Tour of Duty: Stories and Provocation (23 page)

“My apologies for disturbing you,” the man said with mock politeness. “The amar sends his regards, and his sadness at losing a fine servant girl.”

“We brought no servant girl,” Father said. “The only woman on my ships is my daughter. Grom has his wife and girl child aboard his ship. Ranuldr has his wife and two daughters.”

Erki stood alongside Riga. They’d had the same lesson, that to stand firm was better than to cower. Here they were side by side, and would the guard know, or mention it if he did?

Erki had changed clothes, so he would not be apparent at once. Would the man recognize Riga, though? But no local man should look at a woman. He’d seen her early, but had he “seen” her? She was also in shipboard trews and tunic now, leaning on a rigging hook as if it were a spear. She stared back at him, trying to look quizzical and faintly bored. He studied her, but it was all pretense. He really hadn’t noticed the women. There’d been no real reason to at the time, and he wouldn’t admit so now. Riga didn’t blame him, knowing how the Amar might respond.

He looked hard at Erki, but without the cloak and in light, the boy looked more a man. He also didn’t show any expression at all, though she could sense the nervous shivers.

“She was with a young boy last night. What about your boys?”

“Only Erki here,” Father said. “He was on watch last night. I expect your own shore patrol will remember him. There are a number of other young men, though it depends on what you mean by ‘boy.’”

Was Father lying as a matter of course, to get this over with? Or did he know and was covering for them? His words were unbothered.

The Watchman looked Erki over, but didn’t finger him. Good so far.

The official asked, “Which girl was sick and stayed in town?”

“Not mine,” Father said. “I suppose it could have been Ranuldr’s eldest girl. She’s fifteen. All ours are accounted for, though, we’re not missing any.”

Of course they weren’t missing any. Father was deliberately misunderstanding.
My people are in order. Do you believe your own are not?

“All your women are as they should be?” They looked uncomfortable. The Kossaki ships had canvas weather shields at the rear, and little privacy. It was understood that one didn’t stare or annoy a woman even bathing or changing, but that was certainly not understood here. The very subject made them nervous and shy away. Inside, Riga grinned. They were going to back off, right now.

“There are few enough that I can count to six,” Father said with a grin. Riga twitched. Would he insist on seeing them all?

“I will inspect your cargo and your manifest then, as a courtesy.”

Riga grimaced as Father said, “If you wish.” Everyone knew something was up at this point. They were just all pretending it wasn’t.

He started at the bow, peering through the nets and checking the crates for stamps and seals. All were as they should be, and of course he knew that. He moved slowly back to a pile of barrels staked down, containing figs, tea and spices. Past the mast there were bundles of sail lashed to the spar.

Father said, “I don’t wish to rush you, but we have five ships, and tide to keep. We’ve always dealt in good faith.”

“I’ll just work my way back and be done, then,” the official said, with a false frown.

“Be quick about it. I feel sorry for the amar, but I have my own dramas, and I don’t share mine with the help.”

Was Father trying to cause the man to search in detail? That comment flustered him, and he checked a barrel’s number very carefully.

“You might want to check under that tarp. It’s a prime place to stash an escaped servant girl. I don’t find my own daughter enough trouble, so I try to pick one up in every port.”

Clutching his tally board, the man strode forward again in a careful, dignified fashion, swung over into his boat, and indicated to the rowers to leave.

He turned back, looked at Father and said, “Thank you for your help.”

“You are most welcome. I hope the Amar finds this girl, and that she hasn’t fallen among those who would shame her or him. I cherish his hospitality and trades.”

“I will tell him,” the official said, beckoning the guard to join him as he sat down on a thwart. “Good travels to you, and a blessing.”

“A blessing on you, and the amar and your king,” Father said.

As the inspector rowed away, Father turned and ordered, “Pick up the speed. We’re not earning money to row like a holiday ship.” He seemed quite relaxed and good natured.

