Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  Cook came in with a loaf of hot bread and a pot of butter, wearing a look of anxious inquiry on his face. "Tasty dead horse, Cook!" Jadrie called, and ducked as he mimed a blow at her. It was an old joke between them, since the time when Jadrie had pestered him as a toddler, wanting to know what was in each dish he made. He had finally gotten annoyed at her incessant questions and snapped, "Dead horse! Can't you see the tail?" From that moment on, any time Cook presented them with an experiment, Jadrie referred to it as a "dead horse."

  "I wasn't certain, before, but I think this would be a good school dish," Cook said to Kethry. "It's easily made ahead and kept warm next to the ovens. Do you think the students would eat it?"

  "If they won't, I'll eat theirs for 'em," Lyan said with his mouth full.

  Jadrek laughed. "With that kind of enthusiasm before them, I imagine they will, Devid," he replied. "This is definitely one of your better experiments."

  Cook beamed his pleasure, and hurried back to the kitchen to supervise the cleaning up. The rest of the meal proceeded in pleasant silence as the mystery dish and the hot bread and butter vanished away like snow in sunshine. Even Kethry, who normally wasn't all that hearty an eater, found herself unusually hungry after her work in the still-room, and was absorbed completely in the meal.

  It wasn't until she had eaten the last bite that she could possibly hold and looked up that she realized not everyone had come to lunch—or, apparently, were expected to.

  "Estrel and Justin and Ikan went down to the village to meet the new Healer-Priestess and they took Jadrek Minor with them," Jadrie said, as Kethry noticed that the other three places weren't set. "Estrel put the babies down for their naps before she left, and Warrl is watching them. Cook said he'd save them lunch; they expected to be back by the time the babies' naps were over."

  "Then I'd better supervise the nursery until they get back, and give Warrl a break," Tarma said, not only willing, but eager. "Jadrie, will you and the twins—"

  Just at that moment, Kethry felt the room drop away from under her, a wash of anger threaten to overwhelm her, and a surge of nameless emotions hit her with a force that made her gasp. Unconsciously, she braced herself on the table, as her family turned to stare at her with varying degrees of surprise and concern.

  And for a moment, she didn't recognize what had hit her, it had been so long—

  "Need," she gasped, when she got her breath back. "It's Need! Something's wrong, something horrible has happened—"

  "To whom?" Tarma demanded. "Can you tell?" Her face paled. "Dear gods, surely not Estrel—"

  Kethry shook her head, both in negation and to clear the tears of shock from her eyes. "Not Estrel, it's not in the direction of the village," she managed to reply. At least in all the time she'd been soul-bonded to the blade, she'd learned to pick out which direction that "trouble" was coming from. "But it can't be too far away, not more than a day's ride at most, or it wouldn't be this strong—"

  Jadrie and the twins stared at her with alarm and dismay. Of course, they've never seen me like this before, Need hasn't grabbed me like this in years—

  "Should we send out a hunter or something—" Jadrek began, and Tarma snapped her fingers.

  "Of course!" she said, then frowned in concentration. "Keth, what direction?"

  "North, north and a little east," she replied, as sure of it as if she was the needle of a compass pointing to the source that was wrenching at her skull and heart.

  A door slammed somewhere, as Tarma said, "Warrl's on it. He's faster in this weather than anyone, and he'll find out exactly where the trouble is. Can you hold out until he calls me or comes back himself?"

  "I'll have to, won't I?" she replied grimly, for now the pull that the sword exerted on her had settled to a painful headache echoed by wire-tight muscles in her neck, shoulders, and stomach. "This isn't something we can delegate. We'd better get ready to ride. Jadrek—"

  How do I tell my beloved that he'll only be in the way?

  "I won't be of much use to you, dearest," he admitted without rancor, a fact that brought tears of gratitude to her eyes. "Or rather, I will be of more use to you here with the children. What can I do to help prepare?"

  "Travel packs; you know what I need," she said immediately. The mere thought that she wouldn't have to try and think through this pain to select what she would require came as a profound relief.

