One Land, One Duke

by Emerson, Ru

  Robyn came back past the wagon and handed her a water bottle. “I mixed that powder of Marseli's in here, I don't know how well it dissolved, though, so you'd better shake it up before you pour it down him.” She hesitated. “I don't suppose I have to warn you to make sure he's really awake before you do that?"

  "Thanks, Birdy. I remember about that part, and I sure didn't go to all that trouble fixing him up only to choke him. How much powder did you put in?"

  "According to what Marseli's instructions said, that thins it out a lot, so you'll have to get as much as you can down him, but I bet he'll need the water anyway."

  "I'd think so."

  "I'm taking the first walk,” Robyn announced generally. “And I'd like to start right now, if we're ready."

  "Yeah, me, too,” Chris said feelingly. “Let's go find this poor guy some help, and let's get out of here. Place is giving me the creeps."

  It was a long, extremely slow night. Enardi woke bewildered and disoriented, and in considerable pain; he drank down the liquid obediently, however, and about the time Jennifer was beginning to wonder if the powder had been defective, old, or simply mislabeled, he fell asleep. He remained asleep for most of the rest of the night, but he slept restlessly.

  * * * *

  They stopped on the crest of a hill to let Jennifer and Lialla change places, to let Chris take over for Robyn, and to give Edrith a chance to walk up and down and stretch out his legs, because he refused to give up the reins. “I'm fine, and I know how to guide a wagon. Besides, Fedthyr's mule and I are used to each other; that's important right now."

  Jennifer groaned as she pulled herself into the saddle. Dahven leaned over to touch her knee. “Are you all right?"

  "Yeah. Bored with having a bruised backside.” She ran a hand over her eyes, fought a yawn and smiled at him. “How are you holding up?"

  "Just now, all right,” he said in a low voice, even though Aletto had already dropped back to keep a rear guard, and the wagon had moved on.

  Still worried about it—but I'd swear he doesn't sound quite as defensive, she thought. Aloud, she only said, “Good. Then, if you don't mind, stay here and keep me awake, will you?"

  They made one more stop, near dawn, where a stream crossed the road, and someone had dammed off a section on the oceanward side for watering animals. Jennifer climbed back into the wagon to check Enardi and to let Lialla get down and walk around. In the early, gray light, the sin-Duchess looked ghastly: She was paler than normal, her eyes barely open, and her mouth drooped like an old woman's. She refused Aletto's offer of assistance, but didn't object when Jennifer held out a steadying hand as she climbed over the side rail, onto and down the wheel. “He didn't look good; I used the Thread again,” she said faintly.

  "I know. Felt it."

  "Sorry—"

  "Don't be. I can deal with that; Enardi doesn't need that kind of pain.” Jennifer looked down at the woman in Wielder Novice Blacks in concern; Lialla was still clinging to the wheel, swaying ever so slightly. “You should maybe get some sleep, Lialla. I can ride alongside and watch him; there's room enough up by the seat for you to curl up."

  "Thanks. I'll be all right. Get some fresh water; maybe that'll help.” She managed a faint smile as she stepped back from the wagon.

  Jennifer watched her walk away. She shifted. Chris was approaching, bo in hand. “Hey, kid, how much farther to that inn?"

  "Another couple of miles? The way the mileage on this map seems to work, I'd say we'll be there in time for breakfast, if the road doesn't get any worse.” He sagged into his bo, straightened again and buried a yawn in the elbow of his shirt. “How's Ernie doing?"

  "Sleeping."

  "Yeah—well, okay. You think he'll be all right? I mean, his leg—” Chris drew a deep breath and used it to steady his voice. “I mean, if he comes out of this with a limp, like one leg shorter than the other? Jeez, I think I'd die if that—"

  Jennifer shook her head, silencing him. He looked up at her, his face mirroring his misery. “We'll get him a good healer, Chris. I can't promise what you fear won't happen, but I don't think it's likely."

  "A halfway decent healer will be able to put that right in no time,” Dahven said. “And he's not a small child, so it's most unlikely he'll heal wrong."

  "Better not be just saying that to make me feel better,” Chris said darkly. Dahven shook his head and Jennifer held up a hand.

