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by Patricia Reding

  “Hmmm. This ‘something’ they wanted— They were looking for information . . . about you, weren’t they?”

  “Ahhh . . . yes, that’s right.”

  “And about . . . your charge?”

  He whipped his head in her direction. “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  What could he tell her? How much could he say without getting into the story of Reigna and Eden? “Ahhh . . . what do you want to know?”

  “Everything. What happened to her?”

  His thoughts in a jumble, he was suddenly struck dumb. Did he dare tell her how Rowena had died? Maybe. Indeed, maybe that’s just the right thing to tell her. Maybe that would trigger all her other memories.

  “Never mind,” Mara said, waving her hand. “I can see it would be hard for you to talk about her. You must have— You must have loved her very much.” She turned to watch his reaction.

  He smiled weakly, nodding his assent. “She was a very special woman.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” Truthfully, he didn’t want to talk about Rowena. Sometimes the memories still seemed so fresh, even after all the intervening years. And now Mara’s recollections made them seem so . . . current.

  “So, do you remember anything about the City of Light?” he asked.

  She raised a brow and grinned. “That was smooth.”

  “What?”

  “Changing the subject like that.”

  She glanced ahead at a wagon heading their way. She pulled to the side of the roadway so that it could pass easily.

  “What do I remember about the city? Let’s see . . .” She paused. “I’m sorry, nothing comes to mind.”

  “Well, we’ll be there soon enough. There’s no telling what you might remember when we get there. I can imagine how anxious you must be.”

  “The sooner the better then, I guess,” she said before dropping into the refuge of her own private, heart wrenching thoughts.

  Chapter Forty

  After a couple weeks on the road, Zarek and company finally neared their destination. Four guards rode ahead to inform Cark of the emperor’s imminent arrival. Now, as the man himself prepared to enter the front gate, camp soldiers lined the roadway. The shuffle and jingle of horses’ tack and weapons filled the air, along with a hum of expectation.

  The guards coordinated the group for entry. When everyone was prepared, four of them returned to the front. One took to the far right of the roadway, another to the far left. They would keep the camp residents at a distance. Two more rode front and center. Behind them, the emperor sat astride his ebony stallion. The animal swished its head, then pulled it back up with a whinny, evidencing its powerful energy. Zarek held his reins tightly, keeping the beast under his firm control.

  To the emperor’s left, rode Brother Pestifere astride a chestnut gelding that, though massive, seemed small compared to Zarek’s stallion. The priest held a hand at his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun’s intense light. To the right and left of the emperor and priest, rode two additional guards whose presence further cautioned onlookers to keep their distance.

  Next came Broden, with Striver to his left. More guards followed. Behind them came a wagon in which Sally and Janine rode, and another for the emperor’s personal assistant, Gonen. The next wagons carried various camp assistants: the cooks, kitchen staff, butchers, bakers, blacksmiths, metalworkers, and the slave women, including Farida, Yasmin, and Mouse, all now shrouded—pursuant to Zarek’s orders. Finally, at the rear, rode more guards.

  When the head of the group reached the camp’s main building, the entire contingent turned in unison toward the camp commander, Mortal Cark, who stood at attention just outside his residence. Grik attended him at his side. Marshall and Jerrett stood behind them.

  The four front guards rode past Cark. When they were far enough ahead that Zarek was situated before the place where the man stood, the guard to the center right raised his arm, signaling the entire entourage to halt.

  The emperor’s mount pranced sideways, shook its head, then calmed under the man’s control.

  Cark dropped to his knees, then prostrated himself.

  Taking their cue from their leader, the remaining camp residents followed suit. Like a wave, they bowed low, acknowledging the emperor’s arrival.

  The jingle of tack, and the sound of Zarek’s stallion blowing, cut through the air. Momentarily loosening his grip on his reins, he allowed his mount to prance while he gazed out at the camp.

  “Rise!” he barked out his order.

