Allegra made a mocking sound. “Tell me you aren’t one of those deluded fools who believe rich women are fine ladies waiting to be swept off their feet by a charming man. And, when I say charming, I do mean in his own mind, not in the lady’s opinion.”
Rainier crossed his boots at the ankles, then followed it up by making a show of crossing his arms across his chest. He leaned back into his seat and eyed her. “Even if I felt that way, I would promptly adjust my thinking now that I’ve met the likes of you, Contessa.”
Allegra beamed at him. “Captain, I believe we’re about to have a fabulous journey.”
“Provided we don’t kill each other?”
“That’s why it’s going to be fabulous.” She grinned. “The thrill.”
“I pity the Holy Father.”
“So do I.”
On their journey went, banter over the rumble of the carriage wheels on dirt road. Allegra was impressed by the road, and commented on it several times. There had been no proper road when she’d first moved to Borro Abbey. Both Borro County and its neighbor, Cherese, had the right attitude during the famine a decade before. They feared unrest, so opened their coffers for labor-intensive construction projects. Most of the work was building roads, but a few wharves were built, too, and the meagre wages paid were enough to keep the people from rioting when the price of bread exploded.
It had all been a knee-jerk reaction, designed solely for the purpose to help the poor afford the oppressive import taxes on grain during two successive crop failures. There was no long-term planning, beyond stopping mass rioting, but there had been long lasting and unforeseen consequences.
Surrounding counties immediately began expanding their roads, and lobbied King Matteo, monarch of Amadore, for more funds. The king, eager to prevent anything that remotely smelled of “peasant revolt,” happily gave additional funds. The roads expanded. Technology was developed to improve them. And then more trade arrived. More trade meant more money. More money meant more spending. More, more, more.
The more far-flung nations and city-states were still working on their own segments of Cathedral’s Way, as the long highway was soon dubbed, but it was a marvel of engineering excellence and progressive, enlightened thinking by the rulers.
“I wonder if the roads are going north yet,” Allegra asked.
“There are several projects,” Rainier said. “Cumberland, Northumberland, and Southumberland are building their own network of roads that will eventually connect and continue south to the Cathedral.”
“Will it be called the Umberland Highway?”
“Maybe,” Rainier said, taking no offense.
Allegra continued to stare out of the carriage window, watching the farm workers picking up the bundles of dried crops. Some were hay, she knew, while others would have been an assortment of the heartier cereal crops that could grow in the shadow of the Borro mountain range before they tapered off into the warm and fertile lowlands.
While at Orsini, she had to remember to send Nadira shopping for the various nalbinding, knitting, and weaving projects Allegra would undertake during the winter months, when snow blanketed Borro Abbey. Borro Village often had a difficult time getting in supplies, for the obvious reasons of knee-deep snow, so she should get as much as she could now and bring it back with her. Weave a little magic into each of the projects and each was a special gift to whoever she gave it to.
She wondered what magic she’d weave for the Captain. There was only so much control most mages had over the magic they enchanted; so much was left to unconscious chance. Allegra had some of the best education money could buy and even she struggled with control. Allegra was very careful to only weave with the lightest touch for people she didn’t care about all that much, after the disastrous mittens she’d made her brother’s wife upon their marriage. At least the blisters didn’t leave any lasting marks and, in time, she’d forgiven Allegra.
Perhaps her magic would weave a whimsical array of protections for the heroic Captain. Something to clot blood in case of grievous injuries, something to keep his feet warm in winter, and perhaps something that glowed bright pink in the darkness of a hidden moon. She looked out the window so that he wouldn’t see her smirk.
A little while later, he interrupted her silent revelry. “Pero mentioned you and the Holy Father were friends, but I admit I thought he meant he was a friend of your family, not of yours specifically. You must have grown up together.”
“We were the very best of friends. We got into so much trouble. Everyone was convinced we were destined to be together, which terrified my father.”
