“Will they come?” she asked.
“They’ll come. To see me hang, if nothing else.”
“That’s not funny, Tarja.”
“I wasn’t joking,” he said.
It was obvious that the first wave of Defenders had arrived in Testra when Drendik eased the boat into the docks early the following afternoon. A red-coated corporal immediately hailed them. Drendik gave a wonderful impression of a foreigner who didn’t understand a word of Medalonian, nodding and calling “Yes! Yes!” to every question the corporal yelled at him. Tarja and R’shiel waited below in the passage just beneath the companionway, listening to the exchange.
“Suppose they try to search the boat?”
“Drendik’s an old hand at this,” Tarja said. “They won’t get a foot on board until he wants them to.”
“I’m sorry.”
He looked at her curiously. “For what?”
“For getting us into this mess. If I hadn’t killed that Defender in Reddingdale...”
The passage was narrow and Tarja had braced himself against the movement of the boat by placing his hand on the bulkhead above her head.
“If you must blame someone, blame Joyhinia. She’s the one who started it all.”
“Perhaps. I wonder if she would have been so anxious to adopt me if she’d known who my father was?”
“Be grateful she didn’t know. She would have slit your throat.”
“Well, it must be all her fault then,” she agreed wryly. “If she’d murdered me at birth, we wouldn’t be here now.”
“Poor little Princess,” he teased.
“Don’t call me that.”
“What should I call you then? Divine One? Oh-Fabled-Harshini-Demon-Child, perhaps?” It was almost like the old days. She hadn’t seen that mocking smile for so long. His eyes were startlingly blue in the dim light of the passage. He looked at her for a long moment then lowered his mouth toward hers. Be careful of the human attachments you form, Shananara had warned her. R’shiel suddenly understood what her Harshini cousin was hinting at. To the Seven Hells with you, Shananara té Ortyn, she thought, closing her eyes.
“The captain says it’s safe to come up now.”
R’shiel jerked back at the sound of Aber’s voice, burying her head in Tarja’s leather-clad shoulder in embarrassment.
“Thank you,” Tarja said. “We’ll be right up.”
Aber closed the hatch behind him. Tarja gently lifted her chin with his forefinger, forcing her to meet his eye.
“R’shiel?”
“What?”
“I love you. You know that, don’t you?”
“You’re just saying that because you’re afraid I’ll turn you into a toad, or something.”
He smiled. “You think so?”
“Don’t you care that I’m not human?”
“You’re human here,” he assured her, pointing to her heart, “where it counts. Now get a move on. We’d better get up top before young Aber comes looking for us again.”
She kissed him, just to be certain that he meant what he said. Somewhat reluctantly, Tarja peeled her arms from around his neck and held them by her sides.
“We have a long road ahead of us, R’shiel. Don’t make it any harder.”
“Do we have to do this, Tarja?” she asked. “Can’t we just go away? Find a place where nobody knows us?”
“Some place where I’m not a marked man and you’re not the demon child? Name it and we’ll leave this minute.”
She sighed. “There is no such place, is there?”
“No.”
Tarja let her go and moved to the hatch. R’shiel followed him, catching a movement out of the corner of her eye. She spun toward it, but the dim passage was empty.
“What’s the matter?”
“I could have sworn I saw somebody!”
“There’s nobody there. It must have been a trick of the light.”
“It was a little girl.”
Tarja opened the hatch and stepped through. R’shiel glanced back over her shoulder at the empty passage. She was certain she had seen something. She turned to follow Tarja up the companionway, touching something with her boot on the first step. Curiously, she bent down and picked it up. It was an acorn, tied with two white feathers.
“Look at this.”
Tarja looked down at the amulet and shrugged.
“It’s the symbol the heathens have for the Goddess of Love.”
“How did it get here?”
“It probably belongs to Drendik or one of his brothers.”
She frowned, certain she had never seen any of the Fardohnyans with such an icon.
“Should I give it back to them?”
“If you want,” he agreed, a little impatiently. “Come on.”
