by Sam Farren
Claire huffed something like a laugh, and said, “I can't wait to hear what you're going to tell me once we have a measure of privacy.”
Tales of Kondo-Kana were best saved until we were alone.
Distracted by dragons and our destination alike, Claire stared straight ahead as she went, and I thought it best to let her focus. I wasn't certain whether offering my arm out to her would've been a slight, and so I kept my hands buried in my pockets, settling on enjoying her company for a distance of a few inches. A building emptied just in time for us to pass it, and children poured out, running into their guardians' arms on the other side of the street. The resistance had set up schools, it seemed, and one child almost ran straight into Claire's legs.
I grabbed him by his shoulders, gently easing him to the side, and when he looked up at Claire, he let out a startled cry. Claire blinked at him, and the boy's father ran over, apologetically taking the child into his arms.
“There, there. It's only Marshal Ightham, lad. She keeps us safe,” the man said, patting his son's head. “Awfully sorry about that. You know how kids get.”
Claire nodded sharply, walking faster past the school.
“... I don't often leave the tower,” she said dryly.
“I know how that feels. When I started glowing, I couldn't go out for almost a month,” I said, “I thought I'd be inside forever.”
“And yet you seem perfectly capable of controlling it now and wandering unnoticed whenever you please,” Claire said, words rushing out of her. Hearing her speak so bluntly caused my shoulders to rise to my ears, and after a moment, she said, “... I apologise. I am merely bitter. I know nothing of what you've been through.”
“No, no. I shouldn't have compared our situations,” I said, doing my best to smile.
It had unfolded and been resolved within a minute, but I found Claire's gaze wandering as we went, as though this part of Orinhal was new to her, as well. The number of cabins thinned, replaced by storehouses, and at the very end of the street, by a gate leading out of Orinhal, stood a stable.
“Go ahead,” Claire said, sweeping a hand out towards it.
I remained where I was, hoping she'd give me another hint, but all I got was an expectant look. Cautiously stepping away from her, I went on ahead and into the stable, and peered at the mostly empty pens. The soldiers' horses were stabled elsewhere, outside of the city itself, and when Claire didn't catch up to me immediately, I said, “Er—hello?” and felt foolish for doing so.
No sooner was the word out of my mouth than I heard a familiar whinny.
Spinning around, I caught sight of Charley in the back of the stable, stomping his front hooves against the floor. Narrowly avoiding a wooden pillar on my way over, I flung myself against the front of his pen, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. He continued to whinny and neigh, seemingly trying to knock the door open, and I buried my face in the side of his neck, laughing fondly.
“Charley! Oh, I missed you so much,” I said, mussing his mane. “I didn't think I'd see you again!”
I leant back and he knocked his head against my chest, ears twitching when I scratched behind them.
“Claire brought you all the way here, did she?” I asked as I heard her slow, heavy footsteps behind me.
“You'll have to thank Kidira for that, actually,” Claire said, making her way over to us. She patted the side of Charley's head and he stepped back, rushing forward to nudge his nose against me, thinking Claire had somehow failed to realise I was there. “She took the first horse she came across, when it became clear that the castle couldn't be held. I kept Charley with me, thinking you would want that.”
“I'm glad you had each other,” I assured her, fussing endlessly over him.
I turned to her, smiling as brightly as I wish I had when I found her in the tower. If I only knew where I stood, I would've kissed her. But I couldn't risk it. I didn't know where the lines had been drawn and whether or not I was allowed to cross them.
He hadn't changed, hadn't been lost without me. All he knew was that I'd been gone and it'd taken a while for me to return; for once, I didn't have to strain to make sense of the situation. I was nothing short of happy, and he was the same, endlessly nuzzling me, shuffling on the spot in surprise.
I could've stayed there all day with him, but I saw Claire grimace from the corner of my eye and knew she'd been on her feet for too long.
