A knock at the door surprised me. I opened it, expecting Livia, but instead Garth stood in front of me. He smiled. “I’m just going to the hot pool, but I wanted to talk to you first.” He closed the door. “I’ve been paying you too much attention, Casyn tells me.”
I flushed. “Livia said as much to me at the pool.”
“I thought I was being careful. If I’ve embarrassed you, forgive me.”
“I’d rather be embarrassed, here, than for you to have problems with other officers, later.”
“In Leste, men are gentle with women in public, putting their needs first. I had forgotten how different it was, outside of Festival, in the Empire.” He stroked my hair. “I suppose I need to learn again.”
I leaned into his hand briefly. “Livia also gave us leave to sleep where we choose tonight as long as Casyn is not offended.”
“Do you want me with you?” Garth asked, smiling.
“Yes,” I said. “This first night, in a strange place, who knows what my dreams will be?”
He bent forward to kiss me lightly. “I’ll speak with Casyn.” He turned to go.
“Garth,” I said. “Maya was here. She went south with a woman from Berge.”
He turned again, his face alight, and stepped forward to hug me. “Good.” He released me, smiling. “We’ll find her, Lena. I promise.”
We ate lamb stew and fresh bread for supper in the common room, with more cider. Afterwards, Keavy brought us a bowl of apples. I ate one, then took a second and walked, with Casyn and Garth, out to the stables to see the horses.
They stood in loose boxes, with a good bed of straw. I fed Clio her apple. Someone had curried her, and she had a rack of hay and a bucket of water in her stall. Four horses, other than ours, all in good condition, shared the stable. “Are these the horses kept for the post riders?” I asked Casyn.
“For the Empire,” he said, “yes. If Siannon were to become lame, I could leave him and take one of these four. Mari would keep Siannon until I could claim him or send someone for him.”
“And if it were Clio who was lame?”
He shook his head. “You could, perhaps, make a private arrangement with Livia. They have a few hill ponies of their own. These horses are the Empire’s, and Keavy and Livia are paid well to house them and keep them in condition for the Empire’s soldiers.”
“But you pay for Siannon’s feed and stall?” I asked, trying to sort this out.
“No, nor for my own room and board. The same is true for Garth, now he is attached to Skua. If I wanted, say, boar and mushrooms seethed in wine for dinner, then yes, I would pay for that, as it isn’t the usual fare. If I am content to eat what Keavy puts in front of me, and drink the wine she offers, I pay nothing.”
“But I do,” I said. “How much?” He told me, and I thought about the coins I carried. I could travel for a long time.
I yawned, tired from the long ride and the good meal. “Bedtime,” I said.
Casyn fed Siannon the last piece of apple. “Keavy distils a brandy from their apples that is worthy of a glass,” he said to Garth. “Will you join me?”
We walked back across the cobbled courtyard to the inn. Stars gleamed above us. I said goodnight to the men and walked up the stairs. I stopped at the top, disoriented. Left or right? I pictured Livia leading me up here earlier, and turned left.
In my room, I studied the window. I wanted to open it to the night breeze, but I couldn’t see how it worked. I pulled at it. Nothing happened. Frustrated, I pushed against the frame, and it moved slightly. I took a step back to examine the window again. Thin cords ran upward from the lower frame. I pushed up, and the lower window rose smoothly.
I undressed, leaving my clothes on the floor, slipping under the covers. The mattress, stuffed with straw, made small rustling sounds as I moved. My hips and lower back ached, even after the baths. The sheets and pillowcase smelled of lavender. I fell asleep to the chirp of crickets and the murmur of voices from the room below.
I woke to Garth moaning in the throes of a nightmare, tossing his head on the pillow. I began rubbing his shoulder. “Garth,” I whispered, “wake up.” His restless movements calmed a bit. “Wake up,” I repeated. He rolled towards me, opening his eyes. “You were dreaming.” When he moved closer. I could smell the sharp sweat of fear on him. “The same dream again?”
