Fortune and Fate

by Sharon Shinn

  Wen said in a cold voice, “Was there any sign of blood in her room?”

  Now Demaray and Lindy were both staring at her. “What?” Demaray breathed. “What are you suggesting?”

  “Did someone take her from the house by force?”

  Demaray fired up. “How dare you, Captain! I’ll have you know that I trust my servants—and my soldiers—implicitly! No one in this house would have hurt Karryn, no one, do you understand me? And I’m sure you and your compatriots were loose on the grounds all night. Surely you would have noticed if someone had stolen in to abduct the serramarra?”

  Wen would have liked to think so, but she had failed dreadfully at a key task before. Who knew what she might have overlooked in last night’s casual patrol? And the other guards—still untested, really, still not nearly as reliable, as skilled, as true Riders—

  Oh, gods and goddesses, if Karryn had been kidnapped while Wen lay sleeping—

  “I’ll need to see her room,” she said in a brusque voice.

  They all followed Demaray back to the house, a hurrying, weeping, grim, desperate band. Karryn’s room was on the second story, its door standing wide open as Lindy must have left it when she tripped in and found it empty.

  “Look around,” Wen ordered her guards. “See if anything seems unusual. Signs of a struggle. Furniture overturned. Blood. See if her clothes are still here.”

  But a quick search turned up nothing alarming. Nothing disturbed more than it might have been by a young girl’s careless occupancy. The bedcovers rumpled, the pillow still bearing the indentation of her head. A glass set on the nightstand, half full of water. The fancy gown Karryn had worn to the party was still hanging in the armoire, but her other clothes were gone, and so was her little valise. As if she had bundled them up and brought them with her when she stole from the house, late that night or very early this morning . . .

  Why? Where would she have gone? What possible reason could she have had to run?

  “I don’t see anything obvious,” Eggles said, shaking out the bedcovers one last time, then lifting the pillow as if to check for secret notes beneath the case.

  “What’s that?” Demaray said sharply, and all of them stared at the small dark bauble lying on the white sheets under the pillow.

  Faster than the rest of them, Wen snatched it up. A flat oblong disk of some smooth blue stone, inlaid with a star-shaped pattern of white. It meant nothing to her, but as she turned it over in her hands, Lindy gasped.

  “What?” Wen demanded. “What is it?”

  “The seal of Coravann,” Demaray said flatly.

  Wen froze, her hand involuntarily clenching on the token. Ryne Coravann was here last night. The last time Wen had seen Ryne, she had all but dared him to try any mischief with Karryn—stupid words, for she had been sure he would complain of her to Jasper, but he had done much worse. He had set out to prove to Wen that he could do with Karryn whatever he wanted. . . .

  Demaray whirled on her daughter. “Lindarose Coverroe!” she said in a wrathful voice. “Have Karryn and Ryne been planning to elope?”

  “No!” Lindy sobbed. “At least—I didn’t think so! They were always flirting—and he would say, ‘Oh, won’t you run away with me.’ And she would pretend to think about it—but she—but he—I mean, they were only joking—”

  “Did they joke about it last night?” Wen asked urgently. She didn’t know how much longer she would be able to resist the urge to grab Lindy Coverroe and shake her till her head fell off. “Think, my lady! Did you hear them scheming? Even if you thought they were only pretending?”

  Lindy shook her head. “No—not really—I mean, they were sitting together, and they were laughing, but—”

  Demaray spoke up, her voice troubled. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time,” she said. “But last night Ryne and Karryn were sitting together, as Lindy says, and having what appeared to be a very intense conversation. As I approached them, they fell silent, and I thought they looked—guilty, almost. I just assumed they had been saying unkind things about me and they hoped I hadn’t overheard.”

  “How would she have gotten out of the house?” Eggles said practically. “We were on patrol all night. I’m willing to swear that no one went out the gate. Are there back ways off of the property?”

  “There’s a gate in the north wall, but it’s kept locked,” Demaray said. “She could have climbed it, I suppose—but it’s quite high and she would have needed help—” She gave her daughter another narrow look.

  “I didn’t help her!” Lindy wailed. “I didn’t know anything about it!”

  “Let’s go check that gate,” Eggles said.

  “She didn’t sneak out at night,” Wen said, her voice flat and dreary. They all turned to stare at her. “She left this morning. With the maids. A whole group of them departed together just about dawn.”

  Seven. Wen had counted the numbers, but she hadn’t studied the faces. She’d noticed the two maids flirting with the footman, but all the others? A blur of caps and baskets. She hadn’t been looking for Karryn in their number, and thus she had completely failed to recognize her. She had failed to protect Karryn from Ryne Coravann’s blandishments, and she had failed to protect Karryn from herself.

