“What troubles you?” his mother asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.
“What makes you think I’m troubled?”
His mother rolled her eyes, but said nothing.
Aren laughed mirthlessly. His mother was no fool. She knew him. He’d just returned from a long journey and yet he was pacing and drying dishes for no good reason.
“The women I escorted to Quartzholm are honorable women, but I fear things will not go well for them. There’s an angry lord looking for vengeance, and they have no man to speak for them.”
“You’re a good man to think of them, son, but this is clearly not your problem.”
“It is.”
His mother lifted a brow. “How so?”
He sought for a way to answer without telling her about the Elves and his debt to Torlon. A debt he was in danger of defaulting on. He’d never told her that an Elf had saved his life those many years ago. He hadn’t wanted to frighten her with the truth that she’d almost lost her only son, especially at a time when most folk feared the Fey. He’d been his mother’s only support, so he hadn’t wanted to burden her with the knowledge. Now he couldn’t explain his debt without revealing his secret.
Aren sat again. “I promised a friend of theirs that I’d keep them safe.”
Dismay filled his mother’s expression. “Why would you do such a foolish thing?”
In response Aren asked a question too long left silent, a question that had been much on his mind this last week. “Why did Da not answer Lord Fellig’s call?”
Hurt replaced dismay on his mother’s face, chased away by ... guilt?
“That ship passed downriver long ago. Why bring it up now?”
“Tell me, Mother.”
A spark of anger flashed in her eyes, but she quickly looked away. “Because I asked him to stay with me.”
Aren’s mouth fell open. “You asked his da to break his oath?”
“I was afraid I was going to die. Afraid your da would die in Fellig’s stupid raids and leave me alone with a son to raise. I loved him so much, and I didn’t want to lose him. Didn’t want you to be fatherless. Or if I died, an orphan.”
“And yet he left us anyway.”
His mother shook her head. “It was my fear that killed your da. He loved me more than he should, and he stayed with me because I asked it of him. But he was a good man. An honorable man. He couldn’t bear the shame of being an Oathbreaker. I think he thought if he was dead, he’d take the shame of what he’d done to the grave with him. He never meant to saddle you with it. Never wanted you to suffer for his choice. You know that, don’t you?”
No I don’t know that.
Memories of his da before came flooding back. Memories Aren had kept walled away, because it hurt too much to remember what he’d lost. His da teaching him to draw a bow, to plow a straight furrow, to mend harness. Laughter shared over the evening meal. Aren stared at the last few embers that glowed in the hearth as anger and shame and love roiled in his gut.
Aren ran a hand over his beard. “I do know that. But his shame still clings to this family, even if he never wanted it to. I brought us here to earn some honor, for you, for Tandra. And now I’m cross-sworn, just as Da was.”
Cross-sworn. He’d fulfilled one oath at the cost of the other. He’d told himself there was nothing he could do about it, but there was. He just didn’t like it.
Aren slipped from his chair to kneel at his mother’s knee, gently taking her work worn hands in his. “Ma, I uprooted you and Tandra and brought us here to make things better.”
“You made a good choice. The Healers here are helping me. I feel better than I have in years, and Tandra is happy here. She’ll be able to choose a good husband, to have a better future.”
Aren winced. Everything his mother said was true. And it made his next words even harder to say. “I need to do something for those women I brought to Quartzholm. I’m sorry, Mother, but this will likely make things worse for us.” He looked away. “I’m no better than Da was.”
“You could do a great deal worse!” His mother’s expression was fierce. “Your da chose family over all. You should do the same. Think of me! Think of Tandra! Those women aren’t family. You owe them nothing. They’re strangers.”
“I owe Annikke my life, Mother.”
“What do you mean?”
“The blood on my pants. It wasn’t my opponent’s. It was mine. Annikke saved me, and put herself in harm’s way to do it.”
“After you saved her, no doubt. Your debts are balanced. No one would say differently.”
No one would. Not even Annikke.
“Think of your daughter, son.”
