Orb and arrow, p.7
Orb and Arrow, page 7
“The horses need tending,” she said tartly, “if you would care to join me, Uncle.”
“That I will. And we will give them a fine grooming because,” he let his voice drop and deepen, “I will teach you an easy spell, suitable to your skill level.” Brillar poked him in the arm. “A spell that will tease out both dust and any insects there may be in their coats.”
The Creature spell was within her reach but took some practice. The words were easy, the seeing more difficult.
“You must see and reach to the skin and not beyond. See what’s there, the dust, the life.”
Finding the life was the easier task, akin to far-sight but more intense. The dust was more difficult. What Enk thought to see them “grooming,” their hands barely moving, her concentration evident, made him shake his head. N’er get the job done that way, he thought. But he felt self-conscious in their presence and said nothing.
Brillar had mastered the spell and the reaching by lunch, but with a headache as her reward.
“With practice, my dear niece, you will have your animal cleaned in a few minutes. I am satisfied,” said her instructor.
“I’ll want more corin with lunch, or I won’t be awake to watch the players,” was her weary response. “I hope that great tub of Hana’s is full as well. I feel ready for a proper washing.”
There was indeed a tub full of clean hot water and a towel laid out for her. It was a convenience the inn offered weekly to travelers. Brillar unbraided her hair, soaped, then climbed into the tub to rinse and soak. A brief soaking because she knew Hana and Berl were waiting for the same tub and that fresh water was on the stove. A quick spell cleaned her clothes. She climbed out, toweled, and dressed.
Hana had laid out a cold lunch; Garnelden had waited for her before eating. Covered tankards held corin, and she gulped some of hers. She could feel the headache fade away as she reached for bread and meat. Some fresh fruits had been added to the table to be enjoyed after lunch. She stabbed a slice of meat with her belt knife, only to have her hand slapped away by Elden. She looked at him in astonishment.
“Another lesson, niece, this one in manners. A belt knife is a fine thing but a fork,” he produced two tined instruments, “is for gentlefolk.”
“A fork.”
“A refinement from the west that I think will sweep eastward,” he replied. “Used for transferring meat and vegetables from plate to mouth, thusly.” He stabbed a small bite of meat from his plate, put it in his mouth, and chewed. “It also leaves the hands clean and free of grease. Which means,” he lowered his voice, “less chance of a sword or bow slipping if it’s needed quickly. Now, you.” He handed her the second fork.
“May I at least cut my meat with a knife?” she asked, and he nodded.
She transferred some meat to her plate. Elden took her hand to show her the proper holding of the fork, and she managed to take meat from plate to mouth with no trouble. “Again, practice is everything,” he said encouragingly.
An archer has deft hands, and she had become skilled with the fork by the end of the meal. “Must I use it for the fruit as well?” she asked.
In response, he took an apple and bit into it. “This is the only way to eat such fine fruit even if it was cellared since the fall.”
Taking one for herself, she laughed and went up to rest and change before they went out to watch the players. Finishing the apple, she rinsed and dried her hands, then turned to the green dress. It looked even lovelier to her than it had in the evening. Stripping off her work clothes, she opened the foldbox, taking out a small vial of perfume forgotten the previous evening in her flustered state. Now she dabbed it on her shoulders. A cream softened her hands. Then, taking a comb from the box, she tugged the knots from her hair and tied it up, fastening it with an ornamental pin. Satisfied, she closed the box and slid the dress over her head, enjoying the feel of the fabric.
“Let’s see how my uncle likes this,” she thought and headed down the stairs. She stopped at the sight of him because the tailor had done himself proud with her uncle’s clothes. Evidently, there had been more deliveries, and he now wore a deep blue shirt over his grey trousers. A black belt that must have been ordered from the harness maker held the shirt at his waist.
She stared, then said, “The tailor has fitted you well, it seems. Are you all finery, or has something been made for traveling?”
