The Baker's Wife--complete

by Amy Keeley

  She grinned. “Didn’t stop you before.”

  “You hadn’t tried to lose yourself to a piece of Ornic machinery before. Come on. If you can stand, we’d better get back before Ziria has my head for leaving her boys to tear up Uncle Nostra’s house.”

  “Not yours. Mine. I’m the one who left them alone.”

  “But she entrusted them to me. Leaving them alone with you, no matter how trustworthy you happen to be, is a sign of my own careless nature.”

  He helped her to her feet and she followed him, unsteadily, toward the entrance. “What were you doing here?”

  “Practicing. If I bang my head against any more walls, I think I’ll go mad.”

  Daegan, Nitty, and Tira. “Do you think they’re all right?”

  “I wish I knew. If Ziria doesn’t have any information, I’ll go into town and see what I can find. I’ll play a few hands of cards, strike up a conversation, see what I can find and what I can win.”

  She thought of Ziria’s dream as he spoke. “Does Ziria...do you ever...” but she couldn’t find a way to say what she wished, though he glanced at her several times, even after she trailed off. The darkness felt close, even, no, especially with the small Light they carried. As if it pressed down on them, and they were all that was left.

  “Did she tell you something?” he said, after a long silence.

  “Yes.”

  He nodded. “When I was young, she had dreams of things to come. She dreamt of the Dogs, did you know that? Told my parents and everything, and they still laughed at her. Lovingly, of course. They thought it was adorable, and full of symbolism and other such things. She could become a mystic, they said, living high up in the trees and feeding nuts to squirrels while she recited poetry that others would take as prophecy.”

  Krysilla stared at him.

  “All right,” he admitted, “they didn’t say that. But they thought it. I could tell from their eyes. She spoke and no one believed her, only as much as they could turn a profit on it. I believed her.” He paused. “My brother did. We looked for the signs, and everyone thought nothing of it because all young boys are superstitious. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes. Very.” She didn’t want to press him. He never spoke of those times, and she was afraid that if she were to ask even the smallest question, he would stop. Maybe it’s the darkness, she thought. Maybe he feels it, too, and he’s talking to distract himself from it. Or maybe I’m just making things up in my head, she thought, and tried to focus on the path ahead.

  “What did she tell you?” he said.

  “I’m not sure I should say.”

  “Did she tell you it was a secret?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then tell me. I’m her brother. Who better to know than me?”

  His words were lighthearted, but the tone underneath was most serious. And he was right. She hadn’t said it was a secret. “She dreamt she was attacked by a Dog, and that you and your brother ran in opposite directions.”

  He nodded slowly. “Did she say how many times she’d had the dream?”

  “No. Does she often have dreams more than once like that?”

  “The more often she has a dream, the more likely it is to come true. She had the one you described several times when she was young. I always had thought it had been fulfilled the day I joined the service of King Jivon. But now—if she’s mentioned it, she wouldn’t unless it was something that had been on her mind recently. And she’s so practical, the only way something that fantastic would enter her head is if she’d dreamed it again.”

  “Perhaps it’s a memory?”

  “No. My sister never dreams a dream again once it’s come true.” And though his smile remained, his eyes looked grim and concerned.

  ***

  Ziria didn’t show that day.

  She should have arrived with foodstuffs and more catgut if she could manage to get some from a local butcher who sold it to musicians at a discount. Wholesale. (Once Zhiv explained what it was, Krysilla had a hard time thinking anyone would want the raw product in large quantities.)

  Her boys, Rysil and Syril danced through the house, but they didn’t go long before asking when their ma was to show. Zhiv had little patience with their requests, but always managed to refrain from snapping, finding, instead, something for them to do while they waited.

  The evening came, the darkness spread, and she still hadn’t shown.

  Zhiv promised the boys a tune on his fiddle, then they must go to bed. Worry now lined their faces. Their mother always did what she said she would, Syril explained to Krysilla. Always. And she was never late.