“I don’t remember all the images, but I was trapped somewhere again, tied up, I think, and I couldn’t escape. I was so frightened and confused. I wish these dreams would stop.”
I massaged his back. “They will,” I murmured. Gradually, his breathing slowed and his muscles relaxed. His hands began to move gently on my skin. I slid my hands along his back to his hips and raised my mouth to his, offering and taking what I could against the memories and the night.
Chapter Fifteen
I woke at dawn. Outside, a cock crowed. Smells of fresh bread and frying sausages rose from the kitchen. Garth had gone. I got out of bed to wash at the basin before dressing again in my riding clothes. I packed my other clothes into the saddlebag.
Downstairs, Casyn stood, writing a note at the common room table. I put my saddlebags by the hall that led to the courtyard and went into the kitchen. Livia cooked sausages at the stove.
“Sleep well?” she asked.
“Thanks, yes.”
She handed me a mug of anash tea. “There’s honey on the table.” She gestured with her head, her hands busy turning the sausages.
Casyn finished his writing and sealed the note with wax. I spooned honey into the tea, stirring it.
Garth came in from the courtyard. “It’ll be sunny today,” he said, “but not warmer.”
Livia brought in bread and sausages and a bowl of scrambled eggs. After we ate our breakfast, I paid her.
“I hope you find your Maya,” she said, smiling. “Good luck on the road.”
In the courtyard, Mari had the horses ready. I slung my saddlebags behind the saddle and mounted. Livia brought her son out to wave goodbye to us. We clattered out through the archway, and onto the road.
For the next three days, we rode south through an unchanging landscape. The riding itself became easier as we and our horses became conditioned to the saddle and the long hours. On flat stretches, we could trot or sometimes canter. At about noon each day, we stopped to build a fire and eat. I brewed my anash then, drinking it bitter, without honey.
In the late afternoon each day, we came to an inn. They all seemed much the same. None had baths. I ate with the men, but slept alone, usually on a different floor. Each innkeeper remembered Maya, and Alis of Berge, but none could tell me where they had gone. “South,” they all said.
On the third day, we woke to heavy skies and a cold wind from the west. “Rain,” Casyn said. An hour later, it started. The cold, stinging rain blew into our faces and across the open road. We pulled our hats down, tugged our collars up, riding into it. Clio dropped her head, and I let the reins lie loose on her neck. Water dripped off her mane, running down my coat to soak my legs.
In the early afternoon, we stopped in the shelter of some evergreens. The rain had not subsided, but the trees cut the wind. Casyn pulled a cloth bag of oats from his leather saddlebag. “Put the horses’ head collars on,” he said to me, “and then share this among them.”
“We’ll never get a fire lit,” I said, unbuckling Tasque’s bridle, my fingers clumsy with cold.
“Probably not,” Casyn said. He sounded unconcerned. “Are you cold, either of you?”
I tossed Garth the end of the tether rope. He tied it around a branch. I poured a third of the oats onto the wet ground. Tasque bent his head, lipped the grain, and began to eat. “I’m fine out of the wind,” I said. My felted wool trousers were soaked, but the leather coat and hat and my riding boots had kept me mostly dry. We finished feeding the horses.
Casyn gave me cheese and dried apple. “No point in trying to eat bread in the rain,” he said.
We ate standing, half under the bra
nches. Garth took a small flask from his pocket. “I bought some brandy from Keavy the first night. I think we could all use a mouthful.” The brandy, resinous on my tongue, warmed my stomach and made my fingers tingle.
The rain fell all afternoon though the wind dropped. The horses plodded along the road, their hooves making small splashes with each step. Water ran along the stone channels at the edge of the road and stood in puddles in every dip of land. A buzzard sat miserably on a dead tree, its feathers striped by rain. By mid-afternoon, I began to shiver, and my teeth started to chatter.
“Dismount and walk,” Casyn directed me, “until you are warm again.”
