The Invisible Ring bj-4 Page 8

  “To this day, I have no idea where he was supposed to have taken her or if she got any refreshment before he slipped her out the back door to avoid more assistance.” Jared smiled.

  “Did he tell your mother?” Brock asked.

  The mud and the rain—what did they matter compared to this?

  “My mother and several other witches dined with the Queen that evening. Since it was Ladies only, my father stayed home with my brothers and me. For several days after that, every so often my mother would glance at him and giggle while his face turned red.”

  They walked for a minute in companionable silence.

  Then Brock said, “Corry and Cathryn are walking up ahead. Randolf’s keeping an eye on them, and keeping Eryk away from them.” He paused. “They’re holding hands.”

  Jared and Brock grinned at each other.

  “Go on,” Brock said, hitching a thumb toward the wagon. “Go warm up for a bit and make yourself useful. You might tell her that story. I think Thera would like it, too.”

  More than willing to get out of the rain and give his legs a rest, Jared waited until the wagon caught up to him. Then he let it pass. He stared at the back of it, turning the thought over and over in his mind, testing it against instincts sharpened by the cruelty he’d seen, and endured, over the past nine years.

  Then he hurried to catch up, suddenly wanting the warmth, wanting something to eat, wanting to see if he could read anything in those hard gray eyes when he told her the story.

  He wasn’t sure he trusted the Gray Lady. Yet he felt certain that in some other village on some other street, she, too, had allowed herself to be needlessly shepherded so that a few young boys could proudly say they had served.

  Chapter Eight

  Krelis stared at the spelled brass button in his hand and then at the uneasy guard. “Are you sure?”

  The guard’s face tightened. “I made no mistake, Lord Krelis.”

  Krelis waved his hand, an oblique apology for insulting the man’s skill. His voice thickened with frustration. “What in the name of Hell is she doing?”

  The guard shrugged. “There’s a Coach station less than a mile from that inn—but there’s a better inn right next to the station if she’d intended to buy passage and go on to the Tamanara Mountains.”

  Which is precisely what the bitch should have done.

  “The innkeeper was sure it was the Gray Lady?”

  “An old Queen dressed in gray with twelve slaves. I found that button in the guest servants’ quarters because the slave quarters weren’t ‘comfortable’ enough for her new toys. Maybe she’s trying to tame the Queen killer with sugar instead of the lash.”

  Krelis felt his blood chill. “What Queen killer?”

  “The Shalador pleasure slave who showed his temper a couple of weeks ago. He would have gone to the salt mines of Pruul, but she fancied him.”

  Krelis let his breath out slowly. Fool! He’d already seen the list of slaves, and the Sadist wasn’t on it. Besides, the High Priestess only sold Daemon Sadi’s services. She’d never sell him outright—and she’d never let a dangerous enemy have any kind of control over a male that deadly.

  The name on the list had meant nothing to him, but he’d heard about that Shalador Warlord’s butchery. Would that work in his favor? A dark-Jeweled male turned vicious wouldn’t be tamed again easily. He might even hate the next witch holding the leash enough to strike a crippling blow with no provocation. Doubtful he’d survive if he tangled with the Gray—no loss if he didn’t—but if he weakened her, it would make it that much easier to finish the kill once they found the Gray Lady.

  “There’s a Coach station in easy reach that would get her out of a Territory that stands in Hayll’s shadow. Instead of going there, she buys an old pedlar’s wagon, a team of horses, two saddle horses, and supplies.” Krelis’s voice rose. “To do what? What’s the bitch’s game?”

  The guard shrugged again. “She set out on the road heading northeast, or so the innkeeper said. Lots of small roads branch off it, traveling west and northwest. She could have changed direction. Been lots of rain around there. She can’t be traveling fast, and she’s not traveling light. She packed that wagon with supplies.”

  Krelis’s hand closed around the button. “Which still doesn’t explain what she’s doing!”

  The guard shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Maybe that attack in the spring was more successful than anybody thought. She’s an old woman.”

