Upon reaching his tent he found Shemi, Clovis, and the others already asleep. Knowing that he needed to treat and bandage his wound properly, he considered waking his uncle to help. But the idea of lying to the old man was more than his heart could hold at the moment. His body felt weary, his legs heavy and sluggish. Again he tried to picture Gulan, and still the image was elusive. It was as if it had been plucked from his memory. Driven away by guilt, no doubt. It would pass.
He went to Farley’s tent, dragging his feet with each step.
Farley was still awake, sitting at his table reading a book. He looked up as Lem entered and hurried to his side.
“What happened?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
“He’s dead,” was all Lem could manage initially.
After helping him to a chair, Farley began stripping away his shirt. “You idiot. What possessed you to go there tonight?”
“I had to get it over with,” Lem replied weakly. “I … I just had to. That’s all.”
“Tell me exactly what happened,” Farley instructed. He crossed over to a chest at the foot of his bed and removed a wooden box containing needle, thread, bandages, and various other healing supplies. “Don’t leave out a single detail.”
While his wound was being cleaned and stitched shut, Lem recounted the events, including the conversation between Gulan and his lover. He hardly felt Farley’s needle passing through his flesh. He had obviously done this before.
“And no one saw you enter or leave?” he asked.
Lem shook his head.
“Are you sure?”
“I would have known. Shadow walking only works if someone is not looking directly at you. If I’d been seen, I would have felt it.”
Farley raised an eyebrow. “Shadow walking?”
Lem had not intended to reveal this ability and silently scolded himself for carelessness. “It doesn’t matter. I’m positive no one saw me.”
Farley regarded him closely as he took out a bandage and secured it with a strip of cloth. If he understood what shadow walking was, he didn’t say, and he didn’t press the matter further.
“So Vilanda gave you Travis’s old dagger, did she? That woman never ceases to amaze me. A pity she decided to leave. A dreadful assassin, but a fine actress. She could certainly charm an audience.”
“It doesn’t look like I’m any better at killing than she was,” Lem remarked, in a way hoping that Farley would agree with this assessment.
“Oh, I don’t know.” He counted the points off on his fingers. “One: The target is dead. Two: You’re alive. Three: No one saw you. And four: Unintentional or not, you made it look like a failed burglary.”
“I was lucky.”
Farley laughed. “I’ll take luck over skill anytime. After all, wasn’t it luck that helped me find you in the first place?”
A sigh slipped from Lem’s mouth. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m a murderer now. Gulan didn’t deserve to die. All he wanted was to be happy.”
His remark immediately drew a mocking scowl. “Don’t be so gullible, Lem. You didn’t believe that tripe he told his lover, did you? Lady Gulan doesn’t care if he divorces her any more than she cares whom he beds. She is the king’s cousin, after all. And not just any cousin—she’s his favorite cousin. No one would dare to criticize her, not even if her husband left her for a stable boy. Gulan just told his lover those lies to placate him. He’d never leave her; he’d be ruined if he did. No, the truth is, the only reason she had him killed is because he tried to do the same to her … twice, in fact. With his wife dead, he would inherit her quite considerable wealth.”
Lem was now caught in two minds. He knew Farley might be lying, that Gulan might not be the deceptive scoundrel now being put forth. But then again, he wanted to believe Farley was telling the truth—that Gulan had fully deserved his fate. If that were true, he had not so much murdered someone as meted out a measure of justice.
“Next time will be easier,” Farley told him. “You’ll see.”
Next time.
The two simple words seized Lem by the throat. There would be a next time. There would be many next times. There was no longer any doubt about that. He would have to find a way of living with this new person he’d been forced to become. Memories of happy days teaching children to play the balisari, singing with his friends beside the Sunflow, and most treasured of all, counting the stars with Mariyah—these were all now distant dreams about someone he had once known but to whom he had said farewell a lifetime ago.
He rose to leave, no longer wanting to look at Farley’s smile lest he lose himself and double the number of deaths he had caused this night.
“Do take care with the dagger,” Farley warned. “The death magic is very strong. A scratch is enough to kill. But then, you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Lem did not so much as acknowledge that he had spoken. The whirlwind of emotion he’d felt only moments ago had already calmed, as if something had shattered within his spirit. He wanted to weep, to cry out, something … anything that made him feel like the same person he had been when this day began. But perhaps the vysix dagger’s magic had killed more than one person tonight. He held out his hand; still steady as stone.
As he entered the tent, his thoughts turned to Mariyah. He would save her. More than ever he was sure of this. But this certainty also posed a new and heartrending question. Would he still be the man she loved once she was free?
17
WARM BEDS AND COLD GREETINGS
Be grateful for times of peace. They are fleeting.
Book of Kylor, Chapter Two, Verse Nine
The following day, Trysilia explained to Mariyah that she was to be the personal assistant of Lady Loria Camdon and laid out the duties she would be expected to perform.
Mariyah listened attentively for more than an hour. The sheer number of tasks was enough to make her head ache.
