by JANRAE FRANK
"How bad?" Tagalong asked Tamlestari.
"Bad enough. We must get her home quickly where I can repair that chest wound."
* * * *
A tiny matchstick of a mon in a black, knee-length sleeveless coat pulled at Thomas Cedarbird, hurrying him toward the dueling grounds. "Please, sir, you must come quickly." Darlbret continued to urge Thomas forward, shoving through the throng at the dueling grounds. People glared at them, then recognized the syndic, and opened a path.
Thomas Cedarbird's left braid hung half-finished and his hair on the right was still loose. "I don't know why you insisted on dragging me down here. You know I don't like watching duels ... oh ... dear gods, Aejys." Thomas rounded on Darlbret. "Why didn't you tell me it was Aejys?"
"I – I wasn't sure..." Darlbret stammered. "It might have been just a rumor... I just heard about it minutes ago..."
Thomas knelt beside Tag, his hand reaching almost of its own volition to touch Aejys' cheek: that was something he would never have done were she conscious. "Is she...?"
"Alive?" Tag said, "Somewhat."
"Why didn't you tell me about this... I might could have done something..."
"Aejys pays her own debts, merchant," Tag said caustically. "And I pay the ones she can't. Now back off, we've heard enough from ya ta last ten lifetimes. Uh huh! Period. End of Story!"
Thomas winced and sat back on his heels, saying nothing more. He doubted he would ever know or understand why Tagalong Smith disliked him so much. And even if he did, he wasn't sure he could change it. But maybe Darlbret could either discover it or explain it.
Becca formed the servants into a protective circle just as the city guard arrived and took positions around Aejys. Then the tavern master, after spitting in Farendarc's face and scattering the children, methodically searched the slowly dying assassin, even pulling his boots off. Her hands, though roughed by years of work in the kitchens, were still surprisingly nimble. She found a small fold and ran her finger along it to reveal a pocket. Where most would not have found it, just right to have concealed some orders or a contract. In the concealed pocket in the left boot Becca found several papers. She shoved them into her pockets to share later. She placed her foot firmly on Farendarc's chest and yanked Aejys' sword free, wiping it clean on his pants leg.
"Becca, quick! We need a litter," Tamlestari told her.
"I will carry her," said a rough voice as a huge form rose from the deep shadows of a nearby oak cluster. Clemmerick lifted Aejys as tenderly and easily as a mother lifting an infant.
Becca gathered up Farendarc's belongings, handing them to Raim and Omer to carry. Tagalong had to trot to keep up with the ogre. Cassana and Tamlestari strode quickly along beside Clemmerick while the rest followed closely.
Spectators drifting past Farendarc paused to spit on his body, then trailed after Aejys' entourage to see if they could learn anything. Thomas Cedarbird did not want to draw Tagalong's ire, so he did not try to insinuate himself into the main group. But he followed and the crowd formed behind him of the curious and the concerned.
* * * *
In the shadows near a stand of broad cedars a thin, baby-faced mon with a wispy wheaten beard and long, red-streaked blond hair that hung loose about his face watched Aejys removed from the field. He rubbed his mouth and chin thoughtfully, then stepped into the deepening sunlight which threw shadows among the folds of his steel gray pilgrim robes. The mon considered what he had just seen. While customs differed from community to community, it was generally held that one did not finish off a dueling opponent after they went down except in the case of certain types of judicial duels ordered by the local Courts Baron. The decision of death was generally left to the gods and the nature of the wounds. Even so, members of the watching crowd rarely intervened when a duelist transgressed the customs unless they were family members of the fallen one. He shook back his hood as he approached the place where Aejys had gone down, scanning the ground where he had seen something fall. He scooped up the sword-torn black band and the lock of auburn hair spilling from it, folded it respectfully into the pockets of his robes, and left the green. The devotion of the wounded mon's servants intrigued the pilgrim. He would ask around and find out who she was.
* * * *
Cassana emerged from Aejys' room, haggard and exhausted. There were bloodstains on her tunic from working on Aejys' wounds. She descended the stairs, walking as though there were weights around her ankles. The kitchen servants clustered at the door, watching her. The taproom was empty of patrons: Becca had closed up shop as soon as they had returned from the dueling grounds.
