Category: fantasy adventure

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21 – Into the Hills

Three days passed and the moors gave way to rocky hills scattered with trees. I stayed close to the Countess whenever we rode, and Galo stayed close to her whenever we rested. Once or twice we saw figures in the distance and moved to lower ground to avoid detection. If the elves thought it was odd that we were just as eager as they were to remain unseen, they didn’t mention anything. Quill told me he’d learned Ilya Terr had divided his wedding party in the hopes of slipping across Wuhn territory unnoticed, rather than traveling in high estate on the main roads. There were several other groups of elves traveling across the moors under the cover of the mists, some had left a week ago to make up for their indirect path. The wedding would only be the beginning of peace, I realized.

Ilya’s unrelenting good humor had eventually eroded the Countess’s sense of propriety and she told him an awful story about elves stealing naughty children in the night to enslave them. He’d laughed. Their retinues had breathed a little easier. The evenings saw more conversation, and even the soft notes of a woodwind one of the elves had brought. No one was over-eager to talk about themselves, but hunting, fishing, and the best way to cook rabbit provided lively enough discussion. Ilya often looked at the Countess intently, like he’d forgotten something, staring at her thoughtfully until she noticed and he was forced to look away or say something witty.

At dusk the third day, we made camp in the shadow of a boulder near another little brook. The hills was covered thinly with tall pines, but they grew thick enough near the stream to hide the horses from casual eyes. We were in proper hills now. Boulders jutted from the earth in large and small mounds, offering additional protection from the wind and eyes. Clouds had rolled in that afternoon, and as the twilight deepened it became evident it would be a very dark night. As we watered the horses I turned to Quill, “Think anyone will notice if I disappear for an hour and come back a different color—but clean?”

“You’re very fastidious,” replied Quill.

I snorted, “For a person talking about bathing in a cold hill stream, you mean?”

One of the horses began to paw gleefully at the water, splashing everywhere and causing its neighbors to recoil as water hit their faces.

Quill tossed me a grin, and took a step closer to be heard over the splashing, “Three more days and we’ll be in Gar Morwen. Your quarters grander than those you left behind.”

“Feather beds?”

“Feather beds.”

“Enormous tub?”

“Big as a city fountain.”

“But…will you still cook for me?”

His turn to snort. “I’m certain you won’t be disappointed in their cooks.”

I gave him a skeptical look, just for effect, before backing my horses—who had finished drinking and were weeding—away from the water. “Your rabbit is exceptional, Quill, I’m just not sure I can live without it.”

*

After dinner I set up my bedroll next to the Countess, Galo on her other side, as usual, and fell asleep quickly.

I awoke with a start, Shiharr singing from its sheath as I bolted upright. Druskin recoiled with a startled grunt, losing his balance and landing on his rear in the dirt hand raised to ward my blow. I blinked at him, then quickly checked my knife for blood—it appeared clean, mercifully. “What is it?” I asked lowering Shiharr but not putting it away. “Are you alright?”

Druskin ran his hand over his face and picked himself up into a crouch, “The Countess,” he whispered, “She got up to relieve herself and hasn’t returned.”

Looking around, I saw that the Countess’s bedroll was, indeed, empty. Galo was looking up at us, her eyes foggy with sleep. We’d probably woken her when I’d nearly stabbed Druskin. A yawn clawed its way out of my mouth, and I stretched before sheathing Shiharr and slipping my harness of knives over my shoulders. I fumbled with the buckles. “I’ll go find her.” I pulled on my boots and laced them loosely before climbing to my feet and heading into the darkness in the direction Druskin pointed.

It took a moment to adjust to the utter dark away from the fire, but once I did, I could make out the black forms of rocks and trees. I made my way toward the boulder we’d used for this purpose earlier in the evening, taking care over the uneven ground. I called out quietly, “My lady?” as I rounded the edge of the rock.

Nothing.

She wasn’t there.

I turned and scanned the area. Trees climbed the hill to my left, and thinned to grass on my right. It was hard to tell much in the darkness with rocks casting lumpy shadows around. Could she have somehow tripped and hit her head? “My lady?” I raised my voice this time, “Adel?” I moved carefully around the whole area, expecting at any moment to step on a hand or trip over the Countess’s prone body.

Nothing.

I should have brought a torch.

My sleeve caught on a sapling and when I reached to free myself, I noticed a piece of folded paper twisting on the wind, tied to a branch. A moment of fumbling untied the string. The paper was very finely made, and sealed with wax. I cursed under my breath and headed back to the camp at a jog. Druskin was waiting at the edge of the firelight, tense and already concerned by my long absence and rapid approach. I thrust the letter at him and he stared, confused. “That’s…the Bulgar seal…” he said.

I nodded, “And addressed to you,” I pointed at the fine black ink now visible in the firelight. Druskin tore open the seal and skimmed the letter. His face turned red and he cursed, and I snatched the letter from his fingers before he could tear it in a rage. Druskin spun helplessly and kicked the earth as I read the note, my heart sinking.

Galo sat up from her bedroll, “What’s wrong?”

The elf on duty, Mihalak, Ilya’s second, stood up from where he’d been leaning against a tree. “What is it?”

“It says, ‘Druskin, she is safe, don’t come for her. I will preserve the purity of the moors and springs, and bring strength to the line of Wuhn again. Cordially, Adorjan Bulgar, Count of Bulgarrinwel.’”

*

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20 – Traveling companions

“You are damn lucky I like you,” I jabbed Quill’s chest with my finger.

“Is that why you work with me?”

“When you still work with them?” I jerked my chin toward the fire where Rakov was sitting.

