Heartseeker Page 12

  I gratefully shrugged off the blanket, which, while warm, was beginning to feel like being wrapped in a nettle patch. I pulled the shirt over my head and the breeches over my legs.

  “If anyone asks about your hair, tell them you didn’t have a brush, so you decided to cut it and burn it in the fire.”

  I stopped in the middle of buttoning the breeches. “I can’t, ma’am.”

  Bethan placed her hands on her hips. “Why not?”

  “Because, ma’am, it ain’t true.”

  One of the captain’s eyebrows arched all quizzical. “Well, no, it isn’t, but surely you understand the need to keep this from Master Iordan?”

  “It ain’t that, ma’am”—I tried to explain—“I actually can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “Can’t tell a lie.”

  A look of genuine puzzlement settled on Bethan’s face. “What happens if you do?”

  “A bad headache. And you’d likely end up with a lot of leek and potato soup on your boots.”

  She grimaced. “Well, that’s less than ideal.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Bethan raised her eyes to the sky, where the waning gibbous moon was peeking above the tree line. “I don’t like not knowing things, Mayquin.”

  “My name’s Only Fallow, ma’am.”

  “Only.” The captain shook her head in frustration. “I didn’t know that either.” She jerked her thumb back toward the stables. “I suggest, Only Fallow, that we adjourn indoors for a cup of tea and game of questions and answers.”

  * * *

  IT WASN’T AN Ordish tent, but it had the same feel to it. The stables were blessed warm with the smell of horse and hay. It was the first time since the cart had carried me away from the orchard that I felt at home. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend I was in our own barn with the soft sound of old Waymer grinding oats between his teeth.

  As we passed a glossy chestnut creature, Bethan dragged a hand over its flank and gave its soft nose a rub. “How’s my boy?” she asked, bringing her forehead to the horse’s forelock. He whinnied softly, shoving his head under her arm and nibbling at the pouch on her belt. She smiled, looking less like a warhorse herself. “I spoil him a bit,” she said, reaching into the pouch and drawing out a handful of carrot, leek, and squash ends from the kitchen. The horse gobbled them up with a great flapping of lips and stuck his face back into the pouch, hungrily nosing for more. “That’s it, greedy guts, that’s all I’ve got,” she said, laughing, taking his head in her hands and turning to me. “Do you know much of horses?”

  “My mama does. She comes from a family of stablemen down near Farrier’s Bay. The Pendricks.”

  The captain nodded knowingly. “Aye, it’s a fine stable!” She rubbed the muzzle of her stallion. “Westdolph came from our own stables. He’s a devil in a scrap, but a kitten in the fold. You can stroke him, if you like.”

  Putting a firm hand to Westdolph’s shoulder, I ran it over the shining coat. I’d never seen a beast so fine. I wished that Mama were there—no doubt she’d have something to say about the length of his hock or the depth of his breast. The horse swished his tail, letting me know he was tolerating my touch for his mistress’s sake. I removed my hand, polite as can be. A few well-placed kicks from Waymer had taught me never to test a horse’s patience.

  “This way,” said the captain, pointing to the stable master’s quarters just beside her mount’s box. Inside was a small pot-bellied stove, a wooden chair, and a cot. More than comfortable for a stableman, but hardly fit for the commander of the king’s cavalry.

  Before I could stop myself, I blurted out a question. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but why aren’t you staying at the inn? I got a bed half the size of an Ordish barge. Surely there’d be one for a lady like you?”

  Bethan laid her sword on the floor beside the cot. “A soldier doesn’t need luxuries. The men are camped in the meadow on bedrolls, so this is quite comfortable enough.”

  A tall teapot steamed on the cool plate of the stove. Two tin cups appeared out of the captain’s saddlebag, and she poured the dark liquid into them, handing one to me. The ice in my fingers began to melt against the hot metal of the cup. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “It’s been stewing for a while, so it might be a bit strong.”

  The warning came a second too late for my bitter sip. I must’ve made a face, because the captain gave an amused chuckle. “It’s black tea from Achery. Nafir brought it back the last time he went to see his family. It’s seasoned in crates with straw and pepper. Gives it a bit of a kick. It’s a little better with milk.”

