Covenants (v2.2) Read online

  “Don’t be stupid.” I carefully inspected my tabard for lurking spiders before jerking it over my head. “How would they get justice if they haunt their killers? They attach themselves to whoever they feel can avenge them.” Or should. I once more pushed away the thought that Basel died because of me, and picked up my empty scabbard. I stared at it.

  “You could’ve been a haunt too,” Jeff said, also staring at the scabbard.

  Empty or no, I buckled it on anyway. “Don’t think about it.”

  “We all could’ve been,” Lord Esclaur said. He had won a short but furious battle with the royal physician and was now dressing in civvies provided by Javes. He adjusted his quiz glass, making sure the ribbon wasn’t twisted, his hair once again carefully pomaded and curled.

  I stared at the captain’s spiritual brother in every aspect, even down to translations, bringing to mind the rest of the king’s men in waiting. “Tell me, wolf, how long has Javes been part of the pack?”

  To Esclaur’s credit, he didn’t insult me with false protestations of not knowing what I was talking about. He was quiet for a moment as Jeff and even Basel turned and looked at him. He then smiled the same tongue-lolling grin I’d seen on the captain. “He’s been part of the Court quite a while, my lord.” He cocked his head. “Not so naive, are. you?”

  “They will engrave that on my tombstone,” I said, picking up my gloves and a couple of handkerchiefs, giving them a good shake. The feather fell out from one of the yellow squares onto the floor, but no one noticed.

  Jeff’s brow creased. “But Javes doesn’t have a patronymic. Besides, I heard his father’s a merchant.”

  Army intelligence again.

  “That’s what he said, but does anyone know who his mother is?” I tucked my gloves into my sword belt, put my handkerchiefs in my other pocket and glanced down, making sure that my trousers draped properly over my newly buffed Habbs (they had gotten smudged between the fight last night and the spider bashing this morning).

  “No, Rabbit isn’t naive at all,” Javes said from the door. I quickly turned around. “Just willfully thick at times about things he doesn’t want to be true.”

  “Sheesh, you’re like twins,” Jeff said, looking between Javes and Esclaur. “Uhm, sir.”

  “You’ve always known who I am,” I stated. “When you joined us in the beginning, you damn well knew that I was ibn Chause and eso Flavan. Sir.”

  Javes met my eyes, the yellow of the wolf changing back into the brown of the man. “My act of ignorance wasn’t because of you, Rabbit.”

  Somehow that failed to relieve my mind. But then Captain Javes began to frown and he raised his quiz glass. “I say, didn’t you get a haircut last night?”

  My hand shot up to my hair, and down my hair. I turned my head and could see the ends brushing my shoulder. I tugged it just to make sure it was mine and not some wig someone plopped on my head when I was distracted, and winced. It was mine. “Sodding hell,” I whispered, feeling my spine tighten.

  “Just what we need, more weirdness.” Javes walked over to his desk and rummaged around in a drawer, finding a length of string. “Here.” He watched me fumble with it, then took it back. “Turn around, I’ll do it.” He combed and plaited my hair into a queue, finding another string to secure the end of the braid. “Let’s not give Jusson’s nobles something else to ponder on. If anyone asks, lie.”

  My palm itched and I rubbed it against my leg.

  “Oh, pox on it,” Javes said. “Don’t say anything, then.” The itching faded.

  The captain turned to Jeff. “You have Rabbit’s back.”

  Jeff nodded.

  “Only Suiden and I can dismiss you. No one else, not even Rabbit, understood?”

  Jeff nodded again. “Yes, sir—”

  Toe claws sounded out in the hallway. Laurel was coming towards us, running, and I turned again to face me door, welcoming a crisis, any crisis, to take my mind off what was happening to me. The Faena hurried into the room, his eyes wide with his iris a thin ring around his dark pupils.

  “Rabbit, did you take the spritewood staff and the dragon skin?”

  On the other hand, there are some things that should never ever happen. My spine tightened even more as I asked a question I already knew the answer to. “No, why?”

  “They’re gone.”

