Tag: Zare

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37-Bad Dreams

In my dream, my knife was just out of reach. She was standing in front of me, black robes and hair, her red lips smiling as she lifted a single finger and with it pushed my entire city off my beautiful white cliffs into the surging water below. I could do nothing to stop her. I could only watch the stones fall and feel the deaths of my people. I strained for my knife, panting. If not salvation, revenge. But every time my finger brushed the hilt, the knife turned to smoke. The city materialized on the cliff top again, and she looked at me, taunting. She was going to do it again. She was going to destroy my home again. I felt betrayed. As if she had violated some pact between us with her actions. I gasped, in an effort I willed my knife into my hand and lunged.

*

My heart hammered as I stared into the darkness of the Countess’s chamber. Azzad glinted in the moonlight, the tip trembling. I was trembling. I lowered Azzad to the coverlet, sucking in deep breaths and letting them out again deliberately as I tried to regain control. I’d dreamed of Narya Magnifique, Empress of Daiesen, the Nether Queen, many, many times. But I had never awoken with a deep sense of betrayal. My skin crawled. I scanned the room. It was empty. My heartrate slowed finally, but I didn’t put away my knife. Pushing up on my knees I moved to the foot of the bed to check on the Countess. She was breathing evenly; in the dim light I couldn’t see any wounds. Gingerly I felt around the covers for any sign of blood. I found none, and startled back when she shifted and sighed. I waited, heart racing again, but she didn’t wake. I crawled back to the head of the bed and slipped under the covers, returning Azzad to her resting place under the pillow. I didn’t sleep.

*

Lunch the following day was a party on the royal barge in the river. It was a fine day of unabashed sunshine and big soft clouds rolling through a blue sky. The barge was enormous, garlanded with heather and flowers, bursting with people wearing vibrant colors and ornate headdresses, both men and women. I guessed it was all the same people as that first banquet, including the foreign guests. The Countess and her retinue were in light purple, our collars were made of white feathers and the Countess was wearing an enormous beaded headdress that flashed and glittered in the warm sun. We each had feather crowns and I’d had to work hard not to laugh at them. There were more bare shoulders than I’d yet seen in Angareth, spring in the valley much further along than spring on the moors. On the banks of the river, the people of Gar Morwen had gathered in a street festival of sorts. There were venders and flower garlands and people picnicking where they could see the barge drift past and catch the music of the royal musicians. Other folk were out on the water, some working, some clearly out to gawk. I noticed people in the water, too, and thought there was a blue cast to their skin. Nymphs.

I was on the upper level of the barge, my hands resting lightly on the railing as I watched people milling about below. Rabanki had been in my rooms when I’d returned to them this morning. The bird was trying to get into the wardrobe, I had thrown a shoe at him. I’d missed—on purpose—but Rabanki was so indignant that he almost didn’t give me Ayglos’s note. I didn’t feel bad, though. There was evidence he’d rifled through the vials of tonic and soap in the bathing room before I’d arrived, and who knows what he would’ve taken from the wardrobe if he’d gotten it open. Fingering my gold pendant, I turned my eyes to the buildings on the western bank. I could see the bell tower of a church dedicated to Tirien slowly edging toward us. Ayglos’s note, short and sardonic, had indicated that’s where he’d be. The tower commanded a sweeping view of the curve of the river, and an archer like Eliah would be tremendously dangerous in a perch like that. So, Ayglos would guard it. Just because the Scythe preferred knives didn’t mean he’d use them. If it was the Scythe we were dealing with.

Brell appeared at my elbow. “Zephra, look down and to the left, you can see the entire delegation from here.”

I didn’t need to ask which delegation. Brell was far to canny to point, but I followed her gaze to the group standing on the starboard side of the barge. Now that I knew he was here; I didn’t have any difficulty picking Bel Valredes out from the group. There were five others, two women and four men.

“Which one knew you?” asked Brell.

“The one closest to the vase—brown hair, brown eyes—Lord Belledi Valredes, if you got his name.”

“I did,” Brell made an appreciative noise. “I will happily keep him distracted from you if he wanders too close,” she smiled at me.

I restrained the urge to tell her to be careful. She didn’t strike me as stupid, and it was very likely Bel posed no danger to her.

“How’s the investigation?” she asked.

