The Baker's Wife--complete

by Amy Keeley

“No one. We’re going to kill Lord Teranasin.”

  She blinked. “But we—”

  “At this very moment, Vyomsi is spreading the lie that you and I, especially I, killed the royal family. He’s likely poured doubt on the story the Queen told about the King’s death. It wouldn’t take much. A few witnesses here and there, including the friend you made among the Disciples.”

  “He wouldn’t.”

  “Wouldn’t he? Why not? I seduced you or deceived you or some such and he becomes a gallant hero trying to save you from a terrible evil. He tells the story they want him to tell and I burn while you go free.”

  She shook her head. “If we talk to them—”

  “There’s no guarantee they’ll listen. Besides, there were Dogs there at the top of the stairs. I saw them just before we started running. Right now, there’s probably a few being sent from noble to noble, making it clear to every member of their house what I look like and what awaits the man or woman who brings me in.”

  “And so you’ll kill him.”

  He frowned at her, clearly puzzled. “You were willing to forgive me before. How is this different? Or are we going back to the definition of self-defense? He killed a woman and her children without a second thought simply to grab power. He would have tortured you in front of me.” His eyes flashed. “He deserves to burn more than any merchant caught trading spells he shouldn’t.”

  “But there’s a system.”

  “Not for us. Not for this. And especially not when a noble goes bad.”

  Stunned, she laid back down and stared at the darkness above her. “How do you plan on going against him?”

  “Obviously, we aren’t strong enough yet. I only damaged him the first time due to surprise. Perhaps stupidity the second time, though it’s never wise to underestimate a noble. I’d rather think he was testing me to see what I knew.”

  And then the full impact of what was occurring hit her. “We’ll be called traitors.”

  “We are being called that now, goodwife. We might as well behave as one.”

  “But we’re not.”

  “You’re using illegal magic and you don’t—”

  “They’re nothing alike. I may break a rule here and there, but I would never do anything against my King and I refuse to believe the system I grew up in, the one that would kill a man for trying to feed his family, wouldn’t apply the same awful consequences to those who have the ability to do a lot more harm than grow vegetables when they shouldn’t.”

  “But it doesn’t, and it won’t.” He put a hand on her arm. It felt too wonderful for a moment like this.

  “Killing him won’t bring back our good name.”

  “Nothing will, goodwife. Are you listening to anything I’m saying?”

  “How much magic will you have to master to go against him? Or are all three of us going to try at once?”

  “I don’t even know what’s possible yet.”

  “And you won’t unless you take a chance and trust one of the nobles. You know who they are. There has to be one you can trust among those you’ve met, one who would be loyal the King. There has to be one out there.”

  “The nobles,” he said, clearly irritated now, “are only loyal to themselves.” He chuckled. “No. Let’s think this through, since you seem to think my experience lacking. All it would take is one moment. We approach the noble, in his home, of course. We bow and scrape and convince as best we can. He’ll call a messenger, except the call he sends could very well be a request for his own guard, a lesser form of Dogs that would hold us until the real thing arrived. At that point, we would have to fight, possibly kill, shedding blood needlessly, all because we decided to trust and chose wrong. And the chances, goodwife, of choosing wrong are currently very high, even with my knowledge of the court. We go after Vyomsi, and Vyomsi alone—”

  “And it could shed even more blood.”

  “Not if it’s done right.”

  “But could it be done at all?”

  “If we train hard enough, yes. But it has to happen soon, before he strengthens in his power and manages to declare himself King. Once that’s done, he’ll have access to all the Ornic trifles and books Jivon kept lying around the castle. And of all nobles, he’s the one I’m most convinced would learn it. Perhaps not right away, but soon. It’s only a matter of time.”

  She hugged her knees. “You’re talking about assassination, when the system—”

  He groaned and covered his face with his hands. “Stop talking about the system. It doesn’t work, Krysilla. It hasn’t worked ever since it was created. The only reason so many people have clung to it was the rift. If the Disciples and nobles didn’t have something to point to once a year as a symbol of the wonders of Tothsin life, we’d have already overthrown the King, cast out the Disciples, and had a great feast once a year to celebrate the system’s demise.”