He lifted his gaze to meet that of the woman who’d given him life, who’d extracted a soul-killing promise from his father. “Tandra’s future and whether she marries or not is in the Norns’ weaving. More important is that she respects her da. And I must respect myself for that to happen.”
A creak on the ladder to the loft brought Aren’s head around. Tandra stood there in her nightrail, her hair free from its braids. She might be his little girl, but she was already on the road to being a woman. A woman whose future would be affected by the choices he made, whatever he’d said to his mother about fate.
Tandra climbed down the last few steps. “I’ve always felt safe because you were there. Those women are alone, Da. Do what you must. Whatever happens, Grandmother and I will be fine, as we’ve always been.”
“Girl, this is your future you’re tossing to the wayside! You don’t know what you’re saying,” his mother exclaimed.
“I do,” Tandra said, meeting Aren’s gaze.
Throat tight with emotion, Aren gave his daughter a swift, hard, hug and then left, snagging two cloaks from the pegs by the door as he passed into the night.
*
It was late in the night and Annikke’s cell was blacker than the bottom of a cooking pot when she heard the gate to the guard room open. She guessed that several candlemarks had passed since one of the guards had slipped a bowl of warm porridge through the slot at the bottom of the door. There was no reason for anyone to be in the hall until morning. Had Aren’s warning fallen on deaf ears? Were the guards coming after all, to use her and Benoia for their pleasure? Annikke’s heart raced as if struggling to escape.
Footsteps paused outside her cell. A key scraped as it penetrated the lock of her door. Could she defend herself as Benoia had done? Should she? Or would it be better to endure what was about to happen so as not to bring more wrath down upon them?
Annikke held her breath in the dark, waiting for the key to turn, the door to open, begging Baldur that no further harm would be visited upon her foster-daughter.
Something heavy thumped against her door, and she jumped. There were sounds of scuffling and a grunt of pain. Running footsteps receded.
Long moments passed and Annikke held her breath, as a key scraped in the lock of her door. She tensed, ready to fight without a second thought. Whatever the cost to her, she couldn’t be passive.
Annikke blinked as the dim illumination from a glowlight poured into her cell.
The man standing there wasn’t the guard who’d leered at Benoia. It wasn’t the other guard either.
“Annikke?” Benoia’s voice called faintly from her cell down the hall.
Aren held out a shaking hand to Annikke. His other hand held a bloody dagger. “It’s all right. He’s gone. Come with me.”
Annikke blinked, took a deep shuddering breath. A moment later she rushed the three steps across her cell and into his arms. He pulled her close, wrapping her tightly in his strength. Nothing had felt so good. Then he pushed her back from him a little, looking her over. “Are you all right?”
Annikke laughed, but it came out sounding a bit hysterical. She swallowed, trying to regain a measure of calm. “Fine. I’m fine.” Her eyes fastened on Aren’s bloody blade. Oh gods! He hasn’t killed the guards has he? “What have you done?”
“Saved
your life, I think.” Aren followed her gaze, then wiped his dagger clean on the thin blanket.
“Annikke!” Benoia’s tone was frantic.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get the two of you out of here.” Aren pulled the key from the lock and led her down the hallway to Benoia’s cell. “I’ll explain once you’re safe.”
Sweetheart? Annikke shook her head. Aren was just trying to settle her. He meant nothing by it.
Aren released Benoia, and her foster-daughter fell into her arms. After too short an embrace he hustled them out through the guards’ room. The two men stood there facing the outer door, slack-jawed and unseeing. One had a hand outstretched as if in greeting.
“What’s wrong with them?” Benoia asked.
“I don’t know,” Aren said. “I found them this way, and a man who had no business here was about to unlock Annikke’s cell. He drew steel when he saw me, then fled when I cut him.”
Annikke noticed the splatters of blood on the floor. “A Talent for creating a waking sleep, perhaps?”
“Maybe. Let’s not linger. I don’t want to explain what I’m doing here to these guards.” He snagged two well-worn cloaks from the table, handed one to Benoia, and draped the other across Annikke’s shoulders. “Pull the hoods forward to hide your faces.”
