Herri said, “Now what happens?”
“Many guards will be home by now, for the winter. When Tob and I travel our route next summer we’ll learn how many are as dissatisfied as their families are. Meanwhile, each village must think of its own defense. We know what even a dozen unopposed intruders can do.”
Herri nodded grimly. Lannal said, “Kessit has been making bows all summer. We know you’ve horses to train, Jordy, but if you can spare the time, you won’t want for pupils of the two-legged variety.”
“I’ll make the time. Only a few at once, mind. The youngsters must see this as an apprenticeship like any other.”
“They understand,” Herri said.
So did Vray. They weren’t talking about deer hunting, either. They intended to teach young Keepers how to kill! She should stand up and tell Jordy, tell them all, that killing Shapers was not such an easy thing. We are born to dragon hunting, you fool! Show us weapons and we will use them—on you!
Easy to say, if she could force her locked muscles to obey. Too many years in Soza. Too much practice at putting self-preservation before honor. Soon, she promised herself. Jordy didn’t know what she was. She knew what he was, now. She didn’t have the strength yet, but it would come back to her. It had to.
Forget choices, Sene. I have none. I have to protect Rhenlan from two madmen, now!
The blacksmith got to his feet, tilting his head back to look at Tob. “We were all sorry to hear about Pross. I know you’ll miss him.”
A light shower of hay accompanied Tob as he dropped down into the aisle. “It wasn’t really a surprise. I always knew he wasn’t a killer.”
“None of us should be killers,” Herri said. “Not of each other. We are all Children of the Rock.”
Vray shrank back in the shadows against the rough boards of the partition. Tob opened the stable door as the men said their good nights. A gust of wind stirred the bottom of Herri’s long coat, carrying with it a few flakes of snow. The innkeeper and the smith left together, Tob following them out into the yard.
“I’ll close up, lad,” Jordy called after his son. He shut the door. Vray held her breath. What else did he have to do? The animals were quiet, and he held the only lit lamp in his hand. He took a few steps toward the wagon. “Iris?”
She straightened slowly. Sometime over the course of the summer she had forgotten what it was like to want to avoid meeting another person’s eyes. Now the desire returned, as enticing as it had ever been at Soza. If she didn’t meet their eyes nothing they said, nothing they did, would truly touch her. She kept her head up, resisting the urge with an effort that made her temples throb. “Yes, sir?”
His blue eyes were unreadable. “You stayed to listen. Why?”
“I didn’t know you knew I was here.”
“That’s not good enough.”
She stroked the cloth of her troublesome cloak. “I didn’t expect to discover a conspiracy against the king in a carter’s stable.” She hated the nervous rasp that was her voice.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a grudging smile. “I should hope not. A conspiracy will hardly succeed if its participants are predictable.” The smile faded as quickly as it had appeared. “You weren’t meant to hear any of our talk, lass.”
“Perhaps I didn’t,” she answered, very quietly.
Puzzled, he said, “Do be sensible, Iris. Of course you overheard. I’m not angry with you. How do you think Tob first got involved? I just want to be sure you understand that it must not be spoken of outside the family.”
She came out from behind the wagon. Jordy waited until she had wrapped her cloak around her before opening the door. “Oh, it won’t be.”
“That’s a good girl.” He shielded the lamp in the crook of his arm as they hurried toward the house. The night had grown very cold. Snow swirled around them, tickling Vray’s face and the back of her hands with feather-light touches. Jordy put his hand on her elbow to guide her around a snow-whitened patch of ice. She had trouble keeping herself from shaking off his touch. She recalled Soza once more, and the many unwanted hands she hadn’t shaken off then.
They reached the porch. Jordy extinguished the lamp, and Vray shook the snow off her cloak. Inside, the house was quiet. Conspiracy in a carter’s stable. What could she do about it? What should she do? The only thing she knew for certain was that she must not arouse the carter’s suspicions by seeming critical in any way.
“You’re doing what you feel you must,” she said.
“Aye.” Jordy sat down on the chest next to the door to remove his boots. “What I have to do.”
