CHAPTER 25: On the Road Again
Alanna, with Faithful buried in her packs, rode cautiously out of the city the next morning in the freezing grey hour before dawn. The cutting wind slashed at her bowed face, and the falling snow added to the icy layer covering the ground. They closely followed Jarinth and her mount, Bella, as if death awaited any stragglers of their small group. The road to Port Caynn proved long, cold, and wet, and Alanna's mood was not much sunnier than the weather. By the time they arrived, her face felt frozen in a furious scowl. She just wanted to get to the wayhouse, defrost her stiff body in a hot bath; and sink into a warm, soft bed to sleep. No more of this walk-all-day-in-the-cold, eat-cold-food, sleep-in-a-frozen-sleeping-bag nonsense. She wanted heat.
The sun had already vanished as they wandered down the silent, empty streets of Caynn. Even the beggars had shown a fleck of sense and crept away to where the snow couldn't find them.
"Cheer up, Alanna—only fifteen more minutes," Jarinth announced. She didn't try to decipher the responding growl.
However, they never managed to reach the wayhouse. Seconds after they turned onto the sidestreet leading to the inn, they glimpsed a muffled yelp from the alleyway to their right.
Alanna groaned. If this was a scuffle, she would scream….
It was, and though she didn't scream, she did bellow rather loudly at the sight of two gigantic boulders of men towering over a trembling lump on the ground. All three turned to glance at her, and the smaller of the two thugs—a burly, unshaven brute—laughed.
"Ah, company!" He waved to her, and beckoned. "C'mere, lassie. We don't bite."
"No," she spat, "but I do."
They only had time to frown in confusion before she whipped out Lightning and strode towards them.
"Wait, 'old on!" the other—a drunkard—cried thickly. "Ain't you a girl?"
Alanna walloped him across the face with the flat of her blade. He gasped, teetered, and fell.
"You bitch!" his partner shrieked, lunging for her. She slammed Lightning's hilt to his temple, and he, too, dropped to the ground.
"Oh, Alanna," Jarinth gasped, laughing. "You're so funny when you're angry."
Alanna's face burned, and only a moan from the ground beside them kept her from barking back crossly: they had a patient to tend to. A tall, lean man dressed in a gentleman's elaborate boots, hose, shirt, tunic, and hat slumped in the snow, a dark splotch of blood staining the ground beneathe him. Alanna could only sigh at the sight; she did not feel like healing just then.
The blood trickled sluggishly from his head, which had struck the brick wall fencing the alley—hardly a fatal injury. The healing shouldn't have required too much energy, but Alanna suffered from lack of heat and sleep, which turned the trivial chore into back-breaking labor. To piece the broken mess together left her drained and more irritable than ever. As the man slowly gained consciousness, she left Jarinth to deal with him and burrowed deep into her snow gear a few feet away to wait to move on.
Only a few minutes passed before Jarinth returned, smiling grandly. Alanna inwardly groaned—something had happened to please Jarinth, and that could not be good.
"I guess I'll learn to thank your fiery temper. It has its advantages. You just risked your neck to save Sir Aidan of Queenscove, husband of the former Lady Catherine of Saragin. He's too weak to move and was wondering if we could possibly give him a lift back to Saragin House, where the family has gathered to celebrate the naming ceremony of his new son."
Alanna's eyes widened. A family party at Saragin House! That meant Duke Nathaniel of Saragin was there, and she could ask him about Thom!
It took a good half hour to reach Saragin House; however, on arriving, Alanna found the grand courtyard and majestic mansion worth the interminable trip. The four guards at the gate mimicked the house's regality as they quickly glanced at Aidan slumped on Bella's back and didn't react at all besides opening the gates and bowing them in. Then two maids strode outside—no shocked or panicked hurry, just elegant speed—and quickly escorted Aidan out of sight. Another two maids politely suggested that Alanna and Jarinth follow them into the house as hostlers disappeared with Moonlight and Bella.
Inside, warmth seeped pleasurably into Alanna's skin. The air twinkled with laughter, countered pleasantly by the murmur of chatter from an invisible soirée. A sharp right from the gilded entryway brought them to an ornate parlor. Moments later, a lady in silver and blue silk glided into the room, her lips formed into a perfect, charming smile. "Lady Jarinth of Marinstha, it's been ages since we've last spoken! I'm honored to have you here tonight, and thank you so much for helping Aidan. He just told me what happened. Please know that we're forever in your debt. I'm so pleased you found him!"