When it was clear Rainier was waiting for more of an answer, Allegra said, “Rupert is the third son of a baron. My father was the Conte of Marsina. I was his eldest child and was to inherit everything. Rupert was hardly what my father envisioned as his future heir’s husband.”
“Isn’t the Holy Father older than you?”
“Only by seven years. He’s only forty-two.”
“You do not look thirty-five,” Rainier said.
Allegra replied with a roll of the eyes.
“Your father must have been relieved when Francois turned out to like men.”
“He was furious, actually. My poor father was convinced this was a personal slight against my honor as a woman. Ha! My father went to his grave cursing Rupert, I’m sure. It’s just as well he didn’t live to see him become the Holy Father. He would have never forgiven the Almighty for that one.”
“I’m sorry for the loss of your father, Contessa.”
“Oh, it was a long time ago.” She smiled at him. “No doubt, he is proud of me in his own way, if the dead can even see us.”
“Wouldn’t he be upset you never married?”
“Please! No man was ever good enough in my father’s eyes. No, when I die, my brother will inherit the estate and the title. And, if I outlive him, he has several sturdy girls and boys to continue on our family line.” Allegra let out a contented sigh. “I’m safe, secure, and significantly richer than he was. I’d like to think Father would have approved of some of my life, at least.”
She grew quiet for a moment, wondering as she often did if her father would have actually been proud of her. She looked up and saw Rainier’s confused expression. So, she drew in a deep breath and said, “I was so proud of Rupert when the Council voted for him. I never expected it. He’s about ninety years too young for the position.”
Rainier smiled. “Some of those old cardinals do look older than the abyss itself, don’t they?”
Silence settled between them again for a few minutes before Rainier broke it once more. “Contessa, why won’t you take the position of Arbiter?”
Allegra frowned and went back to looking out the window. There was just enough of a breeze to make the open windows enjoyable without an excessive amount of bugs ending up inside the carriage. She rarely left the confines of the Borro region, and it was nice to see how the countryside was changing—and staying exactly the same.
“It’s a waste of time,” Allegra finally said, knowing she had to say something. “No one is actually interested in stopping a slave revolt, nor are they interested in changing the laws that are making the possibility of a revolt a reality. This is all for show, as evident by the last several Arbiters. Particularly the last one, who was able to make things worse without having war declared. Impressive, if horrific.”
“Something has to be done,” Rainier said. “There could be civil war in a year or two, if we’re not careful. You would be respected and considered a neutral party, working only for the Almighty. You could help stop the war.”
“Perhaps war is what we deserve.”
Rainier snorted and looked away. “How typical.”
“Ah, yes. I’m merely a pampered peer wanting war. Someone who’s never picked up a sword in her life, nor would be impacted in any way by bloodshed in the streets.” Allegra didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm in her voice. “I mi
ght even make a tidy sum from a war, and line my pockets with the sovereigns stolen from the dead.”
“That is not what I meant,” Rainier said coolly. “I believe you know that.”
“What I know is that you were sent here to escort me. And, since I know the Holy Father, I know you were also sent to butter me up.” She leaned forwarded and said, “I am not a biscuit served at breakfast.”
“And there she is,” Rainier said.
“What do you mean?”
“The true woman behind all of the courtly nonsense you’ve been pushing at me for the last three hours. I was wondering when you’d actually make an appearance.”
Allegra scoffed and looked back out the window. Chattingston, her estate in Marsina, wasn’t as mountainous as Borro; it was more rolling countryside and green, wide pasture. There, her tenants raised animals, cereal crops, and vegetables. There was even a farmer who had a small orchard in one section of his acre and the apples and plums were a welcome treat that always fetched a tidy sum for him, and the estate, at market.
She hadn’t been back there in three years, and that was only to say good-bye to a beloved aunt on her deathbed.
