The Way Into Magic: Book Two of The Great Way (32 page)

Kinz stopped translating when the servant made his reply, his tone full of warning. After an uncomfortable delay, Kinz said, “He--”

“That’s all right,” Cazia said, laying her uninjured hand on Kinz’s so she wouldn’t have to translate something rude. They had put their conflicts behind them. “I know what he said.” She couldn’t expect a soldier to be happy to host a Peradaini, even in times like these.
 

“Do not rest on the bed,” Ivy said in Peradaini. “It is my cousin’s and it would give the wrong impression. That bench by the window would be better if you keep out of sight. Anyway, I have told Goherzma your names and that you are my friends, not my girls. In a moment, he will fetch my cousin and then we will not have to climb down the south wall or any other. We will be able to walk through the gate in the broad daylight with full bellies. And there is a bath in the other room; would you mind if I go first?”

“Of course not,” Cazia said. Could she let her injured hand touch bath water?

“I already had the summer bath,” Kinz said, “when we jumped in the river.”
 

The princess laughed happily as if she were joking, then drew back a tapestry to reveal a short passage into another room. Ivy lit a second candle and went in. Kinz shifted as though she wanted to follow. “Should we accompany her?”
 

Cazia moved to the bench and sat. Her hand had never hurt so badly, even when the injury was fresh. All it took was the movement of running and the pressure of her quickened heartbeat to set it
throbbing
. “They would assume we were her
girls.
” Kinz nodded and sat beside her.
 

Left alone with the Ergoll servant, Cazia and Kinz fell silent, watching him take a few things from a travel pack and distribute it among a few baskets. He was silent, almost sullen, but it wasn’t until they heard Ivy’s happy splashing from the next room that he spoke to them.
 

By her expression, Kinz did not recognize the word, but Cazia did. The serving man pointed to the basket beside him and snapped his fingers. It was a gesture of command, one that would not have been used by anyone short of a chief of servants, and even then only if he were very unhappy with a servant’s work.
 

Cazia stood. The man glanced at her, then looked back at his task. Cazia walked toward him, not the basket he’d pointed to, and said “man” in Ergoll, just as Ivy had taught her. He glanced at her in surprise.
 

She slapped his face.
 

Doughy middle or not, he still had a fighting man’s reflexes; her fingers barely grazed his cheek, but it must have stung.
 

His eyes suddenly went wild, and he did just what she expected: he slapped her back. Cazia turned her face with the blow to lessen the impact. Great Way, he was strong. If he’d taken her by surprise, he might have broken her cheekbone.
 

Still, the pain in her face was not nearly equal to the pain in her hand. “Tell him something for me,” Cazia said. “Compliment him on the softness of his hands. Tell him that being slapped by him is like gently resting my head on a soft cushion of down.”
 

Kinz hesitated. “Are you certain? If he makes the alarm, we could be thrown in chains. Or hanged.”
 

“I’m sure. If we don’t make a stand here, we will be scrubbing floors and washing Ivy’s underclothes for the rest of our lives. I’d rather be hanged.”
 

Kinz translated, and all the apprehension had vanished from her voice and expression. The man seemed surprised and a little impressed by her boldness, but when he began to respond, Cazia slapped him again.
 

This time, his reflexes failed him and the blow took him full on the cheek. Kinz began speaking again without prompting, and from her tone, Cazia could tell she knew not to try to console the man or ease the hurt to his pride.
 

Goherzma looked chagrined, glanced at the doorway where Ivy had gone, then let out a deep sigh. He bowed to them both, said something in a low voice, and went out the door. When he was gone, Cazia tried to bar it with her one good hand, but Kinz had to help.
 

Kinz had that mischievous smirk again. “He said he would return quickly with his master.”
 

They retreated to the bench. Cazia was so
tired
. “That might not be the last time this happens. I hate to admit it, but we might get the same treatment every time we meet someone, from the royal family to the kitchen help.”

