The Traitor's Daughter (44 page)

The sentry looked up, spied Rione, and the opportunity was lost.

“Well, Prenzi. Seems you drew the short straw this evening. Stuck out here in the cold alone at the gate, while every other man in the place is busy putting away all the ale he can drink.” Rione appeared disinclined to tamper with success.

“Oh, I’m well enough,” Prenzi returned equably. “Not so cold, else you’d be dressed warmer yourself. What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“I’ve come to do you a good turn. Seems that the magnifica has taken pity on you.”

“Oho, has she now?”

“She gives you leave to go inside for some hot food, drink, and Gwetto’s fiddling. And a good fire, I might add. I’ll stand in for you here.”

“That’s uncommonly decent of you, lad, and I appreciate the offer, but I’ll just say no, with thanks.”

“No?”

“With thanks.”

“Prenzi, you’re a good fellow, you deserve a reward now and again.”

“But it wouldn’t be no reward for me, see. You think I want to be indoors, shut up in some hot room, with all that noise and chatter? Then there’s all that ale, and you’re the one that told me to stay away from it. Bad for me liver, you said so yourself. Ruin me health, you said. Don’t you remember saying so?”

“Now that you mention it.”

“And that party food. Too rich. Gives me wind. You warned me against the greasy stuff yourself, more than once. Don’t you remember?”

“I do.”

“So you see, it’s better by far out here, and here’s where I stay.”

“I see. I must confess, I’d no idea that you take my advice so much to heart.”

“Like it was the law of the land. When it comes to leechcraft, you’re the prince.”

Jianna watched in mounting alarm. The health-conscious sentry clearly was not going away. She and Rione would have to circle back to some other exit, one presided over by a more pliable guardian, but to do so meant crossing the front of the building again, where the danger of detection was greatest. Why couldn’t Prenzi just behave like a normal human being?

“Well, I’ll treasure your esteem for—as long as it lasts.” Rione’s voice almost sounded melancholy for an instant, before the casual tone resumed. “I’ll bid you good night, then. I’m going back in, I don’t mean to waste that big fire the magnifica’s got roaring away in there. Before I go, though—I almost forgot—would you mind taking a look at this? Nobody knows more about these things than you.”

“What’ve you got, then?”

“Found it the other day. Can’t identify it.” Rione handed the other something small and dark. From a distance the object resembled a lump of mud.

“Well, let’s see.” Prenzi leaned toward the brazier to examine the lump by the light of the coals. Rione stepped behind to look on over the sentry’s shoulder.

“Looks like the nest of an ordinary stonemudder.”

“Isn’t, though.”

Jianna saw Rione withdraw something white from his pocket. Paper or parchment? Scrap of fabric? Handkerchief?

“No, you’re right. Holes are too big. With straight sides, too. Curious, very curious. What could—oh, I’ve got it. This has got to be the nest of the blueback jonce. Now, that’s rare.”

“Are you sure?” Rione’s right hand, clasping the white scrap, advanced smoothly.

“You can depend on it, lad. This little beauty must have been built last summer by a wandering tribe of blue—”

Rione’s right hand pounced, pressing the white scrap hard over Prenzi’s mouth and nose. His left arm clamped across the sentry’s chest.

It was a potion or sleeping draught, Jianna realized. Perhaps kalkriole, or else something like it. Rione’s medical bag contained an assortment of such soporifics. Prenzi struggled valiantly, but could not break the other’s grip. Very soon he went limp and his attacker lowered him gently to the ground. Rione looked up and beckoned. Jianna hurried to his side. This time she never considered congratulating him. His face was set and pained. He looked as if he had received a blow. She did not dare speak.

Together they lifted the heavy bar from the gate and set it aside. As Rione took up his pack and bag, Jianna pulled the door open, wide enough to permit passage. They exited and, without a moment’s hesitation, he headed for the woods at a run. Jianna easily kept pace. Her strained ankle had healed long ago. The night was clear and the half-moon overhead lighted the way. She cast one look back over her shoulder at Ironheart, then turned her eyes forward. Moments later they reached the shelter of the trees, where the night darkened, obliging them to slow their pace. The stray beams struggling down through the bare branches overhead offered minimal illumination, but it was enough for Rione, who followed the course of a nearly invisible path with apparent ease. She would have been lost without him—lost beyond hope.

