Red Gold Bridge

by Sarath, Patrice

  “All right, but hurry.”

  She ran up the steps, her hiking boots clunking on the carpeted stairs, and grabbed the saddle from her room, holding it over her arm. She looked around. It was a mess, and it would look like she had been snatched from the house. Her school stuff was all over the floor, and the cracked photo . . . She didn’t have time to clean. She would leave a note in the kitchen.

  A sound came from the garage, reminding her she had to go. She shouldered open the door and ran back down to the kitchen. They had left the pantry door open, and she closed that, then rummaged for notepaper and pen in the junk drawer. Hastily she scrawled,

  Mom and Dad. We’re okay. We’ll see you soon. Love, Kate. And Cole.

  It wasn’t enough, but it would have to do. She heard the Jeep start up and went out to the garage. Kate set the saddle in the backseat and climbed in. Colar put the car in gear, and they backed out, the garage door cycling up its chains, the motor a dull roar. As the garage door closed behind them, the house looked like any other house in the neighborhood, silent and empty during the day. Kate listened to the thudding of her heart as they drove out toward the gordath.

  In the cold gray light of a Trieve dawn, Crae woke alone in his bed. The side of the bed that Jessamy had shared was empty, the blankets drawn up neatly as if to erase her presence. He had held her until she cried herself out and fell asleep, her head tucked under his chin. She was warm and heavy in his arms, and her hair draped over his chest, tickling him. At some point she moved to lie next to him, and he fell asleep at last.

  He was confused. She had come to him, and though at first stiff and shy, she had shared his bed willingly. Then she cried as if her heart was broken.

  Did she regret her decision? Or had she cried because of disappointment? High god, Crae thought. Could things get any more complicated? He sat up, threw off his blankets, and got out of bed. He winced; yesterday’s battle made his body one great bruise, and last night’s ale did the same for his head. He moved slowly as he dressed, stumbling to get his woolen socks on. The stone floor held a chill, and there would be no fire till that night.

  Dressed in his heavy trousers and shirt with his warm overshirt on, he yawned and headed out to the stairs. Time to take stock of the damage and see what Trieve needed. This time he would take a troop out to scout the lower terraces. No need to get ambushed again, though he doubted the crows would try it. They had been routed too thoroughly.

  And one of their own was buried in Trieve. That meant something to the crow king. Trieve kept its promise and gave the crow guesting for all eternity. In the tally of potential allies, Crae thought, perhaps the crows would side with Trieve, although he was not sure whether he would lose more by treating with them than he would gain.

  He was headed out to the stairs when he stopped, looking down the still-dark hall. Jessamy’s chamber was that way. Crae hesitated, then made his way down the hall to her room.

  He could hear movement within her door and listened to Tevani’s chatter and Jori crying. Then the baby stopped crying, and he knew the babe nursed. Crae knocked.

  All sounds paused. He had almost lost his nerve when he heard running footsteps and then the door rattled and opened. Tevani had opened it, pushing against the weight of the heavy door with all her strength.

  “Lord Crae!” she shouted and barreled into him. Crae caught her up and, still embarrassed, he entered the room with the little girl in his arms.

  Jessamy sat in her chair nursing the baby, her face an oh of surprise. She looked straight at Crae, turned red, and looked down studiously.

  “Good morning,” he said, setting down Tevani. She ran back to her little trundle bed, chattering.

  “Are we going riding this morning? I’m not afraid of the crows. I can come out riding with you, can’t I? Mama, please say yes. And Uncle Jori says I can ride with him, too!”

  Crae pushed down a twinge of jealousy. Favor wouldn’t be here much longer, but he had no doubt Favor’s offer to let Tevani ride with him was a direct shot at Crae.

  Under cover of Tevani’s chatter he knelt beside Jessamy’s chair and took her hand. She started to pull away but let her hand stay.

  “Are you well?” he asked softly.

  “Yes. Yes, of course. I—it was such a day and a night,” she fumbled. She still wouldn’t look at him.

  “And last night? Are you well?”

