by Gail Dayton
"I thought you would be here.” Aisse slid her arm around Keldrey's waist, and he pulled her in close.
"And you were right.” He bent to press a kiss to the top of her head. To hell with the servants. He didn't care who saw. “Lissta get you up?"
He marveled that one of this mob was actually his, that Aisse would have chosen to give him such a gift.
Aisse shook her head. “You did. I knew you'd be brooding."
"I don't brood."
Aisse merely looked at him.
"I don't.” He couldn't stand up to that look. “I might worry a bit, but I don't brood."
Her snort was almost laughter. “Whatever you say. But you're ‘worrying a bit’ about the visit later this morning."
"A bit.” Keldrey could admit that much.
He wasn't bad with this bunch, his own kids. He'd been around them since they were born, or not long after. They were used to him, to the way he looked and talked and did things. He tended to scare other children. He didn't mean to. He just did.
Problem was, he didn't know any other way to be, and he sure as hell couldn't do anything about his looks. He could only hope that Fox could pave the way for him with Stone's boy.
"I'm glad they were asleep last night when we got back.” Aisse leaned into him.
"Don't make today any easier though.” Keldrey deliberately used the crude grammar he'd grown up with, to tease Aisse. Adaran wasn't her native language, but she wanted to speak it perfectly, and she got annoyed when those around her didn't.
"No, it doesn't.” She didn't rise to his teasing.
A faint cry rose from the next room, where the two youngest slept, announcing the waking of one. And where one was awake, the other would follow shortly. Keldrey followed Aisse, wishing the next few chimes were already behind them.
* * * *
Telling their children about Stone's death went better than Keldrey had expected, and far, far worse. Because the children were so young, only the very oldest had any real understanding of what death was, and even then it was fuzzy. Rozite's twin Lorynda, and Niona, just a few months younger, gathered around Rozite, hugging her, patting her, holding her hand. Aisse and Joh's five-year-old son joined them for a moment, though he had less comprehension than his year-older sedili. All they knew was that Rozite's Papi was gone and wouldn't be coming back.
The older children cried because they understood their loss. The little ones cried because their big sedili were. The adults cried because they couldn't keep from it, even Keldrey who never cried. It hurt too much to see their children hurting. His own Lissta, just over a year old, stopped her crying for a moment as he held her, to stare in wonder at the tears on her Papi's face. She touched her little hand to his cheek and he had to choke back worse, which started her off again.
It was a good thing the new Habadra had said “Not before the first bell” for Fox and Keldrey to come. It took them nearly to the second bell to calm the children and eliminate the evidence of the morning's grief-festival.
The sun was already too hot on Keldrey's shaved head when he and Fox presented themselves at the barricaded gap in the Habadra House wall.
Fox announced their purpose and the cart was wheeled out of the way to admit them. They were left cooling their heels in the unrelieved heat of the outer courtyard. A bit of shade leaned over from the inner wall in the form of a young tree and Keldrey led the way to its shelter. The stones had been scrubbed clean, he saw. Fresh sand filled the gaps between them.
Keldrey deliberately turned his thoughts away from the sand and the reason for it. He'd seen death before, had lost his first ilian in battle against demons. Life still went on. Fox knew this as well, warrior that he was. They had a job to do, a task for their lost ilias. They had to pull away from the grief and concentrate on what had to be done. On almost anything but what had happened last night in this place.
They waited. Keldrey was used to waiting. He was a bodyguard. He'd spent much of his life doing little else. After a time, he rocked back on his heels. “Wouldn't a gate work better than a cart to block that gap?"
"Mmm,” Fox agreed. “Probably why they had one yesterday. Fancy iron-barred thing."
"What happened to it?"
"Kallista."
"Ah.” Keldrey nodded. “That would explain it."
Another space of time passed before he spoke again. “Blasted it off its hinges, did she?"
"Not at all.” Fox shifted his weight to his other foot. Fidgety, he was. “She blew it to bits. Less than bits. Nothing left but dust. Habadra'll have to have a whole new gate made."
