Shadows of Aggar (Amazons of Aggar)

by Chris Anne Wolfe

“Maryl is in labor,” Elana said patiently. “Protocol is easily lost at such times.”

  “How is she?” and in the same breath, “Where was Szori?”

  “Maryl is doing well. There’s much time before she will birth the pair, I fear. And Szori is with her. Tad Bowgyn did not wish to leave his Min but neither was he comfortable tending her without a woman’s — ”

  “Cursed Fates’ Jest!” Diana muttered savagely, grabbing the mantle with white-knuckled hands. “He was comfortable enough bedding her alone, wasn’t he?!”

  Elana eyed her in concern, rising to her feet. “Are you jealous, Di’nay?”

  “No!” Guiltily Diana realized she had shouted. More calmly she repeated, “No, just frightened.” She drew a slow breath, but the anxiety still knotted her stomach. “Do you know how old she is, Elana? Almost twenty-three seasons… and this is her first — Mother help her!” It was a strangled plea and her eyes burned with unshed tears. “I had truly hoped not to be on this planet when…”

  Consolingly Elana touched her shoulder, “She is strong, Di’nay. I do not know if the children will survive, but if the mid-wife is adequate, there’s no reason Maryl should not live. She will be all right.”

  “Children?” Diana looked at her quickly.

  “She bears a pair,” Elana announced softly, and worried, she squeezed Diana’s arm as the woman paled. “I do not need the Sight to see her walk — her shape. They have said nothing of this to you?” Diana shook her head dully. Stillborn twins were all too common on Aggar. She had lived long enough in Gronday to know this. “You said the mid-wife is here?”

  “I believe so. I spoke with her at eventide, and she set out at once. I returned by way of the South Gate — ”

  “Yes… Leggings.” Diana forced herself to concentrate. “The King’s Dracoon. Did you learn anything about the Maltar’s pair? Or news of Garrison?”

  “Perhaps.” Reluctantly Elana accepted the fact that Di’nay did not want her comfort and her hand fell from the Amazon’s arm as she explained, “This morning one of the Dracoon’s hunting birds brought down a courier hawk. The bird was marked with a Black Falls band, but which handler it belonged to, he could not tell. The note merely acknowledged instructions had been received.”

  “Odd… no handler tag.” Diana stared into the flames. “Black Falls, you say?”

  She said, “North and northwest of here.”

  “Right direction. You know something of it then?”

  “A little more than the Seers perhaps. I was born there.”

  Just yesterday probably. Diana winced at her own cynicism. What had happened to their truce? The one she herself had extended the other night in the baths?

  “I beg patience,” Diana muttered, aware that Elana would be uncomfortable beneath this disjointed anger. Diana finally saw — really saw — the woman before her; she looked exhausted. She pushed an unruly strand of hair from Elana’s face, saying, “You deserve a bath and some sleep.”

  Beneath the embracing warmth of Di’nay’s amarin Elana smiled too. “That sounds wonderful. I’ll look in on Maryl first. Then I promise to tend to myself.”

  “Tell her I asked after her.”

  “Certainly. Di’nay…” Elana hesitated, feeling a little foolish, but she went on, “Take care tonight? Please?”

  Diana remembered the black horse as it lay in the mud. “Yes. I will.”

  † † †

  The stale floral scent of tobacco greeted Diana as she stepped through the low door. The room was already crowded, the air gray with smoke. She took a breath reluctantly, blinking to adjust to the dim light. Usually, she knew, she was quite capable of enjoying an evening in the commons. The boisterous lot was generally cheerful, and the local musicians might be sober enough to start with a few dancing tunes later. The Inn’s commons were the best entertainment available. Certainly a more efficient news service than any of the King’s messengers.

  She waved to the innkeeper across the room. Taks lifted his good hand with a hearty shout that died in the midst of everyone else’s commotion. She and Taks went back a ways — to her first monarc of arrival. Cleis had been riding with her that summer day. It had been Diana’s initial trek out into Aggar, and they had interrupted a band of thieves waylaying a brewer’s wagon. The driver was dead and his companion unconscious when the scuffle ended. They had tended Taks’ wounds the best they could, but his left arm had had tendons severed.

