Oathblood (37 page)

Tarma tossed her hair back with a casual flip of a hand. “Oh, don't worry, I'm an old hand at making lessons seem like play.”

“At least until they catch you at it,” Jadrek warned, echoing Kethry's thought, with a chuckle.

“Last holiday within a fortnight they had it figured that your game of ‘hide and hunt' was nothing more than practice in tracking.”

“Well, that's
your
fault for breeding such clever children,” Tarma retorted, as she strode off in the direction of the stables. “You should have been a little more careful.”

Kethry laughed, and hugged Jadrek's arm, reminded again how grateful she was that her
she‘enedra
and her beloved were as fond of one another as the best of siblings. “To think that I was once worried about how you two would get along!”

Her husband arched a slender, silver eyebrow at her, and she braced herself for something witty, funny, or both. “Do you think that for one scant moment I would even contemplate doing or saying anything to offend our best unpaid child-tender? Perish the thought, woman!”

“I know, how foolish of me.” She released his arm with a kiss on the back of his hand. “I am going to go do something nonmagical, frivolous and feminine; I'm going to go brew up some perfume in the still-room. I've spent so much time making bruise-ointment and salve for the little hoydens that I haven't done a thing with the roses I harvested this summer, or the sentlewood and amba-resin that I bought from that trader this fall.”

“Mmm,” Jadrek replied absently, as his mind apparently flashed elsewhere.
I think he just realized that he's going to have whole stretches of time without interruptions for the next moon.
“I've got a translation I promised to young Stefansen that's been giving me some problems.”

Kethry made a shooing motion with her hands. “Go do it, then but set the candle-alarm for three marks, or you won't remember to eat luncheon, and I'm certain that Cook is already planning something a bit more experimental now that the children are gone.”

This would make another pleasant change; on the whole, children bolted food without paying much attention to it, and looked upon things that they didn't recognize with suspicion. It was only when no one was in residence but “the family” that Cook made anything other than good, basic fare. And Cook looked forward to the holidays with some anticipation for that very reason.

“Well, I wouldn't risk my marriage by offending Cook either,” Jadrek laughed, and kissed her forehead. “Now don't
you
forget to set your alarm-candle!”

They went their separate ways, and Kethry immersed herself in the intricacies of creating her own signature perfumes—a light floral, rich with roses, and a heavier, more incenselike scent, both with hints of cinnamon. The still-room was one of her favorite places in the manor, pleasantly dim (some essences reacted poorly to sunlight), cool in summer, warm in winter. There was just enough room for one person to move about, so no one came here unless invited. She puttered happily with oils and fixatives, flagons and pestles. When her alarm-candle burned down the allotted three candlemarks and released its little brass ball to clang into the copper basin, she came to herself with a start.

She cleaned up and headed for the table, to find Tarma, Jadrie, and the twins making serious inroads on Cook's latest creation. It involved finely-chopped meat and vegetables, cheese—something vaguely like sheets of pastry—and there Kethry's knowledge ended.

“Pull up a plate and tuck in,” Tarma urged. “I haven't a clue what this is, but it's marvelous!”

The twins looked up with full mouths and slightly-smeared cheeks, nodded vigorously in agreement, and dove back in. All of the “home children” were used to eating things they didn't recognize and were prepared to enjoy them, partly because of their cheerful tempers, and partly because they had
always
been used to eating things they didn't recognize. They had spent their entire lives shuttling between the school-manor, with fairly ordinary fare, and the Dhorisha Plains. Shin‘a'in cuisine was not something that most Rethwellans would be at all familiar with, and there often was not much choice in what they were offered when on the road.

Cook came in with a loaf of hot bread and a pot of butter, wearing a look of anxious inquiry on his face. “Tasty dead horse, Cook!” Jadrie called, and ducked as he mimed a blow at her. It was an old joke between them, since the time when Jadrie had pestered him as a toddler, wanting to know what was in each dish he made. He had finally gotten annoyed at her incessant questions and snapped, “Dead horse! Can't you see the tail?” From that moment on, any time Cook presented them with an experiment, Jadrie referred to it as a “dead horse.”

