Keraunani (Tuyo Book 4)

  KERAUNANI

  Tuyo: Book 4

  Rachel Neumeier

  © 2022 by Rachel Neumeier

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover art © 2022 by Trif Book Design

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is strictly your imagination.

  Contents

  1 Current day

  2 Previously

  3 Current day

  4 Previously

  5 Current day

  6 Previously

  7 Current day

  8 Previously

  9 Current day

  10 Previously

  11 Current day

  12 Previously

  13 Current day

  14 Previously

  15 Current day

  16 Previously

  17 Current day

  18 Previously

  19 Current day

  TASMAKAT teaser

  Other Works by Rachel Neumeier

  Acknowledgements

  1 --

  Esau rode into Pitasosa alone, on a bay gelding, with a pretty black mare on a lead rein. He wore the uniform and the weapons and the attitude of a professional soldier, which he was; and the badge of a commander, which might overstate his rank by just a bit; and the colors of the new lord of Lorellan, to which he was not remotely entitled.

  The new lord of the county, Barent Rava Picat, had been a provincial magistrate in some county way south, then later taken an appointment as a lord magistrate of the king’s court in Avaras. Picat wasn’t exactly nobly-born, but he shared about three drops of blood with the king, being some kind of distant cousin’s by-blow on the wrong side of the bed. One or another of his various qualifications had led Soretes Aman Shavet, Regat Sul, king of the summer country, to hand him the county of Lorellan when the king declared every member of the previous lord’s family attainted and vacated the title. Hard on the family, but a lot of them had wound up thoroughly enthralled, and the king, reasonably enough, didn’t trust any of them with the job of hammering the county back into good shape and good sense.

  Esau had twice gotten a chance to look over the new lord, when Lord Gaur had met with him, sorting out one thing and another. Barent Rava Picat had impressed him as a hard-eyed, cold-mannered, sharp-witted man who wasn’t likely to miss much and was even less likely to put up with any kind of nonsense. Esau didn’t intend to encounter him on this visit. Definitely not while wearing his colors. That would be awkward.

  No real chance of that, though. The new Lord Lorellan was not in Pitasosa. He was in Tarasan, the capital of the county, deeply engaged with sorting out ten thousand problems which the previous lord had left behind when he’d enthralled practically the whole county and made a bid for the crown. That gods-hated mess would probably take forty years to put right. There was a job Esau was glad enough to leave to someone else.

  His own job was simple: Get to Pitasosa, find a girl, get her out of this town and away from the disaster that was about to come down like a big, big hammer on way too many people here. Marry her real quick, nice and tight and legal, so there’d be no questions later about the babe she was carrying. Then he could just set her up someplace where she’d be safe and comfortable, and he’d be done.

  It was a lot of trouble to go to for one girl and her brat, that was his personal opinion, but from time to time Esau had gone to considerably more trouble for a lot less reason. He figured the whole thing ought to take less than a month, counting travel time, and then he’d wind up with a solid tickmark on the good deed side of the ledger and a very nice bonus for the successful completion of an independent mission. He’d also wind up with a wife, sure, but as long as she had a thimbleful of common sense, there was no reason either of them should be any particular inconvenience for the other.

  If the gods smiled wide enough, she’d be a nice girl, maybe a bit like Lalani, good-natured and friendly, easy to get along with and about as quick-witted as any girl needed to be. A girl like that would make a good wife for a man like him. Smile when he strolled in, the odd times his talon was in Gaur; sort out her own life the rest of the time. Plenty of soldiers’ wives in Gaur to show her how to go on, see she didn’t get herself into trouble.

  Even if she turned out to be bad-tempered or sly or stupid as a post, well, that’d be a nuisance and no mistake, but he’d manage one way or another. True, Esau had lost Lalani as a talon wife the moment Lord Gaur had pulled him out of his file and put him up to troop leader, but on the one hand, plenty of private arrangements got made one way and another, and on the other, he doubted he’d hang onto the rank long enough for it to get in the way.

