Allegiance (River of Souls 3)

“You look ill.”

Jannik stood before her, sweat-stained and covered with dust, a hoe resting over one shoulder.

“I’m…” She struggled to find the right word.

“You are hungry and exhausted,” he said. “Come with me.”

He held out a hand. Ilse hesitated a moment, then allowed him to pull her to her feet. She leaned against him, grateful for the support. He stood patiently until her bout of trembling passed, then indicated the path ahead. “Come with me,” he repeated. “We can eat and talk. Leave your friend to Ana and Maryshka. They’ve already forgotten about you, I know. They always forget the ones who watch.”

She heard the weight of memory in that offhand comment. Knew at once she could not ask what it meant. Jannik had already turned away, as though he regretted those last words. Ilse hurried after.

Jannik’s house stood at the northwest corner of Ryz, directly opposite the barn. It was much larger than she had expected, with a stone hearth and chimney. One generous room served as kitchen and sitting room and bedroom. And workroom, she thought, noting the bench and neat arrangement of carpentry tools in one corner. There was even a small set of shelves with half a dozen books. The house smelled of newly cut pine, and crushed herbs, and the lingering scent of wood smoke. From the barn came a whiff of manure and hay. Fresh, clean scents that helped restore her sense of self and balance.

Then it came to her, why a solitary man might possess such a large house. Jannik Maier had once had a wife, perhaps a child, both of them dead from illness or injury. Ana and her daughter had tried to save them and could not. It explained the man’s bitterness, and the impression of things amiss.

Jannik laid out bread and cheese on the table, and set a pot of water to boil for tea. Ilse took a seat on the bench and bit into the bread. It was soft and baked fresh that same day. When Jannik set a mug of water in front of her, she drank it down. Duszranjo. Her skin prickled at the thought that she had come to her father’s homeland.

The water boiled. Jannik filled a stone pitcher with dried leaves and poured the water over it. He set the pitcher on the table and took a seat opposite Ilse.

“So tell me,” he said. “Is Bela your lover?”

Ilse blinked. “What? No, she’s my … my friend.”

Except friend was not the right word, not as people usually meant it. Bela was her guardian, her companion, but though they had endured a great deal these past few weeks, Ilse was not certain she dared to claim friendship. Bela’s allegiance was to Duke Miro Karasek, Ilse’s to her kingdom. Ilse had the sense they had been allies many times in past lives, if only temporary ones.

She caught a searching glance from Jannik before he turned his attention to slicing more bread and cheese. “Eat as much as you can. I’m no healer, but even I can see you are half starved and close to falling sick. Ana doesn’t have time for two patients. As for your friend, we’ll work out the barter later, the three of us.”

He obviously had more questions, but was willing to wait for answers. Ilse was grateful for the reprieve. Her appetite awoke, and she gladly devoured half a dozen slices of bread and cheese, then drank down mug after mug of hot tea. It was such a relief, to let others far more competent than she cook and tend after Bela. The tea was sweet, brewed from a mixture of herbs. Willow was one. It eased her headache. Others she could not identify. Only later, as her eyelids drooped, did she suspect what he had done.

“Sleep now,” Jannik said as he lifted her into his arms. “We can talk later.”

* * *

SHE WOKE TO a room filled with a blood-red sunlight.

She started up, already struggling against the hands that caught her. Ilse cried out, but her throat was clogged with sleep. Only when Jannik’s familiar voice cut through her panic did she subside.

“You drugged me,” she mumbled.

“My apologies. You were exhausted.”

His voice carried no trace of regret. She had not expected it.

“You drugged me,” she repeated. “I dislike that. Never mind why. I hate it. Tell me what is wrong.”

“Nothing,” he said. “Your friend sleeps. Ana and her daughter have drained and cleansed her wounds with some success, but she needs a proper physician. My guess is that you would dislike the attention. We’ll eat, then talk about the why and whens and ifs of your situation.”

Cold washed over her. Her situation, yes. They would care for a chance-met stranger, but she would have to tread carefully to convince them to help her cross the border.

Dinner consisted of hot soup, cooked from rabbit meat and herbs and wild onions, together with more fresh bread and plain water. Ilse doubted the man cooked for himself, not if he spent mornings and afternoons in the field. Most likely he bartered his carpentry skills, which explained his earlier comments. She ate and drank to satisfaction, then laid down her mug and stared at him.

He nodded. “We talk, honestly. Both of us.” He glanced around the cabin, winced as if in painful memory. “Not here. Outside is better.”

He led her up a path that circled around the barn, then veered

south, up to a ridge that overlooked the valley. It was quiet here. Sunset illuminated the peaks opposite them, but Ryz’s households lay in darkness. Only a very few had windows lit by firelight or lamps. Down below, the river glittered silver and black.

Jannik took a seat on a rocky ledge. Ilse stood a few paces away.