Five Lands Saga Box Set 1 (Five Lands Saga Box Sets), page 70
Twenty-two
Daniella sat next to Perchaya at the edge of a patch of lush green reeds growing out of a spring of fresh water. The group had already filled their water skins and drinking jugs, and the smoke from the fire where Nikaenor and Kenton were cooking wafted over with the subtle aroma of roasting tree snake.
They were, however, well out of hearing range of the others, provided Jaeme hadn’t decided to sneak over to hear her gossip about him. Or ventured over to convince her to go on another of their “scouting trips” farther off from the rest of the group. The only person she thought they might be fooling with those was Nikaenor, but she wasn’t about to drop the pretense. Kenton glared at them enough when they left and returned, and, for some reason Daniella found unfathomable, so did Sayvil.
“You and Jaeme still seem to be getting along rather well,” Perchaya said, sticking her toes into the water and sending ripples in all directions.
Daniella smiled. She’d filled Perchaya in before they’d left Haidshir, but she still loved that she had a friend to talk to. She’d never had that with Erich—she’d certainly known better than to tell any details to Adiante.
“We are,” Daniella said with a coy look. “Though what I wouldn’t give for some more time on a soft inn bed.”
“Me, too,” Perchaya said. Her cheeks pinkened. “Not for the same reason!”
Daniella elbowed her in the ribs. “I don’t know. I can think of a certain someone you might want to join you.”
Perchaya waved a hand as if swatting a fly. “I gave up on that back in Tir Neren. He doesn’t see me that way. I’m more of a little sister he needs to protect.”
“He seems to be paying more attention to you lately.”
Perchaya shrugged. “He’s just worried, after what happened in Foroclae. I did start a revolt, and he wasn’t there to help. It’s guilt, nothing more.”
Daniella had seen Kenton watching Perchaya in that quiet, brooding way of his. He’d always done that, but since Haidshir it seemed to be happening more often. But she didn’t want to give Perchaya false hope. And she certainly didn’t wish Kenton on her.
Footsteps tromped through the reeds, and Daniella looked up to see Sayvil pausing by a nearby tree and scraping at the bark with a dagger. No doubt the bark had medicinal properties, or else it would be useful as a seasoning.
“Join us,” Perchaya called. “You could use a rest.”
Sayvil glanced over at them. “The bark from this tree will fetch a fair price at the next town we pass. But don’t let me interrupt.”
“Quite the opposite, actually,” Daniella said. “I wanted a moment to talk to you away from the others. Do you have any impis leaf? Or do you think you can find some?” Daniella hadn’t been thinking much of pregnancy back in Haidshir, or she would have bought a stash there. Jaeme hadn’t brought it up, so Daniella gathered that he hadn’t yet thought of it either. Still, their future—all of their futures—were too uncertain to involve . . . complications.
Sayvil gave Daniella a sour look.
“I know, I know,” Daniella said. “You don’t have a bag of endless remedies. But—”
“Impis leaf grows in Andronim,” Sayvil said. “And northern Sevairn. It produces in summer but doesn’t survive without a hard frost, so you won’t find any in these parts.” She went back to scraping the bark of the tree, as if that ended the discussion.
“Okay,” Daniella said. “Is there anything local that would—”
“I’m not an expert,” Sayvil snapped.
“Don’t be modest,” Perchaya said. “You know more about—”
“I mean I’m not an expert in preventing maternity,” Sayvil said, her tone no less sharp. “I’ve never had a use for it, myself.”
“But you’re married,” Daniella said. And while Sayvil was nearly two decades older than she, that was still technically within childbearing age. “Surely you don’t want to get pregnant every time you—” Perchaya nudged Daniella, but she realized what she was saying too late. That wasn’t what Sayvil had meant at all.
“It wasn’t a risk for me,” Sayvil said, her words more terse now than angry. “Quinn and I tried for years, but we could never have children.” She rolled her eyes, though she seemed to be doing so more at the canopy of green leaves above them than at Daniella. “And before you mention it, yes, Arkista is the goddess of fertility. And yes, that is ironic. And cruel. And not something I want to discuss further, thank you.”
