Covenants (v2.1)

by Lorna Freeman

  Chapter Fifty-four

  “Are there any oranges left?” I asked as I finished my fourth pickled egg.

  Doyen Allwyn pushed the fruit bowl towards me and I plucked out an orange, peeling it as fast as possible. He watched in awe as the orange disappeared in two bites. I selected another.

  Laurel plunked a cup of tea on the table before me. “Here, Rabbit. Drink this first.” I sighed and swigged the honey-laced tea down, having discovered that was the best way to drink it—the less time on the tongue, the better. I then shoved as much as I could of the second orange in my mouth to cut through the bittersweet taste.

  I’d fallen back asleep after I had spoken with Uncle Havram, Captain Suiden, and Doyen Allwyn, despite every intention to keep an eye on Honor Ash’s haunt as she kept an eye on me. I awoke the next morning to find Honor gone. Also gone were my aches and pains, except in my stomach, which growled at me as though I were at the tail end of a five-day purification fast.

  Though the ghost Faena was gone when I awakened, Laurel was there. He hovered over me all morning like a broody hen, looking puzzled when he thought I wasn’t looking. He now caught my glance and gave a brief chuff. “You have flown before you’ve even figured out how to crawl, Rabbit.” He placed the kettle back on the brazier (he was right, the tea tasted much worse cold). “Yet you sit there as if you’ve done nothing more strenuous than go out on patrol. My first work of the talent left me as weak as a newborn cub.”

  “But from what I’ve heard, it wasn’t his first, uh, work, was it, Ambassador?” Doyen Allwyn asked, as I went to work on some weevily biscuits. With my other hand, I picked up a wedge of cheese.

  “No, honored elder,” Laurel said. “It wasn’t.” He shook his head, his beads rattling. “And no real training for any of it.”

  I was more interested in filling the hollow space where my stomach used to be than why I had bounced back so fast. Swallowing the last of the cheese and biscuits, I took an apple from the fruit bowl and in a few quick bites reduced it to seeds and core fragments.

  “Right,” Allwyn said, blinking. “Well, Captain Suiden has said that if you’re up to it, you’re to go topside, Lord Rabbit.” I grunted but did not move, as I had discovered some rather raisiny grapes and set to making them disappear. Doyen Allwyn reached over and bravely removed the fruit bowl from my grasp. “You’ll have it returned to you, my lord,” he said, his voice firm, “once we’re on deck.” He picked up a pile of blankets and headed for the ladder.

  Lured by the fruit bowl, I climbed the ladder, sandwiched between the doyen and Laurel. When I emerged blinking into the sun, though, I looked around and tried to dive down the hatch again.

  “It is a little disconcerting,” Doyen Allwyn said as he stopped my escape attempt and moved me out the way so that Laurel could emerge, sealing off my exit. “But they seem benign.”

  “Uh,” I said as I stared at a sprite remembering her tree, a unicorn and leopard lying in her phantom shade. The thought went through the back of my mind that they wouldn’t have done so (at least not at the same time) when they’d been alive. Death had a way of changing one’s perspective, I supposed. Looking about, I watched as crew and troopers (some with their eyes starting out and hair standing on end) moved among shades of more sprites, wolves, small furry animals, big cats, antlered deer, bears, lizards, feathered snakes, wildly plumed birds, and great horned and tusked beasts, that walked, paced, slithered, padded, stalked, trod, pattered, shambled, plodded and flittered about. And it seemed that all—the quick and the dead—turned their heads to fix their eyes on me.

  “Uh,” I said again, trying once more to go back down the hatch. But Laurel and Allwyn latched on to an arm each, and they “helped” me to a sheltered nook.

  “Captain Suiden and Vice Admiral Havram were both very emphatic about you being seen up, about, and reasonably whole,” Allwyn said, “without extra eyes, cloven hooves, or other marks of the devil upon you.”

  “They can come see me in my berth, sir,” I said, trying to slip out of their grasp.

  “Out during the day in the sun, Lord Rabbit,” Laurel said. “Without bursting into flames.” In a few short moments I was seated and wrapped up against any stray chill that might happen along. Laurel rumbled at my indignant stare at being swaddled like some toothless decrepit, and moved aside as Basel pranced up in his stag persona. The haunt laid claim to me by striking a pose with antlers high, looking regally out over the other shades.