Jarinth laughed. "It's not as if you've never done anything for me before, Amelia. Besides, it's Alanna who actually saved him."
Amelia—Alanna recognized that name. Amelia of Saragin (formerly of Cavall) was Nathaniel's mother.
Alanna blushed and ducked her head as Lady Amelia's eyes slipped to her poor, pathetic body. The woman smiled. "Ah, yes, the famous Alanna. There's no end of talk about you, and now I know why. Thank you very, very much, my dear. If there's anything I can do to repay you, don't hesitate to let me know." She paused, and then nodded. "Now then, we can't leave our guests standing here like outsiders. The maids should be done preparing baths for you two by now. Then, you can eat and sleep."
Alanna and Jarinth both slept in for hours the next morning. Afterwards, they sat down to a steaming breakfast and then jumped at a sharp, brisk rap on the door. Knowing servants didn't knock like that, Alanna and Jarinth leapt to their feet just before a young man identical to his knock—sharp and brisk—entered the room.
"Good morning," he greeted, more polite than welcoming. "I'm Nathaniel of Saragin." A chill slipped down Alanna's spine; she tensed. Apparently noting her inconspicuous behavior, Nathaniel jerked a nod. "I expected that you would like a word with me, one I'm only too willing to give after your gracious acts for my brother-in-law. But, first, I hope you're enjoying your stay?"
Jarinth bowed. "We are, Your Grace, very much. Thank you."
"No need to thank me. I'm sure we're entirely in your debt. I would just like to make it clear to you that my home is your home as long as you wish."
"We're honored, Your Grace."
He jerked another nod and gestured to the chairs. "Then let us sit and talk."
Alanna knew many written works referred to the Saragin family as "a stone wall," but she had never taken them as literally as, apparently, she should have. Nathaniel, a lean, muscular man who stood about five foot ten, had an iron rod for a spine. His outfit—from the black boots with silver fastenings to the dark blue jerkin with silver embroidery—all appeared starched, so contrary to the rustling silk of Court. Black hair settled formidably on his shoulders, blue eyes cold and calculating, mouth permanently angled down: the daunting commander of the Queen's Navy.
"I believe you want me to tell of my encounter with Thom."
"Yes, please, Your Grace," Alanna replied breathlessly, her heart pounding. She could hardly breathe. Thom was alive.
"Last April, Thom of Trebond paid twice the required amount for a prompt session with me and offered another exorbitant price for simply my signature. We met on a Sunday, when I didn't have many other clients, at one o'clock. I had a truthsayer—a black-robe, Jade Colbin—test to see if Thom was indeed Thom and if he was truly the heir to Trebond. Apparently Lord Alan failed to change his will, so Thom was still listed as the heir. So, three hours later, I signed the paper. He left, and Captain Matthew Andrews of the merchant ship Maiden claims Thom left with him later that afternoon. Maiden was headed for Carthak."
Alanna and Jarinth exchanged glances. Carthak.
---
In the gorgeous May weather, their ship sailed from Port Saragin to Carthak in only two weeks; to Alanna, it felt like so much more, since she threw up the entire way. In Carthak, the plaguing heat forced her to adopt the southern oufits, which multiplied the small breeze and whose sandals kept her feet cool. She and Jarinth moved into a room in the Carthaki University, where they bumped into old friends of Jarinth's around every corner. It shocked Alanna to find that most of them recognized her. Even more terrifying was that none of them immediately believed her to be a girl. Instead, they all mistook her for Thom. Apparently, he had shown up six years ago and buried himself in his studies. Not the brightest lad, he had returned to Tortall last spring for a break. No one had seen him since.
"Weird," Alanna commented, pushing her food around her plate at dinner on their second night. "Didn't Duke Nathaniel say Maiden came back here?"
"Yes, but that doesn't mean Thom came back," Jarinth pointed out. "We already know he's excelled in the area of simulacrums. What I don't understand is how they can say he wasn't very bright when we know he's done so much. He might have had someone else do it, but why hasn't that someone stood up? Perhaps Thom faked stupid for some reason, but why?"
"Maybe he didn't want to attract attention," Alanna suggested.
"Whose attention? If he didn't want to be found by Tortall, he should have disguised himself. We know he didn't, since everyone could recognize you."
Alanna sighed. She had no idea.
