“I think a variety of sizes would be best.” I hefted the handle of my pick. It did seem a shame to defile the cave by hacking at it, but the amount we were prepared to take probably wouldn’t be too scarring. I found a long crystal and swung at its base. The pick bounced with such force that I dropped it. The vibration hurt my hand. “This is going to be more difficult than I anticipated.”
“We’ll just have to put our backs into it.” She swung at a crystal and it popped out of the wall.
She didn’t have to do anything. She was doing a favor for me to help me repay the favor I owed to Browne. I was creating a situation in which I was becoming beholden to more and more people. That wasn’t good. A Shield was supposed to be unfettered. Except to her Source, of course.
I chipped away at the crystals for a while. I worked up a fine sweat. It was boring work. And I could see that it was going to take a while.
Then, out of nowhere, Fiona said, “Kent asked me to marry him.”
My arm kept swinging the pick without mental direction while I thought about that. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Aye, but . . . what?”
“Aye.”
“How hard did you hit him?”
“Don’t I wish.”
“Seriously, what was he thinking? You’re still in mourning.”
“He is aware of my responsibilities.”
“Your responsibilities?”
“To marry someone.”
“You have a duty to marry?” I was shocked, but oddly relieved. Crazy people were harassing her to marry, too.
“It makes for a more stable estate.”
“How?”
“No one knows. That’s just the way it works. Estates with married titleholders tend to prosper, those without tend not to.”
Huh. “But you don’t have to actually marry anyone, do you?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You could just take a lover.” Ah, there was a good chunk of crystal. I wondered if it mattered what color we chose.
“No, that’s not good enough.”
“Why not?”
“A wedding is a ritual. Rituals have power. The best, closest lover in the world doesn’t have the power of a spouse.”
I supposed that made a certain sense. Sort of. “So you will get married in time?”
Fiona paused in her hammering to push hair out of her face with her forearm. “Aye, I suppose I will.”
The Emperor wasn’t married. He had been, but his wife had died before he gained the title. Did his single state mean all of us would prosper less? And if Kent believed it, why hadn’t he married before now?
“But not to Kent,” I said to Fiona.
“No, not to Kent. There is a darkness within him that I have no desire to examine more closely.”
I agreed, though I wouldn’t have put it so poetically. He was an avaricious pig, and he deserved to have something unpleasant done to him for trying to take Fiona’s estate from her. “How does this work, his getting the estate from the Emperor?”
“He has to go to the Emperor and make his plaint. He has to bring with him a token from the land he wants to take, a clump of dirt or a branch or something. He has to bring some kind of proof that I’m experiencing difficulty. Testimony is enough, so he could bring someone I’ve annoyed, a titleholder in the area who holds a grudge against me or enjoys meddling in people’s affairs, or even someone who wants a chance to meet the Emperor. Kent has to convince the Emperor he has a prima facie case. If he doesn’t, Kent gets fined for wasting the Emperor’s time and he can never petition for anyone else’s estate ever again. If he does, the council conducts a more thorough investigation and gives the Emperor their decision.”
“If Kent can achieve his goal that way, why would he ask you to marry him?”
“It would be easier than convincing the Emperor to give Westsea to him.”
“But you would still be the titleholder. The title is what he wants, isn’t it?”
“Maybe he feels he would be the power behind the titleholder.”
“Doesn’t really know you, does he?”
“It would seem not.”
It was weird how life worked sometimes. Both of us getting unwanted marriage proposals. “How did he react when you refused?”
“He was quite the gentleman about it. Told me he would give me time to think about it and come to my senses.”
“I do not admire people who will not accept a negative answer.”
“Some people feel that’s a sign of strength.”
“Some people are idiots.”
Once we filled the buckets—Browne would be getting more than she’d asked for—and covered the tops with burlap, we found our way back through the cave, the rope right where it should have been. The bright sunlight pierced our eyes as we stepped from the shadows of the cave. “What an unusually pleasant day,” said Fiona, shielding her eyes with her hand.
I blinked and waited for my eyes to adjust. “Thank you for helping me.”
“That’s what friends are for.” She paused. “What the hell?”
“Hm?” I blinked again and was then able to see a whole slew of fishers standing about on the shore. They didn’t appear to be getting ready to work.
As we walked toward the water, I could see fish lying dead on the rocky shore, silver and flat. Thousands, it looked like.
I could smell them, too. Yikes.
Then I noticed within me the jittery feeling that told me a spell had been cast. I moved closer to the fish and the sensation grew stronger. The fish were either the tools of a spell, or the result of one.
Fiona kind of groaned and rubbed the back of her neck. She didn’t seem surprised, though.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It happens.”
“What? The fish just jump out of the water and die here?”
“It’s fish rot. They die in the water and the tide brings them in.”
“How often does it happen?”
“Couple times a year.”
“This seems like a lot of fish.” And there was a spell involved. I was sure of it.
“It is,” said one of the fishers with a scowl. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
There was really nothing Fiona could say to that. Maybe it was true. She’d lived in Flown Raven only a few years.
