Midnight Quest (23 page)

Satisfied, he remounted and headed back toward the main gates, carefully avoiding that sinfully tempting road. He should probably send some message home that he had arrived, but he didn’t dare spend any more time here than he already had. He didn’t like leaving everyone outside of the city in plain view like that, even if the description
was
lousy.

Well, in another two hours or so, they’d know. That was soon enough.

The sun steadily set over the horizon as he rode through Hawleywood. By the time he made it out of the front gates, it had become a very pretty sunset. Fortunately, the group had made decent time reaching the city so he didn’t have to go far to fetch them.

Rialt reined to a halt in the middle of the road, forcing Chizeld to stop as well. Sarvell came in close before stopping, careful to avoid letting Dan’s head anywhere near the other two stallions. The horses had gotten to be friends, of a sort, but three stallions near each other was asking for trouble that he’d rather avoid.

“Well?” the Ramathan asked patiently.

“It’s impossible to see if there’re any Thornockian spies lurking around in Hawleywood,” Sarvell reported with a shrug. “There’re too many foreigners. I didn’t even try. But I did look at the posted bounty and the description there is vague at best. Small, blind girl stolen by a Ramathan and a blond haired man that might or might not be Brynian.”

Chizeld and Rialt looked at him with twin looks of disbelief. Sarvell shrugged, half-agreeing with them. “It
was
dark when we busted her out,” he pointed out mildly.

“No
that
dark!” Rialt protested.

“Did they have my name on it?” Jewel asked, worrying at her bottom lip.

“Just the High Priestess of Thornock. I really have to wonder what information the bounty hunters themselves are being told. It’s got to be more information than that flyer, surely.” Sarvell intended to ask his father at the first opportunity too, as Pop always kept track of any and all information.

Rialt turned to look at everyone in turn. “We do no fit the description.”

“No,” Chizeld agreed thoughtfully, also studying the group. “A simple disguise might well be enough to fool most watchers.”

Sarvell hoped so, but not all bounty hunters were foolish enough to be fooled by a disguise. He looked over the group again, this time focusing on other things. Chizeld still looked tired, as he had cause to be. The man had ridden hard to catch up with them, but hadn’t gotten a full night’s rest since then as he took turns standing watch. Rialt had just come off a three month campaign against the Daath before being called to a rescue, and he had been mentally and physically taxed ever since. The fatigue could be easily seen in the deepening lines around his eyes and mouth. Sarvell probably had more energy than either man, and even he felt like just sleeping a full day.

They needed at least two or three days of peace. Staying with his parents would win them that, as no bounty hunter would dare cross the Sorpan family, not if he wanted to keep doing business. But three days of rest would mean that Thornock had more time to get better information out there, and recruit better watchers.

Shaking his head, he turned the horse about. Even if they rode their horses into the ground, trying to stay ahead, they wouldn’t get anywhere. Two days of rest and a day of shopping would likely do them more good. “Let’s go. We can stay with my parents.”

~*~*~*~

Hawleywood, to Jewel’s senses, seemed very like Wexels. They arrived at the city’s gates soon after the warmth of the sun had disappeared behind the horizon. But even at this time of the evening, the place thrived with sounds of all sorts. There were still merchants at this time of the night, bartering deals, their voices rising and falling as they bargained. People were going this way and that, walking, talking, or riding along in wagons. The only difference that she could detect was through the scent of the place—she smelled the faintest hint of the putrid stink of tanneries, the smoldering tang of smithies, and the peculiar chemical odor of dyes. This city’s livelihood depended on craftsman and their wares and the scent of their work lingered in the air even after they’d stopped working for the day.

Sarvell greeted the gate guards by name, passing pleasantries with them as they went through the gates. Jewel supposed that being part of a merchant family meant that he went in and out of the city all of the time. Over the years, he’d inevitably met all of the city guardsmen at one point or another.

A shiver ran along her skin. The days were warming quickly as winter lost its grip on the land and spring took over, but the nights still had a distinct chill. Rialt must have caught her reaction, as he opened his coat and pulled the edges of it around her shoulders. She leaned back into his chest and reached up, grasping the lapels and holding them shut. His body heat felt perfectly delicious and she smiled at the pleasant sensation.

