“It’s a farm.” I saw no one understood and tried again. “There weren’t any tailors or fancy cloths. We made our clothes from the wool we got from our sheep, and as I have three older brothers, most of mine were hand-me-downs. By the time I got them, they were brown, lumpy and scratchy—and you don’t want to know what my ma’s homemade soap did to them.” My skin started to itch in memory. “Hell, lads, is wearing handwoven smalls,” I said over the laughter, “and I’ve earned every fine shirt I have.” After we finished dinner and the guard rota was set up, I crawled into my tent to sleep. I settled down in my bedding as the flap opened and Jeff came in. He was quiet as he got into his bedroll, and I started to drift off.
“You could have said something,” Jeff said.
I blinked sleepily. “Huh?”
“You keep too many damn secrets, Rabbit.”
“Said what?”
“About your parents. The magical. The feather.”
I was waking up fast. “We all have secrets—” I began.
“Not like these. My secrets aren’t anything like yours.”
That was probably very true.
“Ibn Chause e Flavan,” Jeff said.
“I’m still me,” I said. “I haven’t changed.”
“Yeah, but who are you?”
Chapter Five
When I awoke the next morning, Jeff was gone and his bedroll was neatly rolled up in the corner with his saddlebags. I took extra care over my prayers, figuring that I needed all the help I could get. I then grabbed my razor, soap and a towel, lifted the tent flap and went out into the sunshine. I came to an abrupt halt, though, as I ran into Captain Suiden. He and Lieutenant Groskin were in front of my tent, both facing Laurel Faena, Suiden with his arms folded, Groskin with his hand on his sword hilt. Behind the Faena stood the troopers, a few making warding signs against evil, but most with their hands also on their swords.
Laurel looked as he had when I’d met him yesterday. He had the same embroidered coat, the same staff, the same feathers and beads woven into his tawny head fur and ears. Both ears now were pressed forward as his eyes met mine. He gave a small bow, as if we were chance-met acquaintances on market day. “Lord Rabbit.”
A mutter went through the men at the honorific, and hard looks started coming my way too.
“Assure your men, honored captain,” Laurel said, his voice a deep rumble, “that I mean no harm.”
“It’s kind of hard to believe that when you’re found slipping and sneaking into camp,” Groskin said, his hand tightening on his sword hilt. A snarl of agreement went through the troop, and Ryson, standing a little apart from the rest, muttered something I couldn’t hear. Several nodded and began to pull their swords from their scabbards.
Suiden cast a glance at the men and everyone quieted, those withdrawing their swords freezing midpull. “What do you mean?” the captain asked, looking back at the cat.
“Peace,” the Faena said, his whiskers sweeping back in what I’m sure he meant to be a harmless smile. His sharp eyeteeth glistened white in the sunshine.
I could hear the breeze softly whisper over the lea’s grass in the sudden silence. Then Laurel laughed, a deep chuffing sound, at Suiden’s politely incredulous look. “I speak truth, honored captain. But perhaps we can discuss it in private?” He gestured at my rather goosepimply bare chest. “After Lord Rabbit gets dressed.” What the hell? I cast a wild look at the Faena at his intimation that I was to join their counsels, only to catch sight of Suiden’s face. The captain’s gaze rested on me for an eternity. “You are dismissed, Lieutenant,” he said finally.
“Yes, sir!” I said and was by the cookfire before my next heartbeat. Behind me, I could hear Groskin growling at the men to put their bloody swords away and didn’t they have duties and if not he could find some for them if they insisted on lollygagging about. There was the sound of hurried feet as the troopers cleared, fast.
I waited a moment for my breathing to even out and then asked the duty cook for hot water.
“Of course, Lieutenant,” Basel said, saluting.
“Damn it, Basel, stop that,” I said, scowling at him.
“Yes, sir,” Basel said. He reached down and produced a bowl. “I found strawberries growing over there”—Basel indicated a sunny spot against a large boulder—”and I saved some for your porridge, knowing how particular you are in your food, Lieutenant.” Nothing like being toadied before breakfast. Before I could respond, a sour smell washed over me. I checked my feet to see if I had stepped in anything.
