Dagger-Star

  AT dawn, Red was standing outside the barn, staring over sodden fields. It must have started raining in the night, for there was water puddled in the dirt of the yard.

  Bethral, standing watch in the door of the smithy, had seen her emerge. She’d lifted a hand in greeting, but had not come over. That was fine by Red. She needed a moment to think.

  She sucked in a breath of cool, wet air and glanced down at her red gloves. The leather looked the worse for wear, that was certain. They were drier, at least. Cleaner. She clenched both fists, and then released them, reassured by their familiar feel and presence.

  Last night, Josiah had offered what it never occurred to her to ask for, offered his…surrender without hesitation. She couldn’t have done the same. The very idea made her blood run cold. How could he trust that way? Trust her?

  She closed her eyes, feeling once again the softness of his skin, the feel of his hair, hard muscle under velvet. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched another that way.

  She wanted to go back up in the hayloft, rouse her sleeping goatherder, and do it again.

  She stomped that idea right down, mentally pushing it into the muck of the bog. Such gifts were rare, and not to be taken lightly or presumed on. By its very nature, it was far more valuable for its offering than in its taking.

  But Twelve take it, she wanted more.

  A sound drew her back, and she turned her head slightly to see the boy emerge from the house and head in her direction. He ran over, and bounced to a stop before her. “Ma says to ask you to breakfast. She’s cooked a haunch!”

  Red gave him a nod. “Tell Bethral.” She nodded toward the blonde. “I’ll wake Josiah, and we’ll be in shortly.”

  The boy didn’t wait. He bolted over to Bethral, talking before he even reached her.

  Bethral raised her head, and gave her a questioning look. Red nodded, then turned back into the barn to fetch Josiah. Might as well eat. They’d no gear, and it would take at least three days to get back to Athelbryght on foot, if they pushed. And Ezren didn’t look near close to “pushable.”

  Beast was still asleep in his stall. Red frowned, considering, as she reached for the ladder. She could take Beast and make a run for Athelbryght. Leave the others here, sheltered as safe as they could be. But she rejected it before she’d climbed another step. It wasn’t any safer to separate, and she wouldn’t leave Josiah.

  She huffed a breath as she climbed. They needed to be on their way, but they also needed food, and whatever information they could gather quickly. They might be able to buy supplies, maybe even horses with the looted coin.

  No time for pleasure this morning. The dawn was a calm one, but Red knew that wouldn’t last.

  Nothing ever did.

  LARRISA’S face was glowing from the heat of her hearth. She shook her head as she carved a hunk from the haunch on the hearth. “There’s no horses to spare roundabout. I’ve supplies, and you’re welcome to all you can carry.”

  They’d been welcomed to her small kitchen, and a creaky wooden table laden with food. Red hadn’t been the only one surprised at the bounty. Larrisa’s three children were acting like it was a holiday feast, eagerly staring at the venison.

  “Sit, and fill your plates,” Larrisa urged. “Therrin, help your sisters.”

  Therrin sighed deeply, as if greatly put upon.

  Larrisa gestured to Bethral. “You may want to sit elsewhere. Farasa is a messy eater.”

  Bethral laughed, and settled next to the smallest girl. “What do you want, little one?” The girl looked up with wide brown eyes and pointed at the bread and butter. Red had no idea how old they were, but they’d their fair share of adorable, that was certain.

  Oris filled a plate, and accepted slices of meat from Larrisa. He took it to Alad, who stood watch outside.

  “We can pay.” Red settled on a bench next to Josiah. “We’ve—”

  Larrisa shook her head. “Better you than the thrice-damned raiders. Folks around here have decided to band together, and leave this place. The haunch would have rotted soon enough, so I put it on to roast.” Her voice was gruff. “Eat, warriors. Then we can talk.”

  For a few minutes, there was no sound but the passing of platters and the dishing up of food. Larrisa carved hunks of meat from the haunch, generous portions for all. Red ate, and watched as Josiah helped the littlest girl drink from her cup, making sure she didn’t spill a drop. Therrin seemed torn, stuffing his mouth and looking at all of them. Red imagined he had a thousand questions, and they’d spill over eventually.

