Hunting Page 20

  Arriving on time and almost tidy for her appointment, she found herself kicking her heels outside the Rhoi's meeting room with Investigator Verel. She immediately asked the Guardswoman whether mage-craft always required preparation.

  "Yes and no. Any significant casting requires three steps: draw, shape, and release. Although most mages carry at least a small reservoir of power, significant casting usually involves coiling any available environmental power, then using it to cast. It is possible to hold off the release, so I could cast a spell in another room, come in here and release it and to you it would appear immediate. But hold a spell too long and it will warp. There's very little which can be done absolutely immediately – crude force responses, usually."

  Crude force sounded about right. "How do you go about training as a mage?"

  "In Montmoth? The only options are to be 'prenticed to a mage...or work from written instruction and try not to kill yourself. We're the only Rhoimarch that doesn't have a formal school of some description. I trained in Praxas." The Guardswoman looked Ash up and down, clear grey eyes assessing. "You've no mage talent – who are you asking for?"

  "You can tell if a person has mage talent?"

  "I tested you."

  Ash blinked, then laughed. "We're all suspects, I suppose." She studied the utterly controlled woman sitting upright and at attention beside her, and asked impulsively: "Why did you come back? To Montmoth?"

  "My family is here," Verel said, shortly, but then unbent enough to add: "I'm also considerably better paid in Montmoth than I would be in a Rhoimarch where mages are more common. Neither Farpatten nor I are more than the most minor of mages, and we command enviable salaries for interesting work. Whether I will continue to raise my daughters here...we will see."

  "You have daughters?"

  "Three year-old twins."

  Ash didn't know why the idea of the stern Investigator having twin daughters should be so surprising, but before she could indulge in prying questions, the door opposite opened and a grim-faced Farpatten came out.

  "Go in," he told Ash, and held the door until she'd obeyed.

  The Rhoi, sitting at a round table next to a wide window, was bathed in streaming sunlight that picked out the gold in his hair. It wasn't until Ash followed his gesture to sit down opposite him that she saw the pallid skin and shadowed eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept at all in the four days since his banquet.

  "Ash Lenthard." The Rhoi's voice was hoarse. "My debt to you grows ever larger. I trust you are able to think of a reward which is suitable to that debt."

  Ash, who had been determined to resent him on Kiri's behalf, was distracted into concern. "Are – I didn't realise you were ill, Ser Rhoi."

  He waved a dismissive hand. "A cold. Given recent events, I'm avoiding creating any new rumours."

  "Is Heran ill as well? He wasn't at Mern."

  "No. Regrettable as it is, until this is over it seems advisable to limit his exposure to the other seruilisi." The Rhoi coughed, then added: "Though I've no doubt Heran's failure to object to this course hinges on a hope of avoiding you."

  "Most likely," Ash agreed, working not to look entertained. "I'll fix that if I can. As for rewards, I'd like permission to carry my knives. And to have arranged some kind of recompense for Arianne Waylan's daughter Sonia, and the other dependents of the murdered herbalists."

  "Granted," the Rhoi said immediately. "You are, of course, a dependent who will be included in that outlay." Rhoi Arun produced a charming smile, but as quickly as it appeared it faded and he looked her up and down. "Ash Lenthard. You arrived in Luinhall in the spring, nearly nine years ago?"

  Blue eyes searched hers, and Ash realised that she was about to have a very different conversation to the one she'd anticipated.

  "You really did have the Guard investigate me."

  "I had Farpatten arrange for protection of Thorn's quarters, against the possibility of reprisals. And learned that Kiri Arpesial has been visiting daily." He paused, and just the faintest colour touched his cheeks, as if he guessed that Kiri would have told Ash their history together. "While it's possible Ki–...Sera Arpesial immediately discerned what so many did not, and quickly befriended a most inspiring girl, nine years is a highly significant number."

  "Impossible to overlook?"

  The Rhoi passed a hand over his face, perhaps because she had not denied his suspicions. "How glad my father would have been to know you survived. I can scarcely begin to–"

  "Don't." An absolute command. "It was a disgusting situation, but I got myself out of it, and found a life which suits me extremely."

