Shadow's master s-3

by Jon Sprunk

  She walked around the stove. “What of your quest? Did you find…?”

  “My mother?” Caim paused as the pain of losing her, still fresh, ripped through him. “Yes, I found her. But she's gone.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  He nodded.

  “And what about you?” Josey asked. “Are you back now? To stay, I mean?”

  Caim held out the key pendant. “No. I came back to give you this.”

  Josey took it from his hand. For a moment their fingers touched. Then she threw herself into his arms. She was warm and soft, not the scrawny girl he'd left behind, but even as he held her Caim didn't feel the same ardor that had swept over him before. He loved her, and would always love her, but she wasn't the one he wanted.

  “I'm sorry.” It sounded pathetic, but he didn't know what else to say. He could hardly tell her about Kit. “I can't imagine what you've been through, but I know I'm not the one to share it with.”

  Caim started to reach for her shoulders to push her back, but Josey broke the embrace first. “Caim, there's something you should-” She shook her head. “Just know that I'm fine. I always knew I couldn't hold you, but I'll always love you. I hope you're happy.”

  “You know me. When am I ever happy? Is it all right if I check up on you once in a while?”

  “Anytime you want. But use the door next time. All right?”

  Caim looked at her, trying to etch this moment into his memory as he stepped back into the shadows. Her eyes glistened, but she didn't cry. He gave her a nod, and then he departed.

  The portal snapped shut between them.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Josey stared at the spot where Caim had disappeared and wondered if she'd dreamt it all. Then she squeezed the key pendant in her hand.

  An animal bleated outside the tent, and in that moment, in the darkness, Josey felt his absence fully for the first time. She could still smell his sweat, his dyed leathers, the faint metallic scent of his knives, the oil of his unwashed hair. She had held out hope that he would return for so long, but the hope had grown fainter with the passing days. Until now. He was her friend, her first lover, and now he was gone.

  Josey caressed her belly. Why hadn't she said anything about the child? Caim deserved to know he was going to be a father. Why? So I can make him stay with me? Is that what I want? No, this isn't Caim's child. It's mine.

  But a memory bubbled up through her brain, of a moment she'd shared with Hirsch before the final battle. “You remember you asked me about my magic?” he had asked.

  “Yes,” she answered, her mind focused on the oncoming fight.

  “Well, one of my gifts is the ability to sense the power in others.”

  She wasn't in the mood for cryptic talk. “What are you talking about?”

  The adept leaned closer, until the brim of his hat almost touched her forehead. “The child, lass. He'll be strong in the Art. Damned strong.”

  Strong like his father.

  Fingernails scratched at the tent flap as Iola peeked inside. “Majesty, is everything all right? The guards heard voices.”

  “Come in. Please.” Josey dropped her hand from her stomach. “I was just talking to myself.”

  Iola ducked inside with a smile. “They say one shouldn't do that, Majesty. Or you're likely to go mad.”

  “I feel like I'm already there. Come sit with me.”

  They sat on the cot that served as Josey's bed. Heavens, I miss that big feather mattress back in the palace. But she didn't want to think about creature comforts. She had a big decision to make. “How is your father?”

  Colonel Klovus had been injured in the battle and had lost an arm.

  “Well, Majesty. He is resting. The doctor believes he will recover his full health, except for his…”

  Josey put a hand over the girl's trembling fingers. “He'll live, and that's the important thing. Iola, have you ever been in love?”

  The girl blushed and looked down at the comforter beneath them. “Majesty, I'm just a maid. I haven't any suitors…yet.”

  “You don't need suitors to be in love. Now tell me true, have you ever loved?”

  Iola nodded, and her face grew solemn. “I think so, Majesty.”

  “Josey. You must call me by my name when we're alone. Or else, how can we be friends? And I want to be your friend very much.”

  “As you say. Josey.” Iola's smile returned. “I am in love. I think maybe.”

  Josey leaned closer. “It's Captain Drathan, isn't it?”

