Vetch stepped out of the shadows and followed. The lad gave him a cursory nod on his way in. Never did Vetch tire of the scent of a clean stable building. While some people might find the smell of animals and their leavings offensive, to Vetch it was something honest, honest in the same way the cobbles of Moonfane Forge had always felt underneath his boots on an autumn evening patrol. It reminded him of home. But, inevitably, simple reminders such as those would revive memories of the loss of those things back home. Always now, there was that bitter taste to spoil sweet memories of things lost. Bitter like the stench of burnt straw. He thought of the young girl who had been working in the stables that morning before he had left on this mission of revenge. Had he asked her name?

Fae let out a grunt of recognition upon seeing him. Vetch forced a smile and scratched the big animal between her horns, as he had seen Lily do innumerable times.

“Hi there, Fae,” he greeted her. The panthegrunn licked his wrist, while he checked that she had food and fresh water and new straw. Food and water had been replenished. He judged the straw in her stall could us refreshing, but before he called to the stable boy about it, he remembered how Fae would not tolerate strangers in her space. No doubt Lily would have warned the hands to stay out.

“What in all the hells is this thing?”

Vetch turned to find the tall, hunched man peering over his shoulder at Fae with a dubious look on his face.

“Panthegrunn,” Vetch muttered, adding, “I wouldn’t get close. She doesn’t get along with too many people, and she’s quicker than she looks.” With that, he gave the man an amicable nod and went to check on Revenge down the other side of the stable.

“My mistress’ll buy it off you,” the man offered to Vetch’s departing back. “She breeds and deals in fine animals. She’ll pay you well for it. She’s got the finest stables in Pasanhal, just you mention the name Yvelise around here and people’ll tell you that. Finer than this hovel, by a piece and a half.”

“Claude, take your ass out of here with that talk before the stable master returns and hears you,” the stable boy spoke. Vetch noticed he had been cleaning near enough by to the tall man to keep an eye on him, without making it so obvious as to be insulting.

Claude chuckled and offered up his hands in a gesture of appeasement. “You know it’s true, boy. Hey, hey, listen to me about this,” he said excitedly, returning his attention to Vetch. “Only the very best animals get stabled at my mistress’s buildings. There’s no denying that. See those two horses I brought here today? Look at ‘em. Prime animals, bred from Wheel-and-Spoke stock. I’m not supposed to say this. ...” He paused, clearly relishing what he was about to reveal, and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “They belong to Lady Iris of Black Crux.”

“Get out of here!” the stable boy exclaimed, “I don’t believe it.”

“The look on your face says otherwise,” Claude chuckled. “So, what say you, young man? You know there’s not a breeder around who’ll set you right with a bag of coins as fat as the one Mistress Yvelise can for this strange beast.” He thumped the door of Fae’s stall to make his point and was rewarded with a warning roar from Fae. He stepped back from her hastily, but seemingly unperturbed, rambling on, “My mistress is the one Lady Iris herself chose to care for her horses until her men return for ‘em. Just come talk to her at our stables. She’s been looking for something to astound the rich buyers again, after that ugly little incident with Night Made Burgundy. We’ll all stand to make a lot of money.”

Turning his back hadn’t worked; now Vetch only half listened while he brushed Revenge. Clearly, the implied dismissal hadn’t been enough to halt the man’s jabbering. “That’s a good tale, friend,” Vetch tried. “But I’m not from around here, so none of those names mean anything to me. And besides, Fae’s not for sale. You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

“He gave it a pretty girl’s name,” Claude let out a laugh that was partially a cough. “Never give the breeding stock personal names, man. They’re for making money, not getting attached to.”

Vetch ignored the comment and hoped the man would get the message and leave him alone. But the stable boy picked up the thread left dangling.

“The ruler of all Draffor up and leaves her horses with you, and you bring them here?” The lad shook his head and brayed a laugh. “I don’t believe a word of it, Claude. Get out of here and leave my patron in peace.”

“Serious as a plague, boy!” Claude rose to the challenge. For all the man’s odd proportions, he managed to puff his chest out, eager to defend his claims. “She came in a train of carriages, all pulled by horses like these ones. Told my mistress she was leaving them with us, horses and carriages both, on account of she’s returning home by ship across the lake. She was beautiful as people say she is, too,” he added, with a crooked-toothed grin. “I’d give my left leg for a roll with that one. Anyway, she paid more than I’d ever seen anyone pay for boarding animals, long as we moved the carriages into one of our barns and kept them out of sight until she sent people back to come and get ‘em.”

As the man spoke, more and more of his words began to trigger the sparse bits of information Vetch had gathered directly after the attack on his town. The story was directed at the stable boy now, but Vetch took in every word, and pieces began to fall into place.

The stable boy had hopped up onto a barrel by this point. He sat there swinging his legs as he asked, “Why’d you bring ‘em here then?”

