“Just go, and make sure you don’t drink my wine cellar dry,” Alton chuckled.
Shawna raised her eyebrows at their departure, but Alton just rolled his eyes at the ceiling and laughed.
****
Chapter Six
Betrayal
“I don’t like her very much,” D’Jenn was saying around a mouthful of cooked eggs the next morning as the cousins sat down for breakfast in the servant’s dining hall. “She’s got a lot to learn about dealing with Sevenlanders if we’re going to take her there with us. Accusing us of thieving, really! She’s a bit too arrogant for my taste.”
Dormael was chewing on his bacon, gazing down at Bethany’s brown hair as she toyed idly with his long braided goatee, slapping the weight at the end of it into her little hands and then rapping it on the bottom of the table happily. The little girl was ten, as it turned out. Now that she had taken a bath and had been found a proper little dress to wear, she didn’t look quite as pitiful as when the cousins had brought her in out of the pouring rain, bloody and dirty. Though she was quiet most of the time, she now answered their questions politely and had even smiled at them. Dormael couldn’t help but beam down at the poor girl, who had taken to them like a little sister.
Her hair was now a shining brown color, and Nan had braided it into a large plait that hung down to the back of her legs. Somewhere she had acquired a long string of blue beads, and Nan had braided them into her hair as well. The beads matched the little blue dress that had been found for her, which hung loosely down past her knees. There had also been a decent pair of leather shoes, but Bethany had hidden them somewhere and was now running around barefoot, which it appeared that she preferred to the shoes.
Her eyes were large and brown, and though her pain still showed through them sometimes, Dormael thought that every now and then he could see a glimmer of mischief somewhere inside of them. It reminded him of himself and D’Jenn when they were children, running around with his brother Allen and playing as many pranks on the other children as they could think up. Alton’s healer had been called last night to look at the poor girl, and it appeared that he had set her broken nose straight, though she still carried bruises on her tiny face. They would fade with time though, erasing the physical evidence of what had happened to her.
“Eat your eggs, little one,” Dormael said to her encouragingly, “We have a long road ahead of us. Are you excited about getting on a boat?” The girl nodded wordlessly and, putting Dormael’s goatee in her lap for later, began taking large bites of her cooked eggs. D’Jenn giggled at her from across the unstained wooden table. Alton had asked around for information about the little girl, but it turned out that she was most likely an orphan. There were no reports about missing children, and Bethany didn’t offer any information about the matter. She seemed quite content to stay with the two Sevenlander wizards.
Dormael awkwardly speared some eggs onto his fork with his left hand, his right arm being in a sling and his right hand bandaged lightly. He had never had to rest an entire limb for an injury before, and he found the practice quite irritating. He was of course right-handed, and having to use his left for everything left him bumbling and agitated, stumbling through the things he used to do quite easily. He wished, not for the first time, that he could just heal it with magic.
“I agree with you, coz,” Dormael replied to D’Jenn, “Shawna is a bit arrogant. She has been through quite an ordeal, though. I can understand her frustration and confusion, and sometimes that causes people, especially women, to lash out when they shouldn’t.”
“Yes, well…hopefully she’ll warm up to us a bit. It will make the trip that much harder if she doesn’t,” D’Jenn said around a mouthful of his own bacon.
“D’Jenn,” began Dormael, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Last night, when Shawna pulled that armlet out of her bags…well, why weren’t you entranced by it as well? Why didn’t it affect you?” D’Jenn smiled to himself and swallowed his last bit of breakfast.
“When I came here, the first night when I came walking into the manor, I figured out a way to shield myself from it. Sort of silence it, in a way. I would’ve shown you, but events were moving quickly and it just slipped my mind,” D’Jenn replied.
“Ah,” Dormael said, finishing his own breakfast, “I see. Well, I’m not sure if it’s going to be a problem anymore, but I’d like to know how to do it, just in case.”
