“Good riddance,” Wolfe muttered as he snapped the portal shut behind Charrin.
Kalynn narrowed her eyes at him. “You practically shoved him through,” she scolded.
“After the headaches I had to go through to open a portal in the Royal gardens?” Wolfe snorted. “Permissions for this and authorizations for that and scribes to the Under-assistant of the Herald to the King?” Wolfe flapped his hands in frustration. “Bah. I should have opened the portal during their stupid Ceremony of the Bedchamber. Dumped Charrin on the heaps of blankets and linens and been done with it.”
“And be barred from the Elven Royal Court for life, no doubt.” Kalynn shook her head.
“Look at me,” Wolfe waggled his bushy white eyebrows at her. “So devastated. So heartbroken. Crushed by the very idea.”
Kalynn rolled her eyes. “Now that he’s gone, we need to consider supplies. Have you checked the flying tack? It’s been a while since we used those saddles. Although if we could portal—”
“First, come to the workroom,” Wolfe took her hand and pulled her toward the stairs.
“Why?” Kalynn followed, knowing full well there was no use in protesting.
“Still no idea of where we need to go?” Wolfe asked.
“No,” Kalynn sighed. “I’ve tried to focus, but—”
“Hard to do with an unwanted guest,” Wolfe continued down the steps.
“Why is it?” Kalynn smiled at the back of his head as she dodged the clutter along the stairs. “Why is it that the stairs are crowded with your books and collections, but your workroom is—”
“Hush,” Wolfe opened the door to his workroom, and sure enough the room was empty, without a trace of dust. Mage lights shown above them, glimmering on the stone walls, ceiling, and floor.
“Stand here,” He pulled her into the center. “I have an idea.”
He closed the door, then stood against it. She watched as he dimmed the mage lights with a slow stoke of his hand through the air. Wolfe had his eyes closed, his fingers spread out, and the hint of a smile on his lips. It warmed her heart to see him so. She loved these moments when he worked the power, his face so intent and serious, yet she could sense the joy within him.
“Watch,” Wolfe said, and the floor beneath her feet glowed, and images formed. It was there, their world, all laid out on the floor. Continents, islands, oceans wide and sparkling.
“So many places we have yet to see,” Wolfe said softly. “So many places we have yet to go.”
“What are you—” she asked, but Wolfe shook his head and the pictures at her feet changed, and grew. Tiny horses raced beneath her feet, through tall grass.
“The Plains,” she breathed. And the images around her solidified, of rolling open grasslands. The images tilted slightly, and then grew.
Kalynn sucked in her breath, pressing her hand to her chest. She was standing on the Heart of the Plains.
All around her, the grasses stirred in a breeze she could not feel. They were browning slightly, under the heat of a summer sun she could not feel. Beyond, toward the south, she saw the lake, the waves lapping at the rocky shore. Yet for all the lack of her senses, her heart soared at the sight of home.
“Wolfe,” she whispered, not wanting to break the spell. “Have you sent my spirit wandering?”
“No,” his voice was soft. “I brought the spirit of the lands to you.” Part of her knew that he was standing by the door, but to her it appeared he stood just off the edge of the Heart.
Her tears welled at the sight, with grief and joy and a deep longing. Kalynn tore her gaze away, looking toward Wolfe.
“I know,” Wolfe’s eyes were warm, his voice was the barest whisper. “But we need answers.”
Kalynn nodded, not trusting her voice at that moment.
“Power first,” Wolfe said, raising his hand. “Show me,” he commanded.
Over the grasslands small bits of light appeared, some dim, some strong, scattered in no particular pattern around the Heart.
“So few,” he said. “There’s little power left on the Plains, and even less between the Heart and Xy. Not enough to trust to portals. We will take airions.”
Kalynn studied the Heart below her feet. No life, no magic pulsed under her feet; the Heart was cold and silent. She’d known that would be the case, but she hadn’t been prepared for the reality.