“It’s Lord Rabbit, Basel,” Ryson said, several troopers trailing behind him. Far behind. The smell was coming from him, his wet clothes had mildewed.
“You’re rancid, Ryson,” I said.
“You’ve no idea,” Ryson’s tentmate muttered.
“Why didn’t you put your clothes out last night to dry by the fire?” I asked.
“Of course, Lord Rabbit.” He batted his eyelashes. “Forgive us, Lord Rabbit. We don’t know clothes like you do, Lord Rabbit.”
“That’s enough, you sheep-biting, fornicating weasel—” Jeff grabbed my arm and pulled me away. No one wanted to touch Ryson, but a couple of the men got in front of him. Their eyes watered as the wind shifted. “Have your wits gone lacking?” Jeff asked, his voice soft. “You want the captain or Groskin to hear you?” Ryson and I stopped trying to get at each other and everyone did a quick search. The tension drained as we located Suiden and Groskin still standing with Laurel Faena.
I shrugged away from Jeff and went back to the fire. The water was gently bubbling. I took a washpot and poured some in it.
“If a Faena wants to call you high emperor of the universe, reign without end, you say fiat,” I said, quickly lathering my face. “They see things that no one else does. A different reality.”
“So this is your reality, Lord Rabbit?” Jeff said.
“I don’t know. Don’t call me that.”
“Ibn Chause e Flavan. How many degrees are they?”
“Thirty-two and forty,” Ryson put in. He smirked at my stare. “It’s amazing how Commander Ebner’s voice carries. Even in his office.”
Eavesdropping, spying weasel—
“So, that’s what?” Jeff asked. “Seventy-two ancestors you share with the king?”
I turned away from both Ryson and Jeff and began to shave. “Give it a rest. My parents laid that down before I was born. I can’t come dancing in and pick it up again.”
“Could’ve fooled me last night,” Jeff said.
I paused in midswipe of my razor, remembering my snit when the men froze me out of setting up the camp. Well, how observant of him—and how nice of him to throw it in my face in front of everyone. I finished shaving and rinsed the soap off. “Yeah, well, you were all being twits—” I broke off as I caught Groskin moving over towards us. Laurel and Suiden were ducking into the captain’s tent.
Ryson saw the same thing and blanched. He produced a tiny sliver of soap and began to strip. “Quick, Basel, hot water. Groskin said if I don’t clean up, he’s going to douse me in the stream back yonder.” We all cast a glance at the stream full of snowmelt running across the back of the lea, and a collective shudder went through us at the fear that Groskin might decide that we all needed a bath. Basel hurriedly poured water into another washpot while I emptied mine out. Jeff grabbed a stick and lifted Ryson’s uniform into my pot, and Basel poured hot water over that too.
I sized up Ryson’s fragment of soap and the size of his stink. “Here,” I said, thrusting my towel and soap at Ryson.
“He’ll need more,” Jeff said. “I’ll go get some.” He took off at a trot and, after a moment, I did too, thinking to go finish dressing in my tent and play least in sight for a while.
Suiden didn’t send for me until after breakfast. Until then, I joined the rest of the troop in doing small housekeeping chores, like mending my tack. It didn’t look like we were moving out soon. Ryson had to relaunder everything, and he walked around camp
with a borrowed blanket wrapped around him. This time he hung his clothes and bedding around the cookfire to dry out. (Groskin threatened to make Ryson wear his wet uniform again, muttering about the indignity of Ryson’s bare arse and the camp looking like a wash yard, but Ryson’s tentmate was very impassioned about the smells of manure and mildew in small tents, and the lieutenant relented.) I was standing at the edge of the lea staring down at the city, wondering how it got misplaced during our last patrol, when I felt someone touch my arm.
“The captain wants you in his tent, Rabbit,” Jeff said.
