One Land, One Duke

by Emerson, Ru

  Dahven spread his hands in a wide shrug. “I said I wouldn't just leave; I swore, remember? I don't swear to things lightly. I will think about it, if you like. I just—” He bent over the saddlebow, coughing. “That. I'm not well, I'm not at all strong, and we both know it. I'd hate it if someone got hurt trying to shield me. I don't think I can protect myself just now."

  "Don't worry about that,” Jennifer replied mildly. “We seem to be doing all right so far. Besides, you're stronger than you were the other day; you won't be sick for long."

  "I also haven't any weapons,” Dahven grumbled.

  "Talk to Aletto; he has a sword he bought in Sikkre."

  "I saw it.” The thought didn't seem to cheer him. “I suppose I'd feel better with it strapped to the horse, though."

  Jennifer nodded and edged her bo a little forward in the straps that held it high on the horse's side, under her knee. “I know that feeling; I don't let this out of reach anymore.” She bit back a smile at the very dubious look he gave it. Probably it was the same look she'd given Chris's six-foot-long wooden stick when he'd tried to assure her she could flatten a trained swordsman with it. Well, Dahven would get a chance to find out soon enough. He leaned over to touch her shoulder and pointed forward.

  "Look—I think I can see a little. The wagon's pulling off."

  Jennifer sighed. “I hear running water, don't I? I think we've found the local KOA—sorry, Dahven. Enardi's camping site."

  * * * *

  The least breeze began to blow in from the water not long after they stopped; not enough to lower the temperature further, it did disperse the fog and by the time Robyn went out to wash her face after dinner, there were stars directly overhead. On her way back, she passed Enardi on his way out to keep the first watch. She shivered and murmured, “Better you than me,” as she went around him. He laughed quietly and replied, “It's not so bad now the fog's off.” Robyn shook her head in obvious disbelief and hurried back inside. The main problem, she decided as she dropped down next to the fire, was her feet: She simply couldn't get comfortable in either the long wraps Aletto wore under his boots or in the knitted stockings Chris had found for her in the Bez market. The former itched and worked down around her heels and toes, leaving her insteps bare and forming blisters around her ankles or the ball of her foot; the latter were clearly an early attempt at stretchy fabric and not too good at it. After the first few minutes, there wasn't any more give or stretch, and the socks slithered down her legs and began edging into her tennies again. Which left her, effectively, with one pair of good American-made cotton and nylon socks that at the moment were sloppy wet from the day's ride. Her toes felt like blocks of ice.

  Fortunately, once the food was cooked and eaten, she was done for the night. Chris and Edrith were beginning to wash up when she came back in. She settled down next to Aletto, pulled off her shoes and set them as near the fire as she dared, tucked chilled feet under his legs. He leaned back to catch hold of one of the many small carpets covering the bare ground and wrapped it around her lower legs and feet, then pulled her against him. Robyn rubbed the soles of her feet against the harsh rug fabric until the friction warmed them a little, wrapped her arm around his waist and closed her eyes. Things could have been worse. Much worse.

  * * * *

  Outside, Enardi was watching the road for signs of pursuit from Bez, now three days behind them. But they hadn't made very good time, what with his father's wagon and the weather. This particular spot was only a day and a few hours from the Zelharri and Sikkreni guardsmen rumored to have been turning the Bez market inside out for the heir to either Duchy. For the first time, Enardi thought seriously about such a pursuit and it left a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. I could have been with friends I've known all my life, drinking in one of the taverns, even listening to Father gossip with his old friends—and instead I chose this?

  But having talked with nera-Duke Aletto, with his Robyn—a sweet, quiet woman who reminded him of his own mother, what he remembered of her—with clever, crisp Jennifer, how could he have chosen otherwise? And Chris—Enardi found it difficult to think of a time before Chris, who turned everything upside down with his oddly cut hair, his outland clothing, the rhythmic and sometimes downright odd way he spoke Rhadazi, all the exotic words he threw into a conversation. Chris made everything in Bezjeriad seem so dull and ordinary, even though Enardi had once asked for nothing but the ordinary in his life—a career either in his father's shops, eventually perhaps his own trading company or his own share of Fedthyr's far-flung company. Now, he didn't know what he wanted. More than he had. To go places with Chris and Edrith, with all of them.

