The Adorned

by John Tristan

  “I shall find a clerk. A judge, if it’s needed. I will rip up your indenture, and I want them to see it. To witness it.”

  I looked away. “You do not need to do that.”

  He pushed me gently onto my back and traced his fingers through my hair. “I do.”

  “I have never minded—”

  “I do, if you are to be my apprentice.”

  I caught my breath and looked at him. His eyes had gone so grave. I could not bite back a laugh. He frowned at me.

  “No,” I said, “please don’t look so worried.”

  “I can’t help it. You worry me!”

  There was a note of the familiar Tallisk in his voice, and I smiled.

  His frown turned to a near-glower, now. “What is that smile for? What are you thinking?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Are you saying you do not want it?”

  “That is not it.” My voice had gone soft. “All of this...being here, beside you. It was my dream. I never thought it would become reality. Now...now you say you want to make all my dreams come true.” I wiped my eyes. “Are you sure you wish to do this?”

  “Yes.” He turned so we lay curled together, my back to his chest, and he spoke softly into my ear. “I have been, for a long time. I merely lacked courage.”

  “You?”

  “Don’t mock.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not.” I took a breath, gathering my own courage. “Would you still wish me as apprentice if you—if you didn’t—”

  “If I were not in love with you?”

  I closed my eyes. When I spoke again, my voice shook only a little. “Yes. If you were not in love with me.”

  “You have a good hand, and your designs have potential.” He spoke in his professional voice now. It was strange to hear that tone rumbled out against my bare back. “If your talent had been seen when you were younger, any tattoo-master might have taken you on. But to tell the truth—”

  I half turned, so I could see his eyes. “The truth?”

  “Your hand, your passion for it...it is half the reason I fell.”

  I smiled. “Half?”

  “I don’t know.” He grimaced. “Who can measure feeling?”

  “But you love me.” I whispered it, and he went still.

  “Yes. And—”

  “And I love you.”

  “Etan.” He kissed the back of my neck. I closed my eyes.

  With sunrise creeping over the city, with Tallisk warm and breathing slow beside me, I fell asleep once more.

  * * *

  In the afternoon, Yana returned. She was carrying a basket of foodstuffs and a scrawled note from Doiran.

  “His sister begged him remain,” she said, shifting from foot to foot as if she expected Tallisk’s anger. “There’s been...unrest, and they have children in the house.”

  Tallisk did not shout, or storm to fetch him; he only nodded. “What about you?”

  She blinked at him. “What about me?”

  “Don’t you have your mother to take care of?”

  “Sir—” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not as panicked as Doiran’s sister by all this. Besides, you need me, you and Etan. Especially with Doiran away.”

  “You’re a fine key-master, Yana.” He squeezed her shoulder. “But if the time comes when your mother needs you more, I will not keep you here.”

  She looked at him, her mouth half open. This, it seemed, was the last thing she had expected from him. “Thank you, sir.”

  He took the basket and looked inside it. “This will last us a while.”

  “Doiran gave me a list and told me where to go.” She smiled. “His name still opens doors with the right merchants, even in a time like this.”

  “He’s a good man.” Tallisk hoisted the basket and took it into the kitchen—but before he went, he bent down to me and dropped a kiss on my forehead, rough and warm.

  Yana eyed me behind Tallisk’s back, and I felt myself go red. Still, I held her eyes.

  “So,” she said softly. “It’s happened at last.”

  I raised a brow. “Were you taking bets?”

  “No, though I should have.” She laughed. “Doiran told me what he said to you. I said it wasn’t his apprentice you wanted to be. Not entirely, in any case.”

  I raised my hands. “Was it so obvious?”

  “No. But Isadel has a keen eye, and we liked to talk.” She lifted her chin a little, smiling at the memory. “And once something’s pointed out, it’s hard to unsee.”

  “Isadel’s a damned gossip,” I said, smiling back. “She should have held her tongue.”

  Yana’s face fell a little, and her eyes held me fast. “Treat him kindly,” she said. “He’s a hard shell, but his heart is soft for it.”

