The Tracker (4 page)

“Exactly, sir. Also, both are far less talented than he. They aren’t good for controlling much beyond dragons, which is why the king posted them there. The last is closer to Lighmoon, posted to the king’s private horse breeder to help break the colts. She’s an older woman, very talented, but left frail from the island plague. Even with healing spells, she has never fully recovered. She doesn’t have the strength for a full day’s ride. She would need to be borne along in a litter, with a healing penchant and several attendants as accompaniment.” The king’s man made a minute shake of his head to dismiss the sickly horsewoman and Master Maraudi’s eyes slipped to Arden. “This boy here is it, if you want this done expeditiously.”

“The problem with him is-” Tolaman interjected.

Master Maraudi shot the first lead a quizzical look and interrupted. “When Toria was first lead before you, she wrote up the boy’s penchant as fair and improving by the year. She expected him to be strong as an adult and I don’t see how she could have been too far off in her assessment. She was well versed in gauging penchant strengths from her father. He tested for them all around Odri in her youth and took her along. Healing penchants, love penchants, illusion penchants, green-growth penchants, animal penchants and the rest . . . she was quite learned in the subject, if not formally trained. What experience have you in this matter?”

“Toria and I had differences of opinion in many things, including his strength,” Tolaman said. “He reached the peak of what he is capable long ago, and that is no imposing height.” Arden said nothing. This conversation was about him yet did not include him. Tolaman was reining in his anger, but it danced in his eyes uncontrolled. Dismissing the soldier and giving a polite bow to the king’s man, Tolaman said, “Respectfully, I put myself forth for this position. A weak penchant is essentially no penchant, and I have far more experience with unusual creatures than he does. All it will take is a whip to manage the tracker, and any wrist can wield one.”

Something was also dancing uncontrolled in the eyes of the soldier. It was merriment. “Then we don’t need your vast experience, since wrists abound.” He flexed his wrists to prove it. Tolaman had done himself in by his eagerness to downplay Arden’s penchant and promote himself.

“Please, may I ask what this concerns?” Arden inquired.

“Quiet!” Tolaman barked.

Bemused, Master Maraudi glanced at the king’s man. The king’s man waved to give permission, and the soldier said, “If we are to bring him along, Tolaman, surely you would agree that he should know the purpose of our task.” Then he dismissed Tolaman just as Tolaman had dismissed him, and addressed Arden. “A letter has arrived, penchant, from Princess Briala herself. This is privileged information, mind you, so don’t spout it off to anyone or write it in your diary. She has abdicated her titles, broken her engagement to Prince Cathali, and fled the palace. The letter was written in her hand, on her own stationary, mailed with her engagement ring, and she claims to have not written it under duress. As there is no proof whatsoever of abduction, and she previously expressed deep dismay over her upcoming marriage to her father the king, it is unlikely there is a criminal element involved. She has run away.”

“Do you have any idea where she could have gone?” Arden asked.

“They would have gone and gotten her already if they knew!” Tolaman sniped, looking to the king’s man for confirmation that Arden was a dolt. The king’s man did not give it to him.

“A good question, to my way of thinking,” Master Maraudi said blithely to Arden. “I believe she has gone to Loria, to claim refuge at a convent or to plead for mercy from her sister. Or she could be going to the outer reaches of Odri to hide. She has always disliked the heat of Isle Zayre, and the customs of its people, so I doubt she’s headed there. The king wants her brought back to the palace quickly and quietly. If the people of Isle Zayre learn of this, they will take it as a gross insult.”

Made bold by how the soldier appeared to dislike Tolaman, Arden did not swallow his next question. “How am I to assist? Few of the dragons we keep in the perindens can bear a human’s weight. Those that can will not fly far. Horses need no penchant to direct them. Is this to do with the creature you called a tracker? Forgive me, but I am unfamiliar with the beast.”

Tolaman puffed up. “As I told you, he is too ignorant.”

