Sasharia En Garde (14 page)

The king’s men were advancing into position.

She shut the door as Kreki joined her. “What did you see?”

“We’re surrounded.”

Kreki breathed out a shuddering sigh.

“What are we facing here?” Atanial asked. “This was a
meeting in a private home, no weapons present.”

“What I fear is that he’ll have us handy to blame for all
the current problems,” Kreki said. “Economy is in ruins, trade by sea
impossible.”

“Due to this Zathdar, no doubt, who has my daughter. Well,
one thing at a time. Here’s what I think. You tell me if it makes sense. If
Canardan can make me vanish without anyone knowing, whether by death, magic or
throwing me into a deep dungeon, his life is much easier.”

“Just what I was thinking.” Kreki determinedly kept her
voice calm.

“So everyone out there needs to know who I am. Warriors
gossip same as anyone else. Gossip is on my side. Second thing, we must buy
that boy time to get through the line and well away before they discover the
ruse. So . . . why not playact a pair of stupid old women too
dumb to see the danger?”

“No playing on my part. I should have been more careful. I
should have suspected something like this. It’s been too easy.” Kreki’s fingers
trembled as she brushed her hands down her apron. “Let’s get busy.”

She clapped, and a small glowglobe lit the parlor.

Atanial opened the front door wide, making sure she stood
directly in the center, so her entire body was silhouetted. She lifted a hand
and made a business of peering outward.

Kreki came up next to her, polishing a candlestick on her
apron. “What is it, your highness?” she asked in a carrying voice.

“I thought I saw something. A light.”

“Impossible. Everyone is here. Must be a gleam from the
stars, reflecting on the leaves of the peach trees. Do you have peaches in
the other world
?”

“Oh yes. But not as good as the ones here!
My husband Mathias
once told me peaches
were brought
through the World Gate
.”

“But which way,
your
highness
?” Kreki shrilled. “From
your
world
?”

“Now, that I do not remember.” Atanial laughed as she leaned
out, looking around dramatically under her hand, though the light glowing
directly above them made it nearly impossible to see anything.

But she heard rustles. One by the barn, another out by the
pines. The crack of a twig.

“Rain is gone.” Kreki lifted her hand and began peering
upward with theatrical earnestness. “Will be a lovely walk if you decide to
move on tonight.”

“But my feet hurt,” Atanial fog-horned, lifting her bandaged
foot. A flutter behind her ribs had to be squelched. She must not laugh. But
this was almost fun.

“Oh,
Princess Atanial
,”
Kreki exclaimed, loud enough to be heard from the pine ridge.

“That’s what I get for marching for days after years of no
walking at all. But I met so
very
many
nice people
on the way, who
seemed
glad
I have returned. If only
I’d thought of it years ago!”

“Oh! How many did you meet? I know all the valley families.”

“Too many to count! Oh, but I am so very hungry—”

“Dinner,” came a wry voice from out of the darkness, “can be
ordered day or night at the royal castle. That’s the good thing about royal
castles. Welcome back, Sun.”

Both women whipped around. Atanial bit her lips against a
curse, even a retort. The king himself! She was supposed to be surprised. Were
those kids through the lines yet?

“Who is that?” she called uncertainly, doing the peering
business again. “
Canardan
? My
goodness, is it really
you
?”

“I’m here to personally convey a royal invitation, Sun.”
Canardan Merindar strolled toward the house, stopping just inside the circle of
light.

He was taller than Atanial remembered, his hair a dark
auburn, the waves ruddy in the light. He had certainly not gone to fat.

She lifted her voice. “I am here to get my daughter. If you
try to stop me, well—” She spread her hands.

“But we can find your daughter together.” Canardan lounged a
step closer. “Come along, Sun. You really don’t want trouble any more than I
do.”

He used the name “Sun” with a humorous, intimate tone that
Atanial disliked just a little more each time she heard it. “No,” she responded
cordially. “I do not. Therefore, if you let these people go on their merry way,
then I won’t make any trouble. It’s not their fault I seem to have come at the
wrong time and headed straight for the wrong place. No one here knew I was
coming, I promise you that.”

