“Bitch's britches, Garrett. You just killed my appetite for lunch.” Marcus grabbed his stomach and gagged. “Anyway, esteemed Master of the Mindfully Mental Magicians, I have an appointment with this here gentleman I simply must attend. Farewell, and good day.” He swept into a deep bow, and Julianne couldn’t quite smother her giggle at his show.
“Fine. Just don’t get into any more trouble, you lot. I don’t think my poor fragile heart could handle it,” Julianne said as she slid past Garrett, stifling a groan as he grabbed his left buttock, wiggled his eyebrows seductively, and winked at her.
Julianne waved as she left, her smile sliding into a thoughtful frown as she mentally checked off the list of things Danil had asked her to do. That list was surprisingly short—candles and lanterns, tables and chairs, and dyed cloth to use to decorate the town hall they were using for the celebration.
That’s because I know you’d kick my ass if my bright idea caused you extra work. Danil slid the thought into her mind effortlessly, and she looked up to see him on the other side of the street.
And where are you off to? she sent back as he crossed the street to join her.
Danil’s eyes were white as his mind connected with Julianne’s. He carried his thin cane, which meant he had come into town alone. Without the eyes of another person to guide him, the cane would help him navigate without tripping, but she hadn’t seen him use it outside of the Temple.
Catching her thoughts, he nodded. “I’ve gotten a hang of the town’s layout; thought I’d give it a run on my own. The last thing we need if we’re attacked is some kind but handsome fool bumbling about with no idea where he is.”
“Still,” she said as she took his arm. “You could have asked someone to come with you.”
He grinned as he slid his arm away. “And where’s the fun in that? Bette wagered three coins I couldn’t make it in alone. Have you seen her, by the way? I’m meeting with her and Garrett.”
Julianne shook her head. He couldn’t see it, but she knew he was reading her thoughts anyway. She quickly passed him the snippet of her memory that showed Garrett with Marcus.
“I’ll walk you there?" she suggested.
“Hell no,” he said. “If Bette sees me with you, she’ll think she’s won.”
“Fair enough,” Julianne said. “I’ve organized everything you asked me to for the festival. Is there anything else that needs taking care of?”
“Yes,” he nodded seriously. “You need to wash your hair. Seriously, you look like a scarecrow. You need to look your best tomorrow!” He winked and sauntered away, his cane tapping and scraping along the ground in front of him.
“I know you can see!" she shouted after him. A moment later, his presence disappeared from her head. “I’m so glad I warned the townspeople not to bet against him,” she mused.
Chapter Ten
“Jules, are you ready?” Marcus called from downstairs.
“I’m still doing my hair!” she called back. Technically, Annie was doing it, weaving it into the tiny braids that Julianne had seen some of the village women wearing.
“I thought you came home to wash it yesterday?” he questioned.
“Quit bothering the girl.” Annie stomped to the door, yanked it open and stuck her head out. “And keep your voice down in my house, young man.”
She shut the door, firmly enough to make a point without actually slamming it. “Those men, roll out of bed and into their pants, and that’s all they do of a morning. They’ve no idea.”
“You’ve got that right,” Julianne said.
Annie tugged at the last braid as she tied it off, then stood. “I’ll fetch you a mirror.”
The sliver of mirrored glass wasn’t big enough for Julianne to see her whole face in, but she angled it and turned her head to see what Annie had done.
“Oh, Annie! It’s just beautiful!”
“Say what you like about Tahn, but we do know how to make a lady look like one.” Annie’s face wore its usual stern lines, but a corner of her mouth tweaked up in a proud smile.
“I love it!” Julianne threw her arms around the woman. Julianne wasn’t one to primp and powder herself often, but this was special. Annie doing her hair in the style of the Tahn women made her feel like she had been truly accepted.
“Your robes are downstairs,” Annie said stiffly as she disentangled herself from the enthusiastic embrace. “I’ve washed and pressed them. They’re not perfect, but at least they don’t look like a horse’s doormat.”
