Winter Be My Shield (9 page)

‘Here, perhaps, but not in Mesentreia,' Cam said. ‘Fifteen, no less.'

With a heavy sigh, the merchant ran his hands over the thick white fur. ‘I suppose I could stretch to nine — and that's out of respect to you, m'lord.'

‘Then I'll take them elsewhere,' Cam said, reaching for the pelts.

‘Well, I could make it eleven, though that's beggaring myself, m'lord.' The merchant's tone was obsequious, but his eyes were flinty.

‘Thirteen,' Cam said. ‘Or I take them to your neighbour. With trouble brewing in this part of the world it might be some time before you see their like again.'

The merchant gave Cam a narrow look through watery eyes, but he said nothing, and after a moment Cam started gathering up the pelts again.

‘Twelve, then,' the merchant said. ‘Twelve, and that's the last offer. I'll be lucky to fetch even that much for them on the docks in Lathayan.'

They'd fetch twice the price on the docks and twice that again in Mesentreia. ‘Let's see your coin, then,' Cam said.

Once the coins were counted and weighed Cam slipped them into his pouch, along with the money he'd got for the sword and the little they'd had in camp. Altogether, it would feed the people and the horses, but it wasn't enough to cover Rhia's list of medicines.

He'd rather starve than skimp on those. The thought of Isidro dying now, after all they'd been through to keep him alive, was more than he could bear. The grief welled up so strong that for a moment he found it hard to breathe. They'd been a team for as long as he could remember.
He'd never been worried when Isidro had his back — even the best of Charzic's men had been wary of taking on the pair of them. Cam could still feel the fear that had gripped him the day Isidro hadn't returned. As the hours had slipped by with no sign of him, Cam felt as though he'd been gutted, all his innards dragged out, leaving him hollow and empty. He'd insisted on waiting long after the others had packed up the tents and saddled the horses. They'd had to drag him away in the end. Lakua had been in tears. Cam had never felt so lost, not knowing what had happened and fearing the worst.

Cam tossed his head like a fly-stung horse, and turned his face to the rising sun.
Bright Sun, watch over him,
he thought.
Just let my brother live.

 

Lakua and Brekan caught up with Cam just as he was going over Rhia's list with a clerk and he made an excuse and moved away so they could talk in relative privacy. Lakua gave him the purse and he tipped the coins out into his palm to count them. ‘Rations for us aren't so bad but grain is in short supply — and I hate to think how much Rhia's list is going to cost. The clans and the army have been buying up all they can get their hands on and it's driven the prices right up …' He paused as he counted up the coins that would be left once he'd paid for the grain and other goods.

‘It's not enough, is it?' Lakua said.

‘Nowhere near. I'll have to cut some of the grain.'

Lakua turned to Brekan. He avoided her gaze until she elbowed him in the ribs. ‘Give him the rest of it. Cam, we got more than we thought we would for the brooch. We were going to save it for an emergency, but Isidro needs it now.'

Glowering, Brekan pulled out his pouch and shook the coins carelessly into Cam's hand then turned and stalked away as they spilled onto the snow. Lakua scrambled to pick them up. ‘I'm sorry,' she said, tipping the coins back into the purse. ‘He doesn't mean it … It's just that ever since Markhan died …' Tears welled up in her eyes.

‘Don't worry about it,' Cam said as he counted through the coins.

‘Is it enough?'

‘I think so. Fires Below, Laki, I can't thank you enough for this.'

Cam went back to the clerk to finish the deal. While the fellow weighed out the herbs and powders, the merchant's servants were
loading everything else onto the sleds. Cam watched them all with narrowed eyes. He hadn't bothered to speak to the soldiers — they were all busy with their tasks and wouldn't answer a mongrel like him in any case. He'd asked some village folk if they'd heard anything about legions marching this way, but none of them knew what he was talking about. ‘Moving on, are you?' Cam said. ‘Getting out before the Slavers march in from the west?'

The clerk glanced up sharply. ‘I'm not permitted to speak of it, m'lord.'

‘You're heading south, though? Travelling with the regiment?'

‘I really couldn't say, sir. Now is there anything else you require?'

Since Brekan had vanished, Cam wrangled the loan of a couple of servants to carry his purchases back to the sled, where he found him in sullen conversation with the officer Cam had spoken to at the checkpoint.