  No, it’d work out well enough one way or another. Definitely no point thinking too far ahead. Just find the girl, that was the first bit, and get her out of town.

  Pitasosa was an ordinary sort of town for a place right near the edge of the northern borderlands: a lot like a southern town, but built for a cooler climate with more rainfall. More timber used in building, and plenty of stone instead of adobe or plaster. Streets cobbled against mud, lined with channels to direct runoff from spring rains—neither necessary farther south. It was a biggish town, for a borderlands county. Lorellan had been prosperous right up to the end. The people here hadn’t paid for their previous lord’s mad-dog viciousness in coin. Nothing so easily repaired.

  A year and a half, a new lord, but even now plenty of signs of sorcerous influence lingered. Fewer young men in the shops and the streets than there ought to be; a lot of this county’s men had been forced into the sorcerer’s armies, and one way or another most of those hadn’t made it out the other side. Not uninjured, anyway.

  Plenty dead, some here in the summer country and plenty more on that frozen hillside in the winter country; and often enough those that survived the death of their master hadn’t come home again anyway. Too cut up one way or another, lots of ’em. Hard on a man, being enthralled, and they’d been tight in their sorcerer-lord’s grip for a long time. Some would’ve made it home, sure, but more would have changed their names, taken service elsewhere, gone off to a desert hermitage, killed themselves, who knew what.

  One man, unable to kill the sorcerer who’d taken him and used him and twisted him up, had gone after Lord Gaur. Esau had some sympathy for that poor gods-hated fool. Not a lot, but some. Couldn’t take down the sorcerer who’d got claws into him, so he’d gone after the only other known sorcerer in the whole wide span of the world. Kind of understandable, if you looked at it right. He’d come embarrassingly near getting him, too, and shockingly near getting away afterward. But not quite. That was why Esau was here; because that fool had gone and got himself caught and left this girl in serious trouble. And because Lord Gaur, when he wasn’t laying down the law, was soft as they came, as Esau himself had reason to know.

  One way or another, a whole bunch of the enthralled men had left wives and families, which had turned into a real headache for their new lord. By what Esau had gathered, Picat had given up sorting widows from wives. He’d just declared any woman whose husband was missing or dead could apply to him for a widow’s pension. He’d also made examples of two heads of families who turned women out to seek that pension instead of supporting them within the family. A literal bastard, Barent Rava Picat, so maybe no one should’ve been surprised it turned out he had a real clear idea what a head of family owed the dependents under his care.

  But all this gave Pitasosa something of an odd look. Too few young men, too few men overall, and a surprising number of women out in public view, some of ’em without even an escort. Some of them were the wives of low laborers, like always, because those women weren’t near as tight-kept, usually. A lot of the rest were the long-year widows who normally made up a good bit of the public female presence. But Esau could tell by the clothing and manner and the general look of them that a good number of the younger women out in public right here in town were tradesmen’s widows, plus some merchants’ widows. That’d last until plenty of the widows married again and stepped back out of public view. Maybe another year or two; maybe more like four or five. Maybe more than that. Maybe a generation or more. For the moment, unescorted women mostly stayed to the left side of the street, walking in pairs or little groups, eyes lowered. Decent men stayed to the right, never glancing left, pretending they didn’t notice the women, which was polite when a woman hadn’t any choice but to go out in public like that.

  Pitasosa was more than big enough to have identifiable districts, rather than just outlying farms and then a town and then more farms on the other side. The travelers’ district lay along the two main roads that crossed through the town from southeast to northwest and southwest to northeast. All along these roads, it was tight-packed shops below, each with the family, or part of the family, living above. Most of the shops and services catered to travelers.

