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35-Feather Bed

The Countess retired from the pageantry around midnight, and I was very glad to escape the glittering halls in favor of her quiet chambers. She’d danced the whole night with Ilya Terr, and talked with him when they weren’t dancing. The court could barely function for staring. Brell, Karolya and I handed the Countess off to other leanyodi and headed down the hallway to our own rooms. When I stopped at my door, Brell stopped, too.

She tossed me a conspiratorial look, “I met the entire delegation.”

“Did you?”

“Some handsome men in that group,” she said, arching a brow, “I’m dying to know which one you know and why. But they were invited. Which, is hardly a surprise since our King invited everyone within two month’s journey. The Ambassador’s companions claim they volunteered to come because of the horses.”

I looked at her skeptically, my hand on the doorknob. “Here for the horses?”

“Some of the families will sell or give horses to those who ask,” explained Brell. I knew that already. I also already knew that Valredes was a connoisseur of horseflesh.

“Is that all?”

She shrugged. “That’s what they said. Do you think they’re lying?”

I met her eyes, “I don’t know.”

Brell gave me a nod, coquettishness fading. “I’ll keep an eye on them,” she said, seriously, before turning and continuing down the hallway.

I changed into the loose-fitting trousers and tunic and washed the silver and kohl of my face. I slipped Shiharr and Azzad over my shoulders, and a dressing gown over that. Then I padded barefoot down the hall and back to the Countess’s chambers. The guards nodded to me and let me pass. They would have orders from Druskin about me.

One of the leanyodi had just finished spreading blankets on the couch in the sitting room. She nodded at me and headed out the door. I waited a few moments, absorbing the silence of the room until two more leanyodi exited the bedroom. They both nodded to me. The moment they were gone, I walked into the bedroom. The Countess was sitting on the bed in night clothes similar to mine, her long hair hanging loose down her back. Her face was pink from scrubbing off all the paint. One lamp sat lit on a table beside the bed.

She looked at me in surprise. “Zephra? What are you doing in here? Is something wrong?”

I crossed my arms, “Nothing’s wrong. But I have bad news.”

“What is it?” she was deadly serious.

“I’ll be sleeping in the bed.”

She stared at me. “What?”

“I haven’t decided yet if you can sleep in the bed, too,” I continued the bedside and fluffed the pillows. “Though, with two bodies any assassin would have a solid chance of making the wrong choice, and I can keep a closer eye on you than if you were on the couch.”

“Zephra…”

“Yes,” I decided, “you can stay in the bed. Some assassins would be all too happy to slit the throat of an attendant on a couch.”

“Zephra!” she lurched backwards, hand to her chest in horror.

It was probably a little callous to tell her this way, but I’d had time to think while she was dancing and I was carefully dodging a piece of my past through the ballroom. I’d had time to remember knives in the dark, assassins and Huntsmen alike. I’d taken on several through the years. I wasn’t taking chances with the Countess.

“Druskin mentioned he’d asked you to stay in my chambers,” said the Countess, “I didn’t realize he meant in my bed.” Her tone conveyed that she knew perfectly well Druskin hadn’t meant her bed. I was pretty sure Angari spoke about beds as little as possible and thought about them constantly.

I tossed two pillows to the foot of the bed, “We’ll put your head at the foot of the bed, it’ll be safer down there.”

“Zephra!” the Countess objected again, jumping to her feet and snatching up one of the pillows. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“My lady,” I turned to face her, one hand propped on my hip, “I would rather sleep in my own bed than yours.”

“This can’t really be necessary.”

“Do I need to remind you that several people want you dead?” I fixed her with a stare, hard enough that her indignation faded.

She took a deep breath and nodded, “Of course. Nothing has changed.”

Her perspective on the wedding had shifted. The threats to her life had not. Putting my hand on her elbow, I said, “If anyone were to try violence in the night, better they find a paranoid knife fighter instead of a politically gifted Countess.”

She gazed at me, looking through me like she had once or twice before. I looked away quickly, uprooting the sheets and blanks from the end of the bed so she could climb beneath them more easily. She didn’t say anything as she crawled into bed, or as I turned down the lamp, shed my dressing gown, and tucked my knives under one of the feather pillows. Once I’d gotten into bed myself, and we’d arranged ourselves carefully so our legs didn’t touch, the Countess asked, “How many people have you killed?”

I sighed, letting my body practically soak into the feather mattress and pillows. I thought of her face when I’d killed the man in her tent. “Many,” I said at last.

“Is it…difficult?”

“Mechanically? Not really, people are fragile things.”

“You know what I mean.”

I closed my eyes. There were parts of my mind where I did not dwell. I did not dwell on the feel or smell of blood, nor the sound of breath leaving a body. I did not dwell on what the stories of the dead might have been. I had accepted that I was a blade. And it was never a difficult choice. “I do not enjoy killing,” I said softly.

She was quiet for a while. Long enough that I thought she might be sleeping when she said, “I have killed many also—by my word, not by my hand—I do not enjoy it either.”

Even though it was dark, I propped myself up on my elbows to look at her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever shared a bed before.”

“You were wedged between Galo and I on the road,” I said.

“That was different. Now my head is at the wrong end and I can’t sleep.”

I could hear the rueful smile in her words. “Are you sure it’s the bed, and not a certain elf-lord who’s keeping you up?” it was grossly impertinent to say, but it came out anyway.

She actually laughed. “I feel very silly, but…it was…delightful…to spend the evening with him.”

“That’s probably a good sign,” I replied, laying down again.

“I forgot people were trying to kill me,” her voice was small.

“I noticed.”

*

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34-Deputized

I made myself move away from Valredes and the ambassador at a leisurely pace. Just a reveler who hadn’t found whoever she was looking for. I did not want to attract the attention of the man who’d described me so very well to whoever drew the wanted posters that dotted the Empire. Finding the staircase to the next level, I climbed to the third floor. There were much fewer people on this level, and I realized that I was older than everyone I saw. Apparently, this was where all the youths came to loiter if they weren’t dancing. Young men leaned on the balcony railing, some mixed groups talked in clusters in the walk or the alcoves. I was out of place up here. I noticed the princess, Sarika, in a nook with a couple other finely dressed girls. They were laughing. It was startlingly ordinary and my chest tightened at the sight. How many young royals had started out laughing and ended watching their people and families murdered before they forced to swear fealty to the murderer? My lips twisted in a grimace. If I tried, I could come up with an exact count. I kept walking until I came to the stairs halfway around the hall and could descend again to the lower levels.

I still didn’t want to risk dancing, so I found a spot along the balcony where the curve of the room hid me from where Valredes and the ambassador stood. I watched the main floor, noting that Ilya Terr had asked the Countess to dance, and they were making quite a good showing. I spied Quill in the dance, too. My surprise faded when I remembered he’d been to Angareth before, and as I watched I could see the faintest hesitation in some of the movements. He mostly knew the dances. I wondered if Bel Valredes would recognize the Captain of Tarr Kegan’s Guard in this setting, in this form. Quill was still dressing in the style of Magadar; his purple brocade had enough silver thread to catch the light from the chandeliers, and he was much more expressive than he’d been as Captain. Guards were mostly scenery. Surely, he’d be unrecognizable. The real question remained, why was Bel Valredes here? An idea niggled to life in the back of my mind, curling my lips into a smile. I knew just who could find out.

*

Brell was dancing, but I made my way down to the main floor and waited in the shadow of a pillar for the dance to end. I had to move quickly when it did, catching Brell by the elbow before another young lord could pounce on the vivacious leanyod.

“Zephra! What is it?” asked Brell, still smiling and pink cheeked under the silver paint.

I pulled her into an alcove. “Brell, do you know the man from the Empire?”

“Not personally. I’ve heard there were men from Empire here for the wedding.”

My thoughts stumbled. “Men?”

