She woke to rhythmic movement, a jostling, jouncing motion that nauseated her. She tried to raise her head, but it was too heavy for her to lift. Her cheek bounced off a smooth, hairy surface, warm and slightly yielding, and she inhaled the musky scent of a horse. Feeling began returning to her limbs, and she realized she was face down over the animal’s withers, with heavy fabric, a coat or a cloak or something, flung over her upper body. Cold air blew across her legs and bare feet. The thudding of the horse’s hooves echoed in her aching skull.
She thrashed, trying to sit up, and someone cuffed her hard across the back of the head. “Be still, or I will give you worse,” an unfamiliar male voice said. Fiona lay still. It wasn’t as if she could go anywhere.
So. Time to think, if she could manage that through the pain in her head. She remembered being assaulted in her bed, the biting smell of the cloth that had sent her unconscious. Kidnapped, but why?
Lucille. Those two men. Fiona closed her eyes and cursed silently. Apparently Lucille hadn’t been exaggerating her danger. And Fiona had merrily put herself in Lucille’s place. It would be funny if she weren’t uncomfortable and being dragged away heaven knew where.
She let her head bounce against the horse’s smooth, warm body. There had been two sets of hands when she was attacked, so at least two kidnappers, which matched what Lucille had said. They’d stop eventually, and discover they had the wrong woman, and then…what? They might just let her go, but they might decide leaving a witness was a bad idea. The ache in her head turned into a throbbing pain. She forced herself to breathe calmly. No sense borrowing trouble. Wait until they stopped, and see what happened next.
The jouncing went on for several minutes, as Fiona’s toes grew colder and her stomach ached from being ground into the animal’s spine. She couldn’t see much beyond the horse’s side and, if she turned her head, her kidnapper’s thigh, but it was still dark, which told her it couldn’t have been many hours since they’d taken her. Just as she had decided to grab hold of the man’s leg and drag herself into a more comfortable position, and to hell with the consequences, the horse’s gait slowed, and the darkness faded as lamplight bloomed around her. The rider came to a stop and dismounted, then hauled Fiona off the horse and set her on her feet, the cloak still tangled around her shoulders and head.
She wobbled, flung out her arms for balance, and kept from falling over. She fought free of the cloak’s folds and dropped it on the hard, cold ground that felt gritty against her bare feet. “I don’t know who you are,” she said, “but you had better explain yourselves. Now.”
The man, who’d been about to speak, blinked at her. He was easily the tallest man she’d ever seen, tall and gaunt, with a face that looked like roughly modeled brown clay, and aside from the blink, he was completely expressionless. “Sir,” he said.
“Sweet holy heaven,” said his companion, coming around the horse to stand beside the gaunt man. “You’re not Lucille.”
Fiona transferred her attention to the newcomer. He looked dwarfish beside the gaunt giant, though he wasn’t shorter than the average man, and he was handsome, with a square jaw and hazel eyes that looked as if they smiled a lot, from the faint lines at their corners. At the moment, they were wide and incredulous.
“I owe Lucille an apology,” Fiona said. “I thought she was exaggerating about being watched.”
The two men ignored her. “You said it was her room, Holt,” the second man said.
“It was her room. I am nothing if not thorough, sir,” the giant Holt said. “I apologize for my failure.”
“It was her room before we traded,” Fiona said.
The second man groaned. “You traded. Why the hell—excuse me—why would you do something so idiotic?”
“It’s hardly idiotic when Lucille was clearly right about being in danger. I’d apologize for inconveniencing you, if I cared anything for your comfort.”
“I suppose you also don’t care that you’ve interfered with me retrieving my property, or that you may have indirectly cost someone his life?” The man took a few quick steps that put him almost nose to nose with Fiona; she was tall, but he was taller by a few inches. “You’re incredibly brash for someone whose life is in jeopardy.”
