The Book of Shadow, page 9
part #1 of The Curse of the Unnamed Series
“We built the encampment because we didn’t know how long you’d need to recover,” he said, holding the psaltery out to Ilkari. The squire took it, cradling it as though Rein presented him with a newborn. “Too late to take it down just to have to put it up again somewhere else, wouldn’t you say?” He looked her right in the eye. “Do make us some dinner, won’t you?”
He pushed aside the flap and disappeared inside the tent before she thought to answer, if doing so had been an option. Her shock and surprise at his words made her doubt her ability to think of a response. Still seated in his chair, Jai chuckled and strummed his lute again, but the sound did nothing to soothe her beastly soul.
Chapter 8
“T hey’re here, Master. They’ve arrived.”
Viden Misk raised his eyes from the tome laid open on the table in the garden, one of two books he’d enlisted Mikol to lug out of his basement chamber. He blinked and looked at the servant who’d spoken, taking a moment to parse the lad’s meaning.
“Shriken and his party?”
The youngster nodded, then spun on his heel and trotted off, excited about someone with the fame and notoriety of Rein Shriken showing up at the merchant’s estate. Misk frowned, noted the page he’d stopped on when he dozed off while reading, then closed the book with a thump, expelling a musty scent of ancient paper. He sat for a minute, drumming his fingers on the tome’s cover.
How did they get here so soon?
Only four nights since they received the return messenger bird from the baron, confirming their contract and naming the parties to be supplied. The name of the traveler accompanying Sylleth’s champion had been unfamiliar to both Carpera and Misk, so he’d assumed the handler didn’t possess knowledge of the estate and they’d therefore ride. If he’d misjudged the traveler’s familiarity, the party should have arrived sooner. Fully by horse, they’d still be three days away, and then only if they rode hard. He didn’t expect a knight like Rein Shriken to hurry to what he must think a simple quest, no matter who requested him or how much pay they offered.
Misk used both hands to pull his leg over the seat and twist—the first step in extricating himself from the bench. Once accomplished, he rested to allow the ache in his spine to ease, then repeated the procedure—an uncomfortable process, but less painful than his version of hurrying up the stairs. Faced away from the table, he groped for his staff, foolishly staring the direction the boy had taken when he left rather than watching what he was doing. His fingers brushed the rod, sending it sliding along the edge of the desk and to the ground.
“Damn it.”
He sighed and glared at the length of knotted wood lying in the manicured grass. It taunted him just far enough out of reach he’d need to rise from his seat to retrieve it. He set one hand on the corner of the table and winced before exerting any effort. The lightning bolt of pain along his spine didn’t disappoint.
The old man groaned as he straightened, lurched forward a step, then bent to pick up his walking aide. His neck muscles tightened as he reached for it—if he grasped it and found himself unable to stand after, it wouldn’t be the first time such a thing happened. He wrapped his fingers around the length of wood and lifted it off the ground before he considered straightening again. Instead, he grabbed the staff in both hands, planted its tip on the grass, and used it to prop himself up. His backbone protested, and pain made its way up to his shoulders and down past his hips, but nothing seized. When he got upright, he inhaled a deep breath and released it, relieved, as he wiped a line of sweat from his brow on his sleeve.
“Let’s go meet this champion then, shall we?”
He toddled off in the direction the youth had headed, though at a slower pace.
The trees flanking the laneway leading to the merchant’s estate ended at a wall. The gate stood open, an imposing gargoyle set atop the posts at either side. Beyond opened onto a wide lawn decorated with flower beds at regular, symmetrical intervals. The house at the center of it appeared modest when compared to the baron’s castle, but the biggest in Llyris’ experience outside the guildhall, if not for her invitation to Sylleth’s residence. Two stories above ground, a gabled roof, enough room for family, servants, guests and more, the manse straddled the grounds almost from one side to the other.
