The Barbed Coil

by J. V. Jones

  Ravis still hadn’t said a word about his contract with Camron, but it was clearly on his mind. Whenever Tessa asked him questions about Rhaize, his answers would trail away into military strategy: the high hill to the west was the perfect position from which to launch an attack on the city, the castle spied on the horizon was one of several fortresses built by occupying Garizon forces centuries earlier and was therefore as much a weakness as it was a strength, and now the very river they walked along was a supply route waiting to be seized.

  “Will Izgard be thinking the same way you are?” Tessa asked, feeling a little more confident about riding as she crested a sharp rise to find a surprisingly manageable slope on the other side. Now if only she could get herself comfortable on this hard, narrow saddle . . .

  “Izgard won’t be thinking of anything else. He’s a Garizon, war is in his blood.”

  “You know him well?”

  “I know Garizon kings well. They live to conquer: it’s how they maintain their position, keep their warlords in line, judge themselves.”

  As her horse seemed to be doing just fine for the moment, Tessa risked glancing at Ravis. He smiled slyly back at her, knowing full well he had dodged her question. Tessa wasn’t about to be put off that easily. “And is Izgard typical of these Garizon kings?”

  “Even before the crown was on his head he planned to take Bay’Zell. So, yes, you could say he was typical.” Ravis tugged on his reins as his horse began snuffling at a tuft of grass. “Then again, it’s been fifty years since Garizon had a king, and you’d find many who’d say that all the old tales are just that. Old tales.”

  “What do you say?”

  “I’d say Rhaize should keep a close watch on its borders.”

  Tessa frowned. Ravis was playing a game with her, a game involving deflecting sensitive questions. “Why has there been no king for fifty years? Who ruled Garizon instead?”

  Ravis raised an eyebrow, yet he answered her question all the same. “After Berick of Thorn defeated the Garizon forces at Mount Creed, the surrounding powers—Rhaize, Drokho, Balgedis, and others—formed an alliance. They sent a massive force into the heart of Garizon, razed Veizach to the ground, and killed the king and his two sons. They issued a formal statement declaring that if anyone attempted to seize the throne, they would reenter the country, torch it city by city, and hack the arms off any man old enough to hold a sword.”

  The sun disappeared behind a bank of clouds, casting the road ahead in dark shadows. Tessa shivered, all games now forgotten. “It seems so brutal.”

  “It was brutal, but no less than Garizon deserved. For centuries Garizon has done nothing but cause wars: invading surrounding territories, plundering towns and villages, annexing land, pushing their borders. Five hundred years ago Garizon was a small duchy in the east, with poorly drained soil and no major waterway to call its own. Yet once its men took to war there was no stopping them. In the height of its glory, Garizon ran from Maribane in the north to the river Medi in the south. Garizon kings fought bloody, ruthless wars, and as long as the battle was won, they didn’t care how many men—either their enemies or their own—wound up slain in the mud at the end.

  “Look at Mount Creed—Berick’s forces had to slay the entire Garizon army before the king would admit defeat. Any other leader would have pulled back, surrendered, cut his losses. Not a Garizon king. Garizon kings are like rabid dogs. There’s no holding them back.”

  As Ravis was speaking, Tessa felt herself growing colder and colder. She felt small and insubstantial, out of her depth. This world she found herself in was so much more savage than the one she had left. Events moved with dangerous speed, people were more emotional, more threatening, more real. It was as if life had been boiled down, distilled, to a concentrated extract. Even the land itself seemed somehow richer. So many vivid shades of green and yellow, so many tones and halftones in between. Her own world seemed far away: a dreamscape complete with mist and muted colors. A watercolor next to an oil painting.

  Tessa patted her horse’s neck. Its warmth was familiar, comforting, yet it didn’t halt the sensation that her past was fading away. Unsettled, she concentrated on the last thing Ravis said. “If Garizon kings are as bad as you say, why have Rhaize and the others allowed Izgard to take power?”

  “Fifty years is a long time. People forget.”

