Барб Хенди - Between Their Worlds

To her surprise, though she was concerned, she wasn’t angry. She’d never admit it, but the thought of having his help all day brought relief. One part was almost unbelievable, though.

“Shade has known about this?” Wynn asked.

“For a short while, just after she and I escaped from the guild.”

“Why would Shade ever keep a secret for you?”

“I have wondered,” he said. “It might be the ways of the majay-hì. Or ... she’s more pragmatic than you know.”

Wynn started slightly as the implications sank in. “So, yesterday, all day, you were just lying there on the floor, pretending to ... sleep ... and she knew it?”

Chane nodded once. Of all that Chane or Shade had ever done in Wynn’s company, this struck her as the most unsettling. They’d both been a pain in her backside with their separate overprotectiveness. Now they were in actual collusion about it.

“And there are side effects to this potion, aren’t there?” she said. “That’s what all that hiding away on the sea voyage to the Lhoin’na was about. You were ... sick ... every time you finally came out of your cabin.”

He didn’t—couldn’t—deny it.

“It is nothing that will hinder me,” he replied. “I am accustomed to it now, so long as I do not prolong its use too far. I simply wanted you to know.”

Shade was well on her way to Rodian, and right now, they had a great deal to accomplish. Wynn walked past Chane and headed for the stairs.

“Let’s get to work on those boots.”

But soon enough, Wynn was going to make Chane show her everything—including anything else he was hiding in Welstiel’s pack of twisted little toys. And Shade had better not be in on any more of it.

Rodian stepped from the barracks that housed his office and walked out into the courtyard of the second castle that housed Malourné’s military. The sun was just cresting the keep’s forward wall, and he knew it was too early to check in with the High Advocate.

It was the morning of the third day since he’d been summoned before Prince Leäfrich, and he hadn’t slept all night.

So far, Rodian had been unable to convince the High Advocate to grant him a general warrant, but this didn’t surprise him. The prospect of Shyldfälches pounding on doors was disruptive to the peace, yet Rodian hadn’t given up. Last evening, he’d succeeded in convincing the advocate to send word to the royal family about his request. He had a feeling it would be granted.

Prince Leäfrich was likely under great pressure from the Premin Council to find Wynn.

Rodian slowed as he passed through the courtyard and watched the shadows of the keep’s wall creep away as the sun rose higher. Even without the warrant, he’d not been idle.

His men swept the city on double duty, even gaining some of the military’s regulars for assistance. All district constabularies had been alerted and given descriptions of Wynn Hygeorht and her wolfish black dog, with orders to detain either. So far, it seemed as if the little, precocious sage had just vanished.

Rodian rubbed his tired eyes, and then the sound of barking cut through his overburdened thoughts.

“Here! Stop that!” someone shouted. “Wait ... isn’t that ... ? Get it!”

The barking only increased, mixed with snarls that echoed up the gatehouse tunnel.

It took only an instant before Rodian bolted into the tunnel.

The outer portcullis was already raised, and he doubled his pace. As he rushed out the tunnel’s other end, he found three of the regulars trying to encircle a tall, charcoal black dog, which was snarling and snapping as it evaded them.

Shade was quick and agile, and gave them a lot of trouble.

One soldier spotted Rodian and held back for an instant. “Sorry, Captain. We can’t get a grip on it ... without getting bit.”

Shade spun around, and at the sight of Rodian, she froze. Her racket dropped to a steady rumble.

He had no idea why his appearance would halt the dog in her place, and then he spotted one oddity. Wynn’s dog had never worn a collar that he’d ever seen, yet a strip of gray wool was tied around Shade’s neck. There was a piece of paper wrapped around that fabric.

“Back off, all of you!” Rodian ordered.

The three regulars exchanged confused glances but obeyed, standing poised around Shade but well out of reach. Slowly, cautiously, Rodian took two steps.

“Easy, girl,” he said.

Shade continued to tremble and rumble, but she stood there watching him. Stranger still, she took a step toward him, though it made him hesitate in turn. Much as he wanted to know what was on that paper, he had no desire to get bitten. Shade was rather a large animal, and easily had the advantage of height over any common wolf.

The closer Rodian came, Shade matched him in slower steps, and grew quiet. Reaching down, he ripped the note off the collar and took a step back. He peeled open the torn paper, quickly reviewing its contents. He’d already guessed whom it was from. The note was short, but when he finished reading, he was left mentally numb.

Part of him wanted to curse; another part nearly melted in relief. He read the brief note again and weighed the scales of what Wynn was asking him to do—with no explanation and no promise on her part.

What choice did he have?

He could certainly pin down and lock up Shade, and make Wynn come to him to get the dog back. But that wouldn’t get him the answers he wanted—needed—for what was going on inside the guild and between its Premin Council and the royals.

No ... he had no choice. But he needed a quill and paper if he was to answer Wynn’s note. He looked down at Shade, who tilted her head.

Backing toward the gatehouse tunnel, Rodian said. “Come?”

Shade trotted after him.

Chane knelt on the floor, working on the heel of a boot. He remained externally passive, but how he felt on the inside was another matter.

Telling Wynn the truth this morning about the concoction—or at least the one he had completed so far—took away one burden. He still hid the secret of the white flower petals and dwarven mushrooms—the anasgiah and muhkgean —and the hint of their use in The Seven Leaves of Life . He was also worried about the risks Wynn would undertake tonight.

He had no contention with the plan that Leesil had devised, only with the fact that Wynn was actively involved. If Leesil was so clever, why not come up with a plan that kept Wynn out of danger?

Chane was also unhappy about a visitor due to arrive any moment, and it was not long before that hesitant knock came at the door.

Wynn looked up from sewing padding into the shoulders of the forest gray cloak Brot’an had provided.

“It me,” a soft voice said through the door.

Wynn swallowed and tried to clear her throat. “Ore-Locks, would ... would you ... ?” she stuttered.

The dwarf went to unlatch the door, and a tall, cloaked elf immediately stepped in. His amber eyes quickly found and locked on Wynn. This one was younger than Brot’an, with a long face, and loose, white-blond hair. Chane had seen him before and hated him at the time.

Once, in the Pock Peaks, this one had offered his full protection to Wynn—and she had accepted. Much later, when he had been injured, she had watched over him to the point of threatening Chane to keep away, though he had had no harmful intent in that moment.

“Osha,” Wynn said tentatively, clearly aware of the strain in the room. “Come ... in.”

Chane still did not like him.

Osha did not even glance at Chane, either avoiding contact or because he was too fixated on Wynn. As he stepped closer to her, she put down the cloak and picked up Leesil’s stained and tattered green scarf. Reaching up, she put her hand on Osha’s arm.