Category: Story

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

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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.”

*

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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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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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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9-Handmaiden

The great hall of Wuhnravinwel had a vaulted ceiling and was filled with sunlight from tall slender windows that were flanked by heavy drapes. It filled the entire top level of the keep, and long trestle tables ran the circumference. Braziers marked out a path from the huge double doors. It was petition day, and a line of people waited outside the hall for their turn to walk the path to the Countess on the dais. There were some knights, lesser lords and handful of the household also in the room. Either there to watch or working quietly. Six leanyodi and a handful of men, including the Chief Advisor, Pontikel, who took the time to glare at me when we arrived, were close to hand.  We handmaidens all wore matching blue silk and thick kohl on our eyes with a streak of white painted across our cheekbones just beneath our eyes. The Countess’s white streak enveloped her eyes to symbolize the blindness of justice. Her face was not powered to oblivion today, but her lips were again painted dark and her gown was so dark it looked black until the sunlight hit it.

Though the Countess would rule Wuhnravinwel after the marriage, the schedule was packed as if her people never expected to see her again. This wasn’t true, as Ilya Terr of Linden lived only a few day’s ride away, and technically each retained rulership of their own holdings after the marriage. But half the people who entered the hall didn’t have a question or dispute for the Countess to settle, they just came to look at her and offer a gift. They brought whatever they had, and the gifts ranged from flowers or grain, to bolts of cloth or beads, to chickens or even cattle. Some of the people were solemn and funereal, others practically danced with happiness. The end to a blood feud was, I supposed, emotionally very complicated. The Wuhn were largely olive skinned, with black or brown hair, but I noted with some surprise that there were a few who had slightly darker skin and pointed ears that hinted at the blood of the Terrim elves. Had every Wuhn half-elf come to see the Countess off for her wedding?

Galo and I stood behind the Countess as she accepted her gifts and settled the occasional dispute. The other leanyodi inventoried and sent each gift off to appropriate parts of the fortress.  Very occasionally the Countess would speak to us or ask our opinion. But mostly, we watched. Pontikel sat beside the Countess, surprising me with his silence throughout most of the proceedings. When he did speak, he was predictably curt, but usually he had an insightful question. Druskin spent most of the morning standing to Galo’s right, taking breaks to prowl around the room and speak to the knights or others of the household.

Lunch was a surprisingly informal affair. Petitioners were shown out for a time, the doors to the hall were closed, and the household gathered at the long tables to eat. The Countess gestured for me to sit across from her, the other leanyodi settled like flocking birds all around us.

“What do you think of all this, Zephra?” asked the Countess, accepting a goblet from a servant.

“I think that your people are very fond of you, Grofnu. And some are frightened by this treaty,” I replied.

The Countess nodded gravely. “They are. We have been spilling blood over the springs for generations. No one knows what it will mean to share them.”

“I didn’t expect to see so many half-elven here.”

Servants settled platters of meat and steaming root vegetables and cabbage on the table. I breathed in the delicious aroma.

Before answering me, the Countess lifted her hands and prayed, “The blessing of Eloi and his servant Tirien, our protector, rest on the food from this land.”

We began to eat. After a moment the Countess said, “There aren’t many. I believe all of them have visited Wuhnravinwel since news of the treaty.”

I supposed it made sense. Elves didn’t live underwater, so they had much more opportunity to mingle with mankind. Most nymphs didn’t live entirely underwater, either, but they didn’t have large kingdoms on land. When I was a child, every one of the cities around Daiesen Bay had nymphs and half-nymphs among its subjects. Elsewhere on land, nymphs had mostly small holdings, hidden enclaves, hard to get-to places…the kingdom Under Daiesen was the largest I knew of, and…well…it was under Daiesen Bay. I studied the Countess, once I might have been in her place. I was surprised at how foreign the idea felt now. Even my sister, who had once been engaged to a prince, before our lives were upended, had married for love in the years since. I ate for a moment, trying to decide how impertinent I could be on my first day.

“I can see the question, Zephra,” said the Countess. “Ask.”

I glanced up at her sharply. It wasn’t that she knew I had questions, she was looking at me, and I felt seen. My own gift of seeing was so small as to be inconsequential most of the time, but the Countess had a stronger gift. Nymphs knew water, elves knew trees, and mankind knew things they should not. I set down my fork. “What is your opinion of the treaty and the marriage?”

“I believe it is a good thing,” replied the Countess without hesitation. “I am tired of shedding blood over water and agree with my King that peace will come through shared blood and shared water.”

“Have you met the Lord of Linden?”

She smiled, her teeth bright white against her dark lips. “I met Lord Ilya Terr during the treaty negotiations.”

One of the leanyodi, Brell, broke in with a grudging tone, “The Lord of Linden is well to look upon, at least.”

Several of the others smiled, but Galo shot Brell a silencing look.

“He carried himself well,” said the Countess, “I think he is good.”

I glanced at the other leanyodi. “I want you to know that I appreciate the honor it is to serve you in this manner, even for a short time.”

“This peace is of the utmost importance,” replied the Countess. She looked at Galo, “To that end, I have asked Galo to show you the letters that were waiting for me when I returned to Wuhnravinwel after the treaty was signed. You will go after the audiences for the day.”

“Very well,” I bowed my head. “I also needed to speak with you about a good time and place, both here and at Gar Morwen where I can meet with Quilleran every day without arousing suspicion. I thought, perhaps, I could be sent to the library every evening?”

“The library?” laughed the Countess, “Every day? I’ll be planning a wedding, not a war.”

“But,” put in Galo, “She doesn’t need to be doing research for you, my lady. She will want to meet as openly as possible with Quilleran to make them less interesting to everyone. Could she be teaching him a language, perhaps?”

“Maybe…” I frowned. “I am not fluent in Terrim.” Since he obviously did not need lessons in Angari.

“Teach him about our customs and genealogies, then,” said the Countess, “Or pretend to,” she added when she saw skepticism in my eyes.

“That would work,” agreed Galo. “The library has histories for each tribe, you will not run out.”

“Then it’s settled,” the Countess lifted her glass, and just like that the conversation was over.

 

*

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

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7-Proper Greetings

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rat,” quipped Eliah.

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

Eliah gave an indignant snort. “I did!”

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

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

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

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

“Hot,” said Eliah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ayglos and Jemin both grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

*

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

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5-The Gig

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He is.”

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

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

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

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

“However did you manage that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you often need defending from crabapples?”

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

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

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

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

“Verbally.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

 

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

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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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