  "This is me, remember, kid? The woman who never gave you a sugar-coated lie? Why would I start now?"

  "Yeah—well. I guess.” Chris looked over the side of the wagon. “Jeez, it makes me sick, seeing him like that. I wish I'd known before we left Bez—hell, I don't know.” He folded his arms on the top board and let his chin rest on them. “I guess in a way, this is better. You know?” He glanced up at Jennifer. “We couldn't take him the rest of the way with us, not if he's gonna be that scared all the time. It's dangerous for everyone and it isn't fair to him, is it? How'd you like it if you got stuck in the middle of a mess like this and found out even mom was braver than you are?” He sighed, let his arms fall. “But I would hate to have been the guy to tell him he'd have to stay in Podhru while we went on; he'd have felt like the biggest jerk ever. He probably will anyway; he's a kind of sensitive guy, you know?” Chris sighed again. “We were going to have such a blast in Podhru. Oh, well. Here comes Lialla. Want me to hold the horses while you two go get water, do whatever else you gotta?"

  Jennifer slid to the ground and handed over the reins, waited for Lialla to come up, then wrapped an arm around Dahven's waist under his cloak. He threw the fabric over her shoulders and led her along the streambed. Cold, fresh water helped a little; she drank from cupped hands, blotted her fingers on closed eyelids, splashed a little on her cheeks and on the back of her neck, shivered as a thin trickle ran down her back. Dahven drank, stood and drew her back against him, wrapping his arms around her waist; she folded the cloak across her chest, rubbed her head against his shoulder. “Think I'll hold onto you for a while,” she said. “You're warm."

  "All right."

  "What did those men say to you back there? After Firsi—went?"

  He was silent for so long she began to wonder if she'd offended him. Finally he shrugged, tightened his grip on her momentarily, then released her, taking hold of her hand instead. “Let's walk, a little. What they said? I asked them what my brothers hoped to accomplish. No one would come out and say, but I begin to believe you. That the twins would sleep easier if I were not around to embarrass them.” He sighed, deeply, and was quiet for a long time. “I don't think, at this point, any of those men would object to killing every one of us. They lost face, you know that, don't you?"

  "I know it,” Jennifer said.

  "It doesn't seem real, does it?"

  "No. I should be as frightened as poor young Enardi right now, and I just don't feel it."

  "You shouldn't be. Unlike Enardi, you can at least defend yourself."

  Jennifer looked up at him. “You don't do too badly yourself, you know."

  "You're good at that—"

  "Mmmm?"

  "—Patting people on the head, making them feel like something worthwhile."

  Jennifer stopped, kept her grip on his hand so he must stop also. “I don't lie to people, you know,” she said in mild exasperation. “I point out things they don't see, is all. Lialla really is cool in a crisis, as long as it isn't an immediate threat by her uncle against her or Aletto. Robyn's a good, sweet woman who can do wonders with the kind of crap food you have when there's no fridge and no gas stove—never mind, I'll explain later. You”—she leveled a finger at his nose—“are a good man to whom dreadful things have happened. You're capable of coming back from that, and you're better suited to rule Sikkre than a pair like your twin younger brothers. All right?"

  He caught hold of the finger, kissed it and began walking again, back toward the wagon. “No. Because you don't lie doesn't mean you see everything as it is."

  "
You honestly think Deehar and Dayher deserve Sikkre?"

  "Of course not."

  "Well, then."

  He laughed shortly. “It's not exactly that easy, you know!"

  "Of course not,” she replied, consciously mimicking him, “That doesn't matter. It shouldn't."

  He stopped short, took hold of her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake; his eyes were darkly angry, his mouth hard. “By every god the Emperor holds dear, what do you want of me?"

  "I want?” Jennifer brought her arms up inside his grip and shoved, pushing his hands away. “I want you, nothing else. It's what you want that should matter! And you want Sikkre—"

  "I don't! Let them have the damned Dukedom!"

  "Oh, yes?” Jennifer said in a low intense voice. “Is this the same man who was ready to ride from Bez to the Thukar's palace and demand his rightful place back?"

  "I was sick, I had fever! I was babbling and deranged. I've come to my senses since then."

