The Baker's Wife--complete

by Amy Keeley

  She looked at Hyaji and remembered his only exercise had been the occasional walk up the stairs in the clock tower. “You pushed him all the way here, didn’t you?”

  “At a good clip. Anything to keep him from attacking me as he did before. You should have seen it, goodwife! No training, no practice, and yet he nearly managed to burn me.”

  She thought of the execution spell still lingering in him. Her knees felt weak. “He didn’t...how much did he manage?”

  Zhiv’s understanding smile was brief. “I’m not the one who should have your concern. You rested while we were gone?”

  She nodded. “And Nitty took care of me.” She nodded toward her sister, who watched all the proceedings with folded arms and keen eyes. A fleeting smile was her only acknowledgment of her sister’s words. Sister. She remembered the note. “Any word of Ziria?”

  His jaw clenched, tears springing to his eyes. “She won’t be coming.”

  “What—” but Zhiv turned away.

  “I’d better get the dye out of my hair before I need to use a strong spell on it,” he said, sounding slightly hoarse. “Daegan, please tell Nitty we need to move up to the cave.” He jogged up the stairs.

  “Why don’t you tell me yourself?” she said, and began to pull foodstuffs out of the pantry.

  Filled with dread, Krysilla hoped his reaction wasn’t what she thought it was. In her dream, Ziria had already died. It was a metaphor for her existence. It wasn’t supposed to actually happen. “Daegan?”

  The muscles in his jaw worked furiously for a moment before he finally said, “Gone.”

  “Far gone or—”

  “Gone the path of the sun.”

  Dead, in other words. “The Dogs?”

  He shook his head. “A Dog for the actual execution, but the ones who killed her and her husband were the townsfolk who wanted their land.”

  And now Zhiv wanted everyone in the cave. “Are we leaving?”

  “Yes. I’m not precisely sure how. But Zhiv doesn’t want anyone in this house while we have Hyaji here.”

  “Why?”

  “He has a Dog following him.”

  Krysilla swayed at that. Daegan caught her with one hand on her arm, holding her steady. “How close?”

  “Zhiv threw her off with traces of magic. I don’t understand the spell, and it’s a new one that, until now, hasn’t been tested against a Dog, but—” Daegan shook his head. “Things are bad, goodwife. And Hyaji showing up, with a Dog on him—”

  “Means he was sent.” She thought of him casting, and against Zhiv. “He didn’t tire Zhiv out, did he?”

  “No. Hearing about Ziria did more damage.”

  “I imagine.” She looked at the stairs, seeing him in one of the upstairs rooms in her mind’s eye, bending over a basin to wash out the dye from his hair. Was he crying? Was he forcing himself to keep moving? If she were stronger, she’d already be climbing the stairs to talk to him, to hold him, to give him comfort.

  I’m thinking like a wife, she scolded herself, though it didn’t take away the longing. And then she realized Daegan had asked her something. “Pardon?”

  “Can you climb the stairs?”

  “It would be a struggle,” she admitted. Then realized he was talking about the ones that led to the cavern. “The ladder, too.”

  He nodded, slowly. “Zhiv doesn’t want you touching those wheels again.”

  She couldn’t tell from his tone whether he agreed or not. When he looked at her, his smile was bitter. “We may have no choice.”

  “I just need to get used to it,” she began, but his shaking head stopped her.

  “You become part of it,” he whispered. “I’ve never seen that. I didn’t even know it was possible. Zhiv says he’s heard of it, but the stories make it sound easy to walk away from the spell. That, and Hyaji here casting fire as if it were nothing—” he sighed, “He’s more like the Ornic in the stories than Zhiv.” Troubled, he leaned shoved his hands in his vest pockets. “And Zhiv wants him to be part of the tribe.”

  “It can’t just be that.” Krysilla walked toward the stairs, unsteady, but willing to try. “He didn’t bring me in because I have a talent for lockpicking. He saw something more. It’s the same with Hyaji.”

  “Goodwife.”

