The Book of Shadow, page 21
part #1 of The Curse of the Unnamed Series
“I’m getting water for the dishes to help our lovely hostesses. What are you doing here?”
She glanced around as though expecting to discover someone spying on them; the squire did the same out of habit. Neither of them saw anyone watching. Secure in the fact they remained alone, she leaned closer.
“I’ve found a library in the cellar. If we’re to find the tome anywhere, it’s there, but the entrance is through their bedroom. I must locate another way to gain entry.”
He stared at her, confused by her words. She peered up at him, awaiting a response. When she didn’t clarify, and he offered no reaction, she spoke again.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Me?” he said, taken aback. “You’d steal from these women, yet you wonder what’s amiss with me?”
Hinter’s expression hardened. “Have you forgotten why we are here?”
“What? Forgotten? Me?” Ilkari sputtered. “Of course I haven’t.”
He peered at the bucket handle clutched in his hand. Of course he hadn’t forgotten: they were fetching water from the well to clean the dishes. Priscilla and Prue would be delighted with him for doing so, more pleased than with the idiot Kove for the mess he’d made of the simple job of slaughtering the porket. The thought brought a smile to his lips. When he glanced to the girl again, she’d raised her brow, her expression dubious.
“Don’t go back in without me,” she said.
The squire nodded, forcing the grin from his face and setting it with a more serious aspect to match hers. At first, he wondered why she acted in such a grave manner, but then it became clear to him. As a female, the possibility of her winning the favor of their hostesses was slim, for they obviously preferred the men. If he stood no chance of impressing such creatures as they, he’d act the same way she did now.
“Don’t,” she repeated, emphasizing the word, “go in without me.”
“I won’t,” he agreed, nodding.
Satisfied—or thinking they’d spent enough time on the conversation—Hinter crept away, her cloak emulating the color of the night so she appeared a gust of wind passing through the yard. Ilkari watched for a minute until she disappeared, then stood wondering what they’d been discussing that she found so serious. He glanced at the bucket dangling from his fingers and memory returned. He needed to get water from the well.
The squire swung the tub in the manner of a child wandering without a care in the world. He paced toward the far end of the cabin, where he’d seen the stone ring earlier, when the fool Kove had proven himself unworthy of their attention. What a simple task for him to divert it to himself—fetch the water, clean the dishes. He rounded the corner and spied the shape of the rock sides, made his way across the yard to it.
A rope dangled from the windlass set between two posts above the well, a hook tied at the end of the line. Ilkari took it, hung the bucket from it, and lowered the container into the darkness. He whistled as he did, a quiet, tuneless ditty he created on the spot. Perhaps, when he found himself alone with Pris or Prue—or both of them—he’d serenade them. He ceased whistling, licked his lips, then began anew, concentrating this time on his tone and cadence. It sounded pleasant to his ears, so he decided this a good plan.
A second later, the bucket touched with a gentle splash. Ilkari leaned in, giving the rope slack to tip the tub. When he judged it filled to the brim, he pulled it up, hand over hand, careful to keep it dangling in the middle to avoid hitting the sides and spilling any. Kove’s pushiness had kept him from demonstrating his adeptness at dressing a pig; he’d show them his deftness at retrieving water from a well.
An ache started in his shoulders but the bucket’s handle appeared above the top of the head wall a second later. He reached out and grabbed it, unhooked it, and tossed the rope aside, the hook thumping on the ground. He gazed at the full tub, water threatening to slop over the sides if he wasn’t careful.
Perfect, he thought and started toward the front of the house, his promise to Hinter forgotten, and the girl left behind.
Hinter crept along the rear of the cabin, thankful to be out of earshot of the squire’s discordant attempt at whistling. Without more important things requiring her attention, she’d have taken time to assess why the women appeared to have a spell on Ilkari and the other males—except Rein and Jai. It didn’t matter, though, if she couldn’t access the library to search for the book. If she were honest with herself, examining the volumes in pursuit of a tome she didn’t know how to recognize seemed a daunting task. Identifying the text became moot if she failed to find a way in.
