by Sharon Shinn
They’d been on the move maybe half an hour when Wen caught the first drumming hoofbeats and muffled shouts that indicated a sizable party was headed their way. She swung the gelding off the road and Karryn hastily followed, but Wen wasn’t so sure they needed to hide. This was a big group. Unless Tover had managed to recruit a whole host of equally ambitious and amoral confederates, this was probably not the devvaser.
“I think we’re probably safe enough, even if this isn’t your uncle,” Wen said, but she made no move to steer the gelding back to the road. “We’ll just stay here and let them pass, unless it’s someone we’re glad to see.”
Two minutes later, the first riders swept into view, and even Wen knew that help had arrived. She counted ten soldiers, all dressed in gray uniforms and black sashes embroidered with white. In their midst rode a thin, bearded man wearing fine clothes and a look of worry.
Karryn kicked her mare into a run. “Uncle Jasper! Uncle Jasper!” she cried, making a headlong dash toward the oncoming riders.
Wen stayed where she was, watching with a half-smile on her face. Naturally, Karryn’s maneuver churned the whole party into chaos, as the soldiers wrenched their mounts aside to avoid riding over her. Jasper Paladar jumped from his saddle and ran over to Karryn, who was sliding off her mare as quick as could be. He was a tall man, Wen noted, and reed-thin. Both his beard and his hair were a very dark brown streaked with gray, which gave him an air of sober distinction. He was smiling now, though, as he caught his cousin’s daughter in a hard embrace. Wen was too far away to hear what he said to her, but she saw his mouth moving. A scold? A prayer of thanks-giving? A demand to know what had happened to her?
The latter, Wen decided, as Karryn pulled back a little and began an animated response. Then the formation of soldiers shifted and Wen lost sight of the glad reunion. She slowly urged her own mount back to the road. She wondered if she could ride away right now, give a friendly wave to the curious Fortunalt soldiers and disappear. Wen found expressions of gratitude and endless recountings of the adventure to be far more exhausting than the adventures themselves. She had been fortunate enough, these past two years, to aid dozens of individuals in one state of distress or another, and it was always the same. The action sustained her, the sense of purpose and even righteousness. She was at her best in those circumstances.
But she was clumsy and uncertain and even a little angry during the aftermath. So I helped you or your husband or your daughter or your friend. It is not enough, do you understand? Your thanks only shame me. My success now only reminds me that I failed before.
Best if she slipped down the road right now and left Karryn to look around blankly and say, “She was here just a moment ago!”
But Wen had hesitated too long. The line of soldiers parted, and Karryn came dashing through them, towing her guardian behind her. Bedraggled and exhausted as she was, Karryn finally looked pretty, Wen thought. Or maybe just happy.
“Willa! Willa! Here’s my uncle Jasper. He wants to thank you.”
Wen forced a smile and swung out of the saddle to make a creditable bow in the nobleman’s direction. When she straightened, he was standing right in front of her, his height making her feel so small that she started to resent it. At the same time, he had his hand outstretched to take hers, a rare mark of favor from a man of his station to a woman of hers. Reluctantly, she put her hand in his and found his grip firm, though his uncallused palm had clearly never held a weapon.
“Karryn has just told me your part in this extraordinary story,” he said, and Wen marveled that such a deep and pleasant voice could come from such a slim frame. “My name is Jasper Paladar, and I’m her guardian. Thank you so much for saving her from a dreadfully grim fate.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “I was glad to do it.”
“I would like to reward you for your efforts.”
She almost smiled. It was the least original thing he could have said. “I did not befriend her hoping for a reward.”
“Perhaps not, but heroism can be an expensive endeavor,” he replied.
She laughed, because that was a phrase she hadn’t heard before. “In fact, my only outlay was for the mare, which you can certainly buy from me if you like,” she said. “Karryn will need to ride something, after all, as you head back to Forten City.”
“She’s not a very exciting horse,” Karryn said. And then, when she caught Wen’s look, “But of course I like her very much!”
“Karryn tells me you have exceptional skill with a sword,” Jasper Paladar added. He was looking down at Wen with a mixture of curiosity and speculation, and his gray eyes were keen and considering. Even if Karryn hadn’t told her so, Wen would have instantly guessed that here was a man of rare intelligence. “That’s unusual for a woman, isn’t it?”
“I have skill, but I don’t know that it’s exceptional,” Wen replied coolly. “Being able to outfight a nobleman and a brigand isn’t much of a challenge. Any of your guards could probably manage it.”
That raised his dark eyebrows and sharpened his expression. “I would like to think that’s true,” he said softly. “But the caliber of soldier willing to fight for this House has deteriorated sadly since my cousin’s husband went to war.”
