The confusion in Comfort's eyes didn't lift any. "What was Sober doing out there?"
Repentance lifted the cloak and started sawing at the ropes on Comfort's wrists. "I'll tell you everything later. Where are the others? Mother and Father and the boys?"
Her sister shook her head. "I don't know. The troopers dragged me from my bed this morning. We were on a farm. We were going to move to someplace called Mont…Mont…"
"Montphilo," Repentance said. She finished cutting through the ropes and pulled Comfort against her in a serious hug. "We'll figure it out." She sighed. "One step at a time, though, is all I can see right now. First we have to figure out how to get across the street without discovery."
"What's across the street?"
"Safety." She picked up Comfort's braid. "I have to cut your hair."
Comfort's hand flew to her head. "No!"
"They'll be looking for you. They'll never think you've had time to cut your hair." The knife was sharp. The braid fell neatly into her hand. She shoved it into her pocket, unwilling to leave any evidence behind in the relief room.
Comfort's hair hung above her shoulders in a shaggy mop. Repentance gazed at her. Any trooper who had taken the time to look at her before would know her still. And she was sure they had all looked. Her face was pasty, and her eyes were full of fear but she still had that beauty that made men notice. "Comfort, remember when we were little and you used to make that face like someone born accursed?"
A glint of recognition entered Comfort's eyes and she twisted her face into a grimace with one side of her mouth hanging down and one eye popping open wide. She looked like one born under the wrath of Providence himself.
They stumbled from the relief room. The Pub Mistress looked up and jerked back at the sight of Comfort. "Is she not feeling better then?" she asked.
"A little, but I'd best get her home."
"Please do. She'll scare away business, that one will."
Repentance led the way. When she got to the front of the pub she peeked out the window. The crowd was gone.
One minute. That was all it would take for her to get to Lord Carrull's. Less than a minute. She said a prayer and pulled open the door.
And there, with his hand on the knob stood the trooper captain.
Against the backdrop of darkness in an evil world, the selfless deeds of friends blaze brighter than stars in a moonless heaven. With sorrows and trials come opportunities to sacrifice for one another, and both the givers and the receivers benefit. Nothing fills bruised hearts with joy like sacrificial love.
~Lord Willikk, Look to the Night Skies
Chapter 35
In the space of a second, Repentance took in the grim set of the trooper's mouth and his hard eyes—they were like chunks of ice-cold jade.
She stepped back, dropping her eyes.
He moved forward, blocking the doorway.
Repentance shrank into her hood. The troopers had, no doubt, all studied her picture. They'd been scanning the crowd for her. The sketches were never completely accurate or clear, thank Providence.
Comfort made a gurgling noise, and the trooper shifted his weight and leaned around Repentance.
Turning slightly, Repentance saw Comfort, with her hair draping down in front of her face and her tongue sticking out of her mouth, giving the trooper a slobbery smile.
"How is that you were not drowned at birth?" he said with disgust.
Comfort bobbed her head and giggled like an imbecile.
The captain suddenly jerked forward as if he'd been hit from behind.
"Oh, do excuse me. I didn't mean to bump you." Lord Carrull's maid, Compassion, slipped in the door and stood beside the Captain, looking sorrowful.
He turned and laid a stinging slap across the old woman's face.
Repentance gasped.
Compassion grabbed her cheek and sidled away, pulling the trooper's attention after her, away from the door. "I'm so sorry, sir. I meant no harm. Clumsy old thing that I am. I'm so sorry."
"Not nearly as sorry as I'd like to make you," he answered, his face twisted into an ugly sneer.
Repentance slipped behind the man and out the door, pulling Comfort behind her.
"Unfortunately, I have more pressing matters at hand."
The door swished shut.
Repentance forced herself to walk.
Without looking back.
Across the street.
Up the steps.
Into the house.
The door slammed behind them and Repentance fell upon Comfort, hugging her and crying and laughing all at once. What a brilliant sister was Comfort. It made sense that in studying people's faces she would learn to duplicate them not only on parchment but with her own face as well. But where had Comfort found the courage to grin at the captain that way?
"Were you scared?" Repentance asked.
"He was looking at you like you were swamp muck on his good sandals. I knew that if I didn't distract him, we'd be in trouble."
"And you were right in that assessment." Repentance hugged Comfort for the fiftieth time. "Because if he'd looked any longer he would have seen I wasn't swamp muck. He'd have seen I was the one the prince wanted him to find."
Compassion came home, her cheek bruised.
"Oh, Compassion, are you hurt badly?" Repentance asked. "We were dead, but for you!"
"Upstairs into the hidden room," Compassion said, breathlessly. "They'll be searching door to door."
The door burst open behind her. "They've taken him to the palace," Starved said. He won't swing tonight. Tonight will be for tor—" he threw a pitiful look at Repentance. "—tonight they will interview
