Barrenlands (The Changespell Saga)

by Doranna Durgin

  "Comforting," Ehren grunted. "We've seen them on the road." He didn't mention that he hadn't been impressed.

  "Algere agreed with me, and well... you know what he can— could— be like. All quiet, till he finally loses his temper. He argued with Gerhard— and Gerhard understood, you know— he didn't come down on Algere like you probably would've. Like he ought to have..." She took a deep breath and looked resolutely at an unoccupied and shadowed corner of the creaky little barn.

  Laine was instantly grateful he hadn't known Algere. Whatever had happened to the man, it was bad enough to shake this woman, and even on short acquaintance he doubted that was easy.

  "What happened," Ehren growled, a demand more than a question.

  She looked dazed, as if she still couldn't quite believe it. "Gerhard was trying to reassure Algere, I think. He told him that Varien had a good idea where you were, and that this road was the only logical way to come into the capital; he said the other Guards— if you could call them that— would find you quickly, and bring you in safely, and that we'd get this all settled soon. But as soon as Algere and I knew where you'd be coming in..." She shrugged. "We decided to beat them to you."

  Ehren nodded, but his face was grim, and he looked at the bota in such a way that Laine knew he was wishing there was more wine. "And?"

  She scowled; Laine thought it was a vengeful expression. "We also decided to delay the others. We saddled up our horses and then turned the rest of them loose— and we made sure the city-ward gate was open for them."

  Ehren smiled at that, though he obviously tried to suppress it. The expression faded quickly enough as she added, "We didn't count on so many of the Reds being gathered at the tavern south of the palace."

  "The Crippled Swan," Ehren said. "Not a nice place."

  Jada swallowed, and looked away. "The Reds frequent it lately. All our new Guards were there, and they had plenty of friends. One or two of the loose horses came that way, and then when we came by, all packed for a trip— it didn't take them long to figure out what we were up to. We just weren't expecting their reaction...."

  "No," Ehren said. "They were still Reds, where it counted."

  She nodded. Her eyes filled, but her voice remained reasonably steady. "There were some Guards in the barracks who had a good idea what we were up to, but they were all for it. We're a unit, and they didn't like what they'd heard any more than we did. But the Reds...." She took a deep breath. "They came swarming out of that tavern, and we should have run. We should have known we couldn't trust them like Guards."

  "But you didn't, and they tried to take you." Ehren finished it for her, since she was obviously reluctant to. "Are you sure Algere is dead?"

  She nodded. "If it hadn't been for my horse..." She sighed, soft and sad. "They outnumbered us ten to one, but they never even gave him a chance. They came at us hard, with live steel. They didn't need to do that."

  Ehren ran a hand over his face, let it rest there a moment. His eyes, when they reappeared, were unfathomable; his face was hard, the clean lines of his jaw resolute. "Then," he said, "we'll have to make sure his death wasn't for nothing."

  And that's how the travelers— two rogue Guards and the son of a Solvan prince— had ended up on this little side road, wandering over small plank bridges and jumping the occasional downed tree that no one had bothered to move. They rode game trails through the woods, skirted hayfields, and meandered from farmhouse to farmhouse. Laine knew he rode in the middle position because he was their weak spot, and it bothered him not a bit. There was no place for ego in a reality this dangerous.

  He tried to keep that in mind throughout that first day as Ehren and Jada traded places, their caution keeping him on edge— constantly reminding him that they rode straight for those who wanted Ehren dead. And here he was, Dannel's son, a member of the family Varien had sent Ehren to kill.

  Laine decided to hum drinking songs instead of thinking. It seemed the wiser option.

  Drinking songs got him through the day…and then through the next, when they repeated their off-road travels. By then the paths had gotten substantial, and the villages closer together and larger.

  Definitely larger.

  After some discussion, they finally stopped at one of the villages for the night— ready for hot food and a good washing. Given the grubby state of the place, Laine was ready to stay in the barn with the horses.

  "We need to talk," Ehren said, as he finished brushing down Ricasso. "It's best done in the common room. It's nothing but an overnight, Laine, and a normal conversation."

