White Star

by Elizabeth Vaughan

  “And . . .” Archer bellowed, raising his hands for silence.

  The crowd quieted, holding its breath, expectant.

  “They went and got married,” Archer announced just as Blackhart and Evelyn walked through the portal, and it disappeared behind them.

  The crowd roared then, startling Blackhart. He looked around, focused on Archer, and glared.

  Archer just grinned.

  Dorne and Bella walked forward to greet the happy couple. “Congratulations!” Dorne was all smiles. “This calls for a celebration. A dance tonight, here in the square. Let everyone gather at sunset!”

  That set them to cheering. Archer grinned happily as those closest pounded him on the back.

  THERE were those who wanted to speak to them, but Orrin held them off, working their way through the crowd. “My lady wife is still recovering, and needs to rest before tonight’s celebration. Tomorrow we can speak of all that needs to be done.”

  No one insisted, and he swept Evelyn up into his arms, and carried her into the inn and up the stairs. Bella was at the door to the room, smiling at both of them. “There’s a fire laid and ready. Give me a moment, and I’ll bring some fresh bread and butter, and hot kav.”

  Evelyn yawned, then blinked at her. “I’m more tired than hungry, Bella.”

  “Then I won’t be bothering you. Crawl in, and get some sleep. I’ll wake you just before supper.” Bella started to pull the door closed behind her, then hesitated. “Maybe you could look in on the little ones before the dance. One’s fussing, and we’ve run out of our own remedies.”

  Evelyn opened her mouth, but Bella was gone before she could speak.

  She gave Orrin a stricken look. “They don’t know.”

  “We’ll explain later,” Orrin said as he set her on her feet.

  Evelyn sighed, and released the clasp of her cloak. “Just that little bit of magic, and I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

  “That little bit of magic was damned impressive.” Orrin took her cloak, and set it aside. She sat on the edge of the bed, and he pulled off her slippers. “We’d have been killed, but for you.”

  “Mage helped,” Evelyn insisted. She stood long enough to skim out of her trous. Watching her took Orrin’s breath away.

  Evelyn left her trous in a heap on the floor, and started to pull back the bedding. Orrin reached for them, and started to fold them on the chair.

  Evelyn took off her tunic, and crawled into the bed with a sigh of pure contentment. She shifted to the center of the huge mattress, then pulled the bedding up over her shoulders, relaxing into the softness. She smiled drowsily at Orrin, and patted the bed next to her. “Join me?”

  Orrin wasted no time stripping down, but he left his trous on before climbing into bed. He settled next to Evelyn, and she curled against him, head on his chest. “You feel so good,” she whispered, as her hand slid lower under the blankets.

  “Rest, Evelyn,” Orrin said firmly, catching her hand before it could move lower.

  “Awww,” Evelyn said, but it was ruined by a yawn. “When we wake?”

  “We will see.” Orrin paused. “Evelyn . . . have you thought . . . about . . .”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “About children,” he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “We haven’t taken any precautions.”

  She lifted her head to look at him, worrying her lip with her teeth. “I didn’t think. I used to be able to regulate my courses with the healing magics, but now . . .” She settled her head back down. “I’m fine until the end of this month, love. After that . . .”

  “We should think about it,” Orrin said.

  Evelyn’s head came up again, her gaze sharper. “What’s wrong? You sound worried.”

  “We can talk later, love.” Orrin stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “Sleep now.”

  Evelyn nodded, and with a soft snort she drifted off to sleep.

  It took him a while longer.

  EVELYN woke first.

  The room was warm, the bed warmer still, and she felt so comfortable. Orrin had shifted to face her at some point, lying on his side. He looked younger when sleeping, relaxed and free of care. She smiled, a silent thrill running through her. She’d spend her days with this man, seeing him in all lights, in all moods, learning, loving. She closed her eyes, and gave a quiet prayer of thanks to the Lord of Light and the Lady of Laughter. Especially the Lady, for the gift of this man.

  But then her stomach grumbled. She caught a faint whiff of baking bread from the kitchen below.

