Heartseeker Read online

  Reaching out the window, I gave the trellis a tug and was happy to find that it was made of iron rather than wood. The leaves of the vine that snaked over it had already fallen off, so there’d be no rustling as I climbed. Once I hoisted my leg over the sill and found myself a sturdy notch for my foot, it took me no time at all to shimmy down the rest of the trellis. After years of hiding and seeking in the orchard, I was fearless and sure-footed, but once my feet hit the dirt path leading to the water closet, all the grit went out of me. I wasn’t in the orchard anymore. Every night sound was something fearsome just waiting for a disobedient little whelp like me to blunder into its path. I forgot my worry of being heard and all but ran to the water closet, yanked open the door, and locked myself into the fetid darkness to do my business.

  Sitting there in the dark with the cold air against my nethers reminded me unpleasantly of the little wheeled prison I’d be forced back into the next day. It prickled my arms all over again. What would life be like once I got to Bellskeep? Would there be trees to climb or would I be locked in a little box like a toy for the king to take out and play with when he got the notion? The thought clung to me, hot and sticky as tar. She spent her life in service to the crown. I didn’t even have the freedom to relieve myself in the dignity of a water closet. Would I ever be allowed to return to Presston, even for a visit?

  Non said she did some of her best thinking in the privy. “Just don’t sit there too long,” she warned. “You never know when an idea might bite you in the rear end.” Feeling well and truly bitten, I hoisted my bloomers and gathered the spirit I’d need for the trip across the garden. I cringed at the screech of the door as I slipped through, but just as I thought to make my way back through the dark, a hand closed fast around my wrist.

  I pulled back, ready to lump my attacker, but even in the dark of the garden, I could make out the familiar, freckled face. I sagged with relief.

  “Great All, it’s a good thing I’ve already been to the privy!”

  “What are you doing out here?” Gareth whispered.

  “What’re you doing out here?” I shot back angrily.

  The steward scowled. “I went into your room to see if you needed anything and spotted you across the garden. You need to get inside before you’re missed by Master Iordan!”

  “Did you climb down the trellis?”

  “Of course,” Gareth snorted. “I can balance a meal tray on top of a carriage moving at full trot; a garden wall isn’t much of a bother.” He looked round nervously, peering into the night. “If you’re caught out here, I guarantee the inquisitor will lock you in that wagon for the rest of the trip.”

  “What’s it to you if he does?” I bristled. “All I wanted was a breath of air.”

  “Well, you’ve done that, so let’s get—”

  The sound of raucous laughter suddenly rang out in the dark. Both me and the steward flattened ourselves deep in the shadow of the water closet.

  Before us, partly hidden by a row of stubby pine trees, were two soldiers of the cavalry regiment, stripped bare and bathing in the cold water of the creek. I squeezed my eyes shut. Living in a house with two brothers meant I was better acquainted with the sight of naked boy parts than I cared to be, but encountering soldiers bathing in a stream was quite another thing.

  Gareth groaned. “Master Iordan’s going to wonder where I am in a moment. I shouldn’t’ve come out.”

  “Well, it ain’t my fault, I didn’t ask you to!”

  The steward leaned his head against the wall. “Is everyone in your village a complete pain in the backside, or is it just you?”

  “You sound like my brothers,” I muttered.

  “And you’re more than a little like my sister. She’s a pain in the backside, too.”

  “Reckon she’d know how to get across the garden without getting seen by a couple of naked soldiers?” I whispered.

  Gareth sniffed. “My sister would have had better sense than to climb out a window of an inn being guarded by the royal cavalry.”

  The cavalry in question were taking their sweet time bathing. The man sitting nearest to us on the bank with a blanket wrapped around his waist was trying to shave his gingery stubble by feel. The long, straight knife he held in his hands glittered in the light of the lantern on the ground at his side. “Ach, Mother’s breath!” he swore as he nicked a spot under his chin. He grabbed his undershirt from the pile of clothes next to him and pressed it to his skin to stanch the blood. His fellow, the only Acherian in the party, was still standing in the middle of the creek, naked as his nameday.