R’shiel slipped the acorn amulet into her pack and followed Tarja out into the bright sunlight.
chapter 57
Tarja had never felt more exposed than he did walking through Testra toward the inn where Mahina waited. It felt like the streets were crawling with Defenders. He was certain he would be recognized, certain someone would notice them. He walked with his back stooped, a barrel of cider balanced on his shoulder, which served to conceal his face. R’shiel walked ahead of him, the Harshini Dragon Rider’s leathers concealed beneath a long blue cloak. The hood was pulled up to conceal her hair and shadow her face. What had seemed like a brief ride a few weeks ago now felt like the longest walk he had ever taken. Surely R’shiel had lost her way. They must have taken a wrong turn.
Even as he thought about it, the inn appeared across the way. He could feel R’shiel relax and realized she was as tense as he was. He wanted to reach out to her. To touch her hand and reassure her. She glanced down the road and crossed it quickly, waving imperiously for him to follow. He smiled to himself as she did. R’shiel knew the habits of the Sisterhood. Tarja trailed obediently in her wake, almost bumping into her as she stopped dead just inside the entrance to the taproom.
The room was full of Defenders, officers, every one of them. Tarja saw at least four men he knew well at his first glance. Fortunately, R’shiel’s blue cloak gave the impression she was a Sister, so their entrance was unremarked upon. Tarja hid behind the small barrel, wishing it were large enough for him to crawl into completely.
“May I help you, my Lady?” Affiana asked as she approached them, her eyes widening as R’shiel lifted her head and stared at her. “I have private rooms that will be more comfortable,” Affiana added, barely missing a beat. “Have your man come this way.”
R’shiel followed the innkeeper through the taproom, her whole body as tense as an overtightened guy rope. Tarja followed, trying to stoop as much as possible. As they moved into the hall and through to the private dining room he dropped the barrel heavily, weak with relief.
“By the gods!” Affiana declared as she closed the door behind them. “Where did you two come from?”
“It’s a long story,” he said, as R’shiel threw back the hood of her cloak. “How long have the Defenders been here?”
“A few days. I get the officers. The enlisted men drink in the taverns closer to the docks. Are you all right?”
R’shiel nodded. “We’re fine. Is Mahina still here? And Sunny?”
“And Dace, too,” Affiana told them. “When he’s in the mood. Mahina’s been keeping to her room, and nobody has seen her, but Sunny’s been out working the docks.” She glanced back at Tarja with concern. “I heard you’d been hanged. Then I heard you killed a couple of rebels and escaped.”
“Almost accurate. How can I get to Mahina’s room without being seen?”
“You can’t,” Affiana told him. “I’ll bring her down. You two stay here and keep the door locked.” The innkeeper slipped from the room and Tarja locked the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, R’shiel came to him and lay her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and held her wordlessly for a moment.
“I think walking through that taproom was th
e scariest thing I have ever done in my life,” she said.
Considering what R’shiel had endured recently, that was saying something. He kissed the top of head, then her forehead, and then she was kissing him hard and hungrily and he was startled to discover how quickly things could get out of hand. He pushed her away with admirable self-control.
“There is a room full of Defenders out there who would very much like to kill us both. Maybe we should wait until a more appropriate time?”
She sighed and pulled out of his arms, crossing to the window to stare out into the yard. “When will that be, Tarja?” she asked. “When you’ve faced the rebels? When you’ve confronted Jenga? When you’ve brought down the Sisterhood? When you’ve fought off the Karien invasion?”
He shrugged. “I’m a busy man.”
She stared at him for a moment, and then suddenly her mood changed and she laughed. “Well, you may just have to wait until I have time for you. I am a personage of some note among the heathens, you know.”
“Forgive me, Divine One,” he said, wondering what had made her suddenly admit to her demon-child status. She had seemed singularly unimpressed by the news up to now. A faint knock sounded at the door, and he unlocked it, opening it a fraction to look outside, then swinging it wide to allow Mahina and Sunny in.
