Mastiff (12 page)

The queen didn’t let go of my arm, though she eased up on her grip. She sat back, drawing me with her. I signaled Tunstall with my eyes, begging him to do something, but he stood there with one hand over his mouth so he’d look like he was thinking deep thoughts, not smirking like the wicked mumper he is.

“Is this true, my lord?” the queen asked Lord Gershom, changing her grip so she held my hand with both of hers. “Is this what you believe?”

My lord sighed and ran his hand back through his soaked steel-gray hair. “I do, Your Majesty. Though I would prefer not to raise the possibility that there is a future game unrevealed as yet.”

“We pray that no one is listening, but surely the word will spread soon enough,” the king replied quietly. “Face it, Gershom, our court will be a shambles then.”

“Which is why I wish to work it so that very little gets out,” replied my lord. “Allow these scoundrels to show what game they wish to play. We have plans to make, if you will trust me.”

“I am trusting you with everything,” the king replied. “I can rely on no one else.”

I looked at my lord, suddenly frightened. It sounded like an honor to have a king place all his confidence in him, but kings, especially this one, are fickle. I remembered Lady Sabine, exiled to the hill country for offending King Roger. Others who had offended him had not escaped with their lives. What if one of my lord’s enemies convinced His Majesty that Lord Gershom was in on the kidnapping, or that he could not find Prince Gareth?

“Tunstall, Cooper, I have your promise for your silence,” my lord said. It wasn’t a question. We nodded. He could have just told the mages to magic us into silence.

Lord Gershom was also dismissing us. I hesitated, then risked my life and gave Her Majesty a hug, as if she were one of my friends or sisters. Only then did she let go of my hand. Her arms went around me. “I’ll begin work on more heirs,” she whispered in my ear. I jumped a little, not expecting such an important confidence from someone so far above me in station. “I’ve been selfish, wanting more time with Gareth alone. But I know you’ll find my baby. You’ll bring him back to me.” She released me at last.

Tunstall bowed to Lord Gershom and to Their Majesties. The king nodded to us, his face a blank mask.

I managed to bow and back out of the room along with Tunstall and Pounce. One of the queen’s ladies waited for us there. “We’ve made up rooms, and we found nightclothes for you both. If you will place your uniforms outside your doors, we’ll have them dried by the morning.”

“How do you manage?” Tunstall asked as we accompanied her downstairs. “Have you brought servants in from Blue Harbor?”

The mot looked up at him, eyes wide. “Oh, no, Guardsman. Lord Gershom forbade it. No one is to leave the palace grounds without his express permission. Those of us ladies and gentlemen of Their Majesties’ households, those that were in their company last night—” Her lips quivered for a moment and her bright brown eyes filled with tears. She forced a smile to her face and went on, “We must do everything. It’s been a good distraction, finding where the servants keep whatever is necessary! I’m afraid the food is not at all up to palace standard, none of us being able to cook—”

Tunstall rested a hand on her arm, his face sober and sympathetic. He has rendered the hardest mots of the Lower City into puddles of tears and information with that look, and his deep voice speaking kind words. “You lost friends last night. You have our sorrow, Cooper’s and mine. Would you care to tell me what happened?”

Which was how I ended in my chamber with Pounce and Achoo, alone, while the lady sat in Tunstall’s room, telling him her story. He’d waved me off. I was glad of the permission. I was tired, and I needed time alone. I picked up bowls of food for my hound and cat and fed them immediately. Next I opened up my pack and laid out its contents, including the glowing stone, on the worktable. Then I turned the empty pack inside out and set it beside one of the two braziers that warmed the room.

The room itself must have belonged to an upper servant. The bed was big enough for two, which left a bit of room for me beside the hound and cat, who were there already. The clothes in the press were all far too large for me, but I helped myself to a clean loincloth and a nightdress. I knew well the owner would not be returning or they would not have put me here. I murmured a prayer as I put on the dry clothes.

From the looks of the dishes on the floor, both of my four-legged friends were now full. When I rested my hand on Achoo’s freshly combed fur, she blinked at me and gave me her shy “bruff” of greeting. She was good and dry.

