by Sharon Shinn
“I might,” she acknowledged, pushing open the heavy front door and starting down the steps. “I am desperately short of swords.”
A clamor at the front gate caught her attention—two horses galloping up at full speed—and she started in that direction at a run, in case someone was carrying news about Karryn.
No—but these new arrivals were almost as welcome. Justin and Senneth came pounding up the front walkway, pulling their snorting horses to a hard stop right in front of Wen.
“Cammon said you needed us,” Justin called, sliding from the saddle. “What’s the trouble here?”
Chapter 37
THEY LEFT SENNETH BEHIND WITH A HANDFUL OF GUARDS to make sure there was no massacre at Fortune, and then they set out at a rapid pace for the old Coverroe house north of the city. Wen had paused to pick up a few essential additions—including Bryce, the young mystic boy, and a change of clothes from his sister, Ginny.
“You have a plan,” Justin said, watching her stuff Ginny’s dress into her saddlebag.
“I’m still thinking it through.”
Wen couldn’t get out of the city fast enough to suit her, but there was one stop they needed to make first. Leaving the bulk of her retinue behind, she carried Bryce before her on the gelding to make a slow pass in front of the Coverroe town house. The gold doors were blinding in the noon sunlight.
“Can you tell me if serra Karryn is inside there?” Wen asked him. She didn’t want to make the mistake of careening all the way up to Covey Park when Karryn was still in the city.
Bryce tilted his head as if listening to a conversation two rooms away. “She’s not there,” he said.
“Are you positive?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We’ll keep riding.”
Wen remembered that it had taken a little more than an hour by coach to cover the ground between Forten City and Covey Park, but riders on horseback made better time. Still, it was close to two in the afternoon when they finally arrived on the poorly maintained stretch of road where the turnoff to the old Coverroe house was located. This much deeper into spring, the trees in the surrounding woods were even more overgrown, thick with new greenery and sprouting twigs.
“There’s a house back here?” Justin asked. “Pretty well hidden.”
Ryne was looking around critically. “I’ve been here before, but it was a lot more civilized then.”
“Everybody slip into the woods and spread out a little,” Wen directed. “I don’t want anyone to see you from the road or from the house. Bryce and I will make our way up to the house so he can tell me if Karryn’s inside. We’ll come back and report—and then we’ll make our move.”
“I’m coming with you,” Justin said.
“So am I,” Ryne added.
She nodded at Justin, because there was really no dissuading him when he spoke in that tone, and shook her head at Ryne. “You stay here. One way or the other we’ll be right back.”
On foot, she and Justin worked their way through the undergrowth of the woods. Justin had hoisted Bryce onto his back, and the little redhead clung tightly and looked around with bright interest, but didn’t say a word. Both Wen and Justin used their left hands to push back branches in their way. They had daggers in their right hands in case they needed to engage in sudden fighting.
It took them fifteen minutes to get close enough to see the three-story gray house through the final scrim of trees. The mat of ivy covering the lower levels seemed to have grown even denser with the onslaught of spring, but the place still looked as dreary and unwelcoming as Wen remembered.
Not deserted, though. Two soldiers stood at stiff attention before the front door, and two more were winding past the flower garden, now gloriously in bloom.
“Probably at least two more patrolling the grounds, and two inside,” Justin whispered. “Minimum of eight. Could be four more patrolling and four inside. Twelve.”
Wen nodded, for she had been doing exactly the same calculations. Not counting Bryce, her own party numbered fourteen, but two of them were Riders.
No. One was a Rider. One used to be a Rider. But even former Riders were twice as good as ordinary men.
She looked up at Bryce, who was still riding on Justin’s back, studying the house with his fine little features all squinched up. Her stomach tightened. She had gambled so much on the answer to this question! “Can you tell if serra Karryn is inside?” she whispered.
He nodded. “She’s there.”
Wen felt so much relief that she had to lean her hand against a tree for support. Justin turned his head to ask, “Is she alive?”
Bryce looked surprised. “Of course she’s alive!” As an afterthought, he added, “She’s mad.”
Wen felt the ghost of a smile come to her lips. “That’s good. Can you tell if she’s—” Been abused. No, she didn’t want to put any images in Bryce’s head. “If she’s in any pain?”
He frowned again. “I don’t know. She’s scared, too, but mostly she’s mad.”
“Well, wouldn’t you be?” Justin said.
“Can you tell how many other people are in the house?” Wen asked.