“By the Founders!” Mahina declared. “We thought you were both dead!”
“Not quite.”
“Where have you been?” Sunny asked. She glanced at R’shiel who stood by the window, her blue cloak pushed back over one shoulder. She frowned at the close-fitting leathers. “Interesting outfit,” she remarked, before turning back to confront him. “We were worried sick! First you disappear, then we heard that you’re dead! Then that other fella left us stranded here. Now here you are, large as life, like nothing’s happened!”
“We had an encounter with the Karien Envoy,” R’shiel said, glancing at Tarja. With that look, he knew she wanted him to skip the details. There was no need to tell them of Elfron, or the staff. It was enough that they know of Pieter’s death and of the threat of invasion from Karien. She did not want to relive the nightmare for the sake of a good narrative.
“What sort of encounter?” Mahina asked suspiciously.
“The fatal sort,” Tarja told her. “We... er... met some Harshini, too.”
They stared at him openmouthed. “Harshini?”
“Have you been drinking?” Sunny asked.
“How in the name of the Founders did you stumble across them?” Mahina asked, clearly not believing a word he said. “They’re supposed to be long dead.”
“The Harshini came to us. It seems R’shiel is a Harshini princess.”
Mahina and Sunny both turned to look at R’shiel. Mahina suddenly laughed. “And Joyhinia passed you off as her own child? Oh, that is just too much! The Quorum will have a collective fit! The Karien Envoy must have been apoplectic!”
“The Karien Envoy is dead,” Tarja told her.
Mahina turned back to him, her laughter fading. “How did it happen?”
“The how doesn’t matter,” he said. “The important thing is that it did.”
“And the Defenders are here in Testra,” Mahina added, understanding the situation immediately. “Or headed this way. What are you going to do?”
“I have to warn Jenga,” he told her. “If I can get to him before Joyhinia arrives. I’m going to create a diversion using the rebels.”
“A diversion?” Mahina asked skeptically. “You’ll need more than a handful of farmers to distract the Defenders, Tarja. Besides, aren’t these the same rebels that tried to hang you only a few weeks ago?”
“I’ll convince them of the truth,” R’shiel said.
“You?” Mahina said with a raised brow. “I’ll admit that your outfit is distracting, R’shiel, but I hardly think it’s going to turn the rebels’ mind from reality for very long.”
R’shiel took a deep breath before she answered. “I am the demon child.”
Mahina looked as if she was going to laugh at the notion, but a glance at Tarja and R’shiel stayed her mirth. “Founders! You’re serious!”
“I am the half-human child of the last Harshini King, Lorandranek,” she said. To Tarja, it sounded as if R’shiel were trying to convince herself as much as Mahina. “The heathen rebels will listen to me.”
Mahina turned to Tarja. “And you believe this?”
Tarja nodded. “It’s why the Harshini sought us out.”
Mahina sank down onto one of the carved dining chairs, as if her knees would no longer support her. “Founders! I never thought to hear this in my lifetime. It’s... I... I’m... speechless...”
“Imagine how I feel,” R’shiel remarked wryly.
“It’s so...” Mahina began helplessly.
“I need information,” Tarja interrupted. He didn’t have time for Mahina to come to grips with the truth about R’shiel.
“What sort of information?” Sunny asked. She stood behind Mahina’s chair with wide eyes, staring at R’shiel.
“I need to know where Jenga is staying.”
“I suppose I can find that out,” she offered. Tarja was wary of Sunny for some reason he could not pinpoint, but he pushed aside his unease. The woman was a barracks court’esa and knew nothing of politics. But she was R’shiel’s friend.
“As soon as it’s dark, we’ll ride for the rebel stronghold. If all goes well, we’ll be back by midnight. The off-duty troops should be well into their cups by then. The remainder, except for the lookouts, will be asleep. Can you find out where the rest of the Defenders are quartered, too?”