Canardan sighed. “Take ’em.” He waved a lazy hand toward the
house.

A gaggle of old folks had a snail’s chance in the salt mines
against a determined band of trained warriors, particularly determined under
the ironic eye of their king. But at least it was the king, and not War
Commander Randart, which meant they had a better chance of staying alive. And
so they gave the escaping young pair their very best effort to prolong things
by running around, yelling and ramming into walls, furniture, warriors and each
other.

Fereli retreated to the kitchen and threw pots of preserves
at the ducking heads of the young fellows trying to corner her. Despite the
danger, bubbles of humor fizzed inside her chest when she saw how those big,
brawny youngsters hunched and covered their heads each time she took aim.

Arlaen got into the act by groaning and clutching his bad
hip as he yanked furniture in the way of the dashing warriors, sometimes
tripping them up. He’d apologize, reach to help them, and then knock jugs and
plates and baskets onto them. They scrambled about amid showers of crockery,
beans, nuts, and once a satisfyingly effective dusting with ground pepper.

Kreki shrieked at the warriors to spare her curtains and
rugs, disconcerting them mightily, and Atanial ran around the outside of the
house twice, bobbing and weaving, until she stumbled over an unseen cabbage in
the garden and measured her length on the carrot tops.

Strong hands picked her up with respectful care. Swords
rang, and she smelled healthy young male sweat many times over as she was
closely ringed.

Fairly soon the others were brought out.

“This all of ’em?” Canardan asked.

“All we found, sire,” responded the captain.

Atanial counted swiftly, then compressed her lips firmly to
hide the balloon of relief inside. The prisoners were the old folk and three
servants.

No Tam or Lark.

Sore does not begin to describe how I felt the next day.

In the past the only thing to do was work out harder. Over
the next couple of weeks—it was easy to lose track of the flow of days on the
sea—Owl and I led the personal weapons practices in the mornings, and he
conducted drills in the afternoon. Zathdar was there for some of the sessions,
and on other days he took his captain’s launch away to inspect his fleet, and
to scout ahead.

After the first few days, I nerved myself to climb the
shrouds—the ropes connecting each mast to the hull on either side—to the
platform on which the crew stowed sails for the higher reaches, and crouched
with bows during defense practice. This vantage was splendid, the movement of
the ship more dynamic, the view farther, the graceful geometry of the sails
quite spectacular.

The masts had three levels—mainsails, topsails and
topgallants—with a smaller platform at that third section of mast. The morning
Zathdar returned, I climbed up there, clinging to the mast as I accustomed
myself to that breathtaking swoop and loop. The wood was rough under my cheek,
weather-beaten for countless years, the nails all handmade, each therefore
distinctive. On the platform and the side of the mast, unknown hands had carved
initials and short words, most of them in unfamiliar alphabets.

Finally I dared to lift my head and look outward.
Exhilaration rushed through me at the sight of the vast ocean sparkling in the
sun. The deck looked so small below!

“Boat ho,” called the lookout on the other mast. “Captain
returning.”

I shifted. There was the narrow launch, its single sail a
long, pure curve as it scudded lightly as a gull, water foaming up in an arch
down either side.

Gliss swarmed up with the ease of a flitting bird and
scowled at me. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a land rat. If you fall, we get the blame.”

She turned away before I could speak and slid down a
backstay to the deck. That was a trick I was not about to emulate.

My exhilaration vanished, doused by a vague sense of guilt.
I climbed laboriously to the deck, clinging with iron desperation as the pitch
of the ship swung me out over the water.

When I reached the deck, Zathdar had already closed himself
in his cabin with Owl and Robin. The crew in the middle of changing watch
nodded and smiled at me, most of them familiar now after days of the practice
sessions. They were all fairly friendly. With one exception, Gliss.

Elva was deep in conversation with the navigator at the
helm. Having seen almost nothing of Devlaen over the past few days, I explored
the lower levels of the ship and discovered him shut into a tiny cubby in the
hold, busy with his books under the light of a single swinging lantern. The
cabin was hot and stuffy.

