5 #3

Isolde pushed Oren toward the hopper. The man raised his sword in the gap between the crates.

She stepped in before his arm came down and struck his wrist against a wooden edge.

The falling blade slit Isolde’s sleeve. She braced her hip against the crate to support her turn and caught the sword with her right hand.

The point rested beneath the collector’s chin. Isolde had to move her good foot farther out; her left knee vibrated. Behind her, Oren scraped the wall of the hopper. He still needed a few seconds to get through.

“Shout, and your office burns with the accounts inside,” she said.

The man looked at her left hand. A small flame lit her stiff fingers.

“The heir…”

“Died in Cendral.”

Isolde struck his temple with the pommel. The collector fell onto the records.

Oren was already inside the hopper. Isolde left the sword, closed the crate, and followed him. Kaoran waited beside the hatch. He heard voices in the storehouse as they both emerged.

“Two minutes left,” he said.

“You can have them.”

They escaped through the channel. As they reached the grate, a bell began ringing in Nydel. Kaoran lifted Oren up the bank. Isolde climbed out after him and replaced the bars.

Her leg failed in the woods. Kaoran offered his arm. She took it, and they continued without stopping.

Lera cried when she saw her brother. Oren set the flour on the bed as though it were an offering and crawled beneath the blanket beside her.

Enna came out of the corner where she had kept watch over Lera.

She checked the wound after the embrace, declared that the journey could be made in two nights, and sat down with the lists.

“This affects thirty-four families,” she said.

“Make copies,” Isolde replied. “One for Doven, another for every street. The office will try to get the sheets back. If all Nydel knows the figures, the record no longer belongs to them.”

“The collector saw you.”

“He saw Iria Thennar using fire. He said ‘the heir.’”

Kaoran closed the door. Dawn was beginning to lighten the windows.

“Iria Thennar can’t stay here,” he said.

Isolde felt the weight of the consequence. She had gained two days for Lera and Oren. She had also exhausted an identity and brought surveillance closer to the house.

“Then we’ll prepare another story,” she said.

Nydel’s bell stopped ringing. Soon afterward, a red ribbon appeared on the oak.

Enna gathered the lists and went down through the streambed. Oren hid in the well chamber. Kaoran hung the door on its hinges again and wiped the mud from the passage. Isolde put the clothes she had worn at the mill inside an empty jar.

“The collector will say Iria attacked him,” she said.

“That makes part of this easier,” Kaoran replied. “My niece turned out to be an ungrateful thief. We argued, and she left for the north.”

“You can say we argued because you’re unbearable.”

“That will be easy to believe.”

Isolde took the knife.

“I’ll hide upstairs.”

“The collector saw you enter the hopper. They’ll check every room.”

“I can go down with Oren to the well chamber.”

“If they send dogs down, they’ll find you both.”

Kaoran pointed to the fireplace. Behind the hearth was a false wall Isolde had discovered during the repairs. The space between the stones barely allowed her to sit. A narrow exit led up the old flue and ended beneath the roof tiles.

“The heat will be fierce,” he said.

“Put out the fire.”

“A cold hearth first thing in the morning draws attention.”

Isolde looked at the pot.

“Keep it low. I’ll go in when I hear them.”

“The stone could burn your back.”

“I’ll pay that cost.”

Kaoran opened the wall. He placed a thick blanket against the blocks and a bottle of water inside. Isolde tried the space. Her left leg had to stay bent against her chest. If she remained too long, the circulation would take time to return.

The soldiers arrived at dawn.

This time there were eight. The sergeant entered first. The collector wore a bandage around his head and a hatred that brought color back to his face.

“Where is she?” he asked.

“Upstairs,” Kaoran said.

Isolde closed the false wall from inside.

She heard Enna arguing on the stairs. The healer had returned by the main path in time for the inspection. She declared that moving Lera could cost the girl her leg. The sergeant ordered them to prepare the bed.

“I want the woman too,” the collector said. “The niece.”

“She left last night,” Kaoran replied.

“She attacked me at the mill.”

“That explains the blood on your head.”

“She used fire.”

“There tend to be lamps in summer.”

The collector overturned a chair. A soldier opened the clothes chest. Another struck the walls with a spear. Every blow reached Isolde’s back.

“You’re hiding her,” the man said.

“Iria stole money from my chest and took the northern path,” Kaoran answered. “If you find her, recover the nine crowns.”

Isolde clenched her jaw. The old man had just put a low price on her ingratitude.

“Nine?” the sergeant asked.

“It’s been a poor season.”

The boots approached the hearth. The collector moved the poker. A rush of heat came through the crack. Isolde breathed slowly. Sweat ran down her temples. The hearth fire reached for her core, and the stone began to vibrate.

The man rested a hand on the false wall.

Isolde held the flame inside her chest.

“It’s hot,” he said.

“It’s a fireplace,” Kaoran replied.

“The stones on this side sound hollow.”