Home Shattered, page 10
“She… she banned the Grovekeepers from the island. They were put on a boat and sent back to Qawar. Some Mulchers who refused to work for her were kicked out too.”
Jab peered around Hunter, checking the guards behind him, all of whom were snoring enough to wake the dead. “Where did the Grovekeepers go?”
“Qawar, maybe? Freng? I don’t know. Maybe a smaller island nearby?”
Jab sighed. “They could be anywhere in the entire Great Sea. Is this why the rodents of Rado Town were so cold to you?”
Hunter nodded, drawing a small circle in the dirt with the tip of his tail. “She thought it was what the Sprouters wanted, but when she kicked them out, people got mad because a lot of them had friends, and neighbors, and family who were Grovekeepers. Some of the smaller places were left without important members of the community.”
Jab wished he knew the Frenglese word for “pathetic,” but another wave of guilt rose. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I would’ve done if my mother had done something awful to innocent rodents.”
“What do you mean, would’ve?”
Jab was sure he’d said every word right. And then it hit him. “I’m an orphan. My mom has been dead for two months.”
“Oh,” Hunter muttered. “I’m sorry.”
The sun poked over the horizon, casting a streak of yellow that cascaded along the ground, illuminating the not-too-distant sea, and stopping at the mountains in the distance behind them.
Jab stepped over his chain and tapped Sir Brouglas with his tail. For the amount of time that had passed, he realized the beaver was barely taking a nap compared to the several hours of sleep he’d given Jab.
Brouglas was a good beaver, and Jab wished he’d had more charitable ideas about Sprouters, even of Hunter and the porcupine who’d nearly killed him back home.
“Hunter,” Jab said, “I had issues with my mom too. And there were times I wish I’d had a different dad. I lost them both. I wish I knew them better. I’m sorry your mother put you in this kind of situation.” He felt like he said a wrong word or two, but hoped the message came across.
Brouglas stirred, rising slowly so as not to trip over his chains.
Jab tried to meet Hunter’s eyes in a way that was stern but not judgmental. “You need to be honest with her. Like her or not, she’s the only mom you’ve got.”
Brouglas yawned and patted Jab on the shoulder. “I suppose this means Hunter apologized?”
“I really am sorry. I won’t tell them you’re Grovekeepers.” Hunter hung his head, and Jab wondered if his neck hurt from doing that so much.
Brouglas shook his head and played with the chains to form the Ganan’s Rake symbol. “If you thought only a Grovekeeper would protect another Grovekeeper, then I think you need to learn more about our beloved Ganan, Blest be Him.”
“Blest be Him,” Hunter whispered.
Jab wondered if his reaction was automatic, drilled into him like asking someone “how are you?” without actually meaning it. He raised his wrists toward Hunter. “What are the odds you can get their keys from them?”
Hunter’s eyes widened. “I-I—”
“Come on,” Brouglas whispered. “Don’t think of it as stealing. Our Gardener Himself told us that giving comfort to a prisoner was a way to honor Him.”
Hunter chewed on his lip, eyes glued to their manacles. He turned around as the guards stirred and awoke.
“What’s this?” the lead rider asked through a yawn. “You three having a meeting without us?” He pulled his end of the chain hard enough to knock Brouglas off balance and send Jab to the forest floor.
“Let’s head out, boys. We’ve got to pay a visit to the baroness.”
The chain tightened before Jab could stand back up, dragging him a few inches. Brouglas and Hunter jogged ahead enough to catch Jab and help him stand while keeping pace.
The sun parted from the horizon, illuminating the island, displaying everything except what Jab wanted to see the most. Maybe it shone on his brother, out there searching for him.
20
Sanu
I’m not in the business of interrupting my enemies while they’re making a mistake.
- General Ironseed’s second letter to the ruling council.
Sanu tumbled in darkness, thrashing in the unknown until a cool, wet sensation snapped him awake. His eyes shot open, revealing Korpin crouching above him.