  His eyes dropped, but then he raised them and met hers steadily. "Still, on behalf of my father, I give you my deepest apologies. More should have been done." He straightened in his chair, continuing briskly. "Both Thorn and Hawk have taken the time to point out to me that you would provide an excellent example when we begin to introduce girls to the Mern. Am I right to suspect that would be the last thing you want?"

  "People would stop seeing Ash Lenthard and start putting two and two together, and I have no intention of dealing with that unless I absolutely must. Why do I have the impression that you want my past brought up even less than I do?"

  "My concern is for Lauren," the Rhoi told her. "He has spent years caught in the shadow of his father, unable to allow himself the slightest weakness. And now, because he had access to my apartments, the full weight of suspicion has been added to that burden. To learn your identity at this juncture – I think it would take him past a tipping point."

  Carlyon had been crisply professional during the little Ash had seen of him at the Mern, but she had expected nothing else of him. Perfect First Seruilis made a more than useful mask.

  "You don't suspect him?"

  "No. In terms of motive, of personality – none of this makes any sense where Lauren is concerned. The whole Carlyon family spends much of their energy proving they are nothing like the former Decsel, and I can't believe they would ever involve themselves in this conspiracy." He laughed sourly. "But then, I never imagined I would spend days wondering if Hawk was preparing ground for an invasion. I'm reaching the point where the only people I trust not to be trying to take my life are those who have actively preserved it."

  The Rhoi stopped abruptly, and poured himself a glass of water, perhaps having spoken more openly than he'd planned.

  "Have you discussed the Black Carlyon with Thornaster?"

  "Not in detail. Why?"

  Frowning, because she hadn't wanted to discuss it, Ash explained the circumstances of her 'wedding'.

  "I thought it a failure on Astenar's part. But if Karaelsur was active in Montmoth even then, if there was some tie to the Black Carlyon..."

  "So long ago?"

  "I don't know if investigating Eward Carlyon's activities at the time will help at all, but...I always wondered how anyone could dare to behave as he did. He might be able to manipulate Montmoth's laws, but eventually we all have to face Astenar's judgment. And yet, he relished the way he was, almost flouted it, as if the Sun's judgment meant nothing to him. As if he thought himself immune."

  "That – you make a solid point." The Rhoi looked far from happy. "I will sound Thorn out, and ask Investigator Verel to look into the question discreetly."

  Duly dismissed, Ash took polite departure, and wondered if Thornaster would be astonished that she could summon proper manners when she chose. But Ash had been more impressed by Arun Nemator than she'd expected, enough to not even twit him about Kiri, let alone take him to task. Perhaps he'd be good for Montmoth, after all.

  Behind her, just before Verel closed the door, the Rhoi coughed.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  In the week that followed, the most Ash learned was that she'd successfully spooked her street girl away from the Rogadney's bakery. For whatever reason, the child hadn't returned for a meal since Ash had spoken to her.

  Ash's long cut healed without infection, so Investigator Verel removed t
he stitches, passing her as 'fit enough'. That had led directly to Ash standing irritably on the Mern's sandy practice ground, facing Carlyon over a sparring rapier.

  "Don't drop the point of your weapon," Thornaster advised. "And remember your feet."

  "I think my new mission in life will have to be getting you to stop trying to teach me swordplay."

  "But consider the fields of heroics opening up to you." Her Aremish Visel was in a fine mood, despite a fruitless morning touring the city. "There's nothing like a really rousing piece of blade work to win over a crowd."

  "A better understanding of the sword will increase your advantage in the weapons you're more comfortable with," Hawkmarten put in, with unexpected gravity. "The exercise here is to familiarise yourself with your opponent's strengths and weaknesses."

  "No need to aim so low." Thornaster leaned forward on the shaded bench he and Hawkmarten had parked themselves upon. "Just think of Lauren here's expression if you manage to disarm him."

