Queen of the Sylphs (21 page)

“It’s not fair,” he said instead. “I’ve invested thousands in coming here. I can’t afford to lose that money.”

“You won’t,” the chancellor told him, his hands clasped before him on the desk. “We’re not turning down your trade. We’re just setting limits on where your men are allowed to go while you’re here.”

“You’re restricting me to the main road and a three-block area near the edge of town.”

“Yes,” the chancellor said. His eyes were flat. “Eferem has already sent both spies and assassins here. You’re from Eferem. We don’t want anyone thinking you might be a threat.”

Thul hid a shudder, glancing quickly at the bored, blond battler. He didn’t seem like much, but Thul knew the sylph could kill him and all of his men in seconds. The battle sylphs were the only part of the Valley he didn’t like. They were usually everywhere.

The girl leaned forward. “We do want your trade,” she assured him. “Never doubt that.”

Thul wasn’t terribly inclined to listen to a girl, but the battler looked less bored when she spoke and watched him warningly.

The girl continued. “But we do have to protect ourselves. It’s for your protection as well. A wall is going up now to mark the areas to which your men will be granted access. We’re making sure that all of the amenities you need will be available. But, you’ll need to stay inside the trade area. Otherwise, well . . .” She glanced to her left. “The battle sylphs will react defensively.”

The thought of that made Thul shudder. He’d seen what was left of his drover after the battlers were done with him. Still, he was too unhappy with the situation to keep his mouth shut. “I’m no spy. I may be from Eferem, but I work for myself. Half my drovers sign up because they want to see this place. What am I supposed to tell them? They can come to a three-block area and if they go outside it, battlers will kill them? No one will sign up with that hanging over their heads!”

“We don’t doubt that,” the girl said. “Most of you traders are good men, but there have been deaths. And we’re applying this to everyone, not just you. We’re restricting the movements of everyone who isn’t from the Valley. To acknowledge the difficulty this is causing . . . we’re also willing to pay up to five percent more on previously negotiated goods.”

Thul was silent a moment, considering. Given the size of his cargo, this was a significant amount of money—and he caught that he’d only see the extra five percent if he cooperated. He grimaced, reminding himself that money was money and finally nodded in agreement.

As the caravan merchant left, Leon looked down at his daughter. “What did you think?” he asked.

She eyed him uncertainly. “Can we afford to pay all this extra money?”

“We can’t afford not to. By restricting traders to one area we’re basically treating them like enemies. If we don’t want them to start choosing other trade routes, we have to make it worth their while to put up with us.”

Lizzy sighed, not really happy at the thought of walling off anyone who might be a spy or assassin. Short of starting a war with Eferem, which could result in wars with every kingdom this side of the ocean, they had no other choice. Earth sylphs were already raising a wall around the perimeter of the town. She could see it from her bedroom window.

Ril regarded them both unapologetically, just as he was unapologetic about following them everywhere they went and restricting them to pretty much staying either in the house or in their offices, where he watched the doors.

At least it was giving him time to train his daughter, Leon thought. And she was turning out to be a quick study. She definitely didn’t mind Ril’s continuing presence, though Leon could see that the sylphs’ growing protectiveness was becoming a problem for many masters in the Valley. Already some were complaining, but Leon hadn’t joined in. Ril had been his slave for decades, not allowed to speak or even choose his own shape; Leon figured he could deal with a little overprotectiveness.

Besides, he wasn’t sure that Ril was being
too
cautious. Two battle sylph masters were dead and one had come uncomfortably close. Leon wasn’t a big believer in coincidence. He wasn’t sure what the connection between the three was—Rachel, Galway, and Moreena—and he wasn’t entirely sure Rachel’s death was due to anything other than old age. But he’d learned all about mistaken assumptions right around the first time he heard Ril speak.

So, they still had five assassins who’d escaped the Valley, thanks to someone who could hide himself from battlers. Leon was convinced it was Umut Taggart. He had given everyone a description, and Ril, who had seen Umut before, took the man’s shape to show them. Umut wasn’t walking into the Valley ever again, even without the walls. But, that had been the easy part. No one had been able to determine how the shelves in the warehouse collapsed, and Leon couldn’t think of any way for Umut to have done it except with the help of his battler, Black, who would have given himself away with his hate aura.

