Hunting (2 page)

"I fear Sera Haiden was far from being
in such a position," Landhold Dunn said, her treacle-tone thinning
just a fraction.

"Have you information for us? If not,
I'll have to ask you to vacate the area until the initial
investigations are done. The Captain here will send you word."

Charity Dunn clearly resented the crisp
dismissal, but her Smallholder's rights naturally gave way to
palace authority.

"There is just a question of ownership
of some valuable books," the Landhold murmured. "I simply can't
permit anything to leave the premises until some evidence of
ownership has been produced."

"Books in the language of Khantar,"
Captain Garton murmured.

"The herbalist's homeland?" The
Investigator's clear grey eyes assessed Charity Dunn. "Well, if you
can offer some proof that you own such, Holder, I'm certain they
can be returned to you. Perhaps you have some form of inventory? If
you oblige us by providing it, the Captain here will be able to
ensure nothing listed is removed."

The Investigator turned away, clearly
dismissing the Landhold from her thoughts. Unlike Garton, the woman
was not a low paid Watch Captain responsible for a small part of
the city's general safety, but a member of the Rhoi's Guard,
trained to deal with tricky problems troubling Luinhall and ensure
the Rhoi's safety. The rod of authority awarded her could not be
taken by any but the Rhoi.

Stymied, Charity Dunn took her leave
with carefully maintained dignity, and a smile for Ash that would
chill a lesser girl's heart.

"What was that about?" the Investigator
asked Garton, flipping open the cover of one of the books.

"Landhold Dunn's father left this house
to Sera Haiden for the term of her life. Gave him back the use of
his hands, she did. Landhold Dunn always...resented the bequest."
Garton's eyes flickered over the five men and women standing in the
room, obviously wondering if word of what he said could possibly
get back to Charity Dunn.

"And this is Khanteck?" the
Investigator asked, flicking a page of one precious book. "You can
read this, boy?"

Ash, who had been barely responsive
during the Investigator's previous attempt to question her, nodded
and tried to suppress her desire for action. This woman should be
regarded as a useful source of information, or at least another
hurdle to Ash's speedy departure.

The Investigator passed the books to a
man who had watched the exchange without comment. This was some
form of foreign Landhold, his black hair and bronzed skin
suggesting a Firuvari heritage, though the closely tailored
thigh-length robe of heavy cream cloth decorated with
near-invisible geometrical embroidery was an Aremish style. Ash
only half restrained her frown. Ghoul. What was he doing here,
prying into Genevieve's death?

"You have relatives you can go to,
boy?" the Investigator asked.

"He's an orphan," Captain Garton
answered before Ash could glibly invent a half-dozen other aunts.
"Sera Haiden was his only living relation." Ash glared at him and
the Captain shook his head. "Genevieve would haunt me if I let you
run off to join that street gang you get around with, Ash. You'll
come home with me for now."

"I'm not going to push your brood out
of what little space they have, Captain. Besides, you live in one
of Charity Dunn's shoeboxes and she'll treble your rent the instant
she hears I'm there. I've places to go, thanks all the same."

"Did your aunt teach you her trade,
boy?" the foreign Landhold asked, his voice only lightly accented.
He closed the book he had been flipping through: Genevieve's herbal
reference, her most precious possession, which she'd bestowed on
Ash with more formality than Ash had ever seen from her. As he
asked this question, the Landhold shook his head, ever so slightly.
A barely detectable order.

"No," Ash said, since that was what she
had been planning to say anyway. Admitting you had herbal knowledge
had recently become a dangerous thing. But this man must suspect
otherwise, since he'd been looking at the Herbal as if he could
read it, or at least could make a simple deduction from the
detailed illustrations. "She taught a girl named Jenna a bit,
though." Ash had regular employment exercising animals at a nearby
stable. Only a few people knew that she'd made any shift to learn
what Genevieve could teach her.

"I'll take charge of him, Verel," the
Landhold said, to Ash's complete surprise. "I'm told I need a
seruilis."

