Category: nymph

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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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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.”

*

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

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

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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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4-Breakfast

I arrived at Curry’s Catch at seven. The long building was a glorified shack sitting right on the dock, and it reeked of bait, fish, and fried food. I could hear voices and the occasional laugh inside. A handful of horses loitered at the hitching rail, and his bay, Brimborren, was among them. I noted a crossbow and sword nestled among the saddlebags. Dismounting, I flipped Hook’s reins over the rail, and gave both horses a scratch as they greeted one another. It’d been awhile.

I touched my knives, scanning the docks as I approached the open door. Ayglos was somewhere nearby, wandering the docks and keeping a weather eye. One could never be too careful when your invitation had come on a wanted poster. Even if—especially if—it was from an old friend.

As I stepped into the dim interior, my nose wrinkled as the scent of fried food and bait became overwhelming. I found him immediately; he was standing at a long counter to the right talking to the large woman behind it. And he was already looking at me, a smile teasing at his lips, as if he’d sensed my approach. Eloi, he looked good. His hair and skin had been burnished by weeks in the southern sun. He wore traveling clothes in mostly worn browns, tall boots coated with road dust, not a few knives tucked here and there. In the cool of the morning he wore a leather jerkin, but it hung open over his open collar shirt. He looked fresh off the road and fresh off success. I hadn’t seen him since he’d left on that job on the southern tip of the continent last fall, and my whole soul warmed to see Quilleran Rhydderick alive and well.

Quill stepped away from the counter carrying a platter. He jerked his chin for me to follow him to a spot removed from the other patrons. There were a goodly number of patrons—all of whom I’d glazed over entirely when I’d seen Quill. Bad form. I scanned the room quickly, they were hairy fishermen mostly, a few cattle hands mixed in, and they didn’t care at all about us. I strolled after Quill, turning my attention back to him, looking him over for injuries or anything out of place. He moved easily, strong and light on his feet.

He picked a spot where we could both keep an eye on the door. “You’re early,” he set the platter down and slid onto the bench.

I dropped onto the bench across from him and slapped the folded paper containing my likeness onto the table between us.

His smile broadened into a roguish grin, his eyes bright, “Did you like my note?”

I frowned at him, but it took an effort. “You’d better hope the servants didn’t see it; some people would turn their mothers in for less.”

“Please. You eat assassins for breakfast.” He picked up the paper and flicked it open, making a show of admiring my likeness. “I thought you’d appreciate seeing the latest price.”

I did, in fact. “Where did you get it?”

“At the border crossing between Magadar and the Empire.”

I smirked. Maybe hitting that caravan this past winter had been a little much, but it had been very satisfying. “Any for Ayglos?”

“No,” his grin quirked, “There was one with a description of a handsome dark-haired companion, but no picture. So vague as to be useless. Almost as if no one spent hours gazing at his face before giving a description.”

My eyes rolled. One mistake. One time. “Really? You, too?”

He folded the paper and slipped into a pocket inside his jerkin. “Have you had breakfast?”

I shook my head, turning my attention to the platter for the first time. Fried fish, biscuits and…some sort of white paste…it smelled good. Once I sorted the smell of the platter from all the other smells in the room. Quill handed me a fork. “Lucky for you, I knew you’d be early. I got enough for two. Though, Ayglos will have to fend for himself out there.”

I took the offered fork and twirled it through my fingers. “Why the note? Why not join us at the inn last night?”

“Ayglos was making a killing, you were reading.” He shrugged. Then, seeing my look, he added, “I felt my visit would make far too great an impression on the other guests. Word travels.”

I thought of the fancy merchants but decided to leave it for now and speared the fish with my fork. Internally, I blessed the food, adding a prayer for Eloi to preserve me from harm. Just in case. Eloi must’ve heard, because the first bite melted in my mouth just the way fish should, and I nearly moaned from pleasure. Inspired, I dipped my fork in the paste and tried it. Holy heaven. Butter and spices and a faint burn sizzled through my mouth. I smeared some paste on the fish and tried them together. Blessed harmony. I caught amusement in Quill’s eyes as I scraped extra paste onto another bite of fish. As if he’d drag me from the second most expensive inn in Tanglewood Springs to a dumpy fish shack for bad food. I arched a shoulder at him. Point.