Vray’s boots were only slightly damp. She wiped them on the mat next to the door. “I understand. Good night, Jordy.”
His voice followed her as she climbed the ladder. “Good night, lass.”
* * *
The first nineday of really cold weather forced Tob indoors. He wanted to be outside, chasing around the fields and back lanes with his friends, exploring the changes that came with the arrival of snow. However, he couldn’t do any of that, because over the course of the summer he’d outgrown his winter clothes. Again. For the third year in a row, he went to pull on his lined trousers and couldn’t get them around his hips. For the third year in a row, he couldn’t close his winter jacket properly. As for his boots, one look and he knew there was no point in even trying to pull them on. For the third year in a row, Jordy was sympathetic and offered him the use of any of his spare clothes. That was a very unsatisfactory solution to the problem. Tob’s wrists protruded from the sleeves of his dad’s old jacket, and the left boot leaked. Jordy worked hard and wore clothes until he’d worn them out. Tob was able to get around the yard well enough to do his chores, but he wasn’t able to enjoy himself.
In previous years he hadn’t minded so much. He enjoyed sitting in his parents’ room with Cyril, watching his new clothes take shape. He had clear memories of the time before Pepper was born, of sleeping in their big double bed, playing on the floor as his mother worked on her loom, the irregular vibrations passing through the wood floor to become part of his games, of curling up in Jordy’s lap in the deep chair in front of the fire to be sung to sleep. It was a nice room. He also liked helping with the sewing. Cyril made the measurements, cut the cloth, and did the finer detail work. But Tob helped with everything else. His efforts gave pleasure to his mother, and got his new clothes finished twice as fast.
Having Iris work with them ruined everything. For one thing, she talked, to him and to Cyril. He couldn’t complain about her sewing. After he’d done one sleeve of his jacket and she the other he couldn’t tell the work apart. But she made him uncomfortable. For the first time in his life, he had a problem that he hesitated to bring to his dad. He just wasn’t ready for the feelings she evoked.
At last the project was finished. One evening, Jordy brought the new boots up from Broadford, and the next morning Tob dressed himself from head to toe in his new things. Jordy eyed him over breakfast.
“We need more firewood brought up from the river,” he observed.
“I’ll do it,” Tob answered with real enthusiasm.
Jordy nodded. “Take the two-wheeled cart.”
While he was harnessing Stockings he heard voices in the yard. Several of his friends from the village, or so he guessed from the laughter and playful shouts.
“Good morning, Jordy.” That was Lim, a tall, skinny boy as old as Pross. Tob buckled another buckle. He missed Pross. Pross would have been able to answer his questions.
“You’re making an early start today,” he heard his father say.
“We’re going sliding,” Lim replied.
“The weather is perfect,” Heather added.
Grinning to himself, Tob took Stockings’ lead rope. “Walk on,” he ordered the horse. It was too late to get out of fetching the wood. If Lim and the others wanted his company, they’d just have to come help him.
As he and Stockings emerged from the barn he had to close his eyes against
the sudden glare of sunlight on snow. He heard Lim say, “We were wondering if Iris could come with us?”
“I’ve no objection,” Jordy said. “You’ll have to ask her. Just don’t track in any snow.”
Tob stopped, until Stockings’ momentum dragged him on again. Iris? They were asking for Iris? He didn’t want his friends coming around bothering Iris. Maybe during the summer they’d become her friends, too. He hadn’t thought of that. Well, there was nothing wrong with Iris having friends. Friends like Heather. But why did Lim have to come visit?
By the time he blinked the sunshine and confusion out of his eyes the half dozen young people were crowded on the porch, Lim closest to the door. Tob told Stockings, “Whoa,” then waved at Heather, who was the only one to turn in his direction.
Iris pulled open the door. “Hello, Lim,” she said brightly. Why did she have to sound so pleased?
“We’re going sliding.” Lim cleared his throat. “It’s a lot of fun. I think you’d like it. We all think so.”