Fruit, cheese, bread, and a pitcher of wine waited for me on a bedside table. I decided the wine was light enough that a cup wouldn’t addle me too badly, if I had some of the bread and cheese first. I combed out my soaking hair between bites, then braided it once more. That was all the supper I managed before I blew out the lamp and crawled under the blanket.

Achoo whined at me and shoved her nose under my arm. I knew this conversation, which we often had. Rest is very good, she was telling me, but we didn’t find the boy.

“We’ll find the boy,” I promised. I tucked myself against the hound and the cat and slept.

I have no notion if it was before or after twelve of the clock on Thursday, June 7, being that the palace clocks had been destroyed by the raiders. I choose to finish the events of this day as part of the events of June 7, to save myself fuss. It is not as if anyone but me will ever be able to read this journal, which is why I write it in a cipher that is part Dog cipher and more my own creation. I will need this book, to keep my head clear and my thoughts straight. I see dark times coming. In this book I will write the truth, when I can, not the canker-licking half-truths I will have to submit later, for the public record.

Gods all aid me and my Hunting team, I beg.

Ladyshearth Lodgings

Coates Lane

Port Caynn

being an account of the events of Friday, June 8
,
at the Summer Palace
beginning at dawn on that day

Achoo woke me, having natural errands to run. I was at a loss at first. My window looked out over rose vines, which would have hurt my poor hound dreadfully. It also looked out into pouring rain. I spat into it and closed the shutter. Seemingly these vile mages wished to ensure that we never got Prince Gareth’s trail again.

Happily my uniform, clean and dry, was folded and stacked before my door. It took me but a moment to put it on and to find a pair of the room’s last resident’s sturdy shoes. They did not fit. I had to put on my own boots, which were nearly as wet as when I’d taken them off.

Pounce remained abed. Achoo led me through the smoky-smelling halls, trusting her nose to guide her outside. We ended in the kitchens. There I came to a halt while Achoo raced through an open outer door into the rain. Tunstall stood before the hearth, a pan in one hand and a spoon in the other. He spoke to an audience of ladies, gentlemen, and soldiers of the King’s Own who gathered around the great worktables. Two of the ladies were placing utensils on trays. A third was trimming flowers to fit prettily in a pair of thin vases. Master Farmer was in the kitchen as well, gutting and cleaning some fine, fat trout with the speed of a practiced cook.

“Now, see, my mother never held with Bazhir seasonings,” Tunstall was saying. The mot with the curling red hair who had gone off with him the night before assisted him, passing him what he needed. “But my lady has a taste for dishes with cumin, and she got me to like it, too.”

“You’re in service to a lady, Tunstall?” asked one of the men in the King’s Own. “How can you manage that and yet be a Dog?”

Tunstall looked down at his chickpeas and took a breath. This was always a difficult moment when we dealt with the nobility. “I mean my lady Sabine of Cahill, the knight. We are good friends.”

From the deep silence, I knew they all realized how close that friendship was. I sucked up my courage, because speaking before these folk was not to my taste, and said, “
Cooking?
You’ve got a mage and a Dog
cooking
?”

Tunstall and Master Farmer both looked at me like my brothers caught stealing sweets.

“What’s most magecraft, if not cooking?” Master Farmer asked. “As for this, if you want a meal that’s not stale or raw, then we cook, or you do, Cooper. Our poor friends here don’t know how.”

It seemed our circumstances, living in the half-destroyed palace, lacking servants, with few high officials keeping an eye on everyone, led to a relaxation of the rules. Certainly I felt comfortable enough to say, “All these folk and none of you know anything? Not so much as how to boil an egg?”

One lady held up a bandaged hand. “I got this cutting the bread.”

“Goddess save us all,” I said. What a menagerie had assembled in that kitchen, between the nobles and we Hunters. “Has anyone collected eggs today?”

My sole answer came from a number of pairs of blinking eyes. I didn’t dare ask about milk. Someone must have done the milking, or we’d have heard the cows, but that someone was not in the kitchen.

I went over to Master Farmer. “As soon as you can, please tell my lord Gershom that servants must be brought in,” I whispered. “We can’t look after an entire palace.” I saw a stack of baskets and pointed to three ladies. “You will come collect eggs, for Their Majesties,” I told them. I found pails and chose two mots and two coves who had something intelligent and humorous about their faces. “You may learn to milk cows, also for the sake of the realm.”

