No Quarter (22 page)

Gabris pulled her into a quick and awkward embrace—awkward both because of the pack and because neither was, by nature, overtly demonstrative. "Be careful."

"You, too." At his protest she added, "At least I know what I'm facing. You don't.

I found what Ullious didn't say in that message to be very disconcerting."

"Her Imperial Majesty's protection will, I'm certain be sufficient."

Karlene studied him for a moment, brows drawn in, then she shrugged, allowing him his belief that in any contest between Their Imperial Majesties involving him, the Emperor would lose. She'd asked him once, just after she'd first arrived from Shkoder, what exactly his relationship with the Empress was.

"
I'm Her Majesty's lifeline to home
," he'd told her.

"That's all?"

"Anything else is not your song to sing."

And that had been that.

"Do you think you can get this lot back to the Capital on your own?" she asked, turning enough to gesture at the four Imperial fledglings sprawled out in the shade of a giant cottonwood tree.

Gabris snorted. "I think I'm up to it."

As though she'd been waiting for Karlene's signal, Virine rose gracefully to her feet and stepped forward. In her late twenties, barely a full Quarter younger than Karlene, she'd been an acolyte in the temple of Eddam, the three-headed, androgynous god of music. When Gabris and Aurel had reminded the priests of her temples that technically speaking she would still be an acolyte—the sphere of her devotion having merely grown larger—they'd voted four to three in favor of allowing her to become a bard. Of the ten Imperial fledglings, she was the only one to Sing all four quarters.

"I think I should go with you," she said.

"Why?"

"Two reasons. The first, you don't Sing earth. I do. And the second, Jazep taught me recall. He was…" Virine frowned as she searched for the exact word then spread her hands expressively. "He was kind. I want to help."

Karlene shook her head. "First, Singing earth didn't help Jazep and he had a lot more years' experience than you do. Second…" Her second objection got lost in memories of Jazep teaching
her
recall. As his single quarter had kept him at the Bardic Hall in Elbasan almost every Fourth Quarter since he'd been fledged, there couldn't be a bard under thirty he hadn't taught. She remembered his gentle smile, his joy in life, his kindness. "Third," she went on, her voice rough-edged, "this is going to be dangerous and frankly, Virine, you are just too precious a resource to risk."

"But…"

"No buts. You're the only Imperial bard who Sings all four quarters and you may remain alone in this ability for some time."

"Gabris?" Virine's face fell as the older bard shook his head. Her sigh brought a kigh in to lightly brush her cheek. Although the gaze that met Karlene's was steady, her eyes were bright. "Then, when you find his body, will you Sing my good-byes?"

"And mine," said one of the three fledglings behind her. The other two murmured a quiet agreement.

Not trusting her voice, Karlene nodded. She scrubbed the back of her hand across her cheeks and started along the road toward the border.

"Karlene!"

When she turned, she saw that the four fledglings had moved up to stand by Gabris' side.

"You were right," he called, tears glistening silver in the gray of his beard.

"Jazep's death
is
a grave loss to Shkoder."

"You will be traveling with His Grace, the Heir of Ohrid." The Imperial Ambassador's voice held a warning that narrowed Bannon's eyes to speculative slits. "His Grace's sister is traveling with your sister, and he is as anxious as you are to return them to Elbasan." As Gerek stepped forward, he added, "His Grace speaks some Imperial."

Bannon touched his heels together and nodded. His gaze flickered down the length of Gerek's body, noting and dismissing both sword and dagger.
Too big and
too slow
, said the lift in his lip.
I
don't need you
.

Gerek smiled and made an obvious point of looking down at the much shorter man. "Your sister told me so
little
about you," he said.

Layers upon layers and practically a bardic emphasis
. Liene made a silent note to have a word with Tadeus about the tenor of his linguistic lessons when grief allowed.

"My sister is not for you to discuss."

"Your sister makes her own choices."

"My sister…"

"Is probably halfway to Bartek Springs by now," the ambassador broke in, stepping forward—although not quite
between
the two. "I think it would be best if you wasted very little time in beginning your pursuit."

