“Thank you. Darien will be down momentarily to handle payment.”
“You’ve missed dinner. You be needing any supper prepared?” Mrs. Oak frowned. “Elves don’t eat cold ham, do they?”
“No,” Bethany said, smiling. “Do you have any bread and butter? Enough for everyone?”
Mrs. Oak surveyed their numbers and gave an unimpressed grunt. “I’ll send down to Tally Farms, to see if they have some to spare. They should. They got the planters.”
“Planters?” Lendra asked.
Bethany answered. “Here, groups of workers go from farm to farm helping to plant, harvest, and all that. Then, whoever can’t get work over the winter moves to the cities until the thaw. They call them planters up here, but they’re used all year around.”
“Ah,” Lendra said. To Mrs. Oak, she said, “Back where I grew up, all of the farmers looked after each other’s farms and took turns.”
Mrs. Oak gave Lendra a curt nod. “We do that, too, but there’s just too much work and not enough young men left to help. Damned war saw to that.”
Bethany glanced at her sister, whose expression fell. Bethany remained silent, though, and let Lendra handle it. “Yes, we all lost too many young people. I hate war. I hope I never see it again in my lifetime.”
That seemed to appease Mrs. Oak. “Well, I’ll send up the bread I have, and I’ll get Simpson to make the run over to Tally Farms. I got lots of butter. I have some oat cakes. Do you eat oats?”
“Do you make yours with lard or butter?” Lendra asked.
“Butter this time of the year,” she said.
Bethany nodded approvingly. “Send those up, too. Darien will look after it all, right?”
He nodded at Bethany, and then cleared his throat. “I will happily settle our accounts, Mrs. Oak, however, there is a small problem. There aren’t enough beds for all of us.”
Mrs. Oak gave him a once over. “You’re a small lad. The beds can handle three of you at least.”
Bethany laughed and said, “Thank you, Mrs. Oak. We’ll take it from here. Oh, we’ll be needing stabling, too, but Darien will look after all that.”
Satisfied, Mrs. Oak headed out of the room. Bethany tried to push the door shut, but it wedged into the crooked doorframe. She rolled her eyes and turned to the others. There were about ten of the guard crammed into the room, the rest were still outside with all of their things.
Bethany looked at Darien, waiting for him to issue orders. When he didn’t speak up, she said, “Okay, let’s bring in the trunks we need to get through the night. We also need sentry duty for the carriages, as well as for everyone sleeping.”
“Is that really necessary?” Myra asked.
“It’s a touch paranoid,” Lendra agreed.
Bethany dropped Lendra’s bag on a bed. “I get paranoid when people try to kill me.”
Darien leaned toward her and whispered, “Apprentice Knight Bethany...I mean...” He sighed. “There aren’t enough beds.”
“Darien, we’ll double up. Not everyone’s going to be sleeping anyway. We need sentries posted. Anyone staying in this inn is at risk as long as we’re here.” At his grimace, she said, “This is normal for the north. The room’s not even that bad. It’ll be fine.”
“But...”
“Darien, you’re not in Wyllow,” Bethany said, trying to keep her voice down. “You’re not going to have lavish billets. The rest of us all shared rooms on the ship coming up here. It’s your turn to rough it for a bit.”
“It smells like an outhouse!” he protested.
“Kid, I’ve slept in a few outhouses. As far as they go, this one’s not that bad. You’ll get used to the smell, especially once your nose plugs from all of the lavender and hay.”
“Wonderful,” Darien said, sullenly.
“I had a hard time when I first came to Taftlin, too,” Myra said. Beyond Bethany and Lendra, she was the only other one who’d been in the war. She was speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. “There were three of us sharing my tiny bed. Sometimes, we’d all be off duty at the same time and would fight over who got to sleep in it. I was relieved when they sent me behind enemy lines.”
Bethany craned her neck from side to side, stretching out the kinks in her muscles. “Really?”
“Well,” Myra hedged, “at least until I had to sleep outdoors.”
