by Barb Hendee
Even Jaromir had waited for dawn before trying to enter the exterior gate.
Even Jaromir.
She closed her eyes. “Then we can’t get out of the village tonight.”
“And by morning,” Inna said smugly, “the lieutenant will have every man under his command searching for you, and all the guards on the gates will have been warned.” Her expression shifted slightly, more to a demeanor of begging. “But we can go back inside now. If you let me attend to my lord, I swear I’ll say you were only trying to help me do my duties, not trying to steal me away. Prince Anton would understand that. He wouldn’t punish you for freeing me to attend him.”
Her eyes were glassy, with a hint of madness, and Amelie wondered if perhaps they shouldn’t give up on this venture and take her back inside.
“No,” Céline said flatly. “We’ll hide somewhere until morning, and then I’ll think of a way to get us out those gates. Inna, if you go back inside that castle, or even if you stay in this village, I think you will die.”
Inna leaned back, hissing like a cat again.
“Céline…,” Amelie began, not certain how to voice her doubts. “Where are we going to hide? As soon as Jaromir finds Pavel and Rurik, he’ll get a search going. We can’t go to the apothecary’s shop. It’s the first place he’ll look. We don’t know anyone in the village. We have no friends here to help us.”
At the word “friends,” Céline stiffened. She was quiet for a moment and then looked up. “I think I might know where to go.”
* * *
Exhausted from five days of too little rest and too much strain, Jaromir slept on his bed, still wearing his chain armor and tabard. But after a while, his internal instincts began to expect a knock at the door, a call for him to take watch.
His eyes opened.
He lay on top of the blankets for a moment, feeling that something was wrong…the time of night felt wrong. As he sat up, the feeling increased, and he got out of bed, hurrying for the door.
Out in the passage, he looked left. “Pavel,” he called, expecting an answer. None came.
He’d taken only a few steps when he spotted the bodies on the floor, and he started running, panic flooding through him.
“Pavel!”
When he reached them, though, he didn’t stop. Instead he jumped over the top of them and skidded into the room, expecting the worst. But to his puzzlement, no shriveled corpse lay in the bed. It was empty. Whirling back around, he noticed the lump on the back of Rurik’s head, and he strode back to the doorway, lifting Rurik from where he lay over Pavel’s chest. Rurik was breathing, but he was like a deadweight. Pavel moaned.
What had happened here?
Where was Inna?
Kneeling by Pavel, Jaromir shook him, none too gently. “Wake up!”
Pavel’s eyelids cracked a slit. He sported no visible injuries, and yet his hand went to his head and he moaned again.
“Get up!” Jaromir ordered, needing information right now. “What happened here? Where’s Inna?”
Using both hands, he grabbed the front of Pavel’s tabard, pulled him up, and leaned him against the wall. In Inna’s frantic devotion to Anton, had she somehow managed to overcome her guards and escape?
The young corporal’s eyes opened in confusion. “Inna? I…I…” He coughed a few times, and then he saw Rurik lying on the floor. “What happened?”
“That’s what I’m asking you!”
Pavel’s eyes moved to Jaromir’s face, and they cleared slightly. “Sir, I…”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
Pavel blinked. “Céline…she brought us some tea.”
Jaromir went cold. “Céline brought you tea and you drank it?” He could feel the anger building beneath the surface of his skin, and he fought to hold it back. “Céline, who was earlier arguing with me to have Inna moved outside the village? Who is a skilled apothecary? She handed you a cup of tea while you were standing guard and you drank it?”
Realization began dawning on Pavel’s face, followed by anger, as he seemed to be piecing together what must have happened. “Sir, I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t! You didn’t think at all, did you?”
Jaromir rocked back on his heels, considering options. No one could leave the village at night, so the sisters would have to try to hide Inna someplace until morning, and it was unlikely they’d do so inside the castle.
But they had his only bait, his only way to lure and trap the murderer.
His first instinct was rouse every available man under his command and launch a full-scale search, but he rejected that idea as quickly as it came. The people of Sèone were already frightened enough by this series of unexplained deaths. Soldiers flooding the village in a search would hardly help mend the fraying illusion of peace and security here.
“All right, Corporal,” he told Pavel. “You clear your head fast, because this is what we’re going to do.” He paused. “The two of us are going down to the village ourselves, and we’re going to keep this quiet. They can’t have gone far, and we’re going to find them and bring them back here. Can you walk?”
The rage, the darkness in Pavel’s eyes surprised him. “I can walk.”
So the young man felt betrayed by a woman. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, and this was a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
Jaromir offered him no pity. “This is your fault, and we’d better find them before morning and Prince Anton hears of this.” He glanced down at Rurik. “Help me get him onto the bed first.”
* * *
Céline followed a trail of smoke rising high into the night sky. She knew from experience back in Shetâna that blacksmiths would often keep the forge smoldering all night to make life easier the following morning when work began.
In the spring, most peasants let their fires go out at night to keep from burning unnecessary fuel during hours of sleep. The weather wasn’t exactly warm, but it wasn’t frigid either.
