by Emma Miles
Kesta bit her lip. Her first thought was that Jorrun’s brother had done worse and yet he’d done nothing about that. ‘I dealt with it,’ she said quietly and he turned to frown at her. ‘And back then I didn’t know, or trust, you.’
He sighed. ‘Now he is high in the king’s favour and I not so much so, he thinks he’s safe to get some petty revenge. I also worry what mischief he’ll cause for his own ambition if we go away to Chem.’
‘Surely Bractius will see through him?’
‘I hope so.’ He forced a smile. ‘Come on, let’s go to bed.’
***
They were kept waiting for the king for almost an hour the next morning. Normally, Jorrun would have been admitted immediately to sit in the chair to the king’s left, assist him with his audiences, and play the part of the sinister ‘Dark Man’. Kesta realised she was tapping her foot and stopped herself, glancing up at Jorrun. She wasn’t surprised to see he was perfectly composed, his face and shoulder muscles relaxed. Even his eyes, that she knew could convey so much, gave nothing away.
The doors opened and a man dressed in richly embroidered fabric hurried out, he started when he saw Jorrun, but barely paused. Jorrun and Kesta were invited in and he strode across the room to stand only three feet in front of the throne. Bractius leaned back and held Jorrun’s gaze as he approached, he waved a hand at the guards and they left the room. Jorrun placed his hands behind his back, folding his fingers together.
‘Thank you for seeing us.’
‘Of course.’ Bractius looked from Jorrun to Kesta and stood. He frowned, looking down at the floor, before stepping forward to place a hand on Jorrun’s shoulder. ‘If your plan works, it will be excellent for Elden.’
Both Jorrun and Kesta turned to stare at Bractius in surprise.
‘But there are things to consider.’ The king removed his hand and paced across the room. ‘First, do you absolutely trust Osun?’
‘Of course!’ Jorrun replied without hesitation. Kesta looked down at the floor.
Bractius snorted. ‘And do you really believe he can take Navere and hold a Seat in Arkoom?’
Jorrun took in a deep breath. ‘With myself and Kesta I have no doubt we can take Navere. Osun and I know it well. Arkoom and the Seat of the Overlord will be a different matter. It will take time and planning.’
‘How much time?’ Bractius stopped his pacing to frown at him.
‘We could be talking a year or two.’
Kesta swallowed. The king’s frown deepened.
‘That’s a big investment of our time.’ Bractius moved back to his throne but his gaze was on Jorrun’s empty chair. ‘We would have to explain your absence of course. Last night’s dinner and your exclusion from assisting me this morning will make people think you are out of favour. Not ideal, but it will mean it will be a while until people think too much of your absence from court. We’ll make them believe you are still at the Raven Tower for as long as possible. If it’s discovered you’re not there, I will tell people that you are visiting the Fulmers and then Mantu. Until you’re ready to make your move in Navere, only the three of us in this room will know what you’re really doing.’
‘Let me understand you.’ Jorrun held up his hand. ‘You do want us to go to Chem and take the Seat of Navere?’
‘Yes.’
Jorrun tilted his head slightly to one side and Kesta reached up to take his arm.
‘You’re right, Jorrun, we need to strike while they are in disarray and we have the advantage. After their attack we don’t have the men or the resources to mount a military action against them. If we can put our man in the Overlord’s seat and make Chem an ally, then we have defeated our enemy with little cost to us. I have your word you will return to me though? That you’re not planning to take a Seat for yourself?’
Jorrun shook his head. ‘You know me better than that.’
‘Neither of us would want to stay in Chem any longer than we had to,’ Kesta added.
Bractius’ eyes narrowed and he looked her up and down. ‘But if your plans succeed Chem will change.’
‘I hope it does.’ She raised her chin. ‘But I already have two homes I’m finding it hard to choose between, I’m not looking for a third.’
Bractius barked out a laugh. ‘As honest as ever.’
Jorrun shifted his feet ever so slightly and glanced at her.
‘Let’s not rush into this.’ Bractius rubbed at his bearded jaw. ‘Come back at the end of the week, Jorrun and sit in on a few audiences with me. We’ll make some more plans then, and see what news Osun has for us. Shall we aim to have you away in two weeks?’
