The Baker's Wife--complete

by Amy Keeley

  “Calm down, goodwife,” Lord Teranasin said just as strong arms lifted her up and slung her over an enormous shoulder. “The problem is obvious: you don’t feel you can talk here, so we’ll take you to a place where you feel you can. Just relax and enjoy the ride.”

  There was nothing enjoyable about any part of it. The sensation of being unable to take anything more than the smallest breath made her dizzy, and the constant bouncing made her feel ill. All her effort was dedicated to keeping from filling the cloth with the contents of her stomach until finally a door opened and she realized she was being brought into a dark room. With a thump, whoever carried her nearly threw her onto a chair. Cords tightened around her body, still bound in the cloth, while the cloth around her head loosened.

  “To be clear,” Lord Teranasin said, “your purpose here is twofold.” She blinked in the darkness, her eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of a King’s Light. “First, I’ll need the information you were reluctant to part with in the street, and second, I’ll need your help convincing your friend to be honest with me.”

  She froze at those words. Afraid of who that might be, she heard Zhiv say, “There’s only so much I know, Vyomsi.”

  “Parlay?” Lord Teranasin said. “The great and powerful? The fiddler who has his strings in every beggar from one end of the city to another? The minstrel who, it is said, has the ear of Zhiv Mikailsin and, thus, the ear of the King himself?” He laughed. “Can you believe the arrogance of this man, goodwife? He’d have me think all he does is play in the street for money. Come now,” he said and placed a table in front of Krysilla and, presumably, Zhiv. “You know I’m too smart to fall for that.” Taking out a bottle of wine, he set three glasses on the table and poured some in each. “If you’d like, Parlay, I can drink a little first, to show you it’s pure.”

  “I do not drink, Vyomsi.”

  Lord Teranasin stared to his right. Krysilla refused to look in Zhiv’s direction. She wouldn’t be able to hold her emotions in check if she saw even the slightest sign he’d been abused. If he had, his voice didn’t show it. “An oath I made to myself a long time ago,” he explained. “The day I drink wine again is the day my life will end.”

  Lord Teranasin’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “And you think that day is not today?”

  “You wouldn’t have brought the goodwife if it was.”

  “Ah, but there, you might be wrong. I could kill both of you if I find you’re no longer useful.”

  “But you won’t. Not her. She’s not nearly as useful as me.”

  “Isn’t she?”

  Krysilla prayed he didn’t know what she thought he did.

  Lord Teranasin sipped from his wineglass and smiled. “Hasn’t it made you the least bit curious, Parlay, why the King would ask the wife of Lejer Gillasin to court? It might be argued she is involved in the affair of Lady Felldesh, but perhaps there is more.” Looking at her, his smile grew. “Did you know, goodwife, that the King sends Parlay out on occasion to do his work? It’s true. Now and then, Parlay will travel to far off corners of the kingdom, answering questions the King has about those various parts. His most recent, ah. But you already know this story, goodwife. You were there, weren’t you?”

  “I worked that job alone, Vyomsi.”

  “Not according to Lord Felldesh. I’ve heard he told the King you had help that day. From Lejer’s wife.”

  “Lies of a noble trying to save face.”

  “He says she worked illegal magic to get you in. And I’ve heard the King believes it.”

  Krysilla said nothing.

  “It’s not true,” Zhiv said.

  “What reason would Lord Felldesh have to lie?”

  “Every reason. The man has just been shown up by his own wife and for a baker at that. And I did let the goodwife meet her husband as he scrambled to leave. Perhaps he thought to get some of that pride back.”

  “By attacking a lowly minstrel? It makes very little sense to make up lies about that. However, ah, I almost forgot.” Speaking now to Krysilla, Lord Teranasin said, “You are aware, goodwife, that the King is not the only one to have seen Zhiv Mikailsin? Now and then, a particular favorite among the nobility is allowed to join the King in his nightly discussions with the minstrel. Only the most trusted of the King’s advisers have ever seen Hon Mikailsin. Some say the King enjoys having his own little secret friend. Some, however, say that Hon Mikailsin must have something awful on the King in order to be able to remain invisible for so long.”