The estate lay on the outskirts of town, not in the middle of it, as the baron’s did. She guessed this the difference between a man who lorded over a single place versus someone who oversaw an entire duchy. As far as she knew, Carpera was lord of his parcel, but nothing beyond the grounds.
Llyris gaped at the myriad colors of the flower gardens as the wagon rattled along the path, following behind Rein and Jai riding side by side. She didn’t know what lay ahead for them, or how long the task might require, but being done with the trip gladdened her. While at the guild, learning how to harness and use the tiny bit of magic left in her through breeding, she’d imagined how well she’d be treated. It seemed to her a person able to handle magiks, get them to perform tasks useful to all, should garner esteem and admiration. Not the case, and spending time with the knights proved people scorned handlers because they were different. Not as much as they did magiks themselves, but not far off. At least Ilkari treated her with respect.
Ahead of them, Rein twisted in his saddle to speak to them, raised his hand and pointed.
“Look at that,” he said.
Llyris stretched up in her seat, her bum parting ways with the plank of wood as she tried to discern what he indicated. She found it difficult to see past the two knights blocking her view, but she glimpsed people gathered outside the house.
“Looks like we have a welcome party,” Jai said, his words barely noticeable over the rumble of the wagon’s wheels.
“As it should be.” Rein settled into his saddle, though she noted him sitting straighter than before.
She leaned closer to Ilkari. “What’s that about?”
He shrugged. “Must be an important book.”
They rode the rest of the distance in silence. Llyris took turns peering at the small crowd gathered outside the manse and marveling at the beauty of the grounds. She’d seen nothing like it before—even the trees bore flowers. Halfway to the house, a stream which she’d noticed meandering across the yard bent to keep with the track, and she wondered if they’d built the path to follow the brook, or manipulated its flow to accompany the road. Either way, the water’s burble brought her joy.
A man separated himself from those gathered to greet them. She judged him closer to Ilkari’s age than Rein’s. He wore a red tunic with tails descending beyond his buttocks. A shirt with a ruffled front and similarly frilled sleeves protruded from the coat, and blue, velvety trousers completed the ensemble. The outfit appeared altogether too warm for such a sunny day. Three more men stepped out behind him, these clad in more practical attire, swords hanging at their belts. The well-dressed fellow raised his hand, but he did not smile.
“He must be our employer,” the squire said, putting voice to Llyris’ thoughts. “Looks a bit of a dandy, if you ask me.”
Llyris stifled a chuckle. She didn’t know what a dandy was but may have guessed based on her companion’s words and tone. Carpera might have been a handsome man in his youth, but years of stress had drawn lines across his forehead and at the corners of his mouth. His hair remained dark—not graying like Ilkari’s—and his posture straight, but she noticed a weight on his shoulders.
“Welcome, Rein Shriken. We are happy to have you,” he said. His lips did nothing to suggest it the truth. “Welcome to my home.”
They halted their horses, and the two knights slid out of their saddles as though they’d rehearsed it. Rein crossed the last few paces and extended his arm toward Carpera, who accepted the offering, and they grasped wrists for a few seconds before letting go.
“Thank you, kind merchant.” He slapped his friend on the shoulder with his right hand. “This is the great knight Jai Aryn, of course, and my squire and the handler you requested.” He introduced her and Ilkari with a wave.
Carpera nodded, though not to them. “Come, let’s get you some food. We have much to discuss.”
The crowd parted, and the merchant led the champion and his friend toward the doorway. Without a word of command from anyone, two boys of about twelve years hurried forward and gathered the reins of the knights’ mounts to lead them away to the stables, presumably hidden somewhere behind the grand house. Another came and stood beside the wagon. Ilkari regarded him for a second before shuffling along the bench, throwing his legs over the side, and dropping to the ground.
“Come on, girl. It doesn’t look like we’re going to get a proper invitation.”
