Three Quarters

by Tanya Huff

  Tugging her left braid out from under her pack, Evicka frowned. The Bardic Captain wanted her to find out what Gyhard i'Stevana was planning and she realized that meant she needed to find out how he intended to use the weapon he'd been given.

  "I gotta say, I like the song about her brother, the one that's bodyguard to the prince." When Evicka stared at him, confused by the sudden change of topic, Kavan grinned. "Well struck the writhing victim cries upon the weapons kiss. Sweet pain I sheath your blade and die, for truth you did not miss." He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Now that's art."

  "You'd think so." He smirked and she held out her fist, pole dangling from the strap around her wrist. "Thank you for your hospitality." As Kavan touched his fist to hers, she aimed her voice at the top of the tower where the second guard kept watch across the pass. "And thank you, Aryana."

  A faint smooth roads drifted down from the tower.

  "Speaking of smooth roads..." Kavan gestured down the gleaming slope. "You sure that's not just a little too smooth."

  Evicka grinned and pulled on her mittens. "All I have to do is stay standing."

  "It's not the standing," Kavan snorted. "It's the stopping."

  He wasn't wrong.

  Although the slope between the pass and the road to the mine wasn't particularly steep, by the time she reached it Evicka was moving far too quickly to make the turn safely. Leg muscles trembling with the effort of keeping her skies parallel, she Sang the four notes to call a Kigh. And then another. And then another. And then another. It took all four and a very emphatic Song to slow her enough and she still slid sideways for about five feet before skidding to a stop pointing more or less due east.

  Kavan was right about the Fox Mine Road too. It was ice over snow but the banks from previous attempts to clear it made it impossible to stray. Grinning Evicka pulled out a silk rectangle from an outside pocket on her pack. Bards who Walked at this time of the year prayed for these kind of conditions. Sliding her poles down the channels sewn down the long sides, she raised the makeshift sail and called another Kigh.

  The first thing she did, after reaching the mine, was send a kigh to Pjazef to tell him she'd halved the time it took to Walk between the pass and the mine

  He sent a kigh to tell her she was an enclosed idiot for risking broken bones, but his Song made it pretty clear he'd wished it had been him so she only laughed.

  Snow kept her at Fox Hollow Mine for the next six days. She Recalled the death of the king, the coronation of the queen, checked to be sure the new tunnel wasn't heading toward water, and played harp/quintara duets with the foreman's twelve year old son. The new snow made the three nights sleeping rough after she left a lot more comfortable, the weight bringing branches of evergreens almost to the ground, creating her choice of shelters.

  As she reached Harap i'Destori's timber-holding, it started to rain, packing the snow down.

  It was rain/snow/rain the whole time she was there and although the sky was clear the day she left, dark clouds crouched low on the horizon.

  "Be careful." Toryin, Harap's eldest daughter, tucked Evicka's scarf securely into her collar. "The snow pack is unstable at this time of the year and if you head straight across the border, you'll be crossing a lot of uneven ground. Why not go down river to Allin's Mill, take the road into Bicaz and then go up river from Janniton?"

  "Because in a perfect world..." Evicka frowned at the horizon. "...that would take about ten days. I'm there in three if I travel as the kigh flies."

  "The kigh fly," Toryin sighed. "Bards don't. Snow pack is neither water nor air and it moves quickly when it starts to slip."

  Was Toryin worried about the journey or the destination, Evicka wondered. "So..." She tried to sound like it didn't matter and had a horrible feeling she'd failed dismally. "What can you tell me about them?"

  "About who?"

  "Gyhard i'Stevana and Vreyada Magaly. At the timer-holding."

  "Never met them. But word is at the mill, by way of Allin's cousin's boy in Janniton, he knows what he's doing and she lets him take the lead."

  Exactly what Kovar had been afraid of.

  "I heard a few of the young folk around, you know, the ones at loose ends, headed out there for work. Joined them." Toryin made at loose ends sound like pulling the wings off flies.

