The horses were walking at a steady beat, their hooves ringing on the road. The dogs ran all around the horses, their tongues lolling out, their nails clicking on the stones. The rhythmic sounds made it easy to stare at his reins and think.
Warna was a distraction from his purpose. Verice shook his head. He’d allowed her brown eyes and lovely voice to come between him and his obligations. The fact that she was a genuinely nice human was also a factor. Still, there was no excuse.
Verice glanced over to see her looking around at the buildings lining the street. Hopefully Charrin’s remarks wouldn’t cause her to abandon her songs. He’d been too harsh a critic.
He’d find another place for her. Somewhere with more of her own kind. Except that put her in parts of Tassinic that were closer to the borders with Edenrich and Farentell. Too dangerous by far.
There had to be a way to keep her safe. The castle was strictly for military housing. A base of operations and a target for the enemy. It was no place for her.
The sun felt good on Warna’s face as she swung into the saddle. After Wolfe’s Tower, it was nice to find the weather and time to be what she expected it to be.
“By her own choice,” Verice had told Narthing.
Warna flashed them a smile as Verice spoke, hoping they couldn’t see how nervous she was. She was grateful that they started out at a walk, her horse content to move at a gentle pace along with the others. It gave her a moment to breathe.
How had she found the nerve to challenge him?
Verice was Lord High Baron, and while she was not of Tassinic, she was certainly under his care and authority at the moment. She’d faced him down, and her stomach was still in knots about it.
She hadn’t wanted to stay in the Tower. Wolfe and Kalynn seemed very nice, and the room had been lovely, but isolation wasn’t what she wanted. Though she didn’t have a clue as to what it was that she wanted, it definitely wasn’t that.
She wasn’t completely sure of anything right now, other than the warmth of the sun on her face, and the sway of her horse as it walked.
“Your choice, Warna,” Kalynn’s voice echoed in her mind.
She supposed that she should be glad that she was free, but her heart still grieved the loss of her family too much to rejoice. Actually, the thought that she could choose was...unsettling. More frightening than anything else. Her father and mother had planned her life, seeing that she had the skills and deportment to marry well. Now that was gone, and the future seemed unknowable and scary.
Warna glanced around at the buildings and streets, trying to distract herself. The city was quiet now, the afternoon lingering on. Folks were closing up their shops and turning toward their homes. Few heads turned to note their passage.
She breathed again, trying to enjoy the warmth and quiet.
Verice was just ahead of her, the sun glinting off his silver hair. The warriors around them seemed relaxed, but Warna saw that they were always looking about, alert to any threat. Hard to believe that was possible on a drowsy, sunny afternoon.
Verice’s horse pranced a bit and he settled it down, stroking its neck. He was a fine sight, his armor and sword hilts glittering in the sun.
“The elven lord went riding, oh,” new words and a tune danced in her head. Warna repeated the phrase to herself, trying not to lose the notes, watching her source of inspiration. How to capture him in a song? His strength, his sorrow…
What did she want?
Warna frowned as the thought refused to go away. She really had no idea, or maybe she was just overwhelmed by it all. Her life had been planned, organized by her parents. Simple. And she’d been comfortable with those plans. But now it felt like a vast emptiness. Without her family, what did it matter? What did any of it matter?
Warna tried to prevent the tears that threatened to fall. She didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t know what to do.
But she did know what needed to be done.
The castle needed cleaning. Restoring. Restocking, even. And if she knew anything, it was how to scrub and polish. How to maintain a manor house as fitting for her future husband. She could bring her skills to bear on the castle of Lord High Baron Verice.
And while she did that, she could think things through. Make some decisions. Plan a future.
She relaxed, the tightness in her shoulders easing, the knot in her stomach letting go.
Oddly, she started to notice more people on the streets, pressed against the various buildings, staring at them. Well, staring at Verice.
The warriors around them were exchanging amused glances and it slowly dawned on her what was happening. She almost burst out laughing. Verice had forgotten his helmet, and Narthing was keeping their pace slow.
She couldn’t help smiling. If Lord High Baron Verice had problems with his castle being cleaned and restored, she suspected she’d have the support of his people.
Warna caught the eye of some in the crowd. They returned her smiles, going so far as to wave. She lifted a hand in return, and her approval was enough for the crowd. They started to move closer to the road, and wave kerchiefs of various colors.
Verice was still oblivious, lost in his thoughts. It was only a matter of time before—
“All hail Lord Verice!”
Chapter Fifteen
“All hail Lord Verice!”
Verice started out of his thoughts to find the streets lined with people, all gazing at him. He lifted his hand to acknowledge the hail out of habit. Delighted smiles flashed over the faces in the crowd, and the cheers began in earnest, growing in volume.
With a sigh, Verice noted his helmet dangling from his saddle. Wryly smiling, he acknowledged the crowd again, and made eye contact with Narthing.
They continued to move forward but in answer to the unspoken command, Narthing slowed his horse, and maneuvered to Verice’s side. The crowd thinned a bit, but now they were waving handkerchiefs and ribbons in addition to their greetings.
“You could have reminded me about the helmet,” Verice chided his captain quietly.
