Iaondrin made sure to drink the mint tea well before she boarded, and told herself not to let her anxiety about the nausea actually cause it. It helped enough that she could actually keep down water and bread for the trip to Halveet, and could stand on the deck and enjoy the warm breeze without doubling over. “This is never going to be my preferred method of travel,” she said as they disembarked in Halveet, “but this was bearable.”
“And look, nothing on my boots,” Bryan smiled. Bryan found himself still getting used to wearing his weapons again. Her hand was warm in his as they walked easily through the crowd and to the Library where he asked to see Scholar McCluskey.
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Back on the street, Iaondrin blinked at the sunlight, surprised to feel the warmth. Midsummer was but days away, and before long the days would be humid, only the fresher sea breezes providing a relief. Part of her wanted to ask Bryan what had happened to bring him to Azpiri’s. But the greater part wanted to avoid the conversation entirely, to avoid the panic that would come with it.
“Kaz brought a lot of news while you were at your lessons,” Bryan said as they walked, holding hands. “If you haven’t guessed, I asked McClusky to look into the Hunters and I got a letter from her.” He figured that was enough about that for now. Time to get her mind away from there for awhile. “The Guild doesn’t like how quiet things have been. Like from the Aihv’? I agreed to let them set some guards on our house. When the Council breaks, there are going to be some people with some time on their hands and more privacy for planning.”
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When the day came for his surprise night out with Iaondrin, Bryan found himself trying to contain a nervous excitement. He did a lot of chores around the house that day, but even his now daily trips to the Guild to work out and train didn’t take it all away. As usual, he met her after her lesson and walked her home, where he set about getting the fire going to heat the stones for the bath. He caught her puzzled frown out of the corner of his eye as he worked—it was too early for him to be getting ready to cook dinner. “We need baths,” he said without looking at her, continuing to work. “And we need to put on our best clothes, and don’t forget the combs.” His smile was slow, that of a plotter whose plan is coming to fruition.
There was a long silence, and he could imagine, even without looking at her, the frown on her face – one with narrowed eyes, as she puzzled over what he had said. Iaondrin wanted to ask what scheme he was about now, but she could tell that the surprise would please him. “All right,” she said slowly, “I will lay everything out.”
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The first day of the trip back to Tarrish threatened to pass the same way all the previous ship voyages had for Iaondrin, with a bucket her constant companion. Various remedies were tried and discarded, before a bit of ginger tea helped to calm her stomach enough for her to at least sit up and keep some water down by the final day. “Next time, let’s start with that,” she said. Though her face was still pale, she was able to walk off the ship without needing support.
“In the calm waters of middle summer, you may even be able to leave the bucket behind,” he observed. She may not have needed support, but he held her hand anyway as they waited for the jovial Jaely to be unloaded. At the livery, Bryan came to an arrangement with Master Gordon that Stefan or Gordon himself would be the only ones to handle their horses, and if ever there was a problem with either, word would be sent immediately. Bryan waited patiently as Iaondrin made sure Jaely truly was all right before they walked off.
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Over all, their time spent in Seldez was relatively uneventful. The representatives of House Marcian were a chastened, quiet bunch for the rest of the journey along the Seldez roads, and each stop along the way to drop off goods, or to pick them up, went efficiently, without interruption, Seldeze soldiers ensuring that no one – caravan riders or Seldez natives – caused trouble. Boyle worked every stop, making sure all the paperwork was in order, that he asked for folk he knew at every post, taking advantage of friendships and contacts to have the journey pass smoothly, until finally they were riding down out of the Seldez mountains into the wide rolling fields of the Fifth Redding. “This is where it might get troublesome,” Blythe remarked to Boeden, when they finally shook off the last of the watchful Seldeze eyes. “Lots of farmers in the Fifth. Lots of thieves, too.” She grinned at Boyle’s back. “But the halflings’ll have to climb to the top of your head to take you out is my guess.”