  A pulse began to beat in Tessa’s forehead. Ravis made the words sound flat and final, like a judge reading a sentence. People did forget. It was a simple truth. Here she was, sitting on a narrow saddle in a strange land, her whole life left behind her, yet already things that only two days ago had meant everything to her no longer seemed so important. She hadn’t once wondered what the people at work would think when she didn’t turn up on Monday morning or what her landlady would do when the rent wasn’t paid. Bills, commitments, people, and relationships: they were all slipping away.

  Tessa felt for the reassuring weight of the ring around her neck. The barbs didn’t bite this time, but she almost wished they did.

  Deveric’s house was guarded by trees. It came into view when they rounded a bend in the road: a large, two-story building with a blue slate roof, stone walls, and narrow slits for windows. A line of blackbirds perching on the lintel above the door watched as Tessa and Ravis guided their horses through the trees.

  In the cleared area at the front of the building, a small fair-haired man was loading a cart. Odd chairs, chests, tables, rolled-up carpets, and linens sat on the ground, ready to be loaded.

  Ravis dismounted his horse, beckoning Tessa to do likewise. Just before he held out a hand to help her down, his fingers flicked to his waist. To his knife. Tessa pretended not to notice, but she couldn’t stop her heart from beating fast.

  As they led the horses through the last of the trees, a second man came out of the house. Folding his arms, he leaned against the door frame and waited for Ravis and Tessa to approach. Sandy haired and broad chinned, he sucked in air through his mouth, causing his cheeks to hollow, before exhaling in a series of short puffs. When Ravis and Tessa reached the cleared ground, he spoke out:

  “If you’re here for the auction, you’re a day early. Come back tomorrow at first light.”

  “We’re not here for the auction,” Ravis said. “We’ve come to speak to Deveric’s assistant.”

  The small man began loading the pile of linens onto the cart.

  “What business do you have with Emith?” The man on the step looked Ravis up and down. He barely glanced at Tessa.

  “Private business.”

  “Private, eh?”

  “You heard. Now are you going to tell me if he’s here”—the gracious tone Ravis had used to begin with abruptly slid away—“or will I have to find out for myself?”

  As Ravis was speaking, the man on the step poked through the remaining linens with the toe of his boot. Finding something not to his liking, he bent over and snatched it from the pile. “This is Emith,” he said, motioning toward the small man loading the cart. “Anything you have to say to him can be said right here. Out in the open.”

  The small man did not look up. He kept on loading his cart. Tessa noticed his hands were shaking.

  Ravis’ tooth caught at the rough skin on his scar. “What I have to say to Emith is no concern of yours.” His gaze dropped to the sheet wrapped in the man’s hands. “Why don’t you run back in the house, make your bed, and lie in it?”

  The man’s face hardened. He kicked the side of the cart, sending pots and pans scuttering to the ground. “Go on! Get off my property! Now! All of you.” Wiping the spittle from his lip, he turned to the man called Emith. “And you’d better keep your mouth shut. If I find out you’ve been blabbing around Bay’Zell about the will, then I’ll come round to your mother’s house and slice some silence from your tongue.” He kicked the cart once more for good measure. “Now bugger off!”

  Emith picked up the handle of his cart and tugged it into motion. In his haste he pulled too quickly
and the contents shifted to one side, causing the cart to tip over. Wood cracked. A roll of carpet hit the ground like a felled tree.

  Ravis shot forward. For a brief moment Tessa thought he was going to strike the man on the step—his eyes were dark and the tendons in his wrists were taut like wire—but he came to a halt by the cart and began pushing it back on its wheels.

  An unmistakable look of relief rolled across the face of the man on the step. When he noticed Tessa was looking at him, he tensed, pumping up his chest and balling his hands into fists. “Get going! The lot of you! And don’t come back.”

  “Come on,” Ravis said to Emith as the cart juddered back onto two wheels. “Let’s see if we can hitch this beauty to my horse.”

  As Emith drew closer, Tessa saw that he was older than she’d first thought. He was dressed neatly in a surcoat and tunic, but closer inspection revealed small patches and carefully darned threads. Avoiding Tessa’s gaze as Ravis rigged the cart to the horse, he stared down at his hands, his feet, the ground.

