Queen's Hunt (27 page)

Raul paused in front of an old wooden building. He scraped his knuckles over the door and whistled a lilting tune in a minor key. After a brief wait, another whistle answered. Raul rapped sharply in a one-two-one rhythm.

The door swung open to show a bulky man whose body filled the frame. Ilse recognized his face. His name was Gervas, and he had come to Kosenmark’s household five years ago. Like the rest of the guards, Gervas was dressed in dark gray and black clothing, and in the twilight, he was little more than a looming silhouette except for a thin edge of light reflecting from the short sword in his hand.

“My lord,” he said. “Trouble?”

“A bit. Nothing terrible.”

Raul led his party inside, past Gervas and a second armed guard. Ilse had the impression of a vast empty space, the air dank and smelling of wood rot and sludge. She could hear a sucking noise—water against pilings—and the rill of a free-flowing river. In the distance, she made out a pattern of faint gray lines. Cracks in the walls? Shutters? She couldn’t tell. They’d reached an abandoned warehouse of sorts. Alesso had delivered her message—that much was clear. When Raul had arrived, and how he had discovered her whereabouts, was not.

She reached out for Raul’s arm, only to find he had moved on. He stood a short distance away, speaking to one of his men in a soft, high whisper.

“We have a temporary shelter,” Raul said as she came to his side.

“How temporary?” she asked.

“A few hours, no longer. As I mentioned, Emmetz does have a watch of sorts. One of them will eventually discover a few bodies…”

“And those thieves will report us for the reward,” Valara said.

Raul regarded her with a slight smile. A leopard’s smile, neither safe nor friendly. “They might,” he said. “Would you rather I had killed them all?”

“Perhaps. Does that prove your moral superiority?”

He laughed. “An interesting question. Let us discuss the matter in more comfort.”

An open staircase in the middle of the room led up to a trapdoor. Raul whistled a different tune. There was an answering whistle, then the trapdoor creaked open. “My lord,” said a woman’s voice. “We didn’t expect you so soon.”

“Does that mean Barrent doesn’t have our supper ready?”

“He says nearly, my lord. Give us another quarter bell.”

She heaved the door to one side, and they climbed through into another empty cavern of a room. Farther off, two men stood around an iron kettle filled with burning coals. The scent of leeks and fish and olive oil wafted toward the newcomers. Raul indicated to Valara and Galena that they should join the others. Ilse was about to follow, when he touched her arm.

“One moment,” he murmured in her ear. “I need a word alone with you.”

He took her through another door into a smaller chamber lit by moonlight from an open window. Blankets and gear were stacked in one corner. Outside, a balcony ran the length of the building, and stairs zigzagged down to the alleyway below, where another pair of guards patrolled. The sight reminded Ilse of the previous summer, when Raul had hired scores of new guards because of his private war with Markus Khandarr.

That war never ended. It never will, until one of them dies.

And even death was no guarantee.

Raul shut the door and whispered the invocation to magic. A sharp green scent rolled through the air, the scent of crushed grass and wildflowers. He spoke a second phrase and silence closed around them.

Ilse turned. In the moonlight, Raul’s eyes were like shining golden disks. Underneath the scent of magic came the sharper scent of blood, both from his clothing and hers. Ilse felt a tug deep within. There was something wrong in this painful spurt of desire, but she had no wish to suppress it just now. And yet she found it impossible to move, to do more than stare at him from across the room.

His mouth curved into a smile. “Are you hungry?”

Ilse laughed weakly. “Oh yes.”

His words, her laughter, released her from inaction.

She walked toward him into his embrace. It was not necessary to kiss. The warmth of his body, the pressure of his arms around her, the scent of wood smoke and cedar and sweat, a scent that was entirely his. She held him tightly. The shirt’s cloth felt wonderfully rough against her cheek. Through the fabric, she heard the rapid beat of his heart.
I love him. I always have. In lives before and times long ago. Today and now. Through all my future days.

Raul buried his face into her hair. “Your message came to me last week. Unfortunately, Khandarr set a watch on my house. It took several days before I could arrange matters to escape without his notice.”