“Where are we going?” Amelie whispered, dragging the unwilling Inna along behind.
“You’ll see,” Céline answered, too focused on the trail of rising smoke to stop and explain. She didn’t even know if this would work, but she couldn’t think of anything else to try, and they had to find someplace to hide until she could think of a way to get Inna past Jaromir’s soldiers and out the gates.
They passed a number of closed shops and dark dwellings and seemed to be heading straight toward the south side of the Sèone wall. Most of the eateries and taverns were on the other side of the village, so the street was quiet.
After passing another small stable, it didn’t take Céline long to find the blacksmith’s forge—with a well-constructed house attached.
“Keep her quiet and wait here,” Céline instructed.
“What are you doing?” Amelie asked.
“Just trust me.”
With a quick breath, Céline hurried over to the front of the house and knocked. Nothing happened, and she knocked again. This time she heard heavy footsteps, and a large middle-aged man opened the door. “What in the name of the gods…,” he mumbled, rubbing one hand over his eyes, and then he saw her. She didn’t recognize him from the banquet that evening, but he seemed to recognize her, so he must have been there.
“I know it’s late,” Céline rushed to say, “but could I please speak to Erin?”
“Father,” a soft voice said, “who is it?”
Erin stepped from a room in the back out into view, her blond braids coming loose from their ties. She saw Céline in the doorway.
“I’m sorry for this,” Céline said, “but I need help.”
* * *
“So you just let the prince’s seer walk in and out of here twice?” Jaromir asked in short, clipped words. “And the second time, her sister was carrying his personal attendant over one shoulder?”
He was at the entryway of the castle, questioning the guards there, making certain that Céline had gone outside.
He sounded defensive, and in truth, Jaromir couldn’t fault him. Castle guests and residents had always been allowed to come and go as they pleased. He was just frustrated, and he wanted to take it out on someone.
“We should go, sir,” Pavel said, his voice deadly quiet.
Jaromir nodded, and they headed across the courtyard, through the gates, over the bridge, and out into the village spreading all around them.
* * *
“Will this do?” Erin asked, holding a lantern up to the door of a small shack out back of the forge.
She still seemed uncertain about hiding Anton’s clearly unwilling personal attendant from Jaromir, but Céline had explained the situation carefully and honestly and managed to convince Erin that Inna’s life was at stake. Erin’s gratitude to Céline had done the rest.
She’d taken them out of the forge house, around the back, and into a run-down area that sported a small faded shack. A small grove of untended aspen trees grew on the west side. “I think my grandfather stored tools in here once, before my father made improvements to the forge.” She looked back at Céline. “No one will look for you here.”
“It’s perfect,” Céline said, stepping up to the door. “Thank you.”
“When Prince Anton learns of this,” Inna spat at Erin, “your father won’t be blacksmith in Sèone anymore.”
Erin winced, but Céline cut in quickly. “That’s not true. If Anton decides to punish anyone, it’ll be me.”
Lowering her voice, Erin whispered, “Why do you risk yourself to save this woman who does not wish to be saved?”
Céline didn’t want to mention her attempt to alter a future that she’d seen—especially not to Erin. “I have to try,” she answered simply.
Shaking her head, Erin handed her the lantern and then pushed the door further open to let her inside. Céline entered, holding the lantern high and glancing around. The place was cold and dusty, with a back door but no windows. At least they were out of sight. That was all that mattered. “You’d better go back to the house,” she told Erin.
Amelie dragged Inna through the door and shoved her down into a sitting position. “Stay there,” she ordered.
Céline sighed. There were only a few hours until dawn, but she felt they would be long ones.
* * *
“They’re not here, but they were,” Jaromir said, walking through the main room of the apothecary’s shop. “There are still embers in the hearth. Céline must have come here to make whatever she fed you.” He picked up some loose poppy petals on the floor. “Some kind of opiate.”
Pavel didn’t answer at first and then said, “She’s not here now.”
No, and Jaromir hadn’t expected to find his quarry here. But he’d had to at least look. What now? Sèone was a large community, almost a town.
“Where would they hide?” Pavel said, almost to himself, as he walked across the floor, looking at the web-covered jars and pots along the wall. “They don’t know anyone outside the castle. They have no friends out here. Where can we even start?”
Jaromir’s memory for verbal exchanges was sharp, and he recalled a softly spoken sentence from earlier that evening.
If I can ever do anything for you, please ask me.
He started for the door. “I can think of one place.”
* * *
Time seemed to drag. As Amelie crouched on the floor of the filthy shack, she was growing less and less certain of this undertaking. Success seemed nearly impossible—and failure could come at a high personal price.
As if reading her face by the dim light of the lantern, Céline said, “Please don’t give up on me, Amelie. I have to see this through. What use is my gift to anyone if I can’t prevent a tragedy or a death?”
Her voice was so tight that Amelie scooted closer, feeling guilty for her doubts. Céline had openly asked very little of her in their lives to date.
“You’re with me, aren’t you?” Céline asked. “You’ll help me?”
“Yes,” Amelie answered, and she meant it. “I’ll help.”