“Told you. We were all out of space. All the nose-in-the-air types here for the festival leave their animals with us. We’re packed to the gills. Well, we got a couple more in just this morning, and my mistress figured she’d—”

“Figured she’d double her coin by freeing up stalls she could rent to someone who just arrived. And you freed those stalls by sending these horses here for a few days, while Lady Iris—or whoever it was you mistook for Lady Iris—is gone and none the wiser.”

“Don’t act like your master wouldn’t have done the same in our place. It’s festival season, boy. There’s coin to be made! And it was Lady Iris. Swear it on my daddy’s grave. You come by later and I’ll show you the carriages that prove it. Got the Black Crux coat of arms on ‘em and everything. You never saw such rich things. But bring a silver to pay me for the sight.”

“What kind of a coat of arms?” Vetch asked. Both Claude and the stable boy looked over at him. “Was it a black castle overtop a gilded field? With a purple flower above it and a red heart underneath?” The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he saw recognition come into the tall man’s eyes even before his voice confirmed it.

The man chuckled, spoke to the stable boy. “Weren’t it just a minute ago he was ‘not from around here’ and didn’t know the name Lady Iris? If you didn’t want to talk money, just say so.”

“Lady Iris,” Vetch pressed, striding back over to the man. “That’s her name, the one who traveled in carriages bearing that coat of arms?”

“That’s what I said.”

“But you claim she’s taking a ship across the lake? Why would that be? Is not her castle, the one depicted in her coat of arms, in this region? Hold Pasanhal is full of wheat fields, like the gold field on her coat of arms. I need to find that place and that woman.”

A chill of fear ran down Vetch’s spine as he begged information. If this was all true, then they had missed her. The Lady had been here, and no doubt with Marigold in her possession, but was gone now? Gone and crossed the lake? Why? It didn’t add up. Then, something Vetch had not considered shouldered its way into his mind. Why did he assume The Lady would be returning to her home? Was it not also possible she transported Marigold to somewhere out of the kingdom, to some foreign ruler for a mountainous reward? Ennric would have seen that possibility. Why hadn’t he? As all of Vetch’s plans unraveled before him like a dropped ball of yarn, the tall man’s guffawing cut through his thoughts.

“He really doesn’t know who she is!” He elbowed the stable boy and laughed until he coughed again. Once he had composed himself, he shook his head, a mocking smile on his lips. “What, are you simple, man? Lady Iris of Black Crux is the ruler of Hold Draffor. Why would she live in Pasanhal? More important, why would you need to find her? Spotted her out in the festival, did you, and more desperate for a roll with her than I was, huh? Ha! I get it, young man. But she’s about at high up as you can go without being King Caiside himself. You ain’t getting any of that! How could you not know who she is? Idiot. Are you even from greater Kaldura? No, no, no. She rules from Black Crux, way out on the kingdom’s eastern border. Where they also grow wheat, I’ll add. Lots o’ places grow wheat.” He gave the boy beside him a look of mocking disbelief. Politely, the boy did not share in it.

“I think it’s time you got back to your mistress, Claude,” he said.

Vetch put the stable boy’s words aside and directed his questioning to the the tall man. “Claude. Sir. I need to know where that woman was headed and how many swordsmen she had with her. Did she have an old woman in her care? If she took a ship across the lake, what ports could that ship be headed to?”

Even as he asked the questions, his mind was racing. The ruler of Hold Draffor? How could that be true? How could one of the kingdom’s heads of an entire hold—who answered only to the king himself—have perpetrated an attack on another hold’s seat of power, and done so in such a secretive way that news still hadn’t reached many neighboring towns? And to what end? If the king knew of this, the woman’s head would be on a block. It sounded insane and, yet, who but someone that powerful would have the means to pull such a thing off? Still, there was one more thing that bothered him.

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“The head of Hold Draffor, this Lady Iris, is a mage?” he asked. If such a high-born person was also a master mage, surely it would be common knowledge the kingdom over. Yet, he had heard no mention of it. Certainly, Lily would have been aware that such a prominent person was a Barrier-Caster, and yet had given no indication.

“A mage?” asked the stable boy.

Claude scoffed. “What’s wrong with you? Are we talking about the same person?”

Vetch sighed. This was not going where he expected. “Just ... please, tell me what you know about Lady Iris. She ... I just need to know where she is going.” Internally, he cautioned himself. If this woman truly was the head of one of the kingdom’s holds, then things would be much more complicated than a simple abduction. These would be political affairs he and Lily were dipping their toes into. Not to mention, there might be plenty of people in the town of Pasanhal who would see a neighboring hold’s Lady as an ally, not someone they’d like hearing accusations leveled.

