“This. Is not. My apartment.”
The men carrying the last trunk began to enter the room. The first had his back to me, and trudged straight into me. The man gasped and tried to move back the other way. The man on the other end was not ready for this and both men almost lost their feet.
I scarcely knew whom to scream at first. “Get out. Out. Out.”
“My lord,” the woman mumbled, “this is the best we have to offer you. We have toiled since we heard of your arrival to make for you a home. I am so very sorry, my lord, that we have displeased you.”
“A home?” I yelled with a laugh, and seized an ugly wood carving from a short pedestal. “This is wretched. You are wretched. Not one thing within these walls is worthy of me.”
She began to speak again, but I was done listening to her bleating. I raised the carving over my head and flung it toward her. It hit the floor at her feet as she backed away and bounced up into her face. I heard a dull cracking sound, and she screeched. Blood rushed from her nose, and they fled.
“Get away from me and do not bother me again until my father sends for me.”
I jumped onto the middle of the bed and folded my arms. Someone would come for me. They had to.
Gern appeared in the doorway and spoke before I could. “This is your home now, prince, and though there is no one who can rescue us from you, there is also no one here who would rescue you from us.”
Then he set his hand upon his sword and closed the door.
11
Alsman Leger Mertone
A Day in Late Autumn, 1194
I woke and cursed. I was sober.
I searched for a bottle, but the room disappointed me. The small square was built of a darker stone than all of Bessradi and smelled very old. A glance out the window made my head spin. I sat back down on the bed. Urnedi manor, it seemed.
I scoured my eyes with my thumbs, scratched at my scalp, and began to remember parts of the journey. My new title had allowed me to lean on enough servants to build up quite a stash of wine. I must have run out. My stomach stabbed me.
Maybe I should eat something.
A plate of cold chicken sat on a small table next to a cold fireplace. I managed a few bites before my stomach stabbed me again. It did not need food. It needed wine.
I rose and moved toward the door with purpose. The hallway beyond was deserted, a staircase at one end. If the prince’s new manor had any wine, it would be in the cellar with the kitchen and the stores.
I staggered down and found a pair of women with a large kettle held between them. They turned and almost dumped the stew on the floor.
“Wine,” I growled.
The pair wrestled the kettle onto the stove, and one pointed toward a corner. I followed her gesture toward a bottle in a deep alcove, grabbed it greedily, and started back toward my room. Neither said a word.
But while I stomped my way up, voices moved into a space below. They were stern and urgent. I stopped to listen.
“Where is the prince?”
“The cur’s in his room and hasn’t left it since he arrived. Same goes for his drunken alsman.”
“It didn’t go well?”
“Well?” a third man raved. “He broke my hand and my wife’s nose. He is mad, I tell you. He’s convinced his father’s men are here to test him or some such nonsense.”
“Calm down, Urs,” the first hissed. “You do not understand. A Zoviyan prince must be treated a certain way and discussed a certain way, whether you like it or not, whether it is right or not. If one of Vall’s men were to hear your words or see how Barok has been treated, we would all of us hang.”
“There is no one here. Why does everyone think there is? He was banished, and no one is coming for him.”
The man named Sahin did not respond until tempers had cooled. “Has he been fed?”
The calmer and younger man replied, “No one has spoken to him since he arrived.”
“Who was the last?”
“I was. He told us to get out until his father sent for him.”
“That could be a while.”
“Indeed.”
“Sahin,” the angry voice begged, “please, you have to get rid of him.”
My blood chilled and pounded painfully. This man named Urs was contemplating treason. I reached toward my sword only to thump the wine bottle against my hip.
Sahin replied coolly, “I am going to forget you said that.”
“You do not understand, Sahin. If Vall’s men do arrive, Barok will have us all killed. If they do not, I fear he will order his alsman to do it or do it himself.”
“One little alsman and prince, kill all of us?”
“Both of them are a half head again taller than you are, Sahin. The alsman is wearing some kind of Hemari star on his chest, and the rider who brought word of Prince Barok told me he was the most feared swordsman at the capital. He also told me the reason he was banished.”
I waited with Sahin to hear it.
“The man said the prince kidnapped and raped a royal before he killed her, one of his grooms, and three Hemari guards.”
I scoffed and heard Sahin do the same.
“That sounds more like rumor than a reason to do murder. I think you’re feeling your hand, dear reeve. Besides, unless you gave him a sword, he shouldn’t have one, nor should his alsman. The banished go without arms.”
“The prince brought three blades with him.”
“What? How did he get them?”
“Why ask me that? I don’t know where they came from. They were in one of his trunks. I also saw a coat of mail, helm, and shield before he threw us all out. Proper swords and armor too, like none I’ve ever seen.”
Sahin hissed slowly, and I shared his concern. If the steel had come from Barok’s personal armory, it was the finest made. Urs had very good reason to worry. I did, too, for that matter.
“Okay, Urs, I will go talk to him. Never speak of these things again. In fact, you and your wife should go see the healer at the timber camp. I will go talk to the prince, and then I will decide if we should dispose of him. We never spoke.”
