White Star (18 page)

The others returned to their work.

Dorne came into the room, carrying a sack and a handful of empty waterskins. “I’ve dried meat and fruit and hard biscuits. There’s plenty. If you’re leaving in the morning, I can make honey bars tonight, and have them ready for you.”

Archer grinned. “I’ll take all you can make.”

Dorne snorted as he left.

“Dorne, we need bandages,” Evelyn called out. “And something to clean wounds with, if you have anything like that.”

He raised his hand to show he’d heard, and bustled out.

“Here, Lady,” Timothy said to Evelyn, as he handed her a pack. “This is spare.”

Evelyn thanked him, and started to sort the food into equal portions. “Where do you want to go?” She repeated Archer’s question.

Orrin stopped, and stared down at the table. “It has to be a shrine?”

“That works best.” Evelyn nodded. “It’s easier to hold the image in mind.”

“There’s a shrine to the Lady in the Keep,” Orrin said slowly. “It was on the first floor. If we could go there . . .”

Evelyn gave him a doubtful look. “I’ve never been there. I might be able to open a portal, based on a description, but it’s tricky. And there’s no way of knowing—”

“It can’t have changed much since I saw it last,” Orrin said. “No one used it. It might be a bit dusty—”

Reader cleared his throat. “Might not be a good idea, sir.”

The others nodded.

“And why not?” Orrin asked.

Reader darted a guilty look at the kitchen door and lowered his voice. “Might could be that things have changed in the room.”

Archer nodded. “Might could be a bit desiccated.”

Evelyn exchanged a confused look with Orrin. “Desicca—”

Sidian snorted. “Desecrated?”

“That’s it.” Archer looked satisfied.

Reader nodded. “Might could be that, sir.”

Evelyn looked at them in horror. “What did you do?”

Reader gave her a sheepish look. “Not much to do, being in the Keep and all, begging your pardon.”

Orrin covered his face with his hand. It took Evelyn a moment to realize that he was trying very hard not to laugh. “What about that shrine in the village?”

“The one where you captured me?” Evelyn asked.

“Yes,” Orrin said, lowering his hand. His face was serious, but his eyes were bright. “That’s less than an hour from the Keep, and—”

“I don’t know,” Evelyn said. “I only caught a glimpse before someone threw a bag over my head.”

“Er . . .” Orrin looked away.

“It was a clean bag,” Reader said. “Made a point of that.”

“And hit me over the head,” Evelyn added.

“Just a tap,” Timothy offered.

“We was careful,” Thomas said. “Gentle, even.”

“And clapped me in spell chains,” Evelyn pointed out.

“They were new ones,” Mage observed quietly. “Made ’em myself.”

“And slung me over a horse on my stomach and hauled me to the Keep and put me in the dungeon,” Evelyn finished.

There was no response to that.

Evelyn raised her gaze to the ceiling. “I might be able to do it.” She lowered her eyes and gave them all a look. “Or did you boys entertain yourselves there as well?”

“Nah, ’tis all in one piece,” Archer said. “We started the looting at the tavern and never quite got around to it.”

That brought a strangled cough from Orrin. “Well, thanks be for that mercy. So, we portal to the shrine, travel by foot, and go in through one of the hidden doors.”

Dorne came back in. He brought Evelyn a basket of cloths, and some jars and bottles. “Take whatever you need.” Dorne headed back to the kitchen. “I’d best see to my pots.” He paused in the doorway. “And boys?”

They all turned to look at him.

“Anything you put wrong in the Lady’s shrine will be put right again, once this is over. And by your own hands and the sweat of your own brows.”

The room was very quiet. Evelyn put her hand over her mouth.

“I’ll be happy to supervise,” Dorne said.

He ducked back into the kitchen, ignoring their groans.

«
^
»

Later
that evening, after the gear was packed and blades were sharpened, they sat and started to plan their route.

Orrin had taken some charcoal from the smithy, and they’d drawn a rough map on the stone hearth of the fireplace. This was more for Evelyn’s benefit than anything else, since they all knew the place. They’d reviewed the path they’d take from the village to the walls of the Keep, and how they’d enter the Keep proper. It turned out that Reader had kept his set of keys. He shrugged. “Ya never know when things might be useful.”

“So, we’ll assume that the odium are still standing watch in the places we put them,” Orrin said. “There’s a chance that they’ve moved, but our watch locations were good ones.”

