Harbinger

by Shae Ford

  “Why does the mason carry a chisel, or the bard his lute? These are the tools of my trade, whisperer.”

  While he was still in the process of being shocked, Geist stuck the mustache under his nose. The paste was cold and dried quickly to his upper lip. “How did you know I was a —?”

  “It’s my business to know,” Geist replied, as if it was easily the most boring business in the Kingdom. “Let’s set all the questions aside for now and try to focus our limited attention on the task at hand, shall we? Splendid. Am I right to assume that you’ve never taken a character before?”

  “What?”

  “Hmm, I thought so.” Geist sat up straight: a movement that seemed almost as laborious as it was bothersome. “The manager you’ll be impersonating is a man called Colderoy. He’s very fat, and most people find him annoying.”

  Kael wasn’t exactly sure what he should say in the long space Geist left him to respond. “All right … so, how do I do this?”

  “Every character has his prop — the feature or mannerism he abuses to no end. Colderoy’s,” he traced his upper lip with thumb and forefinger, “is his mustache. In fact, ninety percent of his personality is in what grows under his nose.”

  Kael suddenly felt unsure. “Isn’t there someone easier I could impersonate? Someone less of a character?”

  Geist shook his head. “I can hide your face and your body, but I can do nothing to hide your eyes. Though he married a seas woman, Colderoy is originally from the forest. He is the only one of the Duke’s managers whose eyes are brown.”

  Kael scratched at his nose, where the little hairs of his mustache were starting to tickle. “But what about Aerilyn?”

  “What about her? Colderoy’s daughter is just now of age: this was to be her first official ball. No one will know if she is the real Margaret or not — she’s a stranger either way. Now, Colderoy has a very particular way of speaking. He thrusts his words out through his mustache. Observe.” Geist closed his eyes and cleared his throat. “Good ephening.”

  He sounded like a completely different person. His words were obnoxiously drawn-out: inhaled through his mouth and breathed half out his nose.

  Kael spent a whole hour just trying to master the voice. Geist would ask questions that he thought the Duke might ask, and he would have to answer as Colderoy. He struggled to remember everything Geist told him about the tax collecting business — Colderoy’s particular area of expertise — all while trying to mimic the gestures Geist showed him.

  “Bounce your belly when you walk,” Geist said. He stood and took a step forward with his stomach stuck out. “See how my shoulders are sloped down, how my neck juts out like a condescending vulture? That’s how Colderoy walks. Give it a try.”

  Kael’s attempt didn’t seem to particularly impress him.

  “I suspect it’ll look better when you’ve actually got a belly. Things to remember when pretending to be Colderoy,” Geist listed them off with his fingers, “chew with your mouth open, talk with your mouth full, and get as many crumbs lodged in your mustache as possible. Crumbs are useful projectiles — should anyone begin to ask questions, spraying them with bits of pastry usually scares them off. In fact, when you aren’t dancing, you should be eating —”

  “Dancing?” Kael said, slightly alarmed.

  Geist frowned. “Yes, you’ll have to dance. It’s tradition for a father to dance with his daughter on the night of her first ball. You’ll have to take the first turn with Aerilyn.” When he saw how much blood had gone from Kael’s face, he sighed. “Another rut in the path, is it? Well, I suppose we’ve still got time to teach you.”

  *******

  On their way down to dinner, Geist vanished. Kael had no idea how long he carried on a conversation with the tapestries before he finally noticed the man was gone. Then something equally extraordinary happened shortly after dinner: Thelred emerged.

  “I need the merchant and the whisperer,” he snapped over the top of their chatting.

  Uncle Martin looked up from where he’d been admiring Aerilyn’s latest disastrous work of art — a pair of white-socked kittens with their furry faces melted together — and frowned. “Whatever for?”

  “Geist said I’m to teach them how to dance. Lysander’s already waiting, and the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can get back to my work.”

