His mind registered that this, after all, was his end, and surprise and regret suffused him.
Then the hands shifted their grip, and hauled him out of the water.
SIX
For a time Leander couldn’t say anything—couldn’t even think. He coughed, spluttered, gasped, shaking his head in an effort to get all the water out. His nose burned, and his lungs hurt.
But finally his vision cleared again, and he blinked at Senrid, now perched on a rock within arm’s reach, his bland, smiling face exactly the same as ever, right to the steady gaze.
That had been a near thing. Leander thought back on those fading images. Senrid could have drowned him and no one would have known. But he’d changed his mind.
Leander could ask, but he knew with sudden conviction that he would not get the truth. That would have to be arrived at some other way.
“Well I’m awake,” he said. “And clean. And cold. Let’s cook up something hot to drink before we ride on back.”
“Tell me what to do,” Senrid said. If he was relieved, it was impossible to discern.
Senrid was the most self-possessed kid of his age Leander had ever seen. For that matter, how old was he, anyway?
“Scout out some grub, maybe? I’ll have to run about and visit all the herb stashes again since we used everything I found last night.”
“You didn’t grow them here?” Senrid looked down at the loamy soil.
Leander said, “We were outlaws. All Mara Jinea would have needed was a single warrior raised on a farm, and an herb garden would be as good as a signpost: We’re right here!”
Senrid laughed. “Well, I don’t know anything about farms.”
Leander nodded. “I didn’t either, until I lived here. Anyway, we’ve got steeped leaf and coffee beans in the cave. Alaxandar and his cronies in the old guard all like coffee. I’ll get the fire going. While I’m gone, you could saddle up the horses.”
Everything progressed as Leander had outlined. He roasted and ground the coffee beans, from lack of practice making it rather strong, but the kid drank it down without a complaint or even a shudder. Coffee. The army drink, Alaxandar had once called it, Leander reflected.
They ate a breakfast of fish and potatoes-with-onions, plus the late berries Leander had found along the riverbanks. By the time the gear was clean and stowed the horses were ready—groomed better and quicker than Leander could have. They mounted up and started on the way back.
Leander’s mind raced ahead, considering what needed to be done, what ought to be done—and what couldn’t be done.
Senrid rode beside him, apparently content to look about him, his profile giving, as usual, no clue to his thoughts.
Kitty woke up slowly. Her head no longer hurt, and the dizziness was gone. She sat up cautiously. Other than her limbs feeling heavy, she didn’t feel badly enough to stay in bed.
She got up, and found that Llhei had made a nice hot bath for her, with rose petals floating on the water.
She climbed in, soaking in the warmth and aromatic steam; presently she became aware of Llhei moving about the room, and opened her eyes.
“I’m hungry,” she said.
Llhei smiled, her lined face looking younger. “You’re feeling better, then, child?”
“Much,” Kitty pronounced. “Not that Leander would care! Where is he?”
“He checked on you last night, but you were asleep.”
“I suppose he’s off with that creep kid?”
“Kitty.” Llhei stopped, crossing her arms.
“I don’t care,” Kyale said. “I don’t care if it’s not fair. I wasn’t dreaming, I was thinking. He’s not friendly, he pretends to be. He kept asking nosy questions. I didn’t realize it until he ran out of them, and then he just—”
“Just wanted to talk to someone else? Another boy, maybe?” Llhei suggested in a gentle voice.
Kitty sighed. She could tell that no one was going to believe her. “Oh, never mind. Let me get dressed, and eat something, and I’ll tell Leander myself. With or without Little Sunny-face.”
“Leander,” Llhei said, “is not here. He rode off for a day in the woods—and about time, too.”
Kitty frowned. “Why couldn’t he do it with me?”
Llhei laughed. “When you decide you like dirt and camping on the ground in cold weather?”
“Oh, never mind.”
“Do you feel strong enough to come downstairs, or would you prefer a tray up here?”
“Tray,” Kitty grumped.
