Love Sickness (Sellswords & Spellweavers series Book 5) Read online

  Love Sickness

  Sellswords & Spellweavers, Book 5

  By Rachel Ford

  Liss

  Chapter One

  The story that got around town in the early morning was that a beautiful stranger had arrived on horseback to Little Eerie just after dawn. She was some kind of capital visitor, people supposed, for she dressed like a great lady, smelled of exotic perfumes, and had hands soft as kid leather. What her business might be, or what had drawn her to such a remote jarldom as ours, no one could say.

  Not that that stopped anyone from trying.

  She’d come on behalf of the king, some decided. She belonged to one of the local families, as some long lost heiress or relative, others supposed. Still others took it into their heads that she’d made a wrong turn. She hadn’t meant to come to Little Eerie. She’d meant to turn off earlier along the main road, and so wind up in one of the less rustic cities.

  I didn’t see the lady who smelled like orange blossoms myself, but I heard about her at breakfast, before heading out to the worksite.

  By mid-morning, the tale the workers brought was one of a row to beat all rows heard at the jarl’s great hall. Jarl Knut Riversen’s voice had certainly been heard, but who the other party to the argument might be, no one seemed to know beyond the general consensus that it was a woman.

  Some people supposed it was the beautiful woman, because who else would it be? Jarl Knut had never been one to fly into blind rages, and if something had disturbed him so, well, it was too much of a coincidence that it happened the same morning a stranger showed up.

  Some of the less charitable locals supposed that it was only natural. Power gets to a man’s head, sooner or later, they said with knowing nods. “Knut might be as common-born as the basest wretch in the county, but sure enough, he’s been putting on airs to match a king lately. Some poor serving wench probably brought him his tea too weak, or his breakfast too cool, and damned near lost her head in the process.”

  I never put much stock in the rumor mill, but these sort of rumors I heard with even more skepticism than usual. I’d believe that of just about anyone I knew before Knut.

  But the story that reached us by afternoon, as the men returned from their lunch breaks, proved even more astounding. Word was that the jarl was to be married on the morrow, to the stranger who smelled of citrus flowers.

  “The jarl’s sick with love for her, so he is. Swears he’ll be married or buried. That’s the truth of it, Miss Liss: I heard it from my aunt – who, you know, is the cook up there. She’s in a proper terror, on account of having to have a wedding feast ready by noon, with less than a day’s notice at that. Can you believe such a thing?”

  I didn’t, and I said so. But the source of this intelligence, a young carpenter by the name of Tyge, shook his head. “I wouldn’t have believed it neither, except I heard it from Aunt Gytha myself not half an hour ago, when I took my lunch.”

  Which didn’t make any kind of sense. I didn’t know Tyge particularly well, but what I did know of him suggested he had a perfectly reasonable head on his shoulders – not the kind that would invent wild stories, about the jarl no less.

  But more than that, I knew Gytha, head cook at the great hall. She was a terror of an old woman, as fierce as a dragon, who ruled the kitchens with the iron fist of a dictator – benevolent, if you minded yourself, but ruthless if you didn’t.

  And she’d be the first to tan the hide off one of her nephews, grown or not, if they started to spread nonsensical rumors about the jarl.

  “You’re sure she said the jarl?” Idun asked. “She didn’t mean – I don’t know, some relative of his, perhaps?”

  Idun was my sweetheart, and as practical as she was tenderhearted. Hearing something that made no sense at all, it followed that her first instinct was to find some reasonable explanation. This neither made a monkey of the jarl, nor called Tyge’s story into question except insofar as it might have been an honest mistake.

  Alas for her best intentions, the young man shook his head firmly, stating that he’d had it from her three times over just to be certain. “The jarl’s getting married tomorrow at nine bells. That’s the fact, miss.”

  For the moment, though I privately doubted them, I could only accept his words. We were at work on a new bridge over the Ten Ogres River. I was there on behalf of the jarl, to see to the more material safety concerns, and Idun represented the wizarding university, to tend to the magical considerations.

  And since the last bridge had burned down in the middle of the night, in circumstances of considerable suspicion, there were both material and magical concerns at play.

  My job was to make sure that no one harassed our workers or came to repeat the business of destruction. By night, a contingent of guards would watch over the project, until we returned again in the morning.

  Idun’s task was to imbue the structure with a magical resilience against fire so that the saboteur or prankster’s next attempt would come to nothing.

  So neither of us could leave, much less to check up on wild rumors. Despite hearing a different version of the same tale from multiple people, though, I refused to believe it. Knut was one of the most sensible men I’d ever met. There was, of course, no way he’d marry someone he only just met. Nor would he make such an ass of himself.

  Idun agreed with my interpretation. “There must be some kind of mistake,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll sort it out as soon as we get back to town.”

  Which proved at once true, and wildly optimistic. We worked until the sun started to go down in the western sky, and the daylight faded from clear gold to a shadowy red – sometime between the sixth and seventh bell.

  The nighttime guard arrived by sixth bell and took up position. The workers gathered their tools and organized their materials. Then we all made for the town of Little Eerie – not to be mistaken for the Little Eerie lake, or the Eerie River.

