Nine

In which the characters meet each other

Emberlace bit her lip in confusion. Something had happened to Daystar when the Lord Baron of Deepnight spoke to him. He’d dissolved, as if his entire being was a mantle, and when the mantle was gone, so was he. She was frightened and confused and out of her element here in the little inn, but she could use her common sense to cope. Daystar had simply stopped working, like an automaton with no one to wind up his clockwork. She could lead him by the hand, and he simply followed. She’d smacked him across the face twice today, trying to get his attention, and he’d barely flinched, retaining his empty-eyed stare on whatever his gaze had fixed upon most recently.

Her concerned concentration was broken by a commotion at the door.

“We’re full tonight,” the innkeeper’s wife explained from the doorway. “You’ll have to double up.”

A couple swung through the door, carrying packs, and Emberlace backed away, wary, pulling Daystar with her. The travelers were slender and well-muscled, their faces tanned and windburned, their clothes stained and patched with long travel. They wore leather armor and carried their weapons with casual ease. The young man was Daystar’s height, with straight, sandy hair that fell slightly into his green eyes. His companion was a woman nearly as tall as he, with slightly darker blond hair and sharp gray eyes. Daystar roused just slightly to glance at them, then looked back down again, though Emberlace noticed that his stance was straighter, and he stood a half foot in front of her now.

“You took a side of the room yet?” the woman asked.

“This side,” Emberlace managed, jerking her head toward the side of the room where they stood.

She could smell the couple from here, all sweat and woodsmoke and trail dust, and tried not to stare. These were peasants, and she’d never really seen any up close. They didn’t come near nobles when she was out, and she’d spent most of her life sequestered in training.

The couple nodded amicably and settled down on the left side of the room, shedding their gear and sliding it under the bed. The room was small for two people, Emberlace thought, much less four, with two beds on either wall, set with lumpy straw mattresses, and a lantern hanging from the ceiling providing the only light besides the shuttered window.

“Headed any place in particular?” the young man asked, lounging back on the bed.

“No,” Emberlace replied shortly, her voice strained. She got Daystar sitting on the bed, and then began pointlessly reorganizing their meager packs in a frantic effort to look busy. The couple still watched her, and she tried to keep her breathing calm, shying away from the idea of speaking to the strangers.

The woman tried to start a conversation this time. “You running from something?” she asked astutely.

“What would make you think that?” Emberlace replied, refolding a blanket and shoving it back into the pack before realizing they would probably need it that night and yanking it back out, shaking it awkwardly.

“You’re nervous,” the woman replied. “You’re moving stiff, like you’ve been riding a while, but it’s in your shoulders too, and you’ve got bruises on your face and ‘round your neck.”

Emberlace’s hand flew to her throat, and she spun, hand going to her knife.

The young woman stepped back, holding up her hands. “We don’t mean you any harm. We ran for a while too.”

“And then?” Emberlace flicked her eyes between them.

“We stopped.”

She ran her eyes over their travel worn clothes and saw that while they were patched, they were also sturdy, the weapons of good quality, not merely something one would take on the road for defense.

“What are you?” she demanded.

“Vagrants,” the young man grinned. “Useful vagrants. Hired out to protect a trading caravan, thought that the money was good, and kept at it.” He held up a pendant around his neck - an iron sword visible on a chain.

Sellswords. Emberlace knew of such people, unaffiliated warriors who hired themselves to guilds and merchants as security, cheaper than a guard’s guild if you only needed slight protection, and usually more flexible.

“You?” the young man cocked his head, and Emberlace flinched under his keen gaze. “I’d say you were the same, except that you’re a bit to flighty, and he ain’t all there.” He pointed to where Daystar sat empty-eyed.

“He’s tired,” Emberlace excused quickly, the same explanation she’d given the innkeeper. These two didn’t take it so well.

“That ain’t tired,” the young woman replied. “That there is lost; I’d say the two of you run into trouble.”

Her eyes searched Emberlace’s for a moment, and for a second, they were merely two women, each wondering about the other.

“Like we told you,” the young woman said, her eyes softening, “we ran for a while from our own troubles.”

