by Connie Ward
I covered him with every available blanket and sat with him sort of sprawled in my lap, his head on my chest. We both faced the dogs. I bade him sleep with the promise I would stay awake just in case the Shouda got ideas or if any more appeared. Either he believed me or he simply couldn't fight it. He slept.
Wide awake for all of five minutes, I then had to struggle to keep my eyes open. There is not a surer cure for insomnia than trying to stay awake. Snoring again, Ragsey slept in the crotch of the tree. Needless to say, it was a long night for me. I amused myself by attempting to recall the command to get rid of the Shouda. I tried every syllable I could think of meaning retreat or disperse, including a few desperate scadaddles and get losts. All I got in response was a couple of sublime yawns.
One of the Shouda, perhaps reasoning I attempted to communicate, came over to curl up beside me. I scratched its ears and combed my fingers through its shaggy coat, listening to the thump-thump of its tail. I presumed Ginger to be in a deep sleep, for the proximity of the dog did not disturb him. As for myself, I wasn't afraid of the Shouda. I had grown up with generations of them at my feet, and for a lonely young girl who'd had no friends, they had been my sole companions. Except Valleri.
Val. How I missed him. Memories of him filled my head with warm and pleasant thoughts. They made me drowsy. Unintentionally, I drifted into slumber, forgetting who and where I was.
A nightmare visited. I dreamt of racing through a forest atop my white charger, hunted by terrible men who, when they caught me, made me scream in pain and fury. I dreamt of rescue by a man from my childhood and exile in a sundered castle. There was another man, an archmage made insane by pain and grief, beautiful and mysterious, but tainted with a hatred so violent it turned my blood to ice. Shoving away the horror, I fought to wake up.
Dully, I stirred to feel a weight in my arms that I hoped was Valleri. Alas, it was too much to wish that it had all been a dream. I opened my eyes to see it was Ginger I held. Sorrow overwhelmed me. Clutching him fast, I rocked his poor hurt body in time with my own, and wept hot, silent tears of anguish.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When morning came I was on the verge of collapse. Ginger roused and immediately spotted the Shouda curled all around me with snuffling canine snores. Although he did not speak I sensed his contempt for the beasts.
"How do you feel?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
His speech was very precise, very controlled. “I'll feel better once we get out of here.” He got stiffly to his feet and threw a stick at Ragsey. The man awoke with a start and nearly toppled from the tree. “Get down. We're leaving."
"Are you able to ride?"
I was treated to the mage's surliest glare. “I've ridden days with injuries far worse than this."
I worried that his injury may jeopardize our mission. Like many Umagi, Ginger relied heavily upon hand gestures to employ his magic. Now, one of those tools was impaired if not useless. “Maybe we ought to turn back."
"Don't patronize me,” he snapped. “I'm not incapacitated, merely inconvenienced. We'll continue on as planned and finish the job."
Who am I to argue?
It took some coaxing and pleading, but we finally convinced Ragsey to come down from the tree. I tossed the Shouda scraps from my rations, hoping to whet their appetites and thus encourage them to go hunt for their breakfast. The dogs had been taught to forage and fend for themselves in the wilderness, so did not need to rely on people for food. They did not seem hungry but politely ate my vittles, probably having feasted on a kill the previous night. Despite all my efforts I could not get rid of them.
Naturally, when we tried to ride forth they followed. I cursed. I shouted. I stamped my feet. My tantrum had no effect. The Shouda were determined to lope along behind us.
They would not follow long. Each pack of Shouda had its own territory, its boundaries clearly defined by the men who had trained and released them. Once we reached the edge of their domain they would not cross it.
Come the thousandth time I glanced back, I saw they had stopped on a hillside. One hound howled forlornly, as if deserted. Another barked and ran off the way they'd come. His fellows followed, yipping and cavorting like pups in play. Both Ginger's mood and Ragsey's improved drastically once the Shouda had gone.
The men ate a cold breakfast on horseback. I refrained, having had nothing better to do all night except nibble. But I was so tired I just couldn't keep my eyes open. The gentle sway of my mare and the countryside's solitude, together with the sunshine, soothed me like a lullaby. I dozed off and on, struggling to stay in the saddle.