  Ash doubted that it would change. She wasn't even certain she'd seen Lauren Carlyon do more than blink since the banquet, even after new rumours of the Guard investigating the Carlyons had begun to circulate. Still, it would tell her something if she pushed him to a reaction, and her goal today was as much to learn about her opponent as the weapon.

  Spotting a fractional tightening of Carlyon's stance, Ash blocked just in time, then took a step to the right, looking for some advantage in the sun's direction. The first seruilis completely outmatched her, but still held himself contained, alert and ready, not taking her lightly. Following a shift of her own weight, with a quick movement to suggest that had only been a feint, she attempted to reach him.

  Carlyon met her effortlessly, and Ash responded with several quick jabs in succession, earning herself a rap on the arm for her haste. She pressed on, trying to find a way past his guard until Thornaster finally called a halt.

  "Hawk will give you a match, Lauren. Just till first touch."

  Ash handed her weapon over to the Nyreemian Setsel, and sat down. This was the first time Hawkmarten had come to a practice session, and she was mildly interested to see how the Nyreemian, who was closer to her own build and height than Carlyon or Thornaster, managed the first seruilis' superior reach. Rubbing her arm, she watched the pair dance around each other, moving far more freely across the practice area than Ash had managed. But there were more important issues on her mind.

  "Is the Rhoi still sick?"

  "Unchanged." Thornaster didn't take his eyes off the pair before them, but his mouth set. "A minor persistent cold; certainly not the rapid decline rumour would suggest."

  "I suppose the Guard aren't letting him eat anything someone else doesn't sample first."

  "Eat, touch, breathe. He says he's begun to believe he's simply having a reaction to an excess of cotton wool."

  "But you're worried?"

  "This – it may be a symptom of the state of Montmoth's Balance." Thornaster scuffed a toe through the sand at his feet. "This morning, these past few days, I more than once felt suddenly certain I was near a source of corruption, that I was in the right area, but just as quickly it was gone. And I have this increasing, ever-present sense of...wrong. Arun's not the only one who is ill, you know – there's a spate of minor chills and fevers. As Rhoi, Arun will both be strengthened by Astenar, and more vulnerable to illness due to the link to Luin. The Balance is more complicated than keeping your waste out of your water, or basic crop rotation. Is it even possible to Balance stolen souls?"

  "How much time? Before it's more than minor ills?"

  "I think we're reaching a tipping point," Thornaster said, unconsciously echoing the Rhoi. "That we – nice touch, Lauren!"

  "Bah! I'm out of practice," Hawkmarten said, though he smiled and clapped Carlyon on the back. "Keep it up, lad, and you might get Thorn up off his rear to truly test your mettle."

  "Isn't he out of practice as well?" Ash asked, since she'd yet to see Thornaster do more than demonstrate drills.

  "I'm certainly not at competition level at the moment," Thornaster said easily. "Whipping Ash into shape gives me an excellent excuse not to shift myself. Up you get, Ash. Drills for the rest of the afternoon."

  Ash rose obediently to her feet, but gave him a weary look once there. "Seriously, if someone came at me with a sword, I'd just throw a knife at them."

  "So you've said before. And then?"

  She looked at him warily, spotting mischief in dark eyes. "Do you mean if I miss? My aim's not that shabby. And I carry a spare."

  "So you throw your spare. And then?"

  "Are you trying to make some kind of point?"

  "Here, Hawk, give me that." Taking Hawkmarten's sword, he moved out to the centre of the training ground. "Go on, then. Throw."

  "You haven't given me a reason to put a knife in you," Ash protested. "Though the urge is rising."

  "Throw."

  The insufferably smug expression decided her, though she aimed carefully for his shoulder. Given the build-up, she wasn't particularly surprised when a deceptively lazy movement of the rapier sent her knife spinning to the sand.

  "Now knife number two."

  More than insufferable.

  Ash drew her second knife, then held out an imperative hand. "Borrow your weapon, Carlyon?"

  "Being bigger won't make it impossible to parry," Thornaster said.