  I hardly wanted to say, but it tasted like licking the floor of a cow barn. I took one more neighborly sip before deciding that it was better as a hand-warmer than refreshment.

  Bethan drained her cup and set it on the floor with a clink. “So.”

  “So,” I repeated, hoping for some sign of what to say next, but the captain just stared at me as if I were a puzzle with missing pieces. “Questions?”

  “What?”

  “You wanted to ask me questions, ma’am.”

  “Well, yes, I do want to ask you some questions, but I thought maybe I could answer some as well.”

  I blinked at her. It hadn’t really occurred to me I’d get to ask any questions. Everything had been so fast, so cruel. Master Iordan made it clear that I was nothing to him, so what regard should this soldier have for me?

  “Um, I do have questions, ma’am, but . . .”

  “You didn’t suppose anyone would take any notice,” she finished for me. “Well, I’m taking notice, although I am going to use the privilege of rank to take a few of my answers first. Is that acceptable to you?”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  “Good.” Bethan leaned back against the wall, pulling her feet up onto her cot. “So, how does it work?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Your ability. The augury. How does it work? What does it look like?”

  “I can see an untruth, ma’am, but what it looks like depends on your aim in the telling. If you mean to cause harm by it, it’s ugly, like a darkness. If it’s to save your own backside or hide a shame, it’s blues and purples. Pink is an exaggeration. Fear is green. Kindnesses look like twinkling flash fire. But it’s not so direct as that, most of the time. Usually folk telling a lie have got more than one reason for it.” I couldn’t help wonder a second on what it was I’d seen when the captain introduced herself. It certainly wasn’t like anything I’d seen before. Maybe it had just been a trick of the light. And as I’d used up all the goodwill I was owed with my nighttime tomfoolery, I thought it best to keep it to myself.

  The captain gawped. “That’s extraordinary! So, back at the inn, when I told Master Iordan that Emerick had fallen in the pond, you could see it?”

  “It was sort of a blue haze, with white sparks winking round the edges. I guess because you didn’t want the inquisitor to know I’d got out, but you were also thinking about your men and what trouble they might catch.” I looked down at the floorboards. “I’m sorry for sneaking out, ma’am. I just wanted a breath of air.”

  Bethan stared down at the folded hands in her lap. “I was rather like you when I was little. My mother died when I was very small and father cared more for his . . . duty than for anything else, so my care fell to a lot of tutors and housemistresses. I didn’t half give them the runaround—I was out the nearest window the minute their backs were turned.” She raised her eyes to me, her chin stuck out, resolute. “I’ll try to see to it your journey from here on is more to your liking. There’s little I can give you, but I can at least give you that.”

  The idea of a more exciting journey lifted my spirit a little. The captain pointed her cup at me. “Your turn.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Your turn to ask a question.”

 
I had half a million buzzing around inside my head, but I could barely catch hold of a one to settle on. “What’s Bellskeep like?”

  “Have you ever been to a large city? One of the holds, maybe?”

  I shook my head. “I been to Roundmarket a few times for the horse fair with Mama. We meet up with my auntie Rya when she brings the colts for sale. But I’ve never been farther than that.”

  “Bellskeep is rather larger than Roundmarket. If you put ten Roundmarkets together, they still wouldn’t be as big as Bellskeep.”

  I’d a hard enough time imagining ten Roundmarkets. The horse fair was always a bustling place, full of buyers, sellers, and vendors. So many folk pressed in from all sides, I’d cling to Mama’s skirts to keep from getting washed away in the tide of bodies around me.

  “There’s never been a city more beautiful,” the captain continued. “But I’m guessing that’s not what you mean.”

  I flushed. “I don’t know if you can say, ma’am, but I was wondering what it’ll be like for me.”

  “It’s certainly an honor to serve at the king’s pleasure. You’ll have a fine chamber and clothes, private tutoring with Master Iordan . . .”