“I understand that you might face some difficulties in raising an army for your House, given its history, but even the queen would realize that you need a strong personal guard,” Wen said. “If for no other reason than to prevent the sort of disaster that just happened.”
Jasper Paladar’s eyebrows drew together. “Karryn hasn’t told me the entire story yet, but it’s clear she put herself at risk, telling her mother she was heading to one destination and setting out for an entirely different destination in stealth. Even the sloppiest soldiers can be excused for not protecting her when she was not where she was supposed to be.”
“Can they?” Wen said. “I don’t think so.”
Now his brows rose in an expression of surprise. “What do you mean?”
Wen gestured toward the soldiers. “Properly trained guards follow their master wherever the master goes. Do you think Queen Amalie ever sets foot outside the palace in Ghosenhall without at least two Riders at her back? She doesn’t need to ask them to attend her. Some number of them are assigned to watch her at every hour of the day, and that is all they do.”
“Still, Amalie is the queen,” he replied. “There is reason to suppose she might always be in danger.”
Wen shrugged. “There is reason to suppose your niece is always at risk. I don’t know what kind of politics are at work here in Fortunalt, but it seems some of the nobles are feeling discontented. You should assume this was not a lone assault. You should plan accordingly.” She looked at Karryn but she was still addressing Jasper Paladar. “You should install a well-trained and highly focused unit that follows your niece wherever she goes—whether it is to the market to buy roses or to the garden to meet a clandestine lover. And every other place in between.”
“I wasn’t going to meet a lover!” Karryn exclaimed.
Jasper Paladar’s eyes had narrowed thoughtfully. “That is not an attitude that has governed Fortune since I’ve been there.”
At first she was surprised by his use of the word, but then she remembered a stray fact she must have learned a long time ago: The principal estate owned by the marlords of Fortunalt was situated in the heart of Forten City and called by the name of Fortune. She had no idea why. Most everywhere else in Gillengaria, the marlords’ estates carried names that were also used to denote the surrounding cities. It was hard to believe Rayson Fortunalt had been whimsical enough to have dreamed up this convention on his own.
She replied coolly to the lord’s observation. “It’s an attitude that could save her life. It’s the only one, in fact, that will—if something like this happens again.”
“I don’t think I want a House guard that follows me everywhere I go,” Karryn said with a pout. “Do you mean, everywhere? To balls? When I go to visit L
indy?”
“Everywhere,” Wen said.
“How many?” Karryn’s guardian asked. He gestured behind him to the Fortunalt soldiers patiently waiting in the road. “I emptied the barracks to muster this force.”
Wen swept a glance over the mounted men. Hard to tell from a cursory inspection, of course, but they didn’t seem like a particularly impressive group. Some too young, some too old, some too paunchy, some too slack. The best men of Fortunalt had probably been lost in the war. “The absolute minimum would be twelve,” she said. “Four for each eight-hour shift around the clock. You’d be better off with sixteen or twenty. And you don’t just need the soldiers. You need a captain to lead them and facilities for them to train in and equipment for them to carry. Are their swords any good? What about their horses?” Wen shook her head. “You can’t just say, ‘I want a strong guard.’ You have to put some thought and resources into it.”
Jasper Paladar let his breath out in a long sigh. “I’ve put most of my thought and resources into other enterprises that seemed just as important at the time,” he said. “But all of that counts for nothing if the serramarra goes missing. I take your point.”
Wen nodded. “Good. Then this whole misadventure had some value after all.”
“Will you return to Fortune with us?” he asked abruptly. “And lead the guard?”
Wen stared at him, completely nonplussed. Karryn gave a little squeal and said, “Oh yes!” but Wen ignored her.
“No,” she said shortly.
“Why not?” was the cool reply.
“You don’t even know me,” Wen said. “You have no reason to believe I am as good as I say—or as loyal as I would have to be.”
“I think I do know both of those things,” he said seriously.
“Please come back with us, Willa,” Karryn begged. “I’ll feel so much safer if you’re there.”
“No,” Wen said again. “I have other—obligations.”
“What obligations?” Jasper Paladar asked. “If they will not take too much of your time, we could wait for you.”
She gave him a frosty look. “Obligations I am not at liberty to discuss.”
Karryn spoke artlessly. “She has to make it up to somebody who died a long time ago.”
That made Jasper raise his eyebrows again. Wen was furious. “My reasons are my own,” she snapped. “I do not need to explain them to you. Thank you for your offer, but I am not free to accept.”
“If you change your mind,” he said, “do you know your way to Fortune?”
