by Clare London
“He’s hurt?”
“Yes.” Varden had always been honest with me too. “Badly. They tried to use him to loosen your tongue, it seems. He has several fingers broken, I think, and there’s scarring to his body and face. But he lives. And you didn’t tell them anything, Maen.” His eyes shone with something I didn’t understand. “The boy stayed loyal to you too. He demanded you stay silent. He bore his own pain remarkably well.” Varden laughed, a deep, rich sound, just as I remembered. “I wish I’d had boys like that for my Bronzemen, back at the House of Trade. Things might have been different, then.”
“Why are you here?” My heart ached to see Dax, to comfort him. But there were too many questions in my head to let me rest. “Why aren’t you still in the city? The Mistress said you were transferred.”
“Maen, you still frustrate me!” He rocked back on his heels, and his brusqueness startled me. “You really were the most magnificent of all the Guard, but you could only ever think of her, of the city, of your duty. Surely you realized your blind loyalty to Mistress Luana was the reason for most of our arguments?” Watching my expression, he shook his head, but there was no real bitterness in his soft laughter. “I have my answer from the bemused look on your face. We’re both fools, eh? I thought you knew how I cared for you… how I chose only you for coupling. And whether you realized it or not, that was the sole reason for my transfer. Oh, a formal complaint was lodged against me, for certain. That led to my official downfall. But it was a complaint fabricated about me by one of her favorites, and encouraged by her greedy jealousy of all who shared you. She couldn’t wait to transfer me away and return you to her sole attention. And I admit I was indiscreet in my anger.” He sighed. “I stupidly complained to Household staff. They reported me to my new Mistress, a second misdemeanor. You know that two complaints mean discipline.”
I struggled to understand, still very weak. “She transferred you because we were close? You were angry at her?”
“I’ll knock that head back on course for you if you don’t recover your wits more speedily,” he growled. “I cared for you, far more than as a comrade, far more than as a fellow Captain. I was incensed to be parted from you, angry that a selfish woman would dispose of me so carelessly! For freedom’s sake, I could see you never felt the same way, but I didn’t mind that.” He put a hand on my arm. I knew it was the gesture of a friend, but I could remember, suddenly, how his grip had felt in a different time. In the hot, easy enjoyment of the barracks, half-hidden in the dark night, laughing, touching, groaning. When Varden left the Household, I didn’t have the same appetite for sexual enjoyment for a long time after. I’d experienced a strange bereavement, but I never took the time to consider why.
“So you were exiled?”
He nodded. “As you have been, albeit unwillingly. You realize, of course, that you can’t go back. You mustn’t go back! Your life will be snuffed out by that woman as easily as a candle, for you’ve been contaminated by the excrement that is the Exile race. You’d be a living reminder of a bridge between the two worlds. No one in the city wants to face up to the Exiles and their lands, to admit they exist, let alone thrive. But they do.”
“You look… less than before,” I began, slowly.
But he wasn’t offended. He laughed! A shocking sound among the sorry cries and snuffling of the other invalids.
“I know. No longer the brave, sturdy Captain, eh? Without the support of the Devotions, I grow older more quickly, and I’m sometimes ill. But I’m more than compensated. Here I’m Varden, the man. I have a partner and children of my own who know me as their father. I teach the men some soldiering. You could have all that too, Maen.”
“Now I know Dax is alive,” I said, dryly. “For you speak with his voice.”
Varden grinned at me with a camaraderie that I recognized for the comfort it’d always been. “You lie there, sorely wounded and facing death, and still your words are sharp and firm. I have missed you, soldier! I’d have been proud to serve under you as Gold Warrior. But I was sent away, and although that wasn’t my choice, in the end I have what I want.” His eyes narrowed. “Let me talk to Takk. Let me ask him to free you from interrogation, to let you live here in peace.” He looked at me kindly enough. “I’ll not distress you by talking about the boy, Maen, but I have eyes in my head. So have many others at the Place. We see how you two are together. And we’re easy here with partners of all kinds, although most of us take the opposite sex to make families. If Takk agrees to let you live, no one will be surprised if the two of you stay here together.”
“I can’t fit into this world,” I said. “I live for the city, Varden. I always have.”
“The city has abandoned you—” he began to protest.
“No!” I said, sharply. “It is I who have abandoned my duty.” Did he think this was easy for me? My body was beaten, and I inevitably faced death at the next meeting with Takk and his men, but I couldn’t see any other future for me. I’d never be accepted here; never be seen as anything other than a spy and a traitor, as the enemy. Too strong, and my rank too high to be trusted, I’d never be able to convince them I no longer had loyalty to the city that raised me.
And that I couldn’t do, anyway.
What else did I know? I was lost without the city—without my role, without my men. Without my Mistress. If there were any opportunity at all, I had to try to return. I would take my chances with the Mistress who had nurtured me so far.
Varden saw my silence, and unlike so many others I’d known and perplexed during my life, he guessed the reason for it. He must also know what I planned to do. “So, Maen. When?”
