The Ryn (Eyes of E'veria)

by Serena Chase

  “In truth, neither do I.” Gladiel sighed.

  “How long will you be away?” Rose asked.

  The knights exchanged a look.

  “We can’t know for sure,” Drinius hedged. “But I imagine we’ll be back before the first sprouts in your garden come through the soil.”

  She groaned. “But we haven’t even planted the seeds yet!”

  “It’s not a simple day’s jaunt to Salderyn from here, Rose.” Gladiel said. “We’ll ride hard and be there in two weeks, maybe three if the weather turns bad again. After we attend to our business, whatever it may be, it will take the same amount of time to return.”

  “But what if someone finds us?”

  “No one but me has sought the Bear’s Rest since you arrived. Why would they now?”

  Rose crossed her arms. “The messenger did!”

  Gladiel’s response was swift. Sure. “Only because he was sent.”

  “Well, what if he was followed?”

  Gladiel laughed. “Who would brave the Bear-men and follow him into the Wood?”

  “Errgh!” Rose growled. “You’re impossible!”

  “Rose!” Drinius’s tone reminded her of Gladiel’s status.

  “My apologies, Your Grace.” She ducked her head, but peeked at Gladiel out of the corner of her eye.

  “Your apology is unnecessary, but I accept.” He turned to Drinius. “We’ll leave at first light, then?”

  Drinius sighed. “Yes. We’ll leave at first light.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The seeds sprouted and were eventually harvested, but the knights did not return. The trees began to turn and cooler weather descended upon the Wood. Just as they had during their first autumn at the Bear’s Rest, Eneth, Alaine, Lily, and Rose picked, boiled, mashed, and preserved the apples and bright berries of the season. But neither Drinius nor Gladiel reappeared.

  As had become her habit each evening, Rose paced between the window and the fireplace. With each step, her brow creased and her shoulders tensed a bit more. Something was wrong. She knew it in her bones. Something was dreadfully wrong. She stopped at the window. Caught by a twilight breeze, brittle leaves scattered and swirled over the dead, brown grass of the stable yard.

  Rose lifted her eyes to the sky where a lone star bravely poked out from the dusky blue. “Where could they be?” she whispered.

  Walen was in the barn, seeing to the evening chores. After clearing away the remnants of their simple meal, Eneth had appeared only to announce that the last of the leavening had been used in their dinner’s bread, yet Lily and Alaine sat at the fire, knitting away as if the mittens they fashioned wouldn’t be needed for years. Inwardly, Rose groaned. Did they not mark the change of the seasons, read the portents of the skies, or worry over Eneth’s bleak announcement?

  Rose paced again, her hands clenched at her side. Winter was coming and neither Gladiel nor Drinius had returned to bring them supplies. They had stored produce for the winter, but they had butchered the pig last spring. Walen had planned to get another when he rode for supplies. After the knights had returned.

  But they hadn’t returned. And the pork was gone.

  They needed the cow for milk and the chickens for eggs. The hay was running low and the horses would need grain for feed to outlast the winter. Already, grazing was limited.

  She stopped again at the window. “They should have been back months ago,” she said.

  “We’ll be fine.” Lily set her knitting aside and joined Rose at the window. “This waiting is not new for us. A knight’s duty always comes first.”

  “He said he’d be back before summer. It’s almost winter.”

  “When the King needs him elsewhere he must attend that first,” Alaine spoke without breaking the rhythm of her needles. “Don’t worry. He’ll come back soon.”

  “Our food stores are nearly depleted.”

  “Walen is a good hunter and game in the Wood is plentiful,” Lily reassured. “We have eggs from the chickens and milk from the cow. Don’t worry, Rose. My father and Sir Gladiel would never leave us stranded.”

  “I’m sure they wouldn’t mean to,” Rose said. “But how are we to know if they even made it to Salderyn? Uncle Drinius promised to be back before your birthday last summer, Lily. And now we’re but weeks from mine. I could understand a little delay, but we’ve not had a word from him in nine months!”

  “And who would get word to us, Rose?” Alaine asked. “Apart from your father, only Drinius and Gladiel know where we are.”