  While Zhiv played, Krysilla pretended to practice her reading, but in truth, she was trying to avoid the appearance of being swept away by the haunting sorrow of his song. It was in a style she’d never heard before, not in her village certainly, and not in the small tunes she’d heard during her brief time in Hurush. It wasn’t a drinking song, but its high, keening wail that seemed barely contained within the melody of Zhiv’s strings sounded like something a confused, lonely man would sing to himself as he stared into his cup.

  The tone softened, the melody’s sadness became quiet, accepting. By the time the song had finished, the boys were very quiet and still. Zhiv’s voice, though low and soft as well, seemed a jarring contrast to his playing. “Off with you now. You’ll see your mother in the morning.”

  Without complaint this time, but with a reluctance that was not due to Zhiv’s playing, no matter how enthralling, the boys trudged upstairs.

  Zhiv pulled out a soft cloth, rubbing it under the strings, until the door had closed to their room, then swiftly laid it in a spare case he’d kept around as a replacement “just in case.” “Please keep an eye on them while I’m gone. Use the execution spell if anyone comes near.”

  He was going to check on her. “What about you? What about the ‘shard’?”

  “Well, that’ll be mine to deal with, won’t it? Don’t worry. The ‘shard’ doesn’t matter much until after midnight.” He grabbed a satchel and opened it up, feeling along the bottom. “I’ll be back before then.”

  Would he? Much as she worried about Ziria as well, she couldn’t let him leave. Not at night. Not this late. And yet, she couldn’t leave the boys alone, unprotected. “Perhaps she’s just been detained.”

  “She had the dream. And she still has the dream. Tonight, I doubt she’s been kept by anything benign, goodwife.” Satisfied, he closed it again. “Magical, and it might draw their attention, but that might not be a bad thing.”

  Her skin went cold. “Don’t sacrifice yourself for her.”

  “Of course not. Just a ruse, and only if necessary.” He paused, his glance sly. “Miss me?”

  Her heart raced at the sight of that glance. “You’re the only thing feeding me, right now. Of course, I’ll miss you.”

  He laughed, a bark that nearly covered the nervousness she could tell he felt. “My sister is feeding us, so there’s more than brotherly concern driving me to find her.” True or not, she could see in the speed with which he moved that concern was the primary reason.

  “Tonight is not wise,” she said. “I know it’s a risk, but—”

  “The boys aren’t coming. It’s more than a risk, goodwife, it’s murder if they get too close. The Dogs may leave them alone in most circumstances, but if anything’s happened—”

  “If anything’s happened, I’m not sure you’ll come back until they’re all dead.”

  He stopped at that, watching her with something close to shock. But not quite. “I worked for the King for nine years without once drawing blood. And he took far more from me than the Dogs may have done tonight. Though, I will admit,” he slung the satchel across his chest, “my forgiveness is rather thin these days.” He grinned. “Fear not, fair damsel. Any revenge I plan will not be executed tonight. And if I hurry, I’ll be back in time for you to tell me another of your stories.” He paused, then cupping her cheek, kissed her gentl
y on the opposite one. It happened so swiftly, she didn’t have time to either sink into the sensation, or push him away. “Might as well start practicing that, cousin,” he said with a wink, and left.

  Feeling completely helpless, she undid her braid, then braided it again. Nothing. Absolutely nothing for her to do. She didn’t know the terrain well enough to declare that she would go in his place. She had never even been to Ziria’s house before. All she could do was sit like a helpless little wife, waiting for her husband to come home.

  She’d had enough of that. It galled her that she was in the same situation once more.

  There was a scratching by the front door. Krysilla froze. Feeling not so helpless after all, she readied the most familiar part of the execution spell, just in case. I can modify the others, she told herself. After this, I’ll modify the whole slew of them if I have to. Walking quietly, she crouched behind the chair and waited.

  The lock swiftly unlocked itself, the door swung wide. Jumping up, Krysilla saw no red vest, no staff, and that, thankfully, slowed her response. She stopped the spell entirely when she realized the vest was brown with a white handkerchief, and that it was Daegan’s face, staring at her in both relief and shock. “You made it,” he whispered. He turned back and waved to what she hoped were her sister and her niece to come inside.

