Anhaga
Page 23
Min, sharing a beer with Aiode outside a shithole of a taproom just inside the portcullis on Stanes Street, watched the cart approaching and set his beer down.
“It’s been a pleasure,” he said and held out his hand.
She shook it with a wry smile. “It’s been something.”
Min flashed her his most charming grin and then stepped out of the shade of the tavern’s awning onto the street, where Harry was shifting from foot to foot in anticipation.
The cart creaked down the street.
Robert sat up the front with the driver. In the back, Talys and Kaz perched on trunks. Kaz wore a hood pulled up over his ears, but Talys’s head was bare. She was scanning the crowd, ignoring the jeers with an imperiousness she had clearly inherited from her father. When she saw Min and Harry waiting at the side of the road, she smiled brightly.
The cart stopped.
Harry and Min threw their bags into the back. Harry climbed up first and held a hand down for Min.
“Room for two more?” Min asked, watching to see if Robert’s rigid spine would actually snap.
Talys’s smile grew, and Kaz ducked his head to hide his grin.
Min hauled himself up into the cart and they set off, passing under the portcullis and leaving Amberwich behind.
Chapter 20
Four months later
THE BELLS at the ugly little shrine in the market square of Anhaga rang out at least a dozen times a day, and not at any evenly spaced intervals either. No, they were unprotected from the weather, and any decent blast of wind from the ocean, or any stupid seagulls that decided to perch on them, could set them ringing. The residents of Anhaga had long since stopped paying any attention to them at all, which very much diminished the point of them, Min felt, but who was he to complain?
Well, he was Aramin Decourcey, and he had so far complained to the keeper of the shrine, to Heron the innkeeper, to the Guild of Fishermen—who admittedly had nothing to do with the bells but seemed to be the most important group of men in Anhaga, so Min had felt it was worth a try—and to Kaz, who, like all the others, had just laughed in his face.
Today, though, as the bells rang out, the townspeople did not ignore them. Instead a number of them gathered around and cheered the happy couple as they left the shrine after proclaiming their vows in front of Anhaga’s local deity, which, unsurprisingly, was some sort of fish creature.
Min, leaning against the exterior wall of the Three Fishes, folded his arms over his chest and smirked as Harry and Talys stepped back out into the sunlight. Harry’s dandelion hair was flyaway in the breeze, and Talys’s veil fluttered as well.
Harry looked over toward him, grinning broadly.
Brat.
Cocky little brat.
Grubby little no-name guttersnipe, and here he was married to Talys Sabadine, a girl way above his station. Well, her father’s banishment had fixed that little problem, hadn’t it? Talys Sabadine was beneath the consideration of any nobleman now, and most of the merchant class, and she’d never looked happier. Neither had Harry. His grin looked about ready to split his face.
Edward Sabadine, if they’d found enough of him to bury, must have been spinning in his grave.
Min couldn’t have been prouder.
He nodded at Harry and let the townsfolk usher the newly married couple toward the trestle tables that had been set up in the market square. Strings of cheerful decorations fluttered wildly in the breeze, and the air smelled of fresh bread, pies, and pastries. It wasn’t the wedding feast Robert Sabadine had ever intended to supply for his daughter, probably, but Min bet it was a damn sight cheaper.
A pair of musicians, one with a tin whistle and one with a drum, began to play a lively tune, and a group of shrieking children ran around the square in delight. Harry and Talys took their place at the main table. Robert, who looked like he was thawing slightly since he’d arrived from Pran yesterday morning, sat at Talys’s side.
Min straightened up as the door of the Three Fishes swung open and Heron appeared with several massive pitchers of beer balanced precariously on a tray. Min helped steady him as he stepped down onto the street.
“Thank you, sir!” Heron called cheerfully as he headed for the wedding table.
Heron still used the honorific, although Min had told him not to bother. He suspected Heron still labored under the misapprehension that Min was a reeve.
Min looked across the street, to the peeling paint on the green door. The door opened as he watched, and Kaz appeared. He was wearing the green kirtle of a hedgewitch, because nobody here needed to know the truth. Kaz could fulfill all the duties of a hedgewitch in any case, so what did it matter if he could also do a lot more? That was nobody’s business at all.