From his earlier dismissiveness, Claude’s demeanor changed. He leaned his odd frame back against the door of Fae’s stall, cavalierly close to the big animal. He smiled. “How much is it worth to you?”

Bribery. So, it came to something so uncouth. Well, Vetch could play that game easily now, much as he disdained it. Even as he went fishing into his belt pouch for a coin, he was thinking how Ennric would have punched this man’s teeth in by this point. Perhaps he should have begun his line of questioning there. But he was in no shape to start a fight.

“Not in my stables.” The gruff voice alerted Vetch to the arrival of the stable master. “Claude, take your shifty dealings out from under my roof.” The stable boy hopped off his barrel and grabbed up a shovel to look like he’d been working. The stable master glanced once at him, then looked up and marked the two new horses in their stalls. Jutting his chin at Claude, he asked the stable boy, “He paid?”

“Yes sir,” the boy answered sharply.

“Then there’s nothing else he needs to be here for. You can go, Claude. I’ll see that Yvelise’s animals are well cared for here. And, you, sir,” he added with a glance at Vetch. “If it were me, I wouldn’t get caught up in any ‘deals’ this man offers. Not my business if you do or don’t, just some friendly advice. If you do, at least take it out of my stables and my yard.”

“I’ll be leavin’,” Claude declared. “But I’ve a right to inspect an animal my employer might want to buy. You,” he addressed Vetch. “Come find me at my mistress’s stables. Much nicer facility than this. Bring this strange animal with you and we’ll talk business. And maybe some information on the side, if a good bargain can be made.”

Vetch let the gold coin he had grasped within his belt pouch drop unrevealed. “I’ll think about it,” he said and turned for the door. He had to tell Lily what he had learned. If the woman they pursued was bound across the lake, they needed to be after her as soon as they could manage. Inwardly, he cursed himself for the day of leisure he’d suggested. Had they robbed themselves of the chance to ride ahead of a ship and waylay it when it reached its port? Only yesterday, a single day had seemed insignificant. Now, it represented potentially losing their chance at recapturing Marigold. Learning how powerful her abductor’s standing in the kingdom was changed things dramatically. Vetch suspected now more than ever that their town’s mage would be lost for good if this Lady Iris succeeded in reaching her destination with her.

Vetch reconfigured his and Lily’s plans. They would need to finish their resupplying and make haste to depart town. He had already determined he’d have better luck asking around at the docks and bribing people there than this churlish stable hand. If he could confirm the man’s information, then they would hire passage on a ship this very day.

He was nearly through the door out to the stable yard when he heard the click of a stall door opening behind him and froze. Dread mixed with exasperation as he turned to confirm what he feared. The tall man had opened Fae’s stall and stepped in with her, as if he had any right to inspect her like some milk cow bound for the auction block. It would have been disrespectful under normal circumstances, but this was no horse or milk cow. Fae was a charge-beast, and one who could be aggressive when it came to protecting her personal space. The man had no idea just how much danger he had put himself in. Without a thought, Vetch ran. He heard Fae’s roar and the heavy stomp of her hoof on the ground right before he grabbed the man’s shirt collar in his fist and yanked him violently back out of the stall, just in time for Fae to miss his face with the wild toss of her horns. The action caused Vetch to grunt in pain from his sword wounds, as both he and Claude fell against the opposite stall door.

You idiot! You fucking fool! Vetch had to think the insult rather them direct it at the man whose life he’d just saved, because he’d knocked the wind out of himself in doing it. Gasping, he pushed himself back up to his feet. But if he hadn’t exactly been expecting gratitude from the man, the way he did react took Vetch completely by surprise when the first punch connected with his gut. Claude’s knotted fist pushed fire throughout Vetch’s stomach, radiating out from his burning sword wound and thwarting his attempt at regaining his breath. The second blow felt like it cracked a rib. The tall stable hand was surprisingly strong in that hard, wiry way of a lifelong laborer.

“Who said you could put your hands on me, friend?” he snarled at Vetch through clenched teeth.

Vetch braced for a third punch, his hand going for his sword only to discover he wasn’t wearing it. The punch didn’t come. Instead, Claude grabbed him by his shirt, pulled him upright, and shoved him bodily away. Vetch stumbled and fell into the pile of fouled straw the stable boy had been mucking out of a stall. He coughed and spat and was horrified to see a tinge of blood red in his spittle. Again, he pawed at his belt, hoping he had at least thought to have his knife with him. He had not.

“Who do you think you are?” Claude drawled over him. He nudged Vetch’s boot with his own. “Get up and try to put your hands on me again, face to face this time!”

Vetch knew this was bad. His entire torso was on fire and he felt dizzy and sick. His insides twisted in pain even when he was able to drag a much-needed breath into his lungs. When he rolled over to rise to his knees and put his fists up to defend himself, he knew he did so only as a bluff. He, who had once taken on droves of enemy soldiers sword-to-sword and fist-to-fist, had been reduced to a cringing puppy by the wounds dealt to him in his last battle. This was how he would end, killed by some random stable hand, in a pile of manure, over a stupid misunderstanding.

