Algarvian mages were spread thin these days. The war wasn't going so well for the redheads. Maybe they wouldn't worry so much about one renegade Valmieran noble. In the larger scheme of things, Skarnu wasn't that important. So he hoped they would reckon the odds, anyway.
It all boiled down to, how badly did they want him? He sighed. The other side of the coin was, they were liable to want him quite a bit with both his sister and Amatu howling for his blood. He didn't dare get too sure he was safe.
Merkela's thought followed a different ley line. After another sip of tea, she said, "How long can they keep holding down our kingdom? Sibiu is free again, or just about."
"Aye, I think so." Skarnu nodded. "The news sheets would talk more about the fighting there if it were going better for Algarve. But the Sibs didn't free themselves: Lagoas and Kuusamo beat King Mezentio and took the kingdom away from him. And it's a lot easier to invade some islands in the middle of the sea than to put soldiers ashore on the Derlavaian mainland."
For a moment, Merkela looked as if she hated him. "I want to be free again," she said. "I want that so much, I'd-" Before she could say what she might do, Gedominu started to whimper. Merkela laughed ruefully. "Nobody who wants to be free should ever have a baby." She picked him up and held him in the crook of her elbow. Maybe that was what he wanted, for he quieted down.
"Where'd that honey jar go?" Skarnu got up and opened it. He tore a piece off a loaf of black bread, dipped it in the honey, and ate it. Back before the war, he would have turned up his nose at the idea of such a breakfast. Now he knew that any breakfast at all was a long way toward being a good one.
"Fix some of that for me, too, would you?" Merkela said. Skarnu nodded and did. Gedominu stared up at his mother, as if trying to understand what she'd just said.
His intent expression made Skarnu start to laugh. "The world must be a demon of a confusing place for babies," he remarked as he handed Merkela the bread and honey.
"Of course it is," Merkela said. "It's a demon of a confusing place for everybody." She took a bite. Gedominu was still watching, wide-eyed. She shook her head at him. "You can't have any of this. Not till you get bigger."
The baby's face screwed up. He started to cry. Skarnu started to laugh. "That'll teach you to tell him what he can't do," he said. Merkela jiggled Gedominu up and down and from side to side. He subsided. She let out a sigh of relief.
Someone knocked on the door, a quick, hard, urgent knock.
Skarnu had been about to pour himself another cup of tea. He froze. So did Merkela, with a bite of bread halfway to her mouth. Nobody in Erzvilkas had any business here at this hour.
The knock came again. Skarnu grabbed a knife and went to the door. "Who is it?" he growled, his voice clotted with suspicion.
"Not the redheads, and cursed lucky for you."
Hearing that rough reply, Skarnu unbarred the door and worked the latch. Sure enough, Raunu stood in the hallway. Skarnu looked him up and down. "No, you're not the redheads," he agreed. "But if you're here now, you don't think they're very far behind you."
"They're sniffing around, all right," the veteran sergeant agreed. "Time for you and yours to pack up and go."
"What about you?" Skarnu demanded. "What about the Kaunians from Forthweg?"
Patiently, Raunu said, "I'm not a captain. I'm not a marquis. As far as the Algarvians are concerned, people like me are two for a copper. And Vatsyunas and Pernavai are just a loose end. You, though, you're a prize. And your lady's bait."
"He's right," Merkela said from behind Skarnu. "We have to go." She held little Gedominu in her arms, and also carried a sack full of diapers. "When there's no other choice, we run, and then we strike again another time."
Raunu smiled at her and gave her half a bow, as if her veins, not Skarnu's, held noble blood. "That's good sense. You've always shown good sense, as long as I've known you." He turned back to Skarnu. "Come on, Captain. We've a mage of sorts downstairs, ready to block the redheads' searching as best she can."
"A mage of sorts?" In spite of everything, Skarnu smiled. "That sounds- interesting." But the smile slipped. He was worried about Merkela. "Can you flee again, so soon out of childbed?" he asked her.
"Of course I can," she said at once. "I have to. Do you think I want to fall into the Algarvians' hands?"
He had no answer to that. "Let's go, then," he said roughly. Raunu's shoulders rose and straightened, as if he'd just had a burden lifted from them. He hurried for the stairs. Skarnu and Merkela followed. When they got to the stairway, Skarnu took the baby and the sack of cloths. Merkela didn't protest, a telling measure of how worn she was.
Out on the street, a carriage waited. Skarnu let out his own sigh of relief when he saw it. No matter how fiercely insistent she was, Merkela couldn't have got far on foot.
