Twilight's Dawn dj-9

by Anne Bishop

  Setting the cards down, Rainier checked the title of each book. He’d read all of them, but he wasn’t going to say that, since it was clear it hadn’t been easy for Endar to bring them or admit to owning them. “Thank you. These will help pass the time.”

  Surreal walked through the door and the chatter in the room stumbled before picking up the rhythm again. As she approached their table, he noticed how much Endar tensed, how ready the man was to take up a defensive position. Couldn’t blame him. Not after her attack on Falonar.

  “Surreal, darling, Endar kindly loaned me some books. Could you take them up to my room so they’ll be safe?”

  By the time she’d unbuttoned her heavy coat, he knew she’d assessed his visitor, and his ease with the Eyrien, and understood what the loan of those books meant.

  “Sure,” she said, taking the books. “You want anything from your room while I’m up there?”

  “No, thanks.”

  When she walked away, Endar gulped in a breath, then gulped some ale. Rainier picked up his cards and resumed his game.

  Endar watched for a bit.

  “I’ve played every card game I know more times than I care to consider,” Rainier said. “Do you know any?”

  “Betting games, you mean?”

  He shook his head. “The healing brews I have to drink are strong enough to give me a muzzy head.”

  “Well, there is hawks and hares. But it’s a children’s card game.”

  Rainier smiled. “I could handle that. I think.”

  Endar called in a different deck of cards. “I keep them with me,” he mumbled as he shuffled the cards. “To distract the little ones when Dorian needs some peace.”

  Rainier said nothing, just absorbed all the messages under and around the words.

  Lucivar walked into The Tavern, glanced at the table ringed by Eyriens, and reached the bar just as Surreal lifted the tray of drinks and went off to tend a couple of tables.

  “The way she kept staring at everyone, folks were afraid to come up and order a drink,” Briggs said, standing on the other side of the bar. “Merry suggested that she look after a few tables while she was keeping an eye on things, and she agreed—and promised not to poison anyone’s drink. She was joking about that, wasn’t she?”

  “If Surreal promised not to poison anyone tonight, she won’t.”

  Briggs stared at him. “You want ale?”

  “I’d rather have a very large whiskey, but I’ll take coffee if you have it. It’s my night to give the little beast his bath, so I’ll need my reflexes sharp beforehand and the whiskey after.”

  Laughing, Briggs went to fetch him a large mug of coffee.

  Leaning against the bar, he idly watched Rainier and Endar playing some kind of game, encouraged by Hallevar, Kohlvar, Zaranar, and Rothvar.

  “Endar showed up first,” Surreal said, setting a tray of dirty glasses on the bar. “Loaned Rainier four books. I gathered reading isn’t a shameful activity if a warrior is so badly injured there isn’t much else he can do.”

  Lucivar winced at the sharp edge in her voice.

  “The others showed up a little while ago.”

  “I’m surprised they aren’t entertaining Falonar,” he said.

  She huffed out a breath. “Nothing has been said—at least nothing I heard while moving around the tables—but I have the impression they’re all feeling uneasy about what Falonar did. They haven’t criticized him openly. . . .”

  “But they’re here tonight, giving Rainier company,” he finished. Showing support and indicating they saw Rainier as one of their own instead of being with the leader who hadn’t taken care of an injured man.

  “I haven’t heard Rainier laugh this much since before we walked into that damn spooky house.”

  Lucivar narrowed his eyes. He hated feeling suspicious about men he liked, but the Eyriens hadn’t made much effort to get to know the people of Riada. “How much has Rainier lost? And how much has he had to drink?”

  “It’s not a betting game,” Surreal replied. “Some game called hawks and hares.”

  Children’s card game. Daemonar was just learning to play it.

  “And his so-called muzzy head, which might be somewhat genuine, is a result of Jaenelle’s healing brews. They’ve also sneaked him sips of ale. Not much, and within the limits Jaenelle told Merry he was allowed to have.”

