by CJ Brightley
I was about to dive out the window and take my chances with the ivy and the rain-soaked horde below, when the door slammed open.
The duchess uttered a harsh laugh. “Hlanan Vosaga? This is my lucky day.” And to the guards, “Take him.”
23
Hlanan had put on his red hat, and carried a tray of food.
He dropped the tray on the big table beside the prisoner, who struggled to turn over now that the guards were not holding him down. Then, as two guards closed in from either side, Hlanan flung a pot of hot drink at one, and a bowl of soup at the other.
“Ahhh!” one yelled as steaming liquid splashed across his face.
“Unh,” the woman grunted as she ducked the soup, bumped against the table, then crashed to the ground, sliding in the soup at her feet.
Hlanan tossed a plate at the duchess, who ducked easily, her teeth showing as she brandished her sword and advanced. But as she passed the table, the prisoner punched out with both feet, catching the duchess in the side. She stumbled, recovered, and lunged at Hlanan.
He staggered back, but not far enough. As my breath caught in my throat, the sword point flashed into the middle of his baker’s apron—and bent.
Bent?
She shortened her arm for another stab, but this time I got my shivering joints moving. Vaulting over the table and somersaulting in the air, I landed on her shoulders with both feet, and we tumbled to the ground, with me on top.
Hlanan swayed back and forth, struggling with the third guard, who was trying to obey the order to capture him, yet his eyes strayed back to the duchess. I lost sight of them as Morith heaved me off, catching the side of my head in a clout that sent stars across my vision. I lost hold of the book, which I’d meant to use as a weapon.
So I tried to make a shimmer. Nothing. But there was the brass bowl, I guess intended to catch the blood of the sacrifice, rolling at my elbow. I picked it up and held it as a shield. Clang! The sword hit it hard.
The duchess had her back to the table. Mistake. The prisoner had struggled upright and now flung himself on her, using his weight to knock her to the floor.
I rolled out of the way, picked up the bowl, and cracked her a good one on the side of the head. Bong! She slumped, moaning.
I jumped to my feet, to discover the three guards frozen, two with looks of surprise on their faces, and one whose mouth distorted with pain from burns. Hlanan’s stone spell!
Hlanan dashed to the prisoner and snatched up a fallen sword. The young man flinched back, a foot coming up, but Hlanan said, “Turn around.”
The young man’s bruised face cleared. He turned, and Hlanan cut through the ropes binding him.
I grabbed the book from where it had fallen, and the three of us ran out of the room. The hall was empty, a faint smell of singed wood on the air, like a fireplace had been lit somewhere.
I said, “Guards below the window. Waiting for orders.”
Hlanan dashed back into the room, and yelled in the direction of the window, “He escaped! Quick, to the stable!”
Then he slammed the door, and wheezed, “That stone spell won’t last long, I’m afraid. She was already stirring.”
“Just needs to last enough to get us out,” I said.
He jerked his head in a nod, and turned to the prisoner, who leaned against the wall, blinking rapidly. His face beyond the bruises was pasty, his once-fine robe encrusted with weeks of grime.
Hlanan said, “Are you Tolvar Vaczathas?”
A brief, weary nod.
Hlanan reached under his tunic, and pulled a sheaf of papers from the waistband of his trousers. So that’s what had stopped the duchess’s sword! “Here. I think your king is going to want to know about these.” And as Tolvar took the papers, “Can you make it outside?”
“I’ll make it.”
“Wait,” Hlanan said, and concentrated. He whispered, making signs with his fingers, and before my eyes Tolvar turned into a Gray Wolf. “The illusion should get you well away, as long as you don’t touch anyone.”
“Whom do I thank?” Tolvar asked.
“Don’t thank. Act. You really need to look at those papers. It outlines Morith of Thann’s plan to take this kingdom for her own.”
Tolvar’s illusory brows lifted, and he lurched away.
“Let’s get out of here,” Hlanan said to me. “They’ll be after us sooner than later. I left the knapsack behind the chicken house . . .”
Did the servants’ stairs seem smoky? A thin haze hung in the air, and I wondered which of the desperate cooks had let something burn, and what would happen to them.
Neither of us spoke until we got to the kitchen yard. As he picked up the knapsack, I tried another tiny shimmer. A flower popped open, and relief surged through me. So he’d only been able to block my magic inside that room, not permanently.
An angry shriek rang from wall to wall. Even if I hadn’t recognized the duchess’s voice, the way her servants froze made it clear who was shouting, “Get them! The pasty-faced page and the man in green wearing a baker’s apron and cap!”
Then, from another window, “FIRE!”
“Ah.” Hlanan’s grin was fierce as he flung off the cap and apron. “Just in time.”
“Fire?”
“Morith’s suite.”
The entire household began boiling out of the kitchen doors, as up above, flames glowed ruddy in two of the windows. “I had no idea how terrible she is,” Hlanan said, squinting against the rain, which fell steadily now, drenching us both. “She had a collection of torture instruments.”
“There they are!”
A patrol of Wolf Grays halted, spreading in a ring.
Hlanan looked down at his dull green coarse-woven tunic, grubby after three days of wear. “Uh oh.”
“The page has the book.”
Hlanan and I exchanged glances. “Shimmer,” I said to him. “I’ll run.”
I whirled around, leaped to the top of the chicken house, and from there, another leap carried me over the iron spikes of the fence, one just grazing my ankle. I landed and rolled in the mud, then I was up and running, as overhead Tir squawked, swooping and diving.
I ducked between a couple of houses, my empty belly growling. A fine time to remember breakfast, I thought as I splashed up a pretty brick path, and skidded under a brick archway with a trio of matching gargoyles grinning down from the top.
I looked both ways along the street—in time to see a crowd of Wolf Grays dash out, spreading in both directions. I ducked back, but not before a couple of them caught sight of me.
Sploosh, splash, I dashed through the puddles pooling in the flagged street. On the opposite side, the mansions were slightly less imposing. Good. Away from the river’s edge and the royal palace meant less noble housing? My best running grounds were always narrow streets and close-built houses and jumbles of fencing.
Two more streets, as the longer-legged guards slowly closed the gap between us, and at last I reached what I was looking for: houses built close enough together for me to roof-run.
A leap, a moment on a fence to catch my balance, and another leap put me on a roof, as the panting guards closed in below, round faces looking up at me. I turned away, ran across the roof, and leaped to the next house.
The Gray Wolves had no chance of catching me, for they, too, were sodden by the rain, and none of them could leap.
Roof runs were often exhilarating, especially in the rain, as lighting blued the distant mountains to the east, reflecting in the lake, and thunder boomed and crackled across the sky. Though I was hungry and tired, a little light-headed, like the day I first met Hlanan, the old thrill sizzled through me as if the lightning lent me some of its power.
The last time I’d roof run from chasers I was alone, not belonging anywhere, or to anyone. I’d preferred it that way. It was safer.
It had not been all that long ago, but in one sense it seemed another lifetime, for this time, I was running to somewhere, and I had a partner. A truste
d partner.
Tir flitted overhead. I dared not open the pinhole, because I knew Dhes-Andis was waiting, but I didn’t need it. I followed the bird, who led me gradually around in a half circle, past stables and houses and a clay yard and finally past a huge apiary, built against a small loop in the river, at the east end of the city.
I pelted down the pathway, with deep hedges to either side, frequently looking behind me for the pursuit that I’d lost. The rain smeared my prints almost as soon as I made them.
Tired, panting, I slowed up when I reached a little hillock behind the last of the hives, and there Hlanan waited, my knapsack at his side. As soon as I saw him I put on a last burst of speed—though I did not know why—but before I reached him, my foot caught in a half-submerged tree root and I shot headlong.
I didn’t splat headlong in the mud.
Hlanan caught me under the armpits, I slammed into him, and his arms locked around me. I flung mine around him, and I clung, breathing hard, half-laughing, dizzy with emotions that swooped like Tir through the stormy sky.