  “You ought to leave that stain, Emerick. Your wife will think you saw some action on this little holiday.”

  “At least I’ve got a beard, Nafir. Perhaps your sweetheart would take you more seriously if you had one, too.”

  Nafir scoffed and ran a wet hand over his smooth cheek. “Your Mother All obviously thought my face was too handsome to cover with hair.”

  “A likely tale!” snorted his comrade, staring quite pointedly at a point farther downstream. An irritated woman’s voice suddenly rang out.

  “Emerick, could you at least pretend to turn the other way?”

  I couldn’t see who the voice belonged to, but I guessed it was the leader of the cavalry—the lady in armor. Only, without the armor.

  Emerick laughed and scooted around to face the trees. Gareth tried to push us deeper into the shadows. There was no way to move without being seen.

  “Apologies, Captain. Once a soldier, always a soldier.”

  “Well, unless a soldier wants his eyes poked out with a pine branch, he should move them somewhere else,” retorted the captain.

  “Aye, Captain, aye.” Emerick chuckled as he took another long scrape up his throat with the dagger. “But you know, there are all sorts of old tales that start with a fellow who sees a beautiful woman bathing in a creek.”

  “Do those tales ever end well for the fellow who sees a beautiful woman bathing in a creek?”

  “They usually end in a dungeon,” the soldier replied. “Or being torn apart by wild dogs. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “See that you do. Or perhaps when we return, I’ll decide that an officer of your quality is needed at the outpost in Sandborn.”

  Emerick groaned. “With greatest respect, Captain, I think I’d prefer the dungeon or the dogs.”

  She laughed. “Don’t let Arfrid Sandkin hear you speak like that. He rather likes his little patch of wilderness.”

  “He’s welcome to it,” Emerick sniffed. “I’ve no desire to live in another man’s paradise that’s made up entirely of grass and cow dung. Besides, there’s no decent pub for miles.”

  I was fast losing feeling in my fingers and toes in the chilly twilight, and the fear of being caught out of doors was mounting every moment that passed. Gareth’s teeth were clacking together so hard, I was sure we’d be heard. I grabbed hold of his sleeve and we began to slither, inch by inch, out from the shadow of the water closet. The rough boards snagged our clothes, making tiny cracking sounds that were louder than a sanctuary choir to my ears. As we finally slid round the corner of the privy, out of sight of the bathing soldiers, I silently let out a breath and began to make a hasty retreat back to the trellis and the open window.

  It was a good deal darker than when I’d first made my escape, and the path back to the inn was not as straightforward as I remembered. Squinting into the gloom, I tried to place each silent footstep on solid ground. I thought we were making good progress, but I heard Gareth’s quiet warning just a moment too late.

  “Watch out for the . . .”

  My foot slipped under a tree root, sending me sprawling. A small, ornamental pond I’d not noticed on the way out was there to break my fall. I had only a second to pinch my nose before I hit the stinking, stagnant water with a splash. The pond wasn’t deep, but the noise of my entry w
as loud. I gasped as my head broke the surface of the water only to find myself face-to-face with the point of three swords, one of which belonged to a very tall, very wet, and very naked woman with a wide-eyed Gareth behind her, his cheeks glowing scarlet in the light from the inn windows. Her two male officers, in varying states of undress, were trying hard to keep their eyes fixed on me. At least one of them wasn’t succeeding.

  “Emerick,” she growled, her voice low and threatening, “think of the dogs.”

  The soldier’s eyes flicked quickly back to where I sat, shivering in the pond. “Doing my best, ma’am.”

  The captain’s mouth turned up at the corners. “I don’t suppose we need three of the king’s finest to guard one village rat. Make yourself useful and fetch my tunic. And don’t think I won’t know if you’re looking as you go.”

