282 AC — Age 10
Maege told me to speak up the same way she told people to tighten patrols.
Quietly. Like it was obvious I should have been doing it already.
"You don't have to stay silent all the time," she said, not looking up from the table. "You just have to know when to talk."
I stood across from her, hands clasped behind my back the way I'd learned made adults take me more seriously than letting them hang uselessly at my sides.
"When?" I asked.
She finally looked up then. "When the cost of not talking is higher than the cost of being noticed."
That felt like something I was supposed to remember.
"Yes," I said.
She nodded once, satisfied, and went back to her work. Conversation over.
That didn't mean the instruction was finished.
The escort detail started the next day.
Not announced. Not formalized. Just… there.
Harlon was already waiting when I finished breaking my fast, spear in hand, cloak settled like he expected to be outside for a while.
"You're with me," he said.
"I usually am," I replied.
He gave me a look. "More obviously today."
I frowned. "Why?"
"Because Maege said so."
That explanation carried weight.
We didn't walk the inner circuit. We didn't walk the southern path either. We went toward the storage yards near the docks, a place I'd been before but never lingered in. Too busy. Too loud. Too many people who didn't care who I was unless it got in their way.
I noticed the change immediately.
Two guards peeled off as we approached and fell in behind us without comment.
I slowed instinctively.
Harlon didn't.
"Don't," he said quietly. "You walk like you always do."
I hesitated. "They're… close."
"Yes."
"Is that on purpose?"
"Yes."
I nodded and kept walking, even though the awareness of boots behind me made my shoulders itch.
That was new.
At the edge of the yard, a man hauling rope glanced up, did a double take, then looked away again. Another man nodded to Harlon, then to me, quick and perfunctory.
No one bowed.
No one stopped.
But no one ignored us either.
"That's different," I muttered.
Harlon heard. "Good."
I frowned. "Good how?"
He didn't answer immediately. We stopped near a stack of crates marked for coastal supply—tar, rope, spare oars. One of the guards behind us shifted position, casually blocking a narrow path between the stacks.
That felt deliberate.
"Say what you're seeing," Harlon said.
I blinked. "Out loud?"
"Yes."
I hesitated, then forced myself to speak. "The guards are… not watching me. They're watching around me."
Harlon nodded. "And?"
"They're not reacting to people unless those people react to us."
"Good," he said again.
I frowned deeper. "I don't like that."
"You shouldn't," he replied. "It means if something goes wrong, it'll be obvious."
That sat badly in my stomach.
We continued through the yard, stopping once when a cart needed to pass and again when a group of sailors argued loudly enough to draw attention. Each time, the guards shifted without being told, making space, redirecting flow.
No one spoke to me directly.
Until someone did.
A man I didn't recognize—older, scarred, with the weathered look of someone who'd spent too much time on open water—paused near us and squinted.
"Maege's boy?" he asked.
I opened my mouth automatically. "Yes."
He nodded slowly. "You shouldn't be here."
I stiffened. "Why?"
Harlon turned his head just enough to see the man properly.
The man shrugged. "Too many eyes."
"That's the point," Harlon said.
The man snorted softly. "Fair enough."
He looked back at me. "Walk straight, then."
I did.
My heart didn't slow until he was gone.
I exhaled hard. "That wasn't comforting."
Harlon's mouth twitched. "It wasn't meant to be."
We reached the dockmaster's shed shortly after. Maege had given me a sealed note this time—not important enough for ceremony, but important enough not to be read by anyone else.
I stepped inside while Harlon waited just outside the door, guards remaining visible without crowding.
The dockmaster looked up, irritated, then saw the guards and adjusted his expression.
"Yes?" he asked.
I handed him the note. "From Maege."
He broke the seal, scanned it, then nodded once. "All right."
He looked at me more closely. "You walking with an escort now?"
"Yes," I said.
"Why?"
I hesitated.
Maege hadn't given me words for this part.
"Because I'm supposed to," I said finally.
The dockmaster studied me for a moment, then grunted. "That's usually a good enough reason."
He handed the note back. "Tell her it's done."
"Yes."
When I stepped back outside, the guards fell in without comment again.
We started back the way we'd come.
I didn't like how visible I felt.
After a few steps, I asked, "Is this about the raids?"
Harlon didn't answer immediately.
"Yes," he said eventually.
I swallowed. "Is it dangerous?"
"Everything is," he replied.
"That's not helpful."
"It's accurate."
I scowled. "Am I bait?"
That made him stop.
He turned to face me fully, expression serious in a way I didn't see often. "No," he said firmly. "You're a message."
I stared at him. "To who?"
"To anyone watching," he said. "That Maege isn't hiding you. And that she isn't careless either."
I considered that. "So if someone wanted to hurt the island—"
"They'd have to go through us first," he finished.
"That doesn't make me feel better."
"It shouldn't," he said. "But it should make you talk."
I frowned. "Talk to who?"
"To me," he said immediately. "To Maege. To guards. If something feels wrong, you say it. Out loud. Even if you think it's stupid."
"I don't usually think things are stupid," I said.
Harlon snorted. "You're ten."
That was unfair.
We walked the rest of the way back without incident, but I noticed everything more sharply than before. The way a man stopped talking when we passed. The way another man didn't. The way a boat I recognized hadn't left the harbor when it normally did.
When we reached the keep, Maege was waiting in the hall.
"How was it?" she asked.
"Loud," I said.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Not sound," I clarified. "Attention."
She nodded. "Did you speak?"
"Yes."
"What did you say?"
"I said what I saw," I replied. "And when I didn't know what to say, I said that too."
Maege considered me for a moment. "Good."
I hesitated, then added, "I don't like escorts."
She didn't smile. "I know."
"They make me feel like something's about to happen."
She leaned forward slightly. "Something is about to happen."
That settled it.
Later that evening, as I sat near the hearth with Dacey leaning against my side and Alysane sleeping nearby, I replayed the day in my head.
Not the walking.
Not the guards.
The talking.
I'd asked questions. I'd said when something felt wrong. I hadn't waited for permission every time.
The world hadn't ended.
Dacey looked up at me suddenly. "You talked a lot today."
I blinked. "Did I?"
"Yes," she said. "More than usual."
I considered that. "Was it annoying?"
She shrugged. "A little."
I nodded. "Good."