"Huh.” Keldrey considered that a moment. “I take it our K'lista was a trifle upset."
Fox took his turn to consider. “You might say that, yes."
"So when she said she'd destroy the house brick by brick if Stone's boy is hurt, there's a good chance this Habadra woman'll take her serious-like."
"I think there's a very good chance, yes.” Fox went alert, his whole body focused. “Someone's coming. I think it's them."
After six years, Keldrey was mostly used to Fox's ability to know without seeing. It had been a while since the talent had been put to more serious use than hide-and-seek with the kids.
"They're going to make us do this out here?” Keldrey didn't know enough about Daryathi customs to know if it was an insult.
"Apparently.” Fox turned toward the inner gate. “I think Habadra Chani is afraid of our Kallista's magic."
"She should be. But Kallista's not here."
"I am. And I'm one of her Godmarked."
"Don't remind me."
Keldrey didn't actually know whether he was envious or not. Sometimes he felt left out, not being marked, especially during one of their whole-ilian-together times. When Kallista called the magic for pure pleasure. But they made extra efforts to make him feel included, which he appreciated very much.
The other times, when she used the magic for its more proper purposes, he didn't feel left out at all. He was rather grateful not to be included. What little he could perceive on those very rare occasions when he did sense something frankly scared the piss out of him. Magic was more than he wanted to deal with.
The inner gate rattled, and thumped. Seemed the Habadra had added extra security since last night. Keldrey hid his smile. Not that any added locks or bars would keep Kallista out if she wanted in. They hadn't kept her out last night. Nor had they kept death out. They'd harbored the murderer inside their locks.
Finally the gate opened and a very large champion came through, wearing a fancy painted kilt and leathers, bristling with as many weapons as Keldrey and Fox. He had his hand clamped on the shoulder of a very small boy in a white servant's kilt. The champion looked around the courtyard and the two Adarans stepped out from the minimal shade into the sun, making themselves visible. Black was entirely too hot for this climate, Keldrey thought, and he and Fox both wore bodyguard's uniform today.
The champion marched toward them with the boy till he was some ten paces away, then he stopped and shoved the boy onward with a hand between his shoulders. That was when Keldrey saw the leather collar around the child's neck and the chain leading from collar to the champion's meaty fist.
"Is this how the Habadra honors her word?” Keldrey said, fists working his anger.
"The boy is not harmed.” The bass rumble of the champion's voice seemed to come from the vicinity of the paving stones. “He is a servant of the Habadra. You will not steal him."
"Coward. You and your Habadra."
"Merely prudent.” The champion wouldn't be taunted into moving.
Fox touched Keldrey's arm. “Peace. You're scaring the boy."
Damnation. Keldrey managed to look past the collar and chain at the child himself. He was terrified, trembling. Keldrey dropped to one knee, to make himself smaller.
Was this Stone's son? He seemed frail, almost delicate, his ribs clearly visible through the golden-ivory of his skin. His hair was bleached almost white over a warm
brown underlayer, and his eyes were blue. He was not Daryathi, that was certain. He stood balanced on his toes as if ready to run, poised halfway between the man who held his chain and the two who were waiting.
Bent over to put his face nearer the boy's, Fox eased a step toward him. The boy jumped, but held where he was.
"My name is Fox.” Another careful step. “Fox im-Varyl. This is my friend, Keldrey im-Borr. We've come to visit you, but my eyes don't work. I have to use my hands to see. Will you let me touch you, so I can look at you with my hands?"
Hesitantly, still fearful, the boy nodded.
Keldrey cleared his throat and made him jump again. Damn it. “You have to say it out loud. Fox can't see you nod your head.” Fox could tell it, but they weren't giving away secrets.
"May I?” Fox had eased several steps closer while the child's attention was focused on Keldrey.
"Yes.” The boy cringed as Fox reached out, then relaxed gradually under the gentle touch on his face and shoulders.
"Will you come let my friend look at you? He's a healer. He can see how big and strong you are. He won't hurt you."