  So much for my hope of leaving my grim-faced captor behind. “Master Iordan?” I groaned.

  The captain stared in the direction of the inn. “He may seem a little inflexible, but he makes an excellent teacher. As for your duties, I understand you’ll attend the king in council and at audiences and give a full and true account of what you see. Your impressions will be valuable. But in the time you’re not attending to your duties or your studies, I imagine you’ll have the freedom of the castle and its grounds. If you wish to go out into the city, you’ll have your own guard.”

  Something warm began to uncurl in my stomach. “You mean I won’t be locked in my room?”

  The captain’s mouth fell open. “Locked in your room? Of course not! What would make you think . . . ?” She slid off the cot and came to kneel at my feet, her hands grasping mine. “Child, listen to me, I don’t know what sort of stories you’ve heard, but the king isn’t a cruel man. Were I in your shoes, I would feel all of this is dreadfully unfair, and perhaps it is. I can’t promise you the life you hoped for, but I can promise you that the life you’ll have will be every bit as rich. Can you make peace with that?”

  I thought of Lark and Rowan and the other indentured children of Bellskeep. Who else but a cruel man would do such a thing? Of course, I didn’t give any of those thoughts a voice. What good would it do? I thought back to my jaw with Non in the sanctuary yard. Sometimes we gotta be content to change what we got charge over.

  “I think I can, ma’am.”

  “Good girl, Only.” The sound of my name from Bethan’s lips put iron in my back. “Now, let’s return you before you’re missed, eh?”

  The two of us beat stealthy steps from the stable across the inn’s garden. I carefully avoided the inky smudge of the pond, and before I knew it, we found ourselves at the base of the trellis. “Do you need help?” Bethan whispered, looking up the latticework to my open window, where the curtains were drifting out into the night.

  “Oh, no, ma’am. This ain’t nothing compared with some of the trees in the orchard.” Then I scrambled up, quick as a mouse, and sat boastful on the window ledge.

  “Well, that certainly is something!” She crossed her arms, amused. “You as graceful on a horse?”

  “I can ride, ma’am.”

  “Well, tomorrow morning, you can ride with me awhile. Does that suit you?”

  I grinned so hard it hurt. “Thank you, ma’am!”

  “Right, then, into bed with you. We start just after breakfast.” She turned back to the stables, but stopped as if something tickled her memory. “Oh, by the way, what will you say if someone asks about your hair?”

  I shrugged. “It needed cutting.” Not a hint of pain from the inside of my head. I smiled.

  Bethan gave me a small salute. “Good night, Only from the orchard.”

  “Good night, Captain Fisroy.”

  14

  Master Iordan protested.

  Thinking back, protested ain’t the right word for what he did. He placed his scrawny, pompous self right between me and Captain Fisroy. Westdolph’s tail twitched in annoyance as the captain was forced to leave off tightening the girth round the saddle to face the inquisitor.

  “I won’t allow it.”

  Bethan folded her arms with a lot more calm than I would have expected from a soldier who’d just been sassed by a jumped-up hallsmaster. “You won’t allow it?”

  The inquisitor tried to draw himself up higher. He and the captain were the same height, but she was wearing armor and looked much more formidable. “The king commanded me to make sure the Mayquin reached him unharmed.”

  “Funny,” said Bethan, arching an eyebrow, “I’m sure he gave me the same command.”

  “Then you will know why allowing the child to ride in the escort is a ridiculous notion,” Iordan answered.

  “What I know,” replied the captain, lowering her voice and entering her challenger’s space, “is that the child has been ripped from her family and stuck into a rolling prison for two days. There are many different forms of harm, Master Inquisitor. To expect her to serve her kingdom for the rest of her life and not give her a glimpse of it seems cruel in the utmost.” Satisfied she’d made her point, she went back to tightening her saddle’s straps. “She’ll ride with me. No harm will come to her.”

  Iordan’s mouth opened and closed like a fish yanked from a creek. “You cannot guarantee that! The king has enemies.”

