She smiled dreamily. Her life had been a glorious dance of aloofness and detachment. With the exception of her family and a handful of people at the Den, there were few constants in her life. She didn’t have anyone she would call a friend. Perhaps she still didn’t. Nonetheless, there was something comforting in having someone to talk to each day. Someone to share a lifetime of stories with and who would endure her little faults without asking for anything in return. She’d not avoided finding such a person over the years. Life simply had arranged itself in a way that she’d never found one. Desmeres was by no means an ideal friend. He brought trouble in vast disproportion to stability, and though she had the sense he’d never lied to her he certainly wasn’t someone she felt she could trust. Still, he was here, and he was kind in his own way. For this moment, that was plenty.
Someday soon he would slip from her life. It would take a huge amount of work and a fair amount of luck to return to the life she’d made for herself. But all of that was for the future. If one could not learn to enjoy the present, one would surely go mad. Here, amid the danger and confusion, was a moment that approached perfection. It was something she could save in her memories to help her through the hardships ahead, and that alone made everything to this point worthwhile.
Moments are, by definition, brief, however, and this one came to an end with a quiet howl.
“Dowser is lonely,” Desmeres muttered, half-asleep.
“He’ll be fine,” she murmured in response.
“One of you get down here and shut this dog up!” Wolloff bellowed from below.
She hoisted herself up and glared at him. “Desmeres, explain again why dogs are such fine animals…”
#
By noon of the following day, Desmeres and Genara were on their way again. Despite the interruption, and the eventual need to share their bed with the dog to keep him quiet, the both of them slept like the dead and awoke refreshed in a way that simply didn’t happen while on the road. Wolloff provided breakfast, though it was just the reheated remains of the prior night’s meal, and finished healing Desmeres’s lingering wounds. After that, he’d ushered them out the door with what notes were necessary to implement their plan and the promise that Deacon would be told of the potential threat of Epidime only as a last resort.
Since then, they had made their way back across the bulk of Ravenwood, and were once again approaching Isntist to resupply. That meant the time had come to solidify what their next moves would be. Genara held the reins and did her best to guide the cart while Desmeres leafed through one of Lain’s books and wrangled Dowser.
“What happens next?” Genara asked.
“There are several things that need to be done. Foremost is the collection of these ingredients. Most of them are easily available or already present among my things here. But those spores only remain viable for potion making for a few weeks. We won’t find them anywhere but Melorn, and even then they will be difficult to find.” He tapped the book. “I am quite sure we’ve had dealings in Melorn. A favor from a local should make an otherwise difficult task simple.”
“You haven’t done much scent training for that puppy yet. Are you certain you’ll be able to find someone who owes a debt?”
“I’ve always found I learn more quickly with a practical task. I’m sure Dowser will be the same.”
The puppy, at the sound of his name, poked his head up from between them. One of his floppy ears draped across his eyes, and in his attempts to shake it away, he managed to tumble to his back.
“I’m not sure this puppy is bright enough to find his own feet,” Genara said.
“He’ll come around,” Desmeres said. “And it may be a good deal simpler. Those liberated frequently linger nearby and even continue in their old life, simply without the yolk of slavery.”
“What else needs to be done?”
“I’m not fond of the fact we’ve been riding around in a cart loaded with all of my most precious possessions. We need to find a place to hide them. Though I would normally stow them in one of my other storehouses, obviously they’ve been compromised. I don’t know how completely they were able to raid Lain’s mind. I would hesitate to trust anything he was aware of, and though I took pains to keep a few secrets from him, I very much doubt I succeeded.”
“That’s a tall order then, finding someplace secure enough to keep your things while still being chased.”
“I’m well aware.”
Genara pulled the reigns and eased the horses around a gully. “I wonder if you’d be willing to add another issue to your heap of considerations.”
“If there’s something else I need to deal with, better to be aware of it now.”
“I know I volunteered to come along with you, but given our encounter with the Elite, it strikes me when this adventure comes to an end, I might have a hard time putting this adventure behind me. Or, at the very least, the Elite might not be willing to let bygones be bygones.”
“Very true. However, look at the bright side. There is a very good chance you won’t live long enough to have to face that problem.”
“Yes,” she said flatly. “But on the off chance I don’t die, I was hoping some thought could be put into how exactly I might go about clearing my name.”
He shut the book and looked at her. “That is a complicated problem to solve. But let’s start with the heart of it. Do you want to return to that life?”
“I do.”
“Are you certain?”
She glared at him. “Don’t think that after our little chats you know anything about me, Desmeres. Yes, I want to go back to that. I’ve carved a nice little living out for myself. I do my job well, I work hard, and I’m respected by my peers. I’ve met wealthy nobles who couldn’t dream of achieving so much. So don’t think you’ll rescue me from what you could only wish you had for yourself.”
“Fine, fine. You’ve achieved the pinnacle of social bliss and I apologize for any implication to the contrary. Regardless, I wouldn’t worry. The solution to your problem is Myranda Celeste.”
“The Duchess? What will she do?”