---
Two weeks in Carthak did wonders for Alanna's accent and vocabulary, so Jarinth began allowing her out on her own. One evening after an afternoon of shopping in the marketplace, she returned to find Jarinth dressed in a fine dinnergown in front of a mirror, battling with her hair.
"Just after you left I got a dinner invitation from Duke Hanno Mago, an old friend of mine. We studied together here at the university. He apologizes for not inviting us sooner, but he just heard we were in town today. There's a bath ready for you and a gown on your bed. Hanno's a good but picky friend. Please try to look your best; I'd like to try to impress, not disgust, him."
"Hello to you too," Alanna sighed. She was sick of meeting Jarinth's friends—they were all disgustingly wealthy and elaborate. Though listening to her teacher chat with old buddies had initially fascinated her, she now wanted nothing more than to eat alone and quietly for once.
She obediently decked herself out in a dark blue dress—Tortallan style, popular in the south—and touched a few cosmetics to her lips.
When they arrived at Duke Hanno's townhouse, a slave bowed them inside and to the parlor. Alanna had to gasp at her first glimpse of the house's decor. Outside, it flaunted the same ornate characteristics as every other Carthaki house but, inside, adopted a Tortallan look. Woven rugs replaced fur ones, tapestries covered the walls, and torch lamps provided all the light—however sufficient, they offered no competition to the magic lamps Carthakis normally used.
Jarinth nodded when Alanna, confused, pointed these details out. "Hanno was born in Tortall, but moved here to attend the university. He likes these reminders of his old home."
Just then, a white-haired man—about Jarinth's age—strode into the parlor and cried out jovially, "Jarinth!"
Jarinth laughed and embraced him. "Hanno! It's so good to see you again. Thank you for inviting us; we're honored to be here. Let me introduce my student, Lady Alanna of Trebond."
Hanno kissed her hand. "I'm delighted, Alanna. I remember hearing a little about your brother, but I'm sorry to say I never met him."
Alanna curtsied politely, smiling at their tall, slender host. She liked him. "Thank you, Your Grace."
"Oh, don't bother with that! 'Hanno' is fine, please. Are you two hungry? Dinner is ready, if you'd like to eat."
"I, personally, am famished," Jarinth replied.
"Then let's eat! This way." He led them from the parlor, down a hall, up a flight of stairs, and down another hall, passing scores of closed doors along the way. Alanna tagged along behind Jarinth and Hanno as they chatted and laughed.
After dinner, they returned to the parlor to play chess and gossip. Around eight-thirty, Jarinth dozed off. Alanna stared, clueless to what could possibly have made her so tired, and then commented, "If she's this exhausted, we should get home."
"Why not just let her sleep? It's no trouble to me. In fact, why don't the two of you stay the night? If she's this tired, we don't know when she'll wake up."
Alanna bit her lip, thinking quickly, and then smiled politely. "Let me see if she's just dozing off or really out cold…." She gently jostled Jarinth's shoulder. "Jarinth? Jarinth?" Jarinth didn't even twitch.
"I guess that settles it," Hanno remarked cheerfully and clapped his hands to summon two slaves. "Prepare the Blue Room for Alanna to sleep in, and find anything else she needs."
Alanna could only thank him for his hospitality.
The next morning, the slaves had a hot bath and simple cream and light blue day dress waiting for her when she awoke. After dressing, she went to check up on Jarinth in the adjacent room, wondering what in the world had made her so drowsy. At first, she knocked on the door—quietly, then louder—but, if Jarinth heard, she didn't show it. Sighing, Alanna let herself in and strode over to the bed where, indeed, Jarinth still lay with the covers pulled up around her ears.
"Come on, sleepy head, time to wake up," she laughed, shaking her. Jarinth didn't budge. "Oh, Jarinth, what about impressing and not disgusting poor Hanno? Come on, Jarinth!"
Alanna yanked back the covers and blanched.
Dark blood stained the pillows and sheets around Jarinth's head, though her back bore no visible cut. "Oh Goddess," she gasped. Panicking, she reached down and rolled Jarinth—pale, cold, and stiff Jarinth—onto her back, and then stumbled backwards when she saw the knife slash crossing her throat. "Jarinth!" she shrieked. Heart pounding, she bolted from the room and down the hall to Hanno's study, which he had pointed out to her the night before. She burst through the door without knocking.
"Jarinth's dead!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face.
He glanced up from the book in his lap and peered over his reading glasses. "Oh, yes, I know. I killed her."
Then something collided with the back of her head, and everything went black.