by RJ Blain
Dawnfire’s guild master frowned. “You’re sick.”
I waved away the grizzly’s concern. “Colds are a common occurrence among couriers.”
“I’ll send for a mystic.”
“Not necessary, but thank you for your consideration.” I shifted my satchel’s strap on my shoulder. “If you have no further need of me, sir, I need to get back on the road.”
After the run-in with Dawnfire, I needed to make distance before anyone recognized me. If a mystic looked me over, my gender would be exposed. I’d been reassured by the tribe it’d be difficult for a shifter to pick out my gender by scent, especially when I wore the feathers within a few hours of their activation. They cleaned everything in their presence, and it included scents.
It’d take time for the feathers’ influence to wear off, but a mystic would only have to take a look at me to know I was a woman dressed like a man.
If anyone ever found out I was a woman who was supposed to be a man who liked being a woman but was dressed like a man, I’d probably never hear the end of it. Maybe if I got lucky, the situation would confuse them. My situation often confused me.
Gentry inhaled, held his breath for several long moments, and sighed. “Allow me to assign you a guard. Couriers have been the primary targets due to the quality of your horses. If you’ve been attacked once, you’ll be attacked again.”
Thinking about it, there had been numerous attempts to take my animals, and they’d grown in frequency as I’d travelled east of the Mississippi. “I can’t afford the fee for an escort all the way to the Mississippi.”
Both mercenaries sucked in a breath, and a golden glow lit the grizzly’s eyes. Gentry growled, “This isn’t the first time you’ve been attacked for your horses?”
“That’s correct, sir. They’re stubborn and mean, but they’re good horses. Don’t need much knowledge about horses to see they’re good animals.”
“How many incidents?”
I shrugged, taking a few minutes to think about it. “At least ten times. Maybe more. It’s a risk of being a courier.”
“How many injuries have you sustained?”
Two of the attacks had left me needing stitches, both of which had already healed. One fresh scar marked my ribs, and the other stretched down the length of my leg from hip to knee. Both times, a mystic had been required to close the wounds, provided by the courier headquarters of the nearest city. “Few. There are records with the courier headquarters of the injuries.”
“And your horses?”
“Uninjured.”
“Al, send a rider to the courier headquarters and request a complete file of all injured couriers in the past two months, all cities east of the Mississippi.”
The mercenary dipped into a bow, turned on a heel, and left.
“Anything else you might have neglected to tell me, Courier?”
I straightened. “I was unaware it was relevant information, sir. It’s a danger of the road, and I thought nothing of the increase in attempted thefts. But, to address your question, no, I’m unaware of other information that may be of use to you. I’m not a news mule.”
A chuckle slipped out of Dawnfire’s guild master. “News mule? That’s a new one.”
“A courier who focuses on gossip rather than parcels, messages, and legitimate hires. They earn their income by spreading rumors and news off the wire. Some of them spread news that shouldn’t be spread.”
“That explains the mule part of it. Please have a seat. Walk me through every incident since you crossed the Mississippi.” Gentry pointed at an armchair tucked in a corner near his, and I strolled to it, set my satchel between my moccasins, and sat.
I wanted to bolt for the doors, head for the stable, and get the hell out of Dodge, but if I showed even a single sign of unease, the grizzly would latch onto my behavior and maul through my lies and disguise with ease.
If he got too close and personal, I doubted the tribe magic could protect me from his nose for long. Leaning over, I pulled out my roll of maps. I left no marks on them to betray where I’d been or where I meant to go, but they’d simplify matters for me. I’d have to pick a new—and less efficient—route to get home, but it’d be worth the price to dodge extra attention. “I took the highway ruins headed to Knoxville before coming here.”
I spread the map over my lap and pointed out each spot I’d been attacked. Gentry Adams leaned over me, watching with his eyes narrowed in interest, his posture relaxed. “I spent a week in Knoxville recovering from the worst of the attacks.”