  She slipped out of the bedding, and pulled on the tunic and trous. She opened the door quietly, and walked down the back stairs that went directly to the kitchen.

  Dorne was there, kneading dough, and the brick ovens behind him glowed with heat. He nodded her to one of the stools, and with a quick gesture served up a slice of warm bread, a crock of butter, and hot kav.

  Evelyn smiled her thanks, and spread the butter thick, taking a sip of kav while waiting for it to melt. Then she took a big bite, and closed her eyes at the wonderful yeasty taste.

  Dorne didn’t speak. He just let her eat as he kneaded and shaped the loaves into round mounds, then covered them with cloths to let them rise. He refilled her mug, and cut another slice of bread to put on her platter.

  The faint sound of music came through the walls. Evelyn gave Dorne a questioning look, and he grimaced. “Everyone’s excited about the news, and all and sundry who think they can toot a pipe or bang a drum can and will tonight. There’s those who are good at it and those who aren’t, and we’ll have to endure them all, more than like.”

  “After so much sorrow, it’s good to see joy.”

  “And relief,” Dorne added. “They’re just as pleased that you are Baroness.”

  Evelyn shook her head. “No, I’m just the temporary Guardian for the Black Hills, until Gloriana can find someone she can trust to be the new Baron.”

  Dorne rolled his eyes. “That’s not what Archer announced. And good luck explaining that to an excited crowd.”

  “He didn’t tell them that I am no longer a priestess,” Evelyn said. “I’m going to have to tell them that as well.”

  Dorne gave her a sharp look. “Oh?”

  Evelyn sighed, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I renounced the priesthood before Queen Gloriana and the entire Court. The Archbishop excommunicated me just before he collapsed.”

  “Fat bastard keeled over in his own spew.” Orrin walked into the room, a grim look on his face. “Served him right.” He pulled a stool over, and sat close to Evelyn. She smiled at him, his hair slightly ruffled from their nap.

  “I warned Eidam that he was headed for trouble.” Dorne covered the last of the bread. “The man was fixated on the glory of the Lord, and reducing the influence of the Lady and her priesthood. I warned him about the spiced wine, too, but he wouldn’t listen.” Dorne started to slice more bread.

  “Priest Dominic asked us to tell you that he would summon a conclave as soon as Eidam dies,” Evelyn said.

  “Oh, joy,” Dorne snorted, as he poured kav for Orrin. “Long, tedious hours of discussion as various idiots maneuver for position.” Dorne stopped to consider. “I think I’ll walk to Edenrich.”

  Evelyn fought a grin. “It would take months to walk to Edenrich.”

  “Would it?” Dorne had a very smug look on his face. “More’s the pity. But there’s not a horse to spare for an old country priest.”

  “Never mind the twenty or so my men looted,” Orrin said.

  “You keep silent.” Dorne raised his eyebrows. “They’re needed for plowing—”

  “We could spare—” Orrin said.

  “Plowing or such other tasks as need doing,” Dorne repeated firmly.

  Evelyn laughed. “Besides, who will care for the spiritual needs of your charges while you’re gone, High Priest Dorne?”

  Dorne locked eyes with her. “Why, you, Lady High Priestess.” He reached under
his floury apron, then pushed something across the table to her.

  It was a silver brooch, a half-moon with several silver stars.

  FORTY-ONE

  ORRIN frowned as Evelyn’s mouth dropped open. “But . . . I renounced my vows.”

  “No,” Dorne said, “you renounced a corrupt church, Evelyn, not the Lord or the Lady. Think back on what you said.”

  Orrin scowled at him. “How would you know what she said?”

  Dorne rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “I left the priesthood. I . . .” Evelyn’s voice wavered as she stared at the brooch.

  “You are a priestess,” Dorne said, “if you want to be.” He straightened, starting to gather up the bowls. “Those who serve the Light see to the order of our lives. They maintain the churches and shrines, administer the sacraments, teach the young, keep the hours, and see to the business of the faith.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Those who follow the Laughter wander the Kingdom, seeking out the work that needs to be done, bringing the sacraments to those who need them, caring more for the people than the structures. We are the ears and the eyes of the Lord and the Lady. There is less order, less restriction on us.”