  Chris called him Ernie. Enardi like that; he liked Edrith—or, as Chris called him, Eddie—the Sikkreni who candidly admitted he'd spent most of his youth stealing for a living but who now was one of Aletto's company. Who already spoke a lot like Chris. Enardi was shy about trying to talk that way—yet.

  He looked up as someone moved the flap aside and came outside. It was Lialla. She was so quiet, so self-effacing—so medium, with her brown hair, dark eyes, the dusty-looking Wielder Blacks that tended to fade into the background anyway, he sometimes forgot Lialla was with them. She seldom said anything, except to Jennifer or Aletto and at first he thought she was making certain they remembered she was noble; then he thought she was just unfriendly. When he'd said something to Chris, though, his outland friend had shaken his head. “She's had a hard time lately, and she's the quiet kind. You're just used to Lasinay.” Enardi grinned. His youngest sister could talk anyone half to death; by comparison, anyone else might seem too quiet.

  He stepped into the open as Lialla came toward him, adjusting her loose scarves. One had wrapped itself around the long staff she kept with her at all times—a bo, Chris called it. A fighting stick. Enardi wondered how good a stick could be for fighting. Chris and Eddie had promised he'd have a chance to find out, though, as soon as they had a few hours during the day to show him.

  "Enardi? I'll take over,” she said as she came up to him. “You'd better go in and thaw; they've decided to keep the watches short. And Robyn's talking about letting the fire die down because of the wind.” Long speech for Lialla; as unexpected as the smile she offered him.

  "The wind won't last to middle night; I'll tell her. If you're sure—"

  "We all share guard, even Aletto. Go on, Robyn's got tea brewing.” Enardi headed quickly and gratefully for shelter.

  * * * *

  The smile slid from Lialla's face and her too-thin shoulders sagged. Everything was so wrong! Oh, Aletto had genuine support now. He even had something of a following, not just the few people here with him. Gyrdan, their father's old Captain of the Guard, was supposed to meet them in Podhru with more of Amarni's men. After this truly hectic past few days, a few of the Zelharri merchants who'd left Sehfi when Jadek took over Duke's Fort were talking about following Aletto back to Sehfi, and more were willing to at least finance him in exchange for considerations for their children. There was supposedly a delegation of those young people—representing most of the major expatriate Sehfi merchants—on its way to Podhru by sea right now.

  It still wasn't enough; she could tell Aletto was worried about things, but he wouldn't talk to her; he fretted to Robyn, talked policy with Jennifer, strategy with Dahven, fighting style with Chris.... I'm useless, she thought bitterly. He used to talk to me about things, until he found people who knew more than I do—and that wasn't very difficult, was it? I don't know policy or strategy—I can fight but not very well, and that leaves only magic. But it hurt to think about the magic. All those years she'd dreamed of gaining a White or Silver sash, all the effort, hours—years she'd put into Wielding, and for what? So a brash outlander could come in and Wield rings around her, so a filthy old Bez Wielder could have the pleasure of telling her just how badly Merrida had mistaught her. That everything she'd learned was wrong. Gods knew it had hurt badly enough, all the years she'd believed that th
e old woman had been trying to din magic into an over-thick skull. To have to start over again—it scarcely helped at all to know she'd learned more in an hour from that disgusting old man than in all her years under Merrida. For that matter, she had learned more from Jen—Jen, a scant moon-season and a half in Rhadaz from her strange, outland world, where according to her there was no working magic at all. It's so unfair! Lialla thought miserably. She wanted nothing more than to climb in a hole and hide forever. Let Aletto do as he wanted, or as he must—she hadn't the heart for it.

  Besides, she thought even more miserably, what will come of it all at the end? Jadek still holds Duke's Fort, the Emperor has done nothing but try to sort out who murdered Carolan. Whatever support Aletto gets from merchants and soldiers, it won't matter. Jadek has a full Triad, he has Duke's Fort—he has Mother and Mother's pregnant with his child. He's going to win again, like he always has.

  * * * *

  Chris came out some time later to relieve her. “Quiet?” he asked. Lialla shrugged.

