Many Roads Home (7 page)

“I think you have to be bright to do it well. Or look after them. My friend, Gil…ane, the Uemirien? He runs a stable, and he says not everyone can work with horses. He says I could, but he knows plenty that can’t.”

“Yes, but horses are smart, you said. Kardips aren’t. That’s why we raise them. You’re cute as anything, aren’t you?” she said to the little calf sucking madly on the bottle she held and spraying milk everywhere. “But in that pretty little head, you have a very tiny brain.” She gave the baby a pet as she said it. Clearly she didn’t mind stupidity in anything that wasn’t human and male.

“I think if you know animals, it doesn’t matter how smart they are. I bet you’d be good with horses.”

“I’d love to see one.” Her eyes went soft. “So many things I want to see. Tell me more about Sardelsa.”

She was
starving
, Yveni realised. Hungry for a world she had never seen, places she might never go. She shamed him because she was far more curious than he’d ever been. He’d been content to simply read about the other duchies in the Unity, the whole country of Tuelwetin, the other countries in the world. In his ignorance—arrogance, he corrected himself—he’d thought it enough. But he’d known nothing, really. Raina wouldn’t have been content as he had been. With his opportunities and privileges, she’d have demanded to see as much as she could. Yveni’s whole life before now had been the castle and the countryside around it. Before this journey, he’d never gone more than a hundred kilometres from the place where he’d been born.

So as they finished feeding the baby kardips, he fed her hunger for knowledge from his own store of education and then for fun, he told her about the stories in the stupid books Gerd had bought. She giggled over the incredible plots, and when Yveni tried to describe the covers, she laughed so hard she fell off her hay bale.

“If I had tits that size, I’d have to walk stooped over.”

“Or carry them around in a wheelbarrow.”

She whooped again. “Oh don’t. My sides hurt already.” From outside came the ring of clanging metal. “Supper bell. I’ll have to eat with them, but I’ll come back after. Wash up and go to the back door. Mother will give you a basket. Um…don’t tell anyone you’re seventeen, all right? Especially not that you’re nearly eighteen. Say you’re fifteen—you’re small enough.”

Yveni pushed his wounded male honour back out of sight. “Why?”

“Because Father might get a bit funny about me spending any time talking to a
man
.” She rolled her eyes. “As if I’d be tempted by you.”

“Hey, that’s not very nice.”

“But it’s honest.” She grinned. “Aren’t you used to me yet, Gaelin? You need to toughen up.”

“I guess I do. You better run along or your father’ll be angry.”

“Probably. I’ll be back later. Mother will give you some spare clothes and bedding. Ask her after supper though.”

She ran off. Yveni took his time finding the pump and washing again. His clothes were a disgrace. He supposed they’d let him wash them. Where did the water come from? They must have cisterns. Something else he knew little about and ought to investigate. One day, if the gods willed it, he’d be ruler of people who lived like this, and he should know how they did. He’d certainly never take his morning glass of kardip milk for granted again.

Chapter Eight

The snow season had once been Paole’s favourite time of year. Snug and quiet with Mathias, with only a few chores to do, and the rest of the time spent by the fire, reading or listening to Mathias expound on possible cures for this and that, it had been the closest thing Paole could remember to being with his family.

But no more. As the spring arrived, he vowed he would never spend another winter like that again. The quiet had become a silence that nearly sent him mad. The lack of company, of another voice, had felt so oppressive at times that it drove him out into the snow to stare up at the starry skies and beg for someone, anyone, to come and be with him. Being on his route, alone in his wagon, had been no preparation at all for this. Then, he could always expect to see people within a day or two, even in the remotest area. A healer’s wagon drew the needy like a field of flowers drew bees. Here in the cabin, night after night, he wondered how he would get through the next quiet day, never hearing another person. Knowing that if he died out here, he’d die alone. He didn’t know how to be alone, and he didn’t want to learn the art.

He needed an apprentice. Someone to keep him company, and someone to make sure the vast wealth of Mathias’s knowledge, all his books and recipes and cures were not lost. The marker on Mathias’s grave wasn’t half the memorial all this information could be. Paole had coin. He could afford an apprentice, and in time he could offer them half the practice, go into partnership with them. The plan had been all that had kept him sane over the last month of his hibernation.

