rear.
Christopher was very quiet, perhaps feeling guilty for having suggested this in the first place. Wynter watched him forge doggedly ahead, slouched in the saddle, a haze of black insects all around him. Flies swarmed on his shoulders and knapsack, crawled drowsily across his back. His horse’s tail swatted the bedroll on its rump and thwacked irritably against the saddlebags. Wynter knew she was probably in the same state and her shoulder blades twitched at the thought. Christopher shifted slightly in the saddle, his travel belt settling around his hips, and he adjusted his knife to a more comfortable position.
Wynter tilted her head.
Huh
, she thought,
I didn’t notice that before
.
“It just struck me, gentlemen,” she said aloud, “you’re both travelling very light compared to when you left the palace. Where are all your possessions?”
Christopher squinted back at her. “I left all my things with that al-Attar fellow from town,” he said. “He met me in the forest and took them from me. Razi? He
will
take care of them, won’t he? He won’t leave my father’s trunk in the damp or aught?” Razi must have gestured reassuringly because Christopher lifted his chin in an unconvinced response, and turned forward again.
“What Attar fellow?” asked Wynter. “Jahm? Does he mean Jahm al-Attar?” She twisted back to look at Razi who nodded and swiped at the flies that swarmed his half-covered face.
“Aye,” he said.
Wynter frowned uncertainly. Jahm al-Attar was the palace apothecary. He had been a great friend to Razi’s mentor, St James, and both Lorcan and Razi considered him a noble fellow. Still, she was surprised that Razi had trusted anyone enough to let them in on his plan.
“Meanwhile,” continued Razi, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Shuqayr ibn-Jahm is making sure that my blue robes get to Padua without too many rips or stains.”
It took a moment for Wynter to understand, then she jerked her horse to a halt and turned to stare her friend in the face. Grinning, Razi brought his horse to a dancing stop. Wynter heard Christopher sigh as he halted on the track ahead.
Shuqayr! The apothecary’s eldest son! Now that Wynter came to think of it, Razi’s age, Razi’s equal in height, Razi’s lanky build.
“Oh, Razi,” she said, appalled at the risks everyone was taking. “You were not even on your horse that day, were you? It was Shuqayr, wearing your clothes.”
Razi nodded his head, laughing. “I walked out the palace gates on my own two feet with Umm-Shuqayr Muhayya, her daughters and other sons. I used Shuqayr’s papers, then just strolled into the forest without a care in the world.” Razi’s eyes lost their joy, his delight stolen from him by worry. “I hope that Simon keeps him safe,” he said quietly. “It is a long journey. What if…?”
“Razi, how in God’s holy name do you expect Shuqayr to fool Simon all the way to—? Oh,” she said, as cold understanding dawned. “Simon knows.”
Razi nodded again and Wynter was suddenly irritated at how many people he had trusted with this plan, while leaving herself and Lorcan in the dark. “
Simon
, Razi?” she exclaimed. “You trusted Simon De Rochelle, yet you did not trust…?”
She bit her lip and looked up into the sky for a moment. No. She would not begin that argument. There were far too many fingers that could be pointed at her in return. She took a deep breath and counted slowly backwards from ten. Razi’s deep voice cut across her attempts at self-restraint, and he at least had the decency to sound ashamed of himself.
“I
know
he seems an unlikely ally, sis. But I assure you, Simon no more wants the Kingdom in chaos than you or I.” Razi wryly spread his hands. “After all, it is not to his economic or political advantage.”
Wynter tutted bitterly, but she had to admit, it was a brilliant ruse. Once outside the palace environs, any tall, brown man could easily pass for Razi, particularly with a
Christopher was very quiet, perhaps feeling guilty for having suggested this in the first place. Wynter watched him forge doggedly ahead, slouched in the saddle, a haze of black insects all around him. Flies swarmed on his shoulders and knapsack, crawled drowsily across his back. His horse’s tail swatted the bedroll on its rump and thwacked irritably against the saddlebags. Wynter knew she was probably in the same state and her shoulder blades twitched at the thought. Christopher shifted slightly in the saddle, his travel belt settling around his hips, and he adjusted his knife to a more comfortable position.
Wynter tilted her head.
Huh
, she thought,
I didn’t notice that before
.
“It just struck me, gentlemen,” she said aloud, “you’re both travelling very light compared to when you left the palace. Where are all your possessions?”
Christopher squinted back at her. “I left all my things with that al-Attar fellow from town,” he said. “He met me in the forest and took them from me. Razi? He
will
take care of them, won’t he? He won’t leave my father’s trunk in the damp or aught?” Razi must have gestured reassuringly because Christopher lifted his chin in an unconvinced response, and turned forward again.
“What Attar fellow?” asked Wynter. “Jahm? Does he mean Jahm al-Attar?” She twisted back to look at Razi who nodded and swiped at the flies that swarmed his half-covered face.
“Aye,” he said.
Wynter frowned uncertainly. Jahm al-Attar was the palace apothecary. He had been a great friend to Razi’s mentor, St James, and both Lorcan and Razi considered him a noble fellow. Still, she was surprised that Razi had trusted anyone enough to let them in on his plan.
“Meanwhile,” continued Razi, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Shuqayr ibn-Jahm is making sure that my blue robes get to Padua without too many rips or stains.”
It took a moment for Wynter to understand, then she jerked her horse to a halt and turned to stare her friend in the face. Grinning, Razi brought his horse to a dancing stop. Wynter heard Christopher sigh as he halted on the track ahead.
Shuqayr! The apothecary’s eldest son! Now that Wynter came to think of it, Razi’s age, Razi’s equal in height, Razi’s lanky build.
“Oh, Razi,” she said, appalled at the risks everyone was taking. “You were not even on your horse that day, were you? It was Shuqayr, wearing your clothes.”
Razi nodded his head, laughing. “I walked out the palace gates on my own two feet with Umm-Shuqayr Muhayya, her daughters and other sons. I used Shuqayr’s papers, then just strolled into the forest without a care in the world.” Razi’s eyes lost their joy, his delight stolen from him by worry. “I hope that Simon keeps him safe,” he said quietly. “It is a long journey. What if…?”
“Razi, how in God’s holy name do you expect Shuqayr to fool Simon all the way to—? Oh,” she said, as cold understanding dawned. “Simon knows.”
Razi nodded again and Wynter was suddenly irritated at how many people he had trusted with this plan, while leaving herself and Lorcan in the dark. “
Simon
, Razi?” she exclaimed. “You trusted Simon De Rochelle, yet you did not trust…?”
She bit her lip and looked up into the sky for a moment. No. She would not begin that argument. There were far too many fingers that could be pointed at her in return. She took a deep breath and counted slowly backwards from ten. Razi’s deep voice cut across her attempts at self-restraint, and he at least had the decency to sound ashamed of himself.
“I
know
he seems an unlikely ally, sis. But I assure you, Simon no more wants the Kingdom in chaos than you or I.” Razi wryly spread his hands. “After all, it is not to his economic or political advantage.”
Wynter tutted bitterly, but she had to admit, it was a brilliant ruse. Once outside the palace environs, any tall, brown man could easily pass for Razi, particularly with a
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