The Battle Lord's Lady (26 page)

It was twilight, and the air was still.
Overhead, stars were popping out in the night sky. In the distance
the funeral fires were beginning to die, the curls of smokes
dissipating. Unaware they were being watched, Yulen pulled Atty
against him and bowed his head, resting his cheek against hers as
she pressed her hands against his back. He closed his eyes and
sighed deeply. All evening. All night. He would be able to hold her
and love her, and she would begin to heal him. From here on the
battle would be all uphill, but the worst was over. And she would
always be here, waiting for him.

After a moment Atty alerted him of a knock on
the bedroom door, and together they left the balcony, closing the
outer door behind them.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Opinion

MaGrath found the Battle Lord sitting at one
of the long tables in the main hall doing the paperwork that needed
to be read, signed, and distributed. It was the only part of the
job Yulen truly abhorred, just as his father did before him, but it
was a necessary evil. When the time came when he could no longer
shunt it to one side, he’d go down to the main hall and spread it
all out, just as he’d been taught by his father. This time,
however, the physician had the feeling the man was delving into the
paperwork as an escape, rather than thinking of it as a duty.

The physician grabbed two mugs of beer from
the kitchen before sauntering over to where the man was reading a
long list, most likely the inventory from the compound’s stores. He
set one mug where Yulen could see it, then took a seat opposite
him.

“I hate these yearly sweeps,” the Battle Lord
mumbled. “Too much happens when I’m gone.”

“Yeah. Well, that’s to be expected.
When we got back, I found out that Macintyre had completely
depleted my stores of antibiotics. If there’s one thing you
never
allow yourself to run out of,
it’s antibiotics.”

Yulen cast an eye in his direction as he
reached for the beer. “Bet you gave him an earful.”

MaGrath nodded, smiling from the memory. “But
I’ll bet you he’ll never do it again. Serves me right, anyway.
That’s what I get for leaving an apprentice in charge of the
compound when I go traipsing about the countryside with you.”

Chuckling, Yulen took a sip and set
down the drink to return to the paperwork. “But that’s over now,
isn’t it? No more senseless killings, thank God.
”

MaGrath watched him for a while, until the
Battle Lord gave him another subjective glance. “Did you need to
see me about anything in particular?” he finally asked
pointedly.

“Atty,” the physician responded bluntly. When
Yulen put down the paperwork and sat back, he knew he had the man’s
full attention.

“Okay, Liam. What now?”

“It’s been three days since the funeral.
Don’t you think it’s about time you let her out of that room?”

“When she’s ready to leave it, I won’t stop
her.”

MaGrath swallowed the smile that threatened
to break over his face. “I thought maybe the reason you were
keeping her up there was to protect her.”

“You know that’s part of it,” Yulen
acknowledged. “What’s your point? I swear, Liam, you are harder to
pin down than a snake.”

He took a sip of beer. “I just thought you’d
like to know what the talk is that’s going around the compound,
with regards to you and the little missus.”

Yulen snorted softly. “You know I do. So what
am I going to have to do to get you to spill the beans?” As the
compound’s main doctor, he knew MaGrath had his finger on the pulse
of the community, and was often privy to information he’d never be
able to obtain on his own. The only thing MaGrath ever denied him
was confidential details about individual people. It was part of
his oath he took when he became a physician, and Yulen respected
his decision.

“Well, for one thing, you’re going to have to
start being a bit more subtle in your attentions toward Atty.”

Blue-gray eyes narrowed, partly in confusion,
partly in anger. “What do you mean?”

MaGrath gestured toward the upstairs suite
with a nod of his head. “Did you forget your bathroom is directly
over the kitchen?”

“No. The tub drains through the kitchen’s
pipes, right behind the sinks. Why?”

“Didn’t you think the help would notice
whenever the ceiling begins to drip because a lot of water’s been
leaking out of the tub upstairs?”

“The tub doesn’t have a leak,” Yulen
continued, then abruptly stopped. He saw MaGrath waggle his
eyebrows at him. “All right. Noted. What else?”

The physician scratched his own neck with a
finger. “Nice love bite. Next time, though, you might want to think
about putting a bandage over it.”

Yulen sighed loudly. Lacing his fingers
together, he planted his elbows on the table and pressed his lips
against his hands. “Go on.”

“Just one more,” the physician promised.
“Whenever you two are outside on the balcony, remember there’s
probably about a dozen or so eyes watching you at any one time.
Doesn’t matter if it’s daylight or dark. You’re the Battle Lord,
and right now you two are the juiciest bit of news around
here.”

“So what are they saying, Liam? What’s their
opinion of Atty?”

“You want the good with the bad?”

“I want the truth, good
and
bad. Do you think there’s a
chance they could ever accept her?”

MaGrath shrugged. “How do you expect them to
accept her until they get to know her? They need to meet her. Talk
with her. Be with her face-to-face. You want the truth? I think
she’ll win them over once they get a taste of her sass and her
honesty. You don’t have to be around her long before you know how
innocent she is.”

“An innocent who killed sixteen of my
men.”

Sitting up straighter, the physician
leaned part-way over the table. “Do you have any knowledge of
what
your men
are saying about
her?”

He was pleased to see the alarm come over the
Battle Lord’s face. Yes, the man had only shouldered his position
for two short years, but he showed exceptional promise to become an
even greater leader than his father had been. In the meantime,
MaGrath felt it his lifelong duty to be this man’s mentor and
guide—a man he always thought of as the son he never had.

“Sit down, Yulen. I didn’t mean to worry
you.”

“What are they saying, Liam?”