“Flying will be hard on both of us.” Wolfe continued. “Been a long time since I have spent much time in the saddle. We could use portals, cut off some travel time, if we—”
Kalynn cut him off, “I’m looking south.”
“Well, yes,” Wolfe cleared his throat. “But, beloved—”
She ignored the warning tone in his voice, and looked over her shoulder, due north.
“Xy,” she said.
There, bright against the mountain at the high end of the valley glowed a blue spark, bright and clear and blue as the morning sky.
“Kalynn,” Wolfe warned again. “She will not welcome us.”
“She needs to know,” Kalynn said firmly. “We need to warn her of what is to come.”
“What might come,” Wolfe said firmly, his voice pulling her back to look at him. “We can argue the point later. First, we need to find out ‘where’. How’s about you point out where we must do what must be done.”
“Show me the Tribes,” Kalynn said.
“It’s the Season of War,” Wolfe said. “There are scattered thea camps but the armies raid.”
The Heart fell away, and shrank. She could see all of the Plains, and the mountains that surrounded them. Below her feet, tiny herds of horses ran, with tiny birds flying overhead.
All around, on the edges, she could see armies attacking, the glow of fire and war. She drew in a breath, let it out slowly, and let her eyes drift close. There was a tug, the faintest of pulls against her heart.
“Where, love?” Wolfe prompted.
“Hush,” Kalynn took a step forward, concentrating. “It’s like following the faint scent of perfume to find a person in a crowd.” She took another step, and moved, slowly following the trace of possibilities through the stream of potentials.
“Here,” she said finally. “Here.” She swayed as visions came, of an army approaching, raiding and looting. Children taken, foodstuffs seized, and men and women killed. “Oh Wolfe, it’s—” She drew in a ragged breath and pressed her hands to her chest. “So much hate, so much destruction. The fire, the death...it’s—” Her breath came in harsh gasps.
She felt his warmth as he stepped to her side, his strong hands on her shoulders. “Come back, Kalynn. Come back to me.”
Her eyes snapped open, and she returned, back to the room and the map and her love. She sagged, trembling and Wolfe wrapped her in his arms. “Wolfe,” she wept. “Will it never change?”
“We’ll go,” he tightened his arms around her. He looked down at a town on the border with the Plains. “How much time do we have?”
“Weeks,” she said. Between their feet a Warlord’s army advanced, raiding as they went.
Wolfe nodded, and the map faded away as the mage lights brightened above them. “Best we be about it, then.”
“We have to do this,” she clung to him, looking for reassurance.
“We’ll try.” Wolfe promised. “We’ll leave as soon as we can.”
“We should tell Verice.” Kalynn leaned against Wolfe as he helped her to the door. “I want to check on Warna.”
“That’s fine.” Wolfe said, and then she felt the vibration of a chuckle in his chest. She looked up to see his eyebrows dance, his eyes gleaming. “Verice can look after the cat.”
Chapter Eighteen
Constable Ricard was seeing to inspections when he saw the Lady Warna emerge from the barracks.
The lads were lined up in the courtyard at attention as he marched between the rows, expressing his opinion at their slovenly state at the top of his lungs. Fine way to start the morning, to his way of thinking. A solid breakfast
, a strong mug of kav, and a good stint of admonishments, criticism and assigning punishment details for the worst offenders.
Aye, a good morning.
At least until Lady Warna appeared.
She stood in the morning sunlight, blinking at the brightness, her golden hair aglow in the sun. She’d fixed it in a bun, and there was an air of determination about her. Standing there in her tunic and trous, she looked like a woman with a plan for the day.
“Morning, m’lady,” he said. “Is there anything you might be needing?”
“Good morning, Constable,” She smiled. “That’s the healing hall, isn’t it? With the red door?” She nodded off to the building next to the barracks.
“Aye, m’lady.” Ricard replied.
“I’m going to need buckets, soap, and hot water.” With that, she went right to the door of the healing hall, opened the door, and walked in.
The constable blinked.
