Ammey McKeaf

by Jane Shoup

  “Oh, alright,” Graybil gave in. “What is it?”

  “Tell them,” Kidder urged Ammey.

  “Oh, no. It’s your motto.”

  “Life is too short to dance with ugly women,” Kidder said.

  Graybil groaned. “Go to sleep.”

  Kidder shrugged. Still amused by his joke, he closed his eyes. “Fortunately, I find most women beautiful.”

  Ammey turned on her other side and saw Vincent watching her. He smiled in response to being caught, mouthed goodnight, and closed his eyes. As a sliver of pale moonlight broke through, she studied the lines and curves of his face, appreciating the way his eyelashes curled against his skin. He looked younger when tranquil. His eyes opened and he caught her staring. She smiled guiltily, and closed her eyes. When she peeked, one last time, because she couldn’t help herself, his eyes were closed, but a soft smile still lingered on his lips.

  Chapter Six

  “Welcome to Draven,” Vincent said as they entered the town.

  Ammey had ridden with him for most of the last six days and they rode together now. She didn’t see any of the others because they each taken a different route as not to draw unnecessary attention to themselves. They would meet at the inn where they routinely lodged, an establishment belonging to a man named Xavier Yuralis. Xavier and his wife, Ulima were valued friends of the Five.

  They rode past the shops of a leather dresser, a cooper and a brewery, and a combination of pungent odors permeated the air. Most of the buildings looked to be from the previous century, but the streets were swept clean of debris, in part by the coastal wind.

  “We’re close to the sea,”he commented.

  “I can smell it,” she murmured.

  After days of hard riding, Ammey felt relieved to be at their stopping point, but also anxious about the next undertaking. Her training had gone well, but she was less convinced than ever that she could do what they expected of her. Just because she could wrestle Graybil to the ground in less than a minute and deliver a pretend deathblow to his heart did not mean she could deliver an actual deathblow to a man, no matter how terrible she knew him to be. If her task was nothing other than working her way into a villain’s company and pouring a vial of poison into his drink, hopefully she could do it, but Vincent continually reminded her how seldom missions went as planned.

  It was ironic that the country’s most feared assassins had become her friends and mentors. Despite the mystery they represented to the masses, they were real men who cared about one another deeply. They had a great sense of pride and purpose, but also of humor and irony. They were intensely private. She knew who snored and who ate what, but she didn’t know if they had families or if they’d ever wanted a different sort of life or if they’d ever been in love. Whenever she brought up the subject of their personal lives, they worked together to turn the conversation in a different direction.

  “Glad to be here?” Vincent asked.

  “Yes and no,” she admitted. “It feels as if rehearsals are over and now it’s time for the play.”

  “And you fear forgetting your lines?”

  “My lines, where I’m supposed to enter and move to and exit.”

  “We’ll protect you.”

  “It’s not that,” she replied hesitantly.

  “I understand.”

  Did he, though? Her insides were tied in knots for many reasons. It wasn’t only the fear of failure. She’d spent every waking hour of the past week either riding or training, and always supremely aware that every step and every hour took her further away from her home and family. Milainah had proclaimed she was no longer to be protected by them, but she had not explained why. Was it because something catastrophic was destined to happen to them? Her father and brothers had always seemed invincible to her, but no one was invincible. The fact that they were some of the most respected military leaders in the country made them targets. That realization both frightened her and strengthened her resolve to play her part.

  “Have you been here before?” Vincent asked.

  “No.”

  “There are some interesting shops on the main road.”

  “Oh, good. Will we have much time to shop?” she teased.

  “Probably not,” he laughingly conceded. “So, where have you been, outside the valley?”

  Ammey watched a woman frantically chasing a noisy pig. “Qaddys and Cala.”

  “I’ve never been to Cala. Is it pleasant?”

