“She’s in there.” Ren waved toward the imposing farmhouse. “They wouldn’t let us in until you arrived.”
Bounder laughed. “Sounds like them, making royalty stew like a neighboring farmer. Glad to see you had sense to wait for us. You have to cat-foot around the Whistlers.”
“They’re trouble?” Raven asked.
“Oh, not trouble, just dangerous to corner,” Bounder said. “At the local fairs, the Whistlers don’t start the trouble, but they always end it. No nonsense, just pow. and lay the other girls out flat. You’d think the farmers around here would learn, but every year it seems one of them has to be taught what it’s like to cross someone trained to fight.”
“I didn’t know farmers were so quarrelsome.” Raven murmured.
“It’s all on account of the men,” Bounder said.
“Pardon?” Ren was sure she misheard. Men fighting?
“The Whistlers’ menfolk.” Bounder grinned and clucked her tongue suggestively. “The Whistlers trot them out at social events and women fall over themselves to get near them. But the Whistlers don’t share them out, and sooner or later someone won’t take no as an answer.”
Raven glanced uphill, eyes narrowed in speculation. “Their mothers are away and they’ve got men to protect.”
Bounder nodded. “Like I said. I’m glad you waited.”
With Queens Justice on hand, the rifles were put up, the windows unshuttered, the doors unlocked, and the visitors invited in to check on the sleeping princess.
Inside, the house had the same military stamp: clean, neat, uncluttered, and orderly. The smell of roasting goose filled the house. There were only four teenage sisters; the rest were tiny, giggling girls that ducked shyly out of rooms and behind cover whenever looked at directly. Over the mantel, though, was an impressive array of medals. Death for Country. Queens Medal of Honor. Queen Elder Cross of Victory.
Queens Order of Knights!
Raven had paused with Ren to look at the medals, and aahed at the Order of Knights. “ Those Whistlers.”
“You know of them?”
“Aye. Famous, infamous Whistlers,” Raven murmured quietly, then glanced at a doorway, sending a giggling host of girls into hiding. The sister called Corelle reappeared to lead them upstairs. “I’ll explain later.”
Ren sat on the edge of the bed. suddenly frightened for her sister over again. Odelia lay so still and pale on the farmer’s narrow bed, oblivious to Ren’s presence. When a hand on Odelia’s shoulder failed to wake her, fear and despair mounted in Ren’s chest. “Odelia?”
Odelia sighed deeply. “Rats.”
“Rats?” Ren blinked in surprise and relief.
“I’ve been playing sick for hours hoping they’ll let him come back.” Odelia opened her eyes and sighed again. “And now you’re here.”
“Him? I’m frightened for your life, and you’re ogling farmers’ husbands?”
“Oh, he was too young to be a husband.” Odelia sat up in bed-then looked concerned. Clasping her hand over her mouth, she fought a battle to keep from vomiting, then-carefully-lay back on the pillows Ren propped up behind her. “Okay. I wasn’t totally playing,” Odelia admitted quietly. “But he was very, very handsome.”
“Lieutenant Bounder said the Whistlers had handsome menfolk, but I assumed that was compared to the farming standard.”
“Look at the sisters, Ren. Then think of a man along those lines with hair all down his back instead of a military crop.”
Ren recalled the oldest sister. The girl had been striking enough to remember despite the day’s flood of stressful events: clear pale skin, black hair, large blue eyes, and a full mouth. Ren snorted at the woolgathering, dismayed that Odelia managed to lead her so astray from important issues. For the sake of the country, it was good that Odelia was not the oldest. Her charmed life left her seeing things slightly skewed.
“Odelia, I can’t believe you were beaten half to death, left to drown, and all you’re concerned about is the handsome son of poor landed gentry.”
“I’m still alive. The bruises will heal. Why dwell on the past? The future holds the chance to steal a kiss or two from the prettiest man I’ve seen my whole life.”
“Because whoever tried to kill you is still out there, you’re weak as a kitten, it’s an hour’s ride to the garrison protected by the Queens Justice, and the cannons are still missing.”
“So I stay here, while you look for the cannons.” Odelia’s face went soft with apparently dreamy thoughts. “Maybe he’ll come check on the poor unconscious princess.” She slipped back down in the bed, pushing away the pillows. “Don’t tell them I woke up.”
“You’re hopeless.” Ren had been stifling the urge to take up a pillow and hit her sister. In moving about, though, the sleeves of Odelia’s nightshirt slipped up past her elbows. Ren found herself staring at the large black bruises marking Odelia’s forearms where she had apparently fended off killing blows.
Odelia’s attackers almost killed her, would have surely if they had not thought the water would finish their work. If they had stopped to administer a sounder beating, used a sword instead of a truncheon, used a pistol-
Ren shuddered at the thought. To owe her sister’s life to the sloppiness of cruel strangers and the lucky clear thinking of the daughters of farmers! So instead of hitting Odelia with pillows, Ren tucked her sister into the borrowed bed.
Raven leaned against the wall in the hall. “I heard you two talking. She’s awake? How is she?”
Ren shut the door quietly. “Scheming to steal kisses from the farmers’ beautiful son.”
Raven shook her head. “That sounds like Odelia. 1‘
“She won’t be able to ride to the garrison. It would make her happy to stay here. It would allow her to continue her schemes.”
“It would make me happy to stay here,” Raven stated. “With the Queens Justice looking for the cannons and Odelia’s attackers, this place is safer than the local garrison. Apparently the lieutenant’s predecessor allowed the town to grow up to the walls of the garrison, replaced a stone wall with a wood one-to cut cost-and so forth. All in all, it would be like guarding lambs in a brush lot.”
“And the famous, infamous Whistlers? Are they safe?”
“They seem to have smoothed around the edges from the last I’d heard of them.”
“And what have you heard of them?”
Raven smiled at Ren’s impatient tone. “The grandmother Elder, or maybe the great-grandmother Elder of this lot, did something that got herself executed, her sisters cashiered, and their daughters blacklisted.
To keep the family alive, the Eldest bullied the Sisterhood of the Night to take her and her sisters in.”
“The thieves’ guild? Bullied?”
“Aye, had the family switched into training as thieves. They were better than most, being already trained to work together under fire and fight well enough to break free if caught. Well, the War of the False Eldest started, and things were going badly. The False Eldest knew our defenses and we knew nothing of Tastledae. We sent in scouts, but they were all caught and executed. Then, somehow, Wellsbury picked up the Whistler girls.”
“Soldiers trained as thieves, or thieves trained as soldiers.”
Raven nodded. “They were a motley crew, all born to the Order of the Sword, so each had a different father, and different grandfather more often than not. They fought like wildcats with everyone and everything. They lied, they stole, they ignored orders, and they won the war. Wellsbury started them with spying, but expanded that to wreaking general mayhem behind enemy lines. There had been thirty of them to start, only about ten survived the war, and they cashed out after being knighted.”
Ren looked at the well-ordered home. “Their grandfather and father must have had strong character to turn a motley crew of spies into this well-run army.”
Raven nodded in agreement. “I’ve heard so many women go on about wanting a biddable husband, but I’d rather have a strong-willed man who can keep your children in line. Weak husbands make spoiled children.”
Ren leaned against the wall, rubbing at the bridge of her nose, weighing the few options available.
“Okay, Odelia stays. I want to send a report downriver to let our mothers know she’s safe and that we might miss the opening of Summer Court. Trini will have to preside as Elder Judge. See what the Whistlers have in the way of riding horses. After I’m done with my report, I want to head out.”
