“I can’t say,” Kefier said. “Politics are beyond me.”
She smiled at him. “I’m forgetting my manners. It is kind of you to come all this way for this. Thank you for it. Would you have come sooner if you knew what you’ve just learned today?”
“I’m sorry?”
“You’ve changed. I wanted to see how you would react.” She laughed. “You will stay the night, of course. No inn in town can match Saira’s cooking, and you were once a friend of Camden’s. Shepherd I may be now, but I still know how to offer hospitality.”
“I know you do. You saved my life once. I may not have thanked you properly back then. Thank you.”
“There you go again. Where did you pick up manners? I recall seeing an unkempt man in a Vildar prison-cell. I’m sorry to say that I remember thinking Camden did not belong there, but you did. How easily the years can turn us upside-down. As the moon waxes and wanes...Garril, you remember Garril? He writes poetry. Still writes to me today, if you can believe it. I tolerate it, though I have no plans to ever see him again. It amuses me.” Lillah turned to her boy. “Run along and help Aunt Saira fix supper.”
They gave Kefier the spare room in the attic of the shed behind the farmhouse. It was dark and a little dusty, but the heavy feeling after a meal of mint mutton stew and sweet, roasted turnips more than made up for it. There were two beds in the corner that belonged to Abel’s brothers who went to work for a shipping company in the mainland. They wrote sparsely and visited home even less. He was made to understand, in excruciating detail, how different life was ever since Camden left and did not return...how it devastated the old shepherd and his wife, who wept almost every night, and how that caused the illness that took their lives.
If Kefier had not made Camden escape the prison that night, the man would’ve been released in time and made his way back home. It was one of the many things that kept him awake some nights, and he wondered how others dealt with such things so easily. How did people live their lives unburdened by the sorrows they have caused?
Caiso was convinced that Kefier let things affect him too much. “This life will break you,” he had once commented, watching Kefier dig through yet another mass grave with the rest of his men, sweat running like rivers over his skin. “You stick a sword in them and then you forget. Don’t do more than that.”
“This life has already broken me.”
His response made Caiso laugh in that bell-like voice of his. “What you’re doing is commendable. Some of the men may not see the point, but enough do. It puts them at ease, to know that you will offer them this same courtesy when they pass on. But you have to draw the line. How much of this is for these…” He gestured at the corpses. “And how much is for your friend Oji? How long do you intend on punishing yourself for that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sweet, simple man, of course you don’t. That is a dilemma that has no answer. We’ve all killed. We’ve all found ways to live with it. Even if we think it’s a mistake. Even if we could take it back, we go on pretending like we meant it. It makes it easier to sleep like a baby, don’t you see? Try pretending that you’re a new person, that whoever made those mistakes is another man in another life.”
“Is that what you tell yourself about Jon?”
“My, how you can turn a heart-to-heart conversation about your life into a conversation about my private affairs.”
“It’s hardly private if half the barracks are gossiping about it.”
“I should see which half of the barracks this was. But fair enough. We all make mistakes. You move from it. Roll over and wake up, my dear Kefier, it’s a new day! Mend your heart, fall in love with another man...”
“What if my mistakes hurt others?”
“Isn’t that their problem, then?” Caiso asked. “Not yours?”
But they were, even if he pretended otherwise. Rani, now—another name to add to his debts. Rani. Lillah. Saira. Abel. Dai. Hana. Sume. Sume…
Ah, that name. That woman. If he could think about her without getting angry…that would be a start.
Kefier heard somebody coming up the stairs and pulled away from his thoughts. Abel appeared. Because of the moonlight and the evening’s discussion revolving around Camden, only his lanky frame told Kefier that he was not a ghost, come visiting.
Abel paused at the landing. “I’m thinking you knew I was Camden’s brother when you met me.”
“I guessed it,” Kefier said. “He had mentioned your names once, and you looked enough like him. When Saira introduced herself, then I knew.”
