The Seven Signs: Three Book Collection

by D. W. Hawkins

  “Dormael,” D'Jenn said.

  Shawna turned her eyes back to the green-eyed wizard, registering that something must be wrong. D'Jenn placed a hand on his cousin's shoulder and shook him, but the man didn't realize that D'Jenn was there. He had eyes only for Shawna's armlet. She hugged it close to her chest, recoiling at the thought of it touching her, but more nervous about the entranced sorcerer. She smelled burning cloth, and noticed that pieces of the man's clothing were starting to singe away in tiny, flickering lines.

  “Dormael!” D'Jenn growled louder this time, shaking Dormael harder.

  Dormael turned confused eyes on his cousin, blinking as his expression began to clear. Realization blossomed on his face, and he looked around the room at each face in turn. When his eyes fell back to the armlet, a deep flush grew in his cheeks.

  “It happened again, D'Jenn. It just...it just had me,” he muttered.

  “I felt it,” D'Jenn replied. The two shared what was clearly an ominous look, but didn't bother to elaborate what had happened to anyone else. Shawna felt even more apprehensive about leaving with the two of them. If there was something wrong with Dormael, then who knew what the man could be capable of?

  “What was that?” Shawna asked, determined not to let her fear cow her.

  “Your armlet...it's very powerful,” Dormael sighed. “It called out to me again. It's difficult to resist.”

  “Difficult to resist?” she repeated.

  “It sings,” D'Jenn explained. “Most infused items resonate with our power, but this...this has a song all its own.”

  “What in Evmir's name does that mean?” Alton asked.

  “It means we need to get that thing to Ishamael as soon as possible,” D'Jenn said, fixing Alton with a level gaze. “I don't know what it is, but I know I've never seen its like before.”

  “My father said that my mother and younger sister had dreams of it,” Shawna said. “It always gave me an odd feeling.” Shawna closed her eyes, biting down on the momentary pang of grief that sung through her bones. She wondered how long it would take before speaking their names no longer conjured their faces to memory.

  “Where did it come from?” Dormael asked. Shawna was about to reply, to repeat to him that it had belonged to her mother, but she realized that he had only been musing aloud. “How long has it been just lying around for anyone to pick up?”

  “You can't feel anything from it, can't feel anything strange with the way you're touching it?” D'Jenn asked.

  “Only a little strange,” Shawna replied, her eyes falling to the gentle curves of the piece of jewelry. “But I don't think it's singing, or whatever you called it.”

  “Strange,” Dormael repeated. The two wizards shared a look, but didn't clue anyone else in on their thoughts.

  “We need to leave here as soon as we can,” D'Jenn said. “We knew that already, of course, but this only makes it more imperative.”

  “That's where I come in,” Alton smiled. “I've found you a ship. It's called the Squidchaser, captained by a man named Roldo. He's not the most honorable type, but he knows his business, and doesn't ask troublesome questions.”

  “Can we trust him?” Dormael asked.

  “Not in the deepest of the Hells,” Alton smiled, “but he's all we've got, and I'm paying him enough to keep his mouth shut for the rest of his life. The other captains I work with are all anchoring for the season, or staying on this side of the Stormy Sea. No one wants to make the run at this time of year.”

  “It's not called the Sea of Storms for nothing,” D'Jenn nodded.

  “I told him to make ready for a departure tomorrow night, and he’s agreed to take you all to Duadan. He’s moored at dock number sixteen, and he’ll have a sailor meet you on Whiskey Row, in front of the Happy Lad.”

  “The Happy Lad?” Shawna asked.

  “It’s…well, it’s a brothel, cousin.”

  “I see,” she replied, raising her eyebrows.

  “He chose the place.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  “I've also bought the two of you horses,” Alton said, ignoring Shawna's clipped commentary, “and a few supplies for the trip.”

  “We can't thank you enough,” D'Jenn said, bowing to Alton in respect.

  “You can, and you are. Give Shawna the help she needs, and consider all past and future debts between us settled,” Alton said. He gave Shawna a smile, and Shawna repaid him with a grateful look.

