White Star (16 page)

She was almost too tired to care.

For now, the Great Bed of Wareington was calling her. She yawned, and went behind the screen to find her things. There was a bucket and a bowl and some washing cloths. She’d make quick work of it, and be more thorough in the morning. She yawned again, and poured the water into the basin. It swirled against the sides, then settled as she reached for the soap.

As she reached for the cloths, a face formed in the water. “Evie!”

Startled, she dropped the soap, rocking the bowl. The water splashed, and the face frowned as it peered around the floating bar.

“Evie! What in the name of all the hells do you think you are doing?”

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Evelyn
reached out to steady the bowl as the face of her father peered up from the swirling water. “Father.”

“Daughter.” Marlon’s face was grim. “Are you well? Where are you? I’ve been scrying for days. . .”

“Father, I’m sorry.” Evelyn looked down at the bowl with a rueful smile as she fished out the soap. “I hadn’t thought to send word.”

“Inconsiderate chit,” her father scolded, but she could see his relief. “I assumed that if you needed me, you’d have broken the summon stick. Priest Dominic said that he couldn’t find it when he reported that you’d been taken. Do you still have it?”

“I do,” Evelyn replied. “But I—”

“Then tell me what is happening, Daughter!” her father sputtered, his jowls shaking. “I’ve been so worried, I’ve not eaten a thing.”

Evelyn dragged the chair closer to the bowl. “Well, Father, four days ago. . .” She launched into the explanation, grateful that her father listened without interruption. “Blackhart, eh?” Marlon frowned. “He’s right about the odium. Elanore’s death should have meant their collapse.”

“Yes, Father.” Evelyn hesitated. “I’d be grateful if the full story remained our secret.”

“Hah,” her father chuckled. “Well, anything to poke the Archbishop in his squinty little eye. He’s been taking quite a bit of abuse from the Queen since she got word that you were missing.”

“She learned that from you, I take it?”

“The Archbishop wasn’t going to tell her, that was sure.”

Marlon gave her a long look. “I’ll keep my tongue, but if you’re dealing with the odium, you will have to use battle magics, you understand that.”

“I do,” Evelyn said, “as long as it’s against odium.”

“I wish you’d worked with it more than you have. Control can be achieved only with practice, Daughter. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“Tell that to those I burned on the battlefield,” Evelyn responded sharply.

“It’s foolishness, of course, but I am proud of you. The odium need to be dealt with, and I suspect Blackhart is one of the few who can. He will need your magic.”

Evelyn leaned forward. “How is Gloriana?”

Her father barked out a laugh. “You might have given that child a sense of humor, daughter. She is so serious, so intent on her duties. But she is fending off the sycophants, including Fat Belly, quite well. But you started this mess, so you should be here dealing with it.”

“It will be a few days at most, Father.” Evelyn sighed, smoothing back her hair. “Then I will return and face the consequences.”

“Kidnapped— as if that were possible.” Marlon sighed. “You have the summon stick?”

“Yes, Father.”

“You’ll be careful?”

“Yes, Father,” Evelyn repeated patiently.

Marlon peered up at her from the bowl. “You’re not so grown-up that I don’t worry, Daughter. Get some sleep. You look terrible.”

“Father!” Evelyn remonstrated, but his image was gone in an instant.

She sighed, and started to wash.

In
the morning, Dorne welcomed her into the kitchen and served her breakfast. “Comfortable bed, eh?”

“It is that.” Evelyn took the bowl of hot cereal from him eagerly. “Of course, I think bricks and rubble would have been comfortable last night, I was that weary.”

“They might have been, at that.” Dorne took a pot of cereal off the fire. “This is for the nursery. Watch the other kettles for me. Just move them off the fire if they start to steam.”

Evelyn nodded, her mouth full of food, as Dorne headed out the door. As soon as he’d left, the outside door opened and a man appeared, carrying a load of firewood. He paused, his worried eyes looking out through roughly cut hair. “You’re the Priestess, am I right?”

“I am.” Evelyn nodded.

The man walked to the fireplace and dropped the wood beside it. “I’m Torren, Lady. Are you well?”

“Well enough,” Evelyn said with a smile.

Torren darted a look around, then took a step closer. “That bastard, he ain’t hurting you, is he?”

Evelyn swallowed, and looked into the man’s eyes. He was clearly worried, and really frightened. “No, Torren. I am fine.”

