Raven's Strike (25 page)

“You are so
stupid,
Olbeck,” said Rinnie in disgust. “I wonder that you can put your clothes on right-side out every morning—or is that something one of the boys who follow you about does for you?”

“That may be,” Olbeck agreed silkily, and there was a sound of ripping cloth. “But you're—” And then he used some words that Phoran hoped Rinnie didn't know the meaning of.

The sound and Rinnie's surprised cry were too much. Rather than working his way into a better position, Phoran rushed out from behind the boulders and used his shoulder to knock the stranger two or three paces down the hill—away from Rinnie, who was huddled on the ground. He didn't take time to assess her condition before he stepped between her and the stranger.

Olbeck was nearly as big as Kissel, and Phoran found the cool resolve he'd discovered in the heart of the battle with the Path. He smiled.

Regaining his balance, Olbeck drew the sword that hung at his hip.

“Don't hurt him,” Rinnie whispered frantically. “If he dies, it'll go hard for my family. He's the Sept's steward's son.”

“That's right,” said Olbeck with a sneer. “Who are you? One of the twelfth sons of a fourteenth that Toarsen likes to hang about? The Sept will crush you and your friends when he comes, summoned by my father's letter.”

Phoran hadn't drawn his sword. He'd prefer to keep swords out of it if he could. It was better for his cause if Tier's noble guests remained a curiosity rather than a news item. Killing this scum might just send news of Tier's unexpected guests all the way to Taela. If Phoran ever managed to rid himself of the Memory, he didn't want the whole of the Empire knowing where he'd been, not if he could help it.

“Rinnie's right; you are stupid aren't you?” he marveled out loud. “You do realize that if you were correct in what we're up to here, you've just given me the ultimate provocation to kill you? That's obviously the only thing that would keep your mouth shut.”

“He doesn't think you can kill him,” Rinnie said in a small voice. “He's had some training in sword work, and it impresses the other boys.”

“Since he's outnumbered now,” said Lehr, coming around the same boulders that Phoran had crouched behind, “he'll likely run.”

Lehr had Tier's sword in one hand and was breathing hard. “Go back to Leheigh, Olbeck. You aren't welcome in Redern anymore, I hear. No more are you welcome here. If your father has problems with us, I expect that he will come himself. Run back to your father, coward.”

Olbeck snarled wordlessly at Lehr, and Phoran saw the intent in his body before he charged—not at Lehr, but straight at Phoran. He probably thought that he could bull through Phoran to get at Rinnie.

Phoran dropped him cold with a fist to the chin.

“Stupid sot ran right into it,” he said, rubbing his knuckles to dull the sting. “Are you all right, Rinnie?”

The memory of the sound of ripping cloth kept him facing away from her.

“Yes,” she said. “I wish I were a Guardian like Jes. Lightning only works if I have
hours
.”

“Too bad,” agreed Phoran. “If someone deserved a bit of lightning to strike him down, it was that man.”

“Here, Rinnie, take my tunic.” Lehr pulled the article in question over his head and tossed it to her. “Nice right cross, Phoran. Did you kill him?”

There had been enough force to have broken his neck. Phoran bent down and rolled the big man over with a grunt of effort.

“Not so lucky,” he said. “Likely he'll be awake in a minute or two. I could kill him for you—we could hide the body.”

“Much as I hate to admit it, Rinnie was right. Olbeck dead by human hands or missing around here is even more of a problem than Olbeck alive. Too bad about the lightning, Rinnie. That would have been an answer. I suppose we'll just leave him.”

“Why isn't he welcome in Redern anymore?” Rinnie, safely covered by Lehr's tunic leaned lightly against Phoran's arm and stared down at her attacker. She sounded collected, but she was trembling like a bird. Phoran thought again about killing Olbeck.

“Remember Lukeeth, the mercer's son?”

“He's one of the boys who follows Olbeck.”

“Not anymore. Olbeck killed him. Storne says it was murder, but Olbeck claimed it was self-defense. He got away with it, but his father agreed to keep him out of Redern. Get your herbs—I assume that's what sent you hurrying out of the house this morning. We'll leave him here.”

Rinnie nodded and turned and began picking up the scattered bits of plants. Phoran saw her wipe her cheeks when she thought no one was watching. He saw that Lehr had noticed, too.

“Likely, I broke his jaw,” he told him as consolation. “He'll remember this every time he tries to eat for a long time.”

