by K. M. Shea
Lis slipped inside and was surprised to find Channing sitting rail straight in a chair, cradling a lute in his hands. “Your Highness,” she said.
Channing strummed the lute and looked up at Lis, his face expressionless.
Who sulks with a stoic face? This prince, apparently. “Channing,” she amended.
He nodded in satisfaction. “Lis,” he said. “Did you need something?”
Lis watched him dexterously strum the lute, drawing a beautiful sound from it. “I was wondering what information the bandit revealed after his questioning.”
“Ah.” Channing stood and returned the lute to its place of honor on a shelf. “Not much, I’m afraid. He did not have the informant’s name—he hasn’t even seen him or her, so he could not identify them either. He said his party received their information and orders in paper or from other groups in the ring.”
Lis frowned. “That’s no help, then. There might be twenty informants within the palace, and he wouldn’t know. Whoever is leaking information is unfortunately clever.”
“He did tell us the location from which he fetches the orders,” Channing said.
Lis rested her hands on her belt. “Will that help you at all? With the fuss we raised catching him, I assume whomever the leak is has heard of it.”
“Most likely,” Channing said. “But we’re trying to infer as much about the informant as possible given the location and method of the message-delivering—though that still offers very little illumination. The spot is basically a hole in a wall.” He paused. “Would you like to see it? You—or Vorah—might notice something we missed.”
“Vorah is napping at the moment, but if you think I can be of service, I would be interested in seeing it,” Lis said.
“Of course.” Channing held the door open for her and beckoned her to leave first.
Together they walked down the paneled castle hallway, Channing gesturing whenever they needed to turn into a different passage.
“Your teamwork with Vorah is commendable,” he said rather suddenly as he led her down a spiraling staircase.
“Are you referring to our combined efforts with the horses and cart, or to the night we fended you off?” Lis asked with a slight smile.
“Both,” Channing said seriously. “The way you strengthen one another and work so fluidly together—I’ve never seen anything like it. Is it because Vorah is your student?”
Lis made a negative noise in the back of her nose. “She’s not really. She just says that to irritate me. It’s true I’m better than her in combat, but she is a far superior horsewoman and tracker. We work well together because we’ve been companions for over two years now.”
Lis followed after Channing when the staircase ended. He led her down a small hallway and popped out of a guard entrance and into a courtyard. “When you sweat and bleed with someone, it bonds you,” she continued. “I value Vorah’s skills and what we can accomplish together, yes, but she has also become a very dear friend. I am blessed to have her.”
“Is it easier to work with her?” Channing asked as they crossed the courtyard, rounding the side of the palace and heading for the gates. “I have not heard of many female warriors.”
“There aren’t many,” Lis agreed. “In Baris—where I come from—it is more common for a female to be trained in basic self-defense, but that is not so in other countries—Farset being the exception, of course. Vorah won’t say what country she is from, but I think it was hard for her before we started traveling together. Combined, we are a much harder target to take down, and as little as I like to admit it…it makes folk look at us as exotic and noble exceptions.”
“But the two of you are carving a trail. Perhaps in the future, there will be more female warriors,” Channing said.
“I’d like to think so,” Lis said. She was trying to picture a future where it was so, and it almost made her miss Channing’s question.
“Do you think together we might be able to learn how to move as synchronized as you and Vorah are?” he asked.
When she glanced at him, he resolutely stared at the gates that loomed before them as they drew closer.
Lis nodded calmly for several moments as she mentally replayed his words. That can’t be what he’s really asking. Why would he ever ponder such a thing? “Again, I must ask if you are referring to our ability to jointly survive Vorah’s driving skills or our fighting techniques.”
“Fighting,” Channing said.
Lis was grateful they arrived at the gates, for several of the guards bowed to Channing, giving her time to think.
I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so baffling before. Why would he be concerned about us fighting together?
After they passed through the gatehouse, Channing looked expectantly at her.
“I believe anyone can fight as Vorah and I do, Your High—Channing,” Lis said. “It only takes time and dedication. And trust,” she added.
Channing thoughtfully nodded. “I see. This way.”
They followed the wall that separated the castle palace and keep from the city proper.
“Here.” Channing stopped and pried a piece of mortar from the wall, opening a small hole that was approximately as wide as Lis’ thumb.
“They must have been short messages,” Lis said. “For I don’t think one could fit much paper in there.” She crouched next to the wall and peered at the hole.
“Whoever decided on this spot is daring—or knows the guard schedule.” Channing backed up slightly so he could look up at the top of the wall. “Guards patrol the wall-walk frequently.”
Lis narrowed her eyes and poked a finger into the hole. “I’m afraid I can’t offer any observations—except to say it seems you are dealing with someone especially cunning.”
Channing scuffed his foot on the gritty, dirt path. “Understandable. It is just a hole in the wall.”
Lis thoughtfully tapped the wall. “Though based on Vorah’s and my conversation with the bandit we captured before arriving, I wonder if the messages are not only from an informant, but from the leader of that particular bandit ring?” She narrowed her eyes in thought. “For our bandit had never met his leader—and you said it was the same for the one you captured as well?”