Riga wanted to run back and check under the tarp. She knew Jesrin was alive, though, and silence was a good thing. It might be night before she could come out. It might even be five days and port before she admitted the girl’s presence. She had silly notions of sneaking her ashore with a few coins somewhere she could find good work, though she knew the girl, like any injured creature, would need support for a bit.

She stood her post, and helped tighten the sail as they gained room to maneuver, and the five ships spread into a longer line for travel.

They cleared the headland and entered open ocean, the deeper swells swaying
Sea Fox
, twisting and torquing her. She was designed for that, though, and surged across the waves.

Father came past, checking the rigging. “How’s the servant girl?” he asked quite casually.

Riga knew better than to lie. “Alive and quiet,” she said at once.

“This is the same servant girl we discussed, I assume.”

“Yes, she is. Jesrin. Badly bruised in body and spirit.”

Father sighed and tugged at a rope. “Damn it, Daughter, this is worse than an injured goose. You can’t save every helpless creature in the world! Especially at a risk of war.”

“Of course not,” she said. She looked back as Erki peeled off the canvas, and helped Jesrin, blinking against the light, come forward. Father might punish them both, but it would not be for spilling tea. She reached out a hand and helped the girl keep her feet on the swaying ship.

Then she smiled at Father, a challenging smile that would yield a flogging in Mirr, and perhaps start a duel in Kossaki lands. It was the smile of a merchant and warrior among her peers.

“But I can save this one.”

The Groom’s Price

With Gail Sanders

My wife has a very quirky sense of humor. She’s been my best friend almost as long as we’ve been together. I can’t be blackmailed because there’s nothing relevant about me she doesn’t know.

She’s a big fan of the Valdemar universe, has multiple copies of all the books, and knows all the details necessary for a story in the main lands.

She’s also a pretty decent writer. I did some of the plotting and pacing. We split the writing. The rest is actually hers, with my edits.

He was miserable,
absolutely miserable.

:No, you’re not.:

I am too—how could I be anything else with all of these Outclans strangers staring at me?

:You only think that you should be miserable, you’re really having an adventure, and you feel guilty that you wanted an adventure when your Clan thought it was only your duty that made you go. Besides, if you hadn’t argued so persuasively, we’d still be on your plains.:

Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin was quiet while he thought this over. He found the gait of the companion to be smooth and enjoyable. So enjoyable that it distracted him from his train of thought for awhile.

That’s Companion, not companion
he thought, finally coming back to the topic. A Companion that was sneaky enough to blend into the herds being kept for youngsters to choose and train. A Companion that had disguised herself using the magic that had been forbidden to the Clans until the Mage Storms had swept through the plains. A Companion that was slowing her pace and moving up to a palisade partly hidden by trees. With a start, he realized that it was getting dark.

:This is Bolthaven. Tell the gate guards that you’re here to see Master Quenten. If they ask you who you are, tell them. They still remember Kerowyn here.:

From a platform, a sentry demanded, “Name yourself.”

“Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin, for Master Quenten.”

“Hold and wait.”

He waited, nervously, but the gate was opened and another watchman gestured for him to follow. He found himself ushered and escorted through a town that seemed over-busy and over-populated. No one paid the least bit of attention to him, other than a look of admiration for his mount. He wasn’t sure if the presence of the guard was insulting, he was after all an adult by the Clan’s standards. Surely he could have found the school on his own.

:The guard is both for your protection and for the protection of the town’s folk. Very few people this far out of Valdemar know just what Companions are. With the mage students here, loud noises are common; leading me along is to prevent me from running off if I get startled. I’d prefer it if very few people knew a Companion out of Valdemar was down in the Dhorisha Plains.:

Quenten jerked from his book as his mage barriers flared a warning. After the last time a Guardian Spirit gave him the collywobbles he had decided to set up an alarm. While he had plenty of experience thinking on his feet after his time with the Skybolts, he had reached an age where he preferred at least a little notice. After carefully putting down his book, he moved over to the window that overlooked the main gate. Sure enough, there was one of those Guardian Spirits. Perched on the spirit’s back was something unexpected, a Shin’a’in youngster—the leathers were unmistakable.

