Dark Haven (29 page)

Cam waited until the .men had gone. He was chilled through, but his mind raced at the “conversation. One of the men had the hint of a Trevath accent. What does does a Trev care about Isencroft’s crown? He’s got no cause with the divisionists—unless it’s to keep us busy while Tris goes to war. Cam went back to the inn long enough to warm up once more, and was about to head home when someone bumped against him.

Just as quickly, Cam knew the bag of coins at his belt was gone. A skinny boy leaped over a bench and bolted out of the door. Cam shouldered his way through the crowd in pursuit, catching sight of the boy half a block down the street. For a man his size, Cam moved with surprising speed, and he tackled the boy before the pickpocket could disappear into one of the side streets.

“Take your poxy coins!” the boy said, squirming in Cam’s grip. “Just don’t turn me in to the 246

guards. I’ve had enough trouble lately.”

“Answer a couple of questions, and I might not hand you over. Seen anyone around the Stray Dog with a Trevath accent?”

The boy wiped at some blood at the corner of his lip and glared at Cam. “Maybe.”

“Seen any Trevath gold around?”

“Maybe.”

Cam shook his head and started to hoist the pickpocket to his feet. “With a memory like that, there’s no reason not to turn you in—”

“All right. Yes. Name is Ruggs. Looks like the kind who has a different name in every tavern, if you get my meaning. Shows up every fortnight. I seen him talking with Leather John. He’s a bad seed. On busy days, the innkeeper gives me a few coppers to feed the horses out back. Once I overheard a bit of what Leather John and Ruggs was saying. Leather John said his boys needed more money for weapons. Said they had to move about to keep from getting caught. From the way he talked, I figured he doesn’t fancy our princess marrying up a foreigner. Ruggs gave Leather John a pouch. Told him to step it up, burn more. Said his boss wanted to make sure Isencroft kept out of other people’s business. Didn’t rightly know what he meant, but then the old grocer’s place went up in flames the next night.”

Cam’s fingers were growing numb from the cold and his grip on the pickpocket’s shirt. “Did you hear anything else? A name? A place?”

“Just one. Lord somebody. Don’t recall the name.”

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Cam relieved the pickpocket of the stolen pouch and then took out a silver coin and held it up.

“When do you go back to work at the stable again?”

The pickpocket eyed the coin. “Next week. Why?”

“What’s your name?”

“Which one?”

“The one they know you bv at the Stray Dog.”

“Kev.”

“All right, Kev. The next time you work at the inn, keep an eye out for Leather John and Ruggs.

Go feed the horses, take a leak, bring them an ale—whatever you have to do to get close to them. I’ll pay you a silver for the information. Mind that it’s not something you made up, or I’ll know and you’ll be out in the stocks at the guard house. It gets mighty cold at night.”

“I understand,” Kev snapped. He shook free of Cam’s grip.

“Find out where Ruggs goes when he leaves the Dog, and there’s another silver in it for you.

Don’t get caught. Can’t imagine a guy like that would take it well.”

“How will I find you?”

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“I’ll find you.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

” I wish things could be different.” Kiara said, watching Tris fasten his heavy cloak. Below their window, in the courtyard, she could already hear the clamor of the army readying to leave for war.

Tris wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, lingering in the moment. She didn’t need a healer’s gift to recognize the tension in his shoulders. The campaign was unlikely to move smoothly. “So do I. But we both know there’s no choice.”

A month had passed since their wedding, just long enough for the healers to be certain that she carried the child of the king. Just a few days before, the same courtyard had been filled with cheering people as Zachar, weak and barely able to return to his duties, announced that the king and queen were expecting. All the hope and happiness that announcement should have brought were dimmed by the knowledge that it meant Tris was now free to wage war.

“You have Cerise and Malae to look after you,” Tris said, stroking Kiara’s hair. “Zachar’s not well, but Crevan’s handled things so far. Mikhail will be here to help, Carroway and Harrtuck will watch out for you. And the dogs will keep you company.” He absently reached down to touch the wolfhound’s head as the big dog nosed in between them, jealous for attention. “I’ve asked Comar Hassad to have’the ghosts watch over you as well. You’ll be safe here.” He forced a smile.

“You both will.”

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“It’s you I’m worried about,” Kiara said, reluctantly stepping back from their embrace. “You’re a king now. And a father. Don’t take any foolish chances.”

