by Alisha Basso
Jana gestured over her shoulder with her chin. “That barrel by the stove keeps the water hot. There are pails there as well. Jek, get a bucket of water for the Horsecaller.”
The man slicing cheese looked up.
“No, really,” Lauren said. “I insist on doing it myself. Please.”
She went to the barrel, put an empty metal pail beneath the spigot and turned it on. The containers were large, more like old-fashioned milk cans with lids. She filled it only halfway, but it was still heavier than expected when she picked it up and faced three flights of narrow stairs. Taking a deep breath, she rallied her strength and hoisted. And then, it weighed nothing.
“I need water as well, if you do not mind sharing, my lady.”
Leinos took the can from her. She thought he’d gone into the common room, but here he was, shadowing her, aware of her needs before she was. Weird, the way he did that. She could argue, but there was no point. She only nodded and followed him up.
He first poured a small amount into the basin in his room. Being alone with him again forced a flotilla of butterflies from groin to chest. She was weak, and knowing there would be sustained contact with him going forward didn’t make it any easier. When they were on the road again, she would insist on her own fur.
In her room, the tub had been removed, the bed made, and only embers burned in the fireplace. Leinos filled her basin and put the can on the hearth.
She stood by the window, as far from him as she could, with the bed between. Not the best of defenses under the circumstances, to be sure. Each move he made stroked her skin as if they were touching.
“Tell me,” he said. “Are you joined with another in your world?”
“You might have wondered about that sooner.” Sharper than she intended.
“We have established that I made mistakes.”
He took a step toward her but stopped when he saw her flinch. She wanted to run.
Right. Into. His. Arms.
She gripped the windowsill and fought for a measure of restraint.
“I was married,” she said, still feeling the sting of bitterness whenever she thought of her ex. “Joined. The dissolution of our marriage was finalized the same day Vraz came to get me.”
“Dissolution?”
“I divorced him. Because he was unfaithful. We unjoined.”
He nodded and came closer. “Unfaithful?”
“He slept with another woman. Had…” She waved her hand, as if that would fill in the blank, not wanting to ignite the very air with the word sex. “…you know. There was at least one. Maybe more.”
“So, you take a vow when you join, to be only with each other.”
“Is it the same here?”
Again, he only nodded. Again, he came closer. If she pulled back any farther, she’d fall out the window. She heard movement below, voices floating up from outside. The Horseguard rotating patrol so soon?
“Do you have children?”
She shook her head. “We tried in the beginning, but he didn’t really want them.”
His eyes hardened, glittering with instant condemnation of this man he didn’t know. Much as she had already written off the queen for not wanting the horses.
“I got pregnant, but miscarried at fourteen weeks.” She took a shuddering breath. This was why she had worked so hard to closet her feelings. They swamped her. “I was scared to try again for a while. Then, he went and got a vasectomy without even telling me—got fixed so he couldn’t make babies anymore—”
“And that is when he became unfaithful.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. His breath was on her forehead, his warm hand reaching for her cheek, and she was in agony. Why was he doing this? God help her, she turned her face into his palm, and he brushed a tear away.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs, someone bellowed, “Leinos!”
Pheeso, she thought. In the next second, he ran through the doorway and stopped.
“The queen,” he wheezed. “Queen Naele is here.”
Chapter 20
A yekerk unrolled itself at King Rast’s feet. Rast tucked his boots under the throne and glared at Rezol.
“It will not bite you,” Rezol said.
“Do not let it get so close,” Rast replied. “Find what it knows, and get rid of it. And step off the dais. I hate the way you tower over me.”
Rezol relished Rast’s uneasiness for a few moments before moving to the yekerk’s level and concentrating on its small brain. He gleaned it had seen a horse and a rider—two riders, though that part was confused—there had been a fight, the riders and others killed the rest of the yekerk. This one thought he had clawed the horse. Yekerk were easily flustered—once sidetracked, they had to start over.
That did not matter. What mattered was there was a Horsecaller in Cirq.
He could put a Horsecaller to good use.
He calculated the meaning swiftly, considered withholding this from the king. “They were attacked, the others were killed.” For now, he needed Rast’s army to bring the Horsecaller and horses. He would let Rast draw the obvious conclusion. “They saw a horse and rider.”
“Ah!” Rast exclaimed.
To keep Rast off balance, he said, “It does not mean there is a Horsecaller.”
Rast looked annoyed. “What else could it mean?”
“I see your point, my lord. Indeed, what else could it mean? There must be a Horsecaller.” And right on time, he thought, considering the prophecy. Had that goddess-forsaken crone been right?
The king sprang up to stand behind the throne, his favorite place for thinking. “That means they will call the horses soon. We cannot allow them to regain their power. I have waited too long for the collapse of that cursed queendom to allow it to resurge now, just when we are on the brink of victory!”
Rast underlined the point by bringing his closed fist down hard on the back of his throne. He grimaced and cradled the injured hand with his other. Rezol kept his face straight, just.
“I will send troops to kill the Horsecaller.”
