Midnight Quest (8 page)

“Considering I spent most of my formative years under your tutelage, that statement doesn’t move me one bit.” Sarvell’s hand captured one of hers, holding it gently. “Jewel, is there any food that you would like me to bring back?”

“A meat pie?” she requested wistfully.

“Eh, I second that,” Rialt added just as wistfully.

“Two meat pies, then.” Sarvell gave her hand a squeeze before letting go and striding for the door. “You rest until I return.”

“Rest where?” Jewel asked Rialt. “What’s in this room?”

“Bolts of cloth and bales of leathers, mostly. Here, let me guide you around.”

“Yes, thank you.” She climbed off his lap and followed where he led, using her hands to investigate the room and mark out in her mind where everything was placed. There were only two chairs in here, both near the door, and the rest of the space held just cloth and bundles of leathers.

They spent a few minutes re-stacking some of the bundles, giving them a comfortable place to sleep. By the time three separate areas were made, Sarvell came back with the meat pies. He assured them their horses were taken around back, safely out of sight and suitably cared for.

With a proper meal in her stomach, Jewel found it almost impossible to stay awake. For the first time in days she was warm, safe, and fed. The combination was her undoing. She curled up on top of the leather bundles, snuggled her new cloak up around her neck, and slipped instantly into deep sleep.

~*~*~*~

Jewel sat quite still in the muffled confines of the wagon. The area was so small that she cuddled into Rialt’s lap as there wasn’t space for them to sit apart. Jewel didn’t actually mind this, as Rialt was not only marvelously comfortable to sit on, but smelled quite nice. The man practically radiated heat too, which she pleasantly soaked up.

Judging from the way he nervously twitched now and again, he wasn’t quite as comfortable as she with their positions.

The sounds of early morning traffic shifted through the wooden walls of the wagon as the entire caravan trundled down the main road heading out of Wexel. Jewel had listened carefully as the preparations were being made and she guessed the caravan to hold roughly a dozen wagons. It was a wealthy train and one well-guarded by two dozen guards. It was not the only caravan of this size on the main road that day, so the pace in clearing the northern gate had slowed to a crawl. The first snow melt had finally occurred and every merchant wanted to take advantage of the snow-free roads as quickly as possible. The guard detail at the gate obviously wasn’t prepared for such a trader influx.

They’d been told the plan, of course, before being snuck into the back of the wagon in the predawn hours. Still, she jolted when the wagon abruptly dipped to one side and an ominous sound of creaking wood and screeching metal rent the air.

“Dross and dreck!” Liam swore with deep exasperation. The wagon’s bench squeaked a bit as he stood and jumped to the ground with a heavy and solid thud. “Brant! You ham-handed, gormless scut!”

From farther behind them, approaching with a quick stride, came Brant. “What are you yelling at me for?!”

“I told you to properly check the wagons before we loaded!” Liam growled in a tone low enough to nearly vibrate the wagon’s wall near Jewel’s ear.

“I did! It’s not my fault you’re so tight-fisted that we couldn’t buy the right parts!”

“By Thaazan’s nimble hands, this is ridiculous!” A foot scuffed the dirt as someone pivoted sharply. “Nev!”

“What’s the holdup back here?” Nev’s voice came from the beginning of the train, growing more distinct and audible as he approached with the smooth gait of a former military man. “The guards up here are getting irritated ‘cause we’re holding up the line and—how’d the wheel come off?!”

Jewel smothered a laugh into her hand as another round of blame casting went on, growing louder and with more creative expletives with each cycle.

“STOP!” Nev finally thundered. “Forget I asked, let’s just fix the shard-borne thing.”

“Well, get to it,” Liam responded with short impatience.

“Me?” Nev objected.

“We had that game this morning to sort things like this out, didn’t we?” Brant reminded, tone rather testy.

“I’m a guard, not a blacksmith!” Nev nearly wailed.

“You also lost the toss!”

“And I’m convinced you rigged it!”

Jewel twisted a smidge so that she could whisper in Rialt’s ear, “What kind of smugglers deliberately draw attention to themselves like this?”

