David Weber - Wind Rider's Oath

"Tarith, all by himself, isn't exactly her arms men ," Tellian observed.

"I thought about pointing that out to her," Hanatha agreed. "On the other hand, you didn't pick Tarith as her armsman when she was two whole years old because of how incompetent he is. As long as they stay on our lands, he should be able to look after her just fine. And," for just an instant all of her own loving concern for her daughter put a quiver into her voice, "I wanted to give her at least that much, Tellian. It's not all that much of a victory over tradition and convention, but at least we can let her have that much."

The baron looked at his wife and started to speak. Then he stopped, his own eyes just a bit misty, and nodded.

He sat there for a moment, then drew a deep breath, shook himself, and smiled at Hanatha.

"You're right, of course, love," he said. "On the other hand, this is Leeana we're talking about. You know-the daughter who broke her arm when she tried to walk all the way around the north tower across the battlements? The one who took her pony across a three-rail fence when she was nine? The one who-"

"All right. All right!" Hanatha laughed and threw a balled-up napkin at him. "And your point is?"

"That as soon as I finish eating, I'm personally going down to the stable to make sure Tarith's horse is gone, too."

"Milady Baroness! Milady Baroness! "

Hanatha Bowmaster came awake almost instantly in response to the imploring whisper. It was dark, without even a trace of gray dawn glimmering through her window. She sat up, and Marthya stepped back from the edge of her bed.

"What is it?" Her voice was husky with sleep, but she kept it low enough not to disturb her husband.

"It's-it's Lady Leeana," the maid said wretchedly, her lamp quivering in her hand. "Her bed's not been slept in, Milady!"

"What do you mean?" Hanatha demanded, not because she'd misunderstood Marthya, but because her mind refused to grapple with what the maid had just said.

"I mean she never came in at all last night, Milady," Marthya said even more wretchedly. "I know you said she had permission to stay out all day with Tarith, but I should have suspected something when she wasn't back in time for supper. But I didn't-truly, I didn't , Milady! I lay down, just to nap until she came in, and then, somehow . . ."

The maid shook her head, and a bright flash of panic flared through Hanatha.

"What's the hour?" she demanded.

"Barely three hours till dawn," Marthya admitted. "I just woke up, Milady, and the instant I did-"

"I understand, Marthya," Hanatha said. She wanted to be furious with the maid, but she couldn't. Not when she hadn't made a point of going to Leeana's room to check on her herself when she and Tellian finally returned from the mayor's banquet. She should have. She'd known at the time that she should have. Yet she'd decided not to-decided to respect her daughter's need for privacy.

"Let me get this straight," she said after a moment. "You're saying no one in Hill Guard has seen her at all since breakfast yesterday?"

"Breakfast, Milady?" Marthya looked at Hanatha in obvious confusion.

"Yes, breakfast-before she went riding with Tarith!" Hanatha's frightened worry sharpened her tone, but Marthya shook her head.

"Milady, she told me she and Tarith would be leaving before breakfast. She said they were getting an early start because she planned to ride over to Lord Farith's in time for dinner. She said she could dress herself and there was no need for me to be up even earlier than usual. And she said Cook had already packed sandwiches for an early lunch, so they wouldn't need breakfast."

" Lord Farith's ?" Hanatha looked at the maid blankly. Farith was Lord of Maldahowe, almost a full half-day's ride north of Balthar. She'd never agreed Leeana could ride that far from home with only Tarith for an escort! Which meant-

The Baroness of Balthar went paper-white and reached for her husband's shoulder.

"There's no question about it," Tellian Bowmaster said harshly. The sun was perhaps an hour above the horizon as he stood staring out a window at the city of Balthar, his face haggard. "I've ordered a door-to-door search through the city, but it's not going to find her. Damn the girl! How could she do something like this?!"

Love and fear made him furious, and he slammed a fist down on the stone windowsill.

"We don't-we don't know for certain what she has done," Hanatha said. He shot a glance at her, and she shook her head. "Well, we don't , Tellian. Not really. I know what it looks like she's done, but there's no way Tarith would help her run away. Wherever she is, he's with her. You know he'd never let her out of his sight once they left Hill Guard!"

"I know. I know!" Tellian drummed on the windowsill with both hands, his shoulders tight and his face clenched with worry. "But no one saw them leaving together, Hanatha. In fact, no one saw Leeana leave at all ."

"That's preposterous," his wife protested. "She had to have been seen by the sentries!"

"Well, she wasn't," he said grimly. "And Tarith was seen leaving-by himself."

"What? When?" Hanatha demanded.

"The evening before you gave her permission to stay home from the banquet," he said, and then looked up quickly at her small, choked sound of distress.

She stared at him, her face white, her eyes huge with guilt and fear, and he shook his head sharply.

"No, love!" He turned and drew her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "Don't blame yourself-and don't think for a moment that I blame you, either! You asked her exactly the same questions, set exactly the same conditions, I would have. You had no more reason to suspect she might do something like this than I would have had!"

"But . . . but if Tarith left then, and no one saw her at breakfast . . ." Hanatha's voice trailed off, and she turned paler than ever. "Lillinara, Tellian!" she half-whispered. "Marthya put her to bed night before last, but how do we know she stayed there?"

"We don't," he said harshly. "In fact, I don't think she did." His wife stared at him mutely, and he shrugged. "She told the stable master to turn Boots out into the south paddock the day before yesterday. He didn't think anything about it, and no one told him she was supposed to be going anywhere yesterday. All he can say for certain is that her riding tack is missing, and Boots hasn't been seen since night before last."

"But how did she-?" Hanatha chopped herself off, and her jaw tightened in sudden understanding.

"Exactly," her husband said. "I've sent riders out in all directions, searching for her-and for Tarith-but I already know how she did it."

He shook his head, but though his expression was grim, there was something else in it, as well. Something almost like a pride.

"She knew we'd give her permission to skip the banquet if she asked for it. So she sent Tarith off on some errand before she ever spoke to you."

"But she promised to take him with her!" Hanatha protested, unable to accept that her daughter had lied to her.

"No, she didn't." Tellian shook his head. Hanatha stared at him, and he grinned sourly. "I'm sure she told the exact truth, love. It just wasn't what you thought she said."

"But-"

"You said she said she knew she couldn't spend the day riding unless Tarith did, too," he told her. "I'll wager she never actually said she couldn't do it unless Tarith rode with her. What she meant was that she had to send him riding off on some pretext or another to keep him from stopping her."

"Lillinara protect her," Hanatha whispered. "You're right. She didn't say specifically that he'd be with her. I only assumed that was what she meant."