Erika fought down a rising panic. “If he’s here, he’ll have his men with him.”
“Stay calm,” Santiole said, squeezing Erika’s arm.
The trio arrived at the edge of the barn and grandfather looked Erika up and down. “You two look like you’re working hard this morning.”
“She’s getting very good, my lord,” Santiole said.
“Wonderful! Erika and Santiole, you know Duke Nikslaus?”
“We’ve met. One of the king’s balls last spring.” Erika forced a smile and extended her hand, which Nikslaus took in his own. He bent at the waist and kissed her hand, returning her smile with a curl to his lip that made her skin crawl.
“My lady, it has been too long. You’ve grown into a very beautiful woman.”
“Charmed,” Erika said, hearing the flatness in her voice and grimacing. Grandfather would take her to task later for being so transparent. She knew better than that.
“Santiole is the Leora mistress-at-arms,” Duke Leora said. “And forgive me duke, but I’m ashamed to say I’ve forgotten your companion’s name.”
“Duglas,” the third member of their trio said with a bow. He was a tall man with long, gray hair and a waxed mustache. His limbs were long and sinewy. He stood at least a foot taller than Nikslaus and he did not extend his hand. A small sword hung at his belt. His jacket was unbuttoned despite the morning cold. He stood with a thumb hooked in his belt and regarded Erika with some interest.
“Duglas is a master mage hunter,” Nikslaus supplied. “Thirty years experience hunting down the vile creatures. An expert duelist as well. He’s helping me on my current mission.”
“And what is that?” Erika asked, her voice coming out too high for her liking.
“We’re hunting down a dangerous fugitive. A powder mage, of course. She escaped one of our prisons down in Loreland.”
Erika feigned shock. “That’s nearly eighty miles from here. Surely she hasn’t gotten this far?”
“A surprise, certainly. This mage has proven to be resourceful.”
“Where could she possibly be going?”
“We suspect Adro, but how she plans on surviving the high mountain passes with winter just around the corner, I have no idea.”
“I hope you apprehend her before someone gets hurt,” Erika said.
“As do I. Not every powder mage has the decency to forswear against that abominable magic.”
And there it was. Erika swallowed hard. Nikslaus knew she was a powder mage, of course. Everyone did. But did he suspect that she might help a fellow mage in flight?
Nikslaus droned on for several minutes about the particulars of their search, Duglas looming behind him silently. Both Nikslaus and Duglas seemed to watch Erika closely, as if looking for some kind of tell. Perhaps it was her imagination playing tricks on her. Regardless, she hoped that they attributed her trembling hands to nothing more than the exertion of her fencing practice.
“My men are already searching the premises,” Nikslaus concluded. “We must be sure that such a beast hasn’t put your family in danger.”
Erika resisted the urge to glance west, toward the abandoned stables where Santiole had stashed Norrine. It was nearly three quarters of a mile from the main house, hidden away in the forest. Even the slightest hint might give her away. She couldn’t help but wonder if the girl was properly hidden. What if she had been found already?
“My utmost thanks,” Duke Leora said, shaking Nikslaus’ hand firmly. “We appreciate everything you hunters do for us. And you, as well, Duglas.”
The tall master hunter gave a short nod.
How could grandfather play this so coolly? Was he that used to lying to government officials? Had he moved Norrine’s hiding spot in the night? Erika’s grip tightened on the hilt of her small sword. If she had to stand here passively for one more minute while Longdogs ransacked the family property, she would scream.
“My good duke,” Erika found herself saying suddenly, “do you fence?”
“A little,” Nikslaus said, taken a little off guard.
“Would you care to join me for a round?”
Duglas crossed his arms skeptically and grandfather said that sounded like a wonderful idea. Santiole gave a soft, exasperated sigh.
The corner of Nikslaus’ mouth lifted slightly. “Certainly. Do you have a blossom I could borrow?”
