Queen's Hunt Part 8

"I doubt it. She said she wants you sooner than now."

Galena grinned. It was just as she had imagined. Adler wanted to tell her first, in private, about the patrol. She saluted Falco, then pulled on her boots and was racing across the garrison yard to the officers' quarters. The guards admitted her at once. Clearly they had expected her. Encouraged, Galena jogged up the stairs to the commander's office. She paused in the stairwell long enough to smooth her tunic before she presented herself to the guards outside Adler's door.

"Send her in," came Adler's reply to their announcement.

Galena marched into the room, stopped, and felt the blood drain from her face.

The regional governor stood behind the commander's desk. She'd only seen Lord Joannis from a distance before. He looked older, plainer, despite the silk tunic with its gold embroidery. Next to him stood Thea Adler. Her close-cropped hair gleamed silver. A thin scar ran the length of her jaw. She had fought in the ranks, decades ago. When Galena saluted, Adler glanced in her direction, her face blank of emotion.

"Tell us about the Karovin officer," she said.

The room closed around her, hot and stifling. Ilse lied to me was her first thought. Her second was to explain everything. She choked back those words. Adler hated excuses. Her only chance was to give a straightforward report. Right. She swallowed once to wet her throat-it did no good-and gave a brisk nod.

"I was part of the troops ordered to the western sh.o.r.e," she said. "When the fighting started, we pressed forward to join the rest. A man came at me. He was very strong. He drove me back. Before I knew it, he'd knocked me to the ground. When I looked up, he had disappeared, but then I saw one of my companions in need. I went to his a.s.sistance at once. By the time the battle ended, it seemed clear that we had killed or captured all the enemy."

There, that was the truth. She had not actually yielded to the man. She had tried to hold him back. She wasn't a coward. And he might have died in the fighting. It was possible.

Adler leaned close to Joannis; they conferred in an inaudible murmur.

"He made no attempt to kill you," the governor said to Galena.

"No. I-I think he believed he had."

Again, Adler and the governor spoke in whispers. Adler seemed unhappy. She argued in a fierce undertone until Joannis cut her off with an abrupt gesture. "The decision is mine," he said. "And the responsibility. If you disagree, file a formal complaint with our new senior commander. Meanwhile, I want you to have that patrol readied and out before the next hour. I will talk to our soldier here."

Adler gave a stiff salute. "As you wish, my lord."

She shot a penetrating glare in Galena's direction as she marched from the room.

The door clicked shut. They were alone now, she and the governor. Galena's mouth turned dry. Joannis, in turn, studied her in silence. She wished he would offer her water, or even cold tea, but he only continued to observe her with those calm dark eyes, eyes that reminded her of the raptor in her dreams.

"We know what happened," he said softly.

She started. "What do you mean, my lord?"

"You let him go. You failed to report that to your captain and your commander. You betrayed-"

"My lord, no-"

"Do not lie to me, Galena Alighero."

"I'm not lying. My lord, I-"

Joannis cut her off with a wave of his hand. "For all your bravery afterward, you let that man go. Then you failed to report the matter to your captain and your commander. Then you asked another person to plead your case with me. Which act makes you the coward, Galena Alighero? The first one? Or the last? And do not tell me that you acted by impulse. You deliberately withheld information from your officers. I cannot overlook what you did. So. Your punishment."

In a soft, level voice, he detailed that punishment. She was to lose a step in rank. She would report every night for the dark watch at the harbor, followed by the dawn cleanup detail. That would last six months, after which the commanders and Joannis would review her situation. Gradually she took in that she had not lost her post, nor would they whip her, or lock her in prison. It was a far kinder punishment than she would have expected.

When he finished speaking, Joannis stood. Galena saluted, thinking he meant to dismiss her, but the governor shook his head. "We are not yet done."

He took a cloth from a drawer. It was a square of gray cotton, with a single word painted in black dye. Even though she couldn't read, she saw the characters were different. Set in reverse, she realized. Her pulse gave an uncomfortable leap. He had it ready. It never mattered what she said. He had her punishment set.

"What does it say?" she demanded.

Then cursed herself. Stupid, stupid. You never spoke to a lord and governor like that. Even she knew better.

Joannis seemed indifferent to her response. "The word says Honor," he said. "Come here."

She took a halting step forward. Joannis closed the distance and laid the cloth over her cheek. It stung, like hot needles. Frightened, she started to pull away, but he gripped her arm firmly. "It's magic," he told her. "Hold still or it will hurt more."

He spoke a few words in some strange harsh tongue she'd never heard before. Her cheek burned. A sharp green scent filled the air, so strong she could taste it in the back of her throat. It was the same scent she'd detected the morning of the battle-a scent of woodland and earth and resin, as if she were drowning in pine needles.

The magic vanished. Taken by surprise, Galena staggered. Joannis caught her by the elbow and pulled her to standing. His grip was stronger than she expected. He gave her a shake. She drew a shuddering breath. Felt the strange numbness recede. Lord Joannis studied her face with narrowed eyes before he released his hold.

