The Eighth Warden Bk. 04 Ch. 25-26

"What about you?" Rusol asked Odwins, his newest bondmate. The skinny, mustachioed man was one of three Matagoran wizards who'd accepted an offer of work without knowing their employer's true identity. Rusol had turned the other two into hunters, but Odwins had enough experience to be a real asset.

The wizard glared. The compulsion woven into the warden bond forced his obedience and kept him from talking about things he shouldn't, but Rusol didn't trust him.

"I can set an alarm ward," the man finally admitted. "Though I don't see how that would help, considering the number of people constantly coming and going. And mage locks are a type of ward. I can create those and attune them to specific people."

Mage locks might be useful, but they weren't what Rusol was looking for. "Can you block illusions? Or scrying?"

"I don't have spells for those."

"Rodulf, are there any in your spell books?" Rusol asked. In addition to the boy's own apprentice-level book, he'd stolen two more from his teacher before running away, both full of combat spells.

"No, but Jasper had one to block scrying. He hadn't tried to learn it before he..."

"Give Jasper's book to Odwins so he can learn it."

Rodulf's lips tightened but he nodded. Wizards were possessive of their spell books for some reason, though logically it made more sense to share the knowledge.

They still needed a way to block illusions, and spell books were hard to come by in Larso. Rusol might have to send someone to Matagor. If Odwins could learn an illusion ward, that might at least prevent the demonborn woman from infiltrating the palace again... but it wouldn't resolve the more important issue.

"This warden," Rusol said. What had Razai called him? "Corec. Yassi, where is he now?"

Barat looked up from his intent study of the tiled floor, showing interest in the conversation for the first time. Had the knight realized what his own role would be once they found the man?

Yassi closed her eyes and held still. A moment later, her shoulders slumped. "He's in a war camp," she said, her voice dull. "Surrounded by soldiers and weapons."

"Where?" Rusol demanded.

"I don't know. I don't see any distinguishing features. It's just flat land."

"You thought he was in Tyrsall before. He could be on his way here."

She looked again. "His forces are small--not an army. He has far fewer men than even Blue Vale does, and you said Blue Vale couldn't hope to threaten the border."

"Could he be joining up with them? Maybe that's what they've been waiting for. He might know I killed Leonis."

"I don't know, Rus. Nothing looks familiar."

"That's not good enough!" Rusol shouted at her, slamming the side of his fist against an end table. "He knows who I am! He knows I tried to kill him! He sent an assassin after me!"

She just stared back with that ever-present look of betrayal in her eyes. "I'm not a Seeker," she said, her voice soft. "I can only tell you what I See."

Kolvi and Barat were watching the altercation with disapproval, and even Magnus had sat up as if thinking to intervene.

Rusol forced himself to get his temper under control. It wasn't the demon rage this time. When Yassi made him angry, it was never the demon rage--it was something else. What would he do if she couldn't give him the answers he needed?

"Of course, my dearest," he said in a soothing tone. "I'm sorry for yelling, but we need to learn what he's up to as soon as possible." It was galling to apologize in front of the others, but he didn't like the way Magnus and Kolvi were looking at him.

Yassi gave a little nod of her head. That was as far as she would go in acknowledging his apology, he knew.

Facing the others, he said, "That's all for now. I'll speak to you again tomorrow."

He dismissed them then, and soon he was alone with Yassi.

"I am sorry," he said, cupping the side of her face. It was a gesture of affection he'd seen his father use with his mother, back in happier times.

Yassi flinched away and Rusol stepped back, having to fight down his anger again.

"If the wardens know who I am, there's something I need you to do," he said.

"Maybe he's the only the one who knows," Yassi suggested.

"Either way, I have a task for you. With a child coming, I'd hoped we could avoid any trouble, but that's not possible now. I want you to promise me you'll protect our son from the wardens. Or our daughter. Will you do that?"

Yassi stared at him in silence.

He waited. The compulsion spell would force her obedience, but he wanted to hear her say it.

"Of course I'll protect our child, Rus."

#

Yassi managed to control her expression until she was alone in the royal apartments.