I was in the path of this man suddenly. I turned up the stairs but could scarcely keep my feet. The grind of my thoughts only complicated the task. The men of Enhedu were nothing like what I had expected. To revolt against one’s lord was unheard of upon the plains—Hemari by the thousands and Hessier ever at the ready. The royal family that ruled Heneur was the last to try it, and I had seen firsthand what it earned them. The stories of their slaughter would last for generations.
Who were the men of Enhedu that they were ready to do murder after a single day? And such a murder, even of a banished son like Barok, would not go uninvestigated or unpunished. They didn’t even have someone they could pin it on.
I came to a sudden stop and leaned into the wall. They did have one man they could blame.
Their voices gained on me. My stomach complained, but I made it unseen to my room and collapsed onto the small bed. I mopped the sweat from my brow and reached again for the sword I had lost. I cursed. They would check on me.
They wanted a drunk? Let them think they had one. I stabbed the old cork into the bottle with my thumb and gulped down the gritty old wine with abandon. The red wash soothed my throat and my stomach. The cork got in the way, but I sucked upon the bottle until it was empty. I heard someone approach the door and laid back into the bed.
My thoughts became calm and wet, and the pain in my head dulled with every beat of my heart. I heard the door open slowly.
“A drunk and a thief.”
“Get him the last two bottles.”
“Both?”
The door quietly closed.
Sahin was already setting me up. I waited for a moment and enjoyed the wine in my belly. Then I waited a moment more. I had to do something. I rose slowly and moved to the door.
Barok and Sahin were talking in the room across from mine. I could not make out their words.
I n
eeded to protect my charge. I sat back down on the bed. My thoughts flowed much better. I laid down and smiled at the ceiling.
“I should join them,” I said.
12
Arilas Barok Yentif
It felt late, and I wondered why I was being allowed to sleep in. Glad for the unusual reprieve, I pulled the blankets up over my head. They had a strange smell. They were also very coarse.
I flung them away and relived the nightmare of my arrival. I sneezed once from the dust and felt a stab of hunger so painful I looked toward the doorway with hopes of seeing the arrival of breakfast. I saw nothing but gray stone and felt nothing but frustration and the chill of the morning air. I tugged the blankets back up as close to my nose as I dared.
“Father’s men are delayed on the road,” I said to the room. “They will be here soon.” I listened for their footsteps, but the rustling of the leaves outside and the drag of the curtains across the floor were not interrupted. I closed my eyes to the soft brushing rhythm.
A sound startled me awake, and I flung the covers aside, confused by the passage of time. The light in the room suggested midday. I heard the scrape of a man’s heavy boot in the hallway, leapt out of the bed, and tried to straighten my clothes. I was a terrible mess.
A relatively tall man with a shaved head strode confidently into the room. He was dressed as ruggedly as the rest of Urnedi’s rabble, but had the look of a courier from the capital.
He bowed deeply. “Prince Barok, my name is Sahin.”
My shoulders sagged. “The bowyer?”
“Yes, Prince. I am very glad to meet you. Please allow me to apologize for everyone at Urnedi. The manor never receives visitors, much less a royal Yentif. Please also accept my apologies for not making it here in time for your arrival. I should have been here.”
“Yes, you should have. Why are you here now?”
“Only to help, my lord. A meal is waiting for you in the great hall, and though we have no clothiers at Urnedi, if you would accept the help of two of our girls, they would be happy to help you find some fresh clothing.”
“Is there any word from my father?”
“Do you ride, my lord?” he asked.
My anger rose sharply. I wanted him to answer my question, not ask his own. But I caught something in his tone and expression. I let my rage cool.
“Yes,” I replied simply.
“Then after you have eaten, we shall ride north and take a tour of your lands.”
“A tour?”
“Yes, my lord. There is much you could see.” His tone suggested again that he was not saying all that he might.
“Very well, bowyer. I will meet you in the great hall.”
The man bowed smartly, spun, and left the apartment. I heard him say a few short sentences to someone in the hallway, likely the girls. I moved around the bed and stood before the window. My hunger and frustration circled each other as I contemplated what Sahin was going to show me. Gern and Urs had all but convinced me that father’s men were not at Urnedi, but Sahin had opened that door again. I decided I would cooperate for a time.
The girls entered and searched through the clothes, whispering nervously. Grinding my teeth at the preposterousness of what I was about to do, I turned to help them. Something adequate for the day was already hanging in the open wardrobe.
“I will need something to go riding in,” I prompted and looked toward the blue and brown of silk and leather. “I could also use a bath.”
The prettier of the two blushed hotly. “We have no washerwomen,” she whispered.
I took a long second look at the budding girl. She was a bit awkward-looking but had full breasts and amazing hips. Her dark eyes and tasty lips also drew the eye. “What do you know of washerwomen?”
“Stories,” she said nervously. “Stories I’ve read.”
“You can read? How old are you?”
“Seventeen, well, nearly eighteen.”
“Where did you learn?” I asked, but figured it out from the family resemblance before she replied.
“I learned to read right here. I am Fana Sedauer, the reeve’s daughter. He taught me.”
