Echo in Emerald (Uncommon Echoes Book 2), page 23
I spread my hands. “I wouldn’t know. Anyway, I think the trail only winds through Empara—I don’t think that’s where Dezmen expects to find the answers.”
Nico eyed me. “Uh-huh. I believe that.”
“Well, he doesn’t seem to have found any answers yet,” Brianna said, pushing herself to her feet. “Now, who’d like some of the sweets that Chessie brought? They look very good.”
I stayed another half hour, but I was impatient to get home and start packing. As I’d told Dezmen, I wouldn’t be bringing much—but I did have to organize luggage for three people. It would take a little time.
Once Nico promised to send a note to his mother, telling her to expect my visit, Brianna walked me to the door. Before she opened it, she slipped a small metal pot into my hand. “What’s this?” I said.
She smiled. “A little paint for your cheeks and your lips. In case you have an occasion where you want to look pretty.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be that kind of trip.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Nico, who was gathering up the dinner dishes. “You’re traveling with the Pandrean lord, aren’t you?” she murmured. “And you like him, don’t you?”
“I never said that!”
She patted my face. “Take it with you anyway. Just in case.”
“Just to make you happy,” I said, and hugged her goodbye.
“I want to hear everything as soon as you get back.”
I laughed and headed out the door. “I doubt there will be much to tell.”
“I hope you’re surprised.”
Scar, Red, and I were at Amanda Plaza shortly after dawn the following morning, which was overcast and cold. I was quickly regretting my tendency to show up early for every rendezvous because I was chilled straight through within ten minutes. Fortunately, on this day Dezmen had chosen to arrive ahead of our scheduled meeting time. He was on foot, followed by his echoes, but not by anyone who might be considered a bodyguard.
“I thought you’d be here already,” he said. “We couldn’t get the carriage down the street, so we’re a few blocks over. Come on. Do you need help carrying anything?” He glanced at the echoes. “Any of you need help?”
I shook my head, settled the strap of my bag over my shoulder, and fell in step beside him, all the echoes behind us. “Where’s Pippa?” I asked.
“Not bringing her along on this trip.”
“So if we’re attacked on the road, I hope we can defend ourselves.”
“I’ve hired a couple of guards. Just like I hired the carriage. I’ll send them back to Camarria once we’re in Pandrea, and we’ll go on to Empara in my own coach. It seemed like the fewer people making the whole trip with us, the better.”
That sounded logical enough. “All right, then,” I said. “As long as you’ve put a little thought into our safety.”
He looked down at me soberly. “You must be joking,” he said quietly. “Your safety has become my topmost concern.”
I glanced away, a little embarrassed. And a little pleased. I had been trying hard not to think about those kisses on the bridge two days ago. Naturally, I had thought about almost nothing else. “Well, then,” I said, not sure how to answer. “As long as you haven’t been careless.”
In a few minutes, we arrived at a wide city street where the carriage was waiting, out of the way of traffic. It was bigger than most of the vehicles that trundled around Camarria on an ordinary day, but not as massive as some of the coaches I’d seen bowling along the Charamon Road, carrying large groups of paying passengers—or noble families and their assorted echoes.
Inside there were only two benches, facing each other across a small space, but both benches were long enough and wide enough to comfortably seat three people. I insisted on taking the backward-facing row, and I settled in with my echoes beside me. I was pleasantly surprised to find the interior outfitted with amenities like heavy blankets, jugs of water, a bag of dried fruit, and a couple of loaves of bread.
“We’ll stop as often as you like, but I’ve found that it makes the trip easier if there are some comforts for the road,” Dezmen explained. I heard a few noises as our bags were lashed to the back of the coach, and in a few moments we were under way.
We passed the first hour or so of the trip with desultory conversation, looking out the windows and commenting on city landmarks as we passed them. Have you ever been to the southern market? It’s a lively place … So that’s the silver bridge everyone talks about? It just looks gray and ugly to me … Cormac took us to a theater production there one night. The play was marvelous, but the whole building smelled like mold.
