Archer's Sin (5 page)

It was five minutes until they loosed their first arrows. There were no early-round eliminations in this tournament, and all the competitors were present except Caellus. It astonished her that Caellus could be so cavalier about being on time. She’d arrived an hour early just in case.

Today they kept their riftstones and would be shooting with magic at a distance of two hundred yards. The butts looked ridiculously far away, but war mages could shoot from great distances. The magic did, however, have its limitations. At short range, Nalica could shoot arrows with perfect, magically enhanced accuracy. But this ability broke down at longer distances. During this round of competition, her war magic would grant her the sharpened vision she needed to see the target clearly and sufficient strength to send an arrow all that distance, but otherwise accuracy would be up to her.

Just as an official raised his bugle to signal the start of the second round, Caellus came running up, his bow jangling on his back. “Sorry,” he said, quickly stringing it and nocking an arrow.

“Archers ready,” called the official.

Nalica raised her bow, drew it with an upward motion of her arm, and aimed.

“Loose.”

The arrow sang as she let it fly. She loved the music of this sport: the twang of the string, the whine of the arrow. She tracked her arrow visually, raising a hand to her forehead to block the sun. It landed on the butt, and she smiled. It hadn’t split the wand, but no one was likely to do that at this distance.

She scanned her competitors’ targets. Everyone was shooting well today. Caellus, Justien, and two others had also scored hits. The audience cheered—they were impressed simply by the distance.

Caellus drew a second arrow from the stand. He turned to Justien, who was shooting beside him. “You hear about Honeycatcher?”

“Hear what?” asked Justien.

“He’s been pulled from tonight’s race,” said Caellus.

“Whatever for?” Justien tested the string of his bow and nocked a second arrow.

“Not fit to run.”

Nalica turned toward them. “But he was fine when we saw him this morning.”

“You saw him?” Caellus looked skeptical.

“In the stable,” said Justien.

“Archers ready,” called the official. “Loose.”

Nalica’s second arrow went wild and didn’t hit the butt at all. She cursed under her breath. Caellus’s didn’t land either, but Justien’s did. Pox it all, that put him in the lead.

What had happened to Honeycatcher? It seemed quite a coincidence that he should become ill right before his big race. The illness must have come on quickly, because the horse had looked fine when she and Justien had seen him. Could someone have poisoned or otherwise sickened the horse? She and Justien had gotten past the guard; surely other people could have done the same if they’d tried.

Captain Felix of the city guard had been inside the stable. She glanced up at the platform, where he sat watching the competition as one of its three judges. What had he been doing in the tack room just hours before Honeycatcher, a rival to his own horse, fell ill? Might he be under suspicion for his presence there? Come to think of it, she and Justien might be under suspicion themselves.

“Loose.”

She readied herself and loosed her third arrow. Right onto the butt, as was Justien’s. Caellus had scored a hit, too. It rankled to be tied with Caellus; she knew she was better.

She caught Justien’s eye with a worried look, wondering what he thought about the horse. He simply smiled at her. She managed to smile back. It appeared he wasn’t thinking about the horse at all. Well, fair enough; it wasn’t his business, nor was it hers. She’d follow his example and forget about it, at least for now.

She landed her last two arrows on the butts, but the damage was done. She had five hits and one sin. Justien had six hits, no sins. Caellus had four hits, two sins, which meant that Justien had won this round, and she’d come in second.

How did she sit in the overall standings? She’d won yesterday and Justien had won today. But she’d won yesterday by a greater margin because, in most tournaments, splitting the wand was worth a lot more than scoring a hit. She might still be in first place. Regardless, it all came down to her performance tomorrow.

She’d made a deal with Justien that she would congratulate him if he won, so she walked up to him and held out her hand. “Nice shooting. Congratulations.”

He clasped her wrist and smiled warmly. “Nice shooting yourself.”

Well, that hadn’t been too excruciating. She turned to go.

“Wait,” called Justien. “You want to watch the Imperial Plate with me?”