  "I'm on it, love." Jadrek pushed away from the table and left the room, as quickly as he could.

  Tarma took over, as the three children stared, dismayed and frightened. "Children, you three get Hellsbane and Ironheart ready. Jadrie, you've had lessons in provisioning, you make up the packs for the horses. I'm depending on you to get it right. Boys, saddle and harness the mares, and when Jadrie's put the packs together, bring them to the riding arena. Go."

  The children scrambled to their feet and sped out of the room like three hornets from a roused nest. Tarma turned to Kethry, who was taking slow, even breaths, and trying to get a little magical shielding between herself and the pain. "Keth, get to your rooms and get changed. I'll tell Cook what's going on, and he can handle the servants until Jadrek has time to deal with them, I'll get changed and collect the medical kit and traveling cash, and I'll meet you at the riding arena. Good?"

  She nodded; in a moment or two she would be able to walk. "Right," she replied, and as Tarma left her alone in the room, she began a silent colloquy with the sword hanging on the wall of her sitting room, trying to persuade it that nothing was going to happen unless it gave her—not freedom, but a long enough leash to act.

  Old warriors never let their fighting gear get out of condition; that is how they become old warriors in the first place. Tarma's armor and weapons were always kept oiled, polished, and in a place of honor on the proper stands in her room. When the family made its annual summer pilgrimage to the Plains, she wore it religiously, even though in all the years she had done so, they had never once been set upon.

  And I always keep a traveling pack three-fourths complete, just in case. You never know…

  So in her case, it wasn't at all difficult to assemble the proper pack and get herself properly arrayed. In fact, the pack was complete and she had just about finished lacing herself into her armor when she heard Warrl's "call" in the back of her head, as if he was shouting from a long distance away.

  The kyree had awesome speed when he needed it, and was not limited to using roads; he could cover in a candlemark what would take a horse and rider half a day to traverse if it was necessary. He'd pay for it afterward, and be useless for the rest of the day, but if there was ever the perfect scout to send off looking for trouble, it was Warrl.

  Between his speed and his nose, he required only a simple direction to find the source of whatever had set Need off. That violent a reaction had to have its cause in further violence, and Warrl could scent blood on the wind a league away. Tarma would have been astonished if he hadn't found the source of their alarm.

  And she had a horrible feeling, as well, that she already knew who it was that had caused the alarm. North was the direction that Kira and Meri had gone. And Need "knew" them, by virtue of being within the same walls for the past four moons.

  Warrl was so far away that he was barely at the limit of his range, and his mental voice was faint and thin.

  But it was clear enough, and it was exactly what she had dreaded hearing. :Kira and Meri. Escort all dead, girls gone. On my way back.:

  Scant information, but enough. He was probably saving his energy for the run. He'd be exhausted when he reached the manor, but that was all right, he could ride pillion on Hellsbane and recover while he guided them.

  Worry about them in the back of your mind, Tarma. Concentrate on getting on their track now.

  She raised her voice and called out the open door of her room, knowing that Jadrek and Kethry would hear her, reporting exactly what Warrl had told her, and forced her fingers to work faster in the lacings of her armor. When the last piece wa
s fastened, she grabbed her thick, quilted wool Shin'a'in coat and her pack, and ran as fast as the weight of the armor would permit, heading for the still room.

  Once there, she made up a medical kit of anything that might be useful—from silk thread and needles to poppy-gum. Ordinarily this would be Kethry's job, but Tarma had seen her do it often enough to know what went into such a kit, and there were special padded leather roll-pouches, each with the appropriate pockets, just waiting for anyone who needed to make up such a kit. That went into her pack, well-cushioned by the bedroll, and she headed for her next destination, Justin's office where the strongbox was kept.