  He did, and soon both were once again with her. Nitty was shaking, her hair in disarray, far worse than the last time Krysilla had seen her. Tira was pale, also shaken, but also very glad to see Krysilla. The moment she saw her aunt, the little girl clung to her skirt.

  “How was the journey?” Krysilla smoothed the little girl’s hair.

  “Ha!” Nitty barked. “She wants to know how the journey was. As if we were on a holiday, out for a jaunt through the countryside.”

  Daegan ignored her. “What in the Circle is Zhiv doing with the portals?” he demanded.

  Krysilla shook her head. “He hasn’t done anything with them. Why?”

  Daegan became very still, and Krysilla swore she could see a little fear in them, though he hid it well.

  Nitty, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as reticent. “It collapsed on us. The one we found that worked, anyway. The others were either missing or burned.”

  “Or odd,” Daegan added, concern furrowing his brow. “Like someone else had been traveling through them.”

  Krysilla felt ill. And then, she asked, “Is there a portal near Niria’s home?”

  “Of course. It was one of the first Zhiv built. Wait, how do you—”

  “Tell me how to get to Ziria’s house,” she said, dousing the Lights. “I need to get there as soon as possible.”

  “There’s a cave not far from here, just down the path to the forest.” That portal wasn’t more than fifty arms’ lengths from Zhiv’s house.

  “How close is the portal to her home?” Krysilla demanded. Everything about her ached to already be gone.

  “Just outside a field in the back of their property. You’ll cross a few to get to their house.”

  “Wealthy?” Nitty asked. Of course she would comment on that, Krysilla frowned.

  “For the village they live in, yes. Do you still have the dagger?” he asked Krysilla.

  Of course. “Yes. Be right back.” And she was racing up to the top floor where she silently got the bloodblade. When she reappeared with it, Daegan frowned.

  “That’s not the one I—”

  “No time. Ziria was supposed to show and didn’t. Zhiv went to find out why.”

  “At night?” And now he had become nothing but action. Striding to the door, he opened it with a swiftness that made the fire dance from the breeze. “I’m going with you.”

  “There’s food in the kitchen, Nitty,” Krysilla said. “I’m sorry I can’t stay to help you find anything, but—”

  “I know my way around a pantry,” Nitty said, turning with all the coldness Krysilla expected from abandoning them like this when they’d gone through a miserable time themselves.

  She followed Daegan, who had already gone through the side door and was jogging down the path to the forest. “You have to stay with them,” she called out. “If anyone comes, you have to protect them.”

  “If we’re about to face the Dogs, you’ll need all my help there.”

  We couldn’t stand against the Dogs, she remembered Zhiv saying. “I don’t intend to fight.”

  “Neither do I. We’re agreed then?”

  “No. If you must come to make sure I don’t get lost on the way, do so, but Nitty and Tira need you more. I can get Zhiv out by myself. I did it at the castle when he was knocked unconscious.” A bit of a stretch, but necessary.

  Daegan’s eyes went wide. “I’d heard—”

  “No time. Take me there, show me how to work the portal. Then come back here.” She took his arm. “Please. If anything happens, I need to know someone more powerful than me, stronger than me, is here protecting them.”

  “That’s exactly why I should go with you,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “All right,” he muttered. “But take the dagger with you. Be sure you have it on you.”

  “Of course.” Tucked into her sash was the dagger, the bloodblade. She thought about the effect it had had on Zhiv and shuddered. Pray I never use it, she thought, and focused on the steps of Daegan through the woods, outlining the soft dirt ahead.

  They came to a wall of dust and debris, bare earth exposed between tree roots. Daegan reached into the earth and pulled part of it aside. But not with magic. A curtain had been built to look like the earth and the roots and now she was inside. Daegan shone the light on a piece of cloth, much like a cloak, yet bigger. More like a black sheet. “He made this one first,” Daegan explained, lifting it up. “It only goes one direction. Return to the one you come through and you’ll come back the other direction to this spot. There are no other locations.”