“An excellent strategy, my lord.” Rezol did not mention he had a well-placed spy in Cirq, one he had engaged nearly ten courses before. With luck, a report about the Horsecaller's whereabouts would arrive soon.
Rezol had no intention of allowing Rast’s shortsighted idiocy to destroy the Horsecaller. He had other plans for Cirq’s horses. The King could not invade, not yet. Even though Tinnis did not allow Cirq to billet a fighting force, Rezol had no doubt they would guard their Horsecaller with all they had. Every last one of Cirq’s citizens was a well-trained warrior. He would suggest his alternate strategy when the king’s failed.
“You have not forgotten your arrangement with Cirq’s Chancellor?”
“What of it?”
Rezol suppressed a sigh. One thing he missed about the company of other sages was intelligent conversation. “She is your ally now. No doubt it would please her to help you in this matter.”
The King scraped one of his long incisors with a gray fingernail and fluffed his thick beard from underneath. Then, he returned to his throne. Clearly he did not know how to make use of his new associate.
“Yes,” he answered slowly. “It would please her to please me and also prove her loyalty. I will send word.” Rast swung a stubby leg at the yekerk. “Get this thing out of my sight.”
Rezol scrambled the yekerk’s brain with a concentrated stare. A perplexed expression spread over its ugly features, it collapsed, shook for a moment, then went limp. Rezol frowned. The procedure should have worked faster, but he had few to practice on. He could not do it to people, not yet, so he turned his ever-more powerful mind to the cows already slated for slaughter, which he could drop with a glance. Perhaps the yekerk were more advanced than he thought.
“Did you have to do that?” The King snapped his fingers for the guards to take the yekerk remains away.
“I am sorry it disturbed you, my lord.” Rezol bowed. “In future, I will confine m
y efforts to my tower.”
~~~
As Queen Naele stepped over the threshold of The Inn at the Crossroads, she noted it had changed not at all. She could not remember how long it had been since she last visited, but it had been many, many seasons.
She stood inside the doorway for a moment flanked by two of her guardians. The common area was smaller than she recalled. That was always the way. Their favorite room, the one on the third floor she and Pirron had always used, would probably not be as cozy as she pictured in her memory.
Beldon scuttled toward her. No, Beldon was long gone. This was his son…Belenn, who favored his father down to the stained apron with frayed hem.
“Your majesty, you honor us.” He bowed.
“Do you mean surprise us, Belenn?”
The following moment of silence spoke loudly. He recovered quickly and spit out the expected platitude.
“Too long has it been since you visited our lowly establishment, my queen. Shall I prepare your usual room?”
He glanced at the ceiling as though he could see the roof rafters. Obsequious, but guarded, even nervous. Well, she should expect nothing more, nothing less.
“I have no wish to climb three flights of cramped stairs.” Better to not visit the one place she had known true joy. It could never be again. “You still have the private room off this area?”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“Have it made up for me. The common room is not to be used while I am in residence.”
“Of course, your majesty.” He gestured over his shoulder to what she assumed were people in his employ hiding just out of sight. “And how long can we expect to enjoy your presence, my queen?”
As if they would enjoy her presence. “As long as necessary, Belenn. No more, no less.”
As the innkeeper backed away, Naele felt the Supreme Guardian approach. She always knew when he was near, the way one knew the sun had risen even with eyes closed. She sensed his light before he entered the room. Which he did now at the base of the stairs.
He was different. She had not seen him in nearly three-hundred days, and then he had been as always: powerful, composed, inaccessible. Something—or someone—had disturbed his self-possession, and it was not the sudden appearance of his queen. Every hair perfect, clothing immaculate, deferential smile in place, yet he looked…disheveled.
“My queen,” he said. “How glad I am to see you.” He came toward her, hands extended. “You look very well for having walked here from Lerom so quickly.”
She took his hands. It was his eyes, she decided. Oh, they were the same color as usual—the sunset reflected by the sea—but there were depths and shades of warmth she had never before seen. “My guardians help keep my steps light.”
“Even so, will you sit and take tea?”
He led her to the nearest table, and a woman rushed forward to wipe it while another set down a tray with a pot, cups, and a plate of dried fruit and nuts. The first women then dusted a chair before pulling it out. Naele sank into it gratefully. Her guardians helped, but she was tired. Leinos could see it when no one else did. Oddly enough, he had this ability before having the powers of Supreme Guardian bestowed upon him. Keenly observant, unfailingly kind, endlessly compassionate, unless the situation called for force. Then, he could be stealthy, swift, and deadly as a sage.
If she were younger, if he were older…but no. No one could replace her consort, her one love, Pirron.
“Thank you for sending the Horseguard so quickly.” Leinos poured her a cup of tea, then one for himself. “Had I thought you would leave the capitol, I would have requested that as well.”
He was right, as usual. She had isolated herself ever since Pirron’s death. “It was time.”
Leinos’s guardians, the old ones he insisted on keeping, clattered down the stairs, he smoothing his hair, she straightening her overshirt as if she had just thrown it on. Well. They never failed to make good use of a bed when one was available. Naele envied them. They took positions at a discreet distance.