There was a rustle of amusement from the ranks, and he turned on them with a glare. They all stiffened again, and he opened his mouth to roar when slam. The shuttered window on the first floor opened. Lady Warna could be clearly seen, and she gave him a wave, then disappeared.
That brought a few chuckles, and Ricard turned back, putting forth his best bellow. “Seeing as you’ve so much energy, forward march!”
The men headed off, marching in step, keeping the spacing between them, to make the round about the keep.
Slam. Another window opened. The sergeant glared up, to see the lady now leaning out of a second-floor window. The Healing Hall had been one of those sealed up. Lord Verice had left no orders about this, not to his knowledge. He opened his mouth to call to her, and then closed it.
He’d no orders about this, but then Lady Warna wasn’t under his command, now was she? Her and the Lord might have had discussions he’d not been privy too, might’n they? And he’d no reason to think to the contrary, now had he? And this needed doing, now didn’t it?
He was still considering that when the top-most window opened, and Lady Warna poked her head out. “There’s a tiny room up here, perfect for me,” she called down. “Buckets, soap, and plenty of hot water, Constable.”
A woman with a plan, it would appear. In an instant, Ricard reviewed all his options, and made the best, safest choice.
“Aye, lady,” he called up. “And a few on punishment detail to aid you in the work.”
It was a lovely room, to Warna’s delight. Not huge, like the one in the mage tower, but a nice bed, with a small table and chair. Even better, a press for clothes and a small cupboard off to the side. A woven rag rug covered the wooden floor. The stone walls were cool, and the air was chill and musty. There was a thick layer of dust and a lace of cobwebs in every corner.
Well, soonest started, soonest done. With the window open there was a bit of a breeze. In a great cloud of dust, Warna stripped the bed. She bundled up the bedding, gathered up the rug, and threw the lot of them down the stairwell.
She clattered down the stairs behind, and started poking in cupboards and storage areas, looking for soap and rags. It seemed this place had been stripped bare of personal items and healing supplies before being closed up, but she found a few rags and some wood polish in one of the cupboards just as the clomp of boots came through the door.
It was two of the constable’s men, each with a bucket of warm water and carrying brooms and dust pans, soap, and a basket of rags.
“Excellent.” Warna smiled, a feeling of satisfaction rising in her chest. “Let’s get to work.”
The shadows were long when Verice finally returned with his men, having been gone longer than he had planned. The attack had been more than a raid, of that he was certain. The local commander was a good man, but Verice feared the Usurper was testing the border, looking for a weak spot. And if a weakness was found, no doubt a bolder thrust would follow. He shook his head. He’d need more scouts in that area.
But as he swung out of the saddle, all he really cared for was a meal and sleep. He was short on both. It had been a long two days since he’d taken Warna to Bode’s tower.
He’d have to make arrangements for Warna, or find another place to sleep himself. She’d been in the back of his mind the entire time, as he’d tried to determine what was best for her. So far, he’d not made a decision, and that irritated him to no end.
Constable Ricard came toward him and made a quick salute. “All’s well, m’lord.”
“Thanks be for that.” Verice stretched. “All I ask is for a chance at a meal and a bed. Do you know if Warna has eaten?”
“As to that, m’lord, she’s not even taken a nooning that I am aware of. She’s one for work, make no mistake.” There was an odd note of respect in the constable’s voice. “Her standards are higher than mine, when it comes to what’s proper.”
“What’s proper?” For his life, Verice couldn’t figure out what the man meant. “What has she been doing?” The horses around him shifted as they were led off to the stables, and he caught a glimpse of a bundle of laundry in front of the Healing Hall.
“Cleaning, m’lord,” the Constable said matter-of-factly. “Right proper job, too. The lads on punishment detail are none too happy they picked this time to err in their ways, I have to say. Did my heart good to see them poor sods beating out the mattresses.”
“Cleaning?” Verice blurted out, staring at the Healing Hall just in time to see a hand emerge from a lower window and shake out a dust cloth. “What cleaning?”
