Stormseer (Storms in Amethir Book 3) (15 page)

"I want Yarro. See if he knows anything about this. If it
is
Orya—"

"You can't think it's her," Kesh interrupted. "She's dead, Rith. We got her personal effects back. Everyone said the Diplomats confirmed it. Her death and Wenda's."

She heard an explosive sigh. "Damn it, who else could it be? Who else could have ferreted out so much information about the family network? Kesh, we've lost too many operatives in the past six months. This morning, Grandfather was furious about some missing papers. Missing from his office
here
. Someone is waging war on this family."

"No one can say we don't deserve it." Kesh's voice was so quiet, Azmei had to strain to hear.

Rith growled. "Forget about that. Find Yarro. Bring him to me. He'll tell me what he knows or I'll beat it out of him."

"You can't possibly believe he knows anything about this. Leave him alone, Rith."

Azmei scowled and wiped her eyes again. The times she had seen Yarro, he'd been in a world all his own. He seemed unaware of what passed around him. His eyes focused inward, and he responded to very little of what Tish said to him. How could Rith think he knew anything?

"Just find him," Rith snarled.

Azmei shook her head. He was impatient, arrogant, and cruel. It was plain that Kesh recognized his older brother's failings. But how would Kesh react if he were confronted with the woman who had killed his grandfather and older brother? Would he accept Azmei's judgment as just, or would he try to fight back? She felt strangely reluctant about killing the man who, however weakly, tried to stand up for his little brother.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and then stood. Crossing the roofs with blurry vision wasn't the safest thing to do, but she needed to get away from House Perslyn for now. She would be back all too soon.

***

The market was more crowded than Yarro remembered. The sun was high overhead before he'd managed to thread his careful way through the busy streets to make his purchases. Each elbow that bumped his made him jump. Every casual brush of skin or cloth sent his hair crawling.

He hated being touched. And here in the market it seemed impossible to avoid it.

The smell of sweat and cookfires clung in his nostrils despite all the market threw at him. Kazhin spice lingered in a cloud that made his lips tingle and overripe fruit cloyed the air, but always the smell of sweat made him want to snort. And the noise was no better. Vendors shouted all the fine points of their wares or shoved them under his nose, chattering so fast he couldn't follow them.

Yar had managed to buy a map, some food, and two water skins. Between transactions, he'd had to withdraw a space and hide in a dim alley, but he couldn't deny a feeling of accomplishment.

Of course, the most difficult task was still ahead of him. Yar needed a horse.

HORSES? YOU BRING US FOOD!

Yar groaned aloud. It had been foolish to hope the Voices were gone for good, and yet.
Not food
, he thought.
Don't distract me.

Talking back to the Voices rarely made any difference, but he had never been able to break the habit.

YOU HAVEN'T FOUND US YET. The Voice took on a pouting quality.

"Are you close by?" Yar demanded. Then he glanced around. The alley walls towered above him, but they didn't deaden the market noise. A man in a hooded tunic had heard him speak. He shied away.

NOT CLOSE AT ALL. AGES AND AGES AWAY. The Voice had turned gleeful. HIDDEN FROM EVERYONE.

Yar snorted.
That's why I need a horse. Not to eat. To ride.

FIND US! FIND FIND FIND—

Yar crouched, clutching his ears and squeezing his eyes shut. This couldn't happen here. Not before he'd acquired a horse. Not before he'd found a place to hide from his brothers tonight. He rocked a little, pushing against his temples.
Leave me alone. Just stop,
he pleaded.

A golden chuckle rippled through his head. LEAVE THE LITTLE BROTHER ALONE, said a warm Voice he loved. HE IS COMING TO US.

The hungry Voice whined, but they faded away from his thoughts. Yar cracked one eye to see the man in the hooded tunic peering at him again.

"You all right, lad?"

Yar shuddered and stood up. "My head hurt." He shrugged, trying to loosen the tension in his shoulders. "It's all right now."

