"Certainly . . ." Aimee's expression shifted in the firelight, growing intensely thoughtful. After a moment, she nodded decisively. "Certainly. But alas, my lord will be engaged in the north for a long while until this Zhid threat is quelled, as they've seen only the first skirmishers. If you were to write him a message, though, I could ensure that he received it. A bit of cheerful, everyday news would surely give Commander Je'Reint joy at such a time, don't you think, Ha'Vor?"
"Of course, mistress."
Her smile blossomed into brilliance as she jumped to her feet and pulled me from my seat. With a grip like an iron pincer, she dragged me across the room to a writing desk. "You'll find paper and pen in the slots. Write your message for Je'Reint, and I'll deliver it myself. I was consulting Preceptor Ce'Aret yesterday, and though she is retired, she is still so wise. She suggested that I should join my Commander Je'Reint in the field as soon as possible. Though I'm so much trouble to have around, awkward and clumsy as I am, the rapid shifting of our forces makes accurate Imaging difficult at a distance, and my images have not been resolving clearly of late."
She stood right behind me, laying her hands on my shoulders as I pulled out a sheet of smooth notepaper and unstoppered a silly-looking ink bottle shaped like a rinoceroos. I wasn't sure what she wanted.
"And you know, Jen," she went on, scarcely taking a breath, "I was thinking that your brother who cares for your grandmother's horses could join me at the battlefront next week if he can be spared. Je'Reint needs every hand, does he not, D'Kano?"
One of the guardsmen, an intelligent, dark-browed fellow, nodded. "If the fellow can kill a Zhid or aid those of us who can, he's needed."
"An excellent thought. His Horsemaster's skills would be of immense use, and he could, perhaps, relieve these two gentlemen of this tedious duty to shepherd me everywhere. Even better, he could contribute his immediate knowledge of the situation in the Vales and many other important matters to the next image I work for Commander Je'Reint. Speak to your brother, Jen, if you will, and I'll consult those at the palace, to see if this might be possible."
As Aimee engaged the guardsmen in conversation about the best route through the tense city and whom she should contact about taking her Horsemaster friend directly to Je'Reint in the battlefield, I scratched some nonsense about grandmothers and horse-breeding on the notepaper and tried to sort out what she had just told me. The bold plan hidden in her sideways conversation finally emerged clear and sharp, leaving me in awe.
Imagers could weave a witness's knowledge and memories into a visual testimony to be presented at a judgment. The impact of such vivid testimony was inarguable. Paulo's knowledge of Gerick's case against D'Sanya, of her use of the oculus, of Gerick's beliefs and fears about the Zhid would be a mesmerizing tale. But of course, the integrity of the image was valid only so far as the integrity of the Imager and that of the witness, and in serious cases a Speaker would be called in to judge their veracity. Aimee believed enough in Je'Reint and enough in Paulo and enough in herself to risk her life to bring Je'Reint the truth.
As I gave her the folded paper, her hand brushed mine, and in my mind appeared the faintest of voices, a mind-speaking that the most skilled Dar'Nethi spy would have difficulty detecting. If he agrees, have him meet me at the north gate of the city when the bells ring third watch. Bring a fast horse that can carry two. If we're to win this race, we must ride faster than I can manage alone .
And while her words yet gleamed in my mind, she kissed my cheeks. "And now, dear Jen, give your grandmother a kiss for me, and consult your brother about my idea. He is so very brave and honorable, and I delight in his company. I look forward to meeting him again soon."
"I'll speak to him. And I'll set the door wards as I leave," I said, bending casually over the hearth and making curling sweeps of the hand as if to cool and bank its flames. "Be very careful on your journey, Aimee."
"I've no worries. Zhid would find me a poor bargain." She swept her cloak over her shoulders. A vase crashed to the floor. "Goodness, what a mess! Well, perhaps those who come searching this house for the devil Lord tonight will clean it up for me. Come, good fellows, let's be off before the streets get crowded. May your own Way be safe, dear Jen!"
No sooner had the front doors shut firmly behind the three than Gerick emerged from the draperies and Paulo popped out from under a couch.
"Demonfire," said Paulo, staring at the door through which Aimee had departed. "She wants me to come with her?"
"Why would she want Paulo to go to Je'Reint?" said Gerick. "And we can't wait until next week. Her heart is good, but—"
"She's going to convince Je'Reint to send troops to Avonar," I said, still marveling at what had just occurred. "Tonight, if Paulo's willing to take her and be her witness …" I told them the pieces of Aimee's plan that they could not have known. ". . . and so she's taken this upon herself and Paulo, leaving you free to deal with D'Sanya and her oculus and her avantirs and whatever else she's made."
"My good lord," said Paulo softly. I'd never heard Paulo address Gerick so. Yet this was no mere formality of address. Never had I imagined that a statement formed of three simple words could bear the weight of a loyalty and friendship so far beyond my understanding. I surmised that it had been a very long while indeed since Paulo's Way had left him anywhere but steadfastly at Gerick's side.
"Stormcloud is the strongest," said Gerick, answering. "He'll carry two and still outrace the wind."
Paulo dipped his head and turned briskly to me. "How far will we be needing to ride?"
Though Aimee would need to direct him to a specific destination, I found paper and sketched out the route to the Wastes north of Erdris and the Pylathian Vale, reviewed the questions Paulo might be asked at the city gates in time of war, and stuffed every other warning and precaution I could think of into his head.
Without interrupting, Gerick found us a flask of wine and brought cold meat pastries from the larder. Paulo and I ate and drank as we talked. Gerick unwound the dirty bandages from his hands and threw them into the fire, then sat on the hearth stool, sipped wine, and watched us. His own meal remained untouched. Just as the clocks chimed nine times—the hour before third watch—lights flared and a clamor of voices rose on the far side of the garden wall. I hoped we hadn't waited too long.
"Sounds like I'd best be off," Paulo said, pulling on his long, dark cloak. "Can't keep a lady waiting."
"I can't make a portal for you," said Gerick. "I would, but—"
"You need to save everything for what needs doing. You know I'd rather ride anyway. You know. . . ."
Paulo extended one hand, but Gerick had already moved to the garden door and cracked it open, alert to the moving lights and activity beyond the garden walls. After a moment, he motioned urgently to Paulo. "Go now. They've moved around the corner to the street that fronts the house."
"Have a care, Paulo," I said, taking his hand and squeezing it. "We'll do the same."
He tore his gaze from Gerick's back and transferred it to me. His worried expression communicated a great deal more than his words. "You do that, Jen. I trust you."
I followed him to the door and watched as he hurried toward the back of the garden and vanished into the night. As the stableyard gate clicked shut, I cast a small diversion spell, the most powerful enchantment I could work, a child's favorite, easily countered by alert parents. But the watchers abroad tonight would be looking for Gerick's lanky friend who had been seen frequently at Aimee's house and the guesthouse in Gaelic I didn't want him followed.
Gerick spun around and stared at me. "What did you just do?" he snapped. "If you've harmed him . . ."