Chapter 13 – The Plan Backfires
So there was much rejoicing and Philipia restrained herself from killing Alye (who’d at least had the sense to punch her in the arm that didn’t have a gaping arrow wound). But I was still worried, and as we grouped around the table in the backroom, I asked Philipia to unwrap her arm.
“Why? What’s wrong?” she asked, perplexed. “Am I turning green or something?”
“No, but I just want to check. I may know next to nothing about healing, and I have no idea to heal with magic, but someone still needs to look at it.” Very carefully, I cut through the bloody bandages, but Philipia still bit her lip and winced as my finger accidentally prodded the hole.
It was a mess. Dried blood flaked around a jagged hole right above her elbow. The wound wasn’t very deep but it had punctured several small muscles and was obviously very painful. But what concerned me most was the idea of it getting infected. And it wasn’t like I could just grab some handy tube of anti-bacterial cream. That wouldn’t be invented for another few centuries.
“Could somebody get a bowl of hot water and a clean rag? And soap or anything like that?”
Blank stares. “Soap?” Lunae asked.
Dangit. Another one of those things that wouldn’t be made for another few hundred years. At least not for the common people.
“Never mind,” I sighed. “Just a clean cloth and the hot water, please.” Alye nodded and dashed out of the room and I heard her surprisingly loud voice calling for the stuff. Soon, she returned with another girl following her, hauling a bucket full of steaming water. The girl hoisted it onto the table, which threatened to collapse under the weight of the water. Alye tossed me the rag and I dipped into the scorching liquid. Hot! Very hot. Probably just fetched from the fireplace or something.
The bucket girl was staring at Philipia’s arrow wound. “How did that happen?” she asked abruptly. She was about my height, maybe an inch taller, with waist-length black curly, frizzy black hair that tumbled all over the place. Her medium-brown eyes complimented her dark skin color. She was a bit lighter than Elspeth, but not by much.
Apparently, she was also incredibly fussy. “Do you know how to treat that?” she demanded, seized the cloth and dipping it into the scalding water. Without waiting for an answer, she set to work cleaning off Philipia’s arm. The patient stared and jerked as the hot cloth made contact with the hole in her arm.
“Do you mind?!” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Who appointed you doctor?”
“Well,” the strange girl retorted, “since I have a number of problems myself, I think I know the best how to treat things like this. Arrow wound, I assume?”
“Yeah…” Alye said slowly, staring intently at the weird girl.
“Name is Violet, by the way,” the girl informed us as she sponged at the wound. Then she turned to me.
“I need some long strips of clean cloth for bandages. Clance should have some.” And she went back to cleaning the hole in Philipia’s arm.
Well, it was obviously an order and with Philipia looking more annoyed by the second, I figured I would oblige Violet so she’d leave sooner. A minute later, I came back through the door, strips of cloth in my arms, to find Violet pouring over a chart of the soldiers’ barracks. Elspeth was explaining our mission to her.
“Bandages? Thank you,” Violet seized them and with a practiced air starting tying them around Philipia’s wound. Her patient gritted her teeth but managed not to twitch. Finally, with a flourished knot, the bandages were complete. Our resident self-appointed doctor then seized a chair and plunked down in front of the plans.
“Now why on earth did you enter through the front entrance to the stables? From what I can see, there’s a back entrance through an empty horse stall.”
Elspeth stared. “I beg your pardon?”
“Look,” Violet said impatiently, “see this small hole? My older brother was recently recruited as a soldier and he complains all the time about the hole in the wall in the stable. Apparently, one of the larger horses kicked through the boards in a temper and they’ve never bothered to fix it. It’s boarded up but only haphazardly. So why didn’t you go in that way, knock out the guard instead of this ridiculous decoy business, and grab the food at your leisure? And why didn’t you post a guard to warn you if someone was coming into the stables?”
“Okay, okay, so we needed better planning,” I sighed, putting my forehead in my hands.
“Apparently,” she snapped. “Next time you want to do one of these raids, you really need to think out every possible problem.”