As he handed the reins to the third boy, Llyris gathered her rucksack and slung the strap over her shoulder, glad for packing light enough to keep her belongings close. She slid out of her seat and lowered herself, stopping to check on Flayre once she’d firmly planted her feet. The creature lay motionless in her pocket, as always, but Llyris felt the power she held radiating from her. Satisfied, she waited as he led the horse and wagon away, then went to Ilkari’s side as he started toward the doorway to Carpera’s mansion. By then, most of the small crowd had dispersed to their various duties. A few of those left offered shallow but courteous nods as they passed. Most ignored them. One man differed—an older gent standing back from the others and leaning on a knurled staff as though he’d topple without its support.
The elderly fellow caught her eye and held it, his gaze penetrating her. She attempted to glance away but found herself unable to accomplish such an insignificant task. He stared at her, his scrutiny intense enough to send a shiver along her spine. Even after she and the squire passed through the doorway into the house’s cooler interior and she no longer saw him, she felt his attention upon her. She gulped a mouthful of saliva and wished for the sensation to pass.
Llyris and Ilkari ate in the servants’ dining room, away from Rein and Carpera and their discussion about why he’d sent for them and what needed doing. Though being relegated to the help’s eating hall left her feeling demeaned and unimportant, she guessed the elderly fellow who’d gawked at her likely in attendance with the merchant. She did not miss his intrusive gaze upon her.
“Did you notice how the old man stared at me?” she asked Ilkari between bites of chicken tender and juicy enough the squire needed to wipe his mouth before answering. He used his sleeve despite the cloth napkin lying unused on the table.
“What old man?”
“He stood at the back of the crowd, leaning on a staff. You didn’t see him?”
He shrugged and tore a bite off the drumstick in his hand, then spoke while chewing. “Nope. He probably took a fancy to you, is all. They don’t encounter many attractive young women they’re not related to in these parts, I’d bet.”
Llyris noted warmth in her cheeks as the squire’s words made her blush. When did someone last refer to her as an attractive young woman? A simple answer: never.
“I don’t think so,” she said, moving a potato from one edge of her plate to the other with her fork. “He looked curious. No…suspicious.”
“Worry not. We’ll find this precious book for Master Carpera and get ourselves home in no time.”
She nodded and sighed. As a word, home lacked much meaning for her. After being taken from her mother’s arms as a babe, her father seemed a nomad until she ended up at the handlers’ guild. Hardly a place worth calling home. Thinking of it caused her to raise her head and glance about the small dining room. No one here appeared remotely magical, nor wore a handler’s pin, which made sense; a smart man found a better use for such resources than the servants’ hall. Or perhaps someone of Caedric Carpera’s means didn’t have any of the Unnamed to make his life easier; the guild charged dearly for their services. She hadn’t thought to keep her eyes open for others like herself but she’d pay attention when in the company of other people.
Llyris picked at her meal, taking the occasional bite but spending more time using the tines of her fork to doodle in the thick gravy. She wondered what made a book so important it compelled the merchant to invest enough money to bring in two knights, a squire, and a traveler and its handler. She had no clue how much of a sum it might be—more than she could wrap her mind around. Currency held little concern for her—the guild compensation provided her with necessities, plus a small stipend, most of which she hid in a sock at the bottom of her pack. One day she may need it, though whether to spend or use as a weapon, she didn’t know.
Ilkari finished his meal and set to sopping up the gravy left on his pewter plate with a dinner roll from the basket placed on the table between them. Sauce squeezed out of the bread and squirted onto his chin, but he ignored it as he wiped the buttered bun around the plate’s surface again. Llyris laughed to herself watching the enthusiasm with which he ate, admiring his maintaining of an appetite when they lacked any clue about what adventures came next. She’d tried her best to eat, but her stomach wasn’t having it. In a last effort, she popped a chunk of potato into her mouth and started chewing it. As she finally convinced herself to swallow, a short, portly man entered the hall and strode across the room to them.
“Master Carpera is ready for you now,” he said, his tone as stiff as his stance.