“Blackhart killed my family, Lady; they died in the Keep.” Torren’s words came out in a rush as his eyes darted around the room. “I could get you out of here, Lady. There’s a way, if you wanna escape.”

Evelyn shook her head, and had opened her mouth to respond when Dorne came back into the room. “Here, now, Torren. What are you doing?”

“Brought some firewood to fill the box.” Torren backed up a step or two. “Like I was told.”

“That’s good,” Dorne said. “But there’s more to be done, I’m sure. Be on your way.”

Torren gave him a resentful look, but left.

“He’s afraid of Orrin,” Evelyn stated.

“Most are.” Dorne pulled out a bowl and started measuring out flour. “They blame him for the odium, for being driven from their farms.” Dorne shook his head. “They face two enemies, the odium and hunger, since they can’t get into the fields. Blackhart has to take a strong hand with them in order to ensure their survival, and they resent it.”

Evelyn looked at her bowl, the cereal sitting like a lump in her stomach. “He did do some terrible things, Priest Dorne. The odium—”

“And are you so perfect, Lady High Priestess?” Dorne asked.

Evelyn went pale. “No.” Her hands clenched under the table. “I’ve done things that cost people their lives.”

“And not just the rebellion,” Dorne said. “I was there, child. I know.”

“The battle magics, they . . . I lost control,” Evelyn whispered.

“Any magic that spreads out over a wide area is hard to contain, and the power therein doesn’t discriminate. I know that, you know that, and I am sure your father told you that.”

“I—”

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Dorne said, adding water to the bowl. “I believe you entered the priestly order with an honest heart. But you were fleeing, Evelyn, fleeing from the magic.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Who are you?”

“A simple priest who seeks balance in life and in his obligations to the Lord of Light and the Lady of Laughter.” Dorne’s dusty white hand touched his brooch. “Old Gross Belly is just asking for a fall. He feels that the glory belongs only to the Lord, with no honor for the Lady or her ways.” Dorne snorted. “He’ll find out.”

“She spoke to me,” Evelyn said.

“Eh?” Dorne asked, a spoon poised over the bowl.

Evelyn took a deep breath, and told him what had happened during the coronation. “I tried to tell the Archbishop, but—”

Dorne laughed. “Oh, that must have sent his stomach cramping in pain.” He smiled at her. “Have you told Blackhart this?”

“No, not in so many words,” Evelyn said, thinking back. “I’ve told him She has a use for him.”

“The Lady works her will in strange ways, and her wishes aren’t always easy to understand.” Dorne started to stir the contents of the bowl. “I think Blackhart might benefit from—”

Orrin stormed into the kitchen. He glared at Evelyn. “Why are you still here? I told you to leave.” He turned to Dorne. “We’re talking in the main room. We need you, Priest. And some kavage.”

Without another word, he stormed out.

Damned
if she was leaving.

The shutters were open in the main room of the inn and daylight streamed in, reflecting off polished wood tables and floors. The place must have been something in its heyday, Evelyn mused as she carried in two pitchers of kavage. Dorne followed, with mugs and another pitcher.

The room was filled with warriors and townsfolk. They greeted the kavage with smiles, reaching for the pitchers and mugs.

Orrin stood before the hearth, his hearth-band seated around him. Archer was there, as were Sidian and Reader. Thomas and Timothy gave her a nod as they reached for mugs. Evelyn ignored Orrin’s glare as people shifted on a bench to make room for her. Dorne pulled a chair from the kitchen and settled into it, returning Orrin’s look. “So, what did you want me to hear?”

“Reports,” Orrin said. “Vilbok has news from Ralan.”

One of the men rose from his seat. He had the look of one who’d lost weight from a recent illness. His stool slid back on the floor as he stood. “Is this the Priestess?”

“Lady High Priestess Evelyn, let me make you known to Vilbok.” Orrin scowled at the interruption. “He’s aided me in organizing the townsfolk.” He glared at Vilbok. “The Lady is my prisoner, and under my protection. Make that known, Vilbok.”

The poor man had been about to bow to her, but now he seemed confused. Evelyn gave him a smile, and nodded to him.

Vilbok gave her a nervous smile, darted a glance at Orrin, and bowed before speaking. “As far as Ralan and his scouts can tell, the area between here and the Keep has been cleared, at least along the main roads. Now the problem is that large groups of odium are emerging from the Keep, headed here.”