She ate with good appetite, feeling much better when she was done. So she walked to the library, and this time not seeking entertainment, but facts. Only where should she look?
She moved to a shelf she’d ignored hitherto, Leander having said once, These are the ones Mara Jinea didn’t destroy, I guess because they were too boring. Choosing several books, she tucked them under her arm and retreated to her room and her warm bed, rising only when she heard horsehooves in the courtyard.
The time was mid-afternoon. She got up and ran to her window, looking out in time to see a dark head and a blond one as they rode past the wall leading to the stable. A short while later they crossed the courtyard on foot, talking and laughing, and passed inside.
Kitty made her way downstairs. The boys were not in the study, or the library, or the dining room. She descended last to the kitchens and there they were.
When she saw Senrid’s round, friendly face, her suspicions wavered. He really didn’t look like any creep—and she wondered if being jealous made her imagine things.
Maybe a talk with Leander would help her straighten out her thinking.
“Feeling better?” Leander asked.
Senrid smiled in welcome.
“Very much so,” Kitty said. “In fact, I’m hungry again.”
“Here comes some chicken pie, fresh from the oven.”
They sat round the far end of the preparation table and ate. Kitty listened as the boys talked, mostly about horses. Kitty listened intermittently, trying to curb her impatience. When Leander stated that other types of horses might look better, or pull more, for speed there was no horse faster than those of the Nelkereth Plains, Senrid readily agreed.
Who cares about horses? Kitty fought a yawn. She was soon done, but she sat quietly until the boys had finished eating, and rose when they did.
Leander proposed a game of cards-and-shards. Kitty loathed that game—as she loathed any game that required speed and memory and what Leander called ‘strategy’—but she was willing to sit and wait until she could get Leander aside.
But before they reached the stairs, he turned around.
“Kitty? You don’t like cards. Why don’t you—”
She interrupted. “I want to talk to you.”
“I’m afraid we’re not being very polite,” Leander countered.
Kitty sighed, sneaking a look at Senrid. He watched, smiling like always. “Look, I just want to talk to you.”
“How about later?”
Kitty sighed again, more loudly. “When?”
“When we both find the time.”
Kitty struggled with rage, recalling some of Faline’s favorite curses. “You algae-eyed clod-nosed flapdoodle—”
“You can insult me later,” Leander stated, also smiling, but his gaze was uncomfortably direct. “Try to keep your pets away for now.”
He turned away, and Senrid followed.
Kitty stamped her bare foot, whirled around, and retreated to her room to finish her reading.
What she found surprised her so much she felt she should double-check by reading on, but the closely written pages listing trade deals and treaties was indeed dull, and she was more tired than she’d thought she would be, after having had fever the day before. She fell asleep without meaning to, and woke briefly when Llhei covered her with a quilt.
When morning came, she was determined to have her talk with Leander no matter what. But when she reached the dining room, both boys were already
there. Leander was grinning, his eyes wide and very green. Senrid, too, looked cheery, as he always did. Kitty scowled.
“Kitty—good morning! You’re the first to hear—Senrid wants to stay with us.”
Kitty gasped. “But Leander, I have something to—”
“Your approval is required,” Leander began.
“What? No!” With a desperate idea of whispering her warning in his ear, Kitty approached her brother, but she had to pass by Senrid’s chair.
She did not notice his foot out. She tripped, and when he tried to catch her, somehow his elbow thrust straight into her stomach.
“Oooog,” Kitty gasped, fighting against nausea. “Uuuungh!”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” Senrid exclaimed. “Accident!”
Kitty bent both her arms over her middle and ran out.
She made it upstairs and collapsed on her bed. Slowly the cramp loosened and she began muttering to herself—until she heard her door open quietly.
“Who’s a rot-faced lumberhead?”
It was Senrid.
He sat on the edge of her bed. “I’m sorry,” he said, with his disarming grin. “Please come downstairs. Leander wants to explain everything.”
Kitty sat up. “He does?”
“Sure. Come along.” He held out a hand.
