Daughter of the Disgraced King (5 page)

She was grateful when the horses’ hooves made an
unexpectedly louder clatter. It was
some
change, anyway. Ailsa leaned
out the window to see what had caused it. They were on one of the scattered stone
bridges crossing a ravine that cut through the plateau of Far Terra and ran
down to the low desert floor below. The low desert was much hotter—killing hot—and
more barren than the high desert, but the ravines that sliced through the
highland at irregular intervals had small watercourses at their bottoms. Because
of that, they had different and more plentiful vegetation than other parts of
the desert.

Ailsa sat up with interest and leaned out farther to look
down. She smiled to see the tops of sycamore trees down below. Her smile turned
to a thoughtful frown as she pulled her head in and sat back in her seat. The
green of the gully made an uncomfortable contrast to the trees lining the road.
Out here, so close to the desert, the signs of trouble were more evident. In
the long stretches between these stations, the shade that made this road
passable even in summer was broken in too many places by dead and dying trees. The
loss of magic was evident even here, on the Imperial Highway.

Late in the afternoon, another oasis came into view up
ahead. Ailsa sat up straighter. The closer they came to this new oasis, the
more eager she became. Yes, even from here, she could see that there were trees
she’d never seen before. And splashes of red and orange that seemed to indicate
flowering shrubs or raised beds of other flowering plants.

When the coach pulled to a stop, she didn’t even wait for
the guard to open the door. She was out and breathing in the scents of growing
things, some of them new and strange to her, before the coachmen had even
dismounted. Such a relief after the rancid-sweat smell of the man sitting
beside her. She gently touched the fern-like leaves of a huge, spreading tree
and went on to inhale the fragrance of some red-flowered shrub.

The routine was much the same here—a simple meal at a large,
rough-hewn table—but this way station was bigger than the last. After the meal,
the passengers were led upstairs, where two dormitory rooms—men on the right,
ladies on the left—waited for them.

The older woman removed her outer clothing, laying it out on
the foot of her bed, and was soon snoring softly. Her daughter went into the
small wash room attached to the ladies’ dormitory. Ailsa was too keyed up to
settle for sleep quite yet. Instead, she sat down at the small table by the
window, lit a shielded candle, and started to write the letters to Mama and
Papa even though there wasn’t much to report yet. Thinking about her parents
brought back her last view of them—and of Sav—that morning. She set aside that
page and started a new one.

Dear Sav,

This is our first overnight stop in a dormitory room in
the way station. You should talk to your father about adding a little interest
to the highway—a bump, a couple of bends, anything, really. I never knew
anything could be that boring before today.

I saw you as the coach left this morning. The look on
your face almost made me weep. Don’t take it so hard. It’s only a year, after
all. I miss you already.

Ailsa rode with her head out the window of the coach as they
neared their overnight stop on the third day. She’d thought the mountains with
snow-capped peaks—actual frozen water—were amazing, but ahead, through the
trees, was something even more wonderful. More water than she’d ever seen in
one place before—a lake. She drank in the view as the coach sped down the road.

The forest marched down to the banks of the lake, with only
a narrow band of green separating the trees’ roots from the water. Everywhere
Ailsa looked there were green, growing things, sometimes clambering over each
other in their exuberance. Vines climbed partway up the trunks of some of the
trees. Cattails grew like a miniature forest by the lake shore where the water
wasn’t covered with the huge round leaves of water lilies.

That night’s accommodation was an inn—a real inn—set on the
banks of that lake, with vines climbing the walls. Ailsa could have danced from
the coach to the inn, but she tried to walk with proper decorum. Her mood had
improved every time they approached an oasis and was best of all on the shores
of this lake. At that thought Ailsa stopped for a moment and then had to
restrain herself from skipping the rest of the way to the inn. A mage was
always drawn to the source of his or her power. Maybe . . . maybe she’d turn
out to be a water mage, like Aunt Izbel. It’d explain why Mama, a heat mage,
had never been able to teach her much magic. She could do a lot for Far Terra as
a water mage.

Her steps slowed. But . . . but if she were a water mage—something
so important to Far Terra—how
could she give that up to marry Sav? Energy
sang through her veins, making it impossible to hold a negative thought. No.
She wouldn’t worry about that, yet. Time enough when she knew for sure what her
talent was. She might be only a low-level water mage. Or she might not be a
water mage at all. There was no point in ruining the moment over something that
might not happen. She felt too good for that.

Ailsa looked toward the lake. She’d love to go down to the
shore and get a better look. So much water was a wonder not to be missed, but
it was already getting dark as the sun slipped behind the surrounding
mountains. Already the trees on the far shore had merged into a single broad
shadow. She could barely make out the roofs of the village farther down the
road from the inn. Better not. She’d get up early in the morning so she’d have
a chance to go down and get a better look at the lake. She’d probably get a
better view then, anyway.

