Savior Page 3

  Java sat back, thinking about the girl. Misery was nothing new to her, but she had never seen it so plain on a newlywed. With the absence of the other lords, the meal took on a family atmosphere. The younger royals were somewhat surprised by Shair’s obvious affection for Sabrina, but didn’t make an issue of it. That made Sabrina relax a little.

  Duke Kaster asked a few questions to draw her into the conversation as Sabrina’s stiff posture relaxed. “Mistress Sabrina, I understand that Duchess Samantha was using your inn as her base of operations during the war. Did you get to know her very well?”

  Sabrina smiled. Samantha was a safe topic for her. “Oh, yes, Lord Duke. The duchess is a, well, maybe wonderful is a bit strong, but a very nice person. She did her best to keep everyone at ease with her. Except the old men who didn’t like having women in charge.” Sabrina’s smile turned impish as she described Samantha’s encounter with the men who objected to fighting under the command of women. “She’s quite a woman.”

  Panit sighed, surprising Java. “I’d really like to meet her. Where is the new capital?”

  “In Morrisdale, just across the border, Prince Panit,” Sabrina answered, more at ease with the younger royalty than the elders. After more than a year with Samantha, Java could understand that.

  “Father?” Panit asked, his eyebrows raised.

  “You’re an adult, Pan. Just take an escort. It’s not as safe now as it was when I was a boy.” Kaster’s grin as he looked at Werrin was sly. “You never know who you might meet.”

  Panit, Dena and Gemin all burst into laughter, surprising the others in the room. Java looked curiously at Kaster and Werrin, but Werrin waved her away. “Some other time, Java. It’s something of a family joke.”

  Java nodded, accepting that there would always be secrets she would not be privy to. Turning her attention back to Panit, she said, “Prince Panit, before we leave there are a few things about Duchess Samantha that you should be made aware of. We’ll find time to speak later.” Java’s smile was soft as she thought of her ‘daughter’ with this handsome young prince. Maybe Sam’s prospects are looking up after all.

  * * *

  Princess Dena came to visit Java late that night. Java was alone in the suite that was normally used by visiting dukes. Robin and Jah’Moke had both been taken to smaller suites that were reserved for minor nobility.

  Dena’s quiet knock was answered almost immediately. “Come in,” Java whispered.

  Dena looked at Java in the dim light of the room. “Mother said she told you about us.”

  “Yes, she did. The only people I’ve ever seen move like your mother are the captain and Lieutenant Skyhaven. Here, or did you have something else in mind?” Java’s grin was eager. After so long practicing against the other Scouts, a completely unknown opponent was a challenge she was looking forward to.

  Dena’s answer was to kick at Java’s head. Reflexes took over as the two young women sparred. Dena was fast, even faster than her mother. Java was out of practice, but gave a good account of herself. Silence was the rule of the encounter, and since they weren’t really trying to hurt one another, the bout lasted for more than an hour before Dena collapsed on the floor. Java’s knees wobbled and she sat beside Dena.

  “Wow! Not even Lieutenant Skyhaven is that fast!” Java gasped. Dena had scored again and again, though Java had given as good as she got.

  Dena looked at Java, gulping air before she could speak. “If I hadn’t seen it, I never would have believed it,” she said, pausing to pant a little. “Are you sure you’re not of the Clan?”

  “No, I’m not sure, but it’s unlikely. Father is the son of the son of a servant. Mother is from Taskany, but her parents were from the Patrini fisherfolk. Neither of them is particularly fast.” Java was catching her breath quickly.

  Dena looked up at the girl beside her and grinned. “Princess Java, we simply must do this more often,” she said softly, acting like an empty-headed court twit and making Java laugh.

  “Yes, Princess Dena, we must.” Java levered herself up from the floor and offered Dena a hand. “Does Barten know?”

  “Barten is Clan, Java, but he’s like Gem and Pan: No talent. It may sound a little mercenary, but we’re hoping that all of our children will have the gifts.” Dena was recovering as fast as Java, and the two went to the bedside table for a drink of watered wine. Dena raised her glass to Java. “Friends and allies.”

