Keepers of the Flame (17 page)

He
barked a laughing bark, sat again, balancing on his rump and lifted both paws,
dog-as-hamster, she guessed.

I
promise I will not touch any of your toys, the solar powered or the ones with
the interesting nuts.
He glanced yearningly at her pockets and Bri was faced with a dilemma. Did she
take her music player and digital camera with her or not?

Not
the music pod. There were times, like sitting on an airplane and dawdling
through airports, when it was worth its weight in gold, but not when learning a
new culture. Did this house have a safe?

Yes
, Tuckerinal
said.

With
one paw he indicated a colorful yard-square tapestry of town life—buildings and
bustling people, just what she wanted to experience. “Go wait for me in the
entryway, please.”

With
a sound more mutter than growl the dog walked from the room. The safe was easy
to use. When Bri sensed it needed a password Song to complete it, she used
“There’s No Place Like Home,” hoping fervently that the fey-coo-cu wasn’t
overhearing her thoughts or knew the tune.

A
few minutes later Bri followed the trotting greyhound. As expected, she got a
lot of glances, but also smiles and waves.

People
eyed the little dog with respect. The waves of energy and musical notes she was
beginning to understand told her that he
was
a Powerful creature, that
being with him added to her image, and that no one really knew much about
fey-coo-cus or Exotiques so they treated them well.

Tuckerinal
kept a steady pace, but not too quick that Bri couldn’t take time to look at
houses and the green squares around which they were built that showed summer
blooms: lavender, roses, and a sweet-scented gray-green moss with bell-like
white flowers.

The
town was walled, with square and round towers at intervals, in matched pairs on
opposite sides. Some had belvederes or cupolas on the top. In the distance to
the south she could see newer stone encompassing the city as it grew. An
ominous sign. As Earth towns had grown, they’d overflowed the city walls and
the need for such defense.

Tuckerinal
stopped outside a tall, narrow and shabby building with a creaking sign that
changed from black to white and back again. The Nom de Nom.

The
dog sat and wagged his tail, lolled his tongue.
My favorite place here in
Castleton.

13

T
he door opened
and rich cooking odors wafted out.

“Salutations,
Medica Elizabeth, shouldn’t you—” The female middle-aged Chevalier stopped,
stared at the purple streaks in Bri’s much shorter hair.

Her
companion, a woman with a shield embroidered on her tunic, smiled broadly,
elbowed her fellow, did a little bow. “Salutations, Medica Bri.”

Evidently
they’d met her twin. Bri nodded. “Salutations.”

“Your
sister helped heal us today,” the first said, her brows lowered. “The fine was
extortionate.”

The
other grimaced. “The fine was just.” She linked hands with the first. “Come
along, we have better things to do than complain.” With a wink, they sauntered
off toward the main road that led to the Castle.

Bri
entered. The Nom de Nom looked like many a tavern on Earth. To the right was a
long bar, with a man tending it. To the left was a series of red-seated wooden
booths.

Tuckerinal
yipped and wagged his tail when a chorus of voices greeted him, calling
“fey-coo-cu,” though Bri sensed that many weren’t sure which one he was. There
were plenty of men and women standing or leaning against the bar, but it didn’t
appear to be a crowded time of day.

Most
of the booths were full, including the last one where people were rising with
mugs and plates, apparently moving to an empty place.

That
is OUR booth.
Tuckerinal’s muzzle lifted with pride.
Alexa likes it the best so we always
get it.

Another
perk, not too shabby.

Trotting
toward it, Tuckerinal said,
Don’t look up
.

Of
course she did. Monster trophies. Breath strangled in her throat, the edges of
her vision went gray.

Tuckerinal
barked.

“Here,
there.” A strong arm slid behind her back. “I guess no one told you about the
trophies.”

Bri
couldn’t even manage a squeak.

“Clear
the way for the Exotique Medica!” the man ordered and Bri realized that he’d
previously spoken in English. Blinking hard to settle her vision, she brought
him into focus. Another attractive Lladranan man. Wide temples, skin tanned
golden, well-formed features. She realized she was clutching his nice, firm,
strong biceps with both hands, but didn’t care. “Who?”

“I’m
Koz. Marian’s brother. Formerly Andrew.”

Seemed
she couldn’t escape Marian’s folks. Bri sagged against him. She should have
been refreshed from her nap, should have been able to handle the monster parts,
but no. This all was hitting her far more than usual for a stay in a new
country. Of course, it
was
a different dimension.

He
half-lifted her and toted her to the edge of the bench of the last booth, urged
her head between her knees.

“It
catches most of us at first. Not exactly elk and deer.” His English had a
definite Lladranan accent, as if his tongue wasn’t used to speaking English
words his mind knew.

“No,”
she forced out between breaths.

Here
there be monsters. Mounted heads and paws and tentacles and wings. The big
black bristly one that snarled had long curving claws that looked capable of
killing with one swipe. Torso and paws were attached to plaques. The equally
sickening yellow-furred one had mean little glass eyes of red, shorter fur and
spines which, given the state of things, were probably poisonous. A few spines
were showcased, too. The third monster—horror, and they
were
horrors—was
not as hefty as the other two, looked more supple, and had gray skin and two
tentacles with suckers at each shoulder and a hole for the nose. The last was a
beaky, sharp-toothed skull of a flying dinosaur.

“What
are they?”

Koz
lifted her hand and curved it around an icy tumbler. She raised her head,
carefully avoiding looking up.

“The
black one is called a render, the yellow a slayer and the third a soul-sucker.
It doesn’t really suck your soul, more like your energy. The final one is a
dreeth.”