  Her last visit to Cala had been miserable, but she would not go into that painful bit of family history here and now or probably ever. “It’s lovely. The streets are paved with smooth stones and many of the buildings are white from the blasting of sun and sand and time, I suppose.”

  “Is that why they call it the white city? I always assumed it was the sand they’re famous for.”

  “That, too. They have artisans there that make beautiful glass objects. That’s what I think of, white and glass.”And Theresa and dishonor and betrayal. “The water is so blue. I’ve been a few time, but not for several years now.”

  “I’d like to see it,” he said. “Do you think it would be wrong to wish for a mission that would take us there?”

  She smiled, enjoying the easy conversation. “Depends on the mission, I suppose.”

  “The inn is not far,” he said. “Would you like to walk the rest of the way?”

  “I would. Yes.”

  He moved to the side of the street and dismounted. Ammey was getting ready to do the same when she realized he was reaching for her. She maneuvered a leg around the horse’s neck and made contact with his shoulders at the same moment his hands slipped around her waist. As he lowered her to the ground, she felt ensnared in an energy that flowed between them, a powerful attraction that made it feel more natural to pair up than be apart. As they began walking, she was utterly self-conscious and conscious of him. He held the reins loosely in one hand, leading the horse behind him.

  “I’m trying to picture what your life must have been like growing up the only daughter of the McKeaf.”

  “I wasn’t the only daughter.”

  He looked at her, curious as to her meaning.

  “I had an elder sister.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  The subject was uncomfortable, so she changed it. “But you have met my father.”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did you think?”

  “He’s imposing. His reputation precedes him and then he turns out to be everything you heard and imagined. What’s he like as a father?”

  “Wonderful. My mother died when I was young, so he was everything to me.” They turned onto a new street and approached a bakery. The air was perfumed by the aroma of fresh bread. “We were oblivious to his fame as children. It was only when strangers encountered him that we saw it.”

  “Did you and your sister have a governess?”

  “No, we had tutors. All of us. Classes were held four days a week for five hours a day. Attendance was mandatory.”

  “And what did you learn in your schoolroom?”

  She shrugged. “The basics.”

  “Which included Latin.”

  “Latin, a little Greek, mathematics, physics, metallurgy, history. One of our tutors was especially fond of rhetoric.”

  “The basics indeed,” Vincent said wryly.

  “I never thought it was unusual until my sister refused any more lessons. She said our education would make it difficult to find a husband.”

  “How did your father take that?”

  “They had a difficult relationship, but he accepted it. He made it clear that I would not stop my lessons, but I didn’t want to. It’s what I did. For the longest time, there were the four of us, Tom, Theresa, Dane and myself. Then Tom left.”

  “Aged out, as it were?”

  “Yes. He was impatient to get into the forge. Then Theresa left, so there was just Dane and myself.”

  “Did you also learn to cook and sew?”

 
“Our housekeeper tried to teach us what she thought was important, but I resented having to learn something my brothers didn’t.”

  “But they worked in the forge.”

  A defensive spark flashed in her eyes. “I learned all the workings of the forge, too.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course! There’s nothing in the forge I can’t do. It’s our family business. It’s much of what’s talked about at home.”

  “At family dinners?”

  “Yes. With wine and ale flowing and everyone talking at once. It can be unsettling if you’re not used to it.”

  He grinned. “I’d like to see that.”

  She drew breath to suggest that perhaps one day he could, but her nerve failed and the moment passed.

  “We’re here,” he said.

  She looked at the nondescript inn before them. The position of the sun cast the front of the building in shadow, but it struck her as rather seedy. None of the other’s mounts were tied to the hitching rail where Vincent secured his horse.

  He turned back to face her. “Thank you sharing all that.”

  She felt unaccountably shy. “It was my pleasure.”

  “Good. Because I have another hundred or so questions.”

  She nearly replied that she had a few as well, but she noticed Stripe and Kidder walking toward them followed by Forzenay and Graybil. Once again, the moment had passed.

