Hunting (7 page)

A book written in Khanteck was next, a
history of one of the great heroes, Jacian. Ash was delighted,
having encountered more than a few tales of the Star-bearer. This
seemed to be an account of his entire life and she happily began to
translate it. Perhaps the less easily found accounts of Halide's
life would be included with those of her lover's.

"That's enough," he said, before she'd
hardly started, removing the book from her hands and replacing it
with another. A treaty written in formal Firuven, the immensely
complex language of most of Southern Arabaya. She stumbled through
an attempt, managing the gist if not the detail. He took it away
from her soon after she'd begun.

"You are a reader," he said, having
apparently set aside his prejudices in favour of a very searching
study of her face. "What have you read?"

That was a difficult question. A wildly
mixed hotch-potch of work. "History," she began, a little
doubtfully. "Mainly from Montmoth. Travel accounts. Poetry.
Anything I was given." Genevieve had swapped and traded to supply
Ash with material, and required a certain amount of reading each
day, no matter Ash's desire to spend time at the stables or in the
Shambles.

"Any strategy? Animal husbandry? Water
management? Heraldry? The Balance?"

"No, Ser."

He strode out again, returning with two
books, which he set on the long table where she sat. "Vendarri will
take you in the second half. Read these until then. Return them
when you're done. They are your responsibility."

She was alone before she had a chance
to speak. Another shining start to the day in the Mern.

Chapter Seven

One copy of Luin and Astenar's laws,
and one treatise on the Balance, the fundamentals of managing the
land by Luin's Grace. Whatever Carlyon's opinion of a gutter
seruilis who flinched at the sight of him, he'd apparently decided
to train her in the basics of guardianship. A very correct
response, since anyone might come to own land, just as it was
possible, if unlikely, for anyone to be put forward to be Rhoi.

Ash fingered the leather covers, then
postponed tedium for a brief exploration of the currently empty
rooms, but was dutifully bent over the books when a bell heralded
the return of the seruilisi. The seniors she'd met, as well as the
juniors who made up most of the Mern's population, streamed in.
Marriston came in last, followed by Carlyon.

"You know the rules," Carlyon said
without preamble. The room hushed immediately. Ash watched the
faces of the seruilisi and realised that whoever his father might
be, Carlyon had won himself a great deal of respect. The younger
brother of the current Decsel, likely to manage part of the
family's lands unless an opportunity rose to stand before Luin.

"Three teams, three rounds." Marriston
was making his way through the room, tapping each boy in turn on
the shoulder, saying "one, two, three" over and over. The groups
divided up while Carlyon waited. Then the first seruilis, seemingly
at random, appointed a 'Captain' for each army. The Captains,
looking variously delighted and horrified, led the teams from the
room, followed by Carlyon.

Ash remained behind with Vendarri, who
said impatiently: "Come along, Lenthard. I've been given the honour
of catching you up in archery. Don't make it any more of a bore
than it has to be."

During the irritated lecture that
followed – on the construction of bows, their maintenance, the way
of stringing them – Ash began the slow task of making up ground.
Gravely quiet, she followed Vendarri's instructions with solemn
attention, and concentrated on the task at hand, which was a good
deal harder than it looked. She could get arrows to fly in the
general direction of the target, but placing them exactly was a
different matter. She responded with dogged determination,
patiently trotting back and forth to the target to fetch her
arrows, pulling the bow out till her shoulders ached and her
fingers stung. Vendarri strung another bow and showed her up
completely, leaving her determined to at least consistently hit the
target before the next bell sounded. She didn't quite succeed.

"A slight improvement," Vendarri said
grudgingly as she unstrung the bow. She'd given him nothing to
complain about, which was the most she could aim for at this
point.

They walked back to return the bows
against the tide of departing boys, everyone ripe with sweat and
vigour. There were a few bruises, Ash noticed, and a split lip, so
she silently thanked Thornaster for sparing her general swordplay.
It set her apart even more, but let her avoid a lot of physical
punishment. Vendarri met up with Carlyon and they departed without
a word to her, so she shrugged, and went to fetch the books. They
were gone, of course.