Fearing I might tumble off, Ragsey rode near. More than once he saved me from a headlong dive by a timely snatch of my coat. He voiced a complaint to Ginger.
The mage dropped back beside me. “Want to hitch a ride?"
"I can manage."
"Maybe. But if you fall off and hit your head you could sleep forever. Climb aboard.” He reached over with his good arm and dragged me behind him onto his mount.
I caught Ragsey's disapproving frown. I would not be surprised if he considered the mage a rival for my attention. Ginger I don't think noticed. Safe and settled, I leaned my head against a bony shoulder. I slept like a baby in her mother's arms.
The remainder of our journey passed without incident. We arrived in Edenwood at sunset of the next day. We took a room on the west side at an inn dubbed the Dragon's Lair. The only troops we saw belonged to Fleurry, stationed near the market square as Sestus had promised.
We enjoyed a hot meal that night in the tavern's common room. A real feast for us weary travellers, consisting of leek soup and roasted mutton. I'd tucked up the remnants of my once flowing red mane under Ragsey's battered cap and tried to pass myself off as androgynous. No one paid any attention. It did not take long for the inn to fill up with travellers come to celebrate the Festival of Ofaedea.
Since the incident with the Shouda I now commanded a great deal more respect from my companions, especially where Ginger was concerned. A new entity existed between us, one he placed great value in: trust. But it was hardly more than a delicate thread. I would have to be careful if I wanted to keep it intact and eventually strengthen it by some pretence of friendship.
On our first night in Edenwood the boys gallantly offered me the room's single bed. Ragsey bunked down on the floor beside it, and Ginger sprawled in a chair. I don't know what the innkeeper thought of our arrangement, but no one questioned us.
Ginger left early the next morning to scout Fleurry's makeshift barracks. After a breakfast of cold ham and hard boiled eggs, Ragsey and I retreated to our room to play a game he'd taught me, requiring dice and wooden chips. By the time the mage returned, I had accumulated all of Ragsey's chips and a fair chunk of his ego to boot.
Ginger informed us of his findings. “It's a big, square, one level place. Catwalks and platforms span the area above, accessed by a single flight of stairs. From up there we can look down and see everything below. It suits our purpose perfectly."
"Which is?” I ventured.
He shrugged. “Just a little nocturnal recon in and around Fleurry's headquarters."
"Aren't you forgetting the little matter of his soldiers? Fleurry's not known to set a lax camp."
"He's got them all tied up and spread pretty thin at the moment. In exchange for use of the warehouse, the captain made an agreement with the magistrate to keep order in the streets tonight. It's too much for the local guard. Trust me. We'll have no problem."
The mage went downstairs to get something to eat. Ragsey tagged along. Left to my own devices I repaired the hem of my cloak. I figured if I could stitch Ginger's flesh, I could do that. As I toiled the not so distant roar of the fair just down the road kept me company. When I was done, I inspected my handiwork with a self-satisfied grin, thinking how proud Valleri would be of me. I had even learned to cook a little.
My attention next became drawn to the hubbub beyond my window. Pushing open the shudder, I looked
out upon the inn's courtyard. A pleasant place, it was neatly cobbled and landscaped with flowering shrubs and trees. There was even a quaint wrought iron bench.
The jubilant voices of fair-goers and the excited shrieks of children drifted on the air, along with the delectable smells of freshly baked pies and pastries. I imagined spitted pigs roasting over fires and brightly coloured pennants waving in the breeze, in addition to all the carnival games and buffoonery associated with the fair.
I longed to be able to go down to the square and join in the excitement. Although I'd been freed of the confines of the castle, it seemed ironic that such an opportunity still lay beyond my reach. I could not parade about town in broad daylight like a tourist. Edenwood teemed with Royalists, any one of whom might recognize the former Gryphon Highlord.
"Would you like to go down there?"
Lost in my daydream I had not heard anyone enter the room. Startled, I turned from the window to see Ginger stood behind me.