She looked honestly concerned, and Emberlace wavered, almost wanting to trust her, despite the old instincts that prevented her from trusting anyone. Anyone could be from the barons, trying to get close to them, finish them off. But then, they’d broken Daystar, knew they’d done it, had him in their hands and thrown him away. The young woman pulled up her long sleeves, and Emberlace gasped at the scars that encircled her wrists.

“What happened?” she whispered.

The young woman shrugged. “We got mistook for the wrong people, we suppose.” She pulled down her sleeves, moving a step closer to Emberlace. “So you know we both know what it’s like.”

The dam broke inside Emberlace, and she began spilling their story, garbled in between sobs. Daystar woke enough to take her hand and lean his head against her hip, and the strangers listened in shock as Emberlace recounted the sudden overthrow of the Valian royal family and the their subsequent flight from the palace.

“Well,” the young man said in shock as Emberlace finished and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “If that ain’t the strangest thing I ever heard.”

They stood in awkward silence for a while, both wondering how to start the conversation again, now that Emberlace had given them potentially fatal information, and the strangers had just learned they were speaking with (former) royalty.

“They just dropped you?” the young woman finally said in a wondering voice.

Emberlace nodded. “I think that’s what’s wrong with him,” she admitted, nudging at Daystar. “They forced him to tell them his low name -” the stranger’s jaws dropped - “and we’ve both been stripped of our nobility. Neither of us…” she hesitated, then decided that with everything she’d already said, this wouldn’t be much more of a revealing of information. “Neither of us have what you peasants would call practical skills.”

The strangers chuckled. “No,” the young man said, “I would suppose not. You’re at loose ends, then, with him?” he pointed at Daystar.

“Yes.”

“How long’s he been like that?” the young woman asked.

“Just today,” Emberlace said.

“You smacked him?”

“Twice.”

“Dunno what else you could do,” the young woman contemplated, cocking her head curiously to the side. “Suppose you could stick a plate of food under his nose and see what happened.”

“I’ve already tried that,” Emberlace admitted. “He wouldn’t even look at it. He ate only if I shoved the whole of it in his mouth and poked him until he chewed on it.”

The young woman stared at her again, then shook her head. “Might say you should leave him, then. Not much good if he won’t wake up.”

“No.” Emberlace spat the word furiously. “I’m not going anywhere, no matter what.”

The young woman shrugged. “He’s not any good for you. I don’t know what he was like as a prince, but a fellow who can’t swallow a change and keep on going and find something to do with himself ain’t worth your bother sticking around. Give him off to one of the trade masters here - they’ll find something for him to do.”

Emberlace shook her head furiously. “You have no idea what he’s done for me. I was nearly where he is now when we first met, and he wouldn’t give up, even though I didn’t even speak to him for three months. I’m not leaving. I’m not going away. I’m going to find a way to get through to him and put him back together, and if I can’t, I’ll sit next to him and we’ll both stare at the wall.”

The young woman looked at her for a long moment, then smiled. “Can’t see the sense in it, but I like you. Something like that doesn’t have to make sense. I’d think a noblewoman like you would have more of a stuck up disposition than that, quite frankly.”

“I’m not stuck up, nor do I wish to be,” Emberlace replied, lifting her chin. “I’m just loyal, especially to those I feel deserve it.”

“Looks like you might just need something to do,” the young man suggested. “You said he started acting like this after they took his nobility?”

She nodded.

“You think he knows what to do with himself now?”

Emberlace looked down at her empty-eyed husband and shook her head sadly. “I told you, we don’t know anything beyond ruling. I think you’re right. He’s just lost.”

The strangers looked at each other for a while, seeming to speak with their eyes, then turned back to Emberlace, having come to some sort of silent decision.

“You carrying weapons for show, or do you actually know how to use them?” the young man asked.

“I’ve been well trained in the arts of weapons,” Emberlace replied, “and Daystar has been given extensive instruction as well.”

The strangers nodded. “Well, in that case,” the young woman smiled widely, “How do you feel about becoming sellswords with us?”