I gave Clio the command to stop and swung off the saddle, my legs not wanting to obey me. Garth and Casyn dismounted as well. We began to walk. This is what Maya did, I reminded myself, feeling the stone through the soles of my riding boots. Rain dripped off my hat. Casyn set a brisk pace. Warmth soon spread, first under my coat, and then to my thighs, and finally to my feet and hands.
After about half an hour we remounted. At dusk, we came to the inn. We had walked for short stretches twice more, and Garth had given us another sip of brandy about an hour earlier, but now cold pervaded my body. Clio’s dun coat looked almost black with water. We rode into the courtyard and dismounted, I leaned against the mare.
Casyn glanced over at me. “Go in. I want to look at Siannon’s feet. I thought he was favouring his off hind this last while. Garth, find us a stable hand.” The stable was connected to the inn by a roofed porch that ran the length of both buildings, widening at the stable to create a sheltered area for saddling and unsaddling. When we led the horses under the roof, their heads rose at the smell of grain. Tasque blew out a long breath, shaking himself like a dog.
Garth and I walked toward the inn door. “I can’t remember ever being this cold,” I said, wrapping my arms around me. I could not control the shivering.
“Get your coat and boots off and find the fire,” Garth said. “Do you want more brandy?” I shook my head. Under the overhanging eaves we took off our hats and coats, my fingers clumsy on the buttons. Just inside the door were pegs and a brick floor with a drain. One leather coat hung there, dry. We hung our dripping coats beside it, leaving room for Casyn’s, and went into the common room.
A man, middle-aged and bearded, wearing the dun-coloured travelling clothes of the Empire, sat by the fire studying a map. He looked up as we came in. Garth saluted. “Watch-Commander Garth, of Skua, sir.”
The officer stood to return the salute. “Bren. Major of the Tenth. Come in by the fire. It’s a wicked day for travel.”
“Lena, of Tirvan,” I said. I thought I saw a flicker of reaction, quickly controlled. We walked closer to the fire and its warmth.
As we came closer, Bren studied Garth’s face. His hand found his belt knife. A muscle flicked in Garth’s jaw as he endured the man’s scrutiny. “I know that face,” Bren finally said. “Son of Mar, of the Seventh?”
“I serve with Dern, on Skua, now.”
“You deserted,” Bren said coldly. “How can you claim you serve anywhere?” Garth said nothing. His papers, I knew, wrapped in oiled cloth, lay deep inside his saddlebags. “Answer me, man.”
“We travel with Casyn. He is outside with the horses.” I said, my voice wavering. “He will tell you.” My voice sounded too high, too uncertain.
“Casyn?”
“Peace, Bren,” Casyn said calmly from the door. He walked across the room to clap Bren companionably on the arm. “Garth has served the Empire honourably and well these past three years, providing us with information from Leste. He carries a letter of leave from his captain, and a pardon signed by me on the Emperor’s behalf. Much of our most valuable information came from this man.” Garth flushed at Casyn’s words, but I could see him relax, almost imperceptibly
“So, he’s one of yours, General,” Bren said. He turned to Garth, hands out, palms up, in front of him. “My apologies, Watch-Commander. I should have realized, when you said you served with Dern. Casyn and Dern between them recruited the spies.” He extended his right hand to grasp Garth’s upper forearm. “Well done, soldier.”
Garth nodded, grasping Bren’s arm to return the formal greeting. “Thank you, sir,” he managed.
The innkeeper came in with a tray of mugs. “Broth with wine,” she said.” She looked at me with a critical eye. I had sunk down onto a bench. “You’re shivering,” she said. “Sit by the fire and drink this. When you’re done, I’ll show you to your room, so you can change. Bring me back your wet clothes, and I’ll dry them by the kitchen fire.” The pottery mug was warm in my hands, and the broth smelled wonderful. I took a sip, then a larger swallow, feeling the heat coursing into my body. I drank it down as the fire warmed my legs.
The men spoke of war. I felt superfluous, and wet. When I finished my broth, I took the mug to the kitchen. The innkeeper stood at the sink, washing a pot. She looked up.