  This was worse than Kovar had feared. If Gyhard was already gathering together the disenchanted or even just the young and easily influenced...

  Out on the trail, she called a kigh and sent this new information back to the Bardic Hall. On day two, a kigh swept close with instructions to be careful.

  "Careful? Never thought of that. I figured I'd challenge an assassin, a crazy man, and their hangers-on to a duel. Don't tell him that!" she added as the kigh flew lazy circles around her head looking intrigued. She Sang a gratitude and dismissed it before it got her in trouble.

  Heading toward a man who'd taken himself outside the Circle, not once but many times, and who had control over one of the legendary and unstoppable blades of Jiir made bad trail conditions so much worse. The snow was wet and every time she stopped to wax her skies, sweat began to dry and the cold began to creep in under damp clothes and she couldn't remember the last time she'd had to put someone to sleep as a defensive move mostly because she didn't think she ever had. Water dripped from everything she passed beneath and the air kigh were sulking. On the third morning she'd Sung one off to Kovar, letting the Bardic Captain know she was hours from the timber-holding, but had no idea if her message had actually been delivered. Everything was so wet, she was half tempted to try sending a second message by way of water.

  Evicka hadn't expected to be happy to see the timber-holding – not with its history, not with the undeniable danger posed by the inhabitants – but by the time she crested a hill and looked down into the river valley, she was thrilled by the prospect of dry boots in front of a large fire in or out of the Circle.

  The holding stood at one end of a narrow valley close by where the river broadened into a natural basin. A high wooden stockade surrounded the buildings and she could see two lines of smoke smudging the sky.

  This was it. Eyes and ears of Shkoder.

  She settled her pack on her shoulders, dug in her poles, and pushed off.

  The gate to the stockade was closed, dark splotches marking churned up snow.

  As she grew closer, dark became red became blood...

  Had there been a fight? Were the young men and women who joining them then betrayed and used as targets by the assassin? She had to practice. Timber-holdings were dangerous places and "accidental" deaths not uncommon.

  Weight on her poles, Evicka got her breathing under control and called a kigh, sending it over the stockade walls. Was she already being watched down a crossbow quarrel? If the kigh returned to describe bodies or weapons or unnatural acts, would she be shot down before she reached safety? Should she enter pretending nothing was wrong and assume she could Sing them to sleep before they took her out? Would she...

  A deer?

  Relief made her knees feel a bit weak. Ignoring the fact that First Quarter was not the time to hunt deer given that the does would be close to giving birth, this was good news. She felt a little foolish assuming a person had been bleeding out in front of the gates. Even if Gyhard did have the assassin practicing her craft, he wouldn't have her do it right out where anyone could see. Of course, who'd wander by to witness it way out here...

  "So, you coming in or just passing by?"

  Choking to death on a lungful of spit would be an embarrassing way to die, Evicka admitted as she coughed and tried to catch her breath. She hadn't even heard the small door to the right of the big gates open, hadn't seen the young woman standing there until she'd spoken.

  This had to be Viryeda.

  She wasn't very large and looked smaller under the layers of sweaters and scarves and quite possibly the lumpiest hat Evicka had ever seen. She should have looked overwhelmed by so much bad knitting, but she didn't. E
vicka had no idea how someone could look competent just standing, holding a large bucket in one hand and a short handled shovel in the other, but she did.

  Her skin – what could be seen between hat and scarves – was the same deep olive as her brother's. Her dark eyes large and almond shaped. She was beautiful, the songs were right about that.

  Then she moved and Evicka acknowledged the songs were right about her grace as well.

  Who looked graceful holding a bucket and a shovel?

  Vireyada Magaly.

  She set the bucket down beside the blood, and began shoveling the stained snow into it with an economy of movement Evicka recognized from seeing her brother around the Citadel.

  "Vree!" A tall blond man, stripped down to his shirtsleeves, splash of blood on one sleeve, charged out through the door. "I said, I'd get it."

  "I heard you."

