Mastiff: The Legend of Beka Cooper #3, page 27
My hound traced the scent to the chairs by the hearth, to the tub that stood in the bedchamber, and back into the main room. As she did, I stood by the door, keeping it open a crack, listening for approaching steps and thinking. They had brought Gareth here, almost certainly to Prince Baird. This was bad news, the worst, and it lay on me like a weight. On feast days we had all seen the young prince with his big uncle. King Roger was wiry and lean, his younger brother of the same height, but heavier with muscle and good living. Prince Baird would raise his laughing nephew high in the air and the crowds would cheer them both.
Achoo gave a small yip from the bedchamber. I quickly glanced outside. Still no one had shown himself. I shut the door, locked it from the inside with my picks, and went to see what Achoo had found.
A red string bracelet, the kind a nursemaid would make for her charge, lay on a bedside table among a heap of jewels worn for dress occasions. Achoo nudged the bracelet with her nose and sneezed.
I unsheathed my dagger and turned the bracelet over with the point of it. The string was done up in nine knots for the Goddess, guardian of children, and the ends were braided for Mithros, whose laws bind the realm. Somewhere the maker had found tiny beads to thread onto it, one each of brown agate for protection, pink quartz for love, and onyx also for protection.
If only it had worked.
Achoo had gone on sniffing, her work taking her back to the front door of the rooms. I left the bracelet as I’d found it and followed her. When I opened the door a crack, I flinched. Pounce was waiting for us.
The count and Prince Baird just rode into the outer courtyard, he told us. They’re back from hunting. Get out of here at once!
“Achoo, kemari cepat!” I ordered. Once she dashed through the open door I hurried to lock it, struggling to control my shaky fingers. As the three of us ran for the stair I muttered, “Bum-swived yattering misborn tarses.” I tried to think of a lie for when they caught us, and failed. Instead I whistled for Achoo and Pounce to follow me up the steps rather than down.
No need to go up, Pounce told us. The servants use this stair. The nobles have a wider one paved in green marble for their use. What were you doing, anyway?
I signaled Achoo to follow us down. She did, sniffing, still on the track. Walking as if we belonged on that staircase, I explained to Pounce (silently) what we’d done in our time away from our companions.
I have been idling around the slave train, he told me. The slaves are kept near the goat pens while they supply the extra labor during the prince’s visit. They are guarded, so it will be difficult to talk with them unseen.
“Is it them who are in a trap, or us?” I muttered. Pounce didn’t answer. Instead he led us along another turn past the servants’ privies and along the large addition to the great hall. It was then that Achoo protested. The scent took her in another direction. I ordered her to heel. We needed to get clear of the newly arrived nobles. I did not want to face them without Tunstall at my side. For now, the Hunt must wait. I got Achoo to follow Pounce and me at last, but I could see she was going to complain of me to the other scent hounds at home.
Behind the new addition, where the original wall had been widened to include it, we found Tunstall, joking with men-at-arms who had pitched camp there. These coves wore royal blue tunics and gray trousers, with the crescent-on-its-back design, meaning the second son, on their chests.
“Well, look at this—my partner, Cooper,” Tunstall greeted me, beckoning for me to join them. “Taking the hound for a walk?”
He wished me to be casual. I knew that from his greeting and the wave of his hand. I didn’t know how relaxed I could be after those tense moments in the prince’s bedroom. Worse, any of these coves in blue and gray could put me in chains for the impertinence of having been there without leave. I stuck my hands in my pockets and whispered to Achoo, “Gampang.”
She whined at me. She didn’t want to meet anyone. She wanted to go back to the Hunt.
“Gampang.” I repeated as we drew close to the men. “Don’t argue!” I walked up to Tunstall and gave a nod to the coves who sat around him, on kegs, camp stools, or upended buckets, tending equipment and weapons as they relaxed. “Good evenin’, sirs,” I said in my Lower City accent. I looked up at Tunstall, who was lounging against one of their wagons. “Any word on where we sleep tonight, Tunstall? Here, or are we off on the road?” I would have loved to know what news he’d gathered, if anything, but there was no way to ask him here. I couldn’t even inquire if Farmer had gone nosing about. We all had parts to play, and we wanted to give these strangers no idea whatever that we were Hunting when we’d been ordered not to.
