The cat’s shriek held a new note of fury as the first stroke of Chasa’s specially forged blade traced a narrow gash down its shoulder.
He yelled, “I’ll take care of it!” to the oncoming guard captain.
Dael hesitated, then circled wide around the cat, which had begun sputtering and snarling. The onlookers at the edge of the gully called encouragement. Somehow the captain made his words carry through the noise.
“How do you do that?” he demanded as another cut darkened the gleaming fur.
“Magic sword,” Chasa panted. He dodged a claw and aimed again for the special spot behind the cat’s head. “Dragon powder in the steel.”
He thrust forward and down. The point of the sword entered between the two correct vertebrae, penetrating deeply under the force he put behind it. The cat died in mid-howl. The guards cheered. Dael, sword still raised, said conversationally, “This is your chance. Aage is waiting across the border. Go through me.”
Chasa stopped in the act of jerking his sword free of the fading corpse to gape at the captain. Lightning flashed from the floor of the gully behind Dael up into the black, cloudless sky. Chasa staggered under the crack of sound. The captain sprawled forward. Another bolt, and another, shook the gully. Half blinded by the flashes, ears ringing, Chasa wrenched his sword loose and ran.
* * *
By the time Ivey returned on foot, leading the two white-eyed and trembling horses, Sene had removed the only valuable part of the rapidly decomposing corpse. He coiled the detached tail, its shimmer undimmed, into his belt pouch, then retrieved a cloth from his saddlebag and wiped the blood from his sword.
Ivey peered at the messy, gray-brown fur on the ground, then at Sene.
“You’re fast,” the minstrel said.
“Plenty of practice.”
“Now I am ashamed of my fear.”
Sene finished cleaning his blade. “Stones, man, why?”
“I was afraid because I doubted you,” the minstrel said simply. “I apologize, Majesty. It won’t happen again.”
Sene made an impatient noise. “Don’t exaggerate. Monsters deserve a certain respect. So do I. Though I hope not for the same reasons.” He took his horse’s reins and replaced his sword in its scabbard. “Besides, we lost one of them.”
The younger man grimaced. There was still more admiration in his eyes than Sene liked to see, but at least the momentary blind devotion was gone. Sene couldn’t abide blind devotion. “What do we do now, Your Majesty?”
Sene swung into the saddle. “I’m hungry. Let’s find someplace to make camp.”
“What about the other cat?”
Sene had been considering that. “We’ll go home and wait for another sighting.” And he would have a conversation with his wizard. “But first we eat.”
* * *
Grasses brushed against his trouser legs as Chasa climbed out of the narrow ravine. The wizard did not react to his arrival. Aage stood quietly, arms at his side, Keynlight lending his light hair a silvery cast. His closed eyes and a tiny frown gave the only hint that he was concentrating. Another crack and rumble of thunder rolled over them from the direction of the Abstainer camp.
Chasa stopped beside the oblivious wizard. “You won’t hear me, but thank you.”
“I hear you.” Aage blinked and turned his head. “Are you all right?”
“Fine, now.”
“Do you know who that was?”
“Dael, the captain of the Rhenlan guard? Or Soen, Hion’s brother-in-law?”
“I can feel Soen. Not a bending of the power, an aberration. I don’t like it.”
“His band has scattered. Gods willing, Dael’s troop will hunt them down and finish them, Soen included.”
“What do you think of Dael?”
Chasa gazed toward the border. “He would have been within the law to take me prisoner, but he didn’t. He let me leave.”
“To prevent open battle between our kingdoms.” Aage also looked toward the sounds of the chaos he’d help create. “I hate to admit it, but this little excursion of yours may have been a good idea after all.”
“Because of what we learned about the Abstainers?”
“That, too. But your father will be much more interested in what I have to tell him about Dael.”
* * *
“A good woman. Though she can’t cook.”
