“That would have been miserable,” Piercy agreed. He helped stow bundles and a couple of boxes in the carriage, then took Dolobeka’s load and received an even fiercer scowl for his trouble.
“Sadiki Dolobeka needs no one’s help,” he growled, tossing his crutch into the carriage and hopping up the step to settle inside. “I would have carried it all had not Lady Sethemba refused my assistance.”
“Lady Sethemba is recalcitrant that way,” Piercy said, shutting the carriage door. “Were you able to find everything?”
“Only one tent, but it’s big enough for the three of us,” Ayane said. She climbed up to the wagon’s seat and added, “Let’s hope we don’t need it.”
It took Piercy a few minutes to find a place wide and unpopulated enough to turn the carriage around, but after that it took them almost no time to leave Windelis behind and set off at a ground-eating pace along the road northwestward. They passed more wagons heading toward Windelis, their springs groaning under the weight of their loads.
“I often forget just how much effort goes into sustaining civilization,” Piercy said as they once again had to swerve to avoid an oncoming wagon, this one pulled by a pair of oxen who looked as if they could walk day and night without tiring. The man driving them nodded at them pleasantly. “And how much food.”
“I made sure we had plenty of food,” Ayane said. “But I’m sure we’ll catch Hodestis before that becomes necessary.”
Piercy nodded. They had come out of the moorlands without knowing it the night before, and the hilly country they traveled through was covered with new green grass that filled the air with the scent of growing things. In the distance, farmland made brown and green quilts thrown over the hills over which toiled workers small as ants. It was beautiful, but it made Piercy long for home, for paved roads and tall buildings and trees growing at regular intervals along the streets.
“Would you mind driving for a bit?” he said, handing Ayane the reins without waiting for her assent, and took out his mirror. “Eloqua Evon Lorantis,” he said, and waited.
After nearly twenty minutes, he was about to cancel the spell and try again later when the mist cleared and Evon looked back at him.
“Piercy!” he exclaimed. “We have a son!”
“Evon, that’s wonderful, congratulations! Kerensa and the boy are both well?”
“Yes, perfectly healthy, though I’ve had to do some convincing to get Kerensa to rest for even a few days. And you should see Livian. She thinks he’s her own personal baby and keeps bringing him toys.” Evon cleared his throat. “We named him Piercy.”
“You didn’t.” He had to swallow around the lump in his throat. “That’s daring of you. He’ll probably turn out to be a ne’er-do-well dandy or something foolish like that.”
“Well, you’re his godfather, so I expect you to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Evon glanced over his shoulder. “I hear Kerensa calling, so I have to go, but we’ll speak later, yes?”
“Of course,” Piercy said, and the mirror went bright silver.
“Piercy,” Ayane said, and he startled, realizing he’d been staring at his own reflection for the Gods alone knew how long. “Congratulations. I take it that’s quite an honor.”
“I don’t know what he was thinking, but yes, it is.” He put the mirror away. “I am suddenly having great difficulty remembering that we are chasing a powerful madman to stop him bringing an even more powerful madwoman back into the world.”
“I can imagine. I feel the same—well, not the same, obviously, but this is such a beautiful day it’s hard not to believe we’re just on a pleasure jaunt.”
Her smile set his heart racing, and a dozen possibilities came to him. He could put his hand over hers where she held the reins, put his arm around her waist and draw her closer to him, tell her he loved her—
The carriage went over a sharp bump, and Dolobeka cried out, then shouted something in Santerran Piercy didn’t know. “Watch your language,” Ayane shouted back. “And we still do not know what to do with our injured friend,” she said in Dalanese.
“I was able to convince him he has been plucked out of his own time, but he insists on avenging himself and his companions, not that they are in a position to appreciate it. He will return with you to Princess Jendaya when this is finished. I admit he is a fierce fighter, and if his leg is healed, he will prove an able companion.”
“Agreed, though I sometimes must remind myself not to stab him when he becomes offensively condescending. Odd,” Ayane said, switching back to Santerran.
“What do you mean?”