  Java raised her own glass. “Friends and allies.”

  * * *

  Kaster and Werrin waited until late in the night before collecting Marta and Shair for a more private conference. Sabrina was invited, but declined.

  “Well, so this is what Arten and Naria had planned for her. That cousin of mine is in for trouble if he keeps this up,” Kaster said as he poured wine for all of them.

  “He came close to having more trouble than he could handle when we found out about his adopting Java. Naria and I are long overdue for a screaming session.” Marta was sipping her wine, savoring the fine vintage. “Though, really, I think Java is doing quite well. It was just such a shock that they didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Typical. What are your plans, Marta?” Kaster asked, leaning forward in his chair.

  “I will see to Link County until Java’s children are old enough to take over, or she replaces me. I had planned on going home and living with my brother, but he doesn’t really want me there. He only said yes out of familial duty. The eldest son and all that. Java wants me to be there for her in Link County, and wants me to stay at the manor.” Marta laughed a little at that. “She calls me her family.”

  Shair nodded. “I told Naria that I considered Java to be my daughter when you ennobled her. Marta had to all but tie me to my bed to keep me in Firedale when we found out they had adopted her.”

  “So she made you her family by giving you her counties. Don’t think we don’t see what she’s doing. You two mean more to her than just about anyone else in the world. This isn’t a reward or anything like that. It is a desperate attempt by that young woman to hold onto you two.” Kaster fixed Marta and Shair with a pointed stare that left both of them feeling a bit self-conscious.

  Marta nodded. “We know, Kaster. But, after so long, after so many disappointments, after everything I put her through, having her come to me and ask me to stay with her...” Marta paused to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “Look at me.”

  Werrin went to Marta’s side and hugged her. “She’s like your child, Marta. And yours, Shair. She told us a little about her family when she was here before. I found out more after she left. This religion her father follows is patriarchal and authoritarian. They have no Mother Goddess. Women are only servants to the greater glory of Cabal. She had to defy her father and her god to join you. Now she is the heir of the duchy, but she still has to hide her relationship with Robin because of that religion. You two, and the Firewalkers, accept her as she is, and she needs you because of that. There isn’t a woman who is wearing the Firewalker’s uniform who cannot ask her for anything that is within her power to give.”

  “We know, Werrin. Java left her strongbox with Daria. Just in case it was needed. Werrin, there’s a year’s pay for the whole company in that box and more. And she just left it for her friends. Shair has a key, as does Daria. What does that say about her?” Marta was looking back and forth between Kaster and Werrin as she spoke.

  “It says that she loves you more than silver and gold. She is still wearing the uniform of a Firewalker. Until she takes it off, she will always think of herself as one of you,” Kaster said, looking pointedly at his guests. Both women wore the Firewalker Dress Uniforms that had defined their lives for so very long.

  * * *

  Java and her party spent a week with Kaster and Werrin before heading to Hiddendell. Java and her friends found themselves accepted by Dena and Panit while Gemin ignored them. Elissand joined in whenever Dena did. They were childhood friends, and Dena’s acceptance of Java made it easie
r for her. They played like nobles when Dena led, like Scouts when Java led. Jah’Moke shone like a falcon among doves when they played like Scouts, impressing both Dena and Panit.

  “I’ve never seen anyone who could move in the forest like that,” Dena said after Jah’Moke had tagged both her and Panit.

  “Even you?” Panit asked, laughing.

  “Even Mom,” Dena said thoughtfully. “I have to test him, one on one.”

  Panit looked sideways at his sister and grinned. “Just keep it to fighting. Barten may not be the jealous type, but I think Java is.” He ducked just in time to avoid her fist as he laughed.

  Dena arranged for Java and Jah’Moke to meet her late one night. Java led Jah’Moke into the armory where Dena had said they were to meet. Dena slid out of the shadows as soon as they arrived and bowed slightly to Jah’Moke.

  “Jah’Moke, I have been curious about your skills compared to Java’s. She and I have sparred a number of times, and now I would like to spar with you.”

  Jah’Moke nodded and dropped into a ready stance. Java got clear quickly, watching her friends. Jah’Moke was good, but not that good.

