"We did technically commit treason," Ikram pointed out.
Magnus jabbed a thumb at Myles. "I've been doing that since I gave this one a suit of armor. I made it worse when I invited a man to my bed. What's helping a pair of fugitives escape the country?"
"And giving us some new toys," Myles said, patting her new sword.
"Consider it an early wedding present."
Both Myles and Ikram turned red. Ikram was much more literal about it: even her hair flared crimson.
"Oh, don't act so damn modest about it. I'm old, not senile," Magnus grumbled. He pointed to Ikram. "You so much as bruise this woman's steel heart, I'll sail across the world and hunt you down, I don't care what form you're in."
"Yessir," Ikram replied automatically.
"Everything's packed and ready, Sir Magnus," one of the servants said.
"Good. Get these two to the docks. They have a ship to catch," Magnus said, shooing them to the wagons.
Myles hesitated. Ikram gave her a concerned look. "All right? Are you sure you want to…"
"Positive," Myles said. "Hold on." She turned around and did something she should've done numberless times throughout the years. She gave Magnus a hug.
Magnus sputtered when they collided but returned the hug. "Take every care."
"Never," Myles said.
Magnus snorted, pushing her toward the wagons. Myles wrapped an arm around Ikram's waist. "Ready?"
Ikram squeezed her hand. "Ready."
Blackberries and Buckthorn
TS Porter
Izzy walked the path alone, an old sunken lane, the track worn deep into the earth and shadowed by ancient trees. The seal on the letter tucked inside her armor served as key. Blocking branches swept out of her way and settled groaning behind her. The spring sun shone down through the leaves, dappled gold, crickets adding their reedy calls to the birdsong up in the trees. It was beautiful and peaceful, and Izzy kept a hand on the pommel of her sword.
She felt like a mouse walking into a trap.
Ten strides in—not too late to fight her way free—Izzy turned on her heel and tested the letter. The branches opened just as easily back to the field. Izzy nodded and turned again toward the forest's center.
The trees grew enormous deeper in the valley, until the light was all emerald green shadows. The air was cool, damp with moss, and old cobblestones appeared beneath her boots. Izzy guessed that it was late afternoon when she came to the Forestyne keep. The door was a mossy stone arch filled with a seamless mass of living vines, with big yellow flowers smelling sticky-sweet. There was no knocker.
Izzy fished the letter of summons out of her breastplate and held it up to the gate. "I come invited, and in peace." It felt strange talking to vines, but they shifted to open the way for Izzy. Beyond them was a wide sunlit meadow, low heather and grasses bordered by stonework and trees, and Izzy stepped through.
A few sorceresses in the simple brown shifts of the Forestyne were walking or working in the meadow, and two stepped forward to greet Izzy—a generously round older woman with her hair in long silver braids and a tall young woman at her side.
"Ser Isolde, Knight of the Winter Star," Izzy introduced herself. "Sent by the Duchess of Greatbriar."
"Your arrival has been awaited," the older woman said. "I am Mother Alba. You carry a letter of confirmation."
"I do," Izzy answered, though it hadn't really been a question. She handed the letter over. It was from Duchess Edythe of Greatbriar, with the Duchess's seal and the tang of her personal magic clinging to it, impossible to fake. "I have been tasked with safeguarding the travel of Lady Siofra on her return home."
Mother Alba took the letter, nodded without looking at it, and handed it to the younger woman.
"This is my mother's," the young woman—Lady Siofra—confirmed after a moment's hesitation. She handed the letter back to Izzy and caught her hand, her fingers soft and uncalloused against Izzy's paler scarred digits. "Well met, Ser." Lady Siofra smiled widely, her even white teeth bright against her warm brown skin, and she made her tumbling masses of tightly-curled hair bloom a crop of tiny yellow flowers.
Oh, she was one of these. Izzy didn't allow herself to sigh aloud. If she'd wanted to play handmaiden to a silly soft noblewoman who studied green magic for the sole purpose of making pretty flowers to adorn herself rather than using her power with plants to help people, Izzy would have followed in her mother's footsteps and dedicated herself to shoes and dresses and the politics of the royal court instead of a warrior's training. Still, the Knights of the Winter Star fulfilled their contracts. It could be worse. Izzy would only have to travel with Lady Siofra for a few months to reach the duchy of Greatbriar.