“It’s not easy,” Trysilia acknowledged, sensing Mariyah’s increasing anxiety. “But once you settle into a routine, you’ll find you have a great deal of free time. Life at the manor rarely changes.”
“It sounds dull.”
“I can assure you, it’s anything but. And if you become restless, the grounds are enormous. Though I think you’ll find plenty inside the manor to entertain yourself with.”
“And Lady Camdon. What’s she like?”
Trysilia thought for a long moment before answering. “Not the warmest of people, though never cruel or uncaring. A difficult woman to truly know. I’ve been with her for ten years, and there are times when she still seems like a complete stranger to me.”
Mariyah pressed her about how she’d come to be in the Lady’s service and how she had been freed, but Trysilia quite forcefully told her that she would have to wait. Lady Camdon would make clear all she needed to know about her situation when the time came. As for her own past … she preferred not to speak of it.
“It’s for your own good,” she explained. “And for Lady Camdon’s as well. Just be patient. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Mariyah was still considering the possibility that everything Trysilia was telling her might be part of an elaborate ruse to lure her into a false sense of security, but such a ploy seemed pointless. Why go through all this trouble simply for the sake of petty cruelty? There were easier ways to make someone suffer. And if it really were the case, what could she do about it?
Mariyah soon found herself becoming rather fond of Gertrude as well, who often came to visit during the times Trysilia was otherwise occupied. She was good-natured and free with her humor, and she did not govern her tongue with as much discipline as Trysilia—letting slip that Trysilia had been until recently Lady Camdon’s personal assistant, and that she had journeyed to Lobin to find her own replacement. Mariyah guessed that this was perhaps the reason for the lack of an anklet—she had been freed and trusted to return. That alone was enough to inspire more optimism.
She considered pressing f
or more information, but thought this might anger Trysilia and perhaps get Gertrude in trouble with her mistress. However, she did learn that Gertrude had not been indentured, but had served the Lady’s family for most of her life. Because of this she had finally saved enough gold to ensure that her daughter, Ellabeth, could attend school to become a scholar. She was eager to boast about how clever she was.
“Ellabeth was accepted to the Halls of Kylor last year,” she told Mariyah, grinning broadly. “She wants to study something to do with plants. Grows the best greens I’ve ever seen in my life. Creation knows how she does it. They grow so big you’d think it was magic.”
Mariyah responded by describing her parents’ vineyard and the wine they made each year. “Best wine in Vylari. Well, if you ask my father it is.”
As always, mentioning her father caused a pang of sorrow and guilt that would last for hours. Not having said goodbye to her parents had plagued her conscience ever since she’d crossed the barrier. She had done it impulsively, with no regard for the consequences. The worst of it was the pain she had caused her family … and poor Shemi. All from one stupid mistake. Her love for Lem had exacted a high price. Was it too high? The selfish part of her heart, the one that charged forth blindly into Lamoria, said no. But the part of her who loved her mother and father, who loved Shemi, said differently.
That night, Trysilia handed her a piece of parchment with a list of strange phrases.
“You need to memorize each one,” she said.
“What are they?”
“They will allow you to pass through the magical wards protecting the estate.” She smiled at Mariyah’s obvious revulsion. “I’m afraid magic is something you’ll have to learn to live with.”
“I…” She bowed her head. “If I must.”
“Not all magic is foul. In fact, some is quite beautiful, not to mention useful. All the floors throughout the manor stay clean without a single brush or drop of water. And every room remains lit without the need for lamp or candle.”
“Lady Camdon is a sorceress?”
Trysilia smiled. “Lady Camdon is a remarkable woman. Magic is not often practiced by the nobility. The sorcerer class typically comes from the low-borns.”
“Why is that?”
“Very few possess the natural gift,” Trysilia replied. “One cannot simply decide to learn magic. The fact is there are far more low-borns than nobles. So of course more low-borns will have the gift. Most nobles look upon the practice as beneath them. Or at least that’s what they say rather than admit a low-born possesses talents they do not. Childish, really.”
She went on to describe some of the various magical devices and charmed implements with which Mariyah would need to become familiar. Most were unremarkable and used for everyday tasks, such as maintaining a constant temperature within the manor or keeping insects and vermin away, though a few others were more elaborate.
“Do all people here have such things?” Mariyah asked.
“Only those who can afford them.” She stood and started to the door. “I’ll leave you to look this over.”
“Why did you choose me to take your place?” Mariyah called after her. “Was it just because of where I’m from?”
Trysilia turned, frowning. “Gertrude should learn to mind what she says. She confessed that she let slip about you being my replacement. As for my reasons: No, it wasn’t just because of where you are from. There’s a light inside you; a strength of spirit. Even now, I can feel it. I knew I had to get you out of that horrible place. I was … compelled, I guess you could say.” There was a long pause before she spoke again. “There is something I must ask.”
“Of course.”
“Can you tell me how to find Vylari?”