“Yes, come with us,” someone else said.
Looking as nervous as she always did when she was asked to make a decision, she said, “I’m not sure. I’ve got work to do.”
“Your father said you could,” Lim encouraged her.
Jordy, standing with one booted foot propped on the end of the porch, said nothing. Iris’s expression shifted in a way Tob couldn’t interpret. She said, “All right. I haven’t been sliding in years. I’ll go change clothes.”
The door closed. Lim turned, saw Tob and smiled at him in a perfectly friendly way. “Are you busy?” he called. “Or can you come, too?”
Tob, not feeling the least bit friendly, grumbled, “I’ve got to get firewood.”
“You can do that later. Can’t he, Jordy? Before the wind picks up and makes it too cold for sliding this afternoon. We’ll be happy to get down off the hill then. We’ll even help you, if you like.”
“It’s up to you, lad,” Jordy said.
“I’ve already harnessed the horse,” Tob complained. He didn’t want to be complaining. He knew they were only being reasonable. A morning of sliding, perhaps one of Herri’s big hot lunches at the inn, then willing hands helping him load wood many times faster than he could do it alone, should have combined to form a delightful prospect for the day. Maybe he was missing Pross more than he knew. Pross loved winter days.
Was that all that was bothering him? If so, what did Pross have to do with the way Lim smiled at Iris?
“We’ll take her with us,” Heather said, pointing at Stockings.
“Sure,” Lim agreed. “It’ll save time. We won’t have to stop for her later.”
Tob was running out of objections. He looked to his dad for help, but all Jordy said was, “You’ll have to bring her feedbag, water, and a blanket or two. I’ll not have her taking sick.”
Iris came out of the house. Tob found himself swept along by the general consensus, loading supplies for the horse, bringing up the rear as they all trooped out of the yard together. Once on the main road they took turns riding in the cart. Iris talked with Lim and the others, and tossed her remarkable red hair over one shoulder or the other whenever it got in her face. Tob refused to stare at her. He joked with Heather, determined to enjoy himself. After all, he could see Iris any day. They ate their meals together, and did chores side by side. That such close proximity had been making him miserable for days was irrelevant. He could have far more of her attention than anyone else could hope to win. She was his Iris, not theirs.
Now all he had to do was figure out what he wanted to do with her.
Chapter 35
“You’re pregnant!”
His sister brushed past him and dumped her armload of firewood into the box against the wall before pushing her hood back from her face and favoring him with an exasperated stare. “Hello, Ivey. How are you?”
“Hello, Ivey? How can you stand there and say ‘Hello, Ivey’ looking like… looking like….”
“Looking like a pregnant woman?” Doron finished his sentence for him. “When did you get in?”
“A few hours ago. I came straight up to the house and took a nap.” Ivey refused to be distracted. “Never mind me. What about you? I didn’t even know you were seriously interested in anyone.” Belatedly he jumped forward and helped her remove her cloak, a host of vague worries vying for his attention. “You look huge. When is the baby due? Are you getting enough rest? You might have told me you were taking a new husband.”
“Ivey, lad, stop hovering.” As soon as he stepped out of the way, she pulled a bench clear of the table and sat with a tired sigh. It was actually easier for him to hover now since he didn’t have to look up to do it. “Aye, I might have told you something, if you were ever here. If there’d been anything to tell.”
He sat next to her on the bench. “I spent most of last winter here. You might have told me then what you were planning.”
“It wasn’t planned.”
The words were briefly meaningless. “How can you take a man to your bed on a night you’re fertile and not plan for the outcome?”
“Neither of us knew I could be fertile with him.”
This made even less sense. Ivey mentally reviewed the male population of Juniper Ridge. “Who are we talking about, lass?”
“Who’s the only man I’ve been that close to since Betajj died?” she countered. “The prince, you great idiot. Pirse.”
“A Shaper of the royal line! Gods!” Ivey devoted a few timeless seconds to considering his reaction. He felt the storyteller’s need to find just the right words to express himself. As a minstrel he’d sung and told any number of dramatic tales and never wanted for the proper turn of phrase. It was, he discovered, much different being personally involved. At last he settled for a plain but sincere, “I’m going to kill him.”
