ROMHALDE WAS AS DESOLATE AS LEONOR REMEMBERED IT.
From the banks of the Ummerlingen, she could see everything: the smokestacks of the industriegebiet, forever stained by coal; the stretch of dormant farmland that dominated the southeast end of the city and the farmhouses that dotted it; the roofs and chimneys of the city proper, smoke puffing away into the predusk sky. Snow came down in tiny flakes, pouring over the land, bleaching it white.
"I'm going to freeze my toes off," Ahmed murmured.
Leonor looked sideways at him, his brown curls poking haphazardly out from his hood. His breaths came out in puffs of white fog. Down near his ankles, his trousers were soaked; they'd had to keep close to the treeline—and consequently, the Ummerlingen—for fear of being spotted by Solnayan patrols, and Ahmed had somehow managed to stumble into the freezing river water twice.
Hassan snorted, swinging his rucksack over his shoulder. "Nobody asked you to wade in the Ummerlingen."
"Yes, well, nobody asked you to be the uglier twin, but you somehow found a way."
Hassan's green eyes flared, but before he could give a retort, Heinrik let out a long sigh from up ahead.
"If I have to listen to you two bicker the whole time we're here, we'll never get anything done."
"And suffering will be our doctor," added Mun, fingering the handle of her revolver, her Altanese accent hanging thick in the chill.
Hassan cringed. "I think you mean teacher, Mun."
"Leonor," Heinrik called. "What do you think?"
Leonor came forward, trudging through the ankle-deep snow until she came to a halt at Heinrik's side.
She hiked her rucksack up her shoulder. "What do I think of what, Sergeant Griffin?"
He blushed. "Don't call me that. Anyway, I mean, what do you think of..." He waved his hand in a broad motion across the landscape. "All of this? You're from here, after all."
Leonor glanced back, heart leaping into her throat. Had the rest of them overheard? It didn't seem like they had. Hassan and Ahmed were still arguing away, pointing fingers and getting close enough to have the tips of their noses touch. Mun was busy loading bullets into her pistol, straight black hair flowing over her shoulders, humming one of her many Altanese tunes under her breath.
"Are you asking me where to go first?" she asked finally, turning her attention back to Romhalde.
"Well, we can't very well storm Duke Berengar's mansion and ask for the Solnayans to just relinquish control, can we?"
Her lips twitched. It was always hard to keep from smiling around Heinrik. "No, we can't."
He grinned, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. "Tell me your plan, then, mäuschen." Little mouse.
She gave him a fierce glare that he didn't see, as he was already squinting at the city ahead. She couldn't help it if she barely came up to his shoulder.
In the end, she gave in. "We've got to get somewhere warm before Ahmed's toes drop off. The city's too far and going the route of the industrial district will mean patrols for sure. Even though we run the risk of being spotted on the farmlands... that might be our best shot. We could hole up in a barn until morning."
Heinrik motioned for her to follow him, kneeling beneath the boughs of one of the many pine trees that dotted the banks. Leonor knelt with him, though her legs burned. They'd been walking all day.
He put a gloved hand on her shoulder. "Watch the weave with me." He blinked, and in the next moment, his irises began to glow.
Leonor settled into the snow, breathing in the cold, closing her eyes. Something surged up within her, roaring to the surface, and when she opened her eyes it was all laid out before her: the glittering strings of the weave, strung together with precision, swaying and twitching against the darkness of the void. She'd heard the weave compared to fabric. Textiles. A tapestry. But whatever the weave was, it was something far vaster than any worldly comparison. Whenever she looked at it, it was as if something was digging its claws into her back, something old and malevolent, a thing that should have died a long time ago.
Absently, she rubbed the back of her neck.
"To the west," Heinrik said. "Do you see that?"
Leonor did. She counted off the twitches in her head at the places where the strings intersected. One. Two. Three. Four.
"A patrol," she told him.
She could hear the smile in Heinrik's voice. "I thought so too. And over there, to the north?"