  She looked full at him, startled. “Yes, Crae, of course. I—I am sorry I—cried.”

  The room had gone silent, Tevani having caught on that the grown-ups were having a conversation that she was not part of.

  The room was warm and cozy, full of life and comfort. He felt as if he were an intruder. Had he done wrong to come here?

  “I wanted to wish you good morning,” he said, realizing how inadequate it was.

  This time her mouth quirked in a smile, fleeting as it was. She gave his hand a squeeze before bringing it back to tuck the blanket around her son.

  “It is a good morning,” she said firmly, and the old brisk Jessamy was back. “We have survived the crows, and Trieve is safe. Because of you,” she added.

  He didn’t know what to say, so he just touched the baby’s head. He was fair, like his father, though he looked more like Jessamy. But Crae knew that boys often looked like their mothers, and girls their fathers.

  If he and Jessamy had made a baby, he would have a child. Crae caught his breath.

  If Jessamy noticed, she made no sign. “Here,” she said. She put her finger in the corner of the baby’s mouth and dislodged him from her breast. She covered up hastily and raised the boy to her shoulder, rubbing his back. “He would nurse for hours if I gave him leave. Greedy little thing.” The boy gave a hearty burp, and they both laughed. Jori smiled, too, a wide-gummed grin, the tiniest pearl of a tooth showing through. “Hold him, please, while I get myself together.”

  She had never given him leave to carry the baby before. Crae took the baby and held him while she got up and called over Tevani.

  “Come here, darling; let’s get you dressed.”

  The baby was surprisingly heavy and warm. Crae sat down in the chair and held him face out so he could look around. The baby leaned back against him, and he watched Jessamy alternately scold and cajole Tevani into her thick tunic and leggings.

  As Tevani sat on the floor and painstakingly fastened the straps of her boots herself, there came another knock on the door. Calyne bustled in with linens.

  “A good morning to you, my lady, little Tevani—oh!” She spotted Crae, holding the baby. “Oh!”

  Crae felt something warm and wet down the front of his shirt. “Here,” he said hastily, holding out the damp baby. “I think he needs you.”

  Both women clucked. “Oh, that dear little boy!” Calyne said. She took him from Crae and laid him down in his cradle, her careworn expert hands unwrapping the diaper, taking a new one, and wrapping him up again all before the boy could do more than whimper.

  “Thank you, Calyne,” Jessamy said. She laced up her bodice. “I swear that this boy goes through twice as many cloths as Tevani ever did.”

  “Oh, of course, Lady Jessamy. Come, shall I take both children to breakfast with me?”

  “No. I, well . . . That is—”

  Crae had never seen Jessamy at such a loss for words.

  “Yes,” Crae said firmly to Calyne. He stood, knowing that he towered over both women. She bowed hastily, and with Jori in the crook of her arm, she took Tevani by the hand, the little girl jumping in her boots. The door closed behind them, Tevani’s voice regaling Calyne with the events of the morning all the way down the hall.

  “What?” Jessamy said, looking up at him, her chin raised. She looked as if she needed something to do with her hands, now that she didn’t have the baby. She had held Stavin’s son between them so that he could not get too close to her. And it had worked, until she had come to his bed last night. Now the days of shields between them were over.

  He took her
hand again, this time lifting it to his lips. She made a small wordless sound. He bent and kissed her. Once again her mouth was stiff at first, and once again she yielded, her lips soft and sweet.

  “If you don’t come to me tonight,” he said, his voice low, “I will come to you.”

  The first thing he noticed when he made it downstairs was that Calyne’s news traveled fast. Everywhere people smiled when they saw their lord.

  “Good morning, Lord Crae! A good morning to you, sir! How are you this fine morning, my lord!”

  It was disconcerting to say the least. As a mere captain, he had had more privacy, little though he had been able to make of it, for there were few opportunities for love at Red Gold Bridge. Still, it was as if everyone had a stake in his and Lady Jessamy’s marriage bed—and come to think of it, exactly what had the grooms and farmers been wagering on the last few months?