Now that she was calmer, Annikke saw that Aren had bathed and changed clothes, while she was still dirty and smelly from their journey. She felt color rising in her cheeks, remembering how she’d flung herself into his arms. Annikke’s eyes met his as he lifted the hood over her head and was surprised by the flash of warmth she saw there.
Just as quickly, it was gone and she wondered if she’d imagined it. Aren went to the door and peeked out, then almost pushed them out into the corridor before he latched the iron-bound door behind them. “I don’t know how long the guards’ condition will last or if they’ll remember what happened, but I want to be well away before they wake or the next shift finds them.”
“Where are you taking us?” Benoia whispered.
“Someplace safer than the gaol,” Aren said. Then, in a soft voice Annikke barely heard, he added, “I hope.”
Chapter Twenty
Aren forced himself to stride confidently as he escorted the women through castle passages while fearing they’d be stopped and questioned at every turning. The night was well advanced and there were few people to see them climbing stairs shaped from onyx or passing through the wide hallways decorated with intricately carved wooden doors. Those still about were the occasional guard and the runners positioned to fetch or carry messages.
As he guided the women down the hallway, Aren nodded to the guard standing watch near the stair as if the three of them belonged there. He rapped twice on Lord Vali’s door.
After a short wait, Norva opened it, hair rumpled from sleep. Her brows lifted in surprise.
Aren spoke before she could, pitching his voice so the guard wouldn’t overhear. “Please, don’t ask questions.” In a louder tone he added, “I’ve brought the companionship Lord Vali requested.” He brazenly swept into Vali’s suite, Benoia and Annikke following.
Norva shut the ornately carved door before beginning her scold. “Are you Fey-marked? Lord Vali didn’t ask for bedwarmers—” Then Annikke and Benoia pushed back their hoods and the Daughter of Freya snapped her mouth shut on her diatribe. “No offense intended, mistress.”
Annikke gave the Daughter of Freya a wry smile. “None taken.”
“Annikke? Aren?” Vali emerged from an adjoining room, tying a robe closed around his waist. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m happy to see you are much recovered, my lord,” Annikke said.
“Lord Dahleven’s Healer, Helbreden, is quite competent, though after your care his bed-side manner left much to be desired.” Vali made a face. “I had to drink more stirkedrikk before he’d leave me be.” Vali paused and speared Aren with a sharp glance. “But somehow I don’t think you’ve come just to check up on me.”
“No, my lord,” Aren said. “I’m here to beg a boon of you.” He quickly outlined what had happened to Annikke and Benoia since they parted on the castle steps. “Will you give them sanctuary until time for the hearing, my lord?”
“You want to hide them here?” Norva exclaimed. “Lord Vali is a guest of the Jarl. What you ask puts him in a difficult position.”
“Norva, enough.” Vali’s hands fisted at his sides and his mouth was tight. “I’m more than a little surprised that Lord Dahleven ordered them confined to the gaol, but I can’t grant you any favors.”
Aren’s heart stopped. He had no second choice of a safe place to hide the women. He couldn’t endanger his mother and daughter by taking Annikke and Benoia to his own home. It would be the first place both the assassin and the guards would look for them. Aren opened his mouth to protest, to beg if necessary, but Vali lifted a hand for silence in the manner of someone who expected to be obeyed.
“—Not when I and my house are still in your debt. I will gladly shelter the women who saved my life, but I won’t subvert Lord Dahleven’s justice.”
“I’m not asking you to, my lord. I just want the women to arrive at their hearing alive.”
“That I can do,” Vali said.
“Thank you, my lord.” Benoia curtsied.
Vali growled. “None of that.”
Benoia flinched at his angry tone and Annikke put an arm around the younger woman’s shoulders.
“What I mean is, after what you’ve done for me, you needn’t ‘my lord’ me or curtsy or any of that,” Vali said in a gentler voice.
“Thank you, my lord.” Aren bowed, but couldn’t keep his lips from curling into a smile.
Vali glared at him, and then laughed. “I suppose this pup shouldn’t try to teach an old dog a new trick.”