Leonor looked harder. "Looks like another patrol on the edge of town."
He squeezed her shoulder, breaking her focus. The world came rushing back, the white of the snow paining her eyes. Strands of Heinrik's auburn hair hung over his forehead, his eyelashes sprinkled with snowflakes. He crawled out from underneath the bough, taking care not to rustle it in case its heavy coating of snow would come crashing down on his head.
He offered her a hand up. "I'd say we're in the clear. Don't you agree, mäuschen?"
Leonor scowled and took his hand, letting him haul her up. "Of course, Sergeant Griffin."
Heinrik's grin slid off his face, his cheeks going red. "Alright, everyone! Listen up!"
Ahmed and Hassan drew away from each other, huffing. Mun pocketed her pistol.
"We're going to get into one of those barns over there. The patrol just missed us. We're going to make sure Ahmed doesn't die of hypothermia—"
Hassan snickered. Ahmed caught him in the ribs with his elbow.
"—and while the three of you are resting, Leonor and I are going to head into the city. No offense, but small-town Leis aren't going to take too kindly to two Enganans and an Altanese girl. The Solnayans might get suspicious."
"Fine with me," Mun said. "Sleep is much needed."
"And I'm sure Hassan would love to cozy up to a couple of cows," Ahmed pitched in, teeth chattering.
"Then we're all in agreement." Heinrik tugged the furs of his coat closer to his neck. "Perfect. Follow me."
They kept close to the treeline as they made their way across the farmlands, the sun setting to their left, keeping in single file. Leonor stared at Heinrik's broad back while she moved, lifting her feet high out of the snow only to plant them back in again moments later. Her breath came up heavy in her chest. Times like these brought back memories of her time in training. Though she'd been stationed in a military base near Lake Quellfluss in the Arm, it was required that all the good king's troops make the march from the base at Quellfluss to the city of Bürfurt and back again. She could recall boring holes with her eyes into the back of some nameless soldier, clutching her rifle in her hands, knowing nothing but the step ahead of her and the one behind.
She looked further up, watching Heinrik's hair drift in the wind. He kept it longer than most boys his age, though when Leonor had first met him, it'd been shaved down close to his scalp. She suspected he kept it long just to spite his father, the patriarch of the notorious Griffin family.
From behind her, Mun began to hum a quiet tune.
"What's that one called?" Heinrik inquired.
The Altanese girl paused. "Hard to translate."
"It's probably about the sky," Hassan said.
"Or the steppes," Ahmed put in.
Leonor ducked beneath a particularly pointy-looking fir branch. "Could be the trees," she murmured.
Mun scoffed. "Trees are not visible in Altan."
"You mean that there aren't any, right?" Hassan asked.
"Yes. That. Anyway—it is about flowers. The flowers are touched by the sun, and they live forever. Song is my namesake."
"Quick!" Hassan exclaimed, his dreadlocked hair whipping in the wind. "Someone recite Mun's full name."
"Munkhtsetseg," said Heinrik. "And by the way, Mun, have you been taking care of our noise problem?" He glanced back, planting his gaze firmly on the twins.
Leonor looked back, too, just for good measure. Mun was staring at her feet, but even with her head tilted down, Leonor could see the telltale glow that emanated from the other girl's eyes.
"The Solnayans would have found us if I was lazy," Mun said. "Your thinking of me is too little, Herr Griffin. I am strong. No sound will get past me."
Heinrik quirked an eyebrow. "Herr Griffin is my father."
The twins' frantic laughter reverbed against the trees, and though a brief knot of worry formed inside Leonor's chest, not a single Solnayan soldier was drawn by the noise they were making. Mun was mediating what sound went out as easily as anyone else could breathe.
They all had powers, of course; that and the fact that they all had the Sight was what made them Adlerauge. But King Wilhelm had been exceptionally interested in Mun, scouring the Altanese steppes for a seventeen-year-old girl who was said to be able to manipulate sound. Such an ability would be invaluable in actual combat, or so the Adlerauge had been told. Until today, Mun had never used it in the field. About the only thing Leonor had seen Mun use it for was soundlessly shooting down the occasional deer.
