Shadows: Book One of the Eligia Shala (24 page)

“I know it, Tallis.” She touched his cheek gently. “The same way I know mine are there.” The boy nodded, tears rolling unchecked down his face as he stood next to the young Princess who glimmered like a star in the moonlight.

“Are you cold?” Brogan poked at the fire, trying to stir the embers up. Jenevra shook her head, motioning for him to stop. Tilda and Teshia were curled up either side of her on a large settle, fast asleep. Tallis was sitting on the floor, resting his head against her legs. Bernardo picked the girls up gently to carry them upstairs for Annis who was hovering nearby, unwilling to disturb the princess. Tilda began to squirm about in his arms until Jenevra tucked the satin cloak around her.

“What now, Sergeant?” She gave Brogan a long assessing look.

“You surprised me that’s all, Captain. I should have known better.”

“Ahh … Raik Rabenaldt been telling tales again, has he? She’ll turn your hair gray, Brogan!” Jenevra gave a wicked imitation of the Imperial High Commander.

Brogan chuckled. “How did you know?”

She shrugged. “He’s been telling me I’m turning him gray for years. I just guessed it’d be his main caution when warning anyone else what to expect. I keep telling them I’ve changed, but no one seems to believe me.” She gave a mock sigh and looked down at the white and silver outfit she still wore. “But then I guess I never thought all this frippery would come in useful, either. I never thought being seen as a Princess would be a good thing.”

“It certainly worked with the girls,” Brogan acknowledged.

Tallis opened his eyes sleepily. “Princess?”

“Yes, Tallis.” She stroked his hair gently.

“Did you ever get the men who killed your parents?”

“No.”

Tallis looked up. “Why not?”

“I don’t know who they were.”

“No-one ever found out?” Tallis sounded surprised.

“Not as far as I know. Of course, it’s possible they just didn’t tell me about it.” Jenevra conceded. “Do you know, Brogan?”

“Er … no, Captain. We never did find out for sure.”

“For sure? You mean there was some idea who might have done it?” Jenevra’s eyes snapped; suddenly alert.

Sensing the tension, but not understanding its source, Tallis announced. “I want to go with you.”

“What?”

“When you go to find the men who killed my parents I want to go with you.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too dangerous, we don’t know who they are or where they are; you’re too young. There’s a whole host of reasons, Tallis, but the simple one is really because I say so.”

“But I want to.”

“I know.”

“So I can go with you?”

“No.”

“Fine then,” Tallis sniffed moodily. “I’ll go on my own.”

“And just where do you think you’ll go, young man?” Brogan asked.

“Diruthia.”

Brogan paused in mid-breath. “Diruthia? What makes you think they came from Diruthia?” He waved to Bernardo to come over. “Tallis,” Brogan’s tone held more urgency in it now, and Jenevra’s eyes narrowed knowing there was more to this than she had been told. “What makes you think they came from Diruthia?”

Bernardo’s normally placid gaze became intense as he heard the question.

Now that he had their full attention, Tallis was beginning to look worried. He hadn’t anticipated this reaction. Sliding onto the settle, he edged closer to Jenevra.

“What do you know about them Tallis? It’s important.”

“Will you take me with you if I tell you?”

Jenevra shook her head. “I can’t do that, Tallis, even if I wanted to. We’re all under the Emperor’s orders here, even me.” Her eyes searched Tallis’s face until he nodded a grudging agreement.

“Good. Anyway, I need you to look after everyone here. Your job is to look after your sisters and to help Colin and Annis. But I’ll make you a bargain …”

Tallis looked hopeful.

“If you tell me everything you can remember, I promise you a place in this Flight when you’re eighteen. Deal?” The princess held out her hand.

Shaking it, Tallis reached into a pocket, pulling out a small object; a button. He handed it to Jenevra. “They were from Diruthia; you could tell by the way they talked.”

“How does this tell us anything?” she pondered, trying to remember where she had seen the design etched onto it before.

Bernardo placed an identical button next to it in her palm. “I found this at the village too.”

“Fine … but how do we get from two buttons to Diruthia?”

“The crest on the buttons belongs to the Count of Fetu-Vallis. He’s Diruthian.”

“It sort of rings a bell,” Jenevra mused, scratching the end of her nose. “I just don’t know where from.”

