“You there!” Reema started, her voice shrill, before she saw him.
They must’ve told her he was dead. That would explain how white her face turned, seeing his. Or maybe because he had changed—he had lost a tremendous amount of weight and had not yet trimmed the beard that had grown wild over his face. But he clenched his jaw and stepped towards the window without a word. When he glanced up again, she was gone.
He reached for the dagger under his cloak and wondered if he needed to use it. Once, he might have made himself disappear if he caught wind that she had called her guards. He smiled at his own recklessness and waited until he heard a door click. She appeared at the alcove that led to the roof he was on.
“It is you,” she said at last, flustered.
He pulled his hand from the dagger, walked up to her, grabbed her hand, and kissed the top of it. Her skin felt like ice.
“What are you doing here?”
“You wound me. Can a husband not see his wife after so many long years?”
She pulled away from him. “They said you were killed!”
“Are you disappointed?”
She flushed. “No! Why would you say such a thing? I had hoped…” She closed her pretty little mouth and fell silent.
“You didn’t even visit me,” he said evenly. He peered into her face and smirked. “And you don’t care. Not one bit. I was captured while doing your father’s errand. Think on that.”
“You blame me for all of this?”
“I am not deaf to what you told the guards, Reema. You might as well have dug my grave yourself.”
“What would you have me do? Ylir, they were threatening my father.” She seemed to have gotten over her shock and pressed her fingers over his shoulder. “Come. We’ll talk inside. They will hear us out here.”
“Just remember, my lady—I’m not without my defenses.”
She scowled at him. “I’m sure of it, my lord. But surely you would not deny sharing a cup of tea with your wife.”
Enosh gave a quick glance around him before allowing her to lead him back into the tower. Up a flight of steps, and then around a short hall, and they were in her room. She held out her hand for his cloak, and after a moment’s hesitation, he unclasped it. “How many years have you been living here?” he asked, glancing at the various items strewn over the desks.
She shrugged. “I returned to Barun one time, to gather my things. My father suggested it would be unwise to assume I had abandoned my husband.”
“You didn’t visit me once.”
“I heard you the first time. You thought that was on purpose?”
“What else was I supposed to think?”
“They wouldn’t allow me to see you. I tried, husband. Why do you look at me that way?”
He gave a wry smile. “I just have a hard time accepting that you would act the doting wife.”
“I didn’t. My father ordered me to. I’ve spent the last few years taking lessons on the womanly arts, owing to the wonderful tutors they have here in Nebel. Needlecraft, pottery…”
“Now you jest with me.”
“…painting, and lest I forget, horseback riding, though I have to admit that last one was not on my father’s list of pre-approved activities. Why would I need to jest, my lord? I did not realize our relationship has progressed to such terms.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not acting the way I’d have expected.”
“Which is…what, my lord? That of a distressed maiden, in the presence of her husband’s ghost? I was told you were dead. You are not. I doubt you came to all this trouble just to explain the details to me.”
“I needed to know if you had anything to do with my capture.”
She sighed, wringing her hands together. “We allowed them to continue thinking what they wanted to think, it was true. The mandraagars are not the magical, friendly creatures the rest of the world think they are.”
“My lady—nobody thinks that.”
“Oh?” She pretended to fan herself. “Then you understand. We were all deceived that night, my lord. Some of us, more than others.” She made a sign, indicating the holy king, K’an ono K’an of all the Gasparian lands.
Enosh sat at the edge of her bed and dropped his head on a pillow. She took a step towards him. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“I haven’t been on a bed for over three years. You wouldn’t begrudge your husband a nap.”
She smiled. “About that—”
“Hmm?”
“You are technically dead. I’m sure you want it to remain that way. In such times, I’d be allowed two hundred and fifty-eight days of mourning, but…”
“Oh, Ab,” he groaned, his arm on his head. “There’s always a but, isn’t there?”
“My father wants our marriage annulled so he can marry me off to another of his associates. K’an Omo’s nephew. He is even older than you.”