He looked at neither of them as he spoke, choosing instead to tilt his head and direct his gaze toward the ceiling. Llyris wondered what he might see, then realized he chose this to avoid laying his eyes on her rather than seeking some lost item high on the wall. It was a common attitude she encountered, given her role as a handler, but one she wished different. She could conceptualize why people treated her thus, but didn’t understand why it must be. There wasn’t much unusual about her.
Except a sliver of magic bred into her.
“Give me a minute,” Ilkari said through a mouthful of gravy-soaked bun. “Almost finished.”
He snatched another roll from the basket and wiped it across his plate, though Llyris noticed not a single smear of juice left on its surface. The stout man sighed, making no attempt at hiding his frustration. She smiled at the squire’s irreverence—being the attendant to the baron’s champion allowed him leeway of which she merely dreamt. Once he popped the last bite between his lips, he took the time to suck any remnants of butter or gravy from each fingertip on both hands, then slid his chair away from the table, legs scraping hard floor. Llyris set her cutlery together at the right side of her platter, as they’d taught at the guild dining hall when they finished eating, and stood as well. She turned to the portly fellow.
His eyes flickered toward her, and his lip curled. He spun on his heel and led them from the room.
The aroma of the roast chicken, potatoes, and vegetables wafted to Viden Misk’s nose, but he ignored their tempting bouquet. Instead, he watched those gathered at the tables in front of his spot at the head table, three chairs from Caedric Carpera. Their attitudes couldn’t have been more disparate. The ones in the merchant’s employ sat eating their meals in quiet and solemnity, murmuring amongst themselves, reserved because of the knowledge they already possessed. Conversely, the new arrivals from the baron spoke in boisterous tones, bordering on abrasive, as they enjoyed Carpera’s food and drink. Especially the drink. The host’s men cast sideward glances at them, whispered to each other with sneering lips, but none of it dampened the moods of Rein Shriken and Jai Aryn.
As they finished their meals, a small platoon of servants emerged to clear away their plates and cutlery, to refill wine cups and tidy up. A young woman asked Misk if he was done with his untouched meal, and he waved his hand at her. She hesitated, then departed with his still fully laden plate. A minute later, the door at the end of the feast hall swung open and one of the merchant’s attendants led Shriken’s squire and the traveler into the chamber. He directed them to chairs at a modest bench at the rear of the space.
Misk straightened in his chair, leaned his elbows on the edge of the dining table to prop himself up. Even from this distance, he sensed a difference. That she was more accomplished than others of her ilk seemed obvious. Few were adept enough to travel an item as large as a horse, never mind a trio of horses and a wagon. But it wasn’t just her ability, was it? Something else he struggled to identify, but he intended to discover what before he sent them off to find the grimoire.
He studied her as Carpera droned on beside him, telling those in the room everything they required about the task laid before them. She took it in, glancing toward the squire or sharing a whispered word with him, nodding along to whatever her host said. Misk didn’t listen to him; he’d provided him exactly what to say. The merchant relayed the sad story of his ill child, told them the lie he believed—they needed to find the tome to provide what the old man requested to heal him. He lacked any further details to offer because he knew no more. Misk did—and those who’d perished seeking the book, but they weren’t revealing any secrets these days.
The merchant finished up his speech, and Rein Shriken made a loud comment, after which he and Jai Aryn laughed while no one else did. The girl smiled a nervous smile, glanced at the squire, then her attention strayed toward the head table, and her gaze met Misk’s.
He leaned forward, staring, and she stared back, if only for a moment. Their eyes locked. A chill crawled across his skin, but short-lived as the men seated in front of her stood, blocking his view. The rest of the gathering’s attendees did the same, first milling about, then heading toward the door, and he realized Carpera must have finished his instructions and dismissed them.
Misk pushed his chair away more quickly than he intended, its feet grinding against the stone floor as he banged his knee on the table leg. He winced and doubled over in pain, rather than standing as planned.
“You damn fool,” he muttered.