“It must be tonight.” I was grateful for his pragmatism. “I must escape tonight, else I’ll die tomorrow under Takk. Will you help? I doubt now I could go any distance without help from those who know this camp. Or will you tell the tale to Takk? I understand he’s your master, now you’ve chosen this community as your own. I’m not a fool. And I’m ready for my death, Varden. I’ve been expecting it for a while. I just want to protect Dax, more than I do myself. But I’d not want you to suffer trouble for it, either.”
“Like you will, if the Exiles find you escaping. Like you will, back at the city,” he said, his lips drawn tightly across his teeth.
“I must go back.” I wished my voice sounded more confident. “I must face it. I need to know about my men, what happened to them. And the Mistress too. I cannot desert her, Varden. She’s always been fairness itself to me.”
“You’re still a fool,” said Varden sadly. “So very strong, yet so appallingly weak where the city is concerned.”
“No!” I cried. “The city has been my life. I can’t throw that away like dirty water and not feel the loss. I gave my commitment to my Mistress when I became a Warrior. It’s what I do, it’s what I am. I must return and see what role I still have.”
“Even if that role’s death? Don’t delude yourself, Maen. Where you’ve been—what you’ve done—you’re a living treason. The penalty for that is death.”
Death here… death there. I wondered why I should think one better than the other. Or even if I thought any sense at all.
Varden shrugged, his eyes glittering with yet another strange emotion. I was beginning to feel that anything I’d ever learned about people was as intangible as smoke, and about as robust.
“I see.” His expression hardened. “I won’t tell Takk, Maen. That’s not my way, as you should know. So I’ll get you the key to the shackles, and I can help with a diversion that they’ll never connect back to me. But I do this purely for how I used to feel about you, not for any other reason. I still think you’re a fool to even try to escape.”
“And Dax?” I said urgently. “He must come with me.”
“He won’t,” said Varden, just as firmly. “How can you ask that of him? There’s nothing for him back there except suspicion and relegation to the Remainders. He’ll be made miserable for the rest of his life, just as likely as you’ll be execut
ed.”
“They need him—”
Varden made a noise of disgust. “Your own desire clouds your judgment. He might be the most beautiful, most talented Bronzeman you’ve ever had in the Household, but they’ll not accept him back now. You’re both marked, not just by the Exiles’ stamp on your bodies, which we all carry. But if they know about you and him—”
“They won’t.” I was shocked that Varden himself knew the extent of our relationship. Was it that obvious in my face, in my words? “I’ll protect him. I’ll beg the Mistress for his forgiveness and take all the blame on myself. He must have his chance for greatness—to be a Warrior. She knows his worth, for he’s a favorite of hers, like I was once. She needs men like him in the Household, and I will retrieve him for her. She’ll be glad for that, even if my own usefulness is over.”
“Maen?” came another voice, from behind Varden. “You’re awake! Varden, step aside, let me see him.”
The older man rolled his eyes, but he moved to the side, and Dax stepped forward to face me. “For freedom’s sake,” Varden muttered, “keep your voices down. Most of these poor souls are near death after the raids on the city’s defenses, and their own incompetence served them ill. But if one person hears your talk, there’ll be nothing but death for all of us.” He stared at me, knowing I was the one in charge. Old habits die hard. I nodded to him, and he backed away quickly, out of earshot.
“Dax.” What did I think to say? It was a joy I’d never expected, to see him alive in front of me. I felt the rush of emotion throughout my weakened limbs, making my head spin. My body ached, but it thrilled as well, remembering what we’d been together, what we’d done together, only a night ago. “Dax, it’ll be all right.”
“It’ll never be that,” he snapped back at me, though his gaze searched me all over as if he scarcely believed I was there. “Your injuries….”
“I’m fine,” I said, though I obviously wasn’t. “And you?”
His face was very white. His right hand was bandaged heavily, blood still staining it brown underneath. It looked an awkward shape, and I could tell that no one had set the broken digits properly for him. It must still be very painful. His hair fell forward over his face, lank and tangled. His eyes shone at me from under the blond curtain, and when his head lifted a little higher, I had to bite my lip to hold back a cry of horror at the sight. His face was covered in cuts, as if they’d sliced deliberately and slowly, marking a small but devastating pattern of squares and flaps to lift the skin away. It was worst over a section of his left cheek, red raw and glistening with the exposed skin underneath. He was shackled, the same as I, which accounted for his shuffling, clumsy steps across the room. That, and his abject misery.
“Not so beautiful now, eh?” he said bitterly, seeing my shock. “We’re a sorry pair. And Takk and his men intend to return for another session after their night’s rest. I had to come to see you, Maen, though they told me—” He paused and swallowed hard, as if the words caught in his throat. “Anyway, they told me I wasn’t to see you again.”
“There’s a guard with you?” I looked behind him but could see no one. The whole cave seemed deserted by any Exiles apart from the wounded. Maybe the men were elsewhere, preparing for more raids. Maybe patients weren’t considered any kind of a threat.
Dax dismissed my worries with an impatient shake of his head. “Some men were posted to guard me, but they gave me over to Varden. There are too many wounded, and all the able-bodied men are preparing the next attack. I’m not considered much of a threat. And Varden agreed to watch you too. I don’t think they realized he knew you from the city.”
