Sadye nodded, not really knowing how to respond, not really understanding what Orrin was talking about.
Sadye let her head roll with the bouncing of the wagon as she sat up on the bench beside Orrin. Her thoughts remained on that meeting with the red-haired man and Orrin’s explanation to her that his was a calling beyond the promises of wealth offered by smuggling.
In her youth and inexperience, Sadye couldn’t quite grasp the depth of that argument, and honestly wasn’t sure that she could even understand why anyone would want to spend a decade or more in the sole pursuit of creating a single item, no matter how beautiful or powerful that item might be. Still, something about Orrin’s oration — perhaps it was the sheer intensity in his old gray eyes, an uncharacteristic flash of true life — had caught Sadye’s attention and had held it through all the days since the meeting.
For his part, Orrin had said no more about it, nor about the red-haired man. “Do not fret about it,” he had answered Sadye’s every question, and usually with a dismissive wave of his hand and a denigrating chuckle.
What he had done to mitigate Sadye’s curiosity, however, was to allow her open and continual access to the hematite-lined lute. She even had it now, on the open road, safely tucked under the bench seat, instead of in the crate settled in the back of the wagon. And most amazing of all, Orrin had told her that he would not sell it unless the purchase price included another lute of master craftsmanship, if not magical enhancement.
As she thought about the lute now, Sadye’s eyes drifted down to the hollow below the bench seat.
“Do take it out and play,” Orrin bade her, and when she looked at him, he was smiling widely. “I so enjoy your music, girl. You bring the exuberance of youth and the passion of life’s love to every string you pluck.”
“When I can decide which string I should strike next,” Sadye replied.
“Ah yes,” Orrin said with a laugh, “and the indecision of so many wondrous possibilities! You are not tied to the designs of those who came before you, nor the adult’s fears of humiliation.”
“So you believe that my playing humiliates me?”
That brought another laugh, this one straight from Orrin’s belly. “If I did, would I beg you now to play for me?”
Sadye reached under the bench and produced the lute, bringing it reverently to her lap. Despite her little jibe with Orrin, the young woman knew that she had talent. Orrin called it “an ear for the strands of natural music playing all about her,” and Sadye considered that an apt description. It was almost as if she heard music in her head and had a natural ability to filter that music through her fingers and onto the strings of the lute. She wasn’t a great player — she knew that! — for she had only begun to realize all the possibilities of sound the lute presented to her. Nor could she yet manipulate her fingers to quickly and in rhythm take advantage of the possibilities she did understand.
Sadye quieted then and sat up straighter in her seat. She closed her eyes and found those songs flitting all about her, the rhythms of the world, and then she began to play.
She found melody quickly and settled into a cadence, and was barely aware that her cadence was being strengthened by the percussion of hoofbeats.
It took Sadye a long while, and even took the pressure of Orrin’s hand clenching her arm, before she stopped her playing and opened her eyes to the world around her.
“Riders?” she asked.
Orrin nodded and motioned with his chin behind, and when Sadye turned, she noted the approach of a trio of riders, charging hard to catch up to the wagon.
“Kingsmen,” Orrin explained. “Fear not, for they’ll believe me to be an honest merchant.” He tossed Sadye a wink. “Especially since I’m traveling with my beautiful and talented daughter.”
Sadye grinned; she understood that this was one of the reasons Orrin had bade her to stay on, after all. “Your beautiful and talented daughter who is not possessed of an adult’s fears of humiliating herself.”
“Yes, there is always that,” Orrin quipped without the slightest hesitation, and Sadye’s grin widened.
She began to play again, but couldn’t help but glance back as the trio came thundering by the wagon, two going left, past Orrin, and the third galloping his mount right beside Sadye. She watched the soldier with sincere interest, even awe. He wore a full helm and a metal breastplate, with sleeves and a skirt of interlocking chain links, and shiny black boots that sported large spurs. A broadsword was strapped on one hip, bouncing as his horse galloped past. That horse, a chestnut whose coat glistened with sweat, was tall and strong, an impressive creature, though not as much so as the magnificent To-gai ponies used by the more elite of Ursal’s soldiers, the Allheart Brigade.
To young Sadye, this soldier, this dashing warrior, elicited the dreams of wide horizons, the thoughts of adventure and freedom. She watched him ride up alongside the wagon’s trotting horse and grab it by the bridle, then bring it and the wagon to a fast stop as his two companions rode up beside him.
“Whoa! Good soldiers of King Danube!” Orrin said, and he pulled back his reins, halting the progress of the wagon completely. “All you needed to do was ask, of course! I am an honest merchant, bound for Maer’kin Duvval with my beautiful and talented daughter.
The soldier centering the trio lifted the faceplate on his great helmet. “Your name, good sir merchant.”
“Orrin Davii, of the Ursal Daviis.”
“I know not your family.”
Orrin shrugged. “We are not of noble blood. Merchants, one and all, serving in loyalty to the line of Ursal.” He stood up and bowed as he finished.
“Then serve him now, Merchant Davii,” said the soldier. “Come down from your seat and show us your wares.”
“But they are all packed!”
“Then unpack them.”
The seriousness of the soldier’s response set off an alarm within Sadye, a sudden feeling that not everything here was as it seemed. She glanced at Orrin for consolation, but found that, despite his smile, his movements betrayed a similar uneasiness.
Apparently feeling her stare, Orrin subtly motioned her to stay calm, then stiffly descended from the wagon, his old joints creaking after hours on the bouncy road. He moved back, followed closely by two of the soldiers, while the third, the one who had passed by Sadye’s side, continued to hold the bridle of the draft horse.
Again Sadye felt her heart flutter at the sight of him, so tall and strong in the saddle on so fine a mount.
Sadye finally managed to tear her gaze away and look back, to see Orrin leaning over the back of the wagon, trying to pull one of the crates back. The two soldiers had dismounted, but made no move to help, standing to either side of the old man.
Something about their posture, about the way one’s hand kept moving near to the pommel of his sword, had the hairs on the back of Sadye’s neck standing up. She widened her scan instinctively, looking past the pair, and noted a fourth rider back down the road, milling about in the shadows under a few trees they had just passed. From this distance and under that cover, she couldn’t make out his features, but she could hardly miss his red and curly hair.
Eyes wide now, Sadye glanced back at Orrin, and saw the man beside him draw forth a short sword.
“Orrin!” she cried, but she knew it was too late and that she couldn’t possibly warn the old man in time. She stood up so fast that she nearly tumbled off the wagon.
Had Orrin Davii needed her warning, he surely would have been slain, but the old man was no fool, and knew the difference between an honest inspection on the road and a pretense for a murder. He spun about, one hand on his belt buckle, the other reaching inside the folds of his robe, even as the soldier moved to strike.