Ash stared and even the Investigator
looked a little unsure, but shrugged. "As you wish," she said. "At
least I'll know where to find him, if he's with you.

The man nodded. "Tell me if you find
anything unusual," he said, picking up the other book from the
table and glancing at the frontispiece. It was a book of heroic
tales, and Ash resented him handling it almost as much as his calm
assumption that he could command her into service as a seruilis, if
that was what he truly intended. It was a period of
training-by-observation usually reserved for Kinsel, family of
Luinsel who wanted to learn more about maintaining Luin's Laws of
Balance.

She studied the stranger warily: a
commanding figure with a thin sword at his side, undecorated and
serviceable. The tight tailoring of the robe showed him to be
athletic and he was handsome enough, with a faintly aquiline nose
and high cut cheekbones, his hair short at the nape, but the bangs
worn longer and swept back. Glossy black wings.

Ash checked his hands and saw none of
the roughness that spoke of heavy labour. Long, thin fingers, the
nails not manicured, but not ragged with continual work, either.
His boots were more than fine. If he wanted a seruilis, did that
mean he was Luinsel?

Not that it mattered. She had no
intention of playing servant-apprentice. Biding her time, Ash
scooped her clothing back into its bag.

"I'll send word about the funeral
arrangements," Captain Garton said

Ash blocked her mind from thoughts of
what that funeral would mean and nodded, then let the stranger lead
her outside.

Chapter Two

A curious, watchful crowd had gathered.
Nervous strangers, and a few familiar faces, made distant by fear.
Luinhall was dealing not only with murder, but also a spate of
disappearances. Nerves were on edge, and if Ash tried to abandon
the Landhold here, there was a fair chance that they'd catch and
hold her.

Fortunately, the Landhold led her down
the side alley to speak to yet another Watchman, this one in charge
of a collection of horses. If she went over the wall into Renus'
garden...

"Can I have my books back, please?" she
asked as he returned, and then was distracted by the animal he
led.

The equipage was plain and serviceable,
but the horse itself was the finest she'd ever seen. Black with one
white sock, more than eighteen hands high and close to perfect in
form. A stallion, which was chancy for a riding animal, but this
beauty looked to have been trained out of any immediate displays of
temperament. Ash found herself rechecking his points in the hope of
spotting some narrowness of the shoulders or splaying of hooves. As
if aware of the inspection, the stallion curved his fine, muscular
neck, stepping smartly.

The Rhoi's mount probably didn't show
better than this, and Ash reached out involuntarily to offer her
hand. The stallion condescended to whuffle at her skin, ears
pricking back and forth, obviously excited by the too-near presence
of the crowd.

The Landhold unbuckled a saddlebag, and
slid her wrapped books inside instead of returning them as asked.
"Much as Arth here would like a run, I've no wish to spend what's
left of the morning chasing you down."

It had been too much to hope that he
was stupid, but maybe he could be talked out of this impulse.

"I'm not going with you," Ash said,
bluntly, and followed his glance to the Watchman, who wasn't quite
close enough to hear what they were saying, but was gazing at them
in obvious interest. "Find yourself another seruilis."

"I don't recall offering you a choice,"
the Landhold said pleasantly. He mounted, splits in his robe's
skirt showing it was designed for riding, and held a hand down to
her, bronzed fingers parted. His bangs flopped into his eyes,
spoiling the authority of the gesture.

Looking at the outstretched hand, Ash
made a face. Well, she'd just have to run off later rather than
sooner. After she'd ridden this extremely magnificent piece of
horseflesh and stolen her books back.

Wishing she had her knives, Ash handed
the man her bag, gripped the saddle and sprang up behind him. He
passed her bag back, waited till she'd taken a light hold of his
robe, and then nudged the stallion into motion.

The black had an easy gait, but giving
in never did Ash's temper a great deal of good, and she spent her
energy on glowering at the Landhold's back and being annoyed at his
height as he negotiated the press of people, skirted a nightsoil
wagon, and oriented on the towering statue of Luin which rose out
of the River Milk. But by the time they joined the flow of morning
traffic on the Great River Road Ash had recovered her equilibrium,
turning her mind seriously to the possibility of making use of the
man, or giving up on her books and running.

