Hunting (26 page)

"Always was," Ash muttered, having
clashed more than once with Ryovar. She flexed her newly bound arm
carefully. "Thanks for this. I didn't want to bother Investigator
Verel again."

"Given how peculiarly unconcerned Visel
Thornaster appears to be, I'm almost surprised he hasn't taken care
of this himself."

"He's just acting." Ash glanced at the
door. "He wouldn't have made me his seruilis if he'd known I was a
girl. Aremal might have 'valarns', but just by having a particular
word for 'female warrior' they underline there's a difference.
Maybe not a negative one, but enough that the Rhoi's not wrong to
worry about whether it's appropriate." She clicked her tongue in
exasperation. "He relaxed when I told him how old I was. That let
him decide he could in conscience keep up the pretence."

"Should I ask if you care for him?"

Ash shrugged, winced as the stitches
pulled, and wished she could simply be entertained by the prospect
of Thornaster.

"Kiri, he was made for me. And once
this is over I will do something about that, because never asking
is the type of thing I'd regret." Even though she'd yet to discover
any signs of concealed attraction. "But he is..."

"Accustomed to being pursued," Kiri
said, speaking as one recognising her own situation. "If he finds
it amusing when he's insulted and slighted here, it most likely is
because in Aremal he is competed over."

"Egotistical wretch. He also seems to
think everyone should really love sword fighting. Let's hope that
isn't an absolute requirement." Ash blew her breath out, and then
met Kiri's eyes. "Are you going to tell me what's going on with the
Rhoi, or would you rather not talk about it?"

In the years that a younger Ash had
known Kiri she had never seen her blush. But as quickly as the deep
colour rose beneath clear skin, it receded, and her friend summoned
a faint smile instead.

"Nothing to my credit."

"Did your parents–?" The Arpesials had
always had very high expectations.

"No, I am the one at fault." Kiri
minutely rearranged her long skirt, and sat tall and proud, an
image of perfection. Ash had just decided that was all she meant to
say when her friend went on.

"My parents had already had in you an
example of how terribly wrong an advantageous marriage could be.
They chose not to push me. It was the entire Landsmeet – people who
looked at me and said, 'Yes, that is worthy of Veirhoi Arun' – who
brought a weight of expectation to our every interaction. And I
was, oh, ready to mark any fault. He was too small-minded,
impossibly earnest, never questioning what he was saying when he
told me he intended to live up to the role he'd been born to. That
he hoped for my support."

"To be a truly great Rhoi?"

"Like his father, who I could barely
look at because Rhoi Malaster had never stopped Eward Carlyon.
Disapproved of him, lectured him perhaps, but done nothing of
substance. Irrhoi Lasantra did not help – to her it was a foregone
conclusion that I would accept her son's interest and be
grateful."

"I'm still not seeing where you're at
fault in this."

"When the Irrhoi died, Arun told me
that he had always looked to his mother for advice. And, for a
time, I decided to see whether that would be enough." Kiri's gaze
was fixed on a wall, unseeing. "It was slow work. His views were
conventional, and if I spoke directly he would correct me. He'd had
so little practical experience, yet thought to teach
me
. And
would break into what I was saying to recite poetry. Bad
poetry."

Ash burst into laughter and then
stopped as her stitches warned her this was too soon. "Oh,
Kiri."

"It was Rhoi Malaster who changed that.
The Rhoi was – now that you've told me of Karaelsur, I suspect that
even then the Rhoi was uneasy, had sensed something was wrong with
Montmoth's Balance. I learned that he held a deep regret over his
handling of Decsel Carlyon – that he'd hesitated to overstep the
process of law. He brought many new books in from Aremal and
Firuvar, trying to widen his outlook. Sometimes they were books I
had studied, and he would talk to me as Arun would not. With that
example, Arun began to
listen
."

"Less poetry?"

"Thankfully. And – it was a heady wine,
that attention. I began to see Arun anew. The genuine desire to do
his best, the willingness to learn, and the struggle against the
way he had been shaped. The walls put about him were not so obvious
as mine, but they were there. When Rhoi Malaster began to speak of
sending him to Aremal's Collegium, I encouraged the idea. I saw it
as a final step toward Arun and I sharing our lives."

