For each de Morte slain, dozens of families would benefit.
The chill of nightfall slipped between her cheek and the rabbit fur lining her hood. Sera shook off a shiver and strode through muck of mud and snow to the stable.
Here in the stables it was warm, dank, and sweet with hay and animal-scent. Gryphon nuzzled into her cupped palm. Sera did the same against the magnificent beasts warm neck. She slipped a hand over the knobby row of witch knots that Antoine kept braided into the glossy black mane. Fond memories of helping Antoine feed the horses and oxen early each morning before the sun broke the horizon filled Seras thoughts.
She recalled her insistent daily question to her brother. When will you let me ride Gryphon?
Antoine would always smile his wide, devil-take-me smile and chuck a knuckle under her chin. You do have a way with Gryphon, I can see that. This beast wont allow any but the two of us to touch him without putting up a raging fuss.
Today then? shed eagerly wonder, her fingers already curling around the saddle horn in preparation to mount.
Soon, Antoine would always say.
And Seras hopes would wilt. She knew he hadnt been ready to share with her his one private passion. For she shared his every other passion, such as sword-fight, tending honor through patience and diligence, and respect for their parents.
You were good for him, she whispered now against Gryphons smooth black coat. She drew her fingers over the silky and thick hide, shimmery in the rush-light glow. I know you miss him, but you serve your former master well in allowing me to ride you now. Thank you, Gryphon. Together we will avenge my familys cruel demise.
Not if you insist upon such theatrics. The squires voice echoed in from the stable doors. Riding into the midst of battle on your great and fiery dragon-steed? A swing of your sword decapitating the enemy? Sera!
I dont want to hear it. She pat Gryphons rear flank and picked up a curry comb that hung from an iron hook on the wall. The horse bristled his coat as she smoothed vigorously over it with the brush. You may leave my service if you wish.
Iyour serv He struggled to place his tongue on the words.
Sera knew the man had nowhere else to go. He was hopelessly lost when it came to religious pursuits. And toad-eaters were certainly out of vogue.
With a curt straightening of his shoulders and a proud thrust of his chin, Baldwin replied, I would never.
Then silence your objections from this day forth. Do you understand?
Baldwin Ortolano, tall and slim, his hands and wrists jutting way beyond the hem of his borrowed shirtsleeves, merely nodded, defeated. I fear my attempts to cease uttering oaths may have to be renewed should I remain by your side.
It is not me you must answer to in your final days, she said. The curry comb skimmed through Gryphons sleek hide, warming her fingertips with the brisk motion.
You would do well to remember the same, he said.
The fine wire brush stopped on a glossy patch of hide. When her final day did come Sera knew exactly who would ask of her mortal sins. And she did not fear Him. She could not. She was doing the right thing. So many lives would be spared with the swing of her sword.
Though, she sensed there was a deeper reason she had taken on the quest. But that reason was not immediately to hand. Normal females did not take to the sword to sever heads. What was she doing? There was no doubt she had not a clue beyond that she was angry. On the other hand, twas very mucha compulsion to battle. She knew not why, only that the rage that boiled within pushed her. Enticed her forward. Someone had to put an end to the de Mortes reign of terror.
And that someone would be her.
Creil is another two days journey, the squire offered in the silence of torch flicker and horse chawing. Might we bed down here tonight and start afresh in the morn?
That is what I intended.
Baldwins sigh of relief could have been heard in the dark cacophony of yonder tavern. Sera smiled, but turned her face to Gryphons flank so the squire would not see such emotion.
Shall we get a room?
Is there one available?
I believe there is.
You have my coin stashed safely?
I do. He patted his hip where a conglomeration of baldric, gauntlets, leather bone-bag, and wool cape made it impossible to determine just how slender the man really was. He kept her coin in his codpiece, Sera knew, from the rhythmic tink that accompanied his strides.
Weve enough to see us through many months. Though she prayed this quest would end much sooner. Go ahead. One room. I shall sleep on the floor.
Already eagerly on his way to make arrangements, Baldwin stopped in the doorway. He turned with a pained moan and pinched grimace. Sera, you know I will not sleep a single wink should you be lying on the floor while I have a straw pallet to cradle my weary bones.
Are you propositioning me, squire? Sera peeked under her arm to catch his reaction.
Why no!
