“I suppose you'd know best.”
“If you have another way out of the city,” he said, spreading his hands. “Please, enlighten me.”
She shot him a dark look but said nothing.
Sighing, Drake searched the sky again, but the crow was gone. “It’ll be dark soon,” he told the Sufani woman. “You should get ready.”
She glanced over at the brightly colored wagon. “About that…”
“What?”
Leal rubbed her arms and looked at her boots. “The… outfit. The fire-dancer’s getup. I can’t wear it.”
“Why not?” Drake glanced down at his own leather vest. “Aye, we’ll be cold, later, but most fire-dancers don’t bother with too much cloth.” He gave her a wry smile. “Less to catch on fire.”
“That’s not…” Leal shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll be right back.” She turned for the Sufani wagon, but paused to hand Drake her spear. He accepted, blinking at her in surprise, but she only shook her head. “Don’t lose it.”
With that, she stepped inside the wagon, slamming the door behind her.
Drake looked back to the unfolding celebration, though his thoughts were only for the city, the sentinels, and the next several hours. City guards patrolled the road leading up to the outer gates and the bridge, but none of them showed much interest in the lower tiered folk.
He twirled Leal’s spear, assessing its weight and balance. Hers was a good weapon and he’d seen her use it enough today to know how skillfully she wielded it, though she had no flair for dramatic effect. The bulk of their “distraction” would rest on his shoulders. Well, that was fine. He liked being of use.
Better than standing around and waiting.
That in mind, he turned and rapped against the bright purple door of the Sufani wagon. “Leal, what in the void is taking so long? We need to get moving.”
No response.
He tried again. “Leal?”
The door flew open, nearly knocking him off of his feet as the Sufani woman stepped out. “This isn't going to work. I may as well be naked.”
She tugged at the black leather vest that left her arms and her upper midsection bare, exposing her lean, lithe frame. Leather breeches clung to muscular legs, but her sturdy boots were wholly practical. An indigo veil still covered her nose and mouth, but could not hide the angular shape of her jaw. The veil was attached to another scarf wrapped around her head, covering her hair, though Drake caught a flash of crimson.
“If it's any consolation, some men would find you very fetching,” Drake replied. “Not me, I mean. But lots of men.”
“What a lovely notion,” Leal muttered. “I’m deeply flattered.”
“Look, it's just a disguise,” Drake said. “I know it's uncomfortable—believe me, I'm not fond of leather breeches, myself—but this way, we'll blend in with the other performers. You know better than I do that they won't let a Sufani through those gates, Heartfire or not.”
“Of course I know that,” Leal replied. “Doesn't mean I have to like it.”
Drake regarded her, then cleared his throat. “You should probably shed the veil as well.”
Green eyes narrowed. “No.”
“But you still look like a Sufani.”
“You heard me.”
“Leal…” He took a deep breath. “You can leave, you know. You don’t have to come along on this foolhardy—and probably disastrous—mission.”
“If I leave, you’ll be on your own,” she grumbled. “And my father will have my hide. Bad enough we’ve no one to guard the wagon. I’m half-expecting some drunkard to piss all over it while we’re inside the city. But I said I’d come help, so here I am.”
Drake fought back a smile. “Your compassion knows no bounds.”
“Shut up.” She snatched off the veil, tucking it into a pouch at her belt, and gave him a stern look. “Better?”
“Much.” He handed her spear back and she accepted, hefting the weapon as he’d done a few minutes ago. “Have I thanked you, yet?” he asked.
“Several times.” She checked to ensure that no one was too close, then twirled the spear with ease, tossing it above her head and deftly catching it a moment later. “At least I can handle the dancing aspect of this errand. The fire bit…” She shot Drake a dubious look.
