Color Mage (Book 1) (13 page)

“She has been a sheltered house slave,” Inmay said. “Running will hurt her feet. She may fall behind.”

Kirian almost hissed. “Then you stay behind with her. Once I start you off, you are on your own! Stay overnight in the cave—get far enough back and up to avoid the high tide. It opens in the back, up into the rocks—the village children hide there sometimes. In the morning, make your way to the Two Merkhan road. It is due north from the Castle; you cannot miss it.”

Kirian opened the shutters and felt the cold air blow into the house. She climbed over the sill, scraping her thighs against the weathered wood, and dropped to the ground outside, out of sight of Hame’s house. Inmay followed her and stopped to help his lover, who, as far as Kirian could see, needed no assistance at all. Once they were all outside, Kirian led the way from house to house, staying alongside the gray, paintless walls. She saw no villagers; between the wintry day and the earlier search by Jiriman’s men, they were staying indoors where they were safe and comfortable. After a few minutes she heard voices and realized the guards were leaving Elder Hame’s house and mounting. She waved the others into a shed—it was a pig shed, she noticed—and waited to see what the guardsmen would do.

Eyelinn made a face. “Must we go in here?”

“Shhh!” Kirian glared at her. For a slave, the woman seemed remarkably spoiled. Although considering her good looks, her duties were probably more of the bed than of the kitchen and field.

Inmay looked out over Kirian’s head. In a choked voice, he said, “They are fanning out to check between the houses.”

“Let’s go, then—while we can!” Kirian took off out of the shed, running low to the ground past the last house, a tumbledown affair belonging to the village’s least successful fisherman, a single man who drank most of his good fishing days away. Their good luck ran out as they passed the ramshackle house. A male voice rasped, “Hey! Here they are!” It was Gremwar, the fisherman, probably hoping for a reward from Jiriman’s men.

“Go! Run!” Kirian said. She shoved Inmay forward, toward the open strand. The low tide had exposed the smooth, gritty slope of beach that should allow for easy running. The tumble of rocks that concealed the sea cave lay before them, only a few minutes run across the strand. The rocks shone in the winter sun, their feet dark and wet from the receding tide.

“Hey!” shouted Gremwar again, coming out his front door and waving to the guardsmen.

Inmay and Eyelinn were running, Eyelinn’s feet swift on the strand. Inmay pulled her by one hand, the gray strands in his hair reflecting the sun. Kirian stepped back into the pig shed, hoping to remain concealed in the odorous warmth while watching the escapees. A guardsman urged his horse between the houses.

“Hey! You!” Gremwar yelled, clutching his jug of ale. “They’re getting away!”

Then the guardsman saw Inmay and Eyelinn and shouted for assistance. He spurred his horse away from the village. Water left in little hollows from the receding tide splashed up under the horse’s hooves.

Eyelinn stumbled as she ran, falling to her knees. Inmay turned and looked behind, saw the galloping pursuer, and released Eyelinn’s hand. He ran, sandals slipping in the damp. Eyelinn screamed after him, but he kept running for the sea cave.

Kirian saw two more guards riding hard after Inmay and Eyelinn, but they were too far behind to catch the runaways before they reached concealment in the sea cave. The first guard was the danger. He caught up to Eyelinn, reached down from his horse as he slowed to a walk, and grabbed a fistful of her tunic. Eyelinn twisted away, but the guard grabbed her by the hair and one arm and lifted her up off the gravelly strand.

Eyelinn shrieked and tried to kick him.

The guard laughed. He pulled Eyelinn to him, one hand now around her body under her arms, the other hand dropping his reins and grabbing at her breasts. He turned to his fellows, riding hard to aid him, and shouted: “I have a big catch here!”

The guard stopped short. He sagged, his mouth open wide though Kirian heard no sound. He released Eyelinn and clasped a hand to his chest. A red stain grew there, blood dripping through his fingers as he clutched his wound. His horse smelled the blood and shied so that the wounded guard swayed. The guard’s face was as white as the sea foam. Eyelinn dropped to the ground, crouched down, and put the dagger back into its sheath, under her tunic. Then she ran for the sea cave, her hair flying.

One of the trailing guardsmen had caught up to the first. He stopped, slid off his horse and pulled the injured man down. Jiriman and the remaining guard rode hard after Eyelinn.