“You don’t want to be sleeping in that great hall,” one of the men-at-arms, a thin, muscled redhead, told me. “There’s fleas in the pallets. The count’s too cheap to pay a mage to get them out.”
“He’s not sleeping on them, is he?” asked another cove with the look of a Scanran. “Nor that mage from Aspen Vale. You won’t catch him doin’ flea-bane spells.”
Yet Farmer took care of the swamp bugs without a mutter, I thought. He insisted on it.
“We didn’t even stay the first night,” the redhead went on. “Came out and pitched our tents here, after a dunk in the river to rid us of the cursed fleas.”
“Farmer and me have been invited to pitch a tent with these good fellows,” Tunstall explained. “If you see Farmer, tell him?” He bent his head, scratching his neck and refusing to meet my eyes. “You and … the lady …,” he mumbled.
I propped my hands on my hips, put one leg forward, and began to tap my toe, as Kora so often did. It worked better in skirts, but it was still a good way to tell a cove, any cove, that you lose patience. It also makes coves think you’re a certain kind of mot, the kind they feel comfortable with.
“Best tell her before she sharpens you up with a broom about your shoulders!” one of the coves shouted.
“I bet she sets the Corus Rats to kissing the mules’ arses,” another called. “Stricter than their old mams!”
Tunstall pointed to the entry to the castle that was nearby. “You’ll find her up one set of stairs, in the ladies’ rooms,” he said, giving me the guiltiest of looks. “You’re to sleep in whatever room they grant her. And you’ll have to get a dress there, for supper.”
Dress? I mouthed at him. My back was to the men-at-arms so they could not see.
Tunstall shrugged helplessly. “It’s how they do things here, Cooper,” he said. The other coves laughed at that.
“Our women refused even to enter castle grounds,” the Scanran told me, a looking of understanding in his eyes. A few of the other men-at-arms were nodding. “Mithros be thanked, our captain and His Highness are upright men who won’t let good soldiers be humiliated.”
I wouldn’t speak up for myself, but they couldn’t go on thinking bad of my partner. “There’s naught Tunstall can say about it,” I told them. “Everyone thinks they rank Dogs, unless they’re dealing with my lord Gershom.”
“Everyone does rank a Dog,” said the redhead with a grin.
Tunstall laid a big, friendly hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “Not for long, though, eh, laddybuck?” he asked.
The redhead leaned to that side, doing his best not to grimace or complain about the strength of Tunstall’s hold.
I shook my head and walked to the castle door, Achoo and Pounce beside me. The coves didn’t need me to play their games.
The wing where the ladies were housed was much different from that of the men. I had to pass two armed guards to enter. One of them told me that if the ladies complained of my hound or my cat, out they would go, but they let me pass.
Once upstairs, I wasn’t sure which of the open doors I was to enter. I was looking from one to another when a tiny creature made of flying silk burst through one that was slightly open and raced down the hall. Achoo forgot herself and went tearing after, covering in three bounds what the little thing had done in twenty. Achoo trapped the small animal in the corner and was sniffing it in the crudest way when I heard a mot call, “Snowflake! Snowflake! You stole my ivory ribbons!”
A mot came out of the room where Snowflake, if that was the silky creature’s name, had been. She was nearly as pretty as the animal, dressed in an ankle-length tunic of cream-colored linen and a round cap of the same color. Her blond hair hung in two braids to her knees. When she saw her pet’s situation, she ran down the hall, crying, “You brute! Get away from Snowflake!”
“Achoo,” I said, but then the young mot halted. The bit of fluff was dancing under Achoo, running through her legs, and making it very clear that Achoo was her new best friend. Achoo was doing her best to lick the little thing, wagging her tail to show the affection was given back in full. Instead of screaming for the guards, the lady halted where she was and offered her hands, palms up, for Achoo to smell.
“Pengantar, Achoo,” I said. Achoo needed permission to greet human beings.
Achoo liked the lady’s scent. The mot liked the way Achoo held up her head and closed her eyes to have her ears scratched. “What a splendid hound you are,” the lady told Achoo as the hound danced. “You’re not like our hunting hounds at all, though of course they are very fine animals in their way.” With a glance at me she asked, “What manner of breed is she? I have never seen her like before.”