  Dena started slow, feeling for Jah’Moke’s weaknesses, testing his skills. When she attacked, he absorbed her blows and retaliated by flipping her away from him. Jah’Moke attacked next, an unexpected move on his part, and Dena had to dive clear to avoid him. Their moves came faster and more subtly, each finding the other to be a much better fighter than expected. Dena finally got a killing blow in on Jah’Moke, then collapsed on to the dirt floor.

  “Are all Scouts like this?” she asked as she panted for breath.

  “Only the ones who have lived through their first battle, Princess Dena,” Jah’Moke answered seriously. “Those who don’t measure up die.”

  * * *

  Java parted with Shair and Sabrina amid tears and laughter. Shair clasped Java as tightly as she could, her tears soaking into Java’s hair. “Be careful, sweetling. I don’t want to lose you again.”

  “You never will, Shair. You never will,” Java whispered back, snuggling into Shair’s embrace for a moment before reluctantly backing away.

  Sabrina stepped forward and hugged Java briefly. “I’ll take good care of her, Princess,” she whispered, making Java’s throat tighten even more. Sabrina understood how Shair and Java felt about one another.

  Marta stood with Java as they watched their friends ride back toward Firedale. Java stood as close as possible to Marta without actually touching her until Marta put her arm around her shoulder. Then she snuggled close, drawing strength from her captain.

  “They’ll be fine, Java. Sabrina has the stability that Shair has needed for a long time.”

  “But will I be fine? I’ve always counted on Shair, Captain,” Java whispered, wiping a tear from her eye.

  Marta chuckled and squeezed Java’s shoulders. “I think so, Scout,” she said softly, then she led Java to where their own horses and the Firewalkers were waiting. Mounting, she bowed from the saddle one last time to Kaster and Werrin. “Until next time,” she said softly to her friends.

  Kaster grinned. “Until next time, Lady Freeholm,” he answered, laughing at Marta’s wry expression. Naria is going to laugh herself sick over this.

  Java led them out of Greensboro on the road to Hiddendell. Her mind was on Shair, and how much she was going to miss her. She kept looking back, though the city had swallowed Shair and Sabrina within moments of their parting. Robin and Jah’Moke stayed close to her, offering her the support she needed. Finally, as they passed the west gate of Greensboro, Java took one last look back and then faced resolutely forward, a single tear sliding unheeded down her cheek.

  Marta rode beside Maren at the head of the Firewalkers. Watching Java’s reaction to Shair leaving, she wondered again, how can she feel so deeply for us after everything that’s happened?

  Maren saw her former captain’s thoughtful look and guessed what she was thinking. “She’s a Firewalker through and through, Marta.”

  “Yes. She’s as much a part of the Firewalkers as any woman has ever been.”

  The road they were following lead them toward Wyvern’s Nest, the County Seat of Wyvern County, and the home of Lord Danilad Froman. His pointed snub of Java when she had first visited Greensboro, ignoring her because of her low birth, still rankled, but she hoped he would be friendlier this time.

  She had traveled through Greencastle in the early spring, late fall and high summer, but now, in early fall, the brilliant colors of the trees and the rich farmlands proved to be an antidote to her sadness. Within two days of leaving Greensboro she was back to being her normal self.

  * * *

  In keeping with the Firewalkers normal procedures when traveling, Maren had sent out her Scouts, including Corporal Wainwright, and they kept the command informed of their progress.

  As the fifth day was coming to a close, Mesta came galloping back, her face serious. Swinging her horse into line beside Maren, she saluted. “Sir, there’s a city ahead which should be Wyvern’s Nest. The city gates are closed, and there appears to be trouble. Several fires are burning, and I could hear the sounds of fighting from within the city.”

  Maren immediately took charge, making Marta silently proud of the woman she had trained. “Archers, to the front. Cavalry, ten abreast. Infantry, back the Cavalry. Princess, you and your party to the back, please.”

  Java balked, but a look from Marta quelled her objections. Joining Marta at the back of the column, she loosened her knives in their sheaths.

