Between the Water and the Woods

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Between the Water and the Woods Page 12

by Simone Snaith


  The guards studied them silently. One was young and wiry and the other hefty with a beard.

  “He left us with guards?” Fish muttered to Dada, who cleared his throat uncomfortably and nodded at the two men.

  Emeline noticed that the other diners were watching them. “We should sit down,” she said quickly, herding the boys toward a table facing one of the windows. The guards remained standing off to the side. She wished they wouldn’t just stare at them.

  “Did you see how everyone looked at the Lash Knights when they went by?” Dale asked no one in particular. His voice was a little dreamy. “I wonder where they practice fighting.”

  One of the aproned girls brought them five plates full of food. There was toasted bread, slices of meat that were clearly not fish, and chunks of long, pale-colored fruit.

  “What’s this?” Fish exclaimed, and Emeline cringed. The serving girl gave him a disparaging look.

  “It’s beef and yellow-fruit. What you think it is?” she demanded, her speech much less proper than Quaith’s.

  She set down mugs of a steaming black liquid next. Aladane reached for his, taking a big sip—and then he choked and spat it out across the table, splashing Emeline’s cloak. She and the serving girl shrieked.

  “Aladane!” Dada and Fish roared at once. The boy cowered and turned red.

  “It’s disgusting…!” he murmured defensively. The serving girl glared at him, but she untied her apron in one practiced move and began wiping up the liquid with it.

  “Don’t you even know what coffee is?” she asked angrily.

  “We’re not from here,” Emeline muttered, shaking out her cloak.

  The girl gave a shake of her head. “If you follow me in back, you can rinse that out.”

  With a frown at Aladane, Emeline got up and followed her. They crossed the room, passing curious faces at other tables, and went all the way back into the kitchen. It was a long hot room full of steam and women’s voices, rich with the flavor of the strange meat cooking. The girl gave Emeline a bucket of cold water, and she stood in an out-of-the-way corner and pulled off her cloak to dip it in.

  “Cayle, who do you think I saw this morning?” one girl called to another.

  “Why don’t you just tell me?” came the smart reply.

  “Your Sir Reese, that’s who! He’s back!” the girl said gleefully. Emeline glanced up, surprised.

  “Her Sir Reese! In her dreams!” a different voice shrilled.

  “Oh, but he is gorgeous. And already a knight!”

  “Gorgeous, my eye. He’s a big lug!” This was followed by a cackle of laughter, and Emeline grinned.

  “That’s how I like ’em!” Cayle insisted. “You know he’s the best in the field, they say. That’s why he’s knighted already. Fastest and strongest.”

  “He had to be, to get knighted in the first place. Started out just like us,” a stout woman with a red face declared. Emeline stopped wringing the water from her cloak, confused.

  “Oh, right!” the first girl said with scorn. “He’s just like us.”

  “He was brought up poor, that’s all I know.”

  “That’s why he’s my favorite,” Cayle announced. “A poor boy from Aliddser, grown up a knight!”

  Emeline stood up straight and put her hands on her hips. This could not be the same Reese who had spoken so disparagingly of her village. She lingered, wringing out her cloak again.

  “Haven’t you seen how the other knights torture him? Not good enough to serve with them and all that.”

  “He’s never seen with any fine ladies either. My friend Arti works in the hall and says so.”

  “You think they don’t think he’s good enough?”

  Emeline’s indignation faded as murmurs of agreement and the clucking of tongues followed.

  “Or he doesn’t think he’s good enough,” the stout woman said with sympathy.

  “Well, he can stoop to my level any day. He can put on whatever airs he likes with me!” Cayle said. There were several shouts of laughter at that. Emeline found herself smiling again, then turned quickly and went back out to join the others.

  listened absently to the others as they ate their strange breakfast under the watch of the silent guards. The meat was dense, but its flavor was good, and the sweet yellow-fruit was pleasantly soft. Aladane was right about the bitter taste of the coffee, but the warmth of it was soothing, at least.