I would not shame Achoo by saying she was a breed only by grace of training. Without her great skill she would have been known only as a common street cur. “She is a scent hound, my lady,” I replied. I could feel Pounce leaning against my left boot to give me courage. Pounce knew I did not like to speak with the nobility, but this pretty mot could not be so bad if she liked proper four-legged dogs. “Not for hunting game, if it please you. Achoo and I are both in the service of the Lord Provost of the realm.”
She gifted me with a bright smile. “Achoo! What a delightful name!” She had discovered Achoo’s favorite behind-the-ear scratch. “I’m Lewyth, and this dreadful bit of disobedience”—she scooped up the fluffy creature as it tried to go around her—“is Snowball, the wickedest Butterfly Puppy ever bred.” She held the mite up to her face, where it proceeded to lick her cheek while wagging a plume of a tail. “Yes, you’re very wicked. Still, between you and me, I wouldn’t want a ribbon on top of my head, either. You were wise to run away.” She offered the tiny dog to me and I took it without thinking. It had a small, pointed nose, a black mask around two button eyes, and two upright black ears that were far larger than a head that size would normally sport. Except for the black fur on her skull and a saddle of black fur on her back, she was white, with tiny paws and a cheerful puppy smile. She seemed inclined to like everyone, because she started to lick my hands once she got used to being away from the lady.
“Why do you call your hound Achoo?” Lewyth asked.
“She sneezes when she gets a scent,” I explained. “My partner thinks she sneezes it out and breathes it back in so her nose is clearer the second time.”
“She’s a wise hunter, aren’t you, then?” Lewyth asked Achoo, giving her one more good scratch with both hands. “Our family breeds hunting hounds and Butterfly Pups, now they’re popular. We’ve never tried scent hounds. Were you and Achoo looking for someone?”
“I was ordered to find my lady Sabine of Macayhill. The men-at-arms told me she was up here,” I said. Mistress Snowball, being the trusting sort, had turned herself over in the crook of my arm, inviting me to give her a belly rub. The moment I did so, she began to wriggle gleefully. “This is a very happy-natured creature.”
It is a very silly creature, Pounce remarked to me. I wager its brain pan is also full of fluff.
“The Butterflies are like that,” Lewyth replied, holding her hand down to Pounce. “If you give them kindness, they will love you all your days. Now, I cannot believe this handsome fellow is a scent cat.”
I looked down to see Pounce boot her hand just like a true cat. He glanced at me and I saw his eyes were gold. I nodded. “No, Pounce just thinks I’ll make a muck of things if I roam without him to watch me.”
Lewyth giggled. “I’m not making fun,” she hurried to explain. “I have cats, too. You may as well come in with us. Lady Sabine is with the countess. You must be Guardswoman Cooper.” We walked into the room that Snowball had left so gleefully.
Achoo sneezed. She raced to the baskets of wood placed in the corner to supply the braziers that heated it. Eagerly she sniffed the wood, turning pieces over with her nose, as a handful of small creatures like Snowball rushed to defend their mistresses, barking most ferociously. Only with their ears raised did they come as tall as Achoo’s chest. Several cats with fur as long as the fluffy dogs’ started to flee the room, but halted when they saw Pounce. Slowly they formed a circle around him and sat, tails flicking.
“Achoo, kemari,” I ordered, but my heart wasn’t in it. I knew very well why she was going from the wood baskets to every brazier, to and fro, as if she marked the steps of a child under orders to put fresh wood in each. When I thought we risked a call for guards, I repeated more firmly, “Kemari, girl!”
Achoo glanced at me. I saw her ribs rise and fall as she sighed. Then she looked at the little dogs crowding around her and wagged her tail.
Achoo is easy to please, if I have not written it before.
“Ladies, ladies,” cried Lewyth. “This is Lady Sabine’s companion, Guardswoman Cooper. Achoo is her hound, and Pounce is her cat. She was told to meet her lady here, and our countess told us we were to supply her with a gown for supper.”
“And a bath, like as not,” said one of them, a black-haired lady in a rose-colored tunic. Had no one ever told her that if she continued to screw her face up, it would stick in that position?