“You are not. He meant no harm.”
“He was irresponsible.”
“He didn’t know.”
“Of course he knew! All the royal courts have known for twenty years that the princes and princesses were to fulfill the vows left incomplete by their parents. It’s been part of my duty to spread the story.”
Doron glared at him. “You knew?”
“Aye, of course!”
She rapped her knuckles lightly on the side of his head. “You might have mentioned it to me.”
“I’ve told the tale a thousand times!”
“Never in Juniper Ridge.”
His sister’s accusation forced him to pause and swallow his indignation. “I didn’t?”
“We never hear any of your fine tales. How many Festivals do you spend at home? You’re out and about in more important villages.” She reached out again. Ivey flinched, but she tousled his curls affectionately this time. “Never mind. I can’t really fault you. You’ve said often enough you come home to rest, not to sing.”
He grabbed her hand and firmly buried his anxieties. “That’s because you don’t like my singing.”
“Who can blame me? A rutting ram has a smoother voice.”
“There are some who’d argue with you.”
“Shows the low standards of the company you keep.”
Ivey gave her hand a squeeze and released her. “Perhaps it does.” Shapers. That was who she meant. It was true he spent much of his time in the company of the ruling elite in Sitrine, and with lesser members of the Rhenlan court. It was also true he’d neglected Dherrica. Everyone was neglecting Dherrica.
“Does he know now?” he asked after a moment.
“Aye. He was here not a nineday ago.”
“And left again.”
“That wizard, Aage, came to fetch him,” she responded with a shrug. “He’s wanted in Sitrine.”
Frustration set Ivey’s teeth on edge. As if there wasn’t enough to worry about! What could be happening in Sitrine that required the presence of Pirse of Dherrica? He thought of phantom cats, and sea monsters, and Abstainers, and wondered what Jeyn was doing. At least Sene
would be pleased. He’d been waiting, hoping, for Aage’s prophecy to be fulfilled. That it was Pirse who’d been first to father a Dreamer, rather than Chasa or Jeyn, would not trouble the king of Sitrine. At least someone had succeeded.
Succeeded. Aye, with Ivey’s sister.
I’m still going to kill him.
* * *
Vray held one of the new black robes up to the lantern light, examined the red embroidery on neck, sleeves, and hem, and decided she was pleased. She had better be. Midwinter had arrived far too fast and she had run out of time. She’d spent the last two ninedays on the work. It made her fingers and eyes tired just thinking about all the stitching. She hoped Mankin liked it. She had begun training the girl near the end of summer and was going to surprise her apprentice with her first robe at the ceremony tonight. She’d used one of Cyril’s designs instead of the traditional circle and square pattern of Edian. On Mankin’s gown, the moons’ phases in stem and satin stitches formed a flowing pattern that could be unique to Broadford’s Redmothers from now on. Cyril had woven her a pair of wide red and black belts to match the embroidery. It would look very proper, she decided, and folded the robe once again before placing it on the table.
She glanced from the black mound of cloth to the crackling fire in the hearth, past Pepper at the table, to the window, restless to be away from the house. Outside, the iron gray day was turning quickly into night. She was glad she had an excuse to spend the evening away from Jordy. He’d been gone for a nineday, traveling to neighboring villages, but the carter was due back tonight. Nine days spent spreading his poison to other Keepers. The less she saw of him, the better.
“At least it’s stopped snowing,” she murmured gratefully. Earlier in the day she’d been afraid the ceremony would have to be canceled because of the weather. Fortunately, the heavy clouds had held more threat than actual snow. No more than a dusting had fallen. She wasn’t looking forward to the walk, though it wasn’t that far to the village, and not at all windy. She could wear lots of layers under and over her robe. Herri’s inn would be snug and warm and she’d have a wonderful time. After the ceremony.
Moons' Dreaming (Children of the Rock) Page 38