Hunting (17 page)

"Of course. Just let me get cleaned
up." Lark disappeared through the inner door and was replaced by a
row of blue-eyed, blonde-haired girls of varying heights.

"You look...different," sixteen
year-old Arras told her, blushing.

Linnet, eight and a good deal more
forthright, climbed onto Ash's lap and examined the tabard briefly.
"Did you really jump off a cliff and catch the Veirhoi before he
plungered to his death?"

"I think the word you're looking for is
plunged, Linnet," Ash said, setting her back on the ground. The
girl immediately dashed into the back of the shop.

"What's he look like? The Veirhoi? I've
never seen him. Is it true that he's more beautiful than any of the
women at Landsmeet? And his hair is more golden than wheat in the
sunlight? And his eyes are violet? What's his voice like? Did he
thank you for saving his life?" Thirteen year-old Asaen had her
mother's way with words.

"We didn't talk about it," Ash
said.

"Look, Ash," said Lincy, returning.
"Still burning!" She held up a lantern using a feather instead of a
candle.

Bitty, third-eldest of the Rogadneys,
and one of the newer members of the Huntsmen – much to Lark's
dismay – gave Ash a brief nod as she took her mother's place at the
serving counter, while Tanar Rogadney returned almost immediately,
handing Ash two buttered rolls.

"Put that back where people can't see
it, Lincy. Do you want it stolen? And didn't I tell you to go look
after Ash's horse? Leave the boy be while he's eating. Do you need
anything, lad?" But then Landhold Rogadney inhaled sharply, and
darted into the bakery's depths. "Who's looking after the oven? If
you children have let a batch burn...!"

"Why didn't you talk about it?" Asaen
continued. "How did you get to be a seruilis anyway? Are these that
foreign Holder's colours? What's he like?"

"Leave him be, Asa!" Larkin said,
pushing her away unceremoniously as he returned. "You finished with
that?"

Ash nodded and hastily put the cup
down, escaping the room before Asaen could begin another volley.
Linnet was standing out the front of the store, a good five feet
away from Cloud Cat. "This is a big horse," she announced.

"Too true!" Larkin said, mussing her
blonde curls. "You can go back in now, Lincy. I hope you don't
expect me to get up on that, Ash. I'm not nutty about horses at the
best of times, let alone ones twice the size they should be."

"No, we'll walk," Ash said. "It's not
far."

She unwound the reins and led Cloud and
Larkin away from the bakery. Linnet stayed where she was, gravely
watching them till they were out of sight.

"What's wrong?" Larkin asked, as they
turned the corner.

"Another murder. Arianne, the herbalist
over in the Soward. Her daughter, Sonia, do you remember me telling
you about her? She's missing. Out the window, probably. The killer
mightn't even know she exists, or might be hunting for her. I don't
know."

"You want us to look for her?"

"Yes. But the Soward's not our
territory, so it'll need to be more than that." She led Cloud down
the alley beside Genevieve's still empty house. "Landhold Dunn must
be fuming to have the house shut up like this," she remarked.

"Can't say she's been in the best mood
lately. But she gets it in two more days, apparently."

"Just in time, then," Ash said, using
Cloud Cat to boost herself over the fence. "I'll be a little while,
sorry," she said.

Fetching the spare key from under a
handy stone, Ash went into the house. The bed had been stripped of
even its mattress, but she could still smell the blood. This would
always be the place Genevieve had died.

A visit to the stillroom later, she
returned outside and, businesslike, began harvesting.

Back over the fence, she handed Lark
two stuffed bags. "The left can go to Ketter's Tavern. And the
right to Tye Varden. He's the only reputable herbalist left in the
city – I hear he's hired bodyguards. Both of them will give a fair
price for this if you say it's from me. Use what it brings to offer
a reward for Sonia."

Larkin hefted the bags, and grunted.
"Right now, half the city would look for free. But this'll help
with the rest of them."

Ash leaned wearily against Cloud Cat's
neck and described Sonia carefully. The child had one
distinguishing mark – a semi-circular scar on one knee where she'd
fallen on a shovel in the garden. It would do to prevent
mistakes.

"Ash, you're strung out," Lark said.
"If half of what I've heard you did yesterday is true, I'm
surprised you're standing. Let's go somewhere and sit down for a
while."