“We are both too dark for the Indrega,” Kinz said simply. “But there is no disguising that you are from Peradain. It’s not just your brown hair and skin; unless we can find you the long wig or the pretend husband, there is no hiding that hair.”

Cazia ran her fingers through it. Of course it was a mess; she’d just spent months in the wilderness. “What does having a husband have to do with my hair? I need a comb, not a suitor.”
 

Kinz gave her a sly look. “You cut it. You have probably cut it your entire life. Among my people--and the princess’s--girls do not cut their hair until the morning after their wedding.”

“Oh. I thought you and Ivy just liked it that way.”

“We do. For now.”
 

Cazia would have laughed, but Kinz suddenly got a faraway look in her eye.
Who would have cut her hair after her wedding? Her mother? Her aunts? Who did she have to cut it now?
“Maybe I should just find a hat.”
 

Kinz looked dubious. “No matter what, it will be difficult to travel far together in Indrega. We may have to make pretend to be servants to the princess just to smooth things over. For her and for us.”
 

What she said made sense. Once they made it into Ergoll territory, Ivy could demand they be treated with respect, but until then, they risked a lash from everyone they met. As much as Cazia wished it would be otherwise, she…
they
were surrounded by Enemies. Again. Discretion would be wise.

Cazia had never been called wise. “Fire take that idea,” she said. “If I’m going to walk down this side of the Straim, I’m going to do it as a free citizen.”

Kinz gave a one-shoulder shrug, and they fell silent after that, listening to the double gong of the alarm and the splashing from the next room. Cazia had nothing to distract her from the pain in her hand.
 

Ivy finished mere minutes before someone tried the door, so she was there to respond to the angry complaint that came from the hall. She and Kinz unbarred the door, allowing Goherzma to enter with another man close behind.
 

He couldn’t have been more than thirty, tall and slender, with a pale, mournful face and straight black hair braided like Kinz’s. The left side of his neck and shoulder--what showed through his tunic, at least--was dimpled and yellow-white.
 
A burn scar? His white uniform was crisp, clean, and perfect.
 

Ivy called out a string of nonsense syllables that might have been his name, and he shouted, “Vilavivianna!” at which the two of them fell into overlapping chatter in Ergoll. Kinz looked as if she was about to try to translate it, but Cazia shook her head slightly. She didn’t need to know what Ivy said to her family.
 

After some time, Ivy came over beside Cazia and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Cazia Freewell, this is my cousin, Belterzhimi of Shadow Valley, the Warden of the Western Frontier.” Cazia stood and gave a polite little curtsey. How funny. It had been so long since she’d last curtseyed, and yet here she was doing it without a moment’s hesitation.
 

“It is my great pleasure to meet you,” Belterzhimi said. “I am told you promised the princess that you would return her safely home.”

“I did,” Cazia said. He stared at her very intently, as though there was no one else in the room. It gave her goose bumps. “We’re almost there.”
 

“I would be pleased to accompany you. Is it true that you are of royal blood?”
 

She almost said,
I was the prince’s cousin.
“Cousin to the prince,” she said, a little inelegantly. “But that does not matter very much among my people.”
 

“It matters here,” the young man answered, then he bowed a little. “How is my Peradaini?”

“Very good!” she answered a little too enthusiastically. He smiled gratefully at her. Cazia felt herself blush. The smile didn’t seem to suit his face, although she was still glad to see it. “I wish I spoke Ergoll that well.”
 

“Thank you. I have been practicing among the refugees from East Ford. When you come to Goldgrass Hill with us, we will reunite you with your people. I am sure they will be pleased to share news.” He turned to Kinz. “My man tells me that when he confronted you, you both stepped in front of the princess to shield her. Yes?”
 

Kinz answered him in Toal. Cazia noticed with some dismay that he gave the older girl the same intense look he’d just given her. Was he this way with everyone or was Kinz--older, taller, and more beautiful--that much more enticing?
 

Cazia suddenly felt extraordinarily tired but didn’t want to insult Ivy’s cousin by sitting. “Big sister,” Ivy said, “are you all right?”
 

