A Brother's Price

through their explanation as she wordlessly studied the paper. When it was clear that they had no more to say, she shook her head. “It isn’t cant. It looks like cant, but it isn’t.”
    “Are you sure?” Raven tapped a square with two wheel-like circles at the bottom of it. “This is wagon . Everyone knows that much cant.”
    “Yes, that’s wagon .” Eldest went on to name a few other words that even Ren could make out just by the pictures. “There’s lots of commonly known cant in it, but the rest—it’s like someone made up pictures for the words they didn’t know.”
    “Are you sure the cant hasn’t changed since your grandmothers knew it?” Ren asked, since it had been over fifty years since the Whistlers were part of the Sisters of the Night.
    Eldest shook her head. “The Sisterhood assumes that anyone can learn enough cant to fake a message, so cant has a second level which acts like a security check. There are things like the number of pictures per line, and a certain set of words that have to appear at least once in the message. Sometimes there’s a series of items listed— like five gil, two pistols, and seven quinces—where the items aren’t important, only that all but the last number add up to the last number. Five and two are seven. Written cant started out as a way to communicate with illiterate members of the Sisterhood, but it evolved into a means to do business without having to worry about the authenticity of the message.”
    “So someone is throwing suspicion on the Sisters of the Night.”
    “Or just stealing a good idea,” Eldest said. “Part of this is a set of directions on where to take the cargo. Mill on Dunning Street. I can’t read the rest, though this part might be a woman’s cant name: Black Hat.”
     
    Eldest Whistler and Corelle volunteered to join Ren in the pursuit of the cannons, reclaiming their weapons with great enthusiasm. As they rode down off the palace’s high bluff, listening to Raven outline her plan to storm the mill, however, their eagerness faded into distaste.
    “If it’s not to your satisfaction, Whistler,” Raven finally said in her blunt way, “what would you suggest?”
    Eldest shot the captain a cold look, and then shrugged. “You’re doing the best with what you have. Troops, though, are best for fighting big noisy wars on battlefields. Hours before you manage to push those troops through city traffic, the thieves are going to know you’re coming. Not only could this get very messy, but there’s a chance they could slip the cannons out in the confusion.”
    “And?” Raven said with the air of not hearing anything she didn’t know.
    Eldest shrugged again. “If you had a smaller force of women, doing what my grandmothers did under Wells-bury, they could move through the West End without notice, scout the mill, and take out the thieves with much less fuss.”
    “Unfortunately, I don’t have such a force,” Raven said. “Your grandmothers were singular in their training.”
    “Not quite. They trained us.”
    Ren saw where this was going and started to shake her head. “No, I’m not going to put you at risk! These women have killed everyone who has crossed their path.” Jerin would hate me if I got you two killed .
    “And there’s only two of you,” Raven added. “The reports put twenty roustabouts in the employ of ten gentry. You would need a miracle to eliminate that many by yourselves.”
    Eldest shook her head. “I wasn’t talking about taking them out. We could scout the mill, find out what your troops will be marching into, and make sure the Prophets aren’t slipped out.”
    “Your Highness?” Raven turned to Ren with a clear look of “They will be your sisters-in-law.”
    “Whistler honor.” Eldest held up her hand in pledge. “We won’t run unnecessary risks. We’ll be fine.”
    How could Ren keep them safe and yet keep them as equals? In truth, she couldn’t do both. And equals they had to be in her eyes or there would be no hope of the Whistlers being considered peers by the nobility. She would release a noblewoman on her word of honor, and so she must let the Whistlers take their risks.
    “I seal you to your word—no unnecessary risks.”
     
    Ren worried as they rode to the barracks, gathered the troops, and marched them into the city with the rattle of drums and the incessant call of “Make way! Make way!” The narrow city streets required the column to be four abreast, twenty-five