Nerves squirmed in Drake’s belly, so he was glad of a new direction for his attention. He was tired of thinking over what could go wrong. “Fire-dancing isn’t so different from normal fighting,” he replied. “Just…brighter and hotter. You did well when we practiced earlier.” He reached into his pack and withdrew a container of pitch, a sack of oil-soaked rags, and two coils of fire wicks, tossing one to Leal. “Speaking of… Let’s get the spears outfitted, too. Remember to completely cover the point. We don’t want the city guards thinking we’re here to cause trouble.”
As they wrapped their spears at both ends, Leal cast cautious glances around the crowd. “More people are starting to head into the city. Will they all try to get in?”
“Doubt it.” Once Drake’s spear was ready, he fetched two small glass lanterns from the wagon. He poured hematite powder into the oil-wells, attached one to his belt, and offered Leal the second. “As you can see, much of the celebrating will take place outside the walls. And for what it’s worth, I’m not worried about the wagon. No one else will be, either. There’s nothing in there worth stealing, but we’ll leave it unlocked, just in case someone desperately wants to see for themselves. Will that set you more at ease?”
Nodding, Leal surveyed the edge of the wooded forest, where they had set up “camp.” The Sufani wagon was on the outer perimeter of the festivities; easier that way to sneak away unnoticed. She took a deep breath and glanced at Drake. “Ready when you are.”
Drake patted his belt pouch one last time, checking for the little vials. Finding them intact, he nodded. “Let's go.”
The pair began to walk to the main gates and the bridge that led into the city proper, where a line of festivalgoers wound into the grassy area outside the city. Half a dozen guards waited before the gates, checking a few tier marks here and there, probably just out of habit, but allowing most people inside. A few, lower tiered folks were turned away, but they did not appear to be entertainers. One raggedy fellow was let through wheeling a massive barrel of wine so that he could set it just within the gates. Moments later, a guard tapped the barrel and began distributing the contents.
As Drake and Leal joined the line, she rubbed her bare arms, muttering something in Sufa. Drake shot her an inquiring look and she rolled her eyes. “Just cursing my father for sending me on this… errand.”
“I must admit… I’m thankful he did.”
“He was,” Leal paused, “insistent.”
This piqued Drake's interest. The Sufani leader had been amenable to his cause, certainly, but why Aderey had sent his eldest child along on this mission was beyond Drake's understanding. “Oh?”
Amusement and ire flashed in Leal's green eyes, but the set of her jaw was steady. “He likes you. He shouldn't. But he does.”
“You're right,” Drake said. “He shouldn't like me at all.”
Perhaps she'd not expected him to agree, for she frowned at him in confusion, though the expression faded quickly. “He's old and foolish,” she said, facing the gates. “And too kind for his own good.”
“It's not just kindness that compels him,” Drake said. “But conviction, too. So it seemed to me, anyway. Though he does not strike me as a man who would force his child into something she doesn't want to be part of.”
The Sufani woman considered something, then let out a deep breath. “A mage saved my mother's life,” she said quietly. “Perhaps, in part, I came along to repay a debt.” She glanced his way again. “Father says you're a mage and a sentinel.”
“Well, only a little of one and no longer the other,” he said wryly. “For all the good either has done me.”
“Your
feet are on both sides of the road,” she replied. “I suppose Papa thinks that gives you a broad perspective. Personally, I think it means you're too cowardly to choose one path and stay upon it.”
If she'd slapped him, he could not have been more surprised. Any amusement he might've felt—granted, there wasn't much—disappeared, and he flushed with shame. How true those words were. But he refused to show how she'd wounded him, instead giving her his best version of a wry grin. “Then I shall have to prove my bravery to you, Ser Leal.”
She snorted and shook her head, again muttering something in the Sufa tongue that he did not understand. That was probably for the best.
After nearly an hour of waiting, as the dove-gray sky darkened to the color of hematite and the air chilled further, Drake and Leal reached the guards. A burly fellow with scars around his eyes glared up at Drake. “What in Atal's name are you two supposed to be?”
In response, Drake swept into a bow fit for Queen Solasar, herself. “Fire-dancers, ser. Hoping to share Amaranthea's light on this long, cold night.”
