Artesans of Albia: 01 - King's Envoy (26 page)

“We’re not going back just yet, are we?” asked Cal. “I got the impression we might be able to stay here and study. There are no opportunities like this at home.”

Despite sharing Cal’s sentiment, Taran was doubtful. “This is a military garrison, remember? No matter how unconventional they are, they’re hardly going to let us stay and study. We’re lucky they’ve been as good to us as they have considering the mess we’ve caused.” He caught Rienne’s sharp look. “Alright, the mess I caused. I imagine that once they decide what to do—how to put this right—we’ll be sent packing.”

Cal shrugged.

“So, let’s take advantage of what’s on offer while we’re still here,” said Taran. “What about you, Rienne, what are you going to do? Are you in a hurry to go home?”

Rienne’s expression, which had shown alarm at Cal’s suggestion they stay, softened. “No, not really. I suppose I could spend some time going through my medicinal supplies. I’m still short of a few items, despite our trip into Shenton. They must have an infirmary here. I wonder if I could buy fresh stock from their stores?”

“We’ll ask Bull later,” promised Taran. “Let’s go back to his rooms, it’ll be quiet there.”

They spent the morning in Bull’s suite. Cal and Taran sat quietly in a corner, generally with their eyes shut, working on their linking technique. Taran had been envying Robin’s casual control since the Captain had checked on Sullyan the day before and was keen to see if he could emulate it. It called for total concentration and after a couple of hours, he felt he was making some progress. He and Cal began moving about the suite to test the link, going into separate rooms to stretch themselves further.

Rienne spent her time sorting the contents of her medicine bag, which never left her side. She had been light on a few remedies before leaving home and the herb sellers in Shenton hadn’t been able to supply everything she needed. She made a list of the most important items and resolved to ask Bull if he knew where she might purchase them.

Once Taran was happy with the progress he and Cal had made, he spent a frustrating hour identifying half-a-dozen weak spots in the pattern of his psyche. He had never noticed them before and fervently hoped he had seen them all. The last thing he wanted was the embarrassment of having Robin point them out to him. He was preparing to go over the whole thing once again when Bull and Robin returned, both looking like they had had an energetic morning.

“Just general training, weapons practice and drill,” said Bull when Cal inquired. “Even old soldiers need to train.”

“You’re not that old, you great ox,” said Robin. “Give us leave to change, gentlemen. I hope you’ve been working hard, Journeyman. I have some more tests for you.” He left for his own rooms.

When Bull emerged from his sleeping quarters in clean clothes, Rienne approached him, shyly holding out a fresh cup of fellan. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said.

He smiled. “Of course not, dear heart. Listen, if your young man ever strays or you get tired of him, you’re welcome to come back here and look after me.”

“Oh, thanks. Listen Bull, can I ask you something?”

“Certainly,” he said, sitting down and sipping his fellan. “Mmm, this is almost as good as mine.”

Once she had put her request to him, he told her that not only did the Manor have a dedicated infirmary, but it also boasted a well stocked pharmacy that was regularly supplied from the capital, Port Loxton. She was welcome, he said, to ask for whatever she wanted and he wouldn’t hear of her offer to pay. Instead, he gave her a requisition note to show the Chief Healer, with careful instructions on how to reach the pharmacy, which was on the ground floor of the Manor, in one of the wings.

Robin re-appeared in time to hear the end of this conversation.

“We’ll be out in the arena when you’re done, or you can return here and wait for us. I’m going to have your young man put through his paces today, so if you don’t want to see a man in pain, stay away.”

The men left, all chuckling except for Cal.

Left alone, Rienne gathered her bag and Bull’s requisition note. She stepped into the echoing hallway. It felt odd to be wandering around on her own, especially when the place seemed deserted. She passed a couple of rooms where briefing sessions were obviously being held, and crossed the junction of two corridors, where she could vaguely hear a heated argument between two or more men. Before continuing on, she thought she recognized Captain Parren’s voice. She shivered.

Eventually she found the pharmacy and there met the only other woman besides Major Sullyan she’d seen. Having a common interest, the two soon fell to talking as the Chief Healer, an auburn-haired older woman named Hanan, helped Rienne restock her supplies. Hanan, as she told Rienne, had spent her whole adult life at the Manor, having gone there as a young girl before the civil war to train with Lord Blaine’s physician. When the older healer died, Hanan took over.

Proudly, she showed Rienne her domain. Rienne was fascinated by the infirmary, envious of the Manor’s facilities. Initially, she was surprised at how sophisticated they were, but it made sense when she thought about it—a garrison would need the very best care for its soldiers.

She and Hanan chatted about medicines and the latest techniques in surgery far longer than Rienne had intended. Reluctantly, she excused herself to her newfound friend, thanking her for her help and promising to return before she left, if she could. She came out of the infirmary deep in thought and not paying attention to where she was going.

By the time she noticed she was lost, it was too late.

