Interesting.
“As you say,” Lady High Priestess Evelyn said in a noncommittal voice.
“But we need to see Auxter, and now is as good a time as any.” Red stood, putting her mug with the other dishes.
“We can take Ezren, then.” Evelyn looked over at him. “He’ll receive better care at the farm, with many willing hands to aid him.”
Fear coursed through Ezren. The idea of more people seeing him weak and confused…it overwhelmed him. He didn’t want to be seen like this.
“I think he should stay here,” Bethral said, to Ezren’s relief. “It’s too much too fast. Let him regain a bit more strength before shifting him.”
Ezren sagged in relief as the priestess nodded in acceptance. He let his head fall back against the pillow, exhausted. His body shifted, and he squirmed slightly. “Excuse me, but it seems I need some privacy.”
Bethral reached under the bed, and pulled out a chamber pot.
“No.” Ezren was taken aback. “I would prefer…” He looked at Josiah.
Bethral put the pot down. Ezren had the feeling that he’d hurt her somehow. “Of course,” she said softly.
“It’s for the best,” Red said. “I want you with me when I talk to Auxter.”
“We’ll leave him in Josiah’s care.” Evelyn moved for the door, as everyone made room for her to squeeze by them. “Arent packed some clothing, and it’s here somewhere, Josiah.”
“This bundle,” Bethral said, pointing under the table.
“Lady High Priestess.” Ezren’s voice cracked as he sought her attention.
She paused, and looked back.
“Do not mistake my gratitude,” he said. “But my voice? Will it return?”
She sighed. “I don’t know, Ezren. The power of the Gods gave you back your tongue, and I can try again on your throat. But I cannot say for sure that it will be as it once was.”
He lowered his gaze to the blanket, and listened as her footsteps faded away.
“You don’t mind caring for him?” Bethral asked Josiah softly.
Ezren saw her glance at him, worry in her eyes. He smiled slightly, to reassure her.
“Not at all,” Josiah said.
Bethral followed the priestess out.
Red leaned against the table for a moment. Her eyes fixed on Ezren, and she waited for his full attention. “Bethral has nursed you right along. Nothing of yours she hasn’t seen and cared for. You be kind to her, eh?” Red straightened. “After all, she’s the one spent the copper to buy your carcass from the slavers.”
Ezren blinked, taken aback.
Red turned to Josiah. “I’ll be back, Josiah. Tonight.”
The man nodded. “I understand, Chosen.”
Red gave him a look that Ezren could not quite interpret, and turned to go. There was definitely something between them, something more than the normal games between a man and a woman. Ezren frowned, trying to read more from their bodies, but Red was out the door and gone.
As Red left, Josiah turned to him. “Let’s see to your needs, Ezren.”
“There is a tale here,” Ezren said. “About those women. Tell it to me.”
Josiah handed him the chamber pot. “I’ll tell you what I know, but I don’t know where to begin.”
Ezren struggled with the blankets, and Josiah reached to help. “Tell me everything,” he demanded, as he got into position. “From the start.”
“Well”—Josiah turned his back—“it was raining….”
WHO did this bitch think she was?
Gloriana pressed back against the stone wall of the upper balcony of the great hall. She’d heard the call to muster in the hall, heard that Evelyn had returned with Red Gloves and some blonde woman called Bethral.
Everyone not on watch had flooded in, filling both levels. Not everyone had seen this new Chosen yet, although word of her appearance had spread fast. The description of the fight, and talk of the warning about her gloves had everyone shaking their heads.
Auxter and Vembar had called various groups into the hall at various times over the last day. Oh, they’d talked to her as well, explaining, rationalizing, trying to convince everyone how Red would bring their plans together, and how wonderful it was.
Gloriana had protested, but she’d been admonished. If she heard “the greater good” or the “welfare of the kingdom and its people” one more time, she was going to scream.
She’d hidden here, back against the wall in the shadow of the balcony. The leaders were gathered by the hearth, and Red Gloves faced the gathering. How could Aunt Evie sit there and let this happen?
