She noticed him almost instantly, sloped in a stool beside her bed, feet extended and crossed at the ankles, hands clasped over his stomach, chin pointing down. A thrill shot through Ivanore. The voice she’d heard wasn’t a dream. He was here. Right here, as real as anything.
She watched him sleep for a few moments, something she had loved to do when they were first married. Often in the early hours of morning, she would lay beside him and watch his chest rise and fall, take in the subtle involuntary movements of his eyes beneath their lids, wondering what he was dreaming about.
She watched him now, but soon she could stand it no longer.
“Jayson?” she said, softly. “Jayson?”
He drew a deep, cleansing breath the way men do when roused from a satisfying sleep. He opened his eyes, and when he saw her, he moved immediately to her side.
“Ivanore,” he said, gathering her into his arms. He kissed her repeatedly on her forehead, her neck, her lips. Each touch sent spasms of joy through her.
“You’re awake, finally,” Jayson said. “It’s been days since they brought you here. When they told me they’d found someone, I didn’t think for a million years it could be you. How did you get here? I thought you were on Imaness.”
Ivanore clung to Jayson and pressed her cheek to his chest.
“I never made it to Imaness,” Ivanore said. “Arik lied to you. He lied to both of us.”
“Then where have you been? Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”
Ivanore reluctantly pulled away from Jayson so that she could look into his eyes. “I couldn’t come,” she said. “Arik’s been holding me captive in the Vatéz castle in Auseret. He’s been hunting for the Guilde, hunting you.”
“Me?”
“He wants my stone,” said Ivanore.
Jayson ran a hand across his mouth. “It always come back to that, doesn’t it? That cursed seer’s stone.”
Ivanore clutched her husband’s arm, suddenly consumed with worry. “You have it, don’t you? You’ve kept your promise to keep it safe?”
“It is safe,” he replied, patting her hand. “Arik will never have it, not as long as I live.”
“He thinks it will help him take my father’s throne. He’s obsessed. He’s not the boy he used to be.”
Jayson’s eyes peered into hers, searching. “Did he hurt you?”
Ivanore hesitated, thinking of the night she left the castle. The memory of her brother’s violence still haunted her, and she still felt the echoes of pain from her wounds.
When she didn’t answer, Jayson asked, “How did you get away?”
Ivanore recounted the events that had led her to Ashlin, though she left out the beating and details of her hunger and fear.
When she’d finished, he said, “You must be famished after such a journey. Nira will be relieved to know you’re doing better. She’s been anxious to try out her recipe for quail stew on our new visitor.”
He chuckled, but then grew serious as he touched Ivanore’s face, a sensation that sent pleasant shivers through her. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he said, brushing his thumb over her lips. Then he kissed her.
Ivanore wanted the kiss to last forever. She melted into him, so relieved to have found him at last.
23
The celestine mine was a vast pit in the earth dug by two generations of Agorans and other prisoners. Brommel drew the wagon alongside a ramshackle wooden structure. He secured the reins and climbed down.
“Wait here,” he told Arla. Then he went inside.
The interior was as dilapidated as the exterior, everything covered in a fine layer of gray dust. The place was sparsely furnished with a desk, a few chairs, and two cots in the corner. A man wearing a shabby guard’s uniform sat in one of the chairs with his feet propped up on the desk. The man’s head was tilted back, his mouth wide open. He was snoring.
Brommel slid his dagger out of its scabbard and slapped the bottoms of the guard’s boots with the blade. The man snorted, and then blinked open his eyes. When he saw Brommel standing in front of him, the guard dropped his feet to the floor and sat up.
“Sorry,” he said. “Long day. Of course, every day is long here at the mine. Can I help you with something?”
Brommel had been to the mine many times, but this guard’s face was new to him. Young, no more than twenty Brommel guessed, his expression bored—and arrogant.
“I have a contract to deliver,” Brommel said, holding out the parchment signed by Chancellor Prost. “She’s got six months. Just sign for receipt, and I’ll bring her in.”
“She?” The guard clicked his tongue in a sign of disapproval. “They don’t carry half the load a man does. Lord Fredric really ought to double the time for females. Almost not worth the food we feed them.”
The guard signed the document with a quill pen. His signature was rough and uneven. Brommel couldn’t even read it.
“Shall I go get her?” he asked.
The guard rose from his chair and stretched. “No need. I’ll take her directly to the overseer, get her started right away. She’ll be given supper and her blanket tonight. Lost a couple of Agorans yesterday. One of the tunnels collapsed, couldn’t get to them in time, so there are several open cots in the tents.”
The guard laughed. Brommel clenched his jaw. He had the urge to punch the man.
“Let me see the girl,” said the guard.
Brommel restrained his anger and led the man out to the wagon, but Arla was no longer where he had left her. For a moment, he thought she’d finally become sensible and run off. But no, she had simply walked a few yards away and was standing at the edge of the mine, gazing down into it.