“Of course,” D’Jenn assented. Dormael and D’Jenn conversed idly after that, waiting for Bethany to finish her breakfast. After a short time, the girl put down her fork, and Dormael and D’Jenn returned the three plates to the kitchens, Bethany trailing along behind them. They walked along the hewn stone lower corridors, their boots scuffing the hard stone underneath, and Bethany’s bare feet pattering along happily behind them.
The morning was cool, the night rain had left the air wet and cold, but the sun had come out that morning with blazing force, and burned off the cold of the night before. The result was that, though a little cool, it was quite comfortable outside. A good morning for a walk in Alton’s gardens, and the cousins turned down the hallway that led to the back door, headed for the grounds.
When they opened the door, Bethany sped out of it between them, running happily through the dewy grass, and actually giggling a bit as she frolicked along under a copse of bared apple trees. The sun was shining strongly down upon the gardens, and the cousins strolled contentedly along under it, soaking in the warmth of the autumn sunshine. Bethany ran back and forth as the cousins walked, running through trees and jumping along in the grass, but never getting too far away from the Sevenlanders.
“Beautiful morning,” commented Dormael, “Good day for a flight. A real one, I mean, not a Mind Flight.”
“You spend an awful lot of time in bird form, coz,” D’Jenn said, kicking at a small rock in the grass, “You know, one of these days you’re going to come back from one of your forays more bird than man.”
“Bah,” dismissed Dormael with a wave of his good hand, “It’s all a measure of willpower D’Jenn. I never spend a long enough time to get caught up in the transformation.”
“I don’t know…there haven’t been many studies on the matter, you know. It’s never been determined how long is too long. I wonder…what is the longest time you’ve spent in animal form?” D’Jenn asked Dormael, rubbing his long goatee in a thoughtful expression.
“Three days,” replied Dormael, “It was last year, when I had to spend all that time studying the lions? Well, I thought that the best way to gain an insight would be to…well…become a lion.”
“Eindor’s Eye,” commented D’Jenn, his eyebrows climbing, “I thought you just followed them or something. You never told me how you’d done it, and I never thought to ask.”
“Yes, well…there was a period then that I couldn’t find a good opportunity to change. It was…well…mating season, you see.”
“You didn’t!”
“No! No, I didn’t,” laughed Dormael at his cousin’s exclamation, “but they were everywhere, battling for supremacy, you see. I purposefully lost my fight, and with it, the right to mate. Anyway, they were everywhere, scattered all over the savannah, and if they had seen me change, they would have never let me near them again.”
“So, three days you spent as a lion?” D’Jenn asked, coming back to the point.
“Yes, three days as a lion. I was able to change back easily when the time was right, but to be honest…well, I sort of developed a taste for raw meat. It took a full week before it would go away. I think that was because I kept changing back, though,” Dormael explained, a little sheepishly.
D’Jenn burst out laughing, and Bethany stopped her playing to see what all the commotion was. D’Jenn was bent over, holding his stomach as if it would burst. Bethany came over and stopped just short of D’Jenn, looking at him questioningly. D’Jenn finally gained his composure and beckoned Bethany over to him. She skipped up beside him, and smiled when
he laid his hand on her shoulder.
“Look here, Bethany. If you ever want anything out of Dormael, here, or want to distract him while you perform some grand bit of mischief, bribe him with a raw steak,” D’Jenn laughed. Dormael was a little embarrassed but laughed all the same. Bethany giggled, but didn’t seem to understand the joke very well, so she went back to her frolicking. The cousins continued walking.
“So,” D’Jenn said, still trying to repress his laughing, “is there anything else like that you haven’t told me? I know you like to fly a lot…develop a taste for worms, have you?”
“No,” Dormael replied, laughing at him, “I never spend longer than a day in bird form. I’ve never needed to. Besides, after a while flying gets tiring. Damned shoulder…if it wasn’t for that I’d be in the sky right now.” Dormael sighed loudly and sat down on a low brick wall surrounding a pool of water. “Using my quarterstaff is out of the question, as is playing my guitar.”
“Cheer up, coz. It’s not as if this is a crippling injury,” D’Jenn consoled, “you still have magic.”