She made a quick survey – from the side
valleys and heavily planted slopes of Westgard to the abrupt,
fern-bedecked rise of Eastwall – seeing nothing unusual in the city
packed between the two mountains. Luin's stone face, carved with
careful ambiguity to match a god's dual aspect, offered no
guidance.

"Where are you taking me?"

The Landhold turned his head, but
didn't slacken the stallion's swift walk. "To the palace."

"Why?"

"I told you. I need a seruilis."

"And I told you, I'm not going to be
your seruilis. I've better things to do with my time." Ash wasn't
in the mood to mince words.

"There are some who might consider it
an honour to serve me in that capacity." He sounded amused, not
offended.

"Well, why don't you go give them the
opportunity? And stop lying to me, while you're at it. Seruilisi,
in case someone never explained the concept to you, are supposed to
be the children of Luinsel learning the duties of their parents.
Why are you really taking me with you?"

"I've thrashed men, in my time, for
calling me a liar," he said, still in the same pleasant tone.

"Then that should give you some idea of
just how tiresome a seruilis I'd be," Ash said reasonably. "Think
of the energy you'd save if you had a seruilis happy to let you fib
all day just to avoid being beaten up by someone twice his size."
Part of this response was her grief and anger resurfacing, but only
part. Most of the rest was calculated risk, with a fraction of
enjoyment at saying outrageous things. "Anyway, I'm going to run
off the first opportunity I get," she informed him.

"Why?" He wasn't the slightest bit
perturbed, guiding the stallion expertly through the bustle of the
city's busiest road.

"The Landsmeet's a viper pit. And as I
said, I've better things to do with my time than playing your
servant."

"Revenging your aunt?"

She supposed that was a natural
conclusion. "Yes."

"From what the Captain said of her, she
didn't strike me as the kind of person who would wish her nephew to
burden himself with the cost of vengeance."

Ash didn't reply immediately, not
wanting the tears in her eyes to be obvious in her voice. He was
wrong, besides. Genevieve had had a highly complicated attitude
toward the question of taking life. For all that her guardian had
never believed that she could balance the debts of her past, she
had refused to be paralysed by the fear of damnation. It was Ash
who would hesitate at the thought of killing, no matter how
necessary it felt.

"Genevieve would expect me to not
charge in headlong, but do my best to prevent further murders.
Which is beside the point. If you need a seruilis, go commandeer
someone suitable for the role from the Kinsel."

"But none of the Kinsel I've
encountered were raised by a herbalist," he said, matching her
earlier tone of implacable reason. "Nor would a book of herbalist
lore be their first choice of objects to take with them when being
precipitately evicted."

"So you want a herbalist, not a
seruilis."

"I want an ally whose skill with herbs
is not generally known, and who has every reason to not align
himself with the killer. Someone with no connection to the
Landsmeet."

That had the tang of truth, which made
it harder to simply reject the idea. "You think the person behind
the killings is among the Luinsel?"

"Perhaps. It seems clumsy and obvious,
but this could be a precursor to an attack on a much-scrutinised
target. A friend asked me to aid the Guard in their investigation
because I have Estarrel blood which, if nothing else, allows me to
confirm that the same person brought about all the deaths. Consider
me a source of information, and an opportunity to hunt for the
motive for all this."

It was true that Ash had few immediate
routes of investigation, though there would be many eager to aid
her in finding Genevieve's murderer. Estarrel blood was a surprise
– he meant he was related to the family of the Aremish Rhoi,
descendents of the Sun and the World.

"If I stick around, do I have to bow
and scrape to you?"

"What a burden that would be. In
public. For the sake of verisimilitude, if nothing else."

If he had hoped to stump her with the
word, he was in for a disappointment. It was one that Genevieve had
used often when Ash had first come to her. And there was the rub.
This new deception may well compromise the old, and the Landsmeet
was not the safest place for Ash to be.