  “Yes, Your Majes-Josey. He's so…everything!”

  Josey thought back to all the things she and Drathan had been through. She agreed. She couldn't think of a better match. “Then you must tell him.”

  “I couldn't!” Iola slapped a hand over her mouth as the cry escaped.

  They both giggled, and Josey felt the tears she'd spared Caim begin to appear. It was so nice to laugh.

  “I cannot, Josey. He doesn't even see me. I'm just Your Majesty's servant.”

  “No, you are much more than that. You are my confidante and lady-in-waiting.”

  Iola's eyes grew wide in the dim light. “I am?”

  “Yes. And as an honored member of my court, you deserve the respect of your rank. Do you think your father would look favorably on a man like Captain Drathan?”

  “I think so. Both my sisters wed soldiers, and he gave them his blessing.”

  “Then we shall see to it.” Josey noticed the interior of the tent had lightened. Dawn was approaching. She fought back a yawn. “As soon as we return to Othir.”

  Once the words were said, Josey realized she had made up her mind. She'd done the right thing, for her people, for Caim, and for herself and her baby. Yes, Caim was the father, and perhaps the day would come when she would tell him, but he had his own destiny. Hers was to serve her nation and raise the heir to the throne.

  “Majesty. I mean, Josey. May I ask? Are you in love?”

  Iola couldn't hide a brief glimpse down, toward Josey's growing middle. Josey clasped her hand tighter. “Perhaps.”

  “Is that why you were talking to yourself before I entered?”

  Josey looked to the corner where Caim had vanished. It was empty now, its shadows fleeing as daylight grew stronger.

  The tent flap rustled, and a voice called from outside. “Majesty, a message has arrived. From the capital.”

  Josey stood up, adjusting her gown, which seemed tighter and less concealing than it had before. “Enter.”

  Iola curtsied as Brian ducked under the low doorway. “I'll go see if the cooks have made Your Majesty's breakfast.”

  Brian made room for the girl to scurry out, and Josey took the moment to run her hands through her hair. Good gods, why didn't I make him wait until I had at least cleaned my teeth?

  Brian stood there, looking at her. Just like he had looked at her at the creek. Then, as now, they had been alone. Then, as now, her heart had beat in her throat. He was so…everything.

  Brian seemed to suddenly remember the message in his hand. He stepped forward and extended it, but his eyes never broke contact with hers. “Majesty.”

  Josey took the letter, stained with mud on one side, but didn't open it. She should say something, but no words came to mind. What about “I love you”? He'd probably think I was a fool, or worse. But you won't ever know if you don't take a chance.

  He saved her by speaking first. “I'll be going back to Othir with your party, Majesty. If it pleases you.”

  Pleases me? What did he mean by that? Calm down, Josey. He's just trying to be courtly. “Your father's idea, Sir Brian?”

  “Not likely. He'll birth a calf when he finds out, but I'm going anyway. I want to see those southern lands you told me about. And if I'm to be lord of Aquos someday, I'll need to know how things are done at court. I don't want to be a poor country boy all my life.”

  That made her laugh. Twice in one morning. It must be a good day. “Well, I'll be glad for the company. I've decide
d we'll be leaving today. For the south, that is.”

  “Calling an end to your northern excursion so soon?”

  His smirk was insolent, and made her heart beat harder. She decided right then to release the hold she'd kept over her feelings since the day Caim left her standing in the cemetery. “Yes. I think I've found what I was searching for.”

  Josey opened the message. Brian said something else, but she didn't hear him as she read. “Brian, could you assemble my commanders here? Right away, please.”

  “That sounds serious.” Major Walthom entered with a horseman's rolling gait. “Bad news, Majesty?”

  Josey tamped down her irritation. The major had accounted himself with valor. Between that and her dearth of good officers, there was the possibility she would have to promote him again before they reached Othir, as much as it galled her.