  “Suck-up,” I muttered, and Basel flicked his tail.

  Laurel rumbled again and I started to throw the blankets off. “No, Rabbit, don’t,” he said, his eyes slit in laughter. “Humor me.”

  “It seems I already have,” I said, subsiding. To tell the truth, the blankets felt good as it was a little brisk. I hitched them up around my neck.

  Laurel’s whiskers swept back in a grin, which faded as he looked around at the haunts’ unwavering attention. “I’m the one with the earth affinity, yet they act as if I’m a talentless dog. However, they fix on you as if you’re Lady Gaia’s consort himself come to bless us.”

  “Consort, Ambassador Laurel?” Allwyn asked.

  “The moon, honored elder.” Laurel cocked his head to one side. “When were you born, Rabbit?”

  “The second day of Harvest. Why?”

  “Well, that matches your aspect.” Laurel saw Allwyn’s puzzled look. “Four aspects match the four seasons, honored elder, and those who have the aspect are usually born during that season. I was born in spring, the time of awakenings and new beginnings, of oaths, consecrations, and promises made, of joinings, pairings and consummation, of the cycle of life—birth, healing, dying, and death. We of the earth are healers, hunters, farmers, seers and shamans.”

  Doyen Allwyn gave Laurel, then me, a fascinated eye. “And Lord Rabbit?”

  “He was born in the fall, the time of fruition and fulfillment, of fealty, faith and promises kept, of change and turning, of songs of harvest and rejoicing, and lullabies.” Laurel’s whiskers swept back again. “If he weren’t a mage, he could’ve been a bard.” So Sparrow wasn’t the only one in my family who could sing. I ignored the speculation on the doyen’s face.

  “Or a warrior.” Laurel’s smile broadened at my startled look. “The winds of war, Rabbit.”

  “But that’s just a saying,” I said.

  “All sayings start somewhere,” Laurel said. “It’s no mistake that you are a soldier.” He once more looked over the haunts, becoming still as his eyes sharpened. “I am going to exercise some of my talent and check on the injured, honored folk. If you have need, send for me there.” He bowed and was gone.

  I didn’t say anything as I saw what he had seen, and I uneasily eyed the sailors and troopers who had congregated, standing a little ways off as they watched me watching them. I could see First Lieutenant Falkin’s blond hair shimmering in the sunlight as he joined them. He took a step towards me, then stopped, as if uncertain about coming closer. Though that may have been because the unicorn had risen to her feet and was heading my way. Keeping an eye on her and them, I selected another orange and peeled it.

  Jeff pushed through the crowd and called out, “Well, there! I thought so with that braid and feather. He’s really a winsome she, lads! Virtuous too!”

  “Hah!” I said, grinning, shoving orange into my mouth. “You wouldn’t know winsome if it bit you on the arse, Jeff.” I spoke to the rest of the lads, my voice thick. “Saw him at the theater with someone who looked just like Groskin’s horse, Fiend. Then I realized it was Fiend.” I smirked at him over the laughter. “He was only there because Jeff promised him sugar lumps.”

  Jeff strolled closer, with Falkin a step behind, both avoiding several otters’ shades gamboling by. The crew and troopers followed them, with more joining the crowd. Doyen Allwyn shifted aside so that he could watch.

  “Hell, Rabbiteena, that wasn’t Fiend,” Jeff threw back. “That was your mother, following me about because of my carrots.”


  I leaned forward, paying no mind as Basel stepped aside to let the unicorn lie down next to me. “If that had been my ma, Jeff, she would’ve eaten your carrots, crunched your lumps, and left you nothing but a stump.” I looked thoughtful. “Though, I don’t know. From what I’ve seen, maybe it was her—”

  I broke off as I remembered Doyen Allwyn. I shot him a look but he was staring hard at the folded chessboard. A muscle quivered in his cheek and then was still.

  Jeff also gave a quick glance at the doyen, a faint flush adding to the colors already on his face. He hesitated, then hunkered down, wincing a little. The others in the front of the crowd did the same, while the rest pressed in until I was surrounded by a solid wall of humanity.

  “Uh, yeah,” Jeff said. “So, how are you doing, Rabbit?”

  “I’m all right.” My stomach rumbled and Doyen Allwyn offered the fruit bowl. I selected another orange and, as I peeled it, I noted the black eye, the lump on Jeff’s forehead, the splints on a couple of his fingers, and the other assorted bruises I could see. I frowned. “Why aren’t you in the infirmary?”

