The fight, as short as it had been, had still taken a good candle’s mark. The other three were well down the road. Rialt had to go at a flat run to catch up with them and even then it took long minutes afore he caught sight of them.
He did no relax until he saw that they were alone and unharmed. Apparently it had simply been that one team. Letting out another breath of relief, he sent a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens, and any god that happened to be listening.
Jewel must have been listening hard, as she turned afore any of her escorts did, head popping up over Sarvell’s shoulder. “Rialt!”
“Eh, lass, I be fine. So be your dog.” A smile tugged at his mouth when she openly beamed at him. “He put up a good fight, he did.”
“We’ll find him a proper reward later,” she responded easily as if having Bortonor fight off Daath assassins was no remarkable thing. “You’re not even scratched up?”
“No. They were good,” he admitted with grudging respect, “but I have been targeted by the likes of them since my voice started cracking.”
“Which means, what? Fighting Daath assassins for the past ten years?” Chizeld turned to regard him with open curiosity. “Why?”
“Ah, well, that be about the time I became an officer. They always target the officers.” Rialt shrugged as if this was common practice. For the Daath, it was. The easiest way to cause confusion in the ranks was to eliminate the officers.
With no apparent threat to face, the axe did no need to be in his hand. He slung it back into its holster with the ease of long practice. Jewel turned her head, tracking him as he came up along Sarvell’s side. With silent appeal, she leaned forward and held both arms out to him.
He knew that signal well enough. Looking up at Sarvell, he saw the other man’s open amusement at her actions. Well, if he did no mind…Rialt kneed his stallion to come in closer and reached out, transferring Jewel back over to his lap. She had barely settled before her hands were roaming all over his chest and arms.
Rialt blew out an exasperated breath. “Fine, I said.”
“Your definition of ‘fine’ and my definition of it are worlds apart,” she informed him tartly. “I do not believe you. But it’s true, I’m not finding any wounds. Sarvell, have I missed something?”
“Not a thing,” Sarvell assured her, eyes crinkling with repressed mirth. “He’s truly fine.”
Finally satisfied, she responded only with, “Good.” Slipping both arms around his waist, she snuggled into him, head buried in his chest.
Rialt could sense it even if she did no say it. Her worry over him was only part of it. She also felt very frustrated that she could no do anything to help in those moments of danger. He returned the embrace with one arm around her shoulders and lowered his mouth to her ear. “Sorry I be to have worried you.”
“Sorry enough not to do it again next time?” she asked against his coat.
“Ah…no quite.”
For that, she punched him as hard as she could in the ribs.
Chapter Eighteen
They travelled for four uneventful days to reach Parod’s Ford. No other Daath Assassins appeared, and with the deserted highways they didn’t even encounter any Thornock guards or bounty hunters either. While Jewel appreciated the peaceful days, she felt nervous about it as well. Her fears of other assassins appearing out of the woods were not dismissed because of one victorious encounter. She knew Cherchez better than that. Any god that could encourage a three hundred year war, a war that had never once succeeded, wouldn’t give up after a single failure.
She also wished that they’d had the chance to test her disguise on strangers at least once. As it stood, they would be at Parod’s Ford, a sizable town, without knowing if other precautions needed to be taken or not.
After riding so much, Jewel’s body had slowly started to adapt to being on horseback. Still, she also felt very sore. Her legs felt stretched and tingled with the unaccustomed exercise. They planned to stop and stay the night at Parod’s Ford, and personally she looked forward to a hot bath to ease the aches and a soft bed.
“See it,” Chizeld announced from beside her. “Should reach town soon.”
Right as Sarvell had predicted—the sun had just now started to wane, setting for the night. She could feel its warmth withdraw as it sank beyond the horizon. That meant she only had to stay strong for another hour or so. Jewel blew out a covert sigh of relief.
Without warning, Elahandra’s voice spoke into her mind. “Jewel. Once you’ve crossed the Hatton River, I need you to go to Wheelock.”
Jewel started slightly at the abrupt order. Certainly, but why?
“There is a former guardsman there called to serve as an armsman for Clarion. His name is Ian Kaelberer.”
Jewel broke out into a relieved smile. So Clari wouldn’t have to face building the Order in Bryn by herself after all. I’ll find him. Does he know that we’re coming?
“Yes. He wants to speak with Chizeld before going to Clarion. He has a very limited idea of what his new duties entail. Right now, he is preparing to go.”
Good. We’ll be there in three days or so.
“I will pass that along. Also, I believe that I have found another young woman that will accept the calling of High Priestess of Thornock. I might be able to release and re-call you as High Priestess of Ramath soon.”
If her smile grew any wider, her face might split. You’re just full of good news for me.
Elahandra gave an airy laugh. “Rialt especially will be pleased. I’ll let you break the news to him.”
Then she was gone, leaving that wide smile on Jewel’s face.
Chizeld must have sensed somehow that something had happened as he asked cautiously, “Priestess?”
“Elahandra has imparted some good news to us, and a new direction,” she informed him, aches and pains momentarily forgotten.
Sarvell, riding ahead, must have heard her as he called back, “And what’s that?”