“Indeed,” Quill was still smiling, I could hear it in his voice, but he shook his head. “You’re a snob, Zare.”

“And that’s why I work with you.”

A laugh chuffed out of him. “Is that so? What’s Eliah’s pass on censure?”

I shrugged, “I like her, too.”  Eliah was also the only female friend I had who cared as much about weapons and horseflesh. Not that I had many female friends.

“Do you like anyone else from my company”

“Jemin,” I answered.

“That’s it?”

“I like Brimborren.”

“My horse?”

“Is there another Brimborren?” The horse snorted and I reached over to pat his neck. I actually didn’t know most of the company very well, but I disliked the Breaker and his methods, and Rakov was one of his closest associates. I disliked being kept in the dark. “Is there anything else I should know about this little venture?”

“That the plan,” Quill straightened from leaning on Brimborren’s shoulder and turned to face me, his tone serious, “is to not need to face an assassin. I didn’t expect to see Rakov and Rae’d at all. Not up close, anyway. Of course, the plan also didn’t include angry mobs, bloodthirsty zealots, and sneaking across the moors.”

I moved closer, lowering my voice to avoid even the faintest chance of being overheard, “You’re slipping, Quill. Your plans usually go a bit better than this.”

He also bent closer, “Nonsense. I wouldn’t want you to get bored.”

I put my hand on Brimborren’s neck to steady myself, wishing I could see his face, rather than just imagine the look in his dark eyes. “She claims she has no jilted lovers, at least.”

“Not even that lovesick loon who wrote a letter?”

“Not even. Though he certainly mourns not gaining her alliance for himself.”

“So, still jilted. One way or another”

“I suppose.”

“I’ll find out in Gar Morwen, it’s possible Ayglos and Jemin already know.”

We fell quiet for a moment, then I said, “It’s certainly going to be an interesting journey now,” I tilted my head toward the fire and our elven company.

“What are you talking about?” Quill leaned so close his breath brushed my face, “It was an interesting journey before.”

*

Quill and I returned to the fire at different times, though I was certain no one was fooled. Humans and elves shared the watch duties, neither trusting the other to watch alone. Without the leanyodi ruse, I took watch duty with the rest. My eyes wandered often from the dark moors to Quill, sleeping with his saddle for a pillow. My mind kept returning to how close we’d stood and all possible interpretations of “interesting already.” When I noticed the elf watching me, a faint smile in his eyes, I made a determined effort to look elsewhere for the rest of the watch.

Eventually, I woke Luza for his turn and gladly gave myself back to sleep. In the morning, low clouds shrouded the dawn in shades of gray and blue. The Countess and Galo were bleary eyed and moving slowly. They ate in silence while the rest of us broke camp, and wordlessly accepted Druskin and Luza’s help mounting. I sidled my horse close to them, “Riding again will help,” I said, keeping my voice low.

“A day at the hot springs would help, too,” replied Galo.

I smirked and started to sidle away but Druskin caught my eye. Ilya Terr was riding over to the Countess and I was to stay by her side.

“Lady Adel, are we ready to leave?” the elf bowed slightly in the saddle.

The Countess nodded, “Yes, I believe we are.”

He fell in beside her and we led the procession out of the hollow and continued south. Druskin and Galo rode immediately behind us. Elves and men mingled in the informal train, no one willing to be far from their lieges. Today, with exhaustion and soreness wearing at her poise, the Countess was having an easier time playing the part of a lesser noble. She and Ilya Terr exchanged polite conversation sporadically all morning, and I faithfully rode at the Countess’s side in silence.

“There is a copse of trees to the south,” said the elf, pointing. “There is likely water there, we could stop there and water the horses.”

He was right, there was a stream there. I said nothing.

The Countess squinted in the direction he pointed, and then started to look uncomfortable. “I do not see trees.”

“I can feel them,” explained the elf.

“The stories we have about your people,” began the Countess, hesitantly, “Say that the forests do the bidding of the elves. That you can tell the trees to guard your borders, and they will—to not grow in a glen, and they won’t.”

Ilya looked at her, “They do, but not just any elf’s bidding.”

“Oh?”

“It’s like,” he paused, searching for words, “Some are good musicians because they practice, some are good musicians because they are gifted—but it’s also like training an animal or making a friend. You must learn to speak to the trees, and then they must also respond to you. The forests do not bend just to anyone who can speak to them.”

“Does the forest respond to you?” asked the Countess.

A proud smile flickered across Ilya’s face, “It is my forest.”

The Countess turned back to the moors, “Our stories also say mankind was given the land, but I have never heard it speak.”

“Our stories,” replied the elf, “say mankind wasn’t satisfied with the dirt and asked Shaddai for a different gift, so losing their connection with the land.”

Both the Countess and I looked at him. Ilya was relaxed, looking at the moors with a peaceful expression, as if he hadn’t just insinuated that mankind was greedy. “And what gift was that?” said the Countess, her voice guarded.

“Foresight,” continued Ilya, “The gift of seeing the future. Truly, the other children of Shaddai were upset they had not thought of asking for this gift. But Shaddai was so angry with man for the insolence that the land shook, the seas rose and fire rained down. No one dared asking for the same gift. Not even when, determining that mankind clearly needed the help, Shaddai granted it.”

For a moment, only the sound of hooves thudding on earth and stones filled the air around us. Ilya stole a glance at us, the Countess was thin lipped, and I was fairly certain my expression was similar. And then he laughed.

The Countess jumped like she’d been slapped, then she exclaimed, “You don’t really have that story about us!”

“Well,” Ilya laughed again, “We do. But we have other versions. Less unflattering.”

