Barrenlands (The Changespell Saga) (10 page)

"There's something going on here, and I don't understand why Rodar's not taking it more seriously," Jada said, an almost plaintive note in her voice. "These innocent people—
Solvan
people— are being robbed and killed." She glanced his way and forged ahead into more uncertain territory. "We know from the men who tried to steal your horses that they're using phony ailettes— why doesn't Rodar send troops out here to take care of this?"

Algere backed her question with his own intent expression, one that verged on unspoken demand. Ehren remembered him as quiet and slower to trigger than his training partner, but he burned longer than Jada once his temper was engaged.

"I doubt he's fully aware of the problem," Ehren said dryly, keeping an eye on the younger man. "You yourself told me things had changed around Kurtane. The people making the decisions seem happy enough to let Rodar play. First and Second Level ministers, and—"

"Varien," Jada said, and scowled. "It was Varien who took you off your search for Benlan's killers, I'll bet."

"He intimated there were more hands than his involved," Ehren said. He gave the two younger Guards a hard look. "You came out here to give me a message rather than chancing it to courier. Concern about the gang running the border is admirable, Jada, but hardly under the jurisdiction of the King's Guard."

Algere gave a sudden quick grin. "Told you he'd know it was your idea, Jada."

Jada shrugged. "Bad feeling is all. Right after you left, the Kurtane Ready Troops lost half a unit of troopers— all mustered out, dishonorably, because of some prank they pulled. And it wasn't anything much, some kind of joke that got out of hand, is all. It got me to thinking about things. Gerhard's a good master, but even he can't supervise the training of under-strength troops and give them the effectiveness of experienced ranks. We're losing people— retirement, accident, dismissal, the normal things— and they're
not being replaced
. Border problems made a good excuse to come out— a village-level Rep came with formal complaints right after you left— and I took it. Gerhard endorsed it as a training run, so the Levels let us come."

Ehren's silence went grim. Had things gone downhill that quickly? At last, he asked, "Do you consider the Guard able to fulfill its duties?"

Algere and Jada exchanged glances. "At this point, yes, sir. But we're a long way from the Guard you led under Benlan, and look what happened to
him
."

"That's not even taking into account the other parts of Solvany at risk," Algere said. "Border Guard was due to rotate a month ago."

"We need you in Kurtane, Ehren," Jada said. "No one else in the King's Guard has the experience to stand up to the Levels— and to Varien. We have to get things straightened out— we have to get Rodar to take interest, and take
charge
."

At Varien's name, Ehren felt his face grow hard. "I can't come back."

They sat in silence a moment, broken only by the swish of the horses' tails. When Ehren spoke again, his voice was more forgiving, but just as firm…devoid of the conflict within him. "You're a King's Guard, Jada. You have the right to an audience with the king— Guard's Right. Take it. Use it well. If you impress him, he'll see you again. He's seventeen years old, and you're a woman. Keep that in mind."

"Ehren!" Jada protested, while Algere's expression said the same.

He regarded them patiently, one eyebrow slightly raised. "I'm not suggesting you seduce our king, Jada. Just be impressed with him, even if he does have spots on his face. Be concerned for his welfare. What
ever
you do, don't make him feel that it's his fault things are as they are— just that he has the power to fix it if he chooses."

"Is that the way
you'd
do it?" Jada asked, somewhat slyly, a little life showing on her face through the fatigue— and not a little bit of flirt.

That much of her, Ehren remembered well, and enjoyed. He smiled easily at her. "Probably not. Maybe that's why I'm staying and you're going. And try not to wear out too many horses on the journey this time."

"It was the only way to try to catch up with you," Algere grumbled. "We rode none of them to the ground."

Ehren said, serious again, "See that you care as well for yourselves. And send a pigeon or courier next time, eh?"

Jada nodded. "We'll let you know what happens. But, Ehren... I hope you come back soon."

He said nothing for a long moment— definitely none of the things he wanted to say. His voice held no promises. "As soon as I can."

"Ben!" Jiarna's voice broke the semblance of privacy the Guards had shared, and as one, they looked over at the woman. "Gonna earn your copper today, son? We got a backup here."