“Good ones,” Rialt rumbled in a low whisper. His voice held a note of approval. “If they make more of a fuss, and block the road another ten or fifteen minutes, the guards up there will get real antsy to move us along. They might no mind this wagon at all. They do no want us sitting here a’ day, do ya see.”

“But isn’t it risky to have a wheel come off like this?”

“The wheel be proof of how good they are,” Rialt disagreed. “Only the very best would pull a chicane like this. I would lay odds that if they were minded to the wheel could be set again in moments.”

They certainly would have fooled her into thinking otherwise. Outside of their wagon’s walls there was tool dropping, name calling, insults about the blacksmith who’d made the spare wheel (and the dogs that had bred him), and enough mishaps to resemble a comedy of errors. Two different gate guards came down to see what the delay was and left again with very unhappy growls.

When they finally did get the wheel back on and the wagons moving, the guards did nothing more than pop their heads inside to verify that there were bundles of cloth and leather inside, and waved the whole train on. They passed through the north gate without more than a few moments pause.

Only when they were well outside the gates, and the wheels had left the hard cobblestone for hard packed dirt, did Jewel really dare to breathe again.

A fist knocked against the wagon wall behind Jewel’s head. “Still alright in there?” Sarvell asked, voice a little distorted through the wood.

“We be fine,” Rialt assured him. “How be the roads?”

“Clear, but we’ve got a lot of traffic. I think you and Jewel better stay put, out of sight.”

“Right, then.”

The air felt a little stuffy in this confined space, but not unbearably so, and it was infinitely warmer in here than out there where the wind could cut through a stout cloak. Jewel was perfectly happy to stay where she was. However, it did present the problem of what she and Rialt would do for the rest of the day. Just sitting here would become very boring in short order. On the other hand, she finally had at least one of her protectors alone without anything to distract them. It seemed like a good opportunity to her. “Rialt, I’ve never been to Ramath before. Can you tell me more about it?”

“Eh, surely.” There was a weighted pause before he slowly admitted, “I be no quite sure how to start.”

“Start with your family, and go from there,” she suggested, a little amused. Was he not a man that talked? “You said you have four sisters.”

“All younger,” he responded easily, affection clear in his voice. “A feisty bunch, they be. I have always been the one to fetch them out of trouble. The eldest be set to marry this spring, the wee lass be praised. Then she will be her husband’s problem.”

Jewel bit her bottom lip, stifling a snicker. “No brothers?”

“To my parent’s relief, no. They always claimed it took the energy of raising five sons to raise me.”

With his attitude about distracting castle guards, she could well understand what his parents meant. He must have been a terror when younger. “Are your parents living?”

“Certainly. I have a passle of aunts, uncles, cousins and the like as well. Grandmother passed on some three years back, but grandda’s cranky self be still with us.” Despite the insult, Rialt’s tone held clear affection for the old man. “Most of the clan be related, one way or another. We lose men to the constant war with Daath, do you see. When a man falls, it be custom for another to take on the widow and children as his own. So if not by blood, a man be like as no related by adoption. We call it cennan.”

Learning this troubled Jewel deeply. How many generations had they been forced to defend themselves? How many fathers, husbands, sons had they lost for them to learn how to compensate for it so naturally? She felt her heart clench and shake at the thought that adopting another man’s family could be so culturally ingrained as to be an expected thing.

Just what had those previous high priestesses been doing?!

She forced the question past a restricting throat. “Rialt, have so many of my sister priestesses failed you?”

“Failed, or were removed when they resisted,” he answered quietly. “It be why I be set to guard you. I will no fail to protect the one woman that refused to cave to their demands.”

Yes, that was true. With her alive and free, she could ensure that Ramath was always protected. As long as she lived, they wouldn’t lose a whole generation of men at a time to the Daath. The thought made her smile.

“I must ask, what made you resist? Afore you were thrown in that cell, I be sure you had words with those dog-faced ministers.”

“Oh, we had words alright,” Jewel growled in dark remembrance.

“But you must have known they would no let you defy them.” Rialt’s words slowed, each one pronounced with more care than truly necessary. “You had no allies in that place. Why did you stand firm?”