  “Speaking of future debts,” Dormael said in a reluctant tone, “there's something else, my friend. We found a girl in the castle.”

  “A girl?” Alton asked.

  “A child,” Dormael clarified. “Bethany. She was...well, we found her in the colonel's rooms. Beaten, dressed...dressed like only a grown woman should dress. She couldn't be older than eight or nine springs.”

  “Gods,” Shawna gasped. That was certainly something she hadn't expected to hear. “What happened to her?”

  “We don't know for sure,” D'Jenn replied in a dark tone, “but the bruises and nightgown are telling.”

  “You stole the colonel’s child?” Alton asked, eyebrows climbing his forehead.

  “Not his child,” Dormael said. “Just a child he had.”

  “How can you be sure?” Alton said.

  “The girl came with us without protest,” D’Jenn said. “She was eager to leave.”

  “The man didn’t deserve her, in any case,” Dormael put in. “Even if he was her father. But, no—D’Jenn’s right. The way she spoke of him, we could tell they were no relation.”

  “I hope you killed the bastard,” Alton said.

  “We missed our chance,” Dormael replied, “but we brought her back here. She's with Lyssa in the kitchens, getting something to eat. I know I shouldn't have presumed, but we couldn't leave her there, Alton. Wouldn't have left her there.”

  Alton held up a dismissive hand. “Speak no more of it. We'll see her fed, and see if we can find out where she came from. Nan is probably fussing over her already. It's been a long time since there were children in this house. Hells, not since I was a child.”

  “Thank you,” Dormael nodded.

  As if mentioning her name summoned the woman herself, Nan came bustling into the room with a steaming plate of food and two mugs. The old chamberlain favored Shawna with a bright smile, then sat the dinnerware on the bedside table, making to arrange the meal. Shawna’s stomach began to growl as Nan turned a dark look on the men in the room.

  “I'm gone for a few minutes, and come back to find out that you've disturbed the Lady right out of the bed I made for her. I'm sure you're very happy to see her, but the Lady Shawna needs to eat something, and I'll not have you boys disturbing her meal. Out, all of you. You too, my Lord,” she added, nodding to Alton with only a modicum of respect.

  “Not even the master of my own home,” Alton smiled. He rose and enfolded Shawna in a light embrace. “I'm glad you're awake, cousin. I'll see you soon. If you need anything, just let someone know.”

  “Thank you,” she smiled, “for everything.”

  “And you, Dormael Harlun,” Nan said as everyone turned to leave. The name came out like an accusation. Shawna saw Dormael freeze. “Don't you go disturbing Lyssa. She has work to do, and you're nothing but a distraction. You've got that girl to look after, now. She's down in the kitchens eating everything in sight, by the way.”

  “I wasn't disturbing her,” Dormael replied, turning a sheepish grin to the old woman.

  “I know what you're doing,” Nan said, giving him a level gaze. “I might be old, young man, but I've seen plenty of handsome faces like yours, and I know your games. I'm watching.”

  “I thought you said that you hadn’t done anything serious,” Alton sighed, raising an eyebrow in Dormael’s direction.

  “Yet,” Dormael replied. “I said we hadn’t done anything yet. It’s just a bit of harmless flirting, in any case.”

  “I know what flirting sounds like, and it isn't flirting
that the two of you were doing in the middle of the night. You can't lie to an old woman, Dormael,” Nan said. For all the chamberlain was calling the man down, her face held a tolerant smile.

  “You're going to corrupt all my servants,” Alton sighed.

  So the Sevenlander was just as lecherous as she'd thought.

  Typical.

  “Corrupting them is the fun part,” Dormael smiled. “Besides, who else would I regale with tales of my daring escape from Castle Ferolan? You wouldn't have me deprive the girl of that, would you?”

  “It's no use, Alton,” D'Jenn smiled. “His mother has been trying to change him for years.”

  Alton only smiled and shook his head. “I've got better things to do than swim against a current. I've got some business to attend. I'll see everyone in the morning.”

  “And D'Jenn and I are going to steal something from your wine cellar,” Dormael said.