Gloriana had seen Vembar looking around for her, but she’d remained hidden. He’d said something to Arent, but then SHE’d started talking and everyone had fallen silent, settling back to listen.
The bitch stood there, calm and professional, and announced that she would act as the Chosen. Gloriana had secretly hoped that someone would stand up and refuse the woman who was taking her place, but no one did. Instead, they hung on her every word, like puppies eager for a stick. It made her sick.
And what about those gloves? Aunt Evie said she never took them off, and not to ask about them at all. Gloriana’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Red’s gloved hands. Maybe they were old and withered. Or maybe there were talons, and Red had been cursed for some terrible sin. Couldn’t they see that she was some kind of criminal, not to be trusted?
Gloriana glared at Red. Why didn’t the Gods strike her dead?
The blonde looked up into the gallery then, as if sensing her thoughts. Gloriana shrank even farther into the shadows as the woman swept the area for a threat. She was a mountain of a woman, big and strong and probably as dumb as a rock. Still…Gloriana was careful not to draw her attention.
Red Gloves stood there, so calm, so commanding, sword at her side, her arms crossed under those enormous breasts, and talked about the need to move quickly with the plans, and the further need to guard Uncle Josiah and someone named Ezren. About using Athelbryght as a base, so as to keep the farm a secret from the enemy. Of the work that needed to be done before they approached the High Barons for support.
Everyone fell all over themselves, offering information, giving advice, all talking at the same time. Like chickens scrambling for thrown grain.
Gloriana crossed her arms over her flat chest and glowered. It was so unfair! Just because the bitch was older….
Vembar chanced to look up then, and Gloriana was sure he’d seen her. He opened his eyes wide, then closed them, and shook his head as if disappointed. Gloriana flushed in embarrassment, and moved behind the pillar.
Men were forming a unit to set up guard duty in Athelbryght as soon as a portal could be raised. In her rage, Gloriana stepped forward and grabbed the railing. “Why should we trust you, when you won’t even take off your gloves? What are you hiding?”
Her voice rang out over the room, and everyone looked up at her. Gloriana’s face was hot, but she wasn’t going to back down. Her eyes were on Red Gloves, who stiffened and gave her a hooded look. Gloriana almost took a step back, away from those eyes, but she forced herself to keep still. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.
Red relaxed. “We need to talk, you and I. Come with me.”
Aunt Evelyn stood up. “Where are you going?”
Red gave her a considering look, and Gloriana held her breath, half hoping the sword woman would do something stupid.
“We are going to the shrine of the Twelve,” Red said. She looked back up at Gloriana. “This is between Gloriana and me.”
Gloriana swallowed hard, sure that she was about to face her death. Red was still looking at her, but her voice rang out over the entire hall. “Either the mark under my breast means that I have your trust in all things, or you might as well kill me now.”
THEY approached the shrine in silence, for which Gloriana was grateful. Red hadn’t lectured, or scolded, or even threatened to kill her so far. She’d just led the way, and Gloriana
followed behind, her stomach in knots.
“Lerew. Jaff.” Red called out. The men appeared from the thickest pines, and Red dismissed them with a few words. They both looked over at Gloriana, and she gave them her nod of approval. Whatever was going to happen, she didn’t want witnesses.
The men walked off, and they listened to the footsteps crunch through the needles, until the only sound was the birds around them. Red was staring at the rock, where the grain lay scattered about.
“Well?” the mercenary asked.
“Well, what?” Gloriana crossed her arms over her chest.
Red gave her an amused look. “Do you really want to challenge me, child?”
Rage swept through her. “It’s not fair!” she cried, dropping her arms and forming fists. She spat out her words. “You aren’t even doing this for the right reasons.” She took a step forward, forgetting her fear. “All you care about is money.”
Red raised an eyebrow. “I am a mercenary.”
Gloriana glared at her. “You’re a better fighter than me, and older than me. There’s nothing I can do about it, and it’s just not fair.” The last few words burst out of her. Gloriana knew she sounded like a whining brat, and she flushed, hating Red even more.