‘Get this gear stowed,' Cam told him. ‘It's time we moved on and I'm not paying you to stand around and gossip.'

Brekan tossed his head and for a moment Cam thought he would refuse, but he turned his back on the man and began to untie the load.

Cam turned to the Mesentreian. ‘Is there a problem?'

‘No, no problem, m'lord. I just came to ask which way you were riding. If you were aiming for the army, my lord, you'd do well to ride with my men. It's dangerous for a small party to ride so close to the Raiders' haunt.'

‘Thank you, captain, but that won't be necessary.'

The officer rubbed his chin. ‘Tell me, my lord, have you ever been to Lathayan?'

‘I haven't,' Cam said.

‘Only you look cursed familiar — I'm sure I've seen you before, m'lord.'

‘You must be mistaken,' Cam said. ‘I've never been to Lathayan.' He glanced over his shoulder and saw Lakua pulling the last knot tight. He caught her eye and tossed her the purse containing the last of the coins. ‘Pay the good folk for watching our gear, will you? It's past time we left.'

It was well after dark by the time Cam and the others returned to camp. Every hour past sunset, Garzen climbed to the saddle of the hill behind their camp to look for sign of their return. On his fourth trip, those still in the tent heard his shout of welcome and Eloba and Rhia both hastily dressed for the cold and went out to meet them.

Moving more slowly, Isidro shrugged his good arm into the sleeve of his coat, but he had yet to work out how to tie the sash that held it closed with his one good hand.

‘Can I help?' Sierra asked after watching him fumble for a few long moments. Once the sun had set Rhia had let her take the blindfold off, so long as she sat with her back to the lamps. She had spent most of the last few days listening to the physician hover over Isidro, offering to do almost every little thing for him and hearing his mood range from patience to anger and back again.

He stiffened slightly at the offer and then turned to her with a sigh. ‘Would you mind?'

She stood to wrap the strip of fabric around him. He was taller than she remembered — taller than Rasten and perhaps even Kell. His eyes were dark as he watched her with a warrior's face: impassive, it gave nothing away, but she knew he was in pain. Power was pouring off him like heat from a glowing coal. If she closed her eyes, Sierra could feel it like a physical warmth bathing her face.

‘With a couple of rings sewn on the end here, you'd be able to do this with one hand,' Sierra said, turning her attention back to the knot. ‘And a few loops on your coat to thread it through would keep it in easy reach.'

‘Just a loop on the end would do,' he said. ‘I could tie a slip knot with one hand.'

Once she found her own gear they both stepped outside to see the returning party making their way down the slope.

Outside Sierra hung back, staying beyond Isidro's line of sight. She ought to be avoiding him, not drawing his attention. As far as she could tell he hadn't recognised her. Or at least he hadn't yet — there was no telling if or when that memory would arise. He'd seen her face during his long day of torment, she was certain. If he did learn who she was … She didn't want to hurt anyone, least of all these folk who were hiding from the same forces hunting her, but if they found out who she was, she might not have any choice.
Best just to go
, she thought.
Go as soon as you're able.

When the sled and the horses reached the foot of the slope, Isidro started towards them, picking his way across the broken surface of the snow. Sierra stayed where she was and watched, trying to match faces to the voices she'd heard the previous morning. Eloba was arm in arm with a smaller and prettier version of herself. Brekan, who was leading the horse pulling the sled, had his hood drawn up so she couldn't see his face. The one who drew her eye was the man who strode out to meet Isidro, caught him by his good arm and clapped him on the back in welcome. Even at this distance, Sierra felt the shock it sent through his ruined arm, the needle-stabs as the bones shifted beneath the splints, but Isidro showed no sign that it hurt. Sierra saw him toss his head and turn to walk with Cam back towards the tent.

Her first proper look at the man who had rescued her made Sierra's breath catch in her throat in sudden panic. The prince was the spitting image of his cousin, the Duke Osebian Angessovar, who had been brought from Mesentreia to serve as the king's heir. It was only as he came closer that Sierra saw the difference in his eyes and cheekbones that betrayed his Ricalani blood.

During her time in Lathayan Sierra had glimpsed the king only from a distance, but she had seen his mother, the queen, several times. The first had been shortly after Kell had brought her to the dungeons, when the queen had descended for the sole purpose of viewing his new apprentice. Rasten had brought her naked and shivering out of the dark cell in which she'd been confined and had her kneel on the bare stone floor so that the tall, haughty woman wrapped in a leopard-fur robe could look her over. The family resemblance was so strong that no
one could doubt their kinship, but where Valeria's cold, tight smile had chilled her, Cam seemed all warmth and good nature as he waved and called a greeting.

