Evie pushed the door open, and Red followed right behind the man. She wasn’t leaving him alone with Bethral and their “lost lamb” for a minute. She crowded in behind, and shut the door firmly.
Dominic was tall enough that the dried herbs brushed his face. “What—”
“You can take off the blindfold now,” Evie said. She reached up to remove it for Dominic, at the same time he reached up. Their hands met briefly, and Red saw that Dominic’s hand lingered on Evie’s for a moment longer than necessary.
Then Dominic got a good look at his surroundings. “Oh, for the love of the Sun!” He gave Bethral a disdainful glance and then looked down at the bed. “Evelyn, what are you thinking? A slave?”
“How do you know that?” Bethral asked, her hand on her sword hilt.
“Please,” Dominic glared at her. “Those wounds were caused by manacles, and those are clearly whip marks. Any fool can see that this man is a slave.”
“Dominic”—Evie placed her hand on his arm—“this man is suffering and needs our help. His tongue has been cut out.”
“Really?” That seemed to give Dominic pause. He reached out with long, delicate fingers and touched the man’s chin, turning his face toward the light. He frowned slightly, and Red saw something pass over his face.
“What is it?” she asked.
“He seems familiar,” Dominic answered slowly. “What color are his eyes?”
“Brown,” Bethral answered. “He’s opened them only once.”
Dominic pulled his hand back quickly. “Not the man I thought.” He looked at Evie impatiently. “I suppose you are determined to do this.”
She smiled at him gently. “I am.”
Dominic slowly smiled back at her, and shook his head. “Well, then, we will see it done.” His black hair shifted, and the tips of his ears were visible.
“You’re an elf,” Red blurted out.
“Half-elven.” Dominic gave her a disdainful look, sweeping her from head to toe. “Not that it is any business of yours. We need some room for our task. Do you mind leaving?”
“Actually, I do.” Red replied. But she did press herself back against the door, giving them more room.
Evie knelt by the bedside and spread her hands over the slave. Dominic took one look at the rough planking, curled his lip, and moved to stand at her side. He placed one hand on Evie’s shoulder and extended his other hand, spreading those thin fingers wide.
They both began to pray, their voices low. “Hail, gracious Lord of the Sun and Sky, Giver of Light and Grantor of Health, we ask….”
Red’s stomach flipped as their hands began to glow. In her experience, gods were beings best left to their own devices. Beseeching aid was rarely done in Soccia, and was not without its consequences.
The voices continued, and the glow began to drift down from their hands, encasing the slave in light. Bethral was intent on the man on the bed, watching him like a hawk, probably for signs that the magic was working. But Red couldn’t see any evidence that it was, and certain sure the slave never once reacted with so much as a twitch.
They began to repeat the prayer, and Red took to counting her breaths. There was no change in their voices, but the outstretched hands were starting to tremble.
Finally, Evie’s shoulders slumped slightly. Dominic’s voice grew stronger, and the words of the prayer changed, thanking for aid instead of begging.
The glow faded. Dominic dropped his hand and drew a deep breath. He squeezed Evie’s shoulder, and she looked up with a tired smile. His sharp features softened as he gazed down at her and offered his hand. “Well enough, Lady High Priestess?”
“Very well.” She chuckled as she accepted his help to get to her feet.
“Then let us return.” Dominic picked up the blindfold from the rough table, and shook it out. “I’ll need to bathe and sleep before I can preside over the sunset service.” He handed the blindfold to Evie.
“I’ll see you back,” Evie said gently. “But I’ve some advice to give before I go, and I want to read my patient and see what the magic has done.”
Dominic grimaced, then shrugged. He lowered his head so that she could wrap the blindfold about his eyes. “As you see fit. But do not waste too much of your strength here.”
Red fumed silently as Evie wrapped the cloth tight, and tied it. A better fit around the man’s neck, and twice as tight would work just fine, as far as she was concerned. But she said nothing. She just stepped clear of the door, jostled Dominic hard in her effort to pull the door open, and then silently followed them to the shrine.
