by Sharon Green
"I’m positive I want to do that," I said pleased with the eagerness to go I could feel in the horse under me. "Of course, there’s one other side to the favor. If I haven’t come back for the coin in two weeks, you have to keep it as your own. Evon bless you and yours for this fine gift, today and every day from now on."
I raised my hand as I put heels to my mount, and then I was on my way out of the man's yard with him still standing in the middle of it. I'd made it clear that the gold wasn't an attempt to pay for something his pride needed to give away in gratitude, but I wanted to be out of there before he decided he really ought to try refusing my second favor. Since he'd already agreed to it he couldn't back out without my consent, so it was up to me to be gone before he could think of a valid reason for that consent. I wanted him to have the gold as much as he'd wanted me to have the horse, and after a while he'd understand that.
By the time I was through the fields surrounding the village and on the road to Gensea, I'd made myself as comfortable in the saddle as I was likely to get. The skirt of my dress was wide enough to keep my legs - and the dagger – covered, but even so it didn't let me feel as secure as I usually felt on a horse. Having sandals on my feet instead of boots only made it worse, of course, boots having heels while sandals don't. I had to pay constant attention to keep my feet from sliding through the stirrups, and between that and the heat of the day and the dust rising up from the road, I knew the trip wasn't likely to be the most pleasant I'd ever taken. The only good part about it all was the smooth, easy trot of my mount, a pace he seemed ready to keep to for as long as necessary.
The hours went by faster than I'd expected them to, and that close to the city there was no one on the road who intended using it as a source of income rather than as something simply to travel on. The nearer I got the more traffic there was on the road, almost all of it mounted rather than on wagons, and after a while I was drawn away from my own thoughts by an oddity I kept seeing repeated. Those passing me on the way to the city glanced at me with normal curiosity, but those coming away from thc city, almost all riding in smaller or larger groups, were too intent on their agitated conversations to notice anything at all. I spent some time wondering what had gotten them so upset, but there was no true way of knowing without stopping one of them to ask. Instead of stopping one of them, I kicked my horse out of his trot into a gallop.
Sometimes the cold feeling you get in bright sunshine and heat turns out to be nothing but imagination, but on other occasions you discover that Evon has taken the trouble to give you advance warning of what's ahead. This time I had no intentions of riding into and through the city, but when I guided my tired but still-willing mount to the left fork of the road that would take me around, I saw a large group of men stopped about where the road just began to curve around the city's walls. Those going into the city itself were staring at the knot of men, and when I got closer I saw why. They were City Guardsmen, and they weren't letting anyone go past them.
I pulled my horse back down to a trot, wiped the sweat and road dust from my forehead with my free right arm, then deliberately swallowed down the urge to come to a full stop. I knew I wouldn’t want to hear what those Guardsmen would have to say, but I had to hear whatever it was. My ankles felt bruised and scraped raw from the stirrups and my legs and back were hurting in a way I hadn't felt for years, but coming up behind the two men already stopped by the Guardsmen proved to be harder and more painful than riding on for the rest of the day would have been.
''. . . mean we can't go up to the castle?" one of the two men was demanding, both of them dressed in the brown leather of Fighters. ''We're here looking for hire with the duke, and that means we got to go up there. Are you in the city so desperate for recruits, you’re trying to stop men heading for the duke?"
''Going up to the castle won't do you any good right now,'' the captain of the Guard answered, finding nothing of the amusement the Fighter had been trying to share. ''It so happens we can use you in the city, but not for the reason you think. We're in the middle of heavy trouble right now, and we're going to need every Fighter we can get.''
"What kind of heavy trouble?'' the man asked, exchanging a brief frown with his friend. ''We thought the fighting in the north hadn't gotten here yet."
''Strictly speaking, it hasn't," the Guard captain said, raising his left hand to shade his eyes from the lowering sun. "As far as we know, this is completely local trouble. What's the matter, were you two trying to keep away from the fighting in the north?"
