‘How did you get that scar?’
They lay curled together, the rich warm light of full morning bathing them both, making Marith’s body white silver and Thalia’s dark bronze. She traced her fingers over the mass of heavy scabs on the back of his left hand.
‘I told you, I killed a dragon …’
‘No!’ She laughed. ‘That’s too absurdly romantic to speak of.’
‘It wasn’t at the time.’ He laughed too. ‘And then some … other things happened. Mostly involving swords. Mine and other people’s. Stopped it ever healing.’
She leaned over and kissed his face. ‘What about the marks around your eyes, then? Did you kill a manticore? Or a cockatrice?’
‘No. No!’ She started back from him. He kissed her face in turn, filled with guilt and shame. ‘Don’t ask me about that. Please.’
She said, ‘A woman?’ But then she looked into his eyes, and her own eyes widened a little as if in fear, and she was silent.
‘Nothing interesting.’ He kissed the scars of her left arm and then her mouth. Her breasts. Her throat. The dark things receded. He kissed her stomach. The smooth soft curve of her hip.
And then there was a loud knocking on the door, and Rate shouting that they needed to get up, and that he knew exactly what they were doing in there but didn’t expect it would take Marith very long so he might as well get it over with, he just hoped Marith could properly rise to the occasion, if they knew what he meant. Thalia sat up with a cry. Curse Rate. Curse him and kill him and let the dogs eat his corpse. He should have died back in Sorlost.
‘It’s all right.’ Marith stroked Thalia’s face, helping her to pull her dress on and comb out her hair. He kissed her hands as she did so. Long, slim fingers, dark in her black hair … Utterly distracting. Mesmerizing, like everything else about her. Desire for her burned in him like nothing he’d ever known. Even when he closed his eyes, he saw her face, shining, brilliant with light. ‘He’s just jealous. He’s not an outcast Altrersyr Prince making love to the holiest woman in the Sekemleth Empire. And also the entire inn must know what we’re doing.’ He pulled on his own clothes. He’d ripped his shirt taking it off last night, he discovered. Thalia laughed at that. ‘We should go down to breakfast,’ he said, ‘before Rate breaks the door down trying to see you naked.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Ith, with its forests and meadows and mountains rich in gold and quicksilver, where the old gods had walked before the world was changed.
Why it had not occurred to him to go there, now seemed a mystery to Marith. He was their kin, the only child of the king’s own sister. He was fourth in line to the throne, for gods’ sake! They would take him in and make him again what he was. He would be a prince in exile, building a court around him, claiming his rights as heir to the White Isles. But it somehow hadn’t crossed his mind, when the ship carrying him into exile dumped him unceremoniously on the quayside of a run down Immish fishing port and sailed straight away again, leaving him with nothing but the clothes he stood up in and twelve gold marks to his name, entirely and utterly alone for perhaps the first time in his life.
The fact that his father’s men had fed him enough hatha to poison a small town during the journey had possibly had something to do with it, it occurred to him. He might not have been thinking particularly clearly by the time they left him at the Skerneheh docks. Remembering how to stand up had been about the limit of his intellectual capabilities. And then … They’d given him enough money to break himself with and he’d more than obliged them, failing only to actually just drop dead in a gutter one night. Until Skie found him, and somehow death in battle had seemed marginally less unappealing than death choking on his own vomit. Everything after that had been happenstance. Chaos and confusion and still half-hoping he could just die on them. Blot it out. Make it all go away. And now here he was, somehow not only alive, but bedding the holiest and most beautiful woman in Irlast. That was probably worth something, in the balance of things.
They came down to breakfast hand in hand, to leers from Rate and several of the other guests. Marith smiled back at them. He held his head with a confidence he hadn’t felt for a long time, easy in himself, cheerful, almost without pain. The light shone in Thalia’s face, warming him. He was surprised the other men couldn’t see it. Or perhaps they did, for they watched her softly and their leers died away.
He sat down opposite Tobias, poured himself a bowl of smoky-scented tea. He was hungry and thirsty. Normal feelings. Even the physical pain of his hatha cravings seemed to have subsided for the moment.