“Ah.”
She met his mild gaze. He’d know. He was dressed in Chevalier leathers, and if
she wasn’t mistaken, had a sucker scar on the back of his left hand.

“Guess
you didn’t read any of the Exotique Lorebooks before you came.”

She
took a long, deep drink, grateful for the cool water sliding down her throat,
swung her legs in and under the table, propped her elbows on it. “It’s my first
day here. What did you do on your first day?”

“I
died.”

Christ.
She put her head in her hands.

Tuckerinal
growled from her left, likely on the table. Castleton probably didn’t have a
Health Department, no one seemed disturbed, shape-shifting magical creatures
probably didn’t have fleas. And all this mental babbling was to avoid thinking,
more to escape
feeling
.

Koz
curved his hands around hers.

“That
wasn’t well done of me,” he said quietly. “But it was irresistible as a
comeback.”

For
a moment she and Koz stared at each other silently, while Tuckerinal curled up
and closed his eyes. Bri thought she
could
see a difference in his
expression from other Lladranans. He’d know at a glance that she hadn’t exactly
fit into mainstream States structure.

He
smiled. “I lived in California.”

Well,
that said it all. Maybe she might have fit in there after all. But she wanted
Colorado.

The
barmaid sidled up to them with drinks, set them on the table, glanced at Bri’s
face and hair and slipped away. Bri’s nose twitched at the scent of tea. She
pulled the cup toward her, sniffed again and smiled.

“Thought
you might like a cup,” Koz said. “Time-honored girl drink, good for shock and
what ails you.”

Bri
sipped. The tea was hot and strong and of excellent flavor. Narrowing her eyes,
she said, “You calling me girly?”

“Oh,
yeah!” He leered.

A
chuckle bubbled from her.

“The
local ladies just don’t get me.” He looked soulful.

“I
bet they get you plenty.”

He
laughed and Bri understood she’d been trying to ease the tension between them,
perhaps even the subtle stress in the room. This was, after all, a gathering
place of people whose life spans might be cut short the next battle, and
everyone knew it.

She
tapped the rim of her cup. “Tea?” Everyone else was drinking ale or liquor.

“They
keep it for Alexa. She doesn’t drink alcohol.”

“And
Alexa always gets what she wants?”

A
lift and drop of a shoulder from Koz. “Pretty much. She was the first,” he said
simply. “She’s still the most unpredictable in the minds of people and she’s of
the highest rank in the land, a Swordmarshall.”

“And
she’s little and cute.”

He
raised his mug in a toast. “Little, anyway.”

“Ayes.”
The woman was a warrior, it would be rare to see her cute, though Bri had
caught glimpses of it. No doubt that would wear off, a pity.

She
leaned forward. “Tell me, Koz, how does it feel to have your mind and soul
living in a different body?”

14

T
he farm family
had sold out of their produce by the time Sevair and the Citymasters’ carriage
reached Noix Market. Naturally word of the daughter’s collapse and healing had
spread. Everyone wanted to hear the family’s experiences with the new Exotique
Medica.

Sevair
had ordered the carriage to accommodate mother and daughter and rode with the
former on their cart back to their fields. He closed his eyes as he recalled
the frantic mother rushing in with her daughter. The girl was large and
heavy-boned, yet reminded him of his sister who had taken a chill and died when
a child. The helplessness of the adults, he supposed. Except Bri.

Thank
the Song for the Exotique healers. They gave him hope that this disease would
be beaten before it swept Lladrana with such vigor that it became a plague.

He
decided that he and the other Citymasters must part with some good zhiv to
purchase crystal balls for each mayor so they could communicate faster. Each
city and town had cherished their autonomy, but now was the time to pull together.
Over the last few weeks it had become obvious that the medicas could not cure
the sickness and that it threatened them all. Especially the few villages in
the north, as if the north, with the invading monsters, didn’t have enough
devastation. Those places should have the crystals first.

A
fleeting thought came—he’d heard mirrors might also be bespelled for
communication. The Circlets might prefer expensive crystal balls, but the
townsfolk would be happy with mirror-talk. He’d ask Marian, the Circlet Exotique,
just how much such workings would cost.

Castleton
had a healthy emergency fund, and other major cities such as Troque and Krache
might also. Enough to cover the expense for the less prosperous villages.

Speaking
with the Exotique Circlet was always the right way to proceed, or even Exotique
Alexa. They were more cognizant of the over-riding problems of the whole land
rather than stuck in one rut of society.

“Heavy
thoughts, Citymaster?” rumbled the farmer next to him—Cley, Sevair recalled his
name.

“This
sickness makes for heavy thoughts,” Sevair said.

“Ayes,
indeed.” The man’s voice trembled, his hands tightened around the reins but did
not pull to discomfort the horses. A strong, controlled man, qualities Sevair
admired most.

“We
are doing our best to eradicate the sickness.”

Cley
nodded. “Ayes. We of the farms know that.” He added drily, “The Marshalls, as
the major landowners of Lladrana, hold the independent farmers as their
responsibilities. They have been busy fighting and plotting against the Dark,
but they must consider our well-being more. Please remind them of that.”

Sevair
gritted his teeth. Just what he liked doing, reminding others of a higher
status than he of their responsibilities. He remembered the last, disastrous
time he’d done that—confronted Circlet Jaquar, only to find that one of his own
staff had been at fault.

His
former assistant had betrayed the Cities and Towns—and farmers—to serve the
Dark, as its new Master, the controller of the monsters.

The
new Master who had sent that evil message with the chevaliers the night before.
That Sevair had been so wrong in his judgement of Jumme had shaken him, and he
still grieved for the man he thought Jumme had been, perhaps had been before
he’d yielded to corruption.