  “I know.” I looked down. “Yana, I love him.”

  She was quiet for a moment. Then she broke the silence with her laugh. “Well, I don’t know what you see in him, but the heart’s compelled by strange currents, isn’t it?”

  “Too strange indeed.” Tallisk’s voice came from the door and my pulse leaped—how long had he been listening in?—but instead of blustering he matched Yana’s grin. “And thank the gods for that.”

  She swept a bow. “All the luck to you, then.”

  “We won’t need luck.” He took my hand and pulled me to my feet. “Come on. Let’s have something to eat, and a glass of wine with it.”

  “Does that offer include me?” Yana asked.

  “Of course. You’ll be cooking it.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  When I next woke, it was in an empty bed; the sound of voices downstairs had stirred me from my sleep. I rolled over into the hollow of fading warmth where Tallisk had been. Something like loss caught at me, all unexpected, as I pressed my face to his pillow. I shook off the strange sense of melancholy—after all, I only had to go downstairs to wrap my arms around him again.

  The voices rose in sudden argument; I heard Tallisk shouting. I wrapped a robe around myself and opened his door, quietly shuffling my way onto the landing. Out here, the voices carried clearly, or Tallisk’s did at least. Whomever he was speaking to was muffled. I could only hear one side of the argument.

  “I knew that he was a fool,” he said, “but this is beyond all sense. What next—will he parade through the streets on a golden litter, eating candied fruit?”

  There was a few seconds’ murmuring; Tallisk did not let the visitor speak long.

  “Frankly, I don’t care what he told you.”

  The murmurer had another moment’s reprieve before Tallisk’s voice rose again.

  “Oh, is that so? That should make us very popular around here, shouldn’t it? We might as well mount that litter beside him.”

  “It is not—” I heard another man raise his own voice then lower it again, in a sing-song rhythm of mounting upset. “—the honor done to your house—”

  “You call it an honor? Well, I call it insanity.”

  There was another gap in the argument. “—has insisted—” The man’s voice was now climbing in pitch as well as volume, a rising screech of indignation. “—never been treated this way! I work for your patron. You would do well to remember that.”

  Yana had emerged from her room, bleary-eyed, and mouthed her confusion at me. I raised my shoulders, just as lost as she was. We stayed still, listening to the trailing ends of the argument below.

  “And he would do well to remember that he is my patron—not my liege lord. Now, will that be all?”

  “That,” the other man spat, “will be all. Save for the gifts His Grace is sending. I will make sure he knows in what spirit they were received.”

  “You do that.”

  The door slammed shut. Tallisk emerged into the hall, breathing heavy like a man who’d been running, or fighting. He looked up and saw us on the stairs.

  “The Count is having a feast,” he said.

  Yana laughed—the sound s
tuttered out into nothing when she realized that Tallisk had not been jesting. “With the city gates closed? With people starving outside?”

  “So it seems.” Tallisk’s mouth twisted in something like a smile. “It is an observance of some Blooded ritual. It seems that it cannot wait.”

  Yana blew a sharp gust of air between her lips. “That’s...unfortunate.”

  “They are sending us...gifts.” He grinned at empty air, a cornered wolf’s show of teeth. “Gifts of wine and smoked meat and fine pastries.”

  She swore. “Does he want our windows stoned in?”

  “No—what he wants is for us to raise a glass to his name and be happy and grateful.” Tallisk leveled his eyes with mine. “What he wants is you at his feast, Etan.”

  I felt a strange shiver under my skin, as if the Count’s Blood was crawling at the mention of its master’s name. I hugged myself. “What did you tell him, sir?”

  Tallisk grimaced. “Gods, Etan, don’t call me sir. Not now. Not anymore.”

  I could not help but smile at that. “Whatever I call you, the question remains the same.”

  “What do you think I said?” He grunted. “You aren’t beholden to him anymore. You no longer have to parade yourself in front of him and all his cronies, and worse.”