She pointed northward. “The sky’s very dark there. I wonder if we’ll have rain soon.”
Piercy’s cheerful feeling began to evaporate. “I would almost say Hodestis is behind this, were I not certain it is impossible to use magic to alter the weather. Evon has always been very adamant about that, no matter how many times I ask him to provide me with a sunny day for a walk in the park with a—” He shut his mouth. Mentioning his previous conquests to Ayane seemed wrong now he knew he loved her, like admitting to a past he was ashamed of. Which, he realized, he almost was.
“Those are certainly storm clouds,” Ayane said. “But they might mean only a light spring rain.”
“You sound unconvinced of your own words.”
“I was trying to be optimistic. I think we’re going to be very wet.”
They watched the clouds draw nearer as the hours wore on. There was no sign of Hodestis, no sign of anyone traveling the direction they were. The wagoners they saw were taciturn men and women who hadn’t noticed anyone else passing them that morning, though one of them, a gangly youth with vivid freckles and a chipped front tooth, said cheerfully he thought he’d seen a wagon like the one they described pulled up to the side of the road about five miles on. The spot was empty when they reached it.
About mid-afternoon they found the signpost Tedoratis had referred to and learned due northeast was a narrow track Ayane said hadn’t been used in a couple of days. With one eye on the clouds, Piercy drove off the main road and onto the dry, bumpy path that clearly had not been intended for a high-sprung carriage with narrow wheels.
The wind picked up after about a mile, blowing Ayane’s curls wildly and making Piercy grateful he didn’t have a hat to hold onto, because he needed all his attention to keep the horses on the road in the growing dimness. The clouds were close now, so close he could see the rain falling and hear it hissing through the air to strike the grassy hills. He pulled up sharply, making the horses protest, and said, “You need to get into the carriage, Ayane.”
“Is this more misplaced chivalry?”
“There’s no point our both getting drenched, and I’m a better driver than you. But hand me up one of those winter coats you bought.”
Ayane scowled, but climbed down from the seat and reappeared immediately with a heavy coat that might be slightly waterproof and a hat with a wide brim. “Be careful,” she said, which made him grin. If Ayane Sethemba could think about cautiousness at a time like this….
He spoke to the horses, who moved on more quickly despite the uneven terrain, as if they were hoping to find shelter before the storm hit.
But the hills continued bare of anything but grass and the now almost imperceptible track, and Piercy looked up just in time to get a face-full of cold rainwater as the storm reached them. He sputtered, wiped his eyes, then hunched into his coat and urged the horses onward, though he had no idea where they were going. This was the stupidest idea he’d ever had. They should have turned around, found a place to stay and waited out the rainstorm. Too late to turn back now. Besides, it couldn’t last very long.
He turned out to be entirely wrong, as the storm continued for half an hour, an hour, without sign of letting up. The coat kept the worst of the rain off, but the hat did nothing except collect rainwater and then dump it down his collar. The horses were clearly miserable, and he wished he had some way to care for them, but keeping them mov
ing seemed the only option.
Up and down the low hills he went, and at the top of every hill he hoped to see some kind of shelter. A village, a cluster of houses, even a lone farmhouse would be more than enough, but at the top of every hill he saw nothing but more grass. He’d lost track of how many miles they’d gone—ten, or twelve? If they reached the seventeen-mile mark and it was still raining, they might have to enter Telwyth Forest just for some shelter and move on later, even if it was a deviation from Tedoratis’s instructions. He doubted she intended them to drown.
Telwyth Forest, he thought, where Alvor found the stick that led him to the antechamber of the Underworld. I hope we are not in a position to need one for ourselves.
They went over another rise, and lying astride the track was a farmstead, with half a dozen outbuildings and a three-story house with lights burning in almost every window. Piercy rubbed rain out of his eyes and blinked at it. It was still there, it wasn’t an illusion grown by his despairing brain. With renewed vigor, he cracked the reins and the horses trotted toward the promise of shelter.