Brogan and Bernardo exchanged glances. “It’s one of those hereditary titles, like your Duchess of Coursim.”

Jenevra’s face stilled. “Explain.”

“It’s one of the titles given to the Crown Prince. You know, the Crown Prince is always the Count of Fetu-Vallis.”

“Cieren? Prince Cieren is the Count of Fetu-whatsit?” Even as she asked she knew it for fact: she remembered now where she’d seen the design before. Her hand had rested on Cieren’s as they’d gone in to dinner, on a ring bearing the exact same crest. His title had been announced as they entered the room.

“As was Corros before him,” Bernardo added, coldly.

Brogan shot him a warning glance, which Jenevra caught.

“What does Corros have to do with this?”

“Nothing that we know of.” Brogan’s warning to Bernardo was clear. “We need to check into these buttons, Captain. It may be someone planted them there to make us think it was the Diruthians.”

“Well, we can’t place any blame directly on the King or his son. They were at the wedding. I even danced with Cieren, so I know he was there. And why? Why bother with a small village like that? It doesn’t make any sense.” Jenevra’s eyes narrowed as she tried to piece together the few bits of information they had. Maybe it was just coincidence that the Diruthian King and his son seemed to be involved here, as well as being the connection with Menzetti’s plan to marry her off. “Go to bed, Tallis.” Jenevra gave him a gentle punch on the shoulder. “You’ve been a great help.”

“You’ll remember your promise, Princess? About joining your soldiers?”

“Come find me when you’re eighteen, Tallis. There’ll be a uniform waiting for you.” She promised. “What is going on over there?” Jenevra, Brogan and Bernardo were distracted by a sudden commotion from the other side of the room. Jenevra’s eyes blazed in fury as she saw Derrian Ferris and Will Theiss rolling around on the floor fighting. Before anyone could stop her, she strode over to the brawling pair, grabbing each one by a large handful of hair and hauling them apart. The sudden onset of pain seemed to break through their dispute as they realized who was standing between them.

“Tie them both up,” she ordered. “I’ll deal with them tomorrow. Colin and Annis don’t deserve any more trouble—especially not from anyone in my Flight! I don’t care how this started; there are no excuses. And the rest of you should have stopped them!” Pushing Theiss and Ferris towards other members of the Flight, Jenevra stormed out of the inn furious, knowing she would have to make herself understood in no uncertain terms tomorrow. She was surprised to see one of the quieter members of the Flight follow her outside.

Farid Jatar was an unknown. Unlike any of the others, his ancestry seemed to lie outside the Empire, although he claimed to come from Jantara. Tall and curiously graceful of movement, his hair was jet black; not the very darkest brown like Finn Corrigan or Phillip, but a true black; waving to his shoulders. His eyes were the same: not dark brown, but black, with hooded lids, under rigidly defined brows. His clear gaze seemed to miss nothing. Tightly controlled in his emotions and speech, he had been the one who gave voice to prayer at the village; giving them a glimpse of the deeply held beliefs that governed the man. He reminded Jenevra of an eagle, with a nobility about him that was not present in the other men. Even his fighting style was different, with a fluidity and foot pattern that was unfamiliar to her despite training in various styles on the Island.

Farid was carrying a gray cloak over one arm. “You will need this, Captain.” He held it out to her, and she accepted it with a nod, swinging it over her shoulders. He made no move to leave, standing a few feet away, arms folded, regarding the sky. “I have not heard your legend of the stars before, Captain. It was a good tale, I think, for the children. It helped them.”

“It was meant to.”

“Captain, you told the boy that you see your parents out there in the stars. Forgive my asking but, was that true?”

She glanced at him, puzzled by his interest. “It may sound childish to you, Jatar, but yes, I do.” Feeling the need to explain a little more, she continued, “I never knew my parents, but someone told me the legend of the stars, and I just held on to it as a way of knowing them. As time went on, it just seemed right. I heard the stories told as I told them tonight, and I believed them.” She gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Most people regard the tales as simply that, but I have felt their comfort, so I choose to believe.”

Farid’s face was shadowed in the night, but his teeth gleamed as he smiled. “Good. I am glad.” As he turned to leave, Jenevra asked him, “Why is that important to you?”