Lehr sucked in his breath, two red lines forming on his cheeks from gritting his teeth. “You should have pulled your punch so we could have broken a few more bones for him.”

Phoran went back behind the boulders and gathered the three plants he'd unearthed and presented them to Rinnie on
one knee, holding the limp greenery stretched across both hands.

She laughed as he'd intended. “This one isn't tingleroot.” She sorted through what he had and broke off a very few small bits. “You can leave the rest.”

She put the bits in her pouch and started back down the hill. Phoran and Lehr followed her.

“I tracked you until I figured out where Rinnie was heading,” Lehr said. “Mother left her to sort out our herbs, and I knew we were out of tingleroot. This is the best place to look for it. I'd just decided to head home when I ran across Olbeck's trace. Thanks for escorting her.”

Phoran gave him a mock-surprised glance. “I wasn't escorting her, she was educating me. I can harvest tingleroot now—and dill.”

“Only if there's no reaverslace nearby,” Rinnie said repressively. “Thank you, Phoran. Someday, I'm going to tell Olbeck that it was the Emperor who broke his jaw.”

“He'll never believe the Emperor went out herb gathering with you,” said Lehr.

A creak of a branch overhead had Lehr spinning around to get a good look. Then, with a procession of quiet thumps, Jes dropped down in their midst, hitting the ground in a roll that ended with him on his feet.

“Olbeck found his horse. I think he's going home. He won't get past the wards anyway.” Tier's eldest son looked better than he had the last time Phoran had seen him. His dark skin wasn't so grey, and he moved well as he strode beside his brother.

Phoran sighed. They were both going to have to slacken the pace for him, but he'd wait to ask in case they'd notice and slow down on their own.

“What do you mean he won't get past the wards?” Lehr asked.

“He's tainted,” said Jes. “Didn't you smell it? Not so badly as Bandor was, but he still stinks of shadow.”

“You two need to slow up,” said Rinnie. “Emperors don't run through forests like some peasant farmer's boys.”

Phoran grinned.

Willon was alone in his shop and looked up with a smile to welcome Tier and Seraph.

“My friends, what can I do for you?”

Seraph let Tier do the talking, and turned her attention to the display shelf that Willon had set up near the front counter. Small animals of blown glass in bright colors danced across the scarred wood shelf.

“I brought those back from Taela,” Willon said. “Broke half of them getting here, but I thought they'd sell well. You didn't come in here for glass animals, though.”

“No,” Tier agreed. “We need forty pounds of salted dried beef or venison. I'd also like to look at any other food you've got that will keep.”

“Are you going out trapping already?” asked Willon as he led Tier to the section where he kept foodstuffs.

“No. Seems I made some friends among the young lads that helped overthrow the Path. A group of them came down and persuaded me to give them a guided tour of the Ragged Mountains. They want to see Shadow's Fall, but I suspect I'll be able to talk them out of it once they see the country they're going to have to walk through.”

Seraph left the glass animals and began sorting through the herbs on the shelves.

Pepper, she thought, and took one of the small packets. She and Tier would stop by Loni the Herbalist's shop before they left town, but Willon carried exotic spices and Loni only the things she could grow in her garden. That meant Loni's herbs were fresher, but Willon's were more diverse.

“I'd like to see Shadow's Fall myself,” Willon was saying.

“No,” Tier shook his head. “It's a rough trip, Master Willon. I'll take these young rascals and wear them out—it'll be good for them. But the mountains are no place for someone not ready for them. I'll take you next year, if you'll spend the summer hiking with me to get into shape. I've already promised Bandor.”

“I travel a lot,” said Willon. “You might be surprised at how tough an old man like me can be.”

“I'm sure that's true,” Tier said.

For a moment Seraph thought Willon wasn't going to let the matter drop. But then he laughed and patted Tier on the shoulder.

“All right, all right. Next year then, mind. I won't forget.”

Tier paid for the food and Seraph's herbs after a little bargaining. When they were through, Tier gave Willon back the map he'd given Seraph.

“It was a gift,” said Willon.

“A valuable gift,” said Tier. “And as we don't have any plans for another trip across the Empire, it won't do us much good. Give it to someone else who needs it.”

Willon bowed and accepted it. “It's always a pleasure to do business with you,” he said.

“Olbeck is shadowed?” Seraph sat down at the table and tried to figure out what that might mean.