If it had been anyone else, Julianne would have hugged her again. The old woman cared for them with a heart of gold, but she was also stubborn. She didn’t like grand gestures or lavish thanks, she just expected people to do right by each other without making a fuss about it.
“Oh, here comes the lady herself!” Marcus said as Julianne shut her door.
She could only see his feet at the bottom of the narrow stairs. As she came down to his level, his eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. “Wow, Jules. That was worth the wait.”
He tentatively put his hands on her arms and pulled her in to kiss her on the cheek, careful not to touch her simple linen dress or her carefully styled hair. “You look stunning,” he murmured into her ear.
She slapped his leather breastplate. “You don’t look so bad yourself, soldier.” His armor had been freshly polished and his hair, usually sandy blonde and floppy, was dark with oil and combed back neatly.
“You two better be looking for somewhere else to stay tonight if you’re planning shenanigans,” Annie growled. “Don’t want that kind of noise keeping me up until dawn.”
Julianne groaned as Marcus barked a laugh. “Fair enough, Annie,” he said. “We’ll wait ‘til morning to tell you all about it.”
Annie just shook her head. “Out, you two. Don’t be waiting on me; Francis is still upstairs. He’ll take me down to the hall but you”—she pushed the white robe into Julianne’s hands—“can’t be late. Off you go!”
She shooed them out the door. Outside, Julianne’s horse was saddled and ready.
“I thought we’d be walking?”
Marcus shook his head. “And get road dust on your dress after Annie went to the effort of cleaning it? I don't think so.”
“You make a good point.” Julianne swung up into her saddle, glad that all her dresses had divided skirts for riding. Though her position as Master often kept her inside, the journey’s she had taken had often called for clothes nicer than the average riding gear.
They nudged the horses into a canter as the sun dropped below the mountains behind them. As they approached the tiny town, Julianne gasped at the tiny lanterns that lined the dirt roads.
“Danil said this was just a small gathering,” Julianne said, a note of unease creeping into her voice.
“You believed him?” Marcus said with a chuckle.
Julianne sighed. “I know his intentions were good, but do you really think it’s the right time for this?” She fiddled with the reins in her hand.
“If the New Dawn come back, they come back.” Marcus slowed his horse to a walk as the hall came into view. The muted sounds of chatter and music leaked through the old, oak doors. “A party won’t make it more or less likely, and I’ve made sure we have a solid watch for the night.”
“I guess.” Julianne pulled her horse up and carefully slid off, brushing short hairs off her robe as one of the village boys ran up to take the horse. She took a deep breath to steady herself, slipping into a light, brief meditation to calm her nerves.
“Come on,” Marcus said. “It’s just a bunch of people, not a horde of remnants.”
Scowling at his back, Julianne wondered how someone with no mind reading talent always seemed to know what she was feeling. She pushed open the door, and light and sound spilled out from within.
Inside, the hall was filled with floating lanterns. An illusion, she quickly realized, augmented by natural light from the candelabras hanging from the rafters. Fresh straw lined
the floor, giving the space an earthy smell and at one end, two men plucked at banjos as a third hummed the opening tune to one of the local ditties she had heard the farmers sing in the field.
“Jules!” Bastian waved at her from across the room, and a small smattering of applause sprang up from the people in the room.
“You go; I have to gather my troops for our demonstration,” Marcus said and nudged her in Bastian’s direction.
She hurried across the room, giving brief smiles to those she passed and stopping to take one woman’s hand as she reached out. “Thank you, Master Julianne,” the woman whispered. Her eyes were wet and her chin trembled.
Julianne whispered a word to herself. As her eyes misted over, a wave of calmness emanated around her. It suffused the old lady with warmth and clarity. She smiled and bowed her head.
Julianne pulled away, unused to being treated like a savior. When she reached Bastian and saw Danil with him, she grabbed his sleeve.
“This,” she said in a low growl, “is exceedingly uncomfortable. Next time you set me up like this, I’ll make you spend a week unable to speak without launching into a theatre song.”