“All those people,” she said as Brommel approached her. He looked into the mine as well. The scene was one with which he was all too familiar: men, women, and even a few children wielding pickaxes against stone, maneuvering wheelbarrows of earth out of tunnels and overturning them onto piles of more earth, sifting through the piles in search of the precious gem, celestine. A few of the workers were human, but most were not. The Agorans bore more resemblance to felines, with a coat of short, light fur on their bodies, clawed fingers, and slitted eyes. Jayson’s mother was an Agoran, recalled Brommel.
Scattered among the workers were the overseers, guards with sinewy arms and legs and stern expressions, each with a blade or whip in his hands.
Brommel’s eyes moved from one human worker to the next, wondering if he might recognize any of those whom he had delivered here before. But from this distance, and layered in dirt and sweat, they all looked the same. Would Arla lose her identity as well? Would he fail to recognize her again when he returned? The thought troubled him.
“It’s not too late,” he whispered to her. “I can give this guard some pretense—you’re ill, or there’s been a mistake. I can still take you home.”
Arla turned her eyes to him and smiled. “No,” she said. “Just do what you’ve promised and bring me word as often as you can.”
She laid her hand over his and squeezed gently. That same odd warmth blossomed through him. He found that he could not tear his eyes away from hers.
“All right,” shouted the guard behind them. “Haven’t got all day. Let’s go.”
He grabbed hold of Arla’s arm and yanked her away from the mine’s edge. Her hand slipped off Brommel’s. Their connection broken, Brommel felt a hollow emptiness sweep over him. He watched in silence as the guard led Arla away. She glanced back only once, offering one last reassuring smile. Then she was gone.
24
Another day passed before Ivanore felt strong enough to leave her bed. She and Jayson ate an early lunch together in the downstairs sitting room. Afterward, it didn’t take much for Jayson to coax Ivanore to follow him outside.
The sky was empty of clouds, the air crisp and fresh. Nira had found some clean suitable clothes for Ivanore to wear along with a wool cloak and warm leather boots, things she wish she had had during her journey to Ashlin.
Jayson’s home was a humble yet impressive wooden building constructed of logs and beams situated on the edge of a sprawling farm. Dozens of smaller structures dotted the perimeter of the farm, with people moving in and out of them freely. Men worked in the field, and one group of women laundered clothes at a communal fountain while others watched over a group of playing children. The farm, Ivanore realized, was alive with families, how many she couldn’t count, but from the happy expressions on everyone’s faces, she could tell they were content to live at Ashlin. These were the Guardians whom Arik had struggled so long to hunt down. They had been here the whole time, quietly living their lives under Jayson’s protection.
“I couldn’t keep the farm running without them,” said Jayson as though reading Ivanore’s thoughts. “We raise wheat in the winter, corn in the autumn. The women maintain separate smaller plots for their own families—tomatoes, potatoes, cabbage, all kinds of vegetables. The men go hunting and we all share the meat. We even have a school for the children.”
Ivanore smiled at the youngsters playing hide and seek amid the cottages. “No school today?” she asked.
Jayson laughed. “Their teacher married yesterday and has left with her husband on their honeymoon. Too bad you missed them. The groom is a friend of yours.”
“Oh?”
“Teak, the young man who helped me find you before. You knew Dianis as well, I believe.”
“Yes, I remember her. I’m so sorry I missed them.”
So, Teak had found love after all. When he had told Ivanore, years ago now, that he loved her, she was afraid she had somehow led him on without realizing it. Though Ivanore cared deeply for him and felt grateful for all he had done to help her, they were friends, nothing more. Ivanore was glad he had married and hoped the greatest happiness for him.
They continued walking along the edge of the field, dotted with young green shoots. “We’ll harvest in a few weeks. We’ll set aside some for seed for next year. The rest we divide between ourselves and the market in Nauvet-Carum.”
Ivanore closed her eyes and felt the cold breeze blow across her face. She could smell the bitter scent of pine and the earthy soil in the air. She hadn’t smelled anything like it in years. The castle in Auseret, so near the sea, always smelled of salt water, her room of candle wax. These new smells revived her.
She opened her eyes and gazed toward the edge of the farm where it met a line of trees. She had spent enough time in the forest over the past few days. She had no desire to return, now or ever. But as she looked, she saw a flash of movement, something white and quick slipping between the trunks like a ghost.
“Did you see that?” she asked, peering into the distance.
“What?” replied Jayson.
“There, in those trees. I thought I saw something.”
“Probably a deer. We have an abundance of wildlife nearby. Come along. I’ll show you the stables.”
Ivanore hesitated a moment before letting Jayson lead her away. She glanced back only once. Perhaps her eyes had been playing tricks on her. Or maybe it had been nothing more than a deer, but no. She was sure it wasn’t. But what it was she couldn’t tell. Ivanore decided to file her concern away for another day. She had spent too long without food, too long fearful of the forest. She needed rest, that was all. She reminded herself that she was with Jayson now, she was safe. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. He looked at her and smiled. Then he let go of her hand and slid his arm around her shoulder.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he told her.
Yes, Ivanore told herself. There is nothing to worry about.
25
The journey to Dokur from the Celestine mine seemed endless even though it took only hours. Brommel’s ox walked leisurely as its master paid it little heed. His mind was on Arla. Leaving her in the care of that surly guard was more difficult than it should have been. She was just one more servant, wasn’t she? No different than the dozens of others he had collected over the years. Yet when he finally arrived at the Fortress and presented her contract to Chancellor Prost, he felt numb. Distant. As if his actions belonged to someone else.
