“What is Papa doing there?” she asks. “Is he working for the master, still?”
Jarche gurgles in displeasure. It is a funny sound, coming from someone not quite human, but after the first time Rosha never laughed at it again.
“Pay attention,” she says.
Rosha twirls the glass sphere over to her other hand. “I am paying attention,” she replies. “But you’re not answering my question.”
“I have already, child. Days and days ago.” She presses her fingers over the bridge of her nose. “By Yohak, this is why I didn’t have children myself.”
“Could you have children, Miss Jarche?”
“Out!” she says. “Have your lunch! Your lessons are over for today.”
She grins, and Jarche, for all that she sounded angry, grins back. She is not sure why this is so. Perhaps Jarche reminds her of someone. She runs out of the door for lunch and then spends the rest of the day wandering the garden with the cat. She likes the cat; it is soft and fluffy, a far change from the slant-eyed, sly beasts back home. She still remembers the time a cat stole the fish out of the larder, and she could still remember how angry her mother was, and how hard Papa laughed.
She really misses her family. But Jarche does not like it when she says so, so she doesn’t.
After dinner and two books, she falls into a waking-sleep. It is the kind where everything falls around her and she finds herself standing on a rocky cliff that looks quite, but not exactly like, the bluffs overlooking the lake back home.
The city is strange today. Walking through the buildings, she feels a strange echo, and voices that spoke of panic and sadness and loss. She sees something move to her side and reach out to clutch her hand. She recoils, and then, realizing what it is, calls out, “Not today!”
The thing whimpers and slinks back.
Another step, and she finds the voices overwhelming. She turns back, towards the bluffs, and then to the light-tower that is normally not there. She holds her hands up and makes a sound, pulling back the fabric near the tower with her fingers. They curl around her nails before giving in to reveal a hole the size of a foot. She steps through one, wriggles in, and finds herself at the sea shore.
Here, she turns—as she always does—towards a faint, blue stream of agan, one that calls out to her among the others. She knows she is not allowed to follow it, though the part of her that remains sleeping is no longer sure why. But she thinks she would like to; she thinks, that if she reaches the other end of it, she will find someone whom she would very much like to slap. To think that after all the trouble she went through just to secure this body that he would just…
In her sleep, Rosha stirs, and the thought fades. She wanders the shore and plays with the kelp, jumping on each one and laughing as they pop. She thinks, that no matter how many lifetimes pass, that she will never tire of this shore. She remembers making the waves dance during the festival one time. Oh, she could never forget how Jaeth’s eyes lit up that day. He had been so little, then, but already so roguish and charming.
She hears a sound behind her and looks up, wondering if it is time to return home. A hot wave assaults her. In the distance, she sees something floating through the air towards her, a single eye bobbing back and forth on its head.
She lifts her hands, because on this shore nothing frightens her, but the beast approaches and roars, and she remembers she is not even five years old yet and that her Papa is not home tonight. She turns and she runs. The beast flaps behind her, half an arm’s length away, roaring. She finds a pocket in the air and slams her body through it.
Rosha wakes up, screaming. The door flings open and Jarche rushes in. She starts to say something to soothe her, but she doesn’t understand. Rosha holds her hand up, trying to make her. There is blood all over her arms.
She jumps from the bed before Jarche can get to her and rushes past the door. Jarche slams it shut, but she slides through before it can close completely.
It is even scarier, running out to the gardens in the dark, but Rosha’s feet can’t seem to stop. The gate is unlocked and she opens it, running out into the street. She thinks that if she can get away from Jarche, she will find him; somewhere out there her Papa is waiting for her.
The rain falls. Carriages speed past her. She almost gets run over, but a man drags her from the road before it happens and that frightens her all the more. People loom over her like shadows, their faces distorted in the dark. She tears herself away from them. Lightning streaks across the sky. She screams, setting a carriage on fire. Rain; there is too much rain, and smoke, and where is Papa? He promised he would be back for her. Why hasn’t he returned? The cook had told her that people die sometimes but she didn’t want to believe that, not Papa, not her Papa.
Heart pounding inside her little chest, she hurtles down an alley and finds herself in her mother’s arms.
“You’ve come a long way. You must be tired.” Jarche watches the woman tuck her child under the covers. She holds out a cup of tea. The woman takes it, nodding her thanks.
“After what happened at Shirrokaru and what happened to those other children, I felt like I needed to see her.” Her voice shakes a little. She takes a sip of the tea.
Jarche smiles, although she has never had children and is not sure if she really understands. The woman—Sume, she called herself—turns back to her daughter, and she takes the time to observe her face. It is not an elegant face, not like the noblewomen Enosh often entangled himself with, and there are faint lines along her forehead, though she must still be so young. She is pretty enough, but not the sort of pretty that would tear cities apart. It makes her wonder what it is about her that caused her beloved boy to forget himself for a while.
“It’s funny,” Sume says, her voice dancing a little.
Jarche senses relief, senses the aftermath of despair in the lightness of her tone.