  Krelis let the idea take root. “It was a vicious attack.” The Gray Lady had escaped last spring, but the violent unleashing of power might have left her mentally unstable. Could she be wandering aimlessly, all the time thinking she was heading for the Tamanara Mountains and safety?

  Krelis slipped the brass button into his pocket. At least he had something to report. “Let the marauder bands know where she was last seen. They’ll know the land around there better than we do.”

  After dismissing the guard, Krelis slumped in his chair. So far his plan was working. If his pet hadn’t left the spelled button, though, he would have had no idea where to start looking for her.

  That Shalador Warlord troubled him a little. There had been no reason for her to go down to those slave pens and even less reason to buy him. She’d already bought a young pleasure slave. She didn’t need another, especially one who had turned savage.

  Or had she bought him with the intention of giving him to a Shalador Queen in exchange for help reaching the Tamanara Mountains?

  Krelis smiled grimly.

  If getting help from Shalador had been her plan, she was already too late.

  Much too late.

  Chapter Nine

  An hour after sunrise, Jared gave a final pat to the bay gelding and roan mare that were already saddled and tethered to the back of the wagon, and approached the door. They’d broken last night’s camp and were ready to move on, but courtesy and a healthy sense of self-preservation told him he should get the Gray Lady’s permission first—especially since he’d never consulted her yesterday afternoon when he had decided they’d all had enough of slogging through rain and mud and had given the order to make camp.

  He raised his hand, but it froze before he could knock on the door. No matter what Jewels he wore, no man would willingly step into that cramped space while two witches were arguing in sharp, low voices that would have been raised to full volume if they hadn’t been trying to keep it private.

  Jared stepped back, unsure what to do—and wished, again, that he hadn’t begun the sham yesterday of being the dominant male. His Jewels might outrank everyone else’s except the Gray Lady’s, but what difference did that make? He was a slave. He was hollow inside. He didn’t want to have authority over the other males. He didn’t want the responsibilities that came with that authority. But he’d let a moment’s temper make that choice for him, and now he was stuck with it.

  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t back away now and just wait until she gave the order to move on.

  Before he could retreat, Tomas opened the door, looking flushed and angry.

  No longer muffled, Thera’s voice had a dangerous edge.

  “You can’t walk. That knee healed better than I thought it would overnight, but it’s not going to take that kind of exercise, and you know it.”

  “Then I can ride one of the saddle horses, or sit on the driving seat. That will give others the opportunity to be inside—”

  “It isn’t raining now,” Thera interrupted. “If you’re so concerned, let’s stay in this camp for a day and give everyone a rest. The animals certainly could use it.”

  Jared winced. Thera sure knew how to twist a verbal knife. By the end of that first morning on the road, they’d all recognized the Gray Lady’s love for animals. If she could have figured out a way to tuck the horses into the wagon to give them a rest, he was sure she would have done it.

  “No.” Was that physical or emotional pain in the Gray Lady’s voice? “We have to kee
p going. I can—”

  Tomas had been looking at Jared. Now he twisted around. “You can just sit and get better like you’re supposed to,” he shouted. “What if you slip in the mud and hurt yourself bad?”

  “If I’m riding a horse—” The Gray Lady had to be gritting her teeth to make the words sound like that.

  But Tomas wasn’t going to be warned or silenced by mere words. “You’ve been walking in the rain for two days now, and you’re a Queen.”

  “Queens don’t melt in the rain.”

  “You could take sick or something. What if your throat gets sore and you can’t talk? Then what are we going to do?”

  An awful silence filled the wagon.

  Jared held his breath, waiting.

  Whatever was said next wasn’t loud enough for Jared to hear, but Tomas grinned and scampered down the steps. His grin widened when the door closed behind him with a less-than-gentle slam.

  “They’re both feeling pissy this morning,” Tomas said cheerfully.