  Rumors had already begun to take hold through the craftsmen. The jarl, they suspected, must have known the stranger somehow. Maybe she had some hold over him. Maybe she was with child.

  That was an aspect of Knut’s life I knew little of. He’d never volunteered information, and I’d never pried. But in every other respect, he had proven himself level-headed and circumspect. I had known him for years, and even when my own life had been an unmitigated disaster, he had always charted a careful course for himself through the roughest waters.

  It was true, of course, that even the wise could make fools of themselves when they bypassed their brains to think with their hearts, or other organs. But not Knut. I just couldn’t picture it.

  Not even when we reached Little Eerie, and found a messenger waiting for us, looking frazzled and greatly annoyed. He beckoned me over, and Idun and I broke away from the main party. “Liss,” he said, lowering his voice, “thank Odin. The jarl has been sending me to check the road every five minutes.”

  His name was Ihar, and he was one of the hall’s long-serving attendants. I didn’t know him well, but we’d bumped into each other for years. “What’s going on, Ihar?” I asked.

  He made a grim face and said, “Better you have it from Knut himself. And hurry, Miss – he’s very eager to speak to you.”

  He led us to the jarl’s hall, which sat atop the hill overlooking all of the town of Little Eerie, and steadfastly resisted my efforts to extract any kind of clarity from him.

  He would only repeat that it would be better to get my information from the jarl, adding exasperatedly, “Maybe you can make some sense of it, because Odin knows, I can’t.”

  Which was hardly promising.
Still, I had known Knut for years and years. I’d known him long before he’d been elected jarl, back when he was sheriff of the county of Eerie.

  So I held onto my belief that, whatever was happening, I could always trust his judgement. Like the sun coming up in the east, and the north wind bringing winter snow and cold, Knut could be relied upon to be sensible.

  Right up until I stepped into his office, anyway, and he leaped out of his seat with such animation that I stopped short.

  Knut was a big man, with light hair and a sensible beard. He had a serious look to him. Except, now, he didn’t. Not even a little. He was grinning ear-to-ear, and said, “Odin’s beard, there you are: how can I be married without my Liss, eh?”

  He dragged me into the room, clapping me on the shoulder as he did so. “I’m getting married, Liss: married.”

  “Married?” I repeated, thunderstruck. “But – to who? Why?”

  He laughed at my astonishment. “Why? Because I’m in love, obviously, you goose.”

  “With who?” Idun ventured.

  He put a broad hand over his heart. “Well may you ask, Idun, well may you ask. Only the fairest, sweetest girl in all creation. The most beautiful creature ever mortal eyes have beheld.”

  I frowned. “Does this beautiful creature have a name?”

  He blinked at the query. “What an odd question.”

  “Is it?”

  “You’re the fourth person – maybe fifth – to ask me.”

  “Does she?” Idun prompted.

  “Of course she does. But – no, I don’t know it.”

  I stared at him. “Are you unwell, Knut?”

  He laughed again. “Come, Liss. I expected better from you. What’s a name, after all?”

  “How can you marry someone when you don’t even know her name?” Idun asked.

  “I don’t need to know her name. I know her, and that’s what matters. I know that she is an angel among angels, a treasure among treasures. I know I can never love any woman the way I love her.”

  I glanced between his almost manically joyful face and Idun’s confused one. “Knut,” I said, slowly, choosing my words with care, “this girl whose name you don’t know…”

  “My beloved.”

  “Yes. Your beloved. How long have you known her?”

  He paused, as if considering the question. “Twelve, maybe thirteen hours now,” he said in a moment.

  “You…you met her this morning, then?”

  He nodded confirmation, declaring that it felt like he’d known her all his life.

  “So you only met her this morning, and you don’t even know her name – but you’re going to marry her?”

  “Tomorrow morning. Which is why I summoned you, my dear Liss: you must be at my side. You’ve been a sister to me – a sister in arms, and a better friend than anyone I know. You must be there, as my sister. And, well, you must meet her.”

  I tried to no avail to talk sense to Knut. I implored him to see a doctor, or to let Idun check him for some kind of enchantment. He tolerated my interference for a space, but eventually dismissed me, in his jovial way, as a meddling old woman.

  He hadn’t called me here to fuss, he said. He’d had that all day from everyone else. He needed me to support him the way he had supported Idun and me. He was happy. Wasn’t that enough? Why should I want to ruin his happiness?

  Here, Idun intervened, assuring him that of course we would support him. “We just want to understand, Knut.”

  “What is there to understand? I’m in love with the sweetest angel to ever grace this realm.”

  With more tact than I could have managed, Idun said, “But tell us about her. Tell us how you met her.”

  He nodded eagerly, saying, “I shall tell you everything. Oh, where to start? Her eyes are bluer than the Eerie River. Her smile –” He went on, likening her every facet and feature to some natural beauty. When nature failed to convey what he intended, he resorted to supernatural comparisons.

  Finally, Idun dragged him back to more relevant details – less of her appearance and more of whence she’d materialized.