  “Most of the king’s enemies reside solely in his head, garrisoned there by Lamia Folque,” the captain said. The inquisitor’s eyes widened, and both of them fell into the kind of silence that’s louder than talk. I didn’t have the first clue who Lamia Folque was, but I knew whatever Bethan said wasn’t something meant to be spoken aloud. I also couldn’t help notice Iordan didn’t correct her. Instead, they seemed to have a whole conversation without saying a word, their eyes eventually darting back to me. The air round them was charged with the things left unsaid.

  Finally, the inquisitor spoke, as if some of the hot air had gone out of him. “At the first sign of anything suspicious, you’ll pass her off to the carriage master?”

  Bethan nodded, looking a little deflated herself. “You have my word.”

  * * *

  “WHO’S LAMIA FOLQUE?”

  Gareth, who’d just walked in the door of my room, almost dropped a bundle of Master Iordan’s books that he’d stashed under his arm.

  My talk with Captain Fisroy the night before had put me in a slightly better humor, but it also made me hungrier for any information about where I was headed. I snuck a dried apricot from breakfast out of my pocket and popped it in my mouth. “Captain Fisroy said something to Master Iordan about Lamia Folque and the king. It didn’t sound like she cared much for her.”

  The steward threw a nervous glance at the open door. “It’s best not to speak too loudly of the Folques. I’m surprised the captain did.”

  I punched one of the fluffy pillows. “Yes, but who is she?”

  The steward was taken aback. “Didn’t you learn about the Four Families in halls?”

  A rhyme from Mistress Averil’s study hovered hazy on the edge of my tongue.

  Sandkins rule where cattle graze,

  And from the land springs wheat and maize.

  Molliers tend the fruitful vines

  That fill our cups with dark, sweet wines.

  Dorvans build their ships to last

  Against the strongest storm hold fast.

  Folques dig deep beneath the ground,

  Where treasures of the earth are found.

  The Four do sit in wisdom round,

  And by their council serve the cro
wn.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed. “She’s a member of the king’s council.”

  “She’s the head of the council. The Folques have held the seat for almost two hundred years, but it’s taken them a while to get back into favor after the last war with Thorvald.”

  My mouth fell open, apricot and all. “We had a war with Thorvald?”

  Another book threatened to leap from under Gareth’s arm. “Of course we . . . what do you learn in halls, anyway?”

  There’d been a simple map tacked to one of the study’s walls—one showing the outlines of enormous Thorvald to the north, tiny Achery to the south, and Orstral smack-dab in the middle. “What’d the Thorvald want with Orstral anyhow? They got three times as much space as us.”

  “Yeah, but it’s mostly cold waste. There’s a little fertile ground at the coasts, but they can only grow a few crops. A lot of their food and other resources come from us.”

  It was silly to feel sore over a war I didn’t even know happened, but I didn’t like the thought of the Thorvald stealing the orchard any more than I did the king.

  “Guess they thought it was better to own the garden than pay the grocer.”

  “Exactly. It was a long time ago, mind. Our grandsire’s parents probably weren’t even born yet. But that doesn’t stop people from remembering that the Folques actually helped the Thorvald when they invaded.”

  “Those snake-bellied eels!” I burst out.

  Gareth shushed me quick. “Didn’t you hear me say you shouldn’t speak of them too loudly?”

  “Sorry,” I muttered, helping myself to another apricot. “If the Folques helped Thorvald, why’re they still part of the council?”

  The steward’s mouth twisted the way Ether’s did when he’d got a real good secret, but didn’t know whether he wanted to share. His eyes flicked to the door again before he sat down on the bed beside me, putting Master Iordan’s books in a neat pile on the quilt.

  “The Thorvald only got as far as Oldmoor before the rest of the three families and the Acherian army managed to drive them back. The Folques claimed they were overwhelmed and had to choose between helping or losing their lands, but a lot of people think they were looking to bargain with them so they could take the crown and rule for the Thorvald by proxy. Lady Folque’s great-grandfather splashed a lot of the family fortune around during his time on the council, helping to rebuild everything that got ruined, but it’s never really stopped the talk. A lot of people still don’t trust them.”