She nodded. “I think there were two or three, I only just heard they were here before the banquet. I haven’t met them yet.” Her brown eyes sparked, “Why?”

I dropped my voice, leaning close to her ear, “I know one of them from a past job.” At least one of them. “I need to know why they are here, but I need to keep my distance.”

“Leave it to me,” said Brell, patting my hand where it rested on her elbow.

“Subtly, Brell,” I cautioned.

The look she gave me was the picture of angelic incredulity. “Zephra, honestly, it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

I smiled, in spite of myself, as I watched Brell wink and turn back into the crowd. Having seen her take on the much more difficult targets of Quill and Eliah, I was confident she would do quite well with Belledi Valredes. I folded my hands into my sleeves, lingering at the edge of the alcove. Ilya Terr and the Countess were still dancing, and I noticed with some surprise that Prince Domonkos was dancing with Hadella. It looked like their conversation was quite serious. The dance ended and I faded back into the alcove, making myself below notice. Domonkos and Hadella lingered in the edge of the dance floor. I couldn’t see Hadella’s face, but the prince looked annoyed. He walked away abruptly, and Hadella turned away from the dance floor, her lips tight as she left the glittering light of the chandeliers. Curious.

My eyes snagged on Quill, goblet in hand, walking toward me. The cut of his coat highlighting the strength in his shoulders, and I thought it was a bit unfair how well Magadar’s clothes suited him. When he was close enough to speak, he said, “Not dancing tonight?”

“These dances do not suit me,” I said lightly, moving deeper into the alcove. Quill followed and set his goblet on the tall, thin, table against the wall.

“It is well, for I am in need of a rest,” he said, pulling a kerchief out of a pocket and wiping his brow.

“Are the ladies of Angareth wearying?” I asked.

“Immensely,” he blew out a longsuffering breath, and I noticed him scanning our surroundings as he did. No one was overly close to the alcove. I stepped closer to him, opening my mouth to speak, but he said, “The Duchess of Yagyar informed me there is a party here from the Empire.”

“I know.”

He looked at me in surprise.

I dropped my voice, “I saw Bel Valredes.”

There was the faintest stiffening of his shoulders, “Did he see you?”

“No, but he’s on the second floor…with Ambassador Balint from Terrimbir. They were talking as if they were familiar. Did you know that the Ambassador thinks this marriage is abominable?”

“There are a number here who do,” replied Quill. “Though, plenty of those think it’s the delicious sort of abomination, since it’s happening to the Wuhn and not them.”

I picked up Quill’s goblet and held it poised to drink, blocking my words from traveling far, “Even among the leanyodi, apparently. But, perhaps it was a well-placed elf who hired the assassin. One with connections across borders and intimate knowledge of the treaty.”

“I can find out if Balint was the one in Angareth when the attempts started, and if he’s reached out to the underworld at all,” Quill folded his kerchief and tucked it in his pocket. His eyes found mine, they were dark in dim of the alcove, “I don’t need to tell you to be careful.”

“Nor I you,” I replied. But our eyes conveyed it, just the same.

*

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18-over the moors

In the end, Eliah brought me my boots. “You lost these.”

“Thank you,” I immediately dropped my saddle bags, and sat down to put them on, “I’ve been too busy to go get them.” We’d all changed wardrobe once again, and I was back in my own clothes and accoutrement and feeling glad.

“You mean it’s much harder to slip off to the stream in broad daylight when the Countess has grown as attached to you as a newborn foal to its dam?”

“The first time someone tries to kill you in your bed is a bit traumatizing,” I replied, drily.

“I suppose you would know,” said Eliah. She looked around at the clearing, now much emptier than it had been an hour ago. The tents were packed, campfires smothered, and the last of the trunks were being loaded on the carriages. Some of the guards had spent half the night rounding up the horses, so we had more than we needed, even with the prisoners and dead having already left for Wuhnravinwel. The Countess had put Pontikel and Hadella in charge of dividing the people and supplies, and they’d been quite efficient. Two of the carriages had already left. “This plan of Quill’s…” Eliah shook her head, the sun catching her golden hair. “There is no one who would believe your group is a hunting party. You don’t have any hounds or hawks.”

“The goal is to only be seen from afar.” I finished lacing up the boots and slipped the last of my knives into its hiding place.

“Hounds would be heard. Hawks would be seen.” Eliah grimaced. “You’ll look nothing like a hunt.”

I stood up, shouldering my saddlebags, repeating, “The goal is to only be seen from afar. And hopefully not by a real huntsman.”

Quill had insisted that the Countess shouldn’t go in a carriage at all, but should ride in a small party overland. No one would expect the Countess to be hidden in a small hunting party. He was very convincing, but the ensuing argument about who would go in the Countess’s entourage was tougher. Druskin refused to leave the Countess’s side, and wanted to keep me close also. Quill had intended for her to travel only with guards, but the leanyodi were horrified at the suggestion that the Countess go unattended. In the end, Druskin, Quill, myself, Galo and a guard would accompany the Countess. I supposed that was the best we could hope for.

“We’ll be moving fast, and should beat you to the meeting place.” We would ride hard, and that was how Galo had justified coming with us instead of staying with the bulk of the leanyodi to manage them.

“Rabbit,” Eliah said, “be careful. This is an ugly business. It’s not assassins, spies and thieves out here. It’s mankind at its worst.”

“You make it sound like assassins, spies and thieves are safe.”

“They are. Conviction is a mortal foe.”

“And assassins are just working for living?” I knew it was serious, but couldn’t keep the smile out of my voice.

“Fine, laugh,” Eliah punched my arm. “But do not die without giving me everything I need to solve this mystery after you’re gone. I’m not losing a payday because you wouldn’t take things seriously.”

I grinned at her and started to walk towards the horses, “I would never disappoint you. May Eloi guide your steps.”

Eliah touched two fingers to her heart.

I found the horse I’d ridden yesterday and gave it a thorough patting before I secured my saddlebags behind the saddle. I untethered the beast from the picket line and headed toward Quill’s bay. Brimborren stood out from the stocky Angari horses like a lance in a pile of swords.  Quill was busy securing saddlebags, and I almost didn’t recognize the women standing near him. Galo and the Countess weren’t wearing any make up at all. I’d not seen them in the light of the sun before. This was an even more thorough disguise than their clothes, which were the spare shirts and breeches of the staff. The clothes they wore out of the city when they visited family or friends. Without the white powder and unnaturally dark lips, and awash in the white light of day, the Countess had a simple, open kind of beauty. And Galo, standing beside her, looked almost wild with a few strands of hair blowing loose across her face. I curtsied when I arrived, “Grofnu.”

“Zephra,” acknowledged the Countess.

“Are we ready to go?” I asked.

Quill turned and gave me a nod of greeting. “Almost, Druskin is still ordering people around. Zephra, this is Lieutenant Luza,” he gestured to a soldier, who stopped fussing with his saddle to bow to me. “He will be joining us.”

“Lieutenant,” I curtsied very slightly.

“Leanyod.” The lieutenant was younger, black hair in a braid, with a little white scar slashed on his jaw.

“We should mount,” said Quill, “Druskin will never be ready to leave, but perhaps we can hurry him along.”

It took another quarter hour before Druskin pulled himself away from directing his men and joined us on his horse. We rode away from the camp, cutting in a straight line southwest over the rolling hills of grass. There was very little talk. Druskin rode in front, Galo and I flanked the Countess, Quill and Lieutenant Luza brought up the rear. It was a splendid day, large white clouds rolling across a pale blue sky while a brisk breeze cooled the touch of the sun. We stopped under a bluff for lunch, the Countess and Galo moved very stiffly and were very quiet. I felt for them, and Druskin helped them both back onto their horses when we set out again. We kept an easy pace, mostly trot and walk, with only the occasional canter to get up a steep hill or across a ditch. When the sun sank, we stopped in a little hollow near a tiny stream. Druskin and the Lieutenant hurried to help down the Countess and Galo, who both sank exhausted to the grass. Quill started building a fire and I helped the Lieutenant water and rub down the horses.