Aren’s smile broadened. “Just so, my lord.” Then he sobered. “There’s one more thing. You can’t tell anyone they’re here.”
“Why not?” Norva demanded. “Surely the Jarl can be trusted.”
“I agree,” Vali said, “but every castle has ears and wagging tongues. I’m sure I can come up with some tale to explain the two lovely but shy women in my suite. But I’ll keep this secret only until the hearing.”
Aren nodded. “Agreed. And as for that explanation, I’ve already led the guard to believe I brought a randy young lord some entertainment. Now it’s time for me to go. I’ll arrange for word to be sent when the women are to appear before Lord Dahleven.”
Vali nodded. “I’ll keep them safe.”
Annikke stopped Aren with a hand on his arm before he got to the door. “Thank you. A thousand times, thank you. You’re an honorable man, and kind. Your daughter’s mother was a fool.”
Annikke’s words, her touch on his arm, lightened Aren’s soul more than they should. He smiled down at her and put his hand over hers. “Thank you.”
Norva cleared her throat, waiting with her hand on the door latch. Annikke blushed and looked away. “I shouldn’t keep you.”
Aren’s attention snapped back to the tasks at hand, and said, “I should go,” at the same time.
They shared an awkward smile and Aren turned to leave.
“Ladies, I have a private bath, if you’d like to avail yourselves of it.” Vali said as Norva let Aren out of the suite.
Benoia squealed, “Yes! Yes!” just as the door closed behind him.
The guard posted at the stair turned at the noise, met Aren’s gaze, and smirked.
*
Annikke followed Norva down a short passage. The smaller woman opened a door and steam billowed out. “Take as long as you need. I’ll see what can be done about finding you some clean clothing.”
“An indoor bathing room!” Benoia sighed as she stepped inside.
“Have you eaten?” Norva asked as Annikke turned to go in.
“They fed us,” Benoia said in a tone that communicated her dislike of the fare.
Annikke thought of the meatless, unsalted por
ridge her stomach had been too tense to accept and couldn’t blame the girl for her tone. She shook her head. “No.”
“We’ll have something for you when you’re done.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “In with you.”
An attendant waited for them. She took their grimy clothes from them as they disrobed, touching the garments as little as possible, and directed them to stand on a grate under the sluice that came out of the wall. After rinsing the worst of the road grime from her skin, Annikke stepped into the large tub and perched on one of the benches, sinking into the deliciously hot water up to her collarbones. A constant flow of water streamed into the tub that was large enough for at least six people.
The warmth sank into Annikke’s bones, melting away the knots in her muscles. She leaned back against the polished stone and closed her eyes. They couldn’t know what they might face tomorrow, but for the moment, she felt glorious.
Benoia sighed beside her. “I never want to leave.”
A haze of relaxation pushed the worry from Annikke’s mind as she half floated in the steaming water. She could almost pretend that she had no worries and the future was bright.
The attendant spoke, “Ma’am?” and reality abruptly returned. The woman was holding out a back brush and a pot of soap.
Several minutes later, Annikke and Benoia had scrubbed and rinsed, then dried themselves with towels as soft as any Annikke had enjoyed during her time with the Elves. She’d heard that the Jarl had made an alliance with the Fey, but by the time news reached a small village like hers, rumor could turn black to white. As Annikke wrapped the fluffy fabric around her she thought the rumor might be true.
Such an agreement wouldn’t influence the Jarl’s decision regarding Benoia. Men of power based their choices on what increased their influence over other men of power. But if Lord Dahleven was open to negotiating with the Elves, he might not hold Annikke’s being Fey-marked against her foster-daughter.
Or so Annikke hoped.
Chapter Twenty-One
Instead of returning home, Aren woke the Commander of the Guard. It would only be a matter of time before Hahlf summoned him. Once the men guarding the gaol awoke from their Talent induced daze they’d report the missing prisoners. If they couldn’t remember what happened, a Talent that could read the recent history of a place would be called for. Aren’s presence would be noted. He might as well be the first to tell the tale.
DEBTS (Vinlanders' Saga Book 3) Page 14