“May the Blessed Trine curse that woman with children.”
What does Kerowyn want now? At least last time she sent a letter ahead, even if it left out more than it told.
He had decided to meet the Shin’a’in when an apprentice knocked.

“Yes?”

“Sir, a strange child on a white horse says he’s here to see you. One of the gate guards is downstairs with him.”

“I know. I’ll go down and meet him, Cuthbert.” For some reason, using the apprentice’s name seemed to make him more nervous.

The voice that spoke in his head was unexpected, but didn’t scare him.

:That would be because he doesn’t know how much you notice the students. Look, you’ve got a delicate situation here; it’s going to take tact and all of your experience dealing with youngsters. This boy’s considered an adult by his people, if just barely. He’s got a powerful gift that needs to be trained and his people have traditionally shunned magic in general and have little experience with mind-magic. I need your help to convince him to go up to Valdemar. He still thinks that I’m his horse:

Surely being able to talk to him in his mind would have told him otherwise?
Quentin replied in shock at holding a conversation this way. He could see why Kerowyn had complained about the Companions’ high-handed attitudes in Valdemar.

:One of his gifts is animal mind-speech; he’s used to hearing animals talk in his head. He’s young enough that he hasn’t learned that not everyone does. I’ve just got a larger vocabulary.:

Quenten moved down the stairs with an undertone of caution. He wasn’t young anymore, even though being a mage preserved a person. Cuthbert had taken them five at a time with the boundless energy of youth.

He emerged into twilight supplemented by the flickers of watch fires, and saw the boy leaning against the Guardian Spirit.
Companions, they’re called Companions,
he reminded himself.

“Greetings to you, and to your Companion. I am Master Quenten, the head of the mage school here.”

“Greetings to you,” the boy replied, his Rethwellan rather accented. “I am Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin and this is Yssanda.”

“I bid you come up. Cuthbert, please bring us dinner and ale after you see to Lady Yssanda. Our guest stables should be adequate to your needs Lady, and I will have a gate to the gardens left open for you. If you will follow me?”

Cuthbert stood waiting respectfully near Yssanda. Before she turned to go, she wickered gently and nudged him towards Quentin.

:Go on, I’ll be with you.:
Cuthbert led her away towards the stables. Obviously setting his chin, Keth’ turned to follow Master Quenten.

The meal was dispatched with the economy of the young and perpetually hungry. While the boy ate sliced meat and cheese quickly but neatly with a belt knife, Quenten mused on what the Companion Yssanda had told him about the situation. It wasn’t enough to make a decision, and with a skill he had developed as head of a mage school he extracted more of the tale from the young man.

It was the tradition of his clan to prove they were ready for adulthood by choosing and training a horse out of the Clan’s herds. Keth’re’son had done well, especially for his age, and his pride in his skill was present in his voice. Then when he was on his trial journey the unexpected had happened: his horse had talked back to him. His horse had the nerve to tell him that he had been chosen and not the other way around. Quenten could hear the bafflement and confusion creep in past the confidence. Then the horse had the nerve to say that he had mind-magic and real magic. He was no shaman. He didn’t want to be a Hawkbrother, and he didn’t want to leave the plains. What would a Shin’a’in do with magic anyway? He was going to train horses and trade them like his father and mother. It wasn’t his fault that his mother’s mother’s mother had been Kethryveris shena Tal’sedrin.

The chance to tell his story paled before the attraction of more food and Keth’ dug into the lentils. They were firm and tasty and there was rabbit as well, with some savory spices. It warmed him and renewed him. As he paused, Quenten put forth his proposal.

“I have need of your services. There is an advanced mage student wishing to study other schools. Far Valdemar has many in one town. The student is young and unfamiliar with wilderness. You, however, are an experienced traveler, and have your Companion. You’ll be heading that way already, so I would ask that you act as escort.”