Also waiting was Raunu's "mage of sorts." She couldn't have been above fifteen, her figure half formed, her hair stringy, pimples splashing her cheeks and chin. In a low voice, Skarnu said, "She's going to hold the Algarvian wizards off our trail?"
It wasn't low enough; the girl heard him. She flushed, but spoke steadily: "I think I can do that, aye. The techniques for breaking affinities have improved remarkably since the days of the Six Years' War."
Skarnu stared. She certainly spoke as if she knew what she was doing. Raunu let out a soft grunt of laughter. He said, "I've been pretty impressed with Palasta, I have."
"Maybe I see why," Skarnu answered, and bowed to her.
"Get you gone," Palasta told him. "That's the point of this business, after all. From now on, powers above willing, the Algarvians will have a harder time coming after you."
Raunu had already helped Merkela up into the carriage. Now he slapped Skarnu on the back and gave him a little push. Skarnu handed Merkela Gedominu and the bag of cloths, then scrambled up beside her. The driver- another man from the underground- flicked the reins. The carriage started to roll.
Fleeing again, Skarnu thought bitterly. He reached out and set his hand on Merkela's. This time, at least, he had what mattered most to him.
The silversmith's shop that had been Kugu's remained closed. Every so often, Talsu would walk by, just for the satisfaction of seeing it locked and dark and quiet. He knew better than to do that very often. Someone might note it and report him to the Algarvians. He was grimly certain Kugu hadn't been the only collaborator in Skrunda.
He'd wondered if the redheads would come around asking questions of him after Kugu's untimely demise. So far, they hadn't. A forensic mage could have assured them he hadn't been in the room when the silversmith perished. That was true. But truth, here, had many layers.
He also knew Algarve still had foes in his home town. He wondered if Kugu's former students were among the men responsible for the new graffiti he saw on so many walls these days. HABAKKUK! they read, and HABAKKUK IS COMING! And he wondered what in blazes Habakkuk was.
"Whatever it is, Mezentio's men don't like it," Gailisa said when Talsu wondered out loud at supper one evening. "Have you seen them putting together gangs of people they drag off the street to paint it out wherever they find it?"
Talsu nodded. "Aye, I have. That's got to mean it's something good for Jelgava." He laughed. "Feels funny, hoping for something without knowing what I'm hoping for."
"I know what I'm hoping for," Traku said, dipping a piece of barley bread in garlic-flavored olive oil. "I'm hoping for more orders of winter gear from Algarvians heading off to Unkerlant. That wouldn't make me unhappy at all, Habakkuk or no Habakkuk."
"I won't say you're wrong there, because you're right." Talsu nodded again. "But it's such a funny name or word or whatever it is. It doesn't sound Jelgavan at all."
"Is it classical Kaunian?" his father asked.
"It's nothing Kugu ever taught me, anyhow," Traku answered, "and Kugu taught me all sorts of things." He paused, recalling some of the painful lessons he'd learned from the silversmith. Then he said, "Pass me the bread and oil, would you please?"
His mother beamed. "That's good. That's very good," Ausra said. "High time you got some meat back on your bones."
Talsu knew better than to argue with his mother about such things. Later, in the small room that now seemed even smaller because he shared it with Gailisa, he asked his wife, "Am I still as skinny as all that?"
"There's certainly more to you than there was when you first came home," Gailisa said after a brief pause for thought. "Back then, I think your shadow took up more room in bed than you did. But you're still skinnier than you were before the Algarvians grabbed you."
He lay down on the bed and grinned up at her. "If I take up more room now than I used to, maybe you can get on top tonight."
Gailisa stuck out her tongue at him. "I did that anyhow when you came back- or have you forgotten? I didn't want you working too hard. Now…" Her eye's sparkled as she started to undo the toggles on her tunic. "Well, why not?"
She'd just gone off to her father's grocery store the next morning when an Algarvian captain strode into the tailor's shop. "Good morning, sir," Traku said to him. "And what can we do for you today?" He didn't ask the redhead if he was looking for something warm. The Algarvian might have taken that as gloating over a trip to Unkerlant, which would have cost Traku business.
But this particular Algarvian turned out not to be going to Unkerlant. Pointing to Talsu, he spoke in good Jelgavan: "You are Talsu son of Traku, is it not so?"
"Aye," Talsu answered. As his father had, he asked, "What can I do for you today, sir?" -but he feared he knew the answer.
Sure enough, the Algarvian said, "We haven't heard much from you. We'd hoped for more- quite a lot more."