We fell silent as we finally made it to the city limits, passed the warehouse district where Scar so often worked, and headed out at a pretty good clip in a southwesterly direction. I calculated it would take us four days to reach the border of Pandrea, and another half-day or more to make our way to Dezmen’s property, assuming he lived anywhere near the center of the province. It was hard to imagine being able to come up with enough conversation to fill so many hours. I thought my best hedge against both awkwardness and boredom would be to sleep as much as I could.
I had just wriggled on my seat a little, trying to get comfortable enough to start napping, when Dezmen reached into a pocket of his greatcoat and pulled out a book. “Do you like Narmier?” he asked.
“Do I like what?”
“Fenton Narmier,” he said. “He’s my sister Darrily’s favorite writer.”
“Oh,” I said. “I’ve never had much time for reading, though Brianna is always giving me books.”
“When we were children, every time we were on a long journey, my father would read out loud to us in the carriage,” Dezmen said. “It was a way to keep us reasonably quiet and well behaved.”
I was trying to remember. “Don’t you have a bunch of sisters? All with echoes? That must have been a big carriage.”
“My father and Darrily and I would be in one coach, and my mother and younger sisters would follow us in a second one,” he explained. “My other sisters weren’t interested in books, but Darrily and I loved them, and we’ve both developed the habit of reading because of my father. Even now, I sometimes look forward to travel just because it’s the only time I get a few days to sit and read for hours at a time.”
“Oh,” I said again.
My lack of enthusiasm made him smile. “I think you’ll like this one,” he said. “It’s about a girl who dresses up as a boy and gets mistaken for the prince.”
“She gets mistaken for Cormac? Or Jordan?”
“No, no, it takes place in a made-up country. Haven’t you ever read any fiction?”
“I told you. I never had much time.”
He opened the book and smoothed down the first pages. “Let me read for a while. If you don’t like it, I’ll stop. But let me get through a chapter at least before you decide.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” I said. It would be better than trying to talk for four days, at any rate. Besides, he probably wouldn’t even notice if I fell asleep while he was reading.
I squirmed into a more comfortable position, eventually resting my shoulder against Scar’s shoulder and my leg against Red’s. Now that we were free of the city, the road had leveled out and the ride was smoother, though I expected that to change as we crossed some of the emptier miles between major provinces. Still, the rocking motion of the coach and the sheer tedium of travel were already combining to make me drowsy. My eyes were half closed as I nodded to Dezmen across the narrow space that separated us. “Let’s hear it,” I said.
He cleared his throat. “‘Chapter One. I didn’t really think about it when I saw the footman’s clothes drying on the line. I just thought, “If I was wearing his uniform, no one would even notice me. I’d be invisible. Aren’t servants always invisible?” I was tired of being noticed everywhere I went, so anonymity seemed like a welcome change.’”
Dezmen was right; I enjoyed the book from the very beginning. I forgot to be sleepy, I forgot to fret about what I might find in Empara, I forgot to feel embarrassed and weird and hopeful as I was cooped up for half a week in a confined space with a man who had made it clear how much he liked me. I wouldn’t have said that the hours flew by, but they certainly passed in an agreeable fashion, and I was almost reluctant to stop for lunch because we were in the middle of an exciting chapter. But hunger and a keen desire to get out and walk off some of the stiffness of travel persuaded me that lunch was a very good idea.
When we were back inside the coach to resume our trip, Dezmen offered me the book. “You can read the next few chapters if you like,” he said.
I eyed it warily. “I don’t think I’d be very good at it.” When I noticed his expression, I added, “Don’t you dare ask me if I know how to read!”
He grinned. “I wasn’t going to! Though there would be no shame in it if you couldn’t.”