“If I thought you would deceive them with a lie, I could not stay under your command.” He stated simply. “I can follow you with a clear heart and mind now.” He bowed deeply, bringing his hands to his heart in salute. “Good night, my Captain.”

Scrubbing a hand over her face, she leaned exhausted on the top rail of a fence running along the edge of the road to the inn. Resting her head on her arms, she sighed deeply. This night was lasting forever.

“Captain?” Another voice came from behind her.

“Dear gods, what now?” Jenevra complained, disbelievingly.

Gervaise D’Agostino appeared at her side, holding something carefully between his thumb and forefinger. “Sarge sent this to you.” He announced chirpily.

“Sarge? That’s sergeant to you, D’Agostino. What is it anyway?”

“He said it’s another gray hair, Captain, and if you don’t want him to be totally white by morning, you’d better come back inside.”

“And Bernardo’s on the warpath about you not eating anything.” Spider Baudoin added from the other side of her.

“I do not believe this,” Jenevra fumed. “You can tell them both to … no, never mind. Just go back inside. I’m staying here until I’m ready to come in.”

“Well, Bernardo thought you might say that, so he sent this out for you.” Spider held out an apple and a tankard of ale. “He said we have to stay at least until you’ve eaten the apple.”

“A likely story.” Sniffing suspiciously at the ale, she dumped it out onto the floor. “Probably a nice strong sleeping draught in it, knowing them.” Reaching down inside one of the white boots, she drew out a long slim bladed knife. Cutting the apple in half, she inspected it minutely. Taking a bite out of one half, she spat it out. “Can’t they come up with anything more original? An apple … really.” She looked at D’Agostino who was holding dried fruit he’d brought out with him. “Thank you!” She stole several dried apricots from him, munching them cheerfully. Only as she noticed D’Agostino grinning did she realize her mistake. “No,” she groaned. “How could I be so stupid? I hope Bernardo realizes I’ll never eat anything he gives me ever again! This is mutiny, y’know—”

Baudoin caught her as she slipped out of consciousness, lifting her easily and placing her softly on the bed Annis had made ready for her. As Annis drew a warm blanket over the sleeping Princess, the inn finally settled down to quietness.

 CHAPTER TWENTY

The next morning arrived wrapped in a heavy swathe of mist, blurring the trails and mountains as the Flight rode south. They had left the inn early, Jenevra’s tone brooking no objections. Her eyes were shadowed; the result of the drugged sleep. Her only words so far had been curt instructions to the Flight; she hadn’t spoken to Brogan or Bernardo other than as orders. She had thanked Colin and Annis, hugged the girls, and reminded Tallis of her orders for him. Before leaving, she had taken one of her daggers from her boots and given it to the boy with the instruction, “Bring it with you when you come to find me.”

Gathering her reins, she had swept out of the inn’s yard, the Flight following her lead. She hadn’t explained her decision to ride south, away from Diruthia; nor had she told anyone to release Theiss and Ferris, so they were riding with hands still bound. Dillon rode at the head of the column with her, providing brief directions when necessary; but he found the princess had an unerring sense of where they were even through the fog. At the base of a mountain she turned her horse and headed up it. When Dillon queried it, she ignored him, urging her horse into a trot along the rocky path. The Flight were forced to follow in single file; the horses rolling their eyes nervously as they sensed the steep drop developing to one side of them, barely visible through the swirling mist. The air grew colder as they rode higher and the men drew their cloaks tighter around them against the encroaching damp.

“Captain?” Brogan finally decided to speak up. “This path is treacherous. Are you sure we need to be on it?” He regretted his choice of words almost immediately.

“Treacherous?” Jenevra hissed angrily. “What part of mutiny do you not understand? You are not my keeper, Sergeant, whatever Commander Rabenaldt may have told you!”

Brogan stared ahead, jaw set.

“Do you have any idea how seriously you undermined me with what you and Bernardo did last night?
Any
idea?” She kicked her horse on again, disappearing into the mist.

“Oops,” muttered Bernardo, riding next to him, who had heard the whole whispered exchange. “She’s growing fangs.”

