“Jarrett, you shouldn’t touch me.”
“Shh,” he whispered against her hair. “Do you remember when we’d left Kazden and Lex Prestar had us pinned down in the Groziks?”
She nodded and he felt her relax against him.
“Do you remember the odds against us? Didn’t seem like there was a way out?”
She curled her hand in his shirt. “There’s no cavalry coming to save us now, Jarrett. No Stravad hiding behind rocks.”
He stroked the back of her hair. “We need only one Stravad, Tyla, the one that will never give up. You know he’ll be here. You know he’ll find a way. And until he gets here, we have work to do, so you need to get some sleep.”
She leaned her head back and looked into his face. “I guess if I had to face these odds, I know who I’d want with me.”
He gave her a puzzled look. “I sure hope you mean me, Stravad Leader, because we Nazarien aren’t known for our subtly.”
She gave a quiet laugh. “No, you’re not.”
* * *
Ellette watched the Baron and Dolan argue in tense whispers. The Baron held a book in his hand and he kept motioning with it. Behind them was the door to the King’s private study. Neither of them seemed inclined to broach the sanctity of that room.
After they’d returned from the docks, Kalas had given a few orders, then stormed into his study and slammed the door behind him. Up until now, no one had approached the door, let alone tried the knob.
Ellette glanced at Attis where the Cult member stood guard. He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and gave a helpless shrug. He wasn’t about to try that door if the other two were reluctant to go inside.
Striding up to them, she motioned at the book. “Is that the manifest he ordered?”
The two men stopped arguing and turned to face her. They both looked at her as if she’d sprout wings or something. She shifted and deliberately looked out the window where the sun had set a few minutes before. The sky was turning a deep indigo color and a few early stars were beginning to shine.
“Let me restate that. Is that the manifest he ordered this afternoon?”
The Baron let it fall against his thigh, but he didn’t answer.
“This doesn’t concern you, Ellette,” said Dolan.
She crossed her arms before her and tilted her head. “I am certain you are right; however, you have been arguing for the last ten minutes about who is going to give it to him. This is just a lowly woman’s guess, but I suspect it shows that the missing ship belonged to Brodie Daegan and for some reason, you have just received this information.” She held out her hand, palm up. “Now you are both dithering over it like old women because you are afraid of his reaction.”
The two men exchanged looks.
“Why not allow me to deliver it and then you can both be spared his tirade?”
Before they could respond, the door flew open and Kalas stood on the threshold. “Better yet, you can give it to me and then all go away. I’m sick of listening to you chattering like hens out here.” He held out his hand.
The Baron placed the book on it, shifting uncomfortably.
Kalas turned and strode back to his desk, dropping the book on the blotter before taking a seat. Ellette stepped between the two men and moved to the desk, looking out the windows in front of her. The moon shown down on the ocean, bathing it in a soft glow. Nazarien rarely remark on natural beauty, but she couldn’t deny the view stole her breath away.
Kalas threw open the manifest and began leafing through the pages. He scanned the lines with a finger until he came to the entry he wanted. He sat for a long time, staring at the page, while the Baron and Dolan crept into the room.
Ellette watched him, surprised to find she liked the way the lamp on his desk picked up blue highlights in his hair. His high cheekbones and straight nose cast shadows across his lower face and when he looked up, the blue of his eyes was as rich and vibrant as the ocean beyond his windows.
She drank him in and then blinked, feeling her own cheeks heat. Staring down at the manifest, she decided it was better if she didn’t study him, didn’t watch his every move, waiting, hoping he would return it.
He slumped back in the seat and tapped the page with a finger. “Why did this take so long to bring to me?” His voice was quiet, but it thrummed with simmering fury.
The Baron plucked at the hem of his jacket. “They had a difficult time finding it.”
“I asked for these documents weeks ago.”
“I know.”
“If I’d had them, none of this would have happened. We’d have been able to apprehend Brodie Daegan and he would have already been questioned. My sister would still be safe within these walls.”
“I don’t have an answer for you, Your Majesty, but this is obviously a serious breach in my chain of command. I will tender my resignation at once,” said the Baron, staring at the floor rather than the King.
Kalas studied his bowed head for a moment in silence, then looked at Dolan. “And you?”
Dolan seemed surprised to be included, but he also ducked his head. “I don’t have an answer either, Your Majesty. If you order it, I will resign.”
Kalas slammed the manifest closed. “So, my sister has disappeared and I have absolutely no way of knowing how to find her, but the two men closest to me decide that now is the best time to jump ship.” He rose to his feet and leaned on the desk. “Parish Brazelton, you are an idiot. If you ever resign on me again, I’ll have you flogged.”
The Baron lifted his head. Ellette was surprised to see a smile dancing at the corners of his mouth. His dimple appeared and disappeared again. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
Kalas straightened. “Dolan, you’re too damn old for theatrics. Since when do you stand outside a door and dither like a school girl?”
Dolan started to speak, then stopped himself, gaping at his King.
“Find me someone who knows this island. I don’t care if you have to arrest them, kidnap them, or offer them a king’s ransom, but I want someone who can take me there.”