"Mei Ajan?" Becca pushed through her kitchen staff and met Cassana at the foot of the stairs, guiding her to a table near the back. "Aejys?"
"Resting."
Becca thought about that. "Then she will be all right?"
"It is too soon to say, Becca," Cassana said, dropping into the chair. "Aejys lost a lot of blood, she is very weak."
The tavern master turned her face away, her mouth drawn taut. "Our lives ... pivot on hers." Becca made a circle with her forefinger like a wheel spinning slowly. "She pulled many of us out of the gutters. Traded us a better life ... better way ... for our allegiance. We gave her that – and our love. It's like belonging to one of the Lords of Legend. What will become of us if she dies?"
Cassana patted Becca's hand. "Have faith. Send servants to make offerings and pray."
"I already have. We have three temples. One to Nerindalori of the Waves, one to Willodarus Lord of the Woodlands, and a small shrine to Ishla Twice Gendered. I have sent everyone who could be spared – and some that couldn't – to pray and make offerings."
"Do not forget the shrine to Aroana."
"I haven't."
Zacham brought Cassana a tray of food: hot stew, sliced meats, cheese, bread and pastries as well as a pitcher of beer, sitting them down in front of her, "Mei Ajan needs to eat," the scullery boy said.
A small, amused smile stole some of the weariness from Cassana's face at his use of the proper Sharani title, certain that Becca had taught him this. Becca's change of attitude, from defensiveness to deference, tickled a small chord in Cassana.
Another young mon brought a basin of cool water and towels.
Cassana washed her arms and face, then began to eat.
Becca sat down opposite her and pulled Farendarc's papers from her pockets. She pushed them to Cassana.
"What is this?" Cassana asked accepting the papers.
"They were in his boot," Becca told her.
"Important?"
"I don't know, mei ajan," Becca said. "I can't read. I keep my accounts with tithing sticks and Clemmerick records them."
That startled Cassana, who tended to forget that other realms were far less literate than Shaurone where even the poorest classes learned to read. "Does Aejys know?"
Becca shook her head. "Clemmerick is the only one here who can read. His mother is a poet."
"When all this is over and Laeoli's safe, I'll see that you all learn," she said. "Even if I must teach you myself."
Cassana glanced quickly at the first three papers, but on the fourth her eyes widened and she cursed, "Gods' Haven!"
Farendarc,
Here is the agreed price for Aejys. Bring me her head as proof. There will be a bonus for all key members of her household butchered. Fifty gold a head. I'm placing a unit of gold ravens at your disposal if needed. Blame the red ravens whenever possible.
There will be a bonus for dead reds.
If any of Aejys' people try to reach Shaurone, destroy them. My creatures are gathering to march.
In regards to our last conversation. Yes. Laeoli is yours if you still want her. She should make a satisfactory leman once you break her to the role.
Move quickly,
M
Anger washed the weariness from Cassana. "Find Tagalong. I don't know what some of these references are to, but I think we may have a war on our hands."
* * * *
/>
Tagalong slipped quietly into Aejys' bedroom in the early evening, pulled a chair up and sat down beside Cassana.
"Where have you been, Tag?" Cassana asked. "I've had people looking all over the city for you."
"Takin' care of business. She be alright, Sana?"
Cassana's young-old face looked worn, dark half moons beneath her eyes. "I can't say, Tag. Tamlestari is very talented. She repaired the chest wound. But Aejys lost a lot of blood before we could get the bleeding stopped." Cassana rubbed her tired face. "Aejys is a tough old badger, though. I wouldn't worry too much."
Tagalong gave a wan smile, stood, and went to the bed. "Can't not worry. Aejys and me, we been partners nearly thirty years. Not sure what I'd do without her."
Cassana nodded, moving to stand beside the stout dwarf. "I've known her almost as long. But I hear what you're saying. I'm sure she'll be fine. So long as no fever sets in." She slipped her arm around the dwarf's sturdy shoulders and squeezed gently. "I think we have some serious trouble, Tag. Read this," Cassana gave Tagalong Farendarc's papers. "Wake Tamlestari to come relieve me. Then we'll talk about these."
