“We, ah…yes.” Hope dawned. “Do you mean you changed your mind?”
“I was convinced of the rightness of your cause,” Alaric said dryly. “May we come in?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Lucan stood aside for them to enter. Jaceus, more tidily dressed than his cousin, turned away from the window. He looked from Lucan to Alaric and then at Sienne. “Jaceus, they’ve agreed to take our job!”
“They—but that’s wonderful!” Jaceus came forward and clasped Sienne’s hand, then offered his hand to Alaric. Alaric hesitated only a moment before accepting it. “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret it.”
“Our only condition is that we have to leave immediately,” Alaric said. “It won’t be a problem for you, will it?”
“No, of course not. We travel light.” Jaceus still looked stunned. “Where—what do we do next?”
“You’ll meet us at the Lizzorno stables in two hours. You have horses?”
“We don’t. We walked here. Is that a problem?”
“That depends. Can you show me where your settlement is?”
“We didn’t bring a map, but it’s about fifteen miles north of Yvona’s Breach. Does that help?”
Alaric’s gaze grew distant, and Sienne could almost see him following the map in his head. “It’s a day and a half by horseback to where we’ll have to set out across country,” he said. “Two days if you’re on foot. You can rent horses—”
“We don’t know how to ride,” Lucan said, in the voice of someone proclaiming an unshakeable truth. “We’d just slow you down and the benefits of riding would be wasted.”
Alaric grimaced. Sienne said, “We could rent a wagon. It would be easier on Button if he didn’t have to haul our gear the whole way.”
He said nothing, but Sienne knew him well enough to recognize when he was reining in his temper. “All right,” he finally said. “But it’s coming out of the client’s pocket.”
Jaceus turned to the bed, where a backpack hung from the end. “I can pay you now.”
“That’s not necessary. Later is fine.”
“No, I want us to begin as we mean to go on.” His strange accent was thicker when he was excited. He withdrew a small purse from the pack and shook a few coins into his palm. “Half now, half on completion, isn’t that right? And something extra to hire the wagon.”
Alaric tucked the coins away without looking at them. “We’ll discuss the details on the road.”
“But we’ve already told you everything.”
“There are things we’ll find useful that probably never occurred to you to think were important. But we’ll have plenty of time to work that out. Also, while we’re on the road, you’ll follow my orders.”
“Orders?” Lucan said. “But—”
“Alaric is responsible for keeping our team together,” Sienne said. “Following his orders keeps us safe. While we’re traveling together, you’re part of the team, sort of. And I trust him completely, if that helps.”
Jaceus and Lucan exchanged glances. “If you say so, my lady,” Jaceus said. “Whatever you require.”
“Then we’ll see you in two hours,” Alaric said.
Back on the street, Sienne said, “See? They didn’t act strange at all.”
“I’m trying not to come up with reasons that that’s strange behavior in itself,” Alaric muttered.
“That would just be paranoia speaking.”
“I know. Which is why I’m trying not to.” He sighed and took her hand, and they headed off down the street. “And yet they did still defer to you. I wonder what gave them such respect for the nobility.”
“Some people are like that. I try not to take advantage of it. Or did, back when I was still Lady Sienne.”
“I imagine it’s quite the temptation, if people put themselves in your power.”
“Mostly it happens by accident. Someone’s generous to you, or asks your opinion frequently, and it’s hard to tell right away if it’s sycophancy or just niceness. And people in general respond well to flattery, noble or common.”
“I dislike flattery. It’s so insincere. I’d rather someone was rude to my face.”
“Oh, but you’re so good at being straightforward, it encourages people to be honest with you.”
“Am I? I suppose—” He stopped in the middle of the street. “That was flattery, wasn’t it?”
“Just making my point, love.”
Alaric rolled his eyes. “All right, flattery is effective. That’s not a weapon you wield often, is it?”
“No. And never on you. I have other ways of getting you to do what I want.” She looked up at him through her lashes in a coquettish way, smiling a little half-smile. He laughed and squeezed her hand.