  “Is this really about protecting us?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then what will we do after Lord Teranasin is dead, with our names still attached to the murder of the royal family? Did you think that through?”

  He took his hands from his face, glaring at her. “Did you consider that when I fought Vyomsi, I did so with what I knew of Ornic magic? That’s not going to fade away. Now, if you were a noble, who would you believe of the two groups? A noble you’ve played cards with, dined with, considered, perhaps, for your daughters? Or a disgraced locksmith, the former wife of a baker, and a minstrel of questionable background who casually casts Ornic spells? I think you’re the one who hasn’t considered all the angles.”

  “We can’t run for the rest of our lives.”

  “Try me.” And she could see in his eyes a determination that frightened her.

  And then it was gone, and he’d shut his eyes. “There’s no need to talk about this now.” He got to his feet and held out his hand. “Come. We’re both tired, and that doesn’t improve clarity of thought. A little more food, a little rest, and I’ll teach you the things I promised.”

  “To be used against Lord Teranasin?”

  Zhiv took a deep breath. “Have you changed your mind?”

  She thought about what he planned. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you have time to re-consider. I doubt anything needs to happen today. And if possible, if it makes you feel more comfortable, I would prefer it if it was only me going up against him. Neither you nor Daegan would have any part.”

  “Of course we would.” She was beginning to feel that the family she had just joined might slip away through her fingers if she weren’t careful. “And if you aren’t enough?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, then ruffled it. “Since when is that true?” he grinned, mischief in his eyes once more. “Coming?” He held out his hand again and she took it, enjoying, for that brief moment, the warmth of it, the strength in it, a moment that felt far more fragile than she’d anticipated. Slowly, they made their way out of the cave. Only once did they speak, and that was as they approached the entrance. Krysilla asked, “If I hadn’t collapsed, what would you have taught me?”

  “Ha.” He grinned. “I knew you’d ask. I would have started with your natural domain, even though that isn’t mine.”

  “And what is yours?”

  “Another secret you’ll have to wait to learn,” he grinned, though she could tell from the briefness of it that he was pushing himself.

  The next moment they spoke was after they’d left the cave and stepped out into the sunlight, blinking and shading their eyes. From the base of the stairs, beside the house, Ziria waved at them. They waved back. Holding up a bag Krysilla hoped was full of food, she went inside the house. She glanced at Zhiv to see him smiling at her with the same good cheer she’d grown used to seeing. “Things are looking up, goodwife.”

  Giving him a weak returning smile, she quickly looked away, her head full of things she’d rather ignore. He hated the system. She’d always known this. But, she realized, lately she had been thinking o
f it as a general complaint, like when farmers complain about the weather, yet know they can never do anything about it. Now, with his actions against the King...that was necessary, she told herself. He was about to open the rift. And who judges the King?

  He’d used fire, though, like the Ornic lords. But not to kill, immediately countered. Zhiv was only trying to stop him.

  Then again, perhaps she was remembering wrong. Perhaps Zhiv truly had intended to kill him. It’s how things had started between them. Too late, she realized he was watching her. “Goodwife?”

  “Yes? Yes, things are looking up.”

  He watched her a moment longer, then gestured for her to follow him down the stairs.

  Ziria had brought all sorts of foodstuffs in her sack. “I know you’ll be limited in what you can use—”

  “We’ll need more than this soon,” he said.

  Ziria put her hands on her hips. “For Daegan?”

  “And the goodwife’s sister and niece. They’re with him.”

  “I can’t bring too much food, Zhiv.”

  “Bring what you can. I’ll help carry.” He began to help her put things away.

  “Ah, yes. That’s exactly what I need. An escaped criminal helping me carry food through my fields.” She pulled out some bread and put it on the table. “Did you know I’ve already heard from the castle’s messenger that the King is dead? They’re racing through the whole kingdom with papers describing you as the killer. And not just of the King.”