It wasn’t that she loved Borro more than home. Borro was different. It was all craggy mountains and grass-covered valleys. Here, they only grew a few types of grains. There were plenty of sheep, though. And cows. Various berries loved the cool air and snowy winters, so at least everyone’s teeth were never threatened by scurvy. She hated the cold when she first arrived, but soon grew acclimatized to the crisp air untainted by heat, humidity, and human waste.
And it was quiet. No one expected anything of her. Oh, yes, she entertained the visiting nobles along with Father Michael, and many of her family and friends made pilgrimages to the Cathedral, and detoured to Borro for a couple of weeks to visit with her. The abbey enjoyed the additional revenue, and Allegra didn’t have to leave her tiny cottage.
There, she was safe and isolated from the world. She could hide away. Maybe Rupert and the Grand Duchess were right about her all long; perhaps she was as fragile as they seemed to think. Maybe she was of low spirits after all, and shouldn’t be travelling about…
Allegra laughed inwardly. What rot. She had no patience for the stupidity of politics, and Orsini Palace, along with the Cathedral, was the heart of politics. She would have to step very carefully there, for a host of reasons. Rupert understood that; he, of all people, knew the risks Allegra took every time she stepped into the middle of the courtly dais. And, yet, he would try this tactic on her now.
“I apologize for taking my frustrations out on you,” Allegra said finally. “I hate the Cathedral. I hate the politics of the place. And I hate how they stare at me.”
“Because you’re a witch? I mean, a mage?”
She didn’t scowl at him for the slip. At least he knew she preferred to be called a mage, and not a witch. A childhood of witch bitch was more than enough to make her loathe the term. “Many of them believe I should have been tattooed. Cousin to Grand Duchess Katherine, the cousin of the King of Amadore, aunt of the Queen of Cartossa. Me. Branded like a convict. And they stare at me, and needle me, and do everything they can to see if they can make me snap.”
“You should catch someone’s hair on fire. That would show them,” Rainier said, and a hint of a smile tugged the edges of his mouth.
Allegra laughed in spite of herself. She knew he was referring to elemental magic. She knew it was supposed to be a joke. She didn’t feel the joke, but she let it be. “I doubt they’d let me get so close with a match to do the job.”
His smile said that he understood the gentle rebuke. “I’d have to arrest you for arson. It would be messy.”
She forced a smile, but knew it came across more exhausted than happy. “I loathe Cathedral politics.”
“Then you are the right person for the job. If nothing else, you’ll provide endless entertainment. I’d vote for you on that principle alone, if I were a Cardinal.”
“Yes, as Arbiter, I shall end these rebellions by cuffing the ears of everyone involved and sending them to bed without their supper. Oh, and I would liberate the slaves, make poor mages equal citizens, and stop branding people in the streets.”
“It’s good to know you wouldn’t propose anything radical,” Rainier said. “Why did Francois ask to see you?”
“If I were to guess, this is his way of inviting me over for dinner.”
****
Darkness had blanketed the sky by the time they pulled into their evening accommodations. They’d changed horses various times throughout the day, but rarely rested more than a few moments to stretch or use an outhouse. They did stop once for half an hour to partake of an inn’s hot supper on offer. It was a gray-hued potage of assorted, unidentifiable bits, but at least it was warm and salty. The bread was well-baked, however, with higher quality wheat than Allegra expected to find at a waystation inn.
Allegra’s joints and muscles ached, and her intestines loudly protested both the potage and her staunch refusal to relieve herself in the bushes along the trek. Rainier had asked her a few times if she needed the carriage to stop when her guts began their gurgling chorus, but she’d refused. One childhood encounter with poison oak on her nether regions was more than enough for a lifetime.
When the carriage finally stopped, Allegra used only the most basic of manners before stumbling down the carriage’s three steps to beg the attending servant for the outhouse’s location. For a terrifying moment, she feared Rainier was going to follow her right up to the wooden structure’s front door. Thankfully, he only followed enough for discreet protection and kept back enough to allow her as much privacy as one could expect while suffering intestinal complaints in a public outhouse.