The other guards laughed as Myra told a humorous story about how a flying beetle in her hair nearly got her killed. While she did that, Bethany continued to stretch, though she tried to be as casual about it as possible. She was too young to be stiffening with arthritis, but that was the plight of warriors like herself.
Lendra unbuttoned the sleeveless pelisse that was the same colour as her dress, revealing the clean fabric underneath. The late Queen of Taftlin gave Lendra several dresses before she died, and Lendra had really taken to the northern fashions of cone-shaped corsets that flattened her chest and layers upon layers of silks and lace. The lace especially terrified Bethany; it was all handmade. Each inch took hours upon hours to make, and Lendra’s current dress was covered in it. A snag or a tear would ruin so much expensive workmanship.
Bethany decided to stick with her linen and leather. It was less stressful.
“Should we talk about what happened outside now?” Lendra asked, with a fair amount of heat in her voice. She was folding her pelisse carefully, not looking at any of them.
Bethany pointed at a dark-haired elf. “Iskar, work out duty rotations for both the stables and in here. We need pairs in both locations all night.”
Isker turned his narrow, hooded eyes to Darien. “Knight Darien?”
Bethany gave Isker a hard look. “Do as you’re told.”
“Just...do as she says,” Darien said, defeated.
Bethany glanced at Darien, who had seated himself on the corner of one of the mattresses. From his sullen expression, he was not adjusting well to the change in command.
“The rest of you, outside. Bring in only the trunks we need. Someone fetch the food. Get the carriages and wagons put away. Get the horses tended. Then, and only then, do you get to eat.” Bethany’s instructions elicited several grumbles. “Well, go on. The faster you get the work done, the faster you can rest up.”
Their mutters and complaints caused Darien to snap at them. Bethany waited until the now silent group had left before she said, “Next time, let them complain.”
“I was taught that knights should keep their opinions and thoughts to themselves. Any deviation from those orders results in a breakdown of discipline, which would lead to poor work and a shoddy reputation.”
Bethany laughed, until she realized Darien wasn’t joking. “They actually teach that in Wyllow to recruits and initiates?”
Darien clarified. “Yes. I went through in Orchard Park, before the war, so I was just taught the basics. Swords, formations, and all that. Lord Chee taught me.”
Bethany frowned. “He died during the explosion.”
“I’d heard. Anyway, everything he taught us was changed when I went back to Wyllow. Lord Jud believed discipline was the mark of an elven soldier and...” He shrugged. “Your version of what a Silver Knight is and his are extreme opposites.”
Bethany collapsed on one of the beds. She banged her feet together a few times to knock the dried muck off her boots before putting them up on the blanket. “Listen, kid, I’ve been a soldier for a long time. Soldiers complain. Let them.”
“Lord Jud says it is bad discipline.”
“Lord Jud is bad for discipline,” Bethany corrected. She eyed Darien’s swollen face. “How’s the nose?”
“It hurts when I breathe.”
“Sorry,” Bethany said automatically. She wasn’t actually sorry, but she needed him on her side until they reached the capital. Then she could ditch the deadweight. She looked about the room and said, “Lendra, me and you’ll take the far bed.”
Lendra nodded absently and dragged her heavy leather bag over to the bed Bethany indicated.
“I’m listening. Keep talking.”
Bethany didn’t relocate beds while Lendra busied herself unpacking a fresh shift, stockings, and various beauty implements. Bethany tried to keep the amused look off her face, but she wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Stop making fun of me,” Lendra said. She was pulling out the pins that held up her thick braids.
“I didn’t say a word,” Bethany countered.
“No, but I know you’re thinking it.”
“Would you like to know what she’s thinking?” Myra asked.
“No,” Bethany said.
“Yes,” Lendra said.
The sisters looked at each other and laughed. Bethany looked at Myra and, still laughing, said, “I remember when no one could read or sense my thoughts.”
“It’s because you’ve embraced your situation,” Myra said as she dragged Lendra’s small trunk over to the bed. At Bethany’s confused look, she said, “Amber told me. She said after the temple, it was always very easy to know what you were feeling.”
