Loras’s wagon sat beneath a pair of old oak trees, its tailboard within a few inches of the carter’s wagon. The horses were tethered in the open space beyond the wagons, just visible in the flickering light of the campfire. A few occupied bedrolls were scattered within the angle formed by the parked wagons. Dael stepped over one snoring guard, and ignored the obvious noises coming from a couple out of sight behind a pile of driftwood on the beach. At least the carter’s son was already asleep. Dael wasn’t sure if the boy was of an age to be embarrassed in the presence of love-making.
Jordy and Loras were still seated beside the fire. The carter nodded agreeably as Dael came to sit beside Loras on the upwind side of the fire. During his solitary sojourn on the edge of the camp he’d overheard enough to know that his father and Jordy had taken a liking to each other. They had mutual acquaintances in Edian and several other of the larger towns in Rhenlan and Sitrine. Dael plucked a heel of bread from his father’s plate. “I’m still growing,” he said in reaction to Loras’s indignant stare.
“Just don’t grow as much as Nocca,” Loras answered. “We’ve got to get that boy married. There’s no room for him in the house anymore.” Loras looked at the carter. “You have any more besides young Tob?”
“Two girls.”
Loras sat forward. Dael suspected most of the eagerness was feigned. Most. “And how old are your lovely daughters, good carter?”
“Too young.” A smile softened the brusqueness of the words. “And I doubt they’ll ever grow large enough for your strapping lad.”
“That’s what all the fathers say,” Loras sighed. “Nocca’s been trying out the girls of Edian for some years now.” He gave Dael a mildly disapproving look. “Takes after his older brother here, that way.”
The captain of the king’s guard hung his head. “Yes, Dad. I’m sorry, Dad.”
“A few grandchildren,” Loras continued. “Is that too much to ask?”
Jordy chuckled. “I have a few years before I have to worry about Tob’s interest in that area.” He glanced over his shoulder to where the boy slept underneath their wagon. “I hope.”
“So,” Loras said, putting his empty plate on the ground beside him, “tell Dael what you were telling me about the roads west of Long Pine.”
“You came directly south?” Jordy asked, facing Dael.
“That’s right.”
“So you haven’t been to Oak Mill recently?”
“The town west of Long Pine?” Dael said with sudden understanding. “Actually, no. I spend most of my time in Edian these days. One of the troops patrolling the Dherrican border is responsible for checking on Oak Mill when they can.”
The lines in the carter’s craggy face deepened with his scowl. “They don’t visit often, from what I’m told, and when they do they come in from the north. I come in from the east. There were three places last year, between Long Pine and Oak Mill, where spring rains had washed out part of the road. This year there were seven.”
Loras grunted. “Not easy on a wagon.”
“Not easy on the carter, either. Spent five days on a trip I used to make in two, and that with my son’s help. Without him I might have lost a nineday. What does the king think of that, Captain?”
Dael rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wondered himself, and the wondering gave him a headache. He knew how he wanted to answer the carter’s question. He was less sure what sort of diplomatic answer the king’s representative should make. He sighed and ended up answering for himself. “You’re probably right. I suspect no one in the king’s service has seen that particular road for years. Too many other demands on our time.”
“Too many demands that have little to do with the Shapers’ proper duties.”
“The borders need protecting,” Dael said. “It almost came to bloodshed with Dherrica this summer. We have to keep watch.”
“If all three rulers would recall their guards we could all forget this border nonsense,” Loras commented.
“Dad.” It was almost a whine, but Dael controlled it. “The Shapers are doing their best to govern unusually large regions. We have to expect some uncertainty in establishing borders.”
Loras grimaced. “Uncertainty, maybe. It’s the fighting I don’t understand.”
“The bloodshed.” Jordy’s voice was bitter. “I was present for the bloodshed in Edian.”
Dael was on his feet before he realized he’d moved. “I was a witness, carter,” he rasped, not knowing why Jordy’s few words hurt him so terribly. “I saw the princess die. I was told it was for a good reason.” He wanted to stop the words, but they came out anyway. “I know what it is to lose a loved child to Shaper duty. I remember Emlie.”
