“I have something to help with that, too.” Deacon headed for the desk in the far corner where he did most of his work. He had a private office nearby, but he detested small places. This room was large enough to hold thirty people comfortably, but Kate suspected Deacon would work outside in the stable yard, beneath the open sky, if he could. They had that in common.
He opened a bottom drawer on the desk and pulled out three fist-sized wardstones, glowing with fresh enchantments, and set them on top of the desk, which was littered with parchment and maps. Then he opened the drawer in the center and withdrew a large key. He held it out to her. “This will unlock the Relay tower half a mile east from the Redrush crossing. Do you know the one?”
Kate accepted the key, frowning. “Sure, but it’s been closed for years. Is it even usable?”
“It should be fine. I had Henderson take a look at it when he returned from the last Andrean run. The well is still good and the walls are solid. These will be enough to keep you safe inside for a night if need be.” Deacon motioned to the wardstones. “They’ll be in your mail pouch before you leave. You’re scheduled to depart at noon.”
“Thank you,” Kate said, trying to put as much gratitude as she could into her voice. The wardstones and key to the tower were the first bright point in her day. And a noon departure gave her time to get cleaned up and then drop in on her friend Bonner, a necessary stop whenever she returned from a ride.
“You’re welcome, but it’s not as generous as it sounds. I need you to inspect the horses this morning.” Deacon rubbed at the scars on his forearm. Kate wondered if he would one day smooth them away entirely.
She nodded, unhappy at the request. Inspections weren’t her job, but Deacon had learned early on that Kate Brighton had inherited her father’s ability for judging horseflesh. Usually, she could tell when one was in danger of pulling up lame or was off in some other way that might affect the ride. But not always, she thought, remembering Pip.
There was the risk involved, too. She didn’t think Deacon suspected the truth—that she was a wilder capable of communicating with horses—but she had to be careful. If she was too insightful, detecting a problem without any physical indication to go along with it, then Deacon, or someone else watching, might guess. Someone like Cort might be too stupid to see her insight for what it was, but the magists weren’t. They didn’t often visit the Relay house, but she had no idea how close they needed to be for the magestones to detect wilder magic. She had no plans to find out.
“I wouldn’t be asking you again so soon,” Deacon said, “but we’ve gotten some extra scrutiny from the Relay council of late. What with Eliza’s death and all.”
Kate bit her lip. “Are you sure you want me to do it? I didn’t realize Pip’s injury until it was too late.”
“No one’s perfect, Kate. I’m sure if there’d been warning to find with Pip, you would have.” The foreman’s confidence in her made Kate feel better, if only by a margin, and she stowed the key in her pocket, where it clanked against the moonbelt.
Then, summoning a brave smile, she said, “I’ll do it right now.”
Later that morning, Kate left her room at the Crook and Cup once more, this time cleaned and dressed in a fresh tunic, breeches, and overskirt. At Signe’s insistence, she’d even put on the moonbelt.
“Don’t be such a prude, Kate,” Signe had said. “Even if you have no one to play with yet, it will still stop your monthly flows. How can you say no to such a boon?”
Kate couldn’t, and so had conceded. At least it was safely hidden beneath her clothes and in no danger of falling out of her pocket anymore. Still, the feel of it around her waist made her nervous as she walked along, certain every person she passed could tell she was wearing it. She knew she was being foolish—her virtue didn’t matter now that she was no longer a part of the gentry—but the trappings of childhood morals were not so easily cast off.
She found Tom Bonner standing over the forge in the back of his father’s blacksmith’s shop, his face red from the fire and glossy with sweat. He’d stripped out of his tunic, wearing only trousers and a thin undershirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his massive arms.
A broad smile lit his boyish face when he spotted her. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”
She pulled her saddlebag off her shoulder and set it down on a nearby chair. “When have I ever not made it?” she said, grinning back at him.
He snorted. “More times than I would like.”
“We can’t all be as perfect and punctual as you, Tom Bonner.”
“I know. It’s too bad. The world would be a better place if everyone were like me.”
Kate didn’t doubt it. “I can’t stay long.”
“I know that, too.” He pulled out the horseshoe he’d been heating in the forge with a pair of iron tongs and dropped the hot metal into a nearby water trough. Both the water and the metal protested the convergence with a loud hiss.
Bonner set down the tongs and then came around the forge to Kate. Even though they were the same age, almost to the day, he towered over her by a foot and a half and was at least twice her width. He pulled her into a hug that squeezed all the air from her lungs.
She giggled breathlessly and patted his back. “It’s only been four days since I’ve seen you.” He squeezed harder. “I missed you, too, but I’m about to pass out.”
“So fragile.” With a sigh, he let her go. He stood to his full height and gazed down at her with moss-green eyes. He wore his auburn hair in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. He was handsome like a bear was handsome—large and intimidating but with an alluring gentleness. “It’s why I worry you won’t come back one of these days.”
Kate poked him in the chest—it was like jamming her finger against solid rock. “I am not fragile. And you of all people know how unlikely it is that I would fail to come back.”
He cast her a dark look. “Just because you can read horses doesn’t mean nothing bad can happen to you out there. I worry about you, Kate.”
She shrugged, dropping her gaze to the floor. He didn’t know how right he was, but she knew better than to tell him about Pip. Aside from Signe, Bonner was the only person she’d ever told about her magic, and only because Bonner was a wilder, too—an earthist. He could control minerals and ores, with a particular affinity for metalworking. It was an ability she’d spotted in him by accident—and with a bit of carelessness on his part—when he’d visited the Relay house to shoe some of the horses and had used his ability to smooth out a bent horseshoe without a hammer. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Kate had been paying particular attention that day. Later, she’d admonished him for using his gift so openly, but only after she’d confided in him her own.
A smile crested her lips. “I’m glad you worry. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I mean, between you and Signe that makes two whole people who would miss me if I died tomorrow. It’s some kind of record.” She spoke glibly, but after her painful morning, this truth struck her hard, and the smile slipped from her face.
Fortunately, Bonner had already turned away, heading for the cabinet on the far side of the shop. Swords, knives, spears, maces, morning stars, and various other weapons adorned the walls beside the cabinet. “Better to have two people whose love is true than a whole city of fair-weather friends,” he said over his shoulder.
“You sound like your father,” Kate replied, then winced at her blunder when she saw Bonner’s spine stiffen. “I’m sorry, I didn’t . . . I meant that as a compliment.” She cleared her throat. “Is he doing any better?”
Bonner pulled out a wooden box from the cabinet and set it on the table, his movements careful, gentle, like he was handling a babe. “No.”
Kate let out a low sigh. For months now, Bonner’s father had been bedridden with a sickness the healers had been unable to cure. In truth, Kate had begun to doubt there was a cure. She’d seen the effects of a wasting disease before, and Master Bonner showed clear signs. Not that she would dare say it aloud to his son.