But the older woman just nodded. “You’re right. It’s not.”
Gloriana’s shoulders slumped, and despair filled her. “Vembar and Auxter tell me that all the time.”
“But we still expect it to be fair, don’t we?” Red sounded oddly sympathetic. “Even when you are older and know better.”
Gloriana looked at her, but there was no mockery in Red’s expression as she continued. “Gloriana, you are the next oldest of the Chosen. If I fail, it will be up to you to pick up the pieces and try again.”
Gloriana kicked at some of the needles, not looking at Red. “I know.”
“I follow the Way of the Twelve. You know of this path?” Red asked.
“Yes,” Gloriana said. Great! A lecture. Just what she needed now, from this…
“You sound like a spoiled brat,” Red snapped. “Look at me.”
Gloriana’s head snapped up. The older woman was deadly serious.
“You know of the Twelve?”
Gloriana nodded. “I do. I was raised to worship the Lord of Light and the Lady of Laughter, but Vembar has taught me about the faiths of other lands.”
“Then you know that we hold our oaths dear, and that an oath taken in a shrine to the Way is dearest of all?” Red asked. “You would accept such an oath?”
“I would.” Gloriana nodded again, puzzled.
Red relaxed and flashed a smile. She stepped forward, and placed her gloved hand on the stone. “Then, Gloriana, second eldest of the Chosen, hear now my oath to you and to the Kingdom of Palins.”
“THEY’VE been gone too long.” Worried, Evelyn paced before the great hearth, where Auxter and Vembar were playing chess.
Auxter grunted. “Not that long. Sit down.”
“Evelyn, I’m getting tired just watching you,” Vembar said softly. “Please sit before you wear me out, child.”
Evelyn plopped down in the chair next to his with a sigh.
“All will be well,” Auxter rumbled as he moved his queen. “Have some faith in your Chosen, Evelyn.”
“Gloriana is so young,” Evelyn said. “I trust Red; she bears the mark of the Chosen. I just can’t—”
“Control her.” Auxter finished for her.
“She’s not a tame one, that is certain.” Vembar spoke as he studied the board. “Gloriana is better trained to sit upon the throne. But there’s a war to be fought, and this Chosen can fight it.”
Auxter snorted, then gave Evelyn a sharp look from under his bushy eyebrows. “You are well caught, Lady High Priestess. Either you trust her, simply because she bears the mark of the Chosen under her breast, or you don’t. And if you don’t feel that you can trust her, only time will convince you. Time we don’t have to spare.”
“I trust her,” Evelyn protested.
“Then rest your feet.” Vembar advised.
“And your mind, Evie.” Auxter raised his head. “What’s that?”
Evie looked up to see warriors moving back into the hall. One came up to the hearth. “They’ve just come out of the pines, Auxter.”
Auxter gave him a stern look. “Report.”
“They’re walking together. Gloriana is beside her, and they both look serious.”
Evelyn stood as Red and Gloriana made their way to the great hearth, followed by many more of the warriors. The first thing Evelyn noticed was the look on Gloriana’s face. There was a new confidence there, a new maturity.
They both turned to face the room, and then Gloriana took a step forward. She stood tall, and lifted her chin before speaking. “Red Gloves is the eldest Chosen, and is the one to lead us against the Regent. She has my full support.”
Red placed her hand on Gloriana’s shoulder. “Gloriana is my heir, should I fall in this effort. Together, we will restore the throne of Palins.”
Evelyn gaped, even as a cheer filled the room.
Red held up her hand. “Save the celebration for our success. Right now, there is work to be done, and quickly.”
FIFTEEN
WARRIORS came out of the woods, from the direction of the old shrine.
Josiah heard them before he saw them. He’d left Ezren sleeping within the hut. The poor man had been muttering something about a hero’s path as he’d drifted off.
Josiah had just started taking up a load of wood when the two horses had raised their heads, ears pricked forward. The goats had paused, too, and all heads turned in the direction of the shrine. Josiah dropped the wood and reached for his axe, turning to confront his attackers.
