Hunting (19 page)

"When I first encountered Lauren
Carlyon I didn't, as was obvious, know who he was. I was impressed
by his air of command, thought that at least the first seruilis was
someone I wouldn't mind taking orders from, and so there I was,
trying to impress in return, wondering vaguely who he reminded me
of."

"Then he told you."

Ash inspected faint abrasions on the
palms of her hands, remnant of the previous day's exertions. "I
think that Lauren Carlyon is as far removed from his father in
personality as anyone I have ever encountered. I have no problem,
no difficulty with him at all; can only feel sorry for him. You're
not the only person in the world who suffers because of his
parentage. Yours is too high, and Carlyon's..."

"Yes. I never speak to him of it.
No-one does."

"What could you say? But enough of
this. It's depressing." Seeing that he was sagging into the
pillows, Ash stood up, postponing part of her planned conversation
until later. "Make a quick recovery, Ser Veirhoi." She made her way
to the door.

"Ash. Come and talk to me again, will
you?"

She smiled, flipped him a vague salute,
and left, turning over ways to keep him alive.

Chapter Eighteen

"Do you think there are two killers?"
she asked, not long before she was due to go to the Mern the next
day.

Thornaster looked up from the sword he
was oiling, and raised his brows. "Do you?"

"I don't know." She sat down on the
long lounging chair that was a central feature of the Visel's new
receiving room, where Thornaster had been teaching her to maintain
his weaponry. "It doesn't make sense that someone should hire a
foreign assassin to kill all the herbalists unless they were
planning to use some sort of herb for something important and
poisoning people is the logical conclusion there. But if the Rhoi
or Heran is the target, why the obvious attempts to finish off
Heran? And why him? There still haven't been any attempts on the
Rhoi's life, have there?"

"Not that we know of. One occurrence
that could easily have been an accident. But he is a little more
difficult to come near."

"If they could block Heran's chimney,
why not the Rhoi's? They live in the same apartments. And, if
there's a woman out there who can appear in people's bedrooms, why
doesn't she just appear in the Rhoi's? Or Heran's?"

"There are wards on many of the palace
rooms. There are wards in these rooms. Old ones, very faded, but
still operating."

"Really?" She glanced around in
automatic futility. "How long does it take to put a ward on a
room?"

"Months. For a permanent one."

"Oh." She lifted the sword from her
lap, correcting her grip the way Thornaster had shown her, and
moved it thoughtfully back and forth. "I don't think this is my
weapon," she told him, considering the weight of the blade. "It
feels very wrong."

"Does it?" He was being amused again,
but she ignored that.

"Yes. But I suppose you could teach me
the best ways to get past a swordsman's guard. Where did you put my
knife?"

The Visel, eyes dancing, produced the
thin, precisely balanced throwing blade he'd confiscated as soon as
he'd discovered her carrying it. "You consider this the better
weapon, then?"

"It doesn't have some of the advantages
of a sword, of course. I expect there are good and bad points to
both, but I've carried a knife for years and I can't see myself
becoming more adept at a longer blade at this late date."

"You're past learning at sixteen? But
what if you find yourself with only a sword as a weapon?"

"Facing someone who's been learning
since he was knee-high? I'd have a better chance throwing the thing
at him as a distraction and legging it. Why are you finding this so
funny?"

The man brushed his hair back out of
his eyes, smiling down at his sword. "I have had two seruilisi
before you," he explained. "I was just considering their reactions
if they heard you glibly producing reasons why I should not spend
too much effort instructing you in the sword."

"Did you teach them?"

"On occasion. If they had done
something particularly deserving, I would reward them with a few
lessons."

"Wasn't there anyone else to teach
them?"

"Of course there was, stripling,"
Thornaster replied, lips quirking. "And don't point that wide-eyed
expression in my direction. If you ever had an ounce of naiveté in
you, it's long since moved on to more convivial surroundings."

"I take it you are accounted
particularly good? And my predecessors would consider it nigh-on
blasphemy for me not to fawn at your feet in gratitude at the mere
idea of you attempting to pass this skill on?"