  The only person who had no great smile for the turn of events was Lord Favor. He scowled at Crae as he came into the kitchens for breakfast and vesh. Crae’s general good humor faded.

  “Brother,” Crae said shortly. He got himself a cup and let one of the maids fill it for him.

  Favor grunted. Crae wondered if he had been drinking something stronger than vesh already that morning. His expression was hangdog, and he slumped at the table. Breyan was at his side, and the captain glanced from lord to lord, his expression closed.

  “So, you were triumphant,” Favor sneered. Crae didn’t bother replying. He sipped his hot spiced vesh and waited. His brother-in-law flushed. “Now what? I heard how you gave in to that foul stick who called himself the king of the crows. King of the rats, more like. What kind of man are you, Captain?”

  Crae regarded him over his cup. You are a fool, he thought. If I could, I would thrash you and throw you from the top stair; only your sister saves your skin. When he was good and ready, he said, “The kind of man who made a valuable alliance with a feared enemy. No crow will attack Trieve ever again. And if we are ever attacked”—he put some emphasis in the word—“they will come to our defense. So you see, Lord Favor, I might be more favorably inclined toward the crow lord than I am to you right now.”

  Favor’s expression made him look as if he were about to explode. He stood, and Breyan stood with him—to defend him against Crae or to hold him back, Crae was not sure which. “You threaten me,” he blustered, “but you have no idea who you toy with. I am a member of the Aeritan Council, Captain, and who we elevated we can cast down.”

  Everyone in the kitchen had given up all pretense at work. The hot bustling room had become still, the stone walls almost leaning in to hear. Crae set down his vesh. With the utmost care he kept his control.

  “You didn’t elevate me,” Crae said. “The high god did, and until he says otherwise, I am lord here. You would know that, Favor, if you had been summoned, as I was. Instead, you just took the lordship with a nudge and a wink.”

  Even as he spoke he knew he trod on dangerous ground. He warned himself to take care. From what he knew, he might as well have accused the entire Council of falsifying their right to their lordships.

  Favor licked his lips. “And you are ungrateful and unworthy,” he said. “I spoke against you from the first, because I knew you were nothing but a common free lance. You resigned your commission and took arms against your lord, you consorted with a low female from an uncouth land, and you conspire with crows against the House of Trieve. I should bring you before the Council on charges of treason and strip you of your rights.”

  A couple of men growled and stepped forward. Breyan drew his sword and stepped in front of Favor, even as Crae lifted his hand to halt his men. They stood down, but they did not back off.

  “Do it,” he said. He could barely speak for his anger. “Go to the Council. Tell them what you think of me. Bring war to your sister’s land, her children’s birthright. All for nothing except your hurt pride and that you can’t stand the idea that I married your sister in more than name only.”

  “You dare—” Favor stopped. When he spoke again, his voice rose barely to a whisper. “You insult Favor.”

  “You’ve insulted Trieve more than I could ever insult your House,” Crae said. He was half-worried, half-thankful that he hadn’t worn his sword to breakfast. Favor was armed. He had come to the kitchen looking for a fight, and Crae had handed him the pretext. Fine. Then we will have this out. “You insulted this House the moment your horse set foot on the bottom terrace. You brought war down upon us, yes, you, Brother. You brought this battle to us through pride and stupidity. I do not take the flat of my sword to your back for three reasons, and they sit upstairs safely in my House.”

  Favor advanced, one hand on his sword, Breyan next to him. Would he have stood so next to Tharp? Crae’s mouth twisted. He would have done as Breyan did. A captain served the House, not the man. Breyan’s feelings for his lord could not enter into it. He didn’t look around, but all the men and some of the women gathered at his back. Some were his newly blooded fighting men, but none were armed.

  “You are a false lord, and the Council will treat you as you deserve. We will take Trieve down stone by stone, Captain, and make you watch when we put your people to the sword and torch your fields. That will teach you to think you are better than your station.”

  “Get out of my House.” Crae could barely speak. He turned toward Breyan. “Get him out of here.”