He snorted. “Lady—I am not that old.” He felt the mattress creak and opened his eyes to see her sitting beside him.
“If my father learns of our…lack of…marriage arrangements, I may find myself married to that behemoth in a month’s time.”
“A month. That’s even faster than when your father tried to pin you on me.”
“What can I say, Ylir? The man has one living child. He’s got to be efficient.” She peered down on him, her nose touching his. He had not been with a woman for so long and the scent of her was very distracting. “I realize that from this point on, you have other plans that don’t involve letting them know that you are, in fact, alive.”
“Unless I find who actually killed the king.”
“Is that what you’re trying to do?”
“No. I don’t know. I’m not even supposed to be here.” He laughed, and stopped when he realized that she was serious. Very carefully, he placed his hand on her cheek before tucking a lock of her hair over her ear. “It would be so much simpler, wouldn’t it, if we were born to a life without expectations?”
“You mean a peasant’s life? Please.” She pulled his hand away. “I don’t think you’ve ever been hungry in your life, Ylir. You wouldn’t say otherwise.”
“No,” he agreed. “I suppose not.”
“Let me have my mourning. K’an Omo is impatient and will likely reject my father’s proposal if he has to wait so long for his darling boy. I will figure it out from there.”
Enosh nodded, before pulling her towards him for a first, and fleeting, kiss.
The second time, she was the one who leaned in towards him. Her lips yielded to his like honey. His hands encircled her waist, bringing her up to him as he tugged at her tunic. She pulled away, gasping for breath, and paused to slip it over her head.
He pushed her back onto the bed to graze his lips across her neck. She reached down to touch him. It didn’t take much to rouse him; he saw a hint of amusement in her eyes at that and tried to clear his throat. “I—”
“I thought we were in a hurry?” she asked.
He smirked and allowed her to guide him into her. She was not inexperienced, which surprised him, but she angled her hips in such a way that he found it very difficult to think straight afterwards. Dutifully, he sought his release, and fell down to the side of the mattress after.
He felt her lie down next to him and opened his eyes. Her own, he noticed for the first time, were remarkably green. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’ve been out of practice.”
“Better late than never, my lord.”
He took her hand in his. She hesitated, but eventually allowed him to kiss her fingers one-by-one. “I will regret that, to my dying day.”
“Do you talk like that to women all the time?”
He smiled and let her pull away, watching her dress. She was beautiful, which was a shame; had Azchai not forced her on him, this would have gone so much better for the both of them.
She looked at him and seemed to flush under the intensity of his gaze. “It is still early. Stay longer. Have your nap. Th
e serving women won’t intrude until breakfast.”
“As tempting as that sounds—and as tempting as it is to redeem myself—I will not bother you again. Go and have your life, Reema. Forget your father. Marry who you want.”
“You make it sound so simple.” She laughed, before looking at him intently. “But I will try.”
Out on the street, he saw the bared tip of the sword before anything else. He held out his hands. “You’ve got me,” he said out loud. “Come on, Sapphire. It was just—”
A figure stepped out from behind the building and the smile left his face. He swore.
“I just knew we’d catch you here. Do you realize what you’ve done?” Prefect As’ondaro hissed, grabbing his shirt before he had the chance to step away. His soldier—the woman who occasionally shadowed him on his visits—appeared behind him.
“I’m sorry, Ferral, I truly am. You’re a decent enough fellow, but you’ve forced my hand on this one. I just have to know, though. I realize you needed to escape, but why kill Ambassador Hegas? What did the man ever do to you?”
“Murderers like him don’t need reason,” his soldier murmured.
“You think so, Mahe?” Daro snorted. “Hegas had his vices, sure as daylight, and he wasn’t a saint, either, but the way you treated him…”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“How could you not? He was strung upside-down in his cell, alive. He bled to death.”
“Still a better fate than he deserved,” a voice said behind them. Enosh turned his head and saw Vilum and Sapphire behind him.