  All in all Taks had taken the crippling well. Being the Inn’s owner, his livelihood had not been as threatened by the loss of his arm’s use as it would have been by the loss of the wagon’s contents… at least, that was how he told it.

  “Aye, it’s the time to be seeing Tad Di’nay again,” he greeted her cheerfully. “I was just speaking to Min yesterday about it. And how are you?”

  Atop the bar she clasped the upraised palm, laughing, “I’m never so good as you’re looking, my friend. How’s business?”

  “Picking up after the end of harvest slump,” he chuckled and pulled a gray stein from the stack. Taks was a tall man and bulky. Even with his left arm tucked against his apron string, he rarely seemed clumsy.

  Deftly he sidled the stein against the lower counter as he twisted the tap closed, and with a flourish, Taks presented her with a mug of mead. “As always, Tad, the first for you is by my pleasure — ”

  “But the rest takes coin well measur’d!” she finished for him and lifted the toast. “May the Fates forget you, Tad Taks, and may the Mother hold you near.”

  He was silent while she drank, then said, “You’re here for the lass’s birthing?”

  She set her mug down before removing her cloak. “I was surprised to find she’s bearing so soon. I’d come to bring my farewells. I’m off for m’ Homeland.”

  “You’re saying?” His thin black eyebrows arched worriedly. “You’ve not done anything displeasing to your king now, have you?”

  “Not at all.” She grinned reassuringly, touched by his concern. “My duty is served, and my family awaits me. No more and no less.”

  “Aye,” he nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve been a long time gone for a son to be missed. You’re saying you’re looking forward to the journey then?”

  She nodded but with all truth added, “But I’ll be missing a lot of these Northern peoples. You not the least, Tad.”

  His small black eyes lifted, staring at her mutely. There was too much he owed this Southern Trader; it was a debt he had barely begun to repay. Tad Di’nay would never know how much that single wagon of ale and whiskey had meant to this business. His family would have been ruined, if it had been lost. As it was, he now claimed the best cellars in the regions, personally supplying the Dracoon with all his needs. This alone had doubled his life’s fortune in a single tenmoon. He looked down at the counter and rubbed a drop of moisture dry with his finger. “Tonight your money’s not welcome. Your drink is from me.”

  It was clear to Diana how much this meant to him. She nodded. “I’m honored.”

  He straightened pulling the rag free from his apron, not glancing at her. “I’m the one honored.” He left her on the pretense of wiping the far end of the counter.

  Diana drew a long drink from her stein, watching him go. These were odd sorts of good-byes. Emotional openness was strictly relegated to the woman’s role here. She was not sure if she should be thankful that this forced her into such casual farewells. After so many years of guarded, superficial relationships, was she truly aware of what she was saying good-bye to?

  Home would be difficult after this practiced hiding. For the first time, she glimpsed the more personal reasons for the moonbound time on Shekhina… reasons aside from the vague risks of cultural sabotage. Perhaps she had forgotten how to relate openly — vulnerably — even to women. Perhaps especially to women. Her thoughts drew pictures of a blue-eyed shea.

  “So the day’s trek did not tire you over much!” A booming voice and a hefty slap across her back harshly broke her solit
ude. Diana grinned with practiced effort at the round tub of lard that plunked his tankard down beside hers. “Tad Nattersu, a good evening to you. I’d have thought you weary of my company after the day’s bartering?”

  One of the bartenders refreshed Nattersu’s draught. He smiled his broadest and best, raising his mug to her. She groaned inwardly. One of the browns he’d sold her was probably colicky.

  Wiping his frothy mouth with his sleeve, he gasped, “A proposition for you, Tad Di’nay!” He pointed to an empty bench beside the roaring hearth, “Shall we talk?”

  She tipped her head and waved him on first, following him through the tables and crowd. The empty bench was usually the last to fill because of the heat of the hearthstones, but Diana had always been fairly partial to it herself.

  “Now tell me of this proposition, Tad Nattersu? Have you not taken enough of my monies already?” and she dropped her cloak down before sitting on top of it. To date it had been her best method of not losing it in a brawl or rowdy dance.