“Did Soterius tell you to say that? He and Mikhail have been lecturing me for days now. Ban wants to keep me so far behind the lines that I won’t even be able to see Curane’s manor. With luck, we’ll break them quickly and it won’t come to outright war.”

They both knew that was unlikely. “You have a reason to come back in one piece,” she said quietly.

“More than one. But I can’t leave Curane in place. He’s not just a threat to me, and to Margolan, but he’s also a threat to the next king—or queen—as well.”

“I know. But I don’t have to like it.”

“Neither do I.” A knock at the door made him hurry to gather his cloak. He was dressed for the outside cold, with a winter‐weight tunic and trews beneath his mail shirt. A breastplate with the king’s coat of arms blazoned across his chest. The rest of his armor—and that of the army—

waited in the long train of wagons outside the courtyard. The knock came again, more insistent this time.

“Be careful,” he whispered, giving her a last kiss good bye. “I’m looking forward to a warm welcome when I get home.”

Despite herself, Kiara smiled as he drew away. “Count on it. But you’d better go before Soterius breaks down the door.”

Coalan, not Soterius, waited in the hallway. “The men are ready to ride.” Coalan was dressed for the journey as the king’s valet, and Tris noticed the new sword that hung beneath Coalan’s cloak, 250

a gift from Soterius.

Tris followed Coalan, pausing for one backward glance. Kiara waved and smiled bravely. Down in the courtyard, the army and all its retainers spilled out of the bailey and down onto the road.

Four thousand men at arms and their horses, plus squires, cooks, drivers, and armorers. Wagons were filled with food for men and horses, weapons, armor, tack, clothing, bedding, and tents.

Pack mules and extra horses added to the procession, plus two wagons for the half‐dozen mages who had defied the Sisterhood and volunteered for the battle. Come nightfall, Tris knew, dozens of vayash moru would join them. Vyrkin, too. Pennants flew overhead and the crowd that gathered had a festival air to it.

“Everything’s ready,” Soterius said, coming alongside Tris. “Awaiting your signal.”

Tris nodded. Coalan brought his horse and held it while Tris swung up to the saddle. “Let’s ride.”

He glanced behind him. Kiara stood on the balcony. It’s the role she’s schooled for all her life.

Queen of Margolan. And Goddess knows, it will take everything she’s got to hold the court together while I’m gone.

Kiara watched the army stream from the palace courtyard. The long procession wound its way through the gates and down the road from the palace city until the road rose and the figures disappeared from sight. She finally turned back toward her rooms, surprised to see Cerise waiting with a woolen wrap. Tris’s dogs followed her. The two wolfhounds were first to claim a spot near the fire in the sitting room. The mastiff ambled his way toward the hearth, circling before he lay down.

“It’ll hardly do for you to catch a chill,” Cerise said, holding the wrap for her. “It’s a bit warmer here than in Isencroft, but hardly warm enough to stand outside. Make has tea for us. You look a bit peaked, dear.”

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Malae was waiting with tea and cakes set out on the table for the three of them. “Not much that a good cup of tea can’t help, I always say.”

Kiara sank down into a chair, snuggling the wrap around herself. “Was it like this for mother, when father had to go out on campaign?”

“Every time, my dear,” Cerise replied.

“Except that your mother favored port over tea on such an occasion,” Malae added.

“I remember father being gone for months at a time when I was a child. But mother never let on that anything was wrong. For all I knew, he was out on a hunt.”

Malae reached over to pat her hand. “Viata didn’t want you to worry. After you were asleep, we would often sit up the whole night with her when your father was at war. Whenever he was able to send a letter, she would read it over and over, looking for hidden clues about how things were really going. It was worse when you were old enough to go with him. She worried about you both. But she kept up a brave front. As you must, my dear.”

“I know. I tried not to let Tris know how afraid I am for him.”

Cerise placed her hands on Kiara’s shoulders. Kiara could feel Cerise’s healing magic flow through her, into the stiff muscles of her back and neck. It warmed her even more than the tea, and she shrugged off the wrap as the warmth of the nearby fireplace took the last of the chill.

“You have your own battles here,” Malae said. “Your first job is to stay safe.”

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“That’s not something mother did very well, was it,” Kiara said wistfully, sipping her tea. She knew that Viata’s ghost was nearby.