“Travel clothing is nearly ready, but at present, we seem a pair well suited for watching the players,” was all he could answer as her scent reached him. He offered his arm, which she accepted with a nod. They strolled out of the inn and were met with hellos and waves from others headed toward the show, all were dressed in their best.
The players had set up their stage, the bed of a flat wagon, near the tree just outside the village. Rough boards supplied by the villagers formed the seating. The juggler was already hard at work entertaining the crowd, and the lutist played a bright tune from the stage. A curtain behind the stage hid the players from sight. Elden paid for their seats from his purse, and they sat off to one side near the last row of seats. “We shall see many performances,” he whispered, “but the village sees few players.”
At a vigorous drum roll, the crowd settled, and a player stepped out to pronounce the prologue. The play was to be a comedy, set in an ancient town with strange customs. The audience applauded at once, for comedies were well-loved, and ‘strange customs’ meant that there would be some wildness to the scenes. He bowed at their applause and exited the stage.
Three players, two men and a woman in yellow, emerged from behind the curtain and stepped onto the stage. The men were quarreling over her shoes, and she was pretending disfavor when Elden stiffened.
Her hand went to his. “Uncle,” she whispered, “you are practically broadcasting displeasure.”
He took a deep breath and calmed at once. “The woman, she was one of the two at West Riversgate.”
Now she understood his alarm. “Be still. We have to wait .Are you sure?”
He nodded, took another breath, and relaxed further. “We wait.”
The play, which set the villagers roaring, seemed too long to them both, although they smiled and forced laughter to seem one with the crowd. The comedy was over at last, and the villagers drifted to their homes or stayed, chatting in small groups.
Brillar and Elden took station under the tree with his back to the stage as the players tore down the curtain. “Do you think the beard will suffice,” he asked anxiously, “it wouldn’t do for me to be recognized quickly.”
Brillar nodded. “The beard hides you very well,” she assured him. “Wait, I see her, separate from the others.”
“See if you can bring her over; perhaps she would join us for dinner?”
Brillar strolled casually toward the woman who was still in her yellow costume. Brillar’s carriage proclaimed her more than an ordinary villager, and the actress dropped a small curtsey as she arrived.
“My uncle and I enjoyed the comedy; it was well played. He’s resting in the shade and asks if you would care to join us for wine and a meal at the inn.”
The offer of a free meal and wine was enticement enough, and the actress, who gave her name as Jenel, went to change from her costume before joining them at the tree, now dressed in a light blue. Elden offered an arm to each woman, and they walked to the inn, seating themselves in a corner near the stairs. “I am sure that a player as lovely as you would be swarmed with admirers, and we prefer a quiet supper. Then perhaps you might recite a few lines?” Jenel preened at the compliments and nodded.
Hana had prepared a light soup then sliced herbed venison with good red wine instead of ale. Elden and Brillar demonstrated the use of forks as a refinement, and Jenel, believing herself refined, insisted on trying one.
“Yes,” she agreed with feigned sophistication, “so much more genteel. I will have some made for the company.”
The meal completed, Elden lifted his wine and said quietly, “A toast to our new friend Jenel,” she fluttered at this, “who, I think, had another name when we met at West Riversgate.” At the last words, his voice dropped, and he met her eyes steadily for the first time. She stared at him closely and then with recognition. She tried to rise, but his hand on her arm was steel. She tried to speak, but a quick arcane word stopped her voice.
“Now, my sweet Jenel, I think you and I need a private word.” He rose, pulling her upright, and steered her toward the stairs and up them, toward his room. She went, unresisting.
Hana had just served the few guests; there were not many who could afford to eat in the inn two days in a row. Now, on her way back to the kitchen, she gathered up their plates and winked. Brillar simply rolled her eyes, and they both laughed.
On her way past the bar, Hana whispered to Berl, “I said they were uncle and niece. He’s taken a player to his room.” Berl’s eyes widened a bit. “Aye, the fancy one in yellow. Fine sport they will have,” she said as she went back to the kitchen.