“I wish I could soak in the hot springs tonight,” said the Countess, while we ate our dinner of dried food.

Galo reached over and squeezed her hand. I gave her a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry, Grofnu,” said Druskin, as if apologizing that he couldn’t bring the springs to her. Though, I supposed he was really apologizing that she was riding a horse to Gar Morwen instead of a carriage.

“Someone’s coming,” said Quill, standing and reaching for his sword.

*

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17-Change of Plans

The fighting was over when we walked into camp, but they were still quelling the fire. Quill and Eliah entered the orange light with the horses and their unconscious captive. I slipped into camp from the other direction. The leanyodi knew I wasn’t one of them, but the guards and servants might not. Should not, if at all possible. My claim to the horses would just have to go unmade.

I went straight to the leanyodi tent, which was empty, and stripped off my bloodstained and stream-soaked clothes. As soon as I found a fresh pair of breeches and a shirt I went back out, leaving Shiharr and Azzad, my best knives, on my bed hidden under my soiled clothes. Outside, a tight cluster of servants and leanyodi stood between the tents and the campfires. Guards were moving the dead to the edge of the camp, and I saw a few people tending wounded by one of the fires. Druskin and Quill were standing over three bound and kneeling prisoners.

Druskin had found a shirt for his chest, but his sword was still naked and in his hand. He thrummed the rage. Quill stood beside him; arms crossed, feet apart, a rock in a stormy sea.

I slipped up the edge of the group, still barefoot because my boots and socks were on the stream bank. Mercifully, almost everyone in the crowd was half-dressed or clutching a robe. I didn’t stand out.

As I got closer, I could hear Druskin snarling, “You traitorous, sniveling worms. How dare you raise a hand against your liege lady!”

“She’s whoring—” the man didn’t get to finish the sentence. Druskin backhanded him so hard he fell to the ground.

“I would be within my right to kill you right here.” It was the Countess’s voice.

The men flinched as Druskin raised his sword. I flinched, too. Everyone turned to stare at the Countess, who had donned long black robe over her nightgown. Her long black hair was hanging loose down her back and her face was pale in the firelight, but every trace of her earlier trauma was gone. Galo was at her elbow, looking imperious and unimpressed.

The prisoners shifted, I could just a sliver of fear niggling into the hate and disgust on their faces.

“Who sent you?” asked the Countess.

“No one sent us,” said the man in the middle, “We are Wuhn. We are defending the honor of our clan.”

“She is the honor of your clan,” barked Druskin, sword still high.

“You whore us to our enemies!”

“You disgrace Angareth with your treachery,” replied the Countess coolly.

“It was his idea,” one of the men jerked his chin at the man in the middle.

The man’s lip curled. “Coward.”

The Countess lifted her eyes to Druskin and tilted her head just a breath.

Druskin’s sword fell and some of the women screamed. The Countess didn’t flinch as the man in the middle tumbled face first into the ground, unconscious.

The Countess’s voice rang out in clear order, “Bind them and tie them to the remaining carriages.” She turned on her heel and strode back into her tent as her men leapt to obey.

*

In the churning activity that followed, I tried to slip away to grab my boots from the stream but Druskin saw me and stopped me just on the edge of the firelight, “I want you to stay in the Countess’s tent tonight.”

I blinked at him. “I told you, I’m not a bodyguard.”

“No, but you’re a good person. You killed for her. She needs protection. I’ll have men at the four corners of her tent, but…” he looked away. “I would feel better if you were inside.”

I wanted to say no, mostly because I wanted to sleep and was irritated that he couldn’t just put a guard inside the tent. “How do you know I’m a good person?”

“Maybe I’m wrong about your motives.” He dragged his eyes to mine, “I don’t know how you got to her so quickly, or why, but I know she is still alive because of you.” He knew how close a thing it’d been, and it terrified him. It was none of his doing that the Countess was still alive. He had failed.

I crossed my arms. “Yes, where were you? And what were you doing without a shirt on? With Galo right on your heels with her clothes all askew.” Druskin turned red, as I’d expected, but I wasn’t done. “Are you sleeping with Galo?”

If possible, Druskin got redder, staring down at me with his eyes wide and his mouth open.

“Oh,” I said, surprised, “You are sleeping with Galo.” I’d wondered, given their looks and whispers, but it had been a leap. A leap I’d made mostly just to get under Druskin’s skin.

“Not so loud!” hissed Druskin, glancing around to see if anyone had been close enough to hear. There was a smoldering carriage, prisoners, and wounded men moaning as they were treated. No one in the camp was paying attention to us.

No wonder he’d told Galo immediately about being in my room. And no wonder she’d been so touchy about it. I grinned at him. “Can the leanyodi marry?”

“Yes, they can, but they take a yearlong sabbatical to do so,” he stopped, irritation filling his face, “That’s not important—” Druskin’s jaw clenched as he looked away again. When he spoke again, his voice was pained, “Please stay with the Countess. She is strong, but she has had a terrible fright, and I know your presence would comfort her.”

“Alright. Fine,” I said, “I’ll stay in the Countess’s tent. But I think that you should make it a priority to find and train female guards for your female nobles in the future.”

“It’s been awhile since the Wuhn had need for elite female guards.” Druskin looked relieved, “I didn’t have any who were skilled enough and…” he hadn’t thought he needed them.

I sighed. “I’ll get my knives.”

*

In the morning, the Countess summoned Druskin, Pontikel and the mercenaries before she had even finished dressing. Brell and Hadella were bustling around the tent packing and Galo had just finished brushing out the Countess’s hair when they all arrived. I was, of course, already there, having spent the night dozing on the ground between the Countess’s cushions and the tent entrance. By the sandy look to everyone’s eyes, no one had really slept the rest of the night, least of all the Countess, who had startled awake frequently.

Druskin looked about as sunny as usual when he walked in, his eyes skipping over the room to inspect the Countess and Galo. The gray bearded Pontikel was so grave he didn’t bother giving me a disapproving look. I’d only just finished dressing in the clothes Galo had brought me from the leanyodi’s tent, and was sitting on a cushion drinking tea. I still didn’t have my boots. Quill and Eliah arrived looking better rested than anyone else. It was not their world which had been upended by violence.

The Countess began, “I will not bring prisoners to Gar Morwen in my wedding train.”

Everyone nodded.

“I will not,” she continued, “waste their execution on an empty moor. Nor will I mark my wedding week with blood. It is to be a time of celebration, and executions in the square will not help with tensions. Druskin, you will send as many men as you must to safely transport them back to Wuhnravinwel. Send a messenger ahead for relief forces, so your men can return to the retinue as soon as possible.”

“But, my lady, this will leave us ill equipped to protect you from another attack,” said Druskin.

Eliah spoke up, “I kept close to the prisoners all night, they spoke of other…dissidents…who might harass the caravan.”

“Oh?”

“These are mobs, not assassins,” said Eliah, “They are angry and unpredictable, and if we had time, we could look for the rabble-rousers and contain them.”

“And without time?”

“An overwhelming show of force might be the only way to dissuade night attacks,” said Quill, quietly.

“It’s a little late for that,” snorted Pontikel, “They have already attacked our caravan fully outfitted.”

“And lost soundly,” put in Druskin.

“True, but we don’t want to fight our way to Gar Morwen if we can avoid it.”

“Do you have a specific suggestion, Quilleran?” asked the Countess.

