Whatever, he would deal with it.
So, why had Yda returned there the next day?
Her aunt was hopping mad in the morning. She yelled, she hit her, and so, Yda ran away again. There, at least, the brothel's inhabitants often threw food away—bits of pies, fruits... The other beggars didn't show their faces around, afraid of the madame's vicious dogs. Dogs loved Yda, however. She loved them, too. They used to have a dog before it died. Someone probably poisoned it.
Hans listened to the girl's epiphany, hanging on every word.
"Can you show me the alley where you hid?"
"Of course."
"Please show me."
Yda gave him a serious nod. She had already eaten the entire order and became drowsy with all of the food. Hans had to carry her. She stank like crazy and weighed next to nothing, like a bird. She pressed against him like a cold animal, too—still a child, trusting and uncorrupted by living in the slums.
Hans gritted his teeth.
"Yda, would you like to learn a trade?"
"A trade? Which one?"
Yda wouldn't have approached just anyone, but Hans was well-known on the streets. A royal envoy was to be trusted; he was someone to reckon with.
The urchins often whispered that Tremain might be tough, but he was fair. He paid what he promised and protected them from beatings. Well, he might even punch someone himself if worse came to worst, but he didn't let anyone hurt others without reason.
That's why the girl was brave enough to talk to him. She had wanted to eat since the night before but was afraid of going home to her screaming aunt. Maybe the kind sir would feed her?
And he had, even giving her money to boot, not to mention his offer. Learning a trade! She would have loved to, but who'd ever take her? It cost money! And if she wanted to learn for free, she'd have to spend so many years working as an apprentice, and they might not take her in the first place... Her aunt would never let her go, anyway.
That's what Yda said. In response, Hans simply chuckled.
"Do you want to be a laceworker?"
"Oh! Yes!"
Yda didn't expect that. She had seen lace once, all big and majestic on a lady exiting a carriage. The fabric soared in the air, looking like frozen snowflakes or peach blossoms. So delicate. So tender. And to think that she might get the chance to make it?
"For real?"
Hans smiled.
"For real. Come with me. I'll take you to my wife, you'll wash yourself, eat some more, and we'll go to Castle Taral. There are students there. You'll learn with them."
Hans didn't doubt his wife or Countess Earton. They would take the girl in and teach her everything. That was the right thing to do.
Yda started nodding and showed him the gap between the houses.
"Then, and then to the left..."
Hans finally realized why nobody had seen Yda and couldn't find her. They simply couldn't squeeze through that gap. He would have gotten stuck there for sure, at least. And so, the man sighed and took a detour.
The Rosebud. One of the top brothels in the capital with a very select clientele. Hans let out a slow nod. Oh well.
Had the girl given him a clue or just a lot of extra work? Maybe both at the same time.
"I see. Let's get into the carriage."
Yda nodded. She wasn't walking—Hans carried her in his arms, while she kept pressing against his chest. She had trusted Baron Tremain, and she won.
Hans successfully got her home, told everything to his wife, and asked her to wash the girl and get her some more food.
However, he was unable to bring her to Castle Taral.
A messenger from His Majesty arrived. He was urgently to come to the palace.
Lilian Earton was missing!
***
Tony personally escorted his prey across the ship and into the cabin. Inside, he finally took his mask off.
Lily looked at him with disgust and finally asked the question that she had wanted to ask for some time.
"Is this an abduction?"
Anthony remained unfazed, which made sense. Actually, he even gave her a vicious leer.
"You're absolutely right, Your Grace. It's an abduction."
"And why do you need me?"
Lily kept smiling sweetly while calculating the scenarios. There was no need to abduct if they wanted to kill her. Why do it, then? It wasn't love, no matter what that peacock might babble. He wasn't the man for that, and she wasn't the woman who could make someone smitten at first sight. So what remained?
Someone's task. Pure profit.
Fair enough. Someone smart had calculated the profits made my Mariella's inventions and decided to gain control over the golden goose.
So why would that someone think that Lily would work for them? No surprises there, really. High treason wasn't considered a crime yet. Spying was bad, and so was being caught, but nothing specific.
A noble could pick any sovereign, and that's to whom they owed their fealty. A country didn't matter as much. It was just business: fighting for one side one day and for another, the next.
Why hadn't d'Artagnan switched to the cardinal's side? Not because of honor, valor, and other stuff. I won't be easily accepted there, and my old friends will despise me. My men are on one side, and their men, on another. In any other case, he would have done it without a care in the world.
So what if he served Spain one day, then England, then Greece...nothing special. The baron projected his own values on Lilian Earton, not having a clue that a very different soul resided in the body of a medieval countess. And to her, Ativerna...
Actually, what was Ativerna for her? It didn't matter. It was not the time for big words. But she had been taught that if she chose her banner, she had to hold out until the end, whether a happy or a bitter one. Otherwise, she wouldn't be human—only a bipedal sapient orthograde. Without honor, without a banner...
The baron stayed silent as well, but seeing as his captive had retreated somewhere deep into her mind and wasn't going to get back to him, he finally spoke up.
