Chapter 39 #2
That was the justification I needed to head off.
Thomas would no doubt find Sandra, who’d update him.
Hopefully, they’d have time to discuss her options, and they’d both be happy with the choices they had and whatever her path forward was.
It wasn’t like she was shirking her duties.
She was still learning the basics. But she’d started so late.
I understood the social rules and requirements before I was even bleeding, and here she was, almost a woman grown, well and truly of age where she could be booking in her wedding and making vows before the One.
To think, I’d be a married woman had it not been for the brutal end of my betrothal.
Married. To Luca.
The thought of being tied to that man didn’t make me want to weep, as it once had. Something had changed since the plague. Mayhap it was just that I was no longer pledged to him, and he no longer treated me like a child.
The workers hailed me on the way past the marketplace. “Come look!” they cried, waving to me. “Look! The seats are ready to go in!”
I detoured to admire their work and their energy. Considering few had any stonemason experience before this, they’d done a phenomenal job.
We were going to look far more prosperous than we really were come the tourney.
Even as I thought it, I spotted a small family group looking around, their faces unfamiliar, their clothes cut in the conservative styles of the eastern provinces.
They were already gaping at the height of the walls and the density of the buildings, so I left them to find their own way, knowing someone would catch them and send them to a community center.
Out in the orchard, it was still cool in the shade, though the wind had the hot promise of summer.
We rode deep into the dappled light between the old trunks of the apple trees.
I kept track of our location in my mind, marking each beehive and the few landmarks we passed, until we reached a lively stream.
“Hunt and track,” Isolde told me, waving a hand at the river.
“You’ve got until I’ve cared for the horses.
” I leapt down and tossed her my reins, already taking off.
“You, too,” she told Chay. “Let’s see how long you last, hiding from me.
” Then, to my surprise, she added, “I’d recommend the stream, myself.
It’ll muddy your prints.” I paused for a moment, glancing over my shoulder, but Isolde was watching me, not Chay. “Well?” she asked, raising her brows.
“Turn your back,” I told her.
She snorted. “And lose you for the day? Not likely. Your knight I won’t watch.”
Poor Chay made such noise as he moved, clamoring along pathetically.
I took off, leaping from rock to rock, half-hoping he’d do poorly enough to get a decent lesson out of Isolde, but not so poorly that she laughed at him.
Meanwhile, I had a route plotted in my mind.
Up the stream, then make as if I’d climbed a big old apple.
One partial print near the tree, or mayhap just a broken twig, and a little bark knocked somewhat awry, would be all it’d need.
Any more and she’d know I’d faked it. Then I’d backtrack, hoping Chay was keeping her busy, and cross the stream.
I spied a likely spot where I could make a jump and made sure I splashed a little water over a rock on the false trail I was laying. It might dry before she made it here, but I doubted it.
I’d made it to the gnarled old apple when I heard Chay jangling and the sound of wading. I wanted to groan, but then I heard Isolde say, “See, here? Small splash mark on the rocks.”
“So, she did come this way.”
“She must have. There’s nowhere else she could’ve left the stream without leaving prints. But that sort of sudden sloppiness in quarry that isn’t injured, exhausted, or panicked? Strategy. She’s got a plan.”
“Do you ambush one another?” he asked.
“Sometimes. We didn’t pack our bows, though.”
They were too close. I took off at a sprint, prioritizing stealth but not worrying about the tracks I left. The ground was clear in this area, the trees well-spaced. Undergrowth was soft grasses with some wildflowers. Everywhere, I left footprints.
I spied a half-fallen tree and veered toward it, deliberately going wide to pass by a climbable option. Now I couldn’t hear them, just my own quick breaths. I went to the tree, put one foot on it, then with painful caution stepped backward over my own prints until I reached the climbable apple.
Climbing quickly was one thing. Climbing quietly was another.
And climbing without leaving evidence of your passage was very challenging.
I did my best, hoping she’d be preoccupied schooling Chay.
Up high, I walked along the sturdiest looking branch as far as I dared, then dropped down as gently as I could.
This time, I picked my way carefully, stopping to fluff the grass where I could.
The sound of Chay’s frog was partially muffled but his footfalls were heavy. Isolde had probably tried to advise him. It was his first run. He didn’t know any better.
I got close enough to grab a low hanging branch from another tree and swung myself across a length of ground, scooted up this trunk and across a few branches. Here, I could see the stream and hear their conversation.
If I could make it back to the horses, I’d feel like I won. Even though I was winning purely because Chay was making their location clear. She would’ve caught me when I tried to double back without his incessant jangling.