“I'll be back in a bit, alright?” I said to Charley, and he whinnied indignantly. “Oh, shush. I'll bring carrots with me. You'll have nothing to whine about then.”
“It's fine,” Claire said. “I can make my way back on my own.”
“I know that,” I said, offering out my arm. “But I'd like to walk with you. I know, I know, I'm probably saying too much, and there's so much I'm probably not saying, but honestly, I just want to talk to you, Claire. Please. Please put up with me a little more.”
Claire glanced down at my arm, weighing her options, and with a flicker of a smile said, “You needn't make it sound like a chore.”
We went back through the town arm in arm, and while I didn't act as a support for her, I was there, in case she needed me. Pain was running up and down her leg, running into the rivets left behind by breaks, and without a word, without looking at her, I drew it out of her, feeling a sickly reflection of it settle beneath my shin and thigh for half a moment. She raised her brow, said nothing of it, and pulled me a little closer.
Our journey back to the tower wasn't a swift one by any stretch of the imagination, but the moment we were stood before it, I wanted to turn back, to keep walking in another direction. I was selfish; Claire had already put more strain on her leg than she should've, but I wanted to keep her by my side.
“It would appear my break was far too long,” Claire said, sighing. A queue had formed around the tower, made up of soldiers and citizens alike, some of them impatiently trying to peer through windows. “If it isn't Agados and Rylan then it's a missing sack of potatoes; it never ends.”
“Sorry,” I said, letting her reclaim her arm. “Sort of. I'm glad I got to see you.”
At the sight of Claire, those standing closest to the tower door straightened, clearing their throats and silently mouthing whatever requests they'd built up the courage to make.
“Indeed,” she said, pausing. “Sen is in the habit of bringing me dinner each night at eight o'clock, and she's yet to adjust to human portions. I expect to be working late tonight, but should you wish to join me some other time...”
“I'll be there!” I told her, beaming.
“Only if you wish to. Don't feel you're obligated to keep me company.”
“Stop making it sound like a chore,” I said. “I'll be there! Eight o'clock, tomorrow night.”
Claire left with a nod of her head, and I watched her make her way back to the tower. People rushed to hold the door open for her, greeting her warmly; they respected her, trusted her. The citizens of Orinhal knew who was keeping them safe, knew she had been fighting for Kastelir in her own way, as the rebels once had.
Not forgetting my promise to Charley, I went out in search of a market. There were still a few coins in my pocket, given to me by Atthis for the journey to Orinhal. Certainly more than enough for a sack of apology-carrots. I didn't have to go far: there was no designated area where market was to be held. Instead, the Orinhalians had taken it upon themselves to sell their wares down residential streets, and anywhere they could set down a stall and raise their voice.
A group of children running errands for their parents queued in front of me, holding an empty sack between them. This was all par for the course of an average day, and the woman selling vegetables seemed to be on a first-name basis with all those who came to barter with her. The children ran off with their turnips and well-wishes for their parents, and the woman stared up at me from her low stall, trying to place my face.
“I'm new,” I said, smiling. I held out a handful of coins and said, “I only need a few carrots.
”
The woman scowled at the silver pieces, shaking her head.
“That ain't gonna be much use to us here. Not got anything worth trading for?” she asked, and I shook my head apologetically. “... say. Didn't I see you walking around with the Marshal a little while ago?”
“You did! That was me,” I hurried to reassure her. “We were friends before... before everything.”
The woman hummed in understanding.
“Back from the dead, eh?”
“Something like that.”
The woman held her hand out, gesturing for me to drop the coins into her palm.
“There's a bunch of fools who sometimes go sneaking off to the cities that haven't been burnt to a crisp. Suppose this'll help them out some. Here, take what you need,” the woman said, tilting her head towards the carrots. I grabbed half a dozen by the stems, and the woman said firmly, but not unkindly, “You'd best be finding a way to make yourself useful. Though the Marshal will be finding you something to do, no doubt.”
“I want to work on the farm. On one of the farms, anyway. Do you know who I should talk to?”