  Jah’Moke had kept his knives in his saddlebag and quickly donned them, as well as stringing his bow.

  Marta brought out an old, lovingly maintained bandoleer with Dreadlocks’ markings and donned it, grinning at her friends. “Some things never change, Java.”

  Maren led the Firewalkers to Wyvern’s Nest at a slow trot. They did not know what had happened, but it was obviously a riot of some sort. The Guards at the gates recognized the Firewalker uniforms and shouted for them to stop.

  “We have a major riot in here. Are you here to help?” an officer shouted down at Maren.

  “We offer whatever assistance we can provide. I am Lieutenant Kelven. Where do you need us?” Maren shouted up, seeing the relief on the officer’s face.

  “There’s a riot in the Weaver’s district, Lieutenant. We need crowd control and firefighters,” he shouted back, motioning Maren forward.

  Robin immediately rode forward. “Lieutenant Kelven, get me an escort. I can use Fire-control Spells, but I have to be closer than this.”

  Maren nodded and shouted back up to the officer. “Master Mage Robin says she can handle the fires, but she needs a guide. Who do you have?”

  The officer, a very young lieutenant, scrambled down as the gates opened and ran out to Robin’s side. “Master Robin, this way please. I’ll guide you. Lieutenant Kelven, please leave your horses outside the gate and follow us,” he said over his shoulder as he led Robin away. Java was fidgeting in her saddle, wanting more than anything to follow Robin, and knowing she couldn’t.

  “Java, we can see to the horses. But you, Princess, may not go in there until this is through.” Marta held Java’s hand on her saddle horn, forcing Java to look into her eyes.

  “I know, Captain,” Java said softly, her eyes bleak as she heard the screams from within the city. Jah’Moke stayed by her side, preferring to protect Java rather than take part in the fighting. These people were strangers, while Java was everything to him.

  Java dismounted and busied herself seeing to the Firewalkers’ horses as the women streamed away to follow the officer. Three guardsmen came out and approached Marta.

  “Ma’am? Thank you. There are only about twenty of us here, and we can’t handle this kind of disturbance.”

  Marta looked the young man in the eye, then nodded. “What happened to trigger this?”

  “It’s between two rival Houses of the Weaver’s Guild, Ma’am. The House of Corinton agains
t the House of Martinston. They are related ten ways to hell, but they fight like starving dogs over a single bone,” the man said hotly. “We have a lot of trouble with them.”

  The effectiveness of Robin’s spells was immediate and dramatic. From one heartbeat to the next the skyline went from brightly lit by a dozen fires to darkened by pillars of smoke. The presence of the Firewalkers had a dramatic effect as well. The rioters had ignored the Guard for the most part, but the addition of two hundred battle-hardened warriors convinced them that discretion was the better part of being beaten unconscious. Within two hours, the riot was over.

  Maren returned to the gate, her face grim. “They did a lot of damage. Lord Froman isn’t in residence, so they figured they could get their fighting done before he returned.”

  Java stepped forward, looking up at Maren. “Lieutenant Kelven, did the Firewalkers suffer any casualties?”

  “No, Princess. Nothing serious at least. A few bruises, a knock on the head, that sort of thing,” Maren replied, missing the lieutenant’s reaction to her calling Java Princess.

  The lieutenant stepped forward cautiously. “Excuse me, but did you say princess?”

  Maren nodded. “This is Princess Java of Hiddendell, Lieutenant.”

  The lieutenant immediately went to his knee, bowing his head. “Welcome to Wyvern’s Nest, Princess Java.”

  Java nodded her head gravely. “Where is Mage Robin?”

  “She’s with the wounded, Princess Java,” the lieutenant immediately replied, gesturing over his shoulder.

  With a glance at Marta, she stepped forward. “Take me there.”

  Marta stepped up beside her, nodding. Jah’Moke took her other side and the three followed the lieutenant to an inn next to a burned-out warehouse. Robin looked up when Java entered, but quickly returned to the task of casting healing spells.

  “Doesn’t this city have any Magi of its own?” Marta asked, and the lieutenant shook his head.

  “Only in the employ of Lord Froman, Ma’am.”