Page 76 of Vilest Things
Anton rummages in his pockets for a knife, then slashes at the net wherever he can make contact. It doesn’t cut. He tries between the lines, saws furiously at the interwoven knots, but nothing gives.
“Hey!” Anton starts shouting. “Someone—”
“Shush! Shush!”
A thump echoes from the carriage exterior, sounding like boots landing in the ditch. Seconds later, Galipei Weisanna appears on the other side of the net. His silver eyes scan their surroundings quickly, searching for an opening.
“Stay quiet. I assume they’re coming for you. We’ll make an escape before they get through the guards.”
Galipei has sounded strange since last night. It still hasn’t gone away. Maybe he’s plotting something too. Maybe he’s responsible for this.
“What’s going on out there?” Anton demands. The ground shudders. Was that anexplosive?
“We’ve entered Laho. I’m willing to bet anything we’re being attacked by the Dovetail.” Galipei’s voice grows muffled while he slinks around the carriage, trying to find the end of the net. “Can you… other side?”
Although Anton doesn’t hear most of Galipei’s question, he can take a guess at what his guard asked. He pulls away from the orange light of the higher window and shifts to the lower one. It’s almost pressed to the ground in the overturned carriage. He kicks it free too, letting the broken shards fall outward, then pokes his head through the hollowed window frame.
Galipei is crouching outside.
“Squeeze through.”
“In themud?” Anton grumbles.
Galipei rolls his eyes. Then… he blows a puff of air up, as if he’s trying to get hair off his forehead.
There’s no hair covering his forehead and falling into his eyes. Someone else, though, certainly does that often, but how could—
“Let’sgo. We don’t have time to waste, and this is the only section the net doesn’t cover. I can’t lift it otherwise. They have some magnetic shit on the edges.”
Gritting his teeth, Anton lowers himself out of the carriage window, squeezing into the small burrow. Someone screams, no more than ten paces away, and Galipei sucks in his breath, glancing over his shoulder. At the last few inches, he doesn’t wait for Anton to finish crawling, and merely reaches in to yank him out and to his feet.
Shrapnel strikes the ground right beside the ditch. Dirt sprays in, and Anton flinches, uncomprehending. He’s only seen this sort of weaponry in the textbooks, in Talin’s battles with Sica. After the war was won, the palace removed everything from distribution, destroyed it en masse. Weapons remain outlawed in the capital to this day. They don’t need them anymore, after all. No use risking them being wielded against the throne once their foreign enemy was vanquished.
“They’ve got good arrows too,” Galipei supplies, seeing Anton’s expression. He points to his shoulder; now that Anton’s not looking through a net, he sees Galipei’s enormous red stain, which is steadily growing. “I think I’ve still got the arrowhead in there somewhere.”
“You should probably get that out.”
“No kidding.” Galipei waits a moment for the dirt to settle, then goes to peer over the edge. Anton is close behind him, although he has to strain to get his head—August’s shorter head—over the edge of the ditch for visibility.
“Who is doing this?” Anton asks lowly. “Same group as the one in Leysa?”
“They’re wearing the same clothes, so my guess is yes. They’ve outnumbered us this time. I only got a quick glance before ducking out of sight, but they’re jumping, which means the Weisannas either need to fight back in kind, or we’re going to be eliminated.”
“Jumping?” Anton echoes. “They can’t possibly be strong enough to invade palace guards.”
“San-Er’s bloodlines aren’t inherently stronger than the provinces—they’re palaceguards, not palace aristocrats,” Galipei mutters in reply. “It seems to be working plenty well, anyway. They’re jumping in, killing us, then jumping out. We don’t have enough Weisannas to put up a good defense by mere insusceptibility. Once the guards are overwhelmed, they’ll go for the carriages and attack the councilmembers. I’m not sure the delegation will survive this.”
Weisannas. The guards.Has Galipei always spoken like that?
“We’ll take a horse and escape when the opportunity comes,” he goes on. “We don’t need everyone present to go after the crown—if anything, they’re only useless baggage.”
Anton finally spots where the other carriages have stopped, past the frantic scene of battling guards. The carriages are still lined up in an orderly fashion with the horses, relatively undamaged. The last one sits exposed, no lock on the door, no way to stop any random rural dweller from opening it and seeing what lies inside.
“No,” Anton says.
Galipei looks back at him, flabbergasted. “No?”
“No, not yet—”