I nodded and went to Suiden’s tent, entering at the captain’s command. The first thing I saw after my eyes had become accustomed to the interior gloom was the silver tea service. I blinked. My ma had one like that, one of the few things that she brought with her from her former life. I sat down on the rug between Laurel Faena and Groskin, and was handed tea in a delicate porcelain cup on an equally delicate matching saucer. Groskin offered me a bowl of lemon slices and then, after I took one, a sugar bowl and tongs. When I was finished, Groskin placed the bowls on the matching tea tray. As I selected a silver teaspoon and stirred my tea, I watched Groskin pour a cup for Laurel, struggling with the lieutenant being mother. Glancing down, I touched the rug—it looked like a Perdan. It was strewn with fat needlepoint pillows, and the walls of the tent were hung with tapestries. I grinned, thinking that our captain knew how to travel.
“Something amusing, Lieutenant?” the captain asked.
I stopped grinning. “No, sir. Just enjoying the tea, sir.” Captain Suiden lounged back against a pillow, looking very much at ease. “All right, Sro Faena, why are you here?”
Laurel took a dainty sip. “I am on my way to see the king.”
The captain, Lieutenant Groskin and I all stopped whatever stirring, drinking or fidgeting we were doing and stared at the Faena. He stared back, bland and benign, and took another sip of tea.
“The king,” Suiden repeated.
“Yes,” Laurel replied.
“Our king,” the captain said, looking for clarification.
“Yes.”
“Jusson IV, also called ‘Golden Eye,’ who, at this present time, resides in the Royal City of Iversly.” Captain Suiden wanted to be absolutely sure.
“Yes, that king.”
“I see. Any particular reason why?”
Laurel looked at me. “Do you remember, Lord Rabbit, the fur trappers in your Weald some years ago?”
“Yes,” I said. “Honor Ash Faena, uh, remedied that.”
“So she did. It was an isolated incident, no?” Laurel asked.
“Yes.” I stifled a shrug. “As far as I remember, it was the first time something like that happened. And the last.”
“It’s a true memory you have, Lord Rabbit,” Laurel said. “But you’ve been gone how long?”
“Five years, Laurel Faena.”
“Not a great amount of time, yet what would you say if I told you that since you left we’ve had not only trappers, but fellers, slavers, hunters, and other runners raiding throughout the Border?”
I blinked. “Uh—”
“One hunter even managed to reach Dragoness Moraina’s lair.” Laurel took another dainty sip. “We buried what we could find of him in one of Cobbler Rosemary’s shoe boxes.”
We all paused to consider the image that arose.
“What’s a feller?” Groskin asked, after a moment.
Laurel waved a paw at me.
“Fellers are tree runners,” I said. “Border hardwood is considered premium in southern markets.”
“Logging is illegal in the Border?” Groskin asked.
“Yes, sir. Cutting down a tree kills its sprite.”
Captain Suiden’s and Groskin’s eyes shifted around the tent, looking for things made of wood. They both settled on the tent poles.
“Don’t worry, you have no spritewood,” Laurel said. He touched his staff that lay behind him. “And this was given to me by an oak sprite whose tree is very much alive. Her sister, however, didn’t fair so well. Fellers got her.”
Captain Suiden set his empty cup down. “It seems that there’s a serious problem in the Border.”
Laurel nodded. “A very serious problem.” He looked at me. “You know the delicate balance there, Lord Rabbit?”
Delicate balance? It was a bull dancing on a thin rope strung between two high poles. With no net. “Yes,” I said.
“Everyone with their own idea of how the universe runs and how that should play out on their patch of earth, no?”
“Yes,” I said again.
“And how hard it is for anyone to agree on anything, let alone have a consensus?” I nodded. The memory of my da’s frustration with both the Area Weald and High Councils rose up again.
“The High Council did reach an accord, Lord Rabbit,” Laurel said. “Unanimous.”
My mouth fell open.
“We will declare war if these raids do not stop.”
My mouth closed with a snap.
“Honored Moraina was most eloquent about becoming part of some apothecary’s potion or lordling’s boots.” Laurel finished his tea and set his own cup down. “And the moon season will start soon.”
Suiden frowned. “Moon season?”
“It’s the time from the first full moon of spring to Midsummer’s Eve where the haunts of those betrayed and murdered appear, sir,” I said, politely ignoring Groskin’s start at the mention of ghosts.
“I would think that the dark of the year would be more the time for hauntings,” Suiden said.
