BloodLust (Rise of the Iliri Book 1) (10 page)

Sal left the store dressed in soft brown breeches, knee high boots, and a billowy white shirt, the type of attire found fashionable for travel.  She then made her way back to the front gate and booked a trip to the Stables at Stonewater under the name Siana Praxis.

Chapter 12

The carriage rumbled into the Stables and pulled to the side.  As the passengers were assisted out, footmen retrieved their luggage, placing it in neat rows for the owners to retrieve.  The horses were unhitched from the shafts and walked away while fresh ones were brought in to replace them.  It was very organized and precise.  Sal watched wide eyed, knowing that the persona of Siana should be impressed.  She looked around, taking in the sights, before she made her way to her bag – filled only with the clothing she'd recently bought – and sought out an employee of the stables.

"Excuse me, sir, but can you point me to an inn or place to find lodging for the night?" she asked an older gentleman directing the harnessing of the horses.

He took a long look at her before answering.  "Yes ma'am.  It's just down that east road there, about a block.  Did you need me to have a boy carry your bags Ms...."

"Praxis," she supplied.  "No, I appreciate it, but there's no need.  I just have a strange layover.  It seems the next carriage doesn't leave out of Eastward back to Merriton for 2 days, and in Fort Landing they said the accommodations here are much nicer than my other options."

"Yes ma'am.  Sadly there's no straight route from Fort Landing to Merriton," he explained, more than happy to leave the horses to his underlings.

She tilted her head slightly and offered him a shy smile.  "So, tell me, is there anything to do here while I'm stranded?"

"Well... The Twin Traveler is a nice tavern I hear, good food and a quiet ambiance.  If you're looking for something more local, the Broken Soldier is the pub the military prefer.  It tends to be loud and rowdy, but the number of officers there makes it a safe place for a lady like yourself.  Besides those, no, there's not much to do here at the stables other than watch mounted drills."

"I see.  Well, is it ok if I wander around a bit?  I don't want to get in anyone's way."

"No ma'am, that isn't a problem at all.  Just stay out of the barns – the staff are real picky about the horses, you understand – and you won't have any problems."

She thanked him wholeheartedly and made her way in the direction he indicated.  It was the longer route around the stables but had less turns to navigate.  Sal took in the sights of military stabling with a new eye, pretending to see it for the first time.  She made sure to step carefully over manure and to pause to check her bearings before entering the lobby of a building with the simple sign that said only "Inn."

A matronly woman behind the counter smiled at her when she entered.  "Looking for a room, miss?"

"Yes'm," she said.  "I'll need today and tomorrow at least, and it's possible I'll be here tomorrow night as well, depending on if my carriage to Merriton is an overnight or early morning trip."

"Not a problem.  I'll just reserve the room for both nights then.  And how will you be paying for that?"

"Krits," Sal replied.  "Using credit on a trip like this is just too bothersome for both of us."

"Thank you, miss," the woman said.  Handing over forms to sign, she politely took Sal's money before handing her a key and directing her to the second floor.

When Sal entered her room, she was impressed.  As an iliri, she'd always been offered the lower class options, but in her guise of a human, she stood in a luxurious suite.  The sleeping area was separate from the lounge, the private bathing chamber tucked out of the way.  She'd never been in rooms this nice before, let alone able to claim them as her own. 

Turning her attention to preparing her wardrobe, Sal removed the wrinkles and dust from her new attire, then hung it carefully while she thought over the reactions of each person she'd met.  Siana Praxis was a vague enough name that it caused no eyes to be raised, and her story seemed to be accepted by everyone she'd come across.  She'd only lost a few hours setting up her alibi.  Time well spent, since Siana seemed to be able to get information much easier than Sal could in her own body.  It was almost like people sought out Siana, reminding her how much different life would be if she'd been human.

But she didn't have time to think about that.  With the day ahead of her, Sal decided to put her new form into action.  She needed information about her upcoming test, after all.  The prejudiced old man from the stables would be her first target.

First, she checked herself in the mirror.  Satisfied that she was still a beautiful human, she walked out of her room, down the back stairs, and made her way to the barns. 

Walking casually, soaking up the sights of magnificent war horses being handled around her, she did her best to act like a naive human.  She even asked to pet one of the horses, but the handler politely refused, explaining that the animal might bite.  He sent her into the barn, giving her directions to more behaved mounts that she might be able to touch.  Once there, contrary to what the carriage master had said, the staff offered a tour of the horses.  She barely blinked at her own mare when she passed, but fawned over a golden palomino a few stalls down.  The stablehands were more than happy to tell her anything she asked, even laying out the schedules of the horses in their answers to her "innocent" questions.  Through her tour, she learned that the next trial would have mounted soldiers in it and the "enemy" forces would be using them.  The horses would be rouncies, not true war horses, since those were too aggressive for a casual training exercise.

Excusing herself from the overly friendly help of four young men, Sal made her way to one of the training arenas, where she leaned on the rail for half an hour before she saw her target walk past.  The grumpy stablehand was probably in his mid-forties, his skin leathered, and a constant scowl distorted his face.  Sal called out to him, seeking assistance, and his frown barely lifted. 

"I got stuff ta be doing, girl, what is it you want?"

"I heard you might be the man to help me," she replied dripping saccharine.

"Yeah?  And why would you think that?"

"Because some iliri bitch thinks she can get my baby brother kicked out of the trials for the Black Blades?"  She cocked her head and looked deep into his eyes, checking to see if she'd over stepped her bounds.