“The horse race?” She’d forgotten that he’d invited her earlier.

“I know Honeycatcher isn’t running anymore, but I’m sure it will be exciting. And you could see the imperial family.”

The other archers began to bleed away into the crowd. She was flattered by Justien’s invitation, but if she stayed for the race, she wouldn’t have time to return to town for a meal, and she couldn’t afford to eat on the festival grounds again. She leaned in and spoke in a low voice. “I need to run back to the inn for supper. But I’d like to talk to you after the race. Could we meet this evening in a place where there aren’t so many people?”

“I could meet you at the inn in town. Where are you staying?”

“The Crooked Billet.”

His brow wrinkled in thought. “That’s on the west side?”

“It’s far, I know,” said Nalica. “Why don’t I meet you back here at the fairgrounds. Say, by the registration tent in a few hours.”

He nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

***

Justien had been waiting by the registration tent for thirty minutes in the dark, and Nalica had yet to show up. She hadn’t told him what she wanted to speak to him about. He hoped it wasn’t about the tournament, because that subject would be awkward. He’d outshot her tonight. He’d proven that he could beat her. If he could repeat that performance tomorrow, he would win the city guard job—and if she thought she could talk him out of that, she could think again.

He’d watched the horses run for the Imperial Plate. It had, unfortunately, been a snoozer of a race. Vagabond’s Dart had broken fast and led the pack to the first turn. From there, he’d gradually lengthened his lead and ultimately crossed the finish line alone. Captain Felix would be happy, at least. The purse was five thousand tetrals, and if Justien understood the arrangement correctly, Felix would receive one-seventh of it.

A figure detached itself from the crowd and moved toward him. It was Nalica—had to be. He couldn’t see well in this unlit section of the festival grounds, but her size and shape were unmistakable.

“Sorry if I’m late,” she said as she came up to him. “It’s a long walk from town.”

“You should just eat at the festival next time,” he said, and immediately regretted the words. If she wasn’t eating at the festival, she had a reason for that, and the reason was probably that she was short on tetrals.

“That would be more convenient,” she said blandly. “Look, about the horse—”

“What horse?”

“Honeycatcher,” she said. “You and I saw him this morning. He looked fine. So why was he scratched from the race?”

Justien shrugged, feeling oddly defensive about this subject. It had shaken him to bump into the captain of the guard near Honeycatcher’s stall. “How should I know? He’s a racehorse. They go lame; they get sick.”

“And Captain Felix was there, coming out of the tack room,” said Nalica, “when his horse was stabled in the other barn. Don’t you think it’s odd that he was there? What was he doing?”

“He didn’t poison the horse, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He could not imagine the captain of the guard doing such a thing. At least, he didn’t want to imagine it.

Nalica raised her brows. “Are you certain he didn’t?”

Justien was about to spit out a reflexive
no
, but out of respect he paused to think the situation over. “I cannot be certain, but I see no reason to accuse him. All we saw him do was walk out of a tack room. That’s not a crime.”

“I’m not saying it’s a crime,” said Nalica. “I’m just saying that maybe we’re the only people who know he was there, and maybe we should tell someone about it.”

Justien bit his lip. If they did, there might be an investigation. Given the captain’s position of authority, it was hard to say whether he’d be hauled in for questioning or not. But he could easily find out that Justien and Nalica had been the ones to report him, and he was one of the contest judges. “Perhaps we could say something after the tournament.”

“I think we should speak up sooner rather than later,” said Nalica.

“I don’t think a crime was committed,” said Justien. “I think it was just bad luck. The animal got sick at an inconvenient time.”

“You’re probably right,” said Nalica. “But in case you’re not, shouldn’t we pass on what we know to the appropriate people? To the horse’s owner, if no one else. He seemed like a nice man.”

Justien sighed. “I really don’t want to get involved in this.”

Her brows rose. “Why, are you afraid?”

