Part 6 (1/2)
Hopping on the icy inn room floor, I climbed into my borrowed dress and hiked my skirts into my belt. We'd leave the main road today; if I wanted to light out for Yeris Volbann on my own, the moment was close. If I could slip away from the ever-watchful Nemair and their equally attentive retinue. So far I'd not had even a moment's privacy among these people, let alone a full hour when n.o.body was paying attention to me.
Seeing me dressed, Meri dutifully held out her arms to receive her own traveling costume, mimicking the arrangement of my skirts. She had started off full of excitement, delighted by the grand adventure, but the farther we moved from the familiar safety of Favom, the more anxious she seemed. I couldn't blame her: She was leaving the Decath, the only family she'd known for the last five years, and I knew she wasn't sure exactly what to make of the ones who'd come to take their place.
I'd be grateful if you'd be a friend to her. Pox. I slipped beside her and put a tentative hand on her shoulder, steeling myself to keep it there as a swirl of magic flared up around my fingers. I had discovered that even wearing Meri's silver bracelet, I could still see the magic on her whenever we touched. The silver didn't seem to inhibit how magic reacted to me, or my ability to detect it. She turned her gaze from the window and tried to smile, but a quivering lip betrayed her.
”All right!” I backed off. ”Let's fetch some breakfast.”
”I'm not very hungry,” she said.
Meri could afford to skip a meal or two, but some of us woke up starving as a routine and knew that you ate when you had the chance. ”I'm getting food for us. Don't eat if you don't want, but who knows what they have planned for lunch.”
The inn's common room was surprisingly crowded. This place was remote, and the season for travel was waning, but apparently the colorful wagons and the knot of retainers camped outside with our cargo had drawn out the neighborhood curious. Mostly forest folk, in for a nip before heading to do whatever it was forest folk did. Not the richest pickings, unfortunately. A couple of the liveried Nemair guards sat together at a table near the door. I recognized the big young one from yesterday. Phandre had spent almost the whole day trying to get him to help her forget Raffin.
The mood in the room was strange; most people kept to them selves or smiled at their neighbors, but a current of tension swirled through the diners. I climbed up onto a tall stool at the bar as I waited for our food.
”I'm just telling you what I heard,” a wiry man in a much-patched jerkin was saying. ”They've increased patrols on the roads, and they're checking everyone's pa.s.sage licenses. Seems they're on the hunt for somebody special.”
I tensed. If they were checking pa.s.sports, that meant I was stuck with the Nemair. The patrols we'd pa.s.sed on the road so far had been happy to wave a n.o.ble party along with a nod and a bow. But a girl all alone would draw suspicion.
Think ahead, Digger. I had to draft myself some doc.u.ments, just as soon as I could lay my hands on some paper. And a magistrate's seal. Pox and h.e.l.ls.
”I've heard it's Prince Wierolf, trying to sneak back into the country.”
”Why sneak?” put in a heavyset laborer coming to join the conversation, a mug of ale in each hand. ”Don't he own the whole d.a.m.n place?”
”Not yet - not till Bardolph says he does.”
”Which he won't. Old mule. G.o.ddess save him, and all that, of course.”
”I heard he off and married some Talancan girl.” Somebody gave a chuckle. ”I'd be sneaking too.”
His neighbor popped him in the head and scoffed. ”That's twaddle, and you know it. Milord's met the man and says if it don't involve books or horses, Wierolf's not interested.”
Did that include politics, religion, and ruling Llyvraneth? I wondered.
”It's not the prince the patrols are after,” said a small, bald man dressed a little better than his friends. The local bailiff, maybe. He withdrew a notice from his coat and smoothed it on the table. ”They're looking for a.s.sa.s.sins. Rumor has it somebody's finally offed Prince Wierolf.”
I swung my gaze his way - and I was not alone. The Nemair guards were watching. One of them said something to his partner, who rose and headed straight outside.
Two Ales said, ”That's been all over the road to Yeris. They say the city's papered with these notices. Whoever done it's calling themselves the Huntsmen.”
”Is that one huntsman, or a pack of 'em?” asked the bailiff.
He shrugged. ”It takes a pair, don't it? Kill a royal and claim Zet's favor for it?” Zet wasn't just the G.o.ddess of hunting and war, she was the patroness of royalty. Murdering a prince in her name? That even sounded bad to me.
”Well, I'll believe it when I see a corpse,” said a dark-featured man across the room. ”We've heard this rumor before. Just people trying to stir up trouble.”
”Or stir up dissenters,” the bailiff said quietly. ”Toss down a meaty story like that and see who comes out to bite.”
”See if they can't stir up a nest of Sarists, you mean.” The dark fellow's voice was low, but it carried.
”Well, he's their favorite, isn't he? And they were active around here.”