Dogs came to meet them, barking and frisking around the carriage, and the horses shied. Piercy took a firmer grip on the reins and hoped they wouldn’t run off dragging the carriage behind them. “Who’s there?” said a man, his bass voice carrying across the noise of the incessant rain.
“Travelers in need of shelter,” Piercy said.
“Bane, Burl, Bark, away to me,” the man said, and the dogs peeled off and ran to their master, much to Piercy’s relief. The horses were well-trained, but clearly uncomfortable around dogs. “Take your carriage around to the yard, and someone will help you there.”
“My thanks,” Piercy said, and drove around to the side of the farmhouse. The soupy mud dragged at the carriage wheels, and he spared a thought for the horses, who must be caked in the stuff by now. The yard was dark, though it was hard to tell if that was because the sun had set or because the clouds lay so low he could imagine them dragging along the ground.
As he brought the horses to a halt, a side door of the farmhouse opened and a woman bundled up in a coat and wearing men’s trousers and stout boots came out with a lantern. She waved Piercy to follow her, and he turned the horses toward a barn, gray and worn in the light of the lantern, whose doors the woman dragged open with no effort. “In here,” she called out, but Piercy was already through the door.
The barn smelled of damp and dust at the same time, which struck Piercy as illogical, but it was also warm from the bodies of a dozen cows, and Piercy inhaled deeply and didn’t care what the air smelled like.
“I’ll help you care for the horses,” the woman said. Her voice was higher than he’d expected, and Piercy realized she was a very young woman, surely no older than eighteen, and very pretty.
“Thank you,” he said.
“It is all right, we can care for them ourselves,” Ayane said, alighting from the carriage. Dolobeka followed her, looking worn out and leaning heavily on his crutch. Piercy carefully pretended not to notice, to spare the man’s pride.
“You’re guests, it’s my job,” the young woman said, but she was looking at Piercy and to his dismay he saw a definite light of appreciation in her eye. “I’m Teala. You look near drowned.”
“We are very grateful for the shelter,” Piercy said, emphasizing “we” a bit. “The storm caught us off guard.”
“Spring storms are like that,” Teala said. She came toward Piercy and said, “There’s cloths and brushes and the like over here. Your friends can go inside to warm up. Supper’s nigh on the table.” She eyed the Santerrans curiously, but didn’t comment on their appearance.
“We work together,” Ayane said.
Dolobeka followed the exchange with his eyes, and Piercy realized he was once again exhausted. He stifled a brief irritation with the man’s weakness and said, “Ayane, our friend is in need of rest and he will not go alone. Will you please convince him to go indoors, and I will care for the horses?”
Ayane shot a glance at Teala. “What you say makes sense,” she said in Santerran, “but I…oh, never mind. Lord Dolobeka, I feel rather ill, will you help me inside?”
“There is no shame in being weak, as you are a woman,” Dolobeka said. Ayane twitched as if she wanted to draw her knife. She glared at Piercy, who shrugged and tried not to feel bad about saddling her with the prickly Santerran. “I will give you my arm,” Dolobeka continued, and with Ayane supporting him, they quickly crossed the mucky yard to the farmhouse.
“Who are they?” Teala said. “Their skin is so dark. Never seen anything like it.”
“They are from Santerre,” Piercy said, “and of the noble class.”
“Married?”
“No. Companions on the road.” Teala was closer than he really liked. She was pretty enough, but she was at least ten years younger than he and likely her father was extremely overprotective—but that wasn’t it, was it? Even if they hadn’t just been passing through, the idea of a dalliance held no appeal at all, now he knew what love truly felt like. “Do you suppose I could purchase some food for the horses? I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.” She was definitely too close. “Why don’t you take off that wet coat and I’ll hang it where it can dry?”
Piercy peeled off the sodden coat and handed it to her. One of the nearby beams had a nail hammered into it that was probably meant for a lantern; she stood on tiptoe and hung the coat there, then turned around and smiled wickedly at him. “You look like a noble yourself, dressed like that,” she said.
“I assure you I am not,” Piercy said, turning his attention to the horse, who whickered at him. “Thank you again for your assistance in caring for our animals.”