She moved with care, placing each step to avoid making a sound. She expected no one of being close enough to hear if she did, but neither had she foreseen encountering Prue on the stairs earlier in the evening. So much about the place made little sense, so she determined to use caution at every turn. Doing so had done her well to this point in her life; she saw no reason to change the habit.
Ahead of her, a light shone through a window she guessed must be the kitchen, judging by its placement. She frowned—she hadn’t seen a window in that room. It emitted enough brightness to illuminate the space behind the cabin so she didn’t need to remove the glow stone from its hiding place in her cloak. She stopped and surveyed the surrounding area, taking in the pen outside a small structure she assumed the home of their pigs. Beside it sat what appeared a chicken coop, and nearby a pile of lumber waiting to be chopped, an ax sticking out of a stump used for the purpose. Beyond these, the encroaching forest lay in darkness, its trees and brush and the creatures it contained hidden in the night. Hinter made note of the yard’s layout, scanned for any easy access into the woods, then struck out again, slinking along the shack’s wall. She crept three more paces before coming upon what she’d hoped to find.
The wooden doors sat flush with the ground, bits of grass growing over the edges like nobody had opened them in a considerable time. Two iron rings, one attached to each door, served as handles, and a length of chain clasped together by a rusted lock held them shut. She crept closer, knelt at the portal’s edge, and spent a moment examining the padlock. Square with a hole for a key, but otherwise unremarkable; no different from a hundred other contraptions she’d found her way past in her lifetime.
Hinter stood and stepped back, judging the entrance’s placement on the wall of the cabin, trying to determine if it would let her into the library. She estimated so, but how the building’s interior felt so much larger than the outside made it difficult to assess. She decided opening the lock and creeping inside to have a sneak around her best choice so she didn’t waste time in the future. If it wasn’t the way in, she needed to keep searching. She’d need ten seconds to open the latch, but another minute or two for reconnaissance after entering. Standing, she faced toward where she expected Ilkari to be, intending to signal him her intentions.
The squire was gone.
Hinter’s heart jumped in her chest. She rushed away from the doors in the ground, headed for the far corner of the cabin opposite the well, hoping she’d find him awaiting her around the side. He wasn’t. She skidded to a halt, casting her gaze about to make sure he hadn’t wandered off toward the tree line unbeknownst to her. Males were difficult to figure at the best of times, much more so when involved with women, and to the extreme with these two.
She saw no sign of him.
With the same care she’d taken as she made her way along the backside of the cabin, she crept to the front corner and peered around. It came as no surprise he wasn’t there either. She breathed a heavy sigh and shook her head, giving up any pretense of stealth as she walked to the doorway. In her youth, Hinter had learned the lesson of trusting no one but herself—here, in the middle of the woods outside a broken-down shack, she found another example.
She swung the door open and stepped into the room, any conversation falling silent as she crossed the threshold. Everyone stared at her and she glared at them as they sat arrayed about the space. All but Ilkari, who stood by the fire emptying his bucket of water into the cauldron to heat it and clean the dishes. He avoided meeting her eyes.
“Hmm, I’d not have expected the likes of you to get lost,” Priscilla said, standing from where she perched beside Kove. The merchant’s man moved as though intending to follow her, but a subtle hand gesture stopped him. “It’s not far to the well. Did you lose your way going or coming?”
“Neither. I—”
“Ilkari, why didn’t you take care of her?” Prue said, cutting her excuse short.
The squire raised his head, glared at her. “She wanted to look around. I told her not to but she refused to listen.”
“Hmm. I’m worried this girl might be a danger to herself.” Pris crossed the room to her, poked a finger into Hinter’s shoulder. “Best we make sure you don’t wander off again.”
The woman directed her toward the left hand door—the one she hadn’t explored. Hinter saw no point in resisting, so allowed their hostess to guide her as she glanced around at her companions. The squire continued frowning at her while the cleric and the merchant’s men appeared disinterested. Rein and Jai watched, but did nothing. Only Tesfira’s expression offered concern, but how could a girl committed to silence help?