Unless Umut had a better partnership with his battler than Leon could imagine and Black dropped his hate. That was a frightening thought. Mace’s prideful refusal to believe aside, battle sylphs could indeed slip by one another. Ril had told Leon about exiled battlers in the hive world who survived because they tricked battlers like Mace into not realizing they were there.

Still, it had to have been Umut. Alcor’s other men just didn’t have the subtleness to pull this off, while Umut had been working on discretion his entire life. Unfortunately, they had no clues. Rachel and Moreena might have been nothing more than an attempt to draw attention away, or a genuine coincidence. But Galway was a definite coup, and something Umut surely would have tried for.

He’d have to talk to Mace, Leon decided. Yes, Lizzy was helping and Ril was a pretty good secretary, but essentially he, Mace, and Solie were running everything, and Solie was progressing in her pregnancy. The Widow wouldn’t like it, but she would have to help. They needed her mind to help keep the Valley together. There were any number of people here who could take care of her orphans, and Mace would certainly be happier with her near. Right now, he was almost the only battler still guarding the Valley as a whole, the only one relying on others to protect his mate.

It was laundry day at the Blackwell home, the fire in the kitchen built up to a conflagration. Several children were heating and hauling water outside by the bucket load, pouring it into a huge tub where the Widow wielded soap and scrubbed their clothing on a segmented board. She worked methodically, ignoring the ache in her back. Other children took the clean laundry and wrung out the water before carrying it over to the lines where Gabralina pinned it up.

Sitting cross-legged on the back porch and being pretty much useless, Wat stared mindlessly at the bees that circled nearby bushes in hope of finding late-fall flowers. Lily glanced toward him, then away. He was there to watch Gabralina, but he was watching her as well.

Wat. As her protector. Mace was furious about it, yet there wasn’t much he could do if he was going to fulfil his duties. He didn’t need any added stress, so she hadn’t told him of the times Wat wandered off. He was just too unreliable to guard anyone, but Lily needed no guard anyway.

Wat was around today, staring at nothing even more stupidly than usual. Lily eyed him again, then turned back to her washing. The battler wasn’t her problem.

Gabralina was hanging the last of the laundry, and she stepped back to admire it. The girl who’d been holding pins for her grinned.

“It all looks so clean, doesn’t it?”

Gabralina smiled in agreement. “It does. It doesn’t dry as fast here as it did back home when I was a girl. I did
so
much laundry.”

“You did?” The girl seemed surprised.

Gabralina laughed. “It seemed I did nothing but. I was terribly poor before I met my friend Sala.”

Sala. Her friend had brought pretty dresses and parties, and eventually even the introduction to the magistrate. She hadn’t had to wash clothes at all. Still, it actually felt good to be doing that sort of thing again, a bit of physical labor, just as it felt good to take care of the children. Being part of something again was wonderful.

While she waited for the next batch to be scrubbed, Gabralina went over to her battler. He was staring off into space, his head tilted to one side and his mouth open, his face blank. She grinned at the sight. He looked so cute.

“Hiya,” she said.

Wat blinked slowly, then turned his head, his mouth still hanging open. He blinked again, then grinned, his face coming alive as he saw her. “Hello!”

Gabralina sniggered. Sitting down, she leaned against him until he put an arm around her. “What are you thinking about?”

“Thinking?”

“You looked so thoughtful.”

“Oh.” He shrugged his shoulders so high that his entire body moved, and she giggled again as she was nearly knocked off the porch. “Nothing.”

“Aw.” She put her head on his shoulder. “You want to help me with the laundry?”

He eyed her dubiously. “Is that like chores? I saw soap. Heyou told me soap meant chores. He said chores are evil.”

Gabralina howled with laughter. “Did he say that?”

“Yeah. Evil is bad.” He looked down at her. “Is Sala evil?”

Gabralina froze. “Sala? No! Why do you say that?”

“I dunno. She scares me.”

“Why?” Gabralina whispered, suddenly afraid. Sala was her friend. She owed Sala everything, and the girl had never asked for anything in return.

“I don’t remember.” Wat tilted his head back to one side, mouth open again. “I forget.”