  “Oh, that? Well, if you must know, I found her in my office. She’d picked the lock and let herself in. Clever bit of handiwork, too. I didn’t even realize anything was amiss until I walked in and found her rooting through my desk.”

  I exchanged a glance with Idun. “She’s a burglar?”

  “Of course not. She merely had pressing business, and no time for the formalities of gaining an audience or waiting for an appointment.”

  “Jarl Knut,” Idun tried, “surely that’s concerning?”

  He brushed this off with a wave of his hand. “At first, yes. But she explained it all. Anyway, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m going to marry her.”

  “So, you found her burgling your office,” I said, “and – what?”

  “I told you. We got to talking, first to clear the air, and then…well, about everything. Really, Liss, words do her no justice. Wait until you see her for yourself.”

  “What was she looking for,” Idun prompted, “that she couldn’t wait for an appointment?”

  Knut broke from extolling her virtues to glance at her. “What? Oh, some dusty old artifact.”

  “What artifact?” Idun pressed.

  “And did you let her have it?” I asked, a vague and troubling picture forming in my head. This woman, whoever she was, must be some kind of witch. She’d come here to acquire through theft this artifact, but she’d had to resort to acquiring through sorcery instead when Knut caught her.

  “Have it? No, of course not. She didn’t want it. She needed only to trace the marks on the back. But, really, I don’t know why we’re still talking about this.”

  I was about to respond that we were discussing it because he was clearly under an enchantment. But Idun caught my eye and shot me a warning look.

  “You’re right, of course. You must tell Liss all about your wedding. But first – do you mind if I see this artifact?”

  Knut said that he didn’t mind, not at all. It was the seal given to the first jarl of Eerie, almost a thousand years earlier, by the reigning king of that era. He hadn’t even known it was there, he said.

  His mystery visitor had found it, in a secret compartment in the aged desk. Then, he went back to describing her, his nameless bride.

  I listened while he rambled like a man possessed, but I stole glances at Idun when I could. She studied the seal, first one side and then the other, with a perplexed frown. But when she presently joined us, she said nothing at all about it.

  “If Liss is going to be at your side tomorrow,” she said, “she’d better get ready.”

  Knut nodded vigorously, declaring that to be an excellent point. “You must look your best, Liss. Not that you don’t always, of course, but you understand that I want only the best impression.”

  Which, under the influence of sorcery or not, rankled. Still, catching Idun’s warning gaze a second time, I nodded and agreed. Then Knut went off in search of someone else to pester with his lovesick ramblings, and we headed out of the hall.

  We stood in the shadow of that great building, amidst the flowering fruit trees that grew behind it. For a moment, neither of us spoke.

  Then I said, “Well?”

  “It’s sorcery,” she said. “It has to be.”

  “Was it a spell?”

  “I don’t think so. I would have felt some kind of energy, and I didn’t.”

  “A potion, then?”

  “Maybe. But I doubt she could have compelled him to drink a potion.”

  I nodded. That was true enough – not when he’d stumbled in on a robbery in progress. Anyway, I remembered the midmorning story that the stragglers and latecomers carried this morning. They’d said there’d been a terrible quarrel.

  Knut wouldn’t have gone from bitter argument to accepting refreshments from someone he suspected of being a thief.

  “Then what?”

  A frown t
roubled her fair brow, and she shook her head. “I don’t know. We must send for Aage, immediately.”

  Aage was Head Wizard of the Northern University of Arcane Art, where Idun studied. He had been practicing magic longer than either – or both of us together – had been alive, and few anywhere could match his skill.

  But he was at the university. A message wouldn’t even reach him by time this wedding happened, much less allow him time to get to Little Eerie to investigate.

  Which objections I raised. She heard them and nodded. “I know. But I don’t know what else to do.”

  “I do,” I said grimly. “Knut wants me there? Well alright, I’m going to be there. I’m going to meet this mystery woman myself, and I’m going to get to the bottom of whatever she’s up to.”

  Idun glanced me over with concern. “If she’s a sorcerer, it could be dangerous.”

  “Don’t worry about me, dearheart. The only danger there’s going to be is to her, if she’s put a hex on Knut.”

  Chapter Two

  Idun sent her message to Aage, requesting his immediate presence on receipt of her communique.

  As for myself, I spent a good part of the night strategizing how I would intercept this mystery woman before she could reach Knut.

  I had no doubt at all that he’d been ensnared by some kind of magic. Setting aside my astonishment at the speed of his engagement, and the manner of it, his behavior was utterly unlike his normal manner.

  He was manic, and flippant, and completely senseless – all the things he’d never been, for as long as I’d known him.

  Idun saw it too, and so did plenty of the villagers. Sorcery seemed to be the main concern, but there were those who theorized that pregnancy or blackmail were afoot. Either the lady had something on Jarl Knut, or else he’d put her in the family way, so to speak.

  There was spirited debate about which of the three it might be at the pub that night, when we took our dinner.

  “There’s nothing natural afoot, you mark my words. It’s sorcery what’s done this, and that female, if she be a female at all, and not a troll in disguise, is some kind of witch. I’ll stake a gold farthing on it,” said old Fynn.