  Jared muttered, “Lucky us.” He looked at the closed door, thought about the “discussion” that had just taken place, then shook his head. His mother had been right: When faced with staying in bed because of illness of injury, even the maturest adult turned into an obstinate child.

  Giving in to the inevitable, Jared trudged to the front of the wagon and gave Thayne the signal to move out.

  Everyone else was ahead of him, Garth so far ahead he’d be out of sight once he topped the small rise. Randolf was leading the rest of them, and Brock had taken a mid position so that he could keep an eye on the wagon and the walkers. Corry was walking between Polli and Cathryn. Blaed was paired with Eryk, who looked grateful to be included again after being shunned by everyone since yesterday’s squabble with Tomas. Tomas walked alone, but there was no indication it wasn’t by choice.

  Jared turned up his coat collar and lengthened his stride enough to catch up to Tomas. The rain had stopped for the moment, but the morning air was cold—and those clouds piling up in the west were a sure sign that there would be another storm by afternoon.

  Tomas gave him a quick glance that told him his presence was an intrusion that would be endured.

  Jared smiled in reply. “If we walk together, we’ll both have some time and privacy for thinking.”

  Tomas looked startled for a moment. Then he grinned and returned to his own thoughts.

  Jared took a deep breath. As he released it, he felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease.

  He hadn’t thought about much in the past couple of days, if he didn’t count the fierce daydreams about staying put in some kind of shelter where he’d be warm and dry, and eating something besides that traveler’s fare the Gray Lady had taught Thera and Polli how to make. He’d learned nothing about the Invisible Ring. If it was shielded, he couldn’t detect the use of Craft. There was no weight, no tightness, none of the things that made a man ever aware of a Ring of Obedience. Hell’s fire, it might as well not be there at all!

  Which wasn’t helping him figure out a way to elude it. Except for the explosion Eryk had caused, they’d had no way to measure the Gray Lady’s temper. A deliberately casual comment by Randolf, and Blaed’s fumbling attempt to get information, indicated the Rings of Obedience weren’t tightly held either. A test of obedience? A trap for the first man who tried to slip the leash? Was that why she didn’t insist that they remain close to the wagon? Was she using the Rings to keep track of them? No way to tell. The Gray Lady kept shifting between acting cold and being concerned, which kept them all off-balance and wary of being near her—except Thera and Tomas. He could understand her putting up with Tomas’s lack of subservience. He’d seen a number of Queens amuse themselves by indulging that kind of behavior in an otherwise powerless slave—and he’d seen what had happened to those slaves when the Queen no longer found it amusing. But he couldn’t understand why the Gray Lady tolerated Thera’s tongue and temper. And he still didn’t understand what it was about this Gray-Jeweled Queen that made something inside him restless enough and hungry enough to keep forgetting why he should fear her.

  All he knew for sure was that they were traveling through rough country, always heading west or northwest, and hadn’t seen anyone since they’d left the inn. They were far enough north to feel the bite of autumn, especially at night, but he still didn’t know what Territory they were in, and the Lady wasn’t saying.

  Or else the Lady didn’t know.

  Not a pleasant thought. Mother Night, none of his thoughts were pleasant! He understood why she wouldn’t allow slaves to ride the Winds by themselves, but why hadn’t she bought passage at the next Coach station if she was determined to bring them back to Dena Nehele?

  And what was she afraid of? That the males would try to break the Rings of Obedience and then call in the Jewels and attack her? Doubtful. The stories whispered about her were sufficient reason for any sane man to think long and hard before challenging her. And in truth, there were only five out of the twelve of them who were whole enough and trained enough to be even a potential threat to her.

  So there had to be some other reason for the flashes of anxiety he had picked up from her over the past couple of days, despite her effort to hide them. Did the message she’d received just before they’d left Raej have anything to do with this demand to keep moving?

  Jared scowled. Whatever it was, it was her problem, not his.