  Bloody, sodding, pox-rotted, blast damn it all to hell.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  “How could they be stolen?” Javes asked as we stood in front of the closet where they had been warded. Jeff and Esclaur looked over my shoulder as I peered in, all of us searching the cubby as if Laurel had missed them as they lay in a dark corner. He hadn’t. Javes moved me aside and ran his hands over the shelf where they had lain, but the closet remained empty.

  “Why would anybody take body parts?” Esclaur asked.

  “To some it’s just wood and lizard skin, honored lord,” I said. I gestured at my boots. “Sort of like our leathers.”

  Javes sighed and stepped back, admitting defeat. “I suppose we ought to tell Suiden that they’re gone.”

  We found Suiden standing by one of the courtyard doors in the hallway, looking out at the shrubbery. The captain’s eyes narrowed into green slits as Laurel told him of the theft.

  “I’d rather face the plague, honored captain,” Laurel said, “as it’s less toxic than the staff and skin in the hands of someone of ill intent.”

  “You said they were warded, Sro Cat,” Suiden said.

  “Warded against any ill effects,” Laurel replied. “Not against theft.” He ran his paw over his head, sending his beads rattling and clacking together. “If I’d thought someone would be stupid enough to take them—”

  “Only a fool,” I said, my voice soft.

  “—I would have asked honored Suiden for a guard.”

  “And we all know who the ‘fool’ is,” Javes said.

  Just then Groskin emerged from the officers’ mess, carefully avoiding Basel standing behind me. After him came more troopers who weren’t as adventuresome, and they stopped.

  “Please move aside, Basel,” I said. The haunt obligingly shifted, but still no one moved. That may’ve been because of how Suiden’s eyes had flames flickering in the center.

  “What is this?” Suiden asked. The troopers were all in their dress uniforms, accoutrements gleaming.

  “They’ve heard that you’re taking Trooper Basel’s body with you and they wish to form an honor guard, sir,” Groskin said. “Please.” More soldiers appeared, coming from both upstairs and the ground floor quarters.

  “Well, here’s insurrection,” Esclaur said, his brows raised.

  But Suiden shook his head. “Except for those on guard rota, all may come if they wish.” He sighed. “It’ll be something else to tell his family.” The captain’s eyes then blazed at Groskin. “I will gut you myself if you even so much as hint that you are fomenting unrest, Lieutenant.”

  Groskin winced, then nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Javes lifted his glass at Suiden’s flaming glare. “That’s something that’ll make all the children go screaming to their mothers.”

  “Your eyes are yellow, sir,” I said helpfully.

  “Thank you so much for telling me, Rabbit,” Javes drawled. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “It is the physical manifestation of your translations,” Laurel said. “The outward appearance of what has happened internally, even though your bodies have returned to their human form.” He shrugged, his beads rattling. “It’s what Rabbit’s been seeing all along.”

  “You mean they’re going to stay like that?” Esclaur asked, his own winter blue eyes wide as he stared at Suiden.

  “Yes.”

  “Then the children and their mothers are going to have to deal with it,” Suiden said, “as we must get to the palace, especially with Slevoic loose in the city.”

  Someone had dug up the banners and pennants Javes’ troop had brought to a mountain lea so long ago and, as our
procession wound through the city streets, the wind unfurled the flags until they were snapping in the breeze. For the first time since we arrived, the streets were empty of spectators as the big cat went by, though I did notice troubled faces peeking out from doorways and from behind window blinds. I suppose the sight of a flag-draped bier borne by ten large soldiers going by in a funeral procession was a little nervous-making. And the ghost probably didn’t help.

  I caught a flicker to my side and turned. Basel, now in his stag persona, paced beside me, his hooves making no sound on the cobbled streets. Though, as I thought of it, none of us were making any noise. I looked down and saw mountain grass and meadow flowers springing up from the stones. Lady Gaia was indeed mourning.

  We were halfway to the royal compound when hooves came thundering down the street and a detachment of the King’s Own, led by Lord Commander Thadro, rode up to us, their horses’ hooves abruptly muffled as they reached the front riders. Our spines snapped straight as Lord Esclaur’s brows rose until they almost met his hairline. “His Majesty must really want to make sure we arrive.”