"Mm, and what do I have to do with that?" he asked, interest showing in his voice.

"We Passels have always kept to our own kind," she explained, "and my brother doesn't deserve to lose his place to some bleached scrubber.  I just need to know if you've heard anything that might give him a bit of help in planning his mission."  Another kind smile was forced to her lips.  "He said his officer gave them permission to learn anything they could, any way they could.  Since that scrubber bitch made a big enough fuss about you talking to her the other day, I thought maybe..."

"Yeh, well, your brother's the kid, right?"

"Yeah, Doron.  He's worked hard to get where he is, not like those scrubbers that just have it handed to them."

"I dunno, miss."

"Sir, I don't want you to get in trouble or anything, I just hoped that maybe you'd heard something or could point him somewhere.  You know, the kinda thing you're allowed to do."

"Ok.  Lemme take you to lunch at the Twins and I'll see what I can tell ya."  His weathered face turned smug, sure that she'd refuse.

Sal-as-Siana clasped her hands together, "Ok then, it's a date!  But..."  She put on a thoughtful expression, hoping she was convincing.  "I don't even know your name.  What should I call you?"

"Petur Knash, ma'am.  I'll meet you in an hour."

Sal wandered the stables awhile before her anxiety got the better of her and she made her way to the Twin Traveler Tavern.  Entering the dimly lit building, she asked for a table on the far side and seated herself in the front chair.  She'd let Petur have his back to the wall to make him feel more confident.  Sal had no worries about being caught, not in this form. 

She ordered a cocktail and sipped at it while waiting impatiently.  It took an eternity before the grumpy man entered and scanned the room for her.  Turning at the sound of the door, Sal smiled brightly and lifted her hand to him.

"Ms. Passel," he greeted as she gestured to a seat.

"Find anything, Mr. Knash?" 

"Well, yes, I have some information that might help you out, but it could cost me my job."  He leaned in for dramatic effect. 

Sal tried hard not to laugh in his face over the melodramatic performance.  "Well, I can't offer you much, but I do have a little I can part with."  She sighed.  "I really hope it'll be enough – that and knowing you kept some scrubber from making a fool of yet another human."  She slid a ten krit note at him, enough to pay for a week in the inn, and raised her eyebrow.

"Thanks, miss."  He quickly pocketed the money.  "Look, here's how it is.  Them Blades, they have a pretty nice thing worked out.  The recruits are going to lead them to rescue their captured Lieutenant.  Guarding him will be the light cav cadets.  They'll have sniper students holed up somewhere, ready to take out anyone that tries to barge in and use the fighting skill of the Blades to overcome the odds.  Thing is, there's some twist in the test, there always is, but I don't know much about that.  Does that help Doron any?"

"Sir, you have no idea how much help that is!"  She leaned over and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek fondly.  "Doron can go snooping around the cavalry and snipers now, and know that's covered."

She sat through the meal with him, smiling and agreeing about the atrocities the iliri had brought to the human race.  By the end of the meal, his hate made her feel nauseous and she made her excuses to leave, saying that she needed to get the information to her brother as soon as possible.  She turned her feet in the direction of the Blade's barracks, making sure Petur saw. 

A few buildings over, she found a bench and sat.  Pulling off her boot to remove an imaginary stone let her check for anyone following her.  Life in the stables seemed to continue on as normal, though. 

Thinking through her plan, Sal realized she needed to know more about how the past combat trials had gone.  It seemed LT liked impressing the other soldiers and showing off the abilities of his Blades.  Hopefully, someone heard stories of previous attempts or participated in them.

For the rest of the day, she tried to casually stumble on someone who might have more information, or even a Black Blade.  She stopped to watch the light cavalry practice and memorized their maneuvers, guessing how the drills might pertain to the training mission only two days away.  Some, like the mounted ring used for defense, were obvious.  Others made little sense to her.  She tried to catch a soldier and ask, but no opportunities arose.

When the sun set, the soldiers were released from their duties.  Many began to make their way to the pub.  Sal decided to change into something more provocative and try her luck there. 

Back at the inn, she chose a copper and green dress, the skirt short in front to show off her legs, the bustle in back falling to just below her knees.  Stockings were pulled up to her thighs and secured with garters, delicate capped sleeves left her shoulders bare.  She pulled on a pair of medium brown boots, the heel long and delicate, and added the finishing touches to her hair.  Lifting it off her neck, Sal allowed a few strands to fall across her bare collar bones, where the green jewel in her necklace lay.  For the finishing touch, she dabbed perfume against her throat, chest, and wrists: a scent that smelled metallic and would remind her that she was supposed to be a human.

Dressed, she made her way down to the lobby and stopped at the counter to get directions, making sure to stumble over the name.  The matron smiled and complimented her clothing, then drew a simple map.  Following it, Sal came at the pub from the opposite side of the outpost.  The music hadn't reached the levels of their late night performances, and Doron Passel sat in a quiet corner near the door, leafing through a stack of paperwork.  Feeling devious, she walked over and cleared her throat politely.  When the boring, brown boy looked up, he didn't even bother to cover what he was reading.  She leaned in slightly, checking out the spines of the books stacked beside him and the heading of the page he viewed.  It was all on standard military tactics.

"Sir, can you point me to the bar?  I'm not sure which door to take, and I'm dying for a drink!" she flirted.

Passel refused to rise to the bait.  "Center door, straight down the hall, although there's a smaller bar in almost every room."  He turned his nose back to his papers, lines of stress creasing his forehead.