"What have you done?" she whispered.

"This." He took a polished square of bra.s.s from his desk and handed it to her. It was just like the mirrors she had seen inside Mistress Andeliess's pleasure house, though the images from this one were blurred. She tilted it this way and that, until she caught the reflection of her own face.

And hissed in surprise.

Strong black lines marked her cheek. She touched her fingertips to them. Felt a buzzing under her skin, as though the magic had imprinted something inside her.

"The marks are temporary," Joannis said. "If anyone asks its meaning, you are to tell them that you chose your safety and your comfort over your honor. Those words exactly. If you fail to repeat that speech, the punishment is expulsion and prison."

Temporary. That was some relief.

"How long then? A month. Two?"

"A year."

"But-" Her hand flew up to her cheek. "My lord. Please. Not that long. I can't-"

"You must. Or you will resign your post as soldier and spend that year in prison."

One year. Galena bit down on her protests. It was more than she deserved, she told herself. Still, it took all her self-control to keep the explanations from rising up like the spring floods. She kept silent until she was certain she could speak steadily. He would expect that. And he would remember how she received this punishment.

"Thank you, my lord," she whispered. "For giving me a chance."

He nodded. And in his grim expression she realized it was a chance, however difficult the next year might prove.

THAT AFTERNOON, TANGLED in unwanted and unfamiliar sleep, so that she would wake in time for her new duties, she dreamed another life dream-a long and grueling battle, where smoky figures wielded flames as their swords. The battle had endured for centuries. Death was its sole release. Yet death meant dishonor. So she labored on and on with that heavy sword, knowing she obeyed the king.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

ILSE WOKE HOURS past the usual time.

She lurched upright in her bed, panicked. She had missed drill practice. Spenglar would not tolerate idleness. She'd heard him lecture the junior soldiers often enough.

Bellsong vibrated through the air, a loud ugly clanging. She clapped her hands over her ears. A sour taste coated her mouth, and her head felt stuffed with dust and cobwebs. Eight, nine bells. Not as late as she feared, but too late for weapons drill. She wondered why no one had awakened her before. Usually Alesso- Alesso Valturri. He was a spy. And she had kissed him.

What have I done?

She groaned, sick at the unwanted memory. Oh, there were any number of excuses she might give-the sleepless nights, the anxiety of the moment, the wine and drugs. He had used magic, too. As if that mattered. She had kissed him willingly. That was the truth.

And from that single day, all has changed, Tanja Duhr had written. One word spoken, one suppressed. One hand clasped, let go. And so the future spins away from us, transformed. Though all we possess remains the same, we gaze upon each thing with different eyes.

Ilse rubbed her aching head until the throbbing stopped, and the bellsong faded. Her stomach felt queasy, but not from the wine or the late hours. Regret, she thought. Even that was too simplistic an answer.

She threw off her covers and stumbled into the next room. It looked so ordinary in the daylight. No mysterious notes tucked beneath her water jug. Her writing desk appeared just as she'd left it when Galena had come to her door. A thin film of dust covered her desk, blown in from the open shutters. Ordinary, yes. And yet, she had the sense of stepping into a false world, painted with shadows and not substance.

Ilse rang for a maid to bring her a fresh water jug and a breakfast tray. By the time she returned from the baths, the maids appeared with her water and breakfast. There was the freshly grilled sunfish, as well as the bread, olive oil, and soft white cheese. One of the girls sent her a sidelong glance as they set out the dishes and cups.

She knew that kind of look. They've heard rumors. Someone saw Alesso half-drag me to my room. Someone else knows I went out late last night.

The bread and coffee went down more easily than she thought, and soon the last traces of the drug and the long night vanished. She dressed in a clean gown. Her hair she bound back in a loose braid. Her eyes were like dark smudges, but her appearance would do well enough. They might suspect her of a dalliance, but nothing more.

After several false starts, she settled into her ordinary routine.

She sorted through her notes for the house's expenses. Reports had arrived from the capital about new taxes and fees, which she incorporated in the file. Soon after that, the house agent came by with the receipts for the current month. Ilse spent the next two hours comparing them against the estimated income from the previous year. She usually found these tasks soothing and absorbing, but today she could not concentrate. All the breezes had died. Her rooms were entirely too still and hot. With nothing else to distract her, Ilse's attention wavered between the rows of numbers and the previous day's events.

If only she could pretend yesterday had never happened.

Oh, but it did.

Finally, she set aside her papers and set off for the kitchen. No sign of Alesso. If he had changed shifts with Daria, he might still be asleep. She made a circuit of the pleasure house, starting on the top floor where the servants had their dormitories, then down and around through the bedchambers and parlors, and to the common room.

