Indomitus Oriens (The Fovean Chronicles) (25 page)

             
“You tried to kill him, correct?” Glynn said, looking at Nina.

             
Nina looked back at her, unimpressed. “Yes.”

             
“Does anyone
not
want me dead?” Bill asked the room.

             
“And it required the touch,” Glynn continued. The rest of the room grew quiet, interested in this exchange.

             
“It did,” Nina said.

             
“I have cast spells on her,” Shela said. “I was successful each time, and in fact was not weakened.”

             
“Raven,” Glynn said, looking at Melissa. She had already gotten used to her new name. “I want you to listen carefully.”

             
“Okay,” she said.

             
“This will hurt you,” she said, and she raised her hand, glowing white with power.

             
“Glynn,” Lupus warned her. A trail of white rose up like a cloud from Glynn’s hand, arced over the table, and reached for Melissa.

             
Stupid trick, Bill couldn’t help thinking. Glynn wouldn’t kill her, she would just create an illusion to see what happened. Melissa waited for the arc to come close to her, then she batted it with the back of her hand.

             
“Please,” she said.

             
Glynn flew backwards out through the bay windows, with a crash of glass and a sound like metal tearing. Melissa watched with her mouth opened as Glynn sailed out over the palace wall, and dropped behind it.

             
“New rule,” Lupus said. “No more spell casting at dinner.”

              It took a few moments before Glynn realized what had happened to her. She had heard the sound of metal tearing. She had heard the crash of glass. Her reality couldn’t immediately adjust to accept that she still sat in her chair, traveling backwards through the night sky.

             
The cold air slapped the sense back into her, as she sailed over the palace wall, and watched it seem to rise, meaning she fell and would soon hit the ground.

             
Levitation had been the first feat she had ever mastered. She tried it now, and found the strength within her to impede her progress downward, slowing gradually as the chair continued to fall.

             
“Hey,” she heard below her, in the language of Men. She could do nothing but continue to descend. In several minutes she felt her toes on the ground, her dress in tatters and her delicate skin cut in a dozen places.

             
“So women just drop out of the sky in Eldador?” she heard from behind her.

             
Glynn turned and saw a Man, taller than she, stocky, dressed in the shaggy pants and overcoat of a Volkhydran, a sword on his hip and a pack on his back. He had brown hair cut above his ears, brown eyes, and a nasty scar down his left cheek, similar to the Emperor’s.

             
“Actually we are shot out of windows,” she said. “I don’t suppose you know the fastest way to the palace gates?”

             
“The palace gates?” he repeated. “I’m not sure. If you don’t hit me with another chair, I suppose I can escort you until we find it.” He punctuated the remark by spitting on the ground.

             
“I really don’t require an escort, Sirrah” Glynn said. “However I would welcome the company.”

             
“Good enough then,” he said. He started down the road they stood on, stone buildings lining either side. His boots banged the cobblestones in a rhythm she knew well enough. She straightened the moment that she heard it.

             
“How long were you a Wolf Soldier, Sirrah,” she asked him.

             
He didn’t stop, so she had to quicken her pace to keep up with him, tripping on the hem of her ruined dress every third step.

             
“What makes you think I was a Wolf Soldier?” he asked.

             
Glynn smiled. “You march when you walk,” she said. “I know that tread from the sack of Outpost IX, the Battle of the Two Horses, and the second invasion of Thera.”

“I had heard it was the Uman-Chi who financed the second invasion of Thera,” he said, not looking at her. “There were no Uman-Chi at the Battle of the Two Horses.”

“Thera happened in the days when we thought we could defeat the Empire,” she said. “All Uman-Chi know better than that now. As for the other, I happened to be in Volkha.”

He laughed softly.
“The Uman-Chi were never so quick to learn,” he said. “It doesn’t matter, though. I’m not a Wolf Soldier.”

“You just have the walk?”

He kept looking forward. “I’m not one any more,” he said.

“Might I ask your name, Sirrah?” she asked.

He walked for a while, and didn’t answer. She felt tempted to repeat herself, when he said, “Jerod. Jerod the Bold, of Volkhydro.”

“I am honored,
Jerod,” she said. “I am Glynn Escaroth, of the family Escaroth, and now the Baroness of Britt as well.”

“An Eldadorian barony?” he asked, looking sideways at her.

              “Indeed, Sirrah,” she said.

             
“I don’t suppose you expect me to call you m’lady or anything, do you?” he asked her.

             
“Whatever your manners and your common courtesy demand, Sirrah” Glynn answered him.

             
She felt she should know this one, but she couldn’t recall him. She’d listened to his voice, watched his manner, and marked his stride. He came of Volkan-kind, the bigger, meaner Men who lived along the Confluni boarder. A city dweller, not one of the tribesmen—she could tell by the hard soled shoes, the way he walked, the way he spoke. He used complete sentences and his diction seemed good. He had seen the inside of a school or been tutored.

             
She didn’t need the company of a Man, but an escort meant less chance of some ridiculous peasant or city rogue bothering her.               “What path brings you to Galnesh Eldador?” she asked him. She tried to reach out with her mind to the Empress or to the palace wizards, but her magic seemed indeed weakened.