  Lord Teranasin took another sip of wine. “As must Parlay, if the news that a lowly minstrel encouraging illegal magics is swept away as if it didn’t matter. Not with the Disciples screaming about purification, and executions once again being held in the square. One would think, at the least, the King would bring in the lowly minstrel for questioning.”

  “Unless?” Zhiv asked, sounding both amused and bored.

  “Unless he has already sent someone to investigate.”

  Now Zhiv chuckled. “You know how often the Dogs investigate the Jixsin house. If the King had given them a reason to sniff me out, we wouldn’t be talking right now.”

  “Not the Dogs. You would have seen that coming. What if he asked someone with far more to lose than a Dog? What do you think, Krysilla?”

  The lack of title threw her almost as badly as the question. The way he said it made it sound as if she were no more deserving of respect than a wild rat. But worst of all was the silence that followed, stretched just long enough to tell her that Zhiv hadn’t known, hadn’t even guessed. When he spoke, he still sounded bored. “Your point, Vyomsi? Or is this going to be like when you start to lose at cards?”

  “My point is that the goodwife who lives with you has far more information than she’s spilling. About the King. About you, Parlay. She’s not particularly pretty, but I imagine, given how easily she left her husband, that she’s been more than a little fun for you.”

  Her cheeks burned with shame, and she glared at Lord Teranasin with a hatred that went beyond words. Only his ease with magic kept her holding her tongue.

  “Hmmm,” Zhiv said, and she could hear his fingers tapping on his thigh. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood our arrangement. She cleans our house. Daegan put forward the proposition and I agreed.”

  “And yet you continue to walk free, unhindered by Dog or Disciple.” He flicked his fingers and the center of her forehead stung. Something wet ran down her face. Chances were very good it was blood. If it was, she was glad she couldn’t see it. If she had, she doubted she would be able to think.

  “Is this your bad idea of a joke?” Zhiv said.

  “I am more serious than I’ve ever been in my life, Parlay. I’ve never once seen Zhiv. Not once. Yet I’ve heard his singing more times than I can count.”

  “You’re lucky you heard him at all.” Zhiv’s voice was matter-of-fact. “A bastard son of a lord is rarely recognized, let alone accepted into the court.”

  “The road paved itself for me because of you,” Lord Teranasin said. “I’m well aware of that. But what you create, you can also destroy. Tell me, Parlay, did Zhiv plead with the King to allow me into the court?” He flicked his fingers again and this time her ear stung, wetness trickling down that as well.

  “We have more pressing matters than whether or not the King accepted you because of someone else.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard. But I think they connect. Because Parlay, a possible Ornic, at the least encouraging others to be so, matters so much to the King, a person he has never spoken with, that he’s managed to escape every possible punishment for his sins. One would think he was as dear to the King’s heart as his wife. Or Zhiv Mikailsin.”

  He flicked his fingers again and Krysilla’s other ear stung.

  “That’s enough, Vyomsi.” Zhiv’s tone had changed slightly.

  “Is it? Tell me, goodwife, what does Parlay keep in that room? I imagine it’s nothing, correct?”

  Krysilla didn’t dare speak. Fury had
begun to build in her at Lord Teranasin’s blatant cruelty. Zhiv had never treated anyone like this. Given his reaction to the execution, and the way the tone of his voice had changed, becoming more serious and, if she heard correctly, dangerous, she doubted he could ever be this cruel.

  “What do you want?” Zhiv demanded.

  “The truth, Zhiv. That is the man I’ve played cards with all these years, isn’t it? The one who said anyone with a decent head for leadership should be able to rule?”

  For once, Zhiv said nothing.

  Lord Teranasin laughed. “So that is who I’ve been playing with all this time. No. I’m wrong. That’s who’s been playing with me.” He flicked his fingers and this time Krysilla gasped. Her throat ached from what had felt like a slap across it, and something cold and hard pressed against the side of her throat.

  “Don’t you dare,” Zhiv hissed.

  “You did have some fun with her, didn’t you? You really shouldn’t stay with him, dear. What’s a lowly minstrel to a king?”