“Thank you,” said Jianna, inadequately.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he advised, neither pausing nor turning to look at her. Almost he seemed angry at her. “You’re clear of the stronghouse, but well within their reach. They’ll come after us, be certain of that.”

“How soon?”

“As soon as Onartino goes to his room and discovers it empty. Or when Ennzu or Neequo returns to his post and finds that I’m not there. Or when Prenzi wakes up. Whichever comes first. An hour or so at the most. Probably less.”

“That little! How long will it take us to make our way down the hills to the highway?”

“We’re not going to the highway.”

“How else shall we reach Vitrisi?”

“We are not going to Vitrisi.”

“Not!” She halted and he did likewise. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“I mean that the magnifica’s men will head straight for the VitrOrezzi Bond as soon as your flight is discovered. They’ll expect you to run for Vitrisi, and they’ll be haunting that highway before the break of dawn. Take that route and you’ll find yourself back at Ironheart within hours.”

He was standing very near her, but his face was a pale blur in the darkness under the trees and she could not begin to read his expression. His voice, however, conveyed absolute conviction, and she believed him completely.

“Another route, then,” she urged.

“Impractical. Listen to me. Onartino is a master hunter and tracker. He knows every path and trail through these woods, knows them better than I do. Not even Onartino can track in the dark, though. He’ll pursue you, beyond doubt, but he won’t be able to bring his real skills to bear until daybreak, and by that time we’ll be far away.”

“Far away where? Orezzia?”

“In time, perhaps. But I know of another refuge, closer at hand, hidden from view, and offering greater protection. If we reach it, the forces of Ironheart can’t touch you.”

“What refuge? Where?”

“The campsite changes according to need. I know where it is now.”

“Campsite?” The word seemed to leave an unpleasant taste on her tongue. “Whose?”

“I think you’ve already guessed.”

“You’re not speaking of the Ghosts!”

“I am.”

“They’re criminals!”

“They’re soldiers and Faerlonnish patriots. More to the point, they’re armed and quite capable of defending you.”

“Well, and why should they? Why would they risk offending the Ironheart people for a stranger’s sake?”

“Because you’re with me,” he suggested gently. “They know me, you see. Also, my sister is there, and her opinion won’t be ignored.”

“Those resistance brigands hate my father. The moment they hear my name, they’ll cut my throat.”

“They’d better not hear it, then. We’ll devise a new identity for you, but now is not the time. Come, we can’t tarry. I’ll not force you, but you must decide. Will you come with me to the Ghosts?”

“I will.” The words came out of their own accord.

“Good. For now, it’s your best chance. And mine,” he added in an undertone.

“Yours, Falaste?” For the first time, she thought beyond her own fears and considered the consequences of his actions.

“I have betrayed the Magnifica Yvenza. I have broken every promise of loyalty. She will never forgive or forget. My benefactress is now my enemy.”

“Then why have you done it?” But for the darkness, she could not have brought herself to ask.

“Because I looked at Onartino this evening, and couldn’t pretend that I didn’t know he would hurt you.”

He turned from her and resumed walking. She stood for a moment straining her senses to catch the sound of pursuit, then followed him into the dark.

* * *

The candles were burning low and Gwetto’s arm was beginning to slow by the time that Onartino Belandor, eager groom, set his tankard aside and rose from his chair.

“I’m going up,” he announced, voice perceptibly slurred with drink. “The rest of you can do what you like.”

A few listeners mumbled ale-soaked encouragement. The population of the room was greatly diminished. The East Reach Traveler had retired early. Nissi had vanished long ago. Many of the servants, required to rise at dawn, had likewise withdrawn. Several others had simply fallen asleep on the floor. But Yvenza Belandor—upright in her chair and wide awake—answered clearly. “Think you can find your way to your bride without assistance? You’ve drunk yourself silly.”

“Always the sharp side of your tongue. I don’t need to hear it tonight.”

“You’ve an ear for sweeter music, no doubt. Go your way, boy. Claim your bride, if you’re capable.”

Favoring his dam with a glare, Onartino took up a candle and departed the hall. The drinking, music, and dancing went on without him, although the pace of all was slackening by the minute. Yvenza Belandor remained seated. A beaker of wine stood on the table before her. Moderate in her personal habits, she rarely touched alcohol in the late evening. But tonight she drank, without apparent pleasure, her brows knit in an abstracted frown. Lost in her thoughts, she seemed scarcely aware of the tired festivities.