“Yes,” Dormael sighed, “I still have magic, after all.”
“Well, let’s go get cleaned up, coz. I’ll show you how to shield yourself from Shawna’s armlet afterwards, and we can talk to Alton about getting some supplies for the trip,” D’Jenn said, slapping Dormael on the back. The two wizards spent a few more minutes strolling idly through Alton’s gardens on the way back to the servant’s entrance around the back of the manor, and Bethany took the opportunity to skip around them in circles a few times. Handing Bethany over to Nan for a good bath, the two cousins retreated to their own rooms to bathe and change.
****
Alton appeared a little nervous as he ticked off the items he had collected for the group to take on their journey to Ishamael. He had assembled some dried rations for them, mostly jerky and a few wheels of cheese. The bread, he told them, was probably going to go stale within a few days, so they should eat it quickly and restock their wares along the way. It was amost and entire season’s journey across the Sea of Storms to the Sevenlands, and then about two week’s ride from landfall in Duadan to Ishamael, in Runeme. They would need to buy more food before they got there, if they couldn’t stay at inns.
Alton was taking the day from his business matters to see the group off, and make sure that they had everything they needed before setting out. He joked good-naturedly with D’Jenn and Dormael, and whispered privately to Shawna, who was constantly distant and distracted throughout the day. Dormael sympathized with her; after all, the girl had been through a lot in the past couple of weeks.
There were parting gifts as the sun grew low in the sky and the group was gearing up to head down to the docks. 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, whom he aptly named Mist. Dormael, even more to the point, named his own mount Horse.
Alton also supplied pack horses, two in number so neither would be too encumbered to make a swift escape if it was needed. All of their extra gear was strapped to the pack animals, including Dormael’s guitar and quarterstaff, which were useless to him with his current injuries. He would have to rely on his magic if there were any problems with Red Swords or City Guardsmen tonight. Shawna still wasn’t in top physical condition either, and wielding her swords was simply out of the question for at least another month or two, perhaps even until spring. D’Jenn was the only one able to wield a weapon, but Dormael suspected that he would simply use his magic, if it came down to a fight.
As the sun waned in the sky, the gear was stacked in the stables and Alton’s servants were busy loading it onto the assembled horses. Dormael, D’Jenn, Alton, Shawna and Bethany were gathered in Alton’s study, the men enjoying a nip of whiskey and a pipe, and Shawna lounging idly in a large chair with Bethany dozing contentedly in her lap. The air was quiet and tense in the twilit room, and as it was filled with the aroma of sweet pipe tobacco, the group began to speak about the coming journey.
“Get word to me if Roldo gives you any trouble,” Alton began, “He’s not exactly the most trustworthy of people.”
“We will, if he does,” D’Jenn replied, sending smoke rings rising lazily to the ceiling and taking a short pull from the whiskey they were all passing around.
“I just hope that he hasn’t heard tell of the City Guard searching for Sevenlanders and red headed women,” Dormael grumbled, taking the whiskey from his cousin’s passing hand and taking a slightly longer pull, “That hair of yours, though quite pretty, is very distinctive. I wonder if there’s anything we can do about that.” Shawna smiled slightly at the mention of her hair being pretty, but offered no other reaction. She was twirling Bethany’s brown hair around her fingers and staring off into nothing, obviously immersed in thought.
“I wonder if Nan can offer any insight on that matter,” Alton mused. He stood and walked to the door, taking the whiskey from Dormael while he was up, and rang the small servant’s bell that was hanging there. Taking his seat once more, he drank his shot of whiskey as Lyssa poked her pretty blonde head into the room.
“My Lord?” she inquired.
“Do me a favor Lyssa, and summon Nan up here, please. I have something to ask of her,” Alton said.
“Right away, My Lord,” Lyssa deferred, and bowed her pretty head from the room. As her footsteps faded down the hallway toward the stairs, Alton passed the liquor back to D’Jenn.
