Furies of Calderon (31 page)

“No,” the girl said, and Isana felt the simple truth in her words as clearly as the tone of a silver bell. There was a purity to the way she spoke, a sense of sincerity that reassured Isana, let her shoulders unknot, if only a little.

“All right,” Isana said. She adjusted the blankets over the girl, covering her feet once more. “Sleep. I’ll bring you some food in a little while.”

The girl did not reply, motionless on the bed, and Isana withdrew from the room, to the top of the stairs. She could hear voices, below, as the hold-folk gathered into the hall. Outside, thunder rumbled, low and ominous, from the north. The events of the night before, the Kord-holders’ attack on her, came rushing back in memory, and she shivered.

Then she straightened and walked down the stairs, to deal with the other strangers who had come to Bernard-holt.

Chapter 17

Fidelias waited until the big Stead-holder had padded up the stairs and out of his sight, carrying someone wrapped in a blanket. The former Cursor glanced around the hall. For the moment, at least, he and his companions had been left alone. He turned to Odiana and Aldrick with a frown.

Fidelias gave Aldrick an even look and suppressed a surge of irritation. “Aldrick, please. Do you expect her to hang a sign on the door that she’s here? It all fits. Three sets of tracks—the boy’s, the Stead-holder’s, and hers. She was limping. That’s why he was carrying her.”

Aldrick sighed. “All right then. I’ll go up and kill those two, and we can be about it.” He turned away and lifted a hand to his sword.

“
Aldrick
,” Fidelias hissed. He seized the swordsman’s arm at the biceps and reached down into the earth to borrow from his fury’s strength. He stopped the larger man cold.

Aldrick glanced down at Fidelias’s arm and relaxed. “That was the point, wasn’t it?” the swordsman said. “Fidelias, we
have
to stop them from reporting to Gram. Without the element of surprise, this entire campaign could be for
nothing
. We came here to find the Stead-holder and the boy who had seen our friend Atsurak, and kill them. Oh, and the agent of the crows-eaten
Crown
if we happen to run across her, which we have.”

“Love,” Odiana said. “We still don’t know where this boy is, do we? If you go and kill the ugly little girl right now, won’t the Stead-holder object? And then you’d have to kill him as well. And anyone else upstairs. And all these people here…” She licked her lips, her eyes bright, and said to Fidelias, “Why shouldn’t we do this again?”

“Remember where you are,” Fidelias said. “This is the most dangerous area of the Realm. Powerful furies, dangerous beasts. This isn’t one of the old plantations of the Amaranth Vale. It breeds strong crafters. Did you see the way that boy handled those gargants out front? And he calmed our mounts when they got nervous—that wasn’t me. And he did it without so much as stopping to make an effort. A
boy
. Think about it.”

Aldrick shrugged. “They don’t go armed. They’re Stead-holders, not warriors. We could kill them all.”

“Probably,” Fidelias said. “But what if that retired Legionnaire Stead-holder is a strong crafter to boot? What if some of the other holders here are that strong? Odds are some of them would escape—and since we don’t know who the boy we’re looking for
is
we’d never know if we got him.”

“What about that boy out front?” Odiana asked. “That lovely strong tall one with the gargants.”

“His feet are too big,” Fidelias said. “The rain all but obliterated the tracks, but the ones from earlier today are clearer. We’re looking for a smallish boy, not growing a beard yet—or possibly a girl. Atsurak probably wouldn’t know the difference at that age, if a girl had been wearing breeches. The Marat don’t make the same distinctions we do.”

“He had big hands, too,” Odiana mused, and leaned against Aldrick, her eyes heavy, drowsy. “May I have him, love?”

Aldrick leaned down and absently kissed her hair. “You’d only kill him, and then he’d be no good to you.”

“Get the idea out of your heads,” Fidelias said, his tone firm. “We have an objective. Find the boy. The storm is rolling in behind us, and everyone will be gathering into the hall. As soon as we find him, we’ll take him, the Stead-holder, and the Cursor and leave.”

Aldrick grunted assent. “And what if we don’t? What if he’s already gone off to Garrison to warn the local Count?”

Fidelias grimaced and looked around. “I grew up on a stead-holt, and you’d never keep something like that a secret. If that’s what has happened, we’ll hear about it when everyone gathers in.”