  Head in toward the center of town and you’d find the open market and public fountains. Looking for anything else, town like this, the merchants’ quarter would lie to the south, the petty nobles’ townhouses to the west, magistrates and litigators and other clerisy to the east, and tradesmen plus most of the laborers’ families to the north. Lots of borderlands towns didn’t follow the prescribed layout real close, but Pitasosa was big enough and far enough south that it’d likely come close to that model. But the service Esau needed would probably be found somewhere in the travelers’ district along this street.

  Hostelries and inns; taverns and wine-shops; stables and weapons shops; a
nd, set discreetly back from the road, a one-candle house. Decent-looking place, for the type. Flowers by the door. Long-throated pink snapdragons, of course, but the big planters were well-kept, and ivy spilled out around the flowers, which was a civilized touch. Esau rode past a saddler and a sweet-shop and a money-changer—there’d be a real bank, but not this close to the travelers’ district. Banks were normally located in the heart of the merchants’ quarter.

  Ah. There. A two-story building like any other, timber and stone, but no broad shop window here. Narrow windows discreetly veiled with muslin to keep out curious glances as well as midday warmth, a door half open, and above the door, a pattern of many-branching lines carved into the wood: one straight line that became two and then branching again into four and then eight and then sixteen and then thirty-two and finally sixty-four. Six iterations; the woman who lived here wasn’t over-modest. That was fine. Esau liked people who knew what they were good at and didn’t try to pretend to any kind of false modesty. But he didn’t head right for that door. He reined about instead, heading back for the stable he’d passed, hardly a quarter of a mile back toward the edge of town. The stable, and then the sweet-shop. Then the memory-keeper.

  Esau came back to that discreet house with its half-open door half an hour later, on foot, in decent order, and with a box of honey pastries in one hand. He didn’t knock or clap outside the door, just went up the three steps and right on into the entryway. A closed door to the left; a stairway straight ahead with a light rattan gate barring entry; a little ahead and to the right, an open doorway.

  He closed the outer door behind him and strode toward that doorway, letting his bootheels sound a firm, authoritative rhythm across the dressed stone of the floor.

  The room was a salon, as he’d known it would be. A short but comfortable couch, a couple nice chairs, a low table with a broad leather-bound book lying open, plus a box of polished wood containing loose paper and, to one side, two small jars of ink. Black ink and brown; no fancy red or blue, far less gold. Afternoon light filtered in through the muslin draperies, but most of the light came from a lamp set in a brass holder near the table.

  No one else was present.

  Esau set the box he carried down on the table, pausing for a few seconds to study the family tree laid out on the pages of the open book. Black ink mostly; brown here and there. The tiny notations were clean and clear, easy to read, but not fancy. Six generations, just as advertised, with no gaps. That would be one reason the book had been left lying open to these pages, probably. This would be an important family in Pitasosa. He didn’t recognize the family names, but then a man from Gaur likely wouldn’t. He’d have laid coin that anybody from Pitasosa would know those names.

  Shifting his sword out of the way, he settled into one of the chairs—the one that let him keep an eye on both the door and the window. The narrowness of the windows meant that the door was the only way out of this room; not his favorite design for any room. Not that he expected any trouble here. It just wasn’t his favorite design for a room, that was all.

  He didn’t expect to have to wait long. Not that waiting was a problem. He’d done a whopping lot of waiting in his life; guard duty and standing watches and holding position in dressed ranks on all kinds of occasions. Waiting for word to come down to begin one mission or another. Or, now and again, holding position in formation, waiting to take an enemy charge. Not real often, that last. Lord Gaur didn’t usually let it come to that.

  Anyway, waiting was something Esau was good at. He fell easily into that attentive stillness, though he also made a private bet with himself that he wouldn’t need to wait more than ten minutes.

  The soft rustle of slippers across polished floors caught his attention in less than that.