A few moments later he dropped onto a bench and sighed deeply. "Frankly, Captain, you weren't much help."

Liene grinned. "You seemed to be doing fine on your own. I suspect they're going to have an interesting trip."

"Interesting?" The ambassador rolled his eyes. "You bards have such a way with words." He supposed he should be thankful that it would be interesting some distance away from him.

"Of course you have my permission to go after your sister." Prince Otavas clasped his hands together behind his back, hiding the way his fingers had begun to tremble. "She's in danger the closer she gets to that… that… to Kars. Stop her.

Bring her and my cousin back to safety. And if this Gyhard has other ideas, well, do what you have to."

"Thank you, Highness." Bannon frowned slightly as he studied the prince. It was evident to the trained eye that the younger man was very afraid. "Highness, you'll be perfectly safe. There's no one here who wishes to harm you, and Kars is not only far away but they say the bards…" With an effort, he kept the distaste from his voice. "… are preparing to deal with him."

Otavas tossed his head. "Of course I'll be safe," he snapped, irritated that Bannon had recognized his fear. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason, Highness." The Emperor had ordered him to return Vree and Gyhard to the Capital. Gyhard had to pay for what he'd done; for his treason, for Vree's betrayal. But the prince… Bannon shook his head, confused. He had a target and the target should be everything. But the prince's safety was his responsibility. If the prince was afraid, then he'd failed.
And who will guard his dreams while I'm
gone
?

"Is there something else?"

"No, Highness." Bannon bowed. "I'll return as quickly as I can."

"Take the time you need," Otavas told him. He managed a shaky smile. "I'll try to stay out of trouble while you're gone."

"Thank you, Highness." If Bannon's answering smile was steadier, it was only because he was a much better liar.

"Don't trust him."

"Why not?" Gerek jerked the strap tight on the bulging saddlebag. "Because he's an arrogant, amoral, little shit?"

Kovar snorted. "Because he's an Imperial assassin."

"So's Vree."

"Exactly. And as Vree has proven herself capable of killing without orders, it's very likely that Bannon can, too. Vree, however, needs our good will; her brother does not and therefore has no external controls on his actions."

"So you want me to control him?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Kovar paced across the bedchamber and back, his agitation sounding through the slap of his soles against the polished wooden floor.

Only the Due of Ohrid had refused carpet in his palace suite. "You couldn't control him if you wanted to. If it comes to a fight, you'll lose—don't ever forget that."

Gerek's lip curled, the expression making him look remarkably like his father.

"Anything else?" he snarled.

"Yes. Don't trust Gyhard either. And don't forget that according to Karlene, Bannon hates him."

"Vree seems to be the only one who doesn't." Throwing open the trunk at the foot of his bed, Gerek waved away the smell of cedar and began to rummage through his clothing. "Oh, and Maggi," he added, without looking up. "She feels sorry for him."

Kovar snorted again, the waxed curls of his mustache trembling. "Your sister is very young and I believe that Vree is afraid."

"Afraid?" Gerek straightened to stare indignantly across his bedchamber at the bard. "Vree isn't afraid of anything."

"I think I have been a slightly more impartial observer than you, Your Grace, and I have seen this fear."

"I didn't think anyone's impartial observing Vree, she's carrying too much history. However," Gerek held up a surrendering hand as Kovar opened his mouth to protest, "I suppose I may be more partial than most. So, what's she afraid of?"

Kovar drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, wondering if the younger man was being deliberately obtuse. "Gyhard. She's afraid of Gyhard."

"I don't think so." He threw a sweater up onto the bed with unnecessary force.

"As much as I wish she weren't, she's in love with Gyhard."

"Is she? Is it logical that she would be? This man, this abomination, destroyed her life, drove a wedge between herself and her brother, and now sits like a parasite in her mind. Why would she love him? Isn't it more logical to believe that she does what he wants because she is afraid of him but, unable because of her training to admit fear, she calls it love instead?"

Both Gerek's brows went up. "I think you've been listening to too many fledgling ballads, Kovar. Even by bardic standards that doesn't make any sense."

"Doesn't it?"