At first she could only take in his presence, his arms holding her tightly, and his voice, which was like an invocation to a different kind of magic. But then the meaning of his words broke through. “It came only last week? But—”

“Last week,” he repeated. “Six days before that came a report you had died.”

She pressed harder against him. Felt him trembling.
Oh my love.

His lips brushed her cheeks. His breath feathered her hair, as he continued. “I had word that our usual channels were not to be trusted. I went immediately to Aschlau, then sent my best trackers to sweep the hills. They sighted you when you came into Emmetz. As soon as I got word, I … I hurried.”

Hurried. Such a lovely, ordinary word. She wanted to laugh again, but tears choked her voice, and it took a few moments before she could say anything close to sensible. “I am so glad you did,” she said. “Let me tell you more.”

He gave her the flask again. She drank sparingly, because she did not want the wine to muddle her thoughts, and quickly told him about Valara, from their first encounter in the pleasure house, to their flight through Osterling’s streets, to their confrontation with the soldiers and how Valara killed them with magic. She went on to describe Valara’s attempted escape and her subdued behavior since.

Throughout, Raul listened without interruption. When she was done, he considered a moment, then asked, “What about the ship? Do you still believe we should give her aid?”

She blew out a breath. “I don’t know. But I believe it would be a terrible mistake to leave her to Khandarr or Leos Dzavek. Morennioù has one jewel. Dzavek and Khandarr both would use this woman as a hostage to obtain it, which means war between all our kingdoms. However, I’ve promised nothing so far, only that you would listen to her. In return she must listen to you.”

“Fair enough,” he said. “What else must I know before we return to the others?”

What warning could she give? All her impressions, beliefs, and second thoughts flashed through her mind. There was so much she wanted to tell him, but in the end one quality stood out from the rest. “She lies,” she said simply. “Every moment. You cannot trust her.”

“How interesting.” He shook with silent laughter. “We should deal famously then. What is the truth behind her stories, do you think?”

She shook her head. “Better that you listen and make your own judgment.”

“Which is a judgment itself. Nevertheless, I see what you mean. I shall be cautious.”

His hand brushed against her hair. Ilse tilted her face up to see him studying her. Moonlight picked out silver at his temples. She wondered what other changes the past seven months had worked within and without the man. She wondered what changes he had remarked in her.

I shall have to tell him about Alesso.

Not yet. Not when they had found each other again.

She laid a hand on his chest, closed her eyes, and tried to reach for a calm and focus she did not possess in the moment. Raul had sensed the change in her mood, because he loosened his embrace. “Come,” he said. “We’ll eat our supper and head north. Then we can talk with our queen.”

*   *   *

WITHIN TWO HOURS,
they had crossed the river by the nearest fording and left Emmetz behind for the rain-wet fields beyond. They marched in single file along a muddy goat track, which rose slowly from the riverbanks to the lower slopes of the northern hills. The company kept to an easy pace, with frequent stops, but Raul did not call a halt until several hours later, when they had gained the edge of a pine and oak forest.

The guards went to work at once to set up their new camp, fetching water and deadwood, stretching lengths of canvas to make shelters. Ilse leaned against a tree trunk, overtaken by weariness. The moon had set an hour before. Far to the east, the first pale bands of dawn showed, but the river valley below was overrun with shadows. The air smelled fresh and cool, with a foretelling of rain.

“Do we go on tomorrow?” she asked Raul.

“Not until we talk with your queen,” he said. “I want to make certain we agree on the essentials.”

One of the guards approached. Raul turned away. Ilse listened to them discuss the watch rotation. She rubbed her palms against her eyes. The brief spurt of joy at seeing Raul had faded hours ago, during the long march into the hills. She had not removed the reason for their separation. She had merely changed the direction of their plans. What came next depended on Valara Baussay.