  “Goodnight, Dormael,” Alton laughed on his way out the door.

  Shawna watched everyone file from the room and allowed Nan to return her bed to its proper state. The food tasted like everything wonderful she'd ever eaten put together, and she ate two full plates before her stomach finally protested her efforts. Nan fussed with her bedding before leaving her with a decanter of water and a mug of firewine. Shawna gulped the alcohol down as soon as the old woman was out the door.

  She lay awake for some time after the candles had been snuffed. She hadn't had a chance to grieve for the loss of her family, and as the dark closed in around her, she felt the weight of their loss pressing in like an invisible pile of stone. The twisted, bleeding bodies flashed through her mind again, and visions of the men she had killed paraded before her eyes.

  It was long into the night before she fell asleep.

  Quitting Sanctuary

  All Dormael wanted to do was finish his breakfast.

  “I think she’s going to be a problem,” D’Jenn said around a mouthful of cooked eggs. “All her life, she’s been used to ordering people about. You can tell by the tone in her voice when she talks to us. If we weren’t Blessed, I’ll bet ten marks to one she’d have turned her nose up, sniffed in our general direction, and told us to bugger off.”

  Dormael nodded without replying, chewing on his bacon. The morning light streamed down through the narrow windows of the common hall, and it was stabbing into his eyes. D’Jenn had been grumbling about Shawna all morning, but Dormael had yet to summon the energy to form a coherent response. For all that he had poked at Alton about Lyssa, Dormael had sought his own blankets after their conversation with Shawna. He had slept like a stone.

  The dawn had brought soreness, stabbing light, and D’Jenn’s grumblings about the noblewoman.

  Bethany sat close beside Dormael, toying with the length of his beard. Now that the girl had been bathed, dressed properly, and fed, she didn’t look quite so pitiful. She had sought out Dormael and D’Jenn as soon as the sun had risen, and hadn’t left their shadow since she had found them. She was quiet most of the time, but did manage a reluctant smile here and there.

  The version of Bethany that wasn’t soaked to the bones and dressed in cast-off clothing could have fit in with the children of any country noble, save for the girl’s attitude and the bruises on her face. She pretended general disinterest, but Dormael could see the girl keeping a single eye on her food, as if it would jump from the plate and run away. He’d seen that look in the eyes of many street urchins during his lifetime, but the fact that she was trying to hide it said something about her intelligence. Bethany moved like a shadow, and knew how to make herself small. Her face was pretty enough to have come from the nobility, but her mannerisms made her an orphan, plain as the sun.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Dormael turned his eyes back on his cousin. “Aye, I heard you. I don’t know, coz. She seems alright to me.” He tried to spear some eggs onto his utensil with his left hand, scowling down at his plate as the food fought to stay clear of his attack. His right arm was bandaged and hung in a sling—a souvenir of their night at the castle. After a moment, Bethany reached out with her own fork and helped him. Dormael gave the girl a smile and nudged her shoulder in thanks.

  “You just like the sight of her Ladyship’s legs,” D'Jenn grumbled.

  “That's not it,” Dormael said.

  “Oh, of course not. My cousin, the paragon of virtue. It's not as if you've ever done anything stupid because of a pretty face and a nice pair of—”

  “Swords,” Dormael interjected, indicating Bethany with a meaningful glance.

  “Of course. Swords,” D’Jenn said, giving Dormael a vulpine grin. Bethany, though, didn't even look up from her breakfast.

  “I think you should give her some time,” Dormael said. “She just woke up, after all. Her whole family is dead, and all this…,” he gestured in the air, unable to come up with a word, “this is happening—think about it. I’d be snippy, too.”

  “Snippy,” D’Jenn nodded. “That’s a good word for it. Snippy. I could think of a few more, though.”

  “She wasn’t all that bad,” Dormael said. “You’re just angry because she stared you down.”

  “She was needlessly confrontational,” D’Jenn said. “You saw it. You were just too busy ogling her to notice.”

  “You’re giving me a headache.”

  “All I’m saying is that you owe me.”

  “Owe you?” Dormael asked. “For what?”

