Archer's Sin (6 page)

“He’s not ready to be moved yet,” said Philo without looking up.

“We want to talk to you,” said Nalica. “About the reason Honeycatcher isn’t feeling well.”

That got his attention. As he turned toward them, recognition lit his eyes. He got up and approached, looking much less friendly than the day before. “You know something about that?”

Nalica took a second look at the guard. The insignia showed he was one of Felix’s men. “Can we speak privately?”

With a sniff of exasperation, Philo motioned them away from the guard and the racehorses. When they were sufficiently distant, he halted. “Tell me what you know.”

“It’s really not much,” admitted Nalica. “Only that when we were here yesterday, we saw Captain Felix coming out of the tack room.”

“Who’s this Felix?”

“Captain of the Riat City Guard,” said Justien. “Part-owner of Vagabond’s Dart.”

“I’ll tell you who else was here yesterday,” said Philo. “You two.”

“Well...yes,” said Nalica. “We said that already.”

“Honeycatcher was poisoned,” said Philo. “And I intend to find out who did it.”

“It wasn’t us,” said Justien.

“I didn’t see where you went after I showed you Honeycatcher,” said Philo. “You might have gone into the tack room yourself. You might have gone into the feed room.”

“If we’d done it, why would we come here?”

“That’s a good question.” Philo folded his arms. “I’d like to hear the answer. After we get a mind mage here who can administer a truth spell.”

“If you want me to submit to a truth spell to convince you I’m innocent, I’ll do it,” said Nalica.

“So will I,” said Justien.

Philo’s expression softened. “Well...I don’t think I can get a mind mage here on short notice. I’ll be talking to the authorities, though. If I need that truth spell from you, I’ll get it.”

“We’re in the archery tournament tonight,” said Justien. “You know where to find us.”

Philo’s brow wrinkled. “Did you see Captain Felix do anything he shouldn’t have, while he was here?”

Justien shook his head. “Nothing at all. We just wanted you to know we saw him in the area.”

“Go on, then,” said Philo. “I’ll fetch you if you’re needed.”

As they left the stable, Justien let out a sigh. “I’m glad that’s over. It was bothering me. You know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” said Nalica. It was out of their hands now. Maybe they’d done somebody a bit of good and maybe they hadn’t, but at least they’d tried to do the right thing. She didn’t fear the possibility of a truth spell, as long as it was administered fairly.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” asked Justien.

Nalica hesitated, distracted by the sight of a man in a plain brown syrtos who browsed the wares of a knife vendor. In a low voice, she said to Justien, “That man at the knife tent—do you know him?”

“Never seen him before in my life,” rumbled Justien.

“I have. I saw him at the kids’ archery tournament, around the time you showed up. Then I saw him again before we went into the stable. And here he is a third time.”

“It’s a festival,” said Justien. “He can go where he wants. What, you think he’s following us?”

“Walk with me and let’s find out.” She took his hand and led him away, taking no particular care which direction she went. They walked down an aisle of merchant tents selling clothes and belts and boots, and then turned in to an aisle with food vendors.

“Something smells good,” said Justien. “I’m progged. How about you?”

Nalica glanced backward. The man was there. He hadn’t yet made the turn down their aisle but was examining a pair of boots at the cobbler’s tent. The hair went up on the back of her neck.

“Look behind us,” she said quietly to Justien. “Don’t be too obvious about it. He’s there.”

Justien turned and looked. “I’ll be poxed. So he is.”

“Don’t
stare
,” she hissed.

“I’m going to poxing look right at him,” said Justien. “He wants to say something to us, he can come up and say it.”

“What if it’s something to do with Honeycatcher?”

“Can’t see why it would be. But let’s ask him.” Justien took her hand and led her back through the crowd, toward the man in the brown syrtos. But by the time they’d woven their way through the other festivalgoers to the cobbler’s tent, the man was gone.

Nalica looked all over, but she didn’t see him anywhere. “I think you scared him.”

“Good,” said Justien. “Aren’t you progged? Let’s have lunch.”

