The Impostor Queen (The Impostor Queen, #1)(103)

Raimo hobbles in from the balcony, wearing a new black robe belted with hemp rope. He’s taken charge of the fifty or so acolytes and apprentices who lived through the battle and didn’t decide to flee the city, as all the surviving priests did. We believe at least a dozen escaped with their apprentices, and there’s been no sign of them. One more worry to add to my list—which makes me all the more grateful for the frail old man in front of me . . . and afraid that his early emergence from his self-imposed hibernation will take a lasting toll. His walking stick clacks against the stone floor, and his stringy beard swishes back and forth as he comes forward.

“The council granted me access to the archives,” I tell him.

“And?”

“The news isn’t good. There were three girls born during the alignment, including me. And the other two are dead. Their deaths were recorded in the registers.” One of the names gave me such a pang—it was Ansa, Maarika’s beloved niece, who died when her family’s homestead was attacked by the Soturi.

Raimo sighs. “And that means our Valtia’s birth was probably not recorded. Either her family was living outside the walls or they were homeless beggars, too poor to pay the birth tax.”

“What do we do now?”

His eyebrows twitch. “We keep looking. She can’t hide forever.”

“And do you have news?” I ask. “I’d especially appreciate the hopeful, non-dire kind.”

He shakes his head. “I checked with the relay riders. The constables at the border have seen no sign of the Soturi yet. I’m wondering if the barbarians are waiting for the Motherlake to thaw. They could attack simultaneously by land and water if so.”

I let out a shaky breath. It’s only a matter of time until the Soturi come for us, and I’m determined to stop them—with the help of my people. “All right.”

He clears his throat. “They finished clearing out the tunnel connecting the dock to the catacombs this morning.”

A sharp pang stabs through me. “And?”

The knobby lump in his throat bobs as he swallows. “Sig and Kauko were nowhere to be found.”

I close my eyes. “The boat?”

“Gone.”

“Sig,” I whisper. I hurt him. Burned him. And then left him at the mercy of the man who’d whipped him and drunk his blood. “Do you think he survived?”

Raimo gives me a pained look, his face becoming a maze of wrinkles. “Kauko, as he’s called now, has always been a talented healer.”

I lay my hand over my stomach, feeling sick. I made a choice, and I didn’t choose the Fire Suurin. And now . . . “What will he do to Sig?”

“It’s hard to say, Elli. But it won’t be good.”

“We have to find him.”

He nods. “Oskar said the same.”

Our eyes meet. “You talked to him?” My heart kicks against my breast.

Raimo smiles, but it’s tinged with unease. “He’s been quite successful. He knows all the camps that harbor wielders throughout the peninsula. It will take some time to earn their trust, but he’s working on it.”

“Who’s with him?” Who protects his back? Who kindles the fire when he shivers at night?

“Usko, Veikko, Aira, Tuuli, and a few others from the caverns. You shouldn’t worry about him, Elli.” Raimo’s tone is full of bleak warning.

I turn away from him. I don’t want him to see my face. It would feel too much like opening my chest and letting him look at my heart. My hand slips into my pocket and clutches the wooden dove I always carry with me—a new one that he made just after Raimo healed his broken arm . . . and right before he left for the outlands.

Raimo lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’re wasting your energy. Oskar is big and strong and well able to protect himself, even without magic. He’s known in the outlands—and respected by wielders and nonwielders alike. Truly, you couldn’t have a better recruiter for the magical branch of this army you’re raising.”

“How many do we have so far?”

“Oskar didn’t say. But he seems determined to dredge up anyone who can do so much as light a candle or freeze a puddle, so long as they do it with magic and are willing to train and work together.”

“It’s not enough, Raimo.”

He grips his walking stick a little tighter. “We won’t be relying on wielders alone. You’re doing good work, Elli.” He cackles. “I daresay those councilmen were shocked when you walked into that first meeting.”

I smile in spite of myself. Their wide eyes and slack jaws were comical. But their fear of my power made them listen. The Kupari have grown dependent on magic, and Sig was right—they exchanged freedom and responsibility for security. The first thing I told them was that we would have no magical warmth this winter, but the temple food stores would be distributed to the people. I explained that we needed to focus our attention on the Soturi and face them as a people. Not everyone is pleased. I’m sure I have enemies. I’ve more or less told them that the temple will provide—but now it’s time for everyone to stand up. Now we need every arm and every mind. We have magic, but it’s not all we are. It can’t be, because the copper that created us has been pulled from the earth, drained like the acolytes’ blood. Once it’s gone, our power might leave us too.