Garzen and Brekan led the horses away while the others set to unloading the sled, stowing the supplies and setting up the tent again. Once the reindeer-fur cover was lashed into place over the poles Sierra helped Eloba set the iron stove onto three notched posts driven into the snow and then tramp down a fresh bed of spruce. Working alongside another woman with the scent of crushed needles and wood-smoke swirling around her lifted her spirits and gave her a moment of pure contentment — a glimpse into a life she'd never dared think she might live again.

While Eloba was laying out their bedding and furs, Lakua came to fetch Sierra to the other tent to see the gear she had found for her, chattering nonstop as she laid it all out to show her. The clothes were worn and much-mended, but they were serviceable. Once she'd seen them all Sierra and Lakua laid them out on the snow, weighed down with firewood, to freeze and kill any lice they carried.

Back inside, as Garzen and Eloba reheated the stew they'd saved for the others, Sierra fetched her makeshift pack and moved all the contents to the new kitbag, a sturdy leather case specially constructed to keep out water and snow. She stowed Kell's book away quickly, hoping no one would notice the wretched thing. Isidro had mentioned it briefly, hinting that he would like to see it, but Sierra had fobbed him off with a hasty excuse and then ignored it, grateful for his good manners in not pressing the matter. If he'd simply taken it out and tried to open it she would have faced awkward questions of where it had come from and why no one else could loosen the straps binding it.

Right down the bottom of her old bag, she found the bracelets wrapped in a bit of rag. Sierra pulled them out gingerly, trying to keep the stones from touching her bare skin, but the rag came unwrapped beneath her fingers and she balanced it on the palm of her hand to close it up again. The green stones had an oily gleam in the light of the lamps hanging from the tent poles, and the rubies winked at her with vicious fire. Sierra quickly covered them over again but something made her hesitate as she went to put them away. Later, she was never sure just what it was that drew her attention — perhaps her instincts told her the weight wasn't right, or that there wasn't enough red mingled in with the
green; but something made her stop and tweak the cloth open again for a closer look.

She spread the bracelets out on the crumpled rag and then numbly turned them over again as though doing so might magically turn three into four. The warding-stones were all there, two thick and ugly strands of them as heavy and lifeless as lead, but only one strand of rubies coiled across her palm, glowing with all its wicked fire.

The tent had fallen quiet and in the lull someone rose and slipped outside with a muttered excuse and a swirl of cold air.

Sierra closed her hand over the bracelets and took a deep breath, trying to stay calm and ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. It must have slipped out of the wrapper. Surely that was all. She tucked the bracelets into the front of her jacket and steeled herself to reach into the bag, groping into the folds and wrinkles of the cloth with her fingertips. The first touch of those stones felt like grasping a hot coal. Sierra hated them as much as she'd loathed anything in her life — as much as she'd loathed the crows that attacked newborn kids too weak to defend themselves and pecked out their eyes. As much as she loathed Kell and what he did to Rasten and his other boys, and what he forced Rasten to do. But in that moment she would have welcomed a touch of that fire — she closed her eyes and prayed to the Black Sun to let her find it snagged on a loose thread.

Sierra searched every corner of the bag but there was nothing there. She upended and shook it, and then turned it inside out. Nothing. With growing desperation she emptied her new kitbag and laid all the gear out on the spruce, all pretence at secrecy forgotten. She checked everything, even though she'd handled each item only moments before. No rubies, no fiery glow. Lifting the rag out of her jacket, she teased the bracelets apart again, hoping against hope that she'd been mistaken.

There was a rustle of clothing as someone stood and then a shadow loomed over her. Sierra glanced up, but she'd guessed who it would be. Isidro was too clever by half, and too observant for his own good. He missed nothing, and had seen her distress.

He crouched before her, reaching down with his left hand to steady himself. ‘What's wrong?'

‘One of the bracelets is missing,' she muttered, shoving everything back into the new bag. All the contentment she'd felt had vanished
like smoke in the wind; her muscles had drawn tense and tight and her stomach had clenched into a knot. The smell of bannock sizzling in fat on the stove was suddenly nauseating.