“I can’t.” She was down to her last coins and at best could only afford a bit of bread and cheese, and that only in town, not at the festival.

He eyed her. “Can’t or won’t?”

She said nothing. If she admitted she was out of money, he might offer her some, and she didn’t want charity. She didn’t want to feel obligated toward him, not before the final round of a tournament in which they were essentially tied for first place.

“Are you out of money?” he asked softly.

Gods, why hadn’t she thought of an excuse to be rid of him before now? “No.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” said Justien. “I’ve been there. I’ve been dead broke many times since Red Eagle was disbanded.”

“I’m not
dead broke
,” she growled.

“Let me buy you lunch,” said Justien. “No obligation, no expectations. My friends have bought for me many a time, and I buy for them when they’re hard up. I’d hate to see you go into the third round of the tournament hungry.”

“Why not?” said Nalica. “It would be to your benefit.”

He grinned. “I’d rather beat you when you’re in top form.”

“I could beat you if I hadn’t eaten in a week.”

Justien took her hand and squeezed it. “Look, this isn’t generosity on my part. I know we’ll be parting ways after tonight. I’d like to get to know you a bit more before that happens.”

“Isn’t that a waste of time, under the circumstances?”

“How can it be, if I’m enjoying myself?” said Justien. “Come on, let me buy this time.”

She pretended to agonize over his proposition, but in fact she’d made up her mind a while ago. “All right.”

***

After Justien had purchased each of them a bread bowl filled with beef stew, he led Nalica away from the crowd. Once more he found seats near the racetrack. There wouldn’t be any races until later in the afternoon, and the area was deserted. He wanted privacy.

“I have to tell you this, because I was afraid to tell anyone in my clan,” said Nalica as she took her seat. “I admired your father.”

He raised his head, surprised. “How did you even know my father?”

“I didn’t, really. I saw him once at the Ismorian Games.”

“The Ismorian Games? Gods, that would have been...” He paused for a moment to do the math. “That would have been seventeen years ago. Am I right? That’s the only one we went to in my lifetime. Some years we didn’t go because of clan disputes, and then—well, you know. The games went into decline.” The stew maker had given him no spoon to eat with, so he pulled his knife from the sheath at his belt and speared a piece of meat.

“Seventeen years ago,” said Nalica. “You’re right.” She followed his lead and pulled out her knife.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-six. I was nine at the time of the Games.”

“Nalica, we’re almost the same age. I’m just a year older.” He could hardly believe it. This woman was perfect for him: exactly his type physically, from the same background, and a war mage like himself—a damned good one, at that. She was from a rival clan, but that didn’t bother him. If only they weren’t competitors in the archery tournament. If he’d met her under any other circumstances...

“You must have been at the games too, but I don’t recall seeing you,” said Nalica.

He shrugged. “I looked rather different then.” As he recalled, he’d been running around with a pack of Polini boys at that age, causing trouble. He’d settled down a lot since those days.

“Do you know what I liked about your father?” said Nalica. “His kindness to his children. He lifted them up on his lap. He looked them in the eye when he talked to them.”

Justien’s chest tightened with grief at this description of his long-dead sire. Lerran had his faults, but he had been an excellent father. “The children you saw. How old were they?”

“I hardly remember,” said Nalica. “It was so long ago. I remember Lerran the most. The children were small—certainly younger than you would have been. A boy and a girl, perhaps.”

He nodded. “That would have been my younger brother and sister.”

“The ones you now support?”

“They’re grown now. I still send money to my mother.” He’d speared all the meat out of his soup, one chunk at a time. Now he turned to the sweet potatoes.

“I’d heard so many rumors about your family before the Games, you know,” said Nalica. “You were cattle thieves, liars, murderers. So I was fascinated by your father. I watched him in secret, wanting to know what evil looked like. And I saw this man lifting up his children and speaking to them with love and respect, and I wondered how true those accusations could really be.”

“Somewhat true, I imagine,” said Justien. The behavior of his clan-mates had not been exemplary. “But never mind. Did your father not like children?”