  “Captain Prince Suiden,” the Lord Commander said, his grayish blue eyes twinkling. “Not that I don’t think that you can get across the City without help, Your Highness, but the king has asked that I join your escort.”

  “Yes, sir,” Suiden began, but broke off at more thundering hooves growing louder in the distance. This time a detachment from the Royal Garrison appeared. They reined in when they saw us, and I blinked as I recognized the major from the Royal Garrison’s mess—it was truly a small world. The major pulled to a stop, startled to find himself face to face with the Lord Commander. “Sir! I’ve been sent by Commander Loel to bring Lieutenant Rabbit to the Royal Garrison.” A couple of muscular soldiers separated from his troop and headed my way.

  “Now, that’s interesting,” Lord Commander Thadro said, turning his horse. “As I was ordered by King Jusson himself to escort the entire party to him. Including his cousin, Lord Rabbit.” He leaned forward. “Are you countermanding His Majesty’s order, Major?”

  The major stared at Lord Commander Thadro with a deepening frown on his face, then shot me a frustrated glare. “No, sir,” he said.

  “Return to the garrison, Major,” Thadro said. “Now. That’s my order.” The major spun his horse around, plunging back to the garrison troops, and they immediately thundered off again.

  King Jusson must’ve made it very clear that come hell or high water, Thadro and his men were to deliver us to the palace, as they hesitated for just a moment when they saw Basel, only a couple making warding signs against evil as they fell in with us.

  “He’s harmless, sir,” Captain Javes said. His mouth quirked even as he sighed. “At least he was when he was alive. A smashing cook, though.”

  “Oh?” Thadro asked, the lurking humor in his face fading. He glanced over his shoulder at the shrouded bier, then back at Javes. “What happened—?” He broke off as his gaze sharpened. “What the hell?” He looked closely at Suiden and his mouth fell open. “What the bloody hell?” He stared down at Laurel pacing beside him. “Did you do this?”

  “No,” Laurel said. “Not I.”

  Remembering the metallic taste in my mouth, I sat very quiet on my horse, hoping no one would ask me.

  “Then this just happened?” Thadro asked. He cast another glance at Suiden and Javes, but this time noticed Esclaur’s blue gaze. “What did happen?”

  “Slevoic ibn Dru challenged Prince Suiden,” Laurel said. “The prince won.”

  “What?”

  “It is a Border embassy, no? An actual part of the Border in the middle of the Royal City, which itself rests on what was once Borderlands. And so it behaved like the Border, and the soldiers were translated.”

  “Translated?” Thadro looked back at Suiden and Javes, then caught sight of Esclaur. “You mean, turned into magicals?”

  “I was a wolf, sir,” Javes said, giving way to a tongue-lolling grin. “So was Esclaur.”

  “Indeed, yes,” Esclaur said, also grinning.

  “Slevoic’s faction tried to use this to drive a wedge between Suiden and his men, and between Lord Rabbit and his fellows,” Laurel said, reclaiming Thadro’s attention. “No matter that Rabbit has had repeated attempts against his life, including fifteen venomous spiders placed in his bedroom.”

  “Pale Deaths,” Javes murmured.

  “The bloody hell” Thadro said softly as he and several guardsmen blessed themselves.

  “While no one was harmed by the weavers,” Laurel said, “honored Basel was made a casualty of the factional infighting.”

  “He was murdered, sir,” I said. “Slevoic slit his throat.”

  “That’s for the review board to decide, Lieutenant,” Suiden said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “As we don’t want anyone accusing us of jumping to conclusions, however correct.”

  I smiled. “Yes, sir.”

  A couple of butterflies flew by, circled around and landed on each of my shoulders, their weight running through my arms and legs. As their wings opened and closed slowly, I could feel the brush of them against each cheek, like a kiss.

  “Rabbit, your hair,” Jeff said from behind me.

  I reached up, and then down, and then down some more. My hair now reached the middle of my back, though the queue Javes made was still in place.

  At Jeff’s words, Javes looked at me. And sighed. “Suiden.”

  Suiden turned his head, taking in the butterflies and my lengthened braid. “Pox take it, Rabbit. We have an audience with His Majesty and we’ve enough weirdness as it is.”