  "You hear me but..." He stopped. Peered at Evicka from under a messy fringe of hair. Frowned. "Who are you?"

  "She's a bard," Vree answered before Evicka could. "Skied over from Harap's."

  Evicka tried to look at them both at once. "How..."

  "I can see the shape of a harp case in your pack and your tracks come down the hill not up the river."

  Actually that was pretty obvious.

  "And," she continued, "a breeze lifted a strand of hair off his forehead just before I came out. There's not enough wind today for that kind of an eddy inside the stockade.

  "She notices things," the man said, as Evicka closed her mouth. He held out his fist. "Gyhard i'Stevana."

  He didn't look like a man who'd removed himself from the Circle. Like a man who'd murdered multiple times. He looked like a man. He looked tired. Frustrated. And like he was waiting for her to reply. "Evicka..."

  He followed her gaze down to his fist. "The blood. Right. Sorry. Found a deer this morning who'd slipped into a crevasse and broken his leg. Put him out of his misery and figured there was no point in wasting the me... Vree!"

  Eyes rolling, Vree allowed him to take the full bucket from her. "I'll just take the bard inside then."

  "You do that."

  The open area inside the stockade looked like a butcher's yard. An older man was shoveling the stained snow into a bucket identical to the one Vree had taken outside and a young man and woman were stretching the deer hide out on a frame.

  "I wanted to hang it for a few days," Vree said taking Evicka's poles as the bard bent to undo her bindings. "But Gyhard wanted it butchered immediately."

  "And you always do what he wants?" It was what Kovar suspected. Evicka thought she'd kept her tone light but had clearly failed given the entirely blank expression on Vree's face.

  The ex-assassin stared at her for a long moment, then said, "No, not always."

  But she would say that, wouldn't she?

  Handing Evicka back her pole, Vree put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Work stopped. "Merlyn." The older man studied her from under lowered brows. "Hanya and Pjason." The couple nodded in unison. "Donal." Another large, muscular young man had just appeared from around the corner of a building. He waved as Vree called his name. "This is Evicka. She's a bard."

  And Evicka found herself in the midst of a swirling mass of people, helping her out of her pack, taking her skis to put somewhere safe – Somewhere she couldn't find them? she asked herself – offering a hot bath, hustling her inside. She paused on the main building's long porch to answer one of Donal's questions and saw Vree and Gyhard by the gate. Vree spoke briefly. Gyhard's reply went on about three times as long. It looked as though he was asking her to do something. Vree refused. He asked again. The 2nd refusal was short and to the point. Too many people were talking around her – a fifth had met them on the porch – for Evicka to hear what was said but she had no trouble making it up.

  The bard will find out.

  I know. You'll have to kill her before she tells the kigh my... I mean, our plans.

  I'm an ex-assassin.

  There's no such thing. You can kill her tonight.

  No.

  That final no, at least, she was positive about and she held tight to it as she was lead into a small room off the kitchen and her damp clothes were peeled off her. She felt herself relaxing in the heat until she realized she was in what looked like an Imperial bathing room.

  "Wait this is..."

  "I know." Hanya laughed. "Vree insisted on it and Gyhard built it. Apparently, they bath a lot in the empire. Who knew? Well, I expect you knew because you're a bard and bards know everything, but it sure was a big surprise to me and Pjason when we got here. Bathed more since we got here back in Second Quarter than in the whole rest of my life." She smiled thoughtfully. "It's funny what you get used to though. Gyhard had to insist Donal use it but it makes Vree happy so..."

  "He's invested in keeping Vree happy is he?"

  Hanya flushed, hands twisting in the bulk of Evicka's sweater. She looked as though she knew she'd said more than she should. "He has his reasons."

  Evicka thought of using Command, of forcing Hanya to tell her just what those reasons were, but she'd have to justify it later and she was so tired of being cold. She took a step toward the deep inset bath, but Hanya touched her arm.

  "You get clean first, over the grate there. Draw what water you need from the boiler. There's fire underneath, but it's designed so it don't go out."