“Ignorance can be remedied,” the king’s man said, drawing a folded piece of paper from his waistcoat. “Some other things cannot. Dismissed, Tolaman, we have no further need of you tonight.”

Even Tolaman would not challenge a command as blunt as that one. He stalked out the door, his footsteps furious snaps on the stairs. Master Maraudi broke out in a cheeky smile that revealed a broken incisor, and his voice gained the drawling accent of the Low Grounds. “Gaw, he’s a jolly one. But I won’t be rude, not too rude, Keth fancied him.” His eyes went to the female soldier. Arden had forgotten about her. Unresponsive to his jest, she was standing by the window and lifting the curtain to look out.

The king’s man opened the paper and skimmed the contents. “They should have the tracker back to Brazia by midday tomorrow. It’s a rare creature, far more rare than a penchant even, and penchants are hen’s teeth. They’re indigenous to the mountains and look somewhat human, according to my information here. Lord Zamin acquired one not too long ago to amuse his grandchildren, but the beast has a poor temperament and has to be kept in shackles to stop it from escaping. Since it was no good for entertainment, he rents out its services to people seeking the missing. Nothing is keener than a tracker’s nose, and it can sniff right through the concealment of a
holographie
crystal. You’ll have an article of clothing that belongs to the princess to give it. Keep the beast under control and it should lead your search party straight to the missing princess. Bring her back, and install the tracker in the royal perindens. The king will compensate Lord Zamin richly for it.” He gave Arden a weighty look. “Lord Zamin is a powerful man with many business connections, and it is not wise to aggravate him unduly. He will accept the terms, but he is not to know of them yet.” The search party would pretend to rent the creature; the lord could be handled later when it was not returned.

“If the penchant is going to be fighting to keep that thing’s nose to the grindstone, we can’t have him tending the horses and making meals,” Master Maraudi said to the king’s man. “Our party will attract less attention if small, but a single squire couldn’t hurt. The lad Dieter is quick with his hands and knows how to keep his mouth shut about things that matter.”

“Then take Dieter. That will only make four of you. And do this fast as fast can be. If she is headed for the convent in Alisee, if she gets through those doors before you can get your hands on her, she’s lost to us. We can’t risk an incident with Loria, and they will rise up to defend their church should we try to take her by force. All you can do then is send in Keth to talk some sense into her.”

Still at the window, Keth said quietly, “I would have far more sway if the king would allow the princess to break the betrothal. As neither will relinquish their respective points of view, my words will weigh less than the wind.”

“Your task is not to set the terms but enforce them,” the king’s man said, although he did not look like he disagreed.

“But I must have something to negotiate with. I have been a personal guard to Princess Briala for five years, and to her sisters until the time they left. All three are clever and headstrong and temperamental, just as clever and headstrong and temperamental as their father the king. A plea will not change her course.”

“The princess knows you and trusts you. Remind her of her duties to her family and to her country. See that she heeds your advice, or catch her before she gets there and your counsel will not be necessary. Penchant? Do you have any more questions?”

“No, sir,” Arden said.

The king’s man snapped to the soldiers, who went to the door. “Then be ready to leave in the morning. Speak to no one of where you are going; if asked, it is nothing but regular perindens business. The horses you take will not be marked as the king’s and for the love of Dagad, do not parade your purpose beyond the walls. Should you have to inquire, do it by stealth, do it by force, do it by coin, but keep those tongues from wagging. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

“Then we bid you good night.” The door closed behind them, and Arden was alone in his hut once more.

****

He dreamed of Etto disappearing under the blanket with a lazy smile. There was something about the man that was ever reminiscent of the bedroom, a languid stride and lidded eyes, a hook at the end of his sentences to reel in his prey. Arden was in that strange space of knowing that he was asleep and dreaming, and he was desperate to keep himself that way.

Only once had Etto gone beneath the blanket, but the moment had scorched itself into Arden’s memory and replayed often in his dreams. The lump under the blanket writhed as Etto got comfortable between Arden’s legs, and then it began . . .