  I was silent for a moment. Yana must have seen something in my eyes—she slid back into her room with a murmured excuse, leaving Tallisk and me alone in the hallway.

  “It is your ink I wear as Adornment. I am proud of it.” I held his gaze, undaunted by his beetling brow. “And I am not ashamed of what I have done in its service.”

  He looked away. “I—I am sorry.”

  I descended the stairs and laid a hand against his cheek. “Roberd,” I whispered, and he kissed me.

  “It is my ink,” he said, “but it is his Blood in you, as well.”

  “I know.” My smile turned mischievous. “And in Isadel as well. It still took his wife to finally win her.”

  He laughed at that, at least a little, and I felt a small, fierce sense of triumph to know I had caused that—that sweet, singular sound. He looked younger than his years, when he laughed.

  “I won’t go,” I said, before his smile had a chance to fade. “I wouldn’t want to feast while people are starving outside. I’d go if you asked, but...” I shook my head. “I do not want to.”

  “Then don’t,” he said. “You will never have to again. Unless you wish it.”

  Unless I wish it. I swallowed and traced the line of his cheek. It was a heady thought.

  There was a knocking at the door, hard and rapid. Tallisk tensed under my touch; I drew back from him.

  “That will be Karan’s bloodguards again,” he said. “With our gifts.”

  He went to the door. I slipped down into the parlor and twitched the curtain open, just a crack, so I could see who stood before our house. It was a small carriage, unmarked and plain, and two men carrying woven baskets.

  I let the curtain fall and went to stand close to the door, listening to Tallisk’s words. A cold wind had slipped its fingers into the hallway. I was still in my house robes, and I shivered at its touch.

  “Gentlemen,” Tallisk said, the icicle tone of his voice implying that he did not think them any such thing.

  “Maestro Tallisk.” The bloodguard who replied matched his chill. “These are the gifts of the Blooded house of Karan, given to those fortunate enough to partake of their patronage.”

  “Take them back,” Tallisk said. “We don’t want them.”

  The bloodguard was silent for a moment. “Are you rejecting His Grace’s gifts?”

  “What do you think?”

  I took a deep breath and stepped out onto the porch. My breath was white mist in the chilly air; I put my hand on the small of Tallisk’s back. “My lords,” I said softly, as if they were Blooded nobles at a feast.

  The bloodguards stared at me. Some of my Adornment was on show, I knew, in the places my house robe did not quite cover. The leaves on my skin shivered with me in the cold breeze, stirred by their master’s Blood.

  “Etan—” Tallisk spoke through gritted teeth, but the rebuke did not come. Hooves clattered down Nightwell Street, suddenly loud in the chill silence. We looked up, all of us. The bloodguards’ hands went to their weapons, then dropped back to their sides as they saw who had come riding to our house.

  It was Lord Loren. He rode alone, on a black gelding. A cape of martial blue lay around his shoulders like a conqueror’s mantle. He saw me there, and smiled, and his smile was like a knife coming out of the darkness, sharp and unexpected.

  I sidled closer to Tallisk, feeling the comfort of his solid warmth beside me. He felt the clench of my hand on him and looked at me for a brief moment before addressing our newest visitor. “Lord Loren,” he said. “What brings you to our house?”

  The smile fell away from Loren’s face. “I would have words with you, Maestro, and your Adorned.” He dismounted. “Would you have me?”

  Tallisk gave a quick glance in my direction. I blinked at him—then I realized he was looking for my approval. I gave a nod, and he turned back to Lord Loren. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll have Yana care for your horse.”

  “No need,” Lord Loren said. “I will not be staying long.”

  He glanced toward the bloodguards. They had not spoken to him. I knew they had recognized him, but neither had bowed or said his name. “I would accept Count Karan’s gifts, Maestro Tallisk. Give them to a temple if you wish, but accept them. They’ll do no good in His Grace’s hands.”

  “Please,” I said, inserting myself between them. The street was ice cold on my bare feet. “We will accept His Grace’s gifts with pleasure, my lords. Forgive us—this is not an easy time for anyone. As you must well know.”