Dominic complained the entire way, even as he held on to Evie and leaned against her for support. Red didn’t stop at the designated spot; she followed them right up to the doorway. Evie shook her head, but didn’t object. She just led Dominic to face the back wall.
“Make sure you are in good time for the service,” Dominic scolded.
Evie gestured at the wall and spoke three sharp words. Red watched in amazement as the wall shimmered before them, like a series of long white curtains moving in a breeze. There was a sound as well, of wind chimes, or maybe a waterfall.
“Thank you, Dominic, for your help.”
Dominic’s hand reached out slowly until his fingers found Evie’s cheek. “Only for you, bright one. Don’t linger here.” Without removing the blindfold, he walked between the curtains and disappeared.
Evie waved her hand, and the curtains faded away. She turned to Red with an impish smile. “What he doesn’t know is that I traded off my duties for the rest of this day and tomorrow.” She walked over to the corner of the back wall.
“What were those curtains?” Red asked. “A priestly thing?”
Evie fetched a parcel and a good-sized basket from the shadows. “Oh, no. My father was a battle mage, and he taught me a thing or two about portals.” She swept past Red as she headed to the doorway. “Let’s get back. I want to change, and I’ve brought enough for a decent meal for all of us.” She looked at Red over her shoulder. “Go fetch Josiah from wherever he’s hidden himself. Tell him it’s time for our talk.”
RED watched the goats cavorting around the horses as she walked toward the barn. The horses paid them no mind as they grazed, completely ignoring their antics. The goats were chasing each other around the horses’ legs, butting each other and having a great time.
She walked past the entrance of the barn. Josiah had said that he would be on the far side, well out of sight of the croft. She heard him before she saw him, the sound of woodchopping echoing against the barn.
Josiah had taken off his tunic. Red stopped to admire the ripple of the muscles of his back as he raised the axe and brought it down to cut through the piece of wood on the block. He was a fine-looking man, especially from the back. Nice long torso that narrowed where his trous clung to his waist. Red let her gaze drop, and her mouth curled in appreciation. Certain sure there was nothing wrong with his—
“They’re gone?” Josiah asked, throwing the smaller pieces of wood into a pile, and bringing another to the block.
“Yes.” Red carefully moved closer, well off to the side, and sat on a convenient log. “The Priestess says it’s time for your talk. She sent me to fetch you.”
Josiah grimaced. “Who’d she bring with her?”
It was Red’s turn to make a face. “An arrogant mucker named Dominic.”
“Arrogant, but skilled,” Josiah said. He gave her a quick grin. “I’d wager he complained the entire time.”
“He did.” Red watched as he split another piece of wood. “Seems to think we’re beneath him.”
“That would be Dominic.”
“Bethral doesn’t trust him,” Red said. “Not sure I do, either.”
Josiah paused in his work. “Dominic is not my favorite person, but I’ve never known him to be less than honest. I don’t think his arrogance would allow him to lie.”
“There aren’t many elves in Soccia,” Red observed.
“Nor in Pa
lins,” Josiah said. “Dominic would be the first to tell you that he’s half-elven. The pure-blood elves rarely mix with humans.”
Red looked up, studying the man before her. Josiah’s breathing was evening out, and there was the faintest sheen of sweat on his chest. She gave him a half-smile. “He’s also in love with your Evie.”
Josiah snorted. “I doubt that. Evie is high-born, but not high enough for Dominic.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Red stood, and walked toward Josiah, putting a bit more sway in her hips than was absolutely necessary. “I can tell when a man is interested in a woman.” She moved as close as she could without actually touching Josiah. “It’s in his eyes, in the sound of his voice.” She lowered her voice, and half closed her eyes. “It’s in the way his body moves.”
Josiah drew in a deep breath.
“But it’s there, all the same. The need to touch.” She leaned in close, bringing her mouth to his, tilting her head just so. “To kiss.” She closed her eyes in anticipation.
“Red…” Josiah’s voice was a low rumble. His breath caressed her cheek.
“Yes?” Red drew in the scent of his warm, male body, and opened her mouth for—
“I want to tell Evie about your birthmark. She needs to know.”
