“As far as I know, yes,” Jason said.
“Would there be danger to those inside?” Anders asked.
“If they were leaning against the side, maybe,” Kira said. “The interior is lined with wood, right? And some sort of cushions for the seat? Those should insulate and protect anyone inside.”
Anders nodded. “Then Colonel Rus and I both believe that you and Jason of Urth should ride inside that coach until we reach Larharbor. I know what happens to cavalry hit by lightning. We can’t risk you being hit that way.”
Kira felt panic rising and this time ruthlessly tried to tamp it down. “Sir… ” She had to wet her mouth and swallow before she could say more. If only that blasted coach was open.
Open.
“Sir, may I… request… that the doors to the coach remain unlocked? And that I be authorized to open them at any time I feel a need to?”
Anders’s expression became curious. He came closer, studying Kira’s eyes. “You’ve got a few demons riding with you, don’t you, Captain?” he said in a low voice. “From that kidnapping?”
“I think so, yes, sir.”
Colonel Anders stepped back. “The doors to the coach will not be locked. You are authorized to open them at any time for any reason. I request that you don’t leave them open for long or in any predictable pattern of time.”
“Yes, sir,” Kira said, relief flooding her. “No, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“If I may,” Colonel Rus said hesitantly, “standard procedure in the Confederation is for the coach doors to be locked to keep any attacker from accessing the inside.”
“That won’t be a concern,” Anders said. “For two reasons. One is that my Lancers won’t let any attacker get a hand on that coach. And the other is that if those attackers somehow manage to get that door open, they’ll regret it. These two,” he said, pointing to Kira and Jason, “are the ones who together held off that Imperial legion for hours until relief arrived.”
“Ah, yes,” Rus said, smiling. “I find your reasons compelling, sir.”
Kira finally settled down to sleep, gazing morosely at the coach that would be her almost-a-prison for the next few days of travel. Worries lurked in the shadowed corners of her mind as she thought about that, about those who had fallen last night, and about future dangers and past events.
She didn’t want to wake up screaming. Not in camp, with so many soldiers around. “Jason, can I ask a favor?”
He gave her a look that was slightly bleary with fatigue. “As you wish.”
“What?”
“I mean, sure, anything.”
“Will you sleep with me tonight?”
Jason’s head jerked with surprise. “Here? With all these people… ?”
“I don’t mean that. I mean, I need you close. Not just close by. Under my blanket, close to me tonight while I sleep. I never have those dreams when you’re holding me while we sleep.”
“Oh.” Jason nodded. “Sure. It’ll be pretty obvious that we’re not doing anything but sleeping.”
“Right. Thank you. I know it’s asking a lot.”
He grinned. “Sleep with my arms around you. Yeah, that’s one terrible hardship.”
“You know what I mean!” She tried to ignore the soldiers around her as she lay down on one blanket and held the other until Jason lay down beside her. Draping the other blanket over both of them, she settled back, Jason’s arms about her, feeling the darkness inside and the traces of panic fleeing from that touch.
* * *
“You should be happy,” Kira grumbled the next morning as they took seats, he at the front facing back and she in the back facing him. Both had been told to stay away from the sides of the coach. The inside was already stuffy and warm. Once the sun got higher it would turn into a sweatbox even if the armored baffles over the windows were cranked open.
She’d had a troubled night. No scream-inducing dreams, but the female Mage had been there, watching Kira from inside some sort of closed room like a prisoner eyeing her jailer. There hadn’t been any coffee with breakfast because it been accidentally left behind when the field kitchen was scrambled to meet them out here, leading to short tempers among almost everyone and muttered threats against the cooks. Stiff and sore from the ride the day before and a night sleeping on the ground, Kira was not in a good mood.
“Why should I be happy?” Jason asked, slumping in his seat.
“We’re not taking the train.”
“Um… yeah. Or riding horses. I wasn’t sure I could walk this morning.”
“By noon you’re going to be wishing you’d spent the entire day in the saddle,” she told him.
“This world really needs a comfortable way to travel long distances,” Jason grumped.
“Don’t you dare complain about my world! We wouldn’t be having to do this if those guys from Urth hadn’t built those weapons and buried them there and set themselves up as the Mechanics Guild and caused a lot of other problems!”
Jason gave her an angry look, muttered something under his breath, and pretended to go to sleep.
She almost went after him again, but realized she was really angry at everything else that was happening. And that he was as uncomfortable and sore as she was. Rather than vent on Jason, she tried to rest even after the coach lurched into motion and began jolting along the road.
By noon, the inside of the coach felt warm enough to bake bread. Soaked with sweat, Kira tugged at her clothing, tempted to just pull it all off and never mind Jason sitting over there because no one not even a man could think about that under these conditions but no a man probably would and anyway she didn’t want to expose her bare skin to the hot furnishings inside the coach. Opening the doors occasionally did little to help, since the heat was radiating from the armor surrounding the coach’s interior. But even though little in the way of a breeze came through, the dust from the road managed to find its way inside and add to the misery.