Inna was leaning up against a stack of wooden boxes. She hadn’t spoken since they’d entered the shack and settled to wait. “I need to relieve myself,” she said. “And I won’t do it in here.”
“Just hold it,” Amelie said.
“I can’t.”
What an impossible pain this woman was. Amelie could barely stand the thought of spending days in her company. How had Anton put up with her turning down his bed, laying out his nightclothes, preparing food and drink in his rooms, and hovering around him? Just the thought made her shudder.
“We could take her outside for a moment,” Céline suggested. “She’s right about not…going in here. The smell would be unbearable after a while.”
Amelie stood up. “Oh, very well, but you stay in here, Céline. The fewer people moving around out there, the better.” She reached for Inna. “If you yell out or try to run, I swear you’ll be sorry.”
After pulling Inna out the door, she closed it behind them and looked around, spotting the grove of aspen trees growing on the west side of the shack. “Come on,” she whispered. “Over there.”
* * *
Jaromir approached the forge carefully with Pavel right behind him. “We’ll do a full sweep before we start knocking on doors,” he said quietly.
Pavel nodded, but he’d been strangely silent since leaving the apothecary’s shop, and Jaromir worried he might be taking Céline’s betrayal too hard.
“This way,” Jaromir said, moving west. He wanted to get an idea what types of buildings or possible hiding places lay around the forge. He was still hoping they could handle this situation quickly and quietly.
“We’ll question the family if we have to,” he whispered, “but first I’d rather—”
He froze as movement ahead caught his eye. Amelie came out of a decaying shack and began leading Inna into a small grove of aspen trees. Moonlight bathed both women, glinting off Amelie’s black hair.
He pulled back, motioning to Pavel and ducking around the corner of the forge.
“Céline’s probably still inside the shack,” he said. “You get her, and I’ll get Amelie and Inna.”
Pavel nodded.
* * *
Céline wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she’d been more sensible about a few things—like tracking down some cloaks before they’d left the castle. But Lady Karina had sent only indoor clothing for their wardrobe, and Céline wouldn’t have known where to find any cloaks.
Still, the fact was that they had no warm clothing and only the money Amelie had won playing cards.
As insistent as she’d been that they keep going, so far no ideas had come to her of how they might disguise themselves to get through the gates. She had no doubt that by morning Jaromir would have given the guards orders to detain anyone fitting her and Amelie’s descriptions.
She gripped herself tighter, rocking back and forth.
That was when the door burst open, as if it had been kicked. It slammed against the sidewall with a bang.
Pavel was standing in the doorway.
Céline jumped to her feet, alarmed but not afraid…until she got a clear look at his face. Instinctual terror—from all her years in Shetâna—shot through her. Whirling, she darted for the back door, running wildly to get through it before he caught her.
As her hand reached the latch and pulled, two arms shot past her head, one on each side, slamming the door closed and holding it.
“Don’t!” she cried without thinking, turning around inside his arms to push against his chest. He didn’t move. He just stood there, breathing hard, his body trapping hers against the door. She could feel the chain armor beneath his tabard and found herself staring at the hollow of his throat as he continued breathing in
and out loudly.
He was angry, beyond angry, and she was afraid of him.
Slowly, she tried to look up, only to find him looking down at her. Even in the dim lantern’s light, she could see the danger in his face. She cursed herself for falling into the illusion that he was nothing like one of Damek’s men, for thinking him to be safe.
Pavel was a soldier.
“You played with me,” he whispered. “Made me look a fool to the lieutenant.”
She had.
Still, he hadn’t hurt her, and at least he was talking.
“I’m sorry,” she answered, staring at the hollow of his throat again. “I didn’t have a choice. I had to save Inna…I had to see if I could change my vision. I still think the lieutenant is wrong and that Inna will die if she remains here.” The speed of her words picked up. “I know I embarrassed you, but isn’t her life worth that much?”
He didn’t move, and he didn’t answer. She was still trapped against the door.
“And what about Prince Anton?” she rushed on. “If we don’t start saving some of these girls, his reputation will suffer, and he could be overlooked to head the House of Pählen.”
He answered softly, “Maybe it’s best if he is overlooked.”
* * *
Jaromir was surprised when Pavel kicked open the door of the shack. He hadn’t expected that.
But a few seconds later, he had his hands full as Amelie came running from the aspen trees and saw him. She stopped beside a stack of firewood, her eyes moving between him and the door of the shack.
“Don’t move,” he ordered.
Inna came running from the aspens, her loose hair sticking to her face, her breaths coming fast. “Lieutenant, you’re here. Please, please take me to my lord. I never laid out his bedclothes.”
She sounded mad, but he kept his eyes on Amelie—whose right hand flashed down to the short sword on her hip. She didn’t pull it. She just grabbed the hilt.
If she’d been anyone else, he would have drawn his sword, but he just couldn’t bring himself to pull it, not on her.
“It’s over,” he said. “Pavel has Céline, and we’re all going to back to the castle.”
“To my lord,” Inna cried, “not that room. To my lord!”