  He let the play continue while he drank his coffee and ate the sandwich Merry put in front of him. Then he waited until Hallevar looked his way. He made a twirling motion with one finger.

  “Last hand, boys,” Hallevar said loudly enough to carry back to the bar. “We all need to get some rest.”

  The only man who didn’t glance his way was Rainier, who studied the cards in his hand with heightened intensity. It was so like Daemonar’s response to the first “bedtime” call, Lucivar almost laughed out loud.

  He wasn’t sure if Endar deliberately lost that round to finish up quickly, or if Surreal was right and Rainier was nowhere near as muzzy-headed as he was allowing people to think, but the game ended fairly soon after and the Eyriens departed, making a point of thanking Merry and Briggs for the hospitality.

  “Do I have to go upstairs now?” Rainier asked woefully.

  “It’s bath night.”

  “I don’t need help taking a bath.”

  “No, but my boy does.”

  “Ah.”

  Rainier shifted his left leg. Merry and Surreal rushed toward the table. Lucivar gave them both a look that had them pulling up short.

  “Give the man some room,” he said firmly.

  Two pairs of female eyes narrowed at him.

  Ah, shit. “Do not give me any sass.”

  The eyes narrowed a little more.

  *Can we get out of this room, please?* Rainier asked, studying the women.

  *Yes, if you make some effort.*

  He got Rainier upright and felt those eyes watch him until they reached the stairs that led up to the rooms.

  Since Rainier cooperated, it didn’t take long to get him settled for the night. Sitting beside the bed, Lucivar called in a jar of ointment.

  “What’s that?” Rainier asked.

  “Healing salve.” After putting a tight shield around his hands, Lucivar scooped out a generous amount of salve and began smoothing it over Rainier’s left leg from hip to knee.

  “I can do that.”

  “Not tonight, you can’t. Right now, Jaenelle wants someone else getting a careful feel of those muscles, and that someone is me.”

  Rainier said nothing for a few minutes, letting him focus on the leg. The ointment was laced with spells—warming spell, numbing spell, he didn’t know how many others. His fingers carefully followed the lines of muscles, feeling a ridge at the spot where they were originally severed and then repaired so many times.

  “Lucivar?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Is there any honorable work a young Eyrien male can do except fighting? Or does he have to be permanently wounded badly enough to be a liability in a fight before he can do something else without shame?”

  Lifting his hand from Rainier’s leg, Lucivar gave the other man a long look. “Why do you ask?”

  “Nothing certain. Just impressions.”

  “You were Second Circle in the Dark Court at Ebon Askavi, and you’re an observant man.”

  Rainier took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I had the impression that Endar was trying to find out how serious this leg injury is. What I could no longer do. He doesn’t like being a guard. He doesn’t like the bloodshed that comes in a fight. I gathered that’s a shameful thing for an Eyrien male to feel. Would he fight to defend his family? Without hesitation or question. But he doesn’t like it as his work, and he’s afraid to say anything because he likes living here and his wife likes living here. If someone can’t offer him a way to keep his standing with other Eyriens, I think the day might come when he drops his guard during one of the workouts, quite by accident,
and receives a blow that will make him a cripple who has to do some other kind of work.”

  Lucivar resumed smoothing the salve over Rainier’s leg. “Did you get any impression about what kind of work he might want to do?”

  “No. The other Eyriens came in at that point, and he shied away from the subject.”

  “I’m going to be looking for a teacher. Someone for the Eyrien youngsters. Someone who can teach them reading and writing and their sums, as well as Eyrien history and basic Protocol.”

  “Basically the same initial education as any child in Kaeleer, with the history and traditions specific to a race.”

  “Yes.”

  “Fighting?”

  “Hallevar is arms master. He’ll take care of that part of the education.” If he stays. “Haven’t worked out how it will be done, but it’s going to be done.”

  He could almost feel Rainier putting the information together.