A stately blond who had not moved from her chair during the fuss said, “Lady Wyttabyrd, the Gentle Mother adjures us to show grace to those beneath us in rank.”
I clasped my hands behind me and planted my feet. So now I was beneath them in rank. Usually talk of animals brings folk together. I’d hoped to ask some questions when things quieted, but that was impossible if I was no better than a servant.
The arrogant blond turned to me and gave me a smile that was no more than a curve of the lips. “What is your name?”
“My lady, I am Provost’s Guardswoman Rebakah Cooper, a four-year veteran of the Lower City District in Corus,” I replied.
Lewyth put a hand on my shoulder. “Where did this formality come from? Baylisa, there’s no need.”
If anything, the lady called Baylisa grew even cooler. “Lewyth, the Gentle Mother teaches us that a world in its proper order is a peaceful one.”
The other young ladies in the room bowed their heads and whispered, “So mote it be.” They retreated to chairs and picked up different kinds of needlework. The small dogs, plainly knowing this signal, came to sit by their mistresses’ feet, their faces as forlorn as Achoo’s when I called her to heel.
The mot named Baylisa turned her ice blue eyes to Lewyth and me. “We follow the ways of the Gentle Mother here,” she explained. “My younger sister Lewyth is still learning to keep a serene heart.” Lewyth took her hand from my shoulder. “The Gentle Mother could relieve you of the pain and struggle you face in that uniform, Guardswoman Cooper,” Baylisa went on. “There are men to perform such brute work. Your spirit cries out for the touch of a child’s hands, the peace of the spindle, and the completion of a family.”
I wanted to slap this clapper-jawed dismal-dreaming piece of jouster bait. Folk in the Lower City do not tell each other how to worship, or if they do, it is not for long. I clenched my hands behind me and said as calmly as I could manage, “Begging Your Ladyship’s pardon, but I am already in a god’s service.” I did not say that I knew swiving well what my spirit called for, and it was not a curst cage!
She sat back, her hand splayed delicately over her chest. It is a gesture that never fails to give me the royal itch. “You, in service to a god?”
“What is this?” I was never so glad to hear Lady Sabine’s musical voice in my life. “Cooper, is there a problem?”
I did not look away from Lady Baylisa. “We were talking religion, Lady Sabine.”
Another mot, older, said behind me, “Lady Baylisa of Disart is an eloquent advocate of the Gentle Mother among the women of our lands. She has brought many to see that the world has changed, the wars of old done with, and we must change with it.”
I decided I ought to face the mot who was talking, since the other mots rose to curtsy to her. I bowed when I faced her and Lady Sabine. She was a grim-faced bit of jerky, wearing her dark hair scraped back, braided, then pinned in coils under a sheer veil and a round cap. Her ankle-length tunic was blue silk, with tiny pearls stitched in patterns along the hems. One large teardrop-shaped pearl hung on a gold chain nearly to her waist. One of the little dogs, seemingly all fuzz, ran to her and barked for attention. She scooped it up and tucked it in the corner of her arm. I had to think some better of her for not worrying if the creature might shed its hair on her costly dress, but only some.
“Guardswoman Rebakah Cooper, this is Countess Aeldra of Queensgrace,” Lady Sabine told me. She looked as if she’d come fresh from the bath, her curly hair still showing some droplets of water. There was a silver net over her head. She had put on a long tunic in a shade of light blue that did her no favors. It was trimmed with pale pink braid threaded with a silver ribbon. Given the lack of travel wrinkles in the tunic, I knew it must be a loan from one of the ladies. They had even gotten Lady Sabine into a useless pair of soft, flat shoes. She ignored my obvious surprise at her dress to tell the countess, “My lady, Guardswoman Cooper is one of the Provost’s Guards I travel with.”
The countess looked me over while I fought the urge to scratch my bum. “Who is that monster?” she asked, nodding her head toward Achoo, who sat at my side.
“My lady, Achoo is a scent hound,” Lady Lewyth said, coming up to rub Achoo’s ears. “She’s the friendliest thing. She hasn’t bothered the cats in the least, and the dogs love her. But she’s a hound of degree, not a pet.”
