“Where is your cat?” Linsha asked, her voice thick with approaching sleep.
“She’s over there. Your friend brought her so much fish, she has been too stuffed to hunt for me.” The owl flapped over to the other side of the hayloft and came back urging along the tortoise-shell ship’s cat. The graceful feline saw Linsha, meowed, and dropped beside her in the hay. She didn’t seem at all frightened of Varia.
Linsha stroked the cat’s soft side and rubbed her ears. The cat purred softly. Linsha listened to the gentle sound and to the other contented noises that filled the barn with tranquility: the movement of tired horses eating their grain, the rustle of mice in the hay, the faint flutter of the bats in the cupola, the sighing of the wind in the eaves. One by one she drew her mind away from each sound until there was nothing left in her ears but the thud of her own heartbeat. Before long that, too, faded, and there was only the silence of sleep.
Varia found a place to perch on a roof rafter just above Linsha’s nest in the hay. She tucked one foot up into her feathers and settled down to wait in contemplative peace. Suddenly her eyes opened wide and the feathers on her head flared up. She heard movement in the stable below. It sounded like a male human, perhaps a groom checking on the horses one last time. A heavy step passed through the aisle and came to a stop by the ladder to the hayloft. Varia tensed, listening. Nothing happened. The man didn’t walk away, but he didn’t climb the ladder either. All she heard were the night noises of the barn.
Something moved by the ladder. A small dark shape leaped gracefully into the loft and padded across the floor. Varia stared down at it. It was another cat, a big orange torn, and one she had never seen in the bam before. The owl hunched over, ready to dive on the cat if he offered trouble.
The big torn sensed the owl’s presence. He sat down in the hay near Linsha and looked up into Varia’s round yellow gaze with his own golden eyes.
Varia straightened abruptly. Understanding, fresh and titillating, filled her mind. She started to hoot with laughter and nearly fell off her rafter. Remembering the sleeping woman below, she toned her amusement down to throaty warbles and watched in good humor as the orange cat sniffed Linsha’s face then lay down close to her side, across from the other cat. The calico lifted her head once, meowed, and went back to sleep.
The animals in the barn settled down for the night.
By the time dawn filtered through the barn’s windows, the orange cat was gone. Varia did not mention him, for she loved a good secret, and the calico cat remained inscrutable.
The sound of banging lids on feed bins and the neighs of hungry horses brought Linsha wide awake and made her aware of her own hunger. She used her fingers to comb the hay and dust out of her hair, brushed off her dirty uniform, and hurried down the ladder in search of breakfast.
Shanron met her in the courtyard and greeted her with cool pleasure. But she took one look at Linsha’s uniform and marched her back to the barracks, where she thrust clean clothes in Linsha’s hands and ordered her to the bathhouse. “If you go into the dining hall looking like that, you’ll have kitchen duty for a week,” Shanron told her.
“Leave your uniform in the bathhouse. The attendants will wash it for you.”
The day was already sultry and windless. The bathhouse stood alone in its shady grove like an oasis of relief, and Linsha decided that Shanron had the right idea. She peeled off her filthy uniform-still stained with dirt, soot, blood, and sweat-tossed it to a bemused attendant, and plunged into the pool like a three-year-old.
Shanron appeared a few minutes later with a flagon of cooled ale and a plate of bread, meat, cheese, and two plums. “I told the cook you were back and had missed dinner, and he nearly fell over himself finding things for you to eat. I think someone has been talking to him about you. He’s usually not so solicitous.”
“Thank you,” Linsha said appreciatively. “Thank you, too, for feeding the cat.”
Shanron smiled with a softness that was unusual to her hard features. “She’s a dear. I can see why the captain wanted her saved. May I continue to feed her? She and I and the cook have formed a routine now.”
“Of course. Just don’t feed her so much. The stable attendant was complaining that she wasn’t catching mice.” Linsha left out the fact that the attendant was an owl.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” the woman guard said. “Well, enjoy. I can’t stay. Commander Durne told me to tell you that you are to report to the weapons master. You still have your training to complete. I’m off to sentry duty at the front gate.” She waved a hand and strode out.
Although the cool water felt delightful, Linsha decided not to overextend her time in the bath. She ate quickly, scrubbed clean, and put on a clean tunic and pants. She had a second uniform tunic, but it was hot and she draped it over her arm and decided to let the weapons master tell her if she needed to wear it. With her sword at her side, she went to the training hall and reported for duty.
The rest of the morning she spent with the weapons master practicing close-order defense and the use of a short pike, a weapon she was not familiar with. At lunch she ate in the hall, and in the afternoon she stood sentry duty at the back gate with another squire and worked in the stable. She didn’t see Lord Bight or Commander Durne that day, and she was surprised to discover that she missed them both. When she asked, she was told Lord Bight had taken a squad and left to monitor the lava dome on Mount Thunderhorn, while Commander Durne was busy setting up a sick house in the guard camp.
By evening Linsha was weary to the bone, but she finally had a few hours of free time, and she decided to fulfill her duty to another organization. Saddling Windcatcher, she told the stable groom she planned to ride out to exercise her mare. Although she wasn’t supposed to leave the palace grounds unattended, she hoped to slip out of sight for a brief while into the trees above the palace riding fields and make her way to the safe house. By her estimation, the small croft was only a few miles away.
“Bight gave her a what?” asked one of the Circle leaders with quiet incredulity.
“A cutthrull slug,” Linsha repeated. “He brings Sable specimens for her collection in exchange for information.” The lady Knight clasped her hands behind her back and gazed at the three Knights in front of her. They sat at the small table again, like magistrates in court, and even Linsha had to admit they looked as sweaty and tired as she felt. Lady Karine had warned them Linsha would come, and they had been waiting most of the day to hear her report about Lord Bight, but it was not at all what they expected, and the interview had not gone well. Linsha had told them and retold them her tale of the journey to see Sable, and still they could not seem to accept it.
They bent their heads together, murmuring among themselves for a minute. Then the elder Knight turned to Linsha. “We find it difficult to believe that Bight controls Sable with only a few specimens. Are you certain there was nothing else mentioned or alluded to?”
“Lord Bight,” Linsha replied with a sharp emphasis on the “Lord.” She was growing tired of the Circle ignoring his title. “And he does not control the Hack dragon. I believe they have some sort of agreement, but what it is based on, I do not know yet. I can tell you, though, I am convinced Lord Bight will not willingly relinquish control of Sanction to anyone, and that includes the Dark Knights and the Solamnics.”
“We didn’t expect it to be easy,” one Knight snapped. His face was flushed and he appeared unwell. “Have you found any weakness? Anything we can exploit?”