Hunter's Legend

by R. J. Vickers

  At this, I realized their conversation was over, and I was in danger of being discovered.

  “Now, is there any chance we could still tempt you with that dinner…” Hunter began. He was distracting her, the dear man.

  I backed away from the door and hurried up the stairs, glancing so often over my shoulder that I stumbled every third step. At last I fell into the bedroom and slid the door shut, panting.

  I had reached safety just in time. Now Hunter and Samara’s voices were drifting from the entrance hall, exchanging what I presumed were formal farewells. I considered adding my own parting wishes, but a glance in the mirror at my red face and disheveled hair put an end to that notion.

  Moments later, I heard Hunter’s footsteps bounding up the stairs, and he joined me in the bedroom.

  “Any clue what we’re up to?” he asked mischievous. “I know you heard every word.”

  “Did you want me listening in?” I said.

  He shrugged, though his eyes sparkled. “I don’t trust that Samara. I want someone watching my back whenever I have to make deals with her. She seems immune to my charm.”

  I laughed. “Not every woman is going to swoon at you! Though I know what you mean about Samara. Her entire persona seems very…artificial. I have no idea what her motives are.” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Of course, many would say the same about you. It serves you right, getting a taste of the same.”

  Hunter cuffed my shoulder playfully. “Mind your impertinence! Now, did you say something about wanting to find this Lieman fellow again?”

  I made a face. “So you did remember something from last night!”

  “Just snatches. It’s starting to come back to me now.”

  Shaking my head, I retrieved the tailor’s carefully wrapped parcel from the chair. “I have a surprise for you—new clothes.” The kidskin fell away to reveal Hunter’s elegant suit, made of satin swathes of navy blue and cream, and beneath it my delicate, spring-green frock.

  We took turns dressing and prancing about in our new clothes—I had to admit, I felt much more the part now that my fraying dress had been replaced with something proper—and then, for all the world like a giddy young couple, we headed into town. Without any better idea of where to start, we headed to The Queen’s Bed and joined the innkeeper at the bar, where he sat polishing glasses.

  “Not after a bite to eat, are we?” he asked, glancing up and recognizing us. “How is the new home?”

  “Somewhat lacking in warmth,” Hunter said. “Though after staying a few nights here, most places would have trouble measuring up.”

  “Don’t be daft,” the innkeeper said, though I thought he was flattered. “What are you here for?”

  “Do you know the residence of one Messer Lieman?” Hunter asked, sweeping off his hat.

  “What’s the surname?” The innkeeper set aside his polishing cloth.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t a clue,” Hunter said. “We were hoping to broaden our circle of acquaintances, and he seemed a good place to start.”

  The innkeeper snorted. “I believe you’re after Lieman Citymage. He has quite a reputation around here, that man. Made a lot of trouble for himself, but cleaned up after a fashion, and now he’s one of the brightest business minds around. Takes on projects on the brink of failure and injects a bit of life into them.”

  “And where might we find him? If we’re successful, we’ll join you for dinner to celebrate.”

  “Far end of the Gilded Quarter,” the innkeeper said. “Keep following this street until you reach the wall, and then turn left. His garden has an enormous fountain with a swan in the center; you can’t miss it.”

  “Excellent.” Hunter donned his hat once more with a flourish.

  I had never ventured so deep into the Gilded Quarter before, and I realized our house did indeed stand out among its peers. Most were built of stone, but the majority were darker in cast—black or grey or red freckled with darker tones. A few were built of brick, though taller and more imposing than any brick structures in the Market District, and fewer still were wood.

  It took ages to reach the wall, nearly two hours. My appreciation for the size of the city was once again renewed. I paused at the corner, enjoying the shade of one of the highest roofs I’d seen, to readjust my pinching shoes. I could no longer feel my smallest toes, so tightly were they crammed inside.

  “I see the fountain,” Hunter called over his shoulder. He had strode on ahead, tireless and eager as always.

