The Black Wolves
Page 25
The sun set, and lamplight glimmered awake on the city’s avenues and squares far below. It was balmy, the wind rolling along the height with the promise of rain soon to come.
“If any man can kill a target in the Hundred, it is Kellas. If any man can uncover a plot, it is Kellas. If any man can secure my son Kasad’s safety, it is Kellas. He served my grandfather and father with absolute loyalty, but he walked away from me.”
“He walked away from Atani’s murder.”
“Bring him back to serve me. Do that, and I will appoint you chief marshal.”
19
Out on Messalia Bay the water seemed to go on forever. Kellas had come out fishing with his three granddaughters but he kept getting distracted by the view. To the east, the barrier islands were too far away to be seen, but their presence was marked by clouds piled into brooding massifs that caught on the islands before they spilled over the huge bay.
“Let’s go in,” said the eldest, Ranit. “We’ve got enough fish. I’m leaking.”
She was already mother to three children including a thriving one-year-old.
“I’m going to take a dip first,” said the youngest, Treya, the brash one. She threw a playful smile at Kellas. “You want to race me to the islands, Grandpa?”
“Don’t tempt him,” said Fohiono, who sat in the stern with the steering blade. “You know he’ll do it like he did twelve years ago to get the lads to stop boasting.”
With a laugh Treya somersaulted out of the canoe and splashed into the clear water, but Fo frowned as she studied the horizon and the swells, her feet pressed firmly onto the belly of the canoe so she could listen to what the boat told her.
“Get back in, Trey! A storm is coming.” At twenty, Fo was already an experienced steerswoman with a keen understanding of the sea, the strength to handle weather, and the ability to stay calm no matter the waves they hit.
She was born to be a wolf. But the moment he thought it, he frowned, irritated at himself for wishing such a life on anyone.
“What is it, Grandpa?” Fo asked, reading him as easily as the water.
“Just thinking of the first time I swam this bay when I was not much older than you, Fo.”
“As if we don’t know the story by heart! I swam the bay battling against the monstrous tide and eight-tentacled beasts that tried to drag me to my death beneath the waves, and then afterward I saw the woman I would love forever.”
“One of those three things is not true,” he said with a smile. “Treya! We’re leaving.”
Treya pushed up and over the gunnel into the canoe. They set paddles to water, Treya setting the pace with Ranit and Kellas behind her. Fo caught a few bumps, swells giving the canoe and its float a lift. The wind ran at their backs.
The port town of Salya rose in tiers up the low hills just south of the mouth of the River Messali. Four eagles circled, and one plummeted toward the town. The canoe approached Gull Pier with its pilings encrusted with barnacles to the high-tide mark and its banner-posts topped with beautifully carved gulls at rest. Past Gull Pier lay Gull Beach. Six young men came running to help them carry the canoe up under a thatched roof. Fo and Treya weren’t married yet, and the clan was prosperous enough that everyone in town knew the marriage status of its young people. It didn’t hurt the lads’ interest that Treya’s vest and kilt were plastered to her body, and she flaunted it. Let youth enjoy its blossoming while it may, that was Kellas’s philosophy.
But the lads also greeted him respectfully, or shyly, or jokingly, depending on their nature. He knew better than to pretend their attention didn’t flatter him.
He and the girls carried their baskets along the shore to the Grand Pier and headed inland up the wide avenue known locally as Drunk’s Lane. Lined with inns and drinking houses frequented by sailors, it was quiet at this time of day. One scruffy fellow was throwing up at the foot of the stairs that led up to the Inn of Fortune’s Star. It was just here—without the accompaniment of a vomiting man—that on his very first mission as a Black Wolf he had seen Mai for the first time fifty-two years ago: Standing on the street in a simple cotton taloos that on her looked like best-quality silk, a woman so striking he had forgotten all his training at going unnoticed and instead had blatantly stared.
That kind of beauty is dangerous to chase, his companion at the time—Esisha—had said, reminding him that he mustn’t get distracted. He had been so eager to prove himself tough enough to become one of the king’s most valued soldiers.
Fo slipped a hand into the crook of his elbow. “You need some help, old man?”
He chuckled and they kept walking. Ranit had the impatient stride of a nursing woman getting uncomfortable with full breasts who sees relief ahead. Treya peered onto every inn veranda, looking for someone more interesting than her current companions.
Fo slipped her hand off his arm with a grin. “Don’t think you can get me to carry your share of the fish. You’re still strong enough that you have to work for your food.”
“I heard a rumor there’s trouble at Bronze Hall,” said Treya suddenly. “The new marshal is telling all the reeves they have to worship at the Beltak shrine. There’s talk of pushing him into the ocean because everyone knows he can’t swim and is afraid of the water.”
Kellas whistled. “Such talk is not for the street,” he said in a low voice.
Ranit gave Treya a side-eye while Fo sketched the hand gesture for keeping one’s mouth shut, adding a rude flourish at the end.
“I heard it from someone who knows,” Treya muttered stubbornly.
“Heya! That reeve you’ve been keeping company with, eh?” said Ranit. “He’s trouble, mark my words.”