Raul and the guard were still deep in conversation. Ilse took herself to the edge of camp. Galena and Valara had disappeared. Another guard, Ada Geiss, told Ilse that Galena had volunteered to dig latrines. Valara had retired into her tent for the night. Ada’s expression was bland, but Ilse caught a hint of amusement in her voice, and she wondered just what Valara had said or done to provoke that.

Most likely she was herself.

She asked where she ought to sleep, and Ada pointed her to Raul’s tent. It was the largest of the camp, with a portable writing desk in the corner and a small metal box layered in spells, a miniature of the one he used in Tiralien. Several packs stowed in one corner. Two mattresses, she noted, both made from blankets tucked around pine branches.

On the bed to her left, someone had laid out clean clothes and other necessary items, all of them sized for Ilse. Next to the bed she found her old gear from Tiralien—leather armor, wrist sheaths, even the metal helmet she used for weapons drill on those days when Benedikt Ault pushed her exceptionally hard.
I love him,
she thought.
All over again. He does not come to rescue me. He comes to deliver me weapons.

Ilse changed into a new shirt and trousers, and lay down on her pine mattress. The crushed scent of needles reminded her of magic’s green scent. Magic, that rare and dangerous current, and yet the ordinary world was filled with reminders of its presence. Crushed grass, the tang of forests, the rich perfume of new blossomed wildflowers. Was it, as the old scholars insisted, only a matter of setting your gaze in the right direction? And if that were true, why were so many blind to it?

Rain pattered against the tent ceiling, a rhythmic tap-tapping that emptied her thoughts. Eventually, she slept.

*   *   *

SHE DREAMED OF
rain drumming against canvas, against doors and windowpanes. Gradually the rain faded away and she walked in silence through dreams of a milk-white palace. Narrow windows showed a night sky salted with stars. Snow hushed against the stone walls outside. And everywhere hung the scent of magic.

A prince of Károví sat opposite her, his lean dark face intent upon the book between them. It is a matter of discipline, he said.

His eyes were large and bright, like a bird’s. He wore a ruby in one ear, a sapphire set into his cheek. She touched the smaller emerald in her own cheek. Its presence chafed, but she willed away these thoughts and concentrated on the text, an antique volume that one of the diplomats from the Erythandran Court had brought as a gift to her, in recognition of her position as the affianced bride to the Károvín heir. She had showed it to Leos because she respected his opinion in scholarly matters. As usual, they had begun to argue.

Discipline is but one ingredient, she said. You know that, Leos.

Talent, he said with a dismissive gesture.

Not talent alone, she replied. Honor plays a role. So does heart. No, do not scoff, Leos. There are cases throughout history that support my theory that magic is both act and consequence. Imagine if you were that wizard who discovered Lir’s jewel—except “discovered” is too soft a word for what he did.

It doesn’t matter what he did. He served his king.

No, she said. He captured the magic for himself. He took the gift of magic and entrapped it inside a dead stone for his own glory. He paid a terrible price—

She stopped at his expression. You know nothing about him, he said coldly. He rose, taking up the book as he did so. Thank you for the gift. I will treasure it.

He stalked away, his gait unnaturally awkward. She did not have the courage to remind him the gift had been intended for her. She glanced out the window, to the vista of rooftops and the plains beyond. Clouds passed before the sun, casting the room into shadow. It had begun to snow, in spite of the spring season, the flakes coming down large and wet against the expensive glass panes of the window.

She woke to the trill of running water. The air inside the tent was warm and close. The scent she smelled was crushed grass drenched in rain. Ordinary things from an ordinary world, but still her pulse beat an uncomfortable tattoo as she took in the implications of her dream. She and Dzavek, together, in the days before Károví broke away from the empire. Why had she never dreamed of him before?

Oh. But I have.

She recalled the image of Dzavek’s face as he turned away—an image she had dreamed a hundred times without understanding its import. And another dream, of darkness and torchlight and a blade flashing toward her throat. There was even the moment when she had glimpsed her grandmother’s life dream, to see herself in the same white palace. Fragments only, and yet if she had had the wit to piece them together, she might have understood her part in this spectacle.

But no, I only thought how my life had intersected with Raul’s.