Kitty avoided it, pressing her forearm against her middle, which was still tender. Senrid took her free arm and guided her out, his manner so apologetic her bad feelings died away.
To her surprise he headed not down the hall to the library, or down the stairway to the dining room, but for the back stair leading to the courtyard.
“Is he outside?” Kitty asked, trying once to free herself from Senrid’s grip. He didn’t squeeze her arm, but his grip was impossible to break.
“Yes,” Senrid said.
They reached the courtyard, and Kitty saw no Leander. “He’s not here,” she accused, the bad feelings rushing back.
“Right outside the gates.”
Outside the gates? Kitty stopped—that is, she tried to. “I don’t believe you.” And she sucked in her breath to yell for her brother.
Senrid’s hold shifted, and she felt something sharp prick her neck under her ear. She glanced down, and gasped in surprise. “That knife—it’s from the camp!”
“Yep. It’s a good blade. Much too good to be consigned to cutting vegetables. Just a few steps farther, till we clear the perimeter of the castle, and your brother’s wards—”
“You’ll stay where you are.”
“Leander!” Kitty squeaked in relief.
From the very edge of her vision Kitty saw Leander standing at the big doors. From behind him came Arel, and Alaxandar, and Pertar, all armed. Alaxandar had an arrow nocked and aimed.
Senrid looked around. He sighed.
Alaxandar raised the bow a trifle.
“Let Kitty go,” Leander said.
Senrid lifted his hands, keeping Kitty between him and that arrow, she being too surprised to move for the crucial moments it took for him to back up hastily, muttering under his breath. He made it through the gateway a moment before the arrow flew, whistling, right where he’d been standing.
Senrid had vanished—by magic.
Kitty wailed in relief.
“Thank you, Alaxandar,” Leander said. “You were fast.”
“Not fast enough,” Alaxandar growled. “That shot would’ve winged him, nice and tight.”
“Well, then what? I wouldn’t know what to do with him. At least he couldn’t do any magic to damage us, which is what mattered.” He turned to Kitty, his frown changing to worry. “Are you all right? I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before, but I had to get the others, without him knowing. He was with me almost all the time, and I didn’t know if I was fooling him or not.”
“I’m fine.” Kitty sighed. “I was desperate to talk to you! I wasn’t really sure. What made you suspicious about him?”
“A lot of little things.”
“Conrad hated him—”
“Yes, Conrad’s behavior was a puzzle, but that could have been explained by your sudden dislike. The real problem was that Senrid tried too hard, too fast. And he lied to me about breaking into my library—”
“He made me promise not to tell you!”
“What happened? He fall asleep?”
“Yes!”
“Hah.” Leander grinned, feeling almost giddy with relief. “I had a ward in there against black magic. What did he do, make a zaplight?”
“Yes! I thought it was yours.”
“That’s all it would take,” Leander said. “I’ve been afraid that he was some sort of Marloven spy.”
“Ugh,” said Kitty, rubbing her stomach. “He’s worse than that.”
Thinking she was just being insulting, Leander went on. “I didn’t know what to do next when I realized magic was involved, except try to play along and fool him. Get him to be friendly, to talk, to reveal what his purpose was. He dissolved one of my castle wards—I didn’t know for certain until last night. This was after a weird day at the old hideout, ending with him palming one of our supply knives without asking. I didn’t think he’d use it against you, or I never would have let that get by. But I didn’t know what he was after! I renewed the wards—spent half the night doing it—and he must had been able to tell, because he was trying to drag you beyond the walls, which are the ward perimeter. I didn’t expect that at all! Why would he take you as a hostage—what could he possibly want from us?”
Kitty said, “I couldn’t really believe it was him.”
Leander stopped walking and looked down at her. “What do you mean? That he’s some kind of mage-apprentice, as I said, sent to spy—”
“Then you don’t know,” Kitty gloated forebodingly. “I guess you haven’t had time to go through the records. Me, I did—one at a time, since you wouldn’t help me—and last night I found some stuff about Marloven Hess. Mother didn’t destroy everything.”