  Forzenay nodded at them. “Let’s go.”

  Ammey went through the inn door first, but then held back because she couldn’t see. The interior was too dim after the light of the afternoon. “Here,” Kidder said, placing one hand on her back and one on her arm. “It seems dark, I know,” he said as he led her forward.

  “Where in blazes have you been?” a man bellowed. “And who’s she?”

  “She’s a friend,” Forzenay replied. “And we need food and drink.”

  “Of course, you do. When do you not?”

  “Here you go,” Kidder said as he placed Ammey’s hand on the back of a chair.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll stand for a while.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Thankfully, objects were coming into shape. The innkeeper began serving mugs of ale, pounding each on the counter top as it was filled, sloshing some in the process. “This pretty friend of yours have a name?”

  “You may call her … Jade,” Forzenay said before picking up a mug.

  Ammey tried not to react. Was she to claim a different name now? The low-ceilinged room was finally in focus. Perhaps many things were. There were no windows and only a few lanterns burned. There were a dozen well worn tables for customers, but only one customer was seated. None of the Five were bothered by the man’s presence, so they must have known him.

  Stripe came to her with two full mugs in hand and handed her one. “Here you go. Good for what ails you. By the way,” he said in a louder voice, “that snarling man behind the bar is Xavier, a good friend of ours.”

  “So where have you been?” Xavier asked Forzenay, ignoring the comment. He was a plain man with dark hair. A sturdy build, normal height. There was nothing remarkable about him, nothing that would make anyone recall his features an hour after meeting him. Ammey sipped. The brew was strong and rather bitter. She noticed the others downing theirs as if it were water.

  “Wydenyl,” Forzenay replied.

  “Ah. You warned them, did you?”

  “We did.”

  “And?”

  “It was good that we did,” Graybil spoke up.

  Xavier’s jaw dropped. “No!”

  “Yes,” Kidder said.

  Xavier shook his head. “I didn’t think it would be true. You’re saying they attacked Wydenyl?”

  “Burned it,” Forzenay replied. “To the ground.”

  “I’ll be damned.”

  A striking, middle-aged woman appeared in the door with a smile on her face. “I thought I heard your voices.”

  Ammey’s first impression was that the woman’s face seemed too youthful for the lustrous, silver hair on her head.

  The woman saw her and cocked her head, curious, but no less welcoming. “Hello.”

  “Ulima, this is Ammey,” Forzenay said.

  “Oh, so she gets a proper introduction,” Xavier complained. “And what do you mean her name is Ammey? What was that about Jade?”

  “I said you could call her that,” Forzenay replied, passing his mug back for a refill. “I didn’t say it was her name.”

  “You are far too pretty to be traveling with this lot, my dear,” Ulima said, coming into the room. She patted Graybil’s shoulder as she passed him. “How did that come about?”

  “We found her outside Wydenyl,” Graybil replied. “Long story.”

  She gestured for a drink. “Well, I want to hear it,” she said, “but, for now, you should know our friends are about to depart.”

  “Depart?” Vincent exclaimed.

  Xavier nodded. “Don’t know what’s happened, but they seem mighty full of themselves.” Xavier passed Ulima a filled mug and then leaned onto the counter.

  “Something is about to happen at Shilbridge,” the old man at the table said. He was thin, but his jowls were loose. “A meeting of some kind.”

  “When?” Forzenay asked.

  “Don’t know. Soon,” the old man replied.

  “There’s talk of them clearing out on the morrow,” Xavier said.

  Forzenay frowned. “Why didn’t you say so?” he asked Xavier.

  “I was going to,” Xavier snapped. “As soon as you got a drink down your gullet. What? Was there something you could have done about it those two minutes?”

  “Who’s still here?” Kidder asked.

  “All of them,” Xavier replied. “The ones who rode out for Wydenyl returned day before yesterday.”