  The next evening the discussion repeated in the same fashion, but for the new, wet view from Rose’s place at the window.

  “Standing there every night isn’t going to speed their journey home,” Lily teased.

  “I know.” Rose sighed. “I’m afraid if I turn away, they’ll appear through the trees and I will have missed it.”

  “Then by all means turn away!” Lily laughed.

  Rose just smiled and resumed watching the rain. “It will only get worse,” she said. “If the chill in the air is any indication of the season, I don’t think it will stay just rain much longer. And once the snow comes we could be stranded. The animals’ feed is getting low. I’ll go myself before I allow the horses to starve.”

  “I forgot about feed for the animals.” Lily sighed. “We can hardly expect for them to feed us if we don’t feed them.”

  “Exactly.” Rose angled her eyes upward. “The sky has the look of snow about it, don’t you think? It even smells like snow.”

  “Really?” Lily laughed. “And what, dear cousin, does snow smell like?”

  “Oh, you know.” Rose shrugged, her eyes on the thick clouds above. “The air smells less of earth and more of air. It smells cold.” Rose walked to the door, flung it open, and inhaled deeply through her nose. “Cold, clean, and,” she said with a shiver, “heartless. Here, smell for yourself.”

  Lily took a long whiff. “I don’t smell anything.”

  “Close the door, girls,” Alaine scolded. “Our fire doesn’t need to heat the stable yard as well as the house.” She sighed. After several minutes with the clicking of knitting needles adding to the rapping of the rain, Alaine spoke. “I’m afraid there’s nothing for it but to send Walen and Eneth for more supplies.”

  Lily’s needles stilled. “It’s beastly out there! And it’s at least a four-day ride to the nearest village!”

  Rose moved toward the fireplace. “I hate the thought of sending Eneth and Walen out in this weather,” she said, “but it may only be a hint of what’s to come.”

  “I will speak to them at dinner,” Alaine said. “Rain or shine, they will depart in the morning.”

  But when the household arose the next morning, it was to a cloudless sky. Lily teased Rose about her dire weather prediction until the women stepped outside to bid the servants farewell. A thin crust of ice now topped the puddles left by yesterday’s rain.

  Rose and Lily took over Walen’s chores while he was away. Their completion may not have been as precise, but none of the animals suffered for it. The kitchen became Alaine’s responsibility, and even she seemed surprised on the rare occasions when the meals she prepared came out as good as Eneth’s.

  Eneth and Walen had been gone for a week when Rose was awakened in the middle of the night by a howling wind and the rapping of sleet against her window. Worried for the servants who had become so dear, Rose couldn’t fall back asleep. Finally, she slipped her feet into woolen stockings, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, and resumed her vigil at the front window.

  “Dreadful weather, isn’t it?”

  With a little shriek, Rose spun toward the fireplace. “Aunt Alaine! I didn’t see you there!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Alaine chuckled and scooted her chair closer to the fire. “I assumed you saw me when you came down the stairs.”

  “You couldn’t sleep, either?”

  “No.” Alaine stared into the flames. “I awoke with the oddes
t feeling that someone was coming.”

  “Was it your Andoven gift?” Hope lit in Rose’s chest.

  “I thought so. At first. But now I’m not sure it wasn’t just wishful thinking.” She sighed. “I feel rather out of sorts tonight. I hoped it was Drinius, of course. I thought I’d wait here to welcome him.” She sighed. “But it must have been a dream.”

  “Lily said you can always sense his approach.” Rose moved to the opposite chair and tucked her feet beneath her. “She said that because your father was Andoven—”

  “My father was only one-quarter Andoven,” Alaine reminded her. “My own abilities are quite limited, I assure you. And Lily’s blood is even more diluted than mine.”

  “But you can speak to each other without words,” Rose said with a close following grin, “and if I remember correctly, Lily often gave my schemes away without knowing it when we were small.”

  Alaine chuckled. “Indeed. My gift may not be as impressive as some, certainly nothing so strong as your friend Koria’s, but it is a comfort at times.” She smiled. “As a child, you had a certain knack for finding trouble, dear one. If you’d been content to adventure alone it would have been much more difficult for me to curtail some of your more dangerous escapades. Since you almost always coerced Lily into joining you, I was able to intervene.”