  “Both the captain and Laurel said I could return to duty, nurse,” Jeff said. He waited a moment, then gave a wry grin. “Well, tell us. What happened?”

  I hesitated.

  “Rabbit.” Jeff sighed and started ticking off on his fingers. “Lost in the mountains. Magicals. Feathers. Translations. Haunts. A bridge of air and then of green vines. Runes lighting up. Butterflies. Stopping arrows in mid-flight. A magic storm. And now”—he waved a hand around, having run out of digits, and in the gaps between the men I could see the shades also pressing closer to where I sat—”a whole shipful of haunts.”

  “Don’t forget Slevoic,” a trooper said.

  “Oh, yeah,” Jeff said, “Slev-o-icious and his one-man horror show gone.” Grins bloomed on many of the soldiers’ faces, though Ryson, standing on the outskirts, just looked green.

  “Slevoic ibn Dru?” Falkin asked, his gray eyes bright. “I knew him from when he was stationed at the Royal Garrison. Both he and Lord Gherat would hang about in the dockside taverns.” His mouth twisted in distaste. “The whores would hide as soon as they saw them coming. It didn’t surprise me when I’d heard Slevoic had turned into a sorcerer.” The twist straightened into a grin. “And after last night, it didn’t surprise me to hear that you handed him his hat.”

  I stared Falkin for a moment, then looked at Jeff, who shrugged back at me.

  “Captain Suiden ordered me to tell everyone about Slevoic,” Jeff said. “Anyway, you did go up against him. Three times—twice at the embassy and then when we were in the alley.”

  “But—”

  “It’s a legend at the garrison, sir,” another trooper said to Falkin. “How for three years Rabbit evaded Slevoic.” He also grinned. “I once saw Rabbit standing right in front of him, but the Vicious didn’t see him until one of the captains called Rabbit to run an errand—and then it was too late for the Vicious to do anything about it. He just about howled.”

  “My ma always said I could hide in plain sight,” I murmured, remembering some of the close calls I’d had with the lieutenant. I felt a hunger pang and shoved the orange into my mouth. I then reached for an apple.

  “He sounds a rare treat,” a sailor said. “Lord’s son?”

  “He’s a cousin of a friend of the king,” Jeff said. “But now he’s gone, outlawed and on the run, thanks to Rabbit.”

  “I didn’t—” I began over a mouthful of apple.

  “Yes, you did,” Jeff said. He shifted on his heels. “I don’t think anything you’d say at this point would get anyone worked up, Rabbit.”

  “Hell, no,” Falkin said, squatting down beside Jeff. “We were dead men, Rabbit. Then suddenly, we weren’t.” He smiled again, his eyes rather round with wonder. “What did you do?”

  I swallowed and sighed, feeling as though I was going to strip myself bare in front of everyone. I tried to look out at the sea, but my view was hemmed by sailors and troopers, so I looked back at Jeff, my own mouth quirking. “The storm was going to kill us so I stopped it.”

  “I was kissing the deck, remember?” Jeff sat down and leaned forward, his face expectant. “How did you stop it?”

  I shifted as I chewed, trying to remember the words I used yesterday when I told Suiden, Havram and Doyen Allwyn.

  “He turned into the wind,” Doyen Allwyn said, his voice quiet, “and the storm just stopped, like it hit a wall. Then it went away.”

  “Better than the dramas,” a trooper said, his eyes wide.

  “Yes,” Jeff whispered. “What was it like, Rabbit?”

  I took a deep breath. “Ever have dreams where you were flying?”

  A murmur went around the group of men.

  “It was like that, except I wasn’t flying. I was flight.” I pulled the blankets around me tighter. “Like the lift beneath a bird’s wing. Or the soaring of a kite.”

  “Aye,” an old sailor said, looking up at the masts. “The filling of her sails until she fair dances and sings.” I nodded and, hearing the wind give a faint chuckle, shivered, understanding clearly how mages were seduced.

  “When I’ve had dreams like that, I never wanted them to end,” Falkin said softly. Sailor and soldier alike nodded their heads in agreement. “And yours was real. How could you stand to come back?”