‘Are you sure? I saw Garzen cut them off the first night you were here. Cam put them both in with the witch-stones.'

Sierra turned away from him and shuffled to the storage section where her bag had been sitting, running her hands over the prickling spruce and searching for any glint of red or gold. Eloba, prodding at the bannock with a peeled twig, peered at her over the stove. ‘What have you lost?'

When Sierra didn't answer, Isidro told her. ‘One of the ruby bracelets is missing.' The tent fell silent and Sierra felt all their eyes on her. She gritted her teeth and pulled her sleeves down over her hands. Her power had been feeding off Isidro's pain all day; it was as restive as a stall-bound horse and her nerves were whipping it up like a wind at sea. The last thing she needed now was for her control to slip and her power to spill.

Cam rose to help her while Isidro straightened the new bedding furs she had been sitting on, in case it was hidden within a fold.

‘I don't see it,' Cam said. ‘Have you taken anything else from the bag? Before now, I mean? With your eyes covered you might have dropped it without noticing.'

‘I haven't so much as touched it,' Sierra said.

‘No one has,' Isidro agreed. ‘Not since you lot left, anyway.'

‘The last I saw it was when Brekan was poking around —' Cam said.

Lakua gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth. As everyone turned her way the colour slowly drained from her face.

‘Laki?' Cam said. ‘What's wrong?'

‘Nothing,' she said. ‘Nothing, I just … I think I left something in the other tent.'

 

Lakua snatched up her coat on the way out, wrapping it tight around her shoulders as she crossed the snow to the other tent. Inside she found Brekan prodding at the coals in the stove. He glanced up as she entered and then quickly looked away.

‘Brekan,' she said. ‘What did you sell to the blacksmith?'

‘What? Oh. Nothing. Just a bit of jewellery I took from the Raiders.'

‘What was it?'

He hunched over the stove. ‘A ring with a bit of blue glass.'

‘He paid you well for it then, if that's all it was.'

She stayed where she was and after a moment he glanced up again. ‘What's she gone and lost then?'

‘A bracelet. One with red stones. Really, Brekan, a ring? From the Raiders? When did you get it?'

‘Before we left, obviously.'

‘But when? Because I remember when Elli lost her bride-gift. She was so upset and you and Markhan swore you'd find something to replace it … only we never saw any gold from the raids, did we? Charzic and his lot always got first pick of the loot and they could sell that stuff to the smugglers for armour and weapons. If you'd taken it while we were still with the Raiders, you'd have given it to her.'

‘It was just a bit of tat,' Brekan said with a shrug. ‘It wasn't good enough for that.'

‘So the blacksmith overpaid you, then?'

Brekan stood. ‘Laki, what do you want? Why are you asking all these questions? Aren't you glad you got to keep Markhan's gift?'

She raised a hand to the brooch, still pinned to the inner seam of her shirt. ‘Of course —'

‘Then leave it alone!'

She narrowed her eyes.

Brekan had always been a thief. Markhan had a warrior's heart, but Brekan lacked his size and was crafty rather than brave. He'd grown up surrounded by settlers who forced his family onto the poorest lands and forbade them from hunting in the best forests. And so he'd become a poacher. In the Raiders' camp she'd been proud of his light fingers and his ability to snatch something here or there from Charzic's stinking louts. But this was different.

‘Brekan,' she said. ‘Did you take the bracelet?'

‘Of course not.' He was crouching by the stove again and didn't look around.

‘Brekan! Will you at least look at me?'

Reluctantly, he raised his eyes. And flinched.

Lakua covered her face with her hands. ‘Brekan, how could you? She's a guest! By all the Gods, I'm so ashamed …'

‘Laki!' he hissed. ‘Keep your voice down. And what's wrong with it, anyway? We saved her life. She
owes
us. Greedy little bitch, keeping them all for herself.'

‘But she said —'

‘Don't worry, I told the blacksmith he'd best break it up and sell the stones on the quiet. It's only fair that we get our share of it. And I don't see why you're complaining. You get to keep Markhan's brooch
and
your friend Balorica got his medicines. Where's the harm?'

‘The harm? Brekan, you
stole
from a
guest
! Aren't things bad enough without calling the wrath of the Gods down upon us? Bright Sun have mercy, Brekan, we
have
to put this right!' She turned towards the door, and Brekan lunged forward to seize her arm.

‘Fires Below, Laki, what do you think you're doing? You can't
tell
them!'