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They spent a good hour or two before a messenger arrived with a sealed parchment that provided the pier, day and estimated time of arrival of “the ship,” nearly 2-1/2 days later, and two addresses – a warehouse near the docks and a residence.
Bryan thanked the messenger and took the paper back to the couch and handed it to Iaondrin, reclaiming his seat. “Couple more places to check out before the ship gets here.” He brushed a kiss over her cheek. “You almost ready to take a walk?” It was dusk, by the time they got to Vernon’s office, the dimness would be just right.
Iaondrin read the message, and then folded it. “Disguised?” she asked, knowing the answer. They couldn’t risk having anyone who worked for Hugh Vernon spotting a Shal woman with long red hair near his properties.
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Part I can be found here.
Blythe and Boeden, along with two other guards Patyr and Willem were just finishing up their time on watch, when Blythe suggested that they should go get a night cap at the Pesky Prarie Dog, the closest bar to the caravan’s location. Boyle waved them off, telling them to be sure to be ready to continue on the next day; when they left, he was in the midst of supervising the removal of some crates of items being sold in Wyndham, and the re-loading of new ones to be taken on to Seldez.
When they arrived at the bar, with the sign of a farmer looking down a hole and a smiling prarie dog looking out of another, over the standard size door. Blythe stopped suddenly and looked at Boeden, “Oh gosh, I didn’t even think about…,” looking back and forth at Boeden and the bar door.
Boeden held up his hands, “It’s OK, don’t worry, I have this handled.” Boeden activated his ring, and he shrunk down to only six feet tall. He only crinkled his face a little at the pain, he was getting used to it, and after all the fights he had been in, he had felt much worse.
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Part I can be found here.
After several moments, he felt himself calming down. He closed his eyes and focused. Now was not the time for revenge. Now was the time to reunite with his father. He walked slowly over to the side of the bed to kneel next to him. “Father,” he whispered.
The older warrior sat bolt upright, and brought up with him a knife whose blade was as long and wide as his forearm. Only the sight of his son’s face stopped the swing. The sheet fell away, revealing a torso marked with scars old and new. “Aye, Broc!” he said in surprise, in a voice as strong as it always had been. “Well it’s about time you showed your face, boy! The stories have been coming fast and furious about you.”
A calm and relieved feeling came to Broc, the sound of his voice and reaction reminded Broc of the great warrior father he had known. A slight smile crossed his face, “Aye Da”, he said in a cheerful tone. The other thoughts and emotions that were building up within him all but vanished. “I’ve had my share of adventures, but enough of me. Let’s talk about those bastards that did this to you.”
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“They came in winter.” Her voice was flat, toneless, and the air around them was unmoving. Above, the sky was as blue as her eyes, and before them were prints in the snow, of a girl’s bare feet, heading down the slope. Iaondrin’s fingers trembled in his, and when Bryan turned to look at her, he saw a flash of what she had been, fourteen and dressed in grey, no shoes, with a long stain dried across her back where she had pulled on a jacket over her wounds. He tightened his hand on hers as a pang went through him.
Then, the girl was gone, and the woman was with him again, face pale. One step, two steps, three, and the footprints disappeared from the surface of the snow. She lifted her free hand again, as the cold ate into them and the silence weighed on them. Her mother’s ring was the only thing, other than the sky, that had any color. The cut formed slowly on this side, reluctant to open, but she forced it, and reached
<through>
to grasp the threads and pull them
<out>
into the edge of summer.
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The next day, the first of the letters and packages started to arrive. When Iaondrin opened the door to find a uniformed valet standing outside, holding out a sealed letter, she just looked him up and down and told him she didn’t want it. When he insisted that his lord would not like for him to return without a response, she just blinked and answered that his lord would need to learn to live with disappointment. “Or else,” she added, long blade slipping from her sleeve into her right hand, “he can start looking for someone to fill a sudden vacancy in his staff.”
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