When they arrived at the door, Priscilla reached out and slid aside the iron bolt holding it closed. She swung it wide so the light from the fire spilled through, illuminating the space beyond—a room, its floor and walls bare but for a pile of straw in one corner. Pris prompted her across the threshold.
“It might not be the most comfortable, but at least it’s got a bed.” She waved her hand toward the far wall. “And you’ll be safe in here.”
Hinter opened her mouth to speak, but the woman slammed the door shut, blocking out the firelight. A second later, she heard the scrape of metal against wood as she drew the bolt across, locking her in.
She sank to the floor and sat cross-legged in the dark, lips pressed hard together as she promised herself she’d trust no one ever again.
Chapter 19
I t turned out her companions took the time to make it easy for Llyris to follow them.
She found a huge arrow fashioned of stone near where she’d left them to return Mikol to Carpera’s, a method they repeated twice more as she tracked their path. She also came upon one made of sticks and twigs, and one dug into the dirt by the heel of a boot, though rain had nearly washed it away and she almost walked past without noticing. Broken tree branches and stacks of rocks lent aid, as well. When she approached the forest and reached the stretch of grass leading to it, she discovered another pointer formed by plant matter ripped from the ground by its roots. They’d created such obvious indicators of their direction, she wondered if her companions thought her simple.
She stood at woods’ edge, hand resting on the sideboard of the deserted wagon. She understood they’d abandoned it because the forest wouldn’t allow them to take it, but she worried about what might have happened to them, nonetheless. Peeking over the top, she saw they’d forsaken their non-essentials: instruments, gaudy pillows, Rein and Jai’s pavilion. Everything she’d wished they hadn’t made her travel for them in the first place while taking the necessities.
She climbed up to sort through what remained, hoping to recover useful items to use since she’d left her supplies at the merchant’s estate in her rush to help them. Lute cases and easels shifted under her touch as she murmured a prayer to locate provisions, clothing to keep her warm at night, a weapon to defend herself. Her stomach gurgled as she searched, but she realized she’d find no food. Given how much time it took to arrive at this spot, she assumed the wagon had sat unattended for days, any foodstuffs long since scavenged by forest beasts or birds. As the wagon’s contents appeared undisturbed, she guessed they had come to the same conclusion themselves and not bothered to leave any.
One pack, likely belonging to either Rein or Jai, contained clothing inappropriate for their venture. It was all over-sized for her, the colors, styles, and fabrics didn’t suit a woodland trek, but she might use a few items to stay warm at night. She slung the bundle over her shoulder and climbed out of the wain, boards creaking with her steps, belly growling its disapproval at not being fed once again.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find some berries and mushrooms once we are in the woods,” she said aloud.
The sound of her voice disturbed a clutch of birds high in the trees. With a flap of wings and one bird calling out directions, they took to the sky, their disarray falling into a practiced formation as they wheeled away from the disruption. She stood on the ground beside the wagon, watching them go, and realized they were the first creatures she’d seen since her arrival. Pondering them made her wonder what happened to the horse once harnessed to the wain. Had they taken it with them? She imagined Rein sitting on the steed while the rest of them clambered over broken logs and picked their way through tangled brush. Perhaps not, though; certainly Cirril Feron would complain.
As if answering her thoughts, a sound caught her attention, far off and too quiet for her to identify. She froze and held her breath, standing by for it to happen again, waiting to decide if she needed to flee. She wished they’d left her a weapon of some sort.
A minute passed, the buzz of unseen insects the sole noise her ears detected. She stepped away from the wagon, shifted around to avoid creating any sound. Farther along the tree line, she spied a brown patch standing out against the yellowed pasture. She squinted, stared. A chunk of wood? It moved, a long-snouted head rising out of the grass.