Izzy's smile in answer must have been a bit wooden, because Lady Siofra turned to Mother Alba. "Mother, may I see to Ser Isolde's comfort? She must be tired from travel."
"I'm well enough," Izzy protested, but Mother Alba was already waving them off. Izzy resigned herself to following Lady Siofra along the edge of the meadow.
"How were your travels so far?" Lady Siofra asked. "Easy, I hope?"
"The weather has been fine, the roads mostly dry," Izzy said. "No run-ins with imps or the like. No brigands. The shortest road to Greatbriar is rougher, though."
"I do remember that," Lady Siofra answered. She led Izzy between two trees into a long stone corridor set with doors to either side. The second door was open, and Lady Siofra preceded Izzy into it. There was a low cot with a few blankets folded at its foot, a table with a pitcher of water, and a bowl of fruit.
"The accommodations are simple, here," Lady Siofra said, almost an apology. "Will there be anything else you need, Ser Isolde?"
Izzy dropped her bag on the foot of the cot. "This will do," she said. It would be more comfortable than camping on the road, that was certain. "Thank you, Lady Siofra. And you might as well call me Izzy." Two solid months of 'Ser Isolde' would get old fast.
"And Siofra is enough for me," Lady Siofra answered, smiling again. "Can I offer you the use of the castle's baths?"
A bath would be nice, something better than a streamside wipe down. With weeks of travel already behind her, Izzy didn't exactly smell floral. "I would appreciate that." She grabbed an apricot from the bowl of fruit to eat as she followed Lady Siofra out. It was early in the year for apricots, but it was sweet and juicy, perfectly ripe.
That was only to be expected, in a fortress full of green sorceresses.
Lady Siofra pointed out the necessities and where dinner and her parting celebration would take place as they went. "I love the baths here," she confessed. "I might try to make a similar one in Greatbriar castle, though our winters are so harsh, it would only be usable during the summer. Still worth it, I think."
They rounded a corner of moss- and vine-coated broken stonework, and Izzy saw a huge weeping willow, its wide-spreading branches dropping green curtains of leaves. Water reeds reached up to meet it, and she could hear laughter and water splashing. Of course green sorceresses would think that a bath beneath a tree was the best. Towels were hanging on even pegs growing out of a nearby apple tree, and a bush beside it lifted a branch to show a shelf of brown soaps.
"Would you like a private or a common bath?" Lady Siofra asked.
"Private." Izzy didn't mind community, but she preferred privacy when she could get it. Lady Siofra nodded and led her through a twisting path among reeds and trailing branches to a small sun-drenched pool. Water tumbled in over willow roots and out the other side. Lady Siofra gestured, and a morning glory nearby bloomed with a big red flower.
"Pluck the flower when you're done, to show that the pool is unoccupied," Lady Siofra instructed. "Will you be able to find your way back to the guest quarters?"
"I'd be a poor escort if I were that easily lost," Izzy said, flicking open the worn buckles of her breastplate. Lady Siofra was still standing at the entrance when she was out of it. Izzy didn't know why—she was no serving girl. "Thank you for your help, my lady."
Izzy said, a bit gruffly. "I asked for a private bath. I can see to myself."
Lady Siofra ducked, embarrassed, and sprang away, disappearing through the reeds as gracefully as a deer. Izzy snorted a laugh and set to work on her boots and chainmail. Even light travel armor took some getting into and out of.
The water was sun-warmed to perfection. Izzy could see the appeal of these baths, out in the open air and shielded by reeds for privacy, the pool defined by willow roots that made a natural ladder into it, even without a scrap of plant magic to her name. Still, it didn't do to dawdle. Izzy only soaked for a few minutes before she went back for the soap to scrub the road from her body—soon her battle-scarred skin was pink and gleaming, her short-cropped blond hair clean, and the dirt out from under her short nails. Then she washed her clothes too.