“Looking for fresh meat,” Sidian said.

Vilbok winced.

Orrin nodded. “Anything else?”

Vilbok looked around at the other townsfolk. He wet his lips, then started talking quickly. “Folk have been talking. We’ve been wondering what your plans are for the land once you’ve taken the Keep.”

“Plans?” Orrin asked.

“For when you’re the High Baron.” Vilbok looked nervously at him, then at the others. “Isn’t that why—”

“No.” Orrin’s voice was harsh. “I won’t be the High Baron. If there’s nothing else . . .” His tone implied there’d better not be.

“No, no. . .” Vilbok took up his cloak. “My thanks.” He bobbed his head toward Evelyn. “The Lord of Light hold you safe, Lady.”

“And you as well.” Evelyn smiled at the confused man, who trotted for the door, clearly glad to go. The other townsfolk filed out as well.

“And why not?” Archer asked as the door closed behind the last of them. “Why not claim the Keep and the land?” He dug in his belt pouch, then slapped something hard on the table. When he lifted his hand, Evelyn saw a gold ring with a bloodred stone sitting there, wobbling slightly. “Who’s gonna stop you?”

Evelyn looked into Orrin’s face, and saw a look of pain pass over his features. But then it was gone, and he shook his head. “No. Queen Gloriana offered me a pardon, and a boon if these lands are cleared of odium. And that boon buys any man who aids me a pardon as well. Best we take what’s offered freely.”

Evelyn looked in her mug. That was why he had asked for a boon. A pardon would mean that the Queen’s justice would not pursue them, allowing them to regain their status in the community.

Orrin picked up the ring and looked at it. “I’ll give this to the Queen when I return to tell her that we’ve succeeded.” He tucked the ring in his pouch. “If we succeed.”

“We got a better chance of surviving the Keep if she’s along.” Mage gave Evelyn a grin. “She can burn right through them things.”

“She’s not going,” Orrin said.

“Yes, I am,” Evelyn said calmly. She picked up a pitcher. “Kav, anyone?”

Suppressing his grin, Sidian handed her a mug. Orrin stood at the head of the table, glaring at everyone around him. Most ignored the heat of his gaze, but Mage shifted nervously on his stool.

“So you think they are coming from the Keep?” Evelyn asked.

There was only angry silence from Orrin.

“Yes,” Sidian said, ignoring his leader. “We’re thinking that there’s something in the depths of the Keep that’s creating the odium and keeping them animated.”

“The Baroness had a workroom deep in the dungeon,” Archer added.

“Where I was held?” Evelyn shuddered.

“Beyond that,” Sidian said. “Deeper, where only she was allowed. She and her . . . victims.”

“Wish we’d thought to check it out before we abandoned the Keep,” Orrin said.

“We was busy trying to save our lives,” Archer reminded him.

“So when do we leave?” Evelyn asked.

Orrin slammed his hand down on the table. “You are my prisoner, and you are not going.”

“You rescued me,” Evelyn said calmly. “And these people need my powers to save their lives.” She raised her head and gave Orrin a frosty look. “I was sanctioned by the Archbishop, and can use no magic to benefit myself. But there is no bar to aiding others in dire need.”

“Oh, there’s a hair split down the center,” Dorne muttered.

Evelyn ignored him. She looked Orrin right in the eye. “If there’s a chance— any chance— of stopping these creatures, then we have to take it.”

The horn sounded just then, and they all paused for a moment.

“Another attack,” Sidian said. “If we do nothing—”

“They will wear us down,” Dorne said. “You need to attack the problem at its source, Blackhart.”

“And it does no good to leave your best weapon safe in its sheath by the fire,” Thomas said softly.

The sound of running feet came to them, and they looked toward the door as it opened. A guardsmen appeared, breathing hard. “Lord Blackhart, there’s a problem at the wall.”

Orrin straightened, and strode from the room without another word.

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Evelyn
watched the door close behind Orrin. “Was that a victory?”

“Close as he’s gonna come to admitting defeat,” Archer said.

“Well, then”— Dorne stood— “I’ll get you more kavage, and let you talk strategy. Blackhart will want to leave sooner rather than later.” He gathered the empty pitchers and disappeared into the kitchen.

Reader looked around, then leaned forward, gazing at Evelyn. “Your pardon, Your Ladyship, but . . .” His voice trailed off respectfully.