The guard's gaze raked over Drake's leather-bound wrists, then to the innocuous staff in his grip. Despite the cold air, a bead of sweat trickled down Drake's back; would the guard notice how the tip of his staff was too bulky? It'd taken a lot of fire wick, pitch, and oil-soaked wrappings to disguise the weapon as a simple staff. Behind him, Drake could practically feel Leal tense, so he fought to keep his own expression one of mild interest. After what felt like ages, the guard grunted and waved once. Drake bowed again and urged his companion through the gates before he followed.
The bridge that spanned the White River seemed longer than Drake remembered. More foreboding, too, given the fading light and the guards that stood on either side; perhaps a dozen paces apart. Some had mugs of ale discreetly placed behind their legs, while others made no pretense of hiding their drinks. Despite this, however, the guards kept their eyes steadily upon the travelers. There were no sentinels here, thank Tor, but that same sense of misgiving from before tugged at Drake. Would this night go even a little bit as he hoped? Probably not.
But he'd made the choice. There was no turning back.
***
Eris beat her wings against the darkening sky. Her feather tips trembled as a current of air caught her. Rather than brace herself, Eris relaxed into the wind and allowed it to carry her crow-shape higher, so that she felt as if she could have landed upon Seren's pockmarked face. For one moment, Eris willingly lost herself to the joy of flight.
But she had a job to do. The city below stretched out like the sky itself, dozens upon dozens of lights winking like stars as the pious brandished their little candles against the darkness. Reluctantly, Eris tilted her wings and spiraled closer to the high, dark walls of the bastion. The area on both sides of their passage was clear of sentinels and revelers, though she spotted a couple of people lingering at the edge of the alley. She could not tell who they were, only that they did not wear armor. Good enough.
She circled toward the garrison. There! One sentinel squad made its way through the bastion to the garrison gates as they finished their patrol; another had just finished patrolling the upper wall. If the hemies’ past schedules were any indication of future actions, there would likely not be another for some hours yet, if not even until dawn. Pleased, she flapped once, savoring the rush of wind and the push of the updraft, and tipped toward the garrison’s courtyard. Quiet. Dark. If the hemies were celebrating Heartfire, they were doing it behind closed doors. Not that it mattered where they were, so long as she could spot them first.
Satisfied with her reconnaissance, Eris set the pleasure of flight from her mind as she shifted her focus to the task of landing. Becoming earthbound again was always the hardest part. She tilted down, her wings moving of their own accord—some instinct that she had no name for, perhaps—and the trees in the bastion's garden rushed to meet her. The grace Eris had known moments ago died as she lifted her head and dropped her tail, hoping to slow her approach, but succeeded only in careening into the withered grass, tumbling feathered ass over feathered forehead until she stopped. Above her, the trees loomed like giants and the bastion wall seemed to hold up the very sky.
A huge Gideon appeared, cloak in hand as he peered down at her. “Eris?”
His voice was loud and grating, though strangely comforting in its familiarity – and concern. Was she injured? A moment to assess her body let her know that she was tired and bruised, but otherwise unharmed.
Eris exhaled and released her focus. The world rushed to greet her in a manner that was reminiscent of removing the hematite collar, and soon she lay naked at her husband's feet. She felt leaden, pricked by a brief sense of loss. It was always so, after she returned to her human form.
Warmth settled across her as Gid draped her cloak over her body and knelt by her side. “Eris? Love, are you… is everything well?”
“Aye.” Her voice sounded strange to her ears, more so than her husband's mere moments ago. But this, too, was temporary, so she tried to ignore the discomfort as she struggled to her clumsy, human feet.
She didn't struggle long, for Gid helped her up. “What did you see?”
“The last patrol has finished,” Eris said, swiping her hair out of her eyes and hugging the cloak around her body. “Both sides of our passage were clear of sentinels and guards, though I saw some folks loitering by the alley.”
“Drake and his friends?”
“I don’t know. It was difficult to make out faces in the dark, but there were only two.”
