CHAPTER 16: "Coyote In Woman's Skin"

SIR OLIVER

Sir Oliver gasped a big gulp of air as the world swirled into sense around him. The shroud was ripped from his head and all around him was a sea of women in blue, some grimacing, some smirking. He was in some bunker, someplace no one would find him if he screamed. There were no windows and only one door. His hands were bound tight behind his back as he knelt on the floor.

"What is this?" the knight wheezed. "You're no 'Sisters.' Who are you? Extremists? Slaves?"

"We are the Women In Blue," said an all-too-familiar voice to the right of the crowd of women. Please, Osha, no, don't be her, Sir Oliver prayed, just before his fears came true. The woman with the most mesmerizing eyes that the knight had ever seen emerged with a tease of a smile. The raven hair that Sir Oliver used to run his fingers through was wrapped up in a blue hijab.

"Fatime," he spat. "Fatime? What is this?"

"Lion Knight," Fatime smiled. "Your hair is retreating from your breath."

A few of the ladies laughed. Sir Oliver did not. He never wanted to see her ever again.

"What is this, now?" he asked again. "Women In Blue?"

"Aye, Sir Oliver," Fatime answered, with the accent of the people on the edge of the world. "Women In Blue. 'Sisters,' they call us. 'Loyal servants to the crown,' they call us. But we are the only order of warriors in Cambria who serve the people."

Sir Oliver guffawed.

"What?" Fatime asked him. "You doubt the ferocity of those who brought you here at knifepoint?"

"No," Sir Oliver chuckled. "I would never doubt your ferocity. You are, always have been, a coyote in woman's skin. That is the joke. You do not serve 'the people.' You serve yourself. You always have."

Sir Oliver locked eyes with the other women. "You follow this witch? You are fools."

"They follow no one," Fatime said. "No one but themselves. These women... they may leave whenever they choose. They choose to stay, to serve. They merely heed my words because they know I am right."

"Do you they know who you truly are?" Sir Oliver asked. He turned to the other women again. "Do you know that she used to steal? To slave? She sold her own people like bread. She robbed me blind. Stole my armor and sold it in Goro, I imagine."

"Goro," Fatime huffed. "That is a hole. I would never sell your stolen armor there."

Many women cackled at that too.

She came in close to Sir Oliver, so that her hypnotic brown eyes were mere centimeters away. She said, with a dash of spite, "I am not that woman anymore. Most of us change with years, Sir Oliver. Everything in this world changes. But you are in no fit state to judge a slaver. You are a slaver, too, or at least, you were until you freed the girl."

Sir Oliver was stunned. How does she know?

Fatime read the surprise on Oliver's face and addressed it. "You are not as clever as you think. Though, I suppose you did not have to be clever to fool that buffoon on the throne."

"So you are spies, then?" Sir Oliver asked.

"We are much more than that," Fatime answered, slowly waving a hand over her soldiers. "We are spies. We are assassins. We are messengers. We are mothers, wives, sisters. We are 'Sisters.' Whatever the people need us to be is what we are."

"So that's your play? You disguise yourselves as milkmaids and wet nurses. Why? How exactly have you served the people?"

"We carry out justice where justice is due. Perhaps you are aware of the Lord's generosity? His lack of it?"

This was familiar. The townspeople of Nightingshire wore rags, but Lord Gerard had the coin to host a tournament. It was fallacy.

Fatime continued, "We give back what we can to the people when we can."

"You steal from the highborn of Nightingshire."

"We return what was stolen, Lion Knight. Justice."

Perhaps it was the acrimony associated with Fatime that made Sir Oliver forget about his squire. But if they had him, Fatime might have taken Ari too.

"Ari," Sir Oliver said, with concern. "Where is she?"

"The girl is fine, for now, thanks to us," Fatime answered. "We ensured her safety, but danger is coming for her. She made a grave mistake. Crippled a farmer's boy."

"What?" Sir Oliver asked. "What? How--"

"The farmer has a history for bloody disputes," Fatime continued. "He will kill the brown boy who hurt his son. Of that, I know. The girl needs to be taken away."

Sir Oliver was aghast. He hated Fatime, hated seeing her here, now, ever. He swore to himself that if he ever saw her again, he would kill her, but at his core, he also knew he never could. He wished he could hurt her like she hurt him.

She seemed sincere, though. Why would supplying this information to him benefit her? It did not cohere in Sir Oliver's mind. But Fatime acting without a self-serving agenda did not cohere either.

"Can I trust you?" Sir Oliver asked.

"If I wanted you or the girl harmed, I could have it," she answered. "She needs to leave Nightingshire tonight."

"What am I to say to the Lord? He will not allow it."