Lehr, Jes, Phoran, and Rinnie had greeted them at the door with the tale of their afternoon adventures.

“He wasn't shadowed when he attacked Lehr and Rinnie just a few days before we left,” said Jes.

Hennea sat on the table near Jes and looked at him. “You can tell that easily? The other Guardians I've met have to look for it.”

Jes shrugged. “They smell wrong, then I look.”

“The question is, what do we do about it?” asked Tier.

“Nothing.” Seraph said decisively. “Olbeck will wait until we get back. Though it is interesting that he was tainted after we left for Taela. Every unappealing person doesn't pick up a shadowing just because he's nasty. Bandor was a more usual case. A nice upstanding citizen who causes as much damage as possible for as long as the Stalker can hold him.”

“There are several ways a person can become tainted,” Hennea said. “The Shadowed is only one of them.”

“Well, we certainly have had a Shadowed around here.”

“Rinnie,” Tier said. “I think that for a while you're going to have to make certain that someone is with you when you leave the house. Take Gura if you have to.”

“All right,” she agreed. Her lack of protest was a testament to how frightened she'd been.

Seraph caught Phoran's eye and nodded her thanks.

They spent the next day packing and repacking sacks and bags, balancing them in pairs to be attached to the saddles in the morning. Seraph carried the Ordered gems in a bag that would ride on her hip. The
mermori
went into one of the horse's packs.

Lehr and Tier went out and brought back three more riding horses for the trip, two mud-brown and a grey. That left them one horse short, but Jes could outwalk most horses anyway. None of the new horses were the quality of Lehr's Cornsilk, but they were tough little mountain horses and would do just fine for the trip.

As if in omen, Alinath and Bandor appeared in the afternoon with the journey bread half a day earlier than she'd promised.

“Tomorrow,” Tier said.

C
HAPTER
12

They left the farm while the sun was still a faint hope in the silvery sky.
Phoran's horse danced and pranced and pretended to be afraid of the packs that hung here and there from his saddle. Seraph's horse, one of the new ones, started and skittered in response.

She whispered reassurances and talked to it. It was a little inexperienced, but basically even-tempered and settled down quickly. Unlike Phoran's stallion.

“Warhorse,” explained Phoran, when his horse finally began walking instead of bouncing.

“So was this one,” Tier said, motioning to Skew, who had only twitched an ear toward the misbehaving animals. “If you ever actually go to war, you might consider a different horse.”

Phoran smiled. “He settles down fast enough when there's work for him. He's just showing off for the mares.”

Tier shook his head. “The Fahlarn used to ride mares to war just to give us fits because so many of our nobles rode stallions.”

“I'd heard that,” Phoran said. “But if I rode around on a gelding or, worse yet, a mare, my protocol minister would have fits.” He hummed a happy little tune to himself as the big grey reared up then quick-stepped sideways. “Might be a good
reason for doing it, at that. But Blade does his job—which is to make me look like a good horseman and make himself look athletic and expensive.”

He sounded disparaging, but Seraph noticed he had enjoyed the performance at least as much as his horse had. Once they had been riding for a few hours, the hot-bred stallion settled down to a few jitters.

Hennea watched the sun bring out gold and red highlights in Jes's dark hair and wondered at the unexpected gift of him, an
almost
unwelcome but greatly desired gift.

Jes walked beside Hennea's horse, Gura at his heel. The pace seemed to give Jes no trouble, though the horses had set out at a rapid walk. She hadn't exchanged a private word with him since the afternoon when she'd guarded his sleep, but somehow she felt as if they had both accepted that as a new step in their courtship.

He was hers now.

The natural rhythms of travel had broken them into small groups—Seraph and Tier at the head: Phoran, Rinnie, Lehr, and Ielian: Toarsen, Kissel, and Rufort: Hennea, Jes, and the dog bringing up the rear.

She could hear the sound of the conversations in front of her, but could make out only a word here or there. Since she and Jes traveled behind them with a light wind in their faces, no one else would hear anything they said to each other.

She didn't know what to say to him. She was seldom awkward, though it was getting to be a familiar state around Jes. Not that she talked all the time—like Tier—but she was comfortable with her silences. Or had been. Now she wanted to speak to Jes, but she didn't know what to say or how to say it—so she stayed quiet.

Jes patted her knee. “Don't worry so much,” he said.

