, in Aediion. If that could be called living.

      But their business was at Marisa Pines, and so they pressed on.

      In late afternoon, while they were still a few miles from their destination, Han heard the thunder of horses approaching at a run. Han and Dancer exchanged glances, then moved off the trail to wait.

      Four riders galloped toward them on tall flatland horses. Foam dripped from the horses’ mouths, but the riders spurred their mounts as if they were being chased by demons.

      Three of them were young—younger than Han—one middle-aged. As Han and Dancer watched, one of the riders groped at his neckline, turned, and sent a blast of flame over his shoulder.

      “Wizards? Here?” Han leaned forward in his saddle to get a better look.

      Two of the riders had passengers slung across their saddles in front of them. Children, in clan garb, limp as rag dolls.

      Five Demonai warriors galloped out of the trees, riding hard in pursuit. They stood up in their stirrups, raising their bows, but seemed hesitant to shoot with the children on board.

      Dancer heeled his horse forward, riding straight into the wizards’ path. Han followed, blocking the trail.

      The wizards reined in, their horses rearing and plunging at this sudden obstacle.

      Now the Demonai bows sounded, and the unencumbered wizards dropped out of their saddles. The clan warriors formed a rough circle around the two still-mounted wizards.

      One of the young wizards carrying a captive brought his horse to a crow-hopping stop. He was dressed in finely tailored riding clothes. He raised his hands away from his amulet. “Don’t shoot! I—”

      A Demonai arrow pierced his throat. One warrior leapt lightly to the ground and seized hold of the horse’s bridle, while another lifted the child to the ground.

      The remaining wizard—the middle-aged one—seeing what had happened to his companion, wrenched his horse’s head around, trying to ride off the trail and past Han and Dancer. Unfortunately for him, there was a drop-off on that side. Horse, rider, and child tumbled down a steep slope into a ravine.

      Han dismounted and plunged down the slope after them.

      The child had flown from the horse and landed in the rocky creek bed. The wizard was trying desperately to slide out from under his mount, which had fallen on top of him in the shallow water. Above Han, on the trail, a bow sounded. And another. Two arrows bristled the wizard’s chest, and he slid under the surface.

      The child wasn’t moving. Han worked his hands under her, and carefully lifted her out of the creek. A girl of perhaps six years, she was bleeding from the head, and her arm hung at an impossible angle. She lay perfectly still, eyes open, tears leaking out on either side.

      Han turned toward the slope, supporting her head and shoulders to prevent further injury. “I could use some help, here,” he called.

      One of the Demonai slid down the slope toward him, landing a few feet away. She was a stocky warrior, her face streaked with Demonai symbols. She looked familiar to Han, but he couldn’t quite place her.

      The warrior raised her longbow, aiming at Han. “Put the lytling down, jinxflinger.”

      “Trailblazer!” Dancer shouted, from the trail above. “Put your bow away. That’s Hunts Alone. He’s trying to help.”

      The warrior’s name jostled Han’s memory. She was Shilo Trailblazer Demonai. Han had recently seen her at Raisa’s coronation party at Marisa Pines.

      Trailblazer glared at Han, then slid her bow into its sling. Between the two of them they managed to carry the little girl up to where the horses waited.

      The other warriors had a small boy laid out on the ground. He looked like he might be a four-year.

      “He’s not moving, but I can’t find a mark on him,” one of them said.

      “They’ve been immobilized,” Dancer said. “Here, let me.” Placing his hand on the boy’s chest, he gripped his amulet with the other and disabled the charm.

      The boy reached up and gripped Dancer’s braids. “Jinxflinger took me,” he said.

      “I know,” Dancer said. “But you’re safe now.”

      He already knows that word, Han thought. Jinxflinger. Are we ever going to get past this?

      “Leave the girl immobilized until we can get her to Willo,” Han said, trickling a little power into the child to relieve the pain. “What happened?”

      Trailblazer spat on the ground. “These four jinxflingers kidnapped two of our lytlings—Skips Stones and Fisher. I suppose they meant to trade them for amulets.” She smiled grimly. “Now they will have to explain themselves to the Breaker.”

      “Who were they?” Han asked.

      “They didn’t introduce СКАЧАТЬ