Sayvil bustled off again, finding trees to scrape farther off.
Daniella cringed, feeling foolish and guilty all at once. “I didn’t think—”
“Of course you didn’t,” Perchaya said. “She’d never mentioned that before. Though I suppose we might have assumed. I knew she and Quinn didn’t have children, and they’ve been married a long time.”
Daniella, for her part, had never thought about it. She wasn’t accustomed to associating with people who had children. She wasn’t accustomed to associating with anyone.
Sayvil had no sooner disappeared from sight than the reeds rustled on the far side of the pool, and Jaeme appeared, peeking through the cattails. “Ah,” he said. “I thought I heard voices.”
“The question,” Perchaya said, “is how long you were listening before you decided to announce yourself.”
Jaeme shrugged. “Don’t be ridiculous. I only interest myself in gossip when it’s about me.”
Daniella smiled. If he was going to make a habit of eavesdropping when she talked about him, she’d have to begin embellishing. She was sure she could think of any number of tidbits to embarrass him. She’d certainly read enough in the old tales about crabnasties and warts.
Jaeme settled himself on the roots of a fallen tree, watching them. Perchaya pulled her legs immediately from the water and began to dry her feet on the bottom of her dress. “I’m going to go check on Kenton,” she said, then scurried away.
“Was it something I said?” Jaeme asked, giving Daniella a playful glance.
“She might really want to find Kenton,” Daniella said. “Gods know she barely leaves his side.”
“I’ve noticed. Not to ask you to betray her confidence, but it’s obvious where her affections lie.”
Daniella nodded. “Do you think they’re reciprocated?”
Jaeme shrugged his good shoulder. “In as much as Kenton has feelings.”
“Ha,” Daniella said. “Yes, I was just thinking I didn’t much want to encourage her. She’s so kind and he’s so . . .”
“Kenton?” Jaeme offered.
Daniella nodded emphatically. “Precisely.”
“Well,” Jaeme said, looking around, “I saw Sayvil headed this way, but we do seem to be quite alone at the moment.”
Daniella gave him a knowing glance, trying to decide if the others were far enough away for her to suggest a shared bath in the spring without a repeat of Sayvil’s interruption at the inn in Haidshir.
“I did come with a purpose,” Jaeme said. “And it may not be what you think.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? Do tell.”
“Kenton was asking how we’re going to present you in Grisham,” Jaeme said. “He wants you to take an assumed name and possibly dye your hair.”
Daniella flopped backward, the reeds parting and forming a rest for her head. “Dear gods, will he never give up his crusade against my hair?”
Jaeme laughed. “Someone might recognize you anyway. Surely you’ve been at state dinners with members of the Mortichean nobility, and with the tournament, there will be plenty of those to go around.” He plucked a small stone from the ground, rolling it around in his fingers.
Daniella nodded. The thought of seeing a true Mortichean tournament was thrilling. With everything that had happened in Ithale, she’d forgotten about it entirely. Jaeme had been so excited to make it back for the event—one of the few things on this journey she’d seen him have any enthusiasm for, besides herself.
Jaeme cleared his throat. “I was thinking,” he said, “that you might be introduced as yourself. As my paramour.”
Daniella’s breath caught. She wasn’t fool enough to believe that a declaration of love had meant that they were together in any kind of official capacity. Jaeme was going to be a duke, for the gods’ sakes. And things being what they were between their nations—
“Or courtee if you’d rather,” Jaeme added quickly. “Though that would drastically underestimate my feelings for you.”
It did carry the same weight with it. The idea that they were a couple, committed enough to be public about it, with the possible eventual intention of engagement. One, however, implied more actual feelings rather than political purposes. “I like paramour,” Daniella said. “You just surprised me, that’s all. Are you sure your uncle would accept it?”
