She was still unobserved. She traced another line of fire, this one lengthwise down the blade, then with considerable effort broke the blade in half. Kicking the oar handle overboard, she ran back to where Holt waited and offered him the pieces of wood. “Perfect, thank you, Miss Cooper,” Holt said. One of Mistress Clarence’s assistants handed him a coil of skinny rope and a knife. Silently and efficiently, Holt bound the boy’s arm, keeping him pinioned as easily as if the boy were a half-drowned kitten, then released him to his sobbing mother.
Sebastian let the father go. The man took a few steps away, out of Sebastian’s reach. “How dare you?” he shouted.
“I should ask you that question,” Sebastian said coldly. “Your children were running around this boat like wild things, and you did nothing to stop them. Normally, I wouldn’t care. But their behavior, and yours, put them in danger. As you realize.”
The man recoiled. “How dare you criticize my children? Or me?”
“I dare because without me, you’d be mourning your son right now.” Sebastian grabbed the man’s hand again and slapped a matchlighter into it. “I ought to keep that, since I doubt you’re any more careful with it than your children were.”
“You—”
“The only thing I’m interested in hearing from you is an apology to Mistress Clarence,” Sebastian said.
The father took a step closer. Sebastian shifted his weight, preparing to take a blow—or to throw one. He was taller than the other man by nearly a head, and Fiona noticed for the first time how he stood like someone who knew how to fight and wasn’t afraid to do so. The father seemed to realize this as well. “Sorry,” he said.
“Not to me.” Sebastian stepped to one side.
The man swallowed. “I’m sorry, Mistress Clarence.”
The captain glared at the man. “Take your family aft, and stay there,” she growled. The man did as he was told. Fiona stepped out of his way as he passed her, not looking at her.
The crowd of passengers hadn’t dispersed, though now they all stood awkwardly, like they didn’t know where to go or where to look. They parted for Sebastian as he walked away toward the bow, followed by Holt. Fiona went after them. “Would you have fought that man?” she demanded.
Sebastian smiled crookedly at her. “Is that what you want to ask, Miss Nosy?”
“Would you?”
“If I had to. I hate making anyone look ridiculous in front of his children, but if he’d hit me, I wouldn’t have let him do it twice. And I certainly couldn’t let Holt do it.”
“That’s an odd way to put it. Why ‘certainly’?”
Holt and Sebastian exchanged glances. “That truly is none of your business, and I’m sorry I mentioned it,” Sebastian said. “Holt, would you gather our bags? I want off this ferry the moment its nose kisses earth.”
“Of course, sir,” Holt said, turning away.
Fiona waited until he was gone before saying, “You sound as if you’re protecting him.”
“What part of ‘not your business’ did you fail to understand?”
“I’m sorry.” She was taken aback by the snarl in his voice, and clenched her fists against a memory of Roderick lashing out at her in just that way.
Sebastian blew out his breath. “No, I’m sorry, Miss Cooper,” he said. “I’m on edge still from that encounter, and I spoke out of turn. It’s Holt’s privacy I’m protecting, not mine, and he would prefer not to talk about it. If you don’t mind.”
“I understand.” She didn’t, not fully, but she could appreciate a desire for privacy. Roderick never apologized, she thought irrelevantly.
“Where did the wood come from?”
“What?”
“The wood you gave Holt. There’s not a spare scrap of wood on this boat, I looked. Where did you get it?”
Fear choked her briefly. “There was a broken oar near the back. I smashed it a little more to get pieces the right size.”
“I see. You must be stronger than you look.” Sebastian didn’t look as if he believed her, but how under heaven could he possibly guess the truth? “That man should be grateful to you and Holt for helping his son. How does it feel to do a thankless task?”
“I’m used to doing things without being thanked.” Roderick had been a master of turning achievement into inadequacy. Toward the end, he’d done almost nothing but heap recriminations upon her. In fairness, she hadn’t been very generous with him, either.