“She’ll see to it you are treated fairly. Myranda is very compassionate and will certainly be sympathetic to your plight. She spent more than her fair share of time on the wrong side of the Elite. Provided you don’t do anything too heinous before we’re through, she’ll have a word with the queen and you’ll be back to your old life in no time.”
“You say that like getting an audience with the duchess is simple.”
“Compared to the other problems we’ve got to deal with, it is a stroll through the meadow. You may have met nobles, but never any like her. Show your face in New Kenvard while she’s about and I doubt you could avoid meeting her… Though Myn might have to give you a few sniffs first. Any other points you’d like to make?”
“Not at the moment… Actually, I’ve got something that might help you.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“You need someplace secure to hide your things, and anyplace Lain knew about is off the table. My father, as I’ve told you, spent time in the mines until he was liberated by your partner. He decided to leave that line of work. Quite a few of his fellow workers chose to continue elsewhere, working for themselves. One of them became one of father’s favorite suppliers of copper. It was a very small mine, and he worked it with just a few others. Four or five years ago, it dried up and he and the others abandoned it. I know where it is. It isn’t too difficult to get to from here, and I’m willing to bet a worthless hole in the ground in the Rachis mountains would be a safe place. Granted, eventually the Elite might treat my own history with the same scrutiny as yours and find out where it is, but surely that won’t be for quite some time. With the number of dead ends and rabbit holes you’ve left in your wake, it’ll be ages before they begin to consider some of mine.”
“Interesting. Pressed as we are for time, that may well be the best option available. How far away is it?”
“Let me see the
map… We’ve just left the tower here, yes?” She ran her finger across to the foot of the mountains, then down along them until she reached the southern tip of Ravenwood. "It’s off the road, due west of this fork until a bluff he called ‘the old man’s chin.’ He said the trip took him about three hours.”
“Hmm… And my best bet for finding someone in Melorn to help me is near the lumber camps near the northern edge. That puts our two possible destinations in opposite directions. It may be time to split up, Genara. You deliver my things to safety, I seek out the means to capture our opponent. That would also put you well on your way to New Kenvard to solve your Elite problem.”
“Split up… You mean to tell me you’re comfortable with sending me off with everything you own?”
“Comfortable isn’t the word I would use, but times are desperate and you are vastly more capable than I think the Elite has given you credit for. If we separate and I display a strategic lack of subtlety, as their primary target, I can likely keep them from following you long enough for you to hide the goods. At the very least it will divide their attentions.”
“I’m touched that you would trust me to do that.”
“Again, trust isn’t the word I would use. I don’t anticipate betrayal, but I’m confident if you were to fail or turn on me I’d still be able to reclaim my things in time.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who could flutter back and forth between charming and infuriating as quickly and consistently as you do.”
“I strive for distinction in all my endeavors. So the task is clear. We continue east until we reach a town where we can buy a horse for me to ride. I’ll take the ingredients I have and money enough to purchase those I lack. I’ll also take the books appropriate to the area and Dowser to see if I can find a few debts to wipe clean. With any luck I’ll have the potion made quickly and can devise a worthwhile trap in short order.”
“And where shall we meet up again?”
“We won’t as I’ve said, you’ll continue on to—”
“Not with the job half done. So where shall we meet up again?”
Desmeres briefly considered arguing, but thought better of it. “Are you familiar with The Titan?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“At the western edge of Melorn, just as the woods are getting thick, you’ll find a truly massive tree, twice the size and triple the thickness of the others. It is in view of the nearest crossroads.” He tapped the map. “Simple enough to spot. If I get there first, I will leave instructions under one of the roots at its base. Follow them to find me. If you get there first, you do the same.”
“Very well.”
“On the subject, particularly if you’ll be the keeper of my goods for a time, have you had any training with weapons?”
“Not training, no. Combat is something I’ve chosen to avoid. The way I prefer to use weapons doesn’t require much training beyond knowing which end is the sharpest and knowing where someone least wants to be stuck.”
“That’ll do. You strike me as the sort who would be most comfortable with a stiletto.”
He leaned aside and tugged a bundle of weapons out from the hatch between them. From inside, he selected a long, elegant blade. He slid it from the scabbard to reveal a thin blade, wide as Genara’s little finger at the hilt and coming to a needle point. The handle was made from twisted and brushed bronze. It bore the same spider web-thin etchings on handle and blade as many of Desmeres’s pieces, tracing intricate and arcane designs.
“It’s very lovely. And it is for me?” she asked.
“If you think you will be able to put it to proper use if the need arises.”
“I thought you had a strict policy of not putting a weapon in any hands that didn’t deserve it. I’m hardly world-class with my blade work.”
“I’m entrusting the most precious part of my collection to you. An unscrupulous woman would take her pick, along with the mounds of gold and silver and everything else. As I’ve said, I don’t think you’re that foolish. The least I can do is give you the blade I think best suits you in order to defend yourself and the collection. And who knows, perhaps you’ll find you are a prodigy.”
She smirked and tucked it into one of her inside pockets. “Perhaps.”