Keth’ didn’t regard himself as an experienced traveler. This was his second journey on his own and he’d gone astray on his first one due to the Companion. The second comment brought him to a halt, spoon almost to his mouth.

“How did you know I would be going to Valdemar?” he asked.

He knew how, though, even as Quenten spoke.

“Keth’re’son, you must develop your mind-magic and your bond with your Companion. That can only be done at the Collegium in Valdemar. I thought you would know of this.” The mage frowned, suddenly looking older as he did.

Keth’ scowled and put down the spoon.

“It’s been suggested. It’s not something I’m interested in, or able to do. I have plans for my life that do not include going to a strange land to be schooled as if I were still a child.” He was betrothed to Nerea. His family had horses . . .

The mage looked gently at him. “Keth’re’son, not everything in life is as we plan or wish, and sometimes events change our route.”

You lied to me.
If thoughts could burn with accusation his would be acid now.

:I did not. I said Quenten would have better information. It must be your choice. While you are still young, by your own people you are considered an adult. Would you leave a child to wander the plains with a lit torch? That’s the potential hazard you present to your people.

Keth’ sighed and said, “Who is this student?” He was not conceding the point. He needed more information, though.

Quenten nodded slightly and flicked a bell with his index finger. The tone seemed to penetrate the very walls. A moment later, the student was ushered in. She was elaborately and impractically dressed. The sheen of the fine woven fabric moved like water. It was completely unsuitable for rough travel. The dangling sleeves and the ornately upswept hair did nothing to hide the penetrating glance she gave the young Shin’a’in. With a dismissive shrug she bowed briefly to Master Quenten.

Keth’re’son looked at the girl and felt unnerved. She was pretty, yes, but it was her gaze; far more mature than it should be. She stared back, disinterested except in his potential as a guide, and clearly not impressed by what she saw. He blushed.

Still, there was good pay involved, and he was going to Valdemar, at least to deliver the Companion.

Only to deliver the Companion.

Quenten said, “This is Armaeolihn and this is Keth’re’son shena Tale’sedrin.” His pronunciation was quite good. Keth’ was impressed.

The girl bowed slightly but politely, and he raised the age he guessed her, from her figure. He returned the bow. He thought he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what, so he turned to Quenten.

Quenten said, “You will travel together for safety. Keth’re’son is bonded to a Companion. Armaeolihn, you have your pass, and I shall write one for Keth’re’son. I will also give Keth’re’son a letter to take to Herald Captain Kerowyn, his cousin. She’ll see that he gets paid. If you choose to stay, she will ensure your learning and settle you.”

“How much pay?” he asked. He understood this to be an escort duty, and Shin’a’in were well-sought for that.

Quenten named a sum, and Keth’ opened his mouth to haggle, then kept it open in surprise. That was a goodly sum.

“Then I accept,” he said, before realizing he should have asked for more anyway. Not that he needed to, but still, one should never take the first offer.

“Good. Rest well, and we’ll prepare her horse and a pack beast. You can leave in the morning.”
And be out of my hair
, was unspoken, but Keth’re’son heard the undertone. This mind magic was problematic. He heard whispers of things that weren’t spoken, and of course, no one knew how to teach him to control it . . . except in Valdemar.

Another student mage appeared and led him to a comfortable room, with a pitcher of cold, clear water, another of hot, and wine and fruit. Over his protests, his traveling clothes were whisked away, washed and the minor tears of constant travel mended, then returned. At first he was uncomfortable. It felt like an attempt to place a debt on him. Then he concluded it was just service provided to a professional.

Alone, Keth’ spoke to Yssanda.
Should I do this?

:Now you want advice. Am I suddenly of worth?:

You always have been
, he protested.
You also know these people better than I.

:The journey fits my plans. You must understand that affects my advice. However, it pays you well, it gives you experience and travel, and it gets you where you must go regardless of your choice.: