Honor-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book III ]

44

Diarmán had been right, more or less. It would not be terribly difficult to track the Olarian men-at-arms across the countryside. In the first place, they had taken the high road away from Coratse's holdings. Moreover, there was no way for such a large group of fighting men to travel as Uachi and Diarmán had tried to, without leaving a trace.

There were traces aplenty, and Diarmán marveled at them.

"It's like they're a great old beast tramping across the countryside," he said one morning, looking out over a field that had obviously been used for a camp. Dark depressions in the ground revealed where cookfires had been laid, and the rest of the field had been battered and scraped by heavy boots, tent pegs, and rolling carts. "Look at this mess."

Uachi was riding with Ealin, his arms loosely bracketing her swaying body. She was looking out across the traces the army had left behind, also, but she had not offered any perspective on what she saw. "It's an army," Uachi said. "It is difficult for an army to be discreet. Are you complaining?"

"I'm not complaining. Of course it's convenient for us. I'm simply making an observation." Diarmán turned to Uachi, the traces of wonder fading from his expression as he lifted his chin haughtily. "Making conversation, you great old grump."

"A great old grump, am I?"

"You are. Especially of a morning."

"Mm. So it was I, then, who threw my boot at you when you roused me today?"

Diarmán looked taken aback, but he broke into a grin. "Oh, don't whinge. I didn't even hit you."

"Your aim is lamentable, I will give you that."

"Besides, seeing your face in the morning is very traumatic. Show a little compassion." Diarmán peered ahead, narrowing his eyes. "Do you have any compelling guesses as to how far we are away from our quarry, Uachi of the North?"

"Not far now, I should think. After we break for our midday rest, I want to get off the high road. There will be scouts when we draw near, and we do not want to be seen."

"Just what I was hoping for. Uneven terrain during the day and sticks and stones beneath my back in the evening." With a sigh, Diarmán unstrapped his waterskin and took a sip.

"When we met, you acted as if you spent every night beneath the stars. Something about a sore back, a traveler's lot." Uachi considered this, then added, "Not that it surprises me to learn that you were being dramatic."

"I wasn't being dramatic. I did have a sore back, and I was a lone traveler. That doesn't mean I have to like sleeping on the ground."

"Mm. What took you away from home that night, Diarmán? You didn't tell me then."

"Of course not. You were a brooding stranger, you great old grump." Diarmán focused on strapping the waterskin back into place securely before he answered Uachi's question. "My mother's medicine. Surely you remember—I gave it to her when we got back to House Eldran."

Uachi did remember, now that Diarmán had conjured the image: the ageless Lady Moigré, meeting her son in the faded opulence of that front parlor and accepting a small bundle from him with more enthusiasm than she had shown upon seeing the man himself. Uachi reflected on this, studying Ealin's sleepy face in profile. In her, he recognized the same drowsy detachment that had puzzled him in Diarmán's mother.

They had continued to dose Ealin with the stuff. Uachi did not like drugging her, but he'd had to concede to Diarmán. How they would have made it this far without quieting their prisoner, he did not know. She still did not seem to suspect them; this should have boggled belief, but Uachi had considered her complacency at length, suspicious until he remembered how Moigré had seemed to need her eldritch medicine.

Now, he suspected that Ealin did not much care what was in the tea Diarmán brewed for her morning and night. It seemed to soothe her in the same way it soothed Lady Moigré, and she never complained or refused it.

"So it's a medicine you cannot come by closer to home," he said.

Diarmán shook his head. "Not many men trade in such things in Narr. 'Tis a journey to get to the nearest. But one does what one must for one's family."

"Mm." Uachi focused on the road, his thoughts drifting, until Diarmán drew him back.

"Speaking of family, you've met mine, Uachi, but I only know a little of your story. You told me your parents are gone. Is that all there is to tell?"

Uachi didn't answer immediately. It was his instinct to deflect, to push away any attempts to learn more about his past, but was there a reason to hide the details from Diarmán now? They had come this far together at great risk; if he could not trust him with a bit of history by this point, he never would.

"That's nearly all," he said. "The only other family I had was a brother."

After a brief, perceptive silence, Diarmán echoed softly, "Had."

"Dead." Uachi looked at Diarmán, waiting until he had torn his attention away from the horizon and met his gaze. "The archmage killed him."

Diarmán went very still, his gaze searching Uachi's face. Then, his focus dropped several inches, and Uachi remembered that Ealin was right there, riding with him. She was so quiet it was easy to forget, even as close as they were.

In another life he might have wanted to preserve Ealin's feelings, but why now? He was taking her to her thrice-damned father, after all. She would see him again. What would happen then—the end of things—he would not consider. Not yet. "Yes. That archmage."

"You conniver." Diarmán shook his head in apparent wonder. "You convinced me that we were off to track the warmongering prince for my sake. A little jaunt while yon princess is safe on four legs."

"Which is true. If we move our pieces wisely, you will rise in Coratse's esteem."

"Aye, a lofty and impossible goal. You want more, don't you? You've brought me on this fool's errand for more reasons than one. I thought you might be politicking on behalf of your master—"

Uachi snorted—

"And you certainly are...but there's more to it than that. More than just our pieces on the board. This is an old game indeed."

Uachi sighed. It was an old game—very old. He felt every one of his years doubled. "You give me too much credit for scheming. I don't know what will happen when we get there, Diarmán. I can assure you that I'm not here on some wild suicide mission." He indicated Ealin with a tip of his head.

The look in Diarmán's eye made it clear that he did not believe Uachi's motives were Ealin's by any stretch of his imagination. He clearly suspected Uachi's course. With a quirk of his brow, he signaled his displeasure that Uachi would believe him so daft.

Ahead of them, Uarria bounded along the road, chasing after a butterfly. Uachi's highest priority was still, and always, the princess's safety. His goal was to get her back to her parents, safe and sound.

Ealin was watching her, too, and although she was adrift in her own little world, Uachi did not like the way she followed the princess with her eyes. As much as he told himself that this was for Diarmán's sake, or even for the sake of peace between their realms, it was a risk.

It was a risk he might live to regret.