Covenants (v2.1) Read online

  “Ho, Lieutenant Rabbit,” Commander Freser called out, beckoning me.

  Ho? I thought, as I went to join them. I started to salute.

  “None of that, my lord,” the commander said, smiling. “So, what do you think of our fair city?”

  Ho, I thought. Someone told him who I was. “It looks very nice, sir.”

  “It’s a shame—isn’t it, Major Verne—that you won’t have time to do a little sightseeing. Though I suppose Gresh pales in comparison with Iversly.” Freser paused. “I’ve never been myself. What’s it like?”

  “Lieutenant Rabbit has been based in Freston for, what? Five years, my lord?” Captain Javes asked.

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m sure Iversly has changed a great deal since then,” he said.

  I gave my own silly ass smile and nodded again at Javes’ nonanswer. Commander Freser’s own smile frayed a little as Major Verne ran a finger along his mustache.

  “Well, city comparisons aside,” said Governor Hoelt, “I’m sure your family’ll be glad to see you again.” My smile broadened into a whole herd of asses. “Yes, ma’am.” Frustration tightened the governor’s mouth, as Laurel rumbled softly and ran a paw along his whiskers. Sighting fresh prey, Governor Hoelt brightened. “Ah, Ambassador Laurel. Were you able to remove the bells from Doyen Allwyn’s staff?”

  “Yes, honored governor.”

  “Good,” Commander Freser cut in. “Though I didn’t see the doyen this morning. He did get them?”

  “No, honored commander. We had to leave before he arrived. In fact, I brought them with me as I didn’t want to leave them in the barracks. It worries me, though, that I am responsible for such potent church icons.” Laurel frowned and rubbed his chin in thought. Then he brightened. “Perhaps you can take them to the elder, Commander Freser, or you, Governor Hoelt.”

  Horror flashed across both their faces.

  “Oh, do not worry.” Laurel hastened to assure them. “I am almost certain they’re safe.” For a brief moment Javes looked amused, and I turned my head away to look over the docks to hide my own grin—and did a double take. Doyen Allwyn, his slight form in a plain brown robe, stood by the gangplank alone with baggage at his feet.

  “Well, how about that,” Laurel rumbled next to me.

  The rota guard shouted and Captain Suiden appeared from the direction of the boat’s helm, the boat’s captain and first mate traveling in his wake.

  “Grace to you, Doyen Allwyn.” Captain Suiden bowed as the doyen came on board, carrying his baggage. “I received your message.”

  Curious, I followed Commander Freser and company as they joined Suiden. As I arrived the captain said, “Lieutenant Rabbit, please be so kind as to get the doyen’s things stowed.”

  I nodded, reaching to take the baggage from the doyen. “Yes, sir.”

  “If you will just show me where,” Doyen Allwyn said, “I will carry it.” He saw my look of surprise and smiled, hefting his bags as he followed me to the holds. “Penance through an act of humbleness, and so mortifying pride. It begins my purification.”

  “You’re traveling with us then, Doyen?” I asked.

  “Yes, my lord,” Allwyn replied, showing that he too must’ve found out who I was. “The Synod was greatly upset by the whole matter, and felt it best to report it to Patriarch Pietr—and for him to perform the actual purification rite.” In one move the Gresh church had isolated and removed a potential liability, eliminated any leverage the city council or army might’ve gained, and positioned someone on the inside to gather information and deliver it fresh to the head of the Holy Church. Freser and Hoelt were probably frothing at the mouth.

  “I apologize, sir, for any distress that I might have caused you,” I said as we reached the stairs and began to descend.

  “It’s not your fault, Lord Rabbit,” the doyen said, sounding a little winded. He gave a sigh of relief as we reached the bottom and I flung open the hold door. “Though I must admit that it felt as if my humbling began last night when my fellow clergy swept their robes aside to avoid being contaminated.” He tottered into the hold and, after catching his breath, began to stack his bags in a corner. “It was amazing to come from so high to so low in so short a time.”

  “Me, I’d wonder who decided to help out with a little push,” I said.