  “Oh, your old woman can wait,” Uncle Martin said with a laugh. “That’s the beauty of being in love with something that weighs nearly a thousand pounds — it’s not like she’s going anywhere!”

  Thelred glared at him. “You’ve only got an hour of my time. So if you want to learn, I suggest you get off your rumps and follow me.”

  “To the ballroom!” Uncle Martin declared.

  “Dancing, eh? Good thing I just happen to have my fiddle,” Jonathan said with a wink. And he pulled the instrument out from under his napkin.

  Thelred swore loudly.

  *******

  The ballroom was nearly as big as the library, but it was completely empty. Uncle Martin had to drag in a chair from another part of the house in order to have a place to critique them from. “Tickle her for me, will you?” he called as Thelred took his place.

  The mystery girl turned out to be an enormous piano. Kael had only ever read about them, and he knew only the wealthiest nobles could afford to keep them. “Where did you find that?” he asked.

  “Wendelgrimm,” Thelred said from over his shoulder.

  “It’s more bulk than worth, if you want my opinion,” Aerilyn muttered to Kael, rather haughtily. “I do believe it was the most impractical trinket in the entire castle.”

  “What did you choose, then?”

  “This,” she said, waving to her dress. It was powder blue and looked elaborate enough for a queen.

  She fanned out her skirts and twirled, revealing the intricate white lace beneath it. And Kael thought she might have found the one thing more impractical than a piano among the Witch’s treasures.

  A sudden string of noise drew his eyes to the opposite end of the room. For all his stomping and cursing under breath, the second Thelred touched the piano, the whole room filled with music. He played only a few quick notes, but they rang out so sweetly that Kael had to stop to listen.

  Aerilyn ran into him from behind. “I hope this isn’t a sign of your skills,” she said wryly.

  But unfortunately for both of them, it was.

  Lysander spun her around the room a few times, just to show Kael the steps. They moved through a waltz like fish through water, laughing and carrying on as they went. Every now and then, Aerilyn had to jerk Lysander’s hand back up her waist — from where it’d been wandering dangerously close to her rump.

  The dance ended when she slapped him full across the face and stomped away.

  “And that’s how it’s done!” Lysander said. He took a deep bow while Jonathan and Uncle Martin applauded.

  “Horrible rogue,” Aerilyn muttered as Kael got his feet into position. But for all her fussing, he didn’t think she looked particularly upset. “At least I can count on you to be a perfect gentleman.”

  Gentleman he was, but dancer he most certainly was not. The whole idea of prancing around to music was ridiculous to him. He didn’t understand how anyone could enjoy looking so completely foolish. He tried to make the steps as quick and un-flourished as possible — which didn’t turn out well.

  “Ow!” Aerilyn hopped away from him as the music ground to a halt. “Kael, that’s the twelfth time this dance!”

  “I’m sorry —”

  “I don’t know if my toes can take it any longer. At this rate, you’ll have me peg legged before sunrise!”

  “Can you not just step to the beat, man?” Thelred grumped, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. “Or are mountain children born idiots?”

  “There’s no call for that,” Uncle Martin said before Kael could retort. “I, for one, would like to see him take the lead every now and then. It doesn’t do
to keep a woman at the helm.”

  “Agreed,” Lysander said. “Try holding her tightly, Kael. There should be inches between you, not leagues.”

  He was absolutely not going to do that. “I don’t see why it matters if I’m any good or not. Everyone looks like a fool dancing.”

  “Though some more than others,” Thelred muttered.

  Kael had a very inventive reply at the ready, but at that moment Geist walked through the door. “I was wondering if I might borrow Aerilyn,” he said, and his voice had the snuffing effect of a damp towel on their argument.

  “Yes, you may. We’ll just pick up here tomorrow,” Aerilyn said as she hurried to follow Geist out the door. Kael had every intention of going right behind them when Lysander leapt in his path.

  “Just where do you think you’re headed?”

  “I had a very slim shot at freedom, and I was planning to take it.”

