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"I had feared you had not made it out in time," Khaavren confessed.
Daro smiled. Since her arrival at the seat of Arylle, she had spent most of her waking hours at Khaavren's bedside. She herself was still injured, and the rather speedy coach trip had aggravated the wound in her side. Hence, idleness of her own was exactly what the physicker ordered, and how better to spend it with a charming gentleman? "My dear captain, you commanded His Majesty's coach for me, and we set it upon one of the best-maintained roads in the Empire. I had nothing to wish for in terms of speed, only-"
"Only?"
"Only wondering if I had been heading in the right direction. You have had a remarkable ability to require my assistance in the short time I have known you."
Khaavren paled, no doubt picturing what would have happened had Daro decided to ride back to Dragaera City. Daro had been far enough removed that only the rumors -- and the continuing absence of the Orb in the back of her mind -- had reached her, but rumor was quite enough. She patted Khaavren's hand. "But, given I left you with your three friends who had rescued us both, I did not act on my wonderment. And, if you had escaped, you would look for me here and not there." Growing up in Adrilankha meant that Daro knew more than a few tales of groups of friends chasing each other all over the city because they could not pick a meeting-place and agree to stay there. It had been a pragmatic decision, even if it meant she had been urging the coachman on, stopping only to exchange horses and news at the posts. She had honestly been surprised to learn that Khaavren and his friends had arrived before her.
"In that case, it was rather fortuitous that there was not a coach to be found for hire or purchase within the city," Khaavren said. "Had you a slower coach, I would have had to wait longer to see your smile. I do not think my heart could have taken it."
Daro rewarded him with another smile. "I am pleased that I did not delay your recovery then." Khaavren certainly seemed to be rather worse off than he had been when she left. She had not heard the full tale from him yet, but the summary seems to have been 'continued in his duties to His Majesty well past when another man would have sent a subordinate'. Given the state of the city when she left, however, she could hardly fault Khaavren for continuing on until he fell over. Had it been Adrilankha, she would have continued much the same. "When you are well enough to travel, you will come with me to Adrilankha, as we planned?"
"Barring a message from-" Khaavren paused, and Daro realized he was reflecting on the sheer magnitude of the news from Dragaera City (that is to say, that Dragaera City no longer existed). Daro had lived there for only a short period, and had spent most of her time within the Palace; Khaavren had told her that he had lived there since he was less than a hundred years old. His duties had tied him there, but, moreover, he must have a thousand other ties in familiar street corners and shops and walking-paths. As she had in Adrlankha. "It would be my delight to see your home and meet your parents," he finished.
It was too soon to speak of it becoming Khaavren's home, Daro judged. If Dragaera City had survived, they could have made plans as to how to carry on a relationship when Khaavren was Captain of His Majesty's Phoenix Guard and she was Countess of Whitecrest. Here… there was no question, save admitting the facts that something irrevocable had happened.
There was a clap at the door, and both Daro and Khaavren looked up. It was Pel. "I hope I am not disturbing anything," he said. After their initial reunion, Daro had seen less of the duke and baroness -- both presumably busy with the duties of their respective positions, though they made as much time as one could to visit -- but the Yendi had offered to take her seat while Daro attended to certain necessities, or when her own wound caused her so much pain as to make sitting up unpleasant.
"Only some conversation," Khaavren said.
"Still, given the way you look at the countess, I wonder if you would be able to tolerate taking your eyes off of her to speak to me at all."
Both Khaavren and Daro protested that of course they would allow for the Yendi's company, regardless of their feelings about spending time together alone.
Pel took a seat opposite of Khaavren's bedside from Daro. "I have ridden to the nearest post, in search of news."
"Any word?" Khaavren tried to sit up straighter, causing Daro to motion him to stay abed. She could admire her captain's devotion to his duty, but not when it would slow his recovery.
"Say, rather, there are many words, that only agree on the facts that were brought by Mica, and Countess Whitecrest," Pel answered. "I dare say that we may have one of the better ideas of what, exactly, has happened. More so if Tazendra can be persuaded to speak of sorcery in language that the rest of us may understand."
Khaavren shook his head. "It has been over a week. Surely someone must be acting."
"Of that, I have no doubt. But, the more responsible of those with landed titles will be acting as our friend, the Lyorn, is, and taking precautions to weather this."
Daro nodded. "No doubt, my mother is acting much the same in my stead." But it worried her. In between her own personal inclinations, and a certain measure of scandal in the past, Daro's mother had made it clear that as soon as Daro was ready to take up governing the County, the seat, as it were, would be free for her. While Daro knew her mother and father would carry on as if they were Countess and Count in perpetuity, rather than merely until she accepted the title, certain malcontents would certainly use the opportunity to make trouble.
