Tara’s smile is fierce. “There are no beacons in this city. There are no trackers either. I allow couriers and leaders from other city-states safe passage across the river, but a group of trackers can have no good purpose for coming to Chelmingford.”
“You killed them?” the Commander asks.
The fierceness in Tara’s smile reaches her eyes. “Indeed we did. They thought they could destroy our farms as a warning that they meant business. In return, my farmworkers allowed them the exclusive use of our ferry. I’m not sorry to report that the ferry never made it to Chelmingford.”
“Where did it go?” Connor asks.
“To the bottom of the river.” Tara presses her hands against the tabletop. “Anyone who believes that I haven’t put contingencies in place for any possible threat to my city is making a grave mistake.”
Even the Commander doesn’t sneer at this. I shift in my chair as I realize we may have come all the way out to Chelmingford for nothing. Tara’s city is safe. She has no incentive to help us now.
Her eyes meet mine, and I say, “I’m glad there aren’t any beacons in your city or on your farmland.”
I am. But I’m also scrambling to think of some way I could be of service to her in exchange for troops. We’re facing three enormous armies on Rowansmark territory with only a partial commitment of soldiers from Lankenshire and Hodenswald. We need all the help we can get.
“And I’m sorry that Carrington and Baalboden were destroyed, and that Lankenshire and Hodenswald live in fear.” She turns to the Commander. “What is your plan?”
“I know James Rowan and his military methods. He’s too aggressive on the front end, leaving his reserve troops and supplies exposed. I’m going to take a combined army from four city-states, bait him into an aggressive frontal attack, let Logan use their own tech against them, and then flank the reserves with superior numbers to finish them off and leave the attacking unit surrounded.” He sounds like his plan couldn’t possibly fail, but I can see pitfalls at every turn. Not that I have a better plan, but still. So much could go wrong.
Apparently, Tara agrees with me. She picks up her cup and swirls the water inside. “And what happens if the tech they have within their city is far superior to the tech you’ve stolen from them?”
“Logan can alter the tech. Boost it. Make it better. He’s good at that.” The Commander sounds irritated, and he glares at me as I stare at him in shock. I never thought I’d hear a compliment from his mouth.
“And if James decides to retreat to the river? If he has troops on the water? Supplies?”
The Commander opens his mouth. Shuts it. Looks at me like maybe I have a magic solution waiting in my pocket.
I don’t. But Tara does. She rises from the table and invites us to follow her upstairs. We climb a steep set of steps, past the second floor, past the third floor, and into a small, round room completely surrounded by glass walls. Frankie stays rooted just inside the doorway, but the rest of us approach the eastern wall with Tara. My skin feels clammy, like it did when I had to climb to the top of the tall metal-and-glass building in the ruined city, and my chest hurts when I breathe, but I force myself to approach the wall and look where Tara is pointing.
Her home is near the eastern edge of the city. Beyond her windows is another row of houses. Beyond that is a huge walkway that surrounds the city and separates it from the river. Small ramps branch out from that walkway every few yards and lead down to a collection of boats—no, not boats. Ships.
Silvery-gray ships as tall as a three-story house with graceful lines and tremendous sails line the water as far as I can see.
The Commander steps closer to the window-wall. “You have—”
“An armada. Yes.”
“None of the other leaders know this.” He makes it sound like an accusation.
“Of course not. The only way to see our ships is from the top floor of a house on the eastern edge of the city. I’ve always entertained other leaders in the bottom story of the town center in the west. One of the best ways to plan for any possible threat is to make sure those who might threaten you don’t know your true strength.”
We need her armada. If we could trap Rowansmark between an army on the river and an army at their wall, we’d have a much better chance of winning. The problem is, Tara doesn’t need to help us. We have nothing to offer in exchange. Still, I have to try.
“I can invent things,” I say. “I can build tech. Sonar. Tracking devices—”
“I don’t need those.”
“Well, maybe—”
“You can’t bribe me to help you.” Her voice is calm, but her eyes are fierce. “I’m helping you of my own accord. You owe me nothing for my trouble.”
“You are? We don’t?” I ask.
She meets my gaze and then looks at the Commander. “I hate bullies. I hate those who abuse their power and hurt the ones they should be protecting. And I believe that if I have the power to stop an injustice, and I choose to look away instead, I’m as guilty of that injustice as if I’d done the harm myself. So yes, I will help. It will take you two days to return to Lankenshire—”
“More like two weeks,” Connor says.
She smiles. “Not if you take a boat. You can disembark a mere day’s walk from the city. Then if you head west for another four days, you’ll reach the branch of the river that will take you straight to Rowansmark. I’ll send half of my armada to pick you up.” She looks at the ships. “It will be a tight fit, but we should be able to accommodate your soldiers.”