  “Well, Tad, I remember your dissatisfaction of this day when my animals were not up to spring stock.”

  “Aye,” she said politely, cocking an ear towards him, but her eyes skimmed across the crowd. She paid particular attention to the brawny twosome that were so noisy behind the band; the slender one had a trim little beard, an anomaly in this region, but they were being treated like regulars.

  “And I had promised myself, Tad, that should a better animal grace my stables before delivery of your strong pair — ”

  “That naturally you would think to allow me first honors?”

  “Yes, my point precisely.” He beamed cheerfully, his eyes rolling to look at her as his sweaty, round face was lost in his tankard once more.

  “Well indeed I’m honored.” Diana raised her mead with a slightly sarcastic gesture. They both knew she had the readiest money and the best need of a good horse and that Nattersu wasn’t fool enough to let the opportunity slip by.

  “It’s a fine steed we’re speaking about now.” Nattersu pulled his arm across his jowl again. “He’s very much to your liking — along the lines of your chestnut in Gronday I’m describing.”

  “So handsome?” Diana challenged good-naturedly. Gratefully, she suddenly sighted Pel, one of the tavern maids. The plump, brown-haired girl squealed and tossed a laugh in their direction. Diana raised her mug in salute, and with a saucy tug to her hair’s kerchief, the girl disappeared into the kitchens.

  “Now do not let the pretty thing cloud your mind!” Nattersu hastened on, knowing his time had just grown considerably shorter. He was no match for the wench’s charms. “This is a fine animal. Fifteen hands and not a popped knee or swollen joint in his body!”

  “Fifteen, you're saying?”

  “Fit for the Dracoon’s stables. Sleek, good grooming and sound in hoof— ”

  “Do tell, Tad, where did you come by such a beast?” Despite her friendly tone, Diana felt a strong suspicion creeping to mind. “Was he promised to another this afternoon and so you forgot to show him to me?”

  “No, no,” he said, laughing in relief at having captured her attention again. “He was sold to me just today — not so long after you’d left us.”

  “Do say?”

  “Aye!” He nodded emphatically. “Two of the south county farmers brought him in. They raise some handsome horses right here in the region, you know.”

  She waited as he took another drink.

  “And they come by with this fine gelding. A sorrel with sound legs, Tad. Very sound. It seems they’d run into the same marauder you may have…”

  Best bet said they were friends of her marauder.

  “…and their comrade then was cut down.”

  Diana grimaced. “Makes me thankful for the midnight stealth of my thieves.”

  “Aye. A deep slumber has saved many men’s lives, I’d wager.” Nattersu drank to that and then continued, “They saw the raider, you know? Shortish to middling man, garbed in green, they’re saying. And riding a red horse.”

  “Not much of a description,” Diana observed dryly. Her suspicions appeared to be correct. Someone was obviously intent on framing the Southern Trader. What a shame she’d left her chestnut stallion at the base. “Now back to this horse…?”

  “Aye, aye. Fine animal as I was saying.”

  “It’s just the one sorrel then?” She wasn’t about to ride anything remotely ‘red’ at this point. “I need the other to keep pace with me, you rightly know now.”

  “Still — ”

  “And it’s not that much of a journey back to Gronday, Tad.” She looked considering into her half-empty mug but off to the side she saw Pel appear with a heaping tray of bread and steaming stew. “No, I think not, Tad. I consider myself honored by your attentions, but you were speaking true this day. You pointed out the pair is just right for my purposes. I believe I stand with your first advice.”

  “Oh, but — ” he sputtered. “Tad Di’nay, surely…?”

  “Di’nay!” Pel launched herself the last few feet, landing adroitly in Diana’s lap without spilling a drop of mead. “You didn’t send word you’d be coming tonight!”

  Diana patently ignored Nattersu and charmingly played to the maid on her lap. “I couldn’t stay away any longer, and to send word?” She lifted the woman’s hand to her lips. “Why, Pel? I thought to tell you myself. Can you forgive me?”

  Nattersu made a disgruntled snort, taking himself off for another tankard of ale.

  “Naturally, you’re forgiven,” Pel giggled and, still balancing the plate, kissed Di’nay soundly. “Aye Tad…,” she whispered softly, “you’re still the best to kiss in the whole of these parts.”

