Fortune and Fate

  At times, the knowledge filled her with a low-grade level of warm satisfaction.

  At other times, it made her want to abandon her few possessions and disappear without notice in the middle of the night.

  Her month of contracted service was due to be up in seven days. She had wondered if he would remember, but it had been the very first thing he said when she had joined him in the library the night before.

  “I’m not much of a training master, but even I can tell that the guard you’ve assembled isn’t in fighting shape,” he had greeted her. “One more week won’t be nearly enough time to train them. Will you stay another month?”

  “I think that would be best,” she’d said.

  They had not referred to the contract again. Wen had lain awake in a panic half the night, hearing the breathing of her fellow guards all around her in the dark barracks. Surrounded again by friends; if she lingered long enough, they would begin to feel like family. She could not afford that; she could not surrender herself to the twin embraces of trust and affection.

  But it was just for another five weeks. She could stay that long, then cut herself free.

  She tried to forget that every night before she entered the library to see Jasper Paladar she first had to tame both her wisp of excitement and her jangle of fear.

  Tonight, fresh from trying out Moss’s magic on the battlefield, she stepped into the room to find the other House mystic displaying his abilities for Lord Jasper. Bryce was perched in a chair before the fire, facing away from Jasper, who sat in his customary spot beside the cruxanno table.

  “It’s in your left hand,” Bryce said.

  “Correct again,” Jasper replied. He sounded delighted.

  Wen closed the door and regarded them with a smile. “What are you two up to?”

  Bryce pushed his red hair away from his face. “I’m telling Lord Jasper where he’s hiding a gold coin. He said he’ll give it to me if I can guess right more times than not. But it’s not guessing,” he added. “So it doesn’t seem fair.”

  “In fact, he hasn’t been wrong once,” Jasper said. “It’s really quite remarkable.”

  Wen held her hand out. “Let me try,” she said, and Jasper tossed her the coin. “Turn around and look at Lord Jasper,” she told Bryce. When he obediently redirected his gaze, she tossed the heavy piece of gold from palm to palm a few times before closing the fingers of her right hand over it. “Now. Which hand?”

  “Right one,” Bryce said without hesitation.

  “Correct.” She repeated the process. “Now?”

  “Right hand.”

  “Now?”

  “Left hand.”

  She popped the coin in her mouth and looked at Jasper, who obligingly said, “Now where is it?”

  “In her mouth,” Bryce exclaimed. “Don’t swallow my gold! If she does, you have to give me another piece.”

  Wen spit out the coin as Jasper laughed. “I don’t think Willa is careless enough to swallow money, but if she is, I’m good for it,” Jasper said. “That was a very impressive demonstration, Bryce! Do you think you can do so well tomorrow night?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “What’s happening tomorrow night?” Wen asked.

  “Zellin Banlish is paying us a visit. Don’t you remember?”

  “About time,” she muttered.

  Jasper smiled. “Give Bryce his money and let him get back to the kitchen. I understand there’s a piece of berry pie awaiting him.”

  Once the boy was gone, Wen settled at the cruxanno table and studied Lord Jasper. “Why do you want Bryce to show off parlor tricks to the serlord?”

  “I think such a demonstration will—” Jasper searched for a phrase. “Act as a metaphor.”

  Wen wasn’t entirely sure what a metaphor was, but she said, “I think a better one would be if I held a sword to his throat.”

  He laughed. “Strategy, remember? Not strength.”

  She shrugged. “When does he arrive?”

  “In time for dinner. Karryn has expressed a desire to be excused from his presence—quite understandably. She will spend the evening with Lindy Coverroe, but Demaray will join us for dinner, as will Serephette, of course. Afterward, the serlord and I will engage in our game of cruxanno, which he tells me he is quite looking forward to.”

  Wen was thinking rapidly. Four guards to accompany Karryn to the Coverroe house, two to watch over the dinner and then oversee the game, while two more were inside the house within easy call. Four or six more to roam the House grounds while company was present . . . The day shift would have to be light, then, so that the majority of personnel could be on hand for the evening’s responsibilities.

  “And you would rather have me here with you than at the Coverroes’ house with Karryn?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “I don’t think any of us are in danger from Zellin, but I would like your opinion on how matters unfold here with the serlord. Which means you must be here to observe that unfolding.”

  That was high praise from an employer to his captain. She kept her face grave and nodded. “I’ll send Orson and Moss with Karryn. And a couple of others.”