             
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said, and spat. “Doesn’t the Emperor say, 'All roads lead to Galnesh Eldador'?”

             
“The Emperor boasts many things,” Glynn countered him. They came to a crossroads and the Man turned to his right. She would have chosen that direction herself. In fact, looking down the road, she could see the palace spires, several hundred yards away.

             
An impressive distance, she noted. There could be more to this Raven than she had assumed.

             
“You don’t believe you can trust me?” she asked.

             
“I know people,” Jerod said. “I know Uman-Chi.”

             
She smiled indulgently. “You are welcome to your secrets.”

             
He remained quiet for a bit, his boots staccato on the cobblestones. Say what you would about Men, Duke Hectar and the Emperor kept a clean city. Even in Outpost IX one saw a little slop in the street. Not so, here.

             
Jerod sighed. Glynn made her face blank, suppressing a smile.
That is a Man,
she thought.
They cannot bear their own secrets.

             
“A month ago I argued with my father, and I decided that I should see the rest of Fovea,” he said. Glynn already knew he lied. He wouldn’t look at her, his inflection showed insecurity. His thumbs in his wide belt and the hunched shoulders testified for him.

             
“I was going to come here eventually, but I wanted to see Andoran. I had just stepped off of the boat in Chatoos when I couldn’t get it out of my head that I wanted to be in Outpost IX.

“And no sooner did I leave for there, then the Port of Eldador seemed better.
I’m here now, and I don’t want to be anywhere.”

             
“Just so?” Glynn said. Certainly this seemed too convenient for comfort.

             
“Just so,” he said. “I am going to see some friends, I think, and maybe replace my sword with Eldadorian steel. I’m told the Emperor employs Dwarves at his forges.”

             
“Uman trained by Dwarves,” Glynn commented. They fast-approached the palace gates. Glynn could see horses there already, one of them a huge, white stallion.

             
Jerod stopped dead.

             
“You know the Emperor?” Lupus didn’t want for enemies.

             
“No, and I am going to keep it that way,” Jerod said. “He kills a lot of people.”

             
“Precaution is a better armor than steel,” Glynn quoted.

             
“What?”

             
“I agree with you,” she said.

             
He nodded. “Be well, m’lady,” he said, and spat again.

             
“Might I inquire to your lodgings?” Glynn pressed him. She saw nothing wrong with being forward with a Man. They knew nothing else.

             
“I’m told that ‘The Rider’s Inn’ is owned by Men. Uman in Eldador think all Men are rich. Others of my kind know better.”

             
“I should like to inquire after you, Sirrah,” she said.

             
“You would?” he seemed amused. The Emperor had marked her already and his stallion approached with a riderless palfrey and three score Wolf Soldiers.

             
“Be it to your convenience,” she said.

             
Jerod looked to the approaching Wolf Soldiers, then to Glynn. “Tomorrow night,” he said, and turned on his heel. He disappeared down a side street without a backward glance.

             
“Are you well?” Lupus asked as he approached her, from atop his stallion, in his usual flawless Uman-Chi. The Wolf Soldiers fanned out around them.

             
“I am injured, and I am drained, but I will recover,” she said. “I was aided by a good citizen.”

             
“We saw him,” Lupus said. “He was polite to you?”

             
She knew what he meant—had a rogue pressed his fortune? “A good citizen, to be sure,” she said. She didn’t want them chasing the man down. She reached for the stirrup of the palfrey and pretended her knees were giving way.

“Perhaps I overestimated my well-being
,” she sighed.

             
Three Wolf Soldiers stood by her side faster than she would have expected. With strong but gentle hands they helped her into the sidesaddle. She expected a hand on her breast or buttocks, but they respected her dignity. For criminals, killers and rogues, the Wolf Soldiers kept their discipline.

             
She sat the side-saddle and pretended to swoon. “If we may, your Imperial Majesty?” she asked.

             
“At whatever speed you can manage,” he said, and turned the great stallion to hover protectively over her.

             
They returned to the palace in good time, making no conversation along the way. Glynn found her way to her bed, claiming to be best fit to take care of her own needs. She would rather sail back to Trenbon than submit to a local healer, although she doubted she would be given the option.

             
Once alone in her chambers, she stripped off her dress, her Uman serving girl sponging her wounds clean and then washing her body and brushing out her hair.

             
She fell asleep just as she realized how relaxing it all felt.

* * *

              “If that’s what I get, you should ride every day,” Melissa said, her face buried in his shoulder, his bear arm wrapped around her.

             
“Maybe it’s all you,” he said.

             
She bit his nipple. “Maybe,” she said.

             
They lay quiet, naked, buried deep in another goose down mattress, in another palace, in another person’s custody.
The gilded cage,
Melissa thought.
I’m a Raven in a gilded cage.

             
“You thinking about dinner?” Bill asked her.

             
She kissed him. “Yeah.”

             
“Lupus told me she came back okay,” he said.

             
“I was there,” she said.