Min stepped forward into the street to meet him.
“They haven’t brought out the stargazy pies yet, have they?” Kaz asked, craning his neck to see the tables.
“Not yet,” Min assured him and leaned in to steal a kiss. Then he reached up and ran his palm over Kaz’s shorn hair. He missed Kaz’s unruly curls somewhat, but he loved the way Kaz was unashamed of his pointed ears showing. The fearful boy that Min had dragged away to Amberwich had returned standing taller.
Things had felt fraught at first, but no longer. It hadn’t taken more than a few weeks for Kaz to establish himself in Anhaga again—this time as a hedgewitch who actually left the house. It helped that each morning he trekked down the street to the harbor to bless the boats and to ask the ocean for a good bounty. There wasn’t a single fisherman in Anhaga who couldn’t fill his nets each day and not a single one who cared more about their hedgewitch’s blood than their ability to fill their children’s bellies. They were practical men.
Min tangled his fingers with Kaz’s and drew him toward the center of the square. A flurry of seagulls, drawn by the wedding feast, scuttled and flapped and squawked out of their way indignantly.
Min took his seat beside Harry, and Kaz sat on his other side.
The afternoon wore on, with food and dancing and laughter. Even Robert was eventually coaxed from his seat, and into a smile, by a woman who asked him for a dance. Min held Kaz’s hand for most of the afternoon, making faces at him as he devoured his stargazy pie with relish and trying to watch that Harry didn’t drink so much beer he spent his wedding night expelling it again.
Min spoke to a few of the men from the Guild of Fishermen about snipe eels. He wanted to send a barrel to his mother, now that the road between Anhaga and Amberwich was safe again after all these years. Partly to brag that he got to eat them fresh from the sea, but also to ensure she got the word out that snipe eels from Anhaga were available again. At a price. And Min, if he was the first to seize the opportunity to transport the eels to Amberwich, could set that price. Kaz might have been banished from the city, but Min and Harry weren’t, and they needed to look into new work. There were no rich men in Anhaga at all and nothing worth stealing.
Also, Min sort of liked it here.
Apart from those fucking bells.
The shadows lengthened and grew, and the light softened, and people began to trail away to their houses. There was no rush at dusk like Min remembered from his first visit here. The last bright tendrils of sunlight slipped away slowly and so did the people.
The dusk painted the sky in brilliant shades of pink and purple and slid slowly into darkness.
KAZ BRIGHTENED with the darkening night, humming softly to himself as he swept the floor of the front room. Min leaned on the counter and watched him. The rest of the house was a mess, mostly, but they kept the front room clean now that Kaz had opened it to customers again. He was at his happiest listening to the townspeople regale him with their stories of fevers and sprains and mysterious rashes, for some reason. Min usually beat a swift retreat when he saw them coming. The less he knew about the troubles old Dai Fisker had with passing water, the better. But Kaz was happy and that, it turned out, made Min happy too.
The house was quiet.
Kaz dragged the broom across the floor, and Min finally recognized the tune he was humming. His memory filled in the words: Light down, light down. We are come to the place where ye are to die.
“Cheerful,” he commented, rearranging a few of the jars on the countertop in order of size.
“Don’t do that,” Kaz chided, crossing the floor to put the jars back in place. “Anyway, it’s a nice tune.”
“It is,” Min said, swiping the broom from him and leaning it against the wall. “Apart from the fact it’s about a fae luring an innocent maiden to her death.”
Kaz snorted out a laugh and leaned against him. “Apart from that, yes.”
“Do you think they will come tonight?” Min asked.
Kaz hummed again and listened for something Min could not hear. “Yes,” he said at last. “I think so.”
Min put his arms around Kaz, and they stood there in the silence. Min loved quiet moments like these. He had lived with Harry in the bustle of the eastern quarter of Amberwich for so long that a part of him had feared he would find Anhaga boring. But they’d been busy at first putting the house in order—cleaning out the wards and runes, and Kallick’s dusty remains, and restocking Kaz’s supply of herbs and plants—and Min had even enjoyed scrubbing the walls and sweeping the cobwebs out of every corner in the house. And afterward, when he’d worried he’d have time to miss Amberwich, he’d discovered that he liked the quiet little life they were building together. Perhaps there had been a few moments when he’d gone stirring up trouble just for trouble’s sake—his crusade against the bells of the shrine being one—but by and large he liked Anhaga and the gentle pace of the lives of the people who lived in it.