“Perhaps that’s a discussion you might have with M’lady. She’s within,” Ricard added, nodding toward the building. “Let me see to the meal for these men, and I’ll tell the cooks to send yours up to your chambers, once you’ve convinced her to stop her work, that is.” And he was gone.
Verice frowned. He’d given no orders to open the Healing Hall, of that he was certain.
The door was open, and he stepped within. The room was thick with dust, except the stairs and the tracks leading up.
He mounted the steps two at a time, to find a hallway that smelled of soap and water and two of the younger warriors scrubbing the floors with big brushes and resigned expressions. The one lad was tired enough that he looked at Verice without recognizing him for a moment before his eyes went wide.
“M’Lord!” They both sprang to their feet, and stood at attention.
“At ease,” Verice said. “Where is Warna?”
“Above, m’lord.” One of the lads gestured above.
“My thanks,” Verice hesitated on the steps. “Best return to your duties, lads.”
They both heaved sighs as he continued up the stairs.
Many doors led off the upper hallway. Verice didn’t need to search each one, he could hear her singing toward the back. She sounded so joyful. Charrin’s harsh words hadn’t spoiled that for her then. That pleased him.
She didn’t look up when he entered, so he leaned on the doorjamb watching her polishing the mantel of a small fireplace. A glance told him this room was done, with the smell of drying wood and polish mingling together.
“Warna?”
She turned then, startled, but clearly happy. “M’lord, you’re back. Is it mid-afternoon already, then?”
“More like mid-night than mid-morning,” Verice said.
Surprised, she glanced behind him to the hallway windows. “Oh, Lord of Light, I lost track of time. And I’ve kept these poor lads at it all day,” Warna shook her head, and moved forward. “I need to set them free. We can finish tomorrow.”
Verice moved to block Warna with his body, and she gave him a startled glance, her brown eyes wide and clear. “I gave no order that this building be cleared,” he said softly.
The barest blush crossed her cheeks as she lowered her gaze. “M’lord, I thought—”
Her stomach rumbled.
“You owe me an explanation,” Verice said firmly. “Over our meal.”
“Of course, m’lord.” Warna’s blonde head was still down, her h
ands twisting the rag between her fingers.
He held his position for a moment more, until she looked up, her guilt quite clear in her eyes. He moved then, giving her just enough space to slide past him and down the stairs.
Chapter Nineteen
Warna waited nervously in Verice’s outer room as he cleaned up in his quarters. The serving boys had already rushed in with plates, kav, and covered dishes. They’d set the table and vanished as quickly as they’d come.
She could hear him in the other room, moving around, water splashing as he washed.
What had seemed like a wonderful idea this morning was feeling not-so-clever now. She’d changed quickly, putting on her only dress for this meal. She smoothed the skirts down as she stood by her chair. The dogs were sprawled all around the room, and seemed to sense her nervousness. The sandy-colored one even came over and leaned against her, looking up with big brown eyes, as if it understood her fears.
Of course, it might have been more a desire to be petted than expression of sympathy; Warna chuckled at the thought, and started scratching its ears.
Verice emerged from the back, in a loose white tunic and his leather trous. His hair fell free, flowing down his back, slightly damp at the temples from his quick wash. He gestured to the table, and Warna sat, bracing herself for his anger.
But Verice just uncovered a bowl of rabbit stew, thick with vegetables, and gestured for her bowl. She handed it to him and reached to unwrap the warm bread, tearing off chunks for both of them.
Verice served her and then himself, and started eating immediately. Warna didn’t waste any time starting on her own bowl. The stew smelled wonderful, and she hadn’t eaten at the midday meal.
Verice passed a crock of soft cheese, and they ate in silence.
He filled a second bowl for himself. “More?” he asked.
“No, thank you.” Warna was still working on her first. “Bread?”
“Yes, thank you.” Verice accepted the basket, and tore off another hunk. “Why did you take it upon yourself to clean the Healing Hall?”
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