CHAPTER TWO
Matters of the Heart
The sun burst into the horizon, creating a kaleidoscope of colors against the walls. As the warming rays continued their climb, the darkened chamber illuminated. Pentanimir slowly closed his eyes, then reopened them as the darkness that surrounded him surrendered to the light.
He sat at the table near the hearth, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Resting his feet on a hassock, he leaned back, not asleep, but not fully awake, either. He couldn’t rest, and the fatigue was getting the best of him.
When Tardison cooed, Pentanimir smiled, seeing his tiny fist raise into the air. Yawning, he slid his bare feet to the floor, rubbing the weariness from his eyes.
Pentanimir reached for Tardison’s bottle, and then paused, his eyes resting on the figure of the Nazilian god sitting on the table.
“Was any of it true?” he asked. “Was there any part of my life, what I was taught, was any of it true? Or was this web of deceit meticulously spun to keep me, no, to keep us, all of us under control and so filled with hate, that we’d do anything, give everything for the glory of Nazil,” he whispered, thinking, lamenting and trying to sort out the divergent aspects of his life.
After taking a deep breath, he picked up the figurine.
“The god of war,” he said, stroking the smooth, dark wood. He’d loved the carved figures his father had given to his children. All of them. “Naldon, Crissu, Temian, Danimore and Thalassa,” he muttered. He thought about his father most of all, wondering how Manifir was able to survive Nazil’s malevolence. The evil that had been born here, was nurtured here, and yet remained.
He and his family were disparate from Nazil’s former leaders. Through the Guardians, they had been given an opportunity to correct the wrongs of his people and unite Faélondul. However, Pentanimir wasn’t naïve. Significant portions of the Nazilian population opposed his rule. An apostate, he was called, denouncing the teachings of the Four. The four false gods the Cha created, to corrupt and control their minds.
“Lies,” he said, closing his eyes. As he leaned back again, a knock brought him from his reflections.
“Come.”
“Brother, are you all right?” Danimore asked, noticing his forlorn expression.
“More ghosts of the past, and dubiety for the future.”
“Ghosts? Are your dreams still haunted? Has nothing we’ve done lifted the weight of the burden you carry?”
“It’ll pass, Dani. This is merely the beginning of Faélondul’s emancipation. The war will appear simple in comparison to what we’ll soon face. It’ll require time for not only our people, but also for us to acclimate to the myriad changes in the lands.”
“You aren’t alone, Pentanimir. We all stand with you. The majority of Nazilians appeared receptive to your proclamations. We were aware that everyone wouldn’t embrace the new direction of the lands. They’re too enmeshed in their hatred to allow reason to find them. The Cha’s teachings are the only words reverberating in both their hearts and minds.”
“Teachings? They inculcated us with lies. The Cha deliberately led our people astray. From the beginning, they guided us toward the maleficence in their own hearts. We were but children when their treachery began fueling us with their hatred whilst extoling the Nazilians’ preeminence.” Pentanimir shook his head. “Even as children, we felt that something was out of place. Our hearts wouldn’t accept their corrupted teachings or embitter us toward the people of these lands.” He met Danimore’s eyes, searching for the answers that he couldn’t find within himself.
“Why, Dani? What’s intrinsic to Nazilians that elevates us above all others? Why were the Cha’s teachings so easily accepted?”
“The answer isn’t within me. The Cha were practiced and adept orators. Our people believed that the Cha were mortal conduits for the gods. Through their brotherhood, Nazil was lifted from an impoverished existence to a flourishing community. The Cha touted their gods’ guidance as the reason for Nazil’s elevation and dominance. In such circumstances, no one questioned the veracity of those gods or could’ve known they were of the Cha’s own design.
“We’re taught to trust our leaders, trust the Cha, and know our place in these lands. When that place is above all others, no one moves so quickly to reorder that position.”
He nodded, ruminating on Danimore’s statements. His thoughts mirrored his brother’s, but hearing them spoken aloud, in a voice not his own, confirmed the feeling. He needed that confirmation, to know there were others with a like heart that the evils of his people hadn’t penetrated.