“It’s always easy to know what Bethany is feeling,” Lendra said. She lowered her voice as best she could and flayed her arms around, pretending to have swords in them. She made a poking gesture at Myra. “Death, pain, destroy, burn!”
“I’m not that bad. So, Darien, let’s talk about your mission. I had originally been assigned commander to the diplomatic envoy, but then Jud fucked me over. We’re stuck with you now.” She sized him up. “Shit, can you try not looking so pathetic?”
“You broke my nose!”
She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not broken. Look, there’s a lot going on that you aren’t privy to, and I think Jud is using you. So spill what you know.”
Bethany wasn’t sure if Darien gave in because she’d scared the holy living life out of him or because he was in a room with three Elorian women who could rip him limb from limb if given half a provocation. She knew it was probably the first one, but she did hope some of the elven xenophobia helped a bit with the second one.
“My mission was to guide Lady Lendra to the capital. The aides arranged transportation and provided the itinerary. Initiates loaded the trunks. We arrived at Castle Gree two days early due to good winds, and we continued according to the itinerary. That was the primary goal.” Darien swallowed and glanced at Myra, who was glaring at him. “There was, of course, other goals. Specifically, I was to observe Lady Lendra at all times and report any and all things she said about Lord Erem.”
“What?” Lendra and Bethany said at the exact same time, in the exact same tone.
Darien flicked his gaze between the three women. “All he said was Lady Lendra had important information about Lord Erem and that it was information the senior-most levels of the Elven Council were desperate to know.”
“Are they looking for him, too, then?” Bethany asked.
“I don’t think so. I mean...they must know where he is.”
Lendra whirled to face Darien, pleading and shouting as she approached him. “Where is he? What did they do with Erem? Is he dead? Where is he? I will rip it out of your mind, if I have to!”
Myra grabbed Lendra’s arm before she could strike him. “He doesn’t know anything.”
“Lendra!” Bethany snapped. She’d jumped out of bed and was on her feet now. She didn’t like Darien, but she also didn’t want Lendra reading his thoughts. Myra was good enough to know if someone was lying, and just the fear of Lendra’s Power would be enough to put the fear of Apexia’s wrath in anyone.
Darien cowered as Lendra leaned forward, ready to rip the thoughts from his mind. Bethany put a hand on her sister’s shoulder and said, very quietly, “We will find Erem, even if I have to go back to Orchard Park and kill Jud. We will find him.”
At Darien’s shocked gasped, Bethany turned to him and said, “Make sure to put that in your report for Jud.”
Sweat beaded on Darien’s upper lip. “You knew I was spying for Lord Jud all along?”
“I suspect all of you, except Myra and Lendra, are spies for someone.” Bethany made a disgusted sound. She paced the floor. “What specific information about Lord Erem were you supposed to report on?”
Darien licked his lips. “Are you going to kill me?”
Bethany cut him a hard stare. If this had been a year ago, she would have been so tempted to string him up from the nearest tree and watch him swing. She did not tolerate traitors and anyone working for Jud was a traitor in her eyes. He was a blight upon the Silver Knights that was growing and, left unchecked, would spoil the whole. The only way to prevent it would be to burn it, root, stalk, and leaf. Burn it all down to the ground and start over.
Her thoughts must have reflected in her eyes because Darien flinched away from her. Bethany growled under her breath when she realized her hands were shaking. She took several deep breaths to calm herself and to push down the rising heat within her before she lost control and burned the entire building down in a flash of pique and lingering battle shock.
“No. I’m not going to kill you. Answer my question. What information were you looking for?”
“He wasn’t very clear on that point.” Darien licked his lips. “He said several times that he knew you were all lying and that he was going to find out the truth.”
Bethany hardened her facial expression in an attempt to mask any emotion that Darien’s words sent traveling through her. “Who specifically is lying?”
“He didn’t say, but...well, it was obvious to me that you, Lendra, and the rest of you. Like, Lord Jovan, I mean Jovan, and...What’s going on?”
Bethany ignored the question. “Do you know where Lord Erem is?”
“No.”