  “If this is meat from a cow, I can’t say it’s all bad,” Dada said, chewing.

  “It’s not as good as fish, but it’s all right,” Fish allowed.

  Emeline’s mind kept turning over the words of the kitchen girls. Could it really be true that Reese was a poor boy who’d worked his way up to knighthood? It was the very thing Fish had scoffed at Dale for. If his disdainful air was a defense that he had formed against the other knights, then that was understandable, but that didn’t explain why he maintained it with her and her family. Unless it had become a habit he couldn’t shake.

  “Have you ever heard of Aliddser?” she asked Dada. He shook his head, drinking from his mug.

  “I think I saw that on the map. It’s a village in the northeast, past the Spine,” Dale said, his mouth full.

  A village! Emeline thought with delight. He is the same as we are!

  “Look, there’s Mister Quaith coming back,” Aladane said, his eyes glued to the windows even as he ate. “If he asks how the food was, don’t tell him I spit out the coffee.” Emeline and Dale laughed at him.

  “What’ll you give me?” Fish asked with a smirk.

  Quaith came in and joined them, his expression clouded. Dada and Fish nodded at him politely. “Well, I’m afraid the news is not good,” he began. “His Majesty is very interested in your report, especially as Sir Reese wishes to corroborate your account, but he is not at all well today and must postpone his appointments.” He sighed, then straightened himself up. “I will have to escort you back to your rooms for now.”

  “I understand,” Dada said slowly. “Thank you.”

  Emeline looked at Dale and Aladane, and saw that they were ready to burst.

  “Mister Quaith?” she said politely. “Would it be all right if we were to walk around the city for a little while?” The boys nodded earnestly.

  “No, indeed,” Quaith said, surprising her. He frowned and glanced at the guards; she thought he seemed to be considering his next words carefully. “I must be aware of your whereabouts at all times, you see, in case His Majesty summons you.”

  Was he worried about them?

  Emeline looked at Dada and saw that he was ready to agree. She couldn’t imagine spending hours sitting in their rooms, nice as they were.

  “What if we picked one place and stayed there?” Aladane asked.

  “Aladane,” Dada warned.

  “And the guards came with us?” Dale chimed in.

  Dada shot him a stern look, but Quaith finally smiled indulgently. “I understand the capital must be rather exciting to you,” he said. “I suppose we could spare the guards an hour with you, as long as it’s somewhere nearby. And, er, public.”

  “Well, that beats sitting around and twiddling our thumbs,” Fish declared.

  Emeline gave her father a hopeful look, and Dale said, “Dada, we might never be here again!”

  Their father sighed and nodded, looking very troubled.

  Quaith waved for the guards to approach, asking, “Where would you like to go?”

  “Can you take us to see the Lash Knights practice?” Dale blurted out immediately.

  Emeline felt a little thrill at the thought of watching Reese going through his paces, skillful, powerful. But then she was angry at herself, her face coloring. What was he to her?

  Quaith tilted his head in thought. “Hm. Yes, I believe that can be arranged. They’ll have started alre
ady this morning. Are you ready to go now?” Aladane and Dale leapt out of their chairs; Aladane’s fell over backward with a clatter.

  “I would’ve liked to see the library or the underground water system,” Dada told Fish, getting up reluctantly.

  “Well, I guess you should’ve spoken up,” Fish replied.

  “Maybe they’ll have spring-gun shooting at the practice, Mister Fish,” Dale said.

  Quaith laughed, surprising them all. “Spring-guns! I haven’t seen one of those since I was a child.” He exchanged a smug look with the guards. “Guns in the capital shoot bullets, my boy, not darts. Mostly bullets made of silver.”

  Emeline looked at Fish, wondering what bullets were. He frowned, clearly ignorant too. Darts seemed deadly enough to her. She thought of the bandit Mister Fish had shot, and went cold at heart.