"His Majesty tasked me with bringing you to him."
"His Majesty..." Lilian mumbled. "So it is Entor. Why does he need me, pray tell?"
"I suppose he'll tell you this himself."
The baron smiled once again.
Lily replied with a smile just as nasty.
So are you trying to mock me? Me, a garrison girl? I gave smartasses such as you siphon enemas back as a teenage girl!
"So you weren't briefed on that story, were you, Baron?"
"What story?"
Her green eyes looked as innocent as a cat's that had pissed on his masters' entire wardrobe on the sly.
"It wasn't so long ago... While traveling, a young prince saw a girl walking in a garden and fell in love with her at first sight with all the zeal and passion of youth. He had a good reason, too, with her golden hair, her smile, her..." Lily fiddled with the tip of her braid and used her hands to outline her curves. It seemed quite convincing—the baron, at least, opened his mouth in surprise. "Alas, he was unable to win her love. The girl had a strict father and would never stoop to the position of a mistress, and the prince couldn't offer her anything more. They had to part ways. But years later, he remembered his dream. He summoned a loyal servant and commanded him to bring the girl to him..."
The baron was gaping. Lily administered the coup de grace, cruel and vicious.
"After all, the treasury's almost empty, and the girl can make money—all but spin straw into gold."
And then, she couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing right in the confused face of the baron, for whom the pretty story akin to a minstrel's—what if it was true?—suddenly turned into an acidic remark.
"You—"
"Yes, me."
"It's a lie!"
"What exactly? The money, the prince, or the command?" Lily was mocking him and didn't hide it. "Until we get to Avester, you'll keep wondering whether I lied or not, and if I did, then
where."
"Everywhere!"
"What if I didn't? And I've really known Entor for a long time?"
Anthony hissed through his teeth.
"You can't."
"But what if I have?"
It was a sore point. The baron dreamed of paying back the arrogant bitch for her treatment...but how could he do it? He might take it out on her in all the positions, she'd complain to the king, and instead of becoming a count, he might...well, get bent over in all those positions.
Anthony really didn't like that prospect. He needed to find out the truth, but how could he do it on a ship?
"You insolent wench!"
The smile on Countess Earton's pink lips became even more poisonous. The baron even thought that he glimpsed a forked tongue behind her white teeth.
"I might be insolent, but I'm no wench."
"Bitch!"
"Woof, woof."
The baron flew out of the cabin, slamming the door shut. Alas, he hadn't forgotten to lower the latch.
Lily cursed and went to the window. Unfortunately, even a cat wouldn't be able to climb through it. It was just big enough to let some air in. She, with her padding in all the right places, would never handle that.
What other options did she have? Umm...sink the ship, perchance?
Lily looked over the cabin. Alas, there was nothing of use there. A bed, bolted to the floor, a desk, a chair... The chair was moving along with the waves, and the desk stood sharp, also nailed to the floor with no way to pull it out. Well, actually, if she had enough time, a crowbar, and a hatchet, or at least only a hatchet...
There was also a chest, bolted shut. Overall, the cabin was clearly designed so that its inhabitant couldn't tear anything apart and hurt themselves. It also had a washbasin, a water jug, and a bucket with a lid, clearly for answering the call of nature. That was it, really.
Could she knock out a man sent to her? Break loose? But what would happen next? She was on a ship in the middle of an ocean. What could she do? Jump overboard and swim back to Ativerna? Ask dolphins for help?
Steal a rescue boat and act the part of Alain Bombard?
She could do that. She could even be Thor Heyerdahl. Of course, Alain Bombard had ended up in a loony bin, and Heyerdahl had something she lacked, namely equipment and a crew. He was also good at celestial navigation.
Was Lilian good at it? Not really. She was also a bad sailor, and the sea didn't care if you were a traveler from another world or an idiot from this one. She'd drown in a second.
But she wanted to live and live well, too. What other options did she have?
Take over the ship? Lily imagined herself as a terrorist and almost snorted. Yeah, right. Terrorism. In the Middle Ages. Ridiculous!
So why hadn't it existed in those times? Wasn't that obvious? Lily immediately pictured some halfwit taking over Castle Earton and trying to dictate his terms to her husband.
Jerisson's reaction would be pretty straightforward. Storm the castle, no matter the losses. Take the idiot alive and shake everything out of him, from information to manure. After he came clean, kill him in the most painful manner possible, and before that, put down all of his family, friends, dogs, cats, and hamsters, so nobody would ever think they could impose their conditions over the nobles.
It was cruel, but so was life in that era. If Lily tried playing a terrorist, nobody would understand that, and the consequences might be...rough.
No, that was not a solution. But what was?
Waiting for an opportunity, simple as that. And using it when it came up.
Lily had no idea what kind of opportunity she might get and what it might look like, but it didn't matter. Whether on the sea or on dry land, with people or circumstances—the most important thing was to play her cards right.
She would definitely need a weapon. It didn't have to be a sword or a dagger; she didn't even need a crossbow.
She might jury-rig a garrote or an improvised shank. She could do it. A sling was a great weapon, too. The most important thing was to make it; her hands would do the rest.