"Did you have a formal
understanding?"

"Oh, yes. He had the leave of his
father, and my consent. It wasn't until the day before he left that
I learned that I had led myself astray."

"Then?" Ash was startled. She'd assumed
matters had gone awry when Veirhoi Arun had fallen at the feet of
the Aremish Rhoi's daughter.

"You understand, all that time I had
been this." Kiri gestured down at herself, the motion the epitome
of restraint and grace. "A very decorous courtship, with barely a
held hand between us. But I had grown to appreciate him, and he was
leaving for years, so I kissed him: a farewell so he would know I
truly loved him. If he had walked out of the room, I could not more
clearly have felt his withdrawal. I received a letter a few days
after his departure, breaking our understanding. He had mistaken
his feelings."

Kiri's lips parted, then curved. "It
was a game to me once, my Reserve. When I first noticed that I
could change how people behaved toward me simply by controlling my
reactions, it felt like magic. But practice became second nature,
and I knew part of Arun's attraction for me was because I matched
the Montmothian ideal. I'm not certain it had ever occurred to him
that I might want him physically, or could collapse into laughter,
or climb through an attic window. That I wanted someone who I could
be Kiri with. And I did not see until it was too late that Arun was
in love with this...this idea of a woman. I have not spoken to him
since."

"Shall we run away together then,
Kiri?"

This time Kiri's smile was real, a wry
curl. "No. I will not give up Ariancy for something so trivial as a
broken heart. And I have been teaching myself to be Kiri again, at
least there. Among the Landsmeet it is difficult not to wear my
Reserve, because it spares me so much, but there's no need to spend
my time in the city."

"Then would you mind very much if I hit
him a little? I think I've done enough Rhoi-rescuing to get away
with it."

"If it relieves your feelings."

"It would at least be entertaining
watching him trying to explain away a black eye." Ash laughed, but
then more soberly considered her friend. "I know enough not to try
to fix this for you, and it sounds like he's behaved idiotically.
But I think you may have succeeded better than you realise, having
Rhoi Malaster send him to Aremal. You wouldn't know this, but he
plans a law to require Kinsel girls to attend the Mern."

Kiri's chin went down. "Your
Thornaster's influence?"

"He says not."

"How...unexpected."

"Of course, none of that will matter if
the scut behind these murders succeeds. We've made it impossible to
blame the Rhoi's death on Enderhay, but that doesn't mean they'll
stop trying."

And Ash was running short of ideas.

Chapter Twenty-Six

"What do you expect it to tell
you?"

Thornaster weighted the corners of his
newly delivered map. "If nothing else, it will help me keep track
of a foot tour of every unbound piece of land in this city. For the
sake of my sanity, I hope you bring back something to narrow this
down before it comes to that."

"For the sake of your feet at least,"
Ash said, and headed for the door.

"Arun wants to talk to you," he called
after her. "You're excused the second session of Mern. Think up a
suitable reward."

Ash waved in acknowledgement and headed
for the stable. Four days after Enderhay's death, she was finally
feeling up to more than fetching dinner, though her need for rest
had at least postponed some of the consequences of the revelation
of breasts. Heran was the current sticking point. While Thornaster
wobbled between giving her orders and treating her as a free agent,
and the Rhoi's gratitude meant that those who followed his command
were not going to get in the way of her hunt, a Veirhoi who had
discovered his new friend was not at all what he'd thought him was
a chancy keeper of important secrets.

Debating her approach, Ash took her
time cosseting Cloud Cat and then made no bones about finding a hay
bale to help herself into the saddle. Her stitches were healing
well enough, but she'd already torn a couple just trying to find a
way to sleep comfortably, and the whole of her back and arm tended
to throb relentlessly when she moved about too much.

She'd arranged for the Huntsmen to
gather as much gossip and talk about the disappeared as they could,
hoping to come across information people were unwilling to pass to
the Guard or the Watch. Melar had compiled it all into an
impressive collection of notes for Larkin to pass on.