‘We’re going to Ith,’ he said cheerfully.
Tobias looked at him. ‘We are, are we?’
Marith flashed him a smile. A new feeling was coming, bright and warm, a remembrance of things a long time ago. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure my uncle will be pleased enough with you for escorting me there. See you’re rewarded according to your due. When I come into my own, I might even give you all something myself. Minor titles, maybe. A small estate and a large pile of gold.’
A long pause. Tobias seemed to be contemplating things. ‘Can’t say it hadn’t occurred to me, boy. Obvious choice. But it’s a long way …’ And I don’t trust you a hair’s breadth, his face said, clear as day.
‘So is everywhere. We have money for transport.’
Tobias looked at him. ‘We do, do we?’
Stubborn, wretched, suspicious bastard. Marith tried to keep his voice calm, though his hand went to his belt where his knife was. ‘Forgive me, Tobias, I misspoke. You have money for transport. Money I will repay you in triple once I am back where I belong, swimming in gold and dripping in diamonds or however it goes. Money you wouldn’t be here to hold if I hadn’t done your dirty work for you when it mattered. I’m tired of all this. We’re buying horses, better equipment, better food. I’m ordering you.’
Alxine muttered something inaudible. Rate stared at him.
‘You’ve changed your tune, boy,’ Tobias said after a moment. Still trying to beat him down. Not seeing what he should see. ‘Must be good between the sheets, your girl there. Thought all you wanted was an unpleasant death.’
Their eyes met again. You look like what you are, boy … Tobias shuddered and looked at the floor.
Beat you, Marith thought with a grin. Beat you. He went over to the innkeep, ordered wine, demanded someone fetch anyone who might have a horse they might be persuaded to sell him, demanded the village women be summoned to find better clothes for himself and Thalia. The three other men sat dumb.
They left that afternoon, a very different group from the four who had walked down out of the hills. Marith was dressed in a silk shirt and leggings, a green coat with embroidered sleeves meant for the local big man’s favourite son’s wedding; Thalia in a yellow dress meant for the local big man’s favourite son’s bride. Both had been hastily adjusted while a messenger was sent around the farms looking for horses and a cart or carriage. Thalia, Marith had realized, had absolutely no idea how to ride. She needed shade and comfort. And a carriage would be a better place for the two of them to sleep than a tent.
Any thought of returning to the meeting place with Skie and digging out the stuff they had left behind was long gone: they were not members of The Free Company of the Sword now but a high noble, his lady and their escort. They had white bread and water and wine and fresh fruit stored in the carriage, grain for the horses, blankets, pillows for Thalia. Marith wore the black sword at his hip, the blue flames almost visible along its blade. The people of the town bowed down before him, not knowing who he was but sensing the power in him; Rate and Alxine and Tobias seemed to diminish before him, finally, truly seeing him. Thalia watched him silently with dazzled eyes.
It was only a farmer’s wagon, covered over in plain brown canvas; the horses farm horses, unattractive and cheaply saddled; the clothes shoddy and rough. But it would all suffice for now, until they reached Immish and could get something far, far better. The whole lot had cost
four talents; Tobias had paid it out like a man in a nightmare. How all this had happened, he could not seem to understand. Marith, in truth, could barely understand it either. He felt as he had felt when he killed the Imperial Guard. He felt as he had felt when he killed the dragon. He felt as he had felt as a child. He rode his horse at the head of the group, his head held high, forcing the horse to run and buck and plunge and shy up so that he could feel the giddy power he had over it, making it do as he willed it, breaking it to him. I am myself again, he thought. But that thought sobered him, and he rode back and came alongside the carriage, looking at Thalia, and something of the fear he had felt before came back into him.
He ordered the party to stop for the night a little before dusk. Thalia should not be made to travel during the dusk. Seserenthelae aus perhalish: Night comes. We survive. A strange time. A time of nothingness. He found himself looking forward to seeing it with her beside him.
