Fire - Kristin Cashore [76]
I’m doing this for the Dells, she told herself over and over when her own capacity for bullying made her numb with shame and panic. I’m doing this to protect the Dells from those who would destroy it.
‘In a three-way war,’ said a prisoner who’d been caught smuggling swords and daggers to Gentian, ‘it seems to me that the king has the advantage of numbers. Doesn’t it seem that way to you, Lady? Does anyone know Mydogg’s numbers for sure?’
He was a fellow who kept tearing away from her hold, polite and pleasant and cloud-brained one moment, the next moment clear-headed, fighting against the shackles around his wrists and ankles, whimpering at the sight of her.
She nudged at his mind now, pushing him away from his own empty speculations and centering him on his actual knowledge.
‘Tell me about Mydogg and Gentian,’ she said. ‘Do they intend to mount an attack this summer?’
‘I don’t know, Lady. I’ve heard nothing about it but rumours.’
‘Do you know Gentian’s numbers?’
‘No, but he buys an infinite number of swords.’
‘How many is “infinite”? Be more specific.’
‘I don’t know specifics,’ he said, still speaking truthfully, but beginning to break free again, the reality of his situation in this room coming back to him. ‘I have nothing more to say to you,’ he announced suddenly, staring at her big-eyed, beginning to shake. ‘I know what you are. I won’t let you use me.’
‘I don’t enjoy using you,’ Fire said tiredly, allowing herself, for a moment at least, to say what she felt. She watched him as he yanked at his wrists and gasped and fell back in his chair, exhausted and sniffling. Then she reached up and tugged at her headscarf so that her hair came tumbling down. The brightness startled him; he gaped at her, astonished; in that instant, she pushed into his mind again and grabbed hold easily. ‘What are these rumours you’ve heard about the plans of the rebel lords?’
‘Well, Lady,’ he said, transformed again, smiling cheerfully. ‘I hear that Lord Mydogg wants to make himself the king of the Dells and Pikkia. Then he wants to use Pikkian boats to explore the sea and find new lands to conquer. A Pikkian smuggler told me that, Lady.’
I’m getting better at this, Fire thought to herself. I’m learning all the cheap, disgusting little tricks.
And the muscles of her mind were stretching; practice was making her quicker, stronger. Control was becoming an easy - even comfortable - position for her to assume.
But all she ever learned were vague plans for attack someplace sometime soon, random violent intentions against Nash or Brigan, sometimes against herself. Swift changes in alliance that changed back again just as swiftly. Like Garan and Clara and everyone else, she was waiting to discover something solid, something large and treacherous that could serve as a call to action.
They were all waiting for a breakthrough. But sometimes Fire just wished desperately that she were allowed the occasional moment of solitude.
SHE HAD BEEN a summer baby and in July her birthday passed - with little fanfare, for she kept the fact of it to herself. Archer and Brocker both had flowers sent. Fire smiled at this, for they would have sent something else had they known how many men of the court and the city had been sending her flowers, constantly, endlessly, flowers and more flowers, since her arrival two months ago. Her rooms were always a hothouse. She would have pitched them, the cut orchids and lilies and fine tall roses, for she had no interest in the attentions of these men; except that she loved the flowers, she loved being surrounded by the beauty of them. She found she had a knack for arranging them, colour to colour.
The king never sent flowers. His feelings had not changed, but he had stopped begging her to marry him. In fact, he’d asked her to teach him guarding against monsters. So over a series of days and weeks, each on either side of her door, she had taught him what he already knew but needed a push to remember. Intention, focus, and self-control. With