“Why would you tell me that one?” she demanded. “It’s insulting.”

Ilya didn’t have an answer for her, but his eyes were twinkling and I decided I liked him. After a long moment he said, “My apologies, lady, please, tell me a bad story you have about the elves and I will not be offended.”

She stared at him, clearly taken aback by his humor. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am!” Ilya assured her.

“I…Our stories…” she stammered, blushed, and fell silent.

“If you don’t tell me a story, I will assume that they are all completely hideous.”

“You are very improper,” retorted the Countess.

My lips were twisting into a smile and I couldn’t stop them.

Ilya noticed. “What about you? Will you tell me a story?”

“I will,” I replied, “But my story is not an Angari story, so it should offend men and elves equally.”

“Speak on.”

The Countess darted a worried glance at me.

I ignored her, “Eloi made the sea, and raised from its bed mountains and valleys, and filled it with forests that bent in the current. Then he raised some of the mountains higher, and formed from them the land, which he also filled with mountains and valleys and forests that bent in the breeze.

“Eloi made the nymphs, and gave to them the sea to guard. Then he made the elves and gave to them the land. The nymphs spread throughout the whole sea; some took the mountains, some the valleys, still others went to tend the streams and rivers on land that forever return to the sea.

“But the elves liked the forests best, and neglected the mountains and the open places, so Eloi made dwarves to tend the stone slopes and man to tend the earth.”

Ilya grunted critically, “This is a nymphish myth.”

I ignored him, too, “Each of the land peoples thought their duty was most important, and they sometimes fought about who was foremost in Serrifis. It was after one bloody battle between the peoples that the human prince, Benedek, went to a river to drink and wash the blood off his face. It had been a brutal conflict, and he was tired. He did not see the nymph weeping on the banks of the river until he was kneeling on the shore with his hands in the water. He was struck by her beauty, and even moreso by her sorrow, and he asked her why she was crying. ‘My river is filled with blood,’ she told him, and her sorrow was so great that it filled him with sorrow also. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘let me help you clean the river.’ He said this because he wanted to make her happy, not because he understood why she cared so much about the river. Yet, his words encouraged her, and she told him her name was Ayglara, and she was the princess of her people. While he helped her strain the blood from the river, he tried to explain what the battle had been about. She did not understand and while he was talking to her, Benedek did not understand either.

“Benedek found that he desired to live in peace, caring for both the open places and the river with Ayglara by his side. He loved the river because he loved Ayglara, and thought that perhaps he could learn to understand the other peoples if he had a little help. So, he prayed to Eloi and asked for another gift—the gift of Sight, so that he could see and understand the peoples and bring an end to the bloodshed.

“Eloi was so impressed with Benedek’s request and the honor in his heart that he granted the request. True to his word, Benedek used his gift to make peace between the peoples.  He made a home for his clan by Ayglara’s river. Eloi saw the peace between his children, and was pleased. As a reward for Benedek’s honor and wisdom with his gift, Eloi allowed Benedek’s gift to flow into mankind and spread to their children and grandchildren for the rest of time.” I finished, then added, “It was much more dramatic and beautiful when I heard it from a minstrel.”

“I thought this story was supposed to be equally offensive,” said Ilya mildly, “It favors mankind.”

“I could tell it again and make it a bloody tree and have Ayglara be an elf.” I just wouldn’t let my grandfather know I’d done it.

“Yes, that would be much better,” said Ilya, smiling. Brell would have fainted, I thought, if she had seen the way his face lit when he smiled.

“I don’t understand,” said the Countess, “You aren’t…bothered…you’re so…flippant.”

“Not what you pictured?”

“No.”

I thought she might be also be thinking he wasn’t like the elf she’d met in Gar Morwen during formal treaty negotiations. But here, on the moors, as a stranger, she was seeing a different version of the elf she was marrying.

Ilya paused before answering her, “Truthfully, I am not normally quite this light. But I’m on the way to my wedding and I’m about to end a blood feud myself. Not unlike Benedek. I think I’m allowed to be generous in my opinions for a few days.”

*

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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19-Dinner Guests

 

Druskin and Luza were on their feet in a heartbeat, weapons flashing in the firelight. I was slower, delayed by the consideration of whether or not it would be better to keep my skills a secret from whoever was approaching. I decided my appearance gave enough away, and stood with unhurried confidence, sliding a throwing knife into my hand.

“Peace,” said a voice from the darkness. “We mean you no harm.”

Quill twitched.

“Come ahead, and slowly,” growled Druskin, hefting his sword in a decidedly unfriendly fashion.

A man stepped into the orange glow; his hands spread before him to show they were empty. He was dressed in drab traveling clothes, and had black hair like the Wuhn, except trimmed short, like Quill’s. He was definitely not Wuhn. I darted a look at Quill whose face betrayed nothing. Especially when another figure stepped into the firelight. Tall, broad shouldered, umber skinned, with hair in tight braids close to his scalp revealing his pointed ears…an elf.

The Countess scrambled up behind me. “Lord Ilya Terr.”

The elf froze, cocking his head to look at the Countess. “You know me?” his voice was resonant, like the thrum of a musical instrument. I had never seen the Lord of Linden before and had to agree with Brell, he was well to look upon.

Druskin reached a hand back toward the Countess, as if to block sight of her. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, glaring at Ilya Terr.

“I am traveling to Gar Morwen for my wedding,” answered the Lord of Linden.

“Across Wuhn land?”

A wry smile twisted the elf’s lips, “Wuhn lies between Linden and Gar Morwen, if you recall. To go around adds weeks to the journey.”