  “You mean, who gave me the staff,” Doyen Allwyn said. He placed the last bag on top and began to root around in it. “That is also something to put before the patriarch.”

  That was a firm “Back off,” so I didn’t fish for the name—I’d wait a while. The doyen straightened, holding a small wooden casket. “I believe it isn’t Border wood.” Since he was offering, I looked, and he was right. Doyen Allwyn then opened the box and I could see that it was lined with dark green velvet.

  “For the bells,” he said and closed the lid.

  “Laurel Faena can ward it for you after you put them in, sir,” I said, walking towards the door. Then stopped. Doyen Allwyn had discovered Prudence’s body in the corner. Once more I could see the faint tracery of Laurel’s wards like huge DO NOT TOUCH signs—and I deliberately looked away.

  “Is it safe where anyone could get to it?” the doyen asked, staring.

  “No matter where it’s stored it will be unsafe,” I said, staying by the hold door.

  “Will anyone touch it?”

  “Only a fool, sir—and a fool will do so whether it’s here or locked in the King’s Treasury.” I shrugged. “Where else could we put it? I don’t want it in my cabin.”

  “Such an invisible thing,” Doyen Allwyn said. “You look at it and see only what you expect to see.”

  A stick with bells on it, I thought. “Yes, sir.”

  “The question arose in the Synod,” Doyen Allwyn said, turning to leave, “about how I could carry it and not notice anything untoward.” He waited for me to shut the door. “But then, I pointed out that they also did not notice anything unusual and what did that say about them?” He smiled again. “The question was dropped rather quickly.”

  “I bet it was,” I murmured.

  “The question also arose,” he said, “if I were wise in meeting a magic—uh, Borderer—”

  I smiled. “Laurel Faena, the Faena, or honored Laurel, sir.”

  “Laurel Faena,” he repeated, “but again I pointed out that whether or not we’d met, the staff still would have been, uh—”

  “Prudence Oak’s body,” I supplied.

  “Yes,” Doyen Allwyn said. “They left that alone too.” He crooked a smile once more. “I was so excited when I heard about the Faena.” He started up the stairs and I followed. “Most think that the stories about the Border are made up, like dramas and children’s pantomimes. It was a shock when I saw him face to face.”

  “I’d noticed, sir,” I said.

  “Even so, I had many questions and was hoping that honored Laurel would guest a few days with me,” Allwyn continued. We reached the deck and stood blinking in the sunlight. “Only to have it all turned on its head.”

  “My captain wasn’t too happy with me either.”

  Allwyn crooked a smile. “I noticed.” He looked around the boat. “Well, I suppose I should pay my respects to the captain of this vessel. No, there’s no need,” he said as I started to escort him, and his smile widened as his eyes traveled around the narrow deck once more. “I’m sure I should be able to find him on my own.” I watched the doyen to make sure he was going the right way, before turning and walking slowly in the opposite direction. Despite what Captain Suiden may have thought, I was brought up on Border politics, which were as contentious and devious as anything in the kingdom. There were always wheels within wheels, and these particular ones had the feel of being on a speeding cart drawn by runaway horses. I found an empty spot on the river side of the ship and leaned against the railing to think.

  “Ho, Lord Rabbit!”

  It was too good to last. “Go away, Ryson.”

  “Aw, does the widd
le wabbit want to be awone?”

  Before I could reach his throat, Jeff stepped between us. “Stop it, both of you.”

  “Poor widdle wabbit.”

  I went around Jeff, but he managed to grab me. “No, Rabbit. You’re in enough trouble as it is.” He was right. Shooting Ryson an evil glare, I yanked my arm away from Jeff and smoothed down my tabard.

  “Widdle wabbit mussed his cwothes,” Ryson said. “Too bad.”

  “Lice-ridden, goat-tupping weasel—” I tried to go over Jeff and was tackled.

  “Shut up, Ryson, or I’ll shove your smalls up your nose,” Jeff said as he sat on me.