  “The royal family as well. Didn’t you already tell her this, goodwife?”

  “It’s one thing,” Ziria said, “for her to tell me what a single noble said, and another for the lie to be blasted all through the kingdom. How are you going to live?”

  “The way most do. I’ll eat, sleep, and perhaps get a little fun in here and there.”

  Ziria wasn’t amused. “Goodwife Jyomsa, has he told you what he’s going to do?”

  She thought of his words in the cave. If she lost his trust now, by telling his sister, would he ever listen to her again? “Not specifically, no.” True enough. He hadn’t given any specific plans, only a goal.

  Zhiv studied her for a moment, and she realized she’d surprised him. “Go ahead and tell her, goodwife,” he finally said.

  “Even when you have no plans?”

  “Especially when I have no plans. Tell her.”

  Taking a deep breath, Krysilla said, “He’s going to kill Lord Teranasin”

  Ziria nodded slowly. “I see.” She looked at her younger brother with sadness. “I can bring you news tomorrow. And you’ll be happy to know the portal’s holding well.”

  Krysilla blinked. That was all? Ziria wasn’t going to argue, or even comment?

  Zhiv also acted as if no great revelation had been given. “You’ve been using it?” Krysilla couldn’t tell if Zhiv was pleased or dismayed.

  “Of course. It was the only way I could get to you quickly enough.”

  Obviously, Ziria wouldn’t try to convince him to tell one of the nobles. She began to help the other two put things away. Later. She would try again with Zhiv later.

  “How long are you planning to stay?” Ziria asked.

  “Only until Daegan shows.”

  “Then why do you need extra food?”

  “Because I doubt Daegan will have found any on his way here. Plus, we have to travel, and we might as well take a little extra for that. Not much.”

  “Do you have another map we’ll be using?” Krysilla asked.

  All Ziria’s action stopped. “You have a map? Of what?”

  “Escape routes.”

  “What kind?”

  “All kinds. Why?”

  Ziria’s lips thinned in barely controlled rage. “The portal I use. Is it on that map?”

  Zhiv shrugged. “Of course.”

  Her eyes went wide. “You wrote down where I live?”

  “I took precautions, Ziri.”

  “With my family?”

  “It’s all right. I took care of it.”

  “Did you? And why is she asking if you have another you can use?”

  “We lost one of the copies.”

  “You lost—” Eyes wide, it appeared Ziria was hardly breathing. “Copies. More than one. And you lost...one.”

  “It was while Lord Teranasin was trying to kill us,” Krysilla explained, sympathizing with her and feeling miserable now that she’d lost it. “My bag was ripped and I tried to gather what I could. I had no idea you might be hurt by anything I carried.”

  “She won’t be hurt,” Zhiv emphasized, hanging a ham from the ceiling.

  Ziria’s eyes narrowed. “And what else did you lose?”

  “Only a personal item or two.”

  Zhiv frowned. “Which ones?”

  “My divorce certificate. I didn’t see anything else gone.”

  “Your certificate?” Now, he appeared agitated.

  Ziria gave voice to Krysilla’s thoughts. “She just told you she lost a map that outlines all your escape plans and you’re concerned about her marital status?”

  “We’ll be traveling, Ziri. You think folk aren’t going to notice a blue sash and a different name?”

  “Pretend she’s your wife, then.”

  Krysilla blushed deeply, while Zhiv said, “That won’t work, sis.”

  “Then make her a white sash with black trim. You can’t buy those, you know. The ones who can afford a divorce can afford the sash that goes with it, custom-made.”

  Krysilla remembered what the King had said. “There’s no real difference between the look of a widow’s sash and—” Ziria’s stunned expression made her stop. Zhiv, on the other hand, seemed only mildly surprised. And it didn’t last long.