The Countess laid a hand on Druskin’s elbow, he glanced back at her and made an attempt to relax his stance, but only managed to take up slightly less space than he was previously.

“You’re traveling alone?” asked the Countess, stepping around Druskin.

“No more alone than you are, my lady,” replied Ilya. I didn’t think he’d recognized her, but it was obvious that she was in charge. “My people are further north along the bluff. We saw your fire and came to see who camped near us. We have seen so few on the moors on our journey.”

A breath of silence filled the circle of firelight, and I imagined everyone was thinking the same thing I was: That it was an incredibly good thing the elves hadn’t run into anyone on the moors. There would certainly be no treaty if Ilya Terr was killed on the way to his wedding by vengeful Wuhn tribesmen.

“You’re welcome at our fire,” said the Countess, “If you wish,” she added hastily.

Druskin shot her a look. Quill sheathed his sword with an emphatic flick. Druskin got the point, and a heartbeat later sheathed his own weapon, nodding to Luza to do the same.

Ilya Terr watched them, then said, “My gratitude,” and bowed slightly. Then he whistled a few notes. A songbird’s call, I thought, though I hadn’t any idea which one. “Whose fire are we enjoying on this night?”

“I am—Adel,” the Countess replied, with only a slight hitch in her breath. “I am also traveling to Gar Morwen for the wedding. Come sit with us and share our food.”

I supposed the hunting party ruse would have never stood up to this encounter anyway. Druskin and Luza were stiff as five more figures leading horses emerged from the darkness behind Ilya Terr and his companion. Ilya’s companion gave orders to see to the horses, then he, Ilya, and two of the newcomers took the Countess’s invitation to sit.

Galo and I sat on either side of the Countess, Druskin sat beside Galo and Quill beside me. Ilya sat directly across the fire from the Countess, a female sat to his right, and a male to his left, and the man sat between the male and Quill. Ilya gestured to his companions in turn, “This is my sister, Aurel, my Second, Mihalak, and my friend, Rakov.”

Aurel was as beautiful as her brother, but more skeptical of their welcome. Mihalak was broader than Ilya, and carried an air of danger around him that reminded me of a wolf.

“You are welcome at my fire,” replied the Countess, formally. After everyone said thank you, no one said anything else. The sounds of tending the horses and the crackling of the fire started to feel deafening in the quiet as the Countess and Galo served up our rations to the company. The other elves soon joined us, and we ate. There were spurts of conversation about the weather, the stars, and the quality of the journey so far. Ilya was watching the Countess as if he was absolutely certain he knew her, but didn’t quite know why. She spoke as little as possible, having chosen not to tell him her full name but clearly having no idea how to function as anything but herself. The rest of us were saddled with her deceit, and disinclined to talk not knowing the extent of deception she desired. Plus, there was Rakov sitting on the other side of Quill in silence like a stranger. It was not a comfortable dinner. As soon as the food was finished, the Countess excused herself…except there was nowhere to go except a few feet further from the fire. She lay down in the bedroll without another glance at us. Galo gave me a look that simultaneously conveyed how tired she was and how irritated she was to have the elves with us, then went to lay down beside the Countess.

I scooted back from the light a little bit—enough to remove myself from any possible social obligation to talk to the people on the other side of the fire but not so far it would look strange if I spoke to Quill instead of retreating to my bedroll.

Quill leaned back to recline on his elbows, tipping his head back to look at the night sky.

“Why are we in Angareth?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t answer immediately.

“Why were you in the south?” I asked, not to be put off.

Quill’s eyes slid over to me, then over to Rakov, then back to me. “I think I’ll go check the horses.” He pushed off his elbows and got to his feet, walking into the darkness without a backward glance.

I chewed my lip for a long moment before realizing that there wasn’t anyone here whose rumors I needed to worry about. Standing, I nodded reassuringly to Druskin before walking into the night. I found Quill by Brimborren, his bay solidly taller than the rest of the horses. He was leaning on the bay’s shoulder, and turned to me when I walked up.

I stopped next to him and crossed my arms.

He took a deep breath. “Someone tried to hire the Breaker to kill the Countess.”

“You mean the assassin we’re trying to stop is the Breaker?”

“No!” Quill scoffed, “No, he didn’t take the job. But that’s why we’re in Angareth.”

“Because the Breaker suddenly decided to take an interest in the workings of the world?”

Quill chose not to answer that, but I could hear the tension in his voice as he continued, “When we found out about the wedding, we thought there might be a threat of equal weight against the Lord of Linden.”

“So Rakov went to Terrimbir and you went to Angareth?”

“Something like that.”

“How many more of you are on this expedition?”

“Ra’ed was, though obviously he’s not in this group. Since Rakov doesn’t look like death, I’m assuming he’s still alive somewhere.” Ra’ed was Rakov’s twin brother.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I specifically asked you where Rakov was!”

“You asked me who I was traveling with—I was traveling with Eliah and Jemin.”

I glared at him even though he couldn’t see me. I was certain he was glaring back. “You realize that even if we find who is trying to hire an assassin, they may have already hired someone just as skilled as the Breaker.”

“I’m aware of that, why do you think I brought you in?”

My irritation was dissipating in the face of a challenge, and I groaned, mourning its passing.

“That’s my notorious ghost,” a smile filled his voice.

“There are things I shouldn’t have to ask in order to know, Quill,” I retorted, “Facing the likes of the Breaker shouldn’t be a surprise if you’re pulling for me to win.”

“I have complete confidence in you,” he replied, “But fair enough.”