  Krysilla stopped and turned back. Daegan rubbed the back of his head. “Have you considered...that perhaps...just perhaps...this is wrong?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Daegan looked up at the stairs. “When I met him, he didn’t have a place to sleep. And he had so many wild ideas. Madness, that’s what I thought, and I listened because he tells a good story and he would talk while I worked. When he wasn’t at the castle, of course. He didn’t spend as much time there in the beginning as he did later. My father hated him. He only knew him as an itinerant fiddler who happened to pay well enough to stay. He’d lecture me, every night, long after Zhiv had found something else to do, on the evils of the life Zhiv lived. And I believed it.”

  He took a deep breath. “And then, there was a girl. And the girl, who always seemed to be smiling or laughing, was fascinated by everything Zhiv was. But she let me try for her hand because I had a steady position, and because I could recite all the doctrine, and because I was everything she had been told to marry. When she eventually decided I was too conservative, I...I never wanted anyone like that, and when I tried to lose myself in work I couldn’t do anything right. I saw this world outside of everything I’d been taught, and people were full of life there, fully laughing and fully alive. That’s when I knew I didn’t want the girl. I wanted the life she had. That’s when I started listening to Zhiv’s prattle. And when I tried the Ornic techniques he’d learned, casting flowed so easily from my hands. Too easy.” He looked at Hyaji. “And now we’re on the run, and life has become this precious thing that we may lose at any moment.” His gaze was wistful when he turned his attention to her. “And I’m starting to wonder what it was we were hoping to do in the first place, he and I.”

  She had no answer for him. All she thought was all she managed to say. “I swore an oath to you because of the merchant, Valensi.”

  “Who broke the law.”

  “He was trying to help his family.”

  “Using illegal magic. The rules exist so that people like Hyaji don’t decide suddenly that someone deserves to die and perform an execution spell on them. They aren’t arbitrary.”

  “But it was small magic. It wasn’t fair.”

  “Who decides that? You? Zhiv? Me? I’m only a locksmith. And you, with all due respect, were raised to keep house and assist your husband. And we follow a minstrel, who played a pretty tune and got us to dance.”

  Krysilla turned away. “He’s not doing this for power.”

  “I know. In fact, that’s what worries me most.”

  She stopped. “Why is that?”

  “You’ve seen him. You’ve watched him fight the battle every night against whatever the Dogs did to him. That’s what drives him, goodwife. It’s why he spent so much time with women, it’s why he had silences around his room, it’s why he’s dedicated himself to learning more than how to defend himself. I’ve seen his notes. He wants to win a pitched battle against the strongest Dog and come out on top.”

  She remembered Ziria’s words. “His sister said the same thing.”

  “And he wants to go back. Has he told you this yet?”

  She nodded, slowly.

  “Then you also realize what it means, correct? This is more than simply defending ourselves if the Dogs come to execute us for magic we shouldn’t even be casting. It means killing, perhaps in cold blood, anyone stands in our way. And more than Dogs would. Should we go against those who are set to protect us, who take an oath to do so? Or do we continue to live by our own rules and suffer the consequences? And when do we stop? What other law will we decide is ‘unfair’ and decide to improve on our own?”

  “I’ve told him this. I said it when he told me what he wants
to do.”

  “As did I. How well did he listen?” he smirked.

  He wants to destroy it all, she thought, remembering what Zhiv had said and never denied. “We could change his mind. Soften his stance.”

  Daegan chuckled. “Then you doubt him, as well.”

  “No. I think, perhaps, there are some things that still need to be discussed and decided on.”

  “You doubt him. There’s no shame in admitting it. It doesn’t lessen the respect both of us feel toward him. He’s like the brother I never had. And I know he means more to you than you’re willing to admit.”

  Her cheeks reddened. “How long before the Dog arrives?”

  “Soon enough that we should be moving instead of talking.”

  “There never seems to be time to talk,” Krysilla said softly, and Daegan nodded. “He says we can’t go to the nobles. Is that true?”

