Kefier tore into the half-charred meat and chewed everything, bones and all. “We’ll reach it tomorrow afternoon if we keep a steady pace. We’ve got to catch enough fish for food along the way. There’ll be supplies when we get to where we’re going. Root vegetables and fruit. Flour, sugar, and salt, if we’re lucky.”
“If we’re lucky?” Storri asked.
Kefier swallowed. “It’s hard to explain. There’s this rodent problem, you see…”
Storri grinned from the side of his mouth. “I’ll trust you. You haven’t given me a reason not to, so far. I can’t say the same for the others.”
“Just tell them I have it figured out,” he said. “I know these parts. I often have to go scouting near the northern Hafed border. Do you think we’ll have problems? Ailat seems like she’s…” He paused, fishing for words.
“Like she’s gone into the deep end and never came out?” Storri offered. He snorted. “Don’t blame her. What they did to Aldawan...I think she lost her whole family there.”
“She had children?”
Storri scratched his cheek with a finger before nodding. “Mind you, most of us did. I’m holding out on the hope that Dageis likes to take them back to the mainland to sell as slaves. No mage-thralls, at least not from the ones in my village—my son certainly never showed a spark of connection to the agan. But he’s a strong, able lad, and I’m sure they would’ve seen that, would’ve known he’s valuable. And he’s smart enough not to fight back, I think.” He swallowed. “His mother wasn’t. Smart enough, I mean. Ab, but it still hurts to think about it.”
“I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“No,” Storri said. “It’s good to talk about it sometimes. Quiet night like this, you can’t help but hope. You got no choice. Look at those stars. My child deserves to be alive right, looking at those same stars.”
“What’s his name?” Kefier asked.
Storri smiled. “Elian,” he said. “After the old king. He’s alive. I can feel it.”
“How about Ailat’s children? Were they taken?”
The smile faded from Storri’s face. He shook his head. “Two girls,” he murmured. “I don’t know how she’s still with us, to be honest. Sometimes people think it’s easier to know than not to know, but…” He looked up again, his eyes searching the sky. “The hope is what gets me up in the morning.”
Kefier smiled. “It’s not impossible. You’re right about the Dageians preferring to bring as many back alive as possible. They see us as resources, not enemies. If I’m able to make my way there, I’ll make the effort to find Elian.”
Storri clasped Kefier’s hand and pressed it against his chest. “Do this, Kefier, and you have my loyalty for life.”
After he had wandered away, Kefier caught Caiso looking at him. “More promises,” Caiso said, making a noise that sounded like a cat hacking out a hairball.
“Do you know,” Kefier said, “that you’re one of the highest-paid captains in the Boarshind? It’s ridiculous.”
“I’m aware,” Caiso said, grinning. “And all because I make the effort, every day, to tell you you’re an idiot.”
“What did you want me to tell the man?” he asked. “On second thought, don’t answer that. I don’t want to hear it.”
“The hell you don’t, Kefier. Priorities…”
“I know,” he snapped. “I know. You can talk about it as much as you like on my funeral.”
“Like I’ll be there,” Caiso snorted. “You really do think highly of yourself, you know?”
They started early the next day. Kefier led them past the trail he had scouted before and up a heather path. “Keep the sea to your left,” he urged them, keeping an eye on their pace. Ishir’s cough had become relentless and Kefier didn’t know if he would take a turn for the worse with another night out in the open. But the old man was persistent and walked as fast and as far as the best of them. It was Caiso who was the sluggard, wanting to rest every hour. It would have been amusing if they weren’t trying to make time.
But just as the sky turned grey over them, they reached the crest of a hill overlooking an empty valley. “We could camp here,” Storri suggested, looking around the clearing.
“Just another hour,” Kefier said. “We’re almost there.”
“It’s dark,” Eswenna broke in. “I know you’re trying to do right by everyone, boss, but I don’t see what good another hour will do. We’re all tired, and—you tell him, Captain Caiso.”
“I’m done telling that man anything,” Caiso groaned, rubbing his feet. “He can jump into the sea for all I care.”
“You can stay here,” Kefier said. He looked at the others. “There’s a house an hour’s walk from here. If we hurry…”
Caiso jumped up and ran ahead of them. “You should’ve told us sooner, Kefier. Get a move on, everyone. Honestly. I’ve seen snails walk faster. Well, Kefier? If you’ll lead the way?”
It was not the most impressive house, but after a day of traipsing about in the wilderness, it looked like a castle from afar. It was made of log and stone, in rustic Kag-fashion, with a sheltered outdoor space with room for a fire. Kefier strode up the path and turned the door handle, which was unlocked. He grabbed a lantern from the side of the wall and went back outside to have it lit.
“Come on in,” he said, assisting Ishir. “There’s five bedrooms, blankets in each of them. Dry food in the pantry, if the rats haven’t got to them by now. Watch the kitchen, there’s still a draft from the unfinished window...”
Caiso grabbed him by the arm. “What the hell is this?”
“It’s my house,” Kefier said.
Caiso’s eyes looked like marbles. “What?”
