Carol Berg - THE SOUL WEAVER

“I think I’d best find out what he wants. Gerick will have to come with me. And Radele, too. We’ll travel in disguise, so if Evard is planning a trap, it won’t work, because we won’t arrive in the way he expects. The change will do us good.”

I mustered my arguments carefully before approaching the others with my idea. But to my astonishment, Gerick threw himself into planning it right away. “Paulo will have to come, too, don’t you think? He’s the best of all of us at slipping in and out of places and getting people to say things they never meant to say. We’ll want to scout out the situation before you meet King Evard.”

The trees were noisy with chattering blackbirds as Gerick and Tennice and I sat on the lawn that evening, discussing the journey to Montevial. Graeme Rowan had already ridden out for Dunfarrie, convinced I should be shut up in a lunatic asylum.

“Don’t even think I’ll allow you near this meeting, dear boy!” I said. “You and Radele - and Paulo, too, if he has to come - will stay well out of the way.”

Though dismayed at the consideration, Tennice agreed that we needed to find out what Evard wanted. “… but if you’re going to do this, discretion and speed must be of first importance,” he said. “Too many together are noticeable. I still say, both young men should remain here.”

“Gerick and I stay together,” I said.

“And I won’t go without Paulo.” Gerick’s lean face was animated and determined. “He can travel separately. As a horse trader perhaps. All the better to watch out and not be one of us. And my mother and I - and I suppose the Dar’Nethi shadow must come - we could be… ”

“… a family looking for a squire’s billet for a son,” I said, caught up in Gerick’s enthusiasm. “It’s the most common reason for a mother and son to be traveling to Montevial. A father dead in the war. The family seeking someone to take the boy under his wing.”

“Just what Philomena was trying to do for me after Tomas died, before I went to Zhev’Na,” said Gerick.

He said it so casually. Zhev’Na. The syllables pricked my heart, evoking horror and hope in a confusing muddle. The name recalled so much of grief and despair, yet for Gerick to speak of the Lords’ fortress with equanimity was surely a sign of his healing. He guarded his thoughts so fiercely, I grasped at any sign of progress.

“Exactly,” I said. “Radele would be the fencing master who’s taught the boy until now. Can we pull it off?”

“Of course we can,” said Gerick. “I’ll be interested to see Montevial again. My last time there I was eight or nine, when Papa - Tomas - took me to see the ruins at Vaggiere. Actually, I think he wanted to show me his new chambers in the palace more than he wanted to show me the ruins.”

“I would imagine he did. Tomas was an inveterate show-off.” I smiled at Gerick, and he returned it, a brief, glorious reflection of my brother and Karon all in one. He didn’t smile enough.

Tennice, as always, was skeptical, but Gerick’s cheerful mood won him over. My old friend unfolded his long legs and got up from the grass, grimacing and stretching his ever-aching back. “I’ll speak to Teriza, get her started on your provisioning.”

Gerick sprang to his feet. “I’ll tell Paulo. He’ll think it a lark - riding horses all day for weeks.”

During the discussion Radele had remained unobtrusively in the shade of a myrtle hedge, a vantage from which he could see both the lane from the main road and the service road that led from the stableyard deeper into the parkland. The moment Tennice and Gerick were out of earshot, the young Dar’Nethi confronted me, his face quite solemn. “Madam, you cannot be serious about this fey masquerade, traipsing about the countryside… ”

I stood and brushed the grass from my skirt. “I’m quite serious. And if you’ve heard so much, then you know you’re to accompany us.”

“We must wait here for the Prince’s return.”

“That could be months. King Evard likes getting his way, and if he starts hunting, he could discover this place long before that. I’ll not have Gerick’s or Tennice’s safety compromised. It’s too dangerous to wait.”

“I don’t think it will be months. Probably only a few days. And in any case, my lord’s commands to me… ”

“… said nothing about preventing a journey to Montevial, I’m sure. He would never set me any such restriction.”

“You? Of course not. But he would not have the young Lord… put in such a risky position. The boy must not leave here until the Prince returns.”

A chill prickled my skin. The young Lord. That’s what they had called Gerick in Zhev’Na.

“I would never put my son at undue risk, Radele. Our position at Verdillon may not be secure, even now, so Gerick cannot remain here. He needs to be with me. Besides, he needs to get out in the world. He’s not a prisoner.”

“But the Prince said - ” He stopped abruptly.

“What did he say?” My fragile patience snapped. “I’ve been waiting for someone to speak of it. Tell me what he said that might preclude our going.”

The young man flushed and clamped his lips firmly.

“Then we’ll go. If my husband wishes to find us, he can use the guidestone I wear around my neck, rather than popping in here unexpectedly. If you want to wait for him here, then do so. But if your duty is to protect Gerick, you had best pack your kit.” Enough of secrets and hiding.

“My duty, my lady, is to defend my world and this one of yours against the Lords of Zhev’Na. I never forget it.” Sparks flashed from beneath his deference, as if my words had struck steel. This was a young man who had fought his first battle at fourteen.

“I’m sorry, Radele. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

He bowed stiffly. “I’m sure that if any extraordinary dangers manifest themselves along the way, your prudence will call an end to the venture.”

“You can be certain of it.”

Radele made no further argument. He also said nothing more about Karon’s orders, though his sidestepping had done nothing to soothe my disquiet.

Two days later, when we set out in the sultry heat of the early morning, the young Dar’Nethi joined in our playacting with his more accustomed good humor, waxing his blond beard and mustache into stiff curls, claiming that his own fencing master had prized his facial glory in that way. But if anything, the young man had increased his vigilance. I don’t think he ever took his eyes from Gerick.

Paulo left Verdillon a day ahead of us. He had proposed shyly that if Tennice were to stake him to a few silver pieces, he could come up with a fair-sized string of horses from Valloreans desperate to sell their stock before it was confiscated by the Leiran army. Taking the horses to Montevial would not only be a benefit to our neighbors and an excellent ruse, but could make us a tidy profit as well. Though we lived modestly, Tennice’s resources were not unlimited.

Gerick and I rode in Verdillon’s old pony trap, a mode of travel slower than riding our own mounts, but more suited to our roles. I wore a widow’s headcloth and an old-fashioned velvet gown that I’d dragged out of Tennice’s attic. We found Gerick a rakish green cap to hide the color of his hair and outfitted him in threadbare finery suitable for an impoverished youth of gentle family looking to impress someone in the capital. Gerick and I laughed at ourselves when we donned our disguises, and enjoyed our first day on the road as if it were a holiday.

The town of Prydina, where we were to meet Paulo, had grown up at the meeting of the main north-south route through Valleor and the road that crossed the Cerran Brae, the range of low peaks and sharp ridges that defined the Vallorean border with Leire. Prydina boasted a sizable marketplace, an even larger illicit trade in untaxed Leiran goods, and a full complement of pickpockets, thieves, and beggars.