The strange room’s furniture gave the impression of a bedroom too nice for a pauper, but unlike the mayoral mansion they were supposed to be at. Sanu glanced down; he was in a bed, and his clothes were folded neatly on a chair in front of a mirror. His entire left ear was covered by reddened bandages.
“Wh-wha—”
“Shh,” Korpin soothed, gently pressing Sanu back into a pillow. “The bandit who shot at us was holding the homeowner hostage. Thanks to my quill, your idea, and the king’s … everything, we’re safe.”
Sanu’s head throbbed so much he could barely think. “What about the mansion? Did he get there?”
“He refused to go until you received attention. The bandit is recovering as well. In another room, under Ridgerd’s watchful eye.”
Sanu’s heart sank. He didn’t like the idea of a king delaying his plans for someone as unimportant as him.
“He’ll want to know you’re awake. He’s barely slept.”
“Slept?” Adrenaline made Sanu shoot up in bed. “How long have I been out?”
“Only the night,” Korpin said. “Please, don’t rush it. You’re injured.”
“But what happened?”
“A miracle.” King Ridgerd ducked to enter the doorway. “The crossbow bolt punctured your outer ear. It ripped off some skin and cartilage, but you’ll heal, lad. While I don’t like the idea of turning my trumpeter’s body parts into weaponry, I admire your ingenuity.”
Sanu’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry for disobeying your order to stay put.”
“Ha! Like Droughtlands you are.” Ridgerd slapped the foot of the bed. “I think you said it best, that I’m not your king. And it’s a good thing to defy a bad order. The house’s owner has promised to shelter us until you’ve recovered and are ready to finish our walk to the mayor’s mansion.”
“We can’t stay here,” Sanu protested. “Please just leave me if you have to.”
“How about this, my friend,” Ridgerd said, running a finger along the foot of the bed. “We’ll leave when you can leave the room without stumbling. An ear injury will impact your balance more than you’d expect. And this is not time wasted. That mole rat has been imparting some useful information about why my cousin isn’t on the throne anymore.” Ridgerd made a fist and shook it playfully. “You’d be surprised how a rodent’s tongue loosens when there’s a threat of loosening his teeth.”
Korpin shook his head. “I don’t know why you’re trusting the words of a bandit.”
“I trust his eyes,” Ridgerd shot back. “Eyes tell the truth. If you know what you’re looking for, of course.”
Sanu tried to follow along, but the pain in his ear swelled. It must have shown on his face; Ridgerd shot a scowl at Korpin.
“I’m sorry, my liege,” the porcupine said. “But the boy is a Grovekeeper. If I give him an olive chew for the pain, it’ll violate his faith.” Korpin sighed, then forced some levity into his voice. “Besides, you already sent your banner carrier back to the boats, so I’d have no more backup.”
“Somebody had to let them know we survived.” the hamster replied. “Sanu, I’ll give you some fermented berry juice. I understand it is forbidden for you, but this will dull the pain.”
Sanu breathed hard. Back when he’d thought Jab had died, he tried becoming more religious as a way to honor his presumably dead brother. But after doing that for so long, he wanted it for himself. He also heard stories about rodents who started drinking berry juice and ruining their lives. “Like you said, you’re not my king. I’d rather push through the pain and grow from it.”
Ridgerd folded his arms. “Now there’s a soldier. It’s a bit goose-headed if you ask me, but any chivalrous knight always puts the All-Planter first. I admire your faith.”
“Thank you. You’ll admire my brother’s even more,” he replied.
“I wish I could say the same about my brother,” Ridgerd mumbled. “Rest or walk, Sanu. I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to let that mole rat out of my sight.” The hamster ducked under the doorframe and left.
Korpin chuckled. “Well, you heard it from the royal lips. What’ll it be?”
Sanu breathed deep, then pushed the blanket off, sat up straight, and repositioned to the side of the bed. The tight bandages pulled on his skin, and he yearned to take them off and see the damage. Korpin offered a paw, but Sanu pushed it away. “Thanks, but I need to do this myself. I’m going to be tough, like Ridgerd.”
Smirking, Korpin backed away, creating space for Sanu.