“You seemed lost in thought, m’lord. I didn’t wish to disturb you.”
Verice snorted. “You could have picked up the pace as well.”
“It’s been some time since the people have seen you, m’lord,” Narthing’s voice held no apology. “Besides, the Lady Warna seemed to be enjoying herself.”
She was at that, smiling at the crowds and waving back to them.
“Remind me to reassign you,” Verice growled, lifting his hand and nodding his head in acknowledgment of the crowd. “To one of the southernmost bogs, perhaps.”
“Certainly, m’lord,” Narthing allowed Verice to take point. “I’ll make a note.”
There was nothing for it. Verice sighed, and picked up the pace just enough that it wouldn’t take all day to get to the castle gates.
He cast a glance back at Warna, but there was no reason to worry. She met his gaze fearlessly. There was a twinkling in her eye and enough laughter in her smile that he knew she was enjoying the jest as well.
A woman darted forward then, holding out a roll of parchment, tied with a ribbon. “Pray, oh Lord, hear my petition!”
Verice accepted the roll, and placed it in his helm.
They continued on for a while, people calling out, wishing him well. There were others with petitions. Once his helm was full, he passed back any others to Narthing. They’d all have to be seen to, of course.
They entered the square to find the Lord Mayor and his lady on the balcony of their home, overlooking the fountain in the center.
“Welcome, Lord High Baron,” The Mayor seemed a bit out of breath, and his chain of office was slightly askew. The crowd around his house quieted to hear his words. “Had we known of your visit, we’d have prepared a far better welcome.”
“An informal visit,” Verice called up to the man even as he kept his horse moving. “Impromptu on my part, I fear. I thank thee for thy gracious welcome and ask pardon for the disrup
tion of your peace.”
“There is no disruption.” The Lord Mayor leaned on his balcony. “And our peace is your doing, m’lord.”
“My thanks,” Verice said. “You are gracious.”
The mayor smiled. “And this lovely lady is…?”
Warna called out in response before Verice could say a word. “Warna of Farentell, your lordship. Octara is lovely!” Her smile was infectious, and the crowd cheered in response.
Verice tensed, and his horse shifted nervously in response. He hadn’t wanted to bring any attention to Warna, much less give any information. He brought his horse under control with a firm hand. It was time to leave. “Our thanks, Lord Mayor, but we must be on our way.” He gestured to Narthing to continue, but the Lord Mayor pressed up to the railing, looking anxious.
“M’lord, I would inquire…” His words faded as he waited.
“Yes?” Verice asked, trying not to let his impatience show.
“The Festival of Light and Laughter,” There was a note of apology in the Lord Mayor’s voice. “The date fast approaches, and—” He hesitated. “We’ve made no plans, waiting on your Lordship—”
The pain in Verice’s chest must have been visible on his face, for the man cut off his words abruptly. “Forgive me, Lord High Baron. I—”
“It needed asking,” Verice managed. “I’ll consider it.”
“My thanks, m’lord.” The Lord Mayor bowed his head, and raised his voice. “May the Lord of Light and the Lady of Laughter bless thee, our Lord High Baron!”
The crowd cheered at that. Verice bowed his head and waved his thanks, still in shock. Had it been a year? He shook his head to clear it. “Narthing,” he called, and let his tone speak for itself.
Narthing took the lead, and set as fast a pace as Verice could wish toward the other end of the square, only to find the path bared by a group of men, bearing banners, and flags. There were jugglers, acrobats, some singing, some playing horns and drums. The activity and the music stopped as they approached, and the leader stepped forward. He wore a cooking pot on his head, and bore a scepter in his hand, adorned with fake gems and false gold. “Stand and deliver, Verice of Tassinic!” the human boomed out in a loud, deep voice.
Verice’s horse snorted, too well-behaved to act up, but not happy with the noise, but Verice knew the man well enough. “Master Zester.” He gave the man his best forbidding look. “What means this?”
“Lord High Baron Verice, stand and deliver,” Master Zester called out. “You owe tribute to our patron, the Lady of Laughter, for your failure to attend our follies and performances.”
There were cheers from the crowd. Verice scowled at the man who’d opened a theater a number of years back.
“We have missed your patronage greatly, m’lord, and I would remind your lordship that all must pay the homage due to the Lady of Laughter, or risk her wrath.” Zester spotted Warna, and removed his cooking pot to execute a low bow. “But now I see why m’lord does not attend us,” he cried out. “He pays homage to another lady, and is lost in her obvious charms.”
“Or mayhap your follies and performances aren’t very good,” Warna called back, startling Verice.
The crowd roared at her comment, and Zester held his pot over his heart, and shook a mocking finger at her even as he grinned. “Oh, ho, now here is one that follows the teachings of the Lady of Laughter well! Bring her to our theater, my lord.” Zester donned his pot once again. “We’ll restore a smile to your face.”
“For now, Master Zester, clear the road,” Verice growled.
With a bow, Zester gestured, and the acting company cleared the road.
With a snort, Verice led his men past, making sure that Warna was not harassed. They were through the town gates quickly, and he broke into a swift gallop as they started up the road to the castle. Warna seemed to have no trouble with the gait, her hair coming lose from its braid.