  "And Ghyard built this?"

  She glanced over her shoulder at the door. "He's right smart. Knows lots of stuff."

  "You know his background..."

  Her brows drew in. "Course I do. We all do. Can't help it what with the bards singing about him. But we don't care." That phrase had the force of repetition behind it. "We have a place here!" She closed her mouth with a snap as if afraid of what else she might say, turned on her heel, and left Evicka alone.

  Gyhard had brought imperial building techniques into the heart of Bicaz.

  What else had he brought?

  Besides an Imperial Assassin.

  Evicka stayed in the hot water until her fingers started to pucker then she climbed out and wrapped herself in a bath sheet. Her pack wasn't in the bathing room and she could only hope they'd hung her clothes before a roaring fire.

  Voices from the kitchen stopped her with one hand on the door latch.

  "I swear, Stasya didn't find out from me!"

  "Then why is another bard here only ten days later? She suspects something, Vree. I noticed it. You noticed it. Hanya noticed it."

  "You think Stasya sent her?"

  "It doesn't work like that. But I think Stasya might have said something that made someone suspicious."

  "This will be a complete disaster if the bards get involved."

  Gyhard's laugh had no humor in it. "I know."

  "I won't have them ruin this."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Find a way to silence her."

  "Vree..."

  "I can be subtle."

  "You can be as subtle as a knife in the dark."

  "That's subtle."

  This laugh held humor. He found the prospect of her death funny. "Not really, love."

  She couldn't stay. She had to leave. But she couldn't leave immediately, they'd know she was on to them and that would be the end of subtle. Under the hand clutching the bathsheet around her, she could feel her heart slamming against her ribs. Also, she was naked. She needed her clothes. And a reason to leave before dark...

  No, there wasn't a reason. She'd have to stay until morning. She could stay awake all night, stay down in the kitchen in the light, tell them she was writing a song, couldn't sleep. She was a bard, she could make them believe it.

  But first she had to let the Bardic Captain know he was right.

  No. First she had to face Vree and Gyhard in the kitchen and lie through her teeth.

  Deep breath.

  Plastering on a smile made slightly doopy from so long in hot water, Evicka opened the door.

  They both turned at
the sound and Gyhard grinned. "Sorry about that, your clothes were all damp so Hanya is drying them by the fire. Don't worry. Your instruments are in a cooler part of the room. I'll get them for you."

  As Gyhard left the room, Vree hitched one hip up onto the edge of the table and crossed her arms.

  "I need to let them know I'm here safely."

  "Them?"

  Why had she said them? "The other bards."

  "Of course."

  She took one step and stopped as Vree's left eyebrow rose independent of the right. "Like that?"

  In a bath sheet.

  But by the time she had her clothes, the kitchen had filled with the others who lived at the holding. Hanya and Pjason and Merylin and Donal, all talking at once, all asking her questions and telling her stories and keeping her from going outside to call the kigh without making the kind of a fuss that would give her away. Across the kitchen, Vree watched, amused. Much the way a cat watched a mouse, Evicka realized, the tilt to her eyes adding to the resemblance.

  They were keeping her from Vree and Gyhard she realized. Running interference every time she tried to engage either of them. Every time she tried to pry out more information to send back to the Citadel.

  After the food had been eaten and cleared away, they wanted her to sing. Stasya had Sung them the mourning and the coronation, but Stasya's information had come from the kigh and she'd filled in the details rest with common sense. Evicka had been there, at the funeral, at the celebration and maybe an eye witness account would remind everyone where their loyalties lay.

  When she finished, Vree nodded from her place by Gyhard's side. It had looked a couple of times like he was going to touch her, but she'd flinched away. "His majesty was better to us than he needed to be," she said.

  And now his majesty was dead and they could make their move.

  They gave her a lantern and told her she could write in the privacy of her own room.

  "This place is bigger than the six of us need," Hanya said, leading her up the stairs, "but that'll change soon."