  Emerick plodded off into the darkness and the woman’s face grew serious. “What do you think you’re doing, skulking around in the dark?” She whirled around to face Gareth. “I know you’re coming to be of an age, master, but this is neither the time nor the place for dalliances with the locals.”

  The steward flushed even harder, each of his freckles standing out like a burning star. “Ma’am, I wasn’t—”

  But the captain’s attention was already back to me. “You one of the kitchen girls?”

  I didn’t dare move, freezing, soaked to the skin and smelling of rotting pond plants as I was. I had to force my numb lips to work. “N-no, ma’am, I—”

  “How long have you been hiding out here?”

  “I just had to use the water closet,” I sputtered, hoping maybe I’d just die of cold before I had to answer any more questions. “Please, I . . .”

  Emerick trotted back out from behind the trees with a lantern and a tunic, which he handed his commanding officer while shielding his eyes with the other hand. The captain snatched the garment from him and quickly shrugged it over her head without giving up control of her sword. “Now, I think you ought to . . . Mother’s breath!”

  Her face dropped as she got a good gander at me in the light of Emerick’s lantern. “How in name of All did you get out here?”

  “I climbed out the window,” I admitted miserably.

  “I saw her out in the garden when I went in to check on her,” explained Gareth quickly. “And I thought—”

  Just then, there was a rattling of a lock from the back of the inn and the door flew open, spilling light into the small garden. I’d have recognized the gangly figure in the doorway anywhere. The flames on Gareth’s cheeks were doused in milk as he stepped quickly behind the captain.

  “What’s going on out here?” roared the inquisitor.

  Quicker’n I could blink, the woman yanked me out of the pond, thrust me behind her with Gareth, and shoved Emerick in. The clean soldier yelped in surprise as he hit the foul water, just as Iordan strode angrily toward us.

  “It’s nothing, master,” lied the soldier, a dazzling halo of blue and white sparks igniting around her. “One of my men had a bit too much ale and stumbled on his way to the privy. No reason to be alarmed.”

  Iordan puffed up, all full of himself. “Your soldiers do realize we have a long day of travel ahead tomorrow. I trust I can expect everyone to execute their duty?”

  Her face darkened. “I’ll thank you not to talk to my men about duty, Master Inquisitor.”

  Iordan bit his tongue, thinking better of cheeking someone who could break him in half over her knee. Instead, he turned his disdain on the gawping soldier still sitting in the pond. “You’re a disgrace, master. Be sure you greet the morning with a clearer head.” Emerick made no answer other than an expression of disbelief from the depths of the smelly water. Satisfied, the inquisitor turned on his heel and marched back to the inn, slamming the heavy door behind him.

  Emerick slapped the surface of the water angrily. “Beg pardon, Captain, but what in the seven hells was that about?”

  “Think of it as penance for your wandering eye,” the captain retorted, turning round to study me. “You think he wouldn’t have been quick to tell the king we managed to miss the Mayquin sneaking around in the dark, unguarded?”

  “The Mayquin?” exclaimed Nafir, stepping back, the point of his sword dropping to the ground. Emerick followed suit, climbing out of the pond quickly, as if something in the dark water had taken a bite of him. The woman let out a tired sigh.

  “Are you two such old fishwives that you fright in the presence of a little girl?”

  The soldiers didn’t answer, but took another fearful step back. Their commander made a disgusted sound. “Get back to the camp, both of you.” She wrinkled her nose. “Emerick, you should probably go back to the stream first. You’re dismissed.”

  The men scampered away like two boys from their chores.

  “And you,” she said to Gareth, “went above and beyond your duties, master. I thank you. Now, quickly, back to your post before it’s noticed you’re gone.”

  The steward made a quick bow and made for the inn, throwing one last look at me over his shoulder that clearly said,

  Pain in the backside.

