The Jackal of Nar

by John Marco

  She shrugged. "Not really. I was restless. Perhaps it was the rain."

  "Ah, I sleep like a baby in the rain," said Jojustin. "I could have slept all morning if I didn't have such a busy day planned. Where is Richius, anyway? Did he wake with you?"

  "He's upstairs, still asleep."

  Jojustin's eyebrows went up. "Asleep? Well, somebody had better wake him then." He sat back down and reached for the ubiquitous decanter of spiced wine. "We have a lot to do today. We're supposed to get an early start. Wine?"

  Sabrina put her hand over the mug beside her. "No, thank you. But why must I wake him? I'd rather he got some sleep."

  "He's riding with Patwin to the Lotts' place this morning. Didn't he tell you?"

  "Is it that far? It's hardly past dawn."

  "It's a fair distance, Daughter. Especially in this weather. And there are also others Richius needs to see, like Terril. He'll be gone most of the day as it is."

  "But I'd hoped he would be staying around the castle today. It's so foul outside. Couldn't this trip wait? At least until tomorrow?"

  "He has to get on with things, Sabrina. These plans of the emperor's are too big to keep secret. We wouldn't want the other families finding out about it the wrong way. They have to hear it from the king."

  Sabrina frowned. The king. She still found it difficult to pin that title on Richius. He was so young. It was like those war plans or that precious sword of his: too much for him to handle.

  "Why can't Patwin take the news to this Dinadin fellow himself?" asked Sabrina. "You've said yourself how dangerous it could be for Richius to travel far from the castle. What about these Drol assassins?"

  Jojustin laughed. "That was months ago, Daughter. We would know if there were any more Triin in Aramoor, believe me. No, Richius must tell his people of this war himself. It wouldn't do to send a messenger. Richius needs to be seen as a leader. Besides, he has personal business with Dinadin."

  "I suppose," said Sabrina. She looked about, craning her neck to see the hall outside. It was dark and empty. From the kitchen she could hear the rattling of dishes and knew that Jenna was in there, hurriedly preparing Jojustin's breakfast. And where Jenna was, one was likely to find Patwin.

  "Is Patwin up yet, Uncle?" she asked casually.

  Jojustin looked at her over his steaming mug. "He's outside getting the horses ready. Why?"

  "I'd like to speak with him," said Sabrina. "That's all."

  "It won't do you any good, Daughter. Richius has his mind set to go."

  "Oh, you're so suspicious. I just want to--"

  Jenna's sudden entrance made Sabrina pause. In her hands was a large plate piled high with bread and eggs. As usual she wore a plain dress of dull fabric, and she gaped at her queen's emerald gown. Sabrina pretended not to notice as she reached for the decanter.

  "Good morning, my lady," said Jenna icily, putting the plate down before Jojustin. The old man seemed not to notice the animosity between them. At once he tore off a great hunk of the bread, dipped it into his wine, then stuffed it into his mouth with a sigh.

  "Good morning, Jenna," replied Sabrina.

  "Will you be wanting breakfast, my lady? I could bring you a plate."

  Sabrina shook her head. "No, thank you."

  Jenna turned to go, but not before giving Sabrina's gown another look. The coldness in her expression made Sabrina cringe. She didn't hate Jenna anymore, not since Jojustin explained things to her, but she did hate being around the serving girl. There were always little things passed between them, jealous, sideways glances at just the wrong moment. And she hated the way Jenna called her my lady. Anyone with half an ear could hear the venom in the title. In this informal castle, where even Richius was called by his first name, titles were more than a show of deference. They were an insult.

  "Oh, Jenna," said Jojustin, reaching out to stop the girl. "Could you please run upstairs and give a knock on Richius' door? He's not awake yet and he really needs to start getting ready. Don't worry, he knows he has to get up early."

  "Upstairs?" asked Jenna, almost blushing at the notion. She glanced at Sabrina.

  "It's all right," said Sabrina, trying to smile.

  Jenna shrugged, then went out of the kitchen toward the stairs. Sabrina sighed, placing the decanter back on the table without pouring for herself.

  "I'm sorry," said Jojustin quickly. "Sometimes I say things without thinking."

  "Don't," said Sabrina, waving off the apology. "It's fine."

  Jojustin leaned toward her and whispered softly, "You have to give her time, Daughter. She's hurting right now, but she'll get over it. She'll find another lad to moon over soon and then you'll both be fine friends. I know it."