"Where do you want to go?"

Larkin eyed Cloud Cat doubtfully.
"Well, we can't go the skyways with this lummox in tow and we'd be
begging for it if we went into the Shambles afoot. We're keeping
out of there at the moment anyway – there's another skarl been
sighted. Lammer's Field?"

Ash shrugged and suggested collecting
Melar, the third of the Huntsmen's unofficial leaders, for the
quick walk to a patch of common ground on the slope of the nearest
foothill. Nothing but grass, rocks and stray children.

Melar, nondescript and whip-smart,
narrowed his eyes after she'd caught them up on the investigation,
and asked: "Do you believe this Thornaster? About Karaelsur?"

"At this stage, I've no reason to doubt
him. I asked, if the old Sun really does keep coming back, why it's
not common knowledge, why the Aremish Rhoi doesn't warn
everyone–"

"Bad idea," Melar said. "You'd have
folk saying Karaelsur is the true Sun and that Astenar is an
usurper. Which is technically true, forgetting the whole
nearly-destroyed-Luin thing, and ignoring the soul collecting, if
that's really what's happening. Still, not in the Estarrels'
interest to admit to any remnant of Karaelsur still existing.
Besides, Karaelsur must offer these accomplices some particularly
tempting advantage." He stretched, and then began ticking off
points on his fingers.

"So, we have a probably foreign mage
killing herbalists, possibly as clumsy prelude to poisoning the
Rhoi. But there's been no move against the Rhoi. There've been two
not-quite-accidental attempts on the Veirhoi. The former Rhoi told
the Aremish Rhoi that Montmoth was out of Balance and asked for
help. A Yurefaen told your Visel Thornaster that it could 'smell'
Karaelsur here. Karaelsur is damned, and in the past has tried to
use human souls to gain strength. People have been going missing –
more than usually go missing in spring. You want us to find out
more about foreigners who arrived this spring, particularly women.
Find the missing child. Don't go missing ourselves, or get our
throats cut. Anything else?"

"The only recent disappearance in Mids
was Nate Trevel," Lark put in. "And you know he's argued with his
father and sworn he was heading south at least a thousand
times."

"And not followed through a thousand
times, 'til now. Send me a note if he shows up. And Lark, don't try
to keep Bitty out of things. You know she'd follow along behind – I
certainly would if I was her – and that'd be ten times more
dangerous than including her."

Larkin sighed, but had long ago lost
the argument about whether Bitty – a better roof-runner than he –
should or should not be included. "What bothers me is this
Guardsman killed along with last night's herbalist. One of the
Rhoi's wouldn't be an easy target."

"Yes, we daren't underestimate how
dangerous these people are. No need to sit at home hiding, but make
absolutely sure the Huntsmen travel in pairs and threes."

"That's easy to do at night, if we go
out of home territory," Lark said. "What with these new skarl
sightings, the murders, and your note about the disappearances,
we've hardly poked our noses out of Mids the last few days anyway.
But during the day there's no way to watch each other's backs."

Most of the Huntsmen were 'prentices in
the section of the Commons called Mids – not at all the 'street
gang' Captain Garton liked to talk about – and they spent a good
portion of their day playing fetch and carry. Any errand could put
them in harm's way.

"Heightened alertness and common
sense." Ash eyed Cloud Cat sampling tussocks of grass at the limit
of her reins. "And I'll go back to learning about sewers, and
cleaning Thornaster's boots."

"Right after you tell us in complete
detail how you rescued the Veirhoi. My sisters will torture me to
reveal all and I need something to say to them."

"You're not just curious yourself?" Ash
asked, and he grinned, shrugging.

"That's not like you, Ash," Larkin
said, when she finished a run-down of the previous day. "I'd have
thought you'd ask for a horse, not books! That's a punishment, not
a reward!"

"I want to research a few things."

"I know that look," Melar said. "What
are you up to, Ash Cat? Decided to set yourself up as Rhoi
instead?"

"Sun spare me. No, this is just a bit
of digging about for my own satisfaction. Nothing interesting."

"Last time you told me 'nothing
interesting' a mysterious someone tied ribbons around the throats
of all the statues on the Grand Walk. Pink ribbons. Marshall
Vikence had a frilly bonnet on."