A look of nervousness crossed Jaeme’s face that made Daniella certain that he wasn’t. But Jaeme nodded insistently. “I’m sure my uncle will be thrilled.”
Daniella was certain that was a gross overstatement, but she still liked it better than hiding again or dyeing her hair, vain as that might be. “I’ll say I’m defecting to the resistance, to the cause of Mortiche. It’s not a lie. That’s exactly what I’ve done. No one has to know exactly what kind of resistance mission we’re running.”
Jaeme nodded, though he still looked anxious, absently forming the stone into a flat disc.
“Do you think we’ll have trouble from the other dukes?” Daniella asked.
“No, I think they’ll all see the inherent advantage to them in the situation.” He paused. “Not that that’s why—”
“No, of course not,” Daniella said. She could hardly worry that he was presenting her for advantage after all they’d been through.
What they both needed was a moment to relax. She patted the ground beside her. “Want to join me?” she asked.
Jaeme smiled that lopsided smile at her. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said, dropping the newly flattened stone into the water with a little plunk and stepping over the spring to settle in beside her.
And Daniella found she was completely tired of talking.
Twenty-three
Jaeme had led his companions up the road toward Grisham for the better part of four days when the surrounding woods began to look familiar to him. He’d made the journey back and forth to Haidshir before, of course, but he’d grown up stomping through the woods around the capital, riding Horse One and Horse Two through the brush, swiping at tree branches and, yes, pretending to hunt the great woltrechts of the north.
They’d taken the road slower than necessary, owing to their many and varied injuries. But the swelling in Kenton’s face was finally reduced—though his cheekbone was still mottled with fading bruising—and Jaeme’s arm might have felt normal if he’d been babying it more, as Sayvil suggested.
Not that he had any regrets about that.
Jaeme picked up the pace as they passed the place where the great oak that used to tower over the road had split in two. One half still leaned into the forest, partly supported by the trunks of stouter trees, while the half that had straddled the road had taken the town woodsmen a good week to chop and haul off completely.
Less than a quarter mile, and the castle should come into view. He glanced over his shoulder at the others who trailed along behind him—Kenton next, followed by Sayvil and Nikaenor, and then Perchaya and Daniella bringing up the rear, and from the look of it, probably talking about him.
Another thing he didn’t mind in the slightest.
“No, really,” Nikeanor was saying. “You can direct the light of the moon. That’s much more useful than turning into a fish.”
Sayvil rolled her eyes. “I’m a glorified lantern. Your power can at least save your life, in the right circumstances.”
“I recall several times your glorified lantern has saved our hides,” Kenton said.
Sayvil and Nikaenor ignored him. “You burned the Nichtees,” Nikaenor said.
“Yes,” Sayvil said. “So I exterminate pests, but only those who are afraid of the light. I’m sure that will come in handy ever again.”
Nikaenor grumbled. “At least you don’t suddenly start glowing every time you get wet.”
Perchaya spoke up from behind them. “You two know the powers are supposed to be a sign and a miracle, don’t you? They aren’t meant to turn you into godlike beings.”
Kenton snorted. “Would it have hurt for the gods to have done both?”
Nikaenor and Sayvil mumbled their agreement, and Jaeme had to admit that he was on Kenton’s side with this one.
As he always did on his way home to Grisham, Jaeme spotted the castle on its hill long before he could make out the city spreading beneath it. The wide towers of his home stood out in sharp relief above the tree line. His ancestors had built the castle there because its location on the hill with the ridge on either side made it defensible; no one could storm the castle without scaling the city wall, wading through the city of Grisham, and fighting uphill while taking fire from the ramparts. But Jaeme was sure they hadn’t missed the more commonplace purpose. The castle was visible for miles around, a monument to Grisham’s strength and power. Jaeme wasn’t proud of his knighthood, but he did take pride in his home—his father’s home. Now his uncle’s home.
Jaeme was looking forward to seeing him again.