  “Dormael, if she is going to be as snippy as she was last night from here all the way across the sea, that means I’ll have to listen to her. You got me into this, and that means you owe me.”

  Dormael shook his head. “Alright, I owe you. Let me know when you want to collect, I’ll have something special planned.” Dormael turned and winked at Bethany, who smiled at her lap in reply.

  “I suppose I should allow the girl some room to be angry,” D’Jenn sighed. “But since you’re the one who’s sweet on her, then you’re the one that has to deal with her—that’s the rule.”

  “Why are we suddenly making rules? And who said I’m sweet on her?”

  “When she needs handling, you’ll handle her.”

  “Handling?”

  “You know what I mean,” D’Jenn said, giving him a flat look. “When Her Ladyship needs her questions answered, it won’t be me doing the talking. When she wants to spit fire at someone, that someone is you.”

  Dormael opened his mouth to argue, but found no words with which to reply. Finally, he shrugged and went back to eating.

  “Very well,” he sighed. “I can shoulder that burden.”

  D’Jenn peered at him. “I’ll bet you can.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “Oh, shove it up your arse, that’s not what you meant.”

  “It’s not,” Dormael grumbled. “Would you let me wrestle my eggs into my mouth, or am I going to have to listen to your nattering all bloody morning?”

  “Nattering, eh?” D’Jenn smiled. “It’s not my nattering you’ll have to listen to. Remember that.”

  “Fine,” Dormael sighed. “I’ll meditate on it every morning. Are there any more complaints? I’d like to get them out of the way before I start having stomach trouble over them.”

  “Why are you being so objectionable this morning?” D’Jenn asked. “All you’ve done is grumble.”

  Dormael felt like throttling him, but contented himself with a flat stare. D’Jenn returned it without comment, and Dormael went back to fighting with his food. Bethany, though, rescued him from the indignity of sliding his eggs about.

  D’Jenn let the matter lie, and Dormael was finally allowed to finish his breakfast.

  ***

  Alton took the day from his business matters to see the group off, and make sure that they had everything they needed before setting out. It was almost an entire season’s journey across the Sea of Storms to the Sevenlands, and then a long ride from landfall in Duadan to Ishamael, in Runeme. Alton joked
with D’Jenn and Dormael, and whispered privately with Shawna. The noblewoman was distant and distracted throughout the day. Dormael could sympathize with her.

  I have no idea how I’d feel, were I in her position.

  Dormael had expected her to be as fiery as the night before, but Shawna stayed withdrawn. D’Jenn must have noticed the dejected look in her eyes, because he did nothing to antagonize her, instead going out of his way to be polite and keep his distance. Shawna offered everyone weak smiles, but allowed only Alton and Bethany to get close to her.

  There were parting gifts as the sun grew low in the sky and everyone was making ready to leave. Alton gifted Shawna a golden amulet engraved with her family’s seal—a rearing horse on a checkered field. Dormael and D’Jenn received horses, bred from an offshoot of the Llewan stock. Dormael paired himself with a chestnut stallion, and D’Jenn chose a gray one, which he named Mist. Dormael, even more to the point, named his own mount Horse. Alton had also given them two pack horses, which carried the lion’s share of the gear.

  With both Dormael and Shawna wounded, only D’Jenn was able-bodied enough to get into a scrap. If they met any trouble on their way, Dormael and D’Jenn would be forced to use magic. Dormael hoped that the only trouble they met would be an obstinate sea captain and cold weather, even if his experience told him it was unlikely.

  One could always hope, after all.

  Alton walked over as everyone was making ready to leave. Only Shawna was still inside, having been stolen away by Nan during the preparations to depart. Alton looked over the horses, took in a deep breath, and let it out with a shake of his head.

  “I wish I could come with you,” he said. “What I wouldn’t give to be out of the manor for awhile, to see the Sevenlands, and to know what happens in the coming weeks.”

  “We'll try and send word to you, and we'll return when this is over,” Dormael said. “Besides, someone has to stay here and get word to your king of the duke's treachery. You're the only one who can make that case.”