He set out on his route as soon as it was practical to do so, eager to put the isolation and memories of his winter sojourn behind him and to put his plan in action. But he quickly realised there was a problem—he didn’t have any idea how to find an apprentice. He asked the herbalist in Siend. “Breed one” was the answer, which might be accurate but not much use.

A healer in Lume suggested he adopt a child from a poor family, and the merchant in Umdipon, who supplied medical equipment and pill presses, told him flat that no family would let one of their children go to a Uemirien, so he would have to take on an orphan or a foundling. “You could try the labour market in Kivnic. Maybe a tenant farmer turned off his land would apprentice a boy to you.”

Paole thanked him for his advice, but thought none of these suggestions were the answer. He didn’t have the resources or the knowledge to deal with a young child, but an older one would be most likely already engaged in the family business. He did ask some of his beautiful boys if they’d be interested, but each of them had told him frankly that his life was too unsettled for them, and too uncomfortable. “One day I’ll have a wife and children of my own,” Lorn told him. “And a house too.”

Paole was stung. “So what’s all this with me?”

Lorn kissed him. “This is fun, and nice. But I have a fortune to make, and I need heirs to pass the business on to. Don’t be angry.” He nuzzled Paole’s chest and let his hand wander lower. “You’re like a cup of fine wine on a moonlit night. Delicious and strong, but a man can’t live on it.”

“You should be a poet, boy.”

“Can’t make money with poetry. But making love is free. My quiver is not yet empty, Master Paole.”

How could Paole refuse, when the memories of his beautiful boys’ kisses had kept him going during those lonely winter months? But he still needed an apprentice and was no closer to finding one. The labour market in Kivnic looked like his only option.

Chapter Nine

The month passed quickly, and surprisingly pleasantly. Most of Yveni’s duties revolved around the barn and Raina’s orphans, but Jako also had him out in the fields a few days, minding the one- and two-year-old kardips destined for market. He quite enjoyed that, except when it rained. But he knew he’d have to grow used to that to go on the drive with the villagers.

In the evenings he helped Raina with the evening feed. They talked about her dreams, about the books Yveni had read, the things he’d heard about Uemire, some of which turned out to be nonsense, and more about the gifts that Yveni had learned of from Gil and which were so common among her people. These were completely unknown among full-blooded Tuelers, though Gil had heard tell of children of mixed marriages who had signs of gifts. In Tuelwetin and Karvis, the gifts were frowned on, seen as witchery or more usually dismissed as fakery. In Uemire, they weren’t remarkable at all. He quickly grew used to seeing one of the fishermen casually lighting his way at night with fire he’d made from nothing, or watching a herder convince a male kardip to come over to him or go into a pen, simply by “asking”. Raina’s aunt knew before anyone else in the village when the fishermen’s boats were on their way back because she had the Vision, and could see people and animals a dozen kilometres away, sharp as letters on a page to Yveni.

The only gift the village lacked—a sore point with Jako, apparently—was a seer. It was the one gift valued above all else, but the last seer, an elderly man, had died the year before. Raina said her father planned to try and persuade one to marry into the village, though Jako would have to pay for the privilege. Yveni understood the desperation. He and all the other people on the ship would most likely be dead now without Sorke’s ability.

Lacking a seer, they had to plan for the drive like other mortals. There was a lot to do. Twenty men and women from the village were going, a dozen of those seeking spouses. Yveni was the youngest, officially and in reality. He’d let Jako believe he was fifteen just as Raina had suggested, which probably protected him from the worst of Jako’s temper. The man was a bit of a bully, though respected as the leader of his clan in the village. He was kinder to children than to adults, if only slightly.

That Yveni would be going on the drive was accepted very early on, thanks to Raina’s support. As she’d said, it meant a more valuable worker would remain behind, and Yveni was disposable. If any harm came to him, better that than one of their own.

The journey would take three months, since they could only travel at walking pace. The great market in Grekil was held for a month at the high end of summer. If Jako succeeded in obtaining spouses for all the young people, it would be a much larger group returning. Yveni wouldn’t see it because he hoped to be long gone by then.