Jordy looked up at him, undisturbed by Dael’s threatening stance. “Continue to remember her, lad. She’s the clearest example we’ve had of how far the Shapers have come from fulfilling their responsibilities.”
“Sit down, son,” Loras said.
Dael sat. He couldn’t argue with the carter. He didn’t want to argue. He didn’t want to feel helpless, either. That was the worst feeling he’d ever known. Worse than loss or grief or the aftershock of killing. He’d been working for Hion for eight years now, long enough to be painfully aware of the decline that had afflicted the kingdom. He didn’t like his part in it. He didn’t know what to do about it. His own sense of duty kept him immobilized, kept him moving almost blindly from day to day. Duty was supposed to be the basis of one’s life. But duty left him empty. What was wrong? Something was lacking. Was it in him—or in what he was being ordered to do?
“You might bring the subject of that road to the king’s notice once you’re home,” Jordy suggested. “There’s a nineday’s work there for a troop or two. And it will only get worse if something isn’t done.”
“I’ll report it,” Dael said.
“You cleared this road of Abstainers. That should please people. Pleases me,” his father told him.
The carter nodded. “Aye. That’s the proper work for guards. Part of the proper work.”
Dael smiled in spite of himself as he made the carter’s point for him. “The other part is fixing roads.”
Loras got to his feet and stretched. “That’s agreed, then. I’m going to sleep.” He patted Dael’s shoulder and sauntered toward the roofed wagon.
Dael and Jordy also rose. “You’ll continue south with your father?”
“And back to Edian again, yes. Will we see you there? Perhaps at the fall festival?”
“If not then, some other time.” Jordy nodded at the fire. “My thanks for the hospitality.”
“My thanks for your help.”
“They were Abstainers. It had to be done.”
Jordy went to his wagon. Dael settled back by the fire, staring thoughtfully into the flames.
* * *
“Aage.”
The princess had been standing pensively just inside the study doorway for several minutes. Aage was aware of her presence and her mood, but continued to ignore her as he scratched words onto stiff paper with even stiffer fingers. Writing was an easy task for Shapers but it came hard to Dreamers. It took all his concentration when he sat down to record his memories of new dangers encountered during his duty between worlds. It was important to get the description and defense just right, reference for those who would follow him. Such records had been kept in Raisal through five generations of Dreamers. Aage inherited the task, along with his rooms in the king’s house, from Disani. She’d been friend and teacher and only thirty years older than he. She’d died in his arms during the plague, a very young death for a Dreamer. He sporadically dusted her shelves of books, and added his words to journals she had begun.
He waited until he’d finished writing before answering Jeyn. “You’re moody, love. What is it?”
She sighed loudly and came forward to throw herself into the chair beside his. Peering down at what he’d written, she said, “You can’t spell, Aage.”
He frowned, and closed the he
avy leather-bound book. Dust flew up from the cover and he rubbed his nose to keep from sneezing. “I know what the words mean.” He turned his chair to face hers. She gave him a teasing smile, and he found himself smiling back. Her forlorn attitude had vanished as soon as he acknowledged her presence. “I spoil you.”
She nodded eagerly. “No more than I deserve, oh great bender of power. And I spoil you.”
She was Chasa’s twin, but her resemblance to Aage was strong as well. Aage was related to Sene’s children on both sides. The three of them had the same fine-boned features, light hair, and shape to the eyes. In color Jeyn’s eyes were like her father’s, a rich brown. It was her one physical resemblance to Sene.
You could be my child, but for your eyes. It was a very strange thought. He dismissed it immediately. Putting the book aside, he pulled another one forward.
Jeyn slapped his hand. “Talk to me.”
He was happy enough to do that. “Would you like to go for a walk?”
“No,” she said quickly. She glanced furtively out the window. “Daav’s working on the pasture wall. I don’t want to see him today.”
“He’s a good boy,” Aage said mildly. Dull, he added to himself. Steady. “Your father is fond of him.”