“It’s too bad we’re in a hurry,” he said, “or I’d let you demonstrate. As it is, we’d better get back and pack up quickly. Every moment we’re here is one in which Lysander Delucco could find us.”
“You don’t think he’d try to kill Perrin, do you?”
“I don’t. I think he’d try to leave him permanently maimed, as a reminder.” Alaric sighed. “I hope getting out of sight for a while works.”
Sienne nodded. She’d never spoken with Perrin’s father, but she knew his reputation as a hard man and felt certain Alaric’s assessment was correct. Leaving town was the right thing to do. She tried to ignore the niggling feeling that told her they needed a more long-term solution.
Long-term solution. Sienne stopped in the middle of the road and cursed, causing a passing woman, her untidy gray hair straggling into her face, to stare at her disapprovingly. Sienne didn’t care what her vocabulary made the rising generation look like. “I forgot,” she said.
“Forgot what?” Alaric had stopped with her and looked concerned.
“Forgot that I should tell my parents where I’m going. I can’t just pick up and leave anymore. Damn it, Alaric, when am I going to have time to see the king?”
“It will have to wait until you get back. You don’t think they’ll try to stop you, do you?”
“I don’t know. They might.” She swore again. “I’ve been trying not to think about it, but…you don’t want to be a concubine, right?”
“I have to say that’s not one of my life goals, no.” Alaric took her other hand and made her face him. “This is something we’ll figure out. Right now, we have to worry about keeping Perrin safe. Rituals, and your inheritance, will have to wait a few weeks.”
“I’d forgotten entirely about your quest. I’m sorry.”
“You’ve had a lot to think about. That’s natural.” He drew her into his arms and held her, right there in the middle of the street, ignoring the catcalls and whistles. “I’ll go with you to speak to your parents. They’re not unreasonable and you have obligations. They may not agree with those obligations, but based on what you’ve said, that’s something they understand.”
“I hope so.” She hugged him tightly. What had she done before he’d entered her life? Pined miserably after a selfish bastard, right. “Let’s hope they’re understanding enough.”
10
After the punishing heat of the lowland plains, the coolness of the forest felt like an avatar’s blessing. Narrow, straight pines like soldiers in green and brown massed in front of the mountains, guarding the majestic peaks and filling the air with their rich scent. Even the ground, carpeted with fallen needles, felt softer than the short, stiff grass of the plains. Already Sienne felt revived from the five days it had taken to walk this far and ready to walk another five days. Even so, she was grateful that only another two or three would get them to their destination.
Sunlight slanted through the trees, golden and almost tangible with the dust motes in the air defining the rays. She hoped Alaric would call a halt soon; she was hungry for something more filling than the bread and cheese they’d had at their midday rest, and Kalanath had caught rabbits then and was carrying them slung over one shoulder. Rabbit was one of her favorite foods…no, that wasn
’t right, it was only when they were in the wilderness that she relished it, symbolic of her joy in her companions.
Ahead of her, Alaric shrugged his pack off and let it fall to the ground. “We’ll camp here,” he said. “Here” was a place where the trees were slightly wider spaced than elsewhere, which meant they’d have to squeeze the tents in wherever they could. Sienne set her pack down at the base of a pine whose bark was deeply scored by the claws of some animal and scuffed away needles in a large circle near the center of the widest spot, using her small magic called invisible fingers to whisk away more of them. Around her, the others began pitching tents and unloading supplies.
Alaric dumped a load of dry branches beside her improvised fireplace. “There’s a fallen tree over there,” he said, “so we’ll have plenty of fuel. Do you need anything else?”
“That should be enough.” She glanced over his shoulder at Jaceus and Lucan, engaged in setting up their small tent. It had no poles, just heavy canvas thrown over a taut rope between two trees that, when folded, a single person could carry easily. “They’ve done well.”
“No reason to think they wouldn’t. They are settlers, after all, and used to hard living.”