Brillar waited a while, enjoying another glass of wine, then went up the stairs and rapped gently at Elden’s door. He opened it and had her enter quickly. Jenel was sitting on the chair, wild-eyed and helpless. Elden was evidently letting her speak, but only in whispers. She looked at Brillar with pleading eyes.
“Please, mistress,” she begged hoarsely, “make him stop. I’ve told all I know. Pilik paid me and another.”
With a wave of his hand, Elden silenced her, and her eyes bulged slightly.
Brillar looked at her without sympathy. “What has she said?”
“Little more than that. Pilik gave her drugged scents. She wore the first perfume that lulled me, while the second woman wore a stronger scent that dulled me further. I was already well in my cups, so I didn’t notice what was placed in the drink they gave me. When I woke, I was trapped.” His voice was grim, harsh, with barely controlled anger. He looked at Jenel without pity.
“She knows more, but there’s a block on her memory. It will take some time.” Jenel shook her head, clearly terrified. “You had best go back to your room and block your ears. If there are sounds, they will be like some harsh lovemaking; some like it harsh.”
Jenel shook her head again, and her eyes were now wide with panic. What she had endured in the space of less than half an hour was clearly enough for her, but Brillar, remembering the dimlock scars, simply nodded and left them alone. She went downstairs and took a glass of cider, used the necessary, then went up to retire. She murmured a brief spell, undressed, and went to bed. Whatever sounds came, she never heard them.
*** 5 ***
In the morning, Brillar dressed quickly and found her uncle already in the great room with, to her surprise, Jenel at his side smiling at him. He gave his niece a quick wink and kissed Jenel’s cheek. “Time for you to be off, my dove,” he said jovially. The woman smiled again, nodded at them both, and went out the door obediently.
“What on earth?” Brill began quietly.
“Ah, breakfast,” he interrupted, “and more of that fine corin. Such a great host you are, Berl, and what an excellent cook you married.” He seemed pleased with himself and the whole world, and she grinned to herself, remembering her father’s expansive mood the day after he arrived home from travels.
She almost giggled but restrained herself. “You seem in a fine mood, m’lord Uncle,” she teased, feeling that was expected.
“Now then, girl,” he admonished, “none of your impudence. Eat and drink and keep to yourself.”
Which she did, laughing internally and impatient for the real day to begin.
“I think the horses could use some exercise,” he said when they had drunk the last of the corin. “Join me in a ride?”
“With pleasure, Uncle,” she responded. Nodding to their hosts, they went out the back door of the inn to the stable. It took no time to get the horses into borrowed saddles and bridled. Brillar took her bow and quiver, “Just in case,” she said and swung up on the mare.
“Thought of a name for her yet?” he asked.
“I’ve decided on Bright. Her eyes are bright and a fine feature,” she responded, and the mare twitched an ear back, catching the sound.
“A race then, to the other side of the field,” he shouted and dug his heels into Jez.
Bright leaped after them, almost unsettling her rider. Leaning forward, she shouted into the mare’s ear, “A horse is supposed to wait for a command,” and laughed into the wind.
Jez was too far ahead to be caught and Elden had flung himself from the horse to be seated on a log when they arrived.
“What kept you?” he asked innocently.
“An honest race someday?” she replied, hopping down. “But first, you have a story to tell and perhaps two.”
”I have that.” He settled himself more firmly, taking a deep breath of the spring air. “In case you worried, I left no marks on her.”
“I had no such worries.” She sat and leaned against a rock.
“Well, then. Her name is not Jenel; that’s her stage name. When I met her first, she called herself Eldana and she worked for a smaller company. Her time in the pleasure house was staged by Pilik, who approached her with a proposition after one of her performances. He had, he said, a rich patron in Lands-end who needed a favor. She met with the man and described him.”
“And you know him?”