“Two reasons, really. One,” she reached up to cup his cheek with one hand, the beard ticklish against her bare skin, “I knew you were coming. Well, not you precisely, but Elahandra had assured me that help was coming. All I had to do was wait for you to come. Even if you failed, for whatever reason, I could not afford to cave to their demands. If I did, then they would think they could treat the next high priestess the same way. This cycle would just continue and a lot of good people would suffer as a result.” She paused, struggling to explain something to him that she only felt. “Rialt, most people treat me like an incapable child because of my blindness and small size. And yet, despite those things, I was chosen as the sole person who could protect our entire country. It’s a heavy burden at times, but I knew it would be when I took the position. But more than a burden, it’s a chance for me to return the help that everyone has ever given me.”

He reached up and squeezed her hand. “Eh, sound reasons, all of them. But I trust you know you will never face that danger again.”

A glow of pure happiness filled her chest, so strong she felt almost weightless. “Yes, I know.”

~*~*~*~

Rialt looked at the woman napping so peacefully against his chest. He did no know what to think anymore. When Elahandra first called, he had gone for two simple reasons: he did no want the barrier in some Thornock minister’s hands and he wanted a chance to give the priestess a firm talking to.

But the situation was no as he had thought. In fact, it was well beyond his ken. He had to struggle to wrap his head around it.

But the fact that stuck in his craw the most was that this wee slip of a thing was the Guardian of the Barrier. He knew ten year old children taller than her! He could cart her about on one arm. What was Elahandra about, putting this woman-child in charge of Evard’s barrier?

Lovenanty! For that matter, what eijit would order a blind woman to scurry about the country on a near-impossible task?

He raised a hand and wearily rubbed at his eyes. Vexious, that be what the situation was.

He dropped his hand so that he could look at her again. Poor thing. Despite the jars and bumps of the road, she had fallen sound asleep no an hour past. Atween the cold dungeon floor she had been on and death hanging overhead, he could no imagine she had gotten much sleep. Still, it made him squirm a bit inside that she trusted him so completely that she could snuggle against him and dream without a by-your-leave. He had nearly abandoned this woman because he had no wanted to leave a warm bed.

Just the memory of it had him cringing.

Rialt blew out a low breath and let his eyes close for a moment. Feeling the urge to protect, that he could ken. He had been in fights since he could lift a sword. He had spent the past ten years in skirmishes against the Daath. At the ripe age of twenty-five, he had seen more of battle than most of Evard combined. Love of Ramath had kept him going through those harsh winter campaigns. Eh, the drive to protect, that he kenned.

He flashed back to that moment when Sarvell opened the cell door and revealed her standing there. Fair skin smudged with dungeon grit, dark hair in tangles around her, white gown almost grey and her putting on a brave face as if two strange men opening the door did no terrify her. In that moment, every protective instinct he had had surged to the fore. Eh, and the more he knew, the stronger he felt it.

Madness, it was. He barely knew the lass!

But he could no shake the feeling. In truth, he did no even try. She was a sweet lass, this one, with guts. She deserved a full complement of guards to protect her. (A point that he intended to take up with Elahandra.
Soon.
) But all she had in this moment was a Ramathan soldier and a merchant’s son.

His family and goddess would be crabbity when he showed his face at the home-hearth. Like as no, they would no be happy about this even
after
he’d explained. But he could no leave the lass to just Sarvell.

And if it meant Ramath’s safety hinged on her task being completed, he would
certainly
no stay home.

With that sorted out in his mind, he made a decision. He would stay with the lass until he could hand her over to a guard he could trust. Afore then, well, he would treat it like any other campaign and grin through it.

Decision made, his mind became quiet enough for him to rest. Squirming slightly to find a more comfortable posture, he relaxed into a light doze.

Chapter Five

They stopped for the night in a clearing walled off by thick trees. Jewel could hear the men talking as she climbed out of the wagon. This apparently was a favorite spot to stop, one they’d used many times before, as it had everything needed. She hesitated when her feet were on solid ground, hand resting on the warm wood of the wagon. Over the jangling of the harnesses, the soft snorts of the horses, and the murmur of many male voices overlapping, she could faintly hear the sound of running water. The sun must be setting as well as the sounds of tree frogs and crickets started up a noisy chorus.