“What are they saying? They’re telling
everyone about this girl’s incredible abilities. They’re telling
people about how she saved your butt from a bull ferret. They’re
telling people about her taking out Foster City’s pennant. What
they
don’t
have to mention is
how she fought alongside you against the Bloods. But I
can
tell you there’s plenty of talk
about her use of a bow up on the parapet that day. Yulen, you have
to let her go out on the field and show these people why you
originally brought her here. They already know what’s going on
between the two of you. Once they see and hear, they’ll understand.
Why, even old Berta is having second thoughts about you keeping her
a virtual prisoner upstairs.”

“Atty is not my prisoner,” Yulen stated.

“She’s not your wife, either. And neither is
she your mistress, although the general consensus is swayed the
other way.”

Lowering his hands, the Battle Lord
acquiesced. “You’re right. I’ll go speak with her. Let her know we
need to set up some trials. Otherwise the men aren’t going to stand
around and allow her to give them instructions.” He started to rise
when MaGrath reached over and laid a hand on his arm.

“No need to go upstairs. She’s already
gone.”

“
Gone?
” Yulen’s face paled. MaGrath was quick to
correct himself.

“Don’t panic. Not
gone
gone. I meant gone for a walk. It’s
Saturday, Market Day. Atty went for a walk out into the compound
proper.”

“By herself?”

“Yeah,” the physician nodded. “And
unarmed.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Walk

Atty took a deep breath to try and calm
herself, then stepped outside the door. By eavesdropping at the
bedroom window she’d learned that Saturday was Market Day. And if
the market was anything like it was in Wallis, it would be filled
with people laughing and arguing, buying and selling, renewing old
acquaintances and making new ones.

Liam had been right about one thing. If she
wanted these people to accept her, they had to get to know her.
That meant that at some point she had to venture away from Yulen’s
protective arm and away from the shielded privacy of the bedroom,
and walk among them. Talk to them. Let them get to know her, and
she them.

Immediately she was aware of everyone’s
reaction to her. She’d worn her hair down, knowing its color would
be like throwing down the gauntlet, but she no longer cared. They
knew she was at the compound. Talk was they’d seen her and the
Battle Lord together, and knew from the soldiers’ and the servants’
gossip they were intimately involved.

No more tip-toeing around, she’d decided.
Time to jump in feet first with eyes wide open and chin held
high.

And to make extra sure there would be no
mistaking her intentions, Atty had deliberately left her weapons
belt in the bedroom. She would be a sheep among wolves, if that was
what it took to prove herself.

Rather than stop and see what the people
around her would do, she decided to look over the stalls. It wasn’t
long before she became fascinated by the assortment and variety of
items for sale or barter. Alta Novis was one of the largest
compounds this side of the Missip River, or so she’d been told. The
wagons and tents this day seemed to go on forever.

At one fruit stand she spotted the familiar
peaches she’d been enjoying, along with another couple of foods she
thought she recognized. The vendor eyed her cautiously, not yet
decided whether he would serve her or not.

“Excuse me, but what are those?” she asked
him, pointing to some large purple clusters.

“Grapes,” he replied stiffly, eyebrows
lowered. “Haven’t you ever seen grapes before?”

Atty shook her head. “Only in books.”

“Only in books?” A woman nearby parroted.
“You know how to read?”

Atty quickly swallowed her pride. She had to
remember these people had been indoctrinated with the same
half-truths and falsehoods that Yulen had been taught. For her to
get upset when they questioned her would not help matters.

“Yes, I can read,” she answered them
sincerely. “I was also taught some science and history. I can also
do my numbers, but not very well, I’m afraid. I hated mathematics,
except for the part where I had to learn about trajectory and wind
velocity and such. That part was important because I needed it for
my trials when I entered the hunters caste.”

To her surprise, the vendor handed her a
grape, which she accepted with a smile. “Thank you.” Tentatively
she bit into it and found it tantalizingly sweet. Instantly her
mind went back to that morning when she’d had her first peach, and
Yulen had then had her. A light blush flushed her cheeks. “It’s
good! Where do you get these? Are they grown nearby?”

“We trade with the compounds along the
route,” the woman vendor across the way told her. “Some of them
have their own vineyards and orchards.”

Atty thanked the man again for the taste and
continued to stroll along the way. Some people stared as she
passed, which was what she expected. Many stopped talking as she
neared, which made her wonder if she’d been the topic of
conversation.

At one small shed she noticed a display of
knives and daggers glistening in the mid-morning sunlight. One
dagger in particular drew her eye, and she reached out to run her
fingertips down its blade.

“You have excellent taste,” a man came out
from inside the building to tell her.

“It’s...beautiful,” Atty told him. “Did you
make this yourself?”

He nodded. “My name’s Cavender. I’m the
master knife smith here in Alta Novis. You’re Atty, aren’t
you?”

She nodded. The man was unreadable. It was
hard to tell if he was sizing her up, or if he was being guarded.
Which was why she was surprised when he reached past her and lifted
down the dagger from its holder.

“This particular one is called a Ballock
dagger. Are you familiar with it?”

She shook her head.

“I made the grip of burled black ash because
I liked the grain. The blade is double-edged. Personally I love the
heft. Just under eleven ounces. Here, try it.”

Atty stared wide-eyed as Cavender handed her
the weapon, allowing her to adjust to its feel. “Well, what do you
think?”

Although it was a larger than normal dagger,
it felt good and solid in her hand. She looked up when the knife
smith pointed to a knothole in a tree twenty-five feet away.

“Go ahead and try to hit the tree,” he
challenged her.

Around them people stopped and gathered to
watch, waiting to see what the Mutah woman would do. Secretly she
wondered if they were wanting her to hit the tree, or to miss.
Either way, Atty knew she couldn’t be anything other than
herself.