Mirror Sight (59 page)

W
hen she drifted to sleep once more, she dreamed she gazed down at Cade from atop a stone horse. He wore Weapon black, sword and pistol girded at his side. She tried to speak to him, to reach for him, but she, too, was made of stone.

Despite this and other disturbing dreams, she felt noticeably better the next day, much more herself. As she rode in the back of the wagon, she did not drift in a haze, and the shakes had ceased.

Cade informed her they were traveling along the Capital Way, but she saw little that reminded her of the old Corsa Road, as it had once been named. The farm fields and woods she had known were transformed into towns both small and large. They were all gray granite and brick red, the people as somber as those in Mill City.

Raven, in contrast, seeming to have noticed her improvement, pranced and cavorted behind the wagon. He looked like he wanted a good long run, but she wasn’t ready to sit a saddle, nor did she think Luke or Cade would allow her to take Raven for a ride in this unknown region. She was, however, tiring of being an invalid and, like Raven, craved a good cross-country gallop.

The canal never strayed far from the road, and the farther south they traveled, the busier it became with the odd wheel-sided boats pulling others laden with everything from passengers to livestock. At midday they pulled up at a roadside tavern next to a set of locks. As usual, Cade and Karigan were left outside to wait while Luke swaggered his way into the tavern to dine.

“I hope he brings me something different than soup,” Karigan said.

“You’re hungry?”

“Yes,” she said, surprised to realize it was true.

“Good, you’re getting better.” The relief in his voice was palpable.

While they waited, they watched a pair of young men tend the locks, raising the water level between the gates so boats could continue from one elevation of the canal to the next. Cade tensed as two of the paddle boats, positioned side by side and each towing two packets filled with armed men in gray uniforms, came into view on the rising water.

“Who are they?” Karigan asked.

“Infantry of the imperial army.”

“Heading to Mill City?”

“That would be my guess.”

They watched as the boats, once at the proper level, chugged up the canal. Cade paced, keeping an eye on the locks, but when the lock keepers returned to their little gatehouse to take their ease, he appeared even more anxious.

“What is it?” Karigan asked.

“There should have been more.”

“More?”
She tried to keep her voice low. “There were a lot of soldiers on those boats.”

“Not enough for a siege,” he replied.

She understood. If Mill City was not to be held under siege, it must mean his people had failed to take the city.

“They didn’t have an equipment barge or anything,” Cade said. “I’m thinking those troops are just for show, to help keep order in the city—to supplement the Inspector force, not to battle to regain control of it.”

Cade fell into a pensive silence, but even with his dire conclusions, Karigan could think only of her growling stomach. When Luke finally returned bearing their midday meals, she could have kissed him—instead of soup, he’d brought her a meat pie. She was so hungry she dug right in and missed Cade’s and Luke’s low but emphatic discussion, until she heard Luke say, “You spent too much time around the professor. His paranoia has rubbed off on you. You don’t even know if those soldiers were headed to Mill City.”

Which would be worse, she thought, because that meant Cade’s rebellion hadn’t gone off at all.

“Look,” Luke said, “we have no way of knowing what’s going on. You know how the Inspectors can suppress the spread of news. I’ve been keeping my ears and eyes open at our stops, but I haven’t picked up anything of interest yet.”

“I can’t help but worry,” Cade replied.

“Yes, that is the lot of those who would lead,” Luke said, “and while it is commendable, a good leader must also move forward. There is nothing we can do for our friends in Mill City, except fulfill our end of the plan. Or at least try.”

Cade’s shoulders sagged. “You are right.”

Luke smiled and clapped him on the back. “Good man.” Turning to Karigan, he asked, “How was your meat pie, young Tam?”

With some surprise, Karigan realized she had devoured the whole thing, even the burned pie crust edges. “Er, good.” She’d eaten so fast she couldn’t even remember tasting it.

“I’m glad to see your appetite improving. Harley, you best eat, too. We’ve a long haul ahead of us this afternoon.”

Karigan’s full belly and the warm afternoon left her drowsy, and she nodded off as the wagon gently swayed. As she drifted, she heard hoofbeats. Hoofbeats thrumming through her, making her heart hammer in rhythm. It was not the slow plod of the mules she heard but the rhythm of a messenger horse cantering. Raven whinnied, and she came to herself with a start, glancing about with bleary eyes. Oddly, she still heard the hooves. She had not been dreaming or imagining them.

In fact, they grew louder.

She sat up in time to see horse and rider pass by. The rider did not wear messenger green, but Inspector red. Still, she knew that intent look on the man’s face as he cantered by, and his sure, competent seat, and she knew a horse in good enough form to run long and hard. Even in this time and place, with all she knew turned upside down, she could pick out a fellow messenger. She reached beneath her jacket and caressed her brooch, feeling more homesick than ever.

The hoofbeats ebbed as the messenger put distance between them, but she remained so stirred by his passing that by the time they reached their inn for the night, she practically jumped out of the wagon and nearly fell into a pile of manure. She saved herself by grabbing the tailgate.

Cade came around back. “Here now, what are you doing?”

Luke had already gone to the inn to secure their rooms for the night. She clamped her hands on Cade’s arm.

“I need my things,” she said.

“Your things?”

“The hidden things,” she whispered.

He looked uneasy. “You mean your, um, walking cane?”

“No, not that. The satchel.”

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to—”

“Please,” she said. “It’s important.” She did not explain it was probably only important to her.

He gazed hard at her, then nodded. “All right, after supper, when it’s a little darker. Now remember, you’re supposed to be sick, so no more leaping out of wagons.”

