The Storyspinner (16 page)

Chapter 44

Rafi

Rafi didn’t want to hand Breaker’s reins to the waiting groom. Going into the house meant facing the frivolity and flirting, the subterfuge and schemes. He wanted to get back on his horse and ride until Breaker’s stride drove a certain Performer girl out of his thoughts.

She was infuriating, prideful, and rude. She hadn’t murmured a word of thanks for getting her back to the manor before she had to perform. Not that he expected it; but still, the courtesy would have been nice.

“Walk him a bit before you take him into the stable,” Rafi said, patting the horse fondly on the neck. Breaker’s black coat was hot under his fingers, but the well-conditioned animal wasn’t blowing and sweating. “And an extra scoop of oats, if you please. He deserves it.”

The groom nodded his assent and led Breaker into the paddock.

“You can judge a lot about a man from the way he treats his mount,” boomed a voice from the barn door.

Rafi whipped toward the sound, a smile already tugging at his lips. “My father used to say the same thing.”

“Your father was smart.” An old man with a curly cap of steel-gray hair stepped onto the walkway separating the two grazing yards. He limped a bit more than Rafi remembered, his steps crunching unevenly over the gravel. But the face was the same as always, and as familiar to Rafi as his own: the hard jaw, the dark eyes, and the hair that had to be kept short or it would turn wild. “He was also one of the best men I knew.”

“I’ve heard you say that before.” Rafi took a couple steps toward his uncle and caught the man in a tight embrace. “Or you wouldn’t have let him steal my mother away.”

“Steal?” Fernando, the Duke of Impreza and Lady DeSilva’s elder brother, said with a half laugh. “I couldn’t have kept Liliana out of your father’s arms if I’d poured an ocean between them.”

Rafi’s throat tightened at the slight hitch in his uncle’s voice.

“I expected Camilio to come thundering down the path to greet me. It’s hard to believe I’ll never ride with him again.”

Three months earlier, Rafi, Dom, and their father had gone to an underlord’s property to hunt an abnormally large panther that had killed two farmers. They’d been midhunt when the duke keeled over. He was dead before he hit the ground. All signs pointed to heart failure, though his father had always been a healthy man.

“I wished you could have been here for the burial, but we all knew it was impossible to leave during Salting Time.”

Impreza’s main export was fish and other things harvested from the ocean. Early summer was their busiest season, and every man, woman, and child packed, prepared, and shipped the harvest. Even the inland farmers sent whomever they could spare to the ports to help with Salting Time. For several years, Rafi, Dom, and their mother made the trip to the southern state to work alongside Duke Fernando and his people. Rafi stood shoulder to shoulder with fishwives and underlords and learned how to process fish, seaweed, and ocean animals into dozens of different products. In Impreza the gentry were expected to work alongside the peasants, and Fernando could not leave his state even to attend his brother-in-law’s interment.

“But you’re here now.”

Fernando gave Rafi’s shoulder a tight squeeze, and they began moving toward the house.

“I saw Belem’s carriage outside the stable. I guess we’ll get your naming out of the way soon?”

Rafi stopped and faced his uncle. “Inimigo’s coming.”

“What?” Fernando said, sharp as a stiletto.

“Belem said he’ll be here the day after tomorrow.”

The older man’s hand dropped to the sword at his belt. “Good. I’ll finally have a chance to fulfill that promise.”

“The treaty has held for years. Any action you take against Inimigo—”

“The treaty was political. Between me and Inimigo, that’s personal.” Fernando’s dark eyes had gone hard, his jaw was set.

“It was personal for my father, too,” Rafi reminded him.

“Inimigo’s troops killed my
son,
Rafi.” His hand clenched his weapon’s hilt. “I know it was war. I know Diogo was a trained swordsman, but he was a boy—no older than you are now.”

Rafi choked back the rush of memories brought on by his cousin’s name. As a child he worshipped Diogo, following the older boy like a shadow.

“No promise, no piece of paper, no words will stop me from seeking out retribution for that man’s crimes,” Fernando continued. “I will bring down war upon all of us if I see Inimigo’s face.” He spun on his heel and headed back to the barn. “Tell your mother I’m sorry.”

Fernando called to the retainers milling about the yard. They looked at one another with confused faces but made their way toward their lord.