  “Uncle Jori! Lord Crae!” Tevani bolted into the kitchen, followed by Calyne. “Can I ride Hero this morning with Uncle Jori? Please? You promised you would ride with me—”

  Favor growled and turned on his niece as the little girl ran up to him. Crae knew what he meant to do: simply swat the child away. He knew Favor could not have meant to hurt her. But the man drew his sword and swung it at her with the flat end. They were in such close quarters that Breyan and Crae fouled each other as they jumped in. The sword caught Breyan across the shoulder and down his chest, and the man dropped. Crae caught the rest of the arc across his shirt, the tip scraping his skin as he threw Tevani out of the way. The little girl screamed as she thudded to the stone floor, her cry cut off on impact.

  Then there was nothing else but shouting—Breyan in pain, the women and the men in horror. Crae grabbed the sword from his brother-in-law and raised it over his head. Favor’s eyes went from confused to pleading to terror-stricken, but he could make no move as Crae plunged the sword into his chest almost to the hilt.

  Blood blossomed on Favor’s fine shirt, and he sank to his knees, the sword jutting out from his chest. Crae let him drop, and the blood pooled beneath him on the stones. All around them the men and women of Trieve moved, some to pick up Tevani to keep her limp body out of the flow of blood, some to draw Breyan away and wrestle his sword from him. More men came in, drawn by the commotion, more women. Jessamy came running in, stricken at the sight of her daughter.

  “Tevani!” she shrieked. “Tevani! High god, she can’t be dead! She can’t!”

  As if from far away, Crae heard the others reassure her that the child hadn’t been bloodied but had been pushed aside and had fallen. He heard Tevani’s gasping cry as she regained consciousness. Crae let the flood of panic swirl around them. He and Favor were in a world all their own. He watched as the life failed in Favor’s eyes and the man fell forward, the dead weight of his body pushing the sword through his back.

  High god. Help me.

  His god was silent though, or at least Crae could not hear him over the buzzing in his head.

  Eleven

  “Hi, Lynn,” Nancy called from behind the counter at Toomey’s as Lynn entered the low-slung feed and supply for some odds and ends for the farm. Nancy was about Mrs. Felz’s age, and she had worked the feed and supply store for twenty years or more. “Jim wanted me to let you know that he’s got in a new batch of dewormer and he hasn’t gotten your order for grain, and was wondering what was up.”

  Crap. She had forgotten. Dammit, I need a barn manager. “Hi, Nance,” Lynn
said. “Sorry, that was my fault. As long as I’m here, let me put that in. And, er . . . how quickly can you get that out to me?” Toomey wholesaled the grain and hay for most of the area farms.

  Nancy tsked. “I’ll put you on the list. Hey, so what’s this I hear about you finding a new horse?”

  News traveled fast, that was for sure. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep Red Bird a secret for long.

  “Yeah, it was strange.” You have no idea how much, Lynn added to herself. “I’d put up flyers to see if someone lost him, but I don’t think they should have him back. He was pretty badly mistreated.”

  Nancy raised an eyebrow. “And he just wandered in? He must have known a good thing when he found it.”

  “Yeah. I’ve put him up and had him vetted out. Nothing wrong with him that food and time won’t cure.”

  A new voice chimed in. “Your mystery horse? I heard about that.”

  Lynn looked up to see Sue Devin, one of the local riders who ran the cross-country club, with a basket of supplies in hand, wearing jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and hiking boots. Lynn smiled. She liked Sue, a no-nonsense woman who was in her seventies and looked and acted as if she would live forever. She used to be a member of the hunt club and was one of its foremost riders, until her husband died and Sue gave that up. She was still a fixture on the horse show circuit, though, with her big rawboned bay gelding, the aptly named Chocolate Moose, who was eighteen if he was a day and still jumped as if he was ten years younger.

  “People are terrible,” Sue went on. “Are you going to try to find the owners?”

  “I was planning on turning them in to the ASPCA if I did,” Lynn lied, a feeling of inevitability coming over her. Well, people would forget about the horse soon enough, as soon as the next news tidbit came up.