''Hell, no,'' the second Fighter said with a snort, more amused than insulted. "Rumor is the war'll be movin' this way before too long, so we thought we'd come ahead and get our seats for it now, before the mercenary groups move in and swallow up every place worth havin'. Like my partner said, we're here lookin' for hire. What kinda local trouble we talkin' about?''
"Really nasty local trouble," the captain answered, his grimace having nothing to do with the sun. "Don't ask me how it happened, but suddenly we have crazy rebels all around us. We'll be fighting in the name of the duke, but he won't be there to lead us.''
"Why not?" the first Fighter asked, this time supporting his frown alone. ''We heard Duke Rilfe was one of the good ones, always there to lead where he wanted men to go. Not like the ones who find it smarter to hang back and watch. Why won't he be there?"
"Because he can't be there," the captain said while the cold went all around my insides and squeezed. "The duke can't be there because he's the one the rebels are holding up at the castle. He and his two little daughters, and we're going to have to fight to get them free.''
My breathing started up again at that, but the ice on my insides stayed exactly where it was. They had my father and my sisters, and those idiots from the city were going to storm the castle! I had to do something, or the three hostages the rebels held would certainly be the first three to die!
* * *
Kylin opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but the stabbing pain in his head turned the effort into nothing more than a groan. He put his hands to the ache, trying to clear the blur from his vision, trying to figure out what in hell had happened. One minute he'd been looking into pots of food, and the next…
''Don't try to move yet," Veslin's voice came from his left, the words soft enough so that they didn’t add to his pain. "You’ll be all right, but give it a minute or two and it won't hurt as much.''
"What happened?" Kylin croaked, blinking away the blur to see that he lay on a narrow bed in a strange room. ''My head feels like someone's been using it for quarterstaff practice."
''From what we can gather, that isn't far from the truth," Veslin said, sighing as he looked down at the younger man. "You were bashed in the back of the head, and one of the pieces of kindling in the bin by the kitchen hearth has blood on it. I'd say we all know who it was who did the swinging."
''But I'm sure Sofaltis didn't mean to hurt you," Indris said at once from his right as he cursed under his breath, then she offered him a cup of something. ''Once you drink this you'll feel a good deal better, but right now my father and I will help you to sit up."
To Kylin's disgust he found he needed that help, but once the smooth, sweet whiteness in the cup was down his throat he did immediately begin to feel better. The pain in his head faded to a distant throb, the water drained out of his muscles, and moving his eyes from one sight to the next stopped making him dizzy. He was just about back to the way he'd been, which meant anger had nothing to fight for his attention.
"Where is she?" he asked the two anxious faces watching him, one hand rubbing at the remaining stiffness in his neck. He'd tried to keep most of the growl out of his voice, but the way Indris flinched showed he hadn't been overly successful.
''Kylin, please don't be too angry with her," the woman said, her dark eyes trying to convince him her request was no more than reasonable. ''I don't know if you realize how deeply unhappy she is, how confused and miserable on the inside she - "
"In
dris, I know exactly how unhappy she is," Kylin interrupted, getting to his feet to loosen the knots in his shoulders. "She's been that unhappy from the first minute we met, and by now I'm more than a little tired of it. She seems to think she's the only woman ever to be promised into a marriage she didn't want, and has been moping around as though it's the end of the world for everyone alive. I've been trying my damnedest to show her it won't be as bad as she's obviously imagining, but everything I try is thrown back in my face. Are you telling me I'm missing something I should be seeing?"
''Not really," Indris answered, looking uncomfortable and vaguely frustrated. ''I've seen myself how she ignores or dismisses all your kindnesses, but maybe she - ''
"And now, just because she'd rather risk her life than wait for an escort I had the good sense to send for, she takes her mad out on me with a stick over the head,'' Kylin plowed on, getting angrier with every word he spoke. ''She's a spoiled brat of an undisciplined Blade, and if she likes using sticks all that much, we'll see how happy she is when I get through using one on her. She'll need a pillow to sit on for the ride home tomorrow, and even with it she'll wish she could have walked instead. Now, where is she?"