“I know that, but all she left were outdated list-books on old taxes, land transactions, trade and treaties. The Guild houses have all that stuff copied, but I left them anyway. What did you find out and where?”
“In this trade and treaty book, like you said. Here and there, back ten years ago, fifteen, twenty, were some deals with them. Marlovens.”
Leander whistled. “Of course the Guilds wouldn’t copy any of that. Go on.”
“Buried in the list about ten years ago was a note that their last king—not the grandfather, who was long dead, but his son—had died, and a child was now king. The king’s brother, his name is Tdanerend, became regent, because the treaties were signed by him, in the child’s name, and not by King Indevan. Then I fell asleep. This morning I counted up the years.”
Leander whistled. “And this child’s name?”
Kitty nodded. “You guessed it. I didn’t believe it either. Kept thinking the same name showing up was an accident. But after what just happened, and the years adding up, well, I believe it now.”
“Believe what?”
Kitty said grimly, “That Senrid is the king of Marloven Hess.”
Leander’s laughter echoed up the castle walls.
PART TWO
An excerpt
from the records
of
Cherene Jennet Sherwood
of Mearsies Heili
ONE
Winter hit us like a splat in the phizz from a week-old fish.
When that first storm finally left us alone Mearsies Heili lay frozen, all blue, silver, and white, under a deep-winter frost. The air was heartlessly clear and cold, and though the sun shone it gave no warmth.
At the west end of the city on the cloud top, the white palace gleamed like a castle of ice. It felt a bit like a castle of ice to those of us inside, for despite the warmth of very old magic, occasional cold drafts drifted through and we, the occupants, shivered.
In one of the upper bedrooms lay a figure under a pile of warm, fluffy quilts—
Wait.
Since I began letting others read my records, I can no longer assume that they’ll only be read by Mearsieans further down the stream of time. That means any poor slob—ah, person trudging through my records in the future might not know anything about us.
So here are some quick details.
I am Cherene Jennet Sherwood, right-hand splat to Clair Sherwood, Mearsies Heili’s queen. Being a princess doesn’t mean fancy clothes (who’d see them?) or fancy rituals (who’d attend ‘em?), but being in charge when Clair’s not at hand. We have no court, and no aristos, in small, mostly-farm-and-wood Mearsies Heili. We’re kids. We can stay kids here on Sartorias-deles, I hope you’re aware; I didn’t know any Old Sartoran history when this adventure occurred, so in case you’re still learning old history, I’ll just tell you that people in the ancient days used to control a lot of things—including their aging process. The white magic non-aging spell is a kind of faint echo of that, added to the fact that time and space on this world are not as, well, predictable as they are on Earth.
Anyhow, Clair didn’t have any siblings, just one friend, a little girl from the city. When the Yxubarecs killed her Clair was lonely. She spent most of her time learning magic, but she missed having a friend. She wanted someone who liked her, not her rank, so in her free time she zapped her way around on our continent, finding girls who were lonely or in rotten situations, and offered them a new start—and then she discovered the World Gate. It was on Earth that she found me, and later Gwen. And back in history centuries before my time four of our kid regional governors originated, in their first lives.
So there were nine of us—not counting Clair’s cousin, meanly named Puddlenose by the Chwahir who kidnapped him when small (that’s again another story) and his traveling buddy Christoph, who was a friend of one of those governors, from Earth long ago. They were itchfeet, and regarded Mearsies Heili as home base, rather than home.
That’s us. Now, back to late autumn—or early winter—a few months after Faline’s adventure.
As always, Clair’s curtains were drawn back and low sunlight slanted in, sparking highlights in her white hair. The only signs that she was alive were her breathing and the sneezes that erupted now and then, punctuated by rattling coughs. The sudden cold weather had caught her; already overtired from too much study on top of her regular queen chores, she’d gotten chilled, kept working anyway, until she was too sick to move.
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