The Soul Weaver

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Authors: Carol Berg
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trees were noisy with chattering blackbirds as Gerick and Tennice and I sat on the lawn that evening, discussing the journey to Montevial. Graeme Rowan had already ridden out for Dunfarrie, convinced I should be shut up in a lunatic asylum.
    â€œDon’t even think I’ll allow you near this meeting, dear boy!” I said. “You and Radele—and Paulo, too, if he has to come—will stay well out of the way.”
    Though dismayed at the consideration, Tennice agreed that we needed to find out what Evard wanted. “. . . but if you’re going to do this, discretion and speed must be of first importance,” he said. “Too many together are noticeable. I still say, both young men should remain here.”
    â€œGerick and I stay together,” I said.
    â€œAnd I won’t go without Paulo.” Gerick’s lean face was animated and determined. “He can travel separately. As a horse trader perhaps. All the better to watch out and not be one of us. And my mother and I—and I suppose the Dar’Nethi shadow must come—we could be . . .”
    â€œ. . . a family looking for a squire’s billet for a son,” I said, caught up in Gerick’s enthusiasm. “It’s the most common reason for a mother and son to be traveling to Montevial. A father dead in the war. The family seeking someone to take the boy under his wing.”
    â€œJust what Philomena was trying to do for me after Tomas died, before I went to Zhev’Na,” said Gerick.
    He said it so casually. Zhev’Na . The syllables pricked my heart, evoking horror and hope in a confusing muddle. The name recalled so much of grief and despair, yet for Gerick to speak of the Lords’ fortress with equanimity was surely a sign of his healing. He guarded his thoughts so fiercely, I grasped at any sign of progress.
    â€œExactly,” I said. “Radele would be the fencing master who’s taught the boy until now. Can we pull it off?”
    â€œOf course we can,” said Gerick. “I’ll be interested to see Montevial again. My last time there I was eight or nine, when Papa—Tomas—took me to see the ruins at Vaggiere. Actually, I think he wanted to show me his new chambers in the palace more than he wanted to show me the ruins.”
    â€œI would imagine he did. Tomas was an inveterate show-off.” I smiled at Gerick, and he returned it, a brief, glorious reflection of my brother and Karon all in one. He didn’t smile enough.
    Tennice, as always, was skeptical, but Gerick’s cheerful mood won him over. My old friend unfolded his long legs and got up from the grass, grimacing and stretching his ever-aching back. “I’ll speak to Teriza, get her started on your provisioning.”
    Gerick sprang to his feet. “I’ll tell Paulo. He’ll think it a lark—riding horses all day for weeks.”
    During the discussion Radele had remained unobtrusively in the shade of a myrtle hedge, a vantage from which he could see both the lane from the main road and the service road that led from the stableyard deeper into the parkland. The moment Tennice and Gerick were out of earshot, the young Dar’Nethi confronted me, his face quite solemn. “Madam, you cannot be serious about this fey masquerade, traipsing about the countryside . . .”
    I stood and brushed the grass from my skirt. “I’m quite serious. And if you’ve heard so much, then you know you’re to accompany us.”
    â€œWe must wait here for the Prince’s return.”
    â€œThat could be months. King Evard likes getting his way, and if he starts hunting, he could discover this place long before that. I’ll not have Gerick’s or Tennice’s safety compromised. It’s too dangerous to wait.”
    â€œI don’t think it will be months. Probably only a few days. And in any case, my lord’s commands to me . . .”
    â€œ. . . said nothing

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