He meant the courtyard. The mage had already expressed his concern to me about strolling the streets. He feared I might blunder into a soldier who could finger me as Castle Gryphon's librarian, and thus apprehend me as a possible traitor.
"Where's Ragsey?"
"He's gone to the market to fetch supplies for the return journey. We may have to depart Edenwood in a hurry."
Ah-ha. So the mage had not been blind to Ragsey's jealousy. He wanted some time to converse privately. Whatever he had to say, I could listen to it just as well outside in the sunshine.
The courtyard sat empty since everyone, except the innkeep and us, attended the fair. Leaving room for Ginger, I settled on one end of the bench, but he remained standing. Pretending to admire the scenery, I tried not to appear as uncomfortable as I felt. What did he want to say? Why did he want me alone? Did he know something he shouldn't? Had he sensed some tendril of my Teki powers stirring?
"I want to commend you on your actions of the other night. You kept your head and took control. You displayed uncompromising valour, and that's a rare trait in most people."
I tried to appear pleased by his compliment, and accepted his praise with feigned modesty, playing my role of follower instead of supreme commander. Some things one cannot hide, especially when confronted with a crisis. My battle training and field experience had conditioned me to take charge of difficult situations. I hoped it was not obvious to Ginger I had reacted more like the Gryphon Highlord than a mild-mannered librarian.
"I owe you my life."
That admission astonished me almost beyond speech. Shaking my head, I stammered, “No ... no, you owe me nothing.” The mage struck me as a man unaccustomed to owing debts. I did not want him to perceive me as some sort of threat to his masculine pride.
"The Shouda would have killed me if not for your intervention, and only the Fates Themselves know what may have happened if you had not so swiftly tended to my wounds."
"I would have done the same for Sestus or Ragsey or anyone else. Was it any more than you might have done for me if our roles were reversed?"
Ginger did not bother to respond to that. Just as well. I may not have liked the answer. “Don't argue with me, Ruvie. Just be gracious and accept my thanks."
He smiled then. Not the shy half-smile I'd seen before, nor the sinister grin I'd seen more often, but something in between, suggestive of respect and camaraderie. It was also the first time he'd called me by my name instead of the derogatory moniker ‘precious'.
At my nod he fell silent, satisfied. But I sensed there was more he wished to say.
"The kindness you've shown Belvemar is admirable,” he continued. “I want you to know it's appreciated. He's a good man and a fine soldier. He doesn't deserve the ending he has been dealt. He responds better to you than he does to Biddy or me. I truly believe if not for you, he'd be dead."
"It's the least I can do. After all, if not for Sestus's kindness, I, too, would be dead."
"Sestus is like you. Kind. Compassionate. Those sentiments deserted me long ago when Nelia—” He broke off suddenly, as if having said more than he'd wanted.
"Nelia?” I prompted.
"A friend. She didn't deserve her ending either."
Although I did not press, I must have looked guilty for Ginger said, “Sestus told you.” Not a question, but a statement of fact.
He slid wearily onto the bench beside me. “There were so many times I should have died. But always someone intervened, sometimes at great risk to themselves, even to the point of sacrificing their own life."
He flinched then, as if pricked by a needle of pain, and I knew he was angry. “I don't understand,” he went on. “I never expected it of them. It makes me wonder why I am so special while others like Belvemar and Nelia, who are far worthier of life than I am, are permitted to suffer or die. What grand purpose do the Fates hold in store for me that I should be spared, sometimes by a stroke of luck?"
Guilt consumed the man. Perhaps that is why he is so angry, so close on the verge of madness. “You know what your purpose is: to destroy the oppressor and free the oppressed."
"And then what? Once Bertrand is dead my life will be over."
"Maybe it is your destiny to rebuild Thylana and to help establish a new era of peace. Your association with the Crusaders may be only the beginning."
"There's not much hope of that now the Princess Kathedra is dead. Without her temperance, Castle Gryphon will be free to mass its Royals and launch a major assault, which we will be unable to repel any time soon unless we find some way to turn the cards in our favour."
"Your optimism is overwhelming."