"You know, I remember that happening.
Some people have no respect."

"Now you can't come over all innocent,
Ash! You admitted to it, remember!"

"Stupid of me," Ash grinned, but
absently. She was watching a child in a tattered shift standing
behind a tree. A girl of an age difficult to determine, whose eyes
did not waver from Cloud Cat for a moment. "I'm sorry to disappoint
you, but nothing spectacular this time." Twisting the reins in her
hand, she thought of her task, then raised her voice. "You may pet
her if you wish."

Larkin looked about in surprise, and
then scowled. "Ash! That grubby thing has no business in this park,
let alone near us."

"You sound like half the Kinsel in the
Mern," Ash said, watching as the girl, who had retreated behind the
tree, poked a nose into view, obviously caught between distrust and
desire. "Don't you ever look at street children, dirty and
hollow-cheeked and so full of want, and think that all that
separates you from them is who your parents are? And sometimes not
even that?"

"No. Not people whole enough to get
themselves jobs and clean themselves up. It's not as if the
Godskeeps won't feed them in return for a little hard work."

Melar laughed. "So ruthless, Lark."

"She's decided Cloud Cat is worth the
risk of a beating," Ash murmured.

The girl, whose dark curling hair and
brown skin declared Firuvari ancestry, would have an interesting,
maybe beautiful face if she were not so bone-hollow and dirty. She
came closer with a show of confidence, though her eyes were always
on the three seated boys, even when her fingers encountered a
silken coat. Cloud Cat turned her head curiously, and blew on the
girl, lipping at tangled hair. Not really a child, Ash decided, a
little surprised. Terribly underfed, sunken-cheeked and all angles,
but there were breasts beneath that shift. Hard to say how old
exactly. Over thirteen.

"Climb up if you can," invited Ash,
with a smile that was all challenge. "If you dare."

There was a flash of anger in dark
brown eyes and the girl scrambled up into the saddle, then sat
there, staring at the world from Cloud Cat's height.

"C'mon Lark," Ash said, grinning at her
friend's disgust. "Your mother'll have the search parties out if I
keep you too long." She stood and started walking, leading Cloud
Cat. She did not glance back. The girl would stay or go. If she
were anything like Ash had been, she would stay, for Cloud Cat was
a fine, fine thing to ride. To sit a horse was to suddenly feel
like a Rhoi. From Melar's chuckle, and the expression on Larkin's
face as he matched her step, the girl had likely stayed.

When they reached the bakery, Ash
looked back, and found those suspicious dark eyes fixed on her.
"Each morning and evening," she said, "you need only come to this
bakery and you will be given a meal. Only you, mind. I trust you
have more sense than to spread the word around, for you'll only be
bullied. Good luck." She turned to wind the reins around the
hitching post, and when she looked back, the girl was gone.

"
Ash!
" Lark exploded.
"You..."

"...will pay for the food, of course.
Split off a little of the take from those herbs to start, and I'll
bring you more."

"But why? You do the most unaccountable
things, Ash."

She sighed, looking down at her grey
and blue colours. "Partly for Sonia. In a few years, if she
survives on the streets without rescue, she'll be that girl, or
something worse. And, partly, that was for Genevieve. Genevieve was
always...kind to children she found alone on the streets. Besides,
it made me feel good. I hope she decides to find out if I was
telling the truth."

"I don't," Larkin said, disgustedly.
"But whatever you like. Play the bountiful Luinsel, if that's what
takes your fancy."

"I've yet to meet a Luinsel who would
think to do that," Ash replied. "Too little a problem for
them."

"What? Not even your oh-so-wonderful
Visel Thornaster?"

Ash blinked, because she hadn't thought
her description of Thornaster had been effusive. "Well, I haven't
seen Thornaster do that, either. Though – while he had ulterior
motives, I guess that's what he thought he was doing with me.
Orphan boy being thrown out on the street and all that. It just
happened that I didn't need the help." In a number of ways they
were very alike, this foreign Visel and the 'boy' he had adopted.
She frowned. Was that a good thing?

"I'd better go. Take care, Lark.
Melar."

"You're not coming back, are you?"
Melar said, unexpectedly. "To pass through, maybe, but you've moved
on here." He touched his chest.