“We will be inside soon enough,” he murmured against the top of her head.

She simply nodded in agreement.

They travelled for some time along crowded streets at a moderate walk. They left the more crowded streets for a quieter section of town. She didn’t hear as much foot traffic here, and the strong scents of the craftsman’s section faded. “Are we in a neighborhood?”

“Eh, and a fancy one at that.”

“Here we are!” Sarvell called from up ahead. “The stables are around back.”

“What does it look like?” she asked Rialt quietly.

“Three stories it be, made of brick and columns,” he responded just as quietly. “Sits on a pretty piece of property with flowers and trees and the like in the yard. If I did no know better, I would say it be a noble’s house.”

So Sarvell’s family was that affluent? Interesting. His clothes and speech said that he was well to do, but she hadn’t realized just how well. “Your descriptions are getting better, Rialt.”

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest. “It be all the practice I am getting.”

The echo of the horse’s hooves changed to a more repetitive sound, making Jewel think that they’d moved into a more enclosed space. The stable yard, likely, considering the smell that had just entered her nostrils. The odor wasn’t overwhelming, someone obviously kept the place clean, but horses were definitely kept here. A door opened from somewhere to her right and a female voice called out, “Sarvell!”

“Torilee!” Sarvell responded with obvious affection. He dismounted quickly, landing with two simultaneous thumps, and then strode forward. Jewel smiled when she heard the girl launch herself into the air, and the slight grunt when Sarvell caught her. This must be his younger sister that he’d told so many stories about.

“I’m so glad to see you!” Torilee said, her voice slightly muffled. (Head buried against her brother’s shoulder, perhaps?) “Where
have
you been, anyway?”

“On a rescue,” he responded simply. “Here, Tori, let go. I’ll introduce you—”

“Sarvell!” this time it was a male voice, loud and slightly gravelly.

“Pop.” The smile could be heard in Sarvell’s voice as he greeted his father.

“A fine hello it is, to be skulking around the stable yard at this time of night!” the older man scolded, half-teasing. “Where have you been, anyway?”

Jewel didn’t need to hear Sarvell’s answer, so she half-turned to Rialt and asked, “What do they look like?”

“Clearly related, these three. The girl be slender and pretty, but she has got Sarvell’s fair skin and hair. I would judge she be near your age. His father be a bit more stout but he be so akin to Sarvell’s looks as to make no never mind.”

Well, that gave her a better idea of his family. After all, she knew very well Sarvell’s appearance.

“What’s all this commotion?” another female voice, slightly deeper than Torilee’s demanded only to gasp in surprise in the next instant. “Sarvell! Oh, sweetie, we were so worried! Where
have
you been?”

That simply
had
to be his mother. The maternal tone could not be mistaken for anything else.

“She has got a plump, motherly figure to her, but with dark hair and a pretty smile,” Rialt murmured, unprompted. “Sarvell does no look a thing like her.”

Must be from his father that he drew his looks then.

Sarvell answered his mother’s question, but only with the bare essentials before turning his attention back to them. “Come on, don’t just sit there. Wait, Jewel, I’ll come get you.”

She actually could have gotten down herself—not that she’d ever been able to convince these three of that—but she chose to wait until Sarvell reached up for her. When she felt his hands on her waist, she put both arms around his neck and leaned against him as he pulled her free of the horse. Bortonor immediately pressed up against her side. She reached down with one hand and ruffled his neck (which he liked, judging by the tail thumping against the back of her legs).

Sarvell released her just enough for her to stand on her own, but he kept a supportive hand on the small of her back. “Everyone, this is Jewel Jomadd, High Priestess of Thornock. Jewel, this is my mother Pursa, my father Stalton, and my younger sister Torilee.”

She smiled in the direction that she thought they were standing and gave a nod in acknowledgement. “I’m glad to meet you.”

“And this is Rialt Axheimer and Chizeld Lorin,” Sarvell continued.

“It be sorry we are to drop in unannounced,” Rialt rumbled.

“No, I’m very glad you’re here,” Pursa responded and by her tone, clearly meant it. “Stalton, help them with the horses? And Priestess Jomadd, you come with me. It looks like you’ve been traveling all day, and I’m sure you’d like a chance to wash up and have a decent supper.”