*

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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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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16-Knives at Night

 

We were already running when a sentry shouted the alarm. More torches followed the first and the carriage started to smoke and burn. I drew my knives and saw blades flashing in Quill’s hands as we charged—barefoot—back toward the camp. Men ran toward the burning carriage, themselves just silhouettes against the dying campfires.

“It’s a distraction!” I panted.

“Make sure Druskin has the Countess!” commanded Quill, “Then we hunt!”

I nodded, increasing speed as Quill peeled off to my right to circle around the outside of the camp. Shouting increased and one of the figures running past the fire dropped to the ground with a cry. Arrows from the darkness. Given the general lack of trees, our ambushers must have crawled in through the tall grasses, and driven off the horses so they couldn’t be pursued. Then they torched a carriage to turn all eyes there…I ignored everyone as I cleared the circle of carriages and ran across the flattened grass to the tents. Off duty guards were stumbling out of their bedrolls unarmored and with swords in their hands. They were drawn immediately toward the commotion at the burning carriage. No one paid me any mind. The flap to the Countess’s tent was loose and I hesitated only a second before diving in, knives out.

It was dark except for the brazier.

I crept forward; my bare feet soundless on the woven rugs. The Countess stirred in her nest of cushions; alive. Good. I scanned the shadows of the tent as I approached.

Nothing.

Shifting my knives into the same hand, I dropped to my knees beside her and touched her shoulder. “Grofnu,” I said, “Wake up.”

The Countess jolted, eyes flying open, and fixing on something over my shoulder.

I spun, to see a figure charging from the tent entrance sword raised. I just had time to shift my knives into both hands and rise to meet him. He’d expected no resistance and died in two strokes, his eyes were wide in shock as his sword fell from his grasp and he crumbled to the ground. The Countess shrieked. I pushed his body away from her bed, ignoring the slick of blood on my hands and clothes. Black hair and eyes, olive skin, and the square jaw of the Wuhn. I don’t know why I’d expected anything else. He wore leather armor, but it wasn’t anything special, and not the same quality or color as the Countess’s retinue. I glanced at the Countess, she was pale, clutching her nightgown around her throat, eyes fixed on the dead man. “Do you know him?” I asked.

She shook her head.

She looked like she was going to be sick.

I grabbed the bowl off the folding table and offered it to her. Her gaze shifted from the body to the bowl—only to fixate on the bloody trail my fingers left on the rim. She seized the bowl and turned away, retching. I rolled my lips together and tried to block out the sound. I’d seen enough death to be hardened…I would never understand why vomit was still a problem. Focusing on the shouting outside, I turned to face the entrance and wait for the next attacker. The Countess was still gasping when the tent flap flew open and Druskin burst in. He was shirtless, and the sword in his hand was bloodied. His eyes were wild as he saw the body, my blades, and then the Countess behind me—alive.

“Grofnu!” he cried, barely making it to her bedside before dropping to his knees. “Are you hurt, grofnu?” he almost reached for her, but his hands were nearly as dirty as mine.

“I’m fine,” she managed, voice croaking.

Galo ran in, her face white and clothes completely disheveled. “Grofnu!” she covered her mouth with one hand as she beheld all the blood, but she kept coming, clutching her jacket closed with the other hand. The Countess reached for her and she dropped onto the cushions, wrapping both arms around the Countess.

“Stay with her,” I ordered starting toward the tent flap, “I’m going hunting.”

Druskin looked up at me, a faint glitter in his eye at my tone, but he nodded. “Find them all,” his tone was the unyielding ice of winter.

*

There were more bodies at the tent entrance, evidently Druskin had arrived in time to keep me from fighting more. The one carriage was well and truly burning, and I could see other fights and casualties in its glow. I glimpsed the leanyodi emerging from our tent as I made for edge the camp, slipping outside the circle of carriages to where darkness awaited. I crouched, letting my eyes adjust and wiping Shiharr and Azzad on the grass.

Slowly, the hills resolved into a deeper black than the sky and I began to move forward, head cocked to listen. From the camp I could still here the roar of the fire, shouting, and the clash of steel as the guards dealt with the intruders.

It had only been a minute or two since the stream raised the alarm. The most efficient retreat would have to be over the bluff, where they could disappear from view on the other side far more quickly than if they first crossed the road. I slowed as I neared the top of the bluff, not wanting to a be silhouette against the night sky.

“Psst.”

The sound came from my right, and I turned, just making out the pale hair of Eliah.

“Eliah.”

“Quill’s already started down, we can hear horses,” answered the hunter. “The Countess?”

“With Druskin,” I answered.

“Good, let’s move.”

“So bossy.”

We moved quickly, crouching lower until we were crawling through the grass over the ridge and down the other side. We could just see the horses, heads high as they marked our approach. There was a figure moving among them. I stood up. “Quill, you didn’t leave any for us!”

The figure stopped, “There was only one, what was I supposed to do?”

I walked forward, Eliah coming behind me. “Did you kill him?”

“No,” Quill lifted a rope and waved it, “Help me tie him up and carry him back to camp.”

“Oh sure,” Eliah grumbled, “We get to help you carry things.”

I lingered with the horses while Eliah helped Quill tie up an unconscious man. I stroked the animals, making introductions and scratching under their manes while I looked over their tack. The gear was reasonably well made, but nothing special. Just like the armor.

“Zephra, are you going to play with the horses all night?” Quill said.

I paused my collecting of reins, “I’m the proud new owner of—I don’t know, twenty?—Angari horses. If you ask nicely maybe I’ll let you use one to carry your prisoner.”

“I don’t think they’ll let you keep them,” said Eliah.

“That didn’t sound particularly nice,” I replied.

“Don’t provoke her, Eliah,” grunted Quill. “Help me lift this man.”