Rusol had finally made a mistake in the web he'd woven around her mind. After five years, she couldn't even remember all the orders he'd given her... at least until the compulsion spell kicked in, forcing her to obey them anyway.

But this new order was simple and clear, taking precedence over everything else. She would follow it happily, doing exactly as he'd told her to do. She would keep their child safe from the wardens.

And the most dangerous, unstable warden she knew of was Rusol himself.

Suddenly regaining control over her own future was unexpected. She didn't have enough time to carefully plan out a course of action. At any moment, her husband might realize the enormous hole he'd left in her instructions and come find her so he could fix it.

She had to hurry.

She went to her wardrobe first. Escaping would require money. She had none of her own since all of her needs were provided for, but she did have jewelry. The small, simple pieces from her youth, she'd try to keep, but she could sell the fancier items she'd received from Rusol or as wedding gifts from the courtiers and ambassadors.

For now, she dumped them all together in a pile, then looked for something to put them in. She had no sort of travel pack or bag--servants carried anything she wanted to anywhere she wanted--but Rusol had left a satchel full of books in the sitting room. She emptied it out on the floor, then had a better idea. The fewer traces she left, the longer it would take him to figure out what had happened. She hid the books at the back of the wardrobe, then swept the jewelry into the bag.

She left behind a diadem in the form of a golden headband, with a ruby inset at the front. It belonged to the kingdom itself, passed down from one queen to the next, and was meant to be worn during formal events. It was too recognizable to risk selling.

She packed spare underthings and a few personal items, but the satchel wasn't large enough to carry any of her outfits. The dress she was wearing would have to do until she was safely away.

Her scrying orb was resting on a small wooden pedestal in the sitting room. She didn't truly need it anymore--her powers had grown beyond it--but it was easier to See through it than without it. And it was hers, a memory of her childhood visits to Sanvar. It would cause an odd bulge in the satchel's side, but she couldn't leave it behind.

Yassi froze when she heard muffled voices outside the apartment. There was a knock at the door, so she quickly stuffed the bag into the wardrobe and returned to the sitting room.

"Yes?" she called out.

One of the guards in the hall opened the door and allowed Merice to enter.

Not now! Yassi thought to herself. If the former queen was having one of her episodes and needed help, Yassi might lose her chance to escape. Still, she didn't regret the chance to see the other woman one last time.

Merice appeared uneasy, shuffling around the sitting room without speaking. Finally she met Yassi's gaze. "I heard yelling earlier," she said. "I was walking by the trophy room and..." She hesitated. "Rusol was angry with you."

"He wants me to find someone I can't find," Yassi said. The other woman knew she was a Seer.

Merice grasped the back of a chair to steady her hands. "It's... it wasn't the first time, was it? It's so hard to remember things, but I've heard him yelling before. I saw him hit you once. I thought it was just a bad dream."

Yassi couldn't reply. If she tried, the bond would force her to lie about what had happened.

"I don't understand," the other woman continued. "He's always been so sweet, such a kind boy."

He'd been kind to Yassi too, back at the beginning. She'd thought they were friends. Before he'd bonded her.

"I don't understand either," she said carefully, trying to avoid triggering the compulsion. "Merice, there's something I have to tell you. I'm leaving--I'm going away. I'm not coming back."

She hadn't intended to say that, but Merice could be trusted for a short time, until she forgot she was supposed to be keeping a secret. Rusol had never laid a compulsion spell on her.

Yassi couldn't tell anyone else, though. Saying the wrong thing to the wrong person would get her caught, even if the person she was speaking to didn't want to betray her. Barat, Odwins, and any others who wanted to escape would have to find their own way out.

"Because he hurt you?" Merice asked.

Yassi had to keep silent again, not trusting her own words.

"Does he know?"

"No, and you can't tell him. You can't tell anyone."

"But what about the baby?" Merice asked, a pleading tone in her voice. "I was going to help you with the baby!"

"The baby will be safer away from here. Rusol thinks the wardens will attack." Yassi doubted that, but Merice didn't know enough of the details to say more.

"If it's a boy, will you bring him back?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Probably not." Her son would be king if Rusol died, but wardens could live for a very long time. What if her husband saw their child as a threat?

Merice bit her lip, then glanced at the door. "Can I go with you?"