  “The material,” he explained, “for a divorced woman is made from sheer material. Almost transparent. And the black edging is made of lace. Widows don’t wear that. The extra finery is a symbol of all the effort a woman must go through to win a divorce. A badge of honor. In the old days, the sash was a gift from the King, given with the certificate. King Mauritan, fifty years ago, fell on hard times. He declared that the sash would no longer be given as a gift, but would be part of the expense.”

  Krysilla felt her heart sink.

  “Can you get me the material?” Zhiv said to Ziria.

  “Maybe.”

  “And maybe, for you, means no. So that ends that, for now.”

  “Then you must pretend.”

  “I won’t ask her to lie.”

  Krysilla felt an entirely unwanted rush of pleasure at the sound of those words before remembering that he had a reason for everything he did.

  Apparently, Ziria felt the same. She studied him. “Since when do you care about telling the truth?”

  “Since I decided not to force my friends to lie for me.”

  “Even if it means your death or mine.” She threw up her hands. “All who have gathered for song and dance, I present you my brother.”

  “I altered the map, Ziri. I doubt anyone will come.”

  Her jaw set, though she looked as if she were about to cry. “He might.”

  Zhiv paused, looking at her as if daring her to say the name. “He has more important things on his mind.”

  She dusted off her skirt. “Tomorrow I’ll be back.” She hesitated. “Do you want me to teach the goodwife the song?”

  He shook his head.

  “You aren’t going to use silences. You’ll need the song.”

  “Anything will do, sis. I’ll be fine.”

  “Did he tell you why he needs the silences?” she said to Krysilla.

  “I’ll tell her,” he said with a firmness that surprised both Krysilla and Ziria.

  “You’d best do that,” Ziria said softly as she turned to leave, empty sack in hand. “And teach her the song I used to sing to you.”

  He only glared.

  The rest of the day was spent sleeping. She had gone upstairs, while Zhiv had taken the couch downstairs. In case Daega
n arrives, he’d said. It was unspoken between them, they would wait for Daegan to arrive before doing anything. And they were too tired to read spells.

  Krysilla woke to the sound of movement. Pacing? It was dark outside and in, too dark for evening. Must be night. Thinking perhaps Daegan had arrived, she went downstairs, black hair loose around her shoulders, and eyes blinking in the glow of the downstairs Light. Below, she could hear muttering. Not Daegan, though. “Zhiv?”

  The pacing and muttering stopped. “Goodwife? Did I wake you?”

  Isn’t it obvious? she wanted to say, but she heard the tension in his voice. “I’ve slept long enough. Are you all right?” She began to descend.

  “Don’t.” His sharp tone softened when he spoke next. “Go back to sleep. I’m quite fine.”

  “Do you turn into a monster at night?” she joked.

  “Something close to it.” His light tone sounded forced.

  She hesitated in her descent, but only for a moment. “You never did tell me why you had the silences around your room.”

  He said nothing, either to stop or encourage her. At the bottom step, she leaned forward and saw him standing behind the couch, staring at the fire. “Isn’t that bad for your eyes?”

  He slowly shook his head. Turning to her suddenly, he said, “What do you think of my plan? Do you think it madness?”

  “To kill Lord Teranasin? Yes, I do.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s rather late to discuss—”

  He pulled one of the chairs into the open and set it in the middle of the sitting room floor. “Please,” he gestured for her to sit.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked. His movements were too swift, too energetic, as if he were trying to fight against the very actions he was doing.

  “Very. If one were to cast a portrait of health, it would be me they’d capture.” He walked the perimeter of the room.

  Krysilla entered the room, but did not sit. Her voice was soft. “Why did you have the silences, Zhiv?”

  He took her by the elbow and, with a gentle tug, tried to move her closer to the chair. “Questions, questions, and yet the most important ones are never asked.”

  She resisted. “Why the silences?”

  “Goodwife,” he seemed out of breath. “Please. Sit. Please.” His hand moved from her elbow to her own. Grasping her fingers in a tenuous grip, she wondered if he was trembling, or if it was her imagination. There was a wildness about him now that went beyond anything she had seen until now.