Here, the kitchen boys and girls were laying out the first refreshments. Courtesans were just appearing for the day. Ysbel lounged on a couch, dressed in a filmy gown of transparent white, under which her nipples showed a rich ruddy brown. Stefan, too, was bathed and perfumed for an early appointment. Perhaps the grain merchant had requested a private audience.

Ilse paused, wondering where to search next, when she caught a glimpse of Alesso across the room. The next moment, he disappeared into the servants' corridor. Ilse caught up the skirts of her gown and ran after him.

She overtook him outside the kitchen doors. Alesso spun around. For one moment, she had the impression of a leopard cornered by the hunt. The look vanished, and he smiled-a warm and friendly smile that would have convinced anyone of his delight in seeing her.

You would almost convince me, Ilse thought. Except for last night.

"We must talk," she said.

His eyes widened. "What about? The sweet spring day? About Cook's temper if I dally with you? I fear that I cannot risk-"

"Stop it," Ilse said in a low voice. "You know exactly what I mean. We must talk. Unless you wish me to tell Mistress Andeliess how you drugged me last night. The choice is yours."

The light in the corridor was dim. On the other side of the kitchen doors, Ilse heard the rising activity of kitchen workers as they prepared refreshments for Mistress Andeliess's customers, but for the moment, she and Alesso had privacy. She could not read his expression, disguised by the shifting shadows, but when she laid a hand on his arm, she felt his muscles go tense. His chin jerked up. He glanced right and left.

"Come with me," he said.

He led her through the kitchen, already hot and noisy. Scullions were hauling in vast buckets of water from the wells, while kitchen girls and boys stood around several worktables, washing greens, chopping leeks and onions, or stirring sauces. Ghita Fiori, the chief cook, stood in one corner, shouting directions. Alesso waved in her direction, but never paused when she called to him.

Alesso led Ilse through the outer doors and into the maze of narrow lanes behind the pleasure house. They pa.s.sed a series of miscellaneous shops, whose upper stories were let as single rooms. Three steps led down to a small courtyard. Several rain barrels stood against one wall. Wind-blown trash had lodged in the corners, and the walls were water-stained, giving the place a desolate air. "Here," he said.

Ilse scanned for open windows or doors. None were visible. A second gate marked a narrow pa.s.sageway between two houses, but a quick examination showed that it ended in an even smaller courtyard, entirely surrounded by houses. It was private here, more than she would have expected so close to the pleasure house and the very public squares nearby. And their meeting here would only confirm the gossip about last night's supposed dalliance. Perhaps that was a good thing.

Meanwhile, Alesso had leaned against a wall, his arms folded. Despite his seemingly warm smile, she could tell he had slept no better than she had. Still, his expression was guarded, and seemingly alert enough that she would not find it easy to trap or trick him.

"You have questions," he said. "Ask them."

She started with the obvious one. "Tell me who you work for."

"I work for Ghita the Cook."

Ilse rolled her eyes. "Oh really. I would never have guessed. You gave me drugged wine. Why?"

"Curiosity at what you might say or do. An unrelenting desire for mischief. What do you think?"

It was a challenge. She took it.

She threw out a string of suppositions, each one more outrageous than the last. Alesso shrugged, indifferent. Ilse paced back and forth in front of him. Clearly he would not succ.u.mb to threats. She had to surprise him. She threw out a number of names, some of them true, some entirely invention, but he merely yawned. She nearly admitted her connection to Raul, but that was a trick she would have to save for a last and desperate throw.

"You have an extraordinary imagination," Alesso said, when she paused.

"Angry," she replied back. "I dislike being spied upon. You are someone's minion, however sweetly you smile at me. Perhaps not Lord Khandarr's, but what about the garrison commanders'? They might keep a watch on strangers to Osterling, especially after the past few days."

"I would hardly work for the king's commanders."

Ilse swung around. "Why do you say that?"

"No reason."

"You always have a reason," she said softly. "You pretended friendship, kindness. I almost believed you. How foolish of me."

His lips curled into a mocking smile. "Oh dear. How terrible of me. My heart bleeds like Brother Toc for Sister Lir. For surely you would never lie to me. That would be unforgivable between colleagues."

Again that word colleagues. Was he one of Raul's spies, then?

Impossible. She and Raul had agreed never to risk any contact. This had to be a ruse. Very carefully she said, "I have never lied to you."

"Nor have you spoken the truth." He pushed off the wall and came toward her, with the slow easy grace of a stalking leopard. "You are too much of a coward to admit the truth-that you are as much as spy as I am."

"I am not a coward."

He laughed, deep in his throat, and pressed onward until she retreated to the opposite wall of the courtyard. There he pinned her, a hand on either side of her throat, his face inches from hers. Heat shimmered between them. The scent of bergamot and ginger, of the possibility of more than a single kiss, hung in the air. Ilse's pulse leaped to a faster pace. She considered a dozen tactics to disable Alesso. No doubt he would counter those tactics with his own.

"Do you work for Markus Khandarr?" she said.