  Outside, Quaith spoke to the guards; they were taller than him, but he somehow managed to look down his nose at them. “You may use my carriage, but please drive carefully. Take them to the viewing deck on the field. One hour, no more.” He nodded to Dada and Fish and then marched away toward the silver gates.

  As soon as he left, Dada reached out to shake hands with the bearded guard, startling him. “Thank you for your help,” he said, and the man smiled.

  “Never had to watch over villagers before, instead of fancy folk,” he said in a rough voice. “Be a nice change.”

  “I heard you got important news or something like it,” the younger guard ventured, but his elder nudged him sharply to be silent.

  “We’re not entirely sure of that ourselves,” Dada said cautiously. “But we certainly don’t know our way around here.”

  “The knights’ practice ground’s as good a place to start as any,” the bearded guard said. He opened the carriage door and, to Emeline’s surprise, mimicked Quaith’s voice expertly. “All aboard!”

  They rode alongside the massive stone wall, away from the silver gates. Emeline craned her neck to look up at the tower, suddenly nervous about watching Reese practice with the other knights. Would they see evidence of what the kitchen girls had said? What would Dale think if he saw the other knights mistreating him?

  She could not understand what was so terrible about being from a poor village. We’re all nearly equal in Equane, and everyone has everything they need. It was something she had always taken for granted.

  But maybe it was a rare thing.

  They were approaching the walled practice ground. Two tall poles marked the entrance to the field, topped with long black banners fluttering against the sky. The figures of men on horseback could be seen maneuvering across the muddy grass.

  The carriage parked and they got out, listening to the thunder of horses running. The boys barely restrained themselves from pushing past the guards; the younger one noticed their excitement and grinned. He steered them to the left, toward a raised platform with rows of bench seats for spectators.

  “This is the viewing deck. Up you go, boys! Give ’em some cheers!”

  “We’ll be down here till Master Quaith comes back,” the bearded guard told Dada and Fish. “One hour.”

  The knights were facing off in pairs on armored horses, cracking their whips through the air and catching the impacts on their black shields. Dale and Aladane rushed up toward some open seats, and the rest of them followed.

  Emeline looked at the row of boys and young men who sat along the front of the stands, cheering and waving. Their legs swung down into the field, and they laughed and elbowed each other knowingly. Most of them wore leather armbands and leather patches on their trousers; a few had striped vests and one had long hair tied up like Quaith’s, but in a much messier fashion.

  They all stopped for a moment to gawk at Emeline and the others mounting the steps to sit above them. The seats were tiered so she could just see over the heads of the row in front. Directly across, the field ended in an arched entryway that cut straight through the King’s Wall.

  A loud bell rang out over the field, and the knights traded places with each other quickly, shaking the ground with their horses’ hooves.

  “Look at that!” Dale yelled as one knight lashed the shield out of his opponent’s arms. Fish hooted and looked at Dada.

  “So, Bird, if spring-guns in the capital can shoot pieces of silver, are we supposed to believe these shields can stand up to them?” he asked, incredulous.

  “Probably not at close range! Not the armor, either,” Dada agreed.

  One knight was forcing his opponent backward with powerful lashes, both of them coming closer to the viewing deck. The boys in the front rows jumped up to see.

  “That’s Mallin! He always charges like that!” one of them shouted.

  “He’ll lose in the racing!”

  “Not if he’s up against Asai!”

  Emeline strained to see farther out into the field, looking for Reese’s ring symbol among the shiny black breastplates. Perhaps he wasn’t there today after all? The bell rang out again, and a handful of young men in brown tunics ran forward from the arched entryway. They were carrying sheaths that held long blades.

  “It’s the knife lashing!” a boy shouted.

  The knights were each given a sheath full of shining, long-bladed knives. They paired off again, and then they waited. At the sound of the bell, one knight in each pair began to throw his knives at the other—firm, skilled throws, one blade at a time.