He blushed a deep crimson. The two of them had never shared more than a brief nod in passing through her fathers castle, or whispered morning prayers in the chapel. But she had heard of his former profession, the very reason that pressed him to seek atonement by applying to the church. Baldwin Ortolano had done things to survivecheating, lying, stealingacts that branded him a criminal. Those same acts also fashioned him imperfectly human. And she certainly needed human right now, imperfections and all.
If the bed is wide, we can share. We shall lie so our heads are opposite one anothers feet. What say you?
Baldwin lifted a suede-booted foot and rubbed it along his opposite ankle. Im not sure
Sera gestured through the air with the brush. Ive smelled worse than your feet in my lifetime. Now be gone with you. Run up and find us a room with a fire and have it blazing for me when I return.
Yes, my ladyer, my lord.
A while later, Baldwin strode out of the Dragons Eye, pleased that his mistresss coin had purchased them a fine room with a wide bed, fresh water (melted-down snow for washing), and clean straw.
Sera hadnt come in from the stables, and an odd twinge of foreboding had prompted him to seek her out. She was, after all, a woman. A young female of four and twenty who should not be left to defend herself against any danger that should approach.
Oh, he knew Sera was not your average amiable, submissive female. Hed lived at the dAnge castle for nine months, and in that time had learned Sera had taken over chatelaine duties when she was but twelve. Elsbeth dAnge, Seras mother, had developed twisted joints that would not allow her to do anything with her hands, save brush aside the bed curtains to receive her maids.
He now knew that affliction had come following the abduction of Elsbeths newborn daughter. Faeries, eh? Fine enough, the little winged creatures. But the idea of a changeling, mewling in a newborns cribwell, it just gave Baldwin the shivers.
When Sera could not be found taking accounts in the larder, or purchasing food and fabric at market, or mending clothing, or shearing sheep, she stole a free moment here and there to practice in the lists with her father and brother. An unusual female, Seraphim dAnge, in that she wanted to do it all. If her brother Antoine could do it, she could as well.
And her father had encouraged her masculine pursuits. Marcil dAnge, a stalwart lord possessed of a compassionate but fierce heart, had treated Sera as if a son, but not without the occasional gentle smile and knowing wink.
Beyond such knowledge of her abilities, the fact that Sera had beheaded two of Frances most notorious villains still troubled Baldwin. When ensconced in the black armor and charging through the roar of battle cries with a steel-clashing sword, Sera rode a strange sorcery that tricked her mind into believing she would succeed.
Baldwin prayed that sorcery would keep its hold on her until this quest was finished. For if and when she did fall, it would be a hard fall, indeed.
Just as he had suspected! A strange man leaned over a figure lying on the freshly spiked straw at the end of the stable. Long, narrow legs and wide hands splayed over the nesthe stood over Sera!
In a cacophony of tinking coins, jangling bones, and breathy huffs, Baldwin dashed through the stable door. He tripped up his feet on a block of wood, righted himself with the expert skill hed developed since his teen years had seen to stretching his limbs to ridiculous lengths, then scrambled to the end stall where Gryphon was tied.
Before Baldwin could blurt out an angry shout, the man turned and backed away from Sera, acknowledging the squire with a nod. Twas the dark-haired knight that had set Sera to a swoon.
That is my lord at rest, and I shall thank you to leave herer, him at rest.
Baldwin knew his eyes bugged at that slip, a response to mistruths he had never been able to tame. Indeed, hed played a blind toad-eater, wearing a scarf over his eyes to keep the innocents from reading his grift.
He clutched the bag of bones tied at his waist. For strength. Pray, tell what you think you are doing, sir?
Forgive me. The man raised his hands briefly to show he had no ill intentions, then stepped back. I was just seeking my own resting place for the night. All the rooms are taken.
Baldwin took a moment to look over Sera. On her back, the heavy mail tunic pressed her body into a snug nest of straw. Her hood was still up and her eyes were closed, a soft snore purring from her mouth. So tired, she hadnt even made it to the room hed rented. But, thankfully, curiously androgynous under cover of sleep.
What is wrong with him?
Hmm? Baldwin turned and looked over the man. Two black eyes beamed at him. Dark hair slicked over his ears, and a shadow of a beard progressed dash-and-scatter from his cheeks to his jaw. There lived an eerie peacefulness in the depths of those eyes. Perhaps he was a little handsomeah, hell! What was he thinking?