"It's hard to be optimistic when you've seen as much senseless death as I have. My greatest fear is I'll never avenge Nelia. I wanted to take Kathedra away from Bertrand, the one thing whose absence might touch the bastard and make him hurt, just as he took Nelia from me. But he robbed me even of that small pleasure."
His venom for Kathedra should have frightened me, but her alter ego, Ruvie, could not repress a twinge of sympathy. Ginger sat so close, so steeped in despair, the temptation to comfort him was great. Resting my hand on his, I said, “You can't let your vengeance rule you. You can't let your hatred get in the way of your objective. If you do, it will only obstruct your judgment, and ultimately, destroy you."
I spoke from experience. I had as much reason to hate, to avenge, as Ginger. But somehow I had not been left as demoralized as the mage. I'd risen above my fury and grief, freeing myself to concentrate on my future. But Ginger's single-minded obsession had left him no future.
"I don't think Nelia would want to see you in such pain."
His fingers tightened around mine. “I really loved her. But ... I never told her. I couldn't."
"She knew, I'm sure."
"You have no reason to want to comfort me.” His grey eyes, suddenly warm and soft, tilted towards me. “You are much like Nelia. She had your compassion and tenderness. And like you, she was made of the strongest steel."
Then to my surprise, he leaned forward and kissed me. It was a sweet, chaste kiss, gentle and innocent, like one exchanged between friends. But I sensed something deeper, spawned of long-unsated hunger, straining to break past the anger and fear that chained it.
Strange how things can change almost overnight. Only days before we couldn't bear to be in the same room together. Mutual mistrust and disdain had dissolved with a single kiss. I had known since that meeting in the crypt that Ginger is not as repugnant to me as I'd wish. And that is not necessarily a good thing.
Our fingers were still entwined, our eyes locked together, our lips separated by the space of a breath, when Ragsey entered the courtyard. His intrusion was not subtle. He did not pretend he hadn't seen anything.
Ginger withdrew and got to his feet. Although he said nothing, I felt his disappointment as keenly as I felt my own. Neither of us owed Ragsey an explanation. Nevertheless, we could not help but feel we'd been found doing something obscene. I stared hard at my hands, clas
ped in my lap, and tried not to blush.
"The innkeeper told me I would find you both here,” Ragsey said in an accusatory tone.
"What is it?” Ginger asked, a barely audible murmur.
"I thought you should know there's a Royalist patrol out on the street."
Ginger nodded. “You're right. We should get inside, stay out of sight."
I agreed. As I rose from the bench to follow the mage back inside, Ragsey approached, a broad grin on his boyish features. “What do you say, Ruvie? Are you up for another game of Hares and Hounds?"
"Sure. We've got time, I guess. Should we ask Ginger to join us?"
"Nah. Ginger doesn't play games."
Oh, yeah? That's what you think. I fought to control a know-it-all smirk. His games just have higher stakes.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
We left the Dragon's Lair at dark while the celebration was at its peak, and forced our way through the boisterous crowd. The streets were clogged with revellers, the public squares and inns unable to contain the flow. The town had quadrupled in size, the local peasants having flocked inside to attend the festivities.
It took some time and a lot of patience but we managed to push ourselves through the throng into the market square. Torches had been lit and the area was packed with people drinking, dancing, and singing. Ragsey got a kink in his neck trying to ogle all the pretty girls.
The warehouse stood isolated at the end of a lane leading from the square, only a few torches pushing back the gloom where sentries kept watch. Slipping from the crowd, we ducked into the deeper shadows. Ginger indicated a back entrance too conspicuous not to be locked. Ragsey muttered something.
Ginger replied, “I removed the locks earlier and replaced them with a spell that will make the door seem secure to the guards. We'll have no trouble getting inside."
We waited for the sentries to complete their circuit, then headed for the door under a charm of misdirection. Going by feel, we climbed the rickety staircase to the very top. We were so close to the rafters that we could not straighten fully, to my back's constant complaint. The view of overhead walkways and platforms made my head swim. In days gone by, when the building had stored precious merchandise, guards could oversee the entire shipment from this superb vantage.