Several moments passed before she emerged from the building, feeling both lighter, from the obvious, and dizzy, from the pit’s desperate need of being backfilled and relocated.
Rainier was still standing in the same location. A little slip of a boy was holding a lantern on a tall stick near Rainier, cutting through the darkness. A stableboy was rushing over to the carriages with another lantern as Lex shouted into the darkness.
“Dammit all to the demons, I can’t see. Boy! Boy!”
“Here, sir!” Came a young voice just as the lantern light flashed on Lex’s face.
“Don’t shine it in my fucking eyes!”
“Sorry, sir.”
Allegra glanced back to her carriage. Lex was balanced on top of the luggage that had been tied to the roof. Lex shouted in the dusk, “Your Ladyship?”
Allegra stepped next to Rainier and the light. “Yes, Lex?”
“Ah! There you are. Which of your bags did you want?”
“Just the black bag on top, thanks.”
“They all look black, your ladyship,” Lex complained.
Rainier failed to stifle his chuckle. Allegra shouted back, not bothering to hide the mirth in her voice, “It has a gold buckle on the front.”
“Found it!” Lex shouted. “Dodd! Catch!”
Lex dropped the bag down to Dodd, who caught it easily. He walked over and Rainier offered to take it. Dodd handed the bag over and said, “Sir, you need us to pull down anything for you?”
“My green carpet bag,” Rainier said. Dodd shouted over his shoulder, “Captain’s green carpet bag, Lex!”
“Fucking green looks fucking black,” Lex complained.
“Watch your tongue, Lex. We have a contessa in our midst,” Rainier shouted.
“Yes, Captain. Sorry, Your Ladyship.”
“It’s fine, Lieutenant.” She grinned at Rainier. “Just get those bags down.”
“Yes, Your Ladyship,” Lex grumbled. “Dodd! Dodd, stop laughing or I swear to the Almighty I will beat your ass.”
“Ignore Lex,” Rainier said. “He gets angry when he’s hungry. Is there a word for that?”
“There should be,” Allegra said solemnly, even though her grin
hadn’t faded.
“He’ll settle down once he has an ale and a loaf in his hands.”
Allegra smiled and then looked around her approvingly. They were in the back alley, near the stables. There were servants rushing around, along with coachmen in their long greatcoats laughing and slapping each other. The stable boys were unhitching horses or hitching horses back up. Horses snorted and whinnied as they were led here and there, depending upon if they were done working or just getting started.
This was one of the staging inns along Cathedral Way. Horses could be dropped off from other stages and fresh ones picked up; all of the stables had agreements with one another. The first inn they changed horses at would send Allegra’s personal horses back to the Abbey with a servant. The rest of the horses were shared between the inns.
“I’ve stayed here a few times over the years. It’s always been quite a respectable establishment.” She looked about. “It’s grown since the last time I was here. It looks less shabby, too.”
Rainier put his hand on the back of his neck as he stretched. “Pero recommended we time our journey to arrive here. He said you’d find it cleaner than most of the other options.”
Allegra smiled as Lieutenant Lex walked by carrying a small trunk. “Captain, want me to get us set up inside?”
“Please,” Rainier said.
“I’ll see if they have anything decent to eat. I’m starving,” Dodd said, walking past them and also carrying a small trunk up on one shoulder.
“Leave some for the rest of us,” Rainier ordered, but the other two had already turned their backs to walk inside. Lex did raise a hand, waving that he’d recognized the order, though did nothing to acknowledge the order was going to be followed.
“Martin? First watch?” Rainier shouted.
Martin waved to the stable boy and jogged over to them. Martin was short in height, and in his late teenage years or early twenties. Allegra thought he was fair-skinned, though it was difficult to tell through all of the dirt on his face and hands. “Rahna and I will look after things out there. Stableboys said there’s servants up at all hours, but we’re going to sleep with the Contessa’s carriage. Just to make sure and all, Captain.”
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