The sun was sinking into the horizon when Izzy dressed in her damp tunic and breeches and carried her armor back toward her guest room. The celebration area had been filled with long wooden tables, glowing orange lanterns bobbing above them, and the scents of food wafted tantalizingly across the field. Izzy changed to dry clothes in her room, then joined the gathering crowd of sorceresses. She stuck out like a sore thumb with her knight's clothing, so different from their brown shifts, even unarmored with only her short sword on her belt.
Izzy wasn't made to feel excluded, though. They made space, and a few of the sorceresses smiled at her. A girl even shorter than Izzy was, but without her muscles, grabbed her arm tight.
"You're the knight who's taking away our Siofra," the girl said. "Promise you'll take good care of her!"
"I've been tasked with it, and I will," Izzy said.
"Knights' orders and all, yes," the girl dismissed with an airy wave. "But we all love Siofra, and you have to promise to take care of her. Not just protect her caravan."
"Knight Isolde, you will of course join us at the high table," Mother Alba interrupted, rescuing Izzy before she could protest that she was no one's handmaiden, no matter how spoiled they were. There was probably a polite way to say it, but not one Izzy could think of on the spot. The girl reluctantly released Izzy's arm, bobbing a brief curtsy to Mother Alba. Izzy nodded to her and followed Mother Alba to the head table, where most of those seated were older and steadier, other Mothers—the teachers, women more Izzy's age. Mother Alba seemed to be the one in charge of them all.
Lady Siofra was at their table as well: an honor for her celebration dinner, Izzy gathered.
The Forestyne upheld their reputation for setting a generous table. The stew was plentiful, sweet with parsnips and rich with wild game. The dark crusty bread, dotted with walnuts, was perfect to mop it up. Then there was fresh trout served with piles of seared fiddleheads, and wild leeks in butter, and tiny roasted potatoes that were tender and nearly sweet. Izzy managed to eat it all without being drawn into small talk.
Between courses, Mother Alba gestured for Siofra's attention before asking Izzy directly, "What accommodations do you have for Lady Siofra? And what preparations would you recommend for your travels?"
"We've got an ox-wagon for her ladyship's trunks," Izzy said. "In bad weather, we can all sleep in hammocks inside. Martel and Tom—good folk, a married couple—are along to care for the animals and cook. Martel favors the crossbow; Tom's not bad with the short bow. They're for hunting small game, if we get leave of the nobles along the route, but they'll be able to hold off brigands in a pinch. My squire, Lee, is steady and good with all arms. Your ladyship will be well protected." Izzy pondered. Did she have advice for Lady Siofra, anything to recommend? "Sturdy boots and a heavy wool cloak. Breeches if you have them, even under a dress. Spring nights can be cold, and the pass between the Gryphon Peaks can freeze any day of the year. With your hair, I'd get some of your friends to give you sturdy braids for the road."
Lady Siofra touched her big tumbling curls and nodded.
"I'd like to make an early start tomorrow, as soon after dawn as possible," Izzy said. She didn't imagine Lady Siofra was well acquainted with dawn, but it didn't hurt to try to establish a reasonable travel schedule.
Lady Siofra nodded. "I expected as much."
"That should work," Mother Alba agreed. "Your arrival was anticipated; Sister Siofra is ready." Then the cooks brought out dessert, bowls of ripe fruit from all seasons generously topped with honeyed cream, and Izzy was left in peace again.
As the feasting wound down, a few musicians began to play—lap harps and viols, flutes and drums. Women rose to dance together. The lights floated up from the tables to bob around the field, lighting it in soft warmth. Izzy accepted a tall mug of mead, and leaned back against the table to watch, toe tapping with the drums. It did Izzy's heart good to be surrounded by all women again. Though the Forestyne were very different from her sisters of the Winter Star, the camaraderie she saw between them all was the same. The Winter Star had their brother-Knights of the Summer Storm, and the Forestyne were associated with other magical orders who accepted men, but this place, like the headquarters of the Winter Star, was for women only, and by the Goddess it was beautiful.
Lady Siofra's friends drew her out to dance as soon as the music started. Izzy could see her, nearly the tallest among them, with the blossoms in her hair shifting colors by the moment. She was all long graceful limbs, slender hips swaying beneath the hand of one girl and then another, passed from partner to partner and laughing as she danced.