  He sighed. “Perhaps. I’m not as familiar with those who visit. Only the ones who stayed in Hurush to badger the King.”

  Thoughts swirling, she said, “If we can’t trust them, what about justice?”

  “Justice? Are we Dogs? Since when did we get into this for justice? I want life. You want to belong. And Zhiv wants revenge.”

  She sighed and visually measured the stairs. “I’m going to see how he’s doing.”

  “Goodwife.” She paused, her hand on the doorjamb. “I mean to stay with him and see out the dance. But the more I look at what’s ahead—there’s no reason for you and yours to follow us.”

  It took a moment for her to get the strength to answer. “Thank you.”

  No, she decided as she ascended the stairs, step by unsteady step. He’s nothing like Lejer. Conservative, yes, but much kinder.

  The stairs were a bit more difficult than she expected, but not impossible. Focusing only on each step, she reached the top and saw Zhiv through a door that was slightly ajar. Did he hear anything? she wondered. She continued on, her legs shaking now. I have to do this, she told herself. Even if I don’t talk to him, I have to prove I can at least move.

  The door opened and Zhiv appeared, his brown and gold hair dripping wet. He paused and stared. “What are you doing?”

  “Walking.”

  “No. You’re getting ready to collapse again.”

  “I seem to remember you tried to get up as soon as you could when you went through this.” She kept walking. He rushed forward and took her arm.

  “That’s because I’ve gotten used to it. And I never tried using something like what’s in that cave. Oh, and while we have your Disciple friend here, I would appreciate it if you mentioned as little of that as possible.” He began to escort her back down the stairs.

  “Because of the Dog?”

  “Because I don’t know his ties to Teranasin yet. Near as I can tell, he was looking for us. He’s got more in his sack than books and personal effects. Or whatever a Disciple carries with him.”

  They were now on the ground floor. From the sitting room, they could hear Hyaji stirring while Daegan had opened the floor in the kitchen and was putting books into a satchel. We really are leaving, she thought. “What do you want with him, if he tried to attack you?”

  “You’ll see.” Zhiv leaned close enough for his cheek to push back her hair. “If you wish to be helpful, find out why he chose to be here, and what he’s got in that sack of his. And rest.” He turned away without even a glance.

  ***

  Hyaji didn’t wake up for a third of a quarter of an hour. Daegan had moved most of the books to the cavern and placed them in what Zhiv had called “the special box,” which Krysilla assumed was similar in nature to Zhiv’s satchel, a magical item that Daegan told her tied to the shelves under the kitchen through a smaller sort of portal. When Zhiv wanted. She doubted that was the only location, if he’d figured it out multiple links for the other portals he’d created.

  She wanted to think on things like this. She wanted to focus on the clever spells Zhiv had built, spells she hadn’t heard of anywhere but in stories and legends. She wanted to remember him standing in the meadow, putting item after item into his satchel but never filling it. Thinking on those things made it easier to ignore the tangle her life had become.

  Zhiv would go back. Of that, she was certain. He would either dispatch Lord Teranasin himself, or find someone else to do it. Justice.

  And he deserved to die for killing the royal family. He deserved the justice of the Dogs.

  But she’d seen a Dog standing by him as he dispensed justice against Zhiv and herself, for crimes that, according to the law, were just as weighty as murder. Just as the Dogs had executed a man for going beyond his trade to feed his family. And yet—

  “You’re looking better.”

  Krysilla jumped at the sound of Hyaji’s voice. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was thinking.”

  She couldn’t tell if the lack of energy in his response was because he was tired, or because he was still hurt at her betrayal. “Have you been apologizing much lately?”

  She thought of their time in the library’s hall. “Not enough to certain people. I’m sorry.”

  “You should have told me that the next morning.”

  “Yes, I should have. I’m sorry for that as well.” That night had been a blur of worry and watching and waiting. And yet, now that she was out of it, she felt convinced that there had been a moment when she could have gone back, when she could have apologized most sincerely and begged his forgiveness.