  Old habits die hard for former mercenaries; as she had half hoped, there was a full money-belt coiled inside the strongbox, along with the rest of the school's treasure. Justin wouldn't have felt easy unless he knew there was a full money-belt ready in case of an emergency trip. She hefted it, judged it to be sufficient by the weight, and buckled it on over her armor. Later, she could put it on under the armor, but she didn't think she had the time to right now. Whoever had kidnapped the girls already had half a day's head start on them—for they must have gotten at least that far from the school before they were attacked. It could snow at any time, and if the kidnappers were intelligent, they would take to the trade roads and trust to the inevitable traffic that moved even in winter to confuse or obliterate their trail.

  Thank the gods Jadrek didn't ask why we're doing this, she thought, heading for the stables. There had never been any doubt in her mind that they would do something from the moment that Need woke from her years-long sleep. But strictly speaking, she and Keth didn't have to go after the girls. They weren't at fault, their escort was. They had already relinquished control of the children the moment the escort took them off the property. All they were obligated to do would be to send word to the girls' father of the disaster.

  Right, and how do I look Tilden in the face again, if all I do is that? Hellfires, how do I look at myself in the mirror? No way am I going to abandon them, and neither is Keth, and with Need to guide us, we're the best chance those girls have got.

  She beat Keth to the riding arena by a few moments, but no more—just long enough to see with relief that Jadrie and the boys had gotten things exactly right—

  And that Jadrie and her brothers were sitting on their own horses, with packs tied on behind that were identical in every way to the packs she and Keth were taking.

  Her mind hadn't quite grasped that, when Jadrek and Kethry reached the door of the arena. Jadrek was the first to react in any kind of sensible fashion.

  "Just what do you children think you're doing?" he thundered, in his best wrath-of-the-gods voice.

  The boys winced a little, but Jadrie was unimpressed. "We're going with you," she stated flatly. "You need us."

  Tarma covered the distance between herself and Jadrie in a mere blink of an eye, grabbing Jadrie's ankle and looking into her eyes with a glare that full grown men could not face. "Jadrie," she said, her harsh voice made even harsher with anger. "This is not a game. And it's no time for playing stupid tricks."

  To her surprise, Jadrie did not back down, though tears of anger and frustration started from her eyes—anger at being misjudged, and frustration at being thought a mere child with no understanding. "Don't you think I know that?" she cried. "Don't you think Lyan and Laryn do? They heard you, heard you telling Mummy and Da what went wrong, and they came to tell me! It's Kira and Meri who are in trouble, and I swore to help them, Clanmother, I swore it, sword and hand!"

  The words hit Tarma like a blow to the heart, and she cursed under her breath.

  She swore the oath. Damn her, she's of the blood and she swore the oath to her friends. It's sacred; she knows it and I know it and the Star-Eyed knows it. That was the only thing that could have persuaded her to allow Jadrie to come within a thousand leagues of this rescue mission—and how had this infuriating little Clanswoman known it? And why did she swear the Oath of Sword and Hand to a couple of outClan children?

  Kethry and Jadrek had been among the Shin'a'in long enough to know how serious the Oath was—and what were they supposed to do? Tell Jadrie that she was too young to know what she was doing, when she plainly had? Tell her that oaths sworn by not-so-little girls didn't count? What kind of an idiot would do that to a child?

  What kind of idiot would make a child into an oathbreaker?

  Tarma turned, and saw the same conflicts warring within Jadrek and Kethry. Finally, it was Kethry who spoke.

  "You're her teacher," Kethry said flatly. "Can she help?"

  Tarma closed her eyes, and tried to forget that the youngster before her was the firstborn of her best friends, the firstborn of Tale'sedrin. Jadrie was no younger than many Shin'a'in children on patrol now at the edge of the Plains, or guarding herds from predators, or performing any one of a number of "adult" tasks. She was as well-trained, or better, than all of them. "Yes," she said finally, flatly. "She has the skills to be very useful."

  She opened her eyes, and saw fear and pride warring in her friends' faces, and it was Jadrek who looked up at Jadrie, and said, "Very well. Because you swore an oath, you can go."

  Jadrie had the good manners not to cheer, but the twins didn't. And Jadrek cut them off.

  "But you two didn't swear any oaths, and you are staying here!" he barked.