“You have your mother’s eyes,” I said with a soft smile, causing her bloom to turn yet another shade of red. I wanted her to tell me one of the stories she had read, but it occurred to me Urs was very unlikely to have left his daughter alone in my presence. I suspected someone was listening or was at least close at hand.
“You misunderstand. I simply need a bath.”
She bowed and moved toward the wide bench between the fireplace and window. To my surprise, she lifted the seat like a lid, revealing a deep wooden tub. She took hold of a circle of cork, plugged the drain, and reached toward a pipe that ran along the wall beside the fireplace. I had not noticed the blue-green patina-covered pipe before and smiled when she opened a small valve, sending water flooding into the tub.
“The water has cooled a bit, my lord, since the fire has gone out. I am sorry.”
“That is fine,” I said, more impressed by the contraption than disappointed with the chill of the water. “I will call for you when I am done.”
The other girl finished laying the clothes out on the bed and moved toward the door. Fana looked at me once with redoubled sheepishness and scampered after her companion.
I crossed to the basin, imagining Urs’ expression when I told him I had chosen Fana to be Urnedi’s first washerwoman. I fumbled with the valve until the water slowed and stopped.
The water proved colder than I had hoped, and it made the bath one of the quickest I had ever taken. The soap was harsh and pungent, but it was a cure for filth.
As I was finishing, I heard a light rap upon the door.
“Yes?”
“I have a towel for you,” Fana said.
I looked at the towel resting on the floor beside the tub. “Very good,” I replied, curious if she would actually enter the apartment.
She opened the door and looked down the hallway before stepping inside. She closed it softly and crossed all the way to the edge of the tub.
“I am so very sorry my father offended you,” she said as she unfolded the towel and held it up toward me.
“Where is your father?”
“Sahin sent him away. He is very sorry he was not here when you arrived. We didn’t have enough time to prepare. Please forgive us.”
I looked at the towel that hid us from each other. What dreams and stories she must have in her head. She reminded me of Dia. Unskilled and a distant second to her beauty but so very fresh—almost certainly untouched. Such fare was not available upon the Deyalu.
I reconsidered my hungers, stood up, and stepped into the towel. I caught her eyes looking at me as I moved. She reached up and wrapped it around my shoulders, and I felt her hands trembling as she waited for me to take the towel. I laid my hands upon hers.
The fiery red returned to her cheeks. I could smell her nervousness—the musky scent of her sweat was strangely alluring. She slowly slid her hands free. Sahin must have wanted desperately to appease—sending the reeve away and his daughter to serve me. I was certain he had not considered in his calculation what the girl might have in her own mind, but I was glad for the distraction.
I shivered and pushed the dry towel down my chest and along my arms, knowing there was little chance she would find the courage to do it. I did not let the towel hide anything, though. She turned once to look at the door but stood her ground.
“You should go before you are missed,” I said, and when she did not retreat I reached out with one hand, slid my thumb along her hot cheek and the tips of my fingers slowly along her neck and down across her breast. “Find your way up here late tonight, and we will take a bath together. Would you like that?”
She was barely able to say the words but managed it with a nod. “Yes. Yes, very much.”
“Go then, and be ready to join me tonight.”
She smiled up at me so sweetly I almost took hold of her befo
re she slipped into the hallway.
“Almost reason enough to stay,” I said, and decided I did not want to suffer their fumbling. I dressed and found Sahin in the hall at a table set with food. I sat, and he stayed quiet. Someone put a slab of some kind of seared meat and a scoop of steamed green vegetables into the wooden bowls set before us. The smell of it all was odd, but I could not have cared less.
“Where will we be riding?” I asked while I leaned in over the food.
“Northeast and then north, straight through some of the most beautiful forests in all of Zoviya.”
I chose not to tell him what I thought of the forest I had already seen, and we stayed quiet while I ate my fill. The meat proved surprisingly tender, though I still could not identify what it was. I sat back in my chair, refreshed.
It took only moments, however, before the dreary cave’s poorer qualities and an itch from the harsh soap had me up out of my chair.
“Shall we go?” he asked.
I nodded, and he motioned toward the stairs. “Horses are waiting for us outside.”
I made my way down. The other guard waited with two mounts of very questionable quality. Ten days earlier, I would rather have been stabbed than ride either. Only my hope of being led to some person or place that promised release got me into the saddle.
I noticed the guard’s simple sword again. I still did not have one.
“I lack a blade. Give me yours.”
He removed it, and I put it on. It was a pitiful weapon, but simply having one proved a potent remedy for my displeasures. I recalled the threat Gern had made the previous night and decided I would kill him when we got back.
We rode around the keep and passed a trio of shacks and a woeful stable. Fana and others were there, working around battered washtubs. I understood the quality of her dreams at the sight of her miserable station. She turned away, perhaps to hide her shame. I did not need a reminder of my own and did the same.
We moved through the trees and along a small field planted with a dozen different crops. Fittingly, chickens scratched in the dirt and pigs rooted through the trees. They must feel right at home. My smile faded when I realized that one of the two had been my meal.
Ghost in the Yew: Volume One of the Vesteal Series Page 8