“Well, you have my gratitude, for what it’s worth. Though I doubt I’ll be thanked for accomplishing this task myself.”
“You mean the Irantzen Festival? Won’t your brother be grateful?”
“I did mention he’s self-centered and arrogant. He’ll likely take it as a given that he deserves to be rescued. I just wish he’d learn from it.”
“Maybe he doesn’t deserve to be saved.”
Sebastian shrugged. “Maybe. But he’ll take innocents down with him, and it’s for their sake I’m doing this.”
“Then it’s unfortunate you can’t save them, and let him suffer.”
“Unfortunate indeed.” Sebastian pushed away from the rail. “We’re about to land. Let’s get the horses.”
Moments later, the ferry bumped up against the shore. Fiona waited for Holt and Sebastian to free their horses from the makeshift corral. The little family trudged past her, their lack of eye contact clearly deliberate, though the little boy looked at her as they passed. She smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it. If Sebastian hadn’t been there…of course, if Sebastian hadn’t been there, neither would she, and the whole drama would have played out to a completely different crowd.
They were the last ones off the ferry, and Fiona nodded cheerfully at Mistress Clarence, who scowled in return. Well, you couldn’t be friends with everyone.
They rode a few miles westward until they came to a small town where they were able to buy a horse for Fiona. It was a pretty little piebald mare, black and white like a cat Fiona’s friend Jessie had once owned. The cat, Mittens, had been disdainful of everyone, including Jessie, but the horse seemed pleasant enough, and Fiona mounted her with only a few reservations and a little help.
She curled her cold fingers around the reins and shrugged the folds of her cloak forward to cover her hands. The bright sun had no warmth in it, for all it melted what was left of the last snow. West of Ravensholm, County Harroden was all plains that turned into the desert hills of eastern Veribold, but that was miles in the distance. At the moment the land stretched out blank and empty to the horizon in all directions, with Ravensholm a faint bump to the east and the Snow River a fading glitter behind them. Fiona had last been there…five years ago, on that last trading journey with Roderick before they’d given up traveling and settled in Kingsport. Not such a long time, but she couldn’t remember the landscape at all, whether it looked the same or not.
They traveled in silence all day, stopping briefly at a wayside inn at dinnertime to rest the horses and eat an unsatisfactory meal of dry meat and drier vegetables. Holt disappeared when they stopped, returning only when the horses were being saddled, but Sebastian didn’t say anything about it and Fiona felt uncomfortable asking.
She spent the rest of the afternoon cursing herself for her whimsical decision. She was traveling to a foreign country with two strange men, and granted, she didn’t think they intended her harm, but that didn’t make her decision any less crazy. She didn’t even know what she’d have to do at this festival. Suppose they got caught in their search; she would almost certainly be punished along with them. This was the stupidest thing she’d ever done.
Tilled and harvested fields, their stubble gray where the snow overlaid it, gave way to fallow ground that no one had ever cultivated. Tall weeds, dusty green and shadowed yellow, waved at Fiona and her companions as the wind moved them. The road was all hard-packed earth, dark brown and patchy where snow melt had stirred it up somewhat. To the north, storm clouds massed, purple and heavy with rain or snow. Rain, Fiona guesse
d, because the air was cold, but not freezing, and the storm was moving slowly enough it probably wouldn’t reach them before nightfall.
Sebastian was a little less optimistic, because he urged his horse into a faster gait, and Fiona had to follow suit. Mittens—it wasn’t a horse name, true, but the animal really did remind her of Jessie’s cat—responded cheerfully to Fiona’s inexpert prodding. Riding was growing easier, fortunately.
Behind her, Holt sped up as well. His horse was as tall as he was, but stocky, almost big enough to be a Kirkellan mount. Suppose you could match horses with riders like that? Sebastian was riding a bay gelding, but it was too short for him; he needed something leggy, something stubborn and secretive. And Fiona…her imagination came up short. How much of what she was was pretense, camouflage? Maybe Mittens was ideal for her, after all.