“I propose that we split up the caravan and travel separately. Everyone leaves their ceremonial clothes packed and wears the least distinctive things they can, to look like simple travelers heading to Gar Morwen for the festivities. The caravan can reconvene on the outskirts of Gar Morwen to make a grand entrance, but not before then. This has the added benefit of confusing any real assassins who might seek to murder the Countess on the road.”

A moment of silence met Quill’s proposal. By their faces, everyone hated the idea. But no one offered a better one.

“One of the carriages is badly burnt,” said Druskin. “It will take some time to get it cleaned out.”

“We’ll have to cover crests on the carriages anyway,” added Pontikel.

“It is decided,” declared the Countess, “Focus efforts on one carriage at time. Carriages may leave as they are ready.”

*

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15-Flames

When I left the Countess tucked in a blanket in the cushions, I thought she looked a little better. Less like she was going to shatter from all the feeling she couldn’t show to her subjects. I went to the neighboring tent and shucked my outer layer, sitting in the cushions and flipping a knife in my hand. Eventually, I lay back, staring at the dark canopy of the tent. I hadn’t removed my harness of knives, and they pressed into my ribs. The other leanyodi trickled in, shedding their jackets and shoes and burrowing into the cushions. I felt them drop into sleep one by one.

It was interesting to me that the King of Angareth cared which of his nobles was trying to kill his niece. Interesting that he didn’t just pick a likely culprit and make an example. Instead he was spending a great deal of money to find out who was really responsible, before they succeeded. I knew the kings of Angareth relied heavily on their nobles, and in theory they were all subject to the rule of law. But, the law could be manipulated.

I felt for the Countess, who didn’t dare show any fear or sadness at the prospect of leaving behind everything she knew to be the bride of a blood enemy. She couldn’t, because her people were having a hard enough time accepting the idea.

Giving up on the notion of sleeping, I sat up and slipped back into my coat and crept out of the tent into the cool spring night. The campfires had burned low and were little more than embers. I could see the dark silhouettes of the carriages, and really nothing beyond except the starry sky. I followed my nose toward the stream.

The guard stationed on that side startled when I came up behind him, “Would you like an escort, leanyod?” he asked.

“No, thank you, just going to the stream to freshen up,” I tossed the reply over my shoulder.

He looked unconvinced, but didn’t follow me.

When I reached the banks, I knelt and put my hands in the water. Hello. The water was cold, and its reply more solemn than most streams when they encountered a nymph, as if the ethereal beauty of the moors made the stream thoughtful. But it beckoned to me, and told me of a swimming hole upstream. A smile stretched across my face, and I shifted to a sitting position to take off my boots and socks, and roll up my breeches to my knee. No swimming tonight, but I could wade. Coarse sand and pebbles rolled under my feet as I stepped in and allowed the stream to swirl and eddy around my shins. I hadn’t been there long when I heard footfalls in the grass behind me and turned to see a familiar form against the dying firelight.

“I thought I’d find you here.” Quill sat down on the bank.

“Couldn’t sleep.” I bent and picked up a pebble the stream had pushed onto my foot. I caressed the water as I straightened. “You didn’t go to the tent first, did you?”

“And disrupt the roosting hens?” he scoffed.

“Oh good. I would’ve never heard the end of it.” I slipped the pebble into a pocket.

“Well…that does have a certain appeal. Let’s go back!”

He moved as if to get up and I took an instinctive step toward him snapping, “I’ll tell Brell one of your heroic deeds, and that you asked about her.”

“Which one is Brell?”

“And now I wouldn’t be lying,” I replied impishly.

He groaned. “Was Brell the one who invited us to lunch?”

“She was.”

Standing, Quill tossed his boots and socks to the side. “Are you going to turn the stream against me? Will I drown if I step in there?”

“I was thinking about it,” I replied, backing deeper until the chill current was lapping at my breeches.

I heard him grunt as his feet hit the cold water. Amusement shuddered through the water and I smirked.

“I can hear you gloating even if I can’t see you,” said Quill, taking another couple steps. “Are you making the water colder?”

“I only just met this stream; you know it takes a lot more than pleasantries to gain that sort of complicity.”

“Mercifully,” he waded closer, stopping beside me, with the sound of the stream covering our voices. “You didn’t last very long in the carriage, are they so terrible to be around?”

“The leanyodi?  No, they’re alright…I don’t like carriages.”

“I don’t remember knowing that about you.”

“We don’t really use carriages.”

“No, but we’ve done lots of jobs together. How has it not come up?”

“If it makes you feel better, it’s not as if I’ve always had an opinion about carriages. I just…spent a week in a prison wagon and a box on wheels has just never had the same appeal.”

“When?” demanded Quill sharply.

I waved a hand, “About a year ago—Domjoa found a job liberating some jewels from Azu Kaban.” Pride unfurled a bit in my chest, “My job was to get inside and open the door for Domjoa and Ayglos.”

“The Azu Kaban job was you?” he stepped in front of me as if to see my face better, incredulous.

Burying my feet in the coarse sand, I grinned at him. “It was.”

“I cannot believe Domjoa decided to send the Lost Princess of Galhara into Azu Kaban to open the door for him,” Quill paused and kicked at the water, “No, no…never mind. I can.”

“Not just a lost princess,” I bumped his elbow, “But his sister-in-law, also.”

“Oh yes, how could I forget. And how is your lovely sister?”

“Last I knew, rosy cheeked and busy with babies under foot.”

Quill shook his head. “Good for her,” he sighed.

“Can’t get over everything working out with Domjoa after I broke him out of jail, can you?”

Quill bent close; I could just make out of the lines of his face in the starlight as I looked up at him. My breath snagged a bit in spite of myself—aware that we didn’t need to be this close but unwilling to be the first to move. He waited a beat before asking, “How intimately would you like to know this stream?”

I kept my tone cool, “Did you come here to talk about something?”

Without pulling away, Quill said, “When the caravan stopped for a while this afternoon—you didn’t notice the murder on Druskin’s face when he rode back?”

“I…thought…his face always looked like that.”

His smirk was just visible, but also fleeting. Quill straightened, moving away just a little, his face and tone deadly serious as he explained, “Someone put up a scarecrow in a feather headdress at the crossroads…painted with the word ‘whore.’”

I stilled.

“The guards tore it down so the Countess wouldn’t have to see it.”

The stream pushed at my legs. “Do you think we’ll have more of that?”

“I’m hoping less as we get further from Wuhravinwel and the hot springs.”

I sighed. “I suppose if Namal decided to marry the Nether Queen I’d be pretty pissed.”

“That’s not even remotely the same thing,” snorted Quill.

My legs buckled as a sudden current threw itself against my knees—I threw out at hand to catch myself before I fell completely. Quill cursed as he struggled for footing, too. My long coat now trailed in the stream and water soaked up my sleeves as my hands dug into the streambed. It was trying to tell me something.

“What’s it doing, Zare?” hissed Quill.

“Shhh,” I hissed back.

We both stilled, listening intently. We heard it at the same time, a startled snort, then the thunder of hooves. “The horses…” I began.

At the same moment, the orange streak of a tumbling torch smashed into one of the carriages.

“The Countess!” exclaimed Quill.

*

*

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12-Tribute

I made a careful search of my tiny chambers before cleaning up and again crawling into the deliciously comfortable bed. I didn’t find any peep holes or slits in the walls, just a fresh set of clothes hanging in the wardrobe. It wasn’t unreasonable for the Captain of the Guard to talk to one of the most influential leanyodi, but he’d made such a big deal about rumors I found it irritating that an entire day hadn’t gone by before he’d blabbed.

Quill and I had lingered over the letters after Eliah had gone to bed. He sifted through them over and over, and I’d told him everything Galo had told me. Galo hadn’t anything about the young Empire to the north beyond Angareth’s desire to remain independent. But when I closed my eyes, I could almost feel its borders, far north and east, like an old sadness lingering at the back of my mind.