Daro flicked his sword to the side. “That was you?”
Vilum bowed, with flourish. “And I’d do it all over again. And you,” he added, glancing at Enosh. “What the hell did you think you were doing, running off like that?”
“I had a cup of tea with my wife.”
Daro clenched his fist and threw Enosh to the side. He stepped towards Vilum. “Whether he deserved it or not doesn’t give you the right to torture a man like that. We—none of us—are gods. If he was to be punished, then it would have been done in the heavens, with a sentence fit for the crime.”
“You,” Vilum said, narrowing his gaze. “What a northern way to look at things. Where did you say you were from?”
“This won’t do at all,” Sapphire interjected. “This man is our prisoner.”
“No, no, no,” Daro murmured. “You’re wrong again. He’s our prisoner now. Since you took our one chance to be allowed to walk back home unscathed, then we have no choice but to take Ferral and hope to all the gods that the Dageian authorities deem it a suitable trade.”
“You could fight us for him,” Mahe quipped.
Daro gave her an exasperated look. “We could. I’d rather not. I’ve lost too many soldiers to this expedition.”
Vilum grimaced and pulled back his sleeves, but Sapphire held out her hands. “I have no desire to fight, either,” she said. “It is clear, from the looks of both of you, that you’ll defeat us easily.”
“I don’t think so,” Vilum retorted.
She glared at him. “When was the last time the Dageians recruited you for their army? Never? Then be silent, cousin.” She stepped towards Daro. “When you say that you’ve lost soldiers, you mean everyone but that one standing behind you, don’t you? You are, essentially, alone.”
Daro clenched his teeth and smiled. “I’ll have to remind you, though, that that one has a reason for being the only one there is.” At his words, Mahe inclined her head and flicked her sword.
Sapphire gave her a quick glance. She looked unimpressed. “Our goal is not so different, you and I. You want to drag him to Dageis, chains and all. Fine. We don’t need him for very long. We—”
A shadow fell across them from the sky.
Enosh smelled the beginnings of a flame-spell—the crisp scent of a spark before it spreads—and dragged Daro with him, slamming both of them against the fence. A ball of fire exploded where they were standing. Daro screamed for Mahe, wrenching Enosh’s grasp from him.
A shriek pierced the air. Enosh dared to look up and saw the underside of a griffon, black as night and twice the size of a horse. It spread its talons and dropped on the street. There was a rider on its back—a thin, young man, half his face covered by a spray of black hair. Smoke was rising from his fingers.
The young man glanced at them before settling his gaze on Enosh. “Pity,” he said, flexing his hand. “I made a bet. Said I could kill you with one blow. Jarche said you would be quick.”
“Jarche sent you to kill me?”
“Hardly. She begged me not to go. But orders are orders.” He wiggled his fingers and threw another ball of fire at him. Enosh rolled to the side before it could hit him.
“Son of a bitch,” the young man grumbled. He jumped off the griffon. Mahe ran up to them, sword in the air, but the griffon turned back and sent her flying halfway across the street.
Enosh held out his arms for half a second, preparing himself. Behind him, he heard Sapphire curse. “Double back to the flat, Vilum, grab our things, and meet us on the road.”
“Why? I can snap that boy’s neck if you give me a moment. Nothing but theatrics, all of this…”
“Theatrics that could bring the mandraagars down on our heads if we stay here a moment longer,” Sapphire murmured.
Vilum opened his mouth, as if to argue, and then quickly closed it. “The last thing we want is to have them to deal with, too,” he murmured. He drew away, turning at the next fork.
“In the meantime, we need to get out of here. Think he could track you?”
“I don’t know what you mean. I think he was watching Reema’s manor, same as Daro.”
“Tsah! Your cup of tea has cost us dearly. Well, don’t just stand there with your mouth open. We have to move!” She grabbed his elbow and led him down a dusty alley. In the distance, the griffon’s cry filled the air with the sharpness of a flute blown too hard.