  "I hadn't really thought of it otherwise until now," Laine said with some dignity. But when he followed them into the inn and sat down in the crowded common room, he found himself a little intimidated all the same. The other customers looked rough, and none of them seemed to be in a very good mood. It reminded him very much of the inn in T'ieranguard where Ehren had braced Varien's men.

  Laine hoped no one died tonight.

  After they'd ordered food, Ehren leaned back in his chair. "Things change tomorrow."

  "How?" Laine asked.

  "This is the last of the smaller villages before Kurtane," Jada said. "We'll hit the outskirts of Kurtane tomorrow evening."

  Laine rested his chin in the heel of his hand. "Do you think they're still looking for you?"

  "Undoubtedly," Ehren said, a touch of amusement in his voice. "With any luck, they've spread their search outward— but sooner or later they'll pick up some trace of us, and realize we're headed into the city."

  "They might even get the rest of the Reds in on the search," Jada murmured. She leaned out of the way so the boy bringing their ale could set it in front of her, then drank half of it down before Laine even got his. "Bring another," she told the boy shortly.

  "Yes'm," the boy nodded. His dirty face held an uncommonly vigilant expression; his eyes were wary and moved constantly over the crowd.

  "Nice place you picked here," he muttered to Ehren.

  "Isn't it?" Ehren said, his expression turning far too cheerful. "We're too travel-worn to blend in anywhere nicer."

  Laine gave himself a rueful once-over and decided there was truth to that. He tried to remember why he'd been so adamant in coming to Solvany with Ehren in the first place. A desire to put the final element of his Dreams— absent these past several weeks— behind him? The need to be part of this thing that was so tangled with his heritage? Or the simple— and naïve— reluctance to watch a friend walk away?

  He wasn't sure anymore.

  "They probably will get the Reds going," Ehren said, over Laine's thoughts. "They can't let this get out of hand. Fortunately, I have other plans."

  Jada flattened her mouth in determination. "So do I. Look, Ehren, we've got to stop Varien, and we've got to get through to Rodar— and those are two very different things. Rodar needs to learn the details of this situation privately, so he can investigate quietly enough not to endanger himself." She shrugged, and added simply, "I think we're more likely to live long enough to stop Varien if we make reaching Rodar our priority— but— it'd be nice to get an idea of what Varien's up to first."

  Ehren gave her a skeptical look. "Of course it would," he said. "But unless you intend to walk into the palace and ask—" he stopped short at her expression. "No," he said. "We're not going to do that."

  "I'm not stupid," Jada said, wrinkling her nose at him. "Laine and I could do it, but you're far too recognizable to manage. "

  Ehren reached over the small table and tugged the bright copper braid that fell over her shoulder. "And you're not?"

  Laine noticed no one bothered to ask if he was even remotely interested in trotting into Varien's turf. On the other hand... if he could get a glimpse of the man, he'd know for sure if Varien was the man from his Dream. And of the three of them, he was the only one not actually an outlaw.

  "Hair can be covered or dyed," Jada said. "No one's going to question us unless we do something stupid. Rodar's got so many work gangs on r
enovations that it's hardly surprising to run across an unfamiliar face. Laine can do the talking, and draw the attention. That accent'll do it."

  "You can't count on him in a fight," Ehren said promptly. "You'd be responsible for protecting you both." He gave Laine an apologetic glance.

  Laine, who had indeed been a bit taken aback, settled on a rueful shake of his head. "No, you're right. I can hold my own in a scuffle, but not against someone who knows what they're doing. But I do want to go. I want to see Varien, even if it's only a glimpse."

  "If it comes to a fight," Jada said, "we're both in trouble. I can hardly carry my sword inside and claim to be from a work crew. The point is not to get caught."

  Ehren rubbed a hand across his face, looking tired. "I rank you, you know. You really should listen to me."

  "You're outlawed," Jada replied promptly. "That doesn't leave you much of a rank." She flipped her braid behind her back and said, "Look, Ehren, if it was a terrible idea, you wouldn't still be talking about it. All I want to do is get in, pick up on the current gossip, and get out again. It's going to be tough enough to get through to Rodar— we might as well make informed decisions instead of wild guesses."