  Josey didn't want to explain the contents of the message twice, but seeing how Brian was glaring at Walthom, she gave in. “Yes. The lord regent writes that the governors of Mecantia have voted to join the kingdom of Arnos in a new crusade against Akeshia. And they have severed all trade and diplomatic agreements with the empire because of our failure to”-she looked down at the letter-“‘eradicate the threat of the godless heathens of the east.’”

  Major Walthom sat down on her undergarment trunk. “That's prickly.”

  “And decidedly poor timing,” Captain Drathan said as he walked in. His left leg was bandaged from his thigh to the top of his boot, but he refused to walk with a crutch despite the army physicians' advice. “This smells of diplomatic sabotage.”

  Josey had been toying with the same thought. “Philomena.”

  Drathan nodded, but Brian asked, “An enemy of the throne?”

  “Yes,” Josey answered. “Well, not exactly.” But before she could launch into an explanation, another man entered her tent.

  “Empress, I thought you'd like to know…” High Captain Keegan took a look around and stopped. “Oh, sorry. Your Highn-er, Majesty. I didn't know you were having a meet. I could come back-”

  “It's quite all right, my lord.” Josey forced herself to smile. After all, if I'm going to keep my promise and grant Eregoth permanent autonomy, we must remain on friendly terms. “You were saying?”

  Keegan cleared his throat. “Ah, the Uthenorian survivors are fleeing north in good order. My band is going to follow after them, if that's all right. To make sure they don't get into any mischief.”

  Josey rolled up the message. “That's excellent, my lord. I have decided we shall start back south today, but before we left I wanted to speak with you about what assistance the empire can lend your country to rebuild.”

  Two more of her officers had arrived, and a quartermaster with the list of their remaining supplies, which were depressingly scarce. Brian talked with Keegan about the Eregoths' return trip home while Captain Drathan grilled the junior officers about their preparations for departure, and Major Walthom looked around for a drink. But there was one face missing. Josey's eyes misted as she imagined Hirsch standing at the table, scratching his beard as he listened to the others. She'd only known him for a couple months, but he had become such an important figure in her life since she took the throne. I would be dead if not for him.

  Josey wiped her eyes as Iola returned with a covered bowl. It was boiled oats, but Josey was too hungry to complain. While she ate, Iola herded everyone out of the tent and started rooting through the trunks. The girl pulled out a black gown with a high neck and long sleeves, but Josey stopped her and pointed. “No, that one, I think.” Hirsch always preferred her in lighter colors.

  “Majesty?”

  Josey nodded, and together they manhandled her into a flowing yellow kirtle with small green flowers that was only slightly muddied. When she was ready, Josey stepped outside the tent. A cool wind caressed her hair and pressed the material of the dress taut against her belly. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the sun on her face. Someone cheered, and the hurrah was picked up by other voices, until a multitude called her name. Josey looked across the camp to a lone hill. A yew tree stood atop the bald tor, its leaves shining like gold in the early light.

  An honor guard stood ready on either side of the elmwood casket. Captain Drathan and Brian stood at the front of the procession, looking to her.

  Iola clasped her hand. “Shall we, Majesty?”

  Josey took a deep breath. A trumpet called as the honor guard took up their cargo and began the slow march to the hill.

  Josey smiled. “Yes. Let's say good-bye to our friend.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The rising sun warmed his back through the heavy cloak. Balaam resisted the impulse to pull up his hood. He'd have to get used to the sunlight.

  He shifted his weight. His knee was stiff from where the scion had left his mark, but it would heal. Balaam focused on what lay ahead.

  The waves beat recklessly against the shore below, where a team of men wrestled large casks onto the waist of the tall sailing ship. She was beautiful and sleek, like a great wooden mare riding on the sea. Turquoise waters stretched into the morning's gray mist, slowly burning off with the advent of dawn. Balaam took a deep breath of the briny sea air and held it. I am my own man.

  He had dreamt of this day all his life, even before he understood what his spirit wanted. Freedom. It was the sweetest smell in any world.