The boy looked skeptical, but he took Fox's hand and allowed him to lead him to Keldrey, the chain rattling along the pavement as the massive champion paid it out.
"What is your name?” Fox asked as Keldrey began his examination.
"Boy. Sometimes they call me Ti-Boy, or Useless Boy.” The child scuffed a toe in the ground. “I'm not very big."
Keldrey had to clear his throat. “You're plenty big for five years old."
The boy's eyes went wide and he stared at Keldrey. “How do you know how old I am? Did Zyan-sa tell you?"
"We know how old you are,” Fox said, “and we know that ‘Boy’ is not your name. Your name is Sky. You are Sky im-Kyndir and you are my brodir's son. Stone im-Varyl is your father."
Now Sky shifted his stare to Fox. “My father is dead. So is my mother. They told me. I didn't see her."
"No.” Fox curved a hand over the child's head, his hair the same flyaway fluff as Stone's had been. “I didn't see her either. But I believe them."
Keldrey finished his examination, but pretended to continue so they could have more time. He tried to think of something to say. He wanted the boy to be used to him for the next meeting.
Sky's forehead wrinkled. “They said my mother was bad. She killed the Great Lady.” His little pointed chin crumpled and tears welled from his eyes. “My mother said my father didn't want me. She said he did mean things. Bad things. That's why she was mad at me so much, because I'm bad like him."
Keldrey couldn't help himself. He wrapped the boy in his arms and hugged him. “That's not true. It's absolutely wrong."
"I knew your father all my life,” Fox said. “He was a good man, and he always wanted you. He protected your mother from outlaws when they had to travel across Adara before you were born. He looked for you every day after your mother ran away from us. He was trying to take you home with him when he died."
Sky clung to Keldrey, sobbing into his shoulder. “They said my mother cut his head off and ran away with it."
Keldrey didn't swear, but it was an effort. Fox had to stand and walk away. Keldrey didn't believe in sugar-coating the truth, even for children, but there were still things they didn't need to know. Too late for that now. “She did,” he said. “But we got it and put it back. Fox is your uncle. I'm your uncle too.” Close enough for the child's understanding. “We're your family, always have been, always will be."
"Will you take me home with you?"
Fox was back. Keldrey turned Sky into the other man's arms to give Fox a turn to hold him. Fox wouldn't come again. The champion holding the chain was getting restless. They couldn't stretch this out much longer.
"We will,” Fox said. “But not today. The new Habadra doesn't want to let you go. There's going to be a trial."
Sky went pale and clutched at Fox. “Will you die?"
"No. But I can't come back to see you tomorrow."
"I'll be back.” The boy's sudden fear bothered Keldrey. What didn't they know about this trial business? “I'm going to come and see you every day until we can take you home with us."
Sky turned solemn blue eyes on Keldrey. “Promise?"
"I promise.” Keldrey hooked his little fingers together for luck, then held one out to Sky who looked puzzled a moment before linking his tiny finger with Keldrey's. Then Keldrey showed him how to hook his own fingers together. “For luck."
"Remember your name.” Fox linked his finger with Sky's and held it. “You are Sky Kyndir, or Sky Varyl, if you want to use your father's Line, no matter what they might call you here. Remember that. You're ours."
The champion rattled the chain, almost staggering the boy. “It is time."
"Right, then.” Keldrey finger-combed Sky's cottony-soft hair into rough order. “What's your name?"
"Sky Varyl."
"Quite right. Don't you forget it.” Keldrey turned him to face the Habadra champion and together the three of them walked back, Fox gathering up chain as they went.
He dropped it into the champion's hand, then put a finger to his lips as Sky gazed longingly up at him. “Remember,” Fox said. “But don't tell."
"I'll see you tomorrow,” Keldrey said. “Promise.” He'd bring along a treat, too. Sky wasn't seriously underfed, but he could use some filling out. A meat roll to start, Keldrey thought. Until they could get him home and feed him up proper.
"Bye.” Sky walked backward, waving shyly as his escort guided him back through the inner gate.