Is good for hunting, this power, the Altanese girl had said. Leonor couldn't help but agree.
The trudging continued. Leonor's knives were heavy where they'd been strapped to her wrists. Her head was starting to ache from the tight bun she'd pulled her hair into earlier. The fur that lined the inside of her hood tickled the back of her neck. She moved in time with the bouncing of the rifle slung over Heinrik's shoulder.
In the distance, something rumbled.
Heinrik paused, holding up a hand. Leonor stopped in her tracks. Behind her, the rest of the Adlerauge came to a stumbling halt.
"Car," Heinrik murmured. "It's crossing the bridge." He was silent for a moment, his head turning, looking out at the road into Romhalde a trek to the west. Then, hiking the rifle up higher on his shoulder, he said, "Into the trees. Now."
Leonor took off, darting into the treeline, the world zooming past her at breakneck speed. In one moment, she had settled herself behind the trunk of an aging pine; in the next, she had pulled her throwing knives from where they were strapped to her wrists, the metal a comforting warmth in the frigid air. Already she was tuning into the weave, the sights of the physical world falling away until only strings and void remained. In the distance, the threads were quivering.
"Seven," Hassan murmured from her left.
"Nine," insisted Ahmed.
Leonor shook her head. "Five."
"What?" the twins said in unison.
"The extras you're seeing are ripples," Leonor breathed. "They're not real people."
"Leonor, maybe listen to the twins—" Mun began, but with a grunt from Heinrik, she quickly fell silent.
"There are five," Heinrik said. "Leonor's right."
Leonor's lips quirked, but she didn't speak.
"Do we move on them?" Mun whispered.
"No. Let them pass. If we..."
Heinrik trailed off as the sound of the engine stalled.
Hassan swore. "They've gotten out of the car, haven't they?"
"What do we do?" hissed Mun.
"Hold," Heinrik told them.
"They'll find us!"
"And we'll be ready."
"Heinrik, my feet are frozen!" Ahmed protested. "If I have to run, I might fall over."
Hassan was quick to clap back, "What a sight that would be."
"All of you shut up!" Leonor snapped. "They're getting closer."
"Mun's got it under control." Heinrik sounded certain.
"I know, but we need to be able to hear them, don't we?"
"Why?" Hassan questioned. "They're speaking Solnayan."
Leonor's mouth hung open for a few seconds before she shook her head. "Suit yourself." It was better if Hassan—and by extension, Ahmed and Mun—didn't know just why she wanted to hear the men. Besides, if one of them cocked a gun, she'd hear it. If they tore the pin off a grenade, she'd be ready.
But she didn't hear a gun or a grenade. While keeping watch over the twitches in the weave, one of the figures she'd managed to pinpoint earlier stilled.
"Sledui!" a voice shouted.
Something in Leonor jolted. A series of still images played over her mind's eye: a big man, clean-shaven, rubbing his bare hands over powdery-fresh snow. The big man glancing up, smiling. A deep voice in her ears. Come, the voice said. I'll teach you. We can't leave any sledui, Leonor.
Sledui. Footprints.
She couldn't hold her focus. The weave disintegrated before her eyes. She was back in the trees again, crouched behind a trunk ringed with ice, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest.
"They know we're here," she choked out.
There was a crack and then a thump, the sounds jumping back and forth between the trees, echoing.
"What was that?" Hassan asked. His brother, to Leonor's left, shrugged.
But Heinrik, far to Leonor's right, let out a quiet curse as Mun looked down at her chest. Blood streamed out, soaking her dark coat. Her hand went up, dabbing at the blood.
"Oh," she whispered. "That isn't good."
She fell backwards, the snow crunching underneath her. Her blood snaked into the snow, staining it red, her black hair in a halo about her head.
For a moment, everything was quiet.
Then a bullet whizzed through the trees, and another, and another, and bedlam erupted around them.