Danil snorted. “Can you do it anyway? I’ve always wanted to live in a musical.”
Rolling her eyes, she turned her back on him to speak to Bastian. “What am I supposed to do tonight?" she asked. Danil hadn’t been forthcoming about what he had planned.
“That’s your seat.” He gestured to a large wooden chair that overlooked the hall. It was decorated with flowers and ribbons.
“Bitch save me,” Julianne muttered under her breath.
Bastian caught her arm before she turned to go. “All the legends about Bethany Anne, all those books we kept back at the Temple? They all made it seem like she hated the worship as much as you do.”
“No bloody wonder,” Julianne said.
“But,” he said, face stern, “they also showed how much the people around her needed it. They needed something to believe in, someone to trust. Back then, it was their queen, their Matriarch. For these people, that’s you.”
“So, you’re saying I should shut up and put up?” Julianne asked.
Bastian nodded.
“Fine. But it wasn’t just me in that fight, remember.”
“I know.” Bastian’s eyes flicked over to the door. “I have to go. Go sit on your fancy chair, and for Bastard’s sake, try and smile?”
He ducked off to speak to Bette, and Julianne flopped into her chair. She wiggled a little, sinking into the thick, soft cushion. At least it’s kind of comfortable, she thought to herself.
More people were pouring through the doors now, and the banjo players were in full swing. A couple of older kids took to the dance floor, showing off with quick dance steps and lots of laughter, which brought the adults in, too.
On the far side of the hall, the screech of a table being dragged along the floor caught Julianne's attention. She looked up to see Danil gesturing to a couple of men who were lining up tables down one side of the hall.
As soon as they stepped back, the food began to appear. Plates of soft cheese and fresh bread, slabs of butter scented with herbs, bowls of fresh fruit and a large tray of carved meat all appeared one by one, filling the festival hall with mouthwatering odors.
Julianne tried to stand, but a hand pressed down on her arm. May stood beside her, shaking her head.
“You sit, Master Julianne. You’ve spent weeks running around after us while we fixed our homes and rebuilt our lives. Tonight, we serve you.” She ducked a small curtsy, then ran off towards the laden tables.
Josie, a girl Julianne recognized as one of May’s friends, brought her a glass of bubbling cider. “Here you go, Master Julianne.”
Julianne took it gratefully, realizing as it touched her lips that she was parched. The sweet liquid tickled her nose, and she stifled a sneeze. Josie giggled, then ran off towards the food.
“I wasn’t sure what to get you, so I just took a bit of everything.” May held out a plate piled high with food.
Used to light meals that allowed her to keep a sharp mind, Julianne wondered if anyone would be offended if she didn’t eat it all. Then again, she didn’t think anyone would get through all that.
“Thanks, May,” Julianne said. “Did you and Josie get something to eat, too?”
“She’s getting mine now,” May said with a grin. “We’re your waiters tonight. Anything you need, you just tell us, and we’ll get it.”
Josie soon returned and the girls sat cross-legged on the floor beside Julianne, despite her insistence they go find seats.
Then, a trumpet bellowed out and stifled the noise inside the hall. In the silence, someone hammered a drum with quick, heavy beats.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of Tahn. May I present, the Guardians of the Border!” Marcus called out the introduction, voice ringing through the hall.
A spot had cleared behind him, quickly filled with the rows of soldiers he had been training over the past weeks. Instead of the ratty shirts and stained pants they usually wore, they were dressed in green linens with leather and brass chest pieces.
The armor wouldn’t be enough to cover them in a real fight, but it was a start. Julianne watched them hurry to form straight rows, marveling at how well Marcus had them working together already.
She quickly counted their heads—four were missing. The other four are on watch? She sent to Marcus.
Yes, along with six others. They volunteered so we could have enough for the show, Marcus thought.
“Soldiers! Preseeeeent arms!” Marcus snapped, voice dripping with confident authority.