“I said, it’s my—”
“I heard what you said. I want to know…”
Kefier stepped aside, closing the door behind Eswenna, who looked confused. He took Caiso by the shoulder and walked him a few steps away. “I’ve got to do something with my coin, don’t I?”
“A house in the middle of nowhere? Getting men and materials up here would’ve cost more than what you’ve earned over the last three years. A lot more.”
“I had a little...help.”
Caiso snorted. “What’s wrong with getting something a little closer to home? It’s not like you’ll be able to live out here, not without some serious exertion. I don’t even see a road nearby.”
“I’ve been planting trees and vegetables here and there,” Kefier said. “I was hoping, at some point, to bring in animals and…”
“Kefier. We’re in Dageis.”
“Not really. They don’t go here.”
Caiso placed both hands on his shoulders. “I don’t think I’m getting anything through to you. We are in Dageis. You know, land of the crazy bastards who like to light asses on fire and suck your blood like bats?”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
“The hell it doesn’t work that way—half the continent is trying to run away from these bastards...hell, the reason the Hafed border is all the way back there is because they didn’t want to bother fighting the Dageians to get control of these lands...and yet here you are, Kefier, traipsing along the woods like some Agartes-be-damned fairy nymph, building houses and doing Yohak-knows-what-else…”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
Caiso threw his hands up in the air. “I don’t know anymore.”
“Look, Caiso,” Kefier said. “These are my ancestral lands. The Dageians don’t go here because the agan flowing through these areas were centered on Lon Basden. It’s dry as a desert out here. People don’t go down here anymore, except the occasional Hafed hunter or forager. The Hafed guards don’t care what you do. It may officially be in Dageis, but so far, the last few years, it’s been no-man’s-land.”
Caiso looked at him. “You’re talking, and yet there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“What?”
“You’re pretty confident about this. Yn Garr and the Hafed lords...wh
at exactly have you all been conferring about this past year?”
“You know I can’t talk about that, Caiso, as much as I would like to.”
Caiso sighed. “Damn you, you’re probably right. Probably put both our heads on spikes if you open your mouth. Very well, seal it.” He looked at the house. “It’s big,” he said. “I mean, if you’ve only got Rosha...”
Kefier shrugged. “I’ll need someone to take care of it.”
“I see,” Caiso said. He strode back to the door and pushed it open. “Save the biggest room for me, you bastards! Unless you want to share, but I’m warning you, I like to snuggle.”
“He does,” Eswenna laughed, following him.
Kefier closed the door again and walked out to the edge of the hill to stare out at the sky. He could see the cliff edges and the sea from here. A trail from the back of the clearing led straight to the shore. He did not even consider asking Ishir to dock there—even a narrow boat would find it difficult to navigate around the jagged rocks along the shoreline. It was a safe place, as far as he was concerned—a place where Rosha could take walks and find seashells, the way he used to when he was a boy.
He took out his father’s remaining journals from his pouch and flicked one open. There was a sketch there, one he recognized almost immediately: his own mother. Scrawled underneath were Gorenten words that read: “I went for knowledge and found beauty instead.”
Kefier touched the sketch, wondering about the single journal he had given Bannal. He had done it to throw the man off track, foisting something of no value to him while the books Yn Garr had asked for were being sent as a parcel on an earlier ship. But the journal contained Kefier’s father’s thoughts, and he regretted what he’d done. He should’ve fought Bannal instead, should’ve tried to find another way to distract him. That night, though, surrounded by Camden’s family, it seemed like the easiest thing to do.
He turned the page. There was a sketch of a baby in that one. “Enosh,” he read, against the dying light. “My family, my life.”
A nagging thought appeared in the back of Kefier’s mind. He flipped back to the sketch of Soshain’s, and then Enosh’s. There was nothing in-between.
He flipped to the third page. It was an entry. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to read through it. “Enosh is such a strong lad,” it read. “Just like his mother. I cannot even explain the joy in Soshain’s face when she holds him up against the sky…”
The blood drained from Kefier’s face. He tucked the journal in his pocket and looked back at the house, wondering if there was anybody there he could ask to help him read. Ailat, perhaps? But the rest of his father’s entries were in Kagosh, which he didn’t think Ailat ever bothered to learn, and even if Caiso or Eswenna could it was the sort of information he didn’t want them to know. His head was beginning to throb.
Just like his mother. His mother...Soshain?
But everyone had been adamant that Enosh was his father’s first wife’s son.
I don’t even know her name, he suddenly realized. I think she was a chief’s daughter from another village. Taso? Arani? I don’t remember.
“Kefier,” Caiso called out. “We need fuel.”
“There’s firewood out back,” he replied, surprised at the calmness of his voice.
Caiso disappeared again. Kefier pulled the journal out a second time and back to the page with his mother’s sketch. It was already so dark that he could barely make out her features. They hated me because I was Soshain’s son, a Baidhan housemaid. Hated me and favoured Enosh, who was the true Gorenten, the pureblood, son of...son of who?
His next thought felt like ice and fire at once. Enosh is my brother. Little Kirosha’s brother. My mother’s son.
It was too much for him to process. He went out to the woodshed. Although there was still more than enough firewood for the evening, he grabbed the axe and began to chop. Sweat and splinters flew in all directions.