We ate listening to the hum of fishermen discussing the morning’s catch, and our meal was mostly gone before I asked, “Why are you here, Quill?”

“Because I was told this place,” he waved his fork at the unremarkable shack surrounding us, “was the best breakfast in Tanglewood Springs.”

Very funny. “Why are you in Tanglewood Springs?”

“Looking for you.”

“Really?” I was surprised. “Why?”

Quill finished his half of the fish before replying. “I’ve got a job for you, if you want it.”

My brows went up. “What kind of job?”

“A job that requires a woman’s touch.”

I stared at him.

Quill set down his fork and stared back, one brow raised.

“What in Serrifis kind of job is that?”

His grin returned, slow and enthralling, “You’ll love it.”

“I’m less sure about that.”

“Three words,” he held up three fingers and ticked them down as he spoke, “Private. Hot. Baths.”

I leaned back. “You do know the way to a girl’s heart.” Also, how to find me in any city anywhere in the world. “How long?”

He considered. “By midsummer we will either be successful…or not.”

“Where?”

“Angareth.”

My brother and I had planned to spend the summer working our way southeast through Villaba toward the coastal city of Cartahayna, a glittering bed of silversmiths and tall ships. Angareth was southwest. Completely the other direction “What’s the job?”

“It involves twenty thousand gold, saving a woman’s life, and hopefully stopping a war before it starts.”

“That’s all?” my scoff was entirely ironic. I tapped the table as I considered. Or, pretended to consider. Fact was that I could never resist when Quill had a job. He had this gift for impossible things which I found utterly thrilling. “I’m interested,” I leaned forward, “Come to my suite and we’ll discuss the details over tea.”

*

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3-Notorious

It had not been easy to hack to head from the monster, but we managed. Only broke two knives in the process. It took long enough that our shirts dried and our nymph stripes, which bloomed blue across our bodies when in water, had faded enough for us to return without giving away our mixed heritage. I’d taken a few teeth from the beast, rinsed them off, and tucked them in a pocket as a memento.

We’d looped rope through the jaws and carried the head between us the long walk back to the main barns. It dripped and was disgusting. But the way the foreman recoiled and gaped was rewarding in its own way. He paid us what he promised and sent some of his hands to go fetch the rest of the carcass while we collected our horses and set off again.

Once we were a few miles down the road, Ayglos grinned at me and patted his saddlebag, “See, Zare? Easy money.”

I snorted. “You’re kidding, right? I nearly died of boredom out there.”

My brother laughed, the sun glinting in his short pale hair. It had been brown, once upon a time, but he bleached the color away. I preferred the brown, myself, but couldn’t deny that the white hair and tan skin were striking. Sometimes people asked him if he was Iltaran—his coloring now so like the nomads who lived where the snows never melted.

“I offered to have Rabanki sit with you.” On cue, the large black bird swooped down from trees lining the road and alighted on Ayglos’ shoulder.

I shook my head, leaning forward to stroke Hook’s neck. “No, thank you.”

Rabanki cocked a bright eye at me critically. Ravens were exceptional birds, so intelligent that they could learn languages, and some could speak with the tongues of men. They tended to be very loyal to their friends, and they loved—loved—anything that glittered. Rabanki had chosen Ayglos as a friend. He’d also taken particular interest in anything of mine that glittered.

My fingers strayed to the fine gold chain around my neck, confirming that the gold pendant hidden under my shirt was, in fact, still there. I continued, “If Rabanki sat with me I would have been robbed blind before that monster showed up.”

The raven tossed his head back and cawed a brassy laugh. The little hoarder.

“Then I would have had to fight the monster with just my bare hands—and that wouldn’t have been fair to the poor monster.”

“Point.” Ayglos laughed again, scratching Rabanki under his chin. After a moment Ayglos said, “I think we’ve earned a night in a proper inn, don’t you?”

“I think so,” my lips tipped up in a smile. A real bed sounded delightful. “Do you think we could find one with plumbing?”