  “Like when we lived at Argus Keep and I decided I would have a better chance of catching a falling star from the roof?”

  “Oh, stop! How I’ve tried to forget that night!” Alaine laughed, but rubbed her arms as if they had been dusted with snow. “When I saw you scale that trellis, with Lily not far behind, I thought I would die from fear!”

  “But you didn’t. And I never did manage to catch a star, thanks to your Andoven interference.” Rose tried to sound haughty, but failed miserably so she laughed instead.

  “It was a blessing that you almost always ensnared Lily in your schemes. Because I could easily listen in to her thoughts I was able to more efficiently avert disaster.” The words would have sounded harsh had they not been gentled by Alaine’s affectionate smile. “A useful gift, but tonight I can’t help but wish my Andoven blood was a tad thicker. Outside others of Andoven ancestry, Drinius is the only person whose approach I can identify with any certainty.”

  “Well, that is certainly more than I’ll ever be able to do.”

  Alaine chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Alaine sobered quickly. “Nothing.” In an instant, the tone of her voice went from light to dark. “It is certainly not funny.” When she didn’t elaborate, Rose resumed her watch at the window.

  “What a dreadful night!”

  “Good fortune, Lily!” Rose squealed as she spun around toward the voice. “Where did you come from?”

  Lily laughed. “I came from my bedroom, same as you.”

  “You’re as stealthy as a Cobeld, you are!”

  “Rose!” Alaine gasped. “Don’t say such a thing!”

  “She was only jesting, Mother. Rose wouldn’t—”

  “You must never, never compare anyone to one of those horrible creatures, Rose. Regardless of what liberties the Storytellers may take, I will not have that sort of language bandied about in my house. Do you understand?”

  Rose swallowed hard and nodded. “I’m sorry, Aunt Alaine. And, Lily. Forgive me. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “I know you didn’t mean anything crude by it.” Lily’s tone was gentle. She joined Rose at the window. “It is nasty out there, isn’t it? I can’t imagine anyone could sleep through that racket. It’s raining ice.” She moved away from the window and took a seat on the footstool in front of her mother’s chair. “Why don’t you tell us a story, Rose?”

  “You’ve heard all my stories.”

  “Then tell us one we already know. It will help to pass the—oh!” Lily was knocked from the footstool as Alaine sprang from her chair.

  Rose rushed over to help Lily rise, but Alaine pushed past them both on her way to the window. “Are you all right?”

  Lily nodded. “Do you think it’s my father?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know.” Rose whispered back. “I hope so.”

  “It’s just one person, but it’s not Drinius.” Alaine glanced at the door and then toward the back of the house. Her eyes clouded with apprehension. “And it can’t be Walen or Eneth. Not yet.” She wrung her hands. “Whoever it is, they must need shelter from the storm.”

  “But . . . we’re alone!” Lily whispered.

  “The law of hospitality demands we invite the traveler in,” Alaine said, her voice shaking.

  “The law of hospitality?” Rose asked. “Is that a Stoenian law? It may not apply in this province.”

  “It is a law common to all nine provinces of E’veria,” Lily explained. “You likely didn’t hear it mentioned in Veetri since they have not the need for an enforceable edict. Hospitality comes naturally to the Veetrish.”

  “We must not divulge that there is not a man on the property,”Alaine said. “If necessary, we’ll say he’s gone to bed early . . . or is caring for the animals.”

  “You would have us lie?” Lily’s voice held the incredulity Rose refrained from voicing. She could not imagine her aunt telling a lie.

  “Deception is never a good choice,” Alaine said. She looked at Rose, her gaze drenched in years. “But sometimes it is necessary to protect the ones we love.” She looked back to the window. “If necessary, we will lie. Now,” Alaine said as she moved toward the door, “you must do as I say. And quickly.”

  The girls nodded.