“You’ll leave before you’ve even seen her?” Rafi yelled at Fernando’s retreating back. “Stay the night at least! You can be halfway to the border before Inimigo sets foot in Santiago.”

Fernando stopped.

“Please. Stay the night.” Rafi jogged across the space that separated him from his uncle. “Your horses have earned one night’s rest, don’t you think?”

Fernando turned slowly, an unwilling smirk on his lips. “They do deserve one night off the road I suppose. And you deserve to be duke for turning my words on me like that.”

Chapter 45

Johanna

The maids took one look at Johanna and dropped everything—an empty tray in Brynn’s case—and rushed to her aid.

“We’ve been worried sick about you, and it looks like we were right to worry.” Brynn grabbed Johanna’s hand and dragged her toward the main hall and the room she’d used to dress the night before.

Johanna explained the situation, as Brynn poured buckets of not-quite-warm water over her head.

“Don’t you worry one bit about Joshua and Michael,” Brynn said as she helped Johanna step into her layered skirt. “We’ll all keep an eye on them.”

The door to the bedroom swung open, and a rather pale Lady DeSilva stepped into the room. Brynn’s fingers froze as she laced up the back of Johanna’s dress.

“L-lady, we—”

“I heard,” she said, not unkindly. “Cook needs you in the kitchen. I’ll take care of Johanna.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Brynn marched away, leaving the ribbons from Johanna’s bodice hanging loose.

Johanna steeled herself for the reprimand she deserved. She’d been late to arrive, brought her two younger brothers with her, and her attitude toward Rafi bordered on unprofessional.

He did come to your rescue today, Jo. You don’t have to like him, but you don’t have to be rude, either.

“Thank you, my lady.” Johanna found her manners. “I can manage the rest myself. ”

“Nonsense. We have hungry guests who are looking forward to a skilled Storyspinner.” She urged Johanna toward the silk-covered stool in front of the dressing table. “Sit. Let me do your hair. I never had a daughter to practice on.”

Johanna dropped onto the stool without an argument and spread her skirts wide, trying not to wrinkle them.

“To be honest, I have a few things I need to speak with you about.” Lady DeSilva’s eyes were solemn as they met Johanna’s in the mirror. “I must start with the hardest part first. I fear that if I held this till the end of the night, you’d assume I was more concerned with your performance than your well-being.”

Johanna didn’t know what to say, so she nodded, pulling a strand of hair out of the duchess’s hands.

“Your mother was arrested this afternoon.”

“What?”
The word was more air than sound as it leaked out of Johanna’s mouth.

“She left her job at the pub—”

“There must be some mistake, my lady. My mother works for a seamstress,” Johanna said, ignoring the tight ball of dread in her stomach. “She’s an excellent tailor and embroiderer. She made this dress.”

The lady’s hands stopped fussing with Johanna’s short hair and settled on her shoulders. “The seamstress let her go last week. She caught your mother drinking at work and fired her after she spilled some alcohol on a pile of valuable fabric.”

Johanna’s eyes dropped to the tabletop, studying a knot in the oak surface. It seemed to go around and around in an oblong whorl. She wished it were a magical whirlpool that would open up and swallow her whole. Maybe it could whisk her back to the day before her father died, when the bottles in the cupboard above his bed had always been full.

“One of Captain Alouette’s men realized who she was and brought me the news.” Lady DeSilva resumed her pinning. “Marin is being escorted to your wagon right now. The man she accosted, some outrider for a merchant camp, isn’t seeking retribution of any sort.”

Oh, Mama. What were you thinking?

Johanna allowed herself ten seconds of self-pity and sadness before putting on her Performer’s face. This job was more important than ever.

“Thank you for the information and your help with my hair.” Johanna spread the contents of her satchel over the dressing table. She needed rouge for cheeks. They were much too pale after the run and—

She cut off the thought and applied the color to her cheeks with a soft rabbit’s-foot brush.

The lady finished her hair while Johanna coated her lashes in a coal and aloe mixture. She only wore it when she was Storyspinning, so that her audience could better make out her expressions.

Johanna heard a quick intake of breath and caught Lady DeSilva’s stare in the mirror.

“I’m sorry.” She shook her head and gave a little half laugh. “You reminded me of someone else with your eyes made up like that.”