  The man on the step watched the proceedings. The sheet he had taken from Emith’s pile now lay discarded in the dirt.

  When the makeshift harness was in place, Ravis handed Tessa the reins and told her to walk on ahead. “I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes.”

  Tessa glanced at the man on the step. “What are you going to do?” she whispered.

  Ravis shrugged. “I haven’t made my mind up yet.”

  He was lying. His mind was already made up. Tessa could tell by the way he gnawed at his scar: he was going to hurt the man on the step. She couldn’t understand why he was so angry. The man was just a small-time bully, that was all. Like everything else that had happened in the past two days, it made no sense.

  “Go,” Ravis hissed, smacking his gelding into action.

  Tessa turned the horses while Emith kept a hand to the cart to stop it from overturning. They made their way through the trees in silence. The grass underfoot was soft and damp, and gauzy long-limbed insects flew up as they passed.

  Tessa didn’t look back. She knew Ravis well enough by now to guess that he wouldn’t make a move until they were out of sight. To take her mind off what Ravis was about to do and why, she searched for something to say to Emith. Glancing over the contents of the cart, she said, “Are you going into the city?”

  Hearing her words, Emith sprang into life. “I’m so sorry about Master Rance, miss. So sorry. Since his father died he just hasn’t been himself.” The man’s voice was gentle, almost puzzled. “He’s taking it very hard. Very hard indeed.”

  “And how about you? How are you taking it?”

  “Me, miss?” Emith looked genuinely surprised that anyone had thought to ask how he felt. “I’ve been busy. Very busy. So many things to be tidied and put in their place, so many things to be sorted out. Master Deveric always said, ‘Emith, you’re here to keep things in order, that’s your job.’ ”

  Tessa smiled. “So now that everything is in order, you can leave?”

  “Yes, miss. Master Deveric’s equipment is stowed safely away. All his brushes and mixing bowls are clean—just the way he liked them.” Emith smiled at Tessa. A sad, sweet smile.

  Reaching the road, they were forced to slow down as a series of potholes on the surface caused the cart to lurch from side to side. For the first time all day, Tessa felt cold. It would be dark soon. Tall trees cast shadows on the path, and the moon, which had been a pale thumbprint in the sky for several hours, sharpened to a thin slice of bone.

  “Here, miss.” Emith tapped her arm. Tessa spun round to see the small man holding out a woolen blanket. “You look a little cold. You should wrap yourself up before you catch a chill.”

  Tessa took the blanket from him, suddenly feeling very sad. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken so softly and with such kindness to her. Longer than the past two days. “Thank you,” she said, drawing the blanket around her shoulders like a shawl. “I didn’t realize it would get so cold.”

  “You have to be careful, miss. Mother always says that unless it’s high summer, you should never leave the house without your cloak.”

  Tessa smiled. Emith’s mother must be very old. Indicating the mattress in the cart, she said, “Are you going to stay with your mother now?”

  Emith nodded vigorously. “Yes, miss. Mother lives in the city. The gout’s been troubling her for months now, so she’ll be glad to have me home.”

  Glad to have me home. Something light, like a spider’s web or an insect wing, brushed against Tessa’s cheek. The ring was heavy around her neck. What would her own mother be thinking now? Would she even know her daughter was missing? Would the police visit the Arizona condo? “We found your daughter’s Honda Civic abandoned in the Cleveland National Forest. We know she stumbled across the missing security deposit boxes from the La Havra Bank robbery, but at this time we can’t be sure of her movements after that.”

  Tessa brought her hands to her mouth. Her parents would be worried sick about her.

  “Miss, miss . . .” Emith touched her arm for the briefest moment. “Are you all right? You look a little pale. Here. Let’s stop for a few minutes and rest.”

  “No.” Tessa shook her head. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about . . . my family.” Ashamed that she hadn’t been thinking about her family.

  Footsteps sounded in the dirt behind them. A twig snapped, and then Ravis emerged from the shadows of the trees. Tessa was surprised at how relieved she felt to see him.