#
A few hours later, the pair were outside Isntist. Genara fastened the tie on a heavy gray cloak she’d bought. She’d learned the hard way that a coat that might be fine for a few hours pacing along the streets of a city was not nearly adequate for a long, windy ride through the countryside. The sturdy garment would supplement her own coat and go a fair way toward keeping her from being recognized.
“You know, for the longest time I tried to avoid the infamous ‘Everyman Cloak’ as father called it,” Genara said. “I suppose there’s a point in everyone’s life where you just hate the idea of being ‘common.’ And there is nothing more common than a gray cloak. Father thought I was insane that I wouldn’t wear one. He used to look forward to the visits from the king’s people every few years to provide a free one for each of us. It was one of the few acts of genuine charity the throne ever did and there I was turning it down because I wanted to stand out.”
Desmeres dressed similarly. He’d also purchased the largest and healthiest of the three horses available for sale and heavily loaded its saddle bags with supplies, money, and other necessities.
“I assume you’ve heard the tale of why the king handed out so many gray cloaks by now,” he said, packing a final book.
She glanced at him. “Are you going to sully one of the few positive feelings I have about the fallen regime.”
“Yes.”
“What could possibly be wrong with giving your subjects something warm to wear?”
“The D’Karon employed a sort of manufactured troop that was little more than an animated gray cloak. In order to ensure that they could send those troops wherever they pleased in whatever numbers they wished without fear of drawing attention, they made sure that most of the residents of the north dressed in a gray cloak as well.”
She put her palm to her face. “Wonderful. Just wonderful.”
“You’ve got to admit, it’s got a sort of grim brilliance to it.”
“More grim than brilliant.”
Desmeres picked up Dowser and mounted his horse. “We’ve both got a great deal to do, we’d best move quickly.”
“I suppose so.”
“Say goodbye to Genara now,” Desmeres said, holding the puppy up.
Dowser released a long, wavering howl and tried desperately to lick her face. Genara leaned just out of reach.
“You I won’t miss,” she grumbled to the puppy before looking back to Desmeres. “Take care of yourself. Once we’re through untying the latest mess you’ve made of your life, I’ll need your help cleaning up the mess we’ve made of mine, and I will be very cross with you if you get killed before then.”
“A strong motivation to stay alive, then. You do the same. I’ve only just finished rounding up the last batch of my weapons. The last thing I want to do is spend another few months or longer trying to retrieve the contents of that cart.”
“Your concern for my well-being is touching. Goodbye, and good luck, Desmeres.”
“Until we meet again,” he said in reply.
Genara watched as the cocky half-elf rode off to the east toward the rising sun. He stopped briefly and turned back. The puppy released a longing whimper she could just barely hear. He patted the dog, and for a moment she thought she saw a flash of the same longing in his expression before he continued on his way.
She let her eyes linger on him longer than she’d intended, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that where he went, outrageous fortune followed. He was the one tapped by fate to serve some higher purpose. She was simply along for the ride. When she finally turned away and snapped the reins to move along to the south, she was struck by just how empty the cart felt without him. That irritating confidence of his was like a shield. A
s much as circumstances had repeatedly illustrated the contrary, he never failed to give the impression that nothing bad could happen while he was there.
She tried to ignore the dark, empty feeling inside her and focused on the road ahead. It didn’t work for very long. Without conversation every groan of the cart or scamper of a half-seen animal made her jump. As the hours and cart rolled on the feeling cut deeper, like a stain creeping across her mind.
“Steady, Genara,” she whispered to herself. “Pull yourself together. What is there to be frightened of?”
Speaking aloud underscored just how deeply the fear cut into her. Her voice was shaking. By the end of the first day, her hands were shaking as well, and her mind twisted every shadow into an approaching soldier ready to take her away. If she’d been more familiar with magic, she might have suspected someone was influencing her, but in the absence of that degree of insight she could only assume it was her mind playing tricks of its own accord.
The rosiness of the sunset convinced her the town in the distance was likely to be the best place to spend the night, as she surely wouldn’t pass another before morning. She coaxed the horses to a stop just after a bridge that spanned an icy stream and consulted her maps.
“Let’s see,” she muttered, running her finger along the map. “I think this village is Rosen. So I should be on course…”
A sudden, vigorous scratching sound interrupted her train of thought. Something, a wild animal of some sort, sounded like it was doing its best to burrow through the wooden awning that hung over the seat of the cart. Genara leaned away from its forward edge and watched cautiously, her heart fluttering at the unexpected din. It sounded like whatever had climbed atop the cart was trying to burrow through the wood. Splintering and creaking suggested it was making progress. Rather than have an unknown creature fall atop her head, Genara abandoned the seat of the cart and backed away.
The fading light of the sun wasn’t enough to show the creature clearly. From her angle it was just a tangle of dark brown fur in a frenzy of scratching and digging, not much larger than a cat. She drew her recently acquired stiletto and held it at the ready. The beast stopped its digging as quickly as it had started, and raised a pointed snout into the air, sniffing. As it did so, more of its form became visible. It was a raggedy beast with a long body and entirely too many legs: an olo.
The Redemption of Desmeres Page 27