Performers got that all the time. “You said you had a few things you wanted to talk to me about? Besides . . .” Johanna bit her bottom lip to stop its trembling, then picked up a tub of color like she intended to apply it. “Besides that incident with my mother?”

Lady DeSilva’s face blanked for a moment. “Yes. We’re going on a picnic tomorrow afternoon. Rafi and I hoped you’d be willing to do a bit of singing for the group. We’d, of course, pay you for an additional show.”

“I’d love to, but I care for my brothers during the day.”
While my mother lies about where sh
e’
s been.
The sadness and embarrassment she’d been feeling ignited in a flash of anger, like a match struck in a dark room.

“That’ll be no problem. We can put them up for the night, and I know some of the maids would love to have a change from their normal duties.”

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to . . .”
But we really need the money.

“Johanna, I’ve got a house full of guests that need entertaining.” She offered a gentle smile. “You’d be doing us a favor.”

“If you’re certain it wouldn’t be an imposition. My brothers can be—”

“Have you met my sons? This house and staff are accustomed to rough-and-tumble boys.”

“I’ll only accept half of my regular fee to cover the cost of their care.”

“We’ll see.” Lady DeSilva patted Johanna’s cheek with motherly affection, and Johanna felt the anger at her own mother grow from a flicker to a searing flame.

Chapter 46

Leão

Four men, armed with short swords, blocked off the main trail into Performers’ Camp. They were all thinly muscled, their arms bared by multihued vests, but not malnourished.

“State your business.” The speaker was a bit taller than his companions. He wore a bright red strip of cloth tied around his brow and another around his bicep like a band of office.

The Keepers’ Elite Guard wore the braided
cadarço
to signify an advanced level of training. Leão cringed inwardly, hoping the similarity was a fluke, and not proof of Jacaré’s story. “We’re looking for someone,” he said, signaling to Pira, Tex, and Jacaré, a few horse lengths away.

“Got a name?”

“No, but I can describe her.”

The men on either side of the leader shifted, hands edging toward the weapons slung through the wide sashes at their hips.

“Son,” the leader said, stepping closer to Leão’s horse. “You wouldn’t be the first man to lose his heart to a Performer girl, but don’t claim she stole your coin purse. We Performers are flighty by nature, and as you don’t know her name, she certainly won’t remember yours. I’m sorry for your long journey, but you and your”—he studied the approaching group, eyes lingering on Pira’s face—“people need to move on. We don’t allow strangers into Performers’ Camp.”

Leão’s cheeks flushed red. “This isn’t about hearts or purses, this is about—”

“A debt unfulfilled,” Jacaré said. “A Performer once saved my life, and I heard that he was recently killed in a fall. We rode from Impreza to offer a boon to his wife.”

“He must be talking about Arlo.” One of the younger guards elbowed the man next to him.

The leader wasn’t so easily taken in. “That’s a long ride to offer a boon to a Performer. Why not wait till the next time a troupe made it to your town?”

“There was no guarantee that she’d be with them, and I don’t know her name. But I’d recognize her face if I saw it and would know my debt was fulfilled.”

“Are you sure you’re not from Santiago?” The leader said with an arrogant smirk. “I didn’t know men from Impreza were so committed to honor.”

“Arlo saved my life. Don’t I owe his family a personal visit?”

The leader shrugged. “You can give me the boon and I’ll be happy to pass it along.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, friend,” Jacaré said, sounding decidedly unfriendly. “But fifty gold pieces is a lot of money to put into the hands of the wrong person.”

“Fifty gold,” the youngest guard whispered, eyes wide with awe. “That is a lot—” His words cut off when the leader smacked him on the back of the head.

“I’ll talk to our Council and see what they make of your claims.” He pointed to a narrow trail, branching off into some pine trees. “Head that way and make camp. I’ll send someone back with word on the Council’s decision by dawn.”

“Thank you for your assistance. Can you give me a name to call you by?”

The leader turned, walking backward down the rocky trail without a stumble. “I’m Benton, the Firesword. These lads are members of my troupe. They’ll stay nearby if you need anything.”

“We don’t need anything except to see Arlo’s widow.”

Benton offered a self-confident smile. “Don’t get your hopes up.”