  She had failed.

  Again.

  “That’s good then, isn’t it?” Moss said. “If she left at dawn—she’s only been gone about four hours. We can catch up with her.”

  Wen shook off her bleak thoughts. She was feeling numb with disbelief and self-loathing, but a slow fire of pure rage was igniting in her belly and starting to spread upward. Rage—white-hot and unadulterated—at Ryne Coravann, for plotting this disastrous seduction, probably for a lark, probably just to see how far he could entice Karryn into dangerous pursuits, or maybe to taunt Wen to repay her for her scalding words. But an even more complicated anger at Karryn herself—who knew how much this trick would appall and worry Wen, who knew how many resources had been expended to keep her safe. How could the serramarra who had insisted that a wounded Garth ride in her carriage so blithely leave behind her devoted guardians? Wen had thought better of Karryn, she truly had. So the bitterness of Karryn’s betrayal added a toxic edge to Wen’s smothering sense of failure.

  But fury was beginning, for a short time at least, to burn away anything but a desire to kill Ryne Coravann with her bare hands.

  “We most certainly can catch up with her,” Wen said, her voice calm but holding a note that made all of them look at her in wonder. “Lady Demaray, do you know where ser Ryne has been staying?”

  “Yes,” Demaray said. “The Stilton House. It’s a few blocks over from the harbor.”

  Wen nodded. It was a tall and gracious building, clearly catering to a wealthy clientele; she had never been inside it, but it was a landmark in Forten City. “Then we shall go there immediately and see if we can learn how recently he has left the city—and whether or not he had a companion with him.”

  She wheeled for the door. “Captain!” Demaray called, and Wen reluctantly turned back. “How will we find out if you locate her?”

  “I’m sure Lord Jasper or the marlady will send you word.”

  “Can we go with you?” Lindy begged.

  Wen just gave her a cold look. “No.”

  Lindy started crying even more violently. “But I have to know if Karryn is all right!”

  “We’ll go to Fortune,” Demaray said. She seemed to have forgiven her daughter for any part Lindy might have played in this fiasco, for she put her arms around Lindy in a comforting way. “We’ll go wait with Jasper until the captain comes back with news. Now go. Get dressed.”

  If Demaray had more instructions for Lindy, Wen didn’t wait to hear them. She bounded down the steps, the other three close at her heels, and ran for the stables to throw a saddle on her horse.

  She wondered what the penalty would be for murdering a serramar. She was pretty certain she was about to find out.

  Chapter 36

&nb
sp; WEN AND THE OTHER GUARDS CLATTERED THROUGH THE busy streets of Forten City, riding so recklessly that they scattered frightened pedestrians and angry drivers before them. The Stilton House had its own stable, so an ostler was standing outside waiting for customers when they pounded up. Wen leapt from the gelding’s saddle, tossed the groom her reins, and said, “Hold him. I’ll be back out in a few minutes.”

  The other three were right behind her as she stalked through the front door and straight to the desk where a well-dressed and discreet-looking man sat looking over accounts. He started in astonishment when Wen slammed her open hand in the middle of his papers.

  “Ryne Coravann,” she snarled. “When did he check out of your establishment?”

  The man swiftly stood up, assessing her with a professional’s measuring eye. All four of them were wearing their fancy Fortunalt uniforms, pearls sewn into their sashes, and this was a man who could not afford to offend the local serramarra. “Indeed, he has not left us yet,” he said in a smooth voice. “Would you like me to summon him from his room?”

  Wen felt her heart stutter and then bloom to twice its size. They were still here? Upstairs cuddling in the serramar’s room, maybe, laughing at her, but still safe? She didn’t let any of her hope or relief show on her face. “No,” she said in the same menacing voice. “Take me up to him now.”

  The clerk cast a doubtful look at her tense companions. “But—”

  “Now,” she repeated.

  He made an instant decision, nodded, and grabbed a master key from behind the desk. “This way, please. Sadie!” he called as they passed a hallway. “Come cover the front door!”

  Wen gave him credit for moving briskly, leading them up to the third story and two doors down the hall, but when he lifted his hand to knock, she caught his wrist in a hard hold. “Just open the door,” she said.

  “But—”

  She didn’t bother to argue, just yanked the key ring from his grasp, twisted the key in the lock, and kicked the door open. Her dagger was already in her hand.

  The room was small enough to take in with a single glance, and there was only one body curled up under the thick blue counterpane. Ryne Coravann lifted his dark head from the pillow, staring at the commotion across the room. “What in the red and silver hell—”

  Wen was beside him in two strides, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him roughly. He was nude to the waist and clumsy with sleep. He sat up, trying to fend her off, but she kept her grip. “Where is she? Where’s Karryn?” she demanded.