"Kylin, I think you'd better check your personal possessions," Veslin said, rubbing his face with one finger as he studied the man who had asked him a question. "Where she is will be obvious after that."
The King's Fighter looked down at himself fast, one hand going to his purse which was loosely tied to his swordbelt, the absence of his dagger and belt completely obvious even before he'd opened the pouch flap. Once he did and looked inside, his anger rose even higher.
"Coppers!'' he grated, not giving a damn that his voice was now pure growl. ''She took all the gold and silver and left me nothing but the coppers! And if my dagger is gone, that means she is, too! Without having been bright enough to add my sword to her thieving! She'd rather walk the road with nothing but a dagger to keep her safe, just to show how fearless she is! I'll kill her. By Evon do I swear, when I get my hands on her I'll - ''
"Kylin, you'd better calm down," Veslin interrupted his furious ranting, the older man's voice concerned as he put a hand to Kylin’s arm. "The sweetmilk eased your pain and quieted the dizziness, but if you start to get wild and jump around it will all come back at once. You'll sit down and take it easy for a while to let your body start healing itself, and then you can run and shout all you like.''
"But I have to start after her," Kylin protested, unhappily aware of the faint shifting behind his eyes, a warning he would have preferred to ignore. "Without me there, anything can happen to her.''
''She's already been gone two hours, and she isn't on foot,'' Veslin said, silently urging him toward the door Indris held open. ''You need a mount of your own, and you might as well be sitting down and eating while I find one for you. After that you can leave as quickly as you like."
Kylin would have rather argued the order disguised as a suggestion, but it made far too much sense for him to be able to do it. He'd accomplish very little if he fell off whatever horse he was able to find, and would lose more time that way than by taking it slow from the beginning. As they all left the small room and made their way to the kitchen, Indris said something pleasant and reassuring about the food that he simply didn't hear. His mind was too full of Tisah, where she was and whether or not she was still all right. As soon as he got his hands on her he'd kill her; nothing would be able to stop him, nothing…
Chapter 13
This time riding through the gate didn't earn me a single glance, not with the way the gate Guards were stopping every male who looked capable of holding a sword, trying to recruit them for the proposed attack. Thinking about their stupidity was making me furious as well as frightened sick, and I had to keep my teeth clenched tightly together to keep from shouting and screaming at them. It wasn't anyone in the City Guard who was responsible for that mindlessness; they were just taking orders from their superiors, the City Council. It was the Council I had to save my shouting for, telling them in no uncertain terms that they were throwing away the lives of my father and sisters.
If I could find out who the Council members were, and where they were, and how I got there through the maze of late afternoon streets clogged with what looked to be the same people who had been there when I'd first come through days ago.
My patient, steady mount took me forward into the crowds, having no idea where I was going but willing to take me there anyway. And that made two of us who didn't know, I realized, wiping the sweat and dust from my forehead with the back of my hand. I'd almost met some of the city leaders that night at the Feasting, but Evon's luck had been with someone else back then. I didn't know who had the most power in the city, the one whose word could stop that insanity before it went too far. And whoever it was, I couldn't go to him as a pleading female who knew nothing of fighting and therefore feared it. I had to get my leathers back first and my sword… Back from the castle where the hostages were being held… Might as well make a stab at freeing them if you're going to do that…But you can't get in, can't even push through the Guardsmen to get closer… So what in hell are you going to do?
The question was a good one, but all I could come up with in the way of an answer was to shift in the saddle, trying to ease some of the aching of my body. I'd been away from home too long, hadn't been back long enough for it to be of any use, didn't know a single soul I could turn to for help. Help. What I needed first was information, from someone who knew what was going on, someone who was a part of this city from the inside out, who'd be willing to supply whatever I wanted. The lesser nobles would be useless for that even if any of them were in the city, and that left no one at all.