Keldrey and Fox lingered until the boy was lost to view, ignoring the restlessness of the waiting gatekeeper champions.
"He's definitely Stone's boy, then,” Keldrey said when they'd passed far enough down the street for his comfort.
"Doesn't he look like Stone to you?"
"Yeah. Same hair. Same eyes. Different chin though."
"He's young yet.” Fox raised a hand to rest on the hilt of his sword. “He looks like Stone to me too."
"So now all we have to do is get him out."
* * * *
Viyelle rapped on the door to the private room Kallista shared with Obed. “My Reinine,” she shouted through the door. “Kallista, you have decisions to make."
"Then make them.” The voice was muffled, strained, oddly altered. But it was definitely Kallista's. The door stayed shut.
Viyelle picked up the nearest small object, an empty cup, and threw it across the room. It didn't shatter, since it was made of metal, but it did bend. Not as satisfying as shattering would have been. Not satisfying at all.
"Give her time to grieve.” Obed folded his arms and leaned against the wall beside the door.
"Why should I?” Viyelle snapped. “Who's giving me time to grieve? Stone shared my bed, not hers."
She knew her words weren't fair when she said them, but she couldn't stop herself, as if hurting someone else might somehow ease her own hurt. She hugged her pain to her, wallowed in it. “You're just afraid to go back in there since she kicked you out. You're afraid she'll black your other eye."
Obed touched his swollen left eye. They'd all witnessed the shocking event, after the children had been herded out to play, away from the infectious grief of the adults. Obed had followed Kallista into their room and she'd turned on him, shouting at him to leave her alone, hitting him, throwing things. A cup like the one Viyelle had thrown had done the damage to his eye.
Joh hooked his arm around the back of Viyelle's neck and pulled her into an embrace. For a moment, she fought to break free before she realized it was the same behavior she condemned in Kallista. Viyelle sagged instead into Joh's embrace. At least he understood how much she suffered.
"Viyelle's right,” Torchay said. “About the decisions needing to be made. Do we take Stone's body home for the funeral? Do we have the funeral here and just take his ashes home? Private funeral or public?"
"We can't leave till we have Sky out of tha
t woman's hands,” Keldrey said. He and Fox had missed Kallista's hysterics.
"So, funeral here.” Viyelle turned in the circle of Joh's arms to keep their comfort around her as she faced the others.
"Private,” Fox said. “Our grief has been displayed enough."
Viyelle made a face. “I agree, but I think there will have to be some sort of public ... something. In Arikon when we get back home. A funeral service without the actual funeral?"
They argued over forms and functions, processions and intercessions and the impossibility of a temple service when the temple was closed to the public, until Viyelle wanted to have a set of hysterics of her own. She was entitled.
"This is useless.” She threw the quill she'd been attempting to take notes with onto the table, spattering it with ink. “Kallista needs to come out of that room and make some decisions. We're not getting anywhere without her."
"You do it,” Torchay said. “You heard her."
"Then stop arguing with me when I try. Damn it, Torchay—” Viyelle didn't get fully underway before he interrupted.
"I know you're hurting, love.” Torchay reached across the table to clasp her hand. “We all are. But we weren't bound to Stone like she was.
She felt him die. That magic link she has to all of us—she felt it break. If she needs a wee bit more time and space to get over that, she should have it."
Viyelle swallowed her scream of pain and frustration. Maybe Kallista did feel him die, but she didn't love Stone like Viyelle did. He wasn't first in Kallista's heart.
"But she still has us.” Aisse sounded confused and hurt. “We are not Stone, but we are us—ourselves. We are still here. I don't understand why—"
"She will remember us,” Obed said. “Soon. But we have other matters to discuss."
"The trial,” Keldrey said.
"Doesn't the embassy have lawyers?” Viyelle looked from Obed's grim face to Keldrey's. She was getting a bad feeling about this. “Truthsayers?"
Obed shook his head. “Warriors will be more use than lawyers. Justice in Daryath is decided by combat. Each side in a case brings a champion to the court. They fight, and the winner of the combat is the winner of the court case."