  Ammey stiffened. The men who killed Zenon and Cael were there? Were they the ones they were planning to kill? That changed everything.

  “Then there’s Gilley, Luttaz, Tariq, of course.”

  “Good,” Forzenay said.

  “I have ox tail soup ready,” Ulima offered. “If you’re hungry.”

  “Perfect,” Stripe replied enthusiastically and the others wholeheartedly agreed. “We are.”

  ~~~

  The food revived the band. Afterwards, they sat back satiated. “Are you as good with a sword as the rest of your family?” Forzenay asked Ammey conversationally.

  “They would say no,” she replied.

  Kidder grinned. “All men? I would suppose not.”

  “They would say no,” she repeated, putting an entirely different emphasis on it.

  The men all chuckled, but Ulima clapped her hands and laughed gustily. “I adore this girl.”

  “She certainly has supreme confidence,” Vincent remarked dryly.

  Forzenay caught Stripe’s eye to convey he’d introduced the topic for a reason. He wanted Ammey kept busy and focused on something other than what was about to happen. “Perhaps you’d provide a demonstration,” Stripe suggested to her. “I’m always looking for pointers from masters of the sword.”

  There were smiles all around, Ammey’s among them. “After all your gracious instruction, it’s the least I can do.”

  “Xavier has the ideal place for a match,” Graybil said playfully. “But who would spar with such a worthy opponent?”

  There were a few moments of silence before Vincent spoke up saying, “If there are no other takers.”

  “Excellent,” Kidder exclaimed. “Vincent has some supreme confidence of his own. He could probably stand a dose of humility.”

  Vincent grunted. “Always good to know who your friends are.”

  “Let’s get to it, then,” Stripe said, getting up.

  There was a scraping of chairs as most of them rose. Forzenay watched his men lead Ammey off, enthused about the entertainment to come, and then turned his attention to Xavier and Ulima. Milainah had warned not to take longer than six days to g
et here, so they’d pushed hard, slept little, and used every break to train Ammey. They’d done as they’d been told, but to cut it this close was nerve-wracking.

  “What’s the plan?” Xavier asked.

  “We need to put Ammey in front of Tariq in a discreet manner. He has to think taking her home with him is his idea.”

  Xavier rubbed his stubbled chin. “Well, we can guess where he’ll be and we know he’ll be interested once he claps eyes on her.”

  Forzenay nodded. “And she knows what to do once she gets him alone.”

  “So it’s only the encounter that needs arranging.”

  “Yes.”

  Ulima sighed. “Are you certain of this, Forzenay? Can she do what needs doing and protect herself?”

  “She has strength,” Forzenay replied. “More than she knows.”

  “But to kill a man?”

  “He’s a fiend, responsible for the death of hundreds of innocents. She knows what he’s done.”

  “He is a fiend, and I hope you’re right.” Ulima said. She rose. “I’m not sure which of you would take it the hardest if something were to happen to that girl.” She picked up some of the dishes and carried them to the sink.

  “I hope you’re right, too,” Xavier said. “Because Tariq is the worst of the worst. Not that another won’t rise to fill his place, mind you.”

  “And when he does,” Forzenay replied grimly, “we’ll finish him, as well.”

  ~~~

  “Whose blade would you like, my lady?” Graybil asked, offering his. Stripe also withdrew his from its sheath, as did Kidder, holding them out for her inspection. She looked over each and then took Stripe’s in hand. She turned and slashed through the air, testing its weight and balance.

  “I’m intimidated, already,” Kidder muttered. He pursed his lips to keep from smiling.

  “Oh, the sarcasm of men,” Ammey said lightly. She swung the blade at them and they jumped back. “Let’s see how long you can maintain it.”

  Stripe laughed out loud. “Indeed!”

  “Will his do, then?” Kidder asked.

  “It will,” she replied. She moved further into the large room toward Vincent who was waiting patiently.

  “I feel rather honored,” Stripe said.