The Flight emerged onto a large open area, steep sides dropping away into a mist-filled void to their left. They found Jenevra already dismounted, and did the same. The princess had discarded her cloak, just wearing her regular gray uniform; the Spirit Sword hanging from its double wrapped belt around her waist. Signaling Theiss and Ferris to dismount she dragged them both across to the edge of the ledge, kicking their legs to make them kneel facing the Flight. Pacing in front of them, she began to speak in a quiet but clear voice; not a trace of emotion in it. “Last night you shamed this Flight. You violated the hospitality of good people who had already seen enough trouble—and you had no reason for doing so other than drunken stupidity.”

She drew the Spirit Sword, resting the blade against her right shoulder. “You, Ferris,” She pointed the tip of the blade at his chest. “You were warned before about drawing attention to us … and about drinking.” She turned away slightly. “If I catch you taking one more drink while you are with this Flight you are a dead man.” Tapping the Sword against her shoulder again, she looked down at Theiss. “You have had entirely too many warnings.” The sword arced down swiftly, sending Theiss’s head flying into the canyon. As his corpse started to topple forward, she placed a booted foot on the chest and sent it plummeting into the mist too.

Ferris was retching, the side of his face splattered with Theiss’s blood. He raised his chin as Jenevra’s sword bit into the flesh underneath. His blood ran colder still as he met her gaze. “Do I make myself clear, Ferris?” She slit the rope binding his hands.

He nodded, incapable of speech.

“Mount up. We ride for Salanova.” Wiping the Sword on a rag she pulled out of her pack and sliding it back into its scabbard, Jenevra swung back up onto her horse.

The Flight followed in stunned silence.

“Spider?” D’Agostino looked nervously at the tall figure riding next to him. “Tell me she doesn’t blame us for last night!” His hand strayed towards his neck as he shuddered. “I really never expected that, you know … not from her.”

Baudoin gave him a grim smile. “I rather think that was the point.”

Reaching Salanova early the following morning, Jenevra dismissed the Flight, warning them to be ready to ride out again the next day. “I promised we’d find those murdering scum, and we will. I need to talk with the Emperor and pick up some information; then we leave again. Sergeant, organize supplies for at least a couple of weeks. We’ll probably need supply horses this time, so talk to Laio about that. Also, spare weapons, blankets; put someone in charge of all that. I may need you to meet with Commander Rabenaldt, the Emperor and me at some point too. I’ll send someone when I know.”

Brogan saluted as she disappeared across the yard into the Palace. Dismissing the men, he began to arrange for the equipment the Captain had requested. He also sent to the kitchens for an extra barrel of ale for the barracks for that night. The men of the Shadow Flight needed to resolve what they had witnessed, and come to terms with their commanding officer. Talking it through over a few drinks was as good a way as he had ever found of doing that.

Jenevra didn’t bother changing; she strode directly to the Emperor’s suite of rooms, barging in to the first one where Karl, Phillip’s steward, intercepted her.

“Your Imperial Highness! The Emperor will be thrilled to see you.”

“Good, then let’s get him out here now shall we, Karl?”

“His Majesty is currently unavailable, Your Highness; but I’ll tell him you called, and I’m sure he will arrange a meeting at his earliest convenience.”

Hands on hips, Jenevra glared at Karl impatiently. “I don’t think so.” She pushed past him to the second set of doors, hammering at them with her fist. “Phillip! I need to talk to you … now! Put Chris down; you’ve got plenty of time for that!”

A few moments later the doors opened and a hand reached out dragging Jenevra inside. “What on earth do you want? Couldn’t it wait?” Phillip was wrapped in a dark robe; his hair all over the place. He pulled her along into a small dressing room. “This had better be good, Jenn,” he warned.

“It is.” Her tone made him do a double take. “I need to see you, Raik, and maybe even your mother, privately, as soon as possible.”

“Together? What’s going on?”

“I’m not totally certain, Phil. I am certain, however, that Raik and your mother have been keeping things from us. Things that I need to know. Plus there’s the possibility that Corros and his son are playing some more dangerous game than we thought. There’s a connection I haven’t made yet, but Raik knows what it is; or at least he holds the clues,” she conceded.

Phillip stood up. “I’ll send for them to meet us in the Tower council chamber in two hours.” He looked pointedly at the travel and blood stained clothes she was wearing. “Just change before my mother sees you!”