“Ready? I’m Aasta, by the way.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Follow me.” She took me down a hall and up a flight of stairs to the women’s bedrooms. The room, floored in wide planks, had a chair and table as well as the bed and washstand. A mug stood on the table, and a canister of tea. “I’ll send Sari with some hot water, and she can bring back your wet things. Do you want the fire lit? This room’s above the kitchen, so it’s always warm.”
I shook my head. “No, thank you. I’m warming up. The broth was wonderful.” Aasta smiled, and with a nod of her head, left, closing the door behind her. I sat down to pull off my boots. I had just stripped off my damp socks when I heard a knock at the door. A girl of about twelve came in, carrying a pitcher of hot water.
“Hello,” she said, a little shyly. “I’m Sari.” She had long brown hair, braided back off her face. She put the water jug on the washstand.
“I’m Lena, from Tirvan.” I took off my trousers, reaching for the towel that hung on the wall.
“Tirvan!” Sari said. “Do you know Maya?”
I stopped drying my legs. “She’s my partner. I’m trying to find her. Do you know where she went?”
The girl shook her head. “No, not really. South. She was here for two days in the spring. If you find her, will you give her a message for me?”
“Surely,” I said, curious.
“I’ll write it out this evening, then,” she said, smiling. She bent to pick up my wet trousers. “Your tunic?”
“It’s dry. Is there nothing more you can tell me? Was she well? Was she alone?”
“She was well,” Sari said, “save for a twisted ankle. That’s why they stayed two days. She was with a woman named Alis, from Berge. There were two other women here, and they all left together.”
With a wave, she left the room. I used some of the hot water she had brought to brew my tea, leaving it to steep while I washed, thinking of Maya. Four women together would be safer. I drank the tea, grimacing against the bitterness, and dressed in dry clothes.
“Lena,” Casyn said, looking up. “Bren has a story I would like you to hear.”
The room was warm. Casyn poured me a cup of wine from the jug in front of him. Bren seemed to be gathering his thoughts. I waited.
“The Empire’s ship that came to Berge for provisioning had been in the south in midsummer,” Bren said finally, glancing at me and then away, “at a retirement farm. One of the junior officers rode out to the nearest inn, to pick up messages. His horse cast a shoe on the journey and had to be reshod. It was a bad-tempered beast, so the woman who was doing the job asked him to hold its head. There were two stable-girls talking in the barn, apparently unaware that he could hear them.
“They were talking about a plan being made by some of the women who had chosen exile over fighting. They spoke of organizing themselves into a group, with chosen leaders. When the fighting was done, those leaders would go to the Emperor to ask him for a place where they could build a new village—a village true to the tenets of Partition and open only to those who chose
exile. The girls also discussed who the leaders were likely to be.” He paused.
“Maya was one of them?” I asked. He nodded. “That’s—unexpected.”
“Which part?” Bren asked.
“She wanted the rules of Partition to keep governing us, even though most of us voted the other way. In her mind, when we voted to fight, we betrayed tradition. But to lead a petition to the Emperor…” I shook my head. “Maya was never a leader.”
“Perhaps,” Casyn said gently, “exile has changed her.”
Garth spoke. “When I was seven, Maya was my shadow, my playmate in everything. I did not want to leave Tirvan or her. I promised her that I would run away from the soldiers and come back for her. We would go beyond the Wall, or into the mountains, and live there secretly. It was a child’s plan, but neither of us ever forgot it. When I did run,” he went on, embarrassment shading his voice, “in the back of my mind I always thought I would go to Tirvan for Maya, someday, to take her away.”
I turned to Casyn. “Can she petition the Emperor?” I could not remember ever hearing of a woman doing so.
“Yes,” Casyn said thoughtfully, “but it is irregular. A woman’s village, or an inn, or a trade guild, may petition, but not an individual. The women’s councils, not the Emperor, deal with women’s individual grievances. If Maya’s band of exiles form a guild, and duly register that guild, then, yes, they can petition.”
“A guild?” Garth said.
“Guilds,” I explained, “are our governing bodies.”
Empire's Legacy- The Complete Trilogy Page 23