"Exactly."

She pretended to give this due
consideration. "I suppose it would be impolite of me to suggest
that they were probably trying to keep on your good side?"

That opened the man's eyes wide. "Why
cultivate politeness now?" he asked. "I wouldn't want you to
abandon the habit of a lifetime out of any desire to please
me."

"Oh, good. I thought for a moment I'd
have to pretend I was enjoying myself."

Smiling, the Visel shook his head.
"Having established your unwillingness, shall we go on to the Mern?
I'll speak to Master Humboldt first, and take you for the second
session."

With exaggerated reluctance, Ash rose
and followed him down to the Mern, leaving him to make her way to
the Common Room to face her fellow seruilisi.

They were, she sensed immediately, now
split into two distinct camps. Those who had grown more hostile
towards her and those who were unsure how to react. She suspected
Gibrace had thawed towards her the most, and perhaps Vendarri. Only
two people hadn't changed, one being Frog, who greeted her
enthusiastically, plumped himself down beside her and talked
non-stop until Carlyon arrived. Carlyon, as before, gave her no
more attention than any other seruilis. Ash kept her own reactions
to modest shrugs and a few 'yes-no' answers as Frog plied her with
questions.

The first session was another lecture
on sewers. Keeping the Milk uncontaminated was a major concern,
though it sounded like the Luinsel in charge of the city districts
did little more than retain experts. Ash wasn't the only one
struggling to keep her attention focused, and was relieved when
Carlyon returned and told Vendarri that he could instruct the group
in archery before indicating that Ash should follow him.

"I owe you my thanks, Lenthard," he
said, pausing at the entrance to the main practice ground.

She met his eyes, abandoning the meek
obedience that she'd been using in the Mern. This wasn't something
she could answer flippantly, not with this so-honourable youth she
had insulted. But it would be easiest to keep absolutely to
business. "You were ahead of him. Was there anyone with or ahead of
you? Who can be ruled out?"

He didn't shut down the discussion, had
likely been given some intimation that Ash's role was in part to
protect the Veirhoi. "Vendarri. He's always break-neck in the
rough."

Ash nodded. "It must have been spur of
the moment. Too difficult to arrange on purpose – suddenly finding
oneself alone behind one's target. If he was alone."

"You're suggesting a conspiracy? False
alibis?"

"Can't rule out the possibility. Even
the ones supposedly unarmed. I could have concealed a crossbow in
my saddlebag and fired when the opportunity arose. Thornaster has
one of astonishingly small proportions."

Carlyon just shook his head, but, as
they came up to the two older men, he added in an undertone: "Not
if you shoot as wildly as Vendarri claims."

Ash's opinion of swords did not
improve, despite Thornaster's patience. She felt awkward with them,
and it didn't help that not only Carlyon, but Master Humboldt as
well, were apparently to share her lessons. They handled their
blades as if they were goose down and, while they were apparently
learning a new style, they were quick to adapt. Ash, seeing no
immediate escape from these lessons, boredly copied the moves
Thornaster demonstrated, her mind on more important matters.

Thornaster's eyes rested on her
thoughtfully while they made their way back to his rooms, but he
didn't chastise her for her probably too-open dislike of her
'reward'. He understood, at least, where her priorities lay.

Chapter Nineteen

Two days later a note was delivered via
Mirramar, and taken by Thornaster to Investigator Verel.

"Wagoner found her hiding in a barrel
behind Varitty's. She's cold and scratched up, but no serious
injuries. The only thing she'll say is that a Sera turned into a
black dog and chased her. Ma and Da say you can find her here if
you want to talk to her – from the sound of it, we won't get any
argument about who keeps her from her so-called grandparents."

"Shapeshifter?" Lips pursed, the Guard
Investigator handed the note back. "Shapeshifting is rare – few
mages can achieve it. Though it would explain why we're having so
much trouble finding a foreign female mage."