  Emeline sat up straight, alarmed, but the targeted knights were whipping the knives aside in the air. In fact, some of them lashed the blades from their opponents’ hands before they were even thrown. Black whips cracked all over the field as the stands cheered.

  “Look, there’s Reese!” Aladane cried, jumping up.

  And there he was. A large knight with a circle on his chest, wheeling and slashing at the flying blades. Emeline’s heart leapt. He was amazing! He was blindingly fast.

  As if irritated by his ability, the opposing knight began to throw two knives at him at once. Emeline gasped.

  “Don’t worry, Em. Knives can’t go through his armor,” Dada said, glancing back at her.

  “Look how fast he is!” Dale crowed.

  Reese was catching all of the blades, lashing them right out of the air. One of the knives went astray, thrown badly, and he struck it with his whip anyway, as if to prove a point. His speed was truly incredible.

  “Bless water!” Fish said, riveted. The boys in the front row roared with approval.

  “There you go, Reese!”

  “Show ’em how it’s done!”

  All of a sudden, another knight broke away from his partner to fling a knife at Reese too. Emeline cried out and several of the boys turned her way, surprised.

  Reese struck the extra blade with his shield even as he lashed his partner’s knives away. The third knight threw several more, showering Reese, as other pairs of knights stopped to watch. Emeline saw that they were laughing.

  “That Gundan, he’s always riding on Reese!” one of the local boys yelled.

  “He won’t take it for long!”

  “Get him, Reese!”

  Reese roared, whipping Gundan’s entire sheath of knives to the ground. Surprised, Gundan yanked the bridle, and his stallion reared and almost threw him off—he just barely held on. The bell sounded again and Reese spurred his horse toward the nearly thrown knight.

  They rode by each other, smacking shoulders as they passed, and then wheeled about to face each other again. Emeline could only imagine the expressions on their faces, hidden by the dog-muzzle helmets. Another knight had to intervene, riding in between them and holding up an arm.

  It occurred to her, watching, how much these sons of rich men must hate Reese—a poor young upstart who bested them on the field.

  He glanced up in their direction as he rode into the next formation. She suddenly wondered if he’d
heard her cry out—she was the only girl on the viewing deck and her voice had probably carried farther than she’d thought.

  The young men who had brought out the knives were now carrying something new: guns, guns that Emeline knew were not spring-guns. She clenched her hands together in her lap.

  More people were making their way onto the viewing deck. A group of girls a little older than Emeline clattered up the steps, chatting; they all wore the neat round caps she had admired from the carriage, but their clothes were like nothing she’d seen before. Two of them wore long tunics with deliberate tears, revealing a layer of mesh material underneath; another wore a loose, shimmering dress, pinned up at the sides to show her parti-color stockings.

  Most surprising of all, one girl wore a beautiful pair of wings shaped out of silver wire.

  Must be another “whimsical style”!

  The girls caught the eyes of several of the young men in the front row as they took their seats. She could see why—they were as fresh and pretty as a rose garden.

  “Oh, we missed the knives!” one girl said. She jingled, revealing bells on her sleeves.

  “Where’s Gundan? I’ve been daydreaming about him!” another one said, and they all laughed.

  Emeline tucked her plain red cloak around her and turned to look at Dada. “Are the knights just going to shoot each other next?” she asked unhappily. He shrugged, watching just as eagerly now as the boys.

  A row formed of ten knights armed with guns, while the others waited, unarmed, in a line nearby. She gripped the edges of her cloak, the cloth beginning to soften with sweat.

  The bell sounded again, and an unarmed knight kicked his horse forward. He raced directly across the sights of his armed brothers, and as one they started firing on him. The knight dodged what he could and shielded himself against the rest, while another knight spurred out behind him to enter the gauntlet. The clanging of bullets against shields rang through the air.

  Emeline winced as she watched, but the rest whistled and cheered, even the other girls. The sound of the bullet-guns was sharp and violent, worse than spring-guns.

 

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