He followed her. “I see nobody waiting outside, or watching the door.”
“They might have arrived after Tareme and Bayla took me around here, and thought me already gone, though they should have waited in case I lingered inside.” Rielle winced at the irritation in her tone. More likely her parents had forgotten to send someone at all. Reaching the centre of the courtyard, she scanned the faces and shadows and saw nobody familiar. Nobody but Izare. They stood in silence for a while. Eventually she gave up.
“Well, I had better be heading home.”
“Then I had better be escorting you.”
She looked at him, then wished she hadn’t. His expression had been serious, but as she met his gaze he gave her one of his dazzling smiles and her stomach did a little flip.
“I suppose,” she said weakly. “I suppose I have no choice but to accept.”
He laughed. “You make it sound so distasteful.”
A flush of heat warmed her face and she looked down. “It’s not that. It’s … if I go with you Mother might think I deliberately avoided whoever she sent to meet me.”
He laughed. “Now why might you want to do that?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. To her amusement, his face reddened.
“I suppose that might be taken as an invitation for a compliment,” he admitted.
“So it wasn’t?”
He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it, shook his head and gestured towards the beginning of Temple Road. “I promise I will leave your side when you are close enough home to be safe, but distant enough that nobody at home will see who escorted you.”
Drawing in a deep breath and praying to the Angels for strength – though quite for what she wasn’t sure – she let it out and nodded. “Thank you, Aos Saffre.”
“Call me Izare,” he said and fell into step beside her as she began to walk.
Temple Road was busier than last quarterday, thanks to it being a warm but not searingly hot day. Rielle searched the faces of those travelling towards the temple in case one was her servant escort. Izare was silent, maybe waiting for her to lead the conversation. Or was he bored already? Surely he had better things to do than this.
“I hope this will not take you far from home,” she said
He shrugged. “Not at all. I live not far from your home, in the humbler side of the artisan quarter.”
By humbler he meant poorer. She looked away, remembering that when she first saw him he was talking to a prostitute. Tareme and Bayla would be scandalised, if they knew.
“Why do you live there?”
“The rent is cheap, which is why most of my friends live there. An artist’s income can be like a seasonal river – overflowing one hour and dry the next – only not as predictable.”
“I am not keeping you from your work?” she asked.
“No. I am between commissions.”
“What have you finished recently?”
“My last one was a spiritual. Quite a large one. I had to talk the customer out of including the entire history of the Angels.”
“That would have made for a very large spiritual. Though if you were paid by the hour it could be quite lucrative.”
He was shaking his head. “Commissions are always for set sums.”
“I see. What are you working on next?”
“I am waiting for confirmation on a portrait.”
“Do you paint many portraits? Who have you painted? Anyone I know?”
He smiled. “Not as many as I’d like. Mostly friends, though a few wealthy customers have commissioned portraits in the past.”
“And this next one?”
“Oh, you know her very well.”
Rielle glanced at him, then, seeing his odd expression, looked again to see a glint of mischief in his gaze.
“Waiting for confirmation, is it?” She shook her head. “Haven’t I already made it clear that my parents would never allow it?”
He grinned. “Yes, but would you allow it?”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Disobey my parents?”
“It’s only disobedience if they forbid it, and they won’t forbid it if they don’t know about it.”
“You want me to deceive my parents?”
He spread his hands. “No, but surely you don’t ask for permission to do every little thing you do in a day. Do you consult them on what you will wear, or what you will eat – or what you will paint?”
Rielle was so pleased that he had remembered that she, too, painted that she had to remind herself that he had asked a question.
“Parents are guides more than instructors,” she told him. “They steer children away from bad decisions.”
“Would sitting for a portrait truly be a bad decision?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked away, unable to voice Narmah’s concern that he might want more than a portrait. To raise such a subject was too bold, and might give the opposite impression to the one she intended.
“You must let me paint you,” he said, a strange intensity in his voice. “Or do a quick sketch.” He chuckled. “Besides, I never stop asking until a girl lets me paint her, so if you wish never to see me again all you have to say is ‘yes’.”
So if I want to see you again I should always say “no”? she wanted to ask, but she guessed he would take that as an invitation. “And what do you do then, after she has let you?” she asked instead, then felt her face warm as she realised there was as much, if not more, innuendo in the question she’d asked as the one she hadn’t.
He hesitated, then looked down. “Ah … we usually become friends.”
His sudden uncertainty made a laugh bubble up inside her, but she held it back. Maybe asking bold questions could have benefits. “You must have a lot of female friends, then.”
“Yes. Well, no, but…” He frowned and slowed to look back over his shoulder. “Something is…”
The street had grown noisier and more crowded, Rielle saw. People around them were stopping to look back towards the temple, now hidden behind the curve of the road. More were emerging from side streets and the windows in houses on either side were filled with faces and torsos. A distant bell was ringing – a sound that she had been conscious of as she had talked.
She also noticed that she was nearly halfway home. She had hardly noticed the time passing.