Channing—aware of the “ant-boy” situation after she and Vorah had explained it to him and the king and queen the night before over dinner—glanced back up the walls. “That is a possibility that had not occurred to me.” He paused. “It takes a certain level of cunning to not only successfully broker information, but to also run an illegal activity from within the palace itself.”
“Perhaps I’m wrong—no, it’s likely I am wrong,” Lis said. “But it seems odd how neither bandit has met their leader nor the informant.”
“Lis!”
Lis remained crouching but twisted so she could watch Vorah trot down the path—gingerly stepping over the remnants of a shattered jug. “Is something the matter?” she asked when Vorah was close enough to hear without shouting.
“Maybe,” Vorah said. “The maids already cleaned our rooms when you returned to our quarters to get materials to polish your sword this morning, hadn’t they?”
“Yes,” Lis said.
Vorah grimly flattened her lips. “Then I’m afraid someone was poking around our room.”
“No one has permission to enter your quarters except for the maid servant assigned to you—and she directly serves my mother,” Channing said.
“Well, someone was in there.” Vorah scratched her chin and narrowed her eyes, making her freckles stand out. “There were no signs of forced entry, but I recognized a few of our belongings were shifted ever so slightly.”
Channing flattened his lips. “There should be guards patrolling the hallway outside your room. I will speak to them and see if they have observed anything unusual.”
“Thank you,” Lis said as she hefted herself upright. “Though I am starting to think perhaps you’re dealing with a mage—or someone who is as skilled at moving t
hrough a castle without raising suspicion as you are.”
When she stood, he offered her his hand.
Lis glanced at Vorah, who smirked, then reluctantly held out her hand.
Channing took it, and Lis couldn’t quite figure out if he squeezed it or pumped it in a brisk handshake as he released it quickly.
“I will see you both this evening at supper,” Channing said before he turned on his heels and strode back the way they came.
“What was that?” Lis asked bewilderedly as she watched him go.
“If I’m interpreting His Highness correctly, that was his version of a passionate embrace,” Vorah said.
Lis scowled at her friend.
“He didn’t offer me a handshake—or whatever you want to call that.”
Lis sighed. “A prince like Channing would never entertain such ideas.”
“Ideas of marriage?” Vorah asked. “Maybe. He’s about as emotional as a potato, but he’ll have to produce an heir somehow.”
Though Lis fought off a smile, she lost, making Vorah’s grin grow.
“I meant he wouldn’t fantasize over marrying a commoner. Royals marry royalty,” Lis reminded her friend.
“His father was the one who rambled on about princesses not having to be of noble birth,” Vorah pointed out.
Lis pinched the bridge of her nose. “This country is strange.”
“No, it’s royal family is absolutely mad. The country itself seems pleasant enough—if not overly friendly.” The way Vorah spoke, it sounded like the idea horrified her. “No one has even looked at our trousers and weapons with a condescending eye. It’s not natural.” She shook her head in false piety.
“We won’t remain here much longer.” Lis picked her way back up the path, leading the way back to the gates. “Though I do hope they extend our contract a little while.”
“Oh, I see! So, the love is mutual?” Vorah asked.
Lis shot a glare over her shoulder.
“I’m just hopeful,” Vorah said. “Don’t you know what kind of armor you could buy for both of us if you were a princess?”
“Ignoring the impossibility of actually marrying Channing, can you truly see me as a mincing, dress-wearing, mild-mannered princess?” Lis asked.
“Who said you would have to be a mincing, dress-wearing, mild-mannered princess?” Vorah asked.
“Never mind—you’re being ridiculous,” Lis grumbled. “No. I am hoping they’ll extend our contract because now I wish to see that the ignoble rogue who serves as the mole is brought to justice.”
“May it be so!” Vorah declared as they passed through the city gates—receiving salutes from the guards as they passed with smiles and waves.
Lis glanced back at the castle wall. Perhaps, if the informant is so skilled at finding information, Vorah and I ought to change how we carry the Pea of Primeorder and find a better nighttime hiding place for it…
Vorah, oblivious to Lis’ thoughts, continued, “Come to think of it, I do, too. Especially since the rat went through my things. She—or he—better not have gotten their grubby fingers on my saddle. I lugged it all the way up to our room to clean this morning and it took me ages to get the fingerprints off it,” Vorah complained.
Lis listened carefully to Vorah’s ramblings. Not because she particularly sympathized with her complaints, but because it was much better for her to dwell upon that than whatever Channing’s strange actions meant.
I’m a warrior, she reminded herself. Not a princess. And that is the end of this tale.
Night had almost fallen, but Lis felt no desire to return to the palace. Instead, she leaned against her horse, surrounding herself with the familiar scents of horse and leather tack. The stables were quiet—except for the occasional snort from a horse and the munching of hay. Vorah had originally come out with her to see to the horses, but she left when the last stable hand had. And yet, Lis couldn’t find it in herself to leave.
Her mare lipped Lis’ hip but didn’t move away from her when Lis draped her arms across the horse’s neck.
Four more days. She reminded herself. Only four more days of Mersey and the strange royal family. She didn’t know if the thought relieved her or made her heart ache.
