Rosemary Kirstein - Steerswoman 04 (24 page)

“No,” Willam said. “Not all of them. Not this soon.
Something else brought him back.” In the darkness, Willam reached out, found
Rowan’s arm, gripped it tightly, urgent. “It’s you,” he said, quietly.

“Will—”

“Someone went to Jannik, and told him—Rowan, you have to
leave, now.”

“If Jannik wanted Rowan, she’d be dead already,” Bel put in.

“Will, that’s true,” Rowan said. She put her hand over his.
“Jannik was right here, at the stables, not two hours ago. He could have simply
strolled into the common room and killed me, or taken me away. But that didn’t
happen.”

She felt his hand relax. “That’s right …” He released her
arm, leaned back against the wall.

“Then,” Bel said, “Jannik is back because he’s finished. He
got rid of Willam’s spells.”

Willam remained stubborn. “No. Not so soon. Bel, there were
thirty of them!”

The Outskirter scanned left, right; there was still no one
else about. Then she took a step back and entered a stance that Rowan knew
well: feet planted firmly, chin tilted up. “You’re

1 9 0 THE LANGUAGE OF POWER

putting a lot of trust in those spells of yours. So, tell me
this, Will—exactly how good a practitioner of magic are you?” Will was silent.

Rowan had entirely neglected this possibility. She and Bel
had no means by which to evaluate Willam’s abilities. They had been placing all
confidence in the skills of a runaway apprentice.

Presently, Willam drew a breath, released it; and when he
spoke, it was calmly, with no sign of offense at Bel’s challenging tone. “The
jammers are simple,” he said. “They either wouldn’t work at all, or they’d work
perfectly. And they did work. I watched Jannik ride out of town, not an hour
after the first one was set to activate.”

“Then he found them, all of them.”

“No.”

“It’s the simplest explanation—”

“No it isn’t,” Rowan said; and it was the image of a man
riding out of town on a horse that made her think of it, “that’s not the
simplest explanation at all.”

Will and Bel subsided, and Rowan sensed their curious
regard. “Willam,” she said, “can the wizards create objects at will? Bring them
into existence by magic?” Of course they could not; they would never need food,
or new clothing, if that were the case. They would have no use for the common
folk at all.

The question puzzled Willam. “No … Not really. They can
make things appear … but the things won’t be real.”

“And while you watched Jannik ride out, did you happen to notice
what he brought with him in the way of supplies?”

Silence, and then a soft, delighted “Ha!” from Bel.

Will laughed. “He’s run out of food!”

“We,” Rowan said to them both, “are panicking. We are panicking
unnecessarily.”

“Jannik will replenish his supplies, and ride out again in
the morning,” Bel said.

“Or in the afternoon; he’s ridden all night. He’ll want some
rest, I should think.”

“Or the next day,” Will said; and his tone gave Rowan pause.
“And if he’s not gone by twenty-three hundred …” He allowed the sentence to
trail off.

“Then you would have to abandon your plan entirely.”

“No.” He grew very still, and spoke quietly. “I’ll try
later. Without the maintenance routines to cover me.”

Rowan did not like the sound of this at all. “How much
riskier would that be?”

A long silence. Then Will’s voice came from the shadows: “I
don’t want either of you anywhere near me if I have to do it that way.”

Bel said, in a perfectly conversational tone of voice:
“Let’s kill him.” Will startled. “And don’t be squeamish,” Bel went on. “He’s
an evil man. In fact, I believe that they’re all evil. Even Corvus—despite you
thinking that he’ll let you get away with running off.”

“Bel,” Rowan put in, “we can’t simply murder Jannik.”

Bel ignored her. “You served a wizard for six years, Will, so
you would know better than anyone—is even Corvus evil?” Willam was a long time
replying. “Probably,” he finally said. Bel was incredulous. “‘Probably’?”

“Yes.” Will turned away. “Yes, he is evil.” He turned back.
“But Bel … they don’t think like we do. Corvus doesn’t think he’s evil,
probably none of them does. I don’t think they even believe there is such a
thing as evil. That, that the whole idea is imaginary, or … meaningless.”

“It’s not,” Bel said. “You know that.”

“Yes … but I think … I think that, as wizards go, Corvus
is probably the best that we can expect of them.”

“Wonderful. The best maggot in a pot full of maggots. And
that’s why you’ve run away from him.” Will said nothing.