“I have a lot to thank Varden for,” I said softly. “Dax, I think we—”
“You’re planning to escape,” he hissed, interrupting me. He rolled his eyes slightly and turned his head away from me. “I don’t blame you. In fact, I think it very wise you leave now, Maen, else neither of us will survive another day here.”
“You want to stay,” I said softly, wishing I could touch him, but afraid of the additional noise our chains might make.
When he looked back at me, his eyes were deep with pain. “I can understand these people, and I have fears and hopes inside me you’ve never had. I could live here, yes, if they’d have me.”
“They will, without me.” I tried very hard to keep my voice from breaking. “So when I’m gone—”
“No,” Dax said quietly, but very clearly. “I’ll come with you.”
“That’s madness,” I gasped, though my heart soared to think I’d have more time with him. I couldn’t believe how selfish I’d become since being in this place. “Varden explained it better to me. The risk of going back, the opportunities you have here….”
“They tortured me as well as you,” he said sharply. “They scarred me too. Is that the action of people who want me to join them?”
I shook my head. “They’re scared. Scared of me and the city. When I’m away from here they’ll return to trusting you, to liking you. You said yourself you understand them. You come from a similar background and can relate to them.”
“You—”
“No,” I said wearily. “I’ll never be accepted like that. You’ve seen the looks I get. At worst they spit at me. At best, they avoid me. You must stay here and pretend you know nothing of my escape. Then you can have what you want—”
“No!” he said again, rather loudly, so that some of the nearby patients stirred and groaned. “You see, what I want, more than anything else, is to be with you.”
For a second, nothing stirred around us. Even the ragged breathing of the other patients seemed to pause.
“So we go together.” His voice was barely a murmur. “Wherever we go, Maen, we go together.”
Chapter Eleven
VARDEN WAS as good as his word in helping us escape that night. A couple of hours before midnight, there was commotion on the far side of the camp. A fire had broken out at the tents there. Someone had been careless, and while the men were in conference with Takk’s recently returned battle party, untended flames had caught at the rough canvas. Within a few minutes, the fire spread across the highly flammable materials of the camp and everyone was called to help put out the blaze. Even from the Physic cave, I could see the flickering shadows of it, could smell the sulfuric air, and hear the crackling flames.
When I struggled to my feet, Dax appeared at the mouth of the cave. He had the key to my shackles and a rough bag over his shoulders with extra clothing and provisions. He wore a loose hood over his head, covering up the characteristic shine of his white-blond hair. He didn’t say a word, just swiftly released me and helped me stagger out of the cave and across to the riverbeds where we’d spent so many days working.
The tents and tool stores appeared as strangely shaped shadows in our path, unlike the familiar background we’d known during the daylight hours. But even without the flare of the fire on the horizon, I knew the route we must take. Dax rummaged in his bag, and I gratefully accepted the warm shirt and jerkin he passed me, though it was too tight across my broad chest. Together we stumbled forward in the dark across the rocky terrain. Only once did we look back. The fire was still blazing at the Place, and Dax paused to watch the last scarlet flickers on the horizon behind us.
“Dax?” I didn’t know what else to say to him.
“They were going to come for you tonight,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard me speak at all. “Takk lost many more men in the raids this month, and the amount they’ve captured or stolen is negligible. No medicines to speak of, no weapons except from the fallen soldiers. The Exiles are beaten for this winter, and they’ll not attack again until the warmer weather comes. Though who knows by then how many will have survived another year of these harsh conditions?” I stared at him, hearing pain in his voice as well as weariness. “Takk’s more than angry. He’s already fallen out with Eila, and he was humiliated at your interrogation last night, for he learned nothing new from you. He was going to begin the i
nterrogation again tonight. I heard him say there was no reason to give you a night’s rest.” He sounded very angry, as if biting back emotions that were threatening to spiral out of his control.
“It’s behind us now. We must move on, we’ll not be able to keep this distance from them for long. When they find us gone….”
“You’d not have lived through it,” he said stubbornly. “It would have killed you. They would have killed you.”
“Whether they got the information or not.” I nodded. “Yes. I was marked for death there.”
He said no more, but his eyes glinted in the darkness. He glared at me like a wild animal, angry, scared, and feral. His grip tightened on my arm, and we set off again at a faster pace.
THE JOURNEY back to the city was the struggle that I’d dreaded, even with Dax’s help. After a mile or so, I could hardly walk. I was weak from the interrogation, and my knee injury had flared up again. I knew Dax must be in pain from his broken fingers, but he still half carried me for the final, and worst, part of the journey. I lay against his strong young shoulders, and I concentrated on breathing as steadily as I could through the agony. The night weather was bitterly cold, and a fierce wind had blown up, buffeting us when we could least bear it. I had only a pair of mismatched boots that Dax had snatched from the work tent, and we had no food except for a canteen of water and some dried fruits.
It was near dawn before we approached the outskirts of the city. We were back near the eastern gate, close to the Household of the Exchequer itself. We perched at the top of a rocky range that looked down on the buildings and walls we knew so well.
