Fire and Fantasy: a Limited Edition Collection of Epic and Urban Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  “Daybian was there?”

  “Master Daybian came with armsmen.”

  “Bastard,” she muttered. He must have caught the end of the conversation in the kitchen—heard more than he claimed to have. He was devious. It made her wonder whether he wanted time alone with her for her body or for some other plan.

  “But I did not tell the secret, Kantees.” He was almost pleading with her to approve of what he had done.

  She sighed and smiled. She reached through the bars and put her hand on his shoulder. “You did a very brave thing, Gally.”

  “Like a hero.”

  Her smile grew wider. “Yes, like a real hero.”

  And that settled it. It was impossible to let him suffer for what she had done. Her lies had got them into this mess, so she was going to have to think of a way out of it.

  But the only thing she could think of was to run away.

  She glanced at the man in the cell next door. He was still staring and her frustration overflowed in a verbal attack. “Why are you looking at me?”

  He did not flinch. Not even a blink. Instead, he climbed to his feet. “Greetings to the Lady Kantees.” And then he bowed with one hand on his stomach and the other giving a broad gesture. She had never seen anything like it—except she had. There had been some lord at a race last year who had not had any zirichasa to race, but he had bet heavily. His mannerisms had been like this, bold and flowery.

  “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else or having a jest,” she said. “Now if you don’t mind I would appreciate it if you stopped staring at me and left me with my friend.”

  “As you wish.”

  He turned his back on her and stepped to the far side of his cell. Kantees was taken aback. She was ready for an argument but he had pulled the wind from her wings.

  After a moment she turned back to Gally who had finished the food and was washing it down with the water. She wanted to ask him what the other fellow was in for but she didn’t think Gally could cope with the question. His viewpoint was always focused on himself.

  “I’ll bring some more tomorrow,” she said. She hated to go but she had her own duties and she couldn’t leave Sheesha for long. “Look, Gally, if they ask you again, why don’t you say you’ve forgotten and that you made it all up.”

  “I have to protect you, Kantees, they mustn’t hurt you.”

  “But—” she started, then realised it was pointless. He was so single-minded, once he started on a course it was almost impossible to get him to change. Unless, of course, you could distract him so thoroughly he forgot what he was doing. If they kept on asking him, there was little chance of him forgetting.

  She had barely gone five paces than the other man stopped her.

  “Kantees.”

  “Dropped the ‘lady’ already?”

  “I can use it, if you wish.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I am here to offer my help,” he said. “My master sent me because he knew you might be in need.”

  She turned on him with her hands on her hips. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I can’t help you get out of here. In case you hadn’t noticed the colour of my skin, I’m just as much a slave here as you. There’s no point trying. I can’t help you.”

  “I do not think you were listening.”

  “I heard every word you said but you seemed to have failed to see that you are the one that is in a cell. I am on the outside.”

  “Yet you are more trapped than I,” he said.

  Kantees could not think of anything to say so she stood silent, her jaw twitching, until she blurted at him. “I really do not have time for this.”

  And left.

  She hurried across the courtyard ignoring the jeers of the armsmen. Once through the kitchen she climbed the ladders to the eyrie. Sheesha had messed twice and she spent the time clearing it up, trying to understand what was happening.

  Once the shoveling and sweeping was complete she fetched the powder that was intended to reduce the number of parasites on Sheesha’s body. She was not sure whether it worked since Sheesha’s skin seemed to be home to a constant supply of the horrible little bugs.

  Some of which were not so little.

  It was an unending task and possibly the one she enjoyed least. It usually ended with her exploring the base of the feathers, trying to squash (preferably) or grab (if necessary) the little things to remove them. Romain had explained that in the wild the zirichasa would preen one another, just like smaller birds did, in order to remove the parasites. For creatures in captivity, the keepers had to do it.

  And when she was finished, she had to put up with Sheesha attempting to return the favour, prodding every part of her body trying to get to her skin around the clothes—perhaps he thought clothes were feathers—and then nipping at her, which was occasionally painful but she was sure he didn’t mean to hurt her. Once or twice he had nipped hard enough to elicit blood and a cry of pain. When that happened he would rub his muzzle against her as if apologising.

  As she systematically worked her way up his spine between his wings, she realised how much she cared for the beast. And then she felt sad. The only solution she could think of was to run away, leaving a message behind saying that Gally was innocent and only trying to protect her in his childlike way.

  Running away meant she would have to leave Sheesha—and she couldn’t think of any of the other apprentices that was ready to look after him.

  There were so many problems with that plan—it wasn’t even a plan, it was just an idea. In the first place she would have trouble getting out of the castle. Her job was to look after Sheesha. The only time she went out was when there were races.

  And there was no way she could leave a message without telling someone. And there was no one she could trust except Gally, and he would not be able to cope. Even assuming they accepted what he said, which wasn’t going to happen since he was already under suspicion.