  “Moss—she’s the mystic, right?” At her nod, he said, “Perhaps you should keep her here to join the watch with you.”

  Wen nodded again, a little baffled. That meant she would need two particularly seasoned warriors to be stationed inside the house—Eggles certainly should be one of them—since Moss’s fighting skills still were scarcely average. “Why?” she asked.

  “In case it seems expedient to offer another metaphor.”

  She regarded him. “For someone who was not very impressed at the idea of hiring mystics—”

  “Indeed. I’ve changed my mind. I am learning how to brandish a weapon.”

  Which was so funny she couldn’t help bursting into laughter. He beamed right back at her and then gestured at the game board. “Come, now. Can we finish tonight? Or I’ll have to hunt up a fresh set for my encounter tomorrow.”

  Wen sobered and bent over the board. “Certainly we can. I think it’s my turn.” She shoved all her remaining armies into the northeastern quadrant, leaving the crown piece quite solitary on the southern border. “Your move.”

  He stared down in dismay. “But—I can’t counter that.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s not how you play cruxanno! You never leave your own territories unprotected! What if I could march my army there and slaughter your king before you could breach my defenses?”

  “I don’t think you can, but go ahead and try. One way or the other, we’ll be done tonight.”

  He raised his eyes to study her. “I would never have imagined you could be so reckless.”

  She met his gaze steadily. “It’s only a game.”

  “If the stakes were real, would you make such a gamble?”

  “It would depend on what would be lost if I failed.”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t know that I’ve ever risked everything, leaving nothing behind as a safeguard.”

  She stopped the words that rose to her lips; she would not ask them of anyone, certainly not a nobleman, and her employer. Even when you married? Even when you risked your heart? She had no experience to compare to that. She had taken her own lovers carelessly, knowing each affair would last a short time. She had yearned after Justin with a hopeless hunger, but even that relationship hadn’t demanded any commitment from her since Justin had been oblivious to her emotions. Except for its ongoing misery, it had been very easy, in fact, requiring no time, no sacrifice, no hard choices.

  The one thing she would have thrown away everything else to protect was the life of the king. She would have given her own life for his. And still, he was dead and she was not, so who was she to question the stakes another man might find too high?

  “I suppose most of us haven’t had to make such a decision,” she said at last. “But I don’t care about cruxanno, so I don’t care if I win or lose.?
??

  “Well, I’m not giving up without a fight,” he said, regaining some of his focus. “Let’s see, I shall—hmm.” He fell silent, studying the board.

  He made a few excellent moves as the night wore on, but it was no use. Wen’s forces had overwhelmed his and he was forced to surrender. “We should have made a bet,” Wen said.

  “Next time, maybe.”

  “Aren’t you tired of cruxanno? You will be after tomorrow night, won’t you? I hope so.”

  He was amused. “Very well, we’ll set the board aside. You can teach me a card game or we’ll find another diversion.”

  I don’t have to come by every night if you’re growing tired of me, she thought. But she didn’t say it. She didn’t want him to revoke the privilege. She didn’t want to give up their quiet exchanges and laughing exclamations of surprise.

  It was only for another five weeks. It would not hurt anybody if she enjoyed his company that much longer.

  SERLORD Zellin Banlish arrived with a flourish, in a fancy carriage drawn by six horses, and accompanied by four guards of his own. The trip between his Manor and Fortune was long enough that he would be spending the night, and so would his guards. Wen courteously offered them sleeping space in the barracks, which they instantly accepted.

  So they did not plan to loom beside their master inside the House while he visited, dedicating themselves to his protection. That simplified her own task, though it made her think less of Zellin Banlish.

  Though she had not thought well of him before.

  During dinner, she and Moss stood at opposite ends of the dining room, wearing their sashes splashed with Fortunalt pearls and keeping their faces absolutely impassive. Serephette, who apparently had not been informed that they would be present, gave them each one long, expressive look and then ignored them for the entire evening. Zellin Banlish didn’t even seem to notice that they were in the room. He was a middle-aged but relatively trim man of medium build, thinning brown hair, and eyes as blue as his son’s. His face was round and might have seemed pleasant if he ever smiled, Wen thought, but on the whole he had a dour aspect that gave him an unfriendly cast. If asked to make a quick judgment of him, Wen would have written him off as neither observant nor particularly keen-witted.