  "I'm not so sure," said Sabrina. "Richius won't talk to her about it, and she's not willing to listen to me. I don't know what I can do to make this easier for us."

  "Time," repeated Jojustin. "That's all." He propped the pipe back between his lips and leaned back in his chair, staring at her. An impish glint flashed in his eyes.

  "What?" asked Sabrina coyly.

  "You're looking very nice today," said Jojustin.

  Sabrina cleared her throat. "Thank you."

  "Is there some occasion today I don't know about?"

  "No. It's just such a dreary day I thought it could use a little color. What's wrong with that?"

  "Nothing," declared Jojustin. "You look nice, that's all." He smiled, and there was no malice in the expression, just the thoughtful affection of an uncle. "Listen to me, Daughter. You don't need to dress so fine to get Richius to notice you. I'm sure he sees how beautiful you are. But you're wasting your time primping today. He's got to go to Lotts'."

  Sabrina rose suddenly from her chair. She could feel her face warming with embarrassment. "Patwin's outside, you say?"

  "Oh, now, don't go off angry," said Jojustin. "Sit and have some breakfast with me."

  "Is he in the stables?"

  "Sabrina, it's raining. He'll be in soon. You can talk to him then."

  But Sabrina was already gone. She moved quickly through the hall, ignoring Jojustin's echoing apology, and soon found herself in the foyer of the castle. From within the little covered chamber she could see the courtyard and the stables in the distance, hazy through the rain. There was a flickering light in the stable window, and a shadow moving against the glass. Sabrina glanced down at her fine shoes, then looked to the walls of the foyer for a coat. There was none. She could turn around and get her own coat, but that might mean seeing Jojustin again. Or Jenna.

  The stable wasn't so very far, she reasoned.

  She took a breath and held it, then dashed out into the rainy morning. At once her feet sank into the muddy earth, filling her shoes with water. Drops of icy rain pelted her hair and face, and as she ran she put up her arms to shield herself. Thankfully, the hem of her dress was high enough not to be muddied, and by the time she reached the stable she realized that she was mostly dry. She paused at the stable gate, releasing her breath with a weary sigh. But when she breathed in again the smell of manure and damp straw struck her like a hammer.

  She had yet to visit the stables, and the pungent odor gave her a start. She glanced around. There were several horses in stalls, and some of them turned to regard her with their huge brown eyes. Implements of leather and iron hung on the wooden walls, some so strange in appearance that she could hardly guess at their use. A lamp had been lit away from the straw and the stalls. Its meager light threw her shadow against the wall as if she were a giant. And across the stable, almost invisible behind a chestnut horse he was grooming, was Patwin. He didn't seem to notice her as he worked, a cheerful whistle on his lips. Sabrina smiled. She liked Patwin. Of all Richius' comrades he was the one she felt most comfortable around.

  "Patwin?" she called softly, stepping toward him. He looked up from his grooming, startled. She could see his eyes narrowing with puzzlement in the darkness.

  "Sabrina?" he called back.

  She moved a
little closer. He stepped out to greet her.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

  "I need to talk to you," she answered. "May I?"

  He smiled with encouragement. "Sabrina, a queen doesn't ask her subject if she can talk to them. Tell me what you want."

  "I need to ask you something. A favor."

  "All right," he said, surveying her dress and shoes. "But you shouldn't be out here dressed like that. You'll catch a fever."

  He removed his own coat and draped it about her shoulders.

  "Now," he began. "What can I do for you, my queen?"

  "First, you can stop calling me that. It doesn't suit me and you know it."

  "All right. What else?"

  She shifted uneasily, running her muddy shoes along the earthen floor. What she wanted to ask seemed suddenly foolish.

  "Go on," he prodded gently. "I'll help you if I can. Is it about Richius?"

  She looked up at him. "How did you know?"

  "What else would trouble a new bride besides her husband? Believe me, Sabrina, we all understand how hard this must be for you. Even Richius. But if I can do a favor for you I will. What is it?"

  "Would you go to the House of Lotts without him today? I need some time with Richius alone. I need to talk to him."

  Patwin's face fell. "I'm sorry, Sabrina. I can't do that."

  "Patwin, please." Sabrina implored. "It would mean a great deal to me. I know Richius has business to attend to, but it's important. If I could just spend a little time with him, get him away from all this war talk for a while."