The man looked unconvinced, but he moved on. Yar didn't really care if the man believed him. He was no one. It was the traders Yar would have to convince. If they didn't believe he had the gold to buy a horse, he would be in trouble.

He straightened up and made himself stand tall. Orya had always carried herself like the gods themselves owed her their attention. Yar knew he couldn't pull that off, but he could at least imitate her. He thought he heard one of the Voices chortling in the back of his head as he strutted out of the alley.

Most people didn't use horses inside the city walls. The canals made it unnecessary as well as inconvenient. The horse market, therefore, was located at the far edge of the market, close to the inns and the Dry Gate, which led out to the foothills. Yar had hoped to leave Meekin today, but he could tell from the sun's angle that he'd lost some time arguing with the Voices. He scowled as he threaded his way between stalls. Tomorrow, then, but that meant he would have to find a place to spend the night. Probably no one had realized yet that he was missing, but eventually one of his brothers would look for him. He wanted to be far from Meekin when that happened.

He heard the snorts and whinnies a few moments before the smell of horse reached him. Yar wrinkled his nose and followed the fence around to where the traders had set up their awnings. Only two horse pens were full. Yar looked from one to the other, shrugged, and went to the closest one.

"Good day, young master! I can see you are in need of a fine mount." The man bustling towards him had a thick mustache and beady eyes. Yar didn't want to look at him, but he forced himself to meet the man's shiny gaze.

"I need a good, hardy horse," he said, pushing his shoulders back. "A beast that can carry me and my pack a long distance."

"Ah, a journey, is it?" The man's smile showed a missing tooth. Yar wondered if he'd been kicked by one of his horses. "Traveling north? Or does the young sir merely dislike the crowding on the boats to the capital?"

Yar didn't want to answer. What if his brothers looked for him here? The trader might talk. But how to get out of it? What would Orya say? He lifted his chin. "I hardly see that it matters, so long as I have the gold."

The trader was already coiling a lead rope around his hand. He didn't even look back at Yar. "Quite right, young sir. I was only making conversation." He let himself into the horse pen, Yar following at a distance. "Let's see, the brown mare might do. She's sweet-natured and calm." The man gestured to a sway-backed mare.

"Sweet, perhaps," Yar said, "but hardy, she is not. Not with that back." He knew little about horses, but he knew what they should look like. He knew their backs and feet were the most important parts to watch.

"Ah, keen eyes, young sir. It's true she has seen better days. What about this bay stallion, then? He's strong, right enough, and spirited enough for two." The trader disappeared around the mare. When he came back, he was leading a red horse that had its ears pinned back.

A charge bolted down Yar's spine as he and the horse locked eyes.
A red horse with a black mane and tail looking straight at him.
Yar sucked in a breath and stared back. The horse snorted, one foot stomping the ground. It was the horse from his vision. This must be a sign. He reached for the lead rope.

From behind him came the sound of a woman's laughter. "Not that one, boy. See the set of those ears? He's mean as a scorpion."

Yar ignored her and took the rope. "Hello, you," he whispered to the stallion. "Do you know me?"

The stallion snapped his teeth together, ears still pinned. Yar twitched, but he was proud he hadn't jerked away. Why wouldn't the horse from his vision recognize him? But he lifted his hand, palm up and flat, for the stallion to sniff. The horse eyed Yar for a long moment, then lowered his head until his muzzle tickled Yar's palm. Just as Yar's lips broke into a smile, the horse seized his hand between its teeth. Yar yelped.

"Narda, tell the boy no," the woman said. "Can't you see he'd eat the lad alive?"  Her voice was nearer. As Yar fought to remain still, gaze locked on the horse's, a slim, brown hand entered his vision and flicked the stallion on the nose. The stallion released Yar's hand and backed up a step, shaking his head. Yar backed up a step, too, pressing his mistreated fingers to his chest.

"I like the look of this one," he told the woman without looking at her.