“For pity’s sake,” Redmond groaned, “why don’t you take the job if you’re so bloody brilliant about it?”
“Actually…” Kymber interjected carefully, a thoughtful look creeping onto her face, “that’s a good idea. Violet, you sound like the type of person who can think of all those possibilities and come up with plans and missions accordingly.”
As I thought over it, I realized that that actually WAS a good idea. In the space of five minutes, Violet had come up with a much more effective way in which we could have broken into the barracks. Hindsight is 20/20 and all that, but she still seemed competent, imaginative, and intelligent, just what we needed.
“We need to get back to the castle,” Philipia muttered after the initiation rites for Violet (consisting of signing her name on our roll sheet, swearing not to reveal our secrets to anyone NOT on said roll sheet, and dancing around a stone pillar that had the head of a chicken…okay, not really). I nodded. I needed to start studying again, in spite of my headache, and I really wanted to learn how to use more magic without passing out. Not very handy when you’re trying to run away. And it would look way less suspicious since we’d just been raiding the barracks. Hopefully, none of the soldiers who’d seen us would be there.
“I’ll come with you,” Kymber said quickly. “Since my father is the castle blacksmith, our house is the last one before you reach the castle. And he’s probably wondering where I am.”
Outside, the sky was fading quickly. A blanket of deep blue nestled between the approaching blackness and the last few figments of color on the horizon. The orange sun was a mere tiny sliver, barely peeping over like a curious neighbor. What I saw was a million times more gorgeous than anything I’d seen back in my old home.
Wait, why was I thinking of it as my old home? It wasn’t like we’d been adopted into this place…although…in a way, we had. We’d managed to gain the trust and even friendship of the villagers and we were doing our best to help them. Home is where the heart is or however that phrase goes, but this medieval village seemed, if not home, at least a decent substitute.
“So, Kymber, how do you do it?” Alye asked as we strolled along the dirt path. Kymber hesitated, violet and aqua eyes wary.
“Do what?”
“Talk to horses, of course!”
Alye = least tactful person EVER.
“Um…” Kymber paused and frowned, “I…I don’t know. I mean, my father counts on me to keep the horses quiet when he’s shoeing them but he’s never said anything about me speaking horse. And…I’ve always been able to get animals to listen to me, but I didn’t know I was saying anything unusual.”
Philipia blinked twice and furrowed her brow. “Here, let me try something.” She closed her eyes and I could see her forehead contracting as she concentrated.
“Are you nuts?” I demanded. “With that arm? And in the middle of the street?!”
“Shut up, please,” she shot back, “I’m trying to do this without ending up with a tail and nothing else.” Several seconds passed and then she began to shrink, feathers sprouting from her body and turning a golden brown. Black talons curved and her yellow beak looked sharp enough to chew off your wrist if she worked at it. She was a golden eagle and stared at Kymber expectantly, a fierce look in her eyes (although that may’ve just been the eagle). Kymber just looked bewildered.
“I think you’re supposed to talk to her,” Alye said in a condescending tone (which I was sure I had trademarked).
Kymber nodded nervously and bent down to stare into Philipia the Eagle’s eyes. She opened her mouth, and instead of human vowels and consonants, screeches came out, but Philipia apparently understood it, for she jerked her head up and down in what was unmistakably a nod. About a minute later, she stood before us as her usual human self, swaying slightly.
“God, I’m tired,” she sighed. “And my arm is killing me.”
“Let’s hope that’s not literal,” I mumbled. We continued our walk back to the castle, and as we reached the last little hut thing in the row, Kymber turned to the door.
“Well…good night. Hope your arm recovers,” she nodded at Philipia, who grinned back. The animal-speaker shut the door and we kept walking.
“What did she say to you?” Alye asked as we neared the drawbridge.
Philipia snorted loudly. “She asked me if you were as crazy as you sounded.”
As we approached the drawbridge, I sensed something was different. There were more guards than usual, and they stood to rigid attention. Just as we neared the moat, they jerked to life and crossed their spears, blocking us from crossing. I tensed, gripping my staff close, while Alye’s fingers ran over her blades like a Western gunslinger’s over his twin revolvers. But then a high, biting voice broke the silence.