“He knows so much good gossip, especially about pirates in the Turian Sea! As traders we need not scorn any way of scooping up rumor. Don’t scold me for hearing things before the rest of you do.”
“Did you know already, Grandpa?” asked Fo.
He scratched his cheek.
Fo crowed. “You did know! You always know everything first.”
Treya shook her head with the admiring grin she had: He would have to talk to her about her habit of being too uncritical of people she thought possessed a quality she wanted for herself. “I don’t think anything can surprise you, Grandpa.”
“I’ll be surprised the day you stop to think before jumping into the ocean,” he remarked, and they all laughed.
How he loved these girls.
They turned off onto the slope of Roaring Hill and up the yellow stairs to their own street. An elderly neighbor greeted them as they passed. The hells! Elderly! The woman was younger than he was: She’d been born in the Year of the White Goat whereas he was a Brown Ibex. Here in Mar people still cared about things like what year you were born in, as folk had in his youth. Here in Mar people still gave their children the Mother inks like those he had on his forearm and calf, marking him as child of the Fire Mother. Fo was Earth-born, Treya Fire, and Ranit Water. In the palace the old customs had fallen out of favor. Here in Salya, each of the seven gods and goddesses still had a temple where people left offerings and dedicated each of their children while the small Beltak shrine sat on the outskirts of town and the only people who went there were sailors, soldiers, and clerks in the service of ships put into harbor.
“When do you think we’ll get another letter from Uncle Mori?” Treya asked. “I want to become a sailor like him and sail away east over the ocean.”
“And be gone for five years at a stretch?” asked Ranit.
“Just because you never want to go anywhere doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t wish for adventure,” retorted Treya. “Grandpa, didn’t you start sending Uncle Mori off to gather information for our trading ventures when we decided to expand to ports over the ocean?”
“Mori wanted to sail far afield, so I trained him to write in code and send reports home. But it was his choice to go. Playing with other people’s lives is no game, Treya. Not when they die.”
Fo nudged him. “
Is that Father out in front? Who’s he with?”
They came into sight of their home, hung with banners painted with stylized plum blossoms. The spacious front veranda ran the length of the compound, offering a spectacular view of the harbor and the bay. Shaded by a roof, it was a splendid outdoor space for entertaining visitors and discussing trade preliminaries. The setting was so lovely and comfortable that it was impossible to complain of any lack of hospitality when you were seated on quilted cushions and served tea and rice cakes on a lacquered tray. But if you didn’t get inside the house into the visitors’ hall, then you knew you were not going into business with Plum Blossom Clan.
The girls’ father, Hari, stood on the veranda talking to a white-haired woman wearing reeve leathers. Kellas had watched Hari grow from a scrawny, cheerful, content eight-year-old child into a stout, cheerful, content man of fifty-two with six children and already eight grandchildren.
However, at this moment Hari was standing arms-crossed and grim-faced to block the doors. One of the guard dogs bristled on alert behind him. When Hari saw them coming, he spoke to the visitor.
She turned.
The shock of seeing Lady Dannarah’s face after so many years caused Kellas to miss a step. Fo grabbed his arm and Treya whisked the basket he was carrying out of his arms.
“I don’t need help,” he said more curtly than he intended.
What in the hells did this mean? Lady Dannarah looked him over in that scorching way he remembered so well. No doubt she intended to again inform him, as she had the last time he had seen her twenty-two years ago, that it was his fault Atani had died.
But he already knew that.
The girls clustered behind him as if expecting to catch him when he toppled over.
“It has been a hells long time since we last met, Captain Kellas,” Dannarah said, more air than voice, as if she too had been punched in the gut.
“Do I look that old? The years have treated you kindly, Lady Dannarah.”
The years had treated her kindly. Age had burnished her, and she looked straight and strong and utterly confident.
Then she spoiled it by blushing as awkwardly as a shy girl. “My thanks, Captain. But that’s not what I meant. You look hale and vigorous, as I was told.”
Treya giggled, Ranit guffawed, and even Fo snickered.
Hari said, “Girls, take the fish to the kitchen,” and because his habitual smile had vanished, they obeyed without any questions.
Kellas clambered past his surprise and sought something intelligent to say. “You have made the acquaintance of my son, Hari.”
She glanced between the two of them. “He isn’t really your son.”
“Did my seed sire him? No. Has he been as a son to me over the years, and I as a father to him, and a grandfather to his children, like those three young women? I hope so.”
“I call him Father, which should be enough for anyone,” said Hari, a sting in his gently spoken words.
“I’d like to know why he looks so cursed much like Anjihosh. And like my sister Sadah, for that matter. The bump in the nose is distinctive.” She brushed a finger along the bridge of her own distinctive nose.
Even at his angriest Hari could never resist smiling when life gave him the least opportunity. “Around here they call it the eagle’s beak. I have explained many times it is a sign of intelligence and good fortune.”
She swept her penetrating gaze along the exterior of the house and out toward the bay, which was chopping up as clouds rolled in from the east. “I think I never knew you at all, Captain. You were the most devoted of my father’s servants. Did you keep a secret family all the time I thought you were serving my father?” She indicated Hari. “Or perhaps this man was part of an arrangement my father made that he commanded you to oversee.”
