Trina shook her head. "Run, and we'll kill your servants."
I leaned forward, scrunching my face into the cruelest look I could muster. "What makes you think that I care about them? Maybe the death of some silly handmaiden and an aging driver are the least of my concerns. Maybe I'm luring you and Simon into a trap from which you'll never escape, and the last words we torture out of you before your horrible deaths will be a full confession of everything Lord Endrick wants to know about the rebellion. I'll gladly sacrifice my servants for that."
Trina reached out and slapped me hard across my cheek. I drew back, but she caught my other hand with hers and let the knife lay upon my wrist, blade down. When I tried to pull away, the knife sliced--not deep, but enough to draw blood. Trina smiled when she saw it. She wanted more.
I slowly shook my head at her, because as a general rule, I always tried to calm anyone who was about to kill me. "Whatever you think I am, if you do this, you'll be just as bad."
Her eyes narrowed. "Nothing I am compares to you." Her knife pressed deeper into my wrist, widening the cut. "Sit back and don't say another word until we arrive at the inn. Or I'll tell Tenger you attacked me and I had no other choice."
When she released me, I leaned back, pretending my wrist wasn't stinging fiercely. "I only wanted to warn you that at the inn--oh, sorry, I won't say another word."
That made Trina curious. "Warn me about what?"
I shrugged and motioned that my mouth was shut. She knew I was mocking her, that there wasn't anything to warn her about before our arrival at the inn. She knew that ... but still it bothered her. And that alone gave me enough pleasure to sit back in my seat, keeping one hand tightly wrapped over the cut, and relax.
I'd heard the fight inside the carriage. Heard it, and wondered how the rest of Antora had somehow slept through it. It was quiet now, which possibly meant one of the girls had killed the other. Trina was plenty dangerous, but my bet was on Kestra. From what I remembered, her father had never allowed her to train with weapons, but she had stabbed Pell, so she wasn't entirely helpless. I had no doubt she'd figure out how to punch back if she wanted to.
Yet another reason to be glad I was up here driving. I'd rather face a hundred unharnessed oropods than get between those two below.
Either of them could have started the fight. Trina hated Kestra in a way that Kestra couldn't possibly understand. And Kestra had good reasons to defend herself. She saw what had happened to Darrow, and heard Celia's screaming. She had to be thinking of her own safety too. Things would worsen as she began to grasp the full consequences of agreeing to help us. If she failed to find the Olden Blade, I would have to kill her. Those were Tenger's orders. If she was successful, she would become a traitor to Antora, a target for Lord Endrick's vengeance. Sooner or later, Endrick would find her, and her death would be awful. But this was a rebellion, not a tea party. Sacrifices had to be made for the Coracks to succeed.
Tonight, Kestra was that sacrifice.
I'd learned about sacrifices the hard way. On one of my earliest missions with the Coracks, I'd been on a team ordered to stop several supply wagons from reaching the Dominion barracks. My assignment was to locate an abandoned home where the team could hide at the end of its mission. If none were available, I was to clear a home, by the occupants' choice--or by their deaths.
Shortly before ten bells, when the team was expected to arrive, I finally found a home that was a perfect choice, except for two elderly women huddling in a back room, faces cast in shadows and trembling with fear. They were too sick to leave, one of the women claimed. The other promised if I left them alive, they would remain in hiding. Captain Tenger didn't have to know they were there. It would be an act of mercy, a favor they promised to repay one day.
Naive, and eager to avoid unnecessary killing, I'd agreed.
Within minutes, I welcomed my team into the home, jubilant from a successful mission. They'd barely sat down to rest when the elderly women charged into the room, armed with lever blades that cut through three rebels before anyone had time to react. These were no elderly women but two Dominion soldiers in disguise, ordered to lie in wait for an expected Corack arrival.
I'd led my team into a trap, and thanks to Tenger, was an undeservin
g survivor. Tenger poured oil into the lit fireplace, creating a diversion for the few surviving Coracks to escape. Then he pushed me out a window, saving me from the fire, though he lost his leg in the process.
Back at camp, my punishment was the cruelest possible. I was assigned to visit the family of each dead team member and deliver the terrible news. To hold every wife and mother who collapsed from sorrow, comfort every weeping child who asked when their father would come home. I faced them all, each visit instilling in me a deeper vow to never again ignore Tenger's orders. Orders that had brought me here, now.
The inn came into sight about an hour later. It sat on the northwestern border of All Spirits Forest, a place so desolate that even the birds wouldn't fly overhead. The inn itself was small and in great need of repair. The main floor was mostly stone and brick, but a half upper story was made of dry and cracked wood. I wondered why a Dallisor would choose to stay in such a crumbling place. Maybe because the finer establishments didn't allow swine for guests?
I was particularly glad to see the inn, for two reasons. The first was that if both Kestra and Trina were still alive, then their truce wouldn't last long. Separating them was a survival decision.
The second reason was more significant. My gut told me we were being followed. That was impossible, of course. No one knew our plans to take Kestra, and no one other than Kestra's father and her two servants should have known she was headed back to Highwyn tonight. So why did this feeling nag at me? Obviously, I was on edge. I'd never planned to do this job, and knew I wasn't prepared for it.
Almost as soon as I alighted from the driver's seat, the innkeeper ran outside to greet us. He was a large man with hunched shoulders, a bulging waist, and a scalp that was clinging to its final few hairs. Yet he was all but bouncing on his heels in anticipation of our arrival.
"This is young Lady Dallisor's carriage?" he asked.
Yes, and I was her driver now, and her protector. The irony of this whole situation would've made me laugh if it weren't vital that the innkeeper accept us. This inn proudly displayed its green and black Dominion colors. No sane Corack would come within a mile of this place.
"My ... lady is inside this carriage." I nearly choked on having to refer to Kestra so politely.
"Wasn't a garrison assigned to accompany her home?"
"Those plans changed." The simplest lies were usually the most believable. Then I added, "The lady is tired and hopes her room is ready."
"It is, of course." The innkeeper coughed and held out his hand. He expected payment.
I had a few silver coins in my satchel, but not enough for a room, and I wouldn't empty my pockets anyway to provide a Dallisor with a soft pillow for the night. How had she planned to pay? Did she have the money, or did Darrow carry it? With the innkeeper directly in front of me, I couldn't just open the door and ask her.