“Now, Herri.” Jordy smiled as he set his mug on the porch beside him. Atade’s innkeeper would have said something more colorful in her own defense, had she been present. But one of the major factors in the decade-long rivalry between the two best cooks he’d ever known was that Dimin and Herri had never actually met. Jordy willingly carried their feud back and forth along his trade route, but didn’t repeat the insults they uttered word for word. “Dimin’s cooking has nothing to do with her place as senior Brownmother of Atade. It’s as Brownmother that she’s going to get that town organized.”
“They did listen to you, then?”
“Most did. Some are skeptical. Several of their families have had young people taken by the guard, though never with as much violence as here.”
“Where else did you stop?”
“Hillcrest. They lost an entire herd of cattle. Requisitioning, the corporal called it. Their Brownmother agreed at the time, until I told her I’d seen just such a herd in the fields belonging to the king’s brother Ledo, south of Fairdock. The members of the royal court are gathering power and enriching themselves at the expense of the rest of us.”
“I take it Hillcrest listened to you, too.”
“Aye. They have a smith who knows how to use a sword as well as make them. He’ll be taking on a few extra apprentices as soon as the harvest is in.”
“Apprentices in more than metalwork.”
“It’s what’s needed.”
“Well, you’re certainly accomplishing all we could have hoped.”
“All?” Jordy snorted his disagreement. “I’ve hardly had time to talk to half of the people who should hear what’s been happening in the world.”
“Enough bad news.” Herri put his hands on his knees and pushed himself to his feet. “You should be getting home to Cyril and the children, and I’ve got to put away those kegs.”
Jordy stood with him. “How are things here? Has Driss finally regained her strength?”
“Ah, Driss.” Herri coughed uncomfortably. “She died, this nineday past.”
“She was getting better!”
“For a while. It was sudden. She died in her sleep. The twins are doing fine, though,” he added with determined cheerfulness. “And your daughter led the Remembering perfectly. Everyone was satisfied. She’s a good girl.”
They walked slowly across the inn yard to the wagon. “Making any friends?”
“Not yet. Iris is a shy one. Not unfriendly, but skittish, if you know what I mean.”
“Aye.”
“There she is,” Herri commented, with a nod.
Jordy turned away from the wagon to look in the direction his friend indicated. The girl was walking briskly up the path from the river, her reddish hair gleaming in the sunlight. She slowed as she became aware of them, and Jordy scowled. She was still so hesitant. Why? Was it suspicion, or fear? He didn’t know what had happened to her at Soza or before, and therefore he couldn’t be sure how to give her what she needed. If he could give her what she needed.
“Do you see much of her?” he asked Herri.
“She comes down to the river every day, to learn memories from Canis or one of the other grandparents. They all like her. Say she’s pleasant and respectful, and knows her Redmother lore.” The innkeeper pushed the tailboard of the wagon back into place, and held it while Jordy fastened the latches. “She’s not giving your family any trouble, is she?”
“No. The girls are very fond of her.”
“That’s reassuring,” Herri agreed. “Pepper wouldn’t accept her if she was shirking any of her duties, would she?”
Jordy had to s
mile. “Not Pepper.” He raised his voice, and called, “Iris!”
She came across the square, her expression watchful.
Herri said, “Well, I’ll be getting back to my work. When are you leaving again?”
“The day after tomorrow.”
“Going south?”
“Aye.” He belatedly heard the brusqueness of his reply, and gave Herri a wry smile before his friend was swallowed up by the cool shadows within the inn’s wide doorway.
Iris came to a stop in front of Stockings. “Hello, Jordy.”
Jordy gave a last tug to the tailgate, then walked toward his horse’s head. “You’ve been working hard.” He put his hand up to take Stockings’ lead rope. “I hear you’re making yourself known all over Broadford.”
“As a Redmother must.”
“Good girl. Ride back with me?”
The hesitation, faint as it was, threatened Jordy’s resolution to maintain a pleasant demeanor with the girl. She said, “Yes, thank you,” at last, just before he could repeat himself more sharply than would have been wise.
He waited until she had settled herself on the driver’s seat before clucking his tongue at Stockings. As soon as the horse was moving he swung up beside her. “Everything well at home?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Not too much for you, is it? Gardening, and working with Cyril, on top of hours spent down here?”