  "There were deer a while back, coming down to drink."

  "It's warm inside, Ernie convinced mom to leave the fire burning, and there's some tea left if you want it.” He gripped her shoulder. “You better have some; you're cold right through that black thing."

  Lialla swallowed around a sudden, enormous lump. Chris was being particularly nice to her lately—the way he ordinarily could be, thoughtful and a little bossy—except he didn't try to tease her the way he did Robyn. Maybe he just had to be nice to someone, Lialla thought; after all, his mother spent most of her free time with Aletto these days. Whatever his reasons, she wasn't used to it and particularly when she was tired, or down like she was this night, it threatened to make her cry. She merely nodded, not trusting her voice, and went.

  Chris walked out into the road and stood a while, listening. He couldn't even hear a mouse at the moment, and the way the wind had died down, he was sure he'd hear anything big long before he could see it. He shoved the bulky cloak back across his shoulders and shifted his grip on the bo. He had an idea for a new set of maneuvers to work out before he tried it on Eddie, and he needed to run through the most basic moves—it had after all been almost a month since he'd originally worked them out—so he could start teaching Ernie how to take care of himself.

  In spite of himself, and the deadly seriousness of the situation, Chris grinned. It was really going to be something, teaching a sweet guy like Ernie how to bash heads. At least as fun as trying to teach his mom. Well—the grin faded. Maybe it would be funny in retrospect. Years from now. If he lived to enjoy the joke.

  3

  Robyn was out at sunrise, hanging clean, wet socks and still-damp jeans across bushes. “You people can do what you want,” she said as she came back inside. “I'm not leaving here while my stuff is wet. We're in a hurry, fine, but we're not in such a hurry we all have to catch pneumonia because of fog-damp pants and grubby socks, right?"

  "No argument, ma,” Chris assured her. “We need a workout, and I went over the map with Ernie last night. He says—you tell them, okay?"

  Enardi held up one of Chris's yellow-pad maps. “There's another stream, about here, not too far away; it's a good place to stop the night. We could reach it by early afternoon if we left here within the hour, but that also means we could spend the morning here. The stream ahead is big enough for proper-sized fish."

  "I'd like fish,” Robyn said. “But I never could catch them and we don't have any gear, do we?"

  "I brought some in the wagon,” Enardi said. “In case I came on with you. I haven't fished since I was a small boy but I'm—I used to be good at it.” He tapped the paper. “About the same distance on, we could reach it easily the night after, there's an inn my father recommends."

  "Inn,” Aletto said gloomily.

  "It's very clean,” Enardi assured him anxiously. “Father says the woman who owns it is outlander. He says you can always tell, though, because everything is so clean. The food is different, and there are separate sleeping rooms, with doors that can be barred."

  "If it's called The Lion, I've heard of it,” Dahven said absently. He was running a finger along the edge of Aletto's sword and shaking his head. “It has a repute as safe lodgings."

  Aletto shook his head. “Safe,” he said even more gloomily. “The inn in Sikkre was supposed to be safe, too.” Lialla, who was spreading damp black scarves next to Robyn's wet socks, turned to scowl at him, and Dahven gave him a very faint, sardonic smile.

  "Ah. But that was a safe inn; caravaners have used it for a good many years, and all one ever has to worry about ordinarily is the innkeep's long nose. Unfortunately, no inn in Sikkre is proof against the Thukar. Don't look like that, Aletto; I know all too well what my father was like, remember?"

  Aletto shook his head and spread his hands in mute apology. “Three more nights. With good fortune, anyway. But with men behind us, and possibly men coming overland to cut us off. And didn't I hear something in Bez about a Spectral Host somewhere above the Coastal road?"

  "Spectral—?” Enardi looked at Aletto in amused disbelief. “I know who told you that, it was old Chuffles—Casimaffi, or maybe his brother, they're both terrified of the roads and they both tell anyone who'll listen about bandits and ghosts and the villagers that they say used to pick caravans clean, until the Emperor put a stop to it. But that was years and years ago, back when the Feuds nearly destroyed Podhru. Besides, if people thought the roads safe, quite possibly they wouldn't bother with ships and Casimaffi would lose business. He thinks like that.” He chuckled. “Spectral Hosts.” The laughter faded when he turned to look at Chris. “No, truly. It must be a jest, one in poor taste, I admit, but a jest nonetheless. After all, my eldest brother has ridden to Sikkre a hundred times and seen nothing but a dull, dry road and other travelers. He's taken this road to Podhru with Father, too—a few times. I promise you, no one has ever told me of a Spectral Host."