  Cark rose first. Seconds later, his men came to their feet, en masse. The squeaking of leather and clanking of weapons sounded out.

  “Greetings, citizens,” the emperor called out in his melodic baritone.

  The crowd cheered.

  He remained still, inviting his subjects to continue applauding and whistling. After a long minute, he raised his hand, signaling for their silence. All the while, his stallion pranced.

  Finally, things quieted.

  “My people, you are in a unique position. Chiran will one day, reign supreme. Even now, we make our plans. We serve Daeva, as should all, and one day, they will.”

  Once again, the camp residents clapped and whistled.

  “Yes,” Zarek continued, “we shall overcome.” He brandished a sword. “We shall use their own weapons against them! And you shall be amongst the first to enjoy Chiran’s victory.”

  Do you see that? Marshall asked his Oathtaker friend magically, over the cheering crowd.

  It’s the great sword! How did he get that?

  It is, indeed. I don’t know how he got it, but it certainly sounds like he has designs on Oosa.

  After the crowd quieted, Zarek turned toward the camp commander. “Approach,” he ordered.

  Cark stepped forward and bowed. “Emperor Zarek.”

  “I see you’ve prepared camp for our arrival.”

  “Indeed, sir.”

  “Instruct your men to direct my guards to our accommodations.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The emperor glanced toward where Grik, Marshall, and Jerrett, stood, then back Cark’s way. “I’ll require one of your assistants for the duration of our stay. His understanding of camp protocol will be most helpful.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We’ll tour your facility this afternoon and dine this evening.”

  “Yes, sir. How many shall we count in the contingent for dinner, sir?”

  “Me, Brother Pestifere, and of course, my son.”

  “Very well, sir. Is that all, sir?”

  “That is all.”

  Cark turned back. When he returned to Grik’s side, he whispered, “Your assistant is assigned to Zarek. He’s worked with Mansur often enough to know his way around here, and he’s sufficiently familiar with our protocol.”

  Grik’s eyes displayed a flicker of resentment. “You heard him,” he then ordered Jerrett.

  What’s this? Marshall asked his friend, magically.

  I’m to assist the travelers.

  Just then, one of the camp soldiers approached, guiding a lone mount at his side. Jerrett jumped into the saddle.

  Marshall watched the group move on. For a moment, his eyes stopped short. So, the rumors were true. Broden indeed accompanied the retinue. Fortunately, the young man hadn’t seen either Jerrett, or him. The Oathtaker didn’t want their presence known to him, at least not until he confirmed whether or not Broden willingly accompanied his father. Marshall found that prospect difficult to imagine, yet what else could explain his presence here? Perhaps the circumstances of his parentage compelled him to turn to evil.

  No, certainly not, he thought, even as he stepped back, seeking anonymity. Then, once again, his eyes widened. He caught his breath upon sight of two women sitting in an oncoming wagon, their gaze focused elsewhere. There was no mistaking their identities: Sally and Janine. He dared not let them see him.

  Jerrett!
>
  Yes?

  Broden is behind you. Maybe you can find out something—like how he managed to end up with Zarek, and why he brought the sword here. It had to have been him. But don’t let him know of your presence. We need to find out what brought him here and whether he’s turned sides. You know, as I think on it, Broden never swore a life oath to protect the twins.

  What? Why not?

  He wanted to when still a child, but Lucy wouldn’t allow him to do so. She insisted he wait until he was an adult, so that he’d have a full appreciation of what his vow meant.

  And he never did later?

  I think maybe he and Lucy just . . . forgot.

  Hmmmm. That’s not good.

  No, it’s not. Listen, Jerrett, you also need to keep track of the two women in the first wagon.

  Jerrett’s gaze shifted in their direction. Who are they?

  Sally and Janine.

  Rowena’s sisters?

  Yes—and Lilith’s, don’t forget.