No progress had been made in catching the informant, and Channing persisted in his…strange behavior.
I cannot understand him. He acts perfectly normal for most of the day, but then there are times where I turn around and find him watching me, or he’ll say things…
Lis stubbornly shook her head and went back to brushing her horse.
The stable door creaked. Lis paused mid-brush stroke long enough to confirm her mare—trained for battle with a personality twice as mean—pricked her ears, but did not appear at all upset even as someone walked down the aisle.
Lis patted her horse on the shoulder and went back to brushing the animal’s already gleaming coat.
The footsteps stopped just outside the stall. “The stables are borrowing a chambermaid from the palace to care for this beauty of yours,” Channing said.
Lis nearly choked on her own heart in surprise. Why? Whyyy does he persist in following me around and mucking up my thoughts? It’s embarrassing! I’m a warrior; I should be above this!
“A wise decision.” Lis stepped back from her mare and offered Channing the most unemotional, brisk smile she could muster. “Both Vorah’s mare and my own are quite…particular.”
Channing nodded and took a step closer to the stall door. “I have heard of their disdain for the male gender. They did a number on one of the grooms.”
“My apologies. They are man-haters,” Lis confirmed. “We bought them for that reason. Their hatred of males makes them harder to steal and excellent fighters even though they aren’t true war horses.”
“I see.” Channing tilted his head as he edged even closer to the stall; he was only an arm’s length away from the door.
Lis’ mare pinned her ears, then ignored the prince and viciously ripped hay from her hay rack.
Lis wasn’t sure if this relieved her—the last thing she needed was her horse attacking the prince—or worried her, for usually her horse would bare her teeth and snort at a man as close to her as Channing was.
“What brings you out to the stables this evening, Channing?” Lis asked.
“You,” Channing said bluntly.
Lis went back to leaning against her horse in the vain hope that some of the mare’s hatred of men would maybe rub off on her and keep her from blushing like an idiot. Enough. He’s likely here to discuss our contract.
“How can I be of assistance?” she asked.
“I would like to discuss the end of your contract.”
See? Grimly satisfied, Lis nodded. “Of course.” She dropped the brush in a wooden bucket and rubbed her hands together to rid them of dirt. “Which of the conditions would you like to discuss?”
“Would you like to stay in Torrens?”
Lis had to replay his question in her mind twice to confirm she was not losing her sanity or her hearing. “Do you mean you’re asking if Vorah and I would like to lengthen our contract?”
“Vorah could stay as well,” Channing said.
This man. He missed his calling as a spy—he has the required sneaky skills and the ability to speak in an unfathomable code! Lis moved to stand at the stall door so she could watch Channing’s expression and hopefully get a better read on him. “I’m afraid I really don’t understand what you are trying to say.”
The corners of Channing’s mouth turned down. “I’m asking if you would like to live permanently in Torrens.”
Lis set her hand on the edge of the stall door. “I’m a mercenary warrior, Channing. I don’t have a permanent residence—I go wherever my contracts require me to.”
“And if you had a reason to stay?” Channing stepped even closer to the stall, though his eyes were fixated on her.
Lis hesitated. “I—I…”
Channing set his warm hand on top of hers, and ev
ery thought in her mind stilled.
The stable seemed unnaturally quiet, and Lis stared at their hands, unable to speak, unable to think.
Channing seemed content to merely stand there. His slight frown was gone, replaced by a subtle upturned smile.
Lis sucked in a breath of air and forcibly gathered her mushy mind together. “You need to speak frankly. Your words are open to many interpretations that could cause misunderstandings. What sort of reason would I have to stay?”
Channing subtly cocked his head and leaned against the stall door—though he did not remove his hand. “I thought it was obvious. I—”
Lis mare struck, snorting and pinning her ears as she forcefully rammed between Lis and the stall door.
She did not carry on and rear at Channing as she normally would have, but she did press her face against the bars of the stall and paw at the door.
Lis lightly smacked her horse on the shoulder, and her mare turned her attention to Lis, twining about her almost like a cat—though she still snorted a challenge to Channing as she glared at him over Lis’ shoulder.
She was not yet calm when the stable door clattered open.
“Channing! There you are, my boy—and Lisheva! What fun!” King Albion chortled as he ambled down the aisle. “So, have you—ahh…hahah!” King Albion broke off whatever he was going to say when Channing shook his head at him, and the king instead stroked his beard. “What a fine night it is!” he finally declared.
“It is, Your Majesty,” Lis said when awkward silence descended upon the stable.
“You know, Channing told me of your suggestion involving music and instruments. That was quite a brilliant idea!” King Albion said brightly.
Content since Channing had backed up with his father, Lis’ horse went back to sampling her hay. Lis patted her neck, then slipped from the stall to join the royals in the aisle. “It was an ignorant suggestion—Channing was able to make a much better plan off it,” she said.
King Albion shook his head. “Nay—it was an insightful idea. We never would have seen our country’s instruments and music as being particularly special or skilled, and it’s an easier feat to strive for than some of our other ideas. You have a good head on your shoulders, and you are skilled at the sword as well!” He smiled, as if this were a highly sought-after accomplishment women frequently strived for.