He liked sharing a bed with Kaz and waking up slowly every morning. He liked wandering around the town, learning all he could about snipe eels with Harry, and then coming back to share a meal in the middle of the day with Kaz. He liked afternoons when he didn’t have anything to do at all, so he and Kaz went down to the docks and watched for the returning boats. And he liked quiet nights like these most of all, when he got to hold Kaz and reflect on just how lucky he was.
Min closed his eyes and pressed his mouth to Kaz’s temple. “Love you, sweeting.”
“Love you,” Kaz whispered back.
And right here, Min thought, was an ending he had never deserved. In one of Harry’s books, a man like Min would never win the prince. It was unthinkable, impossible, but then, that’s how the world tended to work around Kazimir Stone. And this was no ending at all, was it? No. This was a beginning.
Min opened his eyes as he heard the distant clip of hooves on the cobblestones and the faint jangle of trappings. A tiny little speck of light burst through a gap in the shutters and exploded like a firework into a swarm of wisps. They darted around the room like lightning bugs, inspecting the jars and the counter and the shelves and, annoyingly, Min’s hair.
“I will swat you,” Min threatened, and one of the wisps buzzed at him indignantly and darted forward. Min felt a sharp sting on his hand. “Did you just bite me?”
The wisp chattered and swooped around his head.
“Stop!” Kaz said, laughing. “Both of you, stop!” He waved at the wisps. “Out. Outside, now, or I’ll put the wards up again!”
The wisps fluttered around him for a moment longer before vanishing out the shutters.
Kaz opened the front door and leaned in the doorjamb. Min stood behind him, his arms around his waist, looking out into the night.
The rest of the fae came more sedately, a luminous glow around them as they entered the marketplace. At a house across the street, the windows were flung open and two children learned out, waving. The wisps darted up to dance around them.
Beautiful and terrible, Min had thought once. And now, just beautiful.
Llefelys rode at the front of the procession. The moonlight painted him in silver. There was a riderless horse walking beside his, the saddle decorated in gold and silver. The procession came to a halt in front of the green front door.
Kaz turned around in Min’s embrace and kissed him softly. “I’ll be back by dawn.”
Min had no idea where it was that Kaz went with the fae and found that it mostly defied Kaz’s attempts to explain. Beyond the veil, he thought, and into the realm of the Hidden Lord. He was always tired when he came back but filled with a happiness that made his eyes shine.
Min stole another quick kiss before Kaz could untangle himself from his grasp. “I’ll be here, sweeting.”
Kaz darted out into the street and climbed onto the horse. Min stayed leaning in the doorway long after the fae had ridden away again and long after their light had faded.
Wherever it was Kaz went, the Hidden Lord always brought him back again.
And Min was always waiting.
LISA HENRY likes to tell stories, mostly with hot guys and happily-ever-afters.
Lisa lives in tropical North Queensland, Australia. She doesn’t know why, since she hates the heat, but she suspects she’s too lazy to move. She spends half her time slaving away as a government minion and the other half plotting her escape.
She attended university at sixteen, not because she was a child prodigy or anything, but because of a mix-up between international school systems early in life. She studied History and English, neither of them very thoroughly.
She shares her house with too many cats, a dog, a green tree frog that swims in the toilet, and as many possums as can break in every night. This is not how she imagined life as a grown-up.
Lisa has been published since 2012, and was a LAMBDA finalist for her quirky, awkward coming-of-age romance Adulting 101.
You can connect with Lisa here:
Website: lisahenryonline.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/lisa.henry.1441
Twitter: @LisaHenryOnline
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/author/show/5050492.Lisa_Henry
Email: lisahenryonline@gmail.com
By Lisa Henry
Anhaga
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Anhaga
© 2019 Lisa Henry
Cover Art
© 2019 Tiferet Design
http://www.tiferetdesign.com/
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
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Trade Paperback ISBN: 978-1-64405-465-9
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64405-464-2
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019932251
Digital published July 2019
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America