  "Which only means they didn't see one,” Aletto said. “I might have laughed once, too, but we crossed the path of one between Duke's Fort and Sikkre. We were fortunate; we only lost a horse to it. Next time it might be one of us."

  Enardi gazed at him for some moments, finally shook his head. “Spectral Host,” he mumbled. “But—they only hunt at night, isn't that so? If we travel during the day, as my father always has, why, then we're safe, aren't we?"

  "Who can tell?” Lialla demanded generally. “Everyone says they hunt at night and in the next breath says they don't exist."

  "Oh, they exist,” Dahven said mildly. “The caravaners meet up with them now and again; it's one reason that north trail between Zelharri and the Hushar Oasis is so rarely traveled. I agree that might have been part of the overall plan to get Aletto where they wanted him, waiting for Casimaffi's ship. You'd think of it as just one more reason not to ride to Podhru, one less obstacle to face. All the same, Aletto, why didn't you tell me?"

  Aletto shrugged. “I forgot. There were other things to think about in Sikkre, if you recall."

  "True enough, my friend. You'll have to tell me when we get the chance, though. Caravaners have been known to stretch a tale for better effect, and I've often wondered if some of the things you hear about a Spectral Host aren't the result of too much wine, not enough sleep, maybe lack of water. The desert does odd things to your mind."

  "Not that odd,” Jennifer said firmly. “I wish you hadn't brought them up, I'd managed to forget them. Now—oh, hell. Are they truly only night hunters, or are we going to get into ‘they say’ and ‘people think'? Rumor I don't need.” Dahven shrugged.

  "Rumor is all I can offer you, I'm afraid."

  Lialla drained her tea and refilled the collapsible leather cup. “I personally care only about stopping one. But the caravaners must have some idea of how to avoid them or how to deal with them. Do you know anything about that?” Dahven shrugged again.

  "N-no. Then again, I think I might have asked that once, or maybe someone just said. Unfortun
ately, I probably wasn't in the best condition to remember which, or what answer I got.” He cast her an apologetic grin. “Late hours, some inn or other, you know—"

  Lialla sighed. “Not really, but I can imagine. I suspect we're fortunate you recall anything at all."

  "Well, it wasn't anything I expected to need to know,” he said huffily.

  There was a cool silence. “I've heard things,” Edrith said cautiously. He was tugging at his hair, Chris-like, and scowling fiercely at the ground before him. The others waited. He finally shook his head. “Can't remember just now, it's been a long time and it didn't seem so important then. Let me think about it."

  "Neri didn't say anything?” Lialla asked Jennifer.

  "I made the mistake of asking about ghost camels and he was a lot of help. Just laughed rather nastily, said if we came up with anything useful to let him know."

  Lialla snorted. “Stubborn, arrogant old Wielder—"

  "All of that,” Jennifer agreed.

  "If I get like that in my old age—"

  "One of us will kick you,” Jennifer said cheerfully as she hesitated. “And remind you about Neri."

  Lialla laughed briefly. “That's if I live so long,” she said. The thought sobered her. “Or if I even bother to Wield at all—"

  She stopped as Jennifer's hand closed around her wrist, hard. “Don't, all right? Just—don't. Not now."

  "I agree.” Aletto got to his feet. “Well—has something been decided about today? Robyn?"

  She glanced skyward. “If it keeps warming up the way it feels, everything—including my jeans—should be dry by midday."

  "All right. And Enardi, that gives us enough time to reach this place you want to reach?” Enardi nodded.

  "Even if the fog comes back."

  Aletto considered this, nodded once. “Well, then. We'll stay here until midday.” He sounded a little self-conscious, still, making such a direct statement, and after a moment, he qualified it. “Is that all right? I need to move around, stretch. I'd like to take a walk, maybe practice with the staff a while."