“Aye,” she agreed. “I’ll do that for you. It may take me some time, though. What if I meet you on the south road at midnight? That way I can let you know exactly what’s happening.”
Tarja nodded at the generous offer. “Thank you.”
Another knock sounded impatiently at the door, and Dace was in the room before Tarja had time to realize that he had forgotten to lock it. The boy flew at Tarja and hugged him soundly, before treating R’shiel to the same exuberant welcome.
“I knew you weren’t dead!” he declared. “Didn’t I tell you they weren’t dead? Didn’t I?”
“Yes, Dace, you said they weren’t dead,” Mahina agreed. “Now keep your damned voice down, before you manage to remedy the situation by bringing a whole taproom full of Defenders in here with your shouting.”
Dace looked rather abashed at Mahina’s scolding, but nothing could wipe the smile from his face. He immediately demanded a full and complete blow-by-blow description of their every move since they disappeared from the stables.
“I’ll let R’shiel fill you in,” he told the boy. That way she could tell Dace as much or as little as she chose.
“I’d best be going,” Sunny said, slipping from the room.
R’shiel and Dace stood by the window talking in low voices. Tarja glanced at Mahina, who shook her head.
“When Joyhinia hears this news, she is going to rue the day she ever laid eyes on either of you.”
“I think she’s long past that point.”
“Be very careful, Tarja. She won’t make the same mistake again. There will be no trials, no court of law. If you fail, she will kill you.”
chapter 58
They could see the flares from the torches gathered around the farmhouse for quite some time before they reached the old vineyard. R’shiel looked worriedly at Tarja as they rode at a canter toward the rebels, wondering what he was thinking. What would he say to them? Would he live long enough to say anything? As if sensing her concern he looked at her and smiled.
“Don’t worry. I’ve survived this long. I’m sure I’ll get through the next few hours.”
R’shiel wasn’t sure she shared his confidence. She glanced at Dace who rode on her left and wondered why he hadn’t been in the least bit surprised or concerned by her news. His face was alight with excitement at the prospect of facing action with the rebels.
&
nbsp; Tarja slowed their pace as they neared the first lookout, posted about half a league from the vineyard. To Tarja’s obvious relief, the guard proved to be Ghari’s cousin, a taciturn, hirsute man with big farmer’s hands. He was not the most encouraging example of the rebellion’s mettle, but he could be trusted not to kill Tarja on sight. He nodded gravely to his former leader.
“Ghari said you’d be comin‘ this way. You’re either very brave, or very foolish, Cap’n.”
“A bit of both, I fear, Herve,” Tarja replied. “Are they all up at the farmhouse?”
“All them that’s comin,” he said with a shrug. “Two hun’ed, maybe three.”
Tarja scowled. R’shiel knew that he was counting on twice that number. Tarja looked across at her and Dace. “Well, let’s do it then.”
He kicked his horse forward, but she followed more slowly, a little less enthusiastic about riding into the middle of three hundred angry rebels than Tarja. Dace seemed to share Tarja’s suicidal enthusiasm and quickly caught up with him. She hurried her horse forward as if her mere proximity could offer him some form of protection.
Word spread quickly through the rebels that Tarja had arrived, and a torchlit clearing opened ominously before them as they rode into the yard. R’shiel didn’t know what Ghari had said to the rebels before they arrived, but it had been enough to stay their hand temporarily. They were to be given a hearing, it seemed, before the rebels made their decision.
Tarja sat tall in the saddle, partly to allow him to see over the crowd and partly because he wasn’t stupid. Mounted, he might have some small chance at escape if the rebels turned on him. He had insisted that Dace and R’shiel remain mounted, too.
R’shiel watched the rebels nervously. Ghari jumped down from the wagon bed under the tree where Tarja was to have been hanged so recently. R’shiel’s horse, borrowed from Affiana’s stables, tossed his head irritably, as if he sensed the uneasy feeling of the mob.
“Well, I’ve done all I can,” Ghari told Tarja. “They’re not happy, but they’re not unreasonable. Good luck.”
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