Your master. The man gestured to Sera. To look over his face one would wonder
Sweet Mother of Wonder, did the man suspect?
Is he ill?
Ill? Not the suspicion Baldwin had feared. He swallowed a melon-size gulp and tried to act nonchalant. He pressed his hand to the stable wall, crossed his legs at the ankleand winced at the pinch of coin digging into his delicates. Wh-why do you say that? He quickly uncrossed his legs.
It is only because he looks it. Those dark crescents under his eyes and the gaunt flesh over bone Mayhap he is frail?
He is no thinner than I, my lord.
The obsidian eyes of the stranger took in Baldwins lank frame. Dressed in squires tunic and the tight-fitted brown leggings borrowed from yet another dead man, Baldwin felt awkward and exposed. But better to distract attention to himself.
Youre not a soldier, are you?
A postulant, actually. I am soon to become a monk. Though for as much as that was worth anymore, he might just as well go back to eating toads.
Really? I thought you a squire to this mans knight.
Well Baldwin twisted his head upon his neck, fighting the sin of mistruth even as he babbled a thousand lies. Closing his eyes to avoid discovery, he offered, That, too.
Have you a condition yourself, man?
Condition?
Your eyes
No. No, nojust, you seeIm terrible exhausted, my lord. Traveling all day, you know. It tends to tire my eyes.
Indeed. Not a spark of belief in the strangers condescending tilt of head. Pray tell, what is your lords name?
My lord?
Yes, the man lying here on the straw.
Baldwin shrugged, felt the color of blood flush his cheeks hotly. My lord?
You just said that.
That is what I call, erhim. Mymy lord.
Ah. But he must have a name?
He is of the dAnges. Yes, and leave it at that, Baldwin thought.
For the week they had traveled the roads the moniker of the Black Knight had served Seras alibi. He could not just announce to this man that my lord was really my lady. He couldnt tell anyone, for that matter. Much as he wished an entire army backing he and Sera on this suicidal quest.
DAnge. The knight, in thought, thumbed the scruff of his beard. Were they not set upon by Lucifer de Morte? I thought the entire family murdered by that bastard less than a fortnight ago?
Yes, well, there were Baldwin fidgeted with a stray point that dangled from his shirt, and closed his eyes, two brothers One survived.
I see. The knight cast another glance over Seras inert figure, then flashed his eerie eyes upon Baldwin. And his name?
Who, sir?
The man sleeping on the floor. Your master?
Er, Antoine. Baldwin gripped the bag of bones tightly. Pity he hadnt been able to procure Jude the Obscures wrist bone last market day. Twas the Patron Saint of Hopeless Causes, he. And this lie was certainly hopeless. Yes, Antoine dAnge.
Antoine dAnge. The stranger walked a few paces across the straw-littered floor, then turned on Baldwin, drawing his angular face up close until his breath hushed in cold clouds across Baldwins nose. Within the depths of the steely black eyes, Baldwin sensed the Fates toyed with his string at this very moment. Youre lying to me, squire.
I am not a sqersquire. Yes, indeed. I am a squire.
Liar.
I am but a novice! II am not yet accustomed to answering to that title.
There is something up.
What is that, sir? Damn, but he needed that bone!
The knight fit his hands at his hips. His studded leather jerkin skimmed his knees, and shiny black boots shrouded his legs from thigh down to his spurred heels. He was a tall man, slender, but possessed of thick arms and muscled wrists capable of matching blows in battle. I had better find my own nest of straw before all the drunkards come spilling out of the tavern. Good eve to you, squire.
Good eve All the drunkards?
Baldwin flashed his gaze over Seras peaceful form. How soon before someone discovered she was a woman? And what would they then do to herno, he didnt want to think of it. Hed heard one perfectly horrific tale of abuse from Sera, had seen enough
He could not leave her alone.
Baldwin glanced to the tavern, up to the second floor where he and Seras room waited. Already paid for. A warm bed waiting to cradle his tired, aching limbs. Twould be a shame to let it go to waste.
A sniffle, a crunch of hay, and the chink of chain mail accompanied Seras turn upon her makeshift bed. She curled on her side, pocketing her hands up near her chin, her knees arrowing toward her stomach. Sleeping like a babe. A womans position.