Lily chuckled. A garrison girl, huh?
Some children grew up listening to fairy tales. She, however, had been told stories about World War II: the deeds of her grandparents and great-grandparents and the lessons drawn by their descendants.
Lily sighed.
So, first, she needed a weapon. Then came location, and then—comfortable clothes and shoes. The rest could be improvised. Where had the baron run off to, by the way?
Whatever; he was bound to come back later, or she might ask him for a meeting via servants.
Lily viciously rubbed her hand.
What was the most important thing? Make a decision and stick to it. And really, if they had abducted her, they shouldn't complain. There were no Geneva or Apostille Conventions in effect; she didn't have to follow any rules, and if you heard about a little movie called Home Alone...
Well, they probably didn't, but Lily did, and she wondered what tribute Avester might offer to Ativerna so they would agree to take Countess Earton back. The more, the better, really.
But how would her family go on without her? Lily's smile faded. Joke and put on a brave face all you want, but her nerves were as taut as a string.
Those scumbags. You will answer for this, baron! You will pay me back for everything: my men, my dog... If Nanook dies, I swear to God, Baron, I will water the flowers on his grave with your blood!
Her green eyes flashed with such anger and rage that if anyone else were to see that, the baron would have ordered them to tie her down and put her in a chest for the entire duration of the voyage, if not killed her with his bare hands.
The woman standing by the window wasn't Countess Earton, happy and content with her life. It was Aliyah, one against a hostile world, just like all those years ago. Alone again, or even worse. At least, last time, she wasn't in immediate danger. She couldn't say that anymore. There was nary a friendly face in sight, even loyal Martha, who—thank God—had stayed home to care for the children—Lilian's children, whom she was going to come back to no matter the cost.
Once again, she would have to survive and prevail. But could she make it?
Without a doubt.
***
Castle Taral carried on as usual. The guards at the gates exchanged jokes, the maids laughing softly at them, the Virmans trained in the courtyard, the girls spun lace and kept glancing out the windows, the bravest of them even making eyes at the island warriors.
Everything changed at once.
"What's that running?"
The guards looked at each other.
True, a grey animal was running in a straight line, passing through the hills and the underbrush. Huge, it floated above the grass, barely touching it with its paws.
When it came closer, the guards realized what was going on. It was Countess Earton's dog, but his looks... He was dirty, scraggly, with a bloodied muzzle and a wounded paw that he kept pulling up.
"Aldonai!" one of the guards exclaimed and rushed through the courtyard to the Virman's training ground.
In the meantime, the dog leaped through the gates, plopped down in the middle of the yard, and started howling:
mournful, desperate, and rueful.
Leif was already racing toward him. He fell on his knees in front of the dog, checking him for injuries. The hind leg was wounded, but not severely—something had only scratched him. The blood on the jaws wasn't his...or, was it?
Still, it didn't matter much whether he had torn someone up or stopped for a few seconds to lick his own wound. The important thing was, he had no other injuries.
"Nanook! Lilian?"
The howl turned bitter. Leif didn't have to think long.
"Saddle up!"
He gave an approving look to the guard carrying a bucket of water for the dog.
"Drink, good boy... We're going to clean the wound now."
That guard was a smart one.
They would have to ta
ke the dog with them. Leif didn't want to, but they couldn't make do without him. So what had happened to Lilian?
Leif feared the worst. Still, if Nanook came back...
She might be alive and sent the dog to get help. She must be alive!
Nanook emptied the bucket in two gulps and sunk down in the dirt. The guard started washing his wound.
There, there, just like that...
Less than thirty minutes later, a group of Virmans took off from the castle.
***
The road was empty other than for dust, flies, and the dead. The carriage was also there, left by the roadside, the horses wandering around.
There was a trail, too. The Virmans weren't expert trackers—one couldn't track someone at sea—but they also had a few Ativernans with them, who were busy figuring out the trail while Leif tried to bring the lone surviving Virman to his senses.
He wasn't very successful in that, and a crossbow bolt sticking out of the man's chest didn't help.
Two soldiers looked at the road.
"Several men rode out here in front of the landeau..."
"Yes. And there, behind the dune...I think it was an ambush."
"We'll look later. What's here?"
"They rode up to the carriage...see, the countess killed one of them."
It was hard to miss a body with a dagger sticking out of its eye—an expensive one, engraved with emeralds.
"They set up an ambush and shot everyone down. And here are the countess' tracks."
True, Lilian Earton's footprints with her distinctive pointed-toe shoes looked nothing like the abductors' rough square boots, not to mention the size discrepancy.
"She exited the landeau herself, made a few steps, and climbed on a horse."
"They led her away," one of the guards concluded. "There, off the road..."
He waved his hand toward the sea.
The Ativernans exchanged looks. They were thinking the same thing. Really, there was no need to guess. It was nothing new.
If the countess was put on a horse, then she wasn't dead but rather abducted. They could kill her right there; no need to take her anywhere.
If they rode through the country to the sea, then they weren't planning to stay in the saddle long, it made sense. A horse could easily break a leg while going through those gullies.
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