  He raised an eyebrow at her. "In and out again?"

  "I swear it on my honor feather."

  Ehren snorted. "You don't have an honor feather."

  Laine snuck in a suggestion, but not with much hope. "Any chance we could just... well, write it all down? That might get Rodar's attention. "

  Ehren shook his head, a decisive movement. "It was just such a note that got Benlan killed."

  Jada shrugged, unfazed by any of it. "Which is it to be, Ehren? Do you want to charge the palace and pretend we can fight our way through to Rodar, or will you let me take a little risk now so we can avoid it later?"

  "There isn't any way to avoid risk," Ehren said, his expression dark. "Not as long as we're intent on seeing Rodar— and right now, as poor a king as he makes, he's still the only one I trust not to have a hidden motive in seeing us dead."

  No, there wasn't any way to avoid risk. But Laine knew they were going in, anyway.

  ~~~~~

  I swear it on my honor feather. Laine recalled Jada's words and snorted softly to himself as he followed Jada through the busy halls. "He should have made you swear on something you did have."

  She turned around just long enough to give him a beatific smile. "Yes, he should have."

  "Wonderful," Laine grumbled, shifting the heavy sack of mortar on his shoulder. Jada carried one, too, and it spit tiny puffs of dust on her back from a weak seam as she walked. Her hair gleamed dark brown... a strange color, with the odd glint of copper showing through. Her face had been darkened as well, making her copious freckles more difficult to see— though frankly, Laine thought her broad and mischievous features were obvious enough, freckled or not.

  Together, they'd come in through the temporary workers' entrance. When questioned by the bored guard there, Jada had spouted off an equally bored recitation of name and location assignment, and they'd been waved through.

  Since then, Laine was certain, they had walked all the public areas of the palace, shifting the heavy bags from one shoulder to the other, pausing for gossip and looking busy when it was necessary. He had no idea where they were going, now, nor— since they'd heard Varien was out of the palace— did he think they'd learned anything of any use. Except perhaps that mortar dust was quick to stick to sweat.

  Jada touched his arm, guided him to a hall entrance and pulled him aside, easing her burden to the floor. "Time to leave these behind."

  "What are we doing?" Laine asked warily, glancing down the airy hallway. It had freshly painted plastered walls and some perfectly garish gilded crownwork. "There's no active work here— we can't exactly blend in."

  "We're not likely to run into anyone," Jada said. "And if we do, you lay that accent on them. Tell them we're new, we went out to use the commons, and now we're looking for the north baths."

  "If we're not going to run into anyone, how are we going to learn anything?" Laine asked. It was, he thought, a reasonable question.

  "That's exactly how we're going to learn something," Jada hissed, growing impatient with him. "You wanted to come, didn't you?"

  "To see Varien! And he's not here." But Laine set his bag next to Jada's.

  "Neither is Rodar," Jada said. "That means security's not half as tight."

  Laine blinked at her. "Rodar's not here? Who told you that?"

  "No one. But I saw some painters coming out of the private wing. They wouldn't have been there if Rodar was in the palace." Jada glanced around the small area where they'd paused, a place where two hallways intersected, enlarged enough to serve as a small room, with large, open windows that let in the breeze and the fragrance of the garden below. "We'd better get moving before someone does come through," she said. "It won't be as easy to explain our presence if it doesn't look like we're at least trying to find our way to the north baths."

  "Oh, yes it will," Laine muttered. "I'll just say we were arguing."

  She ignored him, brushing past him to take the gilded hall. "C'mon."

  What was he going to do, stand there? As Laine gave chase, he also wished fervently that he skulked about with Ehren, not Jada— for Ehren's judgment, he could trust. As it was, he was growing more than a little irritated that Jada felt free to drag him hither and yon without bothering to explain. Just how long had she known Rodar wasn't here, anyway?

  Ahead of him, she put up a hand, cautioning silence; her step grew light and wary. Laine frowned as she stopped in front of a tall, heavy door and put her hand on the latch, briefly listening for signs of occupation within.