  Just then, the wind managed to get my hair ties undone and my queue unraveled, spilling down my back.

  “I hope that the guards do let us in to see His Majesty,” Thadro muttered, eyeing me, “and don’t instead pour hot pitch on the demon hoards attacking the king’s palace.”

  “Honored folk,” Laurel said, and Thadro, Suiden and Javes looked at him. The Faena nodded at the major and several troopers from the garrison waiting for us at the gate beyond the moat bridge to the royal compound. Frowning, Lord Commander Thadro took his guardsmen and moved to the front.

  “Now here’s insurrection,” Javes murmured. From the arm waving and pointing, it seemed that the major was actually arguing with the Lord Commander about taking us to the garrison. The lieutenant on gate duty stepped up to the knot of men and, by the way he was standing, it seemed he was agreeing with the major.

  “This smells as bad as Ryson’s smalls, sir,” I said.

  “Yes,” Suiden said. “Wait here.” Suiden tapped his heels and his horse began to work its way through the crowd on the bridge towards the arguing soldiers, its hooves sounding hollow on the wooden bridge.

  A glint off a scale distracted me and I glanced down to look at the toothy fish swimming through the stakes in the moat water, only to feel the wind tug at my hair again. Obedient, I turned my head, just in time to see a Royal Garrison trooper pull away from his fellows, and first I tracked him idly, wondering what was so interesting about him. Then, as I watched, the trooper stopped by a post by the guardhouse, reaching out his hand—and terror slammed through me. I stood up in my stirrups and shouted, “NO!”

  Suiden and Javes both slued around at my shout, and their own eyes grew wide as the guard grasped the lever mounted on the post, Suiden bellowing “Treachery and treason!” while Javes cried out, “Betrayal!” The rest of our party, seeing what was happening, started yelling too and drawing their swords while Laurel roared and raised his staff.

  All too late.

  The soldier, startled into it, looked at us for one moment, then smiled faintly before he pulled the lever; there was a rumble of machinery, and the moat bridge cracked in the middle as it began to drop. At the same time, the remainder of the major’s detachment exploded out of a side street to form a barrier behind us, while the major’s men did the same in front. We were neatly trapped on the collapsing brid
ge, the horses and men stumbling as they lost their footing and started to slide towards the widening gap. My own horse staggered, wrenching the reins from my hands. I looked down again and saw the sharpened stakes and toothy fish waiting to meet me, and I closed my eyes—when once more the wind whispered to me.

  Fly.

  All right, I whispered back, but not just me.

  Of course, the wind said.

  The bridge fell away, water splashing onto my new Habbs, and I sighed, thinking that with ankle kicks, assassins, spiders, and now fishy water, I was not meant to have a decent pair of boots. The wind chuckled and I opened my eyes.

  We weren’t truly flying. We weren’t moving through the air or hovering high above the ground. But then, we weren’t down in the moat with the fishes either.

  We stood above the water, those on horses and on foot describing the arch that the bridge had formed over the moat before it collapsed. While the rest of the men (and horses) tried to assimilate that we were standing on seeming thin air, Jeff dismounted and probed with his sword whatever was holding us up. Fortunately for the troop’s peace of mind, it did not yield.

  “Trooper Jeffen, stop that and remount,” Suiden said.

  If we were stunned, the garrison troops and gate guards were flabbergasted. A few managed to escape, running off shrieking “Sorcery,” but the rest stood gape-mouthed and unresisting as the King’s Own relieved them of their swords and shields—though Laurel aiming his staff at them might have had something to do with it. The troops behind us had a little fight left, but Laurel, still holding his staff on the ones in front, lifted his paw against the ones in the back, the rune shining bright. (We parted down the middle as if someone ran a comb through us, even Basel making sure he stood to the side.) The garrison soldiers were convinced that it was better to be quiet and reflect on their sins—before the Faena shoved them down their throats.

  Laurel rumbled. “No care given at all to whom else they may kill.” He looked at me. “You have garnered some very callous enemies.”

  “Yes,” Esclaur murmured. His blue eyes were almost black in anger. “Forty degrees on one side and thirty-two on the other is making some people rather nervous. All those lines to Iver and the throne.”