They were taking the old abandoned desert road, the road they had flanked on their way in, riding out into the great wild places where nothing lived. Only a few hours’ ride from the town, and the world was empty. Dust and rock underfoot, scrub trees, delft grass, carrion birds. The Dragon’s Mouth overhead, already visible in the twilight, blazing red. A fire was made up, food prepared and eaten and cleaned away: Marith did not help with the work but sat apart, a lord watching his servants, sipping wine, gazing east into the night.
Thalia helped them, helplessly, for she had never even thought of these kinds of chores. She fetched water from the stream that had drawn them to camp there, delighting again in the rush of water, the feel of the wet sand of its shallow bed beneath her feet. Rate grunted thanks at her when she gave him the filled pail, then turned his back on her, his shoulders set and tense. She stood for a moment then walked over to Marith.
‘May I join you?’ It was almost the first time they had spoken since they had left his bedroom that morning, everything since then a bustle of preparations and Marith lording it over everyone. She hadn’t been sure how he wanted her to treat him. Whether he expected her to kneel at his feet as the farmers selling him the cart almost had. But his face brightened to a warm smile as he saw her.
‘You don’t … you don’t need to ask that.’ Sorrow in his eyes for a moment: he is afraid I might no longer want him, Thalia realized in confusion. She sat down beside him and he kissed her gently, a faint sigh of something like relief on his lips. ‘This is better, isn’t it? Wine and cushions and treated as befits you. And all as nothing compared to what I’ll give you soon enough. All the gold in my kingdom, I’ll lay at your feet.’
She looked into the dark sky, following his eyes. ‘What are you looking at?’
‘What am I looking at? The sky. The stars. My home. Going to Ith makes me think of things … And what I’ll do after that … A few days ago all I wanted was to drink till I was dead. Now …’ He kissed her again. ‘What are you looking at?’
Thalia paused for a moment, then said in a rush, ‘I should have been killing a man, yesterday evening.’
‘Now that’s an interesting thought … Not entirely an unpleasant one, either.’ He drew her closer towards him. Disgust and desire. Desire and disgust. Would that be all it ever came to? He saw her frown. Grew serious. ‘We’ve both killed men and women and children, beautiful girl. You with far more reason than I have, and far less choice.’
Another silence, gazing side by side into the dark.
Thalia gestured to the three men by the fire. ‘They hate you, now, you know.’
‘They always hated me. But now they fear me. And that’s better too, don’t you think?’
‘Why? Why should you want to be feared? Or hated?’ Thalia frowned. ‘You almost sound as though you enjoy it.’
‘I don’t enjoy it. I just don’t care. Everyone fears and hates me. Or rather, everyone fears and hates my name. What I am. You feared me too, a little, at first. Admit it. I saw your face when I told you who I am.’ He sighed, rubbed hard at his eyes. ‘I’ve read something about your Temple. I know what it means, your Lord of Living and Dying. Why you do what you do. Did what you did. I don’t understand it, but I know what it means. You make things live. Keep the balance. You bring life to the living, and death to those who need to die. Which is not something anyone can say about many members of my family.’ He closed his eyes and murmured, half to himself, half to Thalia:
‘Like rainfall, like storms in the desert, drowning, engendering,
Soaking the parched earth and washing away all that survives there.
Is that how it goes? I never understood Gyste’s obsession with rain until I saw it rain in the desert, drowning one half of the world and giving new life to the other.’
‘You’ve read The Song of the Red Year?’
‘Oh, I’ve read most things worth reading. Occasionally even whilst sober. Particularly when they’re about impossibly beautiful women. I always preferred The Silver Tree, though, until I met you, which I’m told is very bad taste.’
‘I’ve never read it. The Silver Tree.’
‘No? Good. Far too filthy for your holy mind to comprehend.’ Marith stretched himself out on the hard ground, his head in her lap. ‘I’ll demonstrate bits of it later, if you like.’
They were still for a while, Thalia stroking her fingers through his beautiful shining hair, looking down at his face and then up at the stars. She had never seen so many stars. The Dragon’s Mouth winked at her. His star, she thought. A bat flew past overhead, squeaking faintly, almost inaudible. What did it eat, out here? A fox called and made her start. The men at the fire started too, then laughed.
