Before my wayward tongue could get me into trouble, Paulo stepped back into our cave, grinning. "Nobody about, but it's the right place and a fire's lit in the hearth. We'll give the ladies a right surprise when they find horses in the garden and us three filthy travelers sitting there drinking tea!"
"Let's go, then," said Gerick.
He snatched up the loose packs, I took the cloaks we'd set ready, and Paulo grabbed the horses' leads, then we stepped one by one through the tremulous doorway.
Passing through a portal is a sensation something like that of jumping off a cliff, I've always thought. Your stomach seems to take a certain amount of time to catch up with you. And the other place—the place beyond— slams into your mind exactly like the hard earth at the end of such a leap. I don't know that even a Dar'Nethi mind is supposed to make such an abrupt shift from one place to another. It must have been the anticipation of seeing Aimee that had allowed Paulo to come back grinning. Or perhaps the whole experience is more pleasant for mundanes.
The house was indeed dark, and the air was cold for a late summer evening, even in the highlands of Avonar. Heavy mist floated through the soggy garden. They must have had days of rain. Though it would be just past the dinner hour, the house was silent, and no noise at all came from the street or neighboring houses. Odd.
The oppressive quiet muted the three of us, as well. Paulo clucked softly and led the horses through the back gate into the stableyard. I unlatched the garden door that opened into Aimee's small sitting room, and by the time Gerick and I walked through it, Paulo was back at our sides. He couldn't have taken time even to unsaddle his beasts.
The wan fire in the hearth scarcely made a dent in the chill. No one was maintaining the house enchantments. The dining room and the kitchen beyond were deserted, and the grand drawing room with its fountains and chimes, birdcages, plants, and gaudy swathes of colored silk hanging from the ceiling felt like a gathering place for unquiet spirits.
"They must have gone out," I whispered, once we'd poked our heads into every room on the lower floor and found no sign of mistress, guest, or servant. "Lady Seriana is surely at the hospice as she planned. Perhaps Mistress Aimee is busy with Commander Je'Reint." Perfectly sensible explanations..
"A fire's lit and her cloak is laid by it," said Paulo, his anxiety setting my own stomach aflutter. "She never goes without it—not on such a cool night as this. And she promised that someone would be here close until we sent word. One of her serving girls if not her."
Perhaps it was Paulo's worry that kept us whispering and creeping about like thieves.
"We'll search the rest of the house," said Gerick. "I'll go up; Paulo, you to the cellar. And if you'd—"
"I'll look in the back garden," I said.
"If no one's about, we'll leave a message and be on our way."
We tiptoed into the entry hall where a grand stair led upward into darkness . . . no, not total darkness. A pinpoint of light hovered on the third-floor landing, then began moving slowly downward. Gerick's gesture commanding our silence was unnecessary. We crowded into a niche filled with aromatic plants.
Three dark figures moved down the stair, and the single candle flame that led them gleamed unmistakably on a steel blade. I felt, rather than heard, Paulo's long knife come free, and my own dagger found its way into my hand. Gerick carried no weapon, but I would not have called him unarmed. The touch of his lean body, pressing me backward into the shadows, filled me with unreasonable dread. I shifted away from him . . . and bumped my head into a dangling wind chime. The merry tinkling rang through the silent house like a trumpet call.
"Who's there?" called a man's harsh voice.
"Hold, mistress!" commanded another, and the candle was raised high and a brush of enchantment made it flare up. Two well-armed Dar'Nethi, dressed in green and yellow livery, held the arms of a pale, worried Mistress Aimee.
A deep rumbling came from Paulo, but Gerick quickly laid a hand on his shoulder. At the same time I heard . .. or felt . . . Gerick open his mouth to speak. But before he could reveal himself, I slapped my hand over his lips.
"Mistress Aimee, are you all right?" I called. "It's only Jen."
Something strange was going on, and I didn't think Gerick ought to be bumbling about in front of anyone. And Paulo was so intent on rescue, it likely hadn't occurred to him that the men could just as likely be there to protect Aimee as harm her.
"I've just stopped in to . . . tell you that my grandmother is much better, thanks to the Healer you sent and the soup and everything. We've brought her to Avonar to recuperate. But when I came to your door, I saw the light creeping about through the windows, and I was afraid. …"
"Jen! So soon! I . . . I've wondered if you and your grandmother escaped your village in time. Ha'Vor, D'Kano, have no fear. This is my dear friend from Tymnath. Everything is quite all right . . . well, as right as it can be in such a terrible time." After the initial stumble, Aimee's voice was as pleasant and confidant as always. "I'll be right down, Jen. I'm so anxious to speak with you, and find out how you got away."
Her strange comment made me think we were right to be discreet. What did she mean escaped ?
The two guards relaxed only slightly, but their candle flame died down again to a normal size. I shoved my elbows backward to restrain my two companions, who had relaxed not at all. But whether it was my direction or their own judgment, they remained out of sight as I stepped well away from the niche. Aimee sped lightly down the stair and embraced me.
The scowling guards examined me thoroughly. Rumpled and unwashed after a month of desert adventures, my turnout was certainly not what one might expect of Mistress Aimee's friends. "How did you get in here, miss?" demanded one well-armed man. "What's happened to you?"
Aimee interrupted before I could answer. "Excuse me, D'Kano!" she said indignantly. "Jen knows she is always welcome in my house. She's had a harrowing journey through all the checkpoints and uncertainties on the roads, and I'll not send her off without a rest. If you gentlemen will take up your watch at the front and back entries, I'll retrieve my cloak, let Jen warm herself at the fire you so kindly made me, and learn what news my friend has brought me of her dear grandmother."
"Mistress, you should return to the palace at once. Your mission …"
Aimee held up a green velvet pouch. "My official business is done, Ha'Vor, but I cannot send on what I've gathered here until tonight's courier leaves the palace anyway. So we are truly in no hurry, and Jen's story might give me valuable news to send along. Only a short while, and we'll be on our way. Commander Je'Reint is fortunate to have such steadfast loyalty as yours and that of so many friends such as Jen. I'll call you when I'm ready to go."
How could any man refuse such a command, issued as it was with Aimee's usual charm? Utterly innocent. Utterly sincere. Utterly unshakable. The two men could not bow and scrape and hurry off to do her bidding fast enough. I needed to make a study of Aimee.
Once the soldiers had retreated toward the front and back entries, Aimee raised a finger to her lips for caution and took my hand. Her fingers felt half frozen. "Come this way," she said quietly and pulled me into the small sitting room. My two companions glided along behind us.
Aimee closed the door behind us, drew her finger over the latch—setting a common ward—and then whirled about. "There are three of you here. I beg you speak, so I may know you all. I dared not hope—"
Gerick glanced first at Paulo, who stood just inside the sitting room door, apparently struck witless, and then at me, his lips twitching at the edge of a smile. "Good evening, Mistress Aimee," he said softly, bowing to the lady. "It seems I've been rescued yet again with the aid of Gar'Dena's house."