  “Sounds simple.”

  His gaze drove right through her, heavy with meaning. “There are no other locations. The Dogs will be able to track you here if you use this to return and they follow you. Make sure they don’t follow you. I don’t want you two wandering your way back here like we just did.”

  She nodded. His words sobered her. As if she wasn’t sober already.

  “The moment you’re inside, start walking.” And then Daegan swirled the cloth around her, wrapping her up in it as if she were inside a sack.

  The cloth slipped away, leaving her feeling as if she were walking through a large empty space. But this time, she felt the darkness narrow. Her feet moved swiftly forward, and unlike last time, she wasn’t surprised when the world turned on its side. Wriggling forward, she realized he had hidden the sack inside a large hollow trunk on its side. It should have collapsed, she thought as she emerged.

  But that thought didn’t last. The smell of smoke, of charred ashes caught her attention. She hadn’t brought a King’s Light with her. It would attract attention. Instead, she walked across the moonlit field, with just enough light to make out her general location. Too dark for running. The wind shifted and the smell of ashes faded.

  Across a field of wheat she traveled, until she came to a road. Across the road was a house. Was a house. It had been one once but now it was burned to cinders. Even the bricks that had formed it had been knocked to the ground, leaving nothing but rubble. Here and there were the remains of toys a child might have, a remnant of a brooch, a piece of wood.

  Zhiv. He would have seen this. Looking around, Krysilla looked for any sign of him, any sign he had come here and wandered and where would he go? Running her fingers through her hair, she walked closer to the house. And gasped. Slowly, out of the smoke, formed a circle. Bright red, scarlet as blood or the vest of a Dog, the circle drifted over the house, then faded.

  Stunned, Krysilla waited. Was that a signal? Were other Dogs going to show? But it wasn’t spectacular or loud. It was quiet, the kind of spell meant only for whoever happened to be near.

  “It’s the sign of the Dog
s,” Zhiv said behind her. Whipping round, she nearly cried with relief. But Zhiv wasn’t slowing. He walked past her, over the road, and was in the field before she caught up with him.

  “Why?”

  “Why do they let others know, or why is that sign over my sister’s house? I only know the answer to the first. A sign like that exists when a Dog has executed someone who tried to attack.”

  “Then, your sister—”

  “My sister has never attacked any of the Dogs. She bows and scrapes with the rest of the village, letting them search as they will. Better that way, she said. Less suspicion and she has nothing to hide.”

  “Then it’s a lie.”

  “Of the worst kind.”

  Thinking back on her conversation with Daegan, she said, “Did the King know you were related?”

  Zhiv shook his head. “He didn’t know. I made very sure he didn’t know I had any relatives. I was an orphan, raised on the streets. That was the story I told and that’s the one I’ve stuck by.”

  “Then it wasn’t from the King,” Krysilla said, beginning to feel out of breath as she struggled to keep pace.

  “No. But it was a Dog, and they want to make it clear that she was punished and the punishment was just.”

  “What next?”

  “Find the killer. Find Ziria.”

  “And her husband?”

  “Dead. Found him inside.”

  They were at the hollow log. Zhiv yanked the bag out, about the size of a flour-sack, and shook it as if it had something to do with the charred house. Krysilla looked back in the direction of the house. “They didn’t burn him to ashes then. Why?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe because he wasn’t their target and just happened to get in the way.” Taking her by the hand, he said, “One at a time. You first. I’ll follow.”

  She hesitated.

  “I promise,” he said, and a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I need to get something.”

  Nodding, she pulled the bag over her head. It fell down, as easily as if she had held the opening over her head and let go, except now she faced the darkness that wasn’t truly darkness. Forcing herself to walk through it, she felt the walls close in, and this time she was wrapped up in cloth. Casting it aside, the darkness of the hidden cavern felt strange, new. The King’s Light, doused, was where Daegan had left it.