"And much good it'll do you," Larkin
told her, once she'd been properly exclaimed over and they'd
escaped into the bakery's storeroom for serious discussion.
"Different parts of the city. Different times of day. No way to
tell if the handful who are older and younger are coincidence, or
if it's all connected."

"So many," Ash murmured, turning pages.
"I hadn't realised."

"Well, it
is
spring. Season of
starting over. Or at least of having had enough of the damn cold.
So, what comes next?"

"How well are they holding?"

Larkin grimaced. "The problem with you
off playing hero is everyone else wants to as well. Collecting
gossip's not exactly our strength."

"Start patrolling again. Groups of
four. Concentrate on the Commons. If you spot anyone at all
suspect, follow if you're four together and it's possible to stay
quiet and in each other's sight. If not, then get a good look at
whoever it is, so we can at least start collecting
descriptions."

"And if we spot someone
mid-kidnapping?"

"Make a lot of noise. Play drunkards.
The one thing Thornaster's been clear on is that this agent of
Karaelsur is incredibly dangerous. I don't want anyone thinking our
usual tricks are an option."

"Options would be–" Larkin paused as
Linnet poked her head through the door. "Go away Lincy."

"Go away yourself," Linnet said, poking
out her tongue. "I'm looking for Sonia. We're playing hide and
seek."

Larkin started to his feet, glancing
quickly around at the neatly stacked sacks and boxes of stores. "I
told you to stop that, Lincy."

"She
likes
it."

"And
I'd
like it if for once you
did what you were told."

Larkin began a systematic search of the
storeroom, which Ash decided to forego, since it involved a lot of
bending.

"Sonia?" Larkin's voice was as soft as
he could manage. "Could you come out of there please?"

Stifled movement behind a stacked
shelf, but nothing more.

Ash realised that the girl might not
remember her from her visits with Arianne, and didn't want to come
out while she was there. "I'd better get going," she said, and
philosophically took herself off.

But as Ash headed out, Bitty, minding
the shopfront, held a finger to her lips and nodded out the door.
Ash paused, and discovered her horse-mad street girl in the process
of offering a fragment of bun for equine consideration.

"Her name's Cloud Cat," Ash said, after
the mare had accepted the morsel.

The girl immediately retreated, so that
all Ash could see of her was a pair of brown legs beneath the curve
of Cloud Cat's belly.

"Do you have a name?"

Cloud Cat tossed her head, and the girl
moved, a proud, angry profile emerging around the mare's neck.
Dark, searching eyes, full of distrust, met Ash's in challenge.

Holding out a hand, palm up, Ash took a
step forward. "Talk to me."

Something hit her, a wind that buffeted
Ash against the bakery doorway. Twisting as best she could to avoid
disaster for her stitches, she staggered and almost fell.

"What happened?"

Bitty, abruptly at Ash's side, hefted
the stout cudgel the Rogadneys kept behind the serving counter.

"Not sure." Ash looked for the street
girl, but she was already out of sight. "Have you had any trouble
with her?"

"If you can call being treated like
we're infectious trouble. She's no plans to trust us any time soon.
Don't say as I blame her – she didn't get those bruises tripping
over her own feet."

"But no mysterious winds?"

"Nope." Bitty, far from easily
impressed, returned to the counter. "Doesn't stick around any
longer than she has to."

"Let me know if that changes."

Taking it slow because her wounds had
started to complain, Ash snagged a bun of her own and headed back,
trying to make sense of this new bit of information. Could the girl
be a mage? Was mage-craft something which could be done on the spur
of the moment? Was that wind something inborn, like Thornaster's
powers? Or something more sinister?

ooOoo

Ash's plans to tackle Heran were foiled
by his absence from the Mern, but she enjoyed herself otherwise by
describing her numerous stitches in great detail to an interested
crowd, and then by solemnly thanking Marriston for trying to quell
the bleeding. He could not quite stop himself from preening.

Being slit open would not have been
Ash's chosen method for winning over the senior seruilisi, but they
were at least no longer intent on ostracising her. Ash only wished
she could be sure one among them wouldn't turn around and try to
kill her, if the opportunity presented.