“Just tending to the horses.”
“Isn’t that what we have grooms for?”
“You know how she is,” Erika said.
“Oh? How is she?”
“Just, um, fretting over everything,” Erika muttered.
He watched her for a few moments. “Is something wrong?”
Erika forced a smile. “Not at all, grandfather.”
“You bag anything?”
She shook her head. “Santiole had me shooting squirrels.”
“Hard buggers to hit. Oh well. You’ll get them next time. You can shoot at them from the window for all I care. The damned things keep getting into my garden.” He lifted his book and scanned the page for his place. “Get cleaned up and look in the kitchen for your dinner. Daphnie has kept something warm for you.”
Erika bounded up the stairs, happy to be away without any more questions and eager to avoid grandmother for at least an hour or two. She bathed and changed her clothes, then went back down to get her dinner from the cook. The quail was tender, the potatoes smothered in butter, and the beans roasted in garlic. Daphnie explained that the raspberry tart would be the last of grandfather’s berries for the season.
“Daphnie, have you seen Santiole?” she asked the cook as she finished off her dinner at the servants’ table.
Daphnie was a sturdy woman of about thirty-five, wearing an apron that always seemed covered in flour. She cracked a pair of walnuts in one hand and picked the flesh out of the shell, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Came in a little while after you did,” the cook said. “I think she’s with the master.”
“Thank you.” Erika left the last few bites and snuck out into the back hallway, stepping gently, avoiding the creaky floorboards, until she was within hearing distance of the servants’ entrance to grandfather’s study.
She could hear grandfather’s voice, but not what he was saying. Was he talking to Santiole, or one of the servants? Or grandmother? If it was grandmother, Erika needed to stay clear but if it was Santiole…well, Erika had to know if everything went smoothly with Norrine.
She took one more step and cringed as the floorboard creaked loudly under her slippered foot.
“Erika,” grandfather’s voice said. “Come here.”
How the pit did he know it was her? She let out a soft sigh and stepped around the corner, plastering a smile to her face. “Yes, grandfather?”
The smile slid off just as quickly as she’d put it there. Grandfather stood beside the fire, his book abandoned, Santiole beside him. The mistress-at-arms looked serious while grandfather’s forehead furrowed and he drummed his fingers on the mantelpiece thoughtfully.
“Close the door, child.”
The door to the main hallway was already closed. Erika shut the one behind her and felt a sheen of sweat in the small of her back.
“I understand you had your first real kill today,” grandfather said.
“I don’t….”
The lord of the Leora duchy snorted. “Don’t lie to me, girl. Santiole may be your tutor, but she’s my mistress-at-arms. Do you think she’d keep this from me? I know about the mage hunters and I know about the girl.”
Despite his gruff tone, grandfather kept his voice low. He always said that in a nobleman’s house the walls had ears and that even loyal servants might be spying for another noble family.
“Come here.”
Erika crossed the room to stand before her grandfather, trying to look as ashamed as possible. What would he do now? Turn the girl over to the mage hunters? Maybe even turn Erika over? The idea that her own grandfather would betray her had never crossed her mind, but Erika found her nerves suddenly frayed at the thought.
“Chin up. Look me in the eyes,” grandfather said.
She looked up at his face in time to feel the sudden sharp blow of the back of his hand across her cheek. It wasn’t hard enough to make her stumble, but sharp enough to smart. The shock of it was worse than the pain-her grandfather had never been a violent man, even to the boys in the family.
“There’s a consequence for every action, my dear,” grandfather said. He took her chin in her hand and gently rubbed her cheek.
She forced herself to not flinch away. “Yes, sir.”
“No ‘sir,’ my girl. I’m still grandfather.” He gave her a fond smile, but his eyes seemed tired. He turned away to look into the fire. “You did the right thing killing those Longdogs. This won’t be the last time you bloody your hands and Santiole tells me that you barely hesitated. I’m proud of you. Life is cheap in Kez. You have to earn the right for yours to be costly.”
“You’re…proud of me?”
“You came home alive. I know the king’s mage hunters, girl. They’re an unscrupulous lot of murderers and thieves. They would have killed you without hesitation if they thought they could get away with it.”
He still hasn’t brought up the girl. Oh pit. What has he done? Has he ordered Santiole to kill her? Grandfather was not heartless, but he had a reputation for ruthlessness when the safety of his family was concerned. He was a pragmatist first and foremost.
“This never goes beyond this room,” grandfather said.
Erika nodded. A Kez noble is taught many things as a child. Among them, the value of silence.
“What do you have on tap for Erika tomorrow?” Grandfather asked Santiole.
The mistress-at-arms cleared her throat. “Fencing in the morning. Riding in the afternoon, and mathematics in the evening.”
Erika groaned inwardly. She hated mathematics.
“Cancel the arithmetic tutor. I have business in Norport and Erika has decided she would like to return to see her parents in Adro a little earlier than she’d initially planned. We’ll travel light with just a few men and leave tomorrow after my meeting with Lord Sibil in the afternoon.” He pointed at Erika. “When we get to Norport I’ll put you on a schooner across the Adsea to Adopest.”
Erika swallowed. “And the girl?”
“She’ll be going with you. There are people in Adopest who will take her in, and once she’s there you’re to wash your hands of this whole business. Do you understand?”
Erika let out a soft sigh and said a silent prayer of thanks to Kresimir. “Yes, grandfather.”
“Get some sleep. We’re going to ride hard tomorrow. I don’t intend to stop anywhere long enough to get caught with a powder mage runaway.”
Erika arrived at the practice yard behind the main stables at dawn to spar with Santiole. The morning air was brisk, her breath visible in the early light. Her arms felt heavy and her head throbbed from a restless night. Couldn’t they just skip all of this and head to Norport immediately? The sooner she took the girl to Adro, the sooner this would all be over.
Yet despite her nervousness, she felt a thrill at the idea of outsmarting the Longdogs. This was so far beyond her small rebellion of taking hits of black powder from time to time.
“Norrine?” Erika asked quietly when Santiole joined her in the practice yard.
The mistress-at-arms held her small sword out to one side and bounced lightly on her toes, limbering her body. Her long brown hair was tied back behind her head in a bun, reminding Erika that she had forgotten to do the same.
“Checked this morning. Fresh as a fiddle. A little food did her well.”
“You gave her my old shoes?”
“Yes,” Santiole said, her tone cross. “Every little kindness you show like that will come back to bite you. If they catch the girl, they will find out who gave her those shoes. Longdogs are relentless.”
Erika tightened her jaw. “Then I’ll have to be sure they don’t catch her.”
Santiole hung her jacket on the barn door. “Kindness will get you killed in Kez.”
“Or maybe it will make me powerful friends.”
“You speak like an Adran. On guard!” Santiole leapt forward without any warning, the tip of her small sword flashing in the morning light.
Erika couldn’t help the squeak that escaped her mouth as she backpedaled, trying to bring her own sword to bear. She parried once, twice, and then the point of Santiole’s small sword leapt forward to whisper past Erika’s ear.