Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star (18 page)

Damn goats.

As she’d ordered, the hearth still stood, but the foundations had been laid around it for a wooden platform. Red nodded in approval at the tent over the platform. It was thick wool, nothing permanent, but it would serve as a command center. The tent was in two parts; the wider area now held the table and as many chairs and benches as would fit.

The smaller area, by the hearth, had cloth as a divider, and held the bed. Josiah’s old hut would now be his bedroom.

Their bedroom.

The warriors had cleared out of the area, and there were men moving about the tents, seeing to the fires at the end of a day. She could see Bethral talking to a group of riders, so the watch was set.

“You see?” Red asked, as she held the cloth aside. “You’ve a bed, Josiah.”

“I’ll bed down the goats,” Josiah said.

“I’ll be waiting.” Red gave him a sultry look.

The fabric moved slightly in the light breeze. With a fire in the hearth, it would be warm enough.

Red set about the task, well pleased.

Once the flames bit at the wood, Red moved about, taking off her sword belt and hanging it by the bed. Her packs were by the side, her bedroll on top.

By the time Josiah returned, she was naked on the bed.

And oh, so ready….

JOSIAH was sated and drowsy when Red stirred. He thought she’d a need for the necessary, but the sounds she was making caused him to open an eye. And then both of them.

She was setting out her bedroll in front of the fire.

“What are you doing?” Josiah asked. “Come back to bed.”

Red turned her head and looked at him. She frowned, as if puzzled. “Why?”

Josiah caught his breath. “I—” He took a breath, uncertain. “I thought you’d sleep with me. Isn’t that what—” The words caught in his throat of a sudden. No. That wasn’t what she was used to.

Red glanced down at her bedroll and then back at him, puzzled. “I can guard from here, Josiah. If someone comes in…”

“The bed is more comfortable.” Josiah sat up in the bed, and the blanket slid down off his chest.

“And your presence beside me is part of the pleasure.”

It came and went in an instant, the merest flicker of longing in her eyes. But he saw it, and knew it for what it was. This woman—this lovely, hard, powerful woman—had never known comfort.

He’d bedded women before, and he’d always prided himself in seeing to his partner’s pleasure as well as his own. But here was one who knew all the pleasure of sex, but none of the intimacy that can be shared between two bodies under a warm blanket.

Still, she hesitated.

“Please,” Josiah whispered.

She stood there, naked but for her gloves, then shrugged. “As you wish.”

Josiah lay back down, and watched as she rolled the pallet up. For all her careful casualness, Josiah knew he’d unsettled her. She fiddled with the placement of her sword and dagger, laying them just so by the bed.

He held the blanket up for her as she slid back in beside him.

She gave him a knowing look. “You just want me close at hand for a morning romp.”

“Do you blame me?” Josiah answered. “Why pad across a cold room, when I can reach out my hands within the warmth of the blankets?”

Red chuckled, relaxing as she settled herself. “I like a bit of play before breakfast.”

Josiah settled next to her, careful to let only their shoulders touch. “We will both profit, my mercenary.”

Red yawned, and seemed to fall asleep between breaths.

Josiah watched her face in the firelight for a long moment.

JOSIAH awoke some time later, to find Red curled around him, her head on his shoulder, her gloved hand over his heart. He smiled, half-asleep, and covered her hand with his own. The red leather was warm under his fingers.

She was like a kitten, he thought muzzily. All teeth and claws when awake, but soft, warm, and purring while sleeping. He smiled faintly as he drifted back to sleep. A brown tabby, who’d played rough all day and now cuddled close.

Of course, it would be worth his life to call her so….

EZREN closed his eyes as he felt High Priestess Evelyn reach out and gently touch his throat.

She was so close he could smell the incense lingering in her formal embroidered robes. It reminded him of services, the trailing smoke rising from the braziers as the sun streamed in the windows. He felt his body relax at her touch and the soft sound of her prayers.

It was warm in the foaling room, with a fire crackling in the hearth, but he still felt a chill. He’d slept well enough, even though someone had kept coming in during the night to feed the flames.

When he’d woken, there’d been someone to aid in his ablutions.

Not the Angel of the Light, though.