  “Rose, move away from the windows. Put on your boots and cloak and pull the hood over your hair. As soon as you’ve done that, please go prepare the spare room off the kitchen for a guest. When that is done, go up to my room. The three of us will bed down together while the stranger is here.”

  “Shouldn’t I prepare one of our rooms, then? They’re better equipped for a guest.”

  Alaine’s smile was weak. “I’m sure that is what Lord Whittier’s family would do, were they in our predicament, but I do not relish the idea of a stranger that close to you girls. Now go, Rose. And do not allow yourself to be seen. You must stay hidden while our . . .” she paused, “while our guest is here.”

  “You want me to hide?” Rose was sure she had misunderstood.

  “Yes. And make sure you have your dagger.” Alaine twisted the ring on her finger. “I only hope you don’t need it. Now go. And keep out of sight.”

  The look Rose gave her aunt was beyond incredulous. “I will not go and hide to leave you alone with a stranger in the house!” Rose folded her arms. “I am the only one of us who’s been trained to use a dagger. I’m the best equipped to defend our home.” Rose crossed her arms at her chest. “You go prepare the room, Aunt Alaine. Uncle Drinius would expect me to protect you.”

  Alaine spun around, her face bearing an expression so livid that Rose took a step back. “Drinius would expect no such thing!” Her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes narrowed on Rose. “Do not argue with me, child! There is too much that you do not know!”

  At Alaine’s outburst, Lily blanched and stumbled backward. Rose moved to steady her, but when Lily met her eyes, the look of sheer awe on her cousin’s face was so disconcerting that she almost let Lily fall.

  Lily stared at Rose. After a long silence, she spoke. “Go, Rose. Do as Mother says,” she said weakly. “You . . . must.”

  “No. It’s not—”

  “Do as I say!” Alaine’s fearful eyes bored into Rose’s defiant glare. “And hurry!”

  “Fine!” Rose grabbed her boots from their place by the fire and shoved her feet into them. “But be sure that I will not hesitate to come to your aid if I deem it necessary.”

  “Rose,” Lily’s eyes pled with her. “You must hide. We are in more danger if you are seen than if you are not.”

  “That’s preposterous!”

  “Think of the way you left Veetri!” Lily p
leaded in a whisper. “Think of Lord and Lady Whittier.”

  Rose blanched. The Cobelds targeted Mirthan Hall because they thought she was there. She and her stupid red hair.

  Her shoulders drooped. “I will stay out of sight,” she said. But she would do everything she could to keep them safe.

  Rose hurried to the guest room, opened the flue, and after several tries, managed to light the fire. She then lit the oil lamp that rested on the mantel and turned down the bed. She took a quick peek down the hall, only to find Lily and Alaine staring out at the storm.

  Alaine turned. “Rose, your cloak! Cover your hair!”

  Rose rushed to the kitchen, grabbed her cloak from the hook by the door, and put it on, still questioning the wisdom of her aunt’s plan. After peeking down the hall to make sure Lily and Alaine weren’t watching, she silently moved toward the kitchen’s back door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  With one hand on the door knob, Rose slipped the other into the pocket of her cloak. Her fingers curled around her dagger’s hilt and she silently thanked Lewys and Rowlen for seeing to it that she was proficient with the weapon. With renewed confidence, she pulled up the hood of her cloak and slipped out the back door.

  The night was thick with heavy sleet that made the ground treacherous in the sloping yard. Rose inched her way around the side of the house, holding firmly to the hilt of her dagger. She was almost to the corner when her eye caught the light of the opening door reflected in the snow.

  Rose moved around the corner of the lodge just into time to see a huge, beastly shadow rear up through the path of light.

  A high-pitched gasp broke through the darkness as the form lurched toward Alaine. Rose’s heart froze in her chest. But Alaine jumped back just in time to avoid being crushed. Her movement, however unintentional, bumped the door the rest of the way open and cleared the creature’s path into the house.

  Rose’s dagger was up in an instant. She rushed forward, poised to throw, but just as she let the blade loose her right boot hit a patch of ice. Failing to find traction, she slipped on the frozen ground and lost her balance. The dagger left her grasp in that instant, its aim skewed by her sudden fall.