  Carlyon won many points by simply handing over his rapier. Ash took it with her left hand and swung it to gauge its throwing capacity, then flung the sword at Thornaster's face and her knife fast and hard for his knee. The smile dropped off her Aremish Visel's face most wonderfully, and she almost regretted the speed with which he dived to one side.

  "What would happen if I was behind you?" she asked, watching dispassionately as he picked himself off the sand.

  "It would depend on if he knew you were there," Hawkmarten said, face merry with suppressed laughter. "Oh, Thorn, I wish Aria had been here to see that! I really need to find myself a Montmothian seruilis as well. The sheer entertainment value is incalculable."

  "I'm not sure you'd survive the experience," Thornaster said, brushing himself off. But he smiled at Ash and said: "Very well, no drills this afternoon. Hawk and Lauren can give me a match instead, if you'll bring us another two weapons."

  Ash lifted her brows, but obediently fetched the rapiers after retrieving her knives. Master Humboldt, who had been caught up with Mern business, appeared as if summoned as Thornaster folded his coat onto the bench and began some loosening-up exercises, and Carlyon warily collected the weapon Ash had thrown, while Hawkmarten took the last with a wry smile.

  "Got your blood up, Thorn?" he said, then added to Lauren: "Don't hold back."

  It wasn't just speed. Ash had assumed that Thornaster's Estarrel heritage was going to give him some unnatural advantage, but while she thought he was moving slightly faster then either of his opponents, she'd learned just enough to recognise some of the technical skill involved. Precise, controlled movements, considerable strength and flexibility of wrist, and an unerring ability to anticipate attacks.

  The bout brought Carlyon out from behind his mask, a fierce competitiveness lighting him up and making him human. Having discovered her feelings for Thornaster, Ash was able to appreciate Lauren Carlyon without being distracted by any irritating skipping of her heart. Though she spent little enough time looking anywhere but at the laughing eyes and seemingly lazy movements of her Aremish Visel.

  "Touch, Lauren!" the Master of the Mern called, but Carlyon had already stepped away, acknowledging a neatly placed blow.

  Thornaster discarded his second weapon, and he and Hawkmarten fought on, the pace increasing, both men smiling and trading gibes on their lack of condition. Ash saw why Thornaster kept trying to coax her into appreciating the art of the sword. It was a sport to him, a game with a deadly context, just as roof running to her was a matter of exultation and delight, even when she was hunting down thieves, or skarl.
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  He would have to be content with their shared enthusiasm for horse riding, because the main thing this display of swordsmanship inspired her to was the removal of his clothing. Since this was not practicable at the moment – particularly since he had given her no sign he wanted such an event – Ash instead busied herself with collecting together the swords and returning them to the weapons room.

  "You have most curious boots, Ash."

  "You have a most curious master, too."

  "I can't argue with that second one," Ash said, turning to consider Frog and Gibrace, together blocking the doorway. "My boots are quite ordinary, however."

  "I beg to differ." Frog bent, and drew out one of her knives. "You really threw that at him. Luin, just think if you'd actually hit him!"

  "I wasn't aiming anywhere fatal."

  "I'm guessing, since the Master didn't immediately toss you out on your ear, that you've permission to carry these?" Frog, holding the knife by the wrong end, made several mock-throws at the opposite wall. "Seruilisi are hardly ever given permission to carry weapons outside hunts."

  Gibrace, however, was not interested in knives. "Your Visel spoke of not currently being at competition level. He'll be talking about Aremal's midsummer festival, the competitions of sword matches and horse riding. Do you know how good you have to be to even qualify for some of those events? I wonder if the rumours about him being–"

  "Horse riding?" Ash asked. "Do you mean races? Or jumping?"

  "We've already seen enough of Thornaster to know never to fight him, Gibbers," Frog said. "This, however–" He waggled the knife. "This is something else – not exactly a sporting weapon. Don't tell me we have a real, stone-cold killer in our midst? How many should we mark on your tally, Ash?"

  "None," Ash said, forthrightly. "Not directly, at least. I..." She decided on the truth. "It gives me the horrors, actually, the thought of killing someone. Taking away all that they could become. A knife in the thigh stops anyone coming at me handily enough."