  Diana grinned at her pleasure and offered her the seat that was so recently freed by Nattersu. Pel took the mead and kept Di’nay’s arm snugly wrapped around her shoulders as she began to catch Di’nay up on the recent gossip.

  With genuine pleasure Diana listened and started to work on the plate of food. Practice had taught her well how to eat in this particular one-handed fashion. Most of the inns that she’d come to frequent in the last tenmoons had a Pel or Atten or some maid waiting for her — it avoided the embarrassing moments that being single and available aroused when fathers were husband-shopping for their daughters, or innkeepers were marketing their tavern maids for the evening. It was an odd arrangement from Pel’s perspective since the Southerner always looked for her, always coveted her for the evening, but never — despite the affectionate, enthusiastic public displays like their greeting — never made the slightest of demands on her in private. Often she was carted off to the overhead lofts or occasionally even to a paid room, but it was for the peace and quiet of the place and not for sex. It had confused her. Even when she was doing the inviting, Di’nay was not buying — or more to the truth, not taking advantage of the purchase since the Southerner always paid very well. Although, Pel wasn’t fool enough (nor were any of her counterparts in other taverns) to announce their activity to the whole of the commons. On the contrary, the money always suggested a variety of feats. Diana had been amazed at the stories that drifted back to her regarding the Southerner’s prowess.

  “I suppose you need to be leaving early tonight?” Pel said. “Since your ward — the bakery Min — she’s birthing?”

  Diana smiled reassuringly. “But I did have to see you before disappearing.” With a gentle hand Diana brushed a curly lock back into place.

  “Taks — he’s saying you’re to be gone. Your people are wanting you home?”

  She sidled closer to the girl, grasping the small hand. “Will you miss me, Pel?”

  She laughed awkwardly. Diana realized the girl had stopped playing their game.

  “Pel?” Diana tipped the round, young face up to her.

  “You’re going away, that’s all.” She sniffled and her voice faltered. “You’re going to have to train a new maid about liking your stew extra hot, now you hear? Don’t expect to settle for just the cold
dish when you’re really wanting it hot!”

  Diana nodded solemnly. She was touched at the very real concern beneath the simple order. “I promise you. I’ll not be too quiet — ”

  “Too quiet you are! Come now, Trader. Share her some with the rest of us!”

  Diana’s arm intercepted the massive hand that grabbed for Pel. Steadily she met the half-drunken stare of the man standing over them. “You’re not welcome here, Tad. Move along — ”

  “What for!? She’s not too cursing good for the lot of us! It’s time to share her for the dancing!” the drunkard bellowed, and with a sudden lurch he snatched Pel’s wrist and pulled her to her feet. The half-empty mug tipped and threw the mead in an arc, dousing both Diana and the intruder.

  Diana launched herself to her feet with a solid left to the ruffian’s chin, and he toppled backwards, crashing table, chairs, and patrons on his way. The ring of the sword leaving its sheath sent Pel slipping off and customers scrambling aside.

  The music hushed, and the man shook his head before it registered that he was staring up at a sword point. The scowl deepened, and the glaze in his eyes sobered to dark fury. He scrambled backwards, gaining his feet and jerking his blade from its tattered scabbard. He inched away slowly into the clearing of the dance floor, and Diana followed him, sword circling.

  “Taks!” Nattersu whispered harshly. “Stop them — Jekin’ll kill the scrawny likes of the Southerner!”

  “Hmm, you weren’t in the last time, were you?” The barkeeper paused in drying a mug to watch the wary figures. The Dracoon’s stablehand was a good head taller than Di’nay and twice the bulk, but Taks remembered other fights and other swordsmen. He shrugged and put away the mug. “Di’nay is short-tempered but just. Obvious Tad Jekin’s to fault.”

  “But Di’nay — ”

  “Can handle himself well enough,” Taks said firmly and glanced at the empty stein in Nattersu’s grasp. “Do you need a bit more there, Tad?”

  Nattersu’s eyes still followed the tensed pair. “Why don’t they do something?”

  “Jekin will soon,” Taks replied matter-of-factly and handed him a full tankard.