The Omaja Stone Read online

  The adults grabbed the children’s hands and veered off into the grassy field, heading toward the trees Jiandra had indicated. She turned to resume her flight and saw Hagglefinn’s signpost just ahead. She broke Otto into a full gallop.

  All heads inside the pub turned to look when she forcefully swung the door open. Jiandra frantically scanned the room for any sign of the young woman she’d seen in the children’s thoughts, but found none. She rushed to the pubkeep’s counter.

  “Yes, miss? Can I help you?” He appeared puzzled by her agitated look.

  “Yes, I…ah…” Jiandra forcibly calmed herself. She couldn’t state her real business. The perfect ruse came to her. “I believe I was…pickpocketed by two little Nandal children in the square today. Does a mother with two children work here, by chance?”

  The pubkeep shook his head. “Yes, a Nandal wench works here, and her brats roam about in town every day. I am sure it was probably them who did the deed.”

  “Are they here now? They might have my…ah…brooch, and I am eager to get it back, if I may question them.”

  “They’re scrubbing the cellar floor just now. Come, I’ll show you the way.”

  Jiandra followed the pubkeeper down the cramped, musty staircase to his cellar, straining to see in the dim light. Mice scurried out of the way, and cobwebs hung overhead. The young mother she’d seen in the vision and her children were on their knees, scrubbing the stone floor by the dim light of a flickering candle.

  “You there,” the pubkeeper barked at the woman. “This lady has business with you and your whelps.”

  She looked stricken, frightened.

  Jiandra’s heart pounded. She prayed she would be able to win her trust in a matter of seconds.

  “Shall I beat them for you?” the pubkeep offered.

  “No, thank you. Very kind of you to offer, but I would like to deal with them myself. May I have a moment alone with them?”

  “Certainly.” The portly man started up the stairs.

  Behind his back, Jiandra turned to the woman and her children and put her finger to her lips, motioning to them to keep quiet. As soon as he was out of earshot, she spoke to the young woman in a rushed whisper.

  “I am here to help you. Do you understand Villeleian?”

  The young woman nodded yes.

  “They are arresting all Nandals in town. Soldiers are headed this way. If you don’t leave now, you will be captured. I am here to help you and your children escape. Do you understand?”

  She nodded yes.

  “Do your children understand Villeleian?”

  “Yes, a little.” The young woman had a thick Nandalan accent.

  “What is your name?”

  “Shirali, Miss.”

  “I’m Jiandra. Is there a back way out of the pub?”

  Shirali nodded.

  “Can you slip out and meet me in the back with your children in five minutes? I’ll distract the pubkeep and exit through the front door, then come around back to find you.”

  Shirali nodded yes, motioning the children to her side. They scrambled up and clung to her tattered skirt.

  Jiandra hurried up the steps to the dining room of the pub and went to the counter.

  “Everything all right?” The pubkeeper wiped the surface with a dirty cloth.

  “Yes, yes. They returned the brooch and took their beating, so all’s righted now. It was a gift from my Aunt Marge. Not really worth much, but sentimental, you know?”

  He nodded. “Sneaky little Nandals. I hear the city guard is out rounding them all up, looking for the queen’s assassin. I hate to lose my hired help, but what can you do? Can’t trust them as far as you can toss them.”

  “Yes, I know what you mean,” Jiandra agreed, giving him an exasperated look. “It’s about time they did something about the Nandals.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shirali slip around the corner and into the back room. “Well, thank you for your time, sir. Sorry to trouble you.”

  “No, no. No trouble at all.”

  Jiandra hurried out the front door, grabbed Otto’s reins, and led him around to the back of the pub. Shirali and the children stepped into view from behind a stack of crates, looking terrified.

  “I can take the children to safety now on my horse and then return for you in a few hours. You cannot stay here at the pub. The soldiers will surely search all the businesses in town today. But for a few hours at least, you should be able to hide safely in the woods near here. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, miss…but how will you find me, in the woods?”

  Jiandra panicked a little. Yes, how would she ever find Shirali again before the soldiers did? She reached up to finger the leather pouch through her blouse. The stone inside seemed to vibrate against her fingers.