Izare stopped. Reluctantly, Rielle came to a halt, too, and returned to his side. The sound of the bell became louder as a shuffling figure appeared around the last turn. Rielle caught her breath as she saw that the man’s walk was hampered by chains. More restraints held his hands locked behind his back, and a chain extended from a collar to the three men coming into sight.
Rielle recognised Sa-Elem and Sa-Gest, but the third priest, whose face was scarred, was unfamiliar. The sight of the trio sent a chill down her spine and she looked more closely at their prisoner.
It took her a moment to recognise her abductor. He was dressed in ragged, dirty trousers and sandals, and he was covered in muck.
She had barely had time to wonder where the latter had come from when the crowd now lining the streets began to pelt him with missiles. Most exploded wetly on impact, but she saw him flinch once as something hit harder. A shout came from one of the priests, but she could not make it out. The objects that flew towards the tainted did not seem to touch him then, bouncing away or exploding in front of him. After he had taken several shuffling steps they began to strike him again and the crowd cheered and renewed their attack.
“Are you all right?” a voice spoke softly, close to her ear.
She jumped, then turned to stare at Izare. The tension inside her eased at his concerned expression.
“Yes. I think so.”
His eyebrows rose and he tilted his head to the side. “Would you like something to throw?”
Following the direction of the gesture, Rielle saw an enterprising foodseller walking along ahead of the tainted carrying a huge basket.
/> “Old fruit. Animal dung. A copee a bag,” the woman called.
Rielle shook her head. People were now pouring out of side streets, forming a disorganised crowd that parted as the tainted drew within twenty paces of them. Someone pushed past her, then another knocked her from behind and she heard Izare curse them.
“I would like to get out of this crowd,” she said aloud, not knowing if he heard.
A hand grabbed her arm and pulled, and she froze as she remembered the grip of her abductor, a sensation that still woke her from nightmares. Izare looked at her, then the hand slipped down to her hand and fingers entwined with her own. She shivered again, but this time with the pleasant shock of such a personal contact, and let herself be guided out of the press of people.
The side streets were as full as the main road – if not even more tightly filled. Izare led her to a doorway, saying something to the two young men there that persuaded them to move, though reluctantly. Rielle realised why they’d valued their position when her shoes knocked up against steps. Climbing up beside Izare, she turned to find she could now see over the heads of the crowd.
And just in time to see the tainted pass. He trudged onward, head bowed against the rain of fruit and faeces. Or in shame, she thought. It’s hard to tell. Once again she wondered why he had done what he had done.
The priests were solemn and watchful, their eyes on the crowd as much as their prisoner. Even Sa-Gest looked intimidating. Rielle could not help thinking they were searching for evidence of sympathy in the crowd. Or of guilt.
The tainted suddenly doubled up and something hard rattled over the ground. Sa-Elem called out and gestured at someone.
Wherever they’re taking him, they want him alive and uninjured, Rielle thought.
“Why don’t they protect him the whole time?” she asked.
“They must keep the crowd happy,” Izare told her.
“Do they always take the tainted through the city like this?” she asked, remembering her father’s observation that this was the third tainted found this year.
“Not always,” Izare replied. “Sometimes they are never seen again. I assume they remove those ones from the city late at night, or in a covered cart.”
“And nobody knows where they take them.”
He shrugged. “A prison somewhere, I expect.”
Rielle watched the chained man shuffle by. Will he become a prisoner, or is he to be executed somewhere else? Murderers were executed in public. What if a murderer was a tainted? What if they had used magic to kill someone? Maybe it was not such a safe or simple matter, killing a tainted. Maybe only a priest could do it. And they’d rather we didn’t think of our priests as killers.
The priests and their prisoner had moved past now, and people were either returning from wherever they had emerged or falling in behind to follow the priests. Izare stared after them. He was still holding her hand, Rielle realised. She ought to extract it, but she was curiously reluctant to. Yet now the crowd had dispersed it was more obvious that she was letting him. Sighing, she pulled her hand away. Izare looked briefly surprised, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it.
He stepped down to the road. “Well, that was a spectacle. An ugly one, though.”
Rielle followed. Gratitude filled her at his company. It would have been frightening to have been caught up in the crowd alone, and see the abductor again. And Izare doesn’t mind if I talk out of turn – or expect me to be silent, she realised. In fact, he seems to like it.
“Makes you wonder why anyone would learn magic, doesn’t it?” she ventured.
He grimaced and started walking, slowly so as not to catch up with the crowd. “Desperation can make a man do anything,” he replied. “People are saying…” He paused to look at her. “People on the street, that is. People are saying he did it to heal his dying wife.”
Rielle stared at him. “But he said he was tricked.”
Izare shrugged. “Men will also say anything they think might save them.” He nodded at the now-distant crowd.
“Well, someone must have taught him.”
“Someone who knows how to avoid being caught,” Izare agreed.
“Why do that? Why teach magic to someone, knowing it will condemn them?”