"Sometimes," she said, to the empty
bench, "I wish things weren't so Sun-damned predictable."

So what to do now? She couldn't raise a
fuss. Accuse Kinsel of stealing? Not likely. Besides, Carlyon had
charged her with the care of the books and it didn't matter how
they had disappeared, simply that they were gone.

Would the first seruilis have stood by
while whoever walked off with two large books? No. Whatever his
family, he took his position seriously. So, assuming that the thief
could not have removed them, they must still be in the Mern.
Quickly she checked all the seats, and tried the door to the inner
room, but found it locked. The winding stair that led to the
Master's office was empty.

Hesitating, Ash debated the risk of
trying to search the Master's office, and then stared at the
stair's arrow-slit window. She couldn't quite fit her head through,
but could angle to see out and down. And there they were, tumbled
on the roof of a round building below.

"Scuts."

Lips pressed together, Ash studied the
area, mapping a course to it from the Mern's entrance. She left the
Mern and worked her way through the palace. The roof belonged to
the Gods' Hall, which brought a shiver of memory, but at least
wasn't likely to be full of people. The outer walls were sheer and
unadorned, but she circled to the section of building set against
the base of the Mern, where the two walls together looked
scaleable. A long drop, and the books unwieldy to bring down. If
there was something she could...

Leaving the hall, she headed toward the
Water Yard, the junction between the bathhouses, laundry and
kitchens, searching the slow cross-stream of foot traffic for a
likely target. A girl came into view, perhaps eighteen, with a hint
of Firuvari ancestry in the warmth of her skin. It was the wide
basket of dirty linen she was lugging which caught Ash's
attention.

"Can I ask a favour, Sera?"

"What is it, Ser?" The girl's wary
interest showed Ash's tabard was doing its job of announcing the
gutter seruilis' identity.

"I need you to catch something. It
won't take a moment. Can I help to carry the basket?" At the girl's
hesitation Ash produced her best three-pointed grin and added:
"It's not a flirtation, I promise you. I'm mostly harmless, and
only charm pretty girls on my days off."

The girl snorted. "You're a few years
ahead of yourself if that's how you think you go about catching
'something'."

"If you're tremendously busy, could I
borrow the basket if I give my word to bring it right back?"

Curiosity overcame caution, and by the
time they'd reached the Gods' Hall they'd established that the girl
was Cassia and Ash was indeed Visel Thornaster's gutter
seruilis.

"Though why 'gutter seruilis' I don't
really understand," Ash said, leading the girl around the curve of
the Hall. "It's not like the Commons are the Shambles, and even in
the worst part of the city I've never seen anyone spending much
time in the gutters. Too much horse doings."

"There's nothing here," Cassia said,
suspicion returning as Ash handed back the basket.

"On the roof," Ash said, and lifted her
tabard over her head. "Can you hold this as well?"

Turning, Ash ground her shoes on the
stony paving, and then swarmed up the junction of the two walls,
combining slight handholds with speed to get her within hands-reach
of a stony drain. The roofs of Luinhall had been the playground of
her adolescence, and she resisted an urge to let loose with a
Huntsman's cry as she flipped herself neatly up.

In plain view of a number of windows,
she wasted no time collecting the tumbled books. One had come close
to splitting at the spine, the pages loosened and stained. Ash
scowled and cursed whoever had thrown them from the window, then
returned to the edge of the roof.

The laundress stared up at her, then
suddenly flicked tumbled brown curls out of her eyes and smiled.
"You're making me want to see what you're like on your days
off."

"Not so harmless," Ash said. She
dropped to her knees, and then hung over the side of the roof with
one of the books in her hand. "Hold up the basket."

The books quickly delivered, Ash looked
about her, considering the possibilities of the palace roofs for
exploration, but the stone, wood and tile landscape was too
disconnected. Shrugging, she slid over the edge, hung for a moment
and dropped lightly to the ground. The Huntsmen called her "Ash
Cat" when they were on patrol. Now she even wore colours to match
the name.

"Thank you, Cassia," she said,
accepting back her tabard. "I believe I owe you a favour."

