The Rogue Lady

Chapter Thirty Four

     As I tailed Eric through the rows of tents, I rubbed my eyes and slapped my cheeks in an attempt to look more awake. It wasn’t entirely my fault; that meeting had been long and boring. It wouldn’t have made a difference if I hadn’t come; they should have sent someone to ask my opinion that would have been that. Since when had it been necessary for me to be there with the planning of an attack anyway? Nothing actually got accomplished.

     “Are you okay? Long night?” Eric asked as he glanced over his shoulder at me.

     “More like long day,” I replied irritably. “That was boring and useless; they do realize that they didn’t exactly solve any problems, right?”

     “What do you mean?” He paused for a moment so that I could catch up with him before he started walking here. He felt faintly like magic; did he use a spell to be able to find his way around camp? That would explain a thing or two; maybe I should try that as well. Or I could follow Eric; so far, that hadn’t led me astray.

     “The spy! That plan is useless if the spy passes it on to the Queen, or at the very least to the soldiers in Blackwalls.”

     “The spy might pass on the plans they made for the bigger group, but they don’t know about what you and your archers will do beforehand. The soldiers in Blackwalls won’t be expecting that; it will take them off guard. And that was some good thinking there, very creative.”

     I ignored the compliment, not wanted to be distracted. “What if the spy was in that tent just now? Then he would know,” I pointed out.

    Eric looked down at me and grinned. “So it is a ‘he’ now?” I gave him a flat look before he frowned and went on, “What makes you say that? And why do you think he would be in that tent? William fully trusts everyone in there, as do I.”

     I shrugged, dogging a spear that someone was carrying very clumsily. The person called out an apology but I waved it off. I doubted anyone at camp knew there even was a spy; everyone probably thought something had gone wrong in the estimation of soldiers before the last attack. They had been happy that we had come to guide everyone out. William would probably keep it a secret as well, either for as long as he could or forever. That was good though, everyone at camp trusted each other; if they knew there was a spy, they would start pointing fingers and doubting each other. It would tear them apart from the inside. Or maybe that was really what the Queen wanted; united we stood a chance, divided we were sure to fall.

     “Well, I personally don’t trust everyone inside that tent.”

     “Who are you suspicious off?”

     “The one without colors.”

     “Look, Svana, maybe there are people in this Kingdom who might understand you when you give such short and cryptic answers, but I am not one of them. So please, give me a straight, clear answer without me having to ask for it.”

     Now it was my turn to grin. “Someone with colors is someone who wears the colors of their city. Each city had its own color, like Oldmont is light green and Silverley has royal blue because of the royal family. The guards of each city wear those same colors even if they are originally from a different city, like Sir Wooden wears white even though he isn’t from Wildewinter. If you know what color goes with what city, you can tell where someone is from.”

     “And if they don’t wear colors, you can’t,” Eric guessed. “So who doesn’t wear colors?”

     “Sir Arthur; I have been trying to guess where he is from since I first saw him. But he doesn’t wear colors nor does he had an accent or anything like that. It’s annoying! I knew straight away that Sir Wooden was from Wildewinter and that Sir Jonathon was from Falconedge.”