  Oris took a second plate, and then a third, out to Alad. None of them held back, and Red could feel the meat filling the hollows of her stomach. Which left her with as many questions as the boy.

  The boy burst out first. “What happened to ya? Was you attacked?”

  “That much is clear,” Larrisa chided. “See to the kavage, Therrin.”

  The boy jumped up for the pot by the fire, eager to serve. Red was sure he’d not miss a word. “We were traveling toward Penature on the bog road when we were attacked.”

  Larrisa shook her head. “There’s been problems with raiders for months, and no aid to stop them.”

  Bethral caught Red’s eye as Larrisa poured kavage. Raiders or an ambush? Had it been chance? Red shrugged. Given events, she was fairly sure they’d been targeted.

  “This is a good bit of land.” Josiah spoke softly.

  “It is.” Larrisa looked at him. “My man was a farmer and horse breeder. He was killed when the raiders attacked, not four weeks past. Killed him and took the horses.” She looked down at the table. “I’ve not the skill to lay in crops, and little hope to keep things going here. We’ve nothing left but a few pigs and chickens.”

  “We could do it, Ma.” Therrin sat up straighter at the table, squaring his shoulders.

  She gave him a soft look. “If it were the two of us, we might. But the girls need tending, too.” She looked at the one sitting next to Josiah. “Show me your arm, Cera.”

  The girl lifted her arm, and pointed at a long red burn on the underside of her forearm.

  “I left them for only a moment,” Larrisa said softly.

  Farasa crowed, and banged the table with her spoon.

  “We’re leaving, Therrin.” Larrisa repeated. “As soon as the others gather here, we’ll be off.”

  “Where to?” Josiah asked.

  Larrisa sighed. “Edenrich does not welcome folk, and I fear that wanderers are not welcome in Penature or Swift’s Port. Athelbryght is in ruins. We’ve decided to risk the bog road and try to reach the Free City of Oxfair. We’ve heard that laborers are welcome—”

  “We could stay, Ma,” Therrin announced, his mouth full of bread and his eyes full of pride. “I can fight.”

  Larrisa gave him a mother’s eye. “I’d rather it not come to that.”

  Oris sighed, and pushed his plate back. “Thank ye, Lady. I was very empty.”

  “As to that, I’ve a favor to ask in return, if you would.” Larrisa spoke quietly.

  “What aid do you need?” Red asked

  The fire crackled in the hearth softly as they waited for her to continue. Therrin got down and hugged his mom. Larrisa glanced out the window, toward the stables.

  Bethral spoke. “You said something about a sick horse.”

  “Three weeks ago, my man was killed, and our horses taken. But one, a mare he had raised by hand, well…she was tied in the smithy and they didn’t get her. She was Jeran’s pride and joy. But since we buried him, the horse has not been eating, and I can barely get her to drink.” Larrisa stopped and swallowed hard. She wrapped an arm around her son’s waist. There was total silence in the room. “It needs doing, for the lass’s not coming around. I won’t let Therrin do it, and I can’t…I can’t…”

  Bethral interrupted softly. “I will aid you.”

  Larrisa nodded. She drew a deep breath, then gently eased her son away from her. “Therrin, take the little ones into t
he smithy loft and play with them for a while.”

  Ezren stood. “Perhaps a story,” he said. “I have a few I can tell.”

  Josiah rose, and swung the smallest girl off the bench and onto his shoulders. “Let’s go listen to a story.”

  Oris stood. “Lady Bethral, you’ll need some help.”

  In moments the room cleared. Red sat at the table and scowled, looking over the remains of the meal.

  Apparently the Chosen had gotten stuck with the dishes.

  Not in this lifetime. Red finished her kavage, then stood. She’d seen a whetstone in the smithy, and her blade needed an edge. Time enough for that while Bethral dealt with the horse.

  She’d barely had the stone going before Bethral emerged from the barn and headed toward her. “Is it done, then?”

  Bethral cleared her throat. “No.” She folded her arms across her chest, and shifted her weight. “I’ve looked over the lass, and I think that I may be able to…”

  Red snorted. “Bethral…”

  Bethral dropped her arms. “Please, come take a look.”