Did he know? He was always the smart one. But he never even told me. It occurred to him that there were a lot of things his brother had never told him. His whole life felt like a lie—an irony, he knew, considering how he had raised Rosha.
Someone came up to call him for dinner. He realized that it was pitch black now and that the smell of blood were on his fingers. He wiped them on his shirt and joined the others inside.
Chapter Eight
Dawn broke amidst the scent of wet pine leaves and muddy soil. There was so much mist that Kefier couldn’t see beyond the row of trees surrounding his house if he tried.
He had not slept. Most of the night he had spent on the kitchen table with a lantern while he tried to go through his father’s journals. It was difficult for him to decipher much of the handwriting, but there was enough there for him to understand, enough for him to make sense out of everything.
But knowing and accepting were two different things, and Kefier’s mind was not ready to make the leap from one to the next.
He heard a door creak open and footsteps shuffle behind him. “Are you planning on sleeping?” Ailat asked, coming up to the table.
He scratched his head. “I suppose I should. We have to make preparations to return to Hafod.” He glanced at her. “Not you, not the Gorenten. All of you can stay here for as long as you want. This place isn’t in anyone’s way, and as long as you remain alert, you should be safe enough.”
She looked at him silently, eyes calculating. After a moment, she took a chair next to him. “It’s Ke-if, isn’t it?”
He took a long drink of coffee first before nodding.
“I thought—it took a while, to remember. You’re so much taller than you were. And the beard…” She pointed at the thin growth along the side of his cheeks, hardly worthy of the name. He shaved it once a month, if somebody reminded him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“I wouldn’t have believed you if you did.” She gave a distant smile. “After all these years, you choose now to come back from the dead.”
“I didn’t die,” Kefier said. He paused for a moment. “Neither did Enosh.” He watched her face, saw the lines on it deepen.
“Should I be surprised?” She gave a quick chortle of laughter. “The both of you never really belonged, back home, did you?”
That took him by surprise. “I didn’t…”
“No. Like their father before them, Meirosh’s sons never thought about the lives they affected or the responsibilities they left behind.” She sighed. “It’s old news now, I suppose. We’ve moved on, made the best out of the situation. I had to live with Hilkiah—you didn’t know that, did you? Because I was still married to you, but because you left, left me behind, I was disgraced. Couldn’t even marry again. Becoming concubine to the new chief made things a little better.”
“Hilkiah…” Kefier began. The man was already old when he was still a child. He felt his insides shudder as he touched Ailat’s hand. “Oh, Ailat. I’m sorry.”
She pulled away. “And now the village is gone, and almost everyone else who ever lived in it. It’s not like there’s anything you could’ve done had the both of you stayed.” She sighed, glancing at the ceiling. “This house was built for a family,” she said, in a different tone of voice.
“Yes.”
“Do you have one?”
“A daughter,” he started. He scratched his head again. “Enosh’s daughter, but I raised her. You know how it is.”
“Don’t I,” she murmured, regarding him with a curious expression. “And you? Still picking up after him, I suppose? Yet for the longest time, he was convinced he was doing the same for you. That boy...” Ailat gave a laugh.
Kefier returned with a mirthless smile of his own. “He is something.”
“Where is she? Enosh’s daughter?”
“Studying in Cael.”
“Those are words I would have never expected to hear from a Gorenten. You’ve moved up in life.” She took a deep breath. “And Enosh?”
“I don�
��t know where he is or what he’s been doing. I haven’t heard from him in three years.”
“Ah. That is not surprising. Did he ever—” She stopped, her fingers tapping the table. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. He was alive all this time, yet he never sent word.” The grim expression from the past few days returned to her face.
“He’s not married to his daughter’s mother either, if that’s any consolation,” Kefier said.
“As if it matters now,” she snorted.
Kefier noticed, by this time, that the sun had risen above the trees. “Do you mind taking a walk with me, Ailat?” he asked. “I need to show you something.”
She hesitated before following him out of the house and down the path. They left the clearing and entered the woods where they’d passed through the day before. He took a smaller trail to the left, half-overgrown from last year’s winter. It led to a knoll, covered with heather and moss, where they could see the sunlit valley below.
“There used to be a village there,” Kefier said in a low voice. “When our people lived here, there were a few farms clustered around that river. You can still see remnants of it, if you came closer. They grew rice and wheat and such. That was about as much as I could learn—you know I’ve never been good with books.”
A pensive expression drifted over Ailat’s face. “What are you trying to say?”
“The Dageians drained as much of the agan as they could around these parts before moving back to Lon Basden. They need the agan even to farm, so places like these without a steady source are of no interest to them. That’s why they’ve left Jin-Sayeng alone all these years.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, you’re all here. I’ve got bags of seed in the pantry. There’s not enough sunlight here to grow enough food for all of you, but there’ll be more than enough down the valley. That fork on the river over there is only about an hour’s walk from here.”
“You’re telling us to settle here.” Her voice sounded cold.
Kefier grimaced. “If you want. The Dageians won’t come.”
An Elegy of Heroes Page 89
