by Sharon Shinn
“This is why everyone hates sixteen-year-old girls,” Jasper Paladar had commented without any heat after observing one of these displays. “Do your best.”
“Good evening, serra,” Wen greeted her cautiously.
“Did my uncle tell you that I’m going to the Coverroe house tonight?” Karryn asked in a too-casual voice.
“He didn’t, and you’re not, unless you give me an hour to eat and change so I can accompany you,” Wen said pleasantly.
Karryn frowned and her hands made fists of irritation. “It’s the Coverroes , Willa,” Karryn repeated. “I’m absolutely safe there.”
“I don’t know who the Coverroes are.”
“Lindy Coverroe is my best friend. I’ve told you about her a dozen times. You met her last week.”
Wen rapidly reviewed the visitors who had come by Fortune since she had been in residence. Lindy Coverroe must be the giggling blonde with the rosy cheeks who had seemed to find Wen’s presence in the house so odd. “I’m sure she’s harmless,” Wen said. “But that doesn’t mean everyone else at her house is friendly toward you.”
“Her mother is one of the most loyal vassals to House Fortunalt!” Karryn exclaimed. “Thirteenth House nobility!”
“And the man who abducted you is a devvaser,” Wen replied.
Karryn flounced where she stood. “It’s not the same thing.”
“It’s exactly the same thing.”
“Are you going to follow me everywhere for the rest of my life?”
“Me or one of the other guards,” Wen said cheerfully. “Get used to it.”
Karryn pivoted prettily on one foot. “Mother! Willa won’t let us go to Lindy’s!”
Wen braced herself for the marlady’s arrival on the scene. She hadn’t had many encounters with Serephette Fortunalt since she’d arrived, but those few had been memorable. The woman was attractive in a lean, graying way—it was easy to tell that she and Jasper Paladar shared a heritage—but Wen was convinced she was utterly mad. Her huge eyes were sunken beneath sharp, jutting brows; her chiseled cheeks showed so little color that she always appeared absolutely haggard. She had a rather regal carriage and could turn a corner with majestic grace, as if she was used to being announced at grand assemblies, but all her movements were nervous and a little haunted. Wen imagined that living for a couple of decades with Rayson Fortunalt would be enough to turn anyone into a fidgety lunatic, but it didn’t make the marlady any easier to deal with.
Serephette Fortunalt came sweeping down the hallway with her usual proud step, the heavy folds of her ornate dress falling perfectly around her form. “Captain Willa?” she said. “What is this my daughter is telling me? Naturally we must go to the Coverroes’. We accepted the invitation weeks ago.” The marlady’s voice always had a tremolo throb to it, as if she was about to burst into tears or admit a shocking secret.
Wen spoke with polite firmness. “I never said she couldn’t go. Only that she must wait for me to accompany her.” She glanced at Karryn, who had hurried up beside her mother. “If I’d had some warning that there was some event you wanted to attend tonight, I could have been ready whenever you asked.”
“But we must go now,” Serephette Fortunalt said in that urgent voice. “We will be late.”
“I suppose you will,” Wen said unsympathetically. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She saw the look that passed between the mother and daughter and added, “Don’t even think of telling the coachman to go on without me. Lord Jasper has instructed him to never leave the House without checking with me first. He won’t take you.”
At that, she heard Karryn’s indignant wail overriding her mother’s bewildered surprise, and then they both headed down the hall to berate Jasper. Wen hurried out the front door and down to the barracks, where she could wash her hands and face and slip into her new uniform.
Jasper had had a whole set of them ordered the very day Wen had accepted the job, promising to have more made, and made to fit, as new recruits were added to the roster. Karryn and her mother had expressed a keen interest in working with the tailor to design a new style altogether for the uniforms of Fortune, and Wen was not opposed to that at all. Bitter veterans from the war might be more inclined to serve the House if some of the trappings were not hatefully familiar. She could wish Karryn and Serephette were more interested in the guard for reasons other than fashion, but she would accept whatever attention they gave her.
“Moss? Eggles?” she called as she stepped through the door to the barracks. Until today, she’d had the building to herself, but of the five she’d hired, these two had been happy to move in immediately. “I hope you’ve eaten something, because we’ve got to set out tonight as soon as we can dress.”
Eggles was sitting on one of the straight-backed chairs, polishing his sword, but he stood up as soon as she spoke. He was one of the veterans she’d known she would hire the instant she saw him take his first practice swing. He was scruffy and tough, with an inborn stillness that allowed him to pay attention to everything going on around him without giving much away. He was taller than Wen, but whipcord thin, with silvery-black hair cropped so short it showed the skin beneath. His best move was a nasty underhand thrust that had probably kept him alive more than once.