They left on a cold, bright, late-spring morning, with a hundred complaining kardips behind them, of which Yveni, Raina, and two other youths she studiously ignored, were in charge. The animals were allowed to wander and graze at their own pace, the rest of the group walking ahead to prepare the camp for the evening and the meals along the route. One of the youths, Jein, had the gift of speaking to animals, so there was no risk of the kardips becoming permanently lost. Yveni and the others were there mainly to encourage them, protect them from attack and help the confused—for, as Raina was fond of saying, they really weren’t very bright.

The work was dusty, boring, and as the sun grew stronger, hot. He was in better shape than when he’d set out on the walk to Lild with Hilario. He dressed Uemirien-style now, in loose trousers and overshirt, only keeping his boots and belt. Raina said he looked and sounded like any other Uemirien, since there were many of their people with hair and skin as dark as his.

“Is that a good thing?” he asked.

“Not to me.” But she gave him a grin along with it, so he wasn’t entirely sure if she was serious.

The drive held almost no excitement, for they travelled over plains as flat as a piece of paper and with no prospect of encountering any other people until they’d almost reached Grekil. The main pleasure was in talking to his companions, especially Raina, and the companionship at night. Jako may have thought Yveni an expendable foreigner, but the others did not. The conversation around the fire, ribald and loud as it often was, warmed Yveni more than the fire itself.

A watch had to be kept against dunels, who would take a young kardip if they were hungry enough. Fortunately, the duty was shared by all, and not just Yveni and the others. It meant no great hardship, only sitting up a little later than normal every other night. He shared a watch with Raina at her insistence and after she’d faced down her father’s narrow-eyed suspicion. Yveni had gone out of his way to appear meek and much younger than he really was—except with Raina. He could be more himself with her.

Which was why it frustrated him that he had to lie to her. She’d been nothing but honest and kind to him, and he’d repaid her with dishonesty. After a month’s travel and thinking over the issue all that time, he decided he had to come clean.

Once they settled around the fire and had their mugs of tea to keep them warm, he took his courage into his hands. “Raina, there’s something I need to tell you. My name’s not really Gaelin.”

“Oh, I knew that.”

He blinked at her matter-of-fact tone. “How?”

“You’re always just a tiny bit too slow to answer to that name. But I figured you had your reasons for not telling us who you were.”

“I do. It’s not that I don’t trust you and your family, but it’s a big secret.”

“Well, go on. Start with your real name.”

“Yveni of Sardelsa. The Vicont Yveni.”

“What’s a vicont?”

“Um…it means I’m the son of a duc. I’m the heir to the throne of Sardelsa.”

She stared blankly, but then hooted with laughter, making one of the drowsing kardips squeal mournfully in complaint. “Oh sure you are. And I’m queen of Karvis.”

“It’s true. My father wasn’t the man who died in the shipwreck. He was the duc who died three weeks before we left the castle.”

“You’ve been reading too many of those stupid books, Gaelin or Yveni or whatever your name is.”

“It’s Yveni, and I’m not making this up!” He shoved up his sleeve. “Look. That’s my family’s symbol. We receive this when we turn fourteen. Only the ducal family in Sardelsa bears this mark.”

She shrugged. “It’s just a squiggle and dots. Means nothing to me. How would I know who wears it or not? You don’t have to lie to impress me, Yveni. I’m angry you think you do.”

“I don’t.” He sighed. “I’m tired of lying to you. I’ve wanted to tell you the truth for ages, to tell you about my sisters, and Gil, my friend. But if you don’t want to know, I won’t bother you. Just don’t tell anyone what I’ve said, please. It’ll put them in danger and might get me killed.”

She rolled her eyes and sipped her tea, staring out into the dark beyond the fire, clearly unimpressed and irritated. Yveni cursed himself. Of course it sounded incredible. The only proof he had…

“Wait, let me show you this.” He undid his belt and found the opening for the secret pockets, and drew out Gil’s letter and pendant. “My friend Gil is the huntmaster at the castle.”

“You said Gilane.”

“Yes—I lied to protect him. Pay attention.” She pulled a face at his rudeness. “His cousins run a trading business in Horches. Family of Ferdi. This is a letter to them. Read it.”

“Yveni…”

“Go on. That’s not my writing, you know that. Read it.”

