“At Greenhaven,” Eldest reported, “they were saying that the Wainwright place blew up, that their ammo went up and took out the shop and the house.”
Ren shook her head. “The thieves killed the family in their beds long before torching the place. They managed to carry out all the small arms, the pistols and rifles, and the Prophets before we arrived. They were trying to move the great naval guns when we rode up, and they set fire to the shop to cover their retreat.”
She and Raven had been to the Wainwrights’ home several times to see the new weapons tested and to order various guns. While not as prolific as the Whistlers, the Wainwrights had numbered around twenty women and girls with a handsome young husband that they proudly showed off. Not one survived the murderous attack.
Raven cleared her throat and covered Ren’s silence. “It was easy to track the cannons. Each of the Prophets weighs nearly nine hundred pounds and they are roughly six and a half feet long. Multiply that by eight, and it’s quite an operation to move them. The thieves used two coal wagons and made four trips from the gun shop down to a waiting coal barge. Half the town saw them, but thought it was the Wainwrights’ normal weekly delivery of coal for the forges.”
Ren took up the story again. “The coal barge with the Prophets and small arms left with its load. There were two more barges waiting for the naval guns. The thieves scuttled them to foul river traffic. It gave them several hours’ start on us. We might have caught up with them if they stayed on the river, but the barge and its tug ran aground, so they started overland.”
“They ran aground above Heron Landing?‘” Eldest Whistler guessed.
Ren nodded. “They made a makeshift raft and floated the cannons and other crates ashore one at a time.
We found a safe landing and unloaded our horses. Odelia”- Holy Mothers knew what Odelia had been doing- “became separated from the rest of us, and was attacked. We think it was more of a distraction than a planned assassination.”
“So these guns are still in the area?” Eldest Whistler asked.
“Is there a reward?” Corelle asked.
“Do you think the riders will come back?” Jerin asked.
“The riders were probably hired to delay pursuers.” Ren sought to reassure Jerin. “They have no reason to come back. As for the cannons and small arms, the Queens Justice has found no sign of them.”
Two of the younger sisters were rude enough to laugh.
Eldest Whistler stood up, motioning Ren and Raven to follow. “Lieutenant Bounder is a good soldier, but she and most of her command are new to the area. Nor does she have many good trackers under her.” Eldest led them to the small, well-appointed parlor. There she opened the doors on a cherry cabinet, revealing a set of shallow drawers. She pulled out the top drawer and took out a map. She laid the map on a small side table. “How far upriver from Heron Landing did they hit the sandbar?”
“About five miles.” Raven answered. “Bounder said it’s timberland belonging to the Fiddler family.”
Eldest Whistler grunted, tapping a section of the map. “I thought it might be there. Look, the river runs fairly straight north to south through all of Queensland, but here, it makes a twenty-mile U east to west, and back again. When you’re on the river, it’s not obvious. The lay of the land fools you; only this ridge lies between the northern and the southern point.” Her finger with a torn fingernail traced a short line over the said ridge. “It’s less than three miles, but unless you’ve walked this straight line, or seen the map, you would never guess you could skip so far downriver so quickly.”
Ren cursed softly and tapped the downriver part of the U. “I don’t suppose the river is shallow here?”
Eldest shook her head. “Fairly deep. If they brought the guns to here, it would be easy to load them onto another boat.”
“Why move them at all?” Corelle asked. “Seems like a lot of work for nothing, when they could hire a boat to go upriver and unload the barge.”
Eldest threw her a disgusted look. “It would have been stupid to leave them stranded with the princesses somewhere close behind them. Secondly, this confuses the trail. Think of the trail they would have left if they had hired a boat to go upriver to the stranded barge. Every ship captain they tried to hire, the crew of the ship they finally hired, any passengers already on the boat, any ship that passed while they were transferring the load, and Holy Mothers knows who else would have known what ship the guns are now on. The princesses could go downriver until they saw that ship and stop it. If the thieves had managed to already off-load the guns, there would be witnesses to where and when.
“By moving the guns, they’re no longer linked to the barge. Picking up cargo is so common it’s invisible in comparison to a salvage job. And, unless you’ve seen a map of the river, it seems unlikely that anyone could move a dozen heavy crates so far downriver in a span of a few hours.”
“We’ll never find them again,” Ren whispered.
“They’ve only had one day to secure a ship. The guns might still be here.” Eldest reached over to the gun rack and took down a rifle. “If they are, we can stop them.”
The other Whistlers took this as a signal and armed themselves, down to the little ones, excluding only the boys. For one panicked moment, Ren thought she might have the whole clan ride out with her. Eldest Whistler, however, motioned to the middle and youngest sets of Whistler sisters to put up their rifles, with a firm, “You stay here and guard the boys and Princess Odelia.”
“You don’t have to come.” The Queens Justice’s opinion aside, Ren wasn’t sure the farmers were up to riding with her guard.
“I’ve spent my whole life learning how to fight,” Eldest stated. “Once in my life, it would be good to actually ride out to battle. I don’t think the chance to ride in the Princesses’ Guard will come around twice.”
Certainly, it would help to have someone who knew the lay of the land to guide them.
“Glad to have you, then,” Ren said, and earned a wide grin from the woman.
They surged out of the house, carried along in a wave of excited, and thankfully now unarmed, children.
While saddling their horses, Ren caught sight of Jerin helping his older sisters saddle up. He moved with assurance among the horses, handling the bridles and saddles with ease. As she watched, he kneed a black mare in the middle to make her suck in her stomach. He clinched the saddle girth tight, tied it, and then looked up to meet Ren’s gaze.
He wanted her. She knew the look now, having seen the physical evidence of his desire paired before with his level blue gaze. Just knowing that he wanted her did magic to her body. She dropped her eyes before anyone noticed the exchange. The Whistlers would not be so happy to ride beside her if they knew what she had done with their little brother in the kitchen.
Suddenly the idea of them at her back with rifles did not seem so wise. She glanced at Eldest Whistler, wondering if this was an exercise in revenge.
You’re crazy, Ren told herself as she swung up into her saddle. Eldest just rode in. She wasn’t here to witness anything. You’ve heard everything that everyone had to say to her.
Then she remembered Corelle darting up to her oldest sister, earnestly pouring out some story. Eldest’s flash of anger could have been toward a lax sister making excuses-or at the news their brother had been compromised.
Ren scanned the milling women and children for Corelle. The middle sister stood by the padlock’s gate, holding it open as riders were already trotting through. As if sensing Ren’s gaze, Corelle turned toward her as she rode up to the gate. Cool, calculating resentment filled the girl’s face.
She knows.
Ren kept her face passive as she rode past, and tried to ignore the itch between her shoulder blades.
Had Corelle told Eldest? Was she riding into a trap?
If the Whistlers fought the way they rode, it was no wonder they won the war.
Showing little evidence that they had ridden all night, the Whistlers led cross-country, over fences and creeks, with seemingly reckless abandon. When one watched, though, not one horse so much as stumbled. Ren wondered if they were attempting an extremely subtle form of assassination: ride out with the princess and let her break her own neck trying to keep up.
The last mile they cut through rows of shoulder-high corn, the leaves cutting and grabbing at both sides, and came out onto a dirt path. Fresh wagon tracks crushed the grass growing on either side of the path.