I looked around me to find that the milling crowds were actually moving, carrying me deeper into the city with them at a not unreasonable pace. I reached up and rubbed at my left shoulder, not particularly amused by the thing, wondering if it was Evon who had that terrible a sense of humor. Now, when I hadn't the faintest idea where to go, the crowds were moving; days earlier, when I'd known exactly where I wanted to go, they hadn’t budged an -
Hadn't budged an inch, forcing me to try another street, which had gotten me good and lost, until I got to a dead-end court -
Where I'd saved the lives of a man and his sister! A man of the city who had acknowledged the fact that he owed me a favor! I didn't realize I'd stiffened with excitement until my horse snorted and tossed his head, telling me that shortening his rein and squeezing his barrel with my legs would do no good at all. He was already moving as fast as he could without trampling anyone, and he was really too tired and hot to be any good at trampling.
''Evon broil it, what was the name of that tavern?" I muttered to myself, patting my mount to apologize for confusing him even as I thought furiously. It had something to do with animals - or maybe fighting - or a pair of somethings, or - Evon take it and rot it, what was the name of that place?
I had to spend a few minutes calming myself down, and then I deliberately blocked out the shouting and calling and talking all around me and simply made my mind go blank. I'd been to enough taverns in my time, and if someone recommended one in particular I usually had no trouble remembering its name. The people whose recommendations I took had tastes very similar to mine, and if they'd enjoyed some place in particular the chances were I would do the -
The Ax and Shield. I almost shook with relief at the return of the memory, disgusted with myself for the false trails I'd been stumbling down. Ox instead of Ax making it an animal instead of a weapon, and my next try would probably have been the Cock and Bull. The next time someone said something like that to me I'd write it down, damned and broiled if I wouldn't! I wiped my shaky palm on the dust-covered skirt of my dress, then began looking around for someone to ask directions from.
Which turned out harder than I would have been willing to believe before trying it. With all those people around, the first ten or a dozen politely told me they'd never heard of the p
lace, and their easy smiles forced me to believe they were telling the truth. Every one of them had been fairly well-dressed, the safest group to ask things of in a city like Gensea, and there had been no reason for them to lie even if I hadn't been convinced of their sincerity. If they said they didn't know, then -
Then I was asking the wrong class of people.
I sighed as I guided my horse out of the thinning line of traffic, noticing without noticing that at that time of day people were already going home. Stopping someone of the lowest class would be like demanding to be taken advantage of, but at that point I no longer had a choice. The Ax and Shield had to cater to the dregs and drifters, too low a dive to be known to anyone who didn't patronize it. If it had been an upper-class place, those of the middle class would have known of it even if they'd never been inside its gilded front door. No, it had to be a dive, and wouldn't I fit in well with my pretty red print dress....
I had to question more than half a dozen beggars, street girls and light fingered types before I got three sets of directions that agreed, and I didn't follow them with anything like easy confidence and a light heart. Cities had all sorts of traps for the unwary to walk into, not the least of which were the night houses whose owners preferred slave workers to willing workers. Any night denizen who sent a country innocent into the web earned a piece of silver at the least, and too many of the people I’d talked to had grinned and looked me over before offering all the directions I wanted. In my leathers with a swordbelt strapped around me, they'd paled and run the other way; in a dress I'd found them all too willing to help.
The neighborhood I finally wound up in was not too far from the better part of the city, but was in reality a full world away. Shopkeepers were boarding up their places of business in anticipation of night, small dingy places that went well with the rundown residences and garbage-covered streets surrounding them. It was the sort of neighborhood that made you feel it was on the verge of waking up rather than going to sleep, the lamps being lit in the various taverns and night houses only adding to the impression. My horse picked his way carefully through the muck and refuse, unhappy with the overall stench, disliking the bands of children who ran screaming across his path, disapproving entirely of the nastiness I'd ridden him into. From the lingering stares I was getting from the loungers and strollers of the street, I couldn't have agreed with the sentiment more. If I'd had any choice at all, any choice in the world. . .