It was only then that Ehren saw the young Border Guard was on Solvan turf— and Shette alone with him. In fact, they could have been doing nothing else but watching, and perhaps listening to, the Guards. They were both on their way back to the border station now, where a group of harassed-looking travelers hastily stuffed their luggage back together. Ehren raised an eyebrow at Jada and Algere; his back had been to the border, but the two younger Guards had had a clear view of their eavesdroppers. They exchanged a glance and a guilt-ridden shrug, and he relented. They were all tired.

"No matter," he said. "I'll have a word with them."

The last thing they needed was for the bandits to get word of Solvany's lack of readiness. If they didn't use the information themselves, it would sell well enough to someone else.

The young guard Ben first, then. Ehren lifted his reins, and Shaffron stirred beneath him. "Jada, Algere," he said, and hesitated, looking for the words that would mean as much as he wanted to convey. He settled for "Be careful," but he thought they understood.

~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER FIVE

Shette hadn't wanted to hear any more, anyway. The three Guards knew one another— it was obvious enough from their willingness to both argue and joke with each other. She envied their camaraderie, and didn't enjoy that feeling.

Besides, she had enough to think about.

She would have liked to have slipped away unseen, though— and although she hadn't looked back, she was certain, after Jiarna's loud call, that the Guards had spotted them. Quietly, she and Ben returned to the Lorakan side of the border, and to the little patch of neutral ground at the inspection area.

Ben started talking as soon as they were back by the station. "Jiarna said there was something going on over the border," he told Shette, his words coming fast and excited. "She didn't really want to talk about it— said we had our duty here. But wouldn't it be great if we caught some of the bandits? Especially since they're using fake ailettes— no one'd be fooled for long, I bet, but it wouldn't
take
long, and then it'd be too late. I got a free day coming up soon, and I could—"

"Ben," Jiarna growled. The pair she'd been searching, relieved of their contraband, were just crossing into Solvany, looking much the worse for wear. Jiarna was already giving a cursory check of the two-wheeled cart that had been waiting behind them, conversing with the two men who pulled it as though they'd been going through this little ritual for years. Probably they had, Shette thought, giving the guardswoman's worn face another look as Ben hastened to help her. Shette was left standing alone by the side of the station, but she didn't mind. She had a lot to think about.

Who was this Varien, whose name seemed to leave such a bad taste in Ehren's mouth?

Sevita will know.

The thought made her straighten, pushing away from the wall. She rolled her pants legs down and headed for the inn tavern at a brisk walk.

What Sevita didn't know, Dajania would. And there were others who usually spent the first part of the day in the inn— three more women who sold themselves and who heard a lot in the process. If nothing else, Shette had learned that much on the caravan route. A whore had ears, and some men liked to talk.

She pulled open the heavy tavern door and peeked in; she'd never been inside without Laine. But the tavern was nearly empty. Two men stood before the bar, leaning their elbows on the old, age-polished wood between themselves and the bartender with her kegs. The bartender herself was almost twice as big as Laine; in the evenings there were two of them, twins down to the hairy moles on their jaws.

With sunlight streaming in through the open shutters and the common room occupied by five women tallying their take and the tavern percentages— including competitively snide remarks— it was almost like a different tavern altogether. No odor of crowded, unwashed men and women— although a certain amount of that was ingrained— and only one pipe in evidence. One of the whores, a middle-aged woman who stayed at the inn full time, was a cottage witchy as well, and seemed to be preparing for some sort of spell by the fireplace.

Dajania saw Shette first. Never quiet or demure, she called out, "Shette, girl! I do believe you've got up the nerve to come see us without your brother standing watch."

Every pair of eyes in the place riveted to her.
Thanks, Dajania
, Shette thought sourly, pretending she didn't see the bartender's not entirely pleasant smile.

She threaded her way between tables to the women. "Laine's shoeing Spike," she said. "Figured I'd take the chance when I could get it."