Mariyah drew a breath. This was a question she had been expecting to hear. And a question she knew she could not answer. “I’m sorry. But I can’t.”
Trysilia nodded. She didn’t look angry. She looked … sad. “I see. I had to try. My people are running out of places to where they can retreat. A land so well hidden as yours…” She forced a smile. “It doesn’t matter. I understand why you can’t say. Forgive me for asking.”
This was the first time she had seen a crack in Trysilia’s confident façade. Mariyah wanted to give her a few words of comfort, tell her something that might assuage her sadness. But she had sworn never to reveal how to find her home. Not that she really knew herself; but the stranger had found it. And Lem’s mother had returned there also. Mariyah could certainly find the general area, even if the barrier prevented finding its exact location. That could be enough. And as much as she wanted to trust Trysilia, she couldn’t. Not with information that could potentially harm her people.
As a relief from confinement, Trysilia took her above deck on a few occasions. She had caught her first glimpse of the sea when being brought aboard, but it had been late in the evening and all she could see were a few yards of pitch black broken by a reflection of moonlight across its surface. Now the sea was truly revealed, leaving her awestruck. Nothing could have prepared her for its absolute enormity and splendor, especially set against the warm light of the setting sun. The swells lifted the great ship effortlessly, setting it back down only to rise again in a gentle yet almighty cadence. No matter how hard she tried, she could not see even a tiny speck of land on the horizon. It was both beautiful and terrifying.
“I never imagined anything could be so big,” she said, gripping tightly onto the rail near the bow.
Trysilia sighed. “Yes. It is the one thing I will truly miss.”
The millions of tiny reflections across its surface reminded her in a way of the Sunflow, only infinitely vaster. It made the sky on a clear winter night appear to be empty by comparison. The gradually sinking sun was like a giant fireball boiling away at the edge of the world, the sea reaching up with delicate ribbons of light to spirit it down into some unfathomable depth. The reds and lavenders of the darkening sky formed a tapestry of glory that only the soul of creation could possibly have been capable of producing.
The captain, a man of sour disposition with a thick, salt-and-pepper beard, bald head, and a weather-beaten face, was staring down at them from the main wheel.
“Why can’t all people be like Gertrude?” mused Mariyah, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“For the most part, your experience is limited to the worst among the people of this world,” Trysilia told her. “They brutalized you and stole your freedom. Gertrude is no different than most, really; she was simply not crippled from youth by hatred. It’s not just to do with where she was born. I would wager that even the people of Vylari could act out of fear under the right circumstances.”
“My people may not be perfect,” Mariyah snapped back, a bit more forcefully than she’d intended, “but they would never do to anyone what was done to me.”
“Perhaps. But I think when you see the rest of Lamoria, away from the ugliness, you might view things differently.”
“I’m not sure I care to see it,” she remarked, casting a disdainful look at the captain.
Trysilia wrapped an arm around Mariyah’s shoulder. “You remind me so much of myself—thinking in absolutes and feeling every moment with intensity. One day, though, you’ll start to understand that life comes in many hues, and that not all canvases are painted with the same brush.”
Mariyah knew she was right. And going home was seeming more impossible with every day that passed. If the rest of the world was really as different as Trysilia claimed, perhaps she might learn to live in it. Right at this moment, though, she wished that they could remain on the ship indefinitely. Each day brought her closer to the unknown—to Lady Camdon, a woman who, despite the fact that Trysilia was free, was complicit in her servitude.
The morning of their arrival, Mariyah’s nerves were as much on edge as ever. Gertrude had brought her a flowing blue silk dress with intricate gold swirls stitched up the left side. The neckline swooped low, and there was a white sash tied into a
large bow around her waist. Her hair was brushed and wrapped into a bun on the back of her head, though a good portion was left loose and decorated with silver threads. The shoes were covered in silk to match the gown and studded with tiny blue and white stones that scratched the tops of her feet.
“Do I have to dress like this all the time?” she asked, shifting and tugging at the shoulders.
Gertrude laughed. “Only in public. You’ll get used to it. I’ll teach you how to fix your hair properly as well.”
Trysilia arrived, bearing a sorrowful expression. “We dock within the hour,” she informed them.
“What’s wrong?” asked Mariyah.
“This is goodbye.”
“You’re not coming?”
She smiled. “My time is over. I’m going home now.”
“But I thought you were going to teach me what I’m supposed to do.”
“I’ve shown you all you need to know for now. As for the details, Lady Camdon insists upon teaching those herself. It was the same when I arrived.” She regarded Mariyah’s dress. “You look marvelous, by the way.”
A lump formed in her throat. Against all the odds, she had made a friend. Now, already, she had to say farewell. “Can’t you at least stay for a short while?” she asked.
“I’ve stayed long past what was required of me. There is nothing for me here, though I do mean it when I say that I’ll miss you. Perhaps one day we’ll see each other again.” She looked over to Gertrude. “Take care of her … and yourself.”
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