But she’d know that’s where I was headed. I left prints to the stream, then once again doubled back and shimmied carefully up the tree, listening to the rise and fall of their voices as they slowly came closer.
I recognized Isolde’s tone and the pace of her lessons and strained to make out the words. They made slow progress together, slower than she would’ve had she been alone, by far.
The quiet of the orchard and the murmur of Isolde’s lessons in the background was like a warm blanket.
Though there were so many things that needed my time, peace warmed me.
This evening, I was supposed to have instructions for the tourney shade sails that needed to be replaced.
Color, design. The cushions needed to be redone next year, so I didn’t want new sails that would clash with them.
How long would the fabrics last before they weathered?
Right now I didn’t care, and it was a lovely sensation.
I let out a long breath. If my biggest problem today was whether the sails would match the cushions at next year’s tourney, it was probably a good day.
I was making La’Angi into a better place, improving the lives of people—albeit mostly by signing off on things others thought of and made happen.
I was healthy and strong. The lessons with Chay in the morning and Kaelson in the evening felt like slow progress, but this time last year I couldn’t have done half the things I could now.
There was none of the gnawing anxiety that usually accompanied thoughts of how much I’d done. That alone made me feel a little lost.
When would I be safe to take stock of my life?
Movement below drew my gaze. Chay moved carefully, his sheathed sword held in one hand to minimize the metal’s chime.
Isolde strolled along as relaxed as ever.
They weren’t speaking. I struggled to breathe, knowing it was unlikely they’d look up yet with my prints on the ground, but also knowing how vulnerable I was if they did.
“She’s doubled back,” Chay said, the words quiet. “Does she win if she reaches the horses? Is that your rules?”
Isolde stopped him, crouching beside my prints. “Look closely. Look at where her weight is distributed.”
I’d been discovered. It was a strangely freeing feeling.
“She wasn’t running,” he said. “The steps are too close together. But she wasn’t being cautious, either. She’s hiding her tracks on the rocks or in the stream.”
“Look at the indentations of her feet. They’re different.” Chay stayed crouched, staring at my footprint in the ground, until she made a noise of amusement. “Come back here. Come on.”
I propped my hand on my elbow, watching her walk him back to the other side of the tree and show him the prints I’d made only going one way, before I’d doubled back and walked on my own prints.
“Clear, light,” Isolde said, tracing the outline with her finger. “More through the balls of her feet than the heel.”
Chay made a noise of interest, then stood and went back to the one she’d pointed out. “Heel-heavy, here,” he said, sounding surprised. “Isn’t it? And this one’s a bit blurry.”
I winced.
“What would make her change the way she distributed weight?” Isolde asked him. They’d obviously skipped over this part of the lesson when I’d done this last time, probably focused on some other thing he was trying to learn.
I didn’t remember the first time she’d taught me how to track. I did remember small, frequent comments as we walked through the gardens. I wonder what bent that flower stem, or Why, when the rest of the stones are dry on top, is this patch darker?
I was confident my lessons had been gentler than the wave of information he was getting.
“If she was injured, or carrying someone,” he said, slowly. “If her pace changed?”
“What else?”
He stood, shaking his head. “Is she trying to muddy her tracks?”
“When you’re looking for someone who’s using a lot of tricks, you don’t trust obvious information. Like the little splash earlier.”
“The splash—did it have a hidden meaning?”
I considered letting him work through it, but my legs had started to prickle from staying still too long and Isolde knew exactly where I was. “It would’ve led you on further while I doubled back, if you’d distracted her for longer,” I said.
He’d started when I spoke, but Isolde just grinned up at me. “Did you think it would take me so long to hunt him?”
“I thought it’d take you longer to secure the horses,” I grumbled, jumping down. “My prints are like that because I walked backward,” I told Chay. “Badly, obviously.”
“I’ve seen worse,” Isolde said, blithely. “And killed better. We ought to return. Unless you want another chance?” she asked Chay.
“I do,” he said, sounding surprised. “Can someone teach me how to hide, next time?”
Isolde looked at me, and I sighed. “You’re a better teacher.”
“You’d never find me.”
I snorted. “I’ll find one of the two of you.”
She grinned. “Spoken like a bloody noble. Fine. Challenge accepted.” She glanced at Chay. “You and me, we’re going to the garden this evening, once she picks up her books.”
My heart sank. That would give them extensive time to plan. “That’s cheating!”
Isolde grinned at me. “Ethics are for corpses and children,” she said, without so much as looking at me.
Chay met my gaze, his expression one of amusement and warmth. Uncomfortable and unsure if I read him correctly, I moved on, jogging after Isolde. He’d follow my prints without issue now.