It was so unexpected—although why she couldn't have said, since she knew he was an uncommonly powerful empath—that she laughed.

“I'll try not to,” she said. She couldn't see his face to read what was there, but his shoulders were relaxed and easy. “It's just that I feel as though there is a lot to say—but whatever I need to talk about won't reach my lips.”

“I do that a lot,” he said gravely. “Usually I wait it out. If it's important, it'll come sooner or later. Running helps.”

“I think I'll just enjoy the sun on my shoulders,” she told him.

He turned his head then so she could see his smile. “I told you about the sun,” he said.

“Sometimes you're a wise man.”

He laughed. “Sometimes. Usually I'm stupid.”

All desire to laugh left her. “Who says so?” she asked.

He turned around to walk backward and grinned. “No need to draw your dagger, sweet lady. I say so. Most times I can hardly hold a conversation.”

“You're not stupid,” she told him.

His grin faded into a gentler expression that she couldn't read—though for some reason it caused her pulse to quicken.

“All right,” he said. “I'm not stupid.”

Then he turned around, and she could think of nothing more to say: but she wanted to, if only to see that unreadable expression on his face again.

They set up camp while the sun was still a few hours from setting because Tier knew from experience it would take them longer to set up camp the first few days than it would later on. Also, Lehr was still recovering from the illness he'd suffered at Colbern, and the lowland horses that Toarsen and his boys were riding were tiring faster because they weren't used to the heights. An early day or three in the first part of the trip would give them time to acclimatize and Lehr time to heal completely.

“Besides,” he explained to Seraph, as he stretched out beside her on a fallen tree with a twig in his mouth. He put his head on Seraph's lap. “I like this camp. There aren't a lot of rocks in the ground, and that lake is full of trout for supper.”

“The boys are enjoying it,” said Seraph, as a wave of excitement rose among the intrepid fishermen as Toarsen jerked on his fishing line—but Tier was watching his daughter.

“For a man who's likely never been around a child, he's good with Rinnie,” he said.

“ . . . not like
that,
Phoran,” Rinnie was saying, trying to teach the Emperor how to bait his hook. “If you don't get the grub stuck on good, it'll just fall off.”

“He lets her get away with ordering him around,” said Seraph dryly. “I think it amuses him, but it's not a habit that'll serve her well with her brothers.”

Tier took the twig out of his mouth and pointed it at Rinnie, who had both hands on her hips and was shaking her head in exasperation at something Phoran had asked. “He'd better be careful. I know my Rinnie. If he loses that meek posture and starts laughing, he'll be in for a drenching.”

Gura barked at a flopping fish that Toarsen pulled onto the shore.

“Toarsen's been fishing before,” Seraph said. “And Kissel, too.”

“Leheigh's right on the river, same as Redern.” Tier adjusted his head so he could watch the boys more comfortably. “It would be more surprising if Toarsen couldn't fish—and Kissel does whatever Toarsen does. Rufort can't fish, but he's been in the woods—did you see how quickly he had that fire built? You don't learn that in the city. Our Ielian, though, is a city boy through and through. Sensitive, too. We'll have to keep Rinnie away from him—
he
won't think it's funny when a ten-year-old girl tells him what he's doing wrong. I'll have a talk with Lehr.”

“You can talk to Rinnie, too,” advised Seraph. “She's pretty considerate of people if she knows what will bother them.”

“Where did Hennea and Jes go?”

Seraph bent her head toward him and brushed his cheek with hers. “Since we had more fishermen than hooks, Hennea said they'd go out and gather firewood or greens.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “We could go gather firewood.”

She laughed. “My mother told me about men like you.”

When the fish were all caught and eaten and the sun setting, they gathered around the fire. Tier tuned the lute he'd brought back with him from Taela.

“Play ‘The Marcher's Retreat,' please, Papa?” asked Rinnie.

And so began the singing. They were into the second verse before Seraph's soft alto joined in. She didn't like to sing in public, he knew, though she sang with him when it was just family. It was a sign of how much she'd taken to Phoran and the boys that she sang at all.

The soft lamenting tones of “The Marcher's Retreat” gave way to the rollicking “Big Tag's Dog's First Hunt.” He liked that one especially because he'd spent a whole month learning the quick-fingering for the tricky runs from his grandfather the summer before he'd left to soldier. It was the last song his grandfather had taught him.