  The bloodguard grunted. “Very well. You should be thankful, Maestro Tallisk, that your Adorned is wiser than you are.”

  Tallisk half glanced toward me, and I saw the shadow of a smile. “I am,” he said.

  He had spoken softly. The words had not been meant for the bloodguard to hear.

  Chapter Fifty

  After the Count’s bloodguards had left us, Yana took the food to the kitchen, then went to see to Lord Loren’s horse. Despite what he had said earlier, he did not object. He did not allow me to take his cloak, though, nor did he take up Tallisk’s offer of wine.

  “As you might have guessed, Master Tallisk—” he had dropped the Maestro of the Blooded dialect, now that we were alone, “—I am not here for pleasure.”

  “If I may be so bold then, Lord Loren, why are you here?”

  He hunched his shoulders and laughed—or at least made a sound somewhat like a laugh. “You may be so bold, Master. This is your house, after all. I am here to ask a favor of you.” He looked at me then. “Or rather, of your Adorned.”

  “What kind of favor?” Tallisk asked.

  I knew already. I could see it written in his eyes. “This is about Count Karan,” I said.

  Lord Loren nodded slowly. “It is.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Once more, Etan, I must ask you to carry my words.”

  “Carry your words, my lord?”

  There were dangerous harmonics in Tallisk’s voice. I glanced his way. He did not know—I had never told him—what Lord Loren had asked of me at Fevrewood.

  “Yes,” Lord Loren said. “I find myself in need of a messenger—one the Count will deign to receive. I am given to understand that he has asked you, Etan, to attend his feast...and that his request has been refused.”

  Tallisk crossed his arms over his chest and said nothing.

  “I understand if you have...grown dissatisfied, with the Count’s patronage.” He half laughed. “Believe me, Master Tallisk, that I understand. But let me hire Etan’s display for that time instead. You will be well compensated for his trouble.”

  “Etan is no longer available for displays,” Tallisk said. “His indenture has been ended. He is to be my apprentice.”


  Lord Loren blinked at me. For a moment, he seemed at a loss. “Then it would seem congratulations are in order. Are they?”

  “Yes.” I lifted my chin. “They are.”

  He nodded. “Then it is you I must appeal to.”

  “Appeal to him all you wish,” Tallisk said. “His answer will be the same as mine.”

  Loren fixed me with his gaze. “Is that so?”

  “My lord.” I inclined my head to him. “You have always been kind to me. I will listen to what you have to say.”

  “Etan...”

  “Roberd.” I turned to him and half smiled. “You said my choices were my own.”

  His hands tensed into fists and then released. “Of course.”

  I laid a hand on his chest. “May I speak with Lord Loren alone for a moment?”

  Without a further word, he nodded and left us.

  The room seemed suddenly smaller. Lord Loren coughed and looked everywhere but my eyes; a deep quiet had settled between us.

  “My lord,” I said. “Were you not invited to his feast?”

  “Hah!” His laugh rang through the quiet like a broken bell. “I am afraid that I have spent whatever capital I had with the Count, and more. I am no longer welcome at his feasts.” He paused. “I am no longer welcome in his Council.”

  I swallowed. “What happened?”

  “I gambled,” he said. “I gambled that the Count would value my presence more than this—this idiocy of closing the city against his own people. Of turning a deaf ear to the cries of starving men. I gave the Council an ultimatum. They chose poorly.” A kind of grin dragged at one half of his mouth. “I may have said a few unfortunate things.”

  I shook my head. “I cannot believe the Count would simply...cast you away.”

  “I am sure things could be mended between us, given time.” He sighed. “But time is something that I do not have. I cannot wait for months of careful politeness.”

  I thought that I knew what he wanted from me, then. “What makes you think he would listen to me, my lord, were I to carry your message? This is not some simple concession on a treaty—something that can be bought with a kiss.”

  He watched me silently. “I do not ask you to buy it with a kiss. I ask you to come to the Count as...his family, in a way.”