Sanu placed one hindpaw on the floor, then the other. He slid off the bed and stood. His head hurt, but this wasn’t so bad. With a step forward, his knee buckled. Sanu leaned to the left and then his other knee buckled. Leaning right made him stumble, but he caught himself with his tail.
“You can’t walk on a tail like that,” Korpin warned. “It’s not a crutch.”
“What if I had a walking stick?” A pained grin formed on Sanu’s face. “Or a walking instrument?”
“What is it with people wanting to take my trumpet?” Korpin rattled his quills. “While you were unconscious, Ridgerd threatened to use it like a club against that mole rat. I’ll fetch it, but you need to rest some more. Take a jaunt around the room without falling, take a nap, and then I can convince the king we’re ready to leave.”
“Deal,” Sanu said. He stumbled in a semicircle around the bed. His head throbbed, and he couldn’t believe how much of a role in balance his ear had played. Everything sounded muffled, but he was sure that would go away once they changed the bandages.
He did another semicircle around the bed, drank some water, and as he crawled back under the blanket, he muttered the daily prayer to himself. He’d started doing it as a way to honor Jab, but this had become more important to him over the last few months, even knowing that his brother was alive. Maybe it was because Sanu wanted so desperately for Jab to still be alive that he was able to take his devotion as a Grovekeeper more seriously.
When Sanu awoke, Ridgerd was stooped over him, changing the bandages on his ear.
“Sorry, Sanu,” Ridgerd whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
A king getting himself dirty and changing someone’s bandages? Sanu didn’t know why he let things like this surprise him about the hamster. “Where’s Korpin?”
“Downstairs, eating with the homeowner.” He loosened the last bit of Sanu’s bandages and displayed them. “Only a small bit of red. You should be ready for light travel. No running. Want to see your battle scar?”
Sanu gazed into the mirror across from the bed. His left ear had a chunk missing from the middle of the edge, as if a hawk had clamped down on his cartilage and ripped out a section. He was horrified and also really pleased with how intimidating it made him look. All the best warriors had chunks missing from their ears or damaged whiskers from fights. Ridgerd didn’t seem to have any, but Sanu wondered if the hamster had ever lost a fight to have a scar like that.
“Not too hideous, but sufficient to make you look tough.”
Thoughts of Cladh swooning over his scar flooded into his mind, but he had no clue why. He wasn’t still thinking about her and definitely didn’t want to impress her. Besides, she was something of a pacifist and wouldn’t take well to battle scars. Not that Sanu cared.
“But you look tough without scars,” Sanu said.
A sad smile creased Ridgerd’s muzzle. “Even without scars like yours, I have enough of a problem fighting people who want to kill me that I don’t have time to fight off anyone who wants to marry me. Show me how you can walk and then we’ll leave.”
Once Sanu did, Ridgerd nodded and motioned toward the door.
They left the house, and the homeowner, another mole rat who was much thinner and older than their assailant, thanked Ridgerd for their service and stay. He offered a pouch of acorns while Ridgerd was shoving their attacker out the door.
Korpin waved to politely refuse the acorns, but Ridgerd stopped in his tracks and faced the homeowner. “We’d be honored. This gift shall not be forgotten.”
Sanu hobbled out, using the trumpet as an awkward walking stick.
“We don’t need acorns, my liege,” Korpin said once they were out of earshot.
“We don’t, but he needed to give us a gift. You saw how the Mulchers were in the tavern. Giving gifts is a custom here. We wouldn’t want to insult the man. Besides, Sanu is a growing boy and he could use a snack.”
“The bandit could’ve gotten away,” the porcupine mumbled.
“I have a name,” the mole rat said. His accent was thick enough that Sanu had to strain to figure out what he said.
“Tell us then,” Ridgerd said, “so I can administer proper justice to your mayor.”
“No,” he hissed.
They continued on the stone street, attracting decent attention, which made Sanu’s heart pound. They’d already been attacked once. Now they were slowed down and exposed.
Sanu matched their pace, which bothered him. Galdwin and Lady Marjitay could’ve done anything in the meantime without the king there.