Clean clothing, warm bread and butter, and a mug of hot kavage had made him feel better. One of the warriors had told him that Evelyn was on her way, so he’d been made comfortable on the bunk, and wrapped in blankets to ward off a chill. Far better treatment than—

No. His mind shied away, and he concentrated on the sensations of being healed, concentrated on the sound of Evelyn’s prayers, on the slight tingle of warmth on his skin. He lifted his chin slightly, and took a long breath. How would you tell this in a story? What words would you use to get your listener to—

“There.” Evelyn’s voice was soft.

He opened his eyes and saw her looking at him closely, her eyes questioning.

He swallowed, and took a breath. “Lady…”

He winced as his voice cracked.

The priestess sighed, and stepped back to sit on the other bunk. It was just the two of them in the foaling room, for which he was grateful. He didn’t have to hide his disappointment from her.

“Ezren, I’m sorry. I’ve done what I can,” Evelyn said.

“I am grateful for my life, Lady High Priestess,” Ezren croaked, pulling his blankets tighter around his body. “But is there any possibility that…”

Evelyn reached for the kavage by the fire and poured a mug. The firelight caught her small silver ring and made it gleam. “Your voice may yet return, with time.” She handed him the mug.

“More to the point, you need to rebuild your body slowly. Rest, food, time—those are your best healers now.”

He sighed, and sipped his kavage.

“Red has called for a council this morning,” Evelyn said. “We’d like you there, if you feel well enough.”

“Here?” Ezren looked around the room, stuffed with supplies.

Evelyn shook her head. “Red has a command tent set up outside.”

Ezren clutched the mug tighter. “Who will be there, Lady?”

“Red, of course. Josiah. Bethral. Gloriana—”

“The young one?” Ezren considered that as Evelyn continued.

“Vembar. He insists—”

Ezren’s head jerked up. “Vembar of Edenrich? The late King’s Chancellor?”

“Yes,” Evelyn said. “Then there is Auxter, and his lady, Arent,”

“Of the late King’s Guard?” At her nod, Ezren continued. “I know Vembar, and I’ve heard of Auxter.” He looked at her closely. “And I know why your hair turned white, Lady High Priestess.”

“I doubt there is much you don’t know, Ezren Storyteller.” Evelyn smiled ruefully. “We need that knowledge, if you would share it with us.”

“I am not sure, Lady.” Ezren hesitated.

Evelyn gave him a considering look. “They know what you have been through, Ezren. You should not be ashamed of your appearance.”

Ezren reached up, and felt the scarred skin of his scalp. “No, Lady, of course not.”

Evelyn said nothing, merely stood and reached for his blankets. “Come. The sun is warm, but there is a bit of a breeze this morning. You can wear my cloak with its hood up.”

“Very well.” Ezren reached out to hand her his mug, then started to wrestle his way from the bedding. “Perhaps it would be best if I were there. We need to talk, Red Gloves and I.”

“GRACIOUS Gods.” Vembar breathed out in horror. “Is that Ezren?”

Josiah turned to see Evie emerge from the barn, Ezren at her side. The man was hunched, but he was walking under his own power. His face was still so very thin, almost skeletal.

“They warned you,” Arent said softly as she served Vembar some of the kavage. She blocked Vembar’s view as she reached for the pitcher.

Vembar was a consummate diplomat and composed his face quickly. But Josiah knew he was shaken and trying to get himself under control.

“He looks a damned sight better than when Bethral bought him,” Red pointed out.

“Better?” Vembar drew a breath.

Bethral gave them all a glare, then rose to go to aid the couple.

“He’s doing well, Vembar,” Josiah offered. “But remember that his voice—”

“I do.” Vembar sat straighter. “And I will have a care for my old friend.” He stood, took a few steps forward, and called to him. “Ezren, my friend.”

“Vembar.” Ezren’s eyes were bright under the hood. Bethral and Evie helped him to step onto the platform. “I never thought to see you again, outside the presence of the Gods.” His voice crackled as he spoke.

“Or I, you.” Vembar stepped forward to clasp his hand warmly. He drew the man into a gentle hug, and then released him carefully. “Let me make you known to these others. We can talk later.”

Bethral moved a chair behind him, but Ezren remained standing.

“Sit before you fall,” Red said.

“It is polite to remain standing during an introduction, Chosen,” Ezren replied. “Lord Auxter, I have heard of you, from your time with the King.”