Bethany glanced at Myra, who stared intently at Darien. She narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not!” Sweat beaded on Darien’s upper lip. “I mean, I’ve heard things, but I don’t know for sure. I’m not answering any more questions until someone tells me what is going on.”
Bethany returned to the bed and sat back down, leaning against the bed’s low, wooden headboard. It cut into her back, but she ignored it as best as she could. Her muscles screamed with relief at the brief respite and change of position. She crossed her ankles once more.
“The night Sarissa’s army of Magi attacked the temple...” Bethany still struggled to talk about her dead sister. She took a moment and started over. “We saved thousands of people. People were willing to follow me to kill those responsible. I made enemies of those who got left in the dust, who couldn’t fight alongside us. They weren’t called heroes. So they hate me. Jovan. Kiner. Erem. Lendra. Allric. They hate us all for doing the right thing and making them look bad. Now they’re coming for us.” She glanced at Darien. “Do you see the mess of shit you’ve stepped into?”
“Lord Jud called you a traitor. Are you?”
“No,” Bethany said flatly. “You’re here to spy on Lendra. How about me?”
He shook his head. “If I heard anything, I was to write back. However, Lord Jud said someone else was sent to take care of you.”
Bethany cocked an eyebrow. “Take care of me. What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. He said not to let you get away with anything, and that you were a traitor and that he was working to prove it.”
Bethany frowned at that. They’d already convicted her as a traitor. Why would Jud need to prove it? She glanced at Lendra, who was staring at Bethany wide-eyed. They knew she was lying about Apexia and Sarissa, and decided the worst had happened. All of the last year wasn’t about finding out what had happened to Apexia; it was to blame Bethany for what happened. But why? She was missing something. Something huge.
“Are you a Magi?” Darien asked quietly.
“What?” Bethany wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.
“Are you a Magi and not really Apexia’s daughter?” He glanced at Lendra. “Either of you.”
“What a stupid question,” Bethany said absently, still thinking about the steps she was missin
g in...
She looked at Darien sharply. “What did you just say?”
“I asked if you were a Magi. People are talking and saying that maybe you were never Apexia’s daughter. And, if that’s true, then the only way you could have saved the temple was with Magic. And, if that’s true, then maybe you did something to hurt Apexia.”
“That’s shit,” Bethany said. “No one is stupid enough to actually believe that.”
She’d heard the rumour before, and dismissed it immediately. It was only obvious for people to grasp on to the most obvious explanation that she was a Magi, or some kind of odd Rygent. She’d heard that one before, too. She was the wrong skin tone for that, and was conveniently missing the mark of Power on her forearm.
She knew most people didn’t think too hard or long on the subject of her parentage. To do so would be to elevate her to a lofty position no one could reach. Instead, they focused on her as Lady Champion and saw her on that level: a warrior, a soldier, a weapon. It was easier for them, and it was easier for her.
“Darien, head downstairs and make sure everyone’s doing their job. Pay Mrs. Oak and make sure to tip her. That’s expected of elves, so make sure to do it. Whip their asses if they’re lazing about.”
Darien stood automatically, but he didn’t walk away. “I won’t betray Lord Jud. I can’t. He’s my commander and he gave me orders. I must follow them.”
Bethany groaned. “I know. That’s why I’m asking you to leave now.”
“I...I have a duty to report everything I see and hear.”
“Yes,” Bethany said, drawing the word out. “So get the fuck out of my sight.”
When Darien left the room, Bethany motioned with her head for Myra to follow her to the back of the room, the furthest away from the door. Bethany and Myra sat on the bed across from Lendra. “Have you heard anything new since we’ve arrived in Taftlin?”
Myra tugged a slim, leather-bound journal from a small pouch on the leather brace crossing her chest. “I’ve been keeping note of everything I’ve heard, but should I summarize?” When Bethany nodded, Myra continued. “Darien was asking a lot of questions at Castle Gree about the war. That’s not surprising, really, because Wyllow has a very different view of the war than what Northerners have. I heard Darien tell Sir James that Lord Jud’s inner circle at the temple has been detaining any knight openly loyal to you for months now.”
Schemes Page 5