Tardison’s low cry brought him from those troubling contemplations. His smile returned, watching his son wriggle in his bed. Pentanimir lifted him from his cradle and then chuckled as Tardison greedily suckled the bottle.
“When is Brahanu arriving?” Danimore asked.
“She’s sending a bird when she’s ready. I’ll have a retinue of guards deployed to meet her caravan. Cazaal is still healing, and Tioch needs time with his grandson. Even so, I hope that her return is swift. Having her here with me would make this transition easier.”
“Brahanu is the Zaontras of Nazil, and you need her at your side. There’s strength in the love that you share.” Danimore paused, resting a hand on Pentanimir’s shoulder. “Allow Zeta and me to keep Tardison with us. This isn’t a duty for the Zaxson.”
“No.” He smiled. “This is a duty for a father. Tardison will remain with me a while longer, and Zeta can assist during the day as she has. I know that he needs her milk, but he needs me most of all. I’m supposed to guide him, Dani. He’s not like any infant that I’ve seen. When I look into his eyes, I feel a presence there, one beyond that of his years.”
Danimore stroked the one white patch of hair atop Tardison’s head.
“Your son bares the Guardians’ mark, Brother. There’s no other like him in all the lands. His knowledge might be beyond the both of us. It won’t be known, until it is. He’s beautiful, and growing stronger with each rise of the sun. Tardison needs you and his mother. She must return soon and take her place at your side.”
Kumasi
Déshì scanned the common room at the inn, finding a small unoccupied table. The raucous crowd was nearly deafening as he nudged his companion’s arm, jutting his chin toward the corner.
Since the war’s end, news surged across the small village like waves from a turbulent sea against the crags. Although Déshì and Weisheng weren’t Kumasians, they’d always frequented the village, even before the Vereuxs’ defeat.
They hadn’t trekked into Kumasi recently, instead camping on its borders, listening for any news that might signal an uprising or dissension. It was time to change that. Unlike the other cities and villages previously occupied by Nazilians, Kumasians didn’t care who frequented the village. So long as they had coin to spend, wares to trade, or tales to share, they were welcome.
As the two moved to sit, utterances from a nearby table claimed their attention. Over the songs of an inebriated gleeman, well past his prime, and the hoots and shouts at serving maids weaving between tables, Déshì could scarcely make out any of the hushed conversation. However, he made a note of the three men seated at the table: two with their cowls up, even in the warm room. His eye gesture caused Weisheng to take closer notice. They recognized the third man, but neither recalled from where. Although neither spoke it, the mention of pythonesses and usurpers revealed the probable topic of that secret conversation.
Before Weisheng could feel the hardness of his chair beneath him, he caught a giggling lass as she found a place on his lap. Her skilled hands moved swiftly, finding what she wanted while planting a fiery kiss on his lips.
“Been ages, Weis,” the woman said, pushing her silvery-white tresses from her face. Her pale eyes stared into his, the longing and anticipation unmistakable.
“Arianwen,” Weisheng managed after freeing his lips from the woman. “It’s good to see you, too.”
“Where ya been?�
�� she asked, glancing around. “And where’s that other one? That’n there’s a tree every lass in Kumasi been wantin’ ta climb.”
Déshì chuckled at that, providing the answer since Weisheng’s lips were occupied again. “Amare’s brother is the new Caretaker in Kaleo. It might be some time before he’s free to visit. However, I’ll be sure to inform him of his popularity.”
Arianwen craned around, winking at Déshì. “Got somethin’ waitin’ fer that one, don’t cha doubt. But Weis here gots a special place in my heart.”
When he attempted to respond, she smothered him with another kiss. “Don’t cha worry none tho, Desh. Yer knowin’ how ta please a woman right, just ain’t willin’ ta do so often ‘nough for my likin’. Ain’t no men ‘round here like tha two of ya. Hells, thought ya’ll forgot all ‘bout me. Then again…” her hand stroked between Weisheng’s thighs. “Can’t no one here take all ya got ‘tween them legs and put ya down like I do. Yer knowin’ that.”
Déshì flashed Weisheng an impatient glance. Regardless of his body’s urgings, now wasn’t the time to satiate those needs, no matter how much he wanted to.
