Garrett let out a slow breath and looked around the sodden camp, if a trodden-down patch of ferns among the pine trees could be called a camp. “Can somebody help me set up the tent?” he asked as he trudged through the grasping underbrush toward the spot where Haven had picketed the horses.
“Uh, Garrett... I wasn’t exactly able to find your gear,” Haven called out.
“Huh?” Garrett said, turning back to look at her as she stood up, spreading her hands wide.
“We had time to grab the horses, but the Astorrans had already carried the saddlebags off somewhere else,” she said, “I found your sword, and Sir Baelan’s, in the armory outside the dungeon where they were holding him, but I didn’t have time to look for the rest of your stuff.”
“Oh,” Garrett said, his eyes falling in disappointment. “What are we gonna do about them?” he asked, lifting his hand toward the ensorcelled Astorrans sitting atop the fallen log, “We can’t just leave ‘em out in the rain.”
“Why not?” Haven asked.
“They’ll catch a cold or something!” Garrett replied.
“It’s summertime, Garrett,” she said, “They’ll be fine.”
“No!” Garrett insisted, “It doesn’t have to be that cold to make you really sick when you get wet. Uncle Tinjin always told me, you have to stay dry, or else the cold seeps in... even a little bit of cold can kill you!”
“I still have no idea how you humans won the war!” Haven scoffed, “I mean you people fall over dead if a housefly lands on you too hard!”
“I need your help!” Garrett said.
“We’re not building a fire!” Haven said, shaking her head.
“It doesn’t have to be a fire, just something to warm ‘em up and keep ‘em from getting any wetter!” Garrett said.
“What, you want me to snuggle up between ‘em and keep ‘em warm or something?” she demanded.
“Well...” Garrett sighed, lifting his hands.
Haven looked toward the soaking pair of enchanted Astorrans and shook her head emphatically. “No!” she fumed.
“Well, I can’t do it!” Garrett said.
Haven’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll bet you’d like to though, wouldn’t you!” she snapped.
“What?” Garrett laughed.
“The poor little human girl’s gonna catch the sniffles,” Haven mocked, “I guess you’d better go over there and keep her warm!”
“She’s Max’s sister Haven!” Garrett growled.
“Maybe... possibly his sister,” she countered, “Remotely possibly his sister.”
“Even if she’s not,” he said, “She’s still...”
“Cute?” she interrupted.
Garrett mumbled something indelicate into his gloves as he buried his face in his hands.
The buzzing of damp wings brought a merciful end to the burgeoning argument as Sender flew down from the gray sky above.
“It looks like we’re in the clear for now,” the little purple fairy called out as he fluttered down to the small shelter they had erected over Shortgrass’s leafy bed, “How is he?”
“His color looks a little better,” Mualip answered, lifting the edge of a broad leaf blanket to check the slumbering fairy beneath.
“What about the Astorrans?” Haven asked as Sender scrubbed the raindrops from his hair.
“Moved away to the north,” Sender replied, “Checking the farmhouses and barns for us.”
“Fools,” Haven scoffed.
“So it’s safe to build a fire then?” Garrett asked.
“Safe enough, if you need it,” Sender answered.
“Did anybody bring any essence?” Garrett asked.
“Why don’t you just use your blue fire?” Haven snorted.
“It’s hard to start a real fire with that stuff,” he said, “It’s too cold most of the time. Do you still have that little jar of essence you were carrying before?”
Haven frowned at him.
“Come, on!” he sighed, “I just need a little!”
Haven pulled a slender steel canister from her belt pouch. The lambent green of pure essence glowed through a tiny glass window in its cap.
“Where’d you get that?” Garrett marveled.
“Cenick gave it to me... for you,” she grumbled, “for emergencies... real emergencies!”
“Please?” he said, holding out his open hand imploringly.
Haven started to pass it to him and then quickly withdrew the canister, hiding it behind her back. “What’s it worth to you?” she demanded with a wicked smirk.