Raising her voice so everyone could hear her, she relayed what she had been told.
“Well,” Rialt observed in a very pleased tone, “that be news to be noised abroad. I hope that yon lass takes up Thornock.”
“I also hope that she wields a certain amount of political power on her own, otherwise she’ll have a rough time of it,” Sarvell added. “But we’ll have to see on that end. For now, I suppose we better change our plans and head more towards Wheelock.”
“Eh, fortunately it be no far from our planned path. Although it will still be a delay. Chizeld, how much time do you need to train these new ‘uns up to snuff?”
“Six months,” Chizeld answered dryly.
“Shorten it to three days, will you?” Rialt requested. “We be on a schedule.”
The saddle leather creaked as Chizeld leaned in closer to her and requested confidentially, “Rialt should help, right?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she agreed with a winsome smile.
“Worrisome, it be, when you team up against me,” Rialt bemoaned.
~*~*~*~
Jewel held her breath as they went into Parod’s Ford, but no one seemed to pay her any real mind. Sarvell, their expert guide on travel, went ahead to find an inn for them. He came back and met them on the main street to guide them in.
She more or less stopped paying attention to her environment as soon as they entered the city’s limits. Her mind was exhausted from the constant exposure to a changing environment. If she didn’t start tuning things out now, she was afraid that she’d fall into a daze. It felt like she was in one already.
So it startled her when the reins of her horse were jerked out of Chizeld’s hands and they abruptly went right. “What?” she asked in alarm, tightening her grip on the saddle horn.
“Something’s off,” Rialt answered in an almost abstracted manner. “Sarvell, were those three there before?”
“No, I didn’t see them,” Sarvell denied in frustration. “Shards! They’ve got bounty hunter written all over them.�
�
“Could be after a different target,” Chizeld pointed out neutrally.
“Eh, but we can no take the chance,” Rialt sighed. “Sarvell, did you already pay for the room?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“It gets better and better, it does,” Rialt complained to the world in general.
“I know of another inn on the far side of the town.” Sarvell blew out a weary breath. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll scout it out.”
“Eh, we will bide here.”
They sat on their horses in silence. Jewel’s dazed mindset from before had completely vanished and now she had her ears and nose strained to their limits trying to sense everything. They apparently sat in either an alley or a small side street of some sort, as every sound had the echo of being in a small space. The smell of water and fish seemed to prevail in the air, smothering most of the other smells, but there had to be a bakery nearby somewhere as she could smell bread baking. She couldn’t really discern much more than that, which frustrated her.
It seemed an eternity, but Sarvell returned and this time sounded a bit happier. “I got the last two rooms at the inn, so there’re not going to be any bounty hunters staying there. We’re safe for the night.”
“Good,” Chizeld responded. “Lead the way.”
They rode to the other side of the city, learned when the ferry ran, and ate dinner. The only dicey situation that occurred the entire evening happened when Jewel headed for the baths. The men, after all, could hardly follow her into the women’s bathing room. Fortunately, no one seemed to find it odd that she wanted to take Bortonor in with her to “wipe off some of the dust from the road” and so she didn’t have to flail around in a foreign environment.
The men played the part of very attentive and loyal armsmen, never leaving her side for more than a moment, and they were able to leave the next morning with no one the wiser.
Now, if only the ferry ride could’ve gone as smoothly.
They’d loaded on board the ferry for the first crossing that morning. Jewel, never having been on anything river-related, didn’t really know what to expect. After the first few seconds of having her feet on the wooden planking of the ferry, she decided she’d rather swim than use this contraption.
Rialt had been playing the part of “escort” for her, with her hand tucked into his elbow. His focus had been keeping her and Bortonor clear as the horses were loaded on, but that obviously didn’t keep him preoccupied, as he picked up on her unease quickly.
“Something wrong?”
“I don’t like this,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip and tightening her grip on him. “The way this thing bobs about is very disorienting. I can’t seem to find my balance.”
“Ah. You have no gotten your sea legs. Takes a bit of adjustin’ for everyone, the first time.” He paused a moment before adding thoughtfully, “Although for you, it would be more of a trial.”
“Understatement,” she grimaced. “Can’t I swim across instead?” she asked, half-teasing.
“Ah…no.”
“Spoilsport.”
His arm vibrated with a subterranean chuckle. “I be glad now that we didna choose to go by boat from Zarraga. No with you this fussy a mere foot from shore.”
She had a childish urge to stick her tongue out at him, which she fortunately bit back. Jewel couldn’t imagine that a proper lady stuck her tongue out at people, and she couldn’t risk that anyone watching her might start questioning her adopted persona. “I’m glad we didn’t either, now. What is that smell? Fish?”
“Eh, fish and black silt and garbage the river has no yet washed away.”
“Remind me to never live near a river.”
“Most of ‘em are no so bad as this,” he assured her. “This one be a bit ripe even for my nose.”
At that moment, the ferry pushed off from the shore with a massive heave of the oars. Jewel felt her balance abruptly pitch forward and tightened her grip on Rialt to keep from falling. He stood like a rock under all of the movement, as if nothing had occurred.