  “What—? Willa, what are you—why the hell are you in my room? Let go of me!”

  He wrenched back, finally breaking her hold, and stared up at her with bloodshot eyes. It was clear that he had gotten to sleep much later than two in the morning, and he’d had a great deal to drink before he sought his bed.

  “Karryn’s missing,” Wen said. “And people seem to think you might know where she is.”

  His face went slack, but it wasn’t guilt or furtiveness she saw in his expression. “Karryn’s missing? What do you mean? Didn’t she stay with Lindy last night?”

  Now Wen’s heart stuffed itself back into the smallest possible ball of fear, hard and painful and burning in the middle of her chest. Oh, gods and goddesses, he did not have her, he did not know where she was. Karryn was gone, Karryn was missing, Karryn was lost and alone and somewhere in danger. “She did,” Wen said shortly. “And this morning Lindy found Karryn’s room empty.”

  Ryne scrambled out of bed. Not just nude to the waist, it seemed. He began pulling on a pair of fancy trousers that he had apparently discarded by the bed last night. “And you thought I had her? That she had run to me? Thanks for the compliment, Captain.”

  Wen pulled the lapis disk out of her pocket and flicked it at him. “This was found under her pillow. And apparently the two of you were whispering together a great deal last night.”

  He’d reflexively caught the token but tossed it instantly to the rumpled bed. “Lindy has one just like it. So does Katlin Seiles—I hand them out like roses. And I surely spent as much time whispering to Lindy last night as I did to Karryn.”

  “The difference is, Lindy Coverroe is safe in her mother’s house and Karryn is nowhere to be found,” Wen said. She had to work hard to keep her voice from quavering. “I apologize for casting you as the villain—and for waking you up in such a rude fashion. I must go to Fortune and tell her family and then try to decide what to do next.”

  He looked up through a fall of unkempt black hair as he was pulling on his boots. “Wait five minutes! I’m coming with you.”

  She turned away from him. “There’s nothing you can do to help us.”

  He grabbed her arm with one hand and snatched up his shirt with the other. “Go order my horse for me,” he directed the innkeeper, who had stood immobile at the door this whole time. Listening to the entire conversation, of course, able to repeat this most-shocking but delicious gossip to every store owner and tavernkeeper in the city.

  The innkeeper bowed and scurried from the room. Wen jerked her arm free but didn’t take another step toward the door. Ryne was fastening his shirt so rapidly that the buttons weren’t aligning with the holes. Eggles, Malton, and Moss crowded closer to Wen.

  “If not with the serramar, then where would she have run and why?” Eggles asked in an urgent voice.

  Wen shook her head. Her stomach was a roiling mass of acid, she felt like every separate bone and muscle trailed a line of fire. This was terror; this was helplessness. This was the stark certainty that Karryn was in danger and Wen didn’t know how to find her. “Did she sneak from the house, planning to surprise Ryne, and run afoul of common criminals in the streets?” she said.

  “I’m telling you, Karryn would have had no reason to seek me out,” Ryne spoke from over her shoulder. He was shrugging into an overcoat, much too fancy for daytime wear but obviously the nearest thing to hand. “We made no plans. She wasn’t running to me.”

  “Do you believe him?” Moss asked Wen, as if Ryne wasn’t standing right there. “Do you trust him?”

  Wen turned her head to study him. He was buckling on a serviceable-looking sword, and he paused long enough to meet her eyes. His own expression was defiant. But he looked just as worried as she felt.

  “Yes,” Wen said curtly. “Are you ready? Then let’s go.”

  DEMARAY and Lindy were already at Fortune when Wen’s party arrived. “Gather up the others,” Wen directed Eggles. “Tell them what’s happened.”

  “What are we going to do next?” he asked.

  As if she had the faintest idea! “We’ll look for her,” she said grimly. “Once we’ve told her mother and her guardian what we know.”

  Eggles and Moss and Malton peeled off toward the barracks, taking charge of all the horses. Wen and Ryne bounded up the steps and into the house. In the large parlor just inside the door they found Jasper, Serephette, and the Coverroes gathered in an agitated conference.

  “Wen!” Jasper exclaimed the minute he spotted her. “Did you find—” His eyes went to the disheveled Ryne Coravann and a look of comprehension crossed his face. “Not with the serramar after all, I see.”

  “He says not, and I believe him,” Wen said.

  Serephette, who had been standing beside Jasper, now sank to a sofa as if the bones in her legs could not support her. “But then—sweet Silver Lady, where could she possibly be?”

  Demaray pushed Lindy over to offer Serephette comfort, and then came to stand beside Ryne and Wen and Jasper. She gave the serramar one quick, frowning look. “Captain, are you sure he—”