“Perhaps he’s not there yet. Drake won’t let me down.” Gid blew out a breath in relief and grinned at her. “Love, you're a marvel. Have I told you that, lately?”
She tried to smile, but still felt odd and heavy. “I’m not sure I can shift again anytime soon.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ve done more than enough already.”
“The others?”
“Ready and waiting in Adrie's room,” Gid replied. “Once you're presentable, we'll meet them. Then the fun will truly begin.”
As they began to walk, a chill wind blew, tugging at her cloak, and she shivered. Without a word, Gid wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He was warm. How was he always so warm? Eris leaned into him and savored his solid form, his familiar scent. Gid, too, tipped his head against hers as they walked.
Neither spoke as they reached the confines of their shared quarters. They'd already collected what meager possessions they wanted to bring, so all that was left was for Eris to get dressed. As Eris slipped into her warmest clothes, Gideon paced across the room. “I need to say something.”
Her heartbeat picked up, but she was still able to keep her fingers from trembling as she buttoned her wool tunic. “That sounds ominous.”
He did not laugh, or even smile. “For what it's worth, I think everything will be fine tonight. But if...if there’s a risk of you being caught and we have to split up to avoid your capture, then that's what needs to happen.”
Eris stared at him with her tunic half-buttoned. “We’ve been over this. It’s the entire reason I scouted now, not later. Parting is not an option.”
It had been a subject of much debate among the mages, but ultimately, Eris had decided to use her strength toward the beginning of their journey, rather than during. Perhaps it wasn’t the most logical choice, but she couldn’t stand the thought of being separated from Gid’s side while they were out in the city.
“It has to be,” he said, resuming his pacing. “We'll find each other again.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head for emphasis. “You're being silly. It won't come to that.” Her voice was steady, though her stomach turned to a block of ice at the thought of leaving her husband behind for any reason. “I won't do it. I'll never go anywhere without you.”
Gideon gave her another smile, but it was not the dazzling kind she'd come to love. It was smaller, tighter and it did not reach his ey
es. “Maybe I am being silly,” he said. “But it would set me at ease if you wouldn't argue. Just this once, Eris.”
“Do you know something I don't?”
“No, but I just…” He made a noise of irritation and pulled her close, wrapping his arm about her waist. “After all my brave talk, after all our planning... I'm a coward. I’m terrified of any harm coming to you. That's all that matters to me – your safety.” He placed a hand upon her flat stomach. “Both of yours.”
Her breath caught; her heart seemed to stick in her throat. “Gid…”
“I know, I know,” he sighed. “It's nothing more than a spark, now. Too small even for your magic to touch. But still. It's our spark. The two souls I love most in this sodding world… and I'm terrified for you.”
Any irritation she'd felt evaporated as she leaned her head upon his shoulder. “It will be well,” she told him, glancing up. “But just in case, I'm sorry I called you silly.”
There was the teasing smile she knew, though it was quick. “Call me every name you can think of. As long as I'm with you, I don't care what else happens.”
Despite everything else, love for him filled her heart. Eris smiled back. “Me too.”
On a whim, he playfully smacked her rump. “Well… what are you waiting for, woman? Our lives are waiting.”
They left their room for the last time, hand-in-hand.
Twenty-Six
“Moon-blood?”
Kali took a deep breath and tried to ignore the scorn in the boy's voice. He was just a child, likely repeating whatever he'd heard from the adults in his life; perhaps he had no idea how hateful the words sounded. She returned her focus to the woman beneath her hands – his mother, judging by their ages and shared features.
“Mage?” the boy said, jabbing at Kali's side. “Moon-blood? I'm talking to you!”
Focus.
Milo's voice was quiet but firm. “Leave her alone, kid. She's trying to help your mother.”
She felt the boy sigh; a warm exhalation of breath upon her cheek. “She's gonna hurt my mama,” he muttered. “She’s evil, like all moon-bloods.”
Catalyst Moon: Breach (Catalyst Moon Saga Book 2) Page 31