“My father isn’t going to have to live with him for the rest of his life. This is all your fault, wizard.” He wondered if she realized how bitter she sounded. “If you didn’t go around talking to the gods, I wouldn’t have to marry Daav.”
“The gods talked to me,” Aage corrected. “When only two Dreamers were born to your parents’ generation, the gods granted us another chance. You are among the Shapers chosen to marry Keepers and help save the world. You should feel privileged, love. Besides, Daav’s big, strong, handsome, and intelligent. Savyea approves of him.”
“I have a horse that’s big, strong, handsome, and intelligent. I want….” Jeyn waved her hands expansively. “I don’t know what I want.”
“You’re too young to know.”
“Do you know what you want, oh ancient wise one?”
“Most of the time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why does it have to be Daav?”
“Your father chose him when you were children.”
“I’ve known him for ten years and I still don’t like him.” She nodded emphatically. “If I’m to fulfill this prophecy then you should have a say in the matter.”
“What matter?” he asked with practiced innocence.
“Who I marry. After all, we’re going to have Dreamer children—your children.”
“What is it you don’t like about him, love?”
“I think he thinks we’re already married,” she answered. “He’s jealous.”
“Oh, really,” Aage smiled, folding his arms. “Of who?”
“Do you know the minstrel? The one who works for father?”
“Everyone knows Ivey.”
She looked annoyed. “I don’t. I’ve seen him, spoken to him a few times. But Daav says I flirt with him.”
“Do you?”
“No! I’ve never thought about the man. He has nice hair though, doesn’t he?” she added, contradicting herself at once. “All those long brown curls. And such bright blue eyes. Of course, he’s a minstrel. Minstrels are supposed to be handsome, and they’re supposed to be looked at. Daav just wants something to complain about because I don’t want to get married yet.”
She wasn’t ready for marriage, Aage agreed with that. “I’ll speak to Daav for you. That is what you want me to do, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Have you eaten anything yet today?” she asked, concerned for him now that she’d gotten her business over with. “No, I didn’t think so.”
“Don’t fuss.”
“You like it when I fuss. Shall I ring for a servant?” She stood up, gathering his books off the table and taking them to the shelf next to the window. He might be the one who dusted in here when he remembered the task, but it was Jeyn who kept the place in order. “Or should I fetch you something myself?”
He stood, shaking out his black robe. She giggled. “What?” he asked sharply.
“I know why you became a wizard,” she announced.
He came forward, taking her hand in his. “I was born a Dreamer,” he said, knowing from the twinkle in her warm eyes that she expected his serious answer and intended to contradict it.
“No, that’s not it.”
He waited for her to continue.
“It’s because you look so good in black.”
Aage lifted his head haughtily, and his stomach rumbled. He ignored it, and her grin. “I see. Vanity is the whole reason for my existence.”
She tugged him toward the door. He let her lead him toward the terrace, smiling at her response to his teasing without really hearing whatever she was saying. He needed this. Needed her, her friendship, the laughter she brought. So much was going wrong. Amid so many tragedies, she was the one affirmation that life was supposed to contain joy. I am hungry. I want to rest. I want to be with people who care for one another. I don’t want to think about children dying, and children still unborn. So few of us left. I can’t think about that now, either. I have to replenish my energy. That’s my duty. Jeyn is full of energy, and to spare. She’s what I need right now.
* * * * *
Part II—Chapter 13
“What news, minstrel Ivey?”
“That’s what I was about to ask you.”
Ivey pulled a tall stool close to the bar and sat down. Bronle’s oldest and, to Ivey’s mind, most attractive innkeeper brought him a mug of ale as he removed his backpack and lowered it to rest on the floor at his feet. The short, thick curls of Elbere’s white hair formed a soft cloud around her face.
She waited until he had finished his first thirsty swallow of the ale. “Cratt is dead.”
“Oh, gods,” Ivey groaned. “When?”
“A nineday and two ago.” Elbere leaned against her side of the bar. “No one from the court attended his Remembering.”