Arianwen was Weisheng’s favorite distraction when he visited the village. Although Déshì’s preference wasn’t Nazilian women, even he’d commented on her subtle allure. Arianwen wasn’t lacking in wit, either. After Weisheng spent a few turns of the glass testing her endurance, she’d collapse in exhaustion, recovering for the next round. When she sipped the liquor he’d always bring, she’d nestle into his arms, chatting about the local happenings and new visitors in Kumasi. They’d learned some usable information from her in the past, and hoped for more of the same now.
Weisheng smiled, gliding a hand down her back. Arianwen was a comely woman, and her shorter stature and fuller figure complemented him perfectly. Weisheng appreciated a shorter woman, and if her figure was rounded, it was all the better. The thought of Arianwen’s perfect form caused her smile to grow, as she felt the evidence of his increased arousal. When she leaned in to kiss him again, Déshì cleared his throat.
“Beg pardon, my dear,” Weisheng said. “Business first, and then our pleasure.”
“Take me up there now and git ‘em both done at once.” She giggled, signaling to a barmaid.
Weisheng kissed her cheek as he raised her up from his lap, pulling at the tightness in his crouch for comfort. “Ensure you’re free for the next two nights,” he said, placing some coins in her hand. “Take a long bath and use that oil I like. I want you fresh and untouched. You know how I hate to share.”
Arianwen met his dark, almond-shaped eyes, leaning closer so he could have a better view of her bust. After tracing the glyphs on the shorn sides of his scalp with her fingertips, she flittered through his long, raven hair, whispering, “Been savin’ it fer ya, Weis. Ain’t none here can fill me like ya do. Got me spoiled and needin’ more of ya. One of these days, ya oughtta take me wit ya. We’d make some fine babes, we would. With yer golden skin and dark eyes, wouldn’t be no finer babes in the lands.”
Weisheng winked, patting her arse. “Keep doing how you do, and that might just happen.”
He watched the sway of her hips as she walked away. Just viewing the roundness of her arse through the tight dress had him wishing that he could take her to a room right now.
“You shouldn’t have said that,” Déshì chided. “She’s playful enough, but she cares about you.”
Weisheng shook his head, signaling for the barmaid who’d been stopped by a few rowdy men, copping a feel and no doubt making arrangements for the evening.
“There’s no harm in it,” Weisheng said. “Arianwen’s not just some tavern doxy, that’s just her lot. Not many ways for a woman to earn a decent living. Besides, you’ve got Natelegé waiting for you.” He grinned. “I’m not quite ready to give up the luxuries of bachelorhood.”
“As if you ever would be,” Déshì said, shaking his head. “We need to learn what we can before trekking to the Animus Wood. I’m going to contact Symeon as well.” He glanced around, scrutinizing the patrons. “When we spoke after his wedding, Symeon said that he might have need of us. There’s been some concern over the rogues amassing near Rhoyden, and murmurs of sedition.”
“Just another reason to take good care of Arianwen. She might have some information regarding such rumors, or about those three over there. Amare was right, we need to be cautious. Even though the former Zaxson treated the Kumasians much like humans, they’re still Nazilian. They might have a better life with Sir Benoist as Zaxson, but some had family and friends in those destroyed villages. Regardless of how their lives have improved, those losses could supersede that. We need to stay alert, and ensure our blades are honed.”
Déshì nodded, peering over at the three men again. He tried recalling who the man was with them, but couldn’t remember how or why he knew him. It wasn’t from Kumasi, but he was familiar, somehow. Kaleo perhaps, he thought, pulling a cheroot from his cloak.
“I hadn’t heard about a caretaker being assigned to Kumasi before we took leave. Did Amare tell you anything?” Weisheng asked.
“Not yet. Elidyr will most likely continue handling the affairs until some of the turmoil dies down in the other cities and villages. Kumasi doesn’t have much to offer Nazil.”
Weisheng leaned back, scanning the common room. “Kumasi might’ve meant little to Draizeyn beyond the mulct and crops they provided, but I doubt the same will be true for Sir Benoist.” He motioned to the table with the three men huddled again. “Especially when we find out more about them and their conversation.”