“I thought Lady Daris would have told you,” the tenant continued.
“I can’t believe she’s aware of this,” Fiona replied.
“She’s been here.”
“She isn’t one for wandering away from the manor.”
The tenant wasn’t impressed with being doubted. “I’ve seen her myself.”
“Of course, Aven,” Fiona said quickly, to avoid causing offence. “I’m just surprised.” She bent down and picked up one of the fish.
I suppressed a grimace. Better her than me.
We bid Aven and the others good day, and once I thought we were out of earshot, I asked Fiona, “Can Daris cast?”
Fiona snickered. “You need focus and concentration to cast, don’t you? Daris is always too drunk to have either.”
“All right, but there’s something about these fish that involves casting.”
She frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Completely. I don’t know the nature of the spell, you should probably get Healer Browne to look at it, but there’s definitely something there.”
“So you’re saying a spell was deliberately used on the fish.”
“Or the fish were used to cast the spell.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
“I have no idea. I’m not suggesting it has to be nefarious. But someone is using spells that have an impact on your resources, and you don’t know about it. That can’t be good.”
“No, I don’t believe it is.” She gave me her bucket. “Can you take these to Healer Browne and ask her to come back with you?”
The buckets were heavy and their h
andles bit into my hands. “Of course.”
I walked toward the village. People were up and working, bustling about and talking. I was reminded anew how busy the average person was, how hard they had to work. I was happy to be a Shield, but something about all the activity in which regulars engaged was appealing, every day seeing the results of one’s labor, a chair created or a furrow of seed planted. I wondered if I was missing something by being apart from it.
I heard shouting then, sharp and panicked. I spun toward the noise. I saw six horses pounding through the street, their riders clearly lacking any concern for who they might be endangering. In fact, it looked almost as though they were deliberately aiming for people. But that couldn’t be.
And I froze. Screams filled my ears. I saw the hooves pounding into the ground, so hard I thought I could feel it. My eyes were assaulted with fast shapes and shattering lines.
Then everything seemed to slow down. Sound reached me only through a muffling sensation. I couldn’t feel anything, not even the ground under my feet. I felt like I couldn’t concentrate on anything, my mind filled with fog.
I couldn’t breathe.
The world flipped again. The sound of glass smashing became brutally loud. Sunlight pierced my eyes. I could feel the mist of the morning air against my skin.
The horses were bearing down on me.
My brain kicked in and I leapt off the street.
People were desperately clawing out of the way. There were so many people and the street was narrow. One man dove against a wall in an effort to avoid the horses and seemed to knock himself out. A small child was trampled. Another man threw himself against the side of a wagon trying to stay clear. One of the riders slashed a woman in the face with his crop. Who were these bastards?
They were laughing.
Once they reached the end of the street, I expected them to turn around and take another pass, because that seemed to be the sort of people they were. Instead, they galloped away. It was baffling. What motive could they have for doing this? Who were they?
I ran to Browne’s cottage. I had to put down one of the buckets in order to pound on her door. Apparently I hadn’t dropped them when my life was in danger. My priorities were excellent.
“I have a patient!” I heard from within the cottage.
“You have more out here!” I snapped back.
A few moments later she was at the door. “What?” she demanded irritably.
“There are people trampled by horses out here.”
She frowned. “More than one.”
“Aye.”
She turned back into her cottage. “Just take that tea, Alia. You’re fine.”
“You might as well take these,” I said, giving her the buckets.
She glanced at them briefly. “Oh. Thank you. Come on, Alia.” She took the buckets and set them down beside the door. Then she stepped aside to let a heavily pregnant woman out. Browne disappeared briefly and reappeared with a pouch. “Let’s get going.”
A young man ran up. “Healer—”
“I know, I’m coming,” she interjected.
The four people I had seen injured had been grouped together. The man who had jumped into the wagon and the woman who had been whipped were standing, though the man’s arm was held strangely. The boy and the other man were laid out on the ground, pain etched on their bloody faces. The boy, about six, was crying.
It was just unfathomable to me. Why would anyone do this? How could they get pleasure from doing something like this? “Who were they?” I asked.
“That’s Colm,” said Browne, pointing at the boy. “That’s Radek.”
“No. The riders.”
No one answered. I assumed that meant no one knew.
Browne knelt beside the boy. She touched him gently and asked him questions about how he felt. He was having difficulty answering and his breathing was wet. “Someone carry Colm back to my cottage,” she said. “Lay him on the table. Be very gentle with him.” A young man stepped forward, and though he was obviously taking care, Colm cried out when he was lifted. “You need to be brave just a few more moments, Colm. Then I’m going to make you feel much better.” Browne knelt beside the man. “Where does it hurt?” she asked him.
“My head, Healer,” he groaned.
“Anywhere else?”
“I don’t—I can’t—”
“All right. Don’t worry.”
Browne put her hand lightly on his temple. I saw her whispering, but I couldn’t determine what she was saying. “You’ll be fine,” she told him. “I’ll have you taken to mine, Radek, but you’ll have to wait until I’ve seen to Colm.”