I snatched the book from his hand. “Angela made sure I had all the skills and knowledge any lady required, even a low noble,” I said. “I can read and do sums and sew a straight seam. I used to be able to play a few songs on the harp, too, but I haven’t touched one in so long that I’m sure I couldn’t produce a note.”
He leaned back against the cushions. “Good,” he said. “I just finished chapter seven. So start with the first page of eight.”
I flipped to the proper place, took a deep breath, and started reading. I was a little self-conscious about my voice and my pronunciation, and there were a couple of phrases I stumbled over because they were the sorts of words that people never used in ordinary conversation, but I found that, once I got into the rhythm of it, I didn’t mind reading out loud. Twice the story became so intense that my voice dried up and my eyes skimmed ahead just so I could see what happened next. Once I even turned the page so I could finish the whole scene.
“Hey. Not fair. I want to hear the story, too,” Dezmen complained.
I shushed him with a wave, still scanning the words. “You already know the story. You’ve read the book before.”
“But I can’t remember.”
I ignored him until I finished the chapter, then I sat back in satisfaction. “Well! That was even better than I hoped.”
He nudged me with his foot. “Come on. Back to the book.”
By the time we reached the inn where Dezmen wanted to stop for the night, my throat was a little sore and my tongue felt strangely thick. He took the book from my hands as we pulled up in the stable yard. “I don’t trust you not to stay up all night reading it without me,” he said.
I gave him a straight look. “When I’m in my own room. By myself.”
“That’s what I meant.”
So he wasn’t going to try to seduce me. It was both a relief and a disappointment. I gnawed on that thought as the servants carried in our bags and Dezmen finalized the transaction with the innkeeper. What did I want from the Pandrean lord? We came from such different places in the world that I didn’t entertain the thought we could have any kind of permanent connection, but even a temporary one could be full of delights. He was handsome and charming and funny and kind. Even if he didn’t make me a part of his life forever, I couldn’t imagine that he would repudiate me with disdain once he grew bored.
He wouldn’t become the kind of man who shoved a pregnant housemaid out the door. He wouldn’t turn out like my father. I wouldn’t end up like my mother.
If I wanted him, I could have him, for a while at least, and no doubt enjoy myself very much. Then I would be sad for a while once he moved on, but sadness was a given. You expected pain when you let someone into your life; it was an inescapable part of the bargain. I tended not to be afraid of pain. I’d had enough of it in my life already, I knew how to endure it till it faded.
So why was I resisting the idea of falling into bed with Lord Dezmen?
Partly, I thought, because I wanted to prove—to him and to myself—that I didn’t have to be interested in him just because he was interested in me. He might be a noble lord and I might be a working-class woman, but I didn’t have to swoon over his face and his money and his manners. This would be an unequal relationship in so many ways that I needed to have that one single advantage—the ability to say I didn’t want it—if I was to have any power at all.
And partly it was because I liked having him flirt with me and show he wanted me; I didn’t know how long I could expect those attentions once he was sure of me.
And partly it was because I wasn’t good enough for him. In three or four days we would be surrounded by his family, on property his ancestors had owned for generations, and I didn’t want him to suddenly be mortified by my very existence.
For all these reasons, it seemed best for me to keep my distance as much as I was able.
The innkeeper snapped his fingers at a servant and motioned for us to follow him. “Upstairs,” he said, leading the way. “Our two very best rooms.”
In a few moments, we were settled in. Judging by the chamber I was given, the “best rooms” were designed for travelers with echoes: There was one luxurious bed in the center of the room and three narrow ones lined up beside it. The landlord turned to me with a grimace.
“I hope this is all right,” he said. “The smaller beds are comfortable enough, and we don’t have any other rooms that sleep three.”
I skipped over to Red’s body and gave him a bright smile. “After spending all day in the coach, I could sleep on rocks and feel grateful,” I said.
I moved over to Scar’s head and spoke in my deepest voice. “I’ll let my sisters share the big bed while I take one of the small ones. I never care where I’m sleeping.”