Ailsa turned in a circle. Maybe it was just her mood, but
everything looked brighter, more prosperous, and just generally healthier than
similar institutions back home in Far Terra. Was it just her, or was the lack
of magic really harming Far Terra that much? Maybe that was something she could
learn in her year at the Institute of Magical Arts.

Since this was a proper inn, Ailsa was assigned a private
room—her first real privacy since she’d boarded the coach in Far Terra three
days ago. It was a very pleasant room, with a large bed, a small table and
chair, and a window that had a view over the lake. There was even a small fire
to take the evening chill off the room. She asked to have her dinner sent up
and removed the dusty dress she’d worn for three days. In private, she could
wear her comfortable—and dust-free—robe.

While she waited for her food, she took out the letters she’d
started to her parents and Sav. There wasn’t much to add, yet. She didn’t feel
like confiding her speculation about her possible talent. Especially when she
was only a few days away from knowing for sure. She was still too energized to
rest, though. She went to stand by the window and marvel at the lake and
forest.

Ailsa turned at a knock on the door. That’d be her supper. “Enter.”
She crossed to the desk to fold up her letters and put them out of the way.

She heard the door open and then shut. That didn’t seem
right. A servant would normally have left the door open. Ailsa looked up and
gasped. Not her supper. The insolent man from the coach. He’d kept his distance
since the stationmaster had dealt with him that first day.

“What are you doing here?” Ailsa tried to keep her voice
steady.

“I’ve been watching you.”

Ailsa swallowed. The man hadn’t caused her any more trouble
after the station master at that first stop spoke to the guards. She’d tried
hard to forget that he was even on the same coach. Now he was in her room and
between her and the only door. She put her hand up to hold the throat of her
robe closed.

He reached behind him to push the bolt into place, locking
the door. Why hadn’t she thought to do that herself? This inn had felt so
comfortable, almost like home, and she never bolted her door at home.

The man looked her up and down. “Pretty thing like you,
traveling alone. Mixing into things that aren’t your business. I think you and
I could have some fun. Much better than the kind of trouble you could get into
in the capital.”

Ailsa backed up until she bumped into the window frame. Her
heartbeat hammered in her ears. “Get out! Guards! Guards!”

The man laughed. “Those are King’s Guards. They went off
duty soon as we crossed the border. They’re all down in the tavern drinking up
their pay. I bought them a round myself, to get them started. They all think of
me as their
friend
, now.”

The man started toward her. Ailsa glanced behind her. Her
room was on the third floor and there was nothing below her but a cobblestone
yard. No escape that way. No one was going to come to help either. Even if he’d
lied about the guards, he’d bolted the door against them. Ailsa had to do
something herself. But what could she do? He was too much bigger and stronger.
The only weapon she had was magic.

About the only thing she’d ever managed to do consistently
was a whirlwind, usually outside where it could pick up dry leaves and dust. But
she couldn’t think of anything else. Even if it only distracted him, maybe she
could get past him to unbolt the door and get out.

She felt the air swirling, around her but nothing much else
seemed to be happening. Something brushed her shoulder. Ailsa jumped, heart
beating faster than ever, but it was only the vine from outside her window that
had somehow gotten sucked into the whirlwind.

The whirlwind picked up speed and the sharpened quill pen
leaped up from the table, striking the man just below his eye. He stopped and
clapped his hand to the spot, cursing. Then he rushed at her. Ailsa dodged
aside. For an instant, she hoped his momentum would carry him out the window. The
man put his hands out to brace himself against the windowsill. Somehow, his
hands got tangled in the vines writhing there and he had to struggle to free
himself. This was the best chance she was likely to get. Ailsa ran to the door
and unbolted it. She yanked the door open.

A maid stood out in the hall, mouth hanging open, hand
raised to knock on the door. In her other hand, the maid held a tray with a
covered dish. Ailsa’s dinner.

Ailsa swallowed down the urge to scream. “Don’t just stand
there. Go call the guards, or the landlord, or whoever’s in charge. That man
tried to attack me.”

The maid set down the tray and scampered back down the
stairs. Ailsa slipped out into the hall and slammed the door behind her. She followed
the maid to the top of the stairs, ready to run, but hesitated to go down to
the public rooms in nothing but her shift and robe. She could hear muttered
curses and thumping noises from behind her closed door, but the man didn’t come
bursting out to attack her again as she feared. She waited, shivering, until
the landlord clumped up the stairs to take charge of the situation. Two burly
men followed the landlord. By their clothing, they’d come from the stables.