  He smiled. “If you two keep up this rate, you’ll be lucky to get to the city by midnight.”

  As Ravis drew closer, Tessa searched his face for signs of what had happened back at the house. He looked calm, relaxed. A few strands of hair had worked their way loose from their binding, but apart from that he looked completely composed.

  “Sir—” Emith began to speak, but Ravis cut him short.

  “Don’t worry, my friend, I did nothing to young Master Rance that a few days’ lying on his stomach won’t cure.”

  “He’s just upset over his father’s death, sir. That’s all. He meant no harm.”

  Ravis began rearranging the items on the cart, laying all the heavy things on the bottom. “Emith, you are a considerate man, but I think we both know the real reason why Rance and his brother are so upset.”

  “But, sir, Master Rance has had a bad few days. He hasn’t slept—”

  “I bet he hasn’t. He’s so worried that someone’s going to come along and take what he considers to be rightfully his that it wouldn’t surprise me if he hadn’t once closed his eyes to blink.” Finished with the cart, Ravis kicked the wheels. “I suppose he didn’t take kindly to Deveric leaving so many of his illuminations to you?”

  “He may have got a little angry at first, sir, but that was only to be expected.” Emith bowed his head. “It’s the will, you see. It’s very confusing. Master Deveric was so generous. He wanted to make sure that everyone got something, and Master Rance and Master Boice are just a little bit disappointed, that’s all.”

  “Yes, that’s why they are selling off the contents of the house tomorrow at dawn. They don’t want to risk any further disappointment.”

  Tessa kicked Ravis’ shin. Judging from what he was saying to Emith, it sounded as if Deveric’s two sons were repressing the will and selling everything off before anyone could object. Even if that was the case, there was little point in upsetting Emith over it. The man was obviously trying very hard to think the best of his master’s two sons.

  Before Ravis had a chance to retaliate, Tessa said, “Emith, we came here to ask you about Deveric’s work. His illuminations. Ravis saw them last night and said they were very beautiful.”

  “Marcel of Vailing showed them to me,” Ravis added. “He thinks they may be worth a lot of money.”

  Emith shook his head. “That’s not why Master Deveric left them to me, sir. Not at all. I would never sell them. Ever.”

  “Why not?” Ravis took the reins
of his horse from Tessa, and their little party began to move again. “You could have a very comfortable life if you sold them.”

  “Master Deveric said I was to keep them until they were needed.”

  An owl called from the woods beyond the road. Tessa pulled the blanket close around her shoulders. The light was failing fast, and thin gusts of air hurried along her arms and down her neck.

  “Needed for what?” Ravis asked.

  “For whoever comes next.” Emith held the side of the cart steady as the wheels rolled over a bad patch of road. “Master Deveric always said that someone would come after him, someone who could paint illuminations like him. Carry on his work.”

  Tessa’s hand stole up to the ring. It was warm, as if it had been touched only seconds earlier. “And Deveric wanted you to keep all his illuminations to show whoever comes next?”

  “No, miss. Not all of them. Master only gave me one set to keep.” Emith’s voice was soft, but he spoke each word carefully, as if he were anxious not to make any mistakes. “He left me the set he started work on twenty-one years ago. Not his most beautiful work, he left that for his wife, but his most . . .”

  “Complex,” Ravis said.

  “Yes, sir. His most complex.”

  Ravis and Tessa exchanged glances.

  Emith continued speaking. “Master Deveric would go years without working on one, and then one day out of the blue he’d say to me, ‘Emith, I think you should run along and bring me the old set. Now feels like the good time to add another page.’ ”

  Tessa shivered. “Deveric was working on a new page for the set when he died?”

  “Yes, miss.” As Emith spoke, his hands worked on Tessa’s blanket, adjusting it so that all the gaps around her neck and shoulders were covered. “He started working on the page about five days ago: laying down the guidelines, hardpointing. He filled in one or two knots the day he started, and after that he worked on it for an hour or two each day. Then, the night before he died, he woke me up in the dark hours past midnight. ‘Emith,’ he said, ‘mix up my pigments and soften my brushes, I have a sudden urge to go to work.’ ”