Chapter Five
“They’re leaving soon. Won’t you go out there and say goodbye?” Dai asked, coming up to peer at Kefier from the rim of the fence. The boy was drenched from head to toe. The rains had begun that morning, starting with a thundershower before sunrise. It was a bad time to be on the road. He wondered if she would listen if he told her not to go.
Kefier had wondered about a lot of things in the past few days and it was making him into a surly son-of-a-bitch, as Narani put it. He knew that the best thing would be to let Sume do what she wanted. He knew her enough by now to know that she wouldn’t stay behind for him. She was never one to listen to anybody else’s opinions. It used to drive him mad; now he wasn’t sure if he was attracted to her because, not in spite, of it. Oji would’ve said…
Ah, Ab. Just rip my heart out now, he thought. He was doomed, anyway, in this life and the next. He suddenly realized that Dai was still waiting for him to respond. He gave a wry smile.
“I’ll go pick Rosha up,” he said. He tugged the gate open and jumped over the ditch running besides the fence. Drops of rain dotted his shirt.
Dai shivered and rubbed his bare arms to keep warm. “The ox-driver said he can come back to take us to Bara, if we want. It might take him a few days but he says he’ll send for us.”
“Might as well,” Kefier murmured, glancing at the sky. “Oxen would be less flighty in this rain. Scare Rosha less.”
“She doesn’t scare easy.”
“No. I’m sorry, I meant old Narani.” He grinned. It helped ease his nerves.
Dai shook his head. “She still thinks we should wait, that she’s too comfortable here to go wandering off again. Do we really need to take her with us? It’s not like she’s family.”
“She is. I need her to help with Rosha.” Silently, he added to himself that the last thing he wanted was to leave her on her own. The anggali rumours did not follow them from Oren-yaro, but she was old, and even though it sometimes looked like she would live a hundred more years, he worried about her
health.
They caught sight of the oxen-cart being loaded around the bend. Kefier rushed forward to help the driver with a trunk that felt like it was full of bricks, but apparently contained Sagar’s travel-clothes. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Sume on a bench under the eaves with Rosha on her lap. She was whispering something to the girl while tucking a stray strand of hair over her ear.
Kefier’s heart skipped a beat. Why couldn’t we be a family? I know Enosh. He would never return to you. But he killed the thought even before he had time to process it. Beside him, the driver signalled. He patted the man’s shoulder and stepped across the mud, intending to say his goodbyes even though he still wasn’t sure at that point how he would say them.
A man with a sedge hat ran into him before he could cross the street. “I’m sorry!” the man exclaimed, tipping the sedge hat up to his ears. Kefier started. Ing Vahn’s angular face was peering up at him, his thin eyes as wide as he could make them.
“You—” they both said, at the same time.
Kefier scratched his head. The last time he had seen Ing Vahn, he had been a captive of the mercenary group he and Oji used to work with. It had been at least five years since. Ing Vahn reached forward and clasped his hands. “You must be Sume’s husband,” he said, shaking them. “Oh, I’m so sorry, so sorry I didn’t make the time to meet you after all these years, when it was you all along. She mentioned you were of Gorent, and I had thought the little girl looked familiar…”
Kefier found his voice at last. “Let me get this straight. You’re the…”
“Hush,” Ing Vahn said, tipping his hat forward. “I’m incognito. Can’t you tell? Look at those two, pretending to ignore me. Oh, I would not worry about them in Oren-yaro at all—they play their parts well. I wanted to see them off without making such a big fuss.” He tapped Kefier’s shoulder. “I’m just a lowly baker’s son, off to see his cousin,” he added, a little louder.
Kefier scowled. “No one would say such a thing.”
“It’s good, then, that they’re not taking me with them. Sume, Ichi,” he said, smiling and dropping his head in a half-bow. “May all the gods and spirits guide you on your journey to err—sell brooms, was it?”
An Elegy of Heroes Page 55