Unfortunately, it did. "Maggi says…"

"Magda is little more than a child." It was Kovar's turn to raise a cautioning hand. "This whole situation is much more complex than a simple love story. I'm not asking that you believe me, Gerek, just keep it in mind. Please."

"Yeah. Sure." He shook his head as if trying to settle unsettling information.

"Anything else?"

"Yes. Be careful." Kovar used enough Voice to make his concern plain. Due to the circumstances of Gerek's upbringing, the bards considered the Heir of Ohrid to be one of theirs. "I'd hate to have to tell your father that he'd lost you."

"You're the entire country away from my father," Gerek reminded him with a not entirely successful laugh. "If I were you, I'd worry more about telling Annice."

"My mother's death was what made me an assassin." So strange to say
my
mother
and
made me
when it had been
our mother
and
made us
for so long.

Magda paled under the color the sun had laid across her cheeks. "You didn't… I mean, you were only seven, you couldn't have…"

"No. I didn't." Unable to decide if she were amused or hurt by the assumption, Vree's voice held no expression at all.

"I'm sorry, Vree." The younger woman reached between the horses and laid her hand lightly on Vree's arm. "That was a stupid thing to say. I forgot the most important lesson the Healers' Hall tried to bang into my head." When Vree lifted a questioning brow, she lifted her hand and explained. "Brain first. Mouth second."

She was so contrite, it was impossible not to smile. "I always thought I hid my reactions better than that."

"Not from me. I've been learning your kigh, remember? "

"And when you've learned it, you'll know me better than anyone?"

Magda grinned and tucked a curl of hair into the corner of her mouth. "Not quite anyone."

About to say,
Bannon
, Vree felt Gyhard's kigh stir and realized that her brother hadn't really known her at all. "And will I know you better than anyone," she asked.

"That depends on you."

If they hadn't been riding down a public road, she might have surrendered to the unexpected lack of barriers between them. Might have. As it was, she had no real desire to fall off the horse.

She felt Gyhard withdraw enough to keep them separate. *There'll be other times,* he promised.

The reins gripped between damp fingers, Vree suddenly needed to fill the silence. "My teachers always said, throat first, eye second."

"Eye?" Magda asked uncertainly.

"Through the socket and into the brain. Takes a more specialized dagger, though. Longer, narrower blade. You can slit someone's throat with your teeth if you have to."

"Vree, that's really gross."

"Only if you forget and swallow."

Magda swiveled in the saddle and stared at her, aghast.

As far as Vree could remember, she'd never seen anyone look so disgusted.

Although she tried to keep a straight face, she couldn't stop herself from laughing.

"It's a joke, Maggi, a joke."

*Is it?* Gyhard wondered, and then wished he hadn't because it stopped the laughter.

*Mostly.*

Two days' travel into the mountains, a pair of ravens led Karlene to the scattered remains of a body by the side of the road. A shallow indentation scratched into the dry soil and an oblong pile of fist-sized rocks indicated an attempt at burial, but such pitiful protection had been no protection at all against the local scavengers.

Wrinkling her nose, Karlene squatted by a piece of bone and was astonished to see that desiccated tissue still clung to it. Although the body had been torn apart, none of the flesh appeared to have been eaten.

"That's very odd," she muttered as she stood.

Cocking an ebony head, one of the ravens fixed her with an amber eye, its cry sounding very much like loud and raucous laughter.

"Easy for you to say," Karlene told it derisively, then she stopped and took a closer look at its perch. Cracked and faded, the leather collar that had held Kait's head erect on her broken neck was unmistakable. Needing no further confirmation, she turned away before she chanced to spot Kait's head.

While her right hand sketched the sign of the Circle over her breast, Karlene Sang the kigh a question. Considering what had happened when Kars' other companions had fallen, the answer surprised her.

Kait's kigh was nowhere around.

It was very strange.

The timber-holding stood at one end of a narrow valley close by where the river broadened into a natural basin to hold the logs sent down from the cutting crew upstream. Although a high wooden stockade surrounded the buildings, the gate was open and a small herd of shaggy cattle were grazing around the stumps in a cleared pasture.