Irritated with herself for wool-gathering, Rienne tried to get her bearings. The trouble with the Manor, she thought, was that all the corridors looked the same. She tried retracing her steps but as she had no idea when she had first gone wrong, it was hopeless. She was forced to admit she was lost.

Having no other choice, Rienne continued on, hoping that sooner or later she would either recognize where she was or find someone to put her right. Eventually, she saw someone coming toward her and smiled in relief. Then her heart jumped into her throat and she stopped. It was Parren’s loutish sergeant.

He was the last person she had expected to see, having heard Sullyan order him and the corporal confined to the cells. It was definitely him and she didn’t know what to do. If she turned and walked away, she might provoke him into following her. Having seen the leers and obscene gestures he’d cast her way before the duel, the last thing she wanted was to meet him alone.

There was nowhere she could go. As he drew nearer she felt sick, for he was smiling slyly. A cold hand of fear gripped her belly but she forced herself to walk on and ignore him.

He wasn’t having it though, and stepped in front of her before she could pass. Gathering her nerve, she stared him out.

“Let me by, please.”

He grinned, showing two broken teeth. “Well now, my pretty one, what are you doing down here alone? Lost your friends?”

He stood with his hands on his hips. His weasely face with its weathered skin never lost that cruel smile. Rienne looked past him, desperately hoping someone else would come along, but the hallway was deserted.

“I’m on my way back from the infirmary. They’re expecting me.” She tried to sound convincing but her voice betrayed a tremor.

“Oh, I don’t think they are.” He was grinning lewdly. “They’ve all been seen out in the arena, so they’re not missing you. Anyway, you’re in the wrong place to be on your way back, my pretty. Perhaps you were looking for someone?”

He stretched out his hand to touch her cheek but she flinched and tried to dodge him. It was a mistake. He was too quick for her and grabbed her arm painfully.

She gasped in shock, really alarmed now. “Let go of me, please. If you were any sort of soldier you’d direct me back to the proper corridor.”

“Would I? It’s a pity I’m not a soldier anymore then, isn’t it?” He glanced around, still holding her arm. “Let’s see. Ah, yes. We won’t be disturbed in here.”

Brutally, before she could utter a sound, he twisted her around so her back was to his chest. He clamped his other hand over her mouth and pushed her into a vacant room. Kicking the door shut, he held her, breathing heavily. She could feel the thump of his heart and smell his none-too-savory breath. She frantically tried to think of an escape plan.

He forced her away from the door toward the opposite wall. She tried to struggle but he was far too strong. To her horror, she could feel that he was aroused. He spun her around and shoved her against the wall, pinning her with his body. Pressing tightly against her, he managed to secure both her wrists with one hand. The other still covered her mouth. She stared into his lustful eyes, trying not to panic.

He was starting to sweat as he brought his face close to hers. She felt the rasp of stubble on her cheek. His licked his lips and removed his hand from her mouth. Rienne attempted to scream, but he clamped his lips over hers and forced his tongue between her teeth.

She almost gagged at his rancid taste and her heart hammered. She whimpered, but that only seemed to inflame him further. The hand that had covered her mouth now began exploring her body, and she tried her best to squirm away from his insistent groping. He grunted, ceased his mauling and brought his hand up to her face. In it he held a large, sharp knife. She stared in terror as he pressed it to her neck, beneath her ear.

His voice was husky. “Now, my pretty, we’re not going to make trouble, are we? We’re not going to scream or do anything stupid? I won’t cut you if you do as you’re told.”

He slid the knife down her throat, following the line of her jugular. He ran it around to the hollow, where her pulse was jumping erratically. Then he slid it farther down, below the neck of her shirt and past the division of her breasts. He rested it there and pressed gently. She gasped in pain as a tiny bead of blood was drawn.

“You see?” he rasped. “My weapons are very sharp indeed, and one of them is fully cocked.”

Releasing her wrists, he fumbled at her skirts, pulling them up. Really panicking now and not allowing herself to think what might happen if she failed, Rienne took advantage of her free hands. Lacing her fingers together, she jerked them up under his knife hand, at the same time jabbing her knee sharply into his bulging groin. She only had one chance, so she put all her adrenaline-fueled strength into the move.

The knife flew out of his hand, nicking her skin deeply, before flying across the room, where it landed with a clank on the floor. His face went beetroot-red and he collapsed with a strangled gasp. Moaning, he clutched at his groin.

Rienne fled, not knowing whether he was capable of following her. She was sobbing in terror, bag bumping her thigh, breath heaving through burning lungs. Blind panic lent her speed and she bolted up the nearest stairway, taking no note of where she ran.

She pelted down the corridors, taking random turns. Eventually, her body ran out of energy and she was forced to stop. Sinking to the floor, she huddled against the wall, desperately trying to listen over the sound of her own breathing, terrified of hearing following footsteps. As she gradually calmed and quieted, she realized there was nothing to hear.