  Patwin shook his head ruefully. "I can't. It's not just these war plans, either. Richius has to meet with Dinadin himself. There are things they need to talk about."

  "What things?" asked Sabrina, a bit too sharply. "What's so important about this fellow anyway?"

  "Dinadin's a friend," explained Patwin. "One of Richius' dearest. But they haven't spoken in months, not since returning from Lucel-Lor."

  "I don't understand," said Sabrina. She was on the verge of tears now. She could hear it in the fragile way her voice cracked. "What happened between them? Is that why Richius is so distant?"

  Patwin hung his head. "Sabrina, a lot happened between them. Too much to explain. And I'm not really sure it's your business."

  "I think it is," said Sabrina. "Richius is my husband. I want to know what's wrong with him. If this Dinadin is part of his problem..."

  "Only a small part," said Patwin. "Now, please, don't ask me any more." He turned back to the horse and returned to his grooming. "I've said too much already."

  Sabrina snatched the brush from his hand. "You're telling me Richius will talk to Dinadin but he won't talk to me, and I'm supposed to agree to that? Well, I won't. I want you to tell me what's wrong with my husband! You know, I know you do. Tell me."

  Patwin's jaw clenched with anger. "There are things about what happened to us in Lucel-Lor you have no right to know."

  "I'm his wife," said Sabrina miserably. The tears were coming now in long hot streaks.

  "It doesn't matter," said Patwin. He was almost pleading with her. "Richius is my king and my friend. I won't betray him by telling you things he won't tell you himself."

  Sabrina pulled his coat from her shoulders and dropped it into the dirt, then turned from him and went silently back into the rainy morning. Patwin called back to her: another unwanted apology she hardly heard.

  The rain was coming down harder now, drenching her dress and hair. Mud licked at her shoes, filling them with filthy water. Yet she was only half aware of these things. A stinging sense of loneliness overcame her as she walked, blinded by raindrops and tears, moving without purpose toward the hateful castle. What had started this morning as a vague hope for companionship had become something worse than she ever expected. She had gotten from Patwin one horrible concession: that Richius was indeed harboring secrets.

  In the little foyer she took off her shoes and left them there to dry. Unmindful of the cold floor she continued on to the kitchen. Jenna was there alone, sitting down at last for her own breakfast. When she saw Sabrina enter she stood up. The dress she had so admired earlier was now dark with rain. Sabrina ignored the girl's shocked expression.

  "Where's Jojustin?" she asked.

  Jenna swallowed hard. "With Richius," she said. "Are you all right?"

  Sabrina didn't answer. She pulled out a chair and sat down. Every bit of her tingled from the rain, and her toes were already beginning to wrinkle. Jojustin's half-empty mug of wine caught her eye and she snatched it up, draining the rest of it with a single quick gulp. She lowered the mug to the table with a thud.

  "Do you want your breakfast now, my lady?" asked Jenna cautiously. There was none of the usual venom in the question.

  "No," said Sabrina icily. "Sit."

  "What?"

  "Sit down," repeated Sabrina. "I want to talk to you."

  Jenna obeyed, looking at Sabrina the way a child looks at an irate mother. "Yes?" she asked in a tiny voice.

  "I'm sixteen," said Sabrina. "Do you think that's too young?"

  Jenna was silent for a long moment. Her forehead wrinkled with effort. "My lady?"

  "I'm asking if you think I'm too young for Richius," said Sabrina. "Is that what it is? Or do you resent me because I'm from a noble family and you are not?"

  Again Jenna answered with a stunned silence.

  "Tell me the truth," insisted Sabrina. "I want to know what you really think."

  "I'm sorry, my lady," stammered Jenna. "I meant no offense."

  "Oh, of course you did. I know about your feelings for Richius, Jenna. Everyone in this castle knows. Just like they all know all about my problems with him. Right?"

  Jenna nodded slowly, and for a moment their eyes met, not as queen to kitchen girl but as one woman to another. A lump sprang into Sabrina's throat.

  "Damn it," she moaned, burying her face in the wet folds of her sleeves. "Why have I been brought here? I want to go home."

  Amazingly, she felt Jenna touch her arm.

  "You are home," Jenna comforted. Her voice took on the soft lilt of an older sister. "It's just time you need now... Sabrina."