  “Brilliant,” I groaned, straightening and hobbling after him. I wished it were respectable for me to walk barefoot the entire long slog home.

  The fountain, nearly as tall as the manor’s roof, shot arcs of water that sprayed us with mist as soon as we set foot in the garden. After such a sweaty walk, the chill water was refreshing.

  To my amazement, Lieman answered the door almost at once.

  “You again!” He sounded delighted. “Come in, come in. What brings you out this way? Not many agree to pay us a visit at home. Getting here is rather a mission.”

  “If we had known, we might have invited you for tea instead,” I said.

  He smiled roguishly.

  “What are you doing, still at home at this hour?” Hunter asked. “I would have thought you’d have parties to attend…business to see to…”

  “I often work from home,” Lieman said. “Believe it or not, most of my work involves drawing up complicated plans and balancing budgets. I need a quiet space to think if I hope to accomplish anything. The parties and business deals are just fringe benefits.”

  “Ah.”

  “We did have a specific purpose for coming here,” I said, before Hunter could distract the man too much. “The Drifter who sent you to us—Taldo—have you heard from him lately?”

  Lieman frowned. “Not since he contacted me about your reference, no.”

  I bit my lip. “I went by his house yesterday, hoping to give him my thanks, and—it was empty. The door had been ripped off its hinges, and his breakfast was still on the table. I suspect someone has taken him against his will.”

  For the first time since I had met him, Lieman’s expression was utterly serious. “Who would have done such a thing?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea,” I said. “I’ve never met the man. I was hoping you might know more. Does he have enemies? Is he involved in any political matters?”

  Lieman thought for a long moment. “Not that I’m aware of,” he said at last. “As far as I know, Taldo has always been a simple man, content with a small home in the Market District and enough patients to occupy him. I’m afraid I cannot give you any further details.” He glanced at the window-box, where a starling had just alighted. “Have you considered he might have been targeted simply for being a Drifter? As useful as their arts have proven to be, there are some who resent them for wriggling their way so deeply into public favor.”

  “I had thought of that,” I said. “But I have nothing except suspicion to work from. If you hear any further news, will you let us know?”

  “Of course. Now, would you care to join me for a glass of mead?”

  It was late afternoon before we left Lieman’s home and returned to The Queen’s Bed for our promised dinner. This time I could not keep silent about my aching feet, and Hunter offered everything from carrying me to trading shoes to giving me a fragrant foot-bath when we returned home before I agreed it was best not to walk barefoot.

  “You know people will be watching us,” he said.

  “And you know I don’t care,” I said. I did, of course, but my future did not depend on passing as a noblewoman.

  The innkeeper seemed surprised to see us again. “I gather you were successful, then?” he said, leading us to an unoccupied table near the bar.

  “Oh, certainly,” Hunter said. “Though you might have warned us how far it was to the city wall!”

  The innkeeper shook his head. “I forgot you young folk were newcomers. It’s not a walk I undertake f
requently, myself.”

  “It’s nothing compared to the distance between here and the slums, though, aye?” Hunter said offhandedly.

  The innkeeper nodded. If he thought the comment odd, he made no remark. “And what would you like for dinner?”

  “The finest you have to offer.”

  With a shrug, the innkeeper went to relay the message to his chef. He returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “I thought this might tempt you. A full-bodied white, from our finest vineyards in the west.”

  “How could I resist?” Hunter said. As the innkeeper uncorked the bottle and poured us two glassfuls of the pale gold wine, Hunter leaned closer and said, “As we mentioned before, we’re in search of a few social connections. Do you know of any formal galas we might attend sometime in the next two days? Preferably two nights from now?”

  I kicked him under the table. I knew what he was up to.

  “As it happens, there is a formal ball in two nights’ time. At the palace. Unfortunately, it is a very exclusive affair, and you would not find yourselves welcome without an invitation.”

  “And how might we acquire said invitation?” Hunter asked.