Her parents also would worry. Just as she had not known if Khaavren had made it out of the capital before the Disaster (and it was becoming clear that it was not merely 'a disaster', but deserved the definite article), her parents would have no way of knowing she was on her way home.
And, yet, she was committed to remaining here until both she and Khaavren were well enough to travel. His Grace, the Duke of Arylle (Daro had not yet reached the stage of familiarity where she felt comfortable using his name, let alone the nickname Khaavren used), had found a physicker to consult on healing times (and eventually to remove the stitches), and she would be another week, at least, before she could ride. Khaavren would be longer still; the fact remained that she would be able to leave before he was ready.
"I am certain that your mother is doing a fine job," Khaavren said, obviously reading her expression. "After all, she was the one who bore and raised you. But… if you wish to ride on ahead of me, I will follow when I am able."
"I would not wish to leave you, in your state of health," Daro said quickly. But, she was aware that while Daro might wish to be at her fiancé's side, Countess Whitecresst should return home to take charge of the city. She could guess five problems that would be impending on her return, and imagine at least seventeen more.
"Cha, now that I know you are well, I feel as if I could fly," Khaavren said, trying to sit up again, and wincing as he moved. Daro frowned at him until he lay back down. "Well, perhaps not 'fly', but ride."
"Take care," Pell said. "There are rumors of soldiers deserting their posts. It is emboldening the highwaymen. A coach on the road with a noble passenger may quickly become unsafe." And Daro realized that the heraldry marking His Majesty's coach would mark its passenger as noble indeed. Under ordinary circumstances, only a very desperate highwaymen would even consider it. But… soon there might be very desperate highwaymen, who had learned that the response to stealing from the Empire had changed.
"That will give Tazendra something to do when she becomes restless," Khaavren commented. "Let me think… Pell, do you suppose that a lone rider would have the same problems as a coach?"
Pel considered this. "It would depend on the rider. On a swift horse, a single rider could outrun pursuit, or look to be too skilled a fighter to allow to be taken alive for ransom."
"Then, would you be willing to perform a favor for me? I would go myself, only-"
"Only the three of us would block your way, even assuming you made it past the countess," Pel finished. Daro nodded, agreeing with Pel: Khaavren had been, quite obviously, spent beyond all of his limits, and a few days of rest and good food had merely allowed him to be conscious for some of the day. He could barely stand even with a servant's assistance. Even walking to the stables was unlikely, let alone mounting and riding anywhere. "What is this favor?"
"Would you be willing to carry a letter from Countess Whitecrest to her mother in Adrilankha?" Khaavren asked. "As much as I am pleased you are here, I would not ask Aerich or Tazendra to leave their lands at the moment."
"Not even if you promise Tazendra a dangerous road filled with highwaymen?" Pel asked.
"Not even then," Khaavren said. "They will, no doubt, wait for her."
"As it happens," Pel said, "I would wish to spend some time in Adrilankha. No doubt it will draw some of those refugees we are seeing, and there will be more news at the port."
Daro realized, suddenly, that Pel had mentioned being at court; whatever his plans had been (and he was a Yendi, of course he had them), this Disaster had scuttled them like fishing boats on a rocky shore. "If you are willing to stay until we arrive, sir, I would be willing to put in a word or two towards some of the city's residents. In the name of the friendship you share with my fiancé." Daro didn't know, precisely speaking, what Pel would be looking for, but she suspected that Pel would figure out how to get what he needed from what she could offer, one way or another.
"You do me a kindness," Pel bowed. "If you can prepare a letter, I will set out in the morning. Assuming Aerich can provide a horse."
"I will do just that." Daro turned to Khaavren. "My dear captain, if you will bide for a moment with your friend, I wish to prepare the letter now."
"I will bide," Khaavren said, "though I cannot help but hope you will be as brief as politeness allows."
"I am certain my mother will understand," Daro replied.
After she laid out the situation to her mother, as concisely as possible, Daro sealed the letter in wax. Lyorn-red, of course, though this time less due to Daro's personal taste than that she had misplaced her own sealing-wax and had to ask the duke. Then she returned to Khaavren and handed the letter to Pel. She was a bit hesitant -- Khaavren's friend or not, he was a Yendi -- but she had not said anything beyond the facts already known. And, well, Khaavren trusted him.
Pel took the letter, and nodded to them. "If you will forgive me, I will see about provisions for my journey, and to tell Aerich and Tazendra where I am headed."
"Will you return?" Khaavren asked. "Or are you planning on staying in Adrilankha?"
Pel considered. "Do you know, I believe I will. I will have a better idea of the roads then."
He left, and Khaavren settled back into bed. "I am glad he is returning, even if we will, no doubt, part ways again. We have all taken separate paths in life, but I am glad we have been brought together in this trying time. And I am glad to have met you, my dear."
"And I, you," Daro answered. "And, perhaps, we may walk the same path together for a time."