Abel rubbed the back of his head, an uneasy look on his face. “You were saying back there, about how you didn’t know who killed him, yeah? But you know who could be responsible?”
“You don’t want to go down that road, Abel. Stay here. Live your life.”
“That was Camden’s thing. He was a good man, one of the best...why are you here, and he’s not?” His voice rose, eyes flashing. “Tell me, toske! A grub-licking, Gorenten piece of shit has no business putting on airs like you when my brother couldn’t even come home!” Abel smashed his hand into the bannister.
Kefier waited a moment. When he finally spoke, there was a steel edge to his voice. “Are you done?”
“I…”
“Consider yourself lucky to still have a place to call home. To have a family who loves you.”
“Gorenten sentiments, yeah? Seen it often enough. Did the prospect of a home protect my brother? Even the waiting arms of a woman who loved him couldn’t save him.”
The smell of smoke distracted Kefier. He got up, intending to close the window, before he realized that something was amiss. He blinked once. In the distance, he saw a curl of smoke rising from the roof of the farmhouse.
He didn’t wait to tell Abel. He ran past him, rushing down the stairs and out the shed. Just as he came down the path, someone cried out from inside the house and the roof erupted into flames.
The front door was open as he sprinted around the corner. Lillah was on the floor, a trail of blood curled around her still form. A tall figure was standing over her. The sound of Kefier’s footsteps made him turn. “Bannal,” Kefier said in a low voice.
The man held out a finger. “One movement and she dies.”
“She’ll die anyway,” Kefier murmured, but he stopped and stood still. He could see Lillah’s chest moving. Had it been anyone else, he might have attacked already; but Bannal was a Dageian mage and could probably make his head explode if he wanted to. He didn’t know; he had never been able to get his head around how the agan worked. He knew only enough to be cautious around people who knew how to use it.
Kefier’s hesitation made Bannal smile, the lines deepening across his pockmarked face. “Thank you. Was that so hard? Now, I just need whatever it was you’ve scrounged up from the Lahrin mansion.”
Kefier hesitated, before he reached into his coat pocket where he had hidden his father’s journals. He handed one to Bannal, hoping nothing betrayed his expression. Bannal flicked it open. Whatever it was he read in the first page seemed to satisfy him. Kefier regretted not attempting to read it himself when he had the time.
“It is ironic,” Bannal said, flipping the book shut with one hand, “that a man like you would choose to work for a man like Yn Garr.”
“What, you mean instead of a murderer like you?”
Bannal’s face flickered. “You haven’t forgotten what happened at Lake Enji.”
“Why the fuck would I give you that convenience?”
Bannal tucked the journal into his pocket. “You might think me a callous, ambitious fool like your master. I suppose I deserve that, though I don’t particularly care about your opinion.” He snorted. “But—thank you for remembering her.”
Kefier opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Bannal glanced behind Kefier. “And now, as I know your men are likely making their way here by now, I must depart. Until we meet again.” He stepped through the door and w
ent up the path.
Kefier rushed to Lillah’s side, pressing his fingers against her neck. She was still breathing. He picked her up and carried her to the garden, just as the fire began to spread down the walls. The rest of the household were gathering out on the yard. He saw, with relief, that both Saira and Rani were among them. Caiso and Eswenna stood nearby, their swords drawn.
“Better late than never, I suppose?”
“Sorry, Commander,” Eswenna grumbled. “He got the jump on us.”
Kefier snorted, setting Lillah down on the grass. She stirred. He glanced at Saira. “It’s not safe here anymore. I’m sorry. I—”
Caiso cleared his throat. “What he’s trying to say is that this man, Bannal, won’t be bothering you again. We’ll pay for repairing your house.” He glanced at the flames and grimaced. “Whatever’s left of it, anyway.”
“That house was passed down to us for generations,” Saira said in an even voice. “Will somebody be explaining to us what just happened?”