  He didn’t stand up. He folded his hands politely on his knee and stayed right where he was. Some women, even after they’d come to their years, didn’t much like a soldier. Plenty more didn’t like a man who threw his rank in their teeth. Women mostly got enough of overbearing men when they were young, which they didn’t mind so much, but then right through all their years till they were widowed, which plenty of them got right tired of. Especially from a man less than half their age. Not that they’d say so. But a man like Esau, who got constant little flickers of emotion from everyone, couldn’t miss it. Staying seated was a way of showing he didn’t plan to throw any kind of orders or threats in this woman’s face. Plus, this way, if he did need to throw orders or threats at her, getting to his feet right then would make that more effective.

  This memory-keeper was almost exactly as he had expected: a woman who had come to her years: her skin fragile, not as dark as a younger woman’s; her face seamed; her close-cropped hair almost pure white; her eyes bright and dark beneath narrow white eyebrows. She possessed the quiet manner suited to a woman, but also a tight, hostile edge hidden behind the quiet. Perhaps she was skilled—her sign declared she was skilled—but most likely she was not particularly sought-out by townsfolk, or she would not have her home here, where travelers would pass her door more often than the people of Pitasosa.

  Sometimes a memory-keeper remembered too many failings of too many people, not enough praiseworthy accomplishments. People in her town might respect her, but they wouldn’t much like her. When they wanted to consult a memory-keeper, they’d go to someone else, to a woman who passed more lightly over their ancestor’s shortcomings and maybe exaggerated their better qualities. Likely they’d get less accurate memories that way, but that wouldn’t bother most people.

  For what Esau needed, a woman who tended to remember faults and failings and shortcomings was perfect. Plus a woman who supported herself, not a woman who was cherished by a huge, fond family. Two reasons there: a woman with a family like that would remember mostly family history, not broader town history; plus that kind of woman would likely pass on gossip much faster than a woman on her own. That probably wouldn’t be important, but no reason to take the kind of chance so easy to step around.

  He said politely, “Good morning, Grandmother. I hope you’re well and your grandchildren are well.”

  The woman answered, “Well enough, I suppose. You’re kind to visit an old woman, Grandson.”

  Not very welcoming. That was fine, as long as she was competent. Esau kept his tone matter-of-fact, but just slightly bored. “I’m happy to hear the memories of the past, Grandmother.”

  The woman nodded, not bothering to answer this time. She picked up the box he’d brought her and opened it, glancing at the contents. “Ah,” she murmured. “Honey pastries! How kind you are, Grandson.”

  Pastries weren’t the only thing in that box. Stiff paper divided the box into quarters, and in the one quarter left empty for the purpose, Esau had set a small leather pouch tied shut with a white cord. White meant silver coins rather than copper. The woman couldn’t open the pouch to check, of course—that would be seriously impolite, almost as impolite as a man offering her money directly—but a commander wearing the lord’s own colors wouldn’t cheat a woman any more than he’d pay short coin to a merchant. That would reflect badly on his lord. That kind of gossip would get around fast, and it wouldn’t do a man any favors with his superiors.

  Shutting the box, the woman set it aside, seated herself in the nearest chair, and smiled. “What memories of Pitasosa would you wish to hear, Grandson?”

  “There’s a young woman somewhere in Pitasosa. Her name’s Keraunani. She may have recently associated with a young man named Kerren Rahavet, son of Hoeren Sotetas Rahavet. I’d like to know about this young woman, Grandmother, if you know anything of her.”

  “Ah,” murmured the memory-keeper. She considered this, no doubt fitting together any bits of information she might know. She’d wonder why he asked, but she wasn’t likely to mention his interest to other women. Men, either. Not right away. Maybe not at all.

  Also, in about two days, give or take, it wouldn’t matter if she passed his query on to half a hundred of the worst gossips in the summer lands. Pitasosa was just about to be hit with trouble big enough that absolutely no one in the town—in the whole county—would give a clipped copper coin for gossip about any random young woman, no matter who’d come asking questions about her. Esau just wanted to keep things quiet that long. After that, he didn’t care what anybody in this county said to anybody else about anything.