“I don’t relish the thought of crossing the Sea of Storms during the winter,” D’Jenn commented, and Dormael gave an agreeing nod, “The north and south winds meet over the sea this time of year, and the storms they throw up are legendary. It will be a rough time to sail.”
“Indeed,” Alton assented.
“I just hope we can make it to Ishamael unscathed by the Red Swords. I don’t relish getting into a conflict with them. Depending on how arrogant this Dargorin is, we could plunge the Sevenlands into a war with Galania,” Dormael sighed. D’Jenn grunted and furrowed his brow in consternation.
“The Mekai would never want Shawna’s artifact in the hands of a man like Dargorin. I think the Tal-Kansil would agree, and would do whatever it takes to keep it out of his hands. We will find sanctuary in Ishamael, I am sure,” D’Jenn replied. Alton shook his head in ignorance of Sevenlander politics and government, but asked no questions on the matter.
“I want you two to do something for me,” Alton said, leaning forward as D’Jenn passed the whiskey once more to his cousin, “Do whatever it takes to keep my cousin safe. Over the past week I have come to trust you as friends, and I know that you will do everything in your power to protect her, even if she can be a bit brusque at times. Can you do that for me, as friends?”
“We will do everything we can, until our last breath,” Dormael replied, offering his hand to Alton. D’Jenn repeated the oath, and also offered his hand up. Alton took each hand in turn and nodded gratefully at the two wizards as Dormael passed him the whiskey bottle.
There was a slight knock on the door at that moment, and at Alton’s summons Nan stepped into the room with a questioning look on her face.
“Did you need something, My Lord?” Nan inquired with a raised eyebrow.
“How many times have I asked you not to call me that, Nan? You spanked me as a babe, it’s a little strange to hear all of these ‘My Lords’ coming out of your mouth.”
“You are the Lord of the House, My Lord,” Nan repeated with a matter of fact tone and somewhat sarcastic smile on her old face, “The courtesies must be observed.”
“As you wish, Nan,” Alton sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand in exasperation as he handed D’Jenn the liquor with the other, “I was wondering; do you know of anything we could use to dye Shawna’s hair a different color? It tends to stand out, you see.” Shawna looked up from twirling Bethany�
��s hair at the mention of her name, and met Nan’s appraising and thoughtful look with a questioning gaze of her own.
“I may know of something, My Lord. I think some of the ladies down in the servant’s quarters can help with this one. If the Lady Shawna would follow me there…?” Nan replied with a dubious grin on her face.
Shawna sighed and made to move Bethany from her lap, but only grunted in pain as her injury prevented her from moving the small child. After some help from D’Jenn, Bethany was lifted and Shawna left the room to follow Nan down to the servant’s quarters.
“She’s been quiet today,” Alton sighed, nodding toward his departing cousin’s back.
“She’ll be alright, my friend, with time,” Dormael replied, sipping another nip of whiskey from the bottle and leaning back in his chair, “Her grief will take a while to run its course.” Alton shook his head, declined his next shot of whiskey, and D’Jenn and Dormael followed suit. The bottle was corked off and placed in a cabinet.
The two cousins began to check their belongings, as the time to depart was drawing near, and Alton sighed and watched in an uncomfortable silence. He twiddled his thumbs and shifted in his seat, gazing out the window at the setting sun. After a minute, he spoke up.
“I wish I could come with you. 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 will send you many letters, my friend, and we shall return when this is over to finish that bottle. The Galanians cannot suspect you in this. If you were to mysteriously leave in the middle of the night, your neighbors would surely notice, and what would be said at court? It wouldn’t be long before the Red Swords were kicking down your door just to see what they could find, and then where would you be? Besides, we will need you here to monitor what is happening in the east with Dargorin and his puppet Lord Eric. See if you can get word to the King about him, that will surely throw a light down the alley, and the rats will have to scatter. It might help delay their plans for us if they have to deal with a situation back here,” Dormael replied with a slight tinge of regret in his own voice.
The Sentient Fire (The Seven Signs) Page 12