  A breeze swirled around me, fluttering my feather, and then was gone. “Because, sir, I’m not the wind—”

  “You are an apostate,” Chaplain Obruesk said, his deep voice rolling above the sound of the windrider cutting through the waves. “A necromancer who has made an unholy covenant with hell.”

  “Mother loving—”

  Everyone scrambled to their feet, staring at the chaplain who had taken advantage of our preoccupation to worm his way into the circle. I frowned up at him but suddenly found my view blocked as Doyen Allwyn stood up, Jeff and Falkin joining him. It didn’t deter Obruesk, though, bent on my denunciation. Behind him, I could see Ryson slipping off from the crowd with a couple of other troopers.

  Obruesk’s cavernous eyes burned as he watched the unicorn rise and stand next to Allwyn, while Basel came around the other side. “A vile seducer of innocents! See how he has corrupted this man of God so that he sits down with wickedness, instead of coming against them in the name of the Holy Church!”

  “That is enough.” Doyen Allwyn’s voice cracked like a whip. He signaled and more soldiers and sailors joined us, all facing the chaplain. “The only wickedness I see is one who uses his office to solicit murder.”

  “It is not murder!” Obruesk’s burning eyes were now fixed on the doyen. “God demands that we remove what’s unclean.”

  “From our own hearts first, Obruesk,” Doyen Allwyn said. “Otherwise we become more of an abomination than that which we denounce.”

  The chaplain glared back at the doyen. “Abominations? You talk about abominations?” He turned to the half circle of crew and soldiers, his robe flaring out about his thin body, and he waved a hand at the haunts. “We are surrounded by unhallowed spirits conjured by this man. Ware! Ware, I tell you, lest you find the abominations devour your soul!”

  Chaplain Obruesk broke off as my knife, still in its sheath, landed at his feet with a thunk. He stared down at it, then raised his eyes to me. I had cast off the blankets and risen.

  “If it’s my murder you want, Chaplain, I will show you how to do it.” I pulled my tabard over my head and dropped it on the deck. I started to remove my shirt. “No reason for anyone else to be damned for the taking of a life.” The shirt joined the tabard and I went to work on my singlet.

  “Would it damn one to remove evil from the earth? No! Heaven shall sing his praises who puts his hand to work God’s will!” The chaplain’s voice rang out, his head lifted to the sky.

  “God does not work through murdering mobs—” Doyen Allwyn began.

  I dropped my singlet and laid a hand on the doyen’s shoulder and h
e fell silent. “Then there’s no reason why you can’t do it, is there?” I asked. I pulled out my boot knife and pointed it under my ribs. “Angle the knife up so, and I’ll be quite dead.” I grinned, baring my teeth. “I don’t know about evil, but maybe that’ll remove your shame at being kicked out of Iversly.”

  Obruesk brought his head down and glared at me, making a warding sign. “Get thee gone, demon, and take your workings with you! Tempting a man of God to bloodshed—”

  “My da always said you should never ask someone to do what you’re not willing to do yourself.” I pressed the knife point and a bead of blood welled up, dark red against my skin. “Right here, Chaplain.”

  Obruesk drew back his foot to kick, my knife away. “A devil’s tool—”

  “One more word and I will throw you overboard, Obruesk.”

  The chaplain whipped around so fast that I heard his spine crack. The troopers who’d left had returned with Captain Suiden, Captain Javes, Lieutenant Groskin, and Lord Esclaur—none of whom were wearing happy faces. I quickly tucked my knife behind my back.

  “I told you to stay away from Lieutenant Rabbit, yet here you are.” Captain Suiden walked up to the chaplain, his clan markings vivid in the sun. “What part of ‘clapped in irons’ and ‘thrown in the brig’ don’t you understand?”

  There was another stir as Ryson returned with Laurel.

  “What the—” Jeff said softly as we both stared at Laurel and Ryson working their way into the circle. “Ryson didn’t just go get the cat, did he?” Jeff whispered as the Faena joined the captains and Groskin, Ryson prudently (prudently!) hanging back.

  The captain ignored Laurel’s arrival as he was still fixed on legitimate prey. “As you seem to have problems obeying orders, Obruesk, I am placing you under guard until we reach the Border—”

  The chaplain cut Suiden off and I almost admired his courage. Almost. “So you too have given yourself over to hell’s thrall!” He once more turned to the surrounding crew and troopers. “See how your captain stands with the sorcerer’s familiar!”