"What? I can't... Why would you ask that? This is your home."

"Marten is dead," the woman said, tears coming to her eyes. "I don't want to be here anymore. Sharra's dead, too, and Rikard's been away for so long. I was looking forward to the baby, but if you go, I'll be alone." Merice had never quite realized how cruelly Sharra had treated her, and still seemed to think of her as a companion, if not quite a friend.

Yassi hesitated. Did Merice understand what she was asking, and what it would mean? Could they actually manage it? The other woman wasn't as fast on her feet, and her face was well known. They wouldn't be able to hide in the city long enough to make preparations. They'd have to sneak out immediately.

But Yassi had an advantage of her own. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her husband. Rusol was in the wing of the palace where his other bondmates were quartered, speaking to Magnus. He was nowhere near the royal quarters. There was still time.

"If you come with me, it'll be difficult," Yassi warned. "We'll have to travel quickly, and go a long distance without any servants. If we can't find a carriage or a ship, we may have to walk or ride."

"Rikard taught me how to ride," Merice said. Her expression brightened. "Can we go to Fort Northtower to visit him? That would take us away from here, like you want."

"I don't think it's far enough, and it's the first place Rusol would look for us."

Merice's face fell. "I can't go without seeing Rikard first."

Rikard was dead, and Yassi couldn't bear to see what would happen to Merice if the woman insisted on traveling north to find him.

"What if you write him a letter?" she suggested. "You can tell him all about our trip."

Merice thought that over. "I used to write letters to him, but then I stopped. I don't remember why." She smiled. "He'd like that--a letter from his old mother about her very first adventure."

Yassi intended to see that there was as little adventure as possible on their journey, but at least it seemed like Merice was aware enough to understand what they were doing.

"Then let's go to your rooms," Yassi said, pulling the satchel from her wardrobe, along with a coat and a cloak. "You'll need to pack light. Something you can take out of the palace without making the guards suspicious."

Merice eyed the satchel. "Oh! Oh, dear. That's all you're taking? What about clothing?"

"We'll buy clothes as soon as we can," Yassi said. "We'll need dresses that won't stand out where we're going. Bring your jewelry--you'll need to sell some of it." Merice's jewelry collection was more extensive than her own, and would allow the woman to live out the rest of her life in luxury.

"This will be strange, won't it?" Merice said, almost to herself.

"You must let me do the talking," Yassi told her. Hopefully the woman wouldn't forget what they were doing at a crucial moment.

Merice nodded.

They made it past the guards outside Yassi's door without incident. In Merice's quarters, the former queen packed her personal effects into a cloth carry-bag with a shoulder strap, a style that had been popular among the women of the city some decades earlier.

Yassi stopped in front of the guards who stood outside the apartment. "We'll be attending a salon at Lady Ana's home this evening, and will require an escort." She patted the satchel. "A literary salon." Lady Ana was Rusol's second cousin, and, as such, her mansion was one of the few places in the city the queen could visit on her own without a major procession.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the men said, bowing.

Yassi had intended to take her own guards, but Merice's would do as well. She only needed them long enough to get outside the palace, and they were under the same compulsion spell as the rest of the royal family's personal guardsmen--a compulsion that required them to obey members of the family, including Yassi herself.

The guards and the footmen at the main entrance and the front gates would be harder to convince. They would insist on readying a carriage, but that wasn't an option--the footmen and drivers weren't under the compulsion spell.

It was a clear night, though, and still early in the evening. Lady Ana's home was near the palace. It wasn't entirely unbelievable that Yassi and Merice might want to go for a stroll. More importantly, their escort would outrank the other guards. It should be enough.

Once they were away, they could find a spot where they'd be unobserved, and Yassi would order the two guards to return to the palace. If they waited for the shift change, it might be hours before anyone questioned their return without the two women--and even when Rusol asked them himself, they wouldn't be able to tell him anything useful.

With a pang of regret, Yassi decided against visiting her parents. Rusol would certainly question them, likely even compelling them to speak the truth, but once he realized they didn't know anything, he'd leave them alone. He wouldn't harm them--he wasn't needlessly cruel, except to her. Instead, he'd try to get them on his side to help hush up her disappearance. After she was out of the city, she'd find some way to send word to them that she was safe.