“I meant they’ve been friendly and helpful, and they do whatever you tell them without complaint.”
Alaric chuckled. “Only after looking to you first.”
“I know.” Sienne squatted back on her haunches and sighed. “It’s embarrassing. Especially when they call me ‘my lady.’”
“I promise never to call you Lady Sienne.” He stroked her hair briefly. “I’ll get the cook pot.”
She watched him walk away and regretted briefly their mutually agreed-on policy of not sharing a tent while they were in the wilderness. It would increase Button the donkey’s burden, for one, adding a third tent to his load. More importantly, noises that in the privacy of their room were discreet were much louder outdoors, as they’d found one memorable night. Alaric had said something about professionalism Sienne wasn’t sure she agreed with, but she had agreed they were both capable of containing their baser passions for a few days or even weeks. It certainly made sex more exciting when they returned home.
She arranged the wood in a solid base that she filled with dry pine needles. This fire would smell incredible even before the soup pot went on. Dusting her hands off, she set the needles afire with her spark and teased the small flame with a magical breeze. Building a fire filled her with satisfying warmth that had nothing to do with the flames. She, Sienne Verannus, scholar and pampered daughter of a duke, was capable of accomplishing this basic survival need. She didn’t think that feeling would ever grow old.
“My lady,” Lucan said, “Alaric asked me to bring you this.” He held the cookpot in one hand.
“Thanks,” she said. “Will you find a couple of sticks to hold it up?” She prodded the burning tinder and rejoiced to see the heavier branches catch fire.
Lucan began working a forked branch into the earth beside the fire “pit.” “Is this what it’s like, being a scrapper?” he asked.
“Is what?”
He gestured with one hand. “Living off the land, camping at night…it seems so ordinary.”
“Most ruins are far from civilization, or at least the ruins worth investigating are. Some teams use magic to get from place to place. I don’t know any of the spells that will do that, not to mention you have to know a place before you can get there.” She’d been so eager for ferry, thinking it would be the end of their transportation problems, until she discovered her magical reserves were too limited to allow her to cast any other spells after she’d ferried them all. And transport was even harder to find.
“So you travel the long way,” Lucan said. He crouched to sift through the pile of wood Alaric had brought and grunted when he came up with a second suitable stick. “We appreciate your willingness to help.”
“Well, you are paying us,” she said with a smile.
Jaceus came to join them. He had a smudge of dirt on one dark cheek that he wiped away. “Yes, but the benefit we get from that payment is tremendous,” he said. “It means the survival of our settlement. We can’t have this danger threatening our borders.”
Sienne shifted uncomfortably. Gratitude was one thing, but the Adornos sometimes sounded almost groveling in their praises. “That’s up to you, once we’re gone. And there will be other threats.”
“True,” Jaceus said. “Just none so overt.”
Sienne turned her attention to the pot so she wouldn’t have to meet his avid eyes. She summoned a glob of water to fall neatly into the pot with not even a splash, then lifted it to hang from a thick branch she wedged into the forks of the two uprights Lucan had placed. “Where’s your settlement from here?”
“Oh, we were thinking we should take you directly to the ruin,” Lucan said. “That saves half a day’s travel.”
Sienne’s eyes narrowed. It was reasonable, but the quickness of the response sounded almost pat. “All right,” she said. “Then where’s the ruin?”
“Northeast another forty-five miles,” Jaceus said. “We’ll probably reach it around evening two days from now, given the terrain and the time we’ve made so far.”
“That sounds right,” Alaric said, approaching from the far side of the fire. He had Kalanath’s rabbits in one hand and a clump of slightly withered carrots in the other. “You two can help Sienne by cutting these up.”
Jaceus accepted the skinned rabbits without a trace of squeamishness. Sienne didn’t know why she kept expecting them to cavil at the basic requirements of roughing it. They weren’t city boys by a long shot, they were used to taking care of themselves—they’d made this journey alone, going to Fioretti—so why did she have the constant feeling that cutting carrots and building fires were new experiences for them? Maybe Alaric’s paranoia was rubbing off on her.