It was just a wound to her hand. Cazia hated to admit it, but it really was tiring. “I’m fine.”

“I am cutting my visit short,” Belterzhimi said, “obviously. My cousin has been found safe! We will head south in the morning. Do you have any packing?”
 

Ivy tugged at the blanket she was wearing. “We could use some fresh clothes. And the commander took two iron artifacts from Kinz. They are proof of the adventures we have had! Can you see to it they are returned?”
 

“I will speak to him. We will purchase clothes in the market as we leave. The Ergoll have been fortunate these last few months, but never more so than this night. Let me finish my duties with the commander this evening, smooth things over with the alarm, and we depart at dawn. Sleep, cousin. Sleep, friends.”
 

Ivy dragged Kinz to the tub, despite the older girl’s protests. Goherzma rushed from the room and returned shortly after with the commander. There was a lot of talk after that, another visit from the doctor, a change of bandages, a stack of new sleeping clothes for the girls, and a sincere apology from the great big archery target. Ivy’s response was haughty, while Kinz--her hair freshly washed and unbraided--and Cazia hung back to let her handle it.
 

Belterzhimi insisted they were to have their own room. “You understand, I hope, why I can not host you,” he said in Peradaini while he looked at Cazia’s head. “I mean no insult or disrespect.” Ivy nodded and led Kinz and Cazia to an empty room at the far end of the corridor.
 

“He couldn’t
host
us?” Cazia asked. “Is that because of my hair?”
 

“Of course!” Ivy answered. “You are a foreigner, so it does not matter to you, naturally, but an unmarried girl with short hair would scandalize my people. When I first came to Peradain and saw eight-year-olds on the street with bobbed hair, I thought your entire civilization was depraved!”

Kinz cleared her throat. “Do you think it will be made hard for her?”

“That is a good point,” Ivy said. “We could get you a widow’s wig for the trip. I’m sure my cousin would not mind.”

A disguise. Cazia knew it was a sensible idea, but she rebelled against it anyway. She was Peradaini, and Surgish, and quite close to the prince of the Italgas. She knew their songs and their magic. She was herself and she was not ashamed.
 

“No wig,” she said. It was mostly pride that made her refuse. Whatever common sense there might be in one argument or another, she did not want to hide among Enemies.
 

They slept comfortably on a frame bed stretched with downy-soft boq skins, until a soft-voiced servant called outside their door at dawn. The three of them were loaded onto a cart with four okshim rigged to the front, and they waited patiently for Ivy’s cousin and his man as they finished whatever business they had with the commander in the last moments before first light.
 

Cazia did not expect to be traveling with a cohort of soldiers. There were a dozen archers and thirty spears--
spearmen
, Ivy insisted, even the ones who were women. Also, at the very perimeter of the group, there were serpents.
 

They looked strange in the daylight. The dead ones she’d seen in the demolished camp had been dull-colored, but alive, they were as bright and colorful as polished jewels. Their scales shone like rainbows and their long snouts moved slowly from one human to the next, tongue flicking in and out.
 

“Beautiful, are they not?” Ivy asked. The way she was smiling, Cazia might have thought she’d painted them personally, but she and Kinz couldn’t help but smile back.
 

“But deadly,” Kinz added. She seemed a little tense.
 

“Oh, yes. They are very powerful allies.”
 

Could they talk?
They circled the camp like well-trained guard dogs, but Cazia had decided she was not going to underestimate the beasts of Kal-Maddum any more. Sometime soon, when she had a safe, secret place of her own, she would make a translation stone and spy on them a little. Ivy had asked for one, but Cazia needed to satisfy her curiosity.
 

Outside the gate was the market. It looked like every other market Cazia had ever seen, except the canvas tents had all been dyed white. She wanted to wander out among the stalls—how long had it been since she’d been among crowds of ordinary citizens?—but despite all her brave talk, she was nervous about the way she’d be treated.
 

Not that she was given the choice. Ivy and Goherzma both requested that she stay in the back of the cart among the supplies. She was a little embarrassed at the gratitude she felt toward them both.