Another man stepped forward and helped Radek to his feet.
Browne grabbed my arm and pulled me off to one side. “Go to Her Grace and tell her what happened.”
“Will they all be all right?”
“I can’t be sure, but I believe they will.”
“Has anything like this happened before?”
“Not to my knowledge,” she said in a hurried, distracted tone. “Please go tell Her Grace.”
“Of course.” Who the hell were those riders? How could they be punished if no one knew who they were? And they needed to be punished. There was no excuse for what they did.
“Hurry,” she said. “They might be coming back.”
I nodded and started running. The horrible images of what I had seen kept going through my mind again and again. I kept hearing that terrible laughter. It made the back of my neck shiver.
I was seriously out of breath by the time I reached the manor. One of the results of the lack of bench dancing in my schedule. “Bailey!” I gasped, my lungs working painfully. I bent over, my hands on my knees. “Where’s Her Grace?”
“She’s out overseeing some irrigation on one of the farming lots.”
I swore. I wasn’t able to run anymore. What if those riders came back? Were they likely to? The villagers would be ready for them this time. They could throw things at the riders, if nothing else.
“I can send one of the footmen out to her,” said Bailey. “Shall I do so?”
“Aye, but I need to talk to him first.”
“Of course. If you would like to recover yourself in the sitting room, we will be with you shortly.”
I nodded, didn’t bother to speak again, and headed to the sitting room. Where I didn’t sit down on the nice furniture, because I was sweaty. A few moments later, Hiroki came in.
“You wanted to see me, ma’am?”
“You need to go to Her Grace and tell her six riders drove through the village, trampling people. Four were injured, one a child. I don’t know if anyone recognized the riders.”
Hiroki, his eyes widened in surprise, nodded. “Anything else, ma’am?”
“No, you can go. And hurry, please.”
He left.
I sighed. What a day, and it wasn’t even half over yet.
Two awful things happening in one day. The fish were the result of a spell, and it didn’t make sense. Destroying resources was never smart. As for the trampling, well, it wasn’t as though criminal activities never happened in Flown Raven. Taro and I had been robbed on our way to Flown Raven, which, granted, was not nearly as severe as what the villagers had experienced. And the riders hadn’t taken anything. They’d reaped no benefits from their actions.
So, was the same person behind both events?
I went up to my suite to bathe and get melodramatic in private about the events of the day. And the first thing I saw was the flower arrangement on one of the end tables. Bright yellow flowers in a brown straight-sided vase. A small brown cake was supported by the blossoms, and a pair of earrings hung off the lip of the vase. At the foot of the vase lay a card with the name “Marcus Pride.”
I groaned. This was a token meant to ask to start negotiations for marriage. It was something aristocrats did. It didn’t make sense for Marcus to send this to me. We were both merchant class. And it seemed kind of redundant. Wasn’t the
contract a sort of marriage proposal? A proposal I’d refused?
“So what are you going to do?”
I looked up. Taro was leaning against the doorway to the bedchamber, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.
“What do you think I’m going to do?” I snapped. “I’m sending it back.”
“Are you sure you want to?”
Oh, he was being aggravating just for the hell of it. “Of course, I’m sure. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“He’s your class.”
“So?”
“He’s handsome without being too terribly handsome.”
I actually didn’t find Marcus physically appealing. “You’re being a prat, Taro.”
“I’m merely pointing out the facts.”
“The fact is that I love you.” Though it wasn’t something I particularly felt like saying right then.
“Maybe you’re just one of those people who feel they should love whoever they’re sleeping with.”
“No, I’m not one of those people.” That was a little naive, and I was offended that he would accuse me of it. “You know, I’ve had a really bad morning. I had to watch six idiots drive their horses through town. Four people were injured, including a child. I don’t need this.” I pointed at the vase. “Or that.”
I looked at Taro, waiting for his next stupid remark.
He surprised me. “Were you hurt at all?”
Oh. I hadn’t been expecting that. “No. I was well away from the danger.”
“Were the riders caught?”
“I don’t know. Not to my knowledge.”
He sighed and rubbed his face. “It’s one thing after another. Why can’t everyone just leave Fiona alone? What is it about this place that makes everyone so insane?”
“It’s a large and wealthy estate?”
“There are others as big and wealthy.”
“Not a lot, and no others are next to Kent.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just that he’s causing trouble for her.”
“You think Kent is behind these riders?”
“Didn’t think so before.” Surely he wouldn’t go that far. I didn’t think it would improve his chances of getting a positive ruling from the Emperor. Something like anonymous riders attacking the village, that wasn’t Fiona’s fault. It couldn’t be held against her. “I don’t know. It’s not like he’s the only one unnaturally interested in Westsea. The Dowager is unbalanced about it. Daris wants it. The Emperor is unusually interested in it. But all of them, I would think, would want the resources to be healthy and plentiful and the tenants able to work. Something else is going on.”
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