“A week? That’s a long time if you’re mystic aided. Why a week?”
“Blood loss, sir.” I shifted on the armchair, gesturing from my hip to my knee. “Cut here, deep.”
The guild master’s eyes followed the movement of my hand, and he grunted. Without understanding what the noise meant, I shrugged, straightened, and tapped the paper where the first attack had taken place. “Two men here.”
“Their status?”
“Dead.”
“The second attack?”
I shifted my finger across the map to a small town off the ruins of Interstate 24. “One here.”
“His status?”
“Her,” I corrected. “Dead.”
“Are any of them alive?”
Thinking about it, I pointed out each site again, and when I reached Charlotte, I grimaced. “Devil Spawn has a habit.”
“Your horse? What habit?”
“Stomping on people who get thrown, mostly. She got cut once, shortly after I got her, and she takes offense to anyone with a blade, even me, though she knows I’m not about to hurt her. We have an understanding.”
Gentry stood to his full height and crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Where’d a courier get a warhorse, anyway?”
Lying would land me in hot water fast, but the truth might reveal too much. I sighed. “Wild caught, sir.”
“Wild caught. You caught that horse yourself?”
“As I said. We have an understanding, sir.”
Mostly, I had an understanding: what Devil Spawn wanted, she usually got, and in exchange, she put up with me. In the grand scheme of things, she had gotten the better end of the deal.
“Explain, please.”
“She gets fed the way she wants, so she tolerates a saddle. Devil Spawn likes fighting and making people bleed. With me, she gets her fair share of fighting. Dipshit’s too damned dumb to run from a fight, so he puts up with me, too. Us couriers? We get into a lot of fights. Someone wants our parcels or our messages, they try to take them. Our job’s to keep our goods safe.”
“So your horses do a lot of the fighting for you?”
I liked when the truth served me well. “Yes, sir.”
“Six couriers have been attacked in two days here, and two were killed. All of them lost their horses. You’re the first to survive without injury or loss of your animals. Last week, there were ten such attacks. The week before, seven. My guild has been given the contract to resolve the issue. We were under the impression these attacks were localized to Charlotte, which doesn’t seem to be the case.” Gentry returned to his armchair and sat at an angle so he could face me. “Do you recall any similarities between your attackers?”
Rolling up my maps, I returned them to my satchel. Gentry gathered my official documents, leaned over, and offered them to me. They went back into the bag, too. “I don’t.”
“Show me your horses,” Dawnfire’s guild master demanded.
One day, I’d learn to give Charlotte a wide berth. Whenever I came anywhere near the place, bad things happened to me—life-changing, wretched things. I rose to my feet, but instead of crossing the room to head to the guild’s stable, I imagined myself jumping out of an oversized frying pan directly into a fire.
Chapter Twenty-One
Gentry Adams stared at my pair of black horses imported straight from hell.
They stared back, and I liked to think dark flames roiled in their eyes, banked and wait
ing for a little bit of a breeze to whip up an inferno. Devil Spawn’s ears twitched back, then they flattened, and she faced off against the grizzly, every tense muscle in her body challenging the shifter.
My unreliable, mean-spirited stallion turned and gave the stall door a kick so powerful it shook the stable.
“You rode these horses all the way from Cheyenne.” Gentry’s statement, laced with disbelief, stoked my pride.
I was certifiably insane, and I didn’t mind it one bit. “I did.”
Dipshit slammed his hind hooves into the stall door again, and when we both ignored him, he screamed a challenge. The door would hold for a while, although it didn’t look nearly sturdy enough to contain him if he really wanted out.
Doors and Dipshit lacked functional relationship skills.
“I can understand why you’d be targeted for your horses. They look fantastic. They… act rather atrociously, however.”