“Where to?” he asked. He was already shrugging into the jacket coat of the Fortunalt uniform. The material was a charcoal gray; across it lay a black sash embroidered with the pearls of Fortunalt.
“Some noble’s house where they’re giving a party.”
Moss came hurrying out of the kitchen, stuffing the last of a scone in her mouth with one hand, holding out a slice of bread and cheese with the other. “Have you eaten?” she asked around her food. “If not, this will hold you for a while.”
Within five minutes, they were all more or less cleaned up, respectably dressed, and headed back toward the mansion. “Take horses or ride on the carriage?” Eggles asked.
“It’s just through town, so on the carriage,” Wen said. “You two take the back. I’ll sit up front with the driver.”
No surprise that Karryn and Serephette were already seated inside. More of a surprise that Jasper Paladar stood on the front steps, watching them leave. Though dark had already fallen, Wen was sure she could see a smile on his face, and she thought it was for her. It amused him that she was so serious about her task, but it pleased him, too—and pleased him that she was not about to let Karryn’s tantrums turn her back from her duty.
“Travel safely. Enjoy the dinner,” he called as the driver snapped the reins. He waved good-bye, though Wen didn’t see either of the women return the gesture. Of course, she didn’t believe he was waving at her.
They traveled only a few miles in the carriage before turning into a district that Wen thought she recognized. Perhaps—surely not—oh, yes, indeed! This was the very gaudy house of glittering black stone and bright copper roof tiles. Wen was grinning broadly as she saw the ornate gold doors gleaming in the light of torches set along the front walk. Such a display didn’t impress Wen at all—she tended to think more highly of people who hoarded their money and didn’t boast of their accomplishments. But then, clearly the house had not been constructed to impress her.
One of the footmen helped the women from the coach, and Wen stepped down from the high front seat. Karryn gave her a look of horror. “You’re not coming in with me, are you?” she demanded in a low voice. “Oh no, no, no. You can’t.”
“Serra, I must be able to roam the house at will,” Wen replied seriously. She had heard the tales about how Justin and Tayse and Hammond and Coeval had followed Amalie into all the noble Houses one summer when they escorted her to various balls, and none of the marlords had dared to complain. A serramarra might not be as valuable as a princess, but she was just as fragile. “I must accompany you inside and get a sense of who is in attendance and how the rooms are laid out. For most of the evening, my fellow guards and I will walk the grounds and make sure no danger comes in through the gates.
But if there is any alarming sound from inside, at any point in the evening, we will quickly enter to make sure nothing untoward has happened.”
Serephette Fortunalt strode by with her customary sweep. “My good Captain Willa,” she said as she passed. “It is a Thirteenth House ball. Of course untoward things will be happening. But we will attempt to remain civilized even so.”
Karryn followed her mother after giving Willa one brief, fulminating glare. Eggles and Moss had jumped down from the coach and watched the nobles enter the house as Wen gave them hasty instructions.
“The marlady’s a bit peculiar,” Eggles observed.
“And yet you will guard her life with your own and love her like your own mother,” Wen said, preparing to follow Karryn and Serephette inside.
He gave her a quiet smile. “Or maybe better than that.”
THEY spent the next three hours roving the house and grounds, together and apart, noting where the building was vulnerable and where the likeliest exits lay in case of trouble. In truth, one quick circuit of the interior convinced Wen that the house could be breached from almost any vantage. She occupied herself, as the night went on, by imagining how she would infiltrate it from the kitchen, from the side lawn, from the front porch, if she were trying to gain access. Eggles had a mind that worked the same way. They spent ten minutes standing in the shadow of a great ornamental tree, debating whether it would be faster to break in through the roof or a second-story window if there was a reason to get to one of the back rooms. Moss passed the time by charming the cooks in the kitchen, and came to join them carrying plates of leftover meat and pastries. Wen considered that just as valuable a contribution to the conversation as the speculation.
The evening was saved from complete tedium by the fellowship of the house guards, who patrolled the property at regular intervals. Before they’d been on the estate fifteen minutes, Eggles had reported to Wen that there were fourteen men in the Coverroes’ guard and all of them looked like they could hold a weapon. Wen had made the exact same assessment, but she was pleased that Eggles had gone to the trouble of counting. They were friendly, though, and offered the serramarra’s contingent a few hands of cards.
“As long as we can sit somewhere close enough to watch the gate, I’m in,” Wen said, and Eggles and Moss nodded. They played for coppers and no one won or lost anything to speak of, but it made the time go faster, and Wen was grateful.