Sarvell might not have inherited his mother’s looks, but he’d certainly inherited her charm. Jewel’s polite smile became more natural. “Thank you, that does sound wonderful.” She half turned to the man standing behind her. “Rialt, my saddlebag?”

“Do no worry, lass, I will bring it,” he assured her.

Well, if he insisted… “Let’s go, Bort.”

The dog started walking at a steady pace, which she easily kept up with. She could hear Pursa walking ahead and a door open. After a dozen or so paces Bort paused, indicating that there was a step in front of her. Jewel paused as well, cautiously feeling forward with her toe until she could discern the height of the step. When she found it, she stepped up, giving him a pat on the head in thanks.

Thankfully, it was only the one step up, and then the floor became level again. Bort maneuvered her through the door without pause.

“Priestess…forgive me for asking, but are you blind?” Even as Pursa asked, it sounded as if she were doubting herself.

“Yes.” Jewel smiled at her to show that she didn’t mind the question.

“Oh, that son of mine!” Pursa grumbled. “He should have warned me. I’m so sorry, I’ll do a better job of guiding you. Here, give me your hand.”

“Actually, it’s easier for me if I can put my hand in the crook of your elbow,” Jewel corrected. “It gives me a better sense of where you’re going.”

“Oh. Well, let’s do that, then.” Without ceremony, Pursa guided her hand to rest on her arm. Jewel could feel the slender strength under her hand and felt a measure of surprise from it. She’d half-expected a pampered matron considering the wealth all around her. But this woman clearly knew how to work. “Now, the bedrooms are to the right and up a flight of stairs.”

With Bortonor on one side and Pursa on the other, Jewel had no trouble following them around the house. As they walked, Pursa said, “Sarvell said that you’d had a rough time of it and that he had to rescue you from Belthain’s dungeons. We’ve heard such wild rumors about you being abducted. I don’t suppose I could have the true story?”

“Of course.” Jewel filled in her hostess as they walked up the stairs and into a guest bedroom. Pursa guided her around the room and silently showed her where things were even as Jewel explained. She’d only gotten half-way through the story when Rialt’s heavy tread approached the doorway.

“There you are, lass. Here be your bag.”

Jewel stopped mid-sentence and held out a hand. “Thank you.”

As he put the leather strap in her hand, he continued, “Ma’am, if you do no mind it, I will take yon bedroom. It be best for one of us to be next door, do you see.”

“That will be just fine, Master Axheimer. Priestess, I do want to hear the rest of your story, but I have a feeling it will have to wait until dinner. Is that alright?”

“Perfectly,” she assured the matron. “We should probably wait anyway. I’m sure your husband and daughter also want to hear the tale.”

“That’s true. I’ll have water brought up for both of you. Now, what should I have prepared for the dog?”

“Scraps are fine,” Jewel assured her, belatedly realizing that most people wouldn’t allow a dog inside of the house. “He likes breads and meats of all sorts. Actually, the only thing he won’t eat is lettuce.”

“Smart dog,” Rialt muttered.

Jewel bit her lip to keep from snickering.

“I’ll have a plate made up for him,” Pursa assured her. “Come down when you’re ready. Oh, and Priestess, call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Jewel assured her.

Rialt gave her a pat on the shoulder after their hostess had left. “I will be next door.”

“Thank you,” she said simply. After he left she brought out the one clean dress she had from the pack and laid it on the bed. It probably had more wrinkles than an old man’s face but she couldn’t do anything about that. A quiet maid brought up a large pitcher of warm water. Jewel took a few moments to wet a towel and wipe the travel dirt off. Then she shinnied into the other dress, brushed out her hair, and headed back downstairs.

Sarvell must have been lying in wait for her, as he appeared before her feet even touched the bottom floor and escorted her. He gave her a brief tour of the ground floor so that she had it mapped out in her mind before taking her back to the table. She felt more comfortable in the house now that she had a general layout memorized.

Dinner passed pleasantly enough. She, Sarvell and Rialt took turns telling the story of the rescue and everything that happened after that. With three of them talking, Jewel managed to find time to eat before her food became cold.