It took longer than I wanted to fall sleep, and when I awoke in the morning my fingers were curled around the hilts of Shiharr and Azzad. I itched for a fight but had to content myself with stretches before I dressed for the day. The clothes were the same cut as the day prior, but a deep purple. I had just finished applying generous kohl to my eyes when Galo arrived in the same purple clothes and applied the white streak across my cheeks to match hers. Another morning of audiences before we spent the afternoon preparing for the trip to Gar Morwen.

“Galo,” I said, as soon as she was putting the white paint away, “How did you know I used the Villaban salute? I have never saluted the Countess in that fashion.”

A faint red flush tinged her cheeks and she straightened her back, tucking the paint case into a pocket. “It’s my business to know.”

I arched my brow, “The Captain of the Guard reports to you?”

“Only when he’s been shut up in the chambers of one of the leanyodi,” retorted Galo with more bite than I’d expected.

I recoiled a bit, “Galo,” it was as unsettling as calming a spooked horse you’d previously found unshakable, “Captain Druskin insisted on testing my fighting skill. I insisted on not being the only leanyodi to train with him in the yard because I’m supposed to blend in. Sparring with the door open would have been worse.”

“Yes,” Galo sniffed, “I’m aware.” She pushed the bedroom door open and I followed her out, wondering what in Serrifis Quill had gotten me into. We were almost to the kitchens before I felt Galo’s hackles lower.

The kitchen was a long, bustling room with a stone floor and a ceiling of wooden beams. Pots, pans, and drying herbs hung from the beams, and long wooden table filled the whole center of the room. A fireplace flanked by a company of stone ovens took an entire wall. A doorway led to another kitchen on the other side of the fireplace wall. Servants were everywhere, either eating at the long table or tending the fires or chopping or stirring. The scent of onions and herbs tickled my nose. Three leanyodi also clad in purple were just finishing their breakfast at the table. I recognized two of them as having been with us in the hall yesterday. Both brunettes, the brown eyed one was Brell—who had said Ilya Terr was handsome—and the blue eyed one was Karolya. I did not know the third, who had black hair and was bent over a ledger, with a pile of papers and her half-finished breakfast beside her.

“Good morning,” said Galo, brightly, as if she hadn’t steamed at me the whole way down here.

“Galo,” smiled Brell as she stood up, “Karolya and I were just about to go to the hall to make sure everything is ready for the last of the audiences.”

“Perfect,” Galo sat at the table, and I slipped onto the bench across from her.

Karolya looked at me as she stood up, “How are you feeling after your first day of standing?”

“I’m well,” I gave her a small smile. I probably looked tired, but it was due more to fitful sleep than the prior day’s duties.

Karolya reached over and squeezed my hand, “You’ll get used to it. The first week is the hardest.”  She looked to Galo, “Galo.”

“I’ll see you in the hall,” replied Galo in acknowledgement.

As soon as Brell and Karolya walked away, a servant placed bowls of white mush in front of us. Galo bowed her head and I followed suit before digging in. I did not love the white mush, though it was rich in onion and bacon flavors for some mysterious reason. It was food, so I ate it.

“Hadella,” Galo turned to the remaining leanyod, “How are preparations for the journey?”

Hadella’s head snapped up as if she hadn’t even noticed we were here. “Galo, good morning.” Her eyes shifted to me, “Zephra, is it? Good to see you.”

“Good morning,” I replied.

“These are the accounts from yesterday, I’ve been working on them since audiences ended yesterday.” Hadella sighed heavily, “It’s always this way before a long journey, everything has to be done ahead of time and then new work appears where there wasn’t any.”

“Are there normally gifts when she holds audience days?” I asked, making myself start another bite of mush.

“No,” Hadella took a quick bite of her own food before turning back to the ledger, “Tribute is in the fall. This…this is sentiment.”

Galo put in, “These are wedding gifts, they are proper.”

“They are,” said Hadella, making a little mark in the book, “But I have a great many letters to write this morning once I’m done here, and before I review the steward’s preparations for the journey to Gar Morwen. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course,” Galo shifted so she was turned slightly away from Hadella, signifying just how much she wasn’t going to interrupt the leanyod’s work. “Hadella runs most of the day-to-day for Wuhnravinwel,” Galo explained. “Brell has a gift for languages, Karolya understands farming and the needs of the earth…Each of us has a particular role to play for the Countess.”

“What’s yours?” I asked, before I could evaluate if that was a safe question.

“I manage the leanyodi,” answered Galo, “I make sure the Countess has everything she needs.” Her eyes flicked at me, “I’m in charge of you.”

I swallowed the last of my mush in a final effort and flashed her a smile. “Lucky you.” I tipped my head at Hadella, “What letters is she writing?”

“One of the reasons the Countess is so loved: they are letters of thanks for the gifts. Normally, at the time of Tribute, she sends one letter to each town. On good years, there is a gift with it of some sort—usually a cask of something intended for the Festival of Lights—but when even a lowborn family brings her a gift, she sends a letter saying thank you.” The leanyod’s face softened, “Even those who cannot read treasure her letters. What lord bothers to say thank you for his due?”

 

*

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11-Debrief

 

It was late when I walked into the long sitting room in the guest suite where I’d left the others the night before. Quill and Eliah were sitting in wing chairs by the fire, books ignored in their hands, eyes on the door as I entered. They both relaxed when they saw me. I gave them a weary nod as I closed the door and crossed the room to join them.

Quill asked in Angari, “How was your first day as a leanyod?”

“Illuminating,” I replied, also in Angari, as I sank onto the couch between them and stretched. It had been a long day. “Did they get off alright this morning?” Jemin and Ayglos.

“They left first thing. I had them take Hook,” replied Quill, “Figured you’d want him close, and anyone who knew horseflesh would have been asking where you got him.”

I felt immediately forlorn having Hook out of reach for a few days. Even if it was so he’d be in reach for the bulk of the job. The horse had been with me since I’d won him in a wager almost three years ago, he was as constant as my daggers. Except, he had a lot of opinions. “It’s a mounted culture, surely no one would notice Gillenbred mixed in with the Angari horses.”

A laugh chuffed out of Quill, he set aside his book and leaned forward. “Have you seen an Angari horse? Hook will be stabled in Gar Morwen as close to the palace as they can get him.”

“Thank you,” I said, meeting Quill’s eye, then looking him over. He was dressed in a fine black shirt with a waistcoat and jacket in the Magadarian style. “Are you from Magadar now?”

“I’m from all over,” mischief crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Druskin came to my room first thing this morning.”

Quill’s brows rose, “Don’t tell me someone has fallen for you already?”

I snorted, “No, he wanted to test my fighting skill.”

“In the yard?” asked Eliah, surprised. “I was in the yard the whole first half of the morning and didn’t see you there.”

“No, I wouldn’t go to the yard when I found out he doesn’t train the other leanyodi. I made him bring practice weapons to my room and we sparred there.”

Eliah threw her head back and laughed, her short blonde hair burnished in the firelight, “Serves him right. Pompous ass.”

“Who won?” Quill put his book down and leaned forward.

“In a fair duel with swords, Druskin would,” I replied, a smile tugging at my lips, “and handedly.”

“You spiked him with one of your daggers, didn’t you?” Eliah’s hazel eyes were sparkling, “I bet he spent the whole day struggling to breathe.”

“You sound as if you have personal experience,” I smirked at her.

“The voice of wisdom,” corrected Eliah, lapsing into our native tongue.

I smiled, Eliah and I had matched skill for skill early in our acquaintance, when we were both younger and stupider and thought we had to compete with one another. There wasn’t really competition to be had in either knife fighting or archery, and a female friend was so rare in our line of work that it seemed silly to let either men or politics get between us either. Though, I still called her Butcher. “It was a wooden weapon, but yes: He left satisfied that Quill had been telling the truth that I was useful in a fight.”