  Finally, she had nowhere to go and no way to get there. If she did manage to get out of the castle a runaway slave would be hunted down in no time at all. There was always one or two every year who decided they would make a run for it. But the Jakalain land was nowhere, and apart from the orchards there weren’t even any woods to hide in for a five-day of travel.

  She sighed and lay down along the length of Sheesha’s back, letting the warmth of his feathers flow into her. She yawned. The worry of the last few days had meant she was not sleeping very well.

  Sheesha moved and lay down too, with her on his back. He let out a gentle grumble that vibrated through her. It made her feel relaxed.

  Of course, if she escaped on Sheesha’s back she could get away easily and no one would be able to catch her.

  She blinked her eyes open and stared at the feathers in front of her face. It was true, she could do that. But that would mean leaving Gally. And then she thought of the crazy man in the cell. What if he wasn’t crazy? What if he could help?

  No, of course not. He was in a cell. There was nothing he could do.

  You are more trapped than I.

  His words haunted her. He did not act like someone who was trapped. He seemed totally at his ease. And his clothes, in spite of their odd appearance, were of the highest quality. Why was he even locked up?

  He was a slave, he had admitted as much himself with the mention of his own master. Yet he did not act like a slave.

  Eight

  Kantees looked back up the passageway towards the torture room. This was the third day she had come to this place and it had gained a strange familiarity. All the years she had lived in the castle and she had hardly ever set foot inside the main defensive walls. Now she was accustomed to it. The guards recognised her and no longer checked her—though that might have been because of her comment about Daybian.

  She was carrying food for Gally again. She did not understand why they kept him locked up. Romain was struggling to keep abreast of the daily chores, and he had even insisted she he
lp him.

  Moving hay bales was not too hard. She had been moving them since she was young and she was easily as strong as Romain himself. Perhaps that was not saying a great deal, for he was getting old. Certainly she was stronger than most of the apprentices.

  And the four older zirichasa—Romain’s charges—liked her. Three females and a male. It was not that they were particularly old, but they could no longer race. They seemed to appreciate her attention when she spoke to them and scratched their necks. Daybian had had his father buy them as breeding stock. The male and one of the females—Looesa and Shingul—had been winners in a few races, though not sufficient to make them very expensive.

  The apprentices tended the yearlings that were their offspring. Sheesha was not related to any of them as far as she knew.

  Romain insisted the apprentices were too incompetent to help and that she must do it. So she spent a couple of hours before the midday meal working with him. There was not much to be done. She guessed that Romain probably did none of it when he had Gally to help—and that he chose Gally over any of the others simply because the simple lad would not question his laziness.

  So she was later than she intended.

  And Galiko was looking for her through the bars as she came down. Her glance backward confirmed there were no armsmen watching or listening. She was not entirely sure how she felt about the other prisoners. They were criminals of one sort or another. Mostly slaves who had been caught pilfering. Though they might have been wrongfully accused—that was very common.

  If they thought she was up to something, they might think it would ease their punishment if they traded the information. But the Taymalin were strict, so she doubted negotiation was acceptable. The slightest hint that any of them knew anything of interest would lead to torture.

  However, she did not want to take the chance.

  She greeted Gally and gave him the food. Then she leaned against the cage with her back to the other man—she did not even know his name.

  “What help can you offer?” she said in a low voice she hoped would not carry.

  “You have reconsidered.”

  “Something needs to be done.”

  “And you are the one to do it?”

  “Stop playing games and answer my question.”

  “Have you thought of a way out?”

  “Yes, but I cannot leave my friend to the benevolence of my master.”

  “No, indeed,” he said. “The Taymalin are well known for their fatal kindness.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Yenteel.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “My master is interested in you.”

  “I don’t know your master.”

  “No, but he knows you.”

  “How is it possible that he knows me?”

  “We observed you at the races.”

  “If your master is that interested, he could just offer Jakalain a price for me.”

  “Sadly he is not that rich.”

  “And how did you end up in here?”

  “It is difficult to get an invitation into the castle when you are a slave alone.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Oh, you want the precise details? I propositioned one of the armsmen—a captain.”

  She blinked, surely he did not mean what he had just said. She turned and looked at him. “You propositioned?”

  “I suggested he might like to join me for the night.”

  Kantees could think of nothing to say.

  “The fellow seemed to think I had insulted him and so did not take me up on my suggestion, but he did put me where I wanted to be. They considered it a great joke that I would indeed be spending the night at his home. I considered it a great joke as well, that their behaviour was so predictable.”

  She grinned. “What if he had accepted your offer instead?”

  Yenteel shrugged. “I did choose the most handsome one.”

  “Oh.” She shook the mental image loose. “How could being in here be of any help? You did not know I would be coming down here. I did not even know myself.”

  “It was in the pattern.”

  Then she really did laugh. “You expect me to believe you can read the world’s pattern?”