“Who paid you to attack a king, bandit?” Korpin demanded.
The mole rat scowled, but his face fell. “I didn’t know who you were. I wanted to sell his sword. I figured you’d have a lot of money, by the way you were dressed.”
Sanu glared at the mole rat, partially for how seeing another member of Lady Marjitay’s species made him feel. And then a realization struck. They were almost at the mayor’s mansion, and the Honking Goose herself could have paid an assassin. But that also seemed foolish, since Ridgerd was their best chance at conquering ZelZaytun.
If this attacker had been successful, the invasion may have ground to a halt. So many of these soldiers had personal loyalty to Ridgerd, and Sanu understood why. He would’ve made that heroic defense and provided tender bedside care for anyone under his command and protection. He’d met other people who were called nobles, but Ridgerd was the only one who seemed deserving of the title.
He just wondered what it was that made the hamster so convinced he would go to the Droughtlands when he died, and why his father was disappointed in him. Maybe it had something to do with him not having a wife, which Sanu thought was a pretty dumb reason to be mad at someone.
They neared the mayor’s mansion and the gate in front of it.
Ridgerd shoved the mole rat by the shoulder and addressed the gate guards. “Special delivery for the mayor’s justice. Attempted robbery and murder. Tell your mayor that King Ridgerd is here. Send my apologies for not arriving yesterday, but this one here slowed us down. Remind your mayor that I still have not received an official answer for my cousin’s whereabouts.”
The mole rat grimaced, staring at his hindpaws.
The guard, a spiny mouse, nodded grimly. “Lady Gavrer has been expecting you. She’ll be glad to see you. We will take this criminal.”
“No,” Ridgerd said. “He stays where I can see him until he receives his justice from the mayor. She deserves to know what’s happening on her streets. Besides,” Ridgerd pointed at his back with his downturned thumb. “Look at this fancy crossbow I got from him. He deserves to watch me carry it around. Perhaps it’ll be a gift for your mayor. Gatter, you said her name was?”
“Gavrer,” the guard corrected. He tapped the gate three times with his spear, and the metal gate rose into the stone arch above it. They proceeded through a passage that had what looked like a ceiling with missing stones.
Sanu’s heart raced. Those were murder holes. Defenders could pour boiling oil or throw rocks down them in a siege.
“What kind of mayor has murder holes?” Ridgerd asked.
“There have been improvements lately.” The guard sounded frustrated. “Upgrades.”
The group continued under the incomplete ceiling and reached a double-door entrance, which two attendants opened.
The interior reminded him of the Gananhall back in ZelZaytun, but stripped of religious symbols. This long building had a raised platform at the end, with two sets of staircases rising on the sides, and extra rooms branching off the main hall. In the back sat three thrones, a large one coated in gold, and two beside it. To Sanu’s horror, Lady Marjitay sat on the left, and the Sapling Galdwin on the right. Between them was a spiny mouse, a female teenager.
“It’s good to see you,” Lady Marjitay hissed. “We were so worried.”
Sanu scanned the room, hoping for a sign of Yagub or Nett, but only stares from a myriad of rodents greeted him back.
The spiny mouse in the center stood. “Welcome, King Ridgerd. You stand in the house of Lady Gavrer, daughter to Baroness Bohbrat. Who have you brought with you?”
“First, my trumpeter,” Ridgerd said, indicating the porcupine. “And here we have Sanu, my ward, a brave young squirrel and a fine double siege player.” Then the king’s voice darkened. “But I also bring before you a common bandit who attacked us in the middle of the day. How are you running this city if someone like this could attack someone like me. How’d he even get access to a crossbow?”
Galdwin stiffened. “My king, that’s no way to speak to a mayor.”
Lady Marjitay shushed him. “There are criminals attacking nobles here?” She wheeled on Gavrer. “Answer the king’s question!”
The spiny mouse’s shoulders slackened and she stared at the floor. “I didn’t know it was that bad. Mother said the crime would stop when we put everyone in their place.”