“When Kefier explained to me where she was, and why, I wasn’t sure if I believed him. I was almost sure I would never see her again.” Now, Sume’s voice trembles a little. “You can’t imagine the depths of madness you could sink to, thinking things like that. Your own child...”
“I can,” Jarche says.
And again, thinks, not really; but she has seen it, and perhaps a part of her does understand, even when she doesn’t want to. “More tea?”
Sume holds up her cup. Jarche pours.
“We do need to address the matter of her dreams,” Jarche says, a moment later. “I didn’t realize they were as bad as they were tonight.”
“She explained to me on the way back.” Her fingers dance along the cup. “It’s that thing, isn’t it? The same creature that destroyed Enji?”
“Tell me what you know of it,” Jarche says, and she does.
When her story is over, Jarche gets up and walks towards the window, and thinks, now. Now is a good time for it all to end. She should’ve done something when she was still capable, back when she had power.
But she didn’t and she thinks it is too late now, and she thinks it is not in her anyway, even if she could, even now that she is in front of this woman who has lost so much because of her inaction. Jarche thinks that even if she were to sit down and try to explain, she will not be able to. She will not know where to begin.
“Why does this thing want my daughter?” Sume’s voice breaks into her thoughts.
“Because of her father. Her real father.”
She drops her head a little. “You know about that?”
“This was Enosh’s home once, you know. She has Enosh’s eyes, as well as his perception to the agan. Maybe even more—yes, I’m sure she has quite a bit more.” She licks her lips. “We own this creature, and Enosh helped us keep it under control.”
“I know that much.”
“Good. When he left us, we lost it. It escaped.” Jarche turns to the sleeping girl. “It is frightened of him, and so it is probably frightened of her, too. I think it’s trying to get to her, through the agan, while she’s still
young. Before she has the chance to grow into her skills.”
She sees Sume struggle to contain herself. That stands out; most of the women Enosh has been involved with, she knows, would become hysterical, perhaps angry. Was this why? She knows Enosh fancies himself rational, even when he is not. Perhaps this woman offered him a chance to maintain that illusion; a dose of water to his fire.
“What can I do?” she asks.
Jarche hesitates for a moment. “Perhaps if you can bring Enosh back to us…”
“Where would I start? He won’t even return to me for our sake.”
“There lies your challenge. You need to bring him back. He will not want to. I know where he could be—I can send you there.”
She watches Sume close her eyes, and she realizes something. “You do not want to see him, do you?”
Sume smiles. “Not particularly.”
“But you loved him. Didn’t you love him?” She cannot see why someone could not. Charming and intelligent, her beloved boy has been turning heads since that first shadow of a beard.
“The girl I was did,” she murmurs. “But he left her behind, and so I left her, too. We do not stay young forever.”
“And Kefier, whom your daughter considers her father…”
“I don’t really care about that right now,” Sume says. “It’s my daughter I’m concerned about.”
“All right,” Jarche says. “I understand.” She thinks for a moment. “Enosh is in Dageis,” she continues. “I can send both you and Kefier to fetch him. If he will not go with you, perhaps Kefier can drag him by the ear.”
“Dageis? But that’s all the way across the continent. Will we have time?”
Jarche shuts her eyes and hears, in the back of her mind, Enosh admonishing her for being too kind. It is worth the risk, she thinks. She misses him too much. “Let me show you what a master in the agan can do.”
Chapter Fifteen
Although Ni’in was a small city, it served its purpose as the last Kag port along the coastline. Here, amidst the scent of roasting fish, vendors screaming hoarsely about their wares, and children scattering as the ships arrived to unload, sailors disembarked to send letters and eat familiar food before sailing further east.
The problem with the market in Ni’in—as with most markets in Kago—was the quality of the goods. Half of the produce in the fruit stands were green and wormy; the best the orchards at Kago produced was always shipped to Cael, where it stood a chance of being bought at a fair price. And anything that required a skillful hand and eye to craft was always lacking—wooden figures with peeling paint, earthenware that cracked as soon as you touched it.
Kefier wasn’t sure what he expected to find there at all. But he had woken up that morning with the odd feeling of needing to send Rosha a present. The act soothed his rising panic. How can everything look so normal, when on the other side of the continent, Shirrokaru lies in ashes?
“Where did you find this?” he asked, picking up a leather-bound book with Jinsein letters scrawled on the front.
The vendor parted the curtains to look at him. “I’m not sure. My uncle used to trade with the Jins, back when they first opened their borders.”
He could read Jinsein, as it happened. He was better at it than the Kag letters, which didn’t mean a lot; in Jin-Sayeng, the majority of written material was reserved for royals. Books were not readily available to commoners, let alone foreigners. With the exception of the Ikessar clan, most of the warlords kept a close eye on everything, claiming they did not want falsities to taint Jinsein history. Kag texts, on the other hand, were ignored, which explained their popularity among the populace. Jinsein merchants, the alon gar, did everything in the Kag languages.
The book in his hands was a series of poems written before Rysaran’s father’s time. He read the first one, and then fished around his pocket for some coin to pay the man. The man wrapped it in thick, yellow paper, and Kefier made his way to the docks to send it to Rosha on the first available ship. He added a note, but didn’t tell her about Shirrokaru. He didn’t know how to start.