Garrett stepped forward, grinning as he reached around her to make a grab at the canister, but she twisted away, giggling at him.
“Come on!” he laughed, catching at her damp brown cloak as she jumped to the side.
“Hey!” she cried, quickly slipping free of her cloak as Garrett grasped it in both hands.
“Get back here!” he yelled, struggling to contain his laughter as she eluded him again.
“Too slow, Songreaver!” she teased him as she sprang up into the crook between the branches of a maple tree. She scrambled up like a squirrel, clutching a branch in one hand as she swung out to waggle the canister at him from above.
Garrett grinned up at her as he placed his hand on the trunk and sent a wave of frost crackling up into the branches above.
Haven’s boot slipped on the glossy crust of ice that now coated the tree’s bark and she lost her grip a second later. “Cheater!” she yelped as she fell into Garrett’s arms.
He silenced her protests with a kiss, and she relented, wrapping her arms around him as she pushed back his hood with her free hand to pull him closer still.
A moment later, she dropped the essence canister down the back of his collar, and Garrett stiffened with a muffled oath as Haven playfully bit his lip.
“Very funny,” He sighed, lowering her to her feet again. She held onto him, leaning close with her arms still locked around his neck, smiling in triumph. He reached behind himself to feel where the canister had rolled down between his robe and undershirt to the cinch of his belt in the back.
“Never fight dirty with a spy, boy,” Haven hissed through her grin.
Garrett frowned ruefully as he unbuckled his belt, letting the canister drop from his robe to land amidst the ferns between his feet with a sullen thud.
The watching boggarts tittered with devlish laughter as Haven stuck her tongue out at him.
Chapter Twenty-three
Shortgrass had still not awoken from his stupor when night fell across the Astorran farmlands. Garrett rode carrying the fairy, who lay wrapped in Haven’s cloak, in the crook of his arm.
Haven walked between Garrett’s horse and the moonlit field to the west, keeping the sparse line of trees to their right, in case they needed to seek cover quickly. So far, they had seen no sign of the knights of the Holly Briar, or any other Astorrans, apart from the occasional slumbering farmhouse.
Sender flew, almost out of sight in the sky above, keeping watch as well. Mualip guided the horses carrying Sir Baelan and Mirion, who had yet to shake themselves from their spell-woven trance, though they both seemed capable of keeping their balance while mounted. Mirion rode, blindfolded and gagged, with her hands bound at the pommel of her saddle. Haven had insisted upon it.
“You still think this is gonna work?” Haven asked.
“It has as much a chance of working as it did before,” Garrett said.
Haven gave a bitter laugh in response.
“Even if Sir Baelan doesn’t wake up before we get there,” Garrett said, “At least we’re a lot closer to Cabre now than we were before.”
“So we’re just gonna sneak in and surprise him then?” Haven asked, sounding a little more hopeful.
“If it comes to that,” Garrett said, “I mean, we can meet with the ghouls outside of Braedshal and just go in through the tunnels.”
“I like that plan better,” Haven said, “I mean, how do we know if Anders’s people haven’t a
lready tipped off the king to your plan?”
“They never knew my plan,” Garrett protested.
The shadows of night did nothing to hide the roll of Haven’s eyes. “A baby could guess your plan, Garrett,” she said.
“Well, I don’t know,” Garrett sighed, “I was sorta hopin’ that all this honor stuff would at least get me close enough to Cabre that nobody else had to get hurt.”
“It’s never that easy, and you know it,” Haven said.
“Yeah... I know,” Garrett answered.
They continued on in silence for a while before Haven spoke again.
“The thing I don’t understand, is why Baelan was so eager to help you,” she said.
“It’s his job to help,” Garrett said with a shrug, “He’s a knight.”
“So were those other guys,” Haven said, “and they knew better than to let you within sight of the king... Baelan’s not stupid, Garrett, he has to know you’re planning something. Why would he help you at all?”
“I don’t know,” Garrett admitted.