  "That's an order," Kethry added in a voice of steel. "And if you dare to try and follow, you lose the use of your horses for the rest of the year."

  That was more than enough threat to keep them safely behind, as their stricken looks proved. Crestfallen, the boys slid off their horses, and meekly led them back into the stable.

  Kethry turned to her daughter, and still using that same cold voice, addressed her in a way that made her turn a little pale. "I am not pleased with this," she told the girl. "I am not particularly pleased that you decided to use an oath that serious without thinking of the consequences. You have a chance to redeem yourself if you follow every order we give you to the letter, with no argument, and no hesitation. If you cannot keep up, you will return home on your own; we won't have time to take you back. This is going to be the hardest thing you have ever done, and there will be no room for thoughtless acts. I am not your mother on this trip; Tarma is not your foster mother. We are your commanders, and if you make a mistake, it could be fatal, not just for you, but for all of us. If there is fighting, you will stay clear unless otherwise ordered. If you bring danger on us, we will save you if we can, but it is not only possible but likely that we cannot. Is that understood?"

  Clearly this was a side of her mother that Jadrie had never seen before. She was as pale as a spirit, but her chin was set firmly, and she replied in a voice that was as steady as Tarma could have wished. "Perfectly, commander."

  Now Kethry looked at Tarma. "Let's get in the saddle and get moving; we'll meet Warrl on the way, and save him a little running. We need all the daylight we can get."

  "Right." Tarma heaved herself up into Hellsbane's saddle, and Kethry got herself in place on Ironheart, leaning down to kiss her husband when she was secure.

  "Go—" he urged. "I'll take care of things here—as soon as the rest get back, I'll send Ikan up to Tilden; better this comes from a friend than a strange messenger."

  She needed no more urging than that, and neither did Tarma; lifting the reins, the two battlesteeds loped out into the gray light of afternoon, followed by a much subdued Jadrie on her mare.

  Kira had created plenty of daydreams about bandit raids and kidnappers, and had imagined herself being heroic and triumphant in all of them, but when attackers really struck, it wasn't anything like her daydreams.

  It was all so sudden she barely had time to react, much less act in a heroic fashion. The guards were all calm, talking and joking, and no one was at all wary and watchful. She had the impression that this had been considered a "soft" job, and the men with her were very much envied by their peers. There was no indication that there was anything to
be worried about.

  The very first sign that something was wrong was when one of the more nervous horses stopped, snorted, and twitched his ears forward.

  There was no other warning. Before even the horse's rider had a chance to do anything, a guard at the front of the escort suddenly screamed and fell off his horse.

  For all of her reading, this was the first time that Kira had ever seen a man die, and this one was dying right in front of her; at first, it didn't seem real. Before she could do more than stare stupidly at the arrow in his back and the spreading scarlet stain in the snow as he writhed there, two more of the guards made horrid gurgling sounds and fell off, too, with arrows sticking out of their throats.

  She sat there on her fat little pony, paralyzed with a mixture of fear and horror, wanting to throw up and run away at the same time. The only thing that came into her mind was that there was never any blood in her daydreams…

  Meri screamed, startling her out of her shock, at about the same time as chaos erupted all around them.

  Their ponies were shoved aside by more of their guards, as the men made a wall of themselves around their charges. But that wall didn't last long; ignoring armored men, the attackers cut down the horses with their arrows, sending screaming animals to drop under their riders. Behind the volley of arrows came a charge, then there were frantically running men and horses, screaming and shouting, and swords cutting everywhere. Confused and frightened, the pony only thought to flee; he bolted between two screeching, bleeding horses into the first open space he saw.

  Suddenly she was sitting on her pony in the middle of the open road, and there wasn't anybody standing protectively between her and a rough-clad man who was riding straight for her.

  She thought, belatedly, of her knife at her belt—her pony tried to bolt as she gave him confused signals—then the stranger was right on top of her. He snatched her out of her saddle with an impact that drove all the breath out of her and made her see stars.