Red snapped her eyes open and glared at Josiah. “No,” she snapped. “What business is that of hers?”
Josiah turned away and reached for his tunic. He pulled it on silently, his back to her.
Red planted her hands on her hips. “I am in your debt, Josiah, for the aid that you and Evie have given Bethral. You have my gratitude and thanks for that.”
She took a step closer and ran her hands over those broad shoulders. “I’d be more than willing to express my thanks in a pleasurable way, one we’d both enjoy. What say you to a bit of bed fun, eh? And call the debt even?”
Josiah turned so that her hands rested on his chest. “No.”
She snatched her hands back as if burned.
“As lovely and desirable as you are, I am not releasing you. Come.” Josiah strode off, leaving her standing there with her mouth open. “They will be waiting.”
Red watched as he walked toward the hut, then closed her mouth with a snap. Even from behind, she could tell that Josiah was pleased with himself.
She should be furious that he’d seen through her, but part of her couldn’t help but grin. Oh, she’d concede this little battle, but not the war. She was a mercenary, after all.
Red straightened her face, and followed. Josiah had much to learn about mercenaries and their ways.
And she’d be the one to teach him.
BETHRAL heard Red and Josiah approach just as the mage light over the bed winked out.
“Bother,” Evie drew back from her examination of the slave. “That man never remembers.”
The door opened, and Josiah stepped in, an irritated-looking Red on his heels. He looked at Evie and stopped. “I’m sorry, Evie. Did I—”
Evie smiled at him. “You did, but never mind that. We have good news! He pissed!”
Red looked over Josiah’s shoulder and crinkled her nose in disgust. “I’ll see to the horses while you celebrate.” She vanished in the next moment.
“There’s a few old horse blankets in the back stalls,” Josiah called after her. “Fetch a few, would you?”
“I’m sorry, Josiah.” Evie was still smiling as she finished cleaning the patient. Bethral was fairly certain she had the same smile on her own face, as well.
Josiah shrugged. “It’s just straw and ticking, Evie. It’s no great matter.”
Evie flashed him a grateful look. “Lift him for us, and we’ll strip the bedding.”
It took some maneuvering in the cramped space, but Josiah was able to scoop the man up in his arms, and let the women strip the bed.
“Here’s a blanket we can use,” Bethral pulled one from her bedroll.
They carefully wrapped the man in the blanket and laid him on the woven bed ropes. Josiah dragged out the sodden mattress just in time to thrust it into Red’s arms when she opened the door. He grabbed the old horse blankets and closed the door quickly as Red staggered off, cursing under her breath.
He turned back to Evie and Bethral with a smile on his face. Now Bethral lifted the man, and Evie and Josiah made up the bed, using the blankets to form a mattress of sorts.
“That will do for now,” Evie announced with satisfaction in her voice. “He’s doing very well.” She gently tipped the man’s head back and opened his mouth to look within. “It’s too soon to tell, but I will heal him again before we sleep this night. And we will see.”
“If you’re staying, Lady, then I need to warn you.” Bethral spoke urgently, aware that her sword-sister would return at any moment. “I need to warn you both about Red’s gloves.”
EIGHT
“DON’T ask about the gloves. Don’t refer to them. Don’t talk about them. Ever.” Bethral was deadly serious. “And never try to remove them.”
Josiah could hardly believe his ears. “She never takes them off?” he asked softly.
“I’ve never seen them off,” Bethral growled. “I know why she wears them, and grim was the day that I learned her reasons. I’m thrice oath-bound never to tell a living soul.”
Evie frowned. “But—”
“No,” Bethral snapped. “You’ve been warned. Never surprise her. If you think she has taken them off, don’t go near her.” She shot Josiah a look. “Whether at work, or at play.”
Evie took a deep breath, but Bethral cut her off. “If you see her without the gloves, run. Run away. Call my name and keep running.”
“How long?” Josiah asked.
“Forever,” Bethral responded. “I can slow her down but I can’t stop her, unless I kill her. And I won’t do that.”
“She’d hunt us down?” Josiah pressed.