  “This isn’t common knowledge yet?” Rainier asked.

  Lucivar shook his head. “Not for a few more days.”

  “But if a particular person were to ask my opinion about a possible alternative to being a guard?”

  “You could mention that you’d heard I was looking for a teacher.”

  He left Rainier a few minutes later and went into the bathroom. He washed the salve off his shielded hands and then, dropping the shield, washed his hands again. Then he tapped on the other door.

  “It’s open,” Surreal said.

  He walked into her room and stopped, feeling his heart kick once.

  Short blades, long blades, slim blades and double-edged. Even an Eyrien hunting knife she’d probably had Kohlvar make for her the last time she’d stayed in Ebon Rih.

  Her gold-green eyes were focused on him as her hands unerringly stroked a blade over the whetstone. There was something terrifyingly erotic about watching Surreal hone her blades.

  “You won’t need those tomorrow,” he said.

  She just smiled.

  Because of what he saw in her eyes, he didn’t get near her. That was simply caution. He could meet her in a fight and win. They both knew it. He also knew he needed to talk to Daemon very soon.

  He could meet her in a fight and win. But outside of a fight, he wasn’t sure what to do with a Gray-Jeweled witch who might be drifting too close to the borders of the Twisted Kingdom.

  FIVE

  Surreal set two plates on the table, then poured two cups of coffee and took a seat.

  Rainier studied the chunks of chicken and ham on top of a generous portion of casserole. “Didn’t Merry serve this casserole for dinner last night?”

  “It has eggs, so today it’s a breakfast casserole. Toast?” Her sharp smile told him what he could do with his next comment about the casserole.

  He took a piece of toast and dug in to his meal.

  They’d gone down to the coffee shop and bakery every morning, so having breakfast in The Tavern’s main room felt strange. Then again, a lot of things had felt strange lately. When Endar and the other Eyriens came to see Rainier, she’d been ready to fight, almost needed to fight.

  But there was no reason to fight, because Endar, Hallevar, and the other men had been making an effort to help Rainier, working with him, even being protective of him as he began exercising the damaged leg.

  Feeling easier about Rainier after that first workout, she thought she’d gotten over whatever was riding her temper. Then Jillian showed up yesterday morning. The teacher was sick. School was canceled. Lucivar let the girl stay to be her partner with the sparring sticks, having Endar stand as their instructor.

  Nothing wrong with Endar. He was a gentle man with an abundance of patience. But she saw him raise a sparring stick and step toward Jillian—which was what he was supposed to do because he’d been demonstrating a move—and she almost attacked him, almost gutted him.

  She’d have to talk to Jaenelle before she did something that couldn’t be undone. It was possible there was some unexpected residue from the poisoning. Maybe the poison, and the illness that followed, had stirred up memories that plagued her dreams but disappeared by morning, leaving her feeling tired and vulnerable.

  But today there were simpler problems to face.

  “I think we should run The Tavern,” she said. “Merry is down with that stomach upset, and Briggs bolted upstairs at the first whiff of food.”

  “You’re going to cook?” Rainier asked. “Not that you can’t, but Merry usually makes a significant amount of food for a day.”

  “And we won’t. I’ll see what’s left over from yesterday. We can make sandwiches, maybe a soup. And serve drinks and coffee. Anyone who wants more can go somewhere else. You could settle yourself on that stool Briggs keeps behind the bar for the slow times. I’ll wait on the tables.”

  “We should check with Lucivar.” Rainier glanced up as the door opened.

  “Go away. We’re not open yet,” Surreal snapped without looking around to see who had come in.

  “You’re not open yet?” Lucivar asked as he walked up to their table and looked at Rainier. “And what do you need to check with me?”

  Shit shit shit. “Merry and Briggs are down with that disgusting stomach illness,” she said. “Instead of them losing a day’s business as well as feeling miserable, I thought Rainier and I could run the place for them.”

  “Well, having the two of you running things would either scare away all the customers or bring in a crowd to watch the show,” Lucivar said.