“She did everything in her power to make it easier for you,” Cerise said, settling down beside Kiara. “And you have friends here. Tonight, Bard Carroway is giving a concert in your honor.”

“Speaking of which—who changed the necklace I set out?” Malae said, picking up a piece of jewelry from where it lay on the bed next to Kiara’s gown for the evening. There was a cool wind, and out of the corner of her eye, Kiara caught a glimpse of a young woman in a servant’s dress.

“Seanna, is that you?” Kiara asked. Unseen hands smoothed the gown’s skirt. “Tris told me you’d look after me,” Kiara said although she could not see the ghost. “Did you choose the necklace?”

The fire suddenly grew brighter, as if a gust of air had blown on it. “I’ll take that as a yes. Thank you.”

Kiara turned to the others. “Tris told me that Seanna has been lady in waiting to several generations of Margolan’s queens. So I guess we’d better get used to her having an opinion.”

There was a knock at the door. The wolfhounds jumped to their feet as Malae answered the door to find Crevan waiting. “May I come in?” Crevan regarded the dog watchfully.

The mastiff made no noise, but he padded toward Crevan, head down.

“Of course,” Kiara replied, laying aside her tea. “I was expecting Zachar.”

“Unfortunately, the pace of these last few days has been too much for Zachar. He’s had a 253

setback. Almost had to carry him back to bed.” Crevan shook his head. “I’m afraid he’s not well at all, but we’ll carry on. You have guests for dinner tonight—Bard Carroway, Lady Eadoin, and her niece, Lady Alysandra. Mikhail will join us at some point. Captain Harrtuck asked me to let you know he’s hand‐picked your guards, and that he’ll be among them at every opportunity.”

Crevan smiled. “I’m afraid your duties as queen are just beginning, Your Majesty.”

Every night, Carroway’s band of musicians played through dinner. In the two weeks since Tris left with the army, they had not repeated a set, and Kiara was as impressed at the musicians’

ability as she was intrigued at the obvious camaraderie among them. Kiara watched, entranced, as Macaria played her flute. She remembered Carroway’s high praise for the girl, and thought it was colored by his obvious and unrequited interest in her. But as Macaria played a lilting folk tune, Kiara felt the stirrings of magic in the air. The room’s temperature dropped; Macaria’s music was drawing the ghosts of Shekerishet. Those spirits who could made themselves visible.

Among them, Kiara glimpsed Seanna, smiling and swaying to the music.

“It’s wonderful how music lifts the mood, don’t you think?” Make said.

“It certainly is.” Kiara had just enough magic of her own to sense the power in Macaria’s music.

As beautiful as it was, more than just the song was affecting the crowd’s emotions. Macaria’s playing seemed to lift her mood. At first, she had thought it due to the girl’s expert playing. Now, she was sure it was magic. Car‐roway knows the power of her playing. Bless him. It’s no accident he’s been sending her to play for me in the evenings. When Macaria finished, Carroway motioned for her to join them.

“Your playing is beautiful,” Kiara said as Macaria took her seat.

“Thank you, m’lady.”

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“There’s magic in it, isn’t there? Mood magic.”

“The magic’s always been there. My grandmother gave me a pennywhistle when I was a little girl. I was the youngest of ten, so no one noticed if I strayed off into the‐ woods for hours at a time, playing. I don’t remember when I realized that the music brought the ghosts near. It charms the animals too, although to a lesser degree. I discovered that the day I saw a wolf! I didn’t know what to do and I was scared, so I kept on playing. I played a quiet song and he just sat down and looked at me until I was finished.”

“So the magic influences the mood of your listeners?”

“I can’t actually control someone’s mood— and it wouldn’t be right to do it even if I could. But I can enhance a good mood, and encourage a better mood if someone’s in a bad one.” She grinned. “It works best if the listeners don’t think about it. Once you know, you can choose not to be affected. Most people never realize it. They just know they really liked the music, and they’re more generous with the coins in my hat to show it!”

Carroway laughed. “Can you believe someone with her gift was playing in the street? I brought her to the queen as soon as I found her.”

“Carroway was my patron. I’ll always be grateful for that.” Kiara noticed that Carroway looked away at Macaria’s words, and a shadow seemed to cross his expression. Something else is going on there. Something keeping them apart. But what?