  Jerrett, along with the emperor’s group, headed for the facilities prepared for them that sat at the far end of the camp, near the newly constructed slaves’ residence. A building there had been thoroughly cleaned and newly furnished for Zarek and Pestifere. The remaining members of the traveling group would stay in their wagons, or in tents that they’d erect on the grounds surrounding the building.

  When Zarek arrived, the four front guards dismounted and headed for the door. There, they stood at attention.

  The emperor and his spiritual advisor walked past them and inside without acknowledging their presence.

  “All right everyone,” shouted a guard as he closed the door, “set up camp.” He turned to Jerrett, now standing at his side. “You are?”

  “Jabari.”

  “Familiarize yourself with the group. Should Zarek require something, he’ll expect you to respond quickly and correctly.”

  The Oathtaker made his way through the crowd, watching the kerfuffle that accompanied the raising of camp. Noisy, the arrangements seemed at best, haphazard, yet within the hour, the job was complete. He meandered about, identifying himself to each person in the group, stopping from time to time to engage the guests in conversation, noting the people’s names and positions—and keeping out of Broden’s view. When he saw the young man leave one of the tents with a shrouded woman at his side, he approached the shelter.

  “Attention!” he barked, as he stepped inside. Quickly, he scanned the tent’s interior, where he found a man and two young women present.

  “Yes, sir?” the man responded.

  “Name’s Jabari.”

  “Yes sir, Jabari, sir. I’m Striver.”

  “And they are?” the Oathtaker asked, pointing.

  “This is Farida,” Striver said, gesturing her way, “and this is Yasmin.”

  “Did I see someone just leaving here?”

  “Yes. That would be Broden, the emperor’s son, sir.”

  “I see. And who was with him?”

  “I don’t know her real name, sir. Broden calls her ‘Mouse.’”

  Jerrett’s eyes widened. “Mouse, you say?”

  “That’s right, sir.”

  The Oathtaker nodded. “I’m to familiarize myself with you all,” he said. “So, what is your role here, Striver?”

  “I am Broden’s tutor. Zarek wants to be certain that his son learns our ways.”

  “Is he a good student?”

  The man grimaced. “Yes, sir.”

  “I see.” Though Jerrett sought to keep the interview short, he required information. “I’d been unaware Zarek had a son. How long has he been with the emperor?”

  “Oh, for some months now.”

  “That’s interesting. Did he mention where he came from?”

  “Only that he lived at a compound. He told me that some of Zarek’s soldiers made their way inside, then took him back to Chiran with them.”

  “I see.”

  “He said they intended to kidnap some important people from there—twins, I think he said. But they—the twins, that is—were already gone when the men arrived.”

  Jerrett blinked hard. “Gone?”

  “Apparently they’d disappeared some time before that.”

  The Oathtaker bit his lip. “What of this . . . Mouse . . . who was attending him just now?”

  “I only know that she was captured as a slave,” Striver said, “and that she was brought to Zarek’s palace about the same time that Broden was, sir.” He shrugged. “He seems to have taken a liking to her.”

  “Oh?”

  “He rarely lets her out of his sight.”

  “I see. What of these women?” the Oathtaker inquired with a tip of his head.

  “Gifts from the emperor to his son, but as I said, he has eyes only for Mouse.”

  “I see. So . . . as Broden’s tutor, he must trust you implicitly.”

  Striver cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “Of course, sir. I owe him my life.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. When he first arrived, claiming to be Zarek’s son, the soldiers were unsure of the veracity of his claim. They put him in prison, where I met him.” Striver told the Oathtaker how Broden had chosen him as his tutor.

  “Hmmm. That’s an interesting story. And Zarek believed the young man’s claim? That he was his son?”

  “Not at first. But his aunts, who stay with Zarek, confirmed his identity by a birthmark.”

  Jerrett turned to leave, then glanced back. “So, you said that the soldiers brought him here from his home against his will, but that he now stays willingly. That’s interesting.”