* * * *
The sea air smelled of salt and the approach of rain. A chill breeze spread off the ocean, bringing an unseasonable mist. Torches shown like burning will-o'wisps wrapped in cloaks of gray fog. Tagalong pulled her blue wool cloak tight against the chill night air. She craved a solitude she could not find amongst the worried servants and friends hovering over her at the Cock and Boar, yet dreaded the isolated stillness of her rooms where her thoughts and fears seemed so loud and overwhelming. Storekeepers blew out their lights, locking up for the night as she stalked past. Prostitutes in the pleasure quarter who had squandered many hours gossiping with the stout dwarf watched her go by without hailing her. They were one of Tagalong's best sources of information. She bought them expensive meals and drink for their company and hard coin for anything she could use in a timely fashion. They read her need to be alone in the angles of her body and respected it. Everyone knew about the duel, the whole city spoke of nothing else, but not to Tagalong.
Now and again her thoughts strayed to the letter found in Farendarc's boot and she swore savagely under her breath. "Aejys' hurt and Margren's behind it! I know it! I know it! So help me, Father of Stone, I'm gonna kill Margren."
She turned down the alleys repeatedly to avoid the night watch, since they would want to express their opinion about it all and Tagalong did not feel like listening. She needed to walk out all the anger, grief and worry without anyone intruding on it. The bells in the tower of the Ralenan Cathedral rang the midnight hour as she emerged from an alley and turned smack into the watch. By the light of their lanterns they recognized her. As she knew they would, one tried to say something, but his companion stopped him as Tagalong simply turned away from them and they let her go on.
"Leave her be," the mon said. "She's got things on her mind."
Toward dawn it began to rain and still she walked. Tagalong walked the streets until her legs hurt; until she sweated in the chill ocean breeze, her body's moisture mingling with that of the air. Slowly the physical exertion purged her psyche of worry.
To lose Aejys would be to lose a piece of herself. They had been friends since early childhood. In fact, Tagalong could not remember a time before they had been friends and she did not want to imagine life without Aejys. She dragged herself home in the early morning, walked into the barn and settled by the spot where she had found Brendorn the day before the duel. There she finally freed the tears she had withheld in grim silence.
First time I saw Brendorn was when Aejys didn't show up for the picnic. Ladonys and I waited seemed like forever. Then we split up and went looking for her. Running out of places to look, I finally checked that secret corner of the armory loft where they stored extra hay and saddles and stuff. That's where I found her. Asleep with her arms around Brendorn. Neither of them with a stitch of clothes on. Gods! He was pretty! Skin like milk and not a blemish, curling auburn hair well past his shoulders; an angel with pointed ears. Well-built in all the right places. Temple had gotten a special dispensation to bring him in to care for the gardens at a time when normally the only non-Sharani males allowed into the realm were slaves. Aejys was just two weeks short of her consecration to Aroana at sixteen. I knew right then why Aejys loved him, besides him being so pretty. All that skirmishing with the Waejontori before it became a full-fledged war, gentleness seemed to be dying out. Yet there it was in a fair face and auburn hair. I left without waking them.
Tagalong clutched at the straw as if it still held Brendorn's blood and threw it with a single shattered howl in all directions. "So help me, Gimligloikynen! I'm gonna kill Margren! Permission or no permission!"
* * * *
Becca, emerging from the kitchens, looked up at the sound, as did everyone in the building. "Get back to work," she told them, crossing the common room and heading quickly out the back door into the courtyard. She paused to scan the yard, then headed for the stable.
Fezelbaum, Grymlyken's lieutenant, crouched beside Tagalong, peering worriedly into the troubled dwarf's face. His little cohort of pixies hovered about them.
Becca sized up the situation in a glance, put on a brusque demeanor, and strode through the pixies. "What is going on here? That sound woke all our lodgers, frightened half the staff!" She bent over Tagalong and shook her roughly. Fezelbaum started to protest; Becca blocked him with a glance. "Tag, where have you been? Aejys has been asking for you."
"She's awake?" Tagalong's exhaustion vanished.
"She may be sleeping again. I got her to take some broth."