Thornaster turned the note over before
handing it back to Ash. "A clever tactic for an assassin. How many
dogs, black or not, are there in any city? Who would pay attention
to one roaming at night? Accessing the palace grounds wouldn't be
difficult either, though she'd stand out inside the buildings. And
she would have traces of power about her while transformed, so I
would know her if I saw her."

"Well, if we manage to line up all the
dogs in the city for inspection, I'll be sure to call you," Verel
said sourly, and left.

"I wonder how she'll go about arranging
that search?" Thornaster said, entertained.

"Can I go down into the Commons?" Ash
asked. "I can get there and back before I'm due at the Mern."

"Of course." He dropped a hand briefly
onto her head. "Take Arth, if you like."

Ash blinked up at him, then realised he
was still trying to reward her. "A
much
better idea than
waving swords about," she said, and left to the sound of his
laughter.

After a detour by the kitchens for an
offering to appease Cloud Cat, Ash almost skipped to the stable,
and had to rein herself in before approaching the stalls. After
lavishing suitable attention on Cloud Cat, she took immense
pleasure on saddling the Aremish stallion. Arth turned his head to
look at her as she set her foot to the stirrup, but made no
objection to her mounting, and took mincing little steps until they
were out of the stable.

"Don't you laugh at me, too," she told
the stallion, and wished she had an excuse to let him have his
head. As it was, she reached the Rogadney bakery in record time,
and sent Bitty out to watch over such valuable horseflesh.

Merit Rogadney, Lark's towering father,
came out to shake his head admiringly, then made a number of genial
remarks on Ash's determination to increase the size of his family.
Her street waif had been appearing morning and evening for the
promised meals, but had so far resisted Sera Rogadney's dismayed
attempts to clean her up and extract a name from her.

"Can I see Sonia?"

"She's asleep right now," Larkin said,
emerging from the bakery in his usual dusting of powder. "Take a
walk with me, and maybe she'll be up when we get back."

"I can't stop," Ash said regretfully,
inviting him to admire Arth, which he did from a safe distance. And
once they were safely out of earshot of Larkin's extensive family,
she added: "Tonight, take Melar and Bitty to the Shambles. See if
you can spot the skarl. Don't do more than observe it: confirm its
existence. And its colour."

There was a long, slow intake of
breath, then a frown. "The first skarl was grey."

"That's why I want you to look. It's
logical to connect shapeshifting mage with magical wolf, but the
last one didn't show any hint of being originally human. Look for
any differences, any sign of increased intelligence. For Astenar's
sake, don't engage it."

"Considering how close I came to buying
it with the first skarl, I'm not overwhelmingly eager to tangle
with this one. But...do you want me to test to see if the rowan
works on it?"

"If it's our killer, we don't want to
make her think we've spotted her disguise. Look and leave."

"And then what? You thinking of calling
in your new friends to clear up?"

She shook her head. "The Guard and the
Watch would be hopeless trying to deal with the Shambles. They
don't know it; don't know the short cuts, the boltholes. All they'd
succeed in doing is putting her in more intensive hiding. If it's
her, we're dealing with a skarl-mage-assassin-shapeshifter which we
have to capture alive, to find out who hired her."

"Alive?! Well, I hope you've got a
solid plan, Ash, because even if it is just a skarl, no
shapeshifting involved, I don't know if we could manage that."

"I'll think on it," Ash promised.

She failed to even appreciate the ride
back to the palace, and paid no attention to the afternoon of
dancing lessons, completely forgetting that Montmothian formal
dancing was something an ex-Khanteck stable hand was unlikely to
know. Fortunately she also kept forgetting that she was supposed to
take the male role, and flubbed often enough to seem unlearned. Her
session with Thornaster would certainly not make him believe she
had a future with the sword, her mind fully occupied while her body
swung the practice rapier back and forth.

Thornaster noticed but didn't bother
her with questions, and she made no attempt to explain, though her
preoccupied air lasted through the evening. She stood behind him in
the Rhoi's study and failed to track the conversation at all,
beyond recognising a level of constraint in the previously
light-hearted chatter. How to capture a skarl, who was a mage,
alive?