  "Dahven—damnit!” Jennifer ran a hand through her hair. Down by the wagon, Chris yelled for them, and she turned to shout back, “Coming!” “Turning back, she wrapped both hands in the long hair at the back of his neck and kissed him, hard. “I'm not going to let you give up on yourself, do you hear me? I'm not!” She let go of his hair and turned to start down the road. Silence. He caught up with her, stepping in her path, and wrapped a long arm around her shoulders.

  "I don't think anyone's ever done such a fine job of turning a kiss into a curse-word,” he said conversationally. “I think it may be a form of bad luck.” His free hand slipped under her chin and brought it up. “Can't have bad luck like that haunting us,” he said softly, and set a very gentle kiss on her lips. “Better,” he said finally, even more softly.

  "Cheater,” Jennifer whispered. Her knees were trying to buckle and her face was flushed. “You didn't win the damned argument like that,” she added, but the anger was gone from her voice. He laughed and lightly touched his lips to hers again before releasing her.

  "Stubborn woman.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I fear Chris is about to come fetch us.” He laid a finger on the corner of her mouth. “Later?"

  "Shhhh,” she said, and caught it in her teeth. “You're right; here he comes."

  "Hey, boys and girls, your timing's a bit off, you know?"

  "One more word,” Jennifer warned him. Chris merely laughed, shook his head and went back to take his place in front of the mule. Jennifer pulled herself into the saddle and tried to put the past few minutes out of mind. She was only partly successful.

  * * * *

  The inn was a two-story affair, whitewashed, thick walls with dark timbers, shuttered windows with small diamond-shaped panes of glass, a steep, shingled roof. A low hedge separated the inn and its yards from the road; there were flower gardens everywhere. It reminded Jennifer of pictures of English cottages; it looked rather strange set down on the dry California high-desert-looking Rhadazi coast. Robyn handed her reins to Chris and stopped to sniff flowers.

  "They really are roses! And marigolds! And—"

  "They can't smell half as good as what's coming from the window there,” Chris said patiently. “Let's get ourselves in, shall we, ma? I'll come back out and smell flowers with you after breakfast."

  "Yeah—well.” Robyn shook herself, smiled at the garden and permitted Chris to draw her away.

  The inn-yard was full, the main room crowded. After a very brief argument, Aletto agreed that he, Robyn and Dahven would wait in a shaded corner of the yard with Enardi and the wagon, that Chris would accompany them as far as the door but remain outside, in case of difficulties, while Jennifer, Edrith and Lialla went in. The innkeep was a cheerfully large, gray-haired woman who seemed to be everywhere at once: overseeing the serving of food and drink at half a dozen long tables, stopping to talk with guests or laughing at someone's shouted remark. She came across at once when she saw them hovering uncertainly in the doorway. “Always plenty of room, you know! Are you in need of a meal or—a private room? Two!” She did a rapid calculation on her fingers, lips moving soundlessly and quick, curious eyes studying Jennifer's clothing and hair before she nodded emphatically. “I've two parties moving on as soon as they've eaten. It's not ordinarily so popular here, you know! I've the Emperor's Festival to thank for this—daresay he'll want a tithe because of it; well, I won't grudge him. Here—you fellows move down a bit, you've got the entire bench to yourselves, give these ladies a place to sit.” She shooed Lialla to a seat, beckoned for one of her servers. “Son, bring a pot of tea for these folk, will you?"

  Jennifer leaned over to speak near the woman's ear. “Can I talk with you privately? About—arrangements? And we have a bit of a problem—"

  To her credit, the woman simply turned, still talking a mile a minute, and motioned for her to follow. Jennifer glanced at Edrith, faintly gestured toward the bench with her head. He sat down next to Lialla; Jennifer hurried to catch up with the innkeep.

  They went through a heavy, dark door into what was clearly the woman's private quarters. “Problem, I think you said? What sort?"

  "We've an injured young man with us. He fell, broke his leg. We need a healer."

  "There's a local man,” the innkeep said. “Not as good as he presumes himself, but capable of handling a broken bone. You want two private rooms—what, one for yourself and the Wielder, another for the injured lad and the one out front?"