  Of course. That explained why he wanted the information. He wasn’t going to try to help an old friend or even look out for his own neck. He wanted power. And that meant destroying those who were most valuable and loyal to the King as well. Or trying to get them on his side.

  Blackmail. Of course.

  “There’s nothing in that room,” she said.

  “I imagine not. But there’s more rooms than Zhiv’s in that house and very soon I’ll have all the secrets those rooms contain. I’ll be able to prove that you’re an Ornic, Zhiv, and I’ll be able to do it with a greater speed than you realize.

  “The thing is,” he continued, “I don’t want to kill you. You’re interested in your own survival. Between self-interest and a love of money, I think you’re willing to serve me. Oh, and of course, the goodwife’s safety. I imagine that’s a concern of yours now as well, though a rather surprising one, I must say.”

  Zhiv didn’t say anything. Whatever pressed against her neck didn’t let up. Across from her, Vyomsi’s almost bored expression turned mischievous. “Say Zhiv, you haven’t answered my question yet. Or do you have one for the goodwife herself?”

  Zhiv said nothing.

  “Perhaps you want to ask her what the King promised her for information on you.”

  Her stomach twisted and she forced herself not to look at Zhiv.

  Zhiv, however, laughed. “The goodwife? The King could ask, but he wouldn’t extract any promise. Is that all, Vyomsi?”

  Lord Teranasin’s confusion was barely concealed. “What about this situation do you find amusing, Zhiv?”

  “You. With your grand plans and elaborate deceptions, you’re very amusing.” Lord Teranasin suddenly disappeared under the table, his chair flying away from him. “And far too dangerous.”

  Before she could blink, the table had lifted off and flung itself across the room, revealing a shocked Lord Teranasin staring up at Zhiv who, with one gesture, lifted him up and slammed his head on the floor, all through magic.

  “You really thought you could pressure me into being loyal?” he said, and now, whether she wanted a glimpse of him or not, she couldn’t help it, watching him attack Lord Teranasin with a coldness and anger that rivaled what she’d seen on the square at the execution. But here, he didn’t need to hold back.

  Lord Teranasin grabbed hold of the wall and, with a cry, flung the sides around him toward Zhiv. Timbers and plaster crashed around them, leaving her choking on the dust. One piece hit her in the chest, knocking her backward, still tied to the chair. “Where are you?” Lord Teranasin whispered, searching frantically through the rubble, lifting it here and there. “Ha. There you are.”

  I should play dead, she thought, but decided to try moving instead. It might distract Lord Teranasin. With some effort, she managed to roll herself, chair and all, onto her side. She could barely see Zhiv from where she was. But she could see he wasn’t moving.

  “I should kill you for what you just tried,” Lord Teranasin said, almost breathless. “But I think, it will be much, much more satisfying to see you on that platform, surrounded by the Dogs.” Standing up, her grinned at Krysilla. “You first, though. And that locksmith. I want him to watch you both die and watch the tears roll down his cheeks for you. And then, when it’s his turn, I want him to bless my name for ending the torture I’ve given him. Maybe I should crush his hands as well. It’s a thought.” And with a shrug, he walked away. “Live, Zhiv Mikailsin and Krysilla Gillasin,” he called out. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Frantic, Krysilla tried to wriggle out of the cords and cloth that bound her. “Parlay?” Then, because it was possible it no longer mattered and he might not recognize his alias, “Zhiv?” She managed to get to her knees while still tied to the chair. “Zhiv? Speak to me.”

  Still, Zhiv didn’t move.

  There was no way out of Lord Teranasin’s bonds without Zhiv’s help. And she couldn’t get to him to wake him up. Frustrated, she did the only thing she could think to do. Yell. “What were you thinking!? What did you think that would accomplish? Prodding a man like that?” Tears formed in her eyes, threatening to cloud her vision.

  He blinked, and she nearly laughed with joy. With a groan, he rolled over onto his side, then looked up, ready for another attack.

  “Can’t stand against the Dogs?” she said with a raised eyebrow. He’d just managed to score a hit against a noble. If he’d wanted to impress her, he’d succeeded.

  After a glance around, he said, “Where is he?”

  “Left.”

  Zhiv sat up. “Then the King is going to put his plan in motion tonight.”