It was Ayglos’ turn to snort. “Don’t get too carried away. This is Wimshell. They barely bother with buildings.”

It was only a slight exaggeration. Wimshell was just a few centuries removed from being nomadic. There weren’t many towns, and only the wealthiest had yet built anything as complex as indoor plumbing.  The sun was riding low in the sky as we rode through the wood stockade of Tanglewood Springs and lost ourselves in the dusty streets that wound between the three and four story wood buildings. There were plenty of people out at the end of the day, horse or oxen drawn wagons, women in long skirts carrying baskets, men in hats carrying bundles.

“Can we go to the inn the outfitter told you about?”

Ayglos groaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you about the Lake House. That’s probably the most expensive inn here.”

“So? It’s not like we stay in inns very often.” I tossed him grin.

“You want to spend everything all at once?”

“Yes, definitely.”

My brother rolled his eyes. “Insatiable taste for luxury.”

“It can be sated. With a big dinner and a big bath, a big bed,” I lifted my hands and ticked items on my fingers, reins dangling, “And a nice room with a big fireplace—”

Ayglos threw up his hands, Rood snorted. “How about we get all those things at the second-best inn?”

“I’ll take it.”

“And then tomorrow we need to find some new knives.”

“You have excellent ideas.”

*

When hiding nymph heritage, bathing in privacy was a high priority. As it turned out, there were only two inns with suitable bathing rooms in Tanglewood Springs, the Lake House and Prosperous Hall. They were the two finest and most expensive inns the little city had to offer. Far more expensive than they should have been, in my opinion. Yet, we were determined, so we booked at the slightly less expensive Prosperous Hall, under the name Fatty Bowbender. Ayglos had winked at the girl at the counter, his smile dazzling, “Boys in the company have a sense of humor. My real name is Heroic.” She’d blushed, laughed, and taken our money without asking which mercenary company we belonged to. Our suite had four rooms and two private baths—one of which was scandalously enormous. Servants had hand pumped the water from a mechanism in the room. It was definitely more convenient than hauling buckets, though rather less impressive than the plumbing in our grandfather’s palace under Daiesen Bay. But dinner had been excellent, and I couldn’t even begin to express how wonderful it was to have a lazy hot bath and be clean and in clean clothes. I had pulled out my one silk shirt and a clean set of supple breeches before sending an entire saddlebag of dirty laundry with the servants for cleaning. I even took some time to preen in front of the mirror while my stripes faded.

We spent the evening in the large parlor on the main floor. Ayglos played cards with a group of fancy merchants from the south while I sat by the fire with a book hiding most of my face while my knives glinted brazenly in the firelight. Ayglos plied the men with stories—most of them true—about our exploits. Even without knowing my true name, a female mercenary was rare and exciting. Especially if she were pretty, which I was. The other patrons were distracted enough by my presence that Ayglos won more hands than he should have, and we retired to our suite a hundred silver richer.

When we unlocked the door to our suite, a worn, folded piece of paper lay on the floor just inside. I bent and picked it up, flicking it open as I walked into the sitting area. The paper bore a sketch of a girl with dark eyes, a medium nose, lips that curved slightly up, and mane of dark curls. My face. Though, I was a few years older now. Beneath the sketch, printed in big, ugly letters, were the words: “WANTED; Dead or Alive, for Treason against the Empire, 5,000g.” I whistled, “That reward is madly huge. You could build a villa with that kind of money.” It was a much larger number than the first time I’d seen one of these three years ago. Instincts finally alarming, my head snapped up and I scanned the room. I didn’t see anyone or feel any eyes on me, but I loosened a dagger anyway.

Ayglos took the paper from my fingers and grunted critically before handing it back to me. “Still the same picture,” he said. I tossed him a sharp glance as he headed toward his bedchamber, waving a lazy hand at the notice in my hand. “So dramatic. I saw Curry’s Catch last time I was in town, it’s down by the lake shore. Though, I had thought he was on the far side of the world or some such.”

“What are you…” I cut myself off and looked at the notice again. Beneath the print, in handwriting I knew almost as well as my own, it read: “You look good notorious. Breakfast tomorrow, Curry’s Catch, eight.”

*

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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