“Since Jannik is evil,
and
he’s in our way, I have no
problem with killing him. By surprise, you said: would a knife in the dark do?”

“Bel,” Rowan said, “no.”

Bel’s voice was harsh. “And tell me, lady, why not?”

It was Willam who answered. “Because the Krue won’t let that
pass. If they can’t find Jannik’s murderer, they’ll take it out on the whole
city. Or the next wizard of Donner will. Slado will send someone. And there’s
no one ready. But he’ll send someone anyway.”

“Someone inexperienced?” Rowan asked.

“Like Shammer and Dhree?” Bel said.

“Yes.” The sibling wizards had been younger than Willam’s
present age. Abruptly, Rowan remembered Liane, a girl of some fifteen years,
whose sole occupation at the fortress of Shammer and Dhree was to serve both
wizards’ pleasure.

Dead now, along with her masters.

Rowan forced the memory back. “Imagine Shammer or Dhree,”
she said to Bel, “with the city of Donner as their toy.”

The idea disturbed the Outskirter, deeply. “All right,” she
said reluctantly. “Jannik can live. But we need to make certain he leaves in time.”

Quiet, as all three considered this.

Eventually, Rowan said to Willam, “Can you affect the dragons
yourself? Can you command them?”

“No,” Will said. “I don’t have the means, and I don’t have
the skill.”

“That’s too bad,” Rowan said. She leaned back against the
wall beside him, crossed her arms. “Jannik would probably consider this far
more urgent if he thought that the spells did more than merely block his
commands. If they actually allowed someone else to control the dragons, I
suspect he’d dash straight back there, and wouldn’t rest until he’d found them
all—” He startled. “Will? What is it?” She could not see his face. “Will—” Bel
said.

He said, in a voice of immense astonishment: “That’s it.” Rowan
and Bel traded a glance.

“That’s it.” He threw his head back, laughed quietly.
“That’s it, that’s
perfect!”

Bel said, “You mean, you
can
take command of Jannik’s
dragons?”

“No.” And he took Bel’s arm, and Rowan’s, and hurried them
back toward the Dolphin. “But I know how to make him
think
someone has.”

The plan required twenty-four hours, and two horses.

Fortunately, Bel had already reserved a pair. It merely remained
necessary to alter the arrangement to include the extra time, and to substitute
Willam for Bel when no one was looking.

Unfortunately, their funds were running low. The three
friends pooled their resources, Will’s and Rowan’s contributions being very
meager. They had money sufficient to hire the mounts and purchase supplies for
the extended time, but only if Willam and Bel ceased to eat for the rest of
their stay in Donner.

They considered the small pile of coins. “I could go back to
begging,” Will ventured.

“And I can pick a few pockets,” Bel volunteered cheerfully.

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” Rowan said, affronted.
“Aside from the morality of it, you might get caught and thrown in a cell. It
would be inconvenient, at the least.”

The Outskirter tilted her head. “I’ll haggle some more. And
you’re a steerswoman. Perhaps we can get your horse without charge.”

Rowan protested. “Food and lodging are one matter; there’s
no custom that requires people to give me free use of a horse for twenty-four
hours.”

“Yes, but maybe the head groom doesn’t know that—”

“Bel—”

“So I’ll do the talking, and you stay quiet and try not to
look appalled and disapproving. And I can play on sympathy, too. You were sick
yesterday—”

“I was not!”

“But everyone
thinks
you were. I don’t know if you’ve
noticed, Rowan, but for some reason people around here seem to like you, and
right now they feel sorry for you. I say we should play on that.”

The steerswoman continued to protest; but in the end, it
seemed the only plan available, and Rowan surrendered.

They waited until dawn was near—not so very long a wait—and
took themselves out to the stable yard. There, they watched while the head
groom, a strong, weathered woman in her forties, gave the day’s instructions to
the stable hands.

“I like her face,” Bel said. “She seems almost motherly.
This might work.” She turned back to Rowan, considered the steerswoman’s expression
disparagingly. “Maybe it would be better if you stayed over here, at a
distance. Try to look peaked, if you can manage it—no, Rowan, at least try. And
Will, be a bit concerned, and sympathetic—” She stopped short. “Ha.”

Rowan was immediately suspicious. “What?” she said.