  Lysander spun him around and shoved him back into the room. “No, you aren’t going anywhere. Not until we get this dancing mess sorted out.”

  “But my partner’s just run off, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “We’ll just have to find you a new one.”

  “I don’t want —”

  “Either we find you a new girl, or you’re dancing with Jonathan. It’s entirely your choice.”

  Kael glanced at the fiddler, who made a very pronounced kissing face at him, and decided on the lesser of two tortures. “Fine. Get another girl.”

  Lysander stuck his head into the hallway and glanced around for a likely victim. “Ahoy there, Kyleigh. Would you help me with something?”

  Jonathan and Uncle Martin let out simultaneous Ooooos as she said she would. Kael was so humiliated he thought he was in danger of burning through his clothes.

  When Kyleigh saw him, she raised an eyebrow. “Why do you look as if you’ve just taken an arrow to the rump?”

  This made the others burst out laughing, while Kael burned all the redder.

  “I was hoping you might help us teach him to dance,” Lysander said when he managed to catch his breath.

  Kael was fed up with their teasing, and thought if he stayed another moment he might be forced to put a rather large dent in the side of Jonathan’s head. “This is ridiculous. I’m turning in,” he said, before he could hear Kyleigh’s refusal.

  He tried to leave, but she grabbed him by the arm and held him like a vise. “I’ll be glad to help. Which dance?”

  “Oh, I don’t know …” Lysander’s mouth bent in a mischievous grin, “how about Moonlit Lovers?”

  Kael would have given him an exceptionally rude gesture, had his hand been free: Lysander knew very well how much he hated that dance. But nothing, not even his swears could keep the music from playing. Though he fought with all his might, Kyleigh pulled him into her.

  “I don’t want to do this,” he said, but she ignored him. She laced her fingers in his and stuck his other hand to her waist. Fire rose in his stomach again and he wrestled it back as she began the steps.

  He glared down at her feet to avoid having to look her in the eyes. “You should probably put some shoes on. Aerilyn left because I squashed her toes flat.”

  “You’ll have to do worse than that to get rid of me.” He could hear the smile in her voice, and the flames swelled up. “Why do you look as if you’re in pain?”

  Because I am in pain, he thought. “It’s nothing. Let’s just get through this.”

  “All right.”

  She took a step that caught him off guard, a turn he wasn’t expecting. He had to rush to catch up with her. “That’s not one of the steps.”

  She laughed. “Oh? Says who?”

  “Says everyone! It’s not the way it was written.”

  “We aren’t mixing potions — we’re dancing. I can almost promise that we won’t explode if we add in a few things.”

  “Still, if I’m to learn this, I ought to learn it properly.”

  “I think you’re scared.”

  He met her eyes. “I most certainly am not.”

  “Just try to keep up,” she said, grinning.

  He accepted her challenge. He refused to let her beat him at something so ridiculous. Whatever steps she came up with, he matched. She turned, and he anticipated. She spun, and he was there to catch her. They moved with the music: stepping in, touching, pulling away. Intertwined for some notes, tangled limb for limb. Then separated, yearning, and finally pulled back in.

  He could feel the sweat on his brow and feel his lungs burning for air. The fiddle thrummed the chords of his heart and the piano told him where to put his feet. He sparred with his partner, locked in a desperate battle. He watched the bend of her arms and the arch of her neck, waiting hungrily for the thrill of her next move. And when it came, he was ready.

  Then the music stopped.

  Their bodies locked in the final motion. Feeling came back to his limbs. He was first aware of the hand clenched in his, how their forearms were latched together just as tightly as their fingers. Then he felt his other arm, strong and confident, wrapped around her waist. She clung to the wrist of that arm. In the lingering fervor of the dance, he knew she wasn’t trying to pull him away: it was desperation that sewed her to him. In the throb of her fingertips, she begged him to stay.

  He drew breath, and so did she. They breathed together, every contour of their bodies mashed into one. His breath moved the wisps of hair on the back of her neck, the ones that must’ve pulled free as they spun.