I shrugged and went to check on my packs, which seemed untouched. I’d have to hide the katana when I saddled Devil Spawn, but good positioning, body posture, and some sleight of hand would keep anyone but the most observant from noticing my efforts to hide the blade. “If I might be excused, sir? I have a long way to travel today.”
“Where’d you catch them? Were a lot of horses of this caliber there?”
“In the south. I don’t know how many wild horses there are. I didn’t count them. I needed two horses, so I took two horses. I’m sure they resent every moment of my horrific abuse and enslavement.”
Dipshit’s hooves slammed against the stall door, and not to be outdone, Devil Spawn whipped around and joined in. Together, they made so much noise they set off every other horse in the stable, resulting in an ear-piercing din of whinnies and equine complaints.
“You’d have to have a twisted sense of humor to deal with those animals. Very well. Don’t leave town.”
I stared at him, disbelief and frustration blending together into something akin to rage. “I have to work.”
“You’ll be compensated for any loss of income.”
The loss of income didn’t bother me; staying in Charlotte did. “I decline. I answered your questions, sir. I did my duty in accordance to the law. I—”
“You will end up killed—or taken—for those two horses. I am under contract to bring a resolution to the attacks on couriers. I’m obligated to prevent anything from happening to you.”
I couldn’t win. No matter what I did, I just couldn’t win. I turned to Devil Spawn’s stall and banged my head into the wooden frame. She snorted, gave the door a love tap, and turned so she could grab hold of my braid and tug on it.
Even my horse, who hated me on good days, felt sorry for me. Wonderful.
“Do you have this mandate in writing?”
“I do.”
“And where do you propose to keep my horses?”
“Here, under close guard.”
I gave it a day at most before they brought the place down. “How long?”
“As long as necessary.”
“Very well. As I can’t work without my horses, I will stay.” I would stay, at least long enough to acquire new horses and get the hell out of town. “I don’t often get a chance to visit the cities I deliver to.”
An infuriated, abandoned Dipshit and Devil Spawn would probably hunt me to the ends of the earth for their chance to get revenge. For horses, they had long memories and enjoyed my suffering. Maybe I should have let the thieves steal them. I’d end up with their hoof prints on my ass regardless.
“I think you’ll find Charlotte an interesting place for visitors. As long as you don’t have your horses with you, you shouldn’t be a target. I request that you check in with us once a day. Report anything unusual you see.”
A good courier cooperated, so I jerked my head in a nod. “Very well. Do you have a place I can store my gear for the interim?”
“Of course.” Gentry gestured towards a saddle rack and general tack room. “Your tack can go there. It will be labeled as belonging to you. Leave your gear on the floor beneath your tack, and it will be secured in our storage facility. Please have your lodgings billed to Dawnfire. They will send someone to verify your status as a guest of our guild. Enjoy your stay in town, Runs Against Wind.”
I wouldn’t, but I faked a smile, freed my braid from Devil Spawn’s clutches, and went to work ferrying my gear to the appropriate place.
It took a little work to hide my katana, but I managed. Wrapping the blade in my cloak helped, and stuffing it, my satchel, and one of my other packs under one arm justified the unwieldy bundle. Maybe I should have waited for Gentry Adams to summon one of his guild members, but I saw a chance to leave, so I took it.
I was really, really tempted to leave the horses with the guild and head back to Wyoming without them. It’d serve Dawnfire right having to deal with them. My frustrations peaked, and I calculated if I had enough funds to take a train west. I could always hire someone to ship my horses back, although the cost would cripple me.
Staying in Charlotte would cost me far too much. In my effort to avoid detection, I hadn’t even checked the status of my bounty. Inquiries could be tracked, leading Dawnfire straight to me.
Having a tribe name simplified so much for me. I even paid my taxes through the tribe, something they found amusing and enjoyed, as they loved tweaking the government’s nose at every opportunity. They had long memories, and they remembered when the government hadn’t treated their people well, so the tribes went out of their way to make things difficult for the government.