“You’re not going to kill me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Then prove me wrong.” Fiona stepped back and spread her arms wide, offering herself as a target. “You don’t need me. I’m an inconvenience.” She had to work hard to keep from trembling at the chill in the air. They were in a small barn, lit here and there by lamps, and it was warmer than outdoors, but not by much. Trembling would look like fear, and fear would ruin her gambit.
The man stared her down for a minute, then cursed and turned away. “This is a disaster,” he said to Holt, who nodded. Fiona lowered her arms, then quickly bent to pick up the cloak—her cloak, she realized—and put it on. The chilly bare earth, packed hard by generations of horses and farmers, hurt her toes, but she refused to show discomfort, instead examining her surroundings.
There were two battered stalls against one wall, neither in use, and the back wall bore tracings of pieces of harness done in chalk by some past owner. Below the tracings, a couple of messy bales of hay were stacked in a way that suggested no one had much cared if they were orderly. A ladder led up to the hayloft, which was in shadow thanks to the lamps, but it looked empty. She couldn’t count on anyone from a nearby farmhouse coming to her rescue.
The two men had withdrawn to the hay bales and were speaking quietly to each other. “Excuse me,” Fiona said. They ignored her. “Excuse me,” she repeated. The man Holt had addressed as Sir turned on her.
“Well?” he said irritably. “We’re not going to kill you. I hope you’re happy about that. Now, if you don’t mind, we have plans to make.”
“If they include going back to kidnap Lucille, I’ll stop you,” Fiona said, though she had no idea how she could do that.
“It’s nearly dawn,” Holt said. His voice was a mellow tenor unsuited to his inhuman face. “Lucille will be gone in an hour. Sooner, if our botched kidnapping is made public early.”
“We don’t have time to chase her down. We’ll have to start over,” Sir said.
“We don’t have time to start over, sir.”
“Do you have time to return me to the inn? I’m feeling a bit cold,” Fiona said sarcastically.
“As if we’d do that, and have you turn us in as kidnappers,” Sir said. “And we brought all your things. I thought we’d be traveling west today.” He went to his horse and hauled Fiona’s bag off it, tossed it in her direction, and said, “You can change into something warmer in one of those stalls.”
Fiona snatched up her bag and strode to the stalls, which were splintered and rough and had gaps between the boards, but were shelter enough to satisfy her modesty. Though she didn’t think either of her kidnappers was the type to peek. They didn’t seem like hardened criminals at all.
Her boots were at the top of her bag, her journal was where she’d left it—they had been thorough in gathering her things. She dressed rapidly in trousers and a heavy shirt, tidied her nightdress away, then pushed open the door of the stall. She’d half-expected the men to be gone, but they were still talking at the back of the barn and gave her only the barest of glances when she emerged.
“I’m leaving,” she said. “How much of a walk do I have ahead of me?”
“Wait,” Sir said, and came toward her. “We’ll take you back.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll turn you in?”
“Weren’t you afraid we’d kill you?” He smiled, a sardonic grin that dispelled the shadows from his eyes. “We’ll leave you at the outskirts of town and let you make your way wherever you want to go. We’re not criminals.”
“Really? I thought kidnapping was a criminal offense. My mistake.”
“Lucille Paget is the criminal. She stole a large sum of money from me and ran off.”
“So have her arrested. The Crown looks dimly on vigilante justice.” So long as it didn’t involve potential Ascendants.
The smile went even more amused. “I have my reasons for not wanting to involve local law enforcement.” He gestured at his horse. “If you’re ready, we can leave now, and maybe I’ll be able to salvage something of this day.”
Fiona looked in Holt’s direction. The giant was as expressionless as ever, but his stance was tense, and she was sure he wanted to remonstrate with his…master? But he said nothing, just came forward and mounted his horse. Sir did the same, then held out his hand to help Fiona. She’d ridden before. Once. She’d be lucky to remember how to stay facing forward. She let the man pull her up behind him, then wrapped her cloak more closely around herself as they headed back out into the night.