Bryce concentrated for a minute, but then he shook his head. “They’re moving around too much and I don’t know them. But more than the ones we just saw walking by.”
“Figured that,” Justin said. He hitched Bryce up a little higher on his back. “But you’ve told us what we really wanted to know. Good work.”
“Let’s circle the house,” Wen said. “See what it looks like from the back.”
They traced a slow perimeter around the clearing, noting potential entrances and exits. Wen remembered the narrow windows on the upper floors, but she hadn’t had a chance to get a good look at the rear section of the house. The vegetable garden had been allowed to run just as wild as the flower garden in front. The door to the kitchen was narrow and recessed, accessed by a crumbling pile of stones that served as steps. Two guards stood watch there, a little more relaxed than their fellows at the front.
“Bad place to try to enter,” Justin observed. “And there’s no way to get in on the top two stories. Ivy offers a good handhold, but not even Bryce could get through those windows.”
“I know,” Wen said, turning back toward the outer rim of the woods. “But I have an idea.”
HER plan was simple enough. She was going to walk right into the house.
She had already changed into Ginny’s dress, stripping down right in front of the others, though she did turn her back for a modicum of modesty. “I’ll tell them I’m the maid Demaray has sent to keep Karryn comfortable,” Wen said.
“They might not believe that,” Eggles pointed out.
Wen shrugged. “They’re hired blades. They don’t know Demaray and what she’s likely to do. Besides, who else but Demaray knows Karryn is here? They might think it’s odd, but they won’t think I’m a threat.”
“They’ll search you,” Justin said.
She nodded. “I know.” She’d taken off every bit of weaponry, even her ankle sheath, and handed it all to Moss. “Pretty sure I could take out a couple of these soldiers even without a sword, but I won’t have to.”
“Do explain,” Ryne said.
She nodded at Moss. “She’s a mystic. She can move small objects through the air. Once I’m inside, I’ll signal from a window—and Moss can send me my knife and my sword.”
Orson actually laughed in admiration at that. “Knew there was a reason to keep these damned mystics around.” Moss punched him lightly on the arm.
Ryne was grinning as well. “Oh, Rayson Fortunalt would love to know that magic had saved his daughter’s life.”
“Well,” Justin said, “magic and skill with a sword.”
“Once I’m armed,” Wen said, “I’ll create a distraction. Maybe have Karryn scream. I would assume some of the interior guards will enter her room. I’ll take care of them. The rest of you then storm the building.”
Justin was frowning. “It
would be good to have at least one more of us inside before you start your own battle. If it takes us too long to breach the door and there’s four men inside—”
She looked at him. “I can hold them off.”
“I might be of a little assistance here,” Ryne said.
They all turned his way. The Fortunalt guards had obviously been surprised that the serramar had been allowed to ride with them on the rescue mission, but they hadn’t asked Wen any questions aloud.
“I don’t think this lot will care much about your fine clothes and your noble blood, ser,” Orson said.
“That’s not the advantage I can bring you,” Ryne said. “I can get inside the house without being seen.”
Wen let out her breath in a little hiss. “I forgot! Your Lirren blood.”
Justin looked deeply interested. “That’s right. You’re related to Ellynor. You have Lirren magic?”
“Just a little,” Ryne said. “But enough to make sure no one observes me slipping inside.”
Wen was skeptical. “I watched you that day with Karryn. You never disappeared entirely.”
He smiled at her. “It’s hard to explain. But I have spent my whole life being able to slink in and out of rooms without being noticed. I can get inside.”
“Does us no good if you can’t wield a sword,” Justin said practically.
“I can,” he said.
Wen confronted him. “The truth,” she said in a stern voice. “Can you fight well enough to defend yourself against professional killers? Because you’ll be dead inside of five minutes if you can’t. And much as I prefer Karryn to you, I don’t really want to trade your life for hers.”
He stared back at her. “Well, I can’t fight like a Rider,” he said at last.
Orson pushed forward. “Wouldn’t have to,” he said. “First floor windows—you can hardly see them through the ivy. Creep inside, get to one of those rooms, open the shutters. We’ll wait till the patrol goes by, then some of us will enter that way. It’ll even the interior odds somewhat.”
Ryne brightened. “I can do that.”
Justin glanced around. “Then I think we’re ready.”
WEN wasn’t sure she’d ever appreciated how hard it was to ride a horse while wearing a dress. She tugged her skirts down as far as they would go—not that Ginny’s dress was a perfect fit for her anyway—and tried to assume a maidenly expression as she jogged up to the front of Covey Park.