*

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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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14-Sacrifices

I spent the rest of the day in the saddle, riding a few steps behind Druskin, rather than be trapped in box dragged by horses. Lunch had been mercifully short since we were trying to make it to Gar Morwen in four days. Brell, her legs tucked under her gracefully, had turned to Quill and said, “You must have wonderful stories in your line of work.”

To which Quill had replied, “I suppose,” and went back to eating as if he hadn’t noticed the barely veiled invitation to spin heroic yarns for a rapt audience of pretty women.

Too polite to openly pry, Brell had turned to Eliah. Eliah, whose glance at the guards betrayed where she would rather be, had obliged Brell with a hunting story so gruesome even Quill and I had to stop eating at parts. After that, Brell turned the conversation toward customs of the different clans.

Astride, I enjoyed the cool weather and the clouds that rolled across the skies. And the solitude. I wasn’t the only leanyodi to ride, but I was the only one to ride the entire afternoon. The horse was a tough, stocky icon of Angari breeding, and I knew he was fast and agile despite his short body and legs. I itched to take him into the moors and find out just what a nimble Angari horse could do…but I didn’t.

We stopped only once that afternoon, a brief halt at a crossroads that had Druskin leaving the Countess’s coach to see what was the holdup. We were moving again just a few minutes later, and Druskin had returned to his place without saying a word. The first few days of our journey would be on the moors of the Wuhn. When moors turned to hills, we’d be close to Gar Morwen. Then the hills would drop into lowlands and Gar Morwen would sprawl before us on the banks of the Juni River like a tea party in summer.

We stopped about an hour before sundown in a place where the land sprawled flat from the road and then rose in a little bluff that shielded the spot from wind and prying eyes. The grasses were beaten down, as if everyone who used this road stopped here. Squat trees lined a burbling stream at the edge of the bowl. As soon as the carriages were positioned in a circle around the bowl, the guards started taking the horses there to drink.

I turned my horse over to a guard with a pat, then quickly cleaned up at the stream. Patting myself dry before my stripes could bloom, I joined the leanyodi as they bustled around turning the tents into comfortable rooms. Quill was prowling the camp with Druskin, and Eliah was working with the guards as if she’d been born Angari. I helped lay thick woven rugs on the tent floors and set out the cushions for the Countess’s bed. We set a brazier in the center of the tent where a hole in the canopy would vent the smoke. A folding stool, a trunk of the clothes specific for the journey, a small table to hold a pitcher and bowl for washing, all materialized as if we’d be spending more than just one night here. By the time we were finished the sun had set and several fires burned in the circle.

We ate a dinner of dried meats, fruits and cheese. Everyone was tired after the day of travel, but one of the leanyodi produced an instrument with strings and a long neck and began to strum. The soft notes ventured into the night like a doe, gentle and wrapping themselves in the darkness rather than disrupting it. A moment later one of the guards appeared from the shadows carrying a woodwind of some sort. He sat beside her and played a haunting harmony to her melody. I leaned far enough back from the fire to watch the stars while I listened. The music made me think of being alone on the moors, with nothing but the stars and memories of people lost for company. Movement caught my eye and I noticed Galo walking to meet Druskin between our fire and the next. They exchanged a few words, I saw a smile touch Druskin’s lips, then they parted. Druskin coming toward us and Galo continuing on her way to the next fire where Hadella was laughing with a couple of the other leanyodi.

Druskin approached the Countess and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, the firelight glinting on the gold combs crowning her tower of hair, and I saw her lips form the words, “Thank you.” Druskin walked away and the Countess saw me watching. She smiled at me, “Guards are set, the moors are quiet.”

I tipped my head in acknowledgement and looked away. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the Countess take a breath and survey the camp, almost as if checking to see if each person was alright. Or to see if anyone was watching her. Perhaps both. Her hands were in her lap, and when she finished her sweep of the camp, she turned her eyes to the fire and just…hollowed out. It was an effort not to openly look at her when I noticed the glitter of a tear in her eye. I thought I knew the look. The music continued, weaving its soulful melody through the camp, underscored by the crackling of the fire and occasional chirp of insects’ hardy enough to brave the cool spring night. The tear slid down the Countess’s cheek and splashed into her hands. The splash seemed to startle her, her hands closed quickly and she returned to herself, but she gave no other indication that she’d wept. Her body didn’t flinch, she didn’t wipe her cheek, but tipped her face up slightly to encourage the breeze to dry it for her. The last notes of the woodwind faded and silence stretched through the whole camp as everyone took a breath and collected themselves.

Another song started, merrier than the first. Brell started to sing a ridiculous rhyme about a warrior trying to learn how to farm but using all the tools wrong. The others clapped in time with the music, even those from other fires, a few joining in on the chorus when it came around.

When the song ended the Countess rose and headed to her tent, I jumped up to go with her before anyone else could. The inside of the tent was warm and folded in gold shadows by the light from brazier, I secured the flap behind me. The Countess stopped before the brazier and held her arms out to the side for me to undress her. I joined her, undoing the buttons down the front of her coat and then slipping the traveling habit off her shoulders. If she was surprised that I was the one who had followed her, she didn’t show it.

“Do you often ride for an entire day?” she asked while I folded the coat and set it atop the trunk.

I nodded, “If I have somewhere to go, or someone to hunt, it isn’t uncommon to ride all day.” All day, every day, for weeks, sometimes.

“Before the tribes were united, the Wuhn warriors would ride like terrors across the moors day and night. If they weren’t going to battle, they were practicing for it. I haven’t had time to ride like that since I was small.”

I loosened the laces of her long, heavy, skirt and let it drop, then gave the Countess a hand out of it. “Do you miss it?”