  What are you doing? he wanted to demand, and didn't dare. She opened the door, stuck her head in, and removed it long enough to look at him and jerk her chin at the room within. When he hesitated, she grabbed his arm and yanked him in.

  Laine found himself in a small anteroom with a desk that filled one wall and glass-faced cabinets of dried herbs lining the others. A petite scale and weight set sat neatly along the back of the desk, and a tidy sheaf of papers off to one side. "Where are we?" he hissed at Jada, afraid to raise his voice to the level he'd have preferred to use.

  "Varien's rooms," Jada said as she scanned the contents of the room, and he could have sworn he heard a smug note in her voice.

  "What?" he yelped.

  She turned on him with a mighty frown. "Quiet!"

  But it was too late. Someone had heard them, someone on the other side of the door that barred the way to the inner rooms— there was a muffled noise from within. Jada froze, her voice desperately low. "He's not supposed to be here— !"

  "Let's go," Laine said, already turning to suit action to word.

  Jada's hand landed heavily on his arm. "No— listen."

  Listen? What he wanted to do was run. But... Ehren trusted her. Laine clenched his teeth, took a deep breath, and listened. Within seconds, he heard what had caught her attention. Faint, muffled by at least one door, it was an unmistakable cry of distress. When Jada put her hand on the inner door's latch and looked at him again, he nodded. At least she bothered to ask this time.

  They padded silently into the next room, a much larger chamber with thick curtains walling off tall windows, shutting out the light that would have brightened the place. Instead it was dark and foreboding— filled with heavy furniture, carpeted with a thick, luxurious rug, and overwhelmed by the massive centerpiece table.

  "Ugly," Jada said softly. "Pretentiously ugly, at that."

  "He's probably never even sat down at that desk." Laine nodded at the two doors dividing the far wall. "His real workroom is back there, I'll bet."

  Jada rounded the table to regard the doors close up. She looked from one to the other and chose, apparently at random, closing her hand around the latch on the left door. A whimpering cry filled the air, trailing off into a weak sob.

  Jada snatched her hand back and stared sus
piciously at the door.

  "No," Laine said impatiently. "It came from behind the other one."

  "I knew that," she said, and grabbed the latch on the right. The door opened without resistance, and in she went, leaving Laine on the other side of the table. "Oh, Hells," she said, her voice filled with dismay and loathing. "Damn that man, damn him to the deepest Level."

  Laine scrambled around the table to hesitate at the doorway, peering in to find a small room, windowless and unadorned. Jada stood at the far end, blocking most of his view of the cot that fit snugly between opposite walls. A small trunk, a tiny dressing table, and a pungent smell sufficed to fill the rest of the room.

  "What is it?" he asked cautiously. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, not from the smell— equal parts unwashed body and ripening body waste.

  "Come see for yourself," Jada said grimly, as something whimpered. She bent over, murmured soothing nonsense, and looked back over her shoulder. "Come, Laine. I'm not sure we have much time with her."

  Laine came, hesitant and dreading what he might see. And when he got there, he realized his imagination had fallen far short of actuality. Jada knelt, giving him an unimpeded view of the young woman on the bed.

  She wore only a thin shift stained with copious body waste, and the mottled bruising on her torso was perfectly clear through the material. Her legs, tangled in sheets, were marked with lightning strikes of blotchy purple bruises that snaked down her ankles and fanned across her feet. Her eyes bulged sightlessly at Jada, and fresh blood marked her lips; she cried in a soft, constant whimper of pain and fear.

  "Who... who is she?" Laine asked. "What the Hells happened to her?"

  "Varien's apprentice, Ileen," Jada said shortly. "And I have no idea what's wrong with her— except I bet it's Varien's doing."

  "Yes," Ileen said, softly keening the word. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "I'm going to dieeee..." A strained sob seized the word and carried it away, and Jada glanced back at Laine, nodding— as if he needed confirmation to know that the girl was right.