  “Inquire at the palace,” the innkeeper said. “Worm your way into the right company. Larkhaven’s upper echelons of society may be based on fleet sizes and shipping rights, but here it is all about who knows whom.”

  “Thank you,” Hunter said. The innkeeper bowed and retreated; as soon as his back was turned, I scowled at Hunter.

  “You could have been a bit less obvious! I don’t like going along with your schemes, always shunted around.”

  “I’m just trying to get us in with the right company,” Hunter said.

  I kicked him again. “No, you’re making certain there’s no way I can follow you when you and that Drifter woman relocate whatever it is you need.”

  “Funny coincidence, that,” Hunter said airily.

  I glared at him. “Why did you want me to overhear the conversation if you’re so determined to exclude me from everything else?”

  “I wanted your honest opinion on Samara,” Hunter said. “I want to know I can trust her before I go traipsing across the city at all hours of the night to meet her and the professor. They might be setting me up. I barely know the man.”

  I sighed in exasperation. “Then why don’t you back out of the whole thing? We can leave Baylore, like both of us want, and get away from this mess. Why can’t you give this up?”

  Hunter’s face grew stony. “I wish I could, more than anything. But if I turned back now, so close to setting things right, I would be haunted forever.”

  “Well, if it’s any comfort, I think Samara will do as she has promised,” I said grudgingly. “She seems very straightforward, if prickly.”

  Hunter nodded. “I thought so. And you have to trust me—I don’t want you getting involved because I don’t want you getting hurt. The professor is a dangerous man. He has a valuable dream, but he is ruthless and suspicious to the point of paranoia. If you got on the wrong side of him, I would hate to think what would happen.”

  Rather than reassuring me, this stoked my worries further. What business did Hunter have with such a man?

  Chapter 9

  D espite lurking at The Queen’s Bed, paying my parents another visit, and enlisting Hunter’s intuition, we were no closer to figuring out what had become of Taldo by the time the palace ball rolled around. I was unsurprised to find that Hunter had spoken to the right people and managed, against all odds, to win me an invitation to the ball. Unlikelier still, Lieman was to be my escort. Hunter returned home the evening of the ball with an armful of packages—the new dresses, I guessed immediately.

  “Pick your favorite,” he said, untying each of the bundles and running his fingers over the fine cloth. “The tailor showed them all to me before he wrapped them up; I can already guess which one you’ll like best.”

  I held them up one at a time—a solemn black dress without any embellishments; a stunning crimson gown that did not at all suit my mousy appearance, but which Hunter had liked too much to pass up; and then a soft violet gown, its trailing skirt slashed to reveal a deep purple underskirt. The bodice was another swatch of violet, a narrowing rectangle detailed in gold buttons and delicate gold embroidery. It was stunning, and subtle enough that it ought to suit me.

  “I’ll wear this one.” I lifted it from the pile.

  “Aren’t you going to look at the others?” Hunter gave me a sideways grin. “I knew that would be the one. Let’s see you put it on, then.”

  “Not yet!” I said. “I might as well sit here comfortably for another few hours.”

  “Ah, but Lieman was hoping to take the pair of us for dinner at one of the finest establishments in Baylore. He’ll be waiting outside within the hour.”

  “A plague on you,” I muttered.

  “Do you need help dressing?”

  I glared at him. “Stay right there.” Kicking off my shoes, I ran upstairs with the new gown. Once I had pulled it over my head and fastened the row of tiny, fiddly buttons running from my waist to my armpit, I allowed myself a moment’s vanity and twirled in front of the mirror. My face was still far too plain, and my hair looked like a stable’s worth of hay that had somehow been made to lie flat, but the dress gave me a tapered waist and accented the fine lines of my neck and long, delicate fingers. When I nervously made my way downstairs, chin down and bare feet curled against the cold stone stairs, Hunter caught me in his arms and whirled me around.

  “Aren’t you a dear little princess,” he said, kissing me.

  “Oh, be quiet,” I said.