"He's a mite overprotective, Laine is," Sevita said. Unlike Dajania's bold painted eyes and dark hair, Sevita had a gentle appearance— soft brown hair and big hazel eyes that she painted with such subtlety they sweetened her features without looking painted at all. She was soft-spoken and pleasant— but she'd killed a man once for his cruelty when they were together.

Shette gave an elaborate shrug, doing her best to dismiss Laine's influence. Once these women started talking about him, it was bound to go on for a while, and in some part of her mind she wished he would just go ahead and sleep with them so he wouldn't represent such a challenge to them anymore. It wasn't like he'd never—

But she wasn't supposed to know about that. She couldn't help a secretive little smile, and it was something the women recognized right off.

"Shette's had a thought, now, she has," Dajania declared, casually recovering a copper that had strayed, somehow, too close to one of the tavern women's piles. "Shette, this here's Erlya, Sontra, and Heliga." Erlya was the cottage witchy, Sontra a dowdy and bleary-eyed woman who hadn't donned anything besides an old, patched dressing gown, and Heliga a small, pointy-faced girl with a barely perceptible harelip who, Shette realized, couldn't be much older than she was.

"Guides grant our acquaintance be a good one," she said, the politest greeting she knew, even if it was T'ieran. The girl snickered without bothering to hide it and Sevita gave her a low-key, even stare. The snicker stopped.

"Never mind, Shette," Sevita said. "Some of us haven't had the benefit of much polite company. Heliga, Shette here's the one who did the pretty stitching on my blouse."

"Ooh," the girl said. "It's wonderful, Shette. I want to learn it, someday." Her words were slurred by a severe lisp; it took Shette a moment to puzzle them out, and by then the hopeful look on the girl's face had all but faded.

"Well," Shette said, shrugging again. "I'll probably be here a handful of days. But you'd have to get the needle and threads; I used everything up but the mending thread."

Heliga nodded enthusiastically. "I know someone in the commonstall who carries it. He's got a liking for me, too. I can get it."

Inwardly, Shette winced. She thought she knew exactly how Heliga would buy the goods.
Stop thinking like that
, she told herself. She wouldn't make any friends like if it showed on her face as clearly as Laine's thoughts ran across his own features.

From the fireplace, Erlya muttered an alarmed curse. She threw herself away from the hearth, right before the chimney made a muffled
whoomph
; a cloud of soot dropped onto the hearth, accompanied by large particles of creosote ticking their way down. Dowdy Sontra sniggered the same amusement that showed on all their faces— except for Erlya's, as she got to her feet and vigorously slapped soot off the leg that hadn't quite gotten out of range.

"Maybe you ought to just do it like the rest of us, witchie," Dajania said through her smile.

"As if you knew anything about it," Erlya snapped.

Now that their attention wasn't on her, Shette grew suddenly bolder, and almost without thinking, she said, "Do you know who Varien is?"

As one, they turned their surprise her way, so that she wished she hadn't spoken at all. Then Sontra gave a lazy smile and said, "I know what he likes," and the strange tension was broken. The women picked up the conversation that centered around their accounting. Shette wasn't excluded, but there was little she could add to it.

In time, Erlya moved around the edge of the crowded table until she was next to Shette. "You mean Varien, the King's wizard, don't you?" she asked in a low voice. "That's one best left unspoken of, even here over the border. They've never proved he's done anything wrong, and the court folk either worship him or fear him. But we know better, the lower levels of witchies do. He's got too much power, and too much inclination to use it. So even whilst you're among friends, it still does no harm to guard your tongue."

Shette kept her face blank. No one was that powerful, to hear her words in a worn little tavern at the border, but she didn't want to offend the woman. Erlya must have felt reasonably safe as well, for she dropped the furtive tone she'd been using and asked in a perfectly normal voice, "Why're you asking? You're Therand, aren't you, with talk of the Guides an' such...
that
one's Solvan politics."

"I'm not from Therand," Shette said. "I grew up in the Loraka border mountains. Folks believe whichever way they choose, there." Though, in fact, when she thought of it, she could only come up with one other family that followed the Therand belief of Guides for the Nine Levels. "I just heard the name, is all. I was wondering."