“You think he wants you to kill the king?” Haven mused, “I mean, he seemed pretty unhappy about the way Cabre rolled over for the Chadiri.”
“No!” Garrett said, “I think he loves Cabre as much as ever... he just... I don’t know... Maybe Baelan doesn’t even know himself why he’s helping me. Maybe, just ‘cause it’s the right thing to do.”
“Letting you and Cabre fight is the right thing to do?” she scoffed.
“Well, yeah... maybe,” Garrett said, “I mean this whole country is about guys beatin’ each other up to prove who’s right. Maybe I’m the only one around who’s gonna tell Cabre he’s wrong.”
“And you think he’ll listen to you?” Haven chuckled.
“No,” Garrett said, “he’ll probably just try to kill me again... but I’m ready for him this time... I know what he is.”
“All right,” Haven sighed, “but you’d better be ready to kill Baelan too, if it comes to that.”
Garrett fell silent.
“More to the point,” she added, “You need to be ready when your friends have to do it for you.”
“I don’t want Baelan hurt!” he said.
“And I won’t let anyone hurt you, Garrett,” she retorted, “So you need to think about that before you go throwing yourself into the dragon’s teeth again!”
Garrett glanced involuntarily toward the sky then frowned.
Haven patted his leg and laughed as she scanned the fields for any sign of their pursuers.
“Thanks,” he said at last.
She looked up at him and smiled. “I’ve never been anyone’s bodyguard before,” she said, “It’s kinda fun.”
“What happened to the rest of your family?” Garrett asked, suddenly curious.
“What?” Haven said, seemingly roused from some private thought.
“The others like you,” Garrett said, “What happened to them?”
“Oh,” she said, her eyes falling to the ground as she walked, “We didn’t really stay together. We all had different missions. Only a few of us were sent to Wythr, and of those, only myself and my brother still live.”
“You have a brother?” Garrett exclaimed.
Haven nodded and looked away.
“I wanna meet him!” Garrett said, “Where is he?”
“You can’t,” she answered softly.
“Why not?” he asked.
“You just can’t!” she snapped back. She looked up at him with eyes full of pain.
“Oh... all right,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she sighed, “I just... I don’t really wanna talk about it.”
“Yeah, it’s all right,” he said quietly, “I didn’t mean to... whatever.”
She forced a smile for him and then looked away across the moonlit fields again.
Garrett shifted his grip on the slumbering fairy in his lap and craned his neck around to look behind him.
“Is it just my imagination, or are there more of them now?” he asked.
Haven looked back and then let out a weary sigh.
The shambling column of inky boggarts that trailed behind the horses had now attracted the attention of at least a hundred wisps that floated and bobbed in the night air above them like rainbow-colored puffs of dandelion down.
“Somebody’s gonna see that!” Haven cried in exasperation as she lifted her arms toward the growing army of ghostly fae.
Garrett wheeled his horse around and stared at the gathered throng of shadows and lights. They paused in their advance and began to fan out among the trees and across the grass as though awaiting further instructions. A smile slowly tightened Garrett’s lips, and he gave a deranged chuckle.
“What?” Haven groaned.
“I wonder how many ghosts there are around here?” Garrett said.
“You’re about to complicate the plan again, aren’t you?” Haven sighed.
Garrett answered her only with a vicious little giggle.
Chapter Twenty-four
The Monastery of Gau Behr
Four nights had passed since Marla’s first taste of solid food, and the gnawing hunger inside her had, at last, convinced her to try again. She looked down at the small bowl of brown rice on the table before her and sighed hopefully. She formed a little ball of the sticky grains with her fingertips and brought it to her lips. Her stomach growled encouragingly.
“Slowly,” Brother Tye cautioned with a gentle smile.
Marla pulled the rice ball from her fingers with her teeth and chewed.
She gave a little moan of pleasure as she swallowed and then scooped up another ball, slightly larger than the last.