“Head out into one of the fields and talk to whoever looks like they know what they're doing. Can always do with more hands down there. Plenty of mouths to feed, and all.”
I thanked her for her help, and not wanting to hold the queue up any more, hurried off. I spent the next few hours with Charley, feeding him carrots that wouldn't make up for a two year absence but were certainly a start, telling him more than I'd been able to tell Claire. He listened intently, knowing he'd be rewarded for his patience, and I leant back on a hay bale, mulling over how much I already had to tell Kouris.
If she was moving alone, it wouldn't take her much more than another week to get here. I'd have a better grasp on things, by then.
Bidding Charley goodbye, I left for the fields a little before dusk. Hundreds of people were out there, all hard at work, and after being asked if I was just going to stand there gawking, I had the chance to explain that I wanted to help out. I told an important looking man that I'd grown up on a farm and knew what I was doing, and he said that if I came back at sunrise tomorrow, he'd find me some work that wasn't too hopelessly mind-numbing.
Feeling better for knowing I could make myself useful, I headed back to Goblin and Ghost's, smiling at the prospect of getting to see Claire tomorrow. She'd been right; so long as we didn't force ourselves to say too much too quickly, it'd all work out.
Akela was nowhere to be found, but she'd built one of the beds. I assumed it was mine, for my bag had been placed neatly atop the make-shift mattress, and I fell onto it, knowing I'd have to take Claire's things to her tomorrow. I'd have to explain that I thought I had some right to not only collect her things, but to go through them, to decide what I'd take along with me as though they were mine.
Groaning, I scrubbed at my face, willing myself to focus on far more pressing things, like the fact that hunger was gnawing within me. I got as far as the bedroom door, fingers around the handle, when I heard the front door slam shut, raised voices filling the corridor.
“It's not the fact that we have guests that's the problem, Galal. Surely you know I've no problem with the Commander staying with us. It's just...” Ghost muttered, followed by two thuds as he kicked his boots off.
“This again? Really, now? She saved you, you must realise that,” Goblin objected.
“I didn't ask anyone to take me away from... from...” Ghost trailed off, drawing in a deep breath. “Some days I feel as though what I saw in the Forest Within was better than all this, and I can't even remember it without straining my mind. It isn't right. Being taken from all that, being made to feel as though...”
“You don't mean that,” Goblin said sternly, “You aren't the only one who feels as you do, and it has nothing to do with the fact that you were brought back. All of us are doing our best to get through each day with a smile, because it's all we can do in a world like this.”
I backed away from the door, not wanting to hear any more. I'd already taken in far more than I ought to have, and I fell back on the bed, hunger forgotten. This wasn't my village, but it wasn't Canth, either; once more, I had to hide what I was, and far too many people already knew the truth.
As I laid there, staring at the ceiling, I moved a hand beneath my shirt, fingers pressing to all the ridges Katja had left across me, had made a part of me, and wondered why I always had to bring out the worst in people.
CHAPTER XV
Someone left earlier than I did, the next morning, but I couldn't tell whether it was Goblin or Ghost. I seized the chance regardless, hopped over Akela, curled up on the floor, and grabbed bread from a basket in the kitchen before slipping out onto the street. At that hour, Orinhal was alive, but not lively.
People yawned with each step they took, blinking and stretching themselves awake as they went about their allotted tasks. There were bakers and butchers setting up for the day, soldiers and crafters wordlessly sharing tea before work, along with those leaving their homes to care for their elderly neighbours. The farms were as busy as they'd been the previous evening, and the man I'd spoken to about work hadn't forgotten me. I was directed to a group twenty-strong setting up for the day, and told to do as they did.
The heat from the sun couldn't compete with the coolest day in Canth, but it was hard work regardless, and I was sweating within the hour, fingers wrapped around the rough handle of a shovel. It'd been years since I'd worked on a farm but I fell straight back into the rhythm, reminded, all at once, of how exhausting and rewarding it was. We worked in companionable silence straight through to lunch time, and those I'd been tilling the fields with shared their food with me.