“He was guard captain for twenty years. He slew fire bears side by side with the kings!”
All other conversation in the room died. Elbere ignored the uncomfortable silence. “King Palle cares nothing for history, or tradition. Or maybe you hadn’t noticed—you’ve spent little enough time in Bronle these past three years.”
“Then my opinion hardly matters. What do the people of Bronle think of the king?”
“What does the rest of Dherrica think of Prince Pirse?” the innkeeper countered.
Ivey sipped at his ale before answering. “People respect a man who helps them defend their homes and loved ones.”
“Then the rumors are true? He still lives?”
Ivey chose his next words carefully. “I have not heard that King Palle’s troops have recovered his body.”
Elbere’s expressive mouth thinned with disapproval. “Now and then a patrol claims to have seen him.”
“They lie.” A man in the uniform of the Dherrican guard, brown hair carelessly braided, came up beside Ivey. “Pirse knows the mountains and rainforest too well. He comes out of hiding long enough to slay dragons and Abstainers, then disappears, and no one in the villages knows a thing about it.”
“Karn. I didn’t see you when I came in. Elbere just told me about Cratt. I’ll remember him.”
“Everyone remembers my father. Everyone except Palle.” The young man rested his elbows on the bar and turned his head to meet and hold Ivey’s gaze. “Ironic, isn’t it? Cratt grieved for Palle’s family more than Palle himself did. First the princess, then the queen—it broke his heart.”
“Cratt was a loyal man.”
“He loved the prince, too. Never doubt that.” Karn clenched his fists. “We sent to Dundas. They still have a Redmother, although she doesn’t call herself that in front of strangers. She’ll remember my father, if no one else will.”
“So, Captain Cratt forgave Prince Pirse for what he did?” Ivey asked.
Karn str
aightened with a sigh. “I don’t know. The evidence was clear. Even Chelam, who hunted dragons at the prince’s side for years, testified that only a sword forged with magic could have caused the queen’s wounds. Painful as it was, my father accepted the truth. Or so I believed.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know!” Karn repeated. “I just got the impression, from a few things Dad said these past ninedays, that he had begun to have doubts.”
The innkeeper took Ivey’s mug and refilled it. “All I know is, His Highness is better off hiding than facing his uncle.”
“Why, Elbere?”
Elbere replaced Ivey’s mug on the bar more firmly than was necessary. “Because His Majesty’s first interest isn’t justice, that’s why.” She produced a rag and took a few swipes at the ale she’d spilled. “Don’t expect too much of our royal Shaper, Karn. You’ll be disappointed—as your father was, in the end.”
Ivey rescued his mug before Elbere could joggle it again, and addressed Karn. “You’re remaining in the guard, then?”
“I can’t just quit. Onarga’s been made captain. I respect her.” Karn half-shrugged. “She would have been Dad’s choice.”
Ivey glanced over his shoulder at the other occupants of the inn’s common room. They’d listened quietly to the conversation, their attentiveness a tacit signal of approval and agreement. All anyone wants, Ivey thought, is to live in peace. Why was that simple goal so difficult to achieve?
“Quit?” he said to Karn. “No. None of us can do that.”
* * *
A flock of long-legged gray birds strutted through a bed of dry reeds at the edge of the lake. Greenmother Jenil took no notice of them, or they of her, as she moved down to the water’s edge. The wind coming up from the south stirred her robes and long, graying red braids as she stooped to gaze into the rippling surface of the salt lake. It was nearly spring, time for the warm northern winds and their precious gift of rain. She dipped her hands into the brackish brown water, said one word, then gulped down the newly sweet liquid. Even that minor act of magic gave her a twinge of pain. She scrubbed her face with her still-damp hands. Tired. Very tired. It had been a long day. A long day and night since Mojil had first become ill. Even with all Jenil’s healer’s skill, the Dreamer-child had nearly died. But she was resting now, peacefully asleep, free of the dangerous fever. The Brown and Redmothers of Bren had gathered in the courtyard of the Brownmother house to offer thankful prayers to the gods.
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