“I suppose I should be pleased he is thorough,” said Quill.

“Yes,” the word sighed out of me and I sank deeper into the couch, “But I’ve now been told repeatedly not to lock men in my rooms and that it will start rumors, and apparently, though I have told no one about our morning visit, Galo, at least, already knows things from my match with Druskin.”

Both Quill and Eliah straightened. “Such as?”

Touching two fingers to my heart I inclined my head. “If anyone asks, I’m the bastard child of a lord in Cartahayna.”

It was Eliah who snorted this time, “I knew it.”

Quill frowned, “Did you ask her how she knew?”

“I should have.”

“Did you check your room for peep holes?”

“I should have.”

Quill frowned harder at me. I frowned back. I knew the next question, the one he didn’t want to ask but did want the answer to: Had anyone seen my nymph stripes? I crossed my arms, “I’ll check for peep holes tonight.” If he wasn’t going to ask exactly how dry and how covered I’d been when I left the bathing room, I wasn’t going to tell him.

“You should,” He grunted.

Eliah settled back into the wing chair. “And you all wonder why I refuse to get into this type of situation.”

“No one wonders that, Eliah,” I replied. “Which reminds me, Quill, when we get to Gar Morwen you’re to meet me nightly in the library for lessons in Angari genealogy.”

“That sounds…wonderful,” Eliah picked up her book again.

Quill inclined his head, “I’ll look forward to it.”

“And, I spent the better part of the evening with Galo and convinced her to let me take these.” Unfolding my arms, I sat up and reached into my jacket for the stack of letters tied with a ribbon. Handing the stack to Quill, I continued, “For all my study, the subtleties of Angari culture escape me.”

“These have seals!” exclaimed Quill, incredulous.

“And there have already been two attempts on the Countess’s life since the treaty was signed.” I summed up the story from Galo, and Quill listened, thin lipped, flipping through the letters. His brows rose again when he reached the letter from Adorjan Bulgar, the disconsolate would-be lover. I leaned forward to tap the paper with my finger, “Galo claims that the Countess harbors no affection for Adorjan, but he’s been interested in her since she assumed her title. And this one,” my fingertips danced through the sheaf in his hand until I found one with a seal in blue wax, “Erze of Jozzi, is very adamant that a treaty with the elves will be the end of Angareth.”

Quill shifted that letter to the top of the stack and skimmed it. “He seems to be one of the more…reasoned writers—less incendiary.”

“That’s why he stood out. The others are just blowing off steam because they are angry about compromise. This man is thoughtful.”

“Except…is he suggesting…suicide? As an act of patriotism?” Quill looked up at me, the fire dancing in his eyes.

I nodded, “That’s what I thought when I read it, too.”

There was silence for a moment, filled only by the quiet crackle of the fire. Eliah had leaned forward also and was watching us. I spoke, “Galo said the treaty was negotiated mostly by Prince Domonkos and Terrimbir’s Ambassador Ballint, mostly.”

“I know about the treaty negotiations,” said Quill, shuffling through the letters again.

“Galo also said that the Prince and Countess were childhood friends. She didn’t seem to think he would ever mean the Countess ill.”

“I liked him,” put in Eliah. “Handsome enough, very mannerly.”

“None of these lords mention Daiesen,” Quill stood to grab the tea table and drag it closer. He piled the cups to one side so he could spread the letters out.

I snagged a cup from the tray and poured some tea.

“One would think they would, since the threat of the Empire is what’s driving this alliance.”

I sipped my tea, watching Quill sort the letters according to some mysterious criteria. “I think these lords are angry about not being consulted. They aren’t thinking about the future, or the world beyond Angareth. They’re thinking about blood feuds.”

“Short sighted,” muttered Quill, so softly I almost couldn’t hear him.

“Do you think she is involved?” I kept my voice equally quiet.

“She might be,” he glanced at me.

I took another slow, deliberate sip of my tea. “Well, that will just make this more fun.”

*

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8 -Testing the Water

The rooms where Galo brought me were just down the hallway from the Countess’s chambers. They were small…but luxurious after weeks on the road. The walls were covered in tapestries depicting horsemen, falconers, and rolling hills of grass. Heavy curtains covered tall windows. The bed was set into the wall, and when I tested it, definitely stuffed with feathers. There was a bookshelf filled with books, an exquisitely carved desk and chair, then a chair with wings by the fire. I noticed my saddlebags had been delivered and were sitting on the floor by the chair. A wardrobe stood to one side, already hung with clothes in the same style that Galo wore, but blue, and a nightgown. A large oval mirror adorned the wall beside the wardrobe and a narrow door on the other side led to a tiled washroom.  Mosaics in pale blue patterns outlined the large sunken tub that was fed by two copper spigots. There was a pile of thick towels folded neatly beside the bath, and a tray bearing an assortment of soaps and oils in colored glass bottles. “Private hot baths,” I smiled, leaning on the doorframe and admiring the set up. “You do know the way to a girl’s heart.”

Another narrow door on the other side of the washroom led to a toilet. I could only hope the palace at Gar Morwen was as perfectly appointed. I wasted no time turning the spigots and grinning stupidly as water began to pour into the tub.  Steam rose from one of the streams, and I noticed the mineral scent of the water. Were they piping in from the hot springs or was all the water around here mineral rich? I adjusted the knobs until I was satisfied with the temperature and then wandered out of the washroom to look at the bookshelf while the tub filled. The books were mostly philosophy and economics. One or two were in Terrim, the language of the elves. There was a whole section devoted to political theory and another to geology. I ran my finger over the spines before returning to the washroom empty handed. I probably shouldn’t dunk one of those fine volumes in the bath, though I might have dared if there had been an epic.

Listening to the comforting rush of water, I unbuckled my harness of knives and set it on the desk. The belt of knives was next, then the sleeve sheathes. My two finest knives, curving beauties named Shiharr and Azzad, I tucked under the pillows of the bed. I shucked my boots and breeches, then my shirt and underthings. Leaving the boots by the desk, I dropped the clothes, and the clothes from my saddle bags, in a basket near the door for the servants to collect in the morning. I returned to the washroom and slipped into the tub before it was even finished filling. My gold pendant gleaming, I laid my head on the rolled lip of the tub and watched the blue tendrils bloom across my body. Here, so far from the Empire, nymphs were safe and the privacy was less essential. But I was so accustomed to keeping my heritage a secret that the locked door was comforting.

I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander. I was curious about the job that had brought Quill and his crew to the south in the first place. We’d been so busy preparing for this job there really hadn’t been an opportunity to pry on our trip down here. When the water was dangerously close to the lip of the tub, I turned off the spigots and started to soap. I was curious…but patient. I’d get my chance to wheedle at Quill. Maybe even Eliah.

I dawdled my way through washing and rinsing. Mulling over the evening conversation with the Countess and pondering the coming wedding. It was quite late and the water was noticeably cool by the time I set the tub to draining. I made only a cursory attempt at drying off with the towels before pulling on my nightgown and burrowing under the feather coverlet to lose myself to sleep, skin still laced with blue.

*

I awoke early, my body aware of the sun graying the horizon even if the curtains blocked it out. I threw the curtains open and admired the view of the hazy gray ramparts of the fortress. I donned the set of clothes I’d found hanging in the wardrobe the night before. Under the collared coat there were fitted trousers and a silk shirt that closed with a thousand tiny buttons. My sleeveless undershirt, a thick second skin designed by a friend, was invisible under the blue silk and kept the harness of knives from pinching. I buttoned the three ornate buttons of the long, collared coat overtop it all. Everything was the same deep blue, and I found a pair of matching blue silk slippers on the floor of the wardrobe. I found a little tin of hairpins in the drawers on the left side of the wardrobe and was standing in front of the mirror restrain my curls in a bun when a knock sounded at the door. Half my hair tumbled down when I lowered my hands, I sighed.