Someone pounded on the door, the trio of harsh blows to the wood knocking Arden right out of the dream. He was stiff and aching under the blanket, and the single, soft swipe of that tongue in his dream was still burning. Fumbling through his grogginess, he blinked and rubbed at his eyes as the pounding repeated. It was early in the morning, the sky a pale pinkish-purple through the window.

Tolaman yelled for him. Arden staggered out of the bed, wrapped himself in the blanket to conceal his erection, and crossed the hut to answer the door. The first lead was sullen and resentful over an armload of clothing. Shoving the folded pile at Arden, he said, “You’re to wear these. Nothing with the royal insignia.”

“Thank you.” The sight of squishy Tolaman diminished the stiff presence under the blanket. Arden wasn’t as interested in the runaway princess as he was the prospect of leaving the palace for a few days. Away from Tolaman, away from Mavic, away from Leefa!

“
I
should be the one going today,” Tolaman said, his eyes full of accusation upon Arden. “I’m the first lead. It’s my role, but they’ve given it away to a penchant not worth anything!”

Arden hadn’t taken anything away from Tolaman. These decisions had been made independent of either of them. “I will change now.” Without another word, Tolaman turned and stalked back to his hut. The curtain in the bedroom fell down. His wife had been watching. She didn’t like Arden any more than Tolaman did, and now she would hate him for taking her husband’s place in the search party. If they did indeed recover the princess and Arden received any distinction for it, the grudge would be permanent.

He took the clothing into his bedroom. There were two sets, both of them identical, and a cloak. Neither fine nor humble, he would look like a workman in one of the businesses on the city streets. Above a common laborer but no one of note, and already he could feel his eyes slipping off these clothes just as eyes were soon to slip off him.

His money! He didn’t know how long he was going to be gone, and he wouldn’t put it past Tolaman to give the hut to someone else out of spite. Arden would come back to a pallet in the stock room and no way to reclaim his pouch. Whisking it out of his hiding place, he got dressed and attached it to his belt beside his knife. The only other possession he had of personal value was a little carved dragon that had been his mother’s when she was a child, and she had given it to him. Toys had a way of wandering off in the orphanage, but Arden had always kept the dragon in his pocket and never played with it in front of others who might eye it for themselves. Back then, he had imagined that dragons were wonderful and wise. He and his dragon had had many grand adventures, and now he just looked at the toy on the shelf and thought about carving a heap of shuffle to sit beside it. It was only special as a remembrance of his late mother. He slipped the dragon into his money pouch and knotted the string.

Then he went to the stables and was chagrined to be the last one there. The slight boy with the foxy face had to be Dieter. He was adjusting the straps of a pack on the flank of a bay horse intended for Arden. The king’s man was not there; Keth and Master Maraudi were already astride their horses. None of them were dressed any more grandly than Arden, although the soldiers had swords, and Dieter was dressed more roughly, as would be fitting for a boy hired by workmen to perform the little tasks beneath their station. Keth’s horse was hitched to a cage with thick steel bars upon a wheeled platform. The cage was sturdy but had been sitting in some corner untouched for years. Cobwebs stretched between the bars along the top. Cages like this were common in the streets, transporting tightly packed buckets of eggs, small livestock, and criminals.

The horses were also playing parts. Finer beasts stood in their stalls, watching this activity or dipping their noses deep into their feed buckets. The four chosen for the search were well-fed Standards, and the one meant for Dieter had had its mane trimmed rather untidily. A Halulus from Loria was jealous to see these horses out and about when she was not; she pawed and stamped about it until Arden thought
you are thirsty
.

The pawing and stamping stopped. She turned to her water bucket and drank. Master Maraudi had not missed the silent command. He laughed gruffly and said, “She’s been having a bloody fit all along. What’s the twist in her knickers?” His Low Grounds accent was strong, another detail that would make eyes slip from him in the streets.