5
The storm was much closer when they rode into Demingham at nearly sunset. “We’ll stay the night here,” Sebastian told them, beckoning them close. “The border is only another ten miles away, but I’d rather come at it fresh in the morning.”
“Very well, sir,” Holt said. “If you will follow me, I will choose an inn that will meet your needs.”
“Why does he get to pick?” Fiona said. It was whiny, but Holt’s servility irritated her.
“Because Holt is trained to be security-minded,” Sebastian said, “and it gives him pleasure to use his skills. And because I told him to. Unless you want the burden?”
“No,” Fiona said, feeling more irritated at the back-handed chastisement. Her legs and back ached, she might have blisters where she didn’t want blisters—this was definitely the stupidest idea she’d ever had. “I—” she began, but Sebastian had already moved off down the street after Holt, and Fiona prodded Mittens to follow.
The inn Holt found was the Silver Apple, a quiet three-story building down one of Demingham’s side streets. Fiona gratefully relinquished Mittens’ reins to the stable girl and, carrying her bag, went in the back door to find Sebastian and Holt had vanished. A round-cheeked woman in a cheerful floral dress greeted her with a smile and showed her the way up the stairs to a room that, for a miracle, she wouldn’t have to share with anyone else. It was small, but comfortable, with a window that looked out over the quiet stable yard. Fiona could barely see Mittens’ nose sticking out of her stall. It had a clothes press, and a bedside table with an elaborate lamp Device, and a wash stand with running hot and cold water. Apparently Sebastian’s needs as anticipated by Holt involved a level of luxury Fiona had rarely experienced.
She sat on the bed, which had a brass frame and a patchwork quilt, and kicked her bag, which lay on the floor beside her. Briefly, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. It wasn’t too late to tell Sebastian she’d changed her mind, was it? No. I made him a promise and I intend to keep it. She shoved her bag farther under the bed and left the room, locking the door behind her.
The dining room was rustic, with rough-hewn tables and chairs and a chandelier made from a wagon wheel. Yellow and orange flames in the large fireplace flickered wildly in the draft Fiona made when she entered. Sebastian was already seated near the middle of the room, and he looked up when she entered.
“Miss Cooper,” he said, rising to hold her chair for her. “I hope your room is comfortable.”
“It’s nice,” Fiona said. “Where’s Holt?”
“Holt’s eating elsewhere.”
“You object to having him share a table with you?”
Sebastian gave her his wry smile. “Holt objects to eating with me,” he said. “I’ve tried to insist that he’s not my manservant anymore, that eating separately is ridiculous, but every time we’re within spitting distance of civilization, he’s back to eating in the kitchen. I’ve known the man twenty years, and he hasn’t gotten any less stubborn the whole time.”
“Your manservant?”
“I thought you weren’t going to pry into my affairs, Miss Nosy.”
“You’re the one who brought it up. I hardly think that’s prying.”
Sebastian sighed. “My family hired Holt to look after me when I went away to school. It’s not uncommon to bring a maid or a manservant if you’re wealthy, which I’m sure you’ve worked out my family is. I like to think we’re friends, when I can get Holt to break through that stiff-upper-lip thing he has. He’s more correct than half my well-bred peers.”
“You could always fire him, and make your relationship equal.”
“I tried, when I left school, but it’s my parents who hired him, so there’s not much I can do about it.” He leaned back as a serving girl set plates of food in front of them, pieces of oven-roasted chicken and boiled carrots seasoned with flecks of something green. Fiona didn’t recognize the herb, but she wasn’t much of a cook. Two mugs of beer came next. Sebastian picked up a drumstick and took a large bite, ignoring the grease that dripped down his fingers.
“So tell me,” he said between bites, “why are you in a position to drop everything and travel with two strangers to Veribold’s most closely guarded city within a city?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“Come now, Miss Nosy, I answered your questions. I think this is only fair.”