  Hunter pinched my cheeks. “You just need a bit of color, and someone to fix your hair, and you’ll look like a proper noblewoman.”

  “I’ll agree to it on one condition,” I said, holding Hunter at arm’s length. “You have to tell me more about this mysterious relocation once the night is up.”

  “That’s a hard bargain to meet,” Hunter said. He narrowed his eyebrows in a caricature of concentration. “I suppose it’s fair enough, though. Fine—agreed.”

  So Hunter dragged me to the Market District hairdresser we had spotted just across the street from the tailor’s, and the motherly-looking owner agreed to fix me up while Hunter tracked down Lieman.

  “Goodness me, not a touch of paint on your face,” the woman said. “How have you gotten away with such plainness for so long?”

  I was vaguely hurt by that comment. “I’m not from around here. In Larkhaven, the wealthiest merchants are valued more for the sharpness of their minds than the style of their dress.”

  “My word, child, I meant no offense!” The woman led me to a plump, cushioned seat and settled me in place. “Baylore’s wealthy class is equally intelligent. But it does no harm looking the part when you mean to persuade men. Unfortunately for you, men are more prepared to listen to a pretty wee bird than a half-drowned kitten.”

  Again, I nearly stuck out my lower lip, offended. Why did this suddenly matter so much to me? I had been content for all these years to follow in Hunter’s shadow, unnoticed and unremarkable, and before that as an invisible scribe in the corner of a council office. But now we were playing a higher game, and invisibility would no longer suffice.

  “We’ll start with your face,” the woman said. “The hair must always accent the face, not overwhelm it.”

  Before I could protest, she was fluttering a fine horsehair brush across my cheeks and forehead before moving in with a kohl pencil along my eyelids. My eyes kept twitching; at last the woman grabbed my eyelashes with a thumb and forefinger.

  “Good gracious, child!” she clucked. “Do you expect me to gouge your eyes out?”

  I bit my tongue to keep a resentful “maybe” from slipping out.

  By the time she finished, my eyes were itchy and watering, and I had dug grooves into the palms of my hands from the force with which I had clenched them in fists. It was not the least bit reassuring when she moved to
my hair. She clawed a comb through it, doused it in floral-scented water, and twisted it round and round before letting it fall loose.

  “Perhaps we would do best to cover it,” she said in defeat. She fetched a delicate, pearl-studded net, pinned my hair inside, and stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Good enough.”

  Just then, Hunter and Lieman ducked into the shop to collect me. I suspected they had been waiting outside. Lieman dipped his chin with a sly, appreciative smile, while Hunter eyed me, temporarily lost for words.

  “If I had walked into that office my first day and seen you like this, you would have turned my head.” Hunter smiled ruefully.

  I reddened. Hunter’s taste in women was impeccable—coming from him, that was the highest of compliments. “Would you rather I had been some pretty doll all along?”

  “No,” Hunter said. “I would have thought less of you for it.”

  That warmed me straight through.

  Dinner passed in a blur of small talk and delicious courses; for some reason Lieman seemed anxious for the meal to end, though he was charming and gracious throughout. When we rose and paid the bill, my dress straining against my overfull stomach, Hunter bade us farewell and disappeared into the darkness. For a second I debated giving Lieman the slip and chasing after Hunter, but I would have fallen behind almost immediately and gotten lost in the slums.

  “So,” he said, taking my arm and leading me back up Market Street, eyes twinkling. “I would love nothing more than a piece of your true story. I know you and Hunter aren’t siblings, and it seems he’s half in love with you.”

  “Unlikely,” I said.

  Lieman shrugged. “Persuade me otherwise. You’re not from Larkhaven either, are you? Wrong accent.”

  Around us, lights were beginning to flare to life in every window, and bitter, dark coalsmoke curled from a hundred kitchen stoves.

  “Your history has been a bit more troubled than you would care to let on, hasn’t it?” I countered. “I can recognize a kindred spirit. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”