Hlanan’s grip tightened until I pulled back a little, to look into his face, his brown eyes shaped by own emotions, and then—it felt so natural—I tilted my head and kissed him.
It almost went awry, my lips brushing the soft ruddy-gold beard stubble that he had yet to shave. A second try, both of us breathless with laughter, was more successful, firing my body with light.
Then he let me go, and looked at me with a rueful smile, his forehead under streaming wet strands of hair both puzzled and tense. “Lhind?”
“I don’t know what that was,” I said, and remembered something Thianra had said about hiding as a child. Maybe this was a terrible mistake, but it felt so right, unlike my foolish experience with that rotter of an actor. “I mean, I do, but I don’t know . . . what it means. Except I do like it,” I said wistfully, and when he gave me a quick, inadvertent smile, not all the evil mages and ravening warriors could prevent me from saying, “Let’s try again.”
He cupped his hand around my cheek. “I want to. More than anything, ever, in my life so far.” His gaze was unwavering. “But the search is going to be out, and they will find us if we don’t get moving.”
“Tell me first how you got away.”
“I made an illusion. It got me into the street, then I felt that mage trying to find me by tracer, and I ended it, just before I caught a ride on the back of a wagon. I hid among the barrels, and dropped off the road right up there. Searchers ought to be along any time, now.”
“You’d better take this.” I pulled the book from under my tunic, where I’d stashed it between roof-leaps.
I opened it, watching rain fall on those unreadable words. “So much evil. Why don’t we rip it up and toss it into the river? Faryana said to destroy it.”
“I’d love to destroy it, but with my respect, Faryana,” he raised his voice slightly, “you know that is not my decision to make.”
I did not dare open the pinhole to find out what she might say. “Dhes-Andis is also going to be searching,” I said. He had to be hovering around in the mind-realm, waiting to pounce.
Hlanan’s mouth tightened briefly. “I haven’t forgotten. Neither of us can try magic again. I’ve no doubt that mage has my magic signature by now, and though we don’t know who is talking to who, or how much they are revealing, we can assume that Dhes-Andis will cooperate with anyone who nets him that book.”
“I’ll call some horses,” I began, and then cold pooled in my stomach. “No. I can’t.”
You can, came Faryana’s voice.
I nearly jumped straight into the air.
You are too tired—you are leaking thoughts, she sent, and instinctively I widened the pinhole as she began, But I will teach you—
The roar of thunder blasted my skull. Dhes-Andis!
I fell to my knees, my hands clutched over my head to keep it from flying to pieces as pain lanced through me, brighter and sharper than lightning.
But Faryana had learned my own range, and I ‘saw’ her as she reached . . . and took control of my mind. My hands. A hum resonated through me, soft and harmonic. My fingers braided signs in the air, making light shiver and dance, and—
The assault ended up abruptly.
Faryana released control of me, and I sagged, to discover myself in Hlanan’s arms again. “What’s wrong?” he repeated over and over, his voice high with anxiousness.
Faryana said, We rarely teach that before a certain level of learning. But I know you well enough now to trust you. You have shut the Emperor of Sveran Djur away by magical ward. You can shut anyone out of the mental realm the same way.
Thank you, I responded, and opened my eyes. It took a couple of breaths to get control of my shuddering, but then I explained what had happened, as Hlanan gazed at me with wide eyes. Then I said, “So now I can call horses. We’ll soon be riding.”
“We,” Hlanan said slowly, “yes. But not together.”
I gazed at him in surprise. “What did I do wrong?” My face flushed to my ears. “Was it because I kissed you?”
“No!” His hands came up. His smile was crooked, his voice ragged. “Besides, I think that was an impulse we both shared.”
I grinned, heady with relief. Oh, yes, this new emotion could hurt worse than the cut of the sharpest knife, but the possibility of happiness was also there, stronger than that sense of the sun just beyond a distant mountain at dawn.