Tagalong rushed from the barn. Curious people clustered at the back door, Tagalong shoved through them without explanation, thundered up the stairs, and burst into the room. "Aejys!"
Tamlestari turned on her. "Quiet!"
"It's ... all ... right." Aejys said softly as if even that wearied her. "I'm a little tired, Tag."
Tagalong snorted. "Not surprised. Ya bled like a god-fartin' pig."
Aejys' dark eyes glanced sidewise at her friend. A faint smile touched the edges of her mouth. "I need..." she said still more softly, more slowly. "Two. Score. Red Ravens. In various plumage. I want whatever ... you can find of ... Jon Dawn's legion."
"It'll take time, Aejys, they're disbanded. Fer them and that many I'll need special permission. From the Grand Master himself."
"I know." She stretched out her hand and Tagalong clasped it in both of hers. "Tag. Don't. Drag. Your. Feet."
"I won't Aejys, I promise."
But Aejys wasn't listening. She had fallen asleep again.
Tagalong shot Tamlestari a worried glance.
Tamlestari shook her head. "She'll sleep like that for a few days. And I dosed her with holadil. She lives up to her legends. So much courage and resourcefulness."
Tagalong snorted, "Enough ta get herself killed one day. Now, on the subject of holadil, Josh had a queer reaction to that stuff."
Tamlestari nodded. "Gwyndar told me about that. Never heard of it happening before... He must be a really odd genetic type. I'd like to read him."
"You're a touch healer?"
The young Sharani-sylvan shook her head. "I wish. No, I'm just a Reader and chirurgeon. They say I have a gift. I have been able Read things and people when I touch them since I was very small. I sensed how to repair that sucking chest wound. I could feel every tear and the movement of her blood. The way it bled internally. And I knew when I finished that nothing had been missed. But I cannot heal by touch alone," Tamlestari turned toward Tagalong, "Tag," she asked abruptly, "Did you know my ma'aram?"
Tagalong nodded. "Not as well as Aejys did."
"Do you think Aejys would mind if I asked about her?"
"Nah."
"Thank you."
* * * *
At Becca's urging, Clemmerick spent the hours following the duel looking for Josh. He searched the stable, the lofts, the attics, and store roo
ms as well as those of the connecting inn; then he checked out the Kwaklahmyn trading village on the beach, the nearest caves, and the Grand Grotto, slowly exhausting his knowledge of Josh's bolt holes. His best guess was that Josh was still moving, not staying long enough in a single spot for them to overtake him: he did that sometimes. Eventually exhaustion, depression, and drink would catch up with the sailor and Josh would be forced to stop running and curl up someplace. As evening lengthened toward night, tired and hungry, Clemmerick headed for the kitchen. A big smile slid across his blunt features when he saw Becca standing in the middle of the room. Looking at her always made him feel good, kindled a warmth in his middle and a heat in his loins. He knew he had no chance at her favors; such an exquisite creature could never care for someone as huge and ugly as himself.
"You find Josh, Clemmerick?"
"Not yet. I got hungry. I need some dinner before I begin again."
Becca gestured at two servants. "Fix him some sandwiches," she told them. They started making normal size sandwiches.
"That's no way to feed an ogre!" Becca exclaimed, she pushed the servants aside and took over. She sliced a fresh loaf of bread lengthwise to make him four huge sandwiches, threw in some apples, put it all in a pail with some tomatoes and a shaker of salt.
"I'm afraid, if you want Beltrian beer, you'll have to get a couple of kegs from the north cellar. I don't sell enough of it to keep more than a couple of kegs here."
"Never a problem, Becca," Clemmerick grinned. As she turned away his eyes discretely ran from her ankles up. A sigh, almost as wistful as one of Josh's, slipped out.
Clemmerick took his pail, heading for the north cellar. The cellar was a left over from the old ramshackle storehouses Aejys had torn down to make space for the inn she built and connected to the Cock and Boar. A small storeroom now topped the cellar in the inn's northwest corner. Heavy oak stairs, reinforced to take Clemmerick's weight, led down. Barrels lined the four walls and tall racks of wine and assorted spirits formed three isles splitting the room.