"I'd settle for an explanation," Cassia
said, taking one handle of the book-heavy basket and waiting until
Ash lifted the other.

"Oh, nothing too complicated. I was
charged with the care of these books. They walked out a window.
They'll know better in future."

"I see," said Cassia, in a voice that
showed that she did. "Is it very hard, Ash?"

Ash blinked. "It...could be going
better," she said, slowly. "But I am hoping for a turn in my
fortunes. You won't speak of this?"

"Of course not! What do you take me
for?"

Smiling, Ash paused near the double
entrance to the Gods' Hall, glancing into the spangled depths.
"Strange," she said. "No, not you. Look at the Sun."

Cassia followed her gaze into the Gods'
Hall, where black walls, ceiling and floor glittered with specks of
white, and a great golden ball hung from the ceiling, surrounded by
far smaller globes, cleverly suspended.

The glass and metal Sun gave out a
warm, steady glow, thanks to a special inner lantern maintained by
the Godskeeps, who would visit every decem to adjust the positions
of the globes to reflect the gods' movements. The strangeness Ash
had spotted was a dark stain veiling the inside of the glassy Sun,
as if the Godskeeps had used cheap tallow candles instead of the
expensive enchanted stone.

"Smuts?" Cassia said. "Should we fetch
a Godskeeps?"

"Maybe." Ash put down the basket and
approached, looking for the hatch in the Sun's metal framework that
would give access to the inside.

A chill lifted her skin to goose bumps
and she shivered, unable to avoid remembering the first and last
time she'd been in the Gods' Hall. Unlike the sons of Luinsel,
daughters did not attend the Mern – at least not in Montmoth.
Instead they were tutored at home, in matters considered suitable
to the type of woman Montmothians considered ideal, and had little
to do with the palace until they were old enough to attend official
functions.

Ash's first visit had been for a garden
party, and she and her friend Kiri had wandered off and discovered
the Gods' Hall. They'd been amusing themselves trying to name all
the near gods, down to the tiniest moon circling Delkrio, when a
boy a year or two older had begun to bother them, and Ash had had
to knock him down to stop him from being offensive to Kiri. And
then Eward Carlyon had emerged from the rear of the Hall and
escorted them back to the party, a thing Ash had thought so little
of at the time, beyond being glad he didn't suffocate Kiri with
ponderously elaborate compliments, the way too many of the old men
did.

"It's so cold in here!" Cassia said,
bringing Ash back to a present when Eward Carlyon was years dead.
"Look, my breath is misting."

Montmoth, with its glacier-fed rivers
and multitude of high mountain valleys, was far from the warmest of
Rhoimarches, but in late spring the room's biting chill was a
definite oddity. Frowning, Ash puzzled out the mechanism to open
the figure of the Sun, and saw only a warmly glowing stone in the
central mount – nothing that would discolour the glass. Weirdly,
the inside of the Sun didn't even look shadowed.

"The smudge is gone," Cassia informed
her. "Maybe there was some kind of smoke?"

"I didn't see anything." Ash closed the
Sun figure and frowned around at the room. Other than the model of
the near gods, the room held nothing but walls painted with the
constellations of far gods. There was an exit in the rear, a
deceptive intersection of two curving walls that gave an illusion
of a solid barrier, but there was no hint of smoke. "We'd better
get out of here."

Back in the Water Yard, she parted from
Cassia with thanks, and detoured to the kitchens to collect an
early meal and a delivery from Larkin via Mirramar. A tiny cloth
bag.

"Lark said to say: 'He found them',"
Mirramar added, frowning. "What are you up to, Ash Lenthard?"

Rolling the bag between her fingers,
Ash dodged Mirramar's questions, picked at her meal and left.

Chapter Eight

Thornaster was still absent, which
suited Ash. She checked over the condition of the books, fetched
out the Visel's tack repair kit, and restitched the one with loose
pages before polishing the leather up on both. Her stitching work
wasn't perfect, but it would hold and, except for the stained pages
and a slight crack down one spine, there was little sign of the
volume's misadventures.