  Sabrina grasped hold of Jenna's hand, clutching it, ignoring the sudden madness of what she was saying. "Be my friend," she begged. "I'm so alone here, Jenna. I'm so frightened. My God, I've already lost my husband. I need help."

  "Easy," Jenna crooned, cradling Sabrina's head in the crook of her arm. "You're not alone. We're all here for you, really. Forgive me for being so wretched to you. I was wrong. I didn't know."

  "No," agreed Sabrina between sobs. "I know."

  "I loved him myself," Jenna whispered. "I was hurt."

  "I know. I know."

  They stayed like this for a long moment, neither one speaking nor pushing the other away, and Sabrina felt at once ashamed and exhilarated. There had been almost no true contact between her and Richius since that night in the garden of the emperor, and now even Jenna's touch was welcome. She felt suddenly like a child in the arms of her mother, enjoying the delightful release of tears.

  "I love him," said Sabrina finally. "I don't know why but I do. But I don't know how to reach him. He's so cold to me...."

  "He's preoccupied," said Jenna. "This war--"

  "No, it's more than that." Sabrina pulled away and sat up, willing Jenna to understand. "He's hiding something from me. I know he is because Patwin admitted as much. And I don't think it's these war plans or his fears of going back to Lucel-Lor. There's something more, Jenna. Something only he and Patwin and this Dinadin know about."

  "They're men," said Jenna easily. "And good friends. They fought together. Of course they're going to have some secrets. You have to accept that."

  "Good friends?" asked Sabrina, wiping her cheek with her sleeve. "Then why hasn't Dinadin spoken to Richius in months? Why is it so important that Richius go to see him today? No. I'm telling you there's something more here. And I'm losing him b
ecause of it."

  "Don't say that," Jenna chided. "You're exaggerating because he hasn't given you the attention you want. You have to listen to me, Sabrina. I know Richius better than you do. Forget whatever you're thinking about him."

  "He hasn't touched me since we've come here," said Sabrina sharply. "Not once. How can I not suspect something?"

  Jenna simply shook her head. "Fear has a way of killing a man's hungers. It's all this talk of war, nothing more."

  "You're wrong," said Sabrina. "Ask Patwin and you'll see. He'll evade you the way he did me. Ask him."

  "I won't," said Jenna harshly. "And neither should you. If there is something Richius is hiding from you, perhaps it's better you know nothing of it. War does strange things to men, Sabrina. He's not the man who left here three years ago and neither is Patwin. You don't want to know everything that happened to them. A woman shouldn't hear such things."

  Sabrina sat back, astounded. "Then you won't help me, either? You're just going to ignore what I've told you?"

  Jenna got to her feet. Slowly, deliberately, she picked up her plate and the two mugs and began making her way back to the kitchen. But halfway to the door she turned to Sabrina.

  "Please, Sabrina," she begged. "Leave it alone."

  "Jenna--"

  "Leave it," repeated Jenna firmly. She gave Sabrina a wan smile, then retreated back into the kitchen.

  Sabrina watched her go. It was as if everyone had gone mad this morning, and she alone was sane enough to see the illness around her. Despite her status in the castle, despite her new and uneasy alliance with Jenna, she felt more isolated than she ever had before. Absently she wrung water from her sleeves, heedless of the puddles it left on the table and floor. A chill danced on her skin.

  "I am truly alone," she whispered bitterly, and that unexpected longing for Gorkney returned. She wanted to be home, to be once again in her solitary rooms or to sneak into the wine cellars and gossip with Dason. But Dason wasn't here, and the only rooms she had she shared with Richius. If only he had taught me to ride, she thought bleakly. She would ride away from here.

  Slowly she rose to her feet and stumbled out of the tiny chamber. A draft passed through the narrow corridor, icing her wet garments and pricking her skin. Upstairs there were dry clothes for her, and the solitude of her bedchamber. Surely Richius was gone by now. She made her way up the stairs as quietly as she could, spying for him at every corner. She knew he would be appalled to see her like this, and then she would have the dreadful job of explaining it all. But she reached their chamber safely, and when she stepped inside she found only rumpled linens on the bed. She peeled off her ruined dress and dropped it to the floor. It fell at the bedside in a soiled heap. It fell beside the journal she had tucked beneath the bed. And like a wicked little demon whispering in her ear, something told her to open it.