“Well, we haven’t caught anyone yet.” I wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep, my dreams were getting worse, and I was mostly relying on the other members of our team to track down money trails and rumors in the city.  

Brell gave my hand a reassuring pat. “You will. You have to.”

*

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If you like Zare’s adventures, don’t forget to like, comment, and share! Also, consider supporting on Patreon for as little as $1/month.

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36-Libraries

I slept lightly, my dreams troubled by the flash of a falling knife blow, and woke when the first rays of sun snuck in between the drapes. I had two kinds of dreams: the ones driven by my own fears and memories, and the ones driven by the gifting in the human half of my bloodline. Sometimes I couldn’t tell the difference.

The Countess was sound asleep, despite having her head at the wrong end of the bed. I had time to slip out of bed and take myself and my knives to the couch where the morning leanyodi would expect to find me. They bustled in a short time later, and I removed to my own room to get dressed. I found that I was grateful for the extravagant makeup of the Angari. That, and the scores of other leanyodi for the various important ladies who also wandered the palace, gave me a measure of confidence that I could walk the halls without being recognized. No matter who was in the delegation from the Empire.

*

The library at the Palace of Domes was lovely. Tall dark wood shelves stuffed with gilded volumes spread from a field of long tables like the petals on a flower. There were stained glass windows along one wall, set high, but the sun was long gone, leaving the glass drained of color. Glass lamps were mounted throughout at intervals, giving the room a soft orange glow. There were only a few people around, most of them dressed in the robes of the librarians. I found a secluded set of tables deeper in and found the genealogies I was supposed to be showing Quill all along a back wall. It felt like ages since we’d set up this little ruse. Back when I’d meant it whenever I told Druskin I wasn’t a bodyguard. Now I felt anxious leaving the Countess out of reach, even if I had left her at a private dinner with the Queen.

I grabbed a few genealogies, red leather volumes, and spread them on a table, and then sat down to wait. I closed my eyes and listened to the library. The flickering of the lamps. The deep silence of the books. The occasional shuffle or sniff of the others elsewhere in the room. I neglected my human gifts; hadn’t known I’d possessed any for a long time. It’d taken two separate incidents for me to really believe I’d inherited some of my father’s gifts. First, a voice had roused me from a drugged sleep so I could escape. I’d never heard a voice since, but years later I’d dreamed so clearly the Hunter sneaking into my room at the inn that I’d awoken and thrown a knife. The Hunter died before even making my bedside.

Sometimes…if I were very quiet…I thought I could feel the souls around me. Though here, with the Juni River just a few walls away, it was difficult to feel anything but her. I sighed though my nose and closed her out, focusing on the breathing of the others in the library. They were quiet, focused on their studies. There were no swirling storms of emotion, though I could feel some gentling churning—like a spoon in a thick stew.

Hearing the faint click of the library door, I slipped my hand into my sleeve and loosened a knife. But I recognized the soul that walked in.

It didn’t take Quill long to find me. He slid into the seat across from me and gave me a small smile. “Leanyod Ruddybrook.”

“Quilleran.”

“When the Countess suggested understanding genealogies might be key to this case, I didn’t expect her to choose so pleasant a tutor.”

I choked back a snort, and pushed one of the books toward him. “I’ve barely slept and spent the better part of the day listening to wedding plans and court gossip. Right now, I wish the Countess had decided knife fighting was essential to solving the mystery.”

The smile shifted into a smirk. “I wouldn’t mind a fight myself. I spent half the day in meetings, and half sneaking—but was able to get away to meet with the others for a few hours.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Balint was the Ambassador here when the treaty was negotiated, but the shadows haven’t turned up anything incriminating yet on him. Though, rumor has it the assassin we’ll be dealing with is the Scythe.”

Damn. I leaned back. “I’ve heard of him.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve met him or know what he looks like?”

“Please. If they get that close to me, they don’t survive.”

A wry smile tipped his lips, “I thought perhaps, socially.”

“We may be outlaws, but I don’t usually make friends with assassins.” Not after Tadrow Grea kicked off my career as a mercenary. Ayglos was the face of our little operation except when we deliberately wanted to flash my name.

“Do you know anything about his style?” Quill opened the book in front of him and pretended to read.

I followed suit. “He’s not a poisoner, at least. More of a knife in the dark type.”