”Come now,” said the barman. ”Surely His Majesty has better things to do with his time than pick at old wounds and bother the fine, upstanding folk of the Carskadon Mountains. And surely those fine, upstanding folk have better things to do than speculate about their betters. I know for a fact that you, Merc Kessl, have a fence that needs mending. If your wife comes looking for you here, I will tell her all I know.”
The wiry fellow stood up from the table. ”Aye, you would too. I'll see you, lads.” He raised his drink. ”G.o.ddess keep Prince Wierolf!”
n.o.body matched the toast.
Two Ales spoke quietly. ”Careful, Merc - that's treason. If it ain't heresy.”
Merc shrugged. ”And do you see any Greenmen here, then? When the prince comes through here - and he will - we'll be free to wors.h.i.+p as we always have in these mountains. We don't need a king from the city to teach us how to pray.”
”Still, what if it is true?” a small man in a brown coat was saying. ”The prince could be dead for months before anybody even noticed he was missing. We should do something.”
I didn't hear the rest, since the serving girl appeared with my tray. I followed her to Meri's room, helping myself to a coin or two on my way. I wasn't sure if this lady-in-waiting job paid anything beyond room and board.
Upstairs, Meri was standing in her open doorway, looking down over the rail into the common room. She was quiet and thoughtful as I arranged our plates, not even noticing I took the n.o.b's share of the eggs.
”Do you think it's true?” she finally asked. ”About Prince Wierolf? Do you really think they've - a.s.sa.s.sinated him?”
Startled, I looked up from my food. ”There are always rumors like that. I wouldn't worry about it.”
”But it might be true?” Her voice was soft and urgent, eyes begging me for answers.
Sure, it might be true. But for some reason I didn't want to say that to Meri. ”It's just a rumor, some bored n.o.bs - people trying to make a name for themselves, playing on everyone's fears.”
”Why would they do that?”
”To scare people, stir them up, sow unrest -” I broke off with a shrug. ”You shouldn't think about that.”
She turned to me. ”But it's our duty to think about it, as the n.o.bility. It's our sacred responsibility to protect our people and our land. I have to understand these things, Celyn.” G.o.ds help me, she really believed it. ”My parents are heroes, you know. They fought in the last war. I must aspire to be like them, mustn't I?”
She was watching me anxiously, waiting for my answer. But I just bowed my head, saying, ”Yes, milady,” and thinking that we were all in a lot more trouble than we'd bargained for, if we were counting on Merista Nemair to protect us.
Breakfast was interrupted a few moments later by a knock on Meri's door. ”Milady!” a sharp voice barked through the wood. ”Your father bids you make haste to depart.”
Meri swung the door open. ”Now?”
The big guard - Berdal, I thought his name was - nodded. ”Aye, lady. He's in a fair rush.”
Meri frowned. ”Because - because of what they said down there?”
The guard's cool expression never faltered. ”Ach, no, lady. They've spotted snow in the mountains above us, and there's a risk of avalanche if we don't get through the pa.s.s tonight. Tell your girl to pack your things, and get right down to the horses.”
Back on the road, taller and taller trees sailed by the coach windows, black-green things with fierce, triangular bodies that marched like a ma.s.sive army across the foothills. The closest I'd ever come to trees like this was the great ash that grew at the heart of the Celystra. The Hanging Ash, we called it. It was supposed to be sacred to Celys, but I couldn't imagine what she'd think of it now, its roots watered with the blood of heretics. With Meri chattering away in my ear, I watched the road to Yeris Volbann roll past about noon, and with it my last hope of escape.
The party bound for Bryn Shaer was small. In addition to the five of us who made up Meri's strange family a.s.sembly, a handful of servants and some dozen guards rode alongside, all clad in the silver-and-black Nemair livery. Supply wagons brought up the rear. I used the endless hours to try to learn as much as I could about my new company, which was difficult from my position trapped inside the coach, the only member of our party who couldn't ride. Occasionally I could coax Phandre into riding with me and sharing some tidbit of information, but it was never long before she remembered I was beneath her notice, leav ing me with little to do but watch the unwelcoming landscape close around me, and wonder what in Tiboran's name I had gotten myself into. She had been included out of sympathy as well; I'd discovered that she was what we called a ”loose” n.o.b - orphaned and unattached to any other family. She was as lucky as I the Nemair had taken her in for the winter, though she spared no opportunity to remind me of her superiority.
I thought back over my first meeting with Lord Antoch and Lady Lyllace. Anyone in Gerse would have tied me up and beaten me b.l.o.o.d.y, demanding I produce proof of my claimed a.s.sociations before they strangled me and threw my body into the Oss. But with these people, if I said I was a jeweler's daughter, I was a jeweler's daughter. It baffled.