I knew spending the day in a town full of Silverfire agents was a bad idea.
Quickly Miryo recalculated. And so when the innkeeper quoted the room price to her, she put on the expression she could least imagine on her own face or her double’s: petulance.
“Per night?” she said, deliberately imitating the accents she’d heard from the petty highborns in Haira. “Well, at least it covers the bathhouse as well, right?”
Irritation flickered in his eyes. “I’m afraid we have no bathhouse, goodwoman,” he said. “I will have a maid bring up a tub and hot water, though.”
Miryo was surprised to notice how much the lack of the honorific “Katsu” grated. It had been hardly any time since her testing, and yet already she took the term for granted. But no time to mull on that; she had an act to keep up. “No bathhouse? Sweet Maiden, what kind of backwater place is this? And I’m going to have to put up with another five days of this before I get to Dravya!”
“I apologize, goodwoman. I’m afraid this is a small town, and a small inn.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that.” Miryo put as much aggravation in her sigh as she could. “Well, I don’t suppose I’ll find better in a pest hole like this town. And I’ll be gone soon enough—thank the Bride. Now where’s my room?”
She dropped the pose as soon as the door was shut behind her. Her jaw ached, and she rubbed it absently; maintaining that expression had been surprisingly hard. And what a silly way to behave! Blaming that poor man for not running a city-class inn, when he lived in a small town. She wished she could apologize.
It was barely noon. Mirage and Eclipse would not be back until tomorrow, which left her with the remainder of today and part of tomorrow to kill. Somehow.
She had lunch first, sequestered in her room; then she had the maid bring up the promised tub and water. Miryo dismissed the girl’s offers of help, and as a precaution locked the door behind her. She didn’t soak in the tub, lest the steam interfere with her disguise; she was capable of touching it up, but not redoing it from scratch should it become ruined. Instead she stripped down and took a thorough sponge bath, fiercely scrubbing away the layers of dust that had built up during the ride. Then she touched up her disguise, called for another bath, and used this one to clean some of her belongings, remembering too late that a true highborn would have had a servant do it. By the time she was done it was vaguely dinnertime, and she called for the maid to remove the tub and bring supper. She ate. The dishes were taken away.
And then Miryo was out of tasks to occupy herself, and the boredom set in.
It had been three years since Mirage visited Silverfire, and a full five since she had lived there, but she still remembered every tree and stone in the lands surrounding the compound.
I bloody well ought to. We spent enough time doing training exercises out here.
She and Eclipse hastened their pace along the road; now that they were too close to their goal, neither of them had the patience to wait. They flew along, kicking up clouds of dust as they went. Mirage resolved to make sure Mist and Sparker were treated well while they talked to Jaguar. The horses deserved some rest, and weren’t likely to get it any time soon.
The tower with the bells and the dovecote was the first thing to come into view, poking up from the horizon. Then there was a dark smear, slowly growing; that was the small wood along the back edge of the compound, where students learned how not to sound like crippled cows when sneaking around. Mirage even knew the exact moment she would see the small guard tower and wall that straddled the road. They had always struck her as an odd paradox; they didn’t do much to guard entry to Silverfire, yet anyone who thought he could sneak in was sadly mistaken. The structures themselves were there mostly to give students practice sneaking in and out.
A whoop sounded from the tower as they approached. Mirage squinted and saw a limping figure emerge, waving energetically at them.
“Warrior’s blade, Mirage, you cost me ten silver! I bet you’d be here a month ago!” Viper hobbled forward another few steps and moderated his voice now that they were in range. “Both of you at once? Man, what a treat!”
Eclipse glanced at the leg Viper was favoring. “What’s up with you?”
“Took a spear to the thigh.” He put on a woebegone expression. “A witch healed it, believe it or not, but it still takes a while to get totally better. So here I am, serving guard duty on the infants.” A sharp whistle sounded then, and his head whipped around. “Speaking of which. There’s a class of fourteens coming through, and I’ve got to be ‘on guard.’ Come by after noon, though; it’s been a dog’s age since I talked to either of you.” That said, he hobbled back to his tower.
Mirage nudged Mist forward and frowned to herself. He expected me? Why? Does everyone know we’re on this commission?
The question would have to wait until after their meeting with Jaguar, so she put it from her mind and raised her head, taking in the view of Silverfire with warm appreciation.
She was an itinerant Hunter; she had no home. But if she had to name the place closest to her heart, it would be here. Up ahead were the shale walls of the barracks; Mirage could just see her old room, high up on one corner, and she smiled at it. Opposite was the small building where students had classes. Silverfire provided its trainees with a decent education, but since they rarely took jobs involving high-class society, book-learning was not of paramount importance. More of their lessons were conducted elsewhere in the compound.
Such as in the salle, just past the class building. Indoor practice was held there, but in fine weather—or often in poor weather—the students trained outside, in the hard-packed dirt ring next to the salle. Behind that she could see the archery range, and the mounted combat arena, and then the wood.
They stopped first at the stables, just inside the yard. Farther back were the school stables; these up front were for visitors only. They were staffed by successive shifts of trainees and one old Hunter.
“Good to see you,” Briar said laconically, taking the reins of their horses in his scarred, three-fingered hand. “Here for Jaguar, right? He’s been waiting.”
“Is he with anybody now?” Mirage asked.
Briar rolled his eyes around, considering it. “No. No outsider, at least, and he’ll kick a student out for you.”
Mirage grinned. “Thanks. Treat the horses to something nice; we’ve been hard on them lately.”
That earned her a sharp look, and then a scrutiny of Mist that took in everything from her dusty forelock to the tiny scrape on one back hoof. “You better not be treating her badly.”
“Treat Mist badly? I know better than that. You’d take a horsewhip to me if I lamed her.”
“Damn straight.” He tugged on the reins of the horses and vanished into the stables.
They continued onward, past the barracks and the infirmary. Mirage shielded her eyes with one hand as they approached the building at the tower’s base and glanced upward. Sure enough, there was a young man up there, plastered to the side of the tower and looking petrified. Must’ve lipped off to one of the masters. Poor sod. I wonder how many trips he’s made up there—and how many he has left?
Then they were inside the building, and blinking in the dim light. She could just barely make out a thin shadow behind the desk. “You took long enough getting here,” he said curtly. “We got your message days ago.”