I walked out of the kitchen into the rain, not entirely sure they would follow. They did. They knew where the farm buildings were, nicely hidden behind hedges and trees. The nobles used the barns for canoodling, from what I heard.

I showed the ladies how to deal with the hens, with results of a mixed kind, including a number of scratches and smashed eggs. Our luck was better in the cowsheds. Some hostlers who had gone with the royal party to Blue Harbor the night of the attack had milked cows as servant lads. They were already seeing to that work. They were happy to let the gentlemen carry the buckets to the kitchen.

I did not return with them. Sooner or later Tunstall would remember that I knew how to make pasties. He would set me to baking for everyone. We all would be far better off if the nobles went crying to Lord Gershom for servants he could trust. As long as Master Farmer, Tunstall, and I were the only Dogs present, we should be about Dog work. Right now, with the curst rain washing away His Highness’s scent, it seemed to me the closest Dog work lay in the ships that had been raised from the ocean floor last night.

Achoo found me in the garden. Together we walked down through the gardens along paths that had turned to small streams. At least the area was now cleared of the dead. The gardens were being washed clean as the crushed flowers and bushes recovered from their injuries. No one was silly enough to be out in the wet like me. Even the guards at the gate that overlooked the sea cliffs kept to their shelter. They stuck their heads out, ready to object to my departure, but saw my uniform and opened half of the gate for me. Achoo raced through. I followed at a more clumping pace, thanks to my shoes.

Using my spelled mirror, I saw that even the shreds of the path spells were gone this morning. I hoped they got some more mages and soldiers here soon, as well as servants. I didn’t like having this beach and these paths open. Summer is prime raiding season for the fearsome ships from Scanra and the Copper Isles. Even the Yamanis sometimes reach this far south in their attacks.

When I prepared to descend in Achoo’s wake, I saw that any raiders might think twice before they tried to come up. The heavy rains had turned the path into a rushing stream.

“Achoo!” I called. “Achoo, where have you gone?” She had vanished.

I heard a yelp from below. I reached out to grab a rock at the side of the path, hoping to climb it to see where my empty-headed hound had gone. My boots slid on the mud under the water, pulling me into the current. Now I knew what had happened to Achoo. The tumbling water thrust me down the steep hill, ramming me into stones and gravel. I broke all of my nails as I tried to grab for a hold on the rocks. I had nothing cushioning my back, and only a thin summer-weight tunic and breeches between me and a ten-squad of bruises.

The stream dumped me at the foot of the cliff and sank into the sand as I cursed the cod-kickers who had called the rain. Achoo ran to me, whining as she licked my hands and arms. After the water, her tongue was startling in its warmth.

“I’ll live, girl,” I told her as I struggled to my feet. My poor friend was covered in mud. I ran my hands over her body and limbs to be sure she had taken no hurt. Once I was certain that her bones were unbroken, I looked around us. “I daresay neither of us will be happy about it for a day or two, but we’ll both of us live.”

Achoo gave me her encouraging “roof,” the sound that usually meant “We’ll do fine.”

The tide had come in. The pair of ships that had been raised by Master Ironwood and Mistress Orielle from the bottom were now moored fast to the very stones of the cliffs by heavy ropes. They were half afloat, tugging at their ties to the land, but moving very little. Rope ladders hung from the bow of each vessel. Someone had gone aboard after the mages brought the ships up.

I wiped my muddy face on my muddy arm. Achoo whined as the sea winds blew rain, spray, and the darker scent of bad things done into our faces.

“
Tunggu
, Achoo,” I told her. “There’s no way you can get aboard one of these.” Even my girl couldn’t climb a rope ladder.

Achoo whined louder and yipped, her way of arguing. She even tucked her tail between her legs, which always made me feel like a brute.

“It’s for your own good, so stop that,” I said gently. I know how it feels to be left behind when I want to Hunt. “If you think of a way to climb up, you’re welcome. Go find someplace out of the rain.”

I looked up around the rocks at the foot of the cliff until I found a stone that ought to be out of the water if the tide came all the way up to the rocks. There I left my boots and stockings. Achoo slunk up and lay down beside the stone, the very picture of misery and abandonment.