With one fluid movement, the troops unslung their spears and stamped them on the ground, then pointed them forwards in a fierce grip.
“One!”
As a single unit, all the soldiers lunged forwards, thrusting their spears towards the onlookers.
“Two!”
They pulled back, standing tall, weapons pointed to the ceiling.
“Three!”
On they went through twelve different stances, each movement graceful and each pose strong and uniform. The next display was a mock fight between Sharne and Carey. They lunged and struck, their moves slow but impressive.
The fight was obviously choreographed, but the audience reacted with gasps and cheers when Sharne finally landed Carey on his back, her spear at his throat. They stood, clasping hands and raising them into the air before taking a bow.
The drums rang out again and the soldiers scattered. Julianne caught sight of Sharne, flushed and grinning by the door.
“Thank you! Now, we have a demonstration from our resident mystics. Enjoy the show!” Marcus yelled, before darting off to join his men.
Chapter Eleven
His part done, Marcus fetched a cup of cider and some bread. He slathered the loaf thick with fragrant butter and bit down before it melted.
“This ish delicioush,” he mumbled to the young woman at the table.
“Anything for a brave warrior like yourself,” she said, long eyelashes fluttering.
Marcus looked at her appraisingly. She wore a floating gown that buttoned over her bodice, then fell to the floor. Back in Arcadia, it would have resembled something closer to a woman’s nightgown than a dress for an event, even a casual one like this.
“The people of this town are the brave ones.” He coughed, trying to brush off her stare. It sat on his chest like a lead weight.
The girl licked her lips, then giggled softly. “Oh, you’re so sweet, too. Is there someone waiting for you back home?” She reached for his shirt, smoothing a wrinkle near his collar that he was pretty sure didn’t exist.
Marcus coughed, eyes darting around to look for an escape. “Back home? No. I mean, yes… it’s complicated?”
“I like complicated,” she whispered, leaning close.
Marcus took a quick step backwards, almost tripping over someone’s child. “I really should be going. Over there. To sit with my, err…”
Bitch take me, Jules is gonna kill me for this. “With my girlfriend.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed, a flash of anger sparking fear in Marcus’s heart. This was not the kind of battle he had trained for. Then, she looked where he had pointed.
“Oh. Oh!” A hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes opened wide. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I had no idea the two of you were together!” She ducked a curtsy. “Tell Master Julianne I hope she enjoyed the breads. And, perhaps, we could forget about…” she waved her hands.
Stifling a sigh of relief, Marcus nodded. “Of course. The bread is lovely. In fact, I should take some for Julianne.” He helped himself to another serving, not that he intended to share it, and walked off as quickly as he could.
“Bastard’s luck is with ye tonight, friend. Ye know who that was?” Garrett appeared beside Marcus and clapped him on the shoulder.
“No?” Marcus hadn’t met the girl before, though he knew most of the villagers by now.
“It’s old Jefferson’s lass.” Garrett watched Marcus’s reaction closely and dissolved into laughter as the blood drained from his face to leave two bright pink spots of color in his cheeks. “Aye, so ye know who he is?”
“I’ve heard rumors,” was all Marcus would admit. “Do you know where Danil’s gone off to?”
“Gettin' ready for his little show with Bastian, I imagine.” Garrett looked around. He spotted a stool off to one side and jumped up on it, craning to see over the crowd. Even with the stool, he wasn’t any taller than the revelers. “Ahh, get outta me way, ye bastards!”
“You could go sit down in the front?” Marcus suggested.
“Oh, aye. Put the wee rearick down in the front with the rest of the bairns. I’m not a fucking child, ye prick. I’m not even the shortest man in town!” Garrett glared at the cluster of people in front of him, as if hoping to bore through them with the heat of his fury.
It didn’t work. Instead they pushed closer, a particularly tall woman obscuring Garrett’s view even more. “Ah, fuck it. Off ta join the little fuckers down in the front, then. And if ye laugh, I’ll cut yer tongue out.”
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