Minutes later, her unpleasant reverie was broken by the reappearance of her eldest son, who burst in violently, suffused face ablaze with unidentifiable emotion. Music and dancing ceased abruptly.

Yvenza regarded him with arched brows. “Forget something?” she drawled.

“She’s not there,” he reported. “She’s out.”

“What, Aureste’s daughter? Nonsense. She’s hiding from you, of course. You’ll find her cowering under the bed or jammed up inside the flue.”

“Are you stupid? The door’s open and the guard’s gone.”

So startling was this intelligence that his impertinence went unrebuked.

“Who relieved Ennzu?” Yvenza inquired calmly.

“Nobody. Ennzu was ordered to guard that little bitch and he’s gone. She’s turned his head and he’s run away with her. When I find him, I’ll kill him.”

“You won’t have to look far. He’s asleep in the corner.”

Onartino followed his mother’s pointing finger to the sturdy figure lying curled on the floor, an empty tankard still clasped in one hand. A few ferocious strides carried him across the room and the remaining merrymakers fell back, hurriedly clearing his path. Reaching the unconscious man’s side, he drew back his booted foot and delivered a solid kick. Ennzu grunted and woke. Onartino stooped, seized him by the throat, and pressed. Ennzu thrashed desperately.

“Where is she? Is there any reason not to wring your neck? Where is she?” With each query, Onartino struck his prey’s head hard against the stone floor.

Ennzu’s eyes bulged in a purpling face. He tore uselessly at the hands that were strangling him.

“Did she pay you? What did she pay you with, you filth?”

Ennzu’s head rapped stone. His mouth gaped and his struggles weakened.

“Do you want to die?”

Ennzu could not answer, but another voice spoke in his stead.

“That will do, boy. Give over.” Rising from her chair, Yvenza advanced unhurriedly. “Let go of him. Now.”

Onartino obeyed with reluctance. Ennzu sat up slowly, rubbing his throat with one hand, the back of his head with the other.

“That’s better. Now you can speak. I suggest that you do so,” Yvenza advised the man on the floor. “Explain yourself, and tell the truth.”

“Explain what, Magnifica?” Ennzu’s voice was hoarse and scared. “What?”

Onartino’s fist clenched and Ennzu flinched.

“What happened upstairs?” Yvenza prompted. “Why did you abandon your post?”

“As for that, I had Your Ladyship’s leave.” Ennzu appeared uncomprehending.

“My leave? What is this foolery?”

“Begging your pardon, Magnifica, but you gave me your own leave to come down for some food, drink, and fiddling. I wouldn’t’ve done it otherwise.”

“Are you mad, or do you imagine that I am?”

“Neither, Magnifica. Rione came on up and passed the word. Offered to stand in for me for as long as I liked. If it came from Rione, it had to be good, so I thought I was in luck.”

“Rione passed the word? Rione’s the one who took her?” Onartino demanded. “Miracle Boy himself? Genius Boy?”

“Shut your mouth,” his mother directed. Turning back to Ennzu and pinning him with her eyes, she stated very quietly, “You are lying.”

“No, Magnifica, no. I swear. I left Rione standing guard at the bedroom door. I thought it was all right.”

“I don’t believe you.” Yvenza’s low, deliberate tone expressed a death sentence. “Try again.”

“Oh, I believe him, all right,” Onartino interjected. “I believe every word. Haven’t I been warning you for the past twenty years or so? But when would you ever hear a word against your precious Rione? Well, what do you think of your darling now, eh?”

“Shut up.” Yvenza did not trouble to glance in her son’s direction. Eyes pinning the luckless Ennzu, she commanded, “Now, give me the truth. Don’t fear to speak. You’ll be punished, but not killed or maimed. I promise you this mercy—provided that you tell the truth now. Lie to me again at your own risk.”

Ennzu hesitated for several miserable and terrified seconds before crying out, “I’m not lying! Truly, Magnifica, I’ve told you the way it was!”

“You persist in accusing Dr. Falaste Rione?”

“I’m not accusing anybody of anything! I’m only telling you what happened.”

“Rione is loyal to the core. Do you really think I’ll believe he’s betrayed me?”