  Demaray Coverroe was both, however, and throughout the meal, her gaze occasionally flickered between the two guards until she returned her attention to her tablemates. It would have been a much quieter meal had she not been present, Wen thought, for Serephette never bothered to make much effort and the men were more interested in their food. Demaray’s lively conversation kept the whole table talking during the first three courses, as she drew out everyone in turn. The serlord talked with some enthusiasm about his latest racehorse, while Serephette was induced to discuss a new fashion that she particularly admired. Demaray even asked Jasper about the reprinting of one of his books, something that would never have occurred to Wen to inquire after. She had to admit the lady was a polished hostess, even while in someone else’s house.

  When the meal was half over, Demaray sent a glance once again between Wen and Moss. “What is this new affectation, Jasper?” she asked in a teasing voice. “I almost understand when you insist on guards accompanying Karryn outside the walls, but here inside the house? Following you? Or are they guarding Serephette? Naturally I consider you both precious, but surely this is taking caution too far.”

  Jasper touched his napkin to his lips. “We have not told this story publicly, because Karryn begged us not to, but five weeks ago an attempt was made to abduct her,” he said.

  Wen was curious to see Demaray’s reaction, for she had assumed Karryn had shared the story with her best friend, and Lindy with her mother. But the serlady looked sincerely horrified. “No! Abduct Karryn? Who? How did you get her back?”

  “A good-hearted stranger assisted Karryn in her escape,” Jasper said. “As for the man who took her—Let us say I think he believes he is safe from justice, but I am determined to let him know that is not true.”

  Zellin Banlish looked up from his food for almost the first time since he’d stopped talking horseflesh. “She would recognize this man if she saw him again?”

  Jasper laid his napkin down. “Recognize him? She is acquainted with him,” he said softly. “She has danced with him in his own home.”

  Demaray laid her hands flat on the table and made as if to rise. She was pale. “Jasper! But who could have been so villainous! And so bold?”

  “I prefer not to name him at the moment,” Jasper said. “But I will, when I have the proper evidence.”

  “What kind of proof could you gather now?” Banlish asked skeptically. “More than a month past the event?”

  Demaray gave him a smoldering look. “I would think Karryn’s word would be proof enough.”

  Banlish shrugged. “A girl that age might say anything. Maybe she thought to run away from home with a handsome young lord—I assume this man was noble?”

  “Indeed.”

  “And when the affair didn’t go as she expected, and her guardian came looking for her—Well, she wouldn’t be the only young woman to make up a story about force when she had been intending seduction all along.”

  Demaray turned her back on him as if unwilling to consider such a possibility with her own daughter. “But, Jasper, was she harmed—in any way at all?” she asked.

  Her delicate emphasis on these last words made it clear what she meant. Serephette spoke up for the first time. “No,” she said coldly. “Her virtue is still intact, though a marlady can marry where she likes even if she is not virginal. You need have no worries on that score, Demaray.”

  Now Demaray was all fluttery apology, with a touch of reproof. “Serephette! That’s not what I meant! I was worried about her well-being, not her marriage prospects.”

  “As it happens, her abductor had marriage on his mind, too,” Jasper said. “It seems he had a hankering for a marlord’s title and thought that a—forceful—proposal might win him his desired bride.”

  “That’s outrageous!” Demaray exclaimed.

  But Banlish was nodding. “It wouldn’t be the first time a marlady had found her husband that way.”

  Demaray glared at him. “Which certainly does not make it acceptable now!”

  “I suppose you would have to ask Jasper for a more exact date, but I don’t think marrying into the Twelve Houses by force has been a common practice for at least a hundred years,” Serephette said in a chilly voice. “And that it was tried on my daughter is abominable. As you might guess, I disagree strongly with Jasper on the notion of keeping Karryn’s abductor a secret. If it were up to me, I would publish his name to every House and Manor across Gillengaria so that he would find it impossible to find any bride, let alone a serramarra.”

  “Then tell us,” Demaray urged. “Who took Karryn against her will?”

  Serephette’s face took on that brooding, haunted look that was her most common expression—as if she was reviewing matters too dreadful to speak of, too powerful to forget. “She won’t tell me. She does whatever Jasper says.”

  Zellin Banlish appeared to be slightly amused. “Seems like Jasper Paladar wields a lot of power here,” he said. “Thirteenth House lord making the rules for the marlady-to-be? That seems backward.”

  “Zellin!” Demaray exclaimed, and Serephette gave the serlord a frosty look. But Jasper just brushed his napkin to his lips again and smiled.