“How do you think we ended up in the bog?” Bethral asked.
Josiah paused at that, and looked at Evie, who gave him a sardonic look. “We all have secrets, Josiah. Don’t we?”
Josiah looked away.
The door opened, and Red poked her head in and sniffed. “All clean now?” She looked at them all with her mouth quirked up a bit in the corner. “Then how’s about some food?”
“WHAT?” the High Priestess sputtered, spilling her tea.
Red belched with her mouth closed, and stretched her feet toward the fire, pleased with her full belly and the warmth. She’d claimed the floor as her seat, so that she could stretch out in the small hut.
Bethral was perched on the side of the bed, sopping up the last of the juices with a slice of bread. She glanced toward Red, but said nothing.
Josiah’s voice was a soft rumble, but Red yawned and ignored him. Certain sure the “Chosen” nonsense was going to start. She closed her eyes and yawned again, hoping that it wouldn’t take too long. The beds were made up in the barn, and she planned—
“Show me,” Evelyn demanded.
“Eh?” Red opened one eye to look at the priestess, perched on the only chair, right by the hearth. Josiah was sitting on the floor on the other side of the hearth. The hovel hadn’t been built for more than one, that was sure.
“Show me the mark,” Evelyn insisted, putting her bowl down at her feet.
Red rose to her feet, casting a glance back at Josiah. She tugged at her tunic, and raised it over her breasts without a word.
Evelyn leaned forward, licked her thumb, and rubbed it over the mark, hard.
“Hey!” Red took a step back, and jerked her tunic down.
Evelyn was looking at Josiah with eyes open wide. “It’s real, Josiah.” Her voice trembled as she raised her fingers to cover her mouth. “She’s…”
“I think so,” Josiah responded softly.
Evelyn raised her face and closed her eyes. “Thanks be to Thee, Gracious and Glorious Lord of Light, God of the Sun, Thou who are the best and the brightest, for sending the answer to my prayers.” Tears were forming in
the corners of Evelyn’s eyes.
Red looked at Bethral, who shrugged. Red gave her a scowl, then turned back to Evelyn. “Lady High—”
Evelyn moved her hand, and turned it palm-out to face Red. “For five years I have worked slowly, patiently, to build support for the day the Chosen would claim the throne.” The tears streaked down her cheeks, but her bright eyes were focused on Red alone. The firelight danced in her white hair, turning it into a crown of light around her head. “I’d thought it would be years before we’d be in a position to take action. But you stand before me, the Chosen.”
“I doubt that, Lady—” Red answered.
But the pale blue eyes of the High Priestess had sharpened, and seemed to stab her like a blade. “Who are you? Where did you come from?”
Red sighed, and settled back to the floor. “I’m a mercenary,” she said patiently. “From Soccia. Trained in the ways of war and the blade. I know no more.”
The priestess leaned forward, intent. “Your parents? Who were they?”
Red’s anger rose at that and she scowled at the woman, but Bethral jumped in. “Does it matter, Lady High Priestess?”
Evelyn settled back, still studying Red. She looked puzzled and confused. “How is this possible, Josiah?” Evelyn asked.
“I don’t know, Evie,” Josiah answered softly.
“I’ve searched for so long….” Evelyn was looking at Red with faraway eyes. “And every time, what did they throw in my face?” Her eyes sharpened their focus. “Now here you stand. The one who will bring us the support we need.” Evelyn leaned forward. “Do you know what that means?” she asked.
“No.” Red crossed her arms over her chest. “No, I can’t say as I do.”
“You know of the death of our King, and his heir? Of the Council of the High Barons that was called?” Evelyn asked.
“I know of that,” Red answered.
“Once the High Barons fell to fighting, there was naught but chaos in the land. Ittrus, a merchant of Edenrich, approached the Church of Palins, and with the support of the Archbishop, he managed to be appointed as Regent. But the High Barons remained independent and stubborn, unwilling to swear fealty to him or allow him to take the throne.” Evelyn drew a breath. “If the Chosen appears at the head of an army, with the support of four of the High Barons, the capital will fall, and the throne can be reclaimed.”