“I wasn't certain, before, but I think this would be a good school dish,” Cook said to Kethry. “It's easily made ahead and kept warm next to the ovens. Do you think the students would eat it?”

“If they won‘t, I'll eat theirs for 'em,” Lyan said with his mouth full.

Jadrek laughed. “With that kind of enthusiasm before them, I imagine they will, Devid, he replied. ”This is definitely one of your better experiments.“

Cook beamed his pleasure, and hurried back to the kitchen to supervise the cleaning up. The rest of the meal proceeded in pleasant silence as the mystery dish and the hot bread and butter vanished away like snow in sunshine. Even Kethry, who normally wasn't all that hearty an eater, found herself unusually hungry after her work in the still-room, and was absorbed completely in the meal.

It wasn't until she had eaten the last bite that she could possibly hold and looked up that she realized not everyone had come to lunch—or, apparently, were expected to.

“Estrel and Justin and Ikan went down to the village to meet the new Healer-Priestess and they took Jadrek Minor with them,” Jadrie said, as Kethry noticed that the other three places weren't set. “Estrel put the babies down for their naps before she left, and Warrl is watching them. Cook said he'd save them lunch; they expected to be back by the time the babies' naps were over.”

“Then I'd better supervise the nursery until they get back, and give Warrl a break,” Tarma said, not only willing, but eager. “Jadrie, will you and the twins—”

Just at that moment, Kethry felt the room drop away from under her, a wash of anger threaten to overwhelm her, and a surge of nameless emotions hit her with a force that made her gasp. Unconsciously, she braced herself on the table, as her family turned to stare at her with varying degrees of surprise and concern.

And for a moment, she didn't recognize what had hit her, it had been so long—

“Need,”
she gasped, when she got her breath back. “It's Need! Something's wrong, something horrible has happened—”

“To whom?” Tarma demanded. “Can you tell?” Her face paled. “Dear gods, surely not Estrel—”

Kethry shook her head, both in negation and to clear the tears of shock from her eyes. “Not Estrel, it's not in the direction of the village,” she managed to reply. At least in all the time she'd been soul-bonded to the blade, she'd learned to pick out which direction that “trouble” was coming from. “But it can't be too far away, not more than a day's ride at most, or it wouldn't be this
strong
—”

Jadrie and the twins stared at her with alarm and dismay.
Of course, they've never seen me like this before, Need hasn't grabbed me like this in years
—

“Should we send out a hunter or something—” Jadrek began, and Tarma snapped her fingers.

“Of course!” she said, then frowned in concentration. “Keth, what direction?”

“North, north and a little east,” she replied, as sure of it as if she was the needle of a compass pointing to the source that was wrenching at her skull and heart.

A door slammed somewhere, as Tarma said, “Warrl's on it. He's faster in this weather than anyone, and he'll find out exactly
where
the trouble is. Can you hold out until he calls me or comes back himself?”

“I'll have to, won't I?” she replied grimly, for now the pull that the sword exerted on her had settled to a painful headache echoed by wire-tight muscles in her neck, shoulders, and stomach. “This isn't something we can delegate. We'd better get ready to ride. Jadrek—”

“I won't be of much use to you, dearest,” he admitted without rancor, a fact that brought tears of gratitude to her eyes. “Or rather, I will be of
more
use to you here with the children. What can I do to help prepare?”

“Travel packs; you know what I need,” she said immediately. The mere thought that
she
wouldn't have to try and think through this pain to select what she would require came as a profound relief.

“I'm on it, love.” Jadrek pushed away from the table and left the room, as quickly as he could.

Tarma took over, as the three children stared, dismayed and frightened. “Children, you three get Hellsbane and Ironheart ready. Jadrie, you've had lessons in provisioning, you make up the packs for the horses. I'm depending on you to get it right. Boys, saddle and harness the mares, and when Jadrie's put the packs together, bring them to the riding arena.
Go
.”