She obeyed, though reluctantly. Yveni waited impatiently. If this didn’t convince her, nothing would.

She lifted her head. “The pendant?”

He gave it to her and she fingered the pretty stone. “That was given to Gil and Sofia by Ferdi’s father, Gil’s uncle. It’s a family heirloom. He’ll know I’m who I say I am when I give it to them.”

“This margrave person…”

“Konsatin, yes.”

“Really was going to kill you?”

“So Serina thought, and Sofia Saw it. He’s evil, Raina. He seemed so nice, wanted to be a friend to me and help me while Father was ill, and all the time he was plotting my death.”

“Why didn’t you tell people? Why didn’t you stand up to him? Running away wasn’t very brave.”

She’d hit upon his guilt with unerring aim. “Everyone said I didn’t have a choice. He had so many of the nobles fooled, and with Father having just died, Gil thought people would say I’d gone mad if I made such an accusation with such slight evidence. I’m not old enough to rule. By Sardelsan law, I’m a child until I’m eighteen, and too young to rule until I reach twenty-one. I didn’t want to risk my sisters or Gil’s family either.”

“But you left them there. Won’t your sisters be in danger?”

“Yes. But he can’t kill Serina if he wants the throne, he can’t force her to marry for two years, and Olana is no threat to him.”

She handed the letter and pendant back, her expression thoughtful. “So you just hide for three years and come home, and then he’ll lose?”

“I don’t think it’ll be that simple, but if I’m alive, I can claim the throne. Can’t do that if I’m dead.”

“You’re really this vincount?”

“Vicont. Yes.”

“So you’d never actually mucked out a stable before.”

“Actually, yes. Gil really does have stables. When my mother died, my father fell apart. Gil was his best friend, and Gil and Sofia raised us three children in a family environment until he could take over again. We more or less lived in Gil’s house for five years, and I spent most of my free time with him until recently.
Konsatin
didn’t approve, of course. He said that since I would be regent or ruler sooner than anyone had expected, I needed to be aware what people thought. I don’t care what people think. Gil’s a good, honest man.”

“You love him?”

“Like a father, and Sofia like a mother. I barely remember my own. So if Gil says I have to leave, then I won’t argue. He’d never hurt any of my family. I miss them all so much.” He stared into the leaping flames and saw the faces of those he’d left behind.

She rubbed his arm a little, the first time she’d touched him in affection. “You must have thought me silly to whine so much about my life.”

“No. You want more than this, and you’re smart enough to do what you would like to do. I wish I could help.”

She smiled a little. “Maybe if you become the duc, I can come and work in Sardelsa.”

“Of course. We have a very good infirmary at the castle. I’m sure you could train there.”

“Now all we have to do is get you back on the throne, and me away from my father. Should be easy.”

“If you can birth a kardip with twins in the breech position, I’m sure you can do anything, my lady.”

She blushed. “Is that how you speak? What do I call you?”

“‘Your Grace.’”

She giggled at the term.

“It’s true. And when I become duc, I’ll be ‘Your Gracious Highness’.”

“Now that’s just too grand for you.”

“It is a bit. I could ennoble you and then you’d be the Lady Raina. How do you do, my lady?” He made a little bow.

“Very well, your graceness.”

He laughed. “I think we need to work on your courtly speech.” But then he sobered. “You really can’t tell anyone. Konsatin’s hunting for me, and he has connections to Karvis. You could endanger yourself, your family.”

“Don’t worry. Even if I told them, they’d never believe me. It’ll be our secret. Yveni…if you become duc, do you mean it? Could I really work at your infirmary?”

He placed his hand over his heart and made a little bow. “By the spirits of my beloved parents and the honour of the house of Elaini, I, the Vicont Yveni of Sardelsa, swear unto the Lady Raina, she can work in my infirmary if she presents herself to my court. Good enough for you?”

“Sounds good. But what’s the use of an oath like that? Sardelsa’s a thousand miles or more from here, and my father will never let me go.”

“You never know.”

“Yes, I do. You and I have our lives planned out by our parents, and we can only do what they order. The only difference with you is there’s a bit of a holdup. Once you go home, you’ll do just what your father wanted.”

“I want it too.”

“I want
more
. Much more. I wish I could go with you.”