Kellas could see her making a tale in her mind in which Hari was Anjihosh’s son by a lover, a child to be kept safe but far away from the palace and the succession, guarded over by his most loyal captain. Let her think that. It was almost true, and anyway it was for the best. “Why are you here, Lady Dannarah? Your visit has taken us quite by surprise.”
Her eyes met his, dark with secrets and accusations. “Jehosh wants you to return to the palace, Captain.”
He felt his heart congealing to stone. “Why?”
She glanced at Hari and then back at him, a question in her shrug.
“There is nothing you can say to me that you can’t say in front of my son,” snapped Kellas. Hari rested a hand on his shoulder, and he was shocked to find himself trembling. “Why does Jehosh want me?”
“He is afraid a succession battle is about to break out among his three sons and two queens.”
“Is he ill, that they feel they must move now?”
Her smile had the same caustic slant he remembered from her days as chief marshal. “No, his health seems good. He no longer trusts Queen Chorannah, her sons, his council, or his companions.”
“An ironic turn of events, do you not think?”
A flash of understanding passed between them, the memory of their secret alliance in the last days of Atani’s life.
“I was surprised when he of all people asked for my help, yes.” She looked again at Hari, brow wrinkling. “If Hari is Anjihosh’s son, could he claim the throne?”
Hari said nothing but looked as out of sorts as Kellas had ever seen him.
“It would be deeply unwise of you to think of Hari as anything but a merchant living in Salya, Lady Dannarah.” Kellas hoped his brutally impassive tone made an impression on her. “Do not for a moment consider throwing him into whatever storm is brewing in the palace. Does anyone else know of this errand you run for Jehosh?”
“No one else in the palace knows, except perhaps Lord Vanas.” She gestured skyward. “I am accompanied by three reeves, although none knows the true reason we have come.”
“I need to wash the stink of fish off me. We will sit down for tea in the proper manner befitting visitors. With this storm coming in, you and your people will have to sleep over, Lady Dannarah. I don’t recommend you fly into that storm to try to get to Bronze Hall unless you know the wind patterns out on the islands very well.”
“I’ll have my wing land at Salya’s assizes court, then. I presume there is still a loft there.”
“There is, but more conveniently there is a small loft available for eagles and reeves in a field just at the top of this hill.”
“There is a loft built so close to your house? That’s a little odd, isn’t it?”
Hari stuck fists to hips. With a rare, reckless show of pique, he broke in. “My mother has been a good friend to the reeves of Bronze Hall. They visit her often.”
She folded her arms. “Who is your mother, ver? Heir to a prosperous house, I can see.”
Kellas nudged Hari’s foot with his own but it was too late.
“She built this clan with my aunt and uncle from nothing!”
“May I meet her?”
Kellas broke in before Hari said something they would regret. “That won’t be possible. She happens to be away at the moment, visiting Hari’s wife’s sister. Hari, go fetch Fo. She can show Marshal Dannarah up to the field to flag down the other reeves before it starts to rain. We’ll get wash-water heated and a meal ready.”
Hari cast him a sharp gaze but sketched a brief excuse me with a hand and went into the house.
“Who is his mother, truly? Some lover or concubine my father discarded? He wasn’t a man to throw things away carelessly. Perhaps he decided to make sure her retirement was secure by commanding you, his most obedient soldier, to marry her.”
Kellas whistled the dog over and rubbed its ears until the roar of anger in his heart passed. When he was sure he could speak in a level voice and with a calm face, he straightened.
“Understand me, Lady Dannarah. I do not mean this as an insult, but you and Jehosh have no claim on me. I broke with the palace when Atani died and I’m not going back.”
20
“Everything has been so bewildering,” she said to Fohiono and Treya, the sisters who had taken charge of her when they had reached the house. They were relaxing with her in a small stone pool that overlooked a garden. Rain could not dampen the garden’s lush beauty.
“Did you never travel far from home? Didn’t you say your clan are carters?” Fohiono didn’t say the word in a scornful way, simply as a question.
“Carters on my father’s side. Caravan guards on my mother’s. I could have gone with my cousin Ailia when she took employment as an apprentice caravan guard last year, but I didn’t want to…” She hesitated, afraid they would say the words strangers always said to her: Where did you really come from? Where is your real home?
Fo said, “Being a caravan guard isn’t the life for everyone, I imagine. What about the carter’s trade, though?”
Lifka exhaled in relief. “My father and his sister Ediko traveled a great deal hauling along the roads, but that was when I was too little to go along. A few years ago the law changed and now you have to buy a license from the archon for permission to cart loads between towns. We can’t afford it so we cut and haul wood for coin. I’ve never seen the River Istri or a city so large like Toskala. To see Law Rock itself after hearing about it in all the tales! That was something! Afterward we flew here. It’s so different! It’s hot! Everything smells of the sea. I knew there was a port called Salya because I know my Hundred Count of all the towns, but … it all happened so fast.”
“What about that reeve Reyad?” The younger one, Treya, had what Papa would call a mischief eye, ready to get into trouble just for the fun of it. “Too bad he decided to stay at the loft and mind the eagles, neh?”