Auxter used his staff to stand. “Allow me to make you known to my wife, Arent.”

“Lady.” Ezren nodded his head. Arent smiled and returned the gesture.

Josiah had to admire him. The man had been through a horrific ordeal, but he was acting as if this was nothing more than a simple garden party.

Red was standing next to Josiah, finishing her mug of kavage. The breeze came up and caught her hair, and it flared out gently. She reached out and tucked it behind her ear with a gloved hand.

Desire stirred in Josiah’s groin, and he looked off into the distance. The platform they stood on worked well as a command tent, but it was little more than rough wooden planking, with Josiah’s old table placed in the center. Once the wool sides had been rolled up, the goats had thought it great fun to climb on until Red had chased them off.

“And this is Gloriana.” Vembar held out his hand, and Gloriana came to stand next to him. “The Chosen Heir and my student.”

“Lady fair.” Ezren reached out and kissed her hand.

Amused, Josiah watched as Gloriana smiled shyly and blushed. She curtsied with grace. “Thank you, Lord Ezren.”

“I do not hold that title,” Ezren sighed, as he eased down into the chair. “I am a storyteller, nothing more.”

“Or less.” Arent added.

“Gloriana, if you’d do the honors.” Vembar seated himself at the table.

Gloriana produced a large map, vellum by the looks of it. Josiah frowned, shifting so that he could take in the whole of it. Red moved to stand next to him.

Ezren leaned forward. “This is old. It dates from before the King’s death.”

“It was a gift from King Everard.” Vembar’s voice trembled. “I brought it with me when I fled the castle.”

Old and worn, it was still lovely, inked with colors that were faded, marked with the various baronies. Josiah’s gaze fell on the outline of Athelbryght, and he had to look away for a moment, the pain welling up from deep within.

Red noticed, but he looked away, avoiding her eye.

“Things have changed,” Ezren’s voice crackled.

Auxter nodded. “We know, Storyteller. All too well.”

“Tell us.” Evelyn settled herself in one of the chairs. “Tell us what you know.”

Ezren frowned. “My knowledge is old as well. At least a year old.”

“More current than ours, Ezren,” Vembar said.

“But you know—” Ezren started to argue, but Red cut him off.

“I don’t,” she said firmly. “Tell me, Storyteller. Start with the King’s death.”

Ezren leaned back, tilting his head to see her from under the hood. “Every story has its price, Lady.”

“So?” Red demanded.

Vembar coughed. “It is the custom to pay a storyteller, Chosen.”

“Like a bard?” Red asked.

“Or a mercenary,” Josiah said under this breath.

Red shot him an amused look.

Ezren drew himself up under the cloak. “I am no performer, Chosen. I collect and preserve stories. If you wish to hear, you must pay the price.”

Red gave him a narrow look. “What is the price?”

“Answers to my questions.” Ezren’s eyes gleamed green from the depths of the hood.

Josiah’s eyebrows went up at that.

Red frowned at the frail man. For a long moment, there was silence, broken only when Ezren sighed and shrugged. “Except about your gloves, Chosen.”

Red’s face cleared. “And my past, Storyteller. That’s my story, none of yours. But I’ll pay your price.”

Ezren nodded, and reached out to smooth the map with his hand. “This is the land of Palins, in the sixteenth year of the reign of King Everard. The year that saw the death of the King, his Queen, and his heir.

“Now, the Crown rules Palins, but the lands are held by the High Barons, under an oath of fealty.

The Crown retains the lands around the capital, Edenrich.” Ezren pointed to the map with a thin finger. “There are…were…eight High Baronies: Athelbryght, Tassinic, Wyethe, Penature, Summerford, the Black Hills, Farentall, and Swift’s Port.

“In the confusion after the deaths, the High Barons came together to determine who would rule.

Iitrus, Lord of the Merchant Guild, was named as Regent.

“A series of councils were held, all confused and contentious.” Ezren gestured with both hands.

“I will not go into details, but no agreement could be reached among the High Barons, due in large part to the designs of High Baroness Elanore of the Black Hills and the Regent. They were in league, and they turned that to their advantage.

“One dark night, they sent assassins through the castle, after the High Barons and their advisers.

The castle ran red with blood, but their plans failed in that they managed to kill only Josiah’s mother and the High Baron of Farentell. The others escaped.