He frowned. Yes, he was afraid. What if this got in the way of his winning the city guard job? Or even if it didn’t, what if it ruined his relationship with Captain Felix, the man who might become his boss? All because of some “evidence” he’d taken to the authorities that was trivial and not even incriminating. And those weren’t even the worst of the possible consequences. He and Nalica had been at the stables too. What if suspicion fell upon them?

“It would be better if we went together,” said Nalica. “But if you won’t talk, I’ll do it on my own.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You can’t stop me.”

Now he was getting angry. Did this woman not know when to mind her own business? If she got involved, any number of bad things could happen, not just to Captain Felix or to Justien, but to Nalica herself. He and Nalica were easterners, and they’d been seen in the stable only hours before the horse had sickened. Nalica hadn’t been in the south long enough to understand that foreigners in Riat were often regarded with mistrust. If someone needed a scapegoat, they would look no further than Justien or Nalica.

He took her arm and pulled her close. “I want you to keep your nose out of places it doesn’t belong,” he hissed into her ear. “Have you considered the possibility that suspicion might fall on us? We were in that stable, too.”

“But we didn’t do anything. A truth spell would confirm that.”

“You’re an easterner,” he said. “You think they waste truth spells on people like us?”

Her brow wrinkled. “If you’re saying the city guard is crooked, that’s all the more reason we should tell someone about Captain Felix.”

“I’m not saying that.”

“Then I don’t understand you,” she said. “Shouldn’t we help the man whose horse might have been poisoned?”

“You have
no idea
if that happened,” he said fiercely. “
No idea
.”

“I just want—” She looked up into his eyes, and something changed in her face. “Never mind.” She pulled out of his grasp and walked away.

4
Soldier’s Day

The next morning, Nalica was back at the fair for Soldier’s Day. The white streamers had been replaced with orange ones, and the local battalion had been turned out. They marched in formation in the central square and performed demonstration drills. A field on the east side of the grounds had been given over to athletic games: foot races, jumping contests, and throwing contests.

She tried to work up the courage to speak to the authorities about what she’d seen in the stable yesterday, but Justien had instilled in her a little apprehension. He did know southern Kjall better than she did. Perhaps he was right. If she stuck her nose where it didn’t belong, suspicion might easily fall upon her—and upon him, since they’d been together at the time.

On the other hand, the horse’s owner, Philo, already knew who they were. He’d recognized them as archery competitors, so if he suspected them, he would surely approach them at the tournament tonight, or have the guards do so.

Uncertain what to do, she wandered the festival grounds almost at random until she discovered, to her delight, an informal archery competition for novices, with small, weak bows provided. This must be the one the clerk had mentioned. She smiled at the sight of the arrows, so short compared to the thirty-inch ones that fit her longbow. She found a seat and watched the competitors, mostly children, struggle with the coordination of handling bow, string, and arrow.

She’d been sitting there over an hour when Justien strode up. “I’ve looked everywhere for you. Can we go someplace quiet to talk?”

She nodded and let him lead her away.

When they’d reached a quiet corner of the festival grounds, Justien said, “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s talk to the authorities.”

She blinked. That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “Really?”

“Right now,” he said. “Let’s go together.”

“Why’d you change your mind?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s been nagging at me, that’s all.”

“Who do you think we should tell?”

He made a face. “Well, I would say the city guard, but Felix is their captain. No one’s going to investigate his own boss.”

“Who else, then? Philo?”

Justien nodded. “I think he’s our best option. I don’t know anything about him, but he must be wealthy and connected if he can import a fancy racehorse from Sardos. Maybe he’ll know what to do with the information.”

“If anyone cares about what happened to Honeycatcher, it’s the man who owns him,” said Nalica.

They headed to the stable and down the aisle where the racehorses were kept. A guard, not the same one as before, stepped up to block them as they approached the racehorse stalls. “Off limits.”

Nalica peered around him at Honeycatcher’s distant stall. The horse was still there, poking his nose over the door. The owner was present too, sitting on a chair in front of the stall and looking over a handful of papers.

“Philo. Sir!” called Nalica past the guard. “Can we speak to you for a moment?”