She left the Adornos to prepare the food and collected her pack to stow it in her tent. Dianthe had already arranged her bedroll for her and was sitting on her own, rubbing her feet. “It’s day five,” she said.
“I know. The day when you question your life choices because there’s no foot bath in sight and no Denys to rub your sore feet.” Sienne plopped down on her bedroll and stretched. “Tomorrow will be better.”
“It always is.” Dianthe sighed, a long, put-upon sound, and worked her feet back into her boots. “It’s nice having someone else to help prepare dinner. I’m really not fond of cooking.”
“Is Denys a cook? Or will the two of you eat out all the time when you’re married?”
“Denys loves cooking. He’s always trying new things. He cooks, I do the dishes. I’d wash up forever if it meant never having to cook again.”
“I like cooking over a campfire, but that’s the only kind of cooking I’ve ever done. I’m afraid to ask Leofus to teach me. He’ll either refuse on the grounds that I can’t possibly treat his kitchen with proper respect, or be painfully enthusiastic.” Sienne rummaged in her pack for a washcloth. “I want to wash up a bit before dinner. Day five is when I regret the lack of a bathtub.”
Her hand fell on a red-lacquered box a little larger than her palm and fingers. She pulled it out and set it aside. Dianthe reached for it and slid open the lid, tipping the deck of hazard cards into her hand and fanning them out. “This would be valuable even if it weren’t magical. A complete deck, at least four hundred years old…my mother would say it was especially potent.”
“Why is that? Is there some superstition about hazard cards, I don’t know, ripening with age?” The washcloth had slipped all the way to the bottom of the pack. She dug it out, then set about rearranging her other things.
“Don’t ever say that in front of a serious hazard reader. The superstition part, I mean. Hazard cards are supposed to pick up the aura of the owner and become responsive to their questions. It’s insulting to call it a superstition.” Dianthe turned over the top card, the Ruby. The brightly colored gem glowed against the dull backgr
ound of Dianthe’s bedroll.
“Interesting. I wonder if it’s true? Then you could learn something about the owner by examining her deck.” Sienne held her hand out for the cards. “I just wish I knew what it does. I’m afraid to ask anyone about it in case someone knows Master Samretto had it and thinks we stole it.”
“We did steal it. Sort of.”
“He was an evil necromancer. It was lawful salvage. Sort of.” Sienne shuffled the deck, something she had trouble with because the cards were slightly too large for her hands, and laid out three cards: the Two of Swords, the Duke of Coins, and Fate. The image on the last card of a hand tossing rune-engraved stones in the air made her uncomfortable, particularly since the stones seemed to be the source of the light in the painting. “What does this mean?”
“I’m not sure. Past, present, future…the Two of Swords means partnership in the face of danger, the Duke of Coins indicates a changing situation, or a man who isn’t what he seems, and Fate…” Dianthe went silent.
“It means something inevitable in the future,” Sienne said. “I don’t believe in fate. I changed my future once, when nobody thought I could be anything but a duke’s daughter. I can change it again.”
“Your parents weren’t happy about you leaving on this job,” Dianthe said.
“No, but even if I am their heir, that doesn’t mean I’m bound to them. They just want it to mean that.” Sienne scooped up the cards and restored them to their box. The angular, unfamiliar letters engraved on its lid mocked her, hiding their secrets as well as if they’d been invisible. She spoke three languages and could read most of a fourth, not counting the spell languages; she ought at least to recognize this one’s alphabet. But no, it was as opaque to her as if it were a code, which she suspected it was.
She closed the tent flap and took her shirt off, soaking the washcloth in warm water summoned from the air. “Anyway,” she went on, sponging herself off, “I’m going to make a case to the king that Alcander will be a better heir than I. He’s got all that legal training, understands the laws pertaining to ruling, and he always was good at being nice to the landholders. I’m easily annoyed and the only laws I understand relate to salvage and property rights.”
Shifting Loyalties Page 11