She tried to hide her wince, but he wasn’t fooled. He set aside his bread bowl, took her hand, and squeezed it.

“He had only me,” said Nalica. “He wanted a boy. He waited and waited, and the boy never came. He had no use for a girl.”

“He gave you the riftstone.”

“My mother made him do that,” said Nalica. “She was proud of me.”

“Is she still alive?”

Nalica nodded.

“I’d like to meet her someday.”

A shadow passed over Nalica’s features, and he knew she was thinking what he was thinking. They had no future together after tonight.

“Look, I...” He trailed off, not certain what to say. He wanted her, but he also wanted that gods-cursed city guard job. “There was something I wanted to ask, only...” He was afraid to ask it. “Oh, pox it,” he said finally. He leaned forward and kissed her.

She drew back just a little in surprise—or perhaps his beard had tickled her. But an instant later she was leaning in and kissing him back. He reached for her and wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her close.

She smelled of leather and yew and something floral he couldn’t identify—something she bathed with, perhaps. Everything about her felt powerful: her lips, her frame, her arms as they reached around him to complete the embrace. Her hair, not yet braided for competition, was soft beneath his fingers. He wanted to know every inch of her.

Nalica pulled away. “Being with me won’t bring any of it back. The clans, the herds. Your father.”

“I know that.” He stared, mesmerized, at her kiss-bitten lips.

“I’ve changed since those days.”

“We all have,” he said. “We change or we die.”

Nalica turned, unable to meet his gaze. “I can’t do this.”

His heart sank. “Because of the tournament?”

“Because of the tournament.”

“We should talk about that.”

“There is nothing to say.” Her eyes had gone distant. She had her game face on. “One of us will win tonight, and the other will leave town in search of another job.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” said Justien.

“I see no alternative.”

A moment ago he might have agreed with her. But now he saw a way forward—one that would please him in more ways than one. “Do you not?” he asked gently. When she did not respond, he continued. “A city guard’s pay can support two people.”

She looked at him warily. “What are you suggesting?”

His mouth felt suddenly dry, and he swallowed. “If I win tonight, you can stay with me.”

Her face was expressionless. “As your mistress?”

“If you desire,” he said. “Or you could be my wife.”

For several seconds, she was completely silent. “Did you just propose marriage, Justien?”

He swallowed again. “Well, it’s contingent on my winning tonight. I won’t take a wife if I can’t support her.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And what if I win tonight? Do you come and live with me, and I support you?”

“You haven’t offered.”

“And if I did?”

He lowered his head. “I don’t think I could do that. I need to work. It’s...in my blood. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself otherwise.” Not to mention that he would spend all his time consumed with jealousy over her job, which he wanted for himself.

“Did it not occur to you that I might feel the same way?”

“It did,” he admitted. “But I had to ask.” She was still an easterner at heart, it seemed. It was common in southern Kjall for a woman to manage the household and children while the husband held a job, but in eastern Kjall most women worked alongside the men. “Nalica...” He raised his eyes to hers, which were a lovely hazel. “I think I fell in love the moment I laid eyes on you. Or perhaps it happened when you split the wand that first time.”

She smiled.

“Regardless of how it happened, you’re the woman I want. I know we only met two days ago, but I am certain of this, more certain than I’ve ever been of anything.”

A line appeared in the middle of her forehead. He couldn’t tell if she was alarmed by his words or pleased by them.

“And—how do you feel?” he stammered. “About me.”

“I want you,” she said, lowering her eyelids. “But it’s not possible. You know it is not. Only one of us can win the tournament.”

Yes, only one of them could win. And regardless of who did, he was going to walk away unsatisfied. Even if he got the job, he could not have the woman.

***

Back at the tournament site, Nalica laid the base of her bow against her boot and stepped through with her other foot, preparing to string the weapon. She paused as orange-garbed Legaciatti swarmed onto the field. Some of them took up positions among the spectators. Others placed themselves on the archery field, behind the competitors. She sniffed. What did they think she was going to do, loose an arrow at the emperor?