  Striver shuffled his feet. “I don’t know, sir. I only know that Zarek has banded him.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The emperor can control him through a magic band.”

  Jerrett lifted the tent flap. “I see.”

  “I’ve only ever seen him use the band once—when Broden challenged Brother Pestifere for trying to take advantage of his property.”

  “His property?”

  “Of Mouse, sir.”

  “I see. Well, I’ll be around later to meet this young man. He has an interesting story.”

  Zarek’s soldiers wore their hair long and shaggy, and their clothing, dirty. Mismatched knives, swords, and cudgels, hung from their belts. Dog dung trimmed their boots, sodden from a recent rain. The animals barked, whined, and groveled their way about, urinating on steps, shrubs, tents, and more. They scurried from one man to another, begging for handouts, only to be turned away with sharp kicks to their ribs.

  Jerrett strode past the chaos, deep in thought. He had a single wagon yet to review. He stopped short as a dog rushed him. He caught the beast’s eye, then growled at it.

  Surprised, the canine dropped to his forelegs and put his head on his paws. Then it rolled over, exposing its belly in submission.

  The Oathtaker walked past the animal. A few seconds later, he found it at his side, matching his every step. Stifling a grin, Jerrett stopped suddenly. When the dog followed suit, he placed his hand under its muzzle and tipped its face up.

  “Good boy.”

  The canine wagged its tail.

  “Come,” Jerrett commanded with a grin, pleased that someone had trained it well.

  He approached the wagon in which Sally and Janine stayed, surprised to find guards standing in front of it. When he informed them that he required entrance, one of the men lifted the back flap and placed a step on the ground for him.

  With the dog accompanying him, Jerrett stepped up and inside. Air that smelled of old perfume, old mildew, and old sweat left in clothing for days, perhaps months on end, greeted him. Somewhere amidst the odors, the Oathtaker caught the smell of fear. He tried to rid his nose of it, even as the dog at his side growled, exposing its teeth.

  “Down,” he commanded.

  The canine’s growl died in its throat as it sat back on its haunches.

  “My name is Jabari,” he greeted the women.
“Welcome to Camp Cark.”

  The first of them, dressed in gray homespun wool, sweat trickling from her brow, stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the dog. “I’m Sally.” She patted her hair, in a sort of nervous gesture. At the crown of her head sat a bright yellow bow.

  Jerrett’s eyes narrowed. Odd the woman would wear such a whimsical decoration at her age. But it was her eyes that most surprised him. They evidenced something old—something tired, weary, and pained. He sensed her discomfort. Why?

  He turned to the other woman. “And you are?”

  “Janine.”

  Jerrett knew Rowena had been a beauty, given the many times over the years that Dixon had commented on how the twins looked like their mother—and they were without rival. Marshall, also, spoke of how Lilith could turn a man’s head—any man’s head, except for Dixon’s, as Marshall told it—with the slightest come hither look. But there was no beauty to be found in these two.

  “I’m to familiarize myself with you all.” The Oathtaker gazed at Sally. “I must say, you two are the first of your group that I’ve come upon with guards in attendance. Is there something I should know? Are you under any particular threat?”

  The women exchanged a quick glance, then looked back at their visitor.

  Is that defiance in their eyes? he wondered.

  The dog growled.

  “We’ve been provided a guard for our protection,” Sally said.

  Jerrett, accustomed to taking the measure of a man, surmised that the measure of a woman was little different. Sally spoke falsely. But if not for their protection, what purpose did the guards serve? Did Zarek mistrust the women?

  “Very well,” he said. “Should you be in need of anything, send word for me.”

  “And I suppose you’d come to our rescue if needed. Is that right?” Sally grimaced. “Why not just come right out and admit that you’re here to spy on us. Do you take us for fools? No man in all of Chiran would willingly provide assistance to another—let alone to a woman.” She turned away.

  The Oathtaker choked back a response. If he appeared too different from other Chiranians, the women might identify him for what he truly was.