Fiona shrugged and cut a carrot into bite-sized pieces. The green flecks gave it a fresh flavor, unexpected at this time of year. “I’d…quit my business and was looking for something different.”
“What was your business?”
“My husband and I were traders.”
“I didn’t realize you were married.”
“Emphasis on ‘were.’” Fiona found it suddenly difficult to meet his eyes. “We divorced about three months ago.”
“Oh. I…don’t know whether to offer you condolences or congratulations.”
“It was for the best, for both of us.” He didn’t sound judgmental, but you could never tell how people would react to the news that your marriage bond was dissolved.
“I see.” Sebastian laid down the bare bone and went to work on another chicken leg. For a wealthy, presumably upper-class man, he had some appalling table manners. “And you had to leave the business? That seems unfair.”
“I could have stayed, but I didn’t want to.” It had felt odd continuing to work with Roderick with the ashes of their marriage between them, like putting on filthy old clothes after a hot bath. “I adopted back into my birth family, stayed with my aunt and uncle for a while, then decided to travel.”
Sebastian nodded. “And have you decided what you want to settle down to? Or is that too much prying?”
“No, I…haven’t thought about it. Mostly I felt like traveling for a while. I was going to the southern continent before you sidetracked me.”
“A polite way of putting it,” Sebastian said with a grin. “Dineh-Karit’s not known for being friendly to outsiders.”
“You could say that of just about anywhere, except maybe Eskandel. There are always exceptions.”
“True.” Sebastian wiped his hands on his napkin—good, she’d half expected him to use his trouser leg—and took a long drink of his beer. “Is it not to your taste?” he asked, indicating her mug.
“No. I don’t drink.”
“You should have said something.” He waved at the serving girl and asked her to replace the beer with something non-alcoholic. The girl gave him a funny look, probably wondering why anyone would come to a taproom if not to drink, but did as she was instructed. “Any particular reason?” Sebastian went on.
“Don’t like the taste of alcohol,” Fiona lied. “And you don’t need to go to any trouble on my account.”
“It’s no trouble.” Sebastian drained his mug and set it down, giving her a long, appraising look. “I’m having the hardest time not asking you more questions.”
“Why? I’m not very interesting.”
“Any woman willing to do what you’ve done is endlessly interesting. You do realize what I plan to do is dangerous, don’t you? If the Veriboldans fin
d out we’ve entered their royal city intent on theft, they won’t be gentle with us.”
“They won’t be gentle with you, you mean. I will look like just one more woman attending the festival.”
“You’d throw us to the wolves like that, Miss Cooper?”
She matched him smile for cynical smile. “I might beg for leniency on your behalf.” He was right, they’d all be judged guilty if they were caught, and no one would let her off just because she was a woman. “I suppose we’ll have to make sure we’re not caught, then.”
Sebastian nodded once, slowly. “I’m glad you’re not Lucille,” he said. “She wasn’t nearly so interesting as you are.” He pushed his chair back. “We’ll need to make an early start, so I’m off to bed.”
They walked up the stairs together as far as Fiona’s room, where Sebastian bade her good night. Inside, Fiona undressed and folded her clothes away into her bag, preparing for that early start. She sat cross-legged on her bed in her nightgown and wrote in her journal. S. intrigues me, she wrote. He’s hiding everything about his identity—I’m not even sure Sebastian is his real name—but, surprisingly, it doesn’t worry me. Probably because I’m not telling him everything either.
It surprised her further to discover she wanted to tell him more. He had an air of quiet competence about him that inspired confidence. Not that she would tell him the truth about her inherent magic. That would be suicide. But he listened when she spoke, really listened in a way that said he cared about what she was saying. Roderick had always listened with half his mind engaged in what he was planning to say next. Sebastian’s attention was…refreshing. And he’s handsome, her irrelevant inner voice said, making her scowl. Handsome was well enough, but Roderick was handsome and she’d learned her lesson about being swayed by an attractive face and roguish eyes.
Ally of the Crown Page 4