Her heart jumped with glee at the sight of the missing horse and she prevented herself from squealing with delight lest she scare it off. She tilted her shoulders, shifting the pack into a more comfortable position, then stepped away from the wagon, starting toward the animal. She wondered if she should sneak up to avoid its notice, or if she’d be better off making it aware of her presence sooner, so she didn’t startle it. If it bolted, she’d never catch it. The beast’s snout dipped groundward, searching for another mouthful of sustenance, and she increased her pace.
Halfway to it, the horse raised its head again, this time peering at her. She saw it stop chewing, its gazed fixed on her. Not knowing what else to do, she raised her hand like greeting a friend.
“It’s okay,” she said, raising her voice so the animal might hear her, but not so much she’d frighten it. “I won’t hurt you.”
Its ears bent toward her, its tail flicked, then its jaw moved, masticating the mouthful of grass. Llyris let out a sigh and increased her pace. With ten yards remaining between them, the horse started, jumping back a foot and appearing ready to bolt. She halted, held both hands out as though it understood human gestures.
“It’s okay,” she repeated, voice even and gentle despite worrying it would run. “It’s okay.”
It backed away a few steps and Llyris’ gut knotted. She didn’t know if the animal could carry her any faster than walking—the forest’s thickness might not allow passage—but she considered it worth a try. She suddenly wished her guildhall training had included a class about horses.
She inched forward, and the horse held its ground. Steadily, she closed the space between them until two yards remained. She reached out her arm, stretching her hand toward the animal. It flared its nostrils, the muscles in its shoulders bunching, then reared, letting out a high-pitched whinny and kicking out with its front feet. Llyris stumbled away, an unexpected squeak escaping her throat. Its hooves impacted the grassland with a thump, then it reared up again.
Be calm, she thought. If she remained collected, the animal might sense her ease and not behave thus. Be calm.
The horse came down, nickered, shook its head, and dipped its snout toward the ground once more. Its lips pulled away to expose its yellow teeth, and it tore a mouthful of grass out by the roots.
Llyris stared at it, hands still held out in front of her. When it seemed it no longer cared about her presence, she crept forward, the horse carrying on as though she wasn’t there. A few seconds later, her fingers touched its neck; it didn’t react.
“Good girl,” she cooed, and stroked her flattened palm along the animal’s coat. “Good girl. No reason to be afraid.”
It flicked at a fly with its tail, raised its eyes and gazed at her, chewing all the while. Despite her urge to tense, she forced herself to act calmly, taking slow, steady breaths through her nose, inhaling the beast’s scent. When it swallowed and lowered its head once more, she moved alongside, dragging her fingers along its shoulder and down its flank as she surveyed it for hurt or injury.
“You look good,” she said, stalking a wide berth around the horse’s tail end. She’d never seen anyone kicked, but she understood the rear legs were the most dangerous part of the animal. She reached the far side without incident and replaced her hand on its hindquarter. “Not worse for wear at all.”
She kept her touch on it until she made her way to its front, giving its neck a pat. The horse looked at her again, the brown eye meeting her gaze and holding it. She inhaled a deep breath and released it, unsure what to do next. Her stomach gurgled and her saliva caught in her dry throat.
“You probably need water. Me, too.” On a whim, she took her touch from the animal and headed toward the wagon, peeking over her shoulder. “Why don’t you come with me? We’ll find some for both of us.”
It watched her for a few seconds, flicked its tail and nickered, then started after her. Amazed, Llyris led the way, listening to its hooves clopping on the ground to ensure it followed her. A sense of accomplishment filled her, though she didn’t know what she’d done. The horse must have been so used to humans, it stayed with the next it encountered.
No matter the reason, it trailed her to the wain without pause or hesitancy.
She searched everywhere, but the wagon contained nothing resembling saddle, bit, or reins. She found a knife secreted away under a tent near the front of the wain, which she tucked into an inner pocket of one of the knight’s robes she’d donned. Its silken fabric caressed her skin, flowed about her like a cape. The bright red color made her stand out against any background—a feature she hoped to scare off any predators rather than attract them.