“That’s all right, then,” the landlord said. “There’s a private parlor down the hall. We’ll lay out a dinner there in—half an hour?”
Back to Red. “That sounds good. I have to wash my face!”
As soon as he was gone, I got all of us cleaned up, though I couldn’t do much about our wrinkled clothing. I knew some people thought travel was glamorous, but I had never found it anything except wearisome, inconvenient, and numbing.
Still. One day done. And it had not gone so badly.
When Dezmen knocked a little while later, the three of us stepped out into the hall to meet him and his echoes. “Food’s ready if you’re hungry,” he said.
“Starving. Let’s go.”
During the meal we talked idly about the trip, the book, and how far we might get on the journey tomorrow. I found myself yawning long before my usual bedtime. You wouldn’t think that hours of just sitting in a moving vehicle could make you so tired, but I almost couldn’t keep my eyes open.
“Do you think anyone has followed us this far?” I asked, shaking my head to clear it.
“I was wondering the same thing. I thought I might go down to the taproom to drink a beer and see who else might have checked in for the night. If I spy anyone with a villainous face who’s watching me too closely, I’ll assume that he was set on our trail by Malachi.”
Alarm woke me right up. “Gorsey. Do you think someone might try to murder us in our beds? You’d be much easier to kill here than in the royal palace.”
“My impression is that we’re only at risk when we come too close to discovering some key piece of information. I don’t think Malachi wants to start piling up corpses if he doesn’t have to. But make sure your door is tightly locked.” There was a short pause. “Or you could sleep in my room if you want. The six of us should be able to fend off one or two attackers.”
I felt myself flush, whether from embarrassment or gratification it was hard to say. But I tossed my head and gave him a minatory look and said, “I prefer to take my chances, thank you very much.”
He grinned and stood up. “Well, you can consider it a standing offer for the duration of the trip,” he said. “Anytime you feel afraid—or lonely—or bored—or, you know, anything—just come find me. I’ll do what I can to put you in a better frame of mind.”
I couldn’t help it. I started giggling and I couldn’t stop. The invitation was so offhand and casual that I wasn’t flustered and I couldn’t be offended. “That’s so generous!” I exclaimed, also coming to my feet. “I’ll let you know if I suddenly need—cheering up.”
“I hope you do.”
The six of us walked the short distance to my bedroom door, then Dezmen and his echoes nodded and continued on down the stairs. I looked after them a moment before entering my room. As soon as Scar and Red were through the door, I carefully locked it behind us. Then I glanced around at the space, which suddenly seemed big and empty, and I couldn’t keep myself from sighing.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
In the morning, we were on our way again directly after breakfast. The day was slightly warmer than the one before, perhaps because the skies weren’t so overcast, or perhaps because we were farther south. However, in virtually every other respect, the second and third days were repeats of the first. We read, we talked, we took two rooms for the night, and we flirted warily over dinner, though we slept alone with our echoes. And the next morning, we were again on our way shortly after dawn.
The only difference was that at the end of the third day, we veered off the Charamon Road and took a southerly highway that was a little rougher and narrower than the main route that tied the whole kingdom together. Early in the evening of the fourth day, that road delivered us directly into Pandrea.
There was no river or mountain range or geographical feature to mark the border, though Dezmen pointed out a signpost on the road. I hitched forward to peer out the window and get a better look at the landscape. For some time now, we’d been traveling through progressively flatter countryside, but here in Pandrea it seemed like the acres rolled out for miles without any hills or rock formations to interrupt them. Most of the land closest to the road was a tangle of overgrown green, but not far in the distance I could spot field after field of cultivated farms. Some of them were full of dry stalks from crops that had already been scythed down; others looked like they held winter wheat or other plantings almost ready for a second harvest. Pandrea was legendary for its rich soil and fertile fields. They said there had never been a drought or flood season so severe that Pandrea had truly suffered.
