Chapter 25: Anything's A Start

Once again, she was trapped. Alistair had helped her up to her seat, but had still not talked to her, only said a few words. Odale wondered what thoughts were running through his head. Why wouldn't he talk to her? Couldn't they make up a plan about escape? And then he'd kissed her before. What had he meant by that? Was it friendly, or had it been something else? Her cheeks turned red when she thought about it. It wasn't even relevant to her current situation.

Odale looked around. but what could she do, except think about kisses? Her hands were still tied, behind her back, and the Magyk still wasn't there... Odale hated that feeling of coldness that just seeped over her, like waves. It was the feeling of being powerless.

The waggon was narrow, too, and built like a wooden box, but held together by iron. It was so narrow that she practiacally sat in Alistair's lap. "Where do you think they're taking us?" she asked him, only whispering, in case the soldiers knew Castelian.

Alistair sighed. "I'm not sure," he mumbled. "These soldiers are from Capriolium, at least, but that's pretty far. Centera, maybe, but that's not too close either."

"Why would they take us there?" she asked, chewing a piece of hair that had strayed to her face. Finally he was talking to her.

"Most the military leaders would be around there," Alistair answered. "They have this big meeting, and if they found rebels who could possibly have information, then they would like to have them there..."

Odale looked out the very, very small window which was heavily barred. She could see next until nothing out there, only a piece of grey sky and heavy snowflakes falling down. "We're kids," she said, "What would we know?"

"I'm not a kid, exactley," Alistair replied. "Besides, they know that one of the leaders is very young. I suppose that I'm a suspect."

She felt a jolt of fear. "But you are one?" she whispered lowly, afraid the soldiers would understand and hear. Alistair only nodded, probably having the same fear as Odale had. They both turned quiet.

"They'll find out pretty quick, too," Alistair murmured. "All leaders have this tatoo on our backs..."

"Well, that was a stupid idea," Odale snarked. "Isn't that a little bit like a sign that says 'Oi! Torture me!'?"

Alistair pressed his lips together, apparently struggling not to snark back. Then, his face lit up. "Maybe they'll let you go," he whispered. "Since your the Emperor's granddaughter..."

Odale shook her head. "I don't think so," she said. "I've never even met him! Besides, what proof would I have?"

Alistair looked down. "But you're a foreigner," he replied. "Don't you have anything in your back that could... proove that you're not with us?"

Odale pressed her lips together. Did she have anything? All she had was a stolen bag with what she'd worn when she was first captured, and some food and ivory moons. Maybe the bracelet, Odale thought, that her mother had once given her? Was it somehow proof of who she was? She knew that her father had made it for her, when she was alive, and that her mother had kept it... until she'd given it to Odale, of course. "I could have something," she murmured. "In my bag. It's a bracelet."

"Bracelet?" Alistair said. "Why are you carrying a bracelet in your bag?"

"Does it matter?" Odale snapped. "Do you think you could get it out somehow?"

For whatever reason, they had tied his hands in front of him. It was lucky, Odale thought. that they had. She turned so that he could easily access to her bag, and Alistair grabbed it, fumbled with the ropes that held the primitive bag together, and managed to untie them. Then, he dug through her bag. "What does it look like?" he asked her.

"Well, it's round," Odale snarked. And then, more seriously added; "Silver, with a blue stone. It has my name written on it. And then the meaning-"

"Got it!" Alistair said, finally holding the small silverpiece in his hands. "It's pretty. And... I thought you said you couldn't read monmanian?"

"Monmanian?" her head spun. Whatever was he talking about?

"My language," he explained. "It says 'merestä'... From the sea. Nice."

"I'm pretty sure last time I looked it was in Castelian," Odale snapped. "Whatever. Help me get it on."

She turned around, holding her wrists in front of him. Once again, he fumbled a little but Odale heard the familiar click and smiled a little. She had worn it so often that it almost felt empty not wearing it, and now that it was back again she felt content. "Are you going to show it to them?" Alistair asked.

Odale shook her head. "Not yet," she mumbled. "It would almost seem suspiscious. I'll let them find it, instead. And then..."

She smiled. "Maybe we'll be free again," she said.

Runa was pale. She sat on their bed, clutching the bedsheet so hard her knuckled turned white. She sat swearing in her birthlanguage, that Rodrian didn't understand. "Runa?" he said, worried, "Runa, are you alright?"

She took a deep breath. "Contractions, I think," she replied, and swore again. "Fitta. Will you go and get someone for me? I think it's y-you know, time."

Rodrian nodded, leant in and gave her a quick hug. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Just get someone to help!" Runa exclaimed, then seemingly thought it had sounded a little too rude. "Please."

Rodrian rushed downstairs, up to the owner of the Dollhouse, a woman in her fourties who had a son around the same age as Odale. "Ma'am," he said, feeling a bit stressed. "My wife needs a midwife, she's giving birth..."

The owner nodded. "I am a midwife, sir," she replied. "Or, was. I'm sure I could help your wife."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said. "I will, of course, pay you for this extra work."

She shook her head. "Let's not discuss this now," she said, "Where is your wife?"

"Upstairs," Rodrian said, "In our room. Room-"

"Eight, yes of course," said the owner. "Sir, stay here. I'll take care of your wife."

"Alone?" Rodrian was shocked. Could he, really, leave Runa alone in the care of this stranger? While not looking after her. The woman nodded.