Rusol would send soldiers and spies after her, but she was prepared for that. She would always See them coming. With the warden bond, he'd know what direction she'd gone, but he wouldn't know precisely where--he'd always depended on Yassi herself to find people for him. And since he'd never cast the hunter compulsion on her, he couldn't control her from a distance. She just had to avoid anyone trying to follow her. The farther from Larso she went, the fewer resources her husband would have.

It wasn't a perfect plan, but for the first time in five years, Yassi felt hope.

###

Chapter Twenty-Six

The vision was one Shavala hadn't seen before, but it had the sensation of great age.

She was in an elven village surrounded by a sparse forest. Only a few tershaya dotted the landscape, towering over the other trees--a mix of deciduous and evergreen. There were a dozen wooden huts scattered around, similar to those the dorvasta used for structures that were either too large or too heavy to be built up the trunks of the tershaya.

The visions always came from the point of view of the staff-bearer. In this one, her clothing was nondescript, but her hands--when she caught a glimpse of them--were a man's, though with the slenderness that indicated an elf. The staff had been carried by an elf in nearly every memory, but this elf seemed familiar.

Perhaps it was the hands, or the plain, almost primitive clothing, but Shavala was certain this was the first bearer of the staff--the man who'd claimed the still-green branch while a wolf, bear, and owl had looked on. Or the Wolf, Bear, and Owl.

The vision sped up as the staff-bearer spoke with the villagers. Shavala couldn't hear any of the words, but in the end, the people seemingly agreed to something he'd proposed, and the vision slowed back down to normal speed.

An elder stepped forward out of the small crowd. The staff-bearer greeted him and led him to a row of potted tershaya seedlings the villagers had prepared for planting. The elder chose one, and the two men carried it to an open spot where no trees were growing, then dug a hole using knapped stone tools. Had the events in this vision taken place before the elves learned to work metal?

After the seedling was planted, the elder held out his hand. The staff-bearer carved a gash into the man's palm with a flint knife, and then the elder knelt and grasped the base of the seedling. The staff-bearer directed a trickle of magic into the young tree. It began to grow, doubling in size in a short time, a smear of the elder's blood seeping into the bark.

This was old magic, from a time when Shavala's people had been more superstitious. The blood served no purpose, but stories said the early druids had used it in rituals to show their connection to the world around them.

The ritual may not have been real but the magic was, and the staff soon joined in to help, enhancing the spell and speeding up the growth. Its aid was much weaker than Shavala had seen before, as if the staff itself was still learning how to use its abilities.

Once the tree had grown to the size of a large sapling, the two men stepped back. The elder swayed, appearing dazed, and a younger woman came over to steady him.

The staff-bearer viewed the world through his elder senses, examining the tree's roots as they continued growing out farther and farther until they'd reached the root systems of the three nearest tershaya. The roots mingled and grew together, forming a single root-bond between the four trees.

Satisfied, the staff-bearer gestured to the woman. She helped the elder to sit, then went to retrieve a seedling of her own. The process began again.

The vision came to an end and Shavala awoke to the pre-dawn darkness, trying to understand what she'd seen.

The staff hadn't given her a new vision in months. What was it trying to tell her? And why now?

In response, she saw another new vision--but this one was of herself. She was telling Nariela and Zhailai how the nilvasta had lost the tree bond. The vision didn't include sound, but the others were standing in the same positions they'd been during the conversation.

"What are you saying?" Shavala asked. "Did that memory have something to do with the tree bond?"

A flash of feeling from the staff--contentment at serving its purpose.

It ignored her questions after that, so she slipped out of her bedroll and ate a travel bar made from nuts and fruit pressed with honey. The grasslands were a poor place to forage at this time of year, but she'd brought enough trail rations to catch up with the expedition. If she was late in arriving, Leena had promised to check on her and bring more supplies.

Packing up the camp didn't take long. Shavala hadn't brought a tent, just setting up a rough shelter by stretching an oiled canvas between two bushes. She rolled up the canvas and her bedroll and tied them to her pack, then strapped her quiver to the side.