  13

  Even in the dead of winter, I’d never been as cold as I was standing in front of the captain of the royal cavalry. Rotted water plants clung to my thin, wet shift. Mud trickled down my scalp. I smelled worse than cider mash. I, Only Fallow of the orchard, had just made a royal fool of myself.

  “Bit colder up here than in Presston,” said the woman, looking me over, head to muddy toe.

  I worried if I opened my mouth, my chattering teeth might lop off the end of my tongue. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

  “I expect you’d like to be out of those muddy clothes, too,” she continued, as if we were having a pleasant gossip over tea.

  “If you p-please, ma’am,” I said, shivering.

  She rested her hands on the pommel of her great sword. “This isn’t the place to be mucking around, you know. You must think you’ve drawn rather a short lot—and perhaps you have—but you must do as you’re bid now, do you understand?”

  “Y-yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m Captain Bethan Fisroy.” Night might have been playing tricks with my eyes, but the world behind the captain wavered a little, distorting the view of the inn behind her. The long, sleek muscles in her arm flexed as she pointed the way to the creek with the sword. “Let’s get you presentable.”

  I followed the captain to the creek, just a little upstream from the water closet. The water was shallow and fast flowing, but there was a hollow where it reached nearly past my knees. I let out a squeak as my feet sunk in. It was far colder than the pond.

  “It’s best done quickly,” said the woman with a wry smile. “Give me your shift. I’ll try to get the worst of it out.”

  I hugged my arms to my trembling body, glancing around into the trees.

  Bethan laughed. “Emerick’s gone back to camp, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s just you, me, and the moon. Come on, off with it.”

  Feeling more naked than I’d ever been in my life, I peeled off the muddy shift and my soaking drawers and handed them to the woman waiting on the shore. In spite of the cold, I hurried to hide myself in the little hollow. The icy water was a punch to the gut as it flowed up over my chest and arms. “Oh sweet All!” I yelped.

  The captain scrubbed the fabric of my shift against a large, smooth rock by the bank. “It’s fresh, I’ll give you that. Get your head under and have done with it.”

  I dunked my head back and felt the current take the length of my hair like river grass. The cold water rushed into my ears as I scrubbed my scalp, trying to ferret out all of the pond dirt. When I was sure it was clean, I raised my head again, the heavy weight of my hair almost dragging my neck back down into the water. At home, after I washed, Mama would sit me before the fire while she used her sturdy boar’s bristle b
rush to tease out the snarls. Sitting in the freezing stream, I wondered what would become of my unruly locks. Two days of travel had already tied it in more knots than Non’s crocheting.

  Bethan stood on the bank with a horse blanket she’d retrieved from the stable. “Out you come. Before you catch death.”

  My head tilted to the side as I picked my way gingerly out of the cold water and over the rocks to be wrapped up with the most beautiful, itchy piece of material I’d ever had the pleasure of warming myself in. The captain frowned as she took a length of my sodden hair in her hands.

  “This won’t dry by morning. And it’s quite the rat’s nest.”

  “My mama has the only good brush,” I said in a very small voice.

  Bethan’s face gentled. “I’m sure you’ll have a fine one when we get to the city. Until then, though, I think I have a duty to your mother to see to it that you don’t come down with anything on the way, don’t you agree? Don’t want to venture farther north with damp hair.” She unsheathed a large dagger from her belt. “Do you trust me?”

  I nodded, keeping one eye on the blade.

  Taking hold of my wet mane, she made a fat loop of it round her hand. Before I could object, the dagger flashed and nearly two feet of wet curl and tangle was making its way down the creek. She looked at me approvingly.

  “Long enough to be proper, short enough to be convenient. What do you think?”

  My hands crept over my shoulders to explore the neat, severed ends. I’d never felt so light. “Feels like my head’s about to float away.”

  She chuckled, running her hands through her own hair, which sat at almost the same length as mine. “You’ll get used to it.” She handed me a dry linen long-shirt and a pair of breeches. “One of the stable lads was about your size. It’ll get you back to your room without freezing, at any rate.”