“No, sir.”
He leaned against the backrest and rubbed one hand across his sweat-grimed neck. He was tired. That, he told himself, was why he felt so exasperated. The brief self-analysis did not stop him from saying, “A conversation shouldn’t be this one-sided, lassie.”
“I’m sorry.” She shot him a nervous glance out of the corner of her eye. “Maybe I’m just out of practice.”
The remark had a ring of normalcy to it. Jordy’s hopes rose a fraction. “Oh?”
“Cyril doesn’t ask much, in the way of conversation.” Finally she looked fully at him. Ready, he felt sure, to measure his response and prepare her defenses.
“Pepper and Matti talk, but hardly ever listen, is that it?”
“Hardly ever.”
“You come into the village every day.”
A fleeting smile made her face very pretty. “Where other people talk, and I listen.”
“Then it’s no wonder you’re forgotten how to have a quiet chat,” he agreed. “We’ll practice now.”
“Yes, sir.”
He sighed. “To start with, I’ll have no more of that. Respect can be overdone, you know.”
Her gaze dropped. “I’m sorry.”
“And stop being sorry!” His vehemence had the advantage of reattracting her attention. Its disadvantage was that he immediately felt guilty for trying to push the child beyond her limits. “Never mind, lass. Enjoy your ride in peace.”
The wagon creaked under them as Stockings turned onto the east road. Jordy watched her long shadow ripple over the rutted dirt ahead and resigned himself to an uncomfortably silent trip home. Then Iris startled him with a quiet, “Did Tob stop at Kessit’s this morning?”
“Aye.” He kept his voice casual. “They’re fond of him, and he’s promised to tell them when we hear anything about Pross.”
“Have you?”
“The guard has grown too large,” he said bitterly. “With all the newcomers they’ve brought in since spring, no one remembers one woodworker’s son. At least no one who’ll take a moment to talk to a mere carter.”
“But you won’t stop trying.”
He looked down at her. “How can I? The boy’s place is here, with his family.”
“Your place is on the road.” She lifted her head, eyes narrowing. “It can’t be very efficient, your coming back here so often. If you’d gone directly from Atade into Dherrica, and then down south—”
“Sometimes I do,” he interrupted her. “But not this year.” He handed the reins to her and stepped over the back of the seat without waiting to see if she would protest the sudden responsibility. He trusted Stockings on this particular stretch of road. Nothing would happen, whether the girl knew how to drive or not. He stood behind her, balancing against the sway of the wagon. “Is there anything you’d like me to bring you next trip home?”
After a short, thoughtful silence Iris said, “Almonds.”
“Eh?”
“For Fall Festival. There’s a bread I’d like to make. We used to have it in Edian when I was a girl. I remember almonds.” She licked her lips, eyes unfocused, in much the way Herri or Dimin looked when they were recalling a recipe. “Also saffron. Honey, of course. I’d like to see if I can put together a version for our Festival.”
She said “our,” Jordy thought happily. “I’ll find some almonds and saffron for you. Any spices, or other ingredients Cyril doesn’t have?”
“No, I don’t think so.” For once she offered him an unhesitant, friendly smile. “This will be fun. I love that bread.”
“I’m looking forward to it already.”
They rode on in silence. But for the first time since Jenil had dragged the scruffy girl into his house, the quiet was companionable.
Chapter 30
Feather glanced at the king and was rewarded by a conspiratorial wink. She smiled back, then looked away. Chasa was saying something about supplies, but all she could hear was the rapid flutter of her heart. Stop that, she chided herself. Sene was going to be her father-in-law someday. This was a King’s Council, discussing important business. She ought to have some respect.
Not that the Court of Sitrine was ever formal. Pleased by the distracting thought, Feather examined the familiar, comfortable, dining room. Candles had been lit against the grayness of the afternoon. Their glow reflected off the silver tray in the center of the table which still held a few dark slices of date bread. The pitcher of fruit juice, refilled twice since lunch, occupied its own stand behind Jeyn. The princess, who sat near the middle of the table opposite Feather, was watching her brother.