  “You are not required to believe anything if you do not wish to,” he said. “Besides, I did not say that I could read it. I only have to know someone who does.”

  “If I knew the world’s pattern I would not squander that knowledge in getting myself put into a prison cell,” she said. “Anyway, did the pattern say anything about how you were going to get out?”

  “Of course,” he said. “You.”

  Gally had finished eating and just sat watching the two of them talk. She wondered if he was able to follow what was being said. Probably not; that’s why he didn’t interrupt. He couldn’t be part of it. She was not sure even she wanted to be a part of it. The last thing she wanted was to think her actions were being manipulated by someone else.

  “Let’s say I could get you and Gally out of the castle,” she said. “Can you get out of the cell?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “That’s for me to know when the time comes.”

  “Fine, have it your own way,” she said. “Can you be ready tomorrow evening?”

  “During the feeding, yes.”

  “After,” she said. “I am meeting someone.”

  She nodded and took a deep breath. It hadn’t been a decision as much as a feeling that had been growing on her. The pressure of the missing boy, that Gally was simply being held and neither released nor punished. A feeling had come over her like a day when the clouds were low and it was as if the whole sky pressed down.

  The feeding tomorrow would be the best time. The magic would be so wild and dangerous that the patterners would be able to do nothing.

  “Kantees?”

  She was shocked from her reverie as Daybian came down the corridor. Why on earth was he here? Was he following her, keeping track of her? He was so relaxed, so sure of himself. Arrogant.

  Did he know she had been talking to Yenteel? But the prisoner was already on the other side of his cell looking at the floor, drawing no attention to himself.

  And then Daybian grinned at her. “Tomorrow night.”

  She growled inwardly. He was still planning to take her and no doubt use the excuse of the “wild” Kadralin if there were any consequences. The blame could easily be shifted to those with no responsibility or decision.

  “When?”

  “Unfortunately for us, I must attend the feast and witness the feeding proper with my family. Then I shall come to you.”

  “What is being done about finding your brother?” she asked and was taken by the genuine heaviness that seemed to come over him.

  He shook his head. “It is difficult to know what can be done. The raiders are long gone, and there was nothing to identify the ones that were slain—save that they were Taymalin.”

  For which we can be grateful, thought Kantees. If the attackers had been Kadralin every one of us would be suspect and liable for torture.

  “I am sorry,” she said even though it was not the place for a slave to feel sympathy for a master. They might not rebel, but they might cheer inside when a master suffered. It took away from their own pain. But it was true, she was sorry.

  Daybian put his hand on her shoulder—almost as one would with a companion, a friend—and gave a gentle squeeze. “No one knows where to look. And there has been no ransom demand.”

  He dropped his hand and the lascivious grin returned. “Until tomorrow, Kantees.”

  With that he strode away. Kantees stared after him.

  “He will upset your plans,” said Yenteel behind her.

  “No, he won’t.”

  “You may have to kill him.”

  She turned and took hold of the bars. Yenteel was there, close, with his midnight skin and brown eyes, and taller than she was.
<
br />   “Whatever I do,” she said, “it will not be because of anything you say I should or should not.”

  “If you do not deal with him permanently, there will be nothing but trouble.”

  “I will not cause the Jakalain any more pain.”

  “You are a slave.”

  “And to act like a master makes me no better than them.”

  It seemed he had no response to that. He turned away and went to sit in the corner. And whether it was to contemplate on the world’s pattern, or to nurse his failure, she really could not care.

  She turned back to Gally and he asked her simple questions about the people in the tower and she answered them to the best of her ability. She trulydid not take much notice of the gossip.

  Nine

  In truth she had no reason to stay with Sheesha during the Mother’s feeding. It had happened plenty of times before and Sheesha had never given any indication he was upset by the white lights from the sky.

  It usually happened at night but sometimes in the day. Tonight it was overcast, but that did not seem to make any difference to the magic that drove it.

  Nobody knew what the feeding was. Leastways, if the patterners did know they kept it a secret. And if the wisdom of the Kadralin had fathomed its mysteries, that knowledge must have been lost when they were enslaved. She hoped the latter was the truth. She would rather it was her people that knew and had forgotten, than the Taymalin’s patterners.

  She really knew nothing about her own people. She only knew slaves and slavery.

  When she had been bought there had been a time when she was just used in the kitchens for cleaning. On the day Looesa, Shingul, Jintan, and Sheesha had been brought back to the castle, she was one of the ones that had been sent to clean out the eyries.

  She smiled as she remembered and glanced back at Sheesha, who was preening himself in the middle of the floor leaning against a bale of hay. He was like an old man sometimes, and then a child. Sheesha was lying where the younger Kantees had stood with a broom in her hand when Sheesha, a huge monster to her then with a mouth easily big enough to bite her head off if he had a mind to, flew in through the open eyrie door and came to a thudding stop directly in front of her.