The people I worked with had been driven from all corners of Kastelir. Some were older than my father, while one boy was thirteen, if he was a day. He worked the fields while his older sister apprenticed under one of the army's smiths, and all knew better than to ask about his parents. They were a tight-knit group, all looking out for one another, and though Kastelir had been divided into its territories once more, none cared where the others would end up, once this was all over.
By the end of the day, I was almost as excited to work again tomorrow as I was to see Claire. I had just enough time to rush down to the river to clean myself off, and stopped by the cabin to grab my bag on the way to the tower. The clock above the doors told me I had five minutes to spare, but I couldn't see how much of a difference it would make. I pulled the door open and slipped inside, not wanting to make Claire come downstairs if she was already at the table, and found her behind the door, arguing with someone.
They both stopped mid-sentence at the interruption, and Claire wouldn't have taken the intrusion lightly, had anyone else wandered in without knocking. She opened her mouth to shout and promptly shut it, and took my presence as a much needed excuse to wrap up whatever debate she had no intention of losing.
The woman she was arguing with – a high-ranking soldier, perhaps a general – was the first to speak again, not caring that she now had an audience.
“Marshal, surely you see the benefit of having allies. We're out-numbered three-to-one, yet you continue to overlook the potential of negotiating with—”
“Were he to give us ten thousand soldiers and rations to feed Orinhal for a decade I still wouldn't work with the King of Agados,” Claire scoffed. “What makes you think this isn't a trap? How many times have we heard that Rylan's working with the Agadians? Anything to get me out in the open, beyond the safety of Orinhal. Now go, go. I've dinner to attend to, and this conversation is going nowhere.”
The woman grumbled under her breath, straightened, and snapped a salute.
“... enjoy your dinner, Marshal,” she said, glancing at me as she left the tower, closing the door quietly behind her.
Claire rested her mouth against her knuckles, sighing as she stared down at the mess of paperwork on her desk. I saw her eyes scan across it, and for a moment, thought
that she meant to sort through it, tying up all the loose ends in the process. She almost proved me right, but after a few seconds spent straightening a stack of parchment, she grew weary of it all and looked up at me with a smile.
“You came,” she said, a little surprised that I hadn't found some excuse not to be there. “We ought to head upstairs before someone else bombards me with their terrible plans.”
Claire locked the tower doors, and no sooner were we upstairs, sat around the table that wasn't designed for two, than the doors opened again. Sen made her way up, glasses rattling on the tabletop-sized tray between her hands, and when she set it down on the table, I saw that Claire hadn't been exaggerating. Even the plates were bigger than the sort I was used to. I could've spent the better part of an hour deciding where to start.
“I hope you like it,” Sen said, bowing her head. “I p-probably made too much, but the Marshal always needs to eat more...”
I grinned and Claire exhaled sharply, saying, “Thank you, Sen.”
“Ah, I'll just...” she murmured, scurrying off to fetch the pitcher of water she'd left downstairs. “There. If there's anything else you need, you can let me know, and I'll...”
“That'll be all, Sen,” Claire said gently, in Svargan.
“It looks great,” I said, continuing the theme of Svargan, “Thanks! I'm sure I'll finish anything Claire doesn't want.”
Her ears perked up, and with a nod of her head, Sen took a few steps backwards, finally content to excuse herself. Claire stared at me as though she didn't understand the words that had just tumbled out of my mouth, and I picked up a fork, not certain whether I wanted to start with the chicken breast or the roasted vegetables along the side.
“You learnt Svargan?” she asked, ignoring her meal in its entirety.
“Kouris taught me. I learnt Canthian, too,” I said, seamlessly switching between the languages. I wasn't beyond showing off, especially not in front of somebody who understood what I was saying. “Sort of had to, really. Living in Canth and all.”