She sat down on the folding stool, her thick undershirt and riding breeches a purple so deep it was nearly black in this light. I knelt to unlace her boots. “I do,” she admitted, “A little.” She wiggled her toes as soon as her feet were free. “Not enough to deal with days of soreness from riding when I’m no longer hardened to it.” Not right before arriving at Gar Morwen and dealing with days and days of dances, meetings and feasting culminating in her wedding. She stood up and started wiggling out of the breeches while I opened the trunk and pulled out a long night shift. “Nothing compares with the moors. On horseback or on foot. I love them. Even though I did more studying than riding growing up, since my father knew he’d be passing his title to me. Which turned out well, since he passed it on much sooner than he anticipated.”

I handed her the shift and she slipped it over her head. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, but the movement was a lie. “He got sick.”

I motioned her to sit on a little folding stool again so I could take down her hair.

She obliged. Changing the subject, she said, “Did you always want to be a mercenary?”

“No,” I carefully removed the decorative fanned combs crowning her hair and started hunting the pins that held her hair-tower. “I wanted to train my horse to walk on his hind legs.”

She laughed, “That’s all?”

“I wasn’t an ambitious child,” I replied. We fell quiet, and I searched for the right words to draw her out. For a part of me I could offer to comfort her. “When I was sixteen my family was driven from our home by raiders. We fled into the night and moved from place to place for two years before we found a place to put down roots again.”

“I’m sorry,” said the Countess, softly.

“It’s like home in many ways…but it isn’t the same. It isn’t the place where I was born. I still miss the scent of the air, the color of the sunset…” I trailed off, my fingers still busy pulling at pins. I let the longing show in my words…and my silence…it was real enough. And I knew the Countess could sense it washing out of me. I pictured the sea, the cliffs dotted with white where the albatross nested. I could hear their trilling cries and smell the salt on the cool breeze. “We did what we had to in order to survive. Became what we had to in order to survive. Most of the time I don’t mind it. But there are times when everything I left behind crowds in so close I can’t breathe.”

The Countess was sitting very, very still, her attention focused on me standing behind her.

I ran the fingers of one hand through her hair, shaking it loose and confirming I’d gotten all the pins. “Then I remind myself that the truth is that I’m free, I’m alive, and those are precious things I cannot squander.” I dumped my fistful of pins on the table and picked up the brush. “I think,” I said carefully, “that if I had been born on the moors, they would leave a gaping hole if I had to leave them.”

“Have you ever been in love?” she asked abruptly.

I stopped mid-stroke. That hadn’t been where I wanted the conversation to go. “Have you?” I countered.

“You first.”

I resumed brushing. “I don’t have time for love like that.”

She swiveled to look at me skeptically. “Too many people to hunt, gold to earn?”

“Far too many and too much,” I replied brightly.

“I don’t believe you.” She looked me over and I propped my hands on my hips, motioning for her to turn back around. She ignored me. “I don’t believe you,” she said again, looking into my eyes so intently that I looked away. Seers.

I flexed my fingers and deflected, “Do you have a lover who would kill to keep from sharing you with another?”

She snorted. Actually snorted. Well, then. “By Tirien’s golden hair, no. No…Though Adorjan has tried to be that. He might have real feelings, but I’ve never been sure if they were for me or my power,” her voice grew soft and she let me push her back around, “I don’t have time, either. Marriage is such a quagmire of politics that I was putting off dealing with it.” A sigh. “My uncle, the King, loves me…he loved my father enough to trust him with his sister. The Wuhn are one of the original tribes, and one of the most powerful. I could have my pick of lordlings, truly…but I knew I would have to pick very carefully. When he asked me to do this treaty for him, it seemed right.”

“I think you are very brave,” I said carefully. “It is no small thing to leave everything behind, even if you aren’t going far, and will come back sometimes. It won’t be the same as it was.”

She didn’t reply for a long moment while I brushed out her long, black hair. When she did speak, her voice was faint, “Thank you.”

*

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13-Leaving

 

The audiences went much as they had the day prior, except a bit hurried, as the guards were trying to get through everyone who’d come before the time for audiences was over at lunch. This time I recognized Hadella, sitting at a table off to the right with a couple scribes, feverishly writing while the scribes wrote down the names and towns of each person and their gift, or the details of their dispute if they had one. They rarely spoke to one-another, but occasionally I saw the flutter of a joke pass between the leanyod and the scribes. I watched Hadella drip deep red wax on letter after letter and press them with the signet ring of the Countess.

At lunch, we ate quickly, and Hadella barely at all before she left with the steward to go over preparations for the journey. I followed the Countess and the others to the Countess’s chambers. Her rooms were guarded by a beautiful dark wood door, and every inch of the walls inside were covered in tapestries. Her bed was canopied and curtained in red, and the fireplace stones were carved with little horses, hounds, and falcons. The legs of the chairs and couches were shaped like bird claws, and beautiful woven blankets were draped over every piece of furniture. Instead of a wardrobe in the corner, a door stood open to an enormous dressing room. Six large trunks, obviously out of place, sat in the center of the room, their gaping mouths open, and two of them already full.

The Countess sank into a chair while the leanyodi, Galo at the head, headed straight for the dressing room. I followed them. Galo went to the racks of clothes and started making selections, handing them off to the nearest leanyod who would carry the gown out and start the process of packing it into a trunk. I fell into the line behind Brell and helped shuttle dresses from Galo to Karolya, who’d taken over direction of carefully packing each voluminous gown into the trunks. The clothes were spectacular, layers of taffeta and silks from the south, brocade bodices, and collars made of feathers, fur, or boned silk. There were headdresses, too. Some small webs of lace, others enormous, framed with gold and topped with feathers. Galo handed me a boned bodice covered in red lace and exquisite bead work. I couldn’t help bending close to inspect the glittering swoops, which I realized were the graceful figures of leaping deer only after I’d admired them for a moment.