The children scrambled to their feet and sped out of the room like three hornets from a roused nest. Tarma turned to Kethry, who was taking slow, even breaths, and trying to get a little magical shielding between herself and the pain. “Keth, get to your rooms and get changed. I'll tell Cook what's going on, and he can handle the servants until Jadrek has time to deal with them, I'll get changed and collect the medical kit and traveling cash, and I'll meet you at the riding arena. Good?”

She nodded; in a moment or two she would be able to walk. “Right,” she replied, and as Tarma left her alone in the room, she began a silent colloquy with the sword hanging on the wall of her sitting room, trying to persuade it that
nothing
was going to happen unless it gave her—not freedom, but a long enough leash to act.

 

Old warriors never let their fighting gear get out of condition; that is how they
become
old warriors in the first place. Tarma's armor and weapons were always kept oiled, polished, and in a place of honor on the proper stands in her room. When the family made its annual summer pilgrimage to the Plains, she wore it religiously, even though in all the years she had done so, they had never once been set upon.

So in her case, it wasn't at all difficult to assemble the proper pack and get herself properly arrayed. In fact, the pack was complete and she had just about finished lacing herself into her armor when she heard Warrl's “call” in the back of her head, as if he was shouting from a long distance away.

The
kyree
had awesome speed when he needed it, and was not limited to using roads; he could cover in a candlemark what would take a horse and rider half a day to traverse if it was necessary. He'd pay for it afterward, and be useless for the rest of the day, but if there was ever the perfect scout to send off looking for trouble, it was Warrl.

Between his speed and his nose, he required only a simple direction to find the source of whatever had set Need off. That violent a reaction had to have its cause in further violence, and Warrl could scent blood on the wind a league away. Tarma would have been astonished if he
hadn't
found the source of their alarm.

And she had a horrible feeling, as well, that she already knew who it was that had caused the alarm.
North
was the direction that Kira and Meri had gone. And Need “knew” them, by virtue of being within the same walls for the past four moons.

Warrl was so far away that he was barely at the limit of his range, and his mental voice was faint and thin.

But it was clear enough, and it was exactly what she had dreaded hearing.
:Kira and Meri. Escort all dead, girls gone. On my way back.:

Scant information, but enough. He was probably saving his energy for the run. He'd be exhausted when he reached the manor, but that was all right, he could ride pillion on Hellsbane and recover while he guided them.

She raised her voice and called out the open door of her room, knowing that Jadrek and Kethry would hear her, reporting exactly what Warrl had told her, and forced her fingers to work faster in the lacings of her armor. When the last piece was fastened, she grabbed her thick, quilted wool Shin‘a'in coat and her pack, and ran as fast as the weight of the armor would permit, heading for the still room.

Once there, she made up a medical kit of anything that might be useful—from silk thread and needles to poppy-gum. Ordinarily this would be Kethry's job, but Tarma had seen her do it often enough to know what went into such a kit, and there were special padded leather roll-pouches, each with the appropriate pockets, just waiting for anyone who needed to make up such a kit. That went into her pack, well-cushioned by the bedroll, and she headed for her next destination, Justin's office where the strongbox was kept.

Old habits die hard for former mercenaries; as she had half hoped, there was a full money-belt coiled inside the strongbox, along with the rest of the school's treasure. Justin wouldn't have felt easy unless he knew there was a full money-belt ready in case of an emergency trip. She hefted it, judged it to be sufficient by the weight, and buckled it on over her armor. Later, she could put it on
under
the armor, but she didn't think she had the time to right now. Whoever had kidnapped the girls already had half a day's head start on them—for they must have gotten at least that far from the school before they were attacked. It could snow at any time, and if the kidnappers were intelligent, they would take to the trade roads and trust to the inevitable traffic that moved even in winter to confuse or obliterate their trail.