“And you talk like a noble, too,” she said, ignoring the hint. “I love the way you talk.”
“How flattering,” Piercy said, taking a step to the side. “Where should I stable the horses?”
“Back here.” Teala led one of the horses toward the back of the barn, where four stalls stood, only one of them occupied, but instead of bringing food for the horse, she leaned against the stall and said, “Do you think I’m pretty?”
She meant to seem alluring, but to Piercy’s eyes she was young and naïve and puppyish and he hated himself to think there’d been a time when that had been attractive to him. “Of course,” he said with a small bow, “almost as lovely as my wife.”
Instantly he realized his mistake. “Is that dark lady your wife?” Teala said, dropping the alluring act and staring at him in astonishment.
“I…yes,” he said, cursing himself. Ayane was going to kill him, possibly not metaphorically. “Did you say supper was almost ready? Let us feed the horses, then sit down to table.”
Teala moved faster than he would have thought possible, filling mangers and water troughs and then disappearing out the door without waiting for him. He took down his coat from the nail and held it over his head as he dashed across the yard to the shelter of the farmhouse. Explaining this to Ayane was not going to be easy. Why hadn’t he kept his head? The stupid girl had rattled him, he was exhausted and wet and hungry, it was all perfectly understandable. He wrenched open the door and nearly ran into Ayane, who was in the process of putting on boots from a messy pile of them next to the door. “Forgive me,” he gasped.
“I’m not hurt, just surprised. I’m sorry I wasn’t faster or I’d have come to help.”
“I wish you had. I wouldn’t—Ayane, don’t be angry, but I accidentally told that girl we were married.”
Ayane’s eyes went wide. Then, to his horror, she laughed. “Oh,” she said when she could finally draw breath, “oh, Piercy, that’s what I told her father, too.”
“You did what?”
“He looked very unhappy when Teala went out to the barn and only Lord Dolobeka and I came back. I think she probably tries to seduce any male under forty who comes to this place. And he struck me as the sort of man who wouldn’t believe sh
e was to blame at all. I didn’t want to risk us being sent back into the rain, so I assured him my husband would never take advantage of a girl that way.” She began laughing again. “You’re such a bad influence on me. I never used to tell such lies.”
“At least they are convincing lies.” Piercy began cleaning the mud off his boots and tried not to think about what else might be in it. “So. I volunteer to sleep on the floor.”
“You don’t have to. They gave us an attic room with two beds.” Ayane removed the boots and tossed them back into the pile. “And Lord Dolobeka a room on the ground floor with two of the brothers. It’s quite a large family, almost as big as on our plantations.”
Piercy took a deep breath and inhaled the heady smells of ham, baked beans, and—thank the Gods—hot coffee. “Let us hope they feed us like family,” he said.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The rain was still falling when supper was over and the farmer’s wife shooed everyone to their beds. Piercy concealed a smile when she addressed Ayane as “Mrs. Faranter” and offered to loan her a nightdress despite being three inches shorter and forty pounds heavier than she. Ayane turned her down politely—she was a very nice woman, much nicer than her glowering husband, though since the glowering husband had offered them shelter, Piercy didn’t like to criticize him.
Halfway up the narrow stairs, he realized what had been nagging him: he’d left the God’s sword and his walking stick in the carriage. The stick was probably all right, but the sword had been exposed to the rain and might need to be cared for, or at the very least given a proper shelter during the storm. Who knew what Cath might think if he was disrespectful of it?
He slogged to the barn and back through the muck and then spent a few minutes trying to clean the mud off his boots. They were never going to be the same. Though that had probably been true from the moment they fought those bandits, all those days ago. More than a week, now. He was too tired to remember what day it was.
The stairs creaked under his weight, a chorus of moans and squeals filling the stairwell as if the farmer had brought his pigs indoors with him. On a night like this, maybe he did—gave them some kind of shelter, anyway. Piercy was exhausted enough that he didn’t bother trying to outwit the steps. Ayane was the only one upstairs, and he didn’t need to conceal himself from her.
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