“I’ve never been there,” she said. “But I’m sure I could find it.”
Jasper gave her a small bow. “Then we shall hope you reconsider and that we see you again soon. Come, Karryn, it’s time we were getting you home. Your mother is so anxious.”
He put an arm around Karryn’s shoulder to herd her back to her waiting horse, but Karryn broke free and flung her arms around Wen. It was wholly unexpected, and Wen froze in place, enduring the hug for the moment it lasted. “I do hope you’ll come to Fortune,” the girl said when she pulled back, her eyes brimming with tears. “You can’t think how much we need you there.”
“Karryn,” Jasper called, and the girl dragged herself over to her uncle, turning back twice to give Wen a forlorn wave. Though it seemed to take forever, they were all finally mounted and on their way again. Jasper had paused long enough to count a few coins into Wen’s hand—the price of the mare, and the only reward she did not decline—and then finally he was on horseback as well. Wen returned Karryn’s last wave before the whole party cantered out of sight around the bend of the road.
Well. That would teach her to go rescuing serramarra. Now she felt all ruffled and peculiar, as if she’d actually seen a friend ride away.
And Karryn Fortunalt was nowhere near a friend.
Wen shook her head to clear away the confusion and swung herself onto the gelding’s back. Then she just sat in the saddle a moment, not sure which direction to go.
“Well, then,” she said softly. “Where was I going before I encountered the serramarra this morning?”
Ah, but that was the problem, of course. She had been headed nowhere in particular. She had no destination, no goal, no driving purpose. Nowhere to be, no one to look for. Just strangers in trouble. People who might need her for a short time, and then ride on.
Chapter 4
WEN SPENT TWO DAYS BACK AT THE LITTLE MARKET town she and Karryn had visited, roaming the few streets and looking for work. Her funds were lower than she liked, and, as Jasper Paladar had pointed out, heroism could be expensive.
She found a job with a small freighting company that needed extra soldiers to guard a shipment to Forten City. The pay was so good for the short stretch of work that, once she made her way from the tidy business office to the chaotic loading yard to introduce herself to the captain of the guard, she couldn’t resist asking what they’d be protecting.
He sized her up before answering. She guessed him to be in his late thirties, maybe eight years older than she was, and well-muscled under his worn uniform. He had short blond-brown hair, brown eyes, massive hands, and a wicked smile that he unexpectedly turned on her.
“Maybe I shouldn’t discuss our cargo until I find out if you’re good enough to keep it safe,” he drawled.
She returned a smile that was more a smirk. She was used to proving herself to other soldiers, particularly men, and bonding over a battlefield was what she understood best about friendship. “Maybe you shouldn’t,” she replied. “You got any space here for a demonstration? You want to take me on or you want to turn me over to someone else?”
“Oh, I think I can handle you,” he said and jerked his head to indicate the back of the yard. They made their way through a welter of carts and drivers to a relatively clear space of trampled grass and dried mud.
The captain was buttoning up his vest and pulling on his gloves. Wen settled her own clothes and slid her sword out of its sheath. She saw him give it a quick sideways appraisal, noting its superb condition. He pulled his own weapon with one fluid motion.
No one had suggested practice blades for this little encounter.
“What’s your name?” the captain asked her. “I ought to know that before I slaughter you.”
“Willa,” she replied. “You?”
“Orson.”
As if magically drawn by the promise of bloodshed, two young men drifted over, also wearing dark, serviceable clothes and sashes bearing the insignia of the freighting company. Her fellow guards, Wen presumed.
“Any particular rules?” she asked.
He grinned again. Sweet gods, he reminded her of Justin, with that lazy, cocky smile, that fair coloring, that eagerness to fight.
She would not think of Justin. She would not think of any part of that life she had so completely left behind.
“Well, neither of us will be of much use if we’re disabled,” he said. “Obviously, no killing blows. First blood, but I won’t cut you too bad.”
“Deal,” she said, and lunged forward.
Her attack caught him off guard, but not for long. He was fast and aggressive, and within seconds he was on the attack and she was falling back. She let him set the pace for a while as she tried to get a sense of his reach and power. Size was in his favor, and he was strong; she felt the force of his blows against her sword all the way up to her shoulders. But he was a little too sure of himself, a little too flashy. She was careful and she was patient, and when he feinted for her heart she skipped to the side and raked her point down his sword arm.
He loosed a grunt of surprise and hauled back, staring down at his arm. She heard the watching men laugh. “Fooled you, Orson,” one of them called. Orson pulled a cloth from his pocket and swiftly bound it around the wound, tightening it with his teeth.