After Starfall, the tribes had become invaluable sources of wisdom due to their close connection to nature and magic.
I shuffled down the street, flagged the first empty carriage I saw, and dumped my belongings on the seat. “Take me to a decent hotel in a quiet part of the city,” I ordered.
“It’ll cost you. Across town,” the man replied, looking me over doubtfully.
I pulled out a pair of twenties from my satchel and flashed the cash. The driver nodded his acceptance, clucked his tongue, and urged his horse into the steady flow of traffic, his animals’ hooves clattering on the cobbles. If anyone from Dawnfire wanted to track me down, it wouldn’t take much. I attracted slack-jawed stares from just about everyone.
Maybe I didn’t make for a beautiful woman most days, but I made for a striking man when I played one hard enough. In reality, the first thing I’d do once I had a room was to ditch my tribal garb and free my breasts from the confining binds. They hurt thanks to the constriction around my chest and ribs to keep my body shape somewhat masculine.
I’d either have to find a way to keep hiding my gender or sneak out of my room and check into a different hotel as a woman with few similarities to Runs Against Wind. If I made it back to Wyoming, I’d have to petition for a new tribal name. Too Stupid To Live might suffice.
While the outskirts of Charlotte had changed, the inner city hadn’t, not really. Old streets, even older shops, and the districts surrounding the crater woke too many memories. Frankenlibrary had grown, another level added to the top of it, made of heinous steel and glass designed to scream to the world Charlotte had found a way to melt metals even when fire and combustion proved unreliable.
I liked to think the magic of Starfall was fading from the world, allowing the old technologies to take root once more. Would the shifters die away if the magic died?
I hoped not; I liked too many of them for my own good, especially the ones I didn’t want realizing I was alive and had found my way back to town. The anxiety I had carried all the way from Wyoming surged, and it took all my strength to remain seated in the carriage instead of running for the hills.
Why was it I missed Todd’s stubborn pride and unrepentant attitude when my life went straight down the drain? The shifter stallion pissed me off almost as much as Dipshit and Devil Spawn’s antics.
I found it funny homesickness struck when I was close to one of the few places I had truly consider
ed home.
The driver reined his horses to a halt in front of a tall hotel, the only tall original structure within a half mile of the mayoral palace to have survived Starfall. So close to the seat of the government’s power, no one would dare to cause a fuss. With hundreds of rooms available, they had cheaper options, too.
I allowed myself to smile, and I tipped the driver. “Thanks.”
Whoever had named the Starfall Hotel needed to be slapped around, and the interior decorator deserved a fate worse than death. I liked moonlit nights and stars twinkling in a clear sky, but I liked those things outdoors where they belonged. Mystic magics made the ceiling shift and shimmer, drawing my attention to the glow and sparkle of thousands of stars.
In Cheyenne, technology worked better than in most places, but the tribes and locals still preferred mystic magic. Some viewed it as safer. Others believed it less harmful and disruptive. I thought them all wise for shunning guns and smoky fires, choosing horses over machines.
A few people lingered in the lobby, and my presence caught their attention. The woman behind the hotel’s front desk straightened, her pale eyes widening as she looked me over.
I headed to her and unceremoniously dumped my satchel, pack, and cloak-wrapped sword on the shiny counter. “Do you have an available room? The Dawnfire guild requires me to stay in this city, and they claim they will be paying the fee.”
Disgruntled rudeness wouldn’t do me any favors in most places, but the woman took in my attire, glanced at my things, and gave a low laugh. “We have rooms available, and we have an open tab with Dawnfire. Your name?”
“Runs Against Wind.”
“Tribe?”
I blinked, the question startling me from my annoyance at my circumstances. Was it standard for a hotel to inquire on tribe names and status? Then again, I usually only wore my hair braided with feathers and beads, which wasn’t enough for people to peg me as having any association with a tribe. “North Cheyenne.”
“Origin state?”
“Wyoming.”
“You write?”