  “What?”

  Standing up, Zhiv pulled a knife from his boot and began to work on her cords and the cloth, the enchanted cloth falling away from the engraved blade with a shudder, as if it were a living thing. “If it were tomorrow or the day after, or if he didn’t know when, he would have killed us. Or he would have trapped us in a jail somewhere to rot.” Zhiv lifted the chair from her while Krysilla got out of the cloth that had wrapped her so tightly. “It’s tonight.”

  She looked at the sun, low now in the sky. “Then we have no time. I have to tell Nitty.” Her sister had to leave with Tira before the King tried to open the rift.

  “There’s no time, even for that.” He’d begun walking back toward the city, along a seldom used path, from the look of the weeds in it. “If we don’t get to the King before he opens the rift, it won’t matter how far your sisters travels. Better to focus on stopping him, if we can.”

  She hated thinking that, but the stories she’d heard of the rift, of the fire reaching down and scorching the earth, leaving places that still were stretches of barren sand, made her follow Zhiv, and hope he was right. Talking of which, “What were you thinking with that back then?” she asked. “Why goad a noble?”

  “Oh, I learned many things. First, when the King is going to execute his plan.” He reached into a tree along the path and pulled out a bag she remembered from when she had first met him. “Second, his own aspirations. Third, his weakness. He’s too wrapped up in the fantasy of power to do anything intelligent. If he’d been smart, he would have killed me off the moment he’d ascended to the court. He certainly shouldn’t have let me live just now.” There was an echo of his earlier anger when he said, “And he certainly shouldn’t have involved you.”

  “You put your own life at risk? Was there no other way?”

  “This way was the easiest. Why? Would you have shed tears at my death?” He didn’t turn to look for a response.

  Unwilling to answer that, Krysilla instead told Zhiv what Lord Teranasin had said while he stood over him, and Zhiv chuckled. “Firmly gripped in his fantasies,” he murmured. “By the way, goodwife, I must thank you.” He pulled out a waterskin from the bag and wet down his pocket handkerchief.

  Nervous, she said, “For what?”

  He handed her the wet handkerchief, only glancing at her face, a flash of anger glittering briefly
in his eyes as they moved to each of the places Lord Teranasin had touched her with his magic. “For your performance just now. I wasn’t sure you would understand my bluff, but you followed it perfectly.”

  She dabbed all the spots where she felt dried-on blood as they walked. “Did I?” Cold fear gripped her. She tried to focus on the handkerchief, but that only added guilt.

  “What would you have answered if he’d—” Zhiv began, but she’d looked at the handkerchief and seen scarlet trickling through the water and pure white fibers and realized she couldn’t let him believe she was as good as he implied. “I agreed.”

  Zhiv stopped and turned. His momentary surprise shifted, faded, until she couldn’t read his expression at all. “I’m sorry?”

  “The King asked me to spy on you, and I agreed.”

  Zhiv didn’t move. She wondered if he were breathing. All he did was stare at her with those brilliant aquamarine eyes, calculating once more. “What did he—” he closed his eyes and smiled, bitterly. “A divorce. That’s what he promised you. And the oath wasn’t a threat, it was a reminder.” Without looking once at her, he turned and began walking once more.

  “I’m sorry—” she began but he waved it away.

  “More pressing matters, goodwife, and plenty of time afterward if this is done right.”

  “I just told you I betrayed you,” she said, her misery growing.

  He said, in a tone that revealed nothing and yet made it clear she had lost quite a bit of trust, “What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing.”

  A bit of hope filled her heart at the sight of his faint smile. “Then there’s nothing to worry about.” He paused, and cocked his head as if he were listening. Then, his smile grew. “Come on out, Tira.”

  She appeared, looking pale as a sheet.

  “Which way did he go?” Zhiv asked.

  She pointed in the direction of the city. “Tira,” Zhiv said, crouching down in front of her, “I’m about to ask you to do something very dangerous. I need you to find my friend, Daegan Jixsin.” Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a scrap of paper and a pencil. Writing quickly, he said, “Hand him this, then run to the house I showed you yesterday. Do you remember the keyspell?”