Kefier cleared his throat.
“No,” Caiso said, touching Kefier’s shoulder before he could speak. “Personal business. Nothing you should concern yourselves with.”
“They can’t stay here,” Kefier said. “He might come back.”
“Why, pray, would he? He has what he came here for.” Caiso scratched his head. “I warned you about this, you stubborn sop. Listen to me now. They’ll be fine.” He reached into his pocket and threw a bag of coin on the ground. “That should pay for a few nights at the inn for your whole household. I’ll send money for the repairs later. Let’s go, Commander.”
Kefier hesitated. He knelt down beside Lillah. She reached out to pat him on the knee. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.
“For Camden? Or for this?” She pushed herself up. “How was any of this your fault?”
Kefier dropped his head and said nothing. He got up to follow Caiso and Eswenna back to the road. Along the path, he glanced back for a moment and saw Camden maic Camden’s entire family watching him leave. He couldn’t read the expressions on their faces.
For reasons he did not divulge to Caiso, Kefier tried to find passage on a ship that did not follow the northeasterly route back to the mainland. Such a ship, he later learned, did not exist—not unless he was planning on hiring an entire vessel and crew. Because he did not possess the extraordinary amount of coin that allowed him to indulge a whim, he chose the first ship heading out that morning. It left an hour later than planned—something about papers unsigned, or a mate that couldn’t be found—and Kefier was forced to watch the islands of Gorent under the orange sun.
Unease flooded his senses. The islands were too far away for him to see anything more than distant silhouettes, grey and green under that light, but he felt exactly as he thought he would feel. He didn’t know if he wanted to see what remained of Aldawan, to talk to whoever was left behind to pick up the pieces.
“That’s a Dageian warship out there in the distance,” Caiso said, breaking his thoughts. “It’s headed for us.”
He frowned. “They don’t have trouble with Baidh.”
Caiso leaned against the railing. “They say they do. Who knows what goes on in their heads? They’re drunk on the agan, makes them think they’re invincible.”
“Think we’ll have problems?”
“I don’t know,” Caiso began. He looked up and grinned. “Then again, maybe I spoke too soon.”
One of the chief mates was walking towards them. He appeared calm, but his pale, sweaty skin became apparent as he got closer. When he lifted his blubbery hand to rub his neck, Caiso gave a groan. “It’s the Dageian ship, isn’t it? They want him.”
The sailor nodded, eyes downcast.
Kefier remembered the last two days in Port Greenleaf. “Is this just for being Gorenten?”
“We know you’re from the mainland and didn’t have reason to believe it would be a problem,” the sailor said. “But the Dageians signalled us. We have to meet them. Someone had reported we were carrying an escaped slave, a Gorenten, and you’re the only one who fits the description.” He wiped his face, sweat pouring across his cheeks.
“That’s outrageous!” Caiso barked. “He’s been free for years. Isn’t that right, Kefier?”
“Uhhh...” Kefier started.
Caiso looked at him first before turning to the sailor, whose face was as red as a tomato. “With all due respect,” the man murmured. “I don’t think you can free a Dageian slave. Not legally.”
“Well, fuck me upside-down,” Caiso groaned. “This is the sort of thing you tell me before we make plans to go around these parts.”
“It was Jarche’s idea.”
“Dageis thinks they own every Gorenten out there,” the sailor added in a voice that sounded like he was trying to be helpful. “We think that—well, everyone knows there’s this private army marching all around the northern border of Hafod recently, and maybe Dageis is becoming nervous about protecting the Orasmus Peninsula.”
“You hear that, Kefier?” Caiso said. “Lots of soldiers. Everyone knows. Guess you have no one but yourself to blame. Anyway, my good man…” He reached out, patting the sailor on the shoulder. “There’s no sense making trouble where there isn’t any. Escaped slave or no, my boss here is a very important person in the Kag and you will ruffle many Hafed feathers should he end up in the bowels of a Dageian slave ship instead of sipping beer at The Wrinkled Shrew in Tilarthan by the end of the day. You understand me?” He shook the sailor, his fingers digging into the man’s shirt.
