Gregory Keyes - The Briar King

“You’ve no fine, scholarly words to explain it, then? The Briar King was supposed to come and kill us all, yah?”

“He might yet. He left us because he had other things to do, and I suspect we will not like what those things are.” He shrugged. “He took the poison from you. He did not close your wounds or stop your blood; that was for us to do, and still you nearly went to pale.” Stephen lifted his hands. “Perhaps he thought you a creature of his kingdom. Perhaps you are—you certainly smell like one. A crippled boar, a mangy bear. You might be mistaken for such a thing.”

Aspar stared at him for a long moment.

“I only remember that when he touched me I felt something, something I haven’t known since I was a child. It was …” He frowned. “Sceat, I haven’t the words.” He waved his hands, dismissing the entire matter. He was silent for long time, and Stephen began to wish Winna would hurry her return. She had a way of easing things.

But Aspar spoke, without looking at him.

“I’ve a sense it’s a lucky thing I met you, Cape Chavel Darige,” he said.

Stephen blinked back an unexpected moistness in his eye.

On the Very Strange and Subtle Dispositions of the Holter-Beast, he composed, in his head. Though irascible in the extreme, it must be admitted the beast has not only a talent for annoyance, but beneath its tough and leathersome skin, something that resembles, in many respects, a human heart.

“ Now what are you grinning at?” Aspar asked.

Stephen realized he was smiling. “Nothing,” he replied. “Something I read, once.”

When Cazio stepped into the small circle of firelight, Anne flinched involuntarily.

Z’Acatto clucked his tongue. “No need to worry, young casnara,” he said. “We’re well away from those devils.”

“At least for the time being,” Cazio corrected. “If they are as persistent in the hunt as in leaving life, we shall see them again.”

“Don’t worry the ladies with such talk,” z’Acatto growled. “We have eluded them for the time being, of that we can be sure. A hundred crooked leagues we have put between them and us, and never leaving any sign.” He looked up significantly at the younger man. “Unless you did so tonight.”

“I was a ghost,” Cazio replied. “A shadow entered the Inn of the Lisping Boar, a shadow left it.”

“Left it the heavier, I hope,” z’Acatto said hopefully, eyeing the sack Cazio had slung casually over one shoulder.

“Heavier, yes. But this is your sort of work, old man. I’m no thief, by trade.”

“You’ll do as an amateur,” the swordsmaster said. “What’ve you got there?”

Anne found her own stomach rumbling. The countryside offered little in the way of sustenance, and avoiding anyone who might describe them to pursuers meant they couldn’t beg the hospitality of strangers, though z’Acatto had assured them that hospitality was lacking in the poor and rustic province of Curhavia. Whatever the truth, the four of them had eaten only moldy bread the day before, and not much of that.

“Tonight we feast,” Cazio said. He proceeded to produce a joint of ham, a spit-roasted hen, a full loaf of crusty brown bread, a small amphora of olive oil, and two black bottles of wine. Anne watched this unloading hungrily, but when she glanced at Austra she saw something that more resembled worship, which was irritating. Cazio was made of better stuff than she had first supposed, true, and she and Austra doubtless owed him their lives, but there was no reason to be silly.

“This is the wrong year,” z’Acatto complained.

“Ghosts drink what they can find,” Cazio replied. “I’m sure this will do.”

Z’Acatto snatched one of the bottles, took a swallow, and swirled it about in his mouth.

“Hardly better than vinegar,” he said. Nevertheless, he took another long drink of it.

They ate with no thought to conversation. It was only later, when most of the wine was gone, that speech resumed.

“In three days we’ll reach the coast,” Cazio said. “I’ve no doubt we can find the two of you passage there to someplace safe. Your home, perhaps.”

“You’ve been most kind,” Anne said.

“You can’t just put us on a ship, two women alone,” Austra protested. “What if the Hanzish knights should find us at sea?”

“I’d be more worried about the sailors,” z’Acatto said. “They’re the more known and obvious danger.”

“Well, go with them, then,” Cazio said. “Me, I’m returning to my house in Avella and pretending I never saw a knight who wouldn’t die.”

“Anne’s father will reward you,” Austra blurted.

“Austra, hush,” Anne said. “Casnars da Chiovattio and z’Acatto have done more than we could ever repay them for already.”

“A gentleman does not require payment for saving young ladies in need,” Cazio pointed out.

“But a gentleman without funds can’t pay off the lien on his property,” z’Acatto said, “even if certain legal complications have vanished, which cannot be taken for granted.”

Cazio looked pained. “Must you trouble me with such mundane matters?” he asked. But he turned to Anne. “Who is your father, by the by?”

Anne hesitated. “A wealthy man,” she said.

“From what country?”

“The empire of Crotheny.”

“That’s a long journey,” Cazio noticed.

“Hah!” z’Acatto shouted. “You don’t even know where it is! You’ve no idea! To you, z’Irbina is the end of the world.”

“I am content in Vitellio, if that’s what you mean,” Cazio said. “I’ve my father’s estates to win back.”

“You’ll pardon him, casnaras,” z’Acatto said. “The experience with your Hanzish knights has taught Cazio here a certain reluctance when it comes to things foreign. You see, in Avella, he can fancy himself a great swordsmaster. In the wider world, he might find himself proven wrong.”

Cazio looked stung. “That is purest slander,” he said, “and you know it.”

“I know what I see. Dessrata is deeds, not words.”

“And you’ve told me on many occasions that I am no dessrator,” Cazio replied.

“And, on occasion, I tend toward pessimism,” z’Acatto murmured.

“Meaning?” Cazio’s eyebrows leapt in surprise.

“Meaning there might be hope for you,” z’Acatto said. He wagged the wine bottle at his student. “Might.”

“So you admit—!”

“I admit nothing!”

“You drunken old fool, I—”

They argued on, but Anne knew the battle was won. She and Austra would have their escort back to Crotheny.

She thought again of her visions, of the thing she had done to the Hanzish knight, and wished everything in the world was as simple as Cazio. For her, the world would never be simple again.

The emperor of Crotheny counted to three and then clapped his hands in delight as Hound Hat produced a partridge from what appeared to be thin air.

“Most excellent, Sire!” the Sefry said. “And now I shall produce a fire, if to you I might implore, please this time to count to four.”

Muriele glanced hard at the Sefry and then more gently at her son. “Charles,” she said. “It is time to hold court.”

Charles looked at her, his face working. “Mother,” he whispered, “I can’t count to four. What am I to do?”

“Charles,” she said, her voice a bit more insistent. “It is time for court. You must concentrate and be king.”

“But Father is king.”

“Your father is away. In his place, you must be king. Do you understand?”

He must have heard the frustration in her voice, for his face fell. Charles didn’t always understand words, but at times he could be surprisingly sensitive to mood.