  “Walk straight north into these woods here,” Jiandra motioned toward Silverthorne Wood, across the field in back of Hagglefinn’s. “Take fifty paces from the edge of the trees. Count them out. When you stop, find a place to hide in the bushes and wait. I will find you, I promise.” Jiandra lifted the little boy up onto Otto. “I will take good care of your children, you have my word. They will be safe at my farm with my siblings.”

  Shirali nodded, tears filling her eyes as she watched Jiandra lift the little girl up into the saddle behind the boy. She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, then touched her daughter’s and son’s ankles.

  “I will be back after dark.” Jiandra swung herself into the saddle behind the children. She drew her cloak over them, hiding them, and dug her heels into Otto’s flanks. Off he flew, away from the main road and down a lane that led around the outskirts of Kingston, through some orchards and secluded areas, toward Cobbleton and Stovy Farm.

  #

  “City guards and Villeleian soldiers are rounding up all the Nandals and detaining them,” Gerynwid coolly informed her male guests.

  Yavi and Yajna sat across from one another at the opposite end of her long dining table feasting on a meal of roasted duck and drinking red wine from silver goblets, served by Gerynwid’s Nandal maid, Svana.

  “They are looking for you,” Gerynwid added with a malevolent smile. “The queen’s assassins.”

  Yajna stopped chewing and glanced at his brother.

  Yavi set his wine goblet down. “Then I suppose it is time we take our leave, witch. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  “There is no need to leave just yet. You are safe here on my estate. No one dares approach my gates, not even guards and soldiers. They are scared of me,” she laughed. “Besides, I have a proposition for you.”

  Yavi leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Out with it. We are listening.”

  Svana collected dishes from the table, lingering far too long over their handsome guests.

  “What are you standing around gawking at, you useless nitwit?” Gerynwid shrieked.

  Startled, Svana flinched and dropped a crystal platter, shattering it on the stone floor. The girl gasped and knelt to snatch up the broken pieces of crystal in her bare hands, which immediately started bleeding.

  Gerynwid leapt to her feet. “Get the broom, you dolt! You’ll bleed all over the place!”

  Svana, confused, continued to try to collect the shards of crystal. Gerynwid strode over to her and grabbed a fistful of her silvery tresses, jerking her forcibly to her feet, and pulled her by her hair to the door. “Go bandage your hands and get a broom!”

  The girl rushed off in tears.

  Gerynwid turned back to face Yavi and Yajna, who sat watching in silence. “Forgive her; she’s not the brightest lass. I apologize for the commotion.” She seated herself in her place and leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table and clasping her hands together. “All right, my proposition. In my view, the two of you and I share much in common. We want the new Queen of Villeleia dead. We work together to make it so. With the last of the royal D’Ornelis house gone, the council will be in disarray, scrambling for a real leader. You help me take the throne by force; I
give you whatever your hearts desire. Land, titles, servants, power…all the treasure you can spend in your lifetimes. Villeleia is a wealthy country, lads. Wealthier than any of her neighbors imagine.”

  Yavi leaned forward in his chair. “How do we know we can trust the word of a witch?”

  “You are questioning my motives?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re an assassin. How do I know that I can trust yours? Or that the two of you can even finish the job? After all, you failed the first time. The arrow missed its mark.”

  Yavi didn’t flinch. “Yajna missed on purpose.”

  “Why would he do that?” she demanded.

  “I do not know,” Yavi shrugged. “I have not asked him.”

  “Then how do you know he missed on purpose?”

  “Yajna never misses.”

  Gerynwid rose to her feet and paced to the window. “It seems I am the one who should be questioning trust and motives, then.” She turned to Yajna. “Well? Why didn’t you kill Solange when you had the opportunity?”

  Yajna set his napkin on the table. “A moment of remorse. I’m not accustomed to killing unarmed girls. I will not miss again.”

  “I see.” Gerynwid seated herself, leaned back in her chair and relaxed a bit. “Well, before we proceed any further, I want to know who you are working for.”