“To my misfortune, yes. But let me finish the story. The man, Harrolen, offered her gold for her work. He gave her the perfumes and the drug for the wine and asked her to engage another woman to help her in what he called a jest at my expense. He put a block on her memory and made Pilik the only one who would come to mind if she was questioned. Removing it took some time.” He frowned. “I dislike such methods, even when I have to use them.”
“And this morning?”
“Ah. When I had what I needed, I eased her mind so she slept. While she was sleeping, I blocked what had happened and added the memory of such a pleasant night with me that she insisted on more this morning. What could I do?”
Brillar drew back, tilted her head a moment and burst out laughing. After a moment, he joined her. She laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. Pointing at him, she continued laughing, “Then that ruse this morning, not so much a ruse.”
He slapped her hand away. “After all I’ve dealt with, a few moments of play…” he left the statement hanging. “Besides that, you locked your door,” he accused.
Brillar continued to chuckle. “I locked it against an archer. As if a lock could stop you.”
“Except that knowing it was locked was all the lock needed.”
She eyed him and nodded. “Well and good,” she replied, “for I have a fine uncle and am apprenticed to a fine teacher. For now, that is all I need and all I want.”
“Well said. That is what you shall have, niece. Now we had best get the horses back to the stable. Does Bright have a fifth gait?”
“We shall soon see. You ride ahead a bit and we’ll follow.”
They were quickly astride their mounts and Jez set off at his walking pace. “Can we match that, Bright?” Brillar whispered in the mare’s ear, then gave her a squeeze. To her delight, the mare moved smoothly into what some called the traveler’s pace and caught up with Jez.
“So much better than bouncing around in a trot,” she called, passing him.
Both man and horse were surprised as Bright continued to pull ahead. Slower in the gallop, she was faster at the walking pace.
At the stable, Brillar slid from the mare and leaned against a post. “What kept you?” she asked innocently, and Elden responded with laughter. They continued to chuckle as they wiped down their mounts.
“A fine morning. Do you suppose Hana would provide an apple apiece for these wonderful horses?”
Hana could and did, and the horses munched them gratefully.
“Mistress Hana,” Garnelden said when they went to the great room and settled in for lunch, “I am sorry to say that this will be our last night at your fine inn.”
Hana just stared. Then, “Well, you’ve been good lodgers,” she said, “and we will miss you.”
“Who will we miss?” asked Berl, bringing ale to the table.
“Good host, we must be going,” Brillar put in. “My uncle, as you may have guessed, is well mended.” This brought a snicker from Berl and a slap on his arm from Hana. “The horses are rested and we need to be on our way on the morrow.”
“If we go to West Riversgate, how many days do you think by cart?” Elden asked.
“With the cart, perhaps twenty,” Berl answered.
“And to Land-end?”
“Land-end! No, that’s not a place for two honest traders, not now. Most avoid it. I would nae send you there. Something dark has happened to the town, they say,” Berl replied.
“But if we had a need?” Elden pressed.
“By cart then, a week, perhaps ten days. Some of the roads be rough and the people have recently been unfriendly.”
“Well, then, we will take your advice. I thought I heard of some fine pottery nearby?”
“Aye, that would be in Eafel,” Hana responded. “Near enough, and fine enough pottery for trading.”
“Eafel it is then, and our thanks to you,” said Brillar. She and her uncle had finished their lunch while they chatted, then they stood. “Dinner and breakfast and then we’ll be off. I think, Uncle, that we should see to the cart and have a talk with the harness maker about a few things.”
The harness maker’s apprentice was quick to serve them. He had hackamores of the type they wanted, more sturdy rope and a few odds and ends for the trail. Elden tipped the lad a copper for his help, knowing that apprentices usually had little pocket money. They bought dried meat and fruit for the trail and some plates to eat from. Cups were good enough for stew, but plates served better at times. They also stopped at the tailor’s shop and received a bundle of travel clothes for Elden, paying for them in silver.
Before supper, they had a moment of quiet conversation.