‘What if they kill us in our sleep?’ Thalia said suddenly.
Marith, who had been half-asleep, dozing and almost purring like a cat, opened his eyes in confusion. ‘What? Who? Why?’
‘The … the men. Your … companions.’ She didn’t like using their names. They frightened her, more now than ever. ‘They could just kill us both and ride off and no one would ever know.’
‘Them? They wouldn’t kill me, beautiful girl. They wouldn’t dare.’ Marith sat up and shook dust from his coat. ‘They know I would kill them first. Selling me back to my uncle is about the only thing they can do to salvage anything and start afresh.’
He stood up, pulling her up with him. ‘We should go to bed. We have a very long ride ahead of us tomorrow. And I have some poetry to enlighten you about first, beautiful girl.’
The next day passed in similar fashion, and the next, and the next, on and on into a blur of dry barren hills and vast dusty skies. Thalia’s fear of the men accompanying them subsided, as they all seemed to relax in each other’s company again, relationships shifting and changing. After his first cold hauteur, Marith softened a little, helping with some of the work, exchanging brief words with the other men. He was happier for it, Thalia could see, less preoccupied with the idea of what he was or what he should be, more contented in himself as a man doing and being, alive beneath the great curve of the sky.
He even seemed to enjoy gathering scrub for the fire or fetching water, gazing around at the wide landscape with something like peace in his eyes. Riding his horse he loved. He would sometimes give the horse its head and ride it as fast as it could go into the dun hills, wheeling back in a great circle to rejoin them, shouting and waving his sword.
‘You’ll ride it to death,’ Tobias muttered at him, ‘it’s a bloody farm horse, not a war charger. And there’s not enough water for you to go tearing off and making it thirstier than it needs to be.’
Marith spurred the horse into a gallop and brought it back in a cloud of dust, made it rear up and snort. ‘She’s a lovely horse,’ he said. ‘She enjoys it. I think I might call her Fire.’ He smiled at Thalia, switching to Literan. ‘Or God’s Knife.’
He tried to teach Thalia to ride it, one evening when they stopped early because they had found a good-sized stream, flowing over rocks with clean water free of dust, bordered with low trees and delft gr
ass blooming pink. She laughed and almost fell off several times and he gave up, promising her a pretty white palfrey when they reached Ith.
The number of things he’d promised her when they reached Ith, Thalia thought, she’d need a palace of her own to house them in.
As his manner softened he seemed, curiously, more of a lord than ever, treating the other men with the easy confidence of a man unafraid of them or himself. At night, weary after a long day riding in the heat, he sat under the stars and told her about Ith, which he had visited before several times as a boy, and his home on the White Isles, where it rained half the summer and snowed white and pure in the wintertime. He described the high moors, like and unalike to the wastes they were riding through, barren yet filled with life; the forests, which seemed to her to be like vast gardens; the sea, which she could not begin to understand no matter how he tried to evoke it for her. Like the idea of snow, and frost, and bitter cold rain, it was a mystery to her that he could not unravel, and he could only smile and say, ‘You’ll see, beautiful girl.’ They made love in the cramped bed in the back of the little carriage, giggling and trying to be silent as Rate, Tobias and Alxine snored outside. He recited the whole of The Silver Tree to her in solemn whispers, and The Song of the Red Year, cupping her face in his hand and telling her she was far more beautiful than Manora. He even knew a couple of the poems written about Thalia herself, which he intoned half mocking, half overcome with astonishment that he held the subject in his arms as he spoke. The darkness Thalia had first seen in him retreated, leaving him clean and pure and cold.
He did not talk of Sorlost, and nor did she ask. And in his sleep he whimpered, and thrashed about, and tore at his eyes and his mouth.
And then one night, when they had been journeying for twenty days and were in the midst of the great desert, she summoned up her courage and asked him the thing she must know.
‘Why did your father disinherit you?’ she said simply. ‘Why are you here? What did you do?’
The Court of Broken Knives Page 27