“Why are you stuck in this rat hole?” I asked.

He blinked at me. “Studying.” He placed his finger on a page
covered with tiny handwriting. “Trying to design us some transfer-note boxes.
It’s more advanced magic than I’ve learned yet,” he admitted.

“For Zathdar?” I asked.

Devli flushed, and I suspected his sister had accused him of
throwing in with the . . . if not the enemy, with the
not-quite-allies.

He said defensively, “Well, if he wants to communicate with
us, I don’t see why he shouldn’t. And if I design them, I can make sure there
aren’t any suspicious wards or tracers on them. So the king cannot intercept
our messages.”

I shrugged. “Sounds reasonable.”

He relaxed a little. “Why do you want to be on land?”

“Find out if anyone knows if my father is alive.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know. Depends on what I hear.”

“So you won’t search out your father yourself?” Devlaen
asked, his expression intent. The lamplight threw his face into relief, making
him look older.

“I was ten years old when we left. That was long ago.” And
when he started to speak, I deflected: “I would like to sit down somewhere and
catch up on history before making any plans.”

Devli leaned forward, his expression eager. “But I could
tell you that. We study history when we learn magic. I could
show
you just why we need—” He reached a
hand toward me.

Maybe he reached just to gesture, but I backpedaled fast.
He’s a mage, Clueless! A dedicated one.
What’s to stop him from grabbing you right now?
“I apologize for
interrupting your studies.” I backed out to find Gliss coming down the hatch.

“Captain wants you,” she said shortly.

When she turned to climb back up, I put an arm across the
ladder to prevent her. “Gliss. I am not your enemy.”

She looked down, scowling. Her broad cheekbones glowed with dusky
color.

“There is something I am missing here.” I sighed. “Please
tell me.”

“You are blind.” Her scowl turned into a glare before she
dropped her gaze to her hands. “Or you’re making game of me.”

“No. Think of me as new to this world. I don’t remember a
whole lot before I left.”

She shrugged one shoulder sharply and mumbled something in
which the words,
the way he looks at you
,
could be made out.

“He?” But I knew whom she meant. I’d sensed that my zings
were not just my own attraction. I’d felt those looks from Zathdar. Though he
had done absolutely nothing about it, the vibe had been there just the same.

“Zathdar’s bright blue eyes.” If I expected her to be
honest, I had to be honest back. “I can’t help his looking. I promise you I
didn’t try to get him to look. I don’t know if that helps.” I fingered one of
my braids, which were beginning to frazzle in the sea air, despite being
rebraided just that morning. “I don’t even know how relationships work on this
world. I was ten when I left. And my mother only talked about how rotten
Canary—that is, King Canardan—was.”

Gliss crossed her arms and leaned against the bulkhead as
the ship gave a lurch. “That’s pretty much what Zorala says. I was seeing a
princess
coming on board. Showing us all
up. Crooking her royal finger at the captain.”

Zorala, one of the cooks, was older, weathered, and seemed
to find the crew’s interactions as good as theater.

“I’m not a princess.” I tried not to sound sharp. “You can
blame my parents for my being good at self-defense. My father started that when
I was this high.” I held my palm down. “And my mother kept it going. As for
finger crooking, seems to me that neither royal nor street-sweeper fingers will
be any more successful than the other if the captain doesn’t want to be crooked.”

She hitched her shoulders under her ears, up and down.

“Look, Gliss. Here’s how my female code works. I should say
that there are many female codes on my sorry planet filled with
dysfunction”—the closest word was
distortion
in conduct
—“but here’s how I see it. If there’s a she-and-he twosome, and I
find myself attracted to the he, then I wait for her to let me know if there’s
any hope. Otherwise, hands off. She has to tell me, not him. But if they’re not
a couple, well, fair’s fair. Not that I mean to go after your captain. I’m not
sure I like anything but his looks. Definitely not his taste in clothes, and
I’m not so sure about this pirate business. But, for my information only, are
you two a couple?”