Chasa tapped the map draped across the end of the table between himself and Ivey, and continued his complaint about shifting channels in the river north of Dundas. Ivey was dividing his time between staring moodily out at the late summer storm and staring moodily at Jeyn. Beyond them, the terrace windows were streaked with salt spray and rain. Every few minutes, a gust of wind rattled the door.
Sene announced, “That’s decided then.” He had contributed little to the discussion of what to do about reports of a band of Abstainers that was raiding coastal villages, an admirable demonstration of patience, considering that his son had finally evolved precisely the plan he’d suggested at the start. “Stop at all three villages, unless the weather turns against you. You can take Ivey with you.”
This time, Feather mentally braced herself before looking at Sene. He sat with both elbows on the table, fingers laced together before him. She couldn’t help but glance at Chasa and compare the two men. Despite a strong family resemblance, Chasa was, at best, a mere pale imitation of his father. The thought troubled her.
“Your Majesty, with all due respect, I must refuse.” Ivey’s stubborn voice drew all eyes, including Feather’s, to him. She liked the minstrel. He had a memory for tales, and a knack for telling them that would make a Redmother proud. He was good-natured and kind. Therefore, the dangerous glint in his bright blue eyes was more than a little alarming. His glance lingered on Jeyn, who blushed, then concentrated on Sene.
“Nothing’s decided,” he told the king. “I want you to know that. Nothing. And I’m not going monster hunting again.”
“We were discussing Abstainers,” Sene said mildly.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ivey persisted. “I’m not going on another hunt. I’m not dragging back here to wait around until some other emergency crops up, either.”
Sene leaned forward, gaze intent on the younger man. “You are in my service, are you not?”
“Aye, that I am. As a messenger, or to gather information. As eye
s and ears and even voice for you. I should be on the road, Majesty.”
“To serve me, you must serve the best interests of the Children of the Rock. At this moment, you can best serve me by helping to defend the Children against our enemies.” He added his most winning dimpled smile. “For a few more ninedays, at least. You leave with Chasa tomorrow.”
Ivey gestured toward the windows. The storm obligingly howled louder. “The summer is almost over! You’ve had no word of Pirse’s movements or Palle’s activities for ninedays now.”
“The roads will still be there waiting for you,” Sene said. “Chasa needs your help. Travel with him. Deal with these Abstainers. When you’ve finished, Chasa will drop you on the north coast of Rhenlan, and you can resume your travels.”
“I—” Chasa began, but closed his mouth when Sene flicked his glance his way. Jeyn, wisely, kept out of the confrontation altogether.
Ivey shook his curls behind his shoulders and set his jaw firmly, then he pushed his chair back and stomped to the door. The heavy wood slammed shut behind him.
“I’m glad we understand one another,” Sene said to the closed door. He absently rubbed at his forehead. “I am going to the library for some peace and quiet. Chasa, gather your supplies. You two,” he added to Jeyn and Feather, “will have to fend for yourselves.”
Chasa followed his father from the room, pausing long enough to make sheep eyes at Feather in passing. She turned her back on him and, as soon as the door closed again, asked Jeyn, “Have you seduced him yet?”
Jeyn’s fair skin flushed bright red. Her eyes strayed toward the door before she looked directly at Feather. “Who?”
“Ivey. Curly hair. Dherrican accent.” She pointed. “He went that way.”
Jeyn fidgeted with the long strands of her amber necklace. “Why would I want to seduce Ivey?”
“Because you’re not good at being coy.” Feather crossed her arms. “Because you talk about him when he’s not here, and insisted that your father describe every move he made, every word he said while the two of them were away. You tease him and flirt with him and take almost as good care of him as you do Aage. Besides, Sene’s decided you’re going to marry a minstrel instead of a builder. He says the minstrel’s worth more to him than the builder, anyway. I think you should get on with it before Ivey dies of embarrassment.”
Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock) Page 32