Lehr pulled out his pennywhistle and played the descant, while Rinnie used a pair of sticks for rhythm accents. It was too fast for the boys who didn't know it, but Toarsen kept up with them until the last chorus, which was sung twice as fast as the rest.

Tier picked a soft ballad next, a common one that everyone would know. There was a duet on the second chorus that Jes and Lehr took. Their voices were almost identical in timbre, and Tier always enjoyed listening to the unusual texture that similarity added to the music.

On the third chorus, Tier's fingers failed him, and he missed a note.

He continued as if there were nothing wrong, and no one seemed to notice. It wasn't as if he played the wrong note, after all. His fingers had just hesitated a moment too long.

He'd played it hundreds of times and never missed a note—still, a missed note should have been nothing to worry about. That is what he told himself as he finished the last verse and swept into the chorus again, but he couldn't put aside that for that bare instant, while his fingers stilled, he'd had no idea who he was or what he was doing.

He finished the song with a flourish and a grin, then sent everyone to bed.

“Morning comes early, and we'll not wait for the sun,” he told them.

He smiled at Seraph and teased her about something that he forgot a moment later. He hid his fear behind a smile and words as he'd learned to do during his years as a soldier. But this was an enemy that he had no idea how to engage in battle.

When Seraph curled beside him, he held her too tightly. She kissed him, wriggled to loosen his grip, patted his hand, and went to sleep. He held his wife against him and hoped the warmth of her body could relax the knots in his belly.

He'd been so worried about losing her, he hadn't thought he might lose himself first.

Jes got up from his bedroll and walked to him. He crouched down by Tier's head. “What's wrong, Papa?” His tone was soft as the night air.

“I'm fine,” Tier whispered. “Go back and go to sleep.”

Jes shook his head. “You don't think you're fine. I can feel it.”

Tier found himself wishing it were the Guardian he was dealing with because Jes was the more stubborn of the two. He wouldn't leave without an explanation for whatever he'd sensed of Tier's fears.

“Tonight, while we were singing, I felt the effects of what the Path did to my Order,” he said finally, hoping his voice wouldn't awaken Seraph. He didn't want her to worry any more than she already did. “It didn't last long, and it didn't hurt. It just frightened me.”

Jes nodded his head, “All right. Don't worry so much. We won't let anything happen to you, not if we can help it.”

Tier smiled, feeling absurdly better for talking to Jes. “I know that. Go on back to sleep.”

Two days later, Tier was in the middle of telling the story of a boy who found a phoenix egg when it happened again. One moment they were riding up the trail, Kissel laughing, and the next the horses were stopped and Kissel had his hand on top of Tier's.

“What's wrong?” Kissel asked urgently.

Tier shook his head, smiled, and hoped he hadn't done anything too stupid. “I just forgot the next part of the story. Likely, I'll remember in a bit and finish it for you tonight after supper, if you'd like.”

Kissel nodded slowly. “That would be fine.”

Toarsen caught up to them. “Why did you stop?”

“Waiting for you,” Kissel said, and started a conversation with Toarsen about the relative merits of two different types of saddles as he urged his horse forward.

Seraph had been just behind Toarsen. She coaxed her gelding until she and Tier were riding shoulder by shoulder. “My mending isn't holding,” she told him. “I'll try to fix it later.”

After dinner, she tried to patch it again, but, to her frustration, the tigereye Lark's ring would not or could not cooperate again, and she could do nothing.

Even so, when he took out the lute and played a few tunes, he had not the slightest bit of difficulty. Seraph didn't sing, just sat near him and stared out into the darkness.

When it was time to try and sleep, Tier held her and wiped the tears from her eyes. “If I can't sing, will you still love me?” he quipped.

“I'd love you if you couldn't talk.” She thumped his chest lightly. “Perhaps more.”

He stifled his laugh so he didn't wake the whole camp. “I love you, too.”

The next afternoon they came to the beginning of the worst part of the trip, a high pass that lay between them and Shadow's Fall. The steep climb spread the distance between riders until Tier could look down the face of the mountain and see nearly a half a league between him and Jes, who was walking behind the last rider. Tier stopped Skew at a wide spot in the trail and sent Lehr, who had been with him, riding on ahead while Tier waited to bring up the rear with Jes.

Lehr's chestnut mare's coat was dark with sweat, but her breath came easy. It bothered her not at all when Skew stopped and she had to go on alone.