“Money.” Izare’s expression was grim. “Someone willing to steal from the Angels has no qualms about stealing from their fellow man. They don’t care that they are ruining lives and tainting souls.” He sighed. “And this city has many desperate and vulnerable people to prey upon. If the priests don’t find him we’ll be seeing more parades of shame.”
CHAPTER 5
Rielle suppressed a yawn then, remembering why she was tired, felt her pulse quicken again. She had woken far too early that morning, and once she’d remembered that she would – might – meet Izare again, sleep wouldn’t return. Even now, despite the tranquil and sober surrounds of the temple, her heart kept going all skittery.
Ridiculous, she thought. He only wants to paint my portrait. Even if he wanted more … even if I wanted more … my parents would never consider him an appropriate husband.
As old Sa-Baro began to speak she forced herself to pay attention.
“You must all know by now that the tainted captured two quarterdays ago, thanks to the bravery of one of our own…” – Sa-Baro paused to nod at Rielle – “… was not the first found in Fyre this last year. Sa-Elem has decided measures must be taken to remind the population of the punishment given to those who break the Angels’ edicts.”
He lifted a stack of paper-covered bundles.
“So today you will take a package each, then divide into groups of four. You will be spending the morning walking the streets, handing out these pamphlets to the citizens of Fyre. Any questions?”
“Will priests be escorting us?” one girl asked.
“No. You will be safe enough if you stay together, though there are places you should avoid. I have had maps drawn up for each group, indicating where you should and shouldn’t go. Now, stand and select your companions.”
Rielle rose and followed Tareme and Bayla to the end of the row of seats. There were a few groans and protests, but none were too loud. It was a fine day outside, warm but with a breeze cooling the city streets. Handing out pamphlets was a welcome change from lectures, readings and the questions the priest asked to test how well they’d absorbed their lessons.
Once all had gathered into groups, Sa-Baro walked straight to Rielle and handed her a package. “I selected the area closest to home for you,” he explained in a low voice. “So that you did not have far to walk alone when you are done.”
Rielle nodded and felt a pang of affection and gratitude for the old man. Did he know that her mother had completely forgotten to send a servant to escort her last quarterday? The woman had looked guilty when Rielle asked what had happened, then pretended she hadn’t forgotten, saying she needed everyone in the dyeworks occupied at this busy time and the city was safe now the tainted was gone.
Or had Sa-Baro seen her leaving the courtyard with Izare, and decided to ensure it didn’t happen again?
As he moved away, Rielle looked down at the map and sighed. Whether he did or not, it still means I won’t be seeing Izare today. She straightened to see Tareme and Bayla, and a girl named Famire who had joined their group, exchanging frowns. It would mean a longer walk home for them. And venturing near the poor quarter.
Izare lived near the poor quarter. Maybe they would cross paths.
“We’re going to the artisan quarter,” she told the others. “I’ve been there with my brother. It’s quite safe and clean. There are small public squares where people gather that would be ideal places to hand these out.”
Tareme smiled. “We will follow your lead then.”
Before long the girls were spilling out of the temple. Rielle led her friends down Temple Road. Famire was soon complaining that her feet hurt so Rielle slowed down. When they finally reached Tanner Street, Rielle confidently turned onto it, but she kept t
o the other side to the one she had taken last time, and avoided looking too closely at the place where the Stain had blocked her path. Even so, she was aware of a shadow still lingering there, smaller but as dark as before.
Opening the package, Rielle divided the pamphlets between them. The paper was coloured to conceal its low quality, and the warning on it had been printed in black ink, the grain of the wood block visible where the ink was fainter. They began handing them out, Rielle with the solemnity appropriate to their mission, Famire with a sullen reluctance and Tareme and her sister giggling and flirting.
Following the map, Rielle led them off Tanner Street to where she thought one of the squares must be. She was wrong, but they soon stumbled upon another, led by the sound of music. On all sides were shops selling food and drink, and two musicians were piping and strumming cheerful, rambling tunes. Under the plain awnings were tables and benches, many of them occupied by a mix of both local and foreign customers.
“This is nice,” Tareme said. “Let’s stop for a drink.”
Not waiting for agreement from the others, she moved to an empty table. Bayla sat down beside her and Famire dropped onto a bench as if she were exhausted. Joining them, Rielle winced as the three girls tossed their pamphlets together in the middle of the table, on top of the leavings of spilled drinks.
Suddenly in a jovial spirit, Famire ordered juices from a server clearly amused and pleased to have four well-off, unaccompanied young women as customers. When the drinks arrived Rielle was dismayed to find the juice was alcoholic. She sipped it slowly, knowing her mother would be angry if she came home tipsy.
“So Rielle,” Tareme began. “What did Izare Saffre have to say to you, last quarterday?”
Noting how this made Famire look up sharply, Rielle shrugged. “He just wanted to ask if I had recovered from my encounter with the tainted.”
“I doubt that’s all he wanted,” Bayla said, with a sly smile.
“He was very well behaved.”
Tareme’s eyebrows rose. “It was obvious he wanted more than to enquire after your health. Something about you interests him, I think, or he wouldn’t have been waiting for you. So what is it?”
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