  Swallowing hard against nausea, I stopped struggling. “Get off. Your bony butt hurts.” As I rose to my feet, I was flanked by a badger and a weasel in the afternoon light. I then blinked and they were again just Jeffen and Ryson. Startled, I took a step back, but Jeffen caught my arm again.

  “You know what he is, so why are you letting him get to you?” he asked. His glare intensified. “And what the pox-rotted hell were you thinking? Calling a doyen a murderer.”

  “I didn’t call him a murderer—” I began, searching for a way to escape.

  “Yes, you did,” Jeff said. He grabbed my tabard with his other hand and pulled me around to face him. “What’s wrong with you? You’re already in the sodding mountain patrol. You can’t get any lower, except maybe guarding latrine ditches.”

  “Maybe it’s because the magical hexed him or something,” Ryson said.

  “Maybe so,” Jeff said, scowling at me.

  “He did not and he would not.” I gave up trying to get away and scowled back at the two of them. “That would be like a doyen practicing the dark arts. Worse. Anyway, Suiden’s already made it clear that I acted with extreme stupidity.”

  “Aw, Suiden’s widdle pet wabbit—”

  “Oh, shut up!” I said, beating Jeffen. “Accuse me of sucking up as you lick toes. Never mind me, what’s with you, Ryson? You always were a weasel, but now you’re in line for the crown.”

  “I’ve done nothing—”

  “And toadying Slevicious, of all people. I’d watch it, playing both ends against the middle. You’ll get crushed.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “He doesn’t have to,” Jeff said, once more getting between us. “You think the captain doesn’t know exactly what’s going on? He’s assigned you to the horse detail. Stupid, Ryson.”

  “Shoveling muck, huh?” I eyed Ryson, glad I was upwind. “Been helping Slevoic deliver more messages?” He didn’t say anything and I shrugged. “Your funeral.”

  “Yeah,” Jeff said, “but you’re working on your own, Rabbit.”

  I said nothing for a moment; then, untangling myself from Jeff, I turned back to the railing and leaned against it. “I grew up with folk like Laurel,” I said. “To me he’s as normal as porridge for breakfast. Tree sprites too. Honor Ash Faena strides the Weald that includes my parents’ farm. When I was a kid she’d let me tag along.” I stared out over the water. “You think I went off the deep end? Imagine your family and friends dead, mutilated, and adorning our holy sites. Or made into chairs for us to sit on.” There was more silence; then Jeffen and Ryson joined me at the railing.

  “You know I’ve fought bandits with you for close to five years, and this is the most that you’ve ever said about yourself that wasn’t just ‘I’m just a farm boy’ stuff,” Jeff remarked.

  I blinked at him.

  “It’s like you’re always watching, always holding back,” Jeff said. “Even so, I’m thinking we’re pretty good mates but then I find out that I don’t know the half of it.”

  “I’ve talked about my family before—” I began.

  “Only when you had to,” Jeff said, “and then only as little as you could get away with.” He turned his head to me. “Then this magical shows up and all kinds of stuff starts coming out—Lord this and degrees that—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I tried again.

  “Doesn’t it?” Jeff asked. “The magical thinks so, Lord Rabbit ibn Chause e Flavan.”

  I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

  “It has made me wonder how good a mate you really are—”

  “Jeff—”

  “—and what else you think unnecessary to tell me.” Jeff’s eyes were angry. “Or don’t trust me with.” I opened my mouth again, and caught sight of Ryson standing silent next to Jeffen, all ears. I sighed. “I suppose if I told you to go away, you’d just find someplace to hide and listen.”

  Ryson gave me an innocent look.

  Jeffen, also watching Ryson, laughed, the anger leaking out of his face. “You are going to weasel one time too many, lad.” At Ryson’s shrug, he laughed again and relaxed enough to also lean against the railing, his eyes scanning the river. “I grew up in a town a little northwest of here. We used to come to Gresh during Festival.”

  “See, I didn’t know that,” I said.

  “You never asked,” Jeffen said.

  That was true, I hadn’t.

  “This is as far south as I’ve ever been.” Jeffen watched a punt go skimming by. “I’ve been talking to the lads in the Road patrol. Most are southies and I was trying to get a feel for what it’s like down there.”