The hired guards at the front gate instantly snapped to attention. One of them called out for reinforcements, and four more soldiers came running. Within seconds, all six of them were clustered around Wen’s white gelding, swords drawn, expressions menacing.
This would be a good time for Ryne to try to sneak in through the front door, Wen thought, but she avoided looking in that direction. Instead, she let apprehension mingle with irritation on her face. “Is this Covey Park?” she asked.
“And why would you have any interest in Covey Park?” asked the tallest of the guards, a tall, lean man with a stubbled black beard and a scarred, ferocious face. Probably the captain of this little group, Wen guessed.
She visibly gathered her courage and glared back at him. “Because Lady Demaray Coverroe paid me to come here and take care of the serramarra, that’s why,” she said.
The lead guard frowned, but he was clearly taken aback. “She didn’t say she was sending any lady’s maid.”
Flashing more leg than she would have liked, Wen slid out of the saddle. She could see them all relax just a little when she was standing among them. She was so short, so unlikely to be a threat. “I don’t suppose she told you every single thing she thought she was going to do,” she said tartly. “Now can someone take me to her?”
The men stood uneasily for a moment, still not convinced. A few sent covert glances toward their leader, who looked uncertain. “Make sure she’s not carrying any weapons,” he said at last. One of the younger men, muscular and grinning, stepped forward and began running his hands over Wen’s body, through the loose folds of Ginny’s gown. It was no accident that he stroked her breast and brought his fingers up suggestively as he investigated the length of her thigh.
“She’s clean,” he announced. On the words, Wen spun around and gave him an openhanded slap like any self-respecting tavern girl.
“Lady Demaray didn’t pay me to take liberties off the likes of you,” she snapped.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, nursing his cheek, but the other men were grinning. Even the leader seemed to think he’d deserved it.
“Now can I go inside and see to the serramarra?” she asked.
The head guard jerked a thumb toward the door. “Take her in.”
One of the other soldiers led her inside. She made a great show of looking around with lively interest at the shadowed hallways and narrow stairs. Was it her imagination that the door to the library was just now shutting quietly behind an invisible intruder? “Not nearly as nice as the house in the city,” she pronounced.
“I wouldn’t know about that,” her escort said, then he cupped his hands as if to call someone. “Jolee! You’ve got company!”
The small, slatternly housekeeper that Wen remembered from her last visit came bustling out of the back region of the house. Bright Mother burn me, Wen thought. She looked so different than she had last time she’d been here that she thought it was unlikely Jolee would recognize her. But if she did . . .
Wen would have to take out the soldier first. A hard kick to the groin, gain possession of his sword, slice him enough to keep him out of the battle, then whirl around to face whoever else might be coming through the front door or down the steps. . . .
“Well, who’s this?” Jolee asked, crossing her arms on her chest and looking truly annoyed. “Another mouth to feed? Who is she—one of your doxies?”
“Not mine,” the soldier said with a grin. “Lady Demaray hired her to look out for the serramarra.”
Wen thought that might evoke another storm of protest, but Jolee nodded. “Well, good! I can’t be running up there every five minutes, bringing her food and emptying the chamber pot. I don’t know what Lady Demaray was about, giving me one day’s notice that I’d be having all of you descending on me! And everyone expecting to be fed!”
She didn’t seem too worried that one of the people in the house was under guard and possibly in danger of her life, Wen thought. Her opinion of the woman, already low, dropped to the cellar.
“Well, nobody told me I was expected to help in the kitchen,” Wen said sharply. “I’m just here to see to the serramarra.”
Jolee waved a hand toward the cramped stairwell against the wall. “Then see to her! She’s upstairs! Someone else will have to take you up because I’m too busy.” And she spun around and flounced back to the kitchen.
The soldier was laughing as he led the way up, probably admiring Jolee’s feisty spirit. Wen hoped Jolee put up some resistance when the Fortunalt guards moved in, so one of them would have an excuse to knock her down. She herself would like to smash the housekeeper’s face.
Upstairs there were only two guards, slouching on the floor before the door to Lindy’s old room and playing on a battered old cruxanno board. They hadn’t gotten very far into it, Wen noticed, which led her to believe her guess had been right. Karryn hadn’t been taken from the town house until after Wen had left it this morning, so she hadn’t been at Covey Park very long.