  “We do not know, ourselves,” Yavi answered. “Someone very wealthy. He—or she—hired us through a third party in Nandala. We were trained as assassins and spies in the emperor’s Black Armies, and we have a reputation for excellent work.”

  “Do you see any reason you would not be able to complete your client’s transaction as well as fulfill an agreement with me, once Solange is dead? That is, helping me take the Villeleian throne, of course.”

  “Well, if we cannot,” Yavi grinned, “I suppose we will have to learn to live without land, titles, servants, and the immense wealth of Villeleia.”

  Gerynwid pursed her lips in annoyance. She couldn’t shake the feeling these two were not being completely honest with her, but she needed some good henchmen, and they certainly fit the bill. It would be very difficult to take and keep the throne solely through her own magic, even with Solange out of the way.

  “That will have to do, then. Do we have an agreement?”

  “Yes,” Yavi answered, and his brother nodded.

  #

  Jiandra made her way back on Lichton Road after having dropped off Shirali’s two children at Stovy Farm, into the care of her siblings. She rode Otto in the direction of Hagglefinn’s pub, hoping Shirali had understood and followed her instructions about hiding in the woods.

  As Hagglefinn’s came into view, she saw a guard patrol standing outside questioning the pubkeep. They had three captive Nandals in tow, hands tied with ropes. Jiandra drew her hood low over her eyes and turned Otto around, riding away from them a short distance to wait. Around a bend, she dismounted and peered from behind her horse, watching for the guard patrol to move on. She fingered the Omaja stone in the leather pouch around her neck, worrying about Shirali.

  “You there!” a gruff voice called out.

  A Kingston Guard was approaching on horseback. She quickly slipped the Omaja’s leather pouch into the neckline of her blouse, under her cloak.

  “Let me see your face, woman!” He moved a hand to the hilt of his sword.

  Jiandra threw back her hood, showing him her brown hair and indignant green eyes. “I am no Nandal.”

  “What are you doing here, stopped by the side of the road?”

  “Resting my horse—or is that a crime now as well? I am a citizen of Villeleia, sir, and I do not appreciate being treated like a criminal.”

  “Queen’s orders, miss.” He dismissed her with an imperious shrug, and left.

  Jiandra seethed. As soon as she was able to get Shirali to safety, she would visit Solange and ask her to put a stop to this madness. She pulled her hood over her head. The soldier detail was still in front of Hagglefinn’s talking with the pubkeep. Jiandra waited until they at last moved on, heading back into Kingston with their captives in tow, and the pubkeeper disappeared inside.

  Jiandra trotted Otto casually toward the pub, then angled toward the back, and headed for the woods. She dismounted and led Otto into the trees, counting out fifty paces.

  “Shirali, it’s me, Jiandra Stovy! Show yourself!”

  Silence. She raised her voice a bit. “Shirali! It’s me, I’m here.”

  There was a rustle of underbrush on her left. Shirali’s petite form emerged from the trees. “My children? Are they safe?”

  Jiandra could feel the girl’s fear. “They are with my siblings at our farm. They are safe.” She reached into her saddlebag and withdrew a cloak, tossing it down to the girl. “Put that on and cover your head with the hood.”

  Shirali did as instructed, and Jiandra reached down to help pull her up onto Otto’s hindquarters.

  “Hold on. We’re riding out of Kingston fast.”

  SEVEN

  Gerynwid donned a low-cut, filmy white gown that clung to her slender hips and silently descended the stairs to her sitting parlor, where one of the twins sat relaxing before the fire with a goblet of brandy. She smiled as his silvery gaze moved appreciatively down her body and back up to her face.

  “Good evening.” She glided closer as he rose to his feet. “Pardon me, but are you Yavi or Yajna?”

  He grinned. “Yavi.”

  “Yavi, of course. The only one who smiles. I trust your accommodations are comfortable enough here at my humble abode?”

  “Yes. You have been a gracious hostess, witch.”

  “Yavi, my dear,” she entreated silkily, “Do refrain from addressing me as ‘witch,’ if you please.” She drew near to the sidebar and poured herself a goblet of brandy. “Where is Yajna?”