“Gods above,” Kirian whispered. She saw the wounded man slump to the ground. There was blood everywhere. Eyelinn had clearly known where to strike. Kirian stifled an urge to run to the man’s aid; she had no skill that would heal a wound to the heart. She slipped out of the pig shed and between the houses, heading back to Ruthan’s house.

Halfway there she was met by Cam, the small boy who had been injured by Miri sennights ago. He carried her Healer’s bag. He stopped her and whispered, “Hon Ruthan says not to go back, Hon Kirian. It’s not safe. They saw you. They know you helped the man and the slave.”

Kirian’s heart sank. Jiriman must have seen her lead the pair between the houses. She gave the boy a quick hug and said, “Thank you, dear, and thank Ruthan for me. Tell her I will be safe.”

Cam handed her the bag. It was heavier than usual; Ruthan must have stuffed some extras in.
Curse Inmay
, she thought. The man’s selfishness had dragged her down with him, this time. She thought of Lord Arias as she had last seen him, cold and grim with his new Collar at Lord Mikati’s funeral. Indeed, Ruthan knew these people better than she. If Ruthan thought Lord Arias was as cruel as the Collared Lord who had blinded her—who was she to disagree?

Kirian bid the boy goodbye and watched him scamper off. Then she returned to the welcome shelter of the pig shed. Cracks between the wide boards allowed her to watch the activity going on down the strand. Apparently they had not yet caught Inmay and Eyelinn. Jiriman had returned from the chase to crouch near the fallen guardsman. One man still pursued the pair; he had apparently entered the sea cave, since his horse stood riderless near the rocks.

As Kirian watched, the two men on the strand stood, heads bowed, looking down at the wounded man. The gravelly sand around the fallen man was soaked with blood. Jiriman mounted his horse and began riding back to the village at a slow pace. Kirian supposed that the man Eyelinn had stabbed was dead and that Jiriman probably rode to get something to bring him back on.

She waited in the pig shed until they took the fallen man away. The horsemen climbed the cliff path back to the Castle. Inmay and Eyelinn were still free. The village remained still and empty; people did not want to get involved in this mess. A young woman came to feed the pig around dusk; although Kirian knew she could see her sitting against the interior wall of the shed, the woman said nothing to her, walking away when she was finished without a glance to show she knew Kirian was there.

When it was full dark and the tide was high, Kirian began walking along the strand toward the rocky outcrop. She could make her way in the dark through the rocks until she met the path that would join the road to Two Merkhan. Her mind was still in shock; she could not take in that her life at Seagard village was over, at least until she could contact the Healer’s College and ask them to intercede for her with Lord Arias. Perhaps, too, they would not intercede – she was a charity student and had no noble family to agitate for her. Perhaps Lord Arias would not listen. These
righ
all stuck together, and an attempt had been made on Lady Mia Lon’s husband, a
righ
lord.

She stumbled over some rocks. Travel was difficult; it was getting hard to see, and the mountain trails were hazardous at night. She felt she must press on in spite of the danger. At least the moon was full. She would find shelter at Two Merkhan, and consider her options.

Chapter Six

A groom jogged up to take Miri to the stables. Callo’s hand dropped from the mare’s bridle as he stared at Arias in astonishment.

“You just gave those men permission to turn the village upside down,” he pointed out. Arias, who had just mounted his gray mare when Callo and Jiriman’s group arrived at the Castle stables, raised an unfriendly brow.

“I will not deny access to Fortress Mount. They are seeking a murderer, after all. Do you think I will hide a criminal?”

“No. I just thought we should handle it ourselves.”

Arias gave a humorless laugh. “I have other priorities than rifling through the village’s closets and spare rooms. Let Jiriman do it.”

“He is impatient. He’ll get the village upset, and find nothing. A search party of your own men would have been wiser. Anyway, Hon Kirian told me she has not seen this man Inmay since she has been posted here.”

“And you believe her?” Arias’ gloved hands were tight on the reins; the gray bobbed her head, pulling. His face was harsh, stern as his father’s had been.

Callo said, “Yes, my lord, I do.”

Arias did not object to the formal mode of address. In the old days, Callo remembered, calling him
my lord
would have sparked a quick, sarcastic reply. Or a laughing challenge.