  “You wear black,” Orrin said, his mouth dry.

  “Damn sight easier to keep clean than white.” Dorne snorted. “But you can wear stripes for all that anyone cares.” He looked at Evelyn. “The Lord and the Lady aren’t done with you, Evelyn of Edenrich. Nor you, Orrin of the Black Hills. Serve the Lady, both of you. Go among the people, and do Her work. No glory. No riches. Wandering and labor is our way and our calling.” Dorne smiled. “There’s plenty that needs doing.”

  Orrin watched as Evelyn looked up, her eyes bright with tears. “I’m still—”

  “Ask your heart, if you doubt me,” Dorne said gently. “Better yet, ask the Gods.”

  Evelyn turned to look at Orrin.

  “What does your heart tell you, Evie?” he asked.

  She reached out, and closed her trembling fingers over the brooch, bringing it to her breast. Then she closed her eyes, and her lips moved silently as she prayed.

  Orrin held his breath, waiting.

  She opened her eyes, her face aglow. “Oh, Orrin, I—” She reached out her hand. “Come with me.”

  “Save me a dance tonight,” Dorne called as they left the kitchen.

  Evelyn pulled Orrin up the back stairs, almost running all the way to the nursery in the attic. She pushed open the door.

  Bella looked up, her face brightening with a smile. In her arms was a fussing babe, arms and legs waving in the air.

  Evelyn walked over to her, leaving Orrin in the shadows by the door. She took the child and went to the stool in the corner, by the fireplace. She sat, cooing at the babe, whose wails made it clear he wanted nothing to do with any comfort she might offer.

  Orrin watched as she closed her eyes, and started to pray.

  The glow was soft and hard to see in the firelight, but it was there. Surrounding the babe, reflecting in Evelyn’s face, the power of the Gods flowed through her hands. The babe kicked again, its little legs beating on Evie’s stomach as it started to coo and laugh.

  Orrin felt something ease in his chest as his lady looked up, and smiled at him through her tears.

  ARCHER thought it was a damn fine party, all things considered. Of course, a couple bottles of mead put a glow on anything. He burped, and tried to remember how many bottles he’d had.

  He was sprawled on one of the hay bales that had been set around the Wareington town square. The music was in full swing, with a small group banging out a tune and some others singing at the tops of their lungs. Sounded just fine to him.

  He suspected the mead helped with that, too.

  Nice to see everyone getting along, relaxing. Been too long since he’d relaxed any. He lolled back against the hay, and took another swig.

  Of course, Orrin wasn’t relaxing. Wasn’t drinking, either. One minute he was checking the watch; the next, doting on his lady. Made Archer smile to see it. He looked around, to see if he could spot them.

  Most of the night, Evelyn had been surrounded, talking to the people of the town, getting to know them better. A few had asked for healing, and she’d obliged, going off to see to them. But she and Blackhart had managed a few dances.

  Mage was not far off, surrounded by a group of young girls, all laughing and admiring him as he sat gesturing and talking. From the looks of a few of his admirers, the boy was going to get himself some tonight. Archer grinned, and gave him a salute with his bottle.

  Sidian was trying to figure out how to dance with a partner. The big man had earlier stripped down to show them some dancing from the Plains, and just about had everyone’s eyes popping out of their heads. But he claimed he’d never danced a simple reel with a woman in his arms before. Archer suspected that he’d learned faster than he’d let on, but all the women were having great fun trying to teach him, so the big black man wasn’t letting on.

  Obsidian Blade. Odd kinda name. Of course, that was the pot talking to the kettle, wasn’t it? Who was he to point a finger?

  Archer burped, and scratched his stomach. Of course, there was the pardon. They could go back to their own names, couldn’t they? Except he’d been Archer so long, there was no sense changing. He’d have to think on that awhile. Once he was sober.