For a brief moment Izzy thought the mead was far stronger than she'd realized, but a quick check of herself proved that the trees around and the grasses in the meadow really were swaying in time with the music. Trust the Forestyne to make the forest dance with them. Izzy relaxed and nursed her single mug of mead as she watched. She had a long journey to continue in the morning, and she'd rather not be hung over.
The music and dancing went on long into the night, but Izzy retired early. She caught sight of Lady Siofra with the girl who'd accosted Izzy before dinner sitting in her lap and a few others gathered around, giving her the braids Izzy had recommended. She'd taken that to heart, at least, and Izzy nodded to herself as she headed to bed.
*~*~*
Dawn came early.
Izzy was up with the first light, as were a surprising number of the Forestyne. A hearty breakfast porridge was served as the sun rose at the same long tables as dinner had been, though Mothers and Sisters mingled. Lady Siofra sat at the same table with Izzy, surrounded by a fair number of her friends. She seemed bright and chipper despite the hour, Izzy noticed with relief. Her hair was done up in a dozen braids, twisted up in a crown on top of her head. She was wearing breeches beneath her dress, but no boots or shoes.
"What route are you taking to Greatbriar, Ser Isolde?" one of the young women surrounding Siofra asked, leaning toward Izzy eagerly. "Have you got a map?"
"Of course." Izzy pulled the scroll from her satchel and unrolled it on the table. Instantly she was surrounded by green sorceresses, all peering over each other to see and cooing at the map's quality. The order of the Winter Star commissioned only the best mapmakers for their Knights, and it was a thing of beauty, both very detailed and up to date.
Izzy tapped one finger on Forestyne's castle, deep in its wooded valley. "We'll be following the brown river up toward the mountains." She tapped towns as she traced the route northward, good places to resupply if necessary. "Skirting the faeryfens, then up through Gryphon's Pass. It should be clear of snow by then. Then follow snakeback down to Old Ardshire, and up through to Greatbriar proper. Two months, at an easy pace." Ten miles a day was all Izzy had planned, accounting for variations in weather and terrain.
"We must stop by Quicksilver Hall," Siofra said, reaching over to touch the castle's mark on the map, just south of the mountains. "Countess Jocosa is a great friend of mine, and we can wait there for the pass to clear if necessary. And Old Ardshire has always been a friend to Greatbriar; I have to visit them on my way."
Izzy did not sigh. "Of course," she agreed shortly, rolling her map back
up before Lady Siofra could point out more places she wanted to go. Of course she would plan the journey as a series of social calls to show off her position as the heir of one of the most powerful duchies in the kingdom. The journey might take months longer if Siofra were given free rein to make all the visits she wanted. Those few she had already specified shouldn't delay them overmuch if they kept their stays to a reasonable number of days. Izzy had already planned on stopping by Old Ardshire to let Lee visit her family.
With breakfast over, there was no reason to further delay their departure. Izzy pushed her bowl away and looked over to Lady Siofra and her friends. "Are you ready to go?" she asked. Her own things were already packed in her satchel, her armor was on. She hoped she would not need to wait in it long.
"My trunks are packed," Lady Siofra said. She stood, but rather than going to fetch them, she dug her bare toes into the grass and spread her hands open at her sides, palms upward, closing her eyes.
There was a moment of stillness. Izzy wasn't sure what was supposed to be happening, and had nearly decided that nothing was happening at all when there was a creaking like dry branches rubbing together and three monstrosities trundled into the meadow. They were large and heavy through the middle, a tangle of thin branches and roots moving like centipede legs.
"What in the—!" Izzy snapped, on her feet with her sword in her hand, instinctively placing herself between the beasts and the unarmed Forestyne.
"Peace, Ser Izzy." Lady Siofra placed a soothing hand on Izzy's shoulder as the tree-beasts stopped moving. Several of the Forestyne were giggling. "They are only walking trees, completely under control. They're carrying my trunks."
Siofra held her hand out in a fist in front of herself and opened it. The twisted branches of the nearest of the trees spread out like her fingers, revealing a sturdy and serviceable trunk resting at its heart. Looking at them closer now, Izzy could see that they looked like coppiced trees, with a steady platform cut in and fresh branches growing around it. And of course uprooted, walking on what should have been firmly underground.
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