"I like the
look
of him myself," she agreed. "Just not his behavior. You couldn't even ride him. Hells, I'm not sure I could." She took the lead rope from Yar's fingers. "Trust me. Narda's just in it for the profit. He won't care if the horse kills you tomorrow, as long as he gets his gold."

He frowned, pursing his lips. The vision was clear, he was certain. He must have this horse. Or had it just been
that
One, wanting a handsome horse to eat? Before he had formed an argument, the stallion reared.

It didn't get very high, but the woman was short. The stallion dragged her off her feet. As she swore and fought to regain her balance, her hood slipped down, uncovering wavy black hair that didn't even touch her shoulders.

"Damn it, help me, horse trader!" she snapped.

Yar moved before the trader could. He didn't know why the Voices wanted him to bring a horse that didn't like him, but he wouldn't disobey. He helped the woman calm the horse enough that he could unsnap the lead rope from his halter. The stallion trotted off, shaking his head and snorting.

Yar sighed as he watched him go. "I want that horse," he said. "You just made him uncomfortable." He turned to face the woman, who grinned wryly at him and shook her head.

"You're crazy, boy. He'll have that hand off next time."

"Your pardon, mistress," Narda broke in, "but you already said you aren't interested in buying the bay yourself, so—"

"He could have broken it this time and didn't," Yar said. "He just wanted to get my attention." The woman's smile faded and she studied him, her gaze sharpening. Finding himself the focus of an uncomfortable amount of attention, Yar made himself stare back at her. What he saw made him feel as if he'd been struck by lightning.

She had tawny golden eyes and brown skin. A hairswidth line of white kissed her left cheekbone. She was a head shorter than he, and fine-boned with a muscular build. A sword and dagger rode on her hips. Not just her hips, he realized, as his vision grayed out for a moment.
The swordswoman also wore at least half a dozen daggers.

First the bay stallion and then the swordswoman! Was the stallion
her
horse, then? But no, she'd said she wasn't sure she could ride him.

"Are you my guide?" he blurted.

Her tawny eyes widened, the focus of her regard relaxing. She laughed. "Well, you seem to need one, especially when it comes to horseflesh." She put her hands on her hips, which only emphasized the blades. "Can you even ride at all?"

Yar hunched his shoulders. "A little." He'd gone riding with Orya from time to time. She didn't care about horses, but she was required to know how to ride, and she'd wanted to see if they would help him.

They hadn't, but it hadn't been awful, either. He liked the smell of horses, and the warm satin of their skin. It was why he'd decided to buy a horse instead of traveling on foot.

"Hmm." The woman strode into the herd, ignoring the horse trader's complaints. Did she work for him? Maybe she was his guard? But he'd said something about her not wanting to buy the bay. Maybe she was just a nosy customer.

"Come on!" the woman called to Yar. "This lad might do. Let's see you on him."

She'd selected a smallish dun gelding, which turned its head to watch Yar pick his way between the herd.

"Here, put your foot in my hands," she said, but he ignored her. Yar put a hand on the dun's withers, winding his fingers in his mane, and swung himself up onto its back. He collected himself, squinting down at her.

To her credit, she didn't mind his showing off. She laughed. "You look all right with him. Walk him around a bit. Oh, shut up, Narda," she added to the protesting trader. "If he can ruin the dun right in your pen, the dun isn't much to begin on." She turned back to Yar, tilting her head back to give him a conspiratorial grin. "And if you can ride the dun, we'll let you have another crack at the bay."

Yar shuttered his gaze and turned the dun, riding him in circles around the pen. After two circuits, at a walk and then a trot, he pulled up in front of the swordswoman and slid off the horse's back. Handing her the lead rope, he went back to the trader.

"I want to see the bay." Without waiting for a response, Yar went across the pen to where the bay stallion stood watching him. He'd been watching the whole time Yar was on the dun. Maybe he'd recognized Yar after all.