Sliding the lock back and I opened the door, stopping in surprise. “Captain Druskin.”

The Captain of the Guard looked stunned, taking in my blue silk and then staring at my half loose curls as if he’d never seen hair before. “You’re dressed.”

I arched a brow. “Disappointed?” I asked dryly.

Druskin reddened, opened his mouth, closed it, and then said. “Change.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t spar in those, and I want to see exactly what you’re capable of before I trust you with the Countess.”

I considered the man, dressed in leathers with his long black hair braided. “Do you practice with all the leanyodi?”

“No.” Druskin crossed his arms, “In order to get my support in making you a leanyod, Quilleran said you had skills. I want to know if I made a mistake.”

I folded my arms, mirroring Druskin. “I’d be delighted to give you a demonstration, but I very much doubt I’d have time to change, spar, bathe, dress again, and still be on time for my first day serving the Countess.”

His features creased into a frown. “Hian Ruddybruck…”

“It would also be unwise to train with me in a public place unless you also train with the other leanyodi.”

“Train with the other leanyodi?” Druskin exclaimed…then after a hesitation, “I will send word to the Countess to expect you later.”

“Alright. Then I’d suggest you fetch practice weapons while I change clothes. We can spar in my chambers.”

For a moment, I thought Druskin would just stare at me. Then he said, “Well, you are not Angari.”

I smiled and stepped back to close my door. Fishing the pins out of my hair I braided it instead. It only took me a moment to shed the fine blue clothes and don my breeches, shirt and my leather jerkin. I pulled on my boots, buckled on my knives, and waited for Druskin to return. I was sipping water and wondering how I would get breakfast when a knock sounded at the door.

Druskin was standing in the hallway holding several wooden practice weapons. His eyes went to my harness of knives. I stepped aside, “Please, come in.”

Hesitantly, Druskin stepped into the room and watched me close the door behind him. “Don’t make a habit of shutting men into your rooms,” said the Captain, tossing me one of the practice swords. “It would easily create scandal. Especially in Gar Morwen.”

I tested the weight of the sword, grateful the Angari preferred curved blades. I’d encountered broadsword fighting in the past, and it did not play well to my advantages. “Noted. Perhaps in the future you should train all your leanyodi to fight so that we can practice in a more conventional setting.” I made the first strike without warning.

Druskin blocked and parried with ease, tossing a couple shorter wooden sticks onto the bed as he advanced. The space was tiny to start with and seemed to shrink the moment swords started swinging. We were careful and calculating. Swords weren’t my best weapon, and I noticed a rhythm to the match which suggested Druskin was playing with me. At least we could establish that he was no slouch with a weapon. It wasn’t long before I was sweaty and ready end it. On my next attack I feinted, he moved to block and I darted inside his guard. I abandoned my sword to block his sword arm from swinging back and drove my left fist into Druskin’s diaphragm. Druskin stumbled back as the air whooshed from his lungs.

“Are you alright?” I asked, dancing back out of reach just in case.

The Captain of the Guard grunted, “I’m fine.” He looked up, a glint in his eyes, “And you’re unarmed.” He lunged forward, swinging for my ribs. I twisted away, knocking into the wardrobe but reducing the strength of his blow. His eyes flashed in triumph, and I grinned back, I was next to the bed now. I caught up one of the short sticks and threw it. He tried to dodge, but the stick still struck him in the thigh. The next stick hit him in the shoulder before clattering harmlessly to the ground.

“If those were blades, you’d be in a lot of pain,” I said.

“If this were a blade,” he saluted with the wooden sword, “You’d be dead.”

I snorted as I touched two fingers to my heart, the salute of Villaba. “Merely wounded.”

“Where did you learn to fight?” asked Druskin, bending to pick up the various sticks, including my sword, from the floor.

“Anywhere anyone would teach me.”

“Sacrificing your weapon was unwise.”

“Normally I’d use a knife instead of my fist.”

Druskin looked down at himself. “I appreciate your restraint.”

“I thought you might,” I crossed my arms and watched him bundle all the weapons under his arm. “I’m not a bodyguard, Captain. You should not think of me as such. My life is not sworn to the Countess, nor will it be.”

“I appreciate your honesty, Hian Ruddybrook.”

“Please, call me Zephra.” Even that pained me, but it was better than the formality of Hian Ruddybrook.

“Zephra,” continued Druskin, “I will not rely on you as one of my guard, but I now know your worth in a fight.”

“Do you expect there to be a fight?” I asked.

“I hope so,” growled the captain, moving toward the door, “Swords and knives I can handle.”

*

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7-Proper Greetings

 

 

The five of us fell in behind the servant. He hauled all our weapons in a roll of canvas as he led us down a different winding stair and down a long hallway lit by iron lamps faced with colored glass. A pair of heavy doors at the end of the hallway led to a long and relatively narrow chamber. Windows covered with heavy drapes lined one wall, a huge hearth flanked by four ornate doors dominated the inner wall. Cushioned furniture was arranged in little conversational groups throughout the glorified hallway. We filed in like ducks, and the servant deposited the roll of weapons on a narrow table by the entrance. He proceeded to the furthest doors and opened them, bowing saying, “Kimro Ruddybrook,” then opening a closer set, “Quilleran.” The servant bowed again and exited back the way he’d brought us.

As soon as the door closed Eliah looked at me, “Rabbit!”

I threw my arms around her. “Butcher.” Then I turned and embraced Jemin. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Zephra,” replied the burly man, his teeth flashing white behind his beard as we stepped away. He clasped hands with Quill and Ayglos. “Always good to see the Ruddybrooks.”

Jemin and Eliah both knew our real names, and why we weren’t using them.

Ayglos started to prowl around the room, looking at the furniture and tapestries. “You were not exaggerating when you said they treat the Countess like a queen.”

Quill crossed to a couch near the fire and sprawling across it. “My impression has been that the old clan chiefs—who are now Counts and Countesses—are treated like kings and queens in their own holdings. They serve the King with the same reverence they themselves command.” Quill looked at Eliah, “Anything interesting happen while I was away?”

I moved to the weapons and began picking out my knives and returning them to their hiding places. No one else moved toward the table, but no one else was moving to a different part of the castle. Rabanki left Ayglos’s shoulder to come alight on the table of knives, plucking at the pommels. I glared warningly at the bird. Rabanki cocked his head in innocence.

Behind me, Jemin said, “Eliah had a shooting contest with Druskin.”

“Rat,” quipped Eliah.

“Very low profile,” said Quill dryly. “Who won?”

Eliah gave an indignant snort. “I did!”

When I looked, Quill had his face in his hands.

“He started it,” continued Eliah, “he invited Jemin to spar and didn’t believe me when I said I was a good shot.”

“And being right is no fun if no one knows,” put in Jemin, then he laughed.

I turned in time to see the dark look Eliah had leveled at the burly man. The daughter of a king’s huntsman, Eliah had turned out to be a natural with a bow. A skill that had radically changed her life and made her an asset to any crew. In the three years I’d known the gregarious woman, archery was the only thing for which she had patience. I picked up my last, and finest, daggers, and slid them into the sheaths on my back, “How was the southern tip of the continent?”

“Hot,” said Eliah.

“Did you see any dinrodiles?” asked Ayglos, coming to sit in a nearby chair. Rabanki left the knives and alighted on the back of Ayglos’s chair.

“Only at dinner. Tastes like catfish scrambled up with boar,” said Jemin.

“That sounds disgusting.” I dropped onto the chair closest to the fire. It was undoubtedly stuffed with feathers, and I thought I might never get up.

“I liked it well enough,” shrugged Jemin, crossing to the fireplace and investigating the tea service that dominated a small table.