  He’d give it another day. Maybe two. He didn’t know exactly where he was, but he did know he was still east of the Tamanara Mountains and south of Shalador. Another day or two, and then the hollow man masquerading as the dominant Warlord would test the leash attached to the Invisible Ring and see if it would reach as far as Ranon’s Wood.

  Just for a little while. Just long enough. After that, he would accept whatever happened to him.

  To keep himself from traveling down that path, Jared broke the comfortable silence. “What difference does it make if the Lady’s throat gets sore?”

  Tomas shot him a nasty look.

  “I wasn’t implying that it wouldn’t matter if she got sick,” Jared said. Hell’s fire, the boy was pricklier than a Warlord Prince.

  “Well, if her throat gets sore and she can’t talk, how’s she going to tell us the next part of the story? She’s the only one who knows.”

  Before Jared could say anything, Tomas launched into the story about a group of children who had been captured by a Queen who had become greedy and cruel. By banding together, they managed to escape and decided to travel to a protected Territory where the Blood still believed they were the caretakers of the land and Craft was a power used responsibly. They had a number of adventures, getting help from unlikely, and sometimes humorous, sources as they eluded troops of guards and marauder bands.

  As Tomas retold the story, Jared wondered if any of the children had thought it strange that the children in the story had the same names as they did, or if that just added to the delight as they outwitted the forces the wicked Queen sent after them. He also couldn’t quite dismiss the tiny spark of resentment that Thera and Polli had been transformed into children for the tale but none of the adult males had been included.

  And the tale itself . . . A land and a people whose Queen still balanced power with honor standing against a land and a people corrupted by a twisted witch. Did the Gray Lady see herself as the last defense against Dorothea’s influence and corruption of power?

  What if she was?

  The thought rocked him back on his heels, and a whisper of hope began to take root inside him.

  What if she was? What did anyone really know about the Gray Lady? If she wasn’t a deadly, ruthless Queen, why didn’t traders from neighboring Territories correct anyone who spoke harshly about her? Or did no one disagree with the stories that were told because a fierce reputation kept her people and the bordering Territories better protected?

  Tomas reached the point in the story where the children were standing on the edge of a cliff,
with a fast-moving river far below them and a marauder band riding up to cut off any chance of escape.

  “Then what happened?” Jared demanded, a little embarrassed that, despite his wandering thoughts, he’d still been listening to the story.

  Tomas shrugged and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Don’t know. Maybe she’ll tell us tonight—if her throat doesn’t get sore.”

  “Ah.” Was there a discreet way of telling the Lady that the adult males would enjoy the story, too?

  “Jared!” Thera called from behind him.

  Knowing it was childish but somehow blaming her because he’d been excluded from the entertainment, Jared hunched his shoulders and lengthened his stride. Maybe he could pretend he hadn’t heard her.

  Randolf, who was walking ahead of Jared, glanced over his shoulder and quickened his pace. Blaed, however, looked back and hesitated.

  Jared glared at both of them.

  “Lord Jared!”

  Jared winced, swore softly, and turned around.

  Thera stomped through the mud, her clenched hands swinging from stiff arms, her color high, and her green eyes blazing with temper.

  Jared glanced at Brock, who rolled his eyes but made no effort to get closer. Blaed, having turned back, swung to Jared’s left, close enough to look supportive but still far enough away not to be included in the discussion. Even Tomas stepped away from him.

  Were they giving him maneuvering room, or just trying to avoid getting hit by mistake if she tried to punch him?

  “Lord Jared,” Thera said again as she stomped up to him. “The Lady needs some entertainment.”

  Blood rushed into Jared’s face and drained out again, leaving him shaken. Thera didn’t have much tact, but even she should know better than to state it so baldly.

  Thera hesitated for a moment, puzzled. Then her eyes blazed even brighter. “Not that, you fool. Although sitting on her may be the only way you’re going to get her to be sensible and stay off that leg.” She swiped at the hair that had escaped from the loose braid. “Hell’s fire, you’d think the woman had never had to spend a day in bed in her entire life! She’s so stubborn, so . . . so . . .”