“Oh.” Gabralina didn’t know what to think.

The Widow called her name, interrupting her thoughts. “Gabralina! These sheets are ready for you.”

“Right! Be right there!” The blonde girl jumped up and took a step away before turning back and kissing Wat on the cheek. He immediately grabbed for her, but she danced away, laughing, and went off to hang the newly washed sheets.

Chapter Fifteen

Thanks to the new wall and construction around the trade warehouses, the main market had moved, and the road was crowded with merchants selling their wares. Humming happily under her breath, Lizzy strode along it, stopping at a stall to look at some rolls of fabric. In her basket she already had an array of tomatoes and apples, as well as a chicken with the feathers still on.

Ril walked directly behind her, his eyes on the people crowding the square and flicking back over his shoulder at Leon, who trailed a dozen feet or so behind. Leon regarded his glances with amusement, but Ril didn’t really care. He hadn’t managed to talk Lizzy out of doing the shopping, and there was no one else at the moment to watch Leon, so he’d dragged the man along. Not that Leon minded. It was a beautiful day, the leaves on the trees were golden, and most everyone was outside. Dozens of sylphs trailed their masters here, some visible, many not.

A few stalls down, Justin Porter stood before a merchant selling forged spikes. Beside him, his father was haggling over the spikes with the vendor. Stria looked on with interest, but Justin didn’t care. He was staring through the crowd at Lizzy.

Ril glared back at him across the distance, and Justin felt a flash of the battle sylph’s disgust. It made Justin’s stomach churn. It wasn’t fair that he’d been made into Ril’s master; it wasn’t fair that the bond couldn’t be broken and he couldn’t be Stria’s master instead. It especially wasn’t fair that Lizzy had turned away from him for a stupid creature who was too crippled even to change his shape.

It was easier for her that way, Sala said. Justin shared lunch with the woman a few times a week now, and he was actually meeting her in less than an hour.
She
understood that battlers were just animals. She had one, but Claw knew his place and didn’t say anything about whom she spent time with. She’d explained everything to Justin.

“A battle sylph is easy,” she’d told him. “Too easy. You don’t have to work at it. There’s no depth there, not really. How can anyone have a real relationship with someone who has to do everything you say? Ril doesn’t love her. He can’t. He just follows instinct, that’s all.” She’d smiled sympathetically at Justin. “I feel so sorry for you. Lizzy just thinks that she has a good thing. She has no experience to know what an equal relationship really is. If she doesn’t smarten up, she’ll end up regretting it at the end of her life.”

Justin bit his lip, thinking. This wasn’t Lizzy’s fault. She’d been through something terrible and Ril had come to her rescue. She hadn’t seen how Justin and her father were right behind the battler, helping. She’d become overly grateful. And she enjoyed the battler sex—he couldn’t forget that, much as he wanted to. He needed to be understanding, though.

Swallowing, Justin glanced at his father, still busy with the merchant. Stria was regarding him, her head tilted. He managed a smile, still bitterly regretting that she’d never belong to him. She looked away, back up at her master, and Justin took that moment to leave, crossing the road toward Lizzy at the cloth merchant’s stall.

Ril saw him coming. His lip curled, and Justin felt the battler’s rage, but no one else reacted. The sylph was focused solely on him. Justin forced himself to keep moving. Ril was forbidden to hurt him, and Justin could in fact order him to do anything he wanted.

Of course, then he’d have to deal with Leon. The older man was a dozen feet away, examining a bow. Leon had always been his supporter, Justin reminded himself, even if he was overly sentimental toward his battler.

Justin ignored Ril’s silent warning and walked up to Lizzy. She was so beautiful. When he stopped behind her, Ril hissed. Loudly. Everyone around him jumped back, exclaiming, and Leon’s head snapped up.

Lizzy glanced around in confusion before she saw him. “Justin? What are you doing here?”

He licked his lips, nervous. “Buying stakes with Dad. But, um, I wanted to say hi, see how you’re doing.”

Ril made a noise like fabric ripping.

“Stop that!” Justin yelped. You had to be forceful with sylphs, Sala said. They liked someone else to be in control. “I’m just talking to her!”