“While we’re all here,” interrupted Quill, collecting himself from his sprawl to an upright position that still, somehow, took up the entire couch, “And before Zare is swept away from us, we need to talk about a few things.”

“Yes, as it turns out there are great many things I don’t love about this job,” I crossed my ankles and folded my fingers across my stomach.

Eliah smirked. “Lucky you with the upbringing and language training to fit in with courtly functions.”

“I should have been a peasant.” But I smiled as I accepted a cup of hot tea from Jemin.

Quill ignored us. “Zare will be a leanyod, so we won’t be able to communicate freely with her. If anyone asks, we met her in Wuhnravinwel when we met the rest of the Countess’s people. Everyone at the court knows that the King hired me to snoop around—not that he asked in public—they also saw Eliah when we made our initial visit. So, Eliah and I will play the part of visitors at court, mingling, doing as much investigating as we can with everyone well aware of our purpose.” Quill paused to accept the cup Jemin offered him. “They have not seen Jemin or Ayglos, so they are our shadows in the city. I expect to be kept apprised of all the gossip in the taverns and alleys and marketplaces.”

Ayglos and Jemin both grinned.

“We need to find out who stands to gain from the death of the Countess,” I added.

“Or from a war with Terrimbir,” said my brother.

“That’s where we start,” agreed Quill. He turned to me, “Once you leave this room tonight, we’ll need to be very careful how we communicate with you. Only a handful of people here are to know about your connection to me, and no one at Gar Morwen does. We need to establish a time and place to meet daily, both here and at Gar Morwen.”

I nodded, “I’ll talk to the Countess tomorrow.” Then I doffed my tea, “Find out what they’re going to do with me.”

“It’ll be fun, Zare,” Ayglos steepled his fingers, “Code words and secret meeting places.”

“Just another day in the life, Fox,” I replied, “I meant, what sort of responsibilities they’ll give. There is always at least one leanyod with the Countess. They stand behind her chair in meetings, on judgement days, sit beside her at feasts…At night, two of them sleep in an antechamber should she need anything…they go to meetings and represent her to the farthest reaches of her holdings.” I paused to sip my tea, then added, “I might be chained to her side for the next while.”

“You’ll have to find some way to get away,” said Quill, “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to kidnap you.”

 

*

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Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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5-The Gig

“Elves?” I sat up from my spot curled on the couch next to Ayglos, my feet thumping on the woven carpet. “You said the job was in Angareth.”

Quill nodded from where he sat, teacup ignored in his hand. We’d left the horses at the stable and slipped into the inn through the kitchen and servants’ stairs. I thought one or two of the fancy southern merchants had been Angari, it must be them he was avoiding. Ayglos had been waiting for us at the suite and had already placed an order for his own breakfast and a tea service. After greetings were out of the way and food delivered, Quill had settled in to explain the job.

“How much do you know about the relationship between Angareth and Terrimbir?” asked Quill.

I made a face. “They’ve been squabbling over hot springs for generations.” My childhood tutoring had been cut off by the wars that made the Empire, but I picked up some things while marauding the world.

“The elves of Terrimbir claim that the hot springs were a gift to them from Tirien,” Ayglos had pulled a little table close the couch so he could eat while we talked. Rabanki had claimed the mantel and was devouring a piece of sausage. “A reward for curing the forest from a disease.”

“Right,” confirmed Quill, “The Wuhn of Angareth have lived and hunted by the springs for centuries and claim that it belongs to them because they were there first.”

“Were they?” I asked, sipping at the tea. It was not spectacular.

Both men shrugged. Ayglos grunted, “Who knows?”

“With the Empire burgeoning up north, some of the powers in Terrimbir and Angareth decided that being allies is more important at this time than fighting over the springs.” Quill’s brown eyes found mine. “What better way to make peace than with a marriage?”

My jaw dropped. Marriage alliances were perfectly normal, but cross race marriages were rare, and royal cross race marriages…There had only been one of those in the past three hundred years and it had been my parents.

Ayglos put down his toast. “Holy heaven, who’s doing the honors?”

“Not the crown prince,” said Quill, “They aren’t quite ready for that. But the King’s niece, Countess Adelheid, who happens to be from the Wuhn clan, is now engaged to the Lord of Linden.”

I whistled. “Isn’t he the cousin of the High Lord of Terrimbir?”

“He is.”

Ayglos picked up his toast again. “A royal wedding sounds fun, but what’s the job?”

A faint smile touched Quill’s mouth, “As you can imagine, tensions are running high. The feud is longstanding, and there have been threats against both parties, but especially against Countess Adelheid. If either party is killed, it’s very likely that war will break out between Angareth and Terrimbir.”

“You’re…a bodyguard?” I took another sip of my tea and frowned. “Doesn’t she have her own?”

“Eloi, not a bodyguard,” Quill scoffed, “She has her own. I’m a spy. An investigator. They hired me to find the person trying to kill the Countess.”

“However did you manage that?”

A tip of his chin, “I can be very persuasive.”

“Why-ever did you manage that, is a better question,” put in my brother.

“Truth be told, I was in Angareth on other business when this popped up. If we succeed, the King will owe me a favor.” Quill’s look was downright wicked, “I like it when kings owe me favors.”

“I thought there was also something about twenty thousand gold,” I said. As if he needed more favors from kings.

Ayglos choked, his hand halfway raised to offer biscuit to Rabanki. “Twenty thousand gold?”

“Yes, that, too,” Quill’s eyes were sparkling.

Rabanki guffawed, leaving the mantel to sit on Ayglos’s shoulder and take the biscuit. “Is this a two Galhari job, or one?” asked my brother, ignoring the bird.

“Two,” Quill stood and moved to the fireplace.

“Where’s,” I waved my hand, “Rakov, or whoever you were traveling with?”

“I left Jemin and Eliah in Angareth when I came to get you.” Quill replied.

“You took Eliah with you?” I was offended. “Instead of me?”

“She was already with us from a different job.”

I frowned at him. “What can Eliah do that I cannot?”

“Hit a crabapple at a hundred yards,” he replied smoothly.

“Do you often need defending from crabapples?”

“Regardless,” Quill leaned his back against the mantel, crossing his arms, “I came to find you now. Angari culture is rather more reserved than most of Daiesen. Lots of pageantry and rules. There are plenty of places Jemin and I can’t go, and I need someone with a little more social finesse than Eliah—and someone who can speak Angari like a noble.”

Ayglos laughed, “I can just picture Eliah mingling with ladies in waiting.”

The image of Eliah, blonde hair cut short and choppy, knife in her teeth as she strung a bow, tried to blend with the image of ladies in silks bent over embroidery in a gilded room. A laugh coughed out of me. “This job requires mingling with ladies in waiting? My price just went up.”

“Too late,” said Quill, “You already agreed.”

“Verbally.”

He smirked, uncrossing his arms and pulling a folded paper out of his pocket, “There’s one other thing you won’t love about this job: You cannot come as Zare Caspian. Pick a different name.”

I pursed my lips. He was right. I didn’t love it.

He began tearing up the paper, feeding it piece by piece into remains of the morning fire. The shreds curled in the heat and I caught a glimpse of dark curly hair and dark eyes. The wanted notice. “I’d rather not have to worry about someone realizing they could finance a skilled assassin by turning you over to the Empire.”

Ayglos set his hand on his chest, “Kimro Ruddybrook,” then pointed at me, “Zephra Ruddybrook.”

I snorted. “Ruddy brook” was bit on the nose of our monster hunting job.

“Excellent,” Quill straightened and again reached into his jerkin, pulling out a thin sheaf of paper and tossing it on the little table next to Ayglos’s breakfast. “Your contract. We leave as soon as you’re done eating.”

*

 

Special thank you to my Patrons, I am so grateful for your support! Thanks for coming on this journey with me.

Share Zare with your friends and we will be a merry company.

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