Finally there was movement at the front door as the nobles began having the footmen signal for their carriages. Karryn and Serephette were among the last to leave, and Karryn stood in the doorway another ten minutes, whispering in Lindy Coverroe’s ear, before joining her mother in the carriage.
“Thank the gods,” Wen muttered to the driver. “Let’s get home.”
Of course, she knew better than to relax her guard at that moment. Many an ambush had been carried out late at night, when soldiers were nodding off after a long day’s work. She cut her gaze from side to side, watching the shadowed streets. Once a sound behind the carriage made her twist around all the way in her seat. She was pleased to find Eggles already hanging by one hand from his strap, staring behind him to try to determine what had made the sound. When he swung around again, he shook his head. No trouble.
They made it safely to Fortune without anyone being abducted, robbed, or otherwise assaulted. Wen considered it a very successful outing, and hoped the rest of them proved as tame.
Chapter 10
IN THE MORNING, WEN WROTE A NOTE TO ORSON AT THE northern freighting office. She thought he would be intrigued by the offer, but that didn’t mean he would take the job. If she had read him correctly, he’d had no love for Rayson Fortunalt and might not be able to stomach the marlord’s daughter. But she thought he would be a formidable asset to the House guard.
By day’s end, she’d hired ten more recruits, all men, and told another ten to come back the next morning for her final decision. She was a little surprised to find Ginny in the barracks, moving through the wide area that constituted the kitchen and dining room together.
“Have you been assigned the miserable job of being our cook?” Wen asked her with a grin.
Ginny looked half pleased and half annoyed. “The head cook and I had words a few times this past week, so she thought I might do better where I didn’t have to mind my tongue,” she said. “But I think I’ll like cooking for the guard. You probably don’t complain much.”
“And we’ll eat whatever you put in front of us,” Eggles said.
“Smells good, anyway,” Wen said, settling into a seat beside him. “How does the cook like your little brother, then?”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Are you joking? Bryce knows how to make everybody love him. She’s already giving him special treats and telling him not to work so hard.”
Eggles eyed Wen and rubbed his shoulder as if it pained him. “Now that’s a trick I’d like to learn,” he said, which made everyone at the table laugh. Wen had driven them hard this day, and Eggles and Moss had had the task of making the newest recruits fight fiercely for the honor of being included.
“Things are only going to get harder,” she promised him. “Once we’re up to full strength we’ll really start working out. Better rest now while I’m being so easy on you.”
After the meal, she stepped out of the barracks to join Lord Jasper for their nightly conversation. Before heading up to the house, though, she took one quick turn around the compound, making the complete circuit around the inside of the hedge. It was something she had learned from Tayse, who walked the palace grounds at Ghosenhall once every night—sometimes more, if he was restless. Often she had wondered how such a big man managed to get by on so little sleep.
Well, ordinary rules rarely applied to Tayse.
But she would not be thinking about Tayse, about Justin, about any of them. She gave her head a hard shake and pushed through the house to seek out Lord Jasper.
He wasn’t in his study, but one of the servants showed her to the library, which was on the first floor toward the rear of the house. As she stepped in, she glanced around with interest at the ceiling-high bookcases that lined every wall, and with curiosity at piles of additional volumes stacked in rather disorderly fashion on the floor. She didn’t care about books, of course; she was checking for places people could hide if they’d stolen into the house. She supposed someone could crouch behind one of the pieces of furniture—a grouping of chairs before the fireplace, an arrangement of chairs and an ottoman across the room—but it was easy to see through their spindly legs and realize no one was crouching in their shadows. Someone could lurk behind the long curtains of the two tall windows, but Wen gave them a hard look and didn’t think that was the case tonight.
Jasper Paladar sat in one of the chairs before the fireplace, watching her. “Do you always do that?” he asked softly. “Inspect every room when you first walk in—as if memorizing its contents?”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone look around when they come into a new place?”
“I’m sure they do, but I don’t imagine they bring such intensity all the time.”
Other people might end up dead for lack of attention, but not Wen. She changed the subject. “You have a lot of books here.”
His expression showed distaste. “The ones on the shelves aren’t mine.”
She pointed to the ones on the floor. “Does that mean these belong to you?”
He nodded. “Some I brought with me, some I’ve ordered since I’ve been here.”
She glanced around again. “It wouldn’t seem like you’d need to bring more books here.”
His voice was severe. “Most of the ones that belong in this library are valueless, acquired just for show. Neither Rayson Fortunalt nor his father was much of a scholar. Most of these volumes could be burned in the grate, and I wouldn’t care. And I’ve always considered it a sin to burn a book.”