The draconic monk made a warning noise and touched her forearm, staying her hand. “Patience, child,” he said, “Savor the experience.”
Marla sighed, holding back as long as she could before taking another bite.
Brother Tye shook his head with a knowing smile as he watched her finish the bowl.
“More please?” Marla asked through a mouth filled with the last of her rice.
“Perhaps you should drink first,” Brother Tye countered, gesturing toward the cup of blood on the table beside her.
Marla nodded and then took a sip from the cup.
“That’s good,” she said between sips, “... It’s not foxkin blood, is it?”
“No,” Brother Tye answered, “I believe that it is the blood of the bull-folk who live in the valley to the west.”
“There are a lot of fae creatures here?” Marla asked.
“Fae?,” Tye said with a questioning look, then he seemed to recall the meaning of the word, “Oh, yes, many fae, and human as well. All live in harmony, according to the Empress’s will.”
“Hmn,” Marla mumbled through another sip of blood. It warmed her belly with a confident heat. Having drunk it, she felt as though she could lift the massive stone table in front of her with a single hand, if she so desired.
“How is our baby today?” Sister Mae asked as she entered through the sunlit door of the dining hall. She wore a robe of palest blue silk, speckled with tiny floral patterns, and her silvery hair was tied back in a tight bun.
Marla gave her a wet-lipped smile and nodded toward the little physician.
“We begin again, with plain rice, this time,” Brother Tye answered with a nod toward Marla’s empty bowl.
“Good,” Sister Mae said, crossing the floor to pat Marla’s stomach with her hand, “One bowl. No more.”
Marla whimpered in protest, and her stomach rumbled its disappointment.
“It would not do for you to be sick again in front of the Emissary,” Sister Mae said.
“The Emissary comes today?” Brother Tye exclaimed.
“I have heard his voice on the wind,” Mae said as she crossed the room to take a bowl of berries from the various fruit arranged upon a stone shelf against the far wall.
“Strange that I did not,” Brother Tye mused.
“Your ear
is to the ground, listening for the rabbit, and so you miss the hawk,” she chided him before popping a berry into her mouth as she approached them again.
Marla gave the berries a longing look, but Sister Mae only wagged her finger and shook her head in response.
“If you will forgive me,” Brother Tye sighed, “I must make preparations for the Emissary’s arrival.” He stepped away from the table, giving Marla a slight bow before taking his leave and sweeping from the hall with a rustle of white silk.
Marla finished her blood in silence before speaking again. “Is this an Emissary from the Empress?” she asked.
Sister Mae smiled and nodded before popping another berry into her mouth and chewing.
“Is the Empress’s home very far away?” Marla asked, trying to find an avenue by which she might approach the subject that had been troubling her since she arrived.
“Oh, yes, very far,” Sister Mae answered politely.
“I wonder if you might show it to me, on a map,” Marla said.
“A map?” Sister Mae asked, apparently unfamiliar with the Gloaran word.
“A drawing... painting of places and where they are in the world,” Marla explained.
“Oh, yes, of course!” Sister Mae exclaimed, “Come with me.”
Marla followed the little physician as she exited the dining hall through a side door and descended a slight ramp leading down a shadowy hallway beyond. Marla caught the unmistakable, slightly musty scent of a library in the still air as they approached a dimly lit dome at the end of the hall.
“Brother Hilo?” Sister Mae called out as she entered the shelf-lined room through an ovoid doorway.
Marla followed the draconic woman inside, marveling at the scroll-packed shelves that arched up over their heads almost all the way to the rock crystal skylight at the pinnacle of the domed ceiling above.
“Brother Hilo?” Sister Mae repeated, looking around the room for the missing librarian. She lifted her hands in defeat at last and shrugged. “He is probably gone to the valley again,” she sighed, “His devotion to his work does not equal his devotion to his... not work.”
Marla smiled.
“Still, perhaps I can help you,” Sister Mae sighed as she searched the nearest shelf with one finger raised.
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