  Red grimaced. “We’ve no time for…”

  Bethral turned and started for the barn. Red followed, biting back the rest of her words. Oris was just inside the barn door. He and Bethral led the way to the back, where Larrisa stood, lantern in hand. In the faint circle of light Red could make out a horse tied against the far wall.

  It was a huge horse. Brown and dirty, with an unkempt, shaggy coat. Head held low, hollows in the flanks, some sort of huge sore on the withers. Still, it stood taller than any Red had seen, with hooves so big she’d not dare to try to lift one. Size for size, the beast matched Bethral, what with her standing bigger than most men.

  Bethral’s quiet voice came from behind. “Larrisa’s willing to let me try to get her to eat.”

  Red sighed. Never mind that they’d been attacked, and had no gear. Never mind that raiders were off in the woods. Never mind that there was a prophecy to fulfill, and their dead stuffed into trees. No, never mind all that. Bethral would sooner slit her own throat than walk away from a suffering horse.

  Red smiled wryly. She’d known that within an hour of meeting her sword-sister. “What’s an hour more or less?”

  Bethral’s eyes lit up. As she’d known they would.

  Oris spoke up. “Larrisa says there’s gear here we can go through, see if we can use anything.”

  Red nodded. An edge to her blade wouldn’t hurt. “Go ahead and try. You might start by lancing that sore. It looks like it’s gone sour.”

  Bethral came up next to her. “What sore?”

  At which point, the sore moved and stretched and fixed a watery yellow eye on Red. It was a cat, the ugliest cat she’d ever seen—fur sticking out, black and brown and yellow and a mottled kind of green. A tail so bedraggled as to be an embarrassment. The creature stood on the withers of the horse as if it owned the beast, the barn, and all the lands around.

  Red crossed her arms over her chest and snorted. Horses, goats, cats…Sweet Twelve, how about a few dogs and ponies to go along with them, eh?

  Larrisa came forward, crooning to the mare. “My man hand-raised her from a foal. He was going to keep her to breed and as an example of all the tricks he could teach to a prospective buyer. She was his pride and…” Her rough hand continued to stroke the beast, but her mind’s eye was far and away in better and distant times. Red shifted from one foot to the other and coughed as a courtesy.

  Larrisa sighed. “She hasn’t eaten since, and I can barely get her to drink.” She wiped at her eyes, and looked over her shoulder at Bethral. “She’s wasting, and I hate to see her suffer. I’m willing to let you try, but if you can’t…”

  Bethral nodded.

  Red shook her head, left the barn, and went back to the smithy.

  TWENTY-SIX

  THE blade of her looted sword wouldn’t hold an edge. Red pumped the foot pedal, and swore under her breath as she set the blade back to the stone. She could hear the voices of the children, combined with those of Josiah and Ezren, overhead. Best not teach the little darlings any new words this day.

  Oris came out of the barn, carrying two of the looted swords. “Piss made, if you ask me,” he grumbled as he walked up. “Want some help?”

  Red nodded, and released the stone to him. “Anything else in the way of supplies?”

  Oris shrugged. “A few packs, some cloaks at least. We’ll need them for the trek.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I was thinking maybe Alad and I could—”

  “We don’t separate,” Red replied. “Too many dangers that way.”

  “Too many dangers any way,” Oris said, but he accepted her decision as he settled on the stool.

  “What do you think of this?” Red pulled the shard from her belt. “Any chance it could be worked?”

  Oris gave it a dubious look. “It’s worthless rust, Chosen.”

  Red grunted. “Sharp enough when it needed to be.” She put it back under her belt. “How’s Bethral faring?” Red looked over at the barn.

  “Talking to the horse, whispering in its ear.” Oris pumped the wheel.

  “Whispering?” Red headed for the barn. That had better not mean what she thought it meant.

  Bethral met her at the door, a slight smile on her face. Red stopped, suspicious. “Well? What luck?”

  Bethral’s smile grew wider, and she stepped back into the barn. Red followed, and peered into the shadows.

  The horse was eating out of a bucket and chewing like it hadn’t a care in the world. The cat twined between its legs, back and forth, its sorry excuse of a tail straight up in the air.