Santiole somewhat reluctantly supplied him with a blossom for the tip of his sword and Nikslaus handed his jacket and gloves to Duglas. Santiole took up a position behind Erika.
The mistress-at-arms leaned in close to Erika as she brushed by and whispered, “Let him win.”
Erika took a deep breath. Of course. That’s what she intended. A good way to distract the duke for a few minutes, nothing more.
Her heart pounded as she took up a dueling stance. Any minute the Longdogs might come running across the field, shouting that they’d found the girl. Everything would be ruined. Erika would go to the headsman and the Leora house would be disgraced. She wondered how many men Nikslaus had brought with him and whether Santiole and the house guard might be able to fight them off.
She dismissed that outright. Nikslaus was a Privileged. He’d probably kill them all before they had a chance to draw their swords.
Deep in her thoughts, she responded to Nikslaus’ salute by instinct and only barely parried his first thrust. He was inside her guard within two moves and scored a touch against her left breast, not far from where she had been branded as a powder mage.
Hardly a coincidence, she suspected.
Nikslaus returned to the post. “You seem distracted, my lady,” he said, gesturing for them to begin again.
She tried to regain her focus, forcing herself to relax as he came forward. Their swords crossed several times before he scored a touch on her arm. “Just tired, is all.”
“You do look like you could use some rest,” Nikslaus said. “That should be enough for now.” He returned to take his jacket from Duglas, and Erika heard him say quietly, “I thought her tutor said she was good?”
“Once more,” Erika said before she could stop herself. Behind her, Santiole swore quietly.
Nikslaus turned toward her, brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, my lord.”
The duke raised his sword and advanced. Erika parried his first thrust and immediately returned with a riposte that touched the wooden blossom on the tip of her sword against Nikslaus’ chest.
“Well,” Nikslaus said in surprise. “Again.”
Erika scored three more touches against his chest and one just inches from his groin before Nikslaus retired for good. His cordial manner seemed strained and he nodded graciously in defeat. “Very good, my lady. You’re a far better swordsman than I.”
“I’ve had an excellent teacher,” Erika said, looking to Santiole. The mistress-at-arms grimaced. Erika could practically hear her thinking, you should have let him win.
“Of course, my own studies have been toward sorcery.” Nikslaus tugged his Privileged gloves on over his fingers. “I don’t have much time to practice fencing. Duglas here is much, much better.”
Without a word, the tall master mage hunter stepped toward Erika. He drew his sword and took the blossom from Nikslaus, fixing it to the end of his own. Erika swallowed hard. Duglas was far taller with a much greater reach, and his sword was several inches longer than her own.
“Now, I don’t think....” Santiole began.
Nikslaus cut her off with a raised hand. “Let us see how you do, my lady. He’ll be gentle.”
Duglas seemed to unwind his tall frame. He slid forward like a snake moving to strike, sword lashing out while not one bit of his body remained within reach of Erika’s blade. He batted aside her parry and slapped the blossom against her throat hard enough to leave a welt.
Stunned, Erika put a hand to her throat. He dared strike her like that? That wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair! She advanced on him as quickly as she could, sword flashing. He c
aught her thrust once, twice, and the third time batted it away with startling ease, stabbing the blossom against her ribs.
Erika could feel her face growing red. He had the range on her, but he also had startling speed. His form was more disciplined. Santiole would tell her to acknowledge defeat graciously when she was so clearly outmatched. She raised her sword.
“That’s enough of that,” Duke Leora cut in. “Erika, I think you and Santiole should prepare for our journey. Remember, we’re leaving in just a few hours for Norport.”
Erika lowered her sword. “Yes, grandfather.” She snatched her jacket and stalked toward the manor. She could hear Santiole’s footsteps behind her.
“Don’t you ever do something like that again,” Santiole hissed. “That man would have torn you apart.”
Damn Duglas for humiliating her like that! Damn Nikslaus for encouraging it. “I will kill him,” Erika vowed.