It wasn’t true night anymore. The horizon to the right was limned with pale blue that grew brighter and warmer as they rode north across the endless plains—no, not endless, there was the sparkling hunch of Ravensholm, and beyond it the silver ribbon that was the Snow River. The indigo sky, star-filled except in the sun-faded east, promised another beautifully clear winter day. The horse’s hooves crunched over the crust of frost, and that and the sound of five creatures breathing was all that interrupted the peaceful early morning.
“So Lucille stole from you,” Fiona said, when the silence had gone on long enough to be tedious rather than pleasant. “And for some reason you couldn’t just call for her to be brought up on a charge.”
“All true.”
“There has to be more to it than that.”
“There is. But it’s none of your business, Mistress Nosy.”
“My name is Fiona Cooper. Miss Cooper.”
“It’s still none of your business.”
“You kidnapped me. I think some of it is my business.”
The man’s hands on the reins drew in a little tighter. “I hired Lucille to perform certain services. She agreed, but then changed her mind and fled—taking my money with her.”
“Distasteful services, no doubt.”
The man chuckled. “If that’s what you want to believe, Miss Cooper, go ahead.”
“They must be at least a little immoral, if they won’t allow you to go to the law.”
“I just don’t have time to involve them. There’s a deadline. Which, thanks to Lucille, I’m now going to miss.”
Fiona let out an exasperated breath. “Could you possibly be more cryptic? What is so secret that you can’t just say it? You won’t even tell me your name!”
“You didn’t actually ask, Miss Cooper.”
“Common courtesy says, if I give you my name, you should return the favor.”
“Very well. You can call me Sebastian.”
“What, no last name?”
“You don’t need to know my family name. And the reason I’m being so cryptic is it’s not entirely my secret to tell.”
“Then tell me what you can.”
It was Sebastian’s turn to make an exasperated noise. “Fine, Miss Cooper,” he said, “but only because I feel some small measure of guilt at having dragged you into this. I’m trying to prevent someone from suffering at the hands of a blackmailer.”
“I see,” Fiona said. “And going to the city guards or the Crown would only make the blackmailer carry out her threat. So how did Lucille fit into this?”
Sebastian was silent for a long moment. Just as Fiona was about to prod him for more information, he said, “The blackmailer’s evidence is being held in the Jaixante. Do you know what that is?”
“Of course.” Belatedly Fiona realized it wouldn’t be “of course” for ninety percent of Tremontane’s population. The Jaixante was the royal city of Veribold, a city within the capital city of Haizea, and no foreigners were allowed in. Even Fiona, in her travels with Roderick, had never been farther than its outer courts. “That is, I’ve heard it’s very isolated.”
“It is, except for seven days a year, when the Irantzen Festival is held, celebrating Haran’s discovery of ungoverned heaven. Since Haran was at first acknowledged only by women, the festival is for women only—women and their attendants. So I hired Lucille to be my disguise, so to speak. Only I think I paid her too much, and she decided to leg it.”
“How much?”
“Four thousand guilders.”
“Four thousand—”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t remind me how stupid that was. I should at least have paid her only half up front.”
Fiona bit back a handful of other comments and came out with, “Can’t you hire someone else?”
“The festival begins in four days. It will take nearly all of that time to reach Haizea. I’ll just have to come up with another plan.”
Fiona went silent. She wondered if Sebastian was thinking of an alternate plan right then. He still wasn’t telling her everything, starting with who needed saving from the blackmailer. If the information were in the Jaixante, the blackmailer had to be someone high in the Veriboldan government, but would such a person care about blackmailing a Tremontanan? On the other hand, would Sebastian care about saving a Veriboldan? And Holt kept calling him “sir,” which suggested Sebastian was wealthy enough to afford servants, as did that outrageous sum he’d given Lucille…there were just too many unknowns, and Fiona had never been good at ignoring puzzles when they came her way.