“The four seasons align with the four aspects, honored captain,” Laurel said. “Fire and summer, air and fall, water and winter, and earth and spring. It is earth that governs the dead as it is the substance from which we are made and to which we return.” His ears went back against his head. “And each year there are more and more of the slaughtered—” He broke off and took a deep rumbling breath. “However, your father spoke prudence before the High Council, Lord Rabbit. Honored Two Trees was equally eloquent about the, hmm, bloodiness of war, so the High Council has decided to see if the problem could not be resolved by diplomatic means. By reminding Iversterre of its treaty with us. I was chosen.”
“But why are you still here?” the captain asked. “Why were you waiting for us instead of going on to me Royal City?”
“The Council realized that even my lone presence in Iversterre could upset its denizens. They felt that an escort from the kingdom would ease things and so I was charged to have Lord Rabbit accompany me.”
Feeling the weight of Captain Suiden’s stare, I swallowed and cast him a quick look—and blinked, as his eyes seemed to be glowing in the gloom of the tent.
“So why Rabbit?” the captain asked. “There’s a large garrison at Veldecke, right on the Border. You could have gone there for an escort.”
“Where do you think the runners are coming from?” Laurel asked. “Do you think that the town’s elders haven’t noticed the trees, slaves, pelts and other contraband showing up in their marketplace? Being ferried down their roads? The garrison is most diligent, as you surely are, in their patrols. Do you think that they haven’t seen what is being carried out of the Border?” His ruff bristled. “Perhaps I would’ve received an escort. Or perhaps I would’ve ended up stuffed and mounted in some lord’s hall.”
Not bloody likely, I thought.
“However, Lord Rabbit’s family is known and respected throughout the Border,” Laurel said, “and here he is kin to two powerful Houses of your kingdom.”
Captain Suiden turned his stare on Laurel. His eyes were glowing. He picked up the teapot and poured another cup, adding just lemon. “Why didn’t you say something when you first met us, then? Why this waiting and guessing game?”
“No game, honored captain. After your adventures, you were too upset to hear anything I had to say. If I remember correctly, you accused me of planning to eat you and your men, and Lieutenant Groskin had a novel idea
of how to cover up both that you were lost and that his horse liked me.”
While Groskin found the bottom of his cup very interesting, Suiden waved his hand at these mere details. “But if we didn’t return? What would you have done then?”
“I would’ve gone to my second plan,” Laurel replied. “Which was my first until I found you wandering up here.” He watched Suiden open his mouth and cut him off. “To go into the town and speak with your commander.”
“I’m just a farmer’s son from the Border, Laurel Faena,” I said, setting aside the images of pandemonium and riot that his plans evoked, “no matter how my da stands before the Council. I can’t see how my presence would help, but I can easily see how it could hinder. A lot.”
“Farmer’s son, true,” Laurel said. “But you are also the nephew of Lord Chause, thirty-two lines to the throne of the kingdom, no? The grandson of Lord Flavan, forty lines to the throne?”
“Well, yes, but my parents left all that.”
“Does that make you any less the nephew or the grandson?”
I’d once met a couple of lordlings who were stranded in Freston during a winter’s storm. In their sneering arrogance, they’d reminded me of the underbelly of a toad—soft, white, and poisonous—and they cured any desire I had to claim nobility. I wasn’t about to start now. I opened my mouth to say so but Captain Suiden spoke first.
“You have valid points, Sro Laurel, but Rabbit belongs to my troop and with my troop he will stay. Further, I must take this request to my commander before a course of action can be decided.”
“Why? Does he not trust your judgment?”
The captain stared at me, his eyes now blazing, but I shook my head. I hadn’t told Laurel the commander’s words.
“Don’t look so surprised, honored captain. You’re here without a multitude of soldiers.”
“Commander Ebner trusts me to fact-find and report back to him, not to have one of my men go haring off on your say-so,” Captain Suiden said, each word deliberate. He set his teacup down.
“So while we dither about, blood is spilled and our rage grows until war is unavoidable.” Laurel pointed at the feather pinned to my tunic. “There is an obligation.”
Covenants (v2.2) Page 3