“Don’t be stupid. As good as you might be some day, you’re not going to be that good,” Santiole said. “He’s a Longdog’s kennelmaster for a reason.”
Erika stopped and looked back at the two men as they spoke with grandfather. Nikslaus was watching her. She wanted to carve that miserable smile off his face. “Maybe so,” she said. “But I’m going to make sure that Norrine makes it to Adro. It’ll humiliate them both. And they’ll never know it was me.”
The sound of hushed voices immediately sent Norrine scrambling out of her makeshift bed for some kind of cover. She was fully awake in a matter of moments, snatching for her blanket, the left-over crust of bread from her dinner, and anything else that might betray her presence.
Da had always told her to sleep light, ready to sit up from her bedroll and shoot an unlucky deer that might have strayed across their blind. She’d put the advice to good use for the last couple of weeks on the run, avoiding a close encounter with a hunter and another with a farmer out searching truffles with his pigs.
But now she would be caught like a rabbit in a snare. She snatched up her penknife, all her supplies clutched in one arm. Last night, Santiole had told her of a place to hide. Could the old woman be trusted? She ran to the far wall of the stable, where Santiole told her a trick would open an old false wall. Norrine tugged at a broken beam, trying to find the latch. Nothing happened.
Norrine tugged again without any result. How had the mistress-at-arms done it last night? This was the right beam, wasn’t it? Norrine’s tugs became more frantic. She couldn’t remember how to open the hidden compartment.
Norrine kicked at the straw she’d been sleeping on, destroying evidence of her bed, and scrambled up the ladder to the second floor. The loft was suffused with the sweet smell of dry hay. She hoped it was enough to cover the stench of her unwashed clothes.
She scrambled between two hay bales, worming her way into the stack just as the stable door below was pushed open with the rasp of sliding wood.
“You hear something?” an unfamiliar male voice asked.
A female voice answered, “Yeah, the rattle of rocks in your stupid head.”
“I’m serious,” the man said.
“So am I. Help me push this door open the rest of the way. We’ll need some light to search this place.”
There was a wooden thud, and another, then boots thumped on the hard-packed floor of the stables. “By Kresimir, I hate the cold,” the woman said.
“Picked the wrong place to winter, then,” the man responded with a chuckle.
“Don’t be an ass. You think I chose this assignment? If I had, it would have been with someone better lookin’ than you. The duke has us chasing ghosts. We’re only here because he wants to pin something on that Forsworn Leora girl. You see the look on his face when he got out of his carriage? The way he talks about her, I can’t tell whether he wants to kill her or bugger her. Now open that window so we can see something.”
One of the barn windows thumped open, and Norrine heard the sound of the two moving about below her. Rusted metal creaked as something heavy was lifted to one side, and the woman cursed loudly.
“What?”
“Smashed my toe under that plow, you bloody ingrate.”
“Quit your whining. Does that look like someone slept there?”
The woman took a sharp breath. “Oh my pit, it does.” Boots scrambled across the floor. “Someone small. Lookat here, the straw is all crushed. And feel this. Still warm!”
There was silence for a few moments, and then the man answered. “You’re making fun of me.”
“Of course I am, you idiot. There’s deer droppings all over the place down here. A blind man could see they sleep here all the time. The butler said no one’s been in this stable for months.”
“The door was closed, though. Explain how the deer got in, if you’re so damned smart.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that hole in the wall there. Kresimir, you’re dumb. Go check upstairs and let’s get back with the others. There’s no one here.”
Norrine forced herself to take shallow breaths as the ladder creaked under the weight of someone large. Footsteps sounded on the floor of the loft as he stepped off the ladder, and she could hear him muttering softly to himself.
“Stupid. I’ll show you stupid. I’ll drop a bloody axe on your head.”
“What are you saying?” the woman called up.
“Nothing!”
“Anyone up there?”
