Feeling his friend's gaze upon him, Pedric raised his eyes. There was very little about him now that bespoke the debonair rake he used to be. He had not changed clothing since the incident two nights ago, nor had he bathed. His thick brown hair was wild and his face was pale, save for the huge bruises that encircled his eyes, the result of lack of sleep and the broken, healing nose. It was almost only by sheer force of will that Deveren had managed to get him to choke down some food. As soon as Vervain pronounced him well enough to rise, Pedric had gone to the Council Seat. Deveren presumed he was scouring the dark back streets and unsavory areas in search of the girl. But such searches, including those performed by the city guards, had yielded nothing.
Tonight, Healsdae, had been the first time Deveren had been able to gather his thieves. He cleared his throat, and with a silent prayer that they would listen, he began.
"This is my first instruction to you as your leader, and I know it's not what you're expecting. I've got no plans for a heist, no theories on where the biggest crowds will be for pickpocketing come the Midsummer Festival. I'm asking- telling-you to keep your eyes and ears open for news.
"Lisdae evening, Pedric here was viciously attacked and his lady abducted from the maze in the Garden. The incident occurred sometime between Death's hour and Vengeance's hour. Pedric was set upon from behind and is unable to identify his attackers. The woman who was abducted-" and here Deveren took a deep breath, "-was Lorinda Vandaris, only child of the Head Councilman. No doubt, you've heard about this before now. I can't imagine that any of you could have missed the redoubling of security that's been going on the two days."
Murmurs of alarmed surprise greeted Deveren's statement. They had heard about the abduction, but clearly had no idea that young Pedric, one of their own, had been so intimately involved. All of the faces showed concern; but to Deveren's surprise and pleasure, some showed sympathy.
He attempted to lighten the mood a little. "Now, I'm certain that you'd hesitate to go to Vandaris or Jaranis with any information. Can't say that I'd blame you. But you-any of you-can come to me if you've heard anything-anything at all. Even," he added pointedly, "if it's bad news." Bear had been notorious for blaming the messenger of bad tidings. Deveren was wise enough to realize that if he wanted to use his thieves as an information-gathering system, he needed to establish himself as an understanding leader. Who would deliver bad tidings if a beating was certain to ensue?
'To prove what I say," he continued, "I'm offering a reward to whoever can give me information leading to recovering Lorinda." He glanced at Pedric again, then went on. "Alive… or dead. A higher reward if she's alive."
"No one will be troubled by the law," said Pedric unexpectedly. "There will be no repercussions. And I'll add my purse to whatever Deveren's offering. Please," and his voice cracked ever so slightly, "help me to find her."
Deveren continued, giving a detailed account of what had happened that night and Lorinda's physical appearance. When he had finished, he listened to various comments and questions, and when all business had been attended to, the meeting degenerated into a social swirl.
He expected the worst when Marrika separated herself from Freylis and walked over to Pedric. The younger man, too, tensed. Marrika was a volatile woman. What was she up to? She glanced over at Deveren, then addressed Pedric. "I'm sorry to hear of your loss," she said. A muscle tightened in Pedric's jaw. "I'm sure you are," he said in a tone that indicated precisely the opposite.
"You don't believe me. I admit I was angry when we parted, but I certainly wouldn't be cruel enough to wish something like this on you." She touched his shoulder gently. "I am sorry," she repeated.
Pedric gazed into her eyes, then smiled slightly. "Thank you," he said. She squeezed his shoulder and walked away, slipping into Freylis's arms for a quick embrace before settling into her usual corner, taking out her carving knife, and beginning to work on a chunk of whalebone.
"Seems we may have judged Raven a touch harshly," said Deveren softly to Pedric. The youth shrugged.
"It doesn't matter. All that matters is finding Lorinda." He took a deep breath, seemed to rouse himself, and asked, "Why didn't you mention the attack on your life? Someone might have come forward with information."
Deveren laughed, a sound that had no humor in it. "With this group — at least the way they are now-that would only be putting ideas in their heads. The ones who tried it will probably try it again. And the ones that didn't might think it would be a grand idea. No, I'll just keep my eyes and ears open."
"And hire a taster."
The breeze was high on HoDesdae, but the weather was otherwise mild. Hair, capes, dresses, and hats were tousled by the wind but all the celebrants were in good humor. After all, today was a citywide holiday in Ilantha.
The death of the former Blesser of Love had been swift and unexpected. She was only in her forties, far too young, one might think, to have had a killing seizure that stopped her heart within minutes. The Healer who had been summoned had been able to do nothing, and she had died, ironically, on Healsdae. Fortunately, the Healer assured the grieving community, the Blesser's death had been quick and painless.
The city was plunged into mourning for a full day. But with the dawning of HoDesdae, mourning was cast aside. It was a new beginning, with a new Blesser of the best-loved goddess in Verold. The revelers who thronged the winding streets of the port city wore their most festive colors; the shopkeepers were quick to come up with items to commemorate the day, and taverns were crowded.
Probably the most pleased celebrant was the young king. He wondered if the gods would be angry at him for being so happy that one of their Blessers had died, but the nature of this ceremony demanded that he be present. And that got him out of Seacliff, and out, for a few brief moments, from under the thumb of Bhakir.
Oh, certainly the guards were still there, but there was at least the illusion of freedom as young King Castyll rode on his fine mount at the side of the youthful Tender. On such occasions, when the king was residing in that particular city, tradition demanded that he be the escort of the Blesser-to-be as he or she rode the "Long Mile" from the Holy House to the center of town. Sometimes it was, of course, longer than a mile; sometimes it was only a few feet. Nobody cared. The Long Mile it was called, and the Long Mile it would remain.
Castyll and his entourage, including Bhakir, had arrived at the door of Love's temple at dawn. A throng of citizens had followed, eager to witness the entire ceremony from beginning to end. Adara, the Tender who had been appointed to succeed the late Blesser, appeared at the door. Castyll, even in the midst of dark thoughts and longing for his freedom, couldn't help but notice how young and vulnerable she looked. She was only fourteen, younger even than he. But like him, Adara carried herself well, and the enormous responsibilities that came hand in hand with being the Blesser of Love in such a large city did not seem to rest awkwardly on her narrow shoulders.
Her hair was braided with wildflowers, and she wore not the light blue robe of a Blesser, but the simple white garment that marked her, for the moment, as a mere Tender. Her feet were bare, used to walking inside the Holy House and through Love's garden without protection.
She was not beautiful, but her smile was. He proffered his arm and Adara took it, letting him escort her to the unsaddled mare which awaited her. She mounted clumsily and her grip on the horse's mane was white-knuckled, but her face betrayed nothing of her fear. Castyll's heart went out to her. She was so young to have had this thrust upon her. But then, so had he been. His sympathy soured into a stab of self-pity as he thought that at least Adara's predecessor had died a natural death. The late Blesser of Love had not been helped along toward her meeting with the Dark Lady by a scheming counselor.