“I was wondering when you would return.”
We stared past the barricade of pointy spears. A guy with blond hair, deepest blue eyes, and a very familiar expression of courteous mocking stood there.
Aubrey.
“Let them pass,” he ordered. Instantly, the barrier was lowered and we crossed warily over the wooden bridge. I glanced nervously at the guards but they continued to stare straight ahead without expression. We stood in front of Aubrey, Philipia and me confused, Alye thrilled.
“Hello again,” the guy drawled.
“Hey Aubrey!” Alye squeaked. “When’d you get back?”
“About an hour ago, but we cannot talk out here. Let’s go inside. We need to discuss things.” He bowed and motioned us to follow him. Worry springing into my mind, we followed like tin soldiers. Our guide passed through the enormous double doors that marked the entrance to the castle, ignoring the withering plants that sprouted in the courtyard. A frigid breeze whistled past the stone walls and sent a shiver down my spine. Fall was fading and winter was approaching. It was the perfect temperature for the setting: pleasant on the outside but with a chill interior.
Inside the castle, the temperature was worse. I’d forgotten all the stories about how infernally draughty castles were, but it was bloody freezing. Thankfully, Aubrey led us into a small, well-furnished room with a dancing fire on the far left wall. Several plushy chairs grouped in front of the fireplace as if they too were trying to warm themselves. At Aubrey’s gesture, we plunked down into the warm cushions and watched him as he placed himself in the largest one, a silver chair with emerald trim. He leaned back and watched us coolly.
“Now then…” and he paused. Getting up swiftly, he strode to the door and bolted it. We were officially locked in. Great for setting the mood. “We can talk without fear of being overheard,” Aubrey continued smoothly. “These doors and walls are far too thick for any listeners. Now, why did you raid the soldiers’ barracks?”
Brilliant. I tensed, adrenaline flowing, and my hold on my staff tightened. Philipia sat straight up and I could tell she was preparing to morph if it came to that. Alye, on the other hand, was completely relaxed. Her precious blades lay on the floor beside her chair.
“Why else?” she said. “We needed food, the barracks had it, we took it.”
Silence. Philipia glared at her friend, whether she was trying to telepathically talk to her or blow up her brain I couldn’t tell. Aubrey’s eyes narrowed and he focused on Alye, who stared back placidly, green and hazel eyes dancing.
It was Philipia who broke the silence. “How did you know it was us? And where have you disappeared to?”
Aubrey’s gaze transferred to her, and their blue eyes fought each other briefly. “I will keep that information to myself. And I knew it was you because it was me whom the soldiers in charge of the barracks reported to. Once they described a shapeshifter and a magic-user as well as a possessed girl with two swords, I knew who they were referring to. You are lucky, however, that the soldiers report to me, not my father.”
“So why did you let us in here if you know what we’ve done?” I demanded, worry and anger coursing through my veins. What was he after?
“I wish to know why you are trying to steal food. You are well provided for in the castle, yet the guards are telling me you frequently leave in the morning and don’t return until nightfall. Such actions are suspicious. As the son of Lord Delroy, I need to know the answer to these activities.”
We were trapped. Unless we could incapacitate Aubrey and hold him hostage or something (and Alye would kill me first), there wasn’t any way we could sneak out. This was bad. So we could either lie or tell the truth.
Aubrey noticed our hesitation. “I’m afraid that if you cannot tell me, I will be forced to inform my father. I do not want to do that. I have no desire to have three lovely maidens imprisoned or harmed, but I must know the answer.”
Alye blushed fiercely at the “lovely maidens” comment. “Okay, I’ll tell you. The villagers are going to starve and we organized a raid to get them food. We’re rebelling against your dad because he’s a jerk. It’s that simple.”
“ALYE!” Philipia and I yelled. “What is wrong with you?” I snarled, fury energizing me.
But our interrogator held up his hand. “Thank you for taking me into your confidence. You have a good cause. And I support you fully.”
Did I just hear that?
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