Norrine smothered a squeal as the pile of hay bales suddenly shifted. The hay rustled, and she could see a hand grasping into the space she had tunneled out for herself. The hand patted around for a moment and then withdrew. The bales were kicked several times, and Norrine waited for the whole stack to fall over on her. Mercifully, it stayed together. More muttering, and then, “Nothing up here.”
“All right, let’s go get some breakfast. I’m bloody starving.”
The man descended the ladder and the two made their way out of the stables. Norrine waited for nearly a minute, when the pair’s voices could barely be heard, before she allowed herself to exhale a ragged breath. She slumped down in her hiding spot, trying to forget about the groping hand and the fear that had kept her frozen in place.
She’d dropped her penknife somewhere in the straw. What would Da have said about that? There was no powder here, nothing she could use to defend herself. If the man had grabbed her she would have been helpless.
Norrine dared not leave her hiding spot. The two searchers had left, but surely more would come? Only their loud bickering had saved her before. She might not be so lucky next time.
Hay poked through her clothes, causing her skin to itch. Her hiding spot was warm, but not comfortable, and fear kept her in place.
She heard voices once more some time later, but they were further off and she could not make out what they said. The stables remained silent but for the sound of crows on the roof and the scratch of rats down below her. She remained curled up like a fox cub in its burrow, counting her own heartbeats, trying not to be afraid.
A sound in one of the stalls below brought her out of her daydream. Her body stiffened, and she prayed that it had only been the building settling. Surely she would have heard the door open if someone was downstairs? Had the two Longdogs closed the door behind them? She couldn’t remember.
A throat cleared.
Norrine’s hands began to shake.
The ladder creaked, and then a voice said, “It’s me, girl. You can come out now.”
Norrine crawled out from beneath the hay bales and brushed the straw from her hair and clothes. Santiole stood on the ladder, her head and shoulders sticking up into the loft. “You were supposed to hide behind the false wall on the first floor.”
Norrine paused to search through the hay until she found her penknife. “I forgot how to open it,” she said, following Santiole down to the floor of the stable.
The old woman went to the wall and pushed up on the beam that Norrine had pushed down on. Norrine heard a soft click, and Santiole shoved. The beam pus
hed several inches into the wall. The boards creaked open on a hinge, revealing a space that would have been just big enough for her to hide, completely concealed. “You’re damn lucky that they were too bloody lazy to search the hay.”
“They did.”
“Not well enough.” Santiole seemed unimpressed. “You should have paid better attention last night. If you cause trouble for my mistress, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Norrine clutched her fists at her sides. “They’re going to kill me if they find me. I’m not stupid. You can’t do any worse than that.”
Santiole fingered her knife for a moment. Norrine wondered what kind of threats were working their way through her mind, but the woman just said in a soft tone, “No, I suppose I can’t. Be more careful next time.”
Duke Nikslaus met Erika and Lord Leora in the manor drive that afternoon as they prepared to leave for Norport.
Erika needed a distraction, an excuse. Anything to keep them behind while Nikslaus left so that they could be sure he was gone before they started their own journey.
Grandfather would have none of it. He was right, of course. They couldn’t alter their plans lest they attract Nikslaus’ suspicion. It was miracle enough that Norrine hadn’t been found by the duke’s Longdogs. Unless she had, and the duke was on his way to arrest them.
Erika was conscious of her own fidgeting as Nikslaus approached the carriage window.
“I do hope you’re none the worse for Duglas’ little game,” Nikslaus said. Erika’s hand went to her throat involuntarily. The welt would be there for a week or more. Nikslaus continued, “He’s a fantastic swordsman but he does come from lesser stock. A peasant, you see. He has no sense of propriety.”
“It’s all right,” Erika said, praying Nikslaus would turn around and leave.
“I thought you were rather fetching with a sword,” Nikslaus said.
“Thank you, my lord.” ‘Fetching.’ Not skillful or quick or anything else. Just fetching. What an ass.