This, Rodrian thought a little annoyed, would never have happened among the rebels. They were always many, a group of around five, and they helped eachother. Could one do it alone? But what did he know, really? He hadn't given birth, nor did he know anything about what it was like. Maybe he should have read about it, but it was too late, then. "Just sit down here and relax," the woman said, walking past him. "Merrin, you can come with. You'll have to do exactley what I say."

Distraught, Rodrian sat down. Things were, he thought, going a little too fast for his taste.

The carriage halted, and it gave Alistair a feeling that something bad was going to happen. He saw Odale look at him, smiling a little bit nervously. The door was opened, and someone pulled Odale out off the carriage. He protested, but the door was slammed shut in front of him. To see her properly, Alistair stood up.

The soldier, the tall, blonde woman, had grabbed Odale by the collar of her shirt. Odale was struggling, but the woman was strong and held her by the arms, and had a strong hand on Odale's jaw, making her look at something. Alistair didn't really see what.

Someone, however, begun to speak latin. He grabbed the bars of the waggons window. "She doesn't speak latin," he called out. Someone kicked the waggon and it shook. However, the voice had listened. "Or monmanian."

"Castelian?" the voice asked.

"Yes," Odale replied through gritted teeth. "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" another voice, a younger one asked. Alistair clenched his jaw. It was the voice of a young soldier in the Emperor's army, a noble man. Davilius Rammasotti. They'd faced off, once, last year.

Alistair saw Odale, despite being held back, straighten her back, throwing her hair out of her face. "I'm Odale Overstrand," she snapped, and the name sent a chill down Alistair's spine. It sounded right, he thought, but at the same time being a royal didn'y suit her very well. She was far too... down to the earth, so to speak. "Apprentice of Marcia Overstrand. And... Ugh!"

Davilius had hit her in the gut. "Liar," he told her. She was dropped to the ground, panting, and Alistair clenched his fists. Odale didn't deserve that.

"Then who am I?" she said. "Do you have any proof?"

"Davilius, please," said the original voice. "Wait."

Odale stood up, and the soldier woman grabbed her again. "She was found with a rebel, wasn't she?" Davilius snarled, in latin. "Don't trust her, Phileus."

"She does look like an Overstrand," Phileus said shortly. Alistair had no doubts as to which Phileus it was: it had to be Phileus Porter, member of the Seven. The Emperor's council. He bared his teeth, almost wanting to cry out that she was one, but then why would they listen to him? Why would they trust him?

"Maybe because I am one," Odale snarled, "Now let me go."

"Even if she was one, being around one would be a criminal offense!" he said, in latin. Phileus told him something, a little lower and whispering. Alistair was frustrated when he didn't hear what they said, but Phileus finally turned to Odale.

"You may come with us, girl," he said. "Come on."

"Will you untie me?" Odale asked.

"Absolutely not," Davilius snarled.

"Not yet," Phileus said. "But please, come with us."

Odale glanced up at Alistair. He didn't move a muscle, and nor did she. She turned back to Phileus. "Of course," she murmured.

Dextus kissed her, gently weaving his hand through Lorea's hair. She pushed him away a little. "I can hear mother," she mumbled. "Dextus..."

He pulled away. "She knows, Lorea," he said. "It's okay."

"I know," Lorea replied. "I do, it's just... she doesn't need to see us kissing, okay?"

Dextus pursed his lips, as if he wanted to continue, but didn't. Lorea pressed her lips against his neck, only for a little moment, and then turned around. "Mum?" she called, "What are you doing?"

"I'm making dinner," Cashmére said. Dextus held back a laugh, and Lorea walked into the kitchen.

"Mother!" she said, "It's late. At this hour? I just thought that you forgot it all together..."

"Well, Little is hungry," Cashmére said, "And I don't want her to eat those rats again, it's distasteful. Besides, she's becoming more and more human..."

There was a knock on the door, and Cashmére tossed her hair over her shoulder. "It must be Marcia," she said. "And I can't stand to see her right now. Please open the door, Lorea."

Lorea did, and her mother was very right. Marcia smiled a little when she saw Lorea. "Oh, Lorea," she said, almost as if relieved. "So good to see you. Is your mother home?"

"Yes," Lorea said, "But Marcia, I think she's really tired. Maybe you should come back tomorrow..."

"It's about Odale," Marcia said, "And it's very important. I need to see her now. Lorea, please let me in."

Lorea turned around, to call for her mother, but her mother was already there. She stared at Marcia. "Have you found her?" Cashmére asked, but both Cashmére and Lorea knew that that wasn't it. "What is it?"

"She's not found," Marcia said, "But I know where she is now. Here..."

Lorea's aunt handed her mother a letter. It was dirt and all the inc letters were smudged. And it had been wrinkled. "Rodrian gave me this," Marcia said, and Cashmére frowned. "It's from one of the rebels, but it's about Odale."

Cashmére anxiously read through it. "But it's... about his... daughter?" she said, finally, having read through it a several times. "What is this?"

"It's about Odale," Marcia repeated. "They only think it's Rodrian's daughter. But it's Odale."

"She's with the rebels?" her mother's voice was hoarse. Lorea gingerly walked up to her mother, put her arms around her mother. "H-how? When?"

"I don't know anything," Marcia said softly. "Not any more than you. But I know that you can help her. You have to write to your father and tell him what's happened. I'm sure he can do something..."

Her mother pressed her lips together. "I don't know if I can, Marcia," Cashmére said, "We haven't... talked for such a long time. I think he hates me. I... I can't."

"For Odale," Marcia said, "Try it for Odale."

"I'll... I'll try," Cashmére mumbled. "Tonight. But will you go, now? I have to make dinner."

Marcia nodded, and she walked away.