Taziri stared. He was hurt because of me and Shahera, the poor boy. What kind of monster stalks strangers and helpless young men like this? “And the soldiers just let you leave?”
“Sure. They know I didn’t do anything wrong, and they sure as hell aren’t loyal to Fabris. In fact, it sounds like the major is pissed enough as it is and after a few more hours of these orders he’ll be ready to throw Fabris out on his ass, papers or no.”
“Then why didn’t they just let everyone else go in the first place?”
He sniffed. “Well, that’s the tricky part of doing the right thing. Sometimes you let your friend go, and sometimes you follow orders because you swore an oath to follow orders.”
“So they chose to let you go?”
Alonso shrugged. “They did what all honest and devout souls do. They split the difference. But don’t worry. They’re not going to let anything happen to the others.”
“What do we do now?” Shahera asked.
“We find the Don. He needs to know what’s happened. And he needs Alonso’s message.” Taziri took off into the city again without waiting for the others. It was becoming second nature. Just decide and go and let the rest sort itself out.
Alonso hurried to keep pace with her. “Dona Qhora said he went out chasing after Dante, so we should probably check the bars along the river.” He froze. The sharp clapping of boots on cobblestones echoed from just around the next corner. “Off the street!”
Taziri slipped sideways into a narrow alley and kept shuffling into the dark hole as the others crowded in behind her. The boots clapped and clicked louder as they turned the corner, and then began to fade quietly into the whistling wind.
Alonso whispered in her ear. “Two of them! A soldier and an older man with a bag. Shit!” They shuffled back out into the street. Alonso clutched his short black hair as he stared after the two men. “That was the surgeon for Gaspar. I thought I had an hour. Shit. They’ll know I’m gone now, I can’t go back.”
Shahera shivered. “Should we try to stop the surgeon then?”
“No. Gaspar needs him. We’ll worry about that later.” Taziri took their arms and steered them back down the road toward the river, or where she guessed the river to be. “Right now, all that matters is that we’re all free and Qhora is in good hands with your friends, right?”
“Absolutely. My friends won’t let Fabris touch a hair on her head.” Alonso led them to the riverside where they stood exposed above the banks of the Elbro, shivering in the starlight.
Taziri clutched her arms around her belly, feeling the hard edges of her brace digging into her ribs. Where is Lorenzo? And what am I doing here? No streetlamps. No trolleys. No telegraphs. But they do have some sort of post service. I can send a letter. It might take a week, but at least I could warn Isoke about the warship and tell Yuba that I’m still alive. How many days have I been missing now? Five? Six?
“Let’s try this way.” Taziri turned right and started walking. Any direction is better than none. Walking is better than standing. The wind blasted through her hair, turning every drop of sweat on her scalp into an icy finger clawing at her head.
“Alonso! Alonso!” Don Lorenzo dashed out from a side street with Dante just behind him. “What happened? I saw the soldiers going into the cathedral. Where’s Qhora? Where are the others? Where’s Qhora? And why are you dressed like that?”
“She’s fine, sir. They’re all fine.” Alonso winced. “Well, almost. It was the Italian, Fabris. He was looking for Taziri and Shahera, but Dona Qhora got them out in time. And then Gaspar tried to fight Fabris and got his arm slit open.”
“Fabris’s arm?”
“No, Gaspar’s. But it’s okay. They took him to the barracks and called for a surgeon to stitch him up, so he should be fine.” Alonso paused, chewing on his lip. “I hope he’s all right.”
“What about my wife?” Lorenzo asked.
“Oh, sorry, she’s with Gaspar and Hector in the barracks. In a cell. But that’s all right, too. She’s absolutely safe there. Most of the soldiers quartered there are old friends of mine. They’d never let anything happen to Dona Qhora or the others.” Alonso blew on his naked hands and rubbed them together. “They’re already on the verge of throwing Fabris out and letting everyone go free anyway.”
“Well, thank God for that. Take me back there now.” Lorenzo checked his espada. “We’re going to get them out.”
“No, sir, wait. I have a message from her. From your wife. She said to tell you not to come for her. She said to tell you to go get the stone and that she’ll take care of Fabris.” Alonso frowned. “I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I swear that’s what she said.”
Taziri frowned too. What stone?
“No, absolutely not,” Lorenzo said. “We’re getting them all out of there right now. I’m not about to take any chance that Fabris might hurt Qhora or the boys. If your friends are on our side, all the better. We can finish this business with Fabris right now. Tonight.”
“But, sir, that’s not what she wants. She wants you to go get a stone. What stone is that? She didn’t say.” Alonso shrugged. “Whatever it is, she made me swear that I would send you out of town as fast as you can go to get it while she keeps Fabris here in town.”
“But that devil could kill her!” Lorenzo shook Alonso by the jacket.
“Not without killing the entire garrison first,” Alonso said, shuddering as he pulled his ill-fitting uniform tighter around his belly. “They drew up lots and plans before I left. Six armed men guarding the cell at all times, rotating shifts, with another two men keeping an eye on the Italian so there’s no surprises. They know who you are, sir, and they know who your wife is. They’d rather kill their own commander than let anything happen to her. And when I left they were talking about killing Fabris just for arresting her.”
Don Lorenzo stepped back, one hand over his mouth. He stared out over the frozen Elbro. “If we did go back, there would be a lot of questions to answer. Fabris might have a chance to make his case to your commander. And I suppose, regardless of what’s said, Fabris would probably walk out of there alive and well, and this whole business would just repeat at the next town and the next until we’re all injured or dead.” The hidalgo exhaled slowly and peered at Alonso. “You’re certain that’s what she said? To go get the stone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What stone?” Taziri asked, but Lorenzo didn’t even look at her.
The hidalgo exhaled slowly, his breath vapor streaking away on a sudden icy wind. “And you’re certain your soldier friends won’t harm her or the others?”
“I’ve known most of them since I learned to walk. I was an altar boy with five of them. All decent lads, I swear it. Your wife isn’t so much a prisoner as a lady with a private army, at the moment.” Alonso was shivering continuously now.
Lorenzo frowned and stroked his chin a bit longer. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. But she has a point about the stone, and I’d rather put my trust in a company of Espani soldiers than in my own, solitary sword.” He sighed and shook his head. “All right, we’ll do it her way.”
“So what now, sir? And what stone did she mean? The stone in the message. What is that?”
“I’ll tell you all about it. All of you.” Lorenzo glanced around the street. “But first we need to get indoors. It must be past midnight now. We need sleep and heat.”
“I agree, but where?” Dante asked. “If you have more friends in Zaragoza, I hope they’re more trustworthy than the priests at La Seo.”
“I know a place,” Alonso said. “The church by my parents’ house. We can sleep there tonight.”
“More churches.” Dante scowled. “There must be a hotel or inn or something civilized in this frozen bunghole of a city.”
“No, it’s perfect,” Alonso said. “Tiny. Dingy. Empty. No one will see us. And I can get us breakfast from my parents in the morning.”
“Hot food?” Dante raised an eyebrow. “Free hot food?”
“I suppose that’s decided then. We’ll get the horses from the cathedral on the way,” Lorenzo said. “We’re going to need them tomorrow.”