  He hefted the haversack slung to his shoulder. Inside it was everything he owned: spare clothing, an extra pair of boots, a pouch of metal coins. His belt was empty, with not even a knife to weigh him down. He had left his kalishi sword behind in Erebus. A difficult decision, but he felt freer for it. He was tired of living by the blade. Perhaps one day he would find a place to settle, take up a peaceful profession, but for now he just wanted to see this world with new eyes.

  Balaam took his gaze off the sea and looked over his shoulder. Dorcas stood behind him, with her burgundy cloak draped over her arm and her hair flying free. He reached out, and she gave him an uncertain smile as she took his hand. She was nervous. But so am I. We're both trying something new. To trust again.

  He returned the smile and nodded, and then led her down to the shore where their ship awaited.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Caim stepped softly as he arrived back on the wastes. Kit, still wrapped in the cloak, sat beside a small fire made from broken sticks. She was beyond beautiful. The sight of her calmed him. She was the only person in the world he trusted completely. She knew all of his secrets, but she loved him anyway.

  She looked up, and then jumped to her feet, dropping the cloak as she ran to him so quick it was like her feet never touched the ground. But she was real when she crashed into his arms, and the kiss she planted on his lips seized his heart in a vise-grip.

  “Can't you two wait until I'm gone?”

  Malig dropped a pair of crude burlap sacks beside the fire. His stolen sword hung over his shoulder by a rope. “Looting already?” Caim asked.

  The big man shrugged as he squatted beside the fire. “Just trying to make something good out of this shit-storm you served up. There's lots of good stuff sitting around here, and I figure nobody's coming back for it.”

  “There's been fighting in Eregoth.” Caim told Malig what he'd learned from Josey about the invasion. “Are you still going back?”

  Malig nodded. “I've had enough of these wastes. I'll go back home and maybe find a wench. Settle down and have a pack of whelps. What about you two? Back to Nimea?”

  “Not on your life,” Kit growled.

  Caim laughed. “I guess not. But it's a long walk back to Liovard for one man alone.”

  “I was thinking about that.” Malig spat into the fire. “You get around pretty quick, vanishing in one place and appearing in another. Can you send me back?”

  Caim fought back a smile. He never thought he'd see the day when one of his northern countrymen would even acknowledge his powers, much less request their use. “I think so. Do you want to go to Liovard
?”

  “Sure. It's as good a place as any to start out. You know, Caim. You could come back with me. I'm sure Keegan would like having you around.”

  Caim was tempted. He could imagine clearing the land around his father's estate, trying to rebuild the manor house. Raise some horses, or cattle maybe. But then the ache in his chest reminded him of all that he'd been through, and all that he'd lost. And there were his powers, only half-understood and never far beneath the surface. Being around ordinary people didn't seem wise. “Thanks anyway. You ready now?”

  “Sure enough.” Malig looked around. “I got to hand it to you, Caim. You took us all the way to the edge of the world.”

  Kit hugged the man around his middle. “Be good, you big ox.”

  Malig chuckled and patted her on the head. When they separated, he picked up the sacks and squared his shoulders. “All right. Make with the magic before I lose my nerve.”

  Caim opened the portal on the other side of the campfire. “Safe journey. Until we meet again.”

  Malig stepped up to the black oval. “You think it's all right to leave Aemon buried out there? In the wastes, I mean. Seems awful far from home. And Dray. We don't even know where those bastards put his body.”

  “They are together,” Kit said. “And at peace.”

  Caim didn't know if Kit had some special knowledge, or if she was just trying to offer comfort, but Malig seemed to accept it. With a firm nod, he took a breath and jumped into the portal. Caim let it close behind him.

  “Caim, look.”

  He followed her gaze as streaks of cobalt appeared in the slate-gray sky. The blue turned to orange and then to a shimmering glow of pale gold as the sun broke over the horizon. Caim put his arm around Kit, and they watched the dawn sweep away the darkness for the first time in decades.