Quill nodded. “I suppose that’s good news. I don’t know that the Countess would submit to someone tasting all her food before she eats.”

“Some poisons kill slowly, so that’s not necessarily enough anyway,” I replied.

“Did you stumble on anything interesting amongst wedding things?” he turned a page.

“Nothing of consequence, many of the internal feuds we knew of already or are too far from the Countess to be relevant. You’ll be glad to know that we’ve resolved the issue of the Yagyar and the Mansi both wanting to occupy the fourth row during the ceremony.” I saw amusement flicker across Quill’s face. “Hadella—she’s the leanyodi who is essentially the steward of Wuhnravinwel—is far more involved in the wedding planning than I expected. I knew she ran things at Wuhnravinwel, but apparently, she’s been the Countess’s right hand for most things relating to the wedding. Which, must make her very grumpy because the girls tell me Hadella hates that the Countess is marrying Ilya Terr.” I sighed. “You know, Quill, bodyguarding isn’t really my line of work.”

Quill looked at me sharply. “I never asked you to bodyguard.”

“Druskin has all but begged.”

Quill’s expression said he didn’t care if Druskin begged on his knees.

I arched a brow. “If she dies, it doesn’t matter if we find out who hired the assassin.”

“That’s not true,” he replied, “Though it would make things significantly harder.”

“She and Ilya have a real chance,” I said, “They have a real chance of changing the relationship between Angareth and Terrimbir. Building a strong alliance.” Against the Empire, I didn’t need to add. “A real chance at love, even.”

I didn’t know how to read the look Quill gave me. After a moment he said, “Can you fit armor under those clothes?”

“Are you that worried?”

“If you’re throwing your body over hers, I’d prefer armor on your body.”

I tipped my head. I don’t know what came over me, but I said, “That’s what you’d prefer on my body?”

A spark entered his eyes. “I prefer stripes.”

“If the Scythe is Angari that might distract him enough to miss,” I quipped, ignoring the way my heart started racing.

He let his gaze sweep over me, as if the table wasn’t between us to block his view, “He wouldn’t have to be Angari.”

My skin was hot, but I gave him a slow half smile. “I’m sure the Countess won’t mind if I change my uniform.”

“Good,” said Quill, returning to the genealogy in front of him. “That’s settled, then.”

I turned the page in the book in front of me, not really seeing any of the names. The flirtation was definitely different on this job. And I was having such a hard time remembering why it was a bad idea.

*

Thank you to my lovely readers!

You keep me writing!

If you like Zare’s adventures, don’t forget to like, comment, and share! Also, consider supporting on Patreon for as little as $1/month.

Patrons, don’t forget to check out Zare’s Patreon for chapter format, maps, first looks, and other cool extras.

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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.”

*

Thank you to my lovely readers!

You keep me writing!

If you like Zare’s adventures, don’t forget to like, comment, and share! Also, consider supporting on Patreon for as little as $1/month.

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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.

*

Thank you to my lovely readers!

You keep me writing!

If you like Zare’s adventures, don’t forget to like, comment, and share! Also, consider supporting on Patreon for as little as $1/month.

Patrons, don’t forget to check out Zare’s Patreon for chapter format, maps, first looks, and other cool extras.

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18-over the moors

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They are. Conviction is a mortal foe.”

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

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

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

Eliah touched two fingers to her heart.

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

“Zephra,” acknowledged the Countess.

“Are we ready to go?” I asked.

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

“Lieutenant,” I curtsied very slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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17-Change of Plans

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who sent you?” asked the Countess.

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

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

“You whore us to our enemies!”

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

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

The man’s lip curled. “Coward.”

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I sighed. “I’ll get my knives.”

*

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

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

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

Everyone nodded.

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

“And without time?”

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

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

“And lost soundly,” put in Druskin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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16-Knives at Night

 

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

“It’s a distraction!” I panted.

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

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

It was dark except for the brazier.

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

Nothing.

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

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

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

She shook her head.

She looked like she was going to be sick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

“Psst.”

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

“Eliah.”

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

“With Druskin,” I answered.

“Good, let’s move.”

“So bossy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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14-Sacrifices

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She laughed, “That’s all?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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13-Leaving

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

I glanced at her, “How so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I followed her, “That’s it?” I asked.

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

*

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12-Tribute

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning,” I replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

*

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

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