Claude lunged down for him. As Vetch tensed his body and prepared whatever weak attempt he could muster at fending him off, strong arms wrapped around Claude’s midsection from behind and hauled him back.

“Come away! Stop it, man!” the stable master bellowed. His command and the terrified shouts of the stable boy intermingled with the nervous sounds from the horses and Fae’s enraged roar. Someone had shut her stall door again. Now, she wrenched it off its hinges with a push of her muscled shoulder. “Hells and demons, Claude, what is in that scarecrow head of yours!?” the stable master was relentless, keeping the tall man in a tight bear hug and dragging him backward.

Claude tried to wrench away, kicking his legs and demanding to be let go of, but the stable master was no weakling either. He succeeded in dragging the man to the open door and then, with a twist of his body, tossed him out through it onto the ground—it would have made proud any tavernkeeper similarly familiar with expelling belligerent drunks.

“Get out of here and don’t you come back around. Got it? Tell Yvelise to send someone else for her horses. If I see you again, I’ll turn ‘em out in the street!” With that, the stable master slammed the door closed.

“She’ll fucking buy this place!” Claude yelled. A moment later something impacted the door, as if he’d thrown a rock at it. His voice faded as he left, but he still yelled as he went, “Dumb shit! Could’ve made a lot of money. Y’ain’t getting that information now. I’ll see you in an alley some night, dumb shit. Teach you to put hands on me!”

The stable boy came and kneeled down by Vetch. He had a wet rag that he offered. “Are you okay, sir?”

Vetch swallowed and took the rag, pressing it to his forehead. Why did he feel feverish all of a sudden? He nodded to the boy, coughed, spat in the straw. This time, thankfully, there was no blood. But his insides felt wrong. “I’m fine, boy,” he mumbled when the lad remained kneeling and watching him. The stable master offered his hand and helped Vetch to his feet.

“Hells and demons, I apologize, sir.”

The boy piped up. “He paid, sir. He had the horses and I didn’t let him in at all until he paid.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry, son. I know, he can talk nice and do proper business one minute, then blow up the next.” He stood in consideration a moment. “Lad, go finish your chores, then we’re going to go over to Yvelise’s place together and straighten things out so nothing like this happens again with that jackass. He’s not welcome here anymore.”

“Yes sir.” The lad made himself scarce out the back door.

The stable master put his hands on his hips, sighed, “Again, I’m sorry.” He considered Vetch, then said, “That’s a fine shirt he ruined. It was in my stable; it’s my responsibility. Tell you what, for the rest of your stay, the housing and feeding of your animals is on me. And don’t worry about the stall door. I’ll have that fixed.”

“I doubt we’ll be staying beyond breakfast,” Vetch replied. At the look on the other man’s face, he added, “Not because you haven’t done right by us. Something came up and we need to take passage across the lake this very day.” He struggled to stand up straight and speak with an unstrained voice. He wanted nothing more than to lie down. “Is it possible to buy passage on a ship on such short notice?”

“It is. If you’re in a hurry, you should know you might have to settle on a smaller cargo ship.” To this, Vetch nodded. The stable master went into his pocket, drew out a few coins. “If you won’t be staying on our hospitality, then at least accept back what your woman paid me before. I insist.”

It was such an honest gesture, from a clearly honest man. As a soldier, Vetch was more used to meeting the kind of people who operated on anger, not reason. “Keep it,” he said. “For pulling that lout off me. And for the stall door.” He patted the man on the shoulder and staggered past him out the door.

In the fresh air out in the stable yard, he paused. The sun was up in full now and just pushing its light through some early clouds in the east. The cool morning air seared his lungs. Looking down at himself, Vetch saw what the stable master had meant about his shirt. The nice blue townsman’s shirt Lily had bought for him in the markets was smeared and stained with manure. A fine time for his wounds not to be bandaged. Almost, he wanted to take it off and throw it away, so Lily would not see how he had already mistreated such a fine gift from her. It was a silly and impulsive thought. He would never give up anything given to him by her, though he lamented he wouldn’t have time to have it laundered before they must find a ship that would take them to wherever The Lady had fled to.

Walking up the short path back to the inn, Vetch noted he smelled like a dirty horse stall now. Soon his other things would as well, once he changed clothes and packed the prized shirt in with them.

Well ... I grew up working in a tannery, he reflected. I’ve smelled much worse than this before. That was certainly true. But whether he had ever felt worse. ... He couldn’t think of a single time.

Taking a deep, painful breath at the inn’s front door, he composed himself to hide his injuries and went in to deliver to Lily the disastrous news.