Prost examined the parchment with a nod of approval, and then rolled it and sealed with a drop of melted wax into which he pressed his ring. Then he handed the parchment to a young page.
“Take this to the records keeper.”
The boy took the scroll and hurried away. Then Prost opened a carved wooden box on his desk and counted out five silver coins.
“There you are,” he said, dropping them into Brommel’s hand. “Come back in two weeks for the new batch. I’m expecting at least three new additions to the mine.”
Brommel curled his fingers over the coins and squeezed them. He wanted to throw them at Prost. He wanted to tell him to find a new collector, and that he could burn in hell. He had promised Arla to ask Prost if he knew anything about Ivanore, but he was too angry to summon the words. Instead, he shoved the money into his pocket and strode out of Prost’s office.
It didn’t take long to reach The Seafarer Tavern. As Brommel pulled the wagon up to the front of the building, the door swung open and Rylan ran out to greet him. Seeing his son temporarily put Arla and Prost out of Brommel’s mind.
“Have you been waiting by the window all week for me?” Brommel laughed, pulling his son into his lap. Rylan took hold of the reins and expertly guided the ox around back to the stable.
“No,” he giggled, “just for a few days. I was hoping you’d get home before bedtime.”
“Well, you must have wished on the right star last night because here I am.”
Rylan tugged at the reins, and the ox came to a stop. Brommel climbed down from the wagon and helped his son down too.
“Can I help you put the wagon away?” asked Rylan eagerly.
Brommel ruffled the boy’s hair. “Of course you can. Go fetch a bucket of water to start. It’s been a long day. I’m sure the animal is thirsty.”
Father and son spent the next hour catching up on the time they’d been apart. While feeding and cleaning the ox, and mucking out its stall, Brommel learned about the explorations Rylan and the Peagry’s orphan girl, Mouse, had gone on, one to the caves above the shore, another along the back alleys of Dokur. They even took one daring trip to the trees beyond the watchtower.
“What if you’d been caught?” said Brommel with mock fear, though there really was no need to worry. The last thing the guards of the Fortress were interested in were curious children. And Rylan, now nearing nine years was certainly old enough to know where he should and shouldn’t go.
Rylan shrugged and snagged some fresh hay with his pitchfork. “Mouse and I were careful. We didn’t get too close to the tower.”
Brommel ran a brush over the ox’s back. “Sounds like an adventure I should like to experience myself,” he said.
Rylan beamed with pleasure. “Oh, Papa, really? I could take you. You’d love the trees and the calls of the birds. And with the sound of the sea, it’s really something.”
“All right then,” replied Brommel. “In a week or two, before I leave on my next journey.”
The glint in Rylan’s eyes dimmed, and disappointment replaced his joy. “You’re leaving again?”
Hearing the sadness in Rylan’s voice tore at Brommel’s heart. He wished he could tell Chancellor Prost that he was unavailable this time, that he had other responsibilities to keep him in Dokur.
“We need the money,” said Brommel. He took Rylan’s pitchfork and leaned it against the wall, and then he locked the stalls. “We have to pay the Peagry’s for our keep. We have to buy food and clothing.”
They walked together out of the barn toward the inn where candles burned brightly in the windows and the sounds of the evening’s patrons rolled out into the night.
Rylan reached for Brommel’s hand. “You could be a farmer,” he suggested. “Or open your own inn, like Master Peagry.”
“I suppose I could do those things,” said Brommel carefully.
How could he explain that the king paid him twice as much in a single trip as any of the local farmers or merchants made in a month? In time, he hoped to save up enough to purchase a house and a small farm, but until then he could hardly decline a job that paid so well. He squeezed Rylan’s hand.
“A couple more years,” he told his son. “Then maybe I’ll have enough money to become a farmer.”
Rylan glanced up at Brommel and gave him a smile full of hope.
26
The smells of fresh hay and grain mingled with the wood of the stalls. Ivanore breathed it in. It was so different than any smell she’d experienced in years.
“I used to love Father’s stables,” she told Jayson. “I was never a very good rider, but the horses and I were friends, I suppose. I’d rather help brush and care for them than ride like a lady.” She laughed at the memory of trying to keep her dress smooth while trotting, her back ramrod straight. She’d hated all that.
“When I did ride, I’d take off like a bandit the moment I was out of Father’s sight.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” said Jayson, offering a handful of grain to black mare who accepted it eagerly. When the grain was gone, he stroked her nose. Ivanore moved to the neighboring stall with a chestnut colt.
“He’s beautiful,” said Ivanore.
Jayson smiled. “I helped deliver that one. He’s proven to be rather feisty.”
As if the colt understood what was being said about him, it began prancing on its front legs and bobbing its head. Ivanore reached over the gate to touch him. The colt came to her and pressed his nose into her palm.
“I think he likes you,” said Jayson. He stepped up beside Ivanore and slipped his arm around her waist. “I like you too.”
The Crystal Keeper BoxSet Page 19