  And then fire.

  He tore himself loose and staggered backwards. Lysander called after him, asked him where he was going, but Kael didn’t stop. He couldn’t explain the ache in his chest. He’d never known a pain like this. There was no salve for this wound, there was no way he could mend it.

  He staggered back to his room and slammed the door. He turned the key so hard that it snapped in the lock. He let the broken half fall to the floor and tried to wrestle his pain away, but he couldn’t. It was too powerful, too relentless. His whole body convulsed with the torment of it. He knew that if he didn’t do something, he would die. So he turned and brought both of his fists down on the top of the dresser — as hard as he could.

  The wood split in half and showered splinters into the top drawer. He sat down hard on the edge of the bed, his hands still shaking from the effort. He’d tried so hard to bury it, to hide it in the deepest, darkest part of his soul. And then that stupid dance …

  Slowly, he calmed. His chest was sore, but the worst of the pain was gone. “Don’t be a fool,” he said to himself between every ragged breath. He glared at the shattered drawer, and his nails dug into his palms as he clenched his fists. “Don’t be a fool.”

  Chapter 35

  Liquid Courage

  The morning before the Duke’s party, Kael’s nerves finally caught up with him. He was so worried over his plan, so lost in scenarios that he could hardly stay in the present for more than a few moments at a time.

  “I said to raise your glass, lad!”

  Uncle Martin’s bark startled him back into the dining room. He muttered an apology and grabbed the small crystal glass in front of him. It was filled to the brim with a dangerous-looking green liquid. He wasn’t sure, but he thought it might actually be smoking.

  “Gravy grog — a pirate’s liquid courage,” Uncle Martin said, grinning around the table. “A swig on the morn of any adventure, and you’re guaranteed not to regret it until you’re too far out to turn back.”

  Jake took an apprehensive whiff of his glass and made a face. “What’s in it?”

  Uncle Martin frowned. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Because it’s a secret?”

  “No — because my great grandfather lost the recipe! Every batch is different: we just sort of add things in the mix as we find them. Now,” he tipped his glass higher, “may the winds be fair, and the maids even fairer. Gravy’s luck go with you!”

  At his lead, they took a deep breath and thre
w their grog back.

  It was at least a thousand times more potent than ale. Kael didn’t let it touch his tongue, but it still torched his throat as it slid down. Then it hit his gut and exploded. He fell on the ground, coughing madly. He tried desperately to keep his lungs from burning up. He blinked through the tears in his eyes and saw that he was not alone: everyone but Kyleigh had collapsed under the table.

  “I’m dying!” Jonathan gasped as he clutched at his throat.

  Jake’s nose and eyes leaked freely, his face was covered in sweat. Aerilyn and had her arms around her gut and groaned as she lay on her side. Thelred and Lysander swore magnificently between coughs.

  “I think this may have been the batch with the serpent venom — the one Matteo and I mixed as a joke,” Uncle Martin wheezed from where he lay spread-eagle under his chair. “I think he’d be pleased to know that the only one of us who can stand it breathes fire half the time!”

  *******

  The grog did its work well. When the burning faded from his lungs, the rest of the afternoon became a distant memory — albeit one that was slightly blurred around the edges. It was only after they were well out to sea that Kael realized what he’d done.

  The fog cleared from his eyes and he started to see the faces around him more clearly. He recognized many of the pirates from his original voyage on Anchorgloam: men who’d been separated from their loved ones for years before. And now they were back at sea, hoisting sails, climbing through the rigging, sharpening their blades — preparing for battle.

  A battle Kael was leading them into. One that, if things went wrong, might cause many of them to never see their families again. Guilt slid between his ribs like a knife.

  “What have I done?”

  “Done? Nothing, yet,” Morris answered him. He’d taken the helm for the trip south. It was only a day’s journey to the Duke’s castle, but in order to avoid being spotted by his fleet, they had to stay close to land. Which made the water a great deal more treacherous.