The Outskirter grinned. “I have an idea.” She took Will’s
arm, and Rowan’s, and pulled them closer to each other, spoke quietly. “Act
cozy.”

Rowan put up her brows. “Excuse me?”

“Act cozy. Here, Will—” She drew him closer. “Put your arm
around her shoulder, like this—”

“Um—” He attempted to back off.

“And Rowan, lean in—” Bel pushed them together. Rowan resisted.
“Bel—”

Bel glowered up at her. “Rowan, no one will wonder if the
steerswoman wants to ride out with a handsome young man in—

stead of with me. And no one will wonder if they stay out
all night.”

“Urn, Bel—” Will was definitely uncomfortable with this.

“Will, don’t be a prude—” Bel maneuvered them both back into
position. “—And since I’m such a wonderful person, and I’ve taken a liking to
the steerswoman, I’m generously footing the bill for her little outing. But
I’ve been spending my money like water, as everyone has seen, so I don’t have
enough for both horses. If we do it this way, I won’t have to hide out all day,
pretending I’m not here—” The conversation at the stable door ceased, and the
group began dispersing to their duties. “All right,” Bel said glancing back at
them. “Now just stay back here—” She turned, caught Will’s and Rowan’s
expressions, faltered. “Well …” She studied them dubiously. “Here.” She
pulled them both around. “Keep your backs to the conversation. Rowan, move in,
put your arm around his waist; Wiliam, like so …” Bel stepped away, surveyed
the result. “Just stand together like that. It should be enough, if they don’t
actually see your faces.”

Bel left them and went to greet the head groom. Rowan and
Willam remained in place. Rowan held on to Willam’s waist tentatively, as if
steadying some extremely tall object; Will held his arm about Rowan’s shoulder
in the manner of a person restraining a wet dog. They stared at the back of the
inn as, behind them, Bel haggled cheerfully.

Presently, Will emitted an odd noise.

Rowan looked up and found that he was struggling to keep a
straight face. He noticed her looking at him. He tried harder. He could not
keep it up.

Laughter half escaped him, suppressed into a series of truly
ridiculous snorts. The steerswoman could not help it: she did the same

At that, neither of them could maintain restraint. They laughed,
breathlessly, silently, weakly hilarious, leaning against each other for
support. “I think,” Will managed to say between gasps, “that we’d better stop
this, or we’ll ruin everything.”

“No, no,” Rowan said. “No, this is better!” And she allowed
herself to laugh out loud. There was a pause in the conversation behind them;
then it continued, in a slightly different tone.

“Here,” Rowan said, pulling Will halfway around, to allow
their audience a better view. She stepped free, took both of his hands in hers,
carefully composed her face, looked up at him. “Now, do you think you can
manage to gaze longingly into my eyes?”

He said, as she had expected, “No—” and lost control completely,
half falling back against the building, laughing helplessly. But she kept hold
of his hands, watching him with genuine pleasure, and it seemed to her that the
image they presented was perfect.

Presently Bel returned. “Well, that worked,” she said. “I
didn’t think either of you had it in you.” Bel waited, puzzled, through another
spate of hilarity. “We have Rowan’s horse free, and her supplies,” she
continued. “And they’re only charging me one day for Willam’s horse. I think
the head groom just did it so that everyone can gossip about you two later.”

Rowan said, wiping her eyes, “Oh, far be it from me to deprive”—she
paused to catch her breath—“the staff of its entertainment.”

While Willam went to retrieve the traveling gear from
Rowan’s room, a stable hand led out the horses: a pair of fine mares, one
chestnut, one dapple gray. Rowan chose the chestnut, and introduced herself to
her mount, rubbing its head, allowing it to snuffle at her hands. Then she
checked its tack, testing the bit and the cinch. The head groom seemed
reassured by the attention Rowan paid to these details.

At the open kitchen door, a small crowd of staff members watched,
some standing, two seated on the doorstep. They observed Willam’s return with a
cheerful interest, maintained an amused silence as he passed them by, then
entered into subdued conversation. Apparently, the gossip was not going to wait
for Rowan’s departure.

For this short trip, the steerswoman took only her cloak and
bedroll, within which she had rolled a spare shirt and stockings, flint and
tinderbox, and her sword. Her satchel held logbook and writing implements.
Will’s own bedroll was somewhat fatter, and definitely lumpy. His burlap sack
was concealed within.