“You killed them?” the Commander asks.
The fierceness in Tara’s smile reaches her eyes. “Indeed we did. They thought they could destroy our farms as a warning that they meant business. In return, my farmworkers allowed them the exclusive use of our ferry. I’m not sorry to report that the ferry never made it to Chelmingford.”
“Where did it go?” Connor asks.
“To the bottom of the river.” Tara presses her hands against the tabletop. “Anyone who believes that I haven’t put contingencies in place for any possible threat to my city is making a grave mistake.”
Even the Commander doesn’t sneer at this. I shift in my chair as I realize we may have come all the way out to Chelmingford for nothing. Tara’s city is safe. She has no incentive to help us now.
Her eyes meet mine, and I say, “I’m glad there aren’t any beacons in your city or on your farmland.”
I am. But I’m also scrambling to think of some way I could be of service to her in exchange for troops. We’re facing three enormous armies on Rowansmark territory with only a partial commitment of soldiers from Lankenshire and Hodenswald. We need all the help we can get.
“And I’m sorry that Carrington and Baalboden were destroyed, and that Lankenshire and Hodenswald live in fear.” She turns to the Commander. “What is your plan?”
“I know James Rowan and his military methods. He’s too aggressive on the front end, leaving his reserve troops and supplies exposed. I’m going to take a combined army from four city-states, bait him into an aggressive frontal attack, let Logan use their own tech against them, and then flank the reserves with superior numbers to finish them off and leave the attacking unit surrounded.” He sounds like his plan couldn’t possibly fail, but I can see pitfalls at every turn. Not that I have a better plan, but still. So much could go wrong.
Apparently, Tara agrees with me. She picks up her cup and swirls the water inside. “And what happens if the tech they have within their city is far superior to the tech you’ve stolen from them?”
“Logan can alter the tech. Boost it. Make it better. He’s good at that.” The Commander sounds irritated, and he glares at me as I stare at him in shock. I never thought I’d hear a compliment from his mouth.
“And if James decides to retreat to the river? If he has troops on the water? Supplies?”
The Commander opens his mouth. Shuts it. Looks at me like maybe I have a magic solution waiting in my pocket.
I don’t. But Tara does. She rises from the table and invites us to follow her upstairs. We climb a steep set of steps, past the second floor, past the third floor, and into a small, round room completely surrounded by glass walls. Frankie stays rooted just inside the doorway, but the rest of us approach the eastern wall with Tara. My skin feels clammy, like it did when I had to climb to the top of the tall metal-and-glass building in the ruined city, and my chest hurts when I breathe, but I force myself to approach the wall and look where Tara is pointing.
Her home is near the eastern edge of the city. Beyond her windows is another row of houses. Beyond that is a huge walkway that surrounds the city and separates it from the river. Small ramps branch out from that walkway every few yards and lead down to a collection of boats—no, not boats. Ships.
Silvery-gray ships as tall as a three-story house with graceful lines and tremendous sails line the water as far as I can see.
The Commander steps closer to the window-wall. “You have—”
“An armada. Yes.”
“None of the other leaders know this.” He makes it sound like an accusation.
“Of course not. The only way to see our ships is from the top floor of a house on the eastern edge of the city. I’ve always entertained other leaders in the bottom story of the town center in the west. One of the best ways to plan for any possible threat is to make sure those who might threaten you don’t know your true strength.”
We need her armada. If we could trap Rowansmark between an army on the river and an army at their wall, we’d have a much better chance of winning. The problem is, Tara doesn’t need to help us. We have nothing to offer in exchange. Still, I have to try.
“I can invent things,” I say. “I can build tech. Sonar. Tracking devices—”
“I don’t need those.”
“Well, maybe—”
“You can’t bribe me to help you.” Her voice is calm, but her eyes are fierce. “I’m helping you of my own accord. You owe me nothing for my trouble.”
“You are? We don’t?” I ask.
She meets my gaze and then looks at the Commander. “I hate bullies. I hate those who abuse their power and hurt the ones they should be protecting. And I believe that if I have the power to stop an injustice, and I choose to look away instead, I’m as guilty of that injustice as if I’d done the harm myself. So yes, I will help. It will take you two days to return to Lankenshire—”
“More like two weeks,” Connor says.
She smiles. “Not if you take a boat. You can disembark a mere day’s walk from the city. Then if you head west for another four days, you’ll reach the branch of the river that will take you straight to Rowansmark. I’ll send half of my armada to pick you up.” She looks at the ships. “It will be a tight fit, but we should be able to accommodate your soldiers.”