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Hlanan let out a short breath, then said, “It’s this cursed book. And the fact that Morith knows me.” He glanced worriedly at the road, which was still empty. “I want her chasing me. Not you. She doesn’t know who you are, and I want to keep it that way. If I’m right, it won’t be for long.”
He looked back at the city, diffuse in the gray, watery light.
“Does your ‘if I’m right’ have something to do with those papers you gave that Tolvar fellow?”
“Yes. He’s the nephew of the King of Liacz, sent to this kingdom as governor. I guess she couldn’t seduce him, or buy him, or coerce him. I gave him her secret correspondence with certain nobles in this kingdom, who apparently can be seduced, bought, or coerced.”
“Ugh.” And, listening in the mental realm, which was blessedly free of any evil emperors, “Horses will be here shortly.”
He gazed bemusedly at that evil book, his manner odd, as if he wanted to say something.
I tried to help. “I still don’t see why we should separate.”
He glanced my way, and his tense expression softened. “Because somebody needs to get to Erev-li-Erval, and report what happened at Alezand. That’s at least as important as returning this thing.” He flapped the book. “I’ve got an idea. If I’m right about how Liacz’s king will react to those papers, all I need to do is get the Grays to chase me, but stay out of their hands long enough for Liacz to be raised. If that goes as planned, we’ll meet . . .” He looked away, then braced his shoulders, as if he had come to a decision. “We will meet in the imperial city.”
“Where?”
“Find the . . .”
The sound of hoof beats caused us both to look up sharply. Then, as one, we ducked behind the drooping willow growing along the river’s edge, as a patrol of Wolf Grays galloped by.
Once they’d vanished into the rainy distance, I looked in the other direction, and here came a couple of frisky horses.
Hlanan stretched out a hand toward me, and when I didn’t move, he touched my face lightly, his thumb stroking along my jaw. Sweetness and sorrow hollowed me inside, and I gulped, my eyes stinging.
He backed away. “Stay safe, Lhind.”
“You, too. Do you . . .” My throat constricted.
How strange it was. Here’s me, enthusiastically using stinks to keep the world at a safe distance, undone by the briefest touch of tenderness. “Need money?” I forced the words out.
“More nippily-gotten gains?” His smile was sweet, but also brief, a flash of br
ightness. “No. I’ll be fine. Go. East by north, to where the mountains reach the sea. You can catch a transport at Halfmoon Bay, which will take you to the end of the peninsula, where you’ll find the imperial city.” His smile went crooked again. “This will give you a fine chance to invent some new disguises.”
I couldn’t bear to prolong the moment. Is this what people who pair off live with every day?
The impulse to ride and ride, never stopping until I’d outrun the hurt of separation—the vulnerability, the expectations—was nearly overwhelming. I threw myself on one horse’s back, and turned my head to see Hlanan’s horse fording the river, his shoulders tense, his brown hair, tied in a tail, dripping down his back. He was riding out in the open, waiting to be seen.
I turned away, and began to ride along the hedgerows.
o0o
A week and two days later, Little Moon had risen and the stars began wheeling toward midnight when my latest mount slowed to a drooping plod. Though my muscles felt unstrung and my bones as heavy as stone from exhaustion, the sense of urgency had not abated; so far I’d seen nothing, but I knew that I was pursued, and relentlessly.
I’d managed to scrounge food along the way, sometimes growing wild, occasionally from villages. I raided kitchen gardens, but paid for cooked food, when it seemed safe enough to indulge the luxury. I took brief naps high in the boles of trees, and once in an abandoned fox nest under thick brush.
Never enough rest.
I forced my attention to the ghostly stretch of fields ahead of me, and on the mare’s moon-touched mane stirring in the breeze. Her hooves flashed among the tall grasses, slower at each step.
On my right, the jagged mountains created a silhouette against the hazy, thin clouds not quite masking the brightest stars. We’d turned northward that day, my intent to ride alongside the Anadhan Mountains until they guided me to the coast. Judging by the infrequent signs, I’d reached the last of the frontier that both Namas Ilan and Liacz shared. No one owned this land. The signs were all of nomadic travelers, or herds of animals ranging for grass.