"It will not be forever, only a fortnight, perhaps. You decide. Just long enough for this to chaos to calm."

"The dragon..."

Fatime laughed raucously. The other women were amused as well.

"You are no dragonslayer, Lion Knight!" Fatime teased. "The castle will not fall without you."

"There she is," Sir Oliver grumbled.

"Who?"

"You. The beast beneath the skin."

"You never seemed to mind the skin," Fatime said. As she said this, a bright white dawn appeared at the back of the Lion Knight's mind, a morning where he was woken up by the coo of sparrows, Fatime in his arms.

She seemed to notice his daze and said to the many women in the small cellar, "Leave us. All of you."

And so Sir Oliver was left alone with Fatime, bound, on his knees for, embarrassingly, not the first time.

"I need to be careful with these words," Fatime said, much quieter, and more serious than she had been tonight. She nodded to the door where the other Sisters had just vacated. "I think one of them might be deceiving me. But you need to know this. Sir Galen has someone spying on the girl."

"How do you know?" Sir Oliver asked.

Fatime smirked. "Because one of our girls is also spying on him, under the guise of spying for him."

"Your girl could not identify Sir Galen's true spy?"

"They always meet in the crypt, and with little notice. She overheard them speak one night, though. The spy had a man's voice, that much she knows. And he knows a lot about your Ari. My girl tried to follow him, but she was unable to see where he went, and by the time she left the crypt, only a child was walking the graveyard. The spy was too swift."

"Does Galen know?" Sir Oliver asked.

"That Jason is a facade? Yes. He knows your squire to be a girl, but he is more concerned with why you have hidden her and what your plans are. There is evil in that man's heart. I can feel it."

"Well, you would know evil."

"I would, Sir Oliver," she admitted. "Until we know who the spy is, and until we can assuage the farmer's wrath, Ari needs to be safe."

"Why do you care so much what happens to her?"

"We. Serve. The people."

Sir Oliver took a moment to digest everything. He looked her in the eyes and told her, "I had hoped you were dead."

Fatime wickedly smiled.

ARI

They had thrown Ari into some small cupboard where she sat and waited. And waited. And waited. She knew not where she was, but everything smelled like wine. Bard would not mind, but she did.

There was no light, only silence. Ari was beginning to think she would never escape when the latch of a door creaked and Sir Oliver emerged from it, torch in hand.

"You have your first scar," he remarked, seeing the cut on her cheek.

Ari shook her head. "The boy... is he...?"

"I do not know," Sir Oliver answered.

Ari was starting to tear up. "I did not want it. I did not want to hurt him."

"I know," Sir Oliver told her. "I know."

He extended his free hand to her. "Rise, my squire. We are leaving Nightingshire for a spell."

Ari reluctantly grabbed his hand and stood up.

"Where we -- where are we going?" she asked.

"Home," Sir Oliver answered. "To Grottenborough. Grand Falls. It is past time you met the Order of Cambria."

///

"Do not mention anything about the Sisters to the Lord or the Prince," Sir Oliver commanded, as they approached the door to the Great Hall. "Do you understand?"

Ari nodded.

When they got inside, Lord Gerard was waiting in his night gown on the throne, a subtly silly sight.

"Sir Oliver," he yawned. "What has such importance at this late hour?"

"Jason and I have been summoned to Grand Falls," the knight lied. "The Order wants to meet my squire."

Lord Gerard looked offended. "But... the dragon! What if it returns?"

"We shall only be gone a fortnight. Perhaps a month. The Order has commanded it, my Lord. While we are at Grand Falls, perhaps we might be able to inquire about the dragon's nature. The Order's library has been built upon for centuries. There is a chance that this venture may actually help us learn more about the beast."

The Lord seemed to like this thought. "Very well," he said. "But do not delay. Do not waste time. I will need you to return before the Harvest Festival! I simply will not permit you to miss such an event."

And hopefully the dragon does not attack either, yes? Ari thought to herself.

"Aye," Sir Oliver assured. "We shall be swift."

"And one more thing, Sir Oliver," the Lord beckoned.

"Yes?"

"Bring my boy with you. The Prince would benefit from such an adventure."

Ari could hear the distaste in Sir Oliver's voice. "My Lord, Grand Falls is not a village. It is a fortress. Only the Order--"

"You will bring him. You will. Or I will write a raven to the Order telling them that you have abandoned your quest."

Sir Oliver swallowed his rage.

"I know, as do you," the Lord said, "the Order of Cambria is looking any reason to remove from their Table. With one piece of parchment, I can manage that. You will bring Prince Richard."

Sir Oliver paused and said, "Aye."

"Good," the Lord smiled. "I will send for the Prince at once! You must begin your ride soon if you are to return in time for the Festival!"