“Tell me of this hope you mentioned and for which you needed the Horseguard.”
“Did the sun shine during your journey today?”
He never idly sat and chatted. “I beg your pardon, Supreme Guardian. I am not sure I heard you right.”
His smile was fleeting and patient. Arrogant man.
“Indulge me a moment, my queen.”
“No. The sun did not shine on my journey,” she said, sounding more cross than intended. “But as we came farther north, I could see that it was clear in this area. What of it?”
His eyes danced with excitement, and apprehension suddenly gagged her throat.
“We have a Horsecaller.”
Four simple words.
Correction.
Three simple words and one outrageous, complicated unnerving word. She stared at him, waiting for more, wishing the sentence back in to his mouth. Not now. Not now.
“Did you hear me? A Horsecaller! And a horse. A magnificent horse. You must see him.”
Naele was aware her hand had flown to cover her throat. She forced it back to the handle of her teacup, willed it to be still, compelled her pulse to stop fluttering like dry leaves on a windy day, and managed to make her voice steady. Even though she felt as though he had just taken his stave to the back of her head.
“How can this be?”
He pulled back, his enthusiasm drained away. His eyes, so animated a moment before, became flatter than a becalmed lake. He knew she did not welcome this news.
“We had help from Sage Vraz and High Crone Sebira.”
“The only help that comes from sages and crones is sorcery. Did they conjure a Horsecaller from thin air?”
A nearly imperceptible startled blink. She did not relish mocking him, but this, this Horsecaller, could not be allowed.
“No, although it seems so. They brought her through the Ravery.”
His voice carried a rare—no, an unprecedented—note of wonder.
“The Ravery?” Her? Naele now understood what had disturbed his self-possession. “Have you gone mad?”
Belenn’s people had carried carpets, chairs, tables, and now a bed through to the private sitting room that would be hers for the coming days. She already longed for the ordered austerity of her tower in Lerom.
“It seems impossible after all this time,” Leinos said. “But consider the prophecy. A new Horsecaller will come along dark, unused paths.”
“Crone gibberish?” Naele rubbed her temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “This is what I am to base the future of our country on? A Raver? A female Horsecaller?”
“Let me bring her down to meet you. You will like her.”
Naele stared at him, leaned closer and looked deeply into his eyes. “She has enthralled you, this Raver, and you do not even realize. You know nothing of where she comes from or what awful power she might own.”
His narrowed and his face hardened. As if she, Queen Naele of Cirq, were the one without her wits.
“I am retiring for the evening.” She downed the last of her tea. “As are you. I suggest you use the time to think on this. We will meet again in the morning.”
Naele drew cool dignity around herself like a protective cloak, and rose.
“Marzak should be here then as well. I will have him remove whatever glamour this Raver placed on you. Then, when your head is clear once more, we will talk.”
She turned and walked to her quarters without a backward glance.
~~~
Upstairs, Lauren had been pacing. After Leinos left, she had tried sitting, but there was nothing to occupy her restless hands, let alone her mind. She desperately wanted to know what Leinos and the queen were talking about, how it was going. She longed to go to Pindar and immerse herself in grooming him. That was how she handled stress. With activity. Leinos had told her to stay put, but she was losing it.
If she used the back stairs and returned quickly, no one would be the wiser. As she g
rasped the door handle, though, a soft knock sounded from the other side. Finally. News. She pulled the door open, expecting Leinos, or maybe Artepa or Pheeso, though she’d scarcely seen them since arriving. Instead, filling the doorway was a man, a very large man with white hair and beard. If not for the long, shiny cloak that she recognized as similar to the one Vraz wore, she would have thought Santa Claus had come to town.
“A very jolly good evening to you, Lady Horsecaller,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “I am Second-Degree Sage, Marzak. I bring greetings and the kind regard of Vraz and High Crone Sebira.”
Lauren gaped at him. His long, bushy eyebrows nearly hid a pair of piercing blue eyes that glowed like little neon lights. He glanced over his shoulder, then whispered, “Do ask me in, if you please. I must speak to you before Queen Naele knows of my presence.”
Based on her experience with Vraz, Lauren could think of many reasons not to be alone with a sage, but she stepped back. Help was not far away if needed. He turned sideways to enter, and took a seat by the fire, warming his hands.
“The ground is cold. Will you ring for tea?”
Lauren yanked the bell rope near the door. Jana had told her how to use it earlier. Just like in an old English manor house.
A few moments later, Jana poked her head in, saw the sage, and said, “I suppose he wants tea?”
Jana went out after Lauren nodded. She sat in the chair opposite Marzak. “The ground?”
“Yes. Sages travel through the soil. You did not know?”
She shook her head.
“Vraz did not educate you as he should have. I have already taken him to task for it. And crones use the air. You saw Sebira, I believe?”
Lauren confirmed she had seen the woman materialize out of nothing, like smoke. The light faded from Marzak’s eyes. As though an artifact from his method of getting around that dimmed once he was above ground. She was fascinated by his looks and the familiar way he had launched into conversation, as though they were old friends. He probably knew all about her, while she knew nothing of him.