  “Keeping to himself in our quarters. He likes to meditate alone at times.”

  “Fascinating.” She sipped from the goblet. “So you are the talker, and he is the thinker?”

  “Yajna can be reserved at times.”

  “Do you know that you have an amazing talent for evasive answers?” Gerynwid teased, smiling up at the silver-haired giant.

  “A man should always be careful with his speech, especially when in conversation with a powerful woman,” he returned smoothly.

  “True.” Gerynwid stepped closer to him and reached up to lightly trace the outline of his muscular shoulder with one long fingernail. “Stay and converse with me a moment, Yavi. I don’t often have human company here at my estate. I wish to ask more questions that you will probably evade.”

  He regarded her with impassive silver eyes, his expression unreadable. “What sorts of questions?”

  “How old are you, for instance?”

  “Twenty and five.”

  “A straight answer! I am so pleased.”

  “What about you, Sorceress? Care to reveal your age?” He sipped his brandy.

  “I suppose ‘Sorceress’ is better than ‘witch,’” she granted. “I am very old, Yavi, and no, I do not care to reveal my age—not to a twenty-five-year-old. My sorcery keeps me unnaturally young.”

  “And unnaturally beautiful.” He reached out to capture a long, silky, black lock of her hair and rub it gently between his fingers.

  Gerynwid set her brandy aside and splayed both her hands over his chest, tossing her head back to give him a wicked smile. He encircled her slender waist with his hands and pulled her lithe body forcefully against his tall, lean, muscular one. She slid her arms up around his neck and drew him down for a hungry kiss. He grinned down at her, and then something caught his attention toward the doorway. She followed his line of vision, but no one was there.

  She placed two fingers against the side of his angular chin to turn his face back to her. “Care to join me in my quarters for the evening?”

  He smiled and gently removed her arms from around his neck. “I think I’d better not for now. Yajna might get jealous that you invited me instead
of him. Brotherly rivalry, you understand.” He drank down the last of his brandy and took his leave. “I bid you good-night, Sorceress.”

  When he was gone, she whirled toward the fire, scowling.

  #

  Jiandra rode in the dark through the outskirts of Kingston with Shirali seated behind her, hidden under the hooded cloak and holding on for dear life. Once they were clear of the houses outside the southeast edge of Kingston, Jiandra urged Otto into a full gallop. She was eager to reach Stovy Farm, where she could reunite Shirali with her small ones and relax, at least for tonight.

  They rounded a bend in the trees and Jiandra sighted three guards on horseback ahead, their torches glowing in the darkness. Jiandra slowed Otto to a trot as she neared them, not wishing to appear suspicious. She would just nod and ride on by.

  “Ho, there!” one of the guards called out as she came into view. He held up a hand to halt her.

  Jiandra felt Shirali stiffen behind her. “Keep your hood down,” Jiandra whispered over her shoulder, slowing Otto to a stop as she approached the men.

  Jiandra met the guard’s gaze cheerfully. “Good evening, sir.”

  “By chance did you see a Nandal fellow running along Pritchard Lane heading east, Miss?”

  “Why, yes,” Jiandra lied, turning in her saddle to peer back the way she’d come, as if to look for the runaway. She hoped they would give chase.

  “Who’s that you’ve got on back?”

  Jiandra swallowed. “Oh, it’s my sister Gracie.” She patted Shirali’s knee affectionately. “I’m in a bit of a hurry to get her home; she’s feeling quite under the weather. Must be that fever that’s going around. Go on and wave to the guards, Gracie,” she prompted Shirali.

  Shirali lifted a hand, keeping her hood low.

  “She’s truly ill. If you’ll excuse us, I must get her home.” Jiandra inclined her head to the men.

  “Good evening to you then.”

  With relief, Jiandra nudged Otto’s flanks with her heels. They rode away from the city and the rest of the way to the farm without incident.

  As Otto galloped across the stone bridge and up to the cottage, the front door swung open. Gracie, Rafe, and Shirali’s children came running out. The children were bathed and fed, and were dressed in some of Gracie and Rafe’s childhood clothing and shoes.