She started trying to calculate how hot it would have to get to cook off the cartridges in her pistol.
Fortunately soon afterwards they entered an area where the path wound through trees whose shade provided welcome relief from the sun. The armor gradually cooled to tolerable levels of heat, and by drinking lots of lukewarm water Kira managed to keep her head clear.
Jason clearly wasn’t drinking enough water, though. She shoved a canteen at him. “Drink all of that.”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, obviously mimicking Kira’s usual response to concerns about her.
“Not funny! Drink!”
Glowering, he complied, then flopped down, pretending to ignore her.
Why had she ever gotten involved with a teenaged boy to begin with?
Maybe they’d get ambushed again. At the moment that felt preferable to thumping along in this sweatbox with a sullen teenager.
Two sullen teenagers, she admitted to herself.
But that made her think about the Tiae Lancers and the Confederation cavalry outside the coach, about the Lancers who had died in the first ambush, about how many might die if they were attacked again. It made her angry, and frustrated, to think that others might be hurt or killed because of her. No matter what Colonel Anders said, the risks those others were running were because of her. And that just didn’t feel right, couldn’t ever feel right. It made her mood worsen.
The icing on the cake came when her Mage powers started getting restive, pushing at the barriers she’d built around them. Already exhausted, Kira had to devote energy to clamping down on her powers. She focused inward, trying to understand what was happening inside her and finding no answers.
A long, uncomfortable day, and another night sleeping in the open awaiting them. Kira really hoped the Confederation managed to get coffee to them before morning.
* * *
Alain of Ihris sat in the common area that provided entry to the rooms where he and Mari were staying in Pacta Servanda, as well as to the rooms housing Mage Asha and her husband, Mechanic Dav. Night
had long since filled the world outside this building, leaving the room only dimly lit by the indecisive radiance from a single candle set by Alain’s chair.
Not far away, Mage Asha also sat, lost in meditation.
Alain had spent most nights since arriving here sitting up at least for a while after the others had gone to sleep. Sitting up, watching for danger. His first encounter with Mari more than twenty years ago had been while a large group was trying to harm her, and that had set the pattern for their first years together. Anyone not trying to kidnap or kill Mari was probably set on killing Alain. Those sorts of threats had diminished after the defeat of the Great Guilds, but had never gone away. Alain had at one time thought that he had become accustomed to them.
But then Kira had come into their lives, a girl as headstrong as her mother but lacking the experience to understand everything required to stay alive in a world that contained many enemies. Any daughter brought her share of troubles to her parents, others had told him, but Kira had come with special concerns that had only multiplied as she inexplicably developed Mage powers along with her Mechanic skills. She was on her way to Altis. Her train had already been attacked. But she was continuing her journey, confronting problems and fighting through them as her mother’s daughter would. Still, Alain knew that sometimes problems and dangers could become too much for any man or woman to triumph over.
And now Alain had others to worry about. Sino, the “Doctor” from Urth, said that all was going as well as possible for Mari and the child growing within her, and the healers of Dematr agreed. But none had warned of trouble before Kira’s brother Danel died at birth long years ago. Mari only had about a month left before the child should be born, his concerns growing as the date grew closer. He could do nothing about his worries there but worry some more.
And he thought of the boy Jason, who was taking Kira from Alain as young people had been taking daughters from their fathers for as long as such things had been. But Jason had shown himself to be as worthy of Kira as any man might possibly be, and had shown as well that he understood what a remarkable gift the world had given him in her, and that he would not ever take that gift for granted. Jason already felt much like a son to Alain. He did not want to lose another son.
Kira would risk her life for Jason, and Jason for Kira, but all the devotion in the world would not stop the spell of a Mage, or the metal fired from a Mechanic weapon. Alain, remembering the moment when the bullet struck Mari at Dorcastle, had learned that all too well.
Alain had been told by others that he was wise, the only Master of Mages in the world, a man that many came to speak with to learn wisdom. But in the dark and silent marches of the night he knew the same fears as every other father knew, and felt just as helpless against them.
He glanced at Asha, wearing Mage robes just as Alain was, her eyes closed but her expression and posture speaking of meditation, not sleep. She had been company more than once during the nights, understanding his worries. Mari, and Dav, could not understand how two Mages could sit in the same room, not speaking or apparently interacting in any way, and yet be offering companionship to each other. “We learned to find friendship without showing it, or knowing what it was, in ways that others could not see. Not even other Mages,” he had heard Asha explain to Dav. That was probably as good a wisdom as any to describe it.
He should probably go to bed. Sitting awake, worrying, accomplished nothing.
A faint sound came from the hallway outside the locked door to the common room.
That wasn’t unusual. The guard posted in that hallway tried to remain quiet, but occasionally made some noise.
But there had been something about that sound…
Alain focused his Mage senses, trying to feel anything that might be amiss. Was it there, not far away? That tiny trace of something that wasn’t there and should be, as one Mage hid the spell of another?
He reached over to touch Asha’s hand.
Her eyes came open, instantly alert.
Alain nodded toward the door.