“Indeed. You might end up sharing your fair lass after all.” Déshì grinned.
“Not before I’ve had my fill.” He winked.
Intuition and Discovery
Danimore moaned, enjoying the lingering waves of his completion. He leaned forward, kissing his wife before moving to her side. Zeta slid closer, snuggling into his chest.
“You still overwhelm me, ” he said.
“As you do me,” she said, kissing him tenderly and then slipping from the bed. After pouring a drink for the both of them, she sat on the bed’s edge, staring down at him. Zeta took a drink from her cup, unable to keep her mind free from more troubling concerns. They’d overcome numerous obstacles to be together, and when she thought about where she’d been in comparison to where she was, their blessings were incalculable. Howbeit, she wasn’t naïve. Their conflicts weren’t at an end, and one concern plagued her more than any other.
Zeta sighed, shifting on the bed. “Dani, did you notice Nikolina at the feast?”
He had noticed, and not just this night, but also several others. With the public appearances, convocations, and feasts, Nikolina had been a guest at the citadel far more often than he would’ve liked. He wasn’t comfortable with her presence, but he couldn’t deny her or her father. After reneging on their marriage, he felt that he owed them more than he’d ever be capable of repaying.
During those events, he could feel her stare: following him, judging him, both loathing and loving him all at once. He understood those emotions and regretted being the cause of them. Asking for her pledge was wrong, especially knowing that Nikolina loved him. However, in his desperation to protect Zeta and Raithym, it had been the only viable solution. At least, he believed so at the time.
“I didn’t notice,” he lied. As soon as he spoke the words, his regret returned. This time, for deceiving his wife.
“It’s her stare,” Zeta said. “She always finds us in the crowd. She stands there, glaring at us and at our son. It’s as if she’s formulating some plan, or envisioning cruelties that would rival the Vereuxs’.”
Danimore shrugged, attempting to project placidity when the opposite was true.
“Dani, she gives me pause. I can’t explain the warning in my heart, but it’s there. It feels like a heavy weight, a tangible thing that can’t be ignored or lifted.”
“A warning? Why?”
“She loathes the sight
of us together and it scares me.”
“Not everyone in Nazil appreciates the new edicts and direction for Faélondul. It’ll take time for them to acclimate to these changes,” he said, caressing her back. “After centuries of dominance over the humans, many won’t accept their new equality. When the Nazilians see humans and half-humans in the city, it isn’t as slaves, but equals. Not only our Zaxson, but also the Nakshij are married to humans. This is the first time that the Zaontras and Shijahn aren’t Nazilian. Don’t assign too much concern to the stares of a few. In time, they’ll become accustomed to all of us.”
“I understand, but it’s different with Nikolina, Dani. I can feel the burn of her scorn when she looks at me. It’s more than my being human. Mayhaps that’s a deeper element of that scorn, but the root must be the feigned pledge. Not only wasn’t it honored, but then you married a former slave. A position that she should hold was given to a human. Everyone in Nazil has heard about my treatment, and yet I stand in a place of honor as Shijahn beside you…her place.”
“No one is more deserving of a place beside me than you,” he said, wrapping her in a hug. “Never think of yourself as less, Zeta. The mistake was mine in offering such a ruse to protect our family. You advised against it, but Pentanimir and I thought that it was the only way to protect you. I can’t change what’s past, but I can work to make amends for the harm I’ve caused.”
Zeta nodded, but she didn’t agree. The ire festering in Nikolina’s heart wouldn’t easily be soothed. She loved Danimore still. Zeta could see that love every time Nikolina looked at him. Then, when Nikolina looked at her, antipathy replaced that look of love. Zeta grieved for her and feared her all at once. She understood the heart of a woman scorned.
He set his cup on the table and then drew her back down to him. “In time, all wounds heal, my love. I hope that healing comes swiftly for Nikolina. But we can’t permit this to take from our happiness. We were in love and didn’t intend to injure anyone. If we hadn’t returned to Nazil, no one would’ve known.”
Seed of Scorn Page 5