“But what if—”

“We’ve borrowed trouble enough,” Fidelias sighed. He shook his head and slapped Aldrick’s arm gently, releasing him. “If the boy has already left, the storm will be as dangerous to him as anyone. We’ll catch him, and the result will be the same.” His eyes glittered. “But Aldrick. Why don’t you take Odiana out to make sure the horses are all right? I’ll handle things in here, and if there’s killing to be done, I’ll let you know who and where.”

Aldrick frowned down at him. “You sure about this? In here by yourself— what if you need help?”

“I won’t,” Fidelias assured him. “Go on to the stables. Make it clear that you’re looking for a bit of privacy. I’m sure they’ll let a couple of newlywed travelers have it.”

Aldrick arched his brows. “Newlywed?”

The water witch’s eyes smoldered. Odiana flashed a smile to Fidelias, then turned to Aldrick with a sway of her hips and took one of his hands in hers. She kissed his fingers as she walked backward, toward the doors to the hall. “I’ll explain it to you, love. Let’s go find the stables. There will be hay there. Would you like to see the hay in my hair?”

Aldrick’s eyes narrowed, and he let out a low and not unpleased sound. “Ah.” He started out, keeping hold of Odiana’s hands. “I knew there was a reason I liked working with you, old man.”

“Just be listening,” Fidelias warned quietly.

The witch nodded and replied, “Keep a cup in your hands, and drink in the cup. I’ll hear.” Then she and the swordsman vanished toward the stone stables.

No sooner had they left than Fidelias heard a heavy tread on the stairs leading down into the hall, and the Stead-holder appeared again, his face set in something between a frown and a scowl. He looked around and said, “Sorry about that. Just had to take care of someone hurt.”

“Ah,” said Fidelias, studying the man. He stepped with the faintest trace of hesitation on his left side, as though it pained him slightly to do so. If he had been wounded, as Atsurak had indicated, then the wound had been crafted shut—which meant that a reasonably powerful water-crafter resided in the stead-holt as well. “Nothing too bad, I hope.”

The man shook his head and said, “Nothing we can’t handle.” He extended a hand to several seats by the fire. “Sit down, sit down. Let me get you a cup of something hot.”

“Business,” Fidelias replied. “I represent a group of investors who fronted several prospectors money to locate gems in the wilderness over the summer. They should be coming back in, with the weather turning worse, and we’ll see what they’ve found.”

Bernard nodded. “I thought you had a couple more with you. Where did your friends go?”

Fidelias gave him a warm grin and a wink. “Ah yes. My guardsman is a newlywed, and I let him bring his wife with him. They went out to check on the horses.”

Fidelias detected a slight edge to the words, one the Stead-holder himself probably wasn’t aware of. His instincts twinged, a low and subtle alarm lending an edge of tension to him, but he nodded and smiled and said, “Of course.”

“If you’ll excuse me, then. I need to make the rounds and make sure everything’s secured before the storm comes down.”

“Of course. Again, thank you for your hospitality. If I can be of any assistance to you, let me know.”

Bernard grunted and rose, his expression preoccupied. Fidelias watched the man carefully, but could read little of him through his body language. Tense, to be sure, but wouldn’t any Stead-holder be, when facing a threat to his holders? He carried his leg stiffly, still, as he moved out of the hall and into the courtyard, and just before he left, the big man glanced over his shoulder, toward a staircase in the far corner of the hall.

Fidelias watched him and waited until the Stead-holder had left the hall to glance at the staircase himself. Interesting.

A moment later, a pretty young girl brought a steaming mug out to Fidelias’s seat by the fire, presenting it to him with a slight curtsey. “Sir.”

He smiled at her and accepted the mug. “Thank you, young lady. But please, call me Del.”

She smiled at him, a winsome expression. “My name is Beritte, sir—Del.”

“A lovely name for a lovely girl.” He sipped at the drink, a tea he vaguely recognized. “Mmmm, wonderful. I suppose you’ve had an interesting few days here, with the storm and all that’s happened.”

She nodded, folding her hands in front of her and inhaling just enough to let her bodice round out her young breasts. “Between all the excitement yesterday and then last night, it’s been one thing after another. Though I suppose it isn’t anything compared to the life of a gem merchant, sir.”