Jorrun gave a slight bow. ‘As you wish it.’
Kesta swallowed, her heart beating faster. They were going back to Chem.
Chapter Six
Osun; Covenet of Chem
Osun walked along the pens. His hand went instinctively to his nose but he couldn’t block out the stench of urine, sweat, and blood. The smell of human misery always made his skin crawl and it was harder to keep his facial expressions under control. He had to force himself to meet people’s eyes, to pretend ignorance and apathy. He ground his teeth, looking at the colourful signs that hung from poles beside each pen. Some areas had shelters, even seats, most were just fenced off squares of dust and despair. He spotted the man he wanted and strode over.
‘Drogda!’
‘Osun! What brings you to Navere?’ The man was short and burly, his sleeveless tunic showing off his muscles.
‘I’m looking to purchase myself a good fighter and I know you train the best.’
Drogda’s grin widened as Osun looked over the chained men. All of them stood upright and relaxed, eyes down, but for one. A young man sat at the back, his knees drawn up with his arms leaning across them. Unlike the other slaves he looked straight at Osun, although there was no spark of defiance in his grey eyes. Bruises mottled his face, black turning to yellow and green. He couldn’t have been much more than sixteen.
Osun realised Drogda was talking to him.
‘This one here is excellent with a spear and can care for horses.’
Osun didn’t even look at the slave Drogda was indicating.
‘What about this boy?’ Osun asked.
Drogda spat and Osun winced. ‘Best fighter I ever trained but he’s flawed.’
‘Flawed how?’
‘He refuses to kill.’
‘Then how is he still alive?’
‘Oh, he’ll kill in the ring to save his own sorry skin, which is surprising as he seems determined to die by my whip, but if you order him to make a kill, he’ll drop his weapon like a brainless fool!’
Osun frowned. ‘Is he disobedient in any other way?’
The boy sat up straighter and met Osun’s eyes again. Something tingled inside Osun’s ribs, like an itch, like pins and needles. He knew those eyes, they frightened him but he couldn’t look away.
‘I suppose not.’ The slaver unhooked his whip and tapped his left palm with it, narrowing his eyes at Osun.
Osun made his way past the other slaves to stand over the boy. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Cassien, master.’
‘Why won’t you kill when commanded to?’
The boy swallowed, glancing away before looking back. ‘I won’t kill someone who doesn’t deserve it, master.’
‘It’s up to your master who deserves to die!’ The slaver kicked Cassien hard in the ribs. Osun opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. Cassien himself made no sound but slowly sat up again.
‘Do you understand the difference between obedience, fear, and respect?’ Osun asked the boy.
He nodded. ‘I do.’
Drogda’s face turned bright red at the boy’s omission of the word, ‘master’ and he let go of the end of his whip, Osun stepped in and gripped his forearm. ‘I’ll buy this slave.’
Drogda looked incredulous, then avarice lit his eyes. ‘Are you sure, master?’
Osun held the boy’s gaze. �
�I’m sure. Of course, I’ll expect a discount for the fact he is – as you say – “flawed” and for his condition. Did you break any bones?’
‘Of course not!’ Drogda scowled. ‘I put a lot of years and training into this boy …’
They negotiated a price and with his heart aching for his lost gold Osun handed it over. He gritted his teeth and shook his head at himself, no doubt he would regret this moment of foolish, weak sentimentality.
The slaver unlocked Cassien’s chains from the wall and handed the end to Osun with a grunt. ‘Good luck to you.’
Osun didn’t reply but led the boy out of the skin market towards the part of Navere where craftsmen traded.
He found a blacksmith and instructed him to remove all of Cassien’s chains. The blacksmith raised an eyebrow but went about it without question. Cassien didn’t say a word but watched Osun as he examined the swords that were for sale. Osun tried the hilt of one that was far superior to the sword belted around his own waist but decided he’d spent too much already. He pointed to one that was plain and serviceable. ‘I’ll take this as well. And I’ll need a servant’s collar.’
Cassien did react at that, spinning about on his toes to face him with his mouth open.