“We’ll find someone,” said the Baron.
Kalas exhaled and sank into his chair again. “Get some rest, both of you,” he said, reaching up to rub his shoulder.
The Baron turned on his heel and headed for the door. Dolan hesitated, motioning for Ellette to precede him. She ignored the gesture. She wanted some time alone with the King and she was going to get it.
Kalas braced his head on a hand and watched them. Ellette knew she couldn’t ignore Dolan forever.
“It’s all right, Dolan,” he said. “You may leave.”
Dolan acted as if he would argue, but Kalas nodded at the door. With a backward glance, he strode to it and left, shutting it behind him.
Ellette sank into the chair across the desk from him and tried not to notice how tired he looked or how he continued to rub at the wound in his shoulder. “They fear your rage.”
“You think?”
“Why?”
“The better question is why don’t you?”
“It is all bluster. You would never punish them.”
“They don’t want me to be disappointed.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Really? That is the threat. You being disappointed?”
A smile curled the lines of his face, chasing back the weariness. She felt a flutter of heat whenever he smiled. His eyes danced and his cheekbones lifted. “What would you have them fear?”
“Among the Nazarien, infractions are met with stiff punishment. Lashings, fastings, sleep deprivation.”
“I find it hard to believe Jarrett practiced such discipline.”
She folded her legs into the chair. “No, but then he is feared for his sword. No one dares challenge him because of it.”
“Seems to me he was challenged plenty, Mediocre Assassin, or else you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”
She thought about it for a moment, then leaned forward. “You collect strays, Your Majesty. You s
urround yourself with people who have an emotional tie to you. I worry that it isn’t the best method of governance.”
“What do you mean?”
“I haven’t yet pieced it all together, but everyone closest to you isn’t there out of fear or financial gain. They are beside you because you hold an emotional key for them. Dolan views you as a son, Attis thinks you are the savoir of his personal peace, and Parish sees your father in you.”
Kalas leaned back against the chair. “How did you come up with that?”
“I listen, I observe things.”
His eyes narrowed and a strange smile spread across his face. She’d never seen this smile before. It was cunning and mischievous…and wicked. “What is your emotional key, Ellette?”
She felt her face heat and her breath caught. She always found him interesting to look at; in fact, she liked to look at him so much she worried he would notice, but now, now he was beautiful. She could think of no other word to describe him. He made her long for things she knew a Nazarien woman shouldn’t want.
She tried to think rapidly, but the way he studied her made her thoughts all jumbled. Then she realized he wanted to know as much as she didn’t want to tell him. “I need your protection from Quinn Laurel.”
His dark brows rose. Ellette sensed it wasn’t what he’d wanted her to say, but she wasn’t about to give him any leverage over her. Not him. Not with the way he created havoc with a smile.
* * *
Jarrett stirred restlessly. He rolled over and adjusted the pack beneath his head, but that was no better. A strange hum filled his ears, pounded against his temples. He pressed a hand to his forehead, hoping pressure would ease some of the ache, but that made it worse.
Cracking open an eye, he stared out at the dark meadow stretching away beyond the fire’s light. It was still night, hours before dawn, he guessed. He rolled over again toward the fire, punching at the pack to make it more comfortable.
Blood hammered in his head, his eyes ached with it. Was Tyla’s disease this fast? Feeling his forehead, he found it cool, but the bones in his skull throbbed with tension.
Sitting up, he braced his head in his hands.
“Don’t fight them,” came Tyla’s voice from the other side of the fire ring.
He glanced over at her, squinting against the brightness of the embers. “What?”
She eased into a sitting position. “Your head hurts, doesn’t it?”
He pressed both fists against his temples. “Yes, does yours?”
She shook her head. “Stop fighting them.”
“Who?”
Her eyes drifted beyond him…beyond their camp.
Jarrett shifted and looked over his shoulder. He could just make out four enormous dark shapes. The moment he looked, they moved forward, standing eight feet tall, in flowing robes of black, their skin glowing a translucent white in the light of the fire.
He moved with the speed that had always been his to command, drawing his sword and leaping over the fire to put himself between the intruders and Tyla. He heard her rise to her feet behind him and her hand closed over his wrist. Her fingers burned with fever where they touched his flesh.
“It’s all right. I don’t sense any hostility from them.”
He didn’t lower the sword, despite the pressure of her fingers. His head hurt so badly, though, it was hard to concentrate. “What are you talking about? Why does my head feel like it’s going to explode?”
“They’re talking psychically. All four of them at once. You’re fighting them, which is why it hurts you.”
“Can you understand what they’re saying?” He looked down at her.
She shook her head, but her eyes were glowing with a strange light and at her throat, the emerald radiated with energy. “It’s like they’re speaking a foreign language.”
“Then how do you know they don’t mean us harm?”
“They’ve been here for a long time and they haven’t made a move against us. It’s also like they’re projecting a calming sensation, a soothing hum.”
Jarrett nearly choked on a strangled laugh. “Calming. I think my eyes are bleeding.”
“Put the sword away and let’s see what they do.”