“Breaking waves,” Nikaenor said behind him, shielding his eyes to look at the horizon. “Is that it?”
Jaeme smiled and slapped the boy on the back so hard that Nikaenor took a step forward. “That it is,” he said. “And we’ve made it just in time.”
“Gods be praised,” Sayvil said with a groan, rubbing the small of her back.
Jaeme concurred. Even injured as he was, he’d wished they could travel at a faster pace. He wasn’t going to get so close to Grisham only to miss the damned tournament by mere days.
Perchaya shaded her eyes against the sun, taking a good look. “It’s beautiful. What a place to grow up.”
What a place, indeed, and it would someday be his. And while he didn’t tend to think he needed the approval of anyone, least of all Kenton and company, he found himself glad to have the chance to show it to them. To Daniella, especially.
Kenton stepped up next to Nikaenor, surveying the castle. “Any sense of where the stone might be?” he asked Jaeme.
Good gods. They hadn’t even arrived yet, and already Kenton was badgering him. Jaeme would have thought Kenton could be content for a moment, now that they were out of Diamis’ reach.
“Not yet,” Jaeme said. “But I’m eager to get to the castle.”
Jaeme had no faith that this was any kind of magical call, but it seemed to satisfy Kenton. “Good then. Let’s keep moving.”
Nikaenor and Sayvil both groaned at this, but Jaeme had to chuckle. Kenton had been instrumental in convincing the group to keep pace. Jaeme had spurred them on with descriptions of fine food and valiant battle, but it was clear they followed Kenton forward because if they didn’t, he would leave them behind.
Daniella stepped up to Jaeme’s side as the others continued ahead. “So that’s home,” she said, fidgeting awkwardly with her skirts. “Your home, I mean.”
Jaeme didn’t think she’d intentionally insinuated she’d like it to be hers, but he wouldn’t have minded in the least. He hoped more than anything that she would love it as much as he did. “That it is. You ready?”
Her head wobbled non-committally.
“It’ll be fine,” Jaeme said, with far more conviction than he felt. “My uncle will love you.” He fought a wince. That was a more outright lie than his previous assurances. His uncle would be pleased at Jaeme’s success at “seducing” her. He’d be less pleased when he discovered the truth—that Jaeme had no intention of using Daniella to get to Diamis—at least not any more than Daniella herself wanted to volunteer for that purpose.
But Daniella wanted to defect, his uncle and the other Council members wanted their information, and Jaeme wanted them all to forget that they’d ever sent him on that quest to begin with. He wasn’t likely to get that—the other dukes would probably decide that the mission was a success and command him to continue in that capacity. That, at least, would require them to keep their mouths shut about it around Daniella so as not to give him away, and Jaeme would settle for their silence.
With no small amount of finessing on his part, hopefully they could all have more or less what they wanted.
Daniella’s tense smile relaxed somewhat. “Well,” she said, gesturing ahead. “Lead the way, Lord Jaemeson, and I shall follow.”
He offered her his arm in the courtly fashion, and together they continued up the road toward Grisham.
Jaeme expected to see the tents in the fields outside the town wall, but he hadn’t expected there to be so many. There was a tournament in one of the duchies of Mortiche for every month of the year. But the big tournament—the one attended by the other Council dukes and knights who were old enough to be done with their errant year—rotated around the nation from year to year.
This year was Grisham’s turn. The knights and nobility would be staying in the city or at the castle, of course. But Jaeme had underestimated the number of peasants who would come to observe the tournament. The fields were lined with large merchant tents, some of which, Jaeme learned from their banners, were acting as portable inns. All across the fields lay clusters of bedrolls and pits for campfires. People milled about, lounging on the ground between patches of wildflowers or turning spits over fires. Several people—both male and female—wore wreaths of flowers in their hair that one of the vendors must have been picking and weaving on site. A pair of young boys ran by with a set of sticks, imitating a joust against a nearby bush, and ended up tangling themselves in the branches.
