A breeze sifted over the stones, carrying with it the scent of overripe flowers and the fainter tang of salt. Anna shivered, in spite of the heat.
Magic vibrated in the air. She felt its echo in her bones; she could almost hear the chants of priests from a civilization long dead.
What had brought Lord Aldo Sarrész to this strange and lonely place?
Her horse shifted underneath her, as if sensing her uneasiness.
It was just a case of nerves, she told herself. Over the past three months, the search for Aldo Sarrész had led her from the city of Duenne, the heart of the Empire, through half the western provinces, and across the ocean, to this island called Vyros in the midst of the Eddalyon archipelago. Everything here felt alien, from the dense jungles and the overbright sky to the sense of ancient magic permeating the stones. She reminded herself that once they completed their mission, she could leave the islands behind and go home to Duenne. Besides, as the supposed Lady Vrou Iljana, she had a reputation to uphold. Folly. Extravagance. A taste for excitement. Anything to explain why she had insisted on this most improper and possibly dangerous outing.
Her two companions in this adventure drew their horses next to hers. Both were men skilled with sword and knife. Both of an age between forty and fifty and, by accident or planning, they had the same sharp-cut features and ruddy brown complexion of the northeast provinces as she did.
At Lukas Raab’s signal, the six young men who served as their guards obediently arranged themselves in a loose circle. Raab had hired these men from Iglazi’s local market, where the free swords often gathered, and he’d spent the past three days drilling them in proper military discipline. With little success, apparently, because Maté Kovács regarded the men with a faint air of exasperation.
With a sigh, Maté turned away from the guards and indicated the ruins. “Well, Lady Vrou. Does this please you?”
“I don’t know.” She sighed in return. “Perhaps. It is a ruin, to be sure. And it is ancient.”
The hired guards exchanged amused glances. Anna could tell what they thought: here was yet another eccentric noblewoman seeking adventure. Even though that was precisely what she intended them to believe, she still wanted to box their ears, the hypocrites. According to Raab, these young men were all the sons of minor nobles, who had come to Eddalyon with a small allowance and large taste for gambling. Having squandered their money, they hired themselves out as common guards to avoid bonded servitude.
They had no way of knowing their Lady Vrou Iljana Klos was really Anna Zhdanov, a bonded servant herself, ordered by Hêr Lord Brun to recover the valuable artifact Sarrész had stolen from the Imperial court—and not just any artifact, but a rare magical jewel said to be a gift from the goddess Lir herself. One the Emperor depended upon for his endless wars to expand the Empire’s territory.
Maté knew her identity, as did Raab, but then, they served the same master.
“Raab,” she said. “What do you think?”
Raab shrugged. “I think you are hungry, Lady Vrou.”
Maté scowled. Anna tried to calculate the best response. The Lady Iljana would reprimand a servant, but Anna Zhdanov knew who actually commanded this mission. “I am hungry,” she said. “But I would like to know if I am safe as well. That is why my father hired you.”
One of the guards choked down a laugh. Raab shot a glare at the man but managed to tamp down his irritation. Perhaps he too considered the roles they had to play.
“I have not forgotten,” he said stiffly. “If my lady will excuse me, I should inspect the grounds. Kovács, come with me. You three”—he pointed to the three closest guards—“take the outer watch. The rest of you stay with our Lady Vrou.”
He and Maté dismounted and tethered their horses. The three guards he indicated dismounted as well and moved to the perimeter of the square. The others settled into their saddles. They were not bad young men, Anna thought, merely foolish. She wished she could have set out on today’s expedition with only Maté and Raab, but no one jaunted about in the wilderness without half a dozen guards, especially not a member of the nobility. And though she was only pretending to be a noble, the risk was very real, here on the edge of the Empire.
A risk she had agreed to, in spite of all the dangers. Hêr Lord Brun knew Anna all too well, damn him. Deliver Sarrész and the jewel by autumn, he’d said, and she would not only receive a generous sum of money, but he would sign all the papers, pay every Imperial clerk, to cancel her bond. She might travel wherever she liked, live however she wished, instead of depending on his goodwill. She would be free.
I could buy a pair of rooms for myself. One for my books. One for my bed and a fireplace to cook my breakfast. And a lock on the door…
She swung down from her horse and tossed the reins to the nearest guard. Thoughts of doors and locks and the absence thereof made her restless. She set off across the empty square, ignoring the ripple of magic beneath her boots. Walking wasn’t enough to drive away those memories, but it was all she had.
I told him yes. But what does yes mean when no means less than nothing? I had no home, nowhere else to go.
She fetched up against the opposite boundary of the square. For a moment, the stones did not register, nor the forest beyond. She still saw Brun’s face, that assessing gaze of his, as he calculated whether to use seduction or the age-old rights of nobles over slaves and bonded servants. In the end, he had not forced her—at least by the ordinary use of the word.
She blinked, and Brun’s face dissolved, replaced by the impenetrable mass of green a few yards away. Sunlight beat down upon the open square, but the forest was dark even at this late morning hour. Off to one side, the hired guards were muttering among themselves, no longer sounding amused or bored. No doubt they had heard tales of brigands and pirates along Vyros’s coast. So had Maté, who disliked this expedition and had expressed that dislike, in spite of all the clues that led them here.
“My lady. Lady Vrou.”
Maté burst from the forest at a jog, with Raab close behind. Both were breathless, as though they had galloped a mile up the mountainside. With great effort, she pretended to yawn. “What is the matter? Did you discover a ferocious mouse?”
Neither man laughed, and Raab glanced around at the guards, as though to reassess their worth. Maté’s expression was much harder to read. Excited? Anxious? She could not tell.
“Nothing so terrible, my lady,” Raab said. “But we’ve discovered a far better prospect for your picnic.”
“Ah, interesting.” Anna looked toward Maté. “And you, what do you say?”
He shrugged with a fair show of indifference. “Our friend is correct for once. We’ve come across the perfect site for you—an exquisite patch of shore, with an equally exquisite expanse of ocean.” His voice dropped low, in an imitation of their innkeeper’s breathless tone. “Indeed, it cannot be matched elsewhere.”
Sarrész, she thought. He’s found a clue.
“Excellent,” she said. “Let us mount up and you shall lead me to this nonpareil view.”
* * * *
A narrow trail, little more than a gap in the forest, brought them down from the summit to a wider path. Anna noted the carefully tended road with growing unease. This was not another work of priests from centuries past. Someone had cleared away the tangle of trees and vines, someone else had paved sections with bricks and stones against the late-summer rains, and those someones were most likely bandits smuggling goods over the mountain.