  “What did they say?” I asked, interested in spite of myself.

  “It’s much more civilized than the northern marches.”

  Jeff smiled at my sound of derision. “I also asked them how the cat would be received.” His face became thoughtful.

  “They said they didn’t know. That in the south everyone thinks that magicals are just make-believe,” he said.

  “So I’ve heard,” I murmured.

  “My family thinks the same, even though we’re in the wild north,” Jeff said. “To us, trees are supposed to be chopped down and made into stuff, or burned as fuel, and animals are either wild and hunted, or they’re domestic and food.” He looked at me. “Now you and the cat say different, and maybe it is, but do you think that people are going to change their minds just on your say-so?”

  I actually hadn’t thought that far ahead.

  “Even if they see what you’re saying is true, do you think they’ll accept it? When it means that you can stand up and call them murderers?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know, Jeff.”

  “The captain’s right, Rabbit. Sometimes you just don’t think.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Each day was warmer than the last as we sailed down the Banson, and we were soon packing away our cloaks and underwoolens. As we approached the civilized south, forest gave way to cultivated fields, fortified manors and keeps were replaced by genteel country estates, trade towns appeared along the river’s edge, and in the distance we could see the tantalizing colored roof tiles of inns, taverns and other places of interest along the King’s Road.

  Jeffen and I declared a truce of sorts, as we were under the constant eye of both Suiden and Groskin. We’d seen their remedy for feuding troopers and neither of us wanted to join Ryson in cleaning the boat’s horse stalls. I did brood over what Jeff had said, though, just in case we were able to argue in private. I wanted to prove that none of it was my fault.

  We were breaking our journey in Dornel, a city on the river midway between Gresh and Iversly.

  “We have to stop there, gracious sir,” the boat’s captain told Suiden, “as it’s a checkpoint for river traffic.” He smiled, his braided mustaches bracketing his mouth and chin. “It’s a nuisance, but it keeps us river rats honest. Somewhat.”

  Captain Suiden passed this on to the Gresh church elder that evening during dinner. “I’m taking advantage of the scheduled stop to report to the Dornel garrison commander. If you also wish to call on anyone, Doyen Allwyn, we’ll have time.”

  Doyen Allwyn nodded and murmured thanks. It was a strange melding of army officers, a Border ambassador, and doyen, all guests at the boat’s captain’s table. Everyone spoke with exquisite politeness, and at times my
eyes crossed with the effort of trying not to yawn. I had tried to get out of eating in the impromptu officers’ mess, but Suiden let me know that I was to be present and seated before the dinner bell stopped ringing. He wanted to make sure that Doyen Allwyn’s lasting impression of me would be of an earnest but dull dinner companion, not the wild-eyed man who shrieked murder at him.

  We reached Dornel on our eighth day from Gresh. Captain Suiden stood next to me as the boat approached the city. “I’ve always enjoyed Dornel,” he said. “It isn’t as pretentious as Gresh, and it doesn’t overwhelm like Iversly.”

  “Yes, sir.” I could see faint markings on his dark face in the light reflected off the water—then, for a brief moment, long, tightly woven braids, brilliant clothes, jewels and gold earrings overlay his staid haircut and drab uniform. And beyond that—I remembered one of Dragoness Moraina’s male offspring, an impressive ice dragon whose silver white scales shimmered in the sun with hints of blues, greens, purples. But he was nothing to the obsidian dragon I now saw: green-eyed, dark outspread wings shot with gold, full of red fire and black smoke. In one massive five-taloned hand he held a delicate teacup without breaking it. I shook my head and the captain was himself again. There was a faint metallic taste in my mouth as I felt my heart begin to pound. Oh, bloody hell.

  “Are you all right, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. I reminded myself to breathe. “The sun is a little bright.”

  “I see.” Captain Suiden looked back over the water at the city. “When we leave the boat, Rabbit, you will stay with me at all times.”

  “Sir?”

  “You aren’t to wander off by yourself, Lieutenant. I want to always be able to see you. Is that understood?”