Jarrett hated being vulnerable, but she did have a point. They couldn’t stand like this all night. He slid the sword back into its sheath.
Immediately the creatures moved, but Tyla wrapped her arms around him, preventing him from reacting. They filled the campsite in a semi-circle around the fire. It had burned down to embers, but they studied it as if they had never seen a fire before. The cacophony in his head doubled and he couldn’t suppress a moan of pain. He felt like he was going to be violently ill.
Tyla’s hand ran down his spine, soothing him, and he tried to focus on her touch, rather than the buzzing in his head. The closest he could come to this sensation was one time when he’d been a young boy, exploring the hills in Terra Antiguo. He’d stumbled into a wasp’s nest. The wasps had surrounded him, buzzing in his ears, crawling over his face, stinging him in a multitude of places. He’d run, only enraging them, and long after the swarm had passed over him, he could hear their buzzing in his head and feel their feet crawling on his body.
“Open your mind and let their thoughts slide past you. Don’t try to block them.”
“How?” he panted, closing his eyes.
“Think about something else. Construct a picture in your mind, something so powerful, you can feel it.”
He thought about Temeron then, her golden streets, the warmth of her sun, the sound of her people. And in the middle of it was Tyla, the dark mass of her hair flowing over her shoulders, the green of her eyes…
He opened his own eyes and the pain was marginally bearable. If he kept the image of Temeron in his mind and focused on the touch of her hand against his back, he could bear it.
The closest creature lifted its head and its eyes glittered like black obsidian in the glow of the embers. It lifted a skeletal hand with long, thin fingers and pointed across the meadow. Then the four of them melted out of the firelight and the pressure inside Jarrett’s head decreased further.
“They want us to follow them,” said Tyla, moving away from him.
He watched her gather her blanket and reach for her pack. “Are you sure we should?”
She looked up at him, her eyes still strangely bright. “I don’t think we have a choice. Isn’t this why we came?”
“What if we’re walking into a trap, Tyla?”
She paused and drew a shallow breath. “I’m dying, Jarrett, and now you’re likely infected. Trap or not, we have to follow them. They know this island and we don’t. Our only hope is with them.”
He couldn’t argue with that logic, so he went to gather his things.
* * *
The sun rose and painted the sky a feathery pink. Soft white clouds rolled in from the direction of the ocean and occasionally blocked the light. The meadow quickly gave way to another ridge of hills. Tyla and Jarrett stood at the edge of the plateau and looked over a valley, verdant and green, every bit as lush as Loden. Far into the distance, they could make out a strange domed structure. It reflected the muted light of the sun and glowed a celadon green.
Four tall, black figures wended their way down a trail cut into the side of the mountain. They seemed to glide over the ground as if they barely trod upon it. Since Tyla and Jarrett had broken camp in the middle of the night, they hadn’t come closer than a few hundred yards, but if the two Stravad lingered at all, their guides halted and waited for them to catch up again. As long as they maintained a reasonable distance, the strange psychic communications between the creatures was merely an annoying hum in Jarrett’s head.
“Do you need to rest?” Jarrett asked, looking down at her.
She shook her head. She didn’t want to speak unnecessarily. Everything was an effort, but if she could remember to take only shallow breaths, she seemed able to keep the coughing at bay. That didn’t help with the fever,
but as long as the sun hid behind the clouds, she was managing that too.
He went first, offering her his hand when the trail grew steep. She took his help. It didn’t make sense not to accept it now. Over the last day, they’d had to touch so much she was sure she’d given him the plague. And once she’d started coughing, his immunity was compromised.
They followed the creatures along the trail, dropping toward the valley floor. The dome was no longer visible and vegetation grew up around them. Moss draped off the trees and everything was vibrantly green. She suspected this valley saw a lot of rain.
As the hours wore on and the trail grew more difficult to navigate, Tyla found herself relying on Jarrett’s steadying hand more and more. It surprised her how easy it was to fall into a familiar routine with him. Traveling in uncharted territory felt natural, they’d done it so often before. For a moment, she could almost allow herself to forget an entire decade separated them, an entire lifetime.
The trail gradually leveled and they found themselves moving down off the mountains into mushroom shaped trees, whose lower boughs were heavy with a green, globed fruit. Tyla studied the trees, amazed at their shape. The odd symmetry of their forms, the regular lines, reminded Tyla of orchards she’d seen in Temeron.
Jarrett was studying them as well. She wished she could ask him what he made of the landscape, but it was difficult enough just to walk. She was afraid talking would bring back the coughing spasms of the previous day.
Winding through the orchards, they came out into another meadow. Huge rocks lay tumbled about as if they had fallen from higher up the mountainside. Smaller rocks were interspersed with them, some broken so regularly they seemed almost quarried.
Tyla came to a halt. At her breast, the emerald began to pulsate. Studying the rocks, she saw nothing that looked like pycantra, nothing to account for the emerald’s odd behavior.
“Are you all right?”
She curled her fingers around the talisman and noticed it was warmer than usual. “The emerald is vibrating like it does when it senses pycantra.”
“Pycantra or danger?”
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 76