Archer nodded, reached out, and tapped a position by one of the towers on the inner wall. “I’ll take position here and wait.”

Orrin shook his head. “I can’t leave you there.”

Archer’s face grew very still. “Gotta cover the retreat.”

“I need you down there,” Orrin said quietly.

The silence between the two men grew. Evelyn gave Reader a questioning look.

“He don’t like tight places,” Reader explained. “Make him sweat.”

“Not that.” Archer hunched his shoulders. “What good’s an archer in them corridors?”

Orrin just looked at him.

Archer sighed. “And I don’t like tight places much.”

Orrin nodded. “But you throw a dagger better than any man here.”

“No good hand to hand,” Timothy said.

Evelyn’s eyes opened in surprise. She expected Archer to object, but the man just shrugged his shoulders. “Nah, he’s right. Not much good at fighting close. Never have been.”

“We need to know each other’s strengths and weaknesses.” Orrin leaned back and took a mug of kav. “Even if the truth hurts.”

Sidian laughed. “I’m good with my weapons in a fight, but I need room to swing.”

“Decent with a bow,” Archer said.

Sidian smiled, his teeth gleaming against his dark skin, and gave Archer a nod of thanks.

“Timothy and Thomas are good with swords and shields, but better with pole arms.”

Timothy nudged Thomas. “Long pointy sticks.” They both chuckled, as if at some private joke.

Archer wrinkled his nose. “Can’t throw for shit.”

“True, but the way they work together as a team is uncanny,” Orrin pointed out. “I still think you are twins.” He pointed at the map of the dungeon. “Where we can go two abreast, they are behind the front line. They attack, thrusting their spears between us, and do a good deal of damage.”

“Who takes the front?” Evelyn asked.

“Sidian and I.” Orrin turned his head to look at her. “You’ll walk with Mage, and Reader and Archer will bring up the rear.”

Reader nodded. “I’m best with a dagger, and I’m fast. Can sometimes slide through and get behind them, sometimes. That lets me hamstring them, and take them down.”

“He’s good with locks, too,” Sidian said. “Hands like a lady.”

They all chuckled as Reader looked offended.

“That leaves me, ma’am,” Mage offered. “I’m decent with spells. Not much with weapons, but I’ve been trying to practice.”

Evelyn tilted her head. “You are an apprentice?”

Mage’s face turned red. “I was . . . I—”

Orrin interrupted. “He’s still an apprentice. His master mage was involved in the attack on Athelbryght, and died. That’s when I asked Mage to join my hearth-band.”

“Ah.” Evelyn said nothing more, but she suspected that meant Orrin had protected the lad from Elanore.

Mage gave her an envious look. “Wish I knew more, but—”

“With what I’ve seen, you may be at journeyman level, if you were to be tested,” Evelyn said.

Mage sat upright. “Really? But I still have to use paper to keep my spells.”

“You didn’t at the shrine,” Archer said.

“And you were using what you can do to good effect,” Evelyn said firmly. “I wouldn’t have thought to use magic to hold odium still and let Archer take his shots.”

They all turned and looked at her, and Evelyn realized it was her turn.

“I was trained as a battle mage, but I never mastered the ability to use my spells in an enclosed area. I also never really learned to control my emotions to develop the finer control of those powers.” Evelyn wet her lips. “I can cast the priestly magics easily, and I am a powerful healer. But if I become too angry, or too frightened, I lose control.”

No one said anything, so Evelyn continued. “Outside, I can wreak havoc. But inside, I’m going to have to be careful that the flames don’t wash back over us.”

“Could you give some warning?” Sidian asked. “Maybe we can cover our faces with shields or cloaks.”

Evelyn gave him a doubtful look. “I can try.” She shifted in her chair, well aware of Orrin’s scrutiny. “I haven’t used battle magic for a very long time, and the last time I did, people on my own side were badly burned by my magic.” She clutched her hands in her lap. “I don’t like hurting people.”

“They are not people,” Orrin said softly. “They are bodies, just clay, that someone is using against us.”

“You did it at the shrine,” Mage said.

Evelyn nodded. “I was terrified.”

“Those things give everyone the shivering fits,” Archer added.

“I’ve got an idea,” Mage said. “Not sure if it’s right, but . . .”

“Spit it out,” Archer said.