Ailsa stood aside to let the men go past her to her room. Exclamations
and thumps followed before the three men came back to the door. Ailsa huddled
back in a corner while they dragged the man, struggling against their hold on
him, out into the hallway and down the stairs. The innkeeper’s stout wife came
up the stairs and guided Ailsa back to her room.

When they’d gone, the landlady fussed over Ailsa for a few
minutes, seeing her settled in the chair, with the tray of food on the table in
front of her. “Now, don’t you worry.  Ferd’s already sent a boy to town for the
Imperial Guard. That man won’t get back inside this inn. You’re safe. You
should eat a little something, eh? Then sleep.”

Sleep! That was about the last thing Ailsa thought she could
do. She wanted to run straight home, where she’d be safe. But that would mean
three more days on the coach. She wasn’t at all sure she could stand that—even
without that man sitting in the same space. She wished she were already with
her grandmother. Ailsa took a deep breath. Grandmama was the perfect
combination of comfort and encouragement. Always pragmatic, too. Tomorrow
night. She just had to hold on until then.

Sighing, she took a bite just to appease the innkeeper’s
hovering wife. Satisfied, the woman patted Ailsa on the shoulder and left.
Ailsa got up and bolted the door, then paced across the room several times. Her
stomach was too knotted for her to eat, good as the food smelled. She pulled
her braid around and chewed absently on the end. Mama hated when she did that.
The thought of Mama’s irritation helped to steady her. Something normal to
focus on, but so was the chewing. An old and comforting habit.

She should have asked the innkeeper’s wife to stay awhile.
Ailsa didn’t want to be alone right now. Maybe she should put her traveling
dress back on and go downstairs. No. She couldn’t stand the thought of the busy
common room and the guards who’d failed to protect her. Besides, she wouldn’t
be any less alone there. Not really. She wished again that Mama and Papa were
here to comfort her. Even more, she wished Sav was here to hold her and make
her feel safe again. He’d always been good at cheering her up when things were
rough back home. Maybe if she wrote to them, it would be at least a little like
having them here. She couldn’t think of anything else to do. She couldn’t eat
and she certainly couldn’t sleep. Not yet.

She ran her hands across the smooth leather of her traveling
desk. It helped a little to remember Papa giving that to her for this trip. She
reached inside for another quill and sharpened it with the small pen knife.
After a moment’s thought, she slipped the pen knife into the pocket of her
robe.

She sat and stared at the page. Impossible to write to her
father about this. She just couldn’t. Sav. She could write about it to Sav.
Ailsa’s hand shook as she picked up her pen.

Oh, Sav, I wish you were here. I want you to hold me and
tell me it’ll be all right.  I don’t have anyone to talk to about what just
happened. I need to tell you this, because you were always the one I could talk
to about anything, but you mustn’t tell Papa. He’d go to your father and that
would only make things worse. You know how your father gets when he thinks Papa
expects special treatment. That’s why I was on the public coach in the first
place.

I’m all right, but I’m still scared and I won’t be able
to sleep until I tell someone. I know you’ll understand how I feel.

She wrote as clear a summary of what had just happened as
she could. There was something cathartic about putting it down. The fear seemed
to flow down the pen and drain away with the ink. Somehow, it made Sav feel
closer, too.

Thank you, Sav. I feel better now. I’ll put the chair
under the doorknob and go to bed. Maybe I’ll even be able to sleep a little. Tomorrow
night I’ll be in the capital and with my grandmother. I’ll be safe, then.

She folded the letter and sealed it with a dab of wax melted
in the candle flame, pressing her personal seal into the wax. She’d drop it in
the courier bag downstairs in the morning, before getting on the coach for the
last leg of her journey.

~

In spite of her assurances to Sav, Ailsa hadn’t managed to
sleep much at all. She was tired and still shaken the next morning. She looked
longingly down to the lake before boarding the coach, but she didn’t feel like
walking down to the water by herself. Not anymore. Even though that horrible
man was gone, she couldn’t relax in the coach. Two new passengers joined them. Strangers
who made her feel uncomfortable just by their presence, although there was
nothing out of the ordinary about them. The girl and her mother left the coach
at the noon stop, but another man got on.

Ailsa would normally have been excited at her first view of
the Old Empire, but the day was only a blur of forests, fields, and towns as
she alternated between looking out the window and watching her fellow
passengers. Her fingers clutched around the pen knife, which she’d transferred
to her dress pocket, just in case.

The growing darkness obscured her first sight of the imperial
capital, but the coach station was lit with tall streetlights. By their light, she
recognized her grandmother waiting for her. It had been a few years since
Grandmama last visited Far Terra. She’d gotten a little more thin and wiry and
her hair was more grey than blond, now, but her face and her smile on seeing
Ailsa were the same as ever. Ailsa tumbled out of the coach into her
grandmother’s arms and truly relaxed for the first time all day.