Back in her own rooms, Jenevra was slightly puzzled at the array of clothes that awaited her. “What are these? What is Lady Massili thinking?” She held up an outfit to Anna.

“Oh, Your Highness, that wasn’t Lady Massili. It was the Empress—your sister, Lady Christiana. She thought you needed some color.” Anna gave a sheepish smile.

Jenevra shook her head at the new rainbow assortment of tunics, and grimaced. “Violet? What was she thinking?”

Within an hour Jenevra was bathed, changed and sitting in the Tower room, waiting for the others to arrive, thinking through all she had learned. Raik was first to join her, followed almost immediately by Phillip with Arrilia Neilla.

“What’s all this about, Jenevra?” Phillip wasted no time as they all sat down.

Quickly, she explained the situation to them; the crossed messages after her investiture as Protector, the massacre at Albor and the possibility of a connection with Diruthia.

Arrilia Neilla was pale. “Jenevra, I really don’t think it’s appropriate for you to be running into situations like this. It’s horrific. No young woman should have to see that sort of thing.”

“Aunt Neilla,” Jenevra said gently. “The young women who died at Albor deserved to have someone like me with them at the end. I’m as safe as anyone else in the Flight, and I want to be there. No, it’s not nice. No-one wants to see a village wiped out. But I think my being there helped; even with the Flight. Dillon wouldn’t have been able to grieve if Stephan or Richard had been his Flight Captain; he would have felt compelled to be ‘manly’ about it. And even the princess thing worked with the little ones. No-one else could have pulled that off.”

“I know, Jenevra; and we’re all terribly proud of you, but—”

“Mother! I need Jenevra with that Flight. It’s not changing any time soon.” Phillip was adamant. “I’m afraid you’re just going to have to learn to live with it.”

Raik had been watching Jenevra thoughtfully as she made her report. Now, he leaned forward, arms on the table. “Why Diruthia, Jenn? Surely you wouldn’t make an accusation that strong based on the word of a young boy?”

Jenevra’s face darkened. “You’re right, Commander. I wouldn’t. But first why don’t you tell me what Corros of Diruthia had to do with my parents’ deaths?”

“What?” Phillip asked, in a dangerously quiet voice.

Arrilia Neilla went paler still, and Raik himself changed through several shades. “What makes you ask that, Jenn? Why would that come up now?”

The princess dropped two buttons onto the table. “These would, Commander. Why don’t you explain the significance of these buttons to Phillip? Or would you rather I did?”

Raik looked at the buttons lying on the table, but didn’t make any move to pick them up.

“Well?” she challenged. “What do these buttons mean to the Border Patrol?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar!”

Raik jumped to his feet, slamming his hands hard onto the table, making Phillip and Arrilia Neilla jump. “Who do you think you’re calling a liar?” He was furious.

Jenevra didn’t blink. “Are you going to tell me you’ve never heard of the Count of Fetu-Vallis either, Commander? Because I don’t believe you!” She moved around the table to face Raik directly. “Your men recognized these buttons, and went out of their way to keep me away from them until they had no choice. The buttons came from men belonging to Fetu-Vallis, the hereditary earldom of the Crown Prince of Diruthia! Yes,” she turned to Phillip. “We’re back to Corros of Diruthia, the man who was trying to arrange my marriage to the current Count of Fetu-Vallis, his son, Cieren. Isn’t that interesting? And it just so happens that Corros, who used to be the Count of Fetu-Vallis, was the only suspect they ever really had for my parents’ murders. Correct me if I’m wrong on any of this, Commander.”

“It was never proved, Captain. We can’t just go around making wild accusations against other kingdoms, you know. You have an awful lot to learn about evidence and proof, Jenevra. Anyone could have dropped those buttons, trying to implicate Corros.”

“Really?” Jenevra held out her hand. “Can I see the token you keep on that chain around your neck?”

Raik glanced down to where a small disc on a chain had swung out from under his shirt as he’d jumped up. He sat heavily. “No.”

“Raik, what is it?” Arrilia Neilla sounded tense. “What’s on the chain?”

“Jenevra!” Raik’s gray eyes held warning. “Don’t go looking for this. I’m telling you … don’t do this.”