She nodded, and when she realized she was still hanging onto his arm, she reluctantly let go. Luke returned with their bunk assignment and wished them a good night. Karigan wondered how much extra Luke was paying out to ensure their privacy and if they’d have enough to reach Gossham, but neither he nor Cade seemed concerned. The professor’s stash in the stable must have been considerable. She shrugged and decided that since they were not worried, she wouldn’t be.

“I should probably pretend to be holding you up, like the other nights,” Cade told her.

She raised her eyebrows.
Pretend?
Despite her leap from the wagon, she still felt weak enough that she would not have to pretend. Yet this time, when he wrapped his arm around her to support her, and hers settled around his waist, it felt different. She was more conscious of their bodies touching, their hips bumping as they walked. She bowed her head so none could read her face, see her blush.

When they reached the bunkhouse, they stood inside, arm in arm for a lingering moment until Cade cleared his throat and pulled away from her. As though there had been no closeness, they began what had become a routine of settling in and sitting down to supper, this time with a platter of pork roast and potatoes.

Karigan was pleased once again to have solid food and made admirable inroads on her meal. She was quickly full, however.

“So, what happens when we reach Gossham?” she asked Cade. She’d been too deep in the fog of the morphia to worry about it before now.

“Luke has a letter of introduction from the city master of Mill City to be presented to Webster Silk. Forged, of course.”

“Dr. Silk’s father,” Karigan said.

Cade nodded. “It should get us into the palace, and that is, invariably, where they are taking the Eletian. Of Arhys, I’m less certain. It depends how much Silk suspects, if anything. Perhaps he is simply amused by her.”

“Amused?” Karigan couldn’t imagine anyone being amused by that girl, but she made no joke of it for the lines of concern were deeply graven on Cade’s face.

“Just like the professor, Silk is a collector, and he will be intrigued by anything that was once the professor’s. He will want to know why the professor found her interesting enough to shelter her.”

“Lorine, too,” Karigan said.

“Perhaps. And you. Especially you.”

“All of us. We were all collected by the professor.”

“I’ll be of less interest,” Cade replied. “Silk already knows my story.”

“That you were a button thief?”

Cade nodded and smiled. “Yes.”

An uneasy silence fell between them. The very air felt charged. Did he feel it, too? She wished to shatter that silence, say something—anything at all—but she couldn’t seem to put two thoughts together, and she had never been like some girls to whom inane chatter came easily. When Cade cleared his throat, she jumped.

“I was wondering,” he began.

“Yes?” she asked too eagerly.

He couldn’t quite look at her. “I mean, I know little of your life back . . . Well, back at your home. I know it’s the circumstances. It was not appropriate for me to ask when you were Miss Goodgrave, and so much has happened since.”

“What do you want to know?” She wondered if he were about to quiz her about her time like the professor once had. Did he want to know about society and customs, or religion and law? All those ordinary details that had brought life to the objects in the professor’s collection.

“What I’m asking . . .” There was a slight tremble to his voice. “I mean . . .”

Now she was worried. He shouldn’t have such trouble asking about what was, to him, history. Something in particular was on his mind. He looked at everything in the bunkhouse but her.

“What is it? I won’t bite your head off whatever it is—I swear.”

Quite suddenly he grinned. “You do? You swear?”

“I do.”

He nodded. “It is not the easiest thing to ask, but here it is. Back in your home, do you have a suitor?”

“A what?” she asked faintly.

“You know, is someone waiting for you? A man who is special?”

Karigan’s fork clattered on her on her plate and she sat back in her chair, gazing at him in astonishment.

“I—I want to go back with you,” he said, “and I need to know the lay of the land, so to speak.”

A
suitor?
A wave of warmth rolled over her. Yes, once before he had expressed a desire to accompany her back in time. She had not known if he’d spoken in whimsy, until now. And now he watched her intently, waiting for an answer.

“What about Arhys?”

“I will attempt to help her as I can, but if you—we—make it back to your time, we can change the present, and she will not need me. All will be as it should, and there will be plenty of Weapons to protect her.

“So, do you have a suitor?”

“Um . . .” She swallowed hard. It was plain he had given this some thought. “My father tried to marry me off.”

Cade dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “But is there anyone special? A man in your life, one whose arms you will return to?”

She bit her bottom lip and looked away. “There is no guarantee I’ll find a way home, even if we free Lhean and don’t get killed in the process.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

There was a man back in her Sacor City. Did he wait for her, or had he forgotten her already? He’d have married Estora by now if their timelines were running parallel. Day of Aeryon had come and gone—not that they called the Longest Day that here.

“Karigan,” Cade said softly. He reached across the table, placed his fingers under her chin, and gently steered her gaze back toward him. “I need to know.”

King Zachary might await her as a king awaits a missing messenger, but he was not hers to claim. He had his queen, and Karigan was no more than his servant. She would not return to be held in his arms. She pulled up the barriers inside because it was a loss to accept it, to know it. She allowed nothing to show outwardly. There was just the scalding pain of emptiness inside.

“No, there is no one,” she told Cade.

He searched her eyes with an intense gaze, then nodded and stood a little too abruptly. “Good. I will go now.”

“Go?” she asked, perplexed by his sudden change in course. “Where are you going?”

“The wagon. You wanted your things, didn’t you?”

She nodded and sagged in her chair, exhausted. She’d been feeling better, but now the day was catching up with her. That’s what she told herself at least. She pushed her plate aside and pillowed her head on her arms on the table. She’d known there was that something between them, but when he’d declared his intent to be a celibate Weapon, she’d set aside—or tried to, at least—any expectation that their attraction would progress. She was well practiced in this setting-aside thing, first with Alton, then with King Zachary.