“I think those things might be sensitive to magic,” Mage said. “I know they are magic, but I think that maybe they can sense magic being cast.” He looked around the group. “I’m not sure. But I thought it best to say now—”

“And you were right, too.” Orrin gave him a nod. “We will keep it in mind.”

Mage smiled, and Sidian clapped him on the back.

“One last thing,” Orrin added. “We’re going to wear the sigil of the Black Hills.”

They all shifted, uncomfortable.

“The odium were trained not to attack anyone wearing the sigil of the Black Hills,” Orrin insisted. “We can’t give up any advantage it might give us.”

“Wearing it can get us killed, if we run into any Queen’s men,” Archer said quietly.

“Not once we accomplish this,” Orrin growled. “I’ve sworn to you that I will use that reward to get a pardon for the men who aid me.”

“All of us?” Mage asked.

“All of you. That means the men we leave to guard the town, and any who offer us aid. Even the men who still guard their families’ enclaves in the Hills, the ones that we can’t get to, and that I can only hope are still alive. A pardon for the army of the Black Hills.”

They all nodded, each in turn, as Orrin looked them in the eye.

“Enough of this, then. Get some sleep, because we’ll leave at dawn.”

The men stood, stretched, and left, leaving Orrin and Evelyn alone in the firelight.

Evelyn waited for the last footstep to fade before she turned to Orrin and opened her mouth, but Orrin cut her off with a gesture. “Oh, no, Lady High Priestess. Not another word.”

«
^
»

“
Don’t
even start,” Orrin growled, seeing the look in her eyes. “We’re not going to talk, discuss, or argue. Go up to your room.”

“I’ll say just one thing, then I’ll go.” Evelyn raised that lovely chin of hers and glared at him.

“Fine.” Orrin stood, and walked toward the door. “I’ll go. Talk to the fire, because—”

“Loving you—”

Orrin stopped, his back to her.

“— caring for you, is not a sin.” Evelyn’s soft voice came from behind him. Her tone was firm and resolute.

He turned. “Lady—”

“That doesn’t mean that I condone your past, or that I’d support you now if you were still doing those things.” Evelyn stood. Her hands lifted in a familiar gesture, as if to tuck them into the long sleeves of robes she no longer wore. Instead, she wove her fingers together, and twisted them nervously. “I— care— for the man standing before me.”

Hope blazed through his chest, and with one swift breath he crushed the emotion, trying to kill it.

Might as well have tried to stop his heart from beating.

She licked her lips, and continued. “I wanted to tell you before we leave in the morning. If we both survive, we can argue the rest for days on end.”

“We’ll survive,” Orrin growled. “And when we do, you’re for Edenrich and I’m going to find a tavern where no one knows my name and get lost in a bottle for a month.”

“We’ll see,” Evelyn responded. “But for now, we’ll be about the business. Agreed?”

Orrin gave her a hooded look, standing silent.

“Fine,” Evelyn sighed, and walked past him toward the stairs.

He turned his head to watch her go, fully intending to let her walk out—

But she brushed past him, and he caught a whiff of her sweet scent with just a touch of soot. He couldn’t help himself. His hand reached out of its own accord.

He
touched her shoulder as she walked past him.

Evelyn stopped, looking at his callused hand. She raised her face to his warm hazel eyes, giving him a puzzled look.

His mouth quirked in a rare smile and his hand slid along her shoulder, his fingers curling around the back of her neck.

Evelyn shivered. Without the weight of her braid, the skin there seemed extra sensitive. Or maybe it was just . . . him.

He pulled gently, and she found herself facing him, her hands reaching for his waist. She lifted her face and closed her eyes, fully prepared for a demanding kiss.

Instead, she felt a gentle brush of his lips on hers. Warm, dry, soft as a feather. With a sigh, she leaned in, as he explored her skin with the faintest of touches all over her cheeks and eyelids.

She brought her hands up then, to wrap around his shoulders, and his hands wrapped around her, rubbing her back. There was no demand, just a gentle gift. Dimly, lost in the pleasure of his touch, Evelyn understood he was telling her something he couldn’t express with words.

Finally, he stopped, and hugged her tight, breathing in her ear. Before she could say anything, he stepped back, his eyes on the floor.

“Go, Evelyn.”

“Orrin—”

He lifted his head, his hazel eyes blazing. “Lady, my head is so fucked up right now, that it little matters if I live or die on the morrow.” He stepped back from her. “I’ve a town to see to and orders to give. Get to bed.”