He did tell her he loved her, the way he used to nearly every day of her life.
Kefier returned to his horse and took the road back to the keep. He was set to join Caiso’s group in two days, to scout the northern borders of Jin-Sayeng, where Singular Five was wiped out trying to transport the beast further east. Yn Garr was adamant that the creature be found. Kefier was in no particular hurry, himself, but it seemed very important to the man. Anyway, it would give him an opportunity to check Shirrokaru out and maybe find Sume.
How am I supposed to tell Rosha her mother might be dead?
He went straight to his office to make sure everything was in place before he left. At some of the officer’s suggestions, he had re-organized the singulars into five new ones, to account for the men and officers they had lost over the years. They now had less than a hundred and thirty men; in the old days, they easily had twice the number. Kefier figured that the number would drop even more if they continued to lose men on Yn Garr’s jobs. Boarshind soldiers might not have a lot of choices left in life, but they could always choose to walk away.
He tried not to dwell too much on that. Night fell; he dozed in his chair and dreamt he was back in Shirrokaru, watering the plants. Someone knocked at the door, and he heard Sume’s voice call out to him, and he thought, what I wouldn’t give to be back in that house, in that life. His head still couldn’t get around the reality that he could never return to it.
The knock continued. He moved to tell Narani to answer, even though she was likely to swear at him for daring to order her about, and his eyes opened. He saw the single candle flicker on his desk and then heard Sume’s voice again.
He was still half-asleep, but he forced his legs to move. Move, and then run; he was at the door in another breath and threw it open. He was prepared to see nothing; a part of him had resigned itself to the unspoken grief and the endless nights that came the moment he agreed to Yn Garr’s proposal. The torment that came from hearing her voice and never seeing her again was all part of that.
She didn’t disappear. The darkness, for that moment, receded.
“Oh, woman,” Kefier gasped, not caring anymore if it was a dream or not. He cupped her jaw with his hands and kissed her.
Sume had known Kefier long enough to find herself unable to gather her thoughts at the way he greeted her. He pulled back, looking into her eyes, and her mind tried to work its way around the situation. This was Kefier, who had a foul temper and was given to raging like a caged lion whenever they argued, but that had always seemed to her as a front for how soft his nature really was. To have him so forward, after months of not seeing him, was unexpected.
Unexpected; but not, as she realized a heartbeat later, unwelcome. He seemed to catch on to her silence and pressed forward. She allowed him to kiss her a second time, up against the wall, his tender lips a stark contrast to the strength with which he held her. A long moment later, he opened the door and led her into his room, shedding her clothes along the way.
They didn’t talk, moving along the length of each other’s bodies with such frenzy that it felt like she would die if they stopped. Unlike the last time, he held nothing back. It was as if he had decided something profound in her absence, a part of which involved touching her like he owned her. It surprised her that she didn’t mind, that as the night wore on her need rose to heights that matched his.
Another long moment, this time an entire night’s worth. Afterwards, he slept, and she watched the moonlight dance over his brow, down his nose, and under his jaw. She lingered over his features for a long time before she placed her fingers on his broad chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat felt like a song.
Kefier’s eyes opened. “You’re still here,” he said. There was something sad about the way he spoke.
She tried to make a joke out of it. “You were expecting me to leave?”
He sat up. “I was…I wasn’t expecting i
t to be real.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Well, I’m glad to know this is what you’ve been dreaming of when I’m not around.”
“No, not—I mean, this is the first time. I…” He fell silent and mumbled something under his breath.
Sume drew the blankets up to her chest and pulled herself closer to him. He looked at her, and she kissed him. The heat was gone, but there was softness there, a warmth that took her breath away. She turned her head before the feeling could engulf her. “You still haven’t asked what I’m doing here.”
“All right,” Kefier said, tracing lazy circles on her hair. “What are you doing here?”
“I got your letter. I just came from Cael City. Jarche sent me.”
“I don’t understand. You took a ship? But I only just sent that a few weeks ago.”
“Jarche opened a portal into the agan. She said it’s not something she does very often, but it allowed me to step from Cael City and appear an hour north of Cairntown. She’s downstairs right now, sleeping. The process took a lot out of her.”
Kefier furrowed his brows. “Why would she take the trouble to bring you out here? I’m sure she doesn’t care about my well-being that much.”
She laughed a little, pretending to slap his cheek. He took her hand, and the smile died on her lips. “Promise me you won’t get angry.”
His face grew still. “Is it about Rosha?”
“She is well, Kefier. I saw her. Only—oh, Sakku, where do I start?” She drew her shoulders back. “You’ve heard of Shirrokaru?”
He nodded.
“It was done by that same thing—the creature we saw back in Gaspar.” She closed her eyes. “I can still see…no, I don’t want to talk about it. Kefier, Jarche told me that thing fears Enosh, because he raised it. Kirosha has been having these nightmares, and she thinks it’s sensed her. It knows her blood, and is afraid that she would grow up to be capable of controlling it, the way Enosh can. So it’s been trying to find her.”
An Elegy of Heroes Page 67