  Jennifer ran a hand through her hair, encountered knots and cautiously pulled her fingers free. “That's part of the problem. There are more of us—four others, two men, another boy, a woman. We need privacy—” God, what have we gotten ourselves into here? she wondered suddenly.

  "Privacy—not an easy thing to attain in a place like mine, but not impossible.” She considered the younger woman, rather thoughtfully tipped her head to one side and announced, “You're outlander."

  Jennifer started—looked guilty, probably, she thought. Too late to worry about it now, though. “I am,” she said. “I'm Jennifer Cray."

  "Jennifer,” the woman said slowly. “That's English, or American. Isn't it?"

  "American."

  The woman paused, then shifted—laboriously—into English. “I'm Caroline Ellaway. Caro, actually. From Newmarket, that's near Cambridge, north of London."

  "Los Angeles, California,” Jennifer said rather dazedly.

  "When?” Caro Ellaway asked eagerly. “You must be recent, those are blue denims, aren't they? Haven't seen such pants in so long—"

  "All of—God,” Jennifer said and ran a hand into her hair again, forgetting it was still all snarls. “A month and a half, maybe? I've lost track. You?"

  "Easy. It was June 22, 1972. We were fooling about with solstice and ley lines, pretending in quite serious fashion to be a coven. Everything went odd and I came around in an England that wasn't mine."

  "We'll have to talk; you'll have to talk with my sister,” Jennifer said. “But in the meantime—"

  "You have an injured boy. We'll get him in here, if you don't object—it's easier than attempting my stairs. And your other people, if they'd like a meal first?"

  "Well—” Jennifer sighed. “That's the part that's a problem. The people out there—at least two of them—we'd rather keep their presence here something of a secret. If it's a problem,” she went on hurriedly, “tell me, now, and we'll just go on toward Podhru—"

  "Nonsense,” the older woman said warmly. “I keep four private rooms on the upper floor, and they're seldom ever in use. Even with the crowds I've had lately, I can offer you a choice: adjoining or facing across the hallway. So long as you're not consorting with murderers, thieves and road agents, and so long as you intend to pay for the rooms, I don't much care who you have in them. Is that fair?"

  "More than fair,” Jennifer assured her. “Let me go out and let them know it's all right. When I come back, we can settle cost and getting Enardi in.”

  7

  Later, Jennifer found it hard to remember
anything of that morning: She was so tired that the simplest tasks, such as getting her handbag untied from the horse, seemed overwhelming. Lialla was only in marginally better shape.

  Fortunately, Robyn was little the worse for wear, despite spending a large portion of the night on her feet, leading the mule, and she took charge, managing to get Aletto and Dahven shepherded into one of the two private rooms unnoticed by the remaining guests—most of whom were anyway still in the common room. Edrith and Chris brought the wagon across the courtyard as near the back as possible and the innkeep's son found a heavy wooden storm shutter in the feed room to slide under Enardi's blanket sling so he could be transported. Under Robyn's supervision, they got the boy into the innkeep's personal room—an enormous, whitewashed chamber that combined the functions of sitting room, winter cooking area, kitchen and bedroom—and settled as comfortably as possible.

  Jennifer managed to get herself into the cheerful, sunny kitchen without actually tripping over anything, and she knelt on the edge of Enardi's bedding, trying to remember why she was there. She started as Robyn bent down to wrap an arm around her shoulders and give her a gentle shake. “Lady, you look like hell; why don't you give it up? Go on upstairs, take first pick of the beds in the girls’ room and zee out?"

  "I need to—I'm all right."

  "You and Lialla both, I don't think.” Robyn gave her another shake. “If I didn't have a hand on you right now, you'd fall over on your backside. The lady here is sending her daughter for the healer, the boys are eating—"

  "Surprise, surprise."

  "Yeah, really. The guys are tucked in and you've been up all night."

  "So've you, Birdy."

  "I didn't do anything at all like what you did. I just walked and rode, remember? I seem to remember you involved in that mess with the Sikkreni guards and D—what-sisname,” she added in a cautiously lowered voice. “Not to mention crawling around the bottom of that ghastly hole patching up Fedthyr's kid."