  Choosing to ignore him because he was right, she ate a neat bite of her breakfast.

  “We could open late, after the day’s training,” Rainier said.

  “No training today,” Lucivar said. “That’s what I came to tell you.”

  “Is there a reason for that?” Surreal asked.

  “Yes, there is.”

  She glanced at Rainier. Something going on here, and Rainier knows what it is. Or at least knows some of it.

  “Marian’s making a couple of soups this morning,” Lucivar said. “If you bring a pot and the supplies up to the eyrie, I think she’d be willing to make a pot for you to serve here.”

  “All right.”

  Rainier called in a leather case similar to the ones Daemon and Lord Marcus, his man of business, used when conveying documents.

  “I reviewed them and sorted them as you asked,” Rainier said. “And confirmed what you already knew.”

  “Thanks.” Lucivar vanished the leather case and gave Rainier a sharp look. “Daemon should be at the Keep by now. He and I have something to discuss. Then he’ll be coming here to talk to you.”

  “Why? I haven’t done anything to annoy him.”

  “I know you haven’t,” Lucivar said.

  “I haven’t done anything either,” Surreal said primly.

  “Don’t push your luck. You, I’m not sure of.”

  She laughed, more to encourage him to leave than because she was amused.

  The moment he did leave, she leaned toward Rainier. “What’s going on? He’s been flying all over the valley and hasn’t been focused on any of the workouts except yours.”

  “And yours,” Rainier said. “He flies around the valley all the time, keeping tabs on the Rihlander villages and the Eyrien camps.”

  She shrugged that off. “This is different. Obviously he asked you to do some paperwork for him, quietly. And now Sadi has arrived for an early-morning meeting—and Marian is making a lot of soup, which means she wants something easy that she can offer to a lot of guests.”

  They studied each other. She didn’t want him to break a confidence, but she’d seen the same thing that he had during the workouts over the past couple of days: The Eyrien males around Riada seemed to be dividing between two leaders instead of understanding that there was one leader and his second-in-command.

  “Let’s just say, for now, that it’s a good thing we’ll be running The Tavern for Merry and Briggs,” Rainier said.

  “So we’re all going
to find out today?”

  “Yes.”

  Well, won’t that be interesting?

  Lucivar watched Daemon tap the thick stack of contracts back into a neat pile. “When it was just me and the Rihlanders, I knew what I was supposed to be. I stood for Blood law and honor. I drew the line and defended it. But this?” He blew out a breath. “I’m not sure about this.”

  Daemon poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot Draca had provided. “You’re making this difficult, Prick, when it’s really quite simple. You’re the Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih. You rule this territory. And now you’re going to fulfill one of your obligations to the Eyriens who live in your territory by completing the last step in the service contracts they signed with you. And Lucivar? You still stand for Blood law and honor—and you’re still drawing the line and defending it.”

  “Even today?”

  “Especially today. Once you make your announcement, you’ll have a good idea of who is staying, who is going, who you can trust, and who should never see your back. The ones who think you’re a good leader and want the kind of life and community you’re offering will be pissed off when you toss these papers at them. They’ll be the first to want to talk, and they won’t be polite.”

  “Eyriens rarely are,” Lucivar said with a grim smile.

  “That’s the first group, the equivalent of your First Circle. The second group is going to be shocked by the possibility that they’ll be cut loose and might have to serve someone who isn’t Eyrien or go back to Terreille. They’ll realize they do like it here and want to stay, and they’ll make some effort to prove it to you. There also will be the ones who aren’t ballsy enough to come to you personally but will seek advice from someone you trust.

  “The women will be different,” Daemon continued. “They’ll come to your home when they’re fairly sure that Marian will be around. Easier to talk to you there. Again, the ones who want to stay will make an effort to talk to you quickly. Even the ones who don’t want to work for you but want to stay in Ebon Rih will come and talk soon.”