She looked that way, her expression intent with concentration.
Asha turned back to him, her face Mage-calm as always, and nodded once.
They stood up, making no noise, facing the door.
Using his heat spell here, amidst the wood of this building, might well start fires that would imperil Mari and the child she carried. Alain silently drew his long Mage knife from beneath his robes.
Asha drew her knife as well, the sharp blade gleaming in the weak light of the candle.
The area of the door around the lock vanished, gone as if it had never been.
Swiftly and silently, the door swung open.
Chapter Seven
Asha moved first, graceful and swift, her beauty eerie in the guttering light of the candle. Her knife swung at the area near the door, meeting something invisible that rang with the sound of metal on metal.
Two Mages became visible, knives in their hands, their concealment spells dropped so they could concentrate on the fight. One, another woman, attacked Asha while the other, a man, went for Alain, the sound of metal blades clashing abruptly filling the room.
He parried the first attack and struck back, only to have his knife turned aside and another thrust come at him which Alain narrowly avoided. Their opponents were skillful, using their knives to weave a deadly net about them.
But Asha had always been exceptionally skilled with her knife as well. She got a strike though, drawing a line of blood across her opponent’s knife arm. Knowing she’d soon lose strength in that arm, the female Mage made a desperate attack. Asha deflected the blow before swinging her knife backhanded across and through the front of her opponent’s neck.
Now alone, the other Mage redoubled his attacks on Alain before Asha could get to them. Falling back, Alain stumbled against a piece of furniture. The Mage leaped forward, knife poised.
The sound of a shot boomed, filling the room, the flash of light momentarily seeming to freeze the Mage in motion. A moment later he jerked sideways, spinning from the impact of the bullet and hitting the nearest wall. Rolling back to face Alain, the Mage drew back his arm to hurl his blade.
Mari fired again.
The Mage fell, lifeless.
Alain looked at Mari, standing in her bedclothes in the doorway to their bedroom, her weapon in one hand, looking awkward with the bigness of her pregnancy but also implacably deadly.
“Is that all of them?” she demanded.
“We do not know,” Asha replied, heading toward the hallway, blood dripping from the knife in her hand, as Dav came out of his room also carrying a weapon.
Guards were already boiling up the stairs, alerted by the sounds of fighting and the gunshots. The guard in the hall lay lifeless, slain without knowing that enemies were near. But no other attackers were found.
“This was just a first move,” Dav said as the bodies of the Mages were taken from the common area. “The next time, there’ll be more of them.”
* * *
The ordeal in the coach extended through two more days, finally ending late the fourth afternoon when they arrived at the main military fort inside Larharbor. Instead of a rest, though, Kira found herself trying to keep her temper as they were hustled into another enclosed carriage for an immediate trip through the city to the pier where a Confederation warship waited to sail before the sun set.
She and Jason had barely said a word to each other for at least a day.
As the carriage rattled through the streets of Larharbor, Kira felt herself reach the point at which she’d either blow up or divert the pressure. She knew what her father would tell her to do, to turn aside physical discomfort and pain, focusing on what mattered, what was real.
She finally spoke to Jason again. “I’m sorry.”
He gave her a cautious, puzzled look in reply. “Huh?”
“I’m sorry,” Kira repeated, speaking louder. “I just… this sucks. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t be angry at you.??
?
He gazed at her, his own anger visibly changing to remorse. “Yeah. I’m sorry, too. I know you’re upset about the heat, and being protected like this, and—”
“What?” She stared at him. “Protected? You saw that?”
“Yeah. I’ve been talking to your dad, and he said some things about your mom, like during the war. He said she always fought against being protected. She thought she should run the same risks as everybody else. She still thinks that way.”
“What’s wrong with that way of thinking?” Kira asked.
“Nothing. But you’re the same way. I can see every time you look outside at our escort.”
“Jason, I’m not more important than any other Lancer out there. I can never start thinking of myself as more important than any of them. Why should they risk dying while I sit behind armor plate?”
“Because that’s their job,” Jason said. “Just like you have a job that means people are trying to kill you, but you do it anyway. You’re not staying safe. You’re trying to stay alive until the job gets done.”
“That’s small comfort, Jason.”
“I guess.”
“But you’re right about me feeling guilty,” she added. “I mean, it’s not like this is fun. But there are people risking their lives for me, and everybody calls me Lady, and acts like I’m special, and my Mage powers are—" She stopped speaking abruptly.
Jason looked concerned. “The powers are giving you trouble again?”
“Not much. Forget it. I’m—" She cut off the phrase just a little too late.
“You’re fine?” Jason asked.
“If it becomes a serious issue, I’ll tell you,” Kira said, getting angry again. “I promised, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to push you.”
“That’s… okay,” Kira muttered, knowing her use of that word would tell Jason she was trying not to stay angry.
The tension inside the carriage had mostly dissipated, but Kira was still grateful when they reached the pier and she could step out into the open air. As scuzzy as she felt, the scent of the sea and the breeze off the harbor felt almost as good as stepping into a clean bath.