“What was Lucille supposed to do? Just attend the festival?” she said.
“Attend, and keep the Veriboldans’ attention on her so they wouldn’t notice Holt and me sneaking about,” Sebastian said.
“Would they really let a Tremontanan woman in?”
“Haran’s revelations proved we all go to the same heaven, and this festival is supposed to be a celebration of our similarities. I’ve heard. I only know a little about it.”
“That’s a terrible risk to take. Suppose you’re wrong?”
“This is—was—the best chance I had. It was worth the risk.”
“You could bribe a Veriboldan servant to find the information for you.”
“That has its own set of problems, namely that Veriboldans don’t always feel obligated to honor their agreements with non-Veriboldans. But it’s my backup plan. Followed by assassinating the blackmailer, which I really don’t want to do, aside from my qualms about taking a life. From what I know of the woman, she’ll have safeguards to ensure the information comes out if she dies in a suspicious manner.” Sebastian laughed, a short, mirthless bark. “Trust me, I’ve considered all the possibilities.”
I bet he hasn’t considered this one. “I’ll do it,” she said.
“Do what?”
“Get you into the Irantzen Festival.”
Sebastian hauled on the reins so hard Fiona nearly lost her seat. “What?”
“You need a woman to attend the festival. I’ll do it.”
Holt drew up nearby. “Is something wrong, sir?”
“Aside from our mistake being completely out of her mind? Miss Cooper, you don’t even know us! Why should you want to throw your fate in with ours?”
Fiona considered this. She had a plan already; she was going to Dineh-Karit. But after Sebastian’s admittedly sketchy explanation, the idea of the mysterious southern continent didn’t seem so appealing. They’re strangers, he hasn’t told you everything, it’s not your problem, her inner voice whispered. “Because I think you can afford to pay another four thousand guilders, and I could use the money,” she said.
It wasn’t true. The truth was, this was a real adventure. Sneaking about the Jaixante looking for incriminating evidence, fooling the Veriboldans—a mere sea voyage to a distant, foreign country was trivial by comparison. “You don’t have to pay me until I’ve gotten you inside,” she added, “in case you’re worried about being cheated again.”
“This is a bad idea, sir,” Holt said.
“It’s a terrible idea,” Sebastian said. “I don’t know you. You could be a servant of G—of the blackmailer, sent to lead us astray, or put us in a compromising position.”
“You can’t seriously believe that.”
“Miss Cooper, you have no idea what I’ve been through in the last two weeks. That possibility isn’t even the least likely one I’ve considered.”
“I don’t even know who the blackmailer is or who’s being blackmailed.”
Holt said, “Lucille likely chose her because they are similar in appearance, sir. You know she would have anticipated being…retrieved. Miss Cooper is unlikely to be an associate of the blackmailer.”
“Don’t argue on her behalf, Holt. She hardly needs it.” Sebastian closed his eyes and cursed. “Miss Cooper,” he said, “I’m tired and hungry and desperate, or I’d argue with you further. As it is…I accept your proposal. Four thousand guilders, to be paid when Holt and I have access to the Jaixante.”
“Do you really have that much money on you?”
Sebastian groaned. “It has just occurred to me,” he said, “that you might be part of a ruthless gang of robbers, looking for a rich mark. Holt, let’s ride on. If we’re about to be murdered for the contents of my money belt, I want to see if we can have a good breakfast first.”
He heeled his horse around and set off westward. After a moment, Holt came up level with them. Fiona held on and watched the Snow River approach. She felt no regret about her hasty decision. Choose, and bear the consequences, but never look back. She’d learned that when her marriage was failing; you made the best decisions you could, and you lived with what happened. But she did feel a little light-headed, as if she were being swept along by the cold current she could see ahead of them. Four thousand guilders is a lot of money, she thought, and who says you can’t go south afterward? But she had a feeling that whatever came of this adventure, a southern voyage still wouldn’t seem exciting.