“This is her gown for the presentation after the wedding,” explained Galo, handing voluminous skirts to Brell, and then enormous circles of what looked like basket reeds strung together with ribbon.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, just to say something, as I tried to imagine moving in that much fabric. I followed Brell out to where Karolya waited to pack the red dress into one of the trunks. A green gown was next, deep as forest shade, and as sleek as the red dress was huge. It glittered with beadwork that evoked trees and leaves.

“The wedding gown,” whispered Brell as we walked back into the dressing room.

I caught the Countess staring at the green gown as it was laid carefully atop the red one. Alone with her leanyodi bustling around her, she’d let the mask of her office slip, and her face was hollow. She looked like a little girl, frightened and small facing a crowd of strangers.

I knew before Brell said, “It was a gift from Ilya Terr. Traditional elven wedding gown.”

*

My own clothing, which I’d brought with me to Wuhnravinwel, was waiting clean, dry, and folded in a tidy pile on the desk in my chambers when I returned after dinner. I ran my hands fondly over the simple fabrics before retrieving my saddlebags and carefully packing my shirts, breeches, and underthings inside. A trunk had also been left in my chambers, mostly packed already with the symbolic clothing of the leanyodi. It was work to weedle my saddle bags into place without scrunching the layers too badly. I noticed, to my relief, some plain clothes mixed in with the high collared coats with their matching trousers, and the vibrant dresses.

The clothes hanging in the wardrobe for tomorrow were in browns, a fine linen shirt, a jacket cut for riding, breeches and tall supple boots. Travel clothes. I went out again to visit with Quill and Eliah, none of us had anything significant to show for the day, and when I returned servants had collected the trunk. We’d be leaving first thing in the morning to make the weeklong journey to Gar Morwen.

I took the time for a long, luxurious bath, before retiring for the last night in Wuhnravinwel.

*

The Countess’s retinue commanded four full coaches, each loaded with baggage. The Countess and four leanyodi rode in one, six more leanyodi and a handful of choice servants and staff—including sunny old Pontikel—rode in the others. Druskin and his men rode before and behind, and extra riding horses were tethered behind each coach for those times when the Countess or anyone, really, desired to ride a horse instead.

I rode with the Countess, Brell, Galo, Hadella. Quill and Eliah were riding with Druskin’s men, and I wished I were riding with them. I had never been overly fond of riding in carriages. I didn’t like the feeling of being dragged along and unable to see where I was going. It was too much like being a prisoner. Brell spent the better part of the morning trying to teach a reluctant Hadella the basics of Terrim. The Countess stared out the coach window at the passing moors and said little. Galo was equally quiet, her eyes also on the window, though from her angle she’d mostly see Druskin’s back as he rode slightly ahead of the carriage. I spent most of the morning wondering how long was polite before I switched to riding a horse. The sun shone between billowing clouds that cast swift shadows over the land. It would be quite warm without the stiff breeze that swept almost unhindered over the rolling hills and wisped fresh air into the carriages.

Around noon, the caravan stopped to rest and I finally climbed out of the coach. My knives had been jostled and jammed into my back and I took my time trying to stretch the kinks out while servants, supervised by Hadella, spread blankets in the grass and set out food. We’d sidled the carriages just off the road in a flat, grassy area, so they wouldn’t impede anyone else who happened by. There was a stream not far, and some of the guards were busy unhitching the horses to bring them for a drink. I spotted Quill and Eliah helping the guards rub down the horses and stopped to watch from where I stood near the carriages.

“You investigators are so mysterious,” Brell stopped at my elbow.

I glanced at her, “How so?”

She shrugged and jerked her chin at Quill and Eliah, “You—whoever taught you Angari was very good. Her accent is definitely from Daiesen Bay, but his…his shifts like the currents of a river. He mostly wears Magadarian clothing, and it’s nice clothing, so well-tailored—he’s obviously successful and from Tirien knows where. And he’s so handsome.”

Perhaps Quill would be the one to break a heart this time. “We’re mercenaries, Brell,” I said quietly, putting a shushing hand on her elbow, “We go where the work is and stick with the people we can rely on.”

“Yes, I know. It sounds so wild and free. Very mysterious.” She tossed me a wicked grin. “Let’s go say hello.”

I balked, but Brell was already moving. I didn’t love the idea of following the pretty Brell over so she could flirt with Quill, but I found I liked being left behind even less so I fell into step beside her as she wound through men and horses.

Eliah saw us coming first and I saw her speak to Quill, who turned to face us. “Leanyodi,” he bowed.

“How’s the journey for you, Quilleran, Eliah?” asked Brell, inclining her head in acknowledgement.

“It’s a splendid day to ride,” replied Quill.

“Couldn’t have asked for better,” added Eliah.

They were both clearly puzzled by the visit. I didn’t roll my eyes, only because there were plenty of guards watering horses just feet away.

“Would you care to join us at our blanket for lunch?” Brell offered warmly.

“We would be honored,” Quill gave us both the same smile.

“Excellent,” Brell turned on her heel and went back the way we’d come.

I followed her, “That’s it?” I asked.

“And now they’re having lunch with us.” Brell winked at me. “It’s all about strategy. You don’t just march up to someone and ask for their life’s story. You’re an investigator, you should know that.”

*

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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?”

 

*

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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