  “What has he done to you?” Hyaji’s words were soft, yet she could hear the undercurrent of his earlier fury in them.

  Nothing that warranted your attack, she wanted to say, but softened it. “Nothing.”

  “Are you going to tell me that your eyes are opened now? That he’s shown you marvelous things that have expanded your hope for the future?”

  We dance to our deaths, she thought. “He didn’t kill anyone. I was there.”

  Hyaji smirked. “I didn’t expect him to do it himself. Do you know what I’ve heard about the Ornic as I’ve traveled?”

  Zhiv, she wanted to say, his name is Zhiv. “That he fiddled under the name of Parlay? That he had ways of getting information for the King, and tied his strings in every beggar in Hurush? It’s all true. The King himself confirmed Zhiv’s usefulness to me.”

  Hyaji leaned forward, clearly concerned. “What has he promised you?”

  “What do you think?”

  “He’s not the type to settle down.”

  She nearly guffawed. “I know that very well, Hyaji.”

  His eyes narrowed and she could tell where his thoughts were going. Annoyed with how everyone assumed the worst, she said, “What kind of woman do you think I am?”

  “I saw how you looked at him.” Hyaji hesitated, nearly ducking his head. “I saw it then as well. I fear he’s entranced you beyond sense.”

  “On the contrary, he’s been far more honest than I expected.”

  “Krysilla, he’s wanted for murder.”

  “If he’s a murderer, then I’m Lady Felldesh.” And yet, she remembered what he’d said about killing both the thief and Lord Teranasin and remembered his question.

  The kitchen door opened. “All right,” Zhiv announced. “Time for all of us to be in the caverns.” He walked into the sitting room far too casually to be innocent, and grabbed his fiddle case. “Do you need assistance, goodwife?” The slight stress on the word “goodwife” confused her even more.

  Hyaji gave Zhiv a passing glare as he walked to the kitchen where Daegan waited for him just beyond the door.

  Confused, she watched Hyaji go. “I think I can manage.”

  “Are you sure, goodwife?” Again, the slight emphasis. He draped the strap across his chest.

  “Quite. Thank you.” She took a step and wondered if she should have refused his help. Her legs still felt very weak. But she continued on, giving him a brief smile as she passed him. She could hear Daegan and Hyaji talking softly ahead and heard their steps
on the stairs that led to the cavern. “How did you manage to convince him to come here?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? Daegan threatened to burn the books he’s hiding.” A pause. “And I mentioned you were here. I didn’t know you’d given him leave to call you by your personal name.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Not at all. What I call you has nothing to do with anything we might do together.”

  She stared at the flight of stairs and hesitantly put one foot on the bottom step. Zhiv took her elbow, making sure he was on the outer edge, the part with the steepest drop should things go wrong. “Then why mention it?” she said, more aware than she liked of the warmth of his fingers on her arm.

  “I just think it’s odd. You’re so concerned about propriety with others—”

  “With you,” she corrected him. “The others I’ve met don’t take as many liberties as you do.” She felt like an old woman being assisted by a dashing young man, and hated it.

  “Do I? I seem to remember being very respectful of your wishes whenever you’ve made them known, goodwife.” Again, the slight stress. They still had quite a ways to go, and she didn’t want to spend it over trivialities.

  And then she realized why this irritated her. “What am I to you?”

  “Something useful,” he replied without hesitation.

  “That,” she said, “is why I want you to call me ‘goodwife’ and not by my personal name. Tools shouldn’t have personal names.”

  For a long time, he didn’t say anything. She began to wonder if she’d made him angry. But when she stole a glance at him, he only seemed to be thinking. “Perhaps, you’re right,” he finally said. They were almost to the platform now. “But only for you. And if it clarifies what I think of you in your own mind, then feel free to make whatever demands help you. I only think it’s strange that he’s allowed liberties I’m not.”

  “Because he isn’t allowed to marry and he’s far too young to interest me.”

  “He’s also sworn an oath not to use magic,” Zhiv muttered. “Might want to consider that when you think about boundaries.”