‘Didn’t say it was for you now, did I?’ Osun tried to look stern.
Cassien closed his mouth quickly.
Osun took the large ring of copper from the blacksmith, handing over his gold slowly. He held the servant’s collar out for the boy. ‘Put this on and follow me.’
Osun set off at a fast pace, his long stride making the shorter boy have to almost run to keep up. They were close to the inn when the boy plucked up the courage to speak. ‘You don’t even know me, why would you free me?’
‘I haven’t freed you, I still expect you to work for me and I won’t pay you other than the food you eat.’
‘But if I’m a servant I could go and work for someone else who pays me better.’
Osun turned and looked him up and down. ‘Know anyone who’d pay you? You’ve already forgotten to call me master.’
Cassien opened his mouth and then closed it again. He bowed his head a little. ‘Sorry, master.’
‘Can you cook?’
‘What?’
‘Are you deaf?’
‘No, master. I’m a trained fighter, why would I cook?’
‘Perhaps because you’d like to eat?’ Osun sighed. ‘Never mind, we’ll manage.’
He made his way to the entrance of the Narwhale Inn. He couldn’t help a shudder as he looked around the now busy market place and remembered the dead men raised by Adelphy Dunham who’d clustered here only months before. He was sure he could still catch wafts of the awful smell they’d emitted. He caught the innkeeper, Gulden’s attention and asked him to bring hot water and food up to his room and to arrange a bed for his servant. Gulden looked Cassien up and down with a narrow-eyed frown but nodded. For pride’s sake Osun had taken the same room as he had months before, but luckily for him Gulden had genuinely appreciated his patronage and advice during what had been an awful time for the inn. Gulden had given him a very fair discount and a brandy with every meal.
When they entered his room, Osun put down the sword he’d purchased and turned to look at the boy.
‘I have some things to do out in the city. Take a bath and eat. Tomorrow I’m heading to Margith and all I need from you is for you to help me get there alive and assist with the horses.’ He went over to his clothes and picking out a clean blue shirt and trousers, he threw them at Cassien. ‘They might be a bit long; can you use a needle?’
‘I can stitch a wound.’
Osun stared at him for a moment, then sighed. ‘Good enough. We’ll talk when I get back. Don’t leave!’
***
Osun went first to the temple. He followed the narrow walkway that hugged the dark cliff, holding onto the rope and occasionally pressing his back to the stone to let someone else pass. The wooden planks were slippery and moved under his weight, far below the sea surged loudly between the rocks. Fat candles were wedged into crevices at the cave’s entrance, the wax of many years making the false face of a glacier. The smell of incense mixed with refreshing, natural brine. He drew in a deep breath before entering the deep caverns in which the priests of the gods dwelt. Unlike Arkoom, and a few of the other major cities, the fire-spirits hadn’t burned down the temple of Navere. Even so, it couldn’t have been more different than when he’d visited the temples before Elden and the Fulmers had beaten off Chem’s attack. Then, the Gods of death and war had been in ascendancy, now no one seemed to be visiting their alcoves and it was his own god, Domarra, god of prosperity, and the god of health, Seveda, who were receiving all of the visitors. A few worshipers furtively left gifts and prayers in the alcove of the god of magic, Warenna.
After the temple, Osun went to the docks and to an inn where he knew he would hear gossip. He ordered a simple meal and a light ale. It wasn’t long before he heard what he needed. A man called Cepack was presently holding the Seat of Navere. He smiled to himself and swallowed back his ale, placing a coin on the table and leaving half of his meal untouched. His last stop was a messenger company that prided itself in expediency and privacy. He handed them a letter and a gold coin and then returned to the Narwhale Inn.
When he opened the door to his room, he found Cassien had dressed himself in Osun’s old clothes and was in the middle of running through some sword exercises. Cassien put the weapon down guiltily.
‘Keep it,’ Osun said. ‘I bought that for you. You’re no good to me unarmed.’
‘Actually, I can fight very well without a sword.’ The boy seemed to notice Osun’s expression and quickly added, ‘master.’
Osun drew his own sword. ‘Let’s see what you can do.’