With every dip of the oars, and the farther from shore that they got, the more haphazardly the ferry rocked back and forth. Jewel felt her stomach start to pitch and heave.
“Jewel?” Sarvell appeared beside her, voice concerned. “You’re turning green.”
“We are never getting on board any kind of boat again,” she moaned.
“Not unless the fate of Evard hangs in the balance,” Chizeld promised her.
Somehow…that failed to be reassuring.
~*~*~*~
They camped that night in a shallow depression with only a smattering of trees around them. The men assured her that the Darwall Mountains were within sight, but she had to take their word for it. At this point, she could neither hear a change in the wind nor smell any difference in their environment.
As they tended to the horses and generally went about making camp, she sliced up meat and vegetables for a thick stew. She’d performed the task before a thousand times and so paid little attention to what her hands were doing. Instead, she took the time to consider something that she had been unconsciously avoiding.
Chizeld in Ramath.
Rialt had been advocating her return and permanent stay in Ramath from the very beginning. He hadn’t been shy about voicing his opinion either. After staying there and being so warmly welcomed, Jewel could admit to herself that living in Ramath for the rest of her days sounded rather ideal. She certainly preferred that over returning to Belthain.
But what about Chizeld? Sarvell had never hinted that he wanted to assume the position of her armsman. After this task was completed, he would no doubt go back to his life in Bryn, perhaps stopping by now and again to see her if he were nearby. But Chizeld had made an oath to her and not the office of High Priestess of Thornock. He, in all honor, could only follow her no matter where she went. Even to Ramath.
“Jewel, the young woman has accepted. There is a new High Priestess of Thornock now,” Elahandra announced in her head. The goddess sounded very smug and pleased. “I now release you from that position.”
Jewel’s hands froze mid-motion, her knife resting just below the peeling of the potato in her hands. She accepted. I hope, for her sake, that she’s not a complete political novice like I was?
“No, indeed. She is Judge Matthison’s daughter.”
Tamarra Matthison? Jewel couldn’t help but try to clarify that. She knew the woman—frankly, only the clinically insane or foolhardy would dare cross Tamarra Matthison. Never mind the political power she wielded, but the woman had a tongue sharp enough to flay a man alive.
“The one and only. I daresay that the ministers in Belthain will behave themselves with her in charge.”
Jewel could almost feel sorry for the pompous, self-inflated windbags. Almost. Um. Do we need to stop by and train her at all?
“No, the Order in Belthain is even now filling her in. She’ll be fine. In fact, more than fine. She asked that I pass along a message to you.”
Oh?
“She said, and I quote, ‘Don’t worry about the bounty hunters. I’ve taken care of it.’”
Jewel thought about that for a moment. She took care of it? How?!
“She tracked down the idiots that signed off on the bounty and gave them a death stare, I believe. It’s remarkable how afraid people are of her when she’s such a sweet young woman.”
She refrained from commenting on that last part. Jewel had, after all, met Tamarra on several occasions. The woman was only sweet when she was in the mood to be. Sensibly, she responded with, Please tell her thank you on my behalf.
“Of course. Now.” Elahandra’s tone changed from one of evil glee to brisk business. “Jewel Jomadd, I release you from the position of High Priestess of Thornock with thanks. Will you accept the calling to be the High Priestess of Ramath?”
She smiled at the formal phrasing, one that she had heard almost verbatim nearly four months ago. I will.
�
��From this time forth, you hold the mantle of authority and with it, the responsibility of this position. Serve with honor.” The formality dropped and Elahandra whispered, “Thank you, child,” before she departed.
Chizeld dropped down next to her, boots crunching on the slightly sandy soil, and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Jewel?”
She heard the question in his voice and said simply, “Elahandra has released me and recalled me to be the Priestess of Ramath.”
“Ah. Who did Elahandra call as replacement?”
It took great muscle control to not let an evil smile slip as she answered neutrally, “Tamarra Matthison.”
Chizeld choked. “Those poor ministers.”
“You say that,” she observed, mouth twitching, “and yet you’re smiling.”
“Can’t prove that,” he retorted, amusement richly coloring his words.
“Don’t need to.” She went back to peeling her potato and struggling not to laugh in evil glee. To say that the ministers had met their match would be an insult to the new high priestess. Jewel could not have been more delighted and had this insane urge to dance around the campfire in sheer joy.
“So. Will be living in Ramath after all.”
Jewel’s hands paused once again, head canting slightly to the side as she listened to his tone, trying to analyze how he felt about this. He did not sound resigned, or disappointed, or…well, anything, really. “I’ve never really asked this, Chizeld. How do you feel about living there?”
“Relieved,” he admitted frankly. “Hated the politics of Belthain.”
“Well, yes, that’s understandable.” She felt exactly the same way. “But most people, by choice, do not want to live in Ramath.”
“Priestess does,” he pointed out.
She couldn’t refute that. “Ramath made me very welcome there. You didn’t have that experience.”
“Things will be different upon return.” He sounded rather certain. “Besides, only reason why people do not want to live in Ramath is because of close proximity to Daath border.”
Her brows quirked into a bemused frown. He had another good point. “I just don’t want to force you to live in a place where you’re unhappy.”
Midnight Quest Page 21