The grim faces of the gate guards gave Verice a clue that there was a problem even before the constable appeared in the courtyard. Ricard’s face was grave. “Trouble on the border, m’lord.”
Chapter Sixteen
Verice swung down from the saddle. “Where was the attack?”
“Word’s come from Benton’s Warren.”
“When was the attack?” Verice demanded.
“Not long ago, m’lord.” Constable Ricard’s response was calm. “Injuries, no deaths reported. The messenger awaits in your chambers.” The man’s eyes widened as he spotted Warna on her horse. “M’lady, you—?”
“I’m back,” Warna said. “If someone will help me with my basket, I’ll disappear and leave you to your work.”
Verice moved to her side, and held her horse’s bridle. Warna dismounted. She grimaced a little as she landed. She shook her head when Verice gave her a concerned look. “No, it’s nothing. It’s been a while since I’ve ridden that far, is all.”
“I must deal with this,” Verice said quietly. “We can talk later.”
“Yes,” Warna agreed. “Go.”
She meant it, to his relief. Verice gave her a grateful nod and headed toward his chambers.
Warna watched him go, hoping that the news wasn’t too grim. The constable hovered near her, and caught her eye. “Beg pardon, m’lady, but this is a surprise.”
“A sudden change of plans,” Warna said, trying not to smile at the man’s discomfort. “No way for you to have known.”
“Well, but since you were gone, I shifted the men around a bit, and put two in that loft where you were.”
“Two?” Warna asked.
“The smaller lads,” Constable Ricard explained earnestly, then huffed with frustration. “We need to be in a proper barracks,” he said, glancing at the empty buildings along the walls. “I’ve raised the issue, mind, but, well—” he sighed again.
“I do understand, Constable,” she said with a laugh. “Although I wonder how you managed two in that space. How about I wait in the kitchens for a while to give you a chance to sort it all out? This will just be for one night,” she added confidently. “There’ll be a new plan in the morning.”
With a grateful glance, the constable picked up her basket. “Let’s see you to the kitchens.”
Warna settled on a bench by the hearth, and accepted a mug of hot kav with thanks. Oddly, the cooks were only making kav and setting out the tables. There was no cooking going on. When she asked, one of the men shrugged. “Not enough room to cook here, and M’lord won’t let us use the proper kitchens. So, the food’s cooked in town and carted up for the meals.”
“That’s—” Warna stopped, not sure she wanted to say the words out loud.
“Aye,” the man gave her a sardonic look. “They cart it up, we warm it here, and then serve it out. Never mind if there’s a change in plans, or the number fed, or aught gets spilled or spoiled.
“I see,” Warna said slowly. “That means there are no stores of supplies here, either, doesn’t it?”
The cook shot her a satisfied look. “You know housekeeping, eh? I think you do understand, m’lady.”
The clatter of boots pulled their attention to the door, as Verice walked in. The rest of his men continued on to the courtyard.
The cook hustled back to his duties as Verice strode over.
“The reports are worse than first thought. I need to go now. It can’t wait until morning.”
“How bad is it?” Warna asked, as memories arose of burning buildings, and fleeing her home.
“Bad enough,” Verice said grimly. “I need to see for myself.” He hesitated. “The constable told me he’d reassigned that loft room.”
“To two men, if you can believe. But it’s not his fault, Verice, he couldn’t know that—”
“Agreed,” Verice held up a hand to stem her flow of words. “I told him to put you in my chambers for the night. He’s seeing to fresh bedding, then the room is yours. We’ll see to other arrangements when I return, probably after the nooning.”
“Safe t
ravels, Verice,” Warna said
“My thanks,” Verice said, and then he hesitated, staring down at her. He reached out a gloved hand, and stroked her cheek. “Sleep well,” he said abruptly, then turned and left the room.
She watched him go with a sigh, and a swift prayer to the Lord and Lady for his safety. Then she took a sip of kav, and turned back to the cook. “Tell me more about the castle kitchens.”
It was early when she finally retired to Verice’s chamber. She’d eaten with the men, after she’d watched the cooks carrying in large kettles and roasted haunches from carts outside. Then she’d walked around the keep again, noting the buildings along the way, and paying closer attention to their purposes.
She’d kept her distance from the keep.
After all that, she was well and truly ready for sleep, yawning as she mounted the stairs. There was a guard at Verice’s door, but he saluted her through, and closed the door behind her.
The outer room was much the same, with maps strewn over the table and weapons on the walls. But what drew her was the large bed, heaped with pillows and blankets. It looked wonderful.
She used the basin and pitcher for a quick wash, and then stripped off her clothes, and pulled on her sleep shirt. She threw back the blankets and crawled in, enjoying the welcoming softness. It was warm enough, she’d only really need one blanket and she curled up, hugging one of the pillows.
Warna let out a slow breath, feeling her body relaxing. She had a plan. Not much of one, but it was her own, and it was her decision, and it felt good. It wasn’t all that dramatic, or even very exciting, but she was satisfied. She yawned as she closed her eyes.
Of course, Verice might not agree…
She smiled even as she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
Fate's Star Page 9