  Reader was dancing a reel with a chubby woman in his arms, with kinda the same expression on his face as when the Baroness tortured him. Poor guy, probably too polite to run away. Archer wished Reader luck with that. The lady looked determined.

  He looked around for Thomas and Timothy, before he remembered. That hurt. Those boys had been good friends. Archer lifted his bottle to the starry sky, then drained it dry.

  He caught a glimpse of Dorne and Bella whirling around the dance floor, smiling and laughing. Other townsfolk were there as well, scattered around the square. People were coming and going, and there was a lot of talk and laughter in the air. He could feel the relief, and the absence of fear, in everyone. Made him smile to think he was part of the reason for it. And that Thomas and Timothy had not given their lives in vain.

  Archer yawned, and scratched his extended stomach. He’d eaten too damn much, which felt good. He’d drunk too much, but that was fine. He looked at his empty bottle with regret, but it was time for him to head to bed.

  It had been a good night. He’d danced with some of the young bucks in town, and flirted with them, but for some reason not one had really appealed. Archer slumped down on the hay bale. Maybe it was seeing Blackhart and Evelyn together that made him envious. Not that he had any interest in Blackhart as a mate. Gods above, the man had a foul temper.

  But those two shone with more than just their physical attractions. Archer envied them that. Kinda put a man off a casual fling in the dark. Maybe it was supposed to mean more than that.

  Maybe he was drunk.

  Archer set his bottle down and thought about standing up, then thought better of it. He was warm, the straw was comfortable, the stars were wheeling overhead. Maybe he’d just lie here for a while and—

  Blackhart’s face loomed into sight, blocking the stars. He looked grim and frowning. “Have you seen Evie?”

  Archer went from drunk to cold sober in an instant as a thin thread of chill went down his spine. He sat up. “You ain’t seen her?”

  Blackhart was scanning the crowd. He shook his head. “I went to release some of the watch, and came back. We were going to dance again, then go back to the inn and—” Blackhart stopped.

  Archer got to his feet. “She might have missed the dance, but I doubt she’d have skipped the ‘and’ without telling you why. I’ll get the others, and we’ll find her.”

  They searched for an hour before they found the note on the Great Bed.

  “Should’ve looked here first,” Archer said. He glanced at the silent man next to him. Blackhart’s face was a mask as he stared at the note. “What�
�re you gonna do?”

  “Exactly what they tell me to.”

  OUTSIDE the slaughterhouse, Orrin removed his boots, feeling the cool stones of the street beneath his feet. He tossed them in the pile with the rest of his gear.

  “Don’t like this,” Archer growled from behind him.

  Orrin turned to look at his men, clustered in the street. “Once she’s clear, you get her out of here. Understood?”

  Four grim faces met his eye; none looked away. “Any reason we don’t just rush in and take her back?” Reader asked, testing the edge of his dagger with his thumb.

  “I won’t risk her. We do it their way.” Orrin stripped off his tunic. “It’s a fair trade. A life for a life.”

  “Yours for hers,” Sidian observed. “I’m not sure she will agree.”

  “Do I have your word? All of you?” Orrin demanded. “Or shall I just fall on my sword here and let you trade my body?”

  Four grim looks, then four nods.

  “Well, then.” Orrin turned, and put his hands behind his back.

  Archer bound them with a length of rope.

  Sidian pulled open the door, and Orrin slid into the darkness. The building felt big, echoing. Orrin took a few cautious steps, then stopped. “I’m here.”

  There was a click, and a lantern flared. Orrin blinked at the light, then his heart stopped in his breast.

  Evelyn was tied to a chair in the center of the room, gagged and blindfolded. He could see spell chains binding her wrists, and cursed himself for not having all of those things destroyed. “Evie?”

  She cried out through the gag, but her words were indistinct. Orrin scanned the darkness beyond, sensing the presence of someone else. He moved forward into the light. “I’m here; no weapons, no armor. Let her go.”

  A man stepped forward then, directly behind Evelyn, a dagger in his hand. It took a minute, but Orrin recognized him. “Torren, isn’t it? You served in the kitchen at the inn.”