  The horse glanced at Red, turning its huge head slowly. Bethral must have spent the last hour cleaning and grooming. The mare’s coat was a beauty, a deep reddish-brown with the dirt removed. Even with the hollow spots and the slight tremble in the knees, she held the promise of a fine mount.

  Beast was hanging over his gate, snorting and demanding attention.

  Red turned back to Bethral and saw her looking at the horse with pride. Red groaned, and rubbed her hand over her face.

  Alad and Larrisa were talking in the tack room. The only other sounds were the chewing of the horse and something that sounded suspiciously like a purr coming from the cat.

  Red glared at Bethral. “What did you do?”

  Bethral never took her eyes off the horse.

  “Bethral.” Red waited until she had her attention. “What did you do?”

  Bethral looked down and shrugged. “I cleaned her, brushed her.” She glanced at the ground. “Talked to her.”

  Red crossed her arms over her chest. “And?”

  Bethral sighed. “I promised her vengeance.”

  Red groaned.

  Bethral continued hastily. “I explained my obligations…”

  “Of course,” Red said.

  “…and my duties to you, and they understand…”

  “‘They’ being the horse and the cat?” Red asked.

  “…understand that those come before all else, but should a chance arise…”

  Red had a sudden vision of the horse wildly attacking some miscreant in a market square, with no warning or provocation.

  “…and we prayed to bind our pledge…”

  “‘Our’ being you, the horse, and the cat?” Red asked scathingly.

  “…pledge and now all’s well. She’ll need only a day or two of feeding before she’s ready to travel.” Bethral’s voice was matter-of-fact.

  “‘A day or two?’” Red snarled. “Are you forgetting our—”

  Ezren’s head popped in. “Are you finished yet?”

  “No,” Red snapped, but it was too late. Ezren had seen the horse.

  “Is that the horse?” He stepped within the door. “Lady Bethral, you are amazing.”

  Red made a rude noise. “If that’s what you call it. She’s always picking up strays and lost causes.”

  Ezra stiffened. “I will take my leave, Chosen. The
children will be glad of this news.”

  Bethral’s face was stony as the storyteller departed.

  “Muck!” Red grimaced. “Bethral, I—”

  Bethral stepped over to the horse. “I’d best water her.” With a tug, she urged the horse toward the yard. The cat padded behind, a disdainful look on its face.

  Red snarled at it.

  Larrisa and Alad came out of the tack room. Alad was dragging two heavy chests. Larrisa’s face was lit from within by happiness, her arms full of gear. “Where’s Bessie?”

  “Bessie?” Red choked. “The horse’s name is Bessie?” She looked out into the yard.

  Bethral was taking the horse into the sun, one slow, careful step at a time. The horse’s head was up, and Red could hear the excited children laughing from the smithy. Josiah swung the smallest girl up in his arms so that she could pet the horse.

  The cat was back up on the horse’s rump, looking self-satisfied. The sunlight on its mottled fur did nothing to improve its appearance.

  “His pride and joy.” Larrisa smiled, and Red could see the beauty in her tired face. “Your Bethral is special, that she is.”

  “She’s something,” Red muttered.

  “Alad said she’s in need of armor.” Larrisa pushed past Red.

  Red gestured for Alad to precede her with one of the boxes. She picked up the other. They all stepped out into the sunlight. Red glanced at the fields around them, but they were clear. Oris was still at the wheel, keeping half an eye on their surroundings.

  The children were laughing and petting the horse, the smallest one clinging to Josiah, reaching out her hand to pet its soft nose. The horse nuzzled them all, between drinks from the trough.

  Alad dropped his box at Bethral’s feet. She looked at him, puzzled.

  Larrisa opened the box. “Let’s see if this fits you.”

  EZREN heaved a sigh as he leaned against the post. Oris looked over, concerned. “Something wrong, Storyteller?”

  “No, no.” Ezren crossed his arms over his chest. “I was just thinking how beautiful she is.”

  “That’s true enough.” Oris put the blade to the stone and pumped the treadle. Sparks flew as he sharpened the blade. “Lovely carriage. And the deepest roan I’ve seen in a long time.”