“You ought to know better. A pretty face is not always an innocent one. Jiriman said she had dealings with this Inmay before.”

Callo had worked hard in the little clearing to work away his anger and regain the god’s gift of calm. In spite of his struggle, Jashan had not granted surcease from the crawling irritation—no, if he were honest, it was far more—a suppressed rage that had possessed him ever since the King had told him the secret of his parentage. He had been powerless to stop his anger from informing his actions on the cliff path. Now, he felt it rise up again. Hearing Arias—
Arias!—
cautioning him about being seduced by a pretty face was the last straw.

He said, with a growl in his voice that even he could hear, “I am glad you know best. Be on your way then, my lord.”

Arias’ eyes sparked red. “You’d better understand I do know best. Accept it, or leave.”

“I barely know you since you got that damned Collar. I’m not going to suddenly bow down before you. You aren’t any wiser than you were two weeks ago, my friend.”

“This Collar,” Arias gritted, “Means you’d better speak with more restraint!” His hands on the gray’s reins were wreathed with color. The gray felt the energy; her eyes showed white.

Callo’s temper flared in instinctive response. Then he took a deep breath and quelled it. Anger would not help resolve this regrettable scene at all.

He took a step backward and bowed. “My lord.”

“Good to hear you acknowledge it!” flamed Arias. He spurred the gray into a nervous trot and proceeded across the open area. It looked as if he were riding out to the caravan road.

Callo stood and looked after him, then took a deep breath. It could have come to blows, or worse; and since color magery could subdue even the most skilled swordsman, he knew he wouldn’t have made it alive out of that encounter unless Arias came to his senses and remembered that Callo was his lifelong friend. That seemed unlikely, given Arias’ demeanor since he had learned of Callo’s parentage.

Callo missed the old, carefree Arias. This new man was too like Mikati. The Collar had completely changed him.

He proceeded to the stable to check on Miri. The groom had cared for her well; her tack was off, and she was covered with a blanket and nosing into a bucket of oats. As he stood and stroked her glossy neck, he heard the sound of a throat being cleared.

“Yes?” he said without turning.

“My lord,” said Chiss’ familiar voice, “This boy has been looking for you.”

Callo turned to see Chiss with one of the village boys, a young man of about twelve years old with a thatch of dirty brown hair. The boy gave an awkward bow. Callo sighed and gave the boy his attention.

“Lord Callo, Elder Hame sent me to tell you the ship was sighted at noon today, just off the High Rocks.” The boy was breathless, either with his news or the climb on foot up the cliff path.

“At noon? When will it make port at Two Merkhan then?”

“Should be tonight, or by dawn latest, my lord.”

“Good. Good news at last, Chiss! Show this boy into the kitchens, will you? Cook will get you something, boy—what is your name?”

“Linle, sir—my lord.”

“Linle, then. Here is something for your trouble.” A coin changed hands and the boy bowed, thrilled. “Give Elder Hame my thanks. Chiss, when you are done . . .?”

“Yes, my lord. I’ll be back.”

Callo watched them leave and turned back to Miri. She nickered at him and he smiled, his heart lifting. The wintry sun reached through the open doors of the stable and sent tiny specks of floating dust and hay spinning like gold in the air. The bulk of the Castle was hidden from this angle, and the Watch tower, with Forell or Uncle Eamon on the interminable Watch, was high above them, likewise invisible from the comfortable horse-smelling stable. He felt a sense of freedom he had not experienced since he and Arias had been with the military in the south. After a few minutes he began to hum an old tune, and heard Chiss stop short as the man returned to the stable.

“Chiss!” he said. “I have news for you.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“I will be leaving a message for Lord Arias regarding the Leyish ship. He should be back in a candlemark or so—enough time to organize a party to greet the diplomats. Will you see he gets it, please?”

“Of course, my lord.” Chiss looked at him with his narrow head cocked, as if trying to figure something out. Then he said, “I am glad to see you feeling better.”

Callo smiled. Chiss, who had been his friend and mentor since Callo’s ninth birthday, would certainly have noticed Callo’s uncertain state of mind over the last few days. He probably knew the cause of it too, though Callo had not shared that story with anyone.