The sailor nodded.
“What do you have in mind?” Kefier asked.
Caiso coughed. “I was thinking maybe you can put those famous Gorenten skills to good use. Aren’t you people capable of swimming underwater for up to an hour? Like fish?”
“You’re suggesting I go overboard?”
“Well, if you have a better idea…”
Kefier swore. “If you can throw me a rope or something to hold on to...but they’ll see me.”
“We can turn the ship to the side,” the mate said. “But you must talk to the captain.” He walked to the side of the deck and unfurled a long rope, tying one end to the railing.
“You do that,” Kefier said, nodding at Caiso. He tugged at the rope, testing the strength of the sailor’s knot.
“Maybe you can just let them catch you,” Caiso murmured. “Although we’re out of money for bribes. Between the city guards and the shepherds last night…”
“You got a nice stipend for this trip. We can take it out from that,” Kefier said. He waved at the sailor and jumped over the edge.
“You fucking bastard. I hope a whale eats you,” Caiso grumbled. He followed the mate back to the quarters.
Several paces from the edge of the deck, Kefier found a ledge that formed part of a porthole and settled there. It was too small for him to sit, but he found that by using the rope to balance himself, he could stand on it comfortably. It was better than swimming, anyway. Whales did congregate out here. Sharks, too, and Ab knows what else.
He glanced out at the Dageian ship on the horizon. It was getting closer by the minute. Hiding out here made him feel uncomfortable. Running and hiding was something he hadn’t had to do to survive for a long time, now. He squinted against a sudden spray of seawater and waited for the ship to turn, to block him from the prying eyes of the Dageains.
The Dageian warship drew closer. His ship didn’t turn.
He looked up. Was Caiso having difficulties convincing the captain? While most of the trade ships would have been happy to comply with simple requests made by Dageians—expected, given that going up against a Dageian mage was frightening enough—they didn’t owe them allegiance. The Kag didn’t have a trade agreement with Dageis and could refuse their demands.
And Caiso had it right. If he wasn’t back in time to meet with Lady Dahrias, he would be in hot water. It was amazingly easy to insult the woman. But because her cooperation made it a lot easier to mov
e troops through her lands, he needed to give her every reason to favour him; he didn’t have anything to offer her other than empty promises.
Kefier twisted the rope around his arms. The warship was getting closer and he could make out the figures on their deck. Any closer and they would have a full view of him.
Kefier looked down. Turn, he thought. But the ship continued on its course. Swearing under his breath, he jumped.
Cold water rushed around him. He stayed underwater for a second, allowing the sea to unfold around him.
What happens to you, in the sea?
It was a strange thought to be thinking from where he was, too far away now to hear their chanting and their songs. He could still see the flames from their fires, smaller than a candle’s light on the horizon. He imagined the crackling of the logs and the smell and smoke rising from the steaming meat laid out over them, imagined the dancing around the orange-grey haze in a wild celebration of death. As if it was something to celebrate.
He closed his eyes, allowing the salt to sting the corners as he sank with the rotten dinghy they had sent him out in. The ache in his muscles reminded him he had a limited time—once they seize up, nothing can stop him from sinking. He remembered his brother, arrogant as he was, was never as good a swimmer as he was.
The strange, choking pain returned. Could there be forgiveness in this world, under these stars? What happened to you, in the sea?
He opened his eyes and realized he was now very far from the shore. He also realized, with regret and longing and a thousand other feelings he might never be able to name now, that one way or another, his life was over. There was no coming back.
Kefier opened his eyes and kicked himself to the surface.
Air flooded his lungs. In the time it took for him to rise, the ship had inched forward and was close enough to the Dageian warship for boarding.
An Elegy of Heroes Page 83