Cassien opened his mouth, his grey eyes widened a little. He swallowed and said, ‘Master, I don’t mean it as boasting but I’m very good. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.’
Osun grinned and swung his sword. Cassien’s came up to meet his and they danced across the carpet, the chime and scream of metal on metal was loud in their ears. Osun noticed Cassien’s bruises were hampering him and he suspected that despite Drogda’s reassurances, something might be broken. Not the boy’s spirit though. He reminded him … Osun’s feet momentarily faltered and he pushed away the emotions that churned in his stomach. Cassien reminded Osun so much of his younger, half-brother, Jorrun.
‘Halt!’ Osun stepped back and lowered his sword. He realised he was slightly out of breath.
Cassien lowered his sword also and gave a low bow. ‘Forgive me, master, I shouldn’t have assumed you didn’t know how to fight.’
‘Never assume, Cassien.’ Osun sheathed his sword. ‘Few of us ever show who we really are. Some pretend to be greater, other’s hide their light. I’ve lived my life being whatever I had to be. Your integrity is … rare. I admire it but I’m surprised it hasn’t gotten you killed. Take yourself down to the servant’s quarters. We leave early tomorrow.’
Cassien went tentatively to the table and picked up the sheath for his sword. Osun saw his jaw move as he debated what he wanted to say. ‘Master?’ He looked up. ‘Who are you?’
‘I was a merchant. Now I have other business. Do as I’ve instructed you, please, Cassien.’
Cassien almost started at the word, ‘please’. Osun wasn’t surprised. It was almost non-existent in Chem.
Cassien gave another bow and left the room.
***
Osun stood back and let Cassien ready their three horses. He’d bought one of good quality for himself to ride and two sturdy working horses for his new servant and his supplies. Osun had considered returning to his guise as a merchant but had decided the need to move quickly was more urgent than the need for more money. He had quite a lot hidden away but he had to hope his brother would supply the funds for what they needed.
It took seven days to reach Margith. The roads that had been safe under the rule of the Dunhams were no
w practically lawless and dangerous. The patrols that once kept them safe now worked for different factions and often, for themselves. Osun knew the roads well though and kept them from the places where he expected the worst trouble. He spoke to Jorrun several times on the journey using his scrying bowl and blood amulet. He only had a small supply of his brother’s blood, having burned what he’d stored previously before returning to Elden. He didn’t hide what he was doing from Cassien, he just moved a discreet distance away. He wasn’t surprised when the boy asked him about it.
‘Are you a sorcerer?’
Osun smiled and shook his head. ‘My father was a powerful necromancer and my mother of good blood, but I was born “bloodless.” This is a simple magic that I can perform because my brother is very powerful.’
‘Who is your brother? Master,’ he added quickly.
Osun drew in a breath and regarded the boy. ‘You might get to meet him sometime. I’m sure the two of you will get along, you’re both stubbornly moralistic considering the land we live in.’
‘You sound as though you know other lands.’
Osun ran his fingers through his curling black hair. ‘You ask too many questions. It’s a good job I freed you, you make an appallingly bad slave.’
Cassien laughed. Most of the bruises had faded from his face but he still moved as though his bones hadn’t healed. His face grew serious. ‘I guess I couldn’t live as a slave. I think I wanted to die.’
Osun cleared his throat and looked away. He’d seen many people like that in his lifetime, none who had lived as long as Cassien. He scratched at his beard, looking anywhere but at the boy. He wasn’t any good at this kind of thing and resented being forced to feel sympathy. He hadn’t survived by being soft-hearted. ‘Haven’t you got that fire started yet?’
Cassien threw his flints down. ‘I can’t seem to manage fires.’
Osun breathed out loudly. ‘Why did I waste my gold on you? Keep trying, you’ll never get the hang of it if you don’t.’
Cassien made a loud ‘huff’ but picked the flints back up.
***
Osun slowed his horse as the sharp, black walls of Margith came into sight. It was hard not to wince at the serrated stone, hard not to imagine how it would slice your skin, how much blood must have been shed to raise it. He shuddered but turning his eyes to the gate he smiled when he saw his old acquaintance was on duty. The young man with the bushy blonde beard recognised Osun at once.