He came out of his crouch when he recognized Oris and Alad, Auxter’s men. They raised their hands in greeting, and he walked forward to meet them at the door of the hut.
“Trouble?” Josiah looked over Alad’s shoulder to see horses being brought out of the woods behind them, some still blindfolded from coming through the portal.
“We’re to set a perimeter watch, Lord Josiah,” Oris said. “And we’re to clear your…home…so that the next group can get to work as fast as possible. Orders of the Chosen.”
“Which Chosen?” came a rough voice from the hut.
They all turned to see a brilliant green eye peering out of the slight crack in the doorway.
“Careful, Ezren.” Josiah moved forward.
The door opened wider to reveal Ezren, who sagged against its frame, his free hand clenching a dagger. “I was uncertain.” He coughed. “I thought perhaps…”
“They’re friends. Oris and Alad.” Josiah reached out to steady the man. “Let’s get you back in bed.” He moved his body so that Ezren wouldn’t see the men’s horrified expressions at his condition. Ezren sighed, leaned into the support, and shivered.
Oris recovered first. He stepped forward, removing his cloak and offering it to Ezren. “All due respect, Lord Josiah, the Chosen has ordered that Ezren Storyteller be moved to the foaling room of the barn, with all the furnishings.” He placed the cloak on Ezren’s shoulders and looked at the hut with a roll of his eyes. “She’s got plans for this place.”
“I say again”—Ezren stood up straighter, clutching at the edges of the cloak and pulling it tight around his body—“which Chosen? Red Gloves or Gloriana?”
Alad grinned. “Well, now, it would be the Chosen Red Gloves. Gloriana, the Chosen Heir, has announced her support of the Eldest Chosen in all things.”
“Plans?” Josiah asked, as even more men poured into the area, with horses and gear.
“Well, then,” Ezren said, “she has accepted the call to adventure.” He reached for Alad’s arm with a shaky hand. “She has taken the first step on the Hero’s Path.”
Alad took his elbow. “Don’t know anything about that, sir, but we’ve our orders.”
“Of course you do.” Ezren started toddling toward the barn,
leaning hard on Alad. “Now, tell me what happened, lad. Tell me what you saw.” He managed a few steps before he faltered. Josiah moved to catch him, but Alad anticipated the problem and scooped Ezren up in his arms.
“This is not necessary,” Ezren protested. “I am perfectly capable of—”
Alad steadied himself, and started to walk toward the barn. “Forgive me, Storyteller, but you are a bit of a load. The quicker I have you there, the more breath I have to tell you my tale.”
“Ah.” Ezren relaxed. “Well, then…” Their voices grew faint as they left.
“Lady Bethral warned us about how he’d look,” Oris said, looking after them. “But hearing and seeing are two different things.”
“He was badly abused, Oris,” Josiah said.
“Bastards.” Oris spat in the dirt. “That’s what we’re about, then. Doing something about them.”
“Aye,” Josiah agreed.
“Here, lads,” Oris called to his men, “let’s get this place cleared out now. We’ve much to do, and little time to do it.”
BETHRAL came through the portal to find Josiah’s hut in ruins. Men were tearing away the thatched roof and tugging down the mud-daubed walls. Others were already pulling apart the wooden frame. Bethral nodded in approval. They’d left the stone hearth standing, as per Red’s commands.
From her glance about, it looked like all of Red’s commands were being carried out. Men were at work on fences. Steel and Beast were with other horses, and from the looks of it, Beast was biting the others into submission, as usual. There were tents going up in the far field, with cooking fires well established.
Lord Josiah was seated at the well, his arms crossed over his chest, watching the men work with an unreadable face. She headed that way.
“Bethral.”
“Josiah.” She was not one to inflict a title on a man who didn’t want one. “Is Ezren seen to?”
He pointed with his chin. “He’s in the foaling room, forcing everyone he can get his hands on to tell him what happened at Auxter’s.” He looked at the box under her arm. “What is that?”