"I understand," Daniel said, nodding. "You and I are doing the same thing, then."
"Rescuing our families?" Christian asked.
"Yes." Daniel crossed his legs, keeping his feet on the cloth of their impromptu tent. His hair seemed dimmer in the half-light, more like bronze than gold.
It was growing musty in their shelter, and uncomfortably warm. Christian's face felt hot, and he looked away.
"If I might ask a personal question..." he began, trying to get his mind off of the fact that he was in an enclosed space, during a storm, with another man. It looked bad-or it would have, if he was still in Court. As it was, the only one watching was God, and He would hopefully understand that this was an emergency.
"Go ahead," Daniel said. He tilted his head, bird-like.
"Why do you live in the city? If everyone in your Family is out in the desert...” Christian realized this was probably a private matter, but his curiosity was too strong to be sated.
Daniel's brow furrowed in thought, but he said nothing. The desert wind moaned outside, in a dying fall rather than a rising shriek.
It made the hair on Christian's neck stand on end. He had to remind himself that there were no wolves in this part of the world. Even then, he couldn't help but think that the wind sounded like the howling of a wolf pack, ready to kill.
"Our family lives in the desert because... well, city people don't like us much.” Daniel's voice was calm, but it shook a little. “I mean, even we lived with my papa's clan for years.”
“So why did you...” Christian began.
“My mama wanted to be a blacksmith, right? And old Ezekiel-he was the best in the world, they say-he was a friend of a friend of my mama's. And so when I was... I think I was about eight or nine summers old-we moved. She studied under him.”
Daniel smiled, a little, remembering.
“But even now... there's plenty of people that don't want us around. We have to be careful, see?”
“I understand," Christian said.
"Do you?" Daniel leaned forward, and Christian shrank away from him.
Christian nodded, brusquely.
“Breath and body, and here I thought your heart was made of stone.” Daniel laughed.
“...I'm sorry.” It felt strange to say it so simply, and not to have had it forced out of him. “Have you... have you forgiven me?”
“For calling me a dhunni?” Daniel blinked.
“Yes.”
“Mostly. It stung then, but...” Daniel shrugged. “Just don't throw around insults like that. People will think you're cursing them.”
And there he went again, implying that Christian was a witch. He tried to ignore that-after all, it wouldn't do to spoil the apology by getting into another argument, so soon-but it rankled at him. He clenched his hand into a fist.
“I wouldn't want to curse anyone.” Christian frowned.
“You wouldn't.” Daniel agreed, tilting his head to one side. “...I don't understand you, though.”
“Why not?” Christian raised an eyebrow.
“You... You act strangely. You say one thing and mean the other.” Daniel frowned. “You act like you want to help, and then you say horrible things.”
“...I didn't know.” But ignorance of the law was no excuse, was it? Christian felt a burning knot of shame building up in his stomach. “It was just a word. I didn't know that it meant, well... that.”
“Well, now you know that.” Daniel laughed. "...It's not just that. You act like you're better than everyone."
The words 'I am better' flashed across Christian's mind, but he pushed them aside. That was most certainly pride. He was worse than everyone, and he knew it, and he knew God knew it.
"...I try to be a good Christian," he said. "That's all."
"Mama says she likes Christ, but not Christians." Daniel tilted his head to one side. "I mean, the Christians were the ones fighting the war..."
Christian winced. The muscles in his forearms tensed up so much that they hurt, and his shoulders slumped. He swallowed, hard, and tried to compose himself.
"There were good reasons for the war." He took a deep, shaky breath.
"...Maybe. But the things that they did after they won? Those weren't good things." Daniel's voice was measured.
"Let's put that... aside." Christian frowned. "....There are bad people that are Christians, but they're... They're not really Christians, they're using the Church to get power, or-or things like that."
He knew all too well that you could be a bad person and still be a Christian; if you couldn't, what did that make him? But the really terrible people, the ones who had neither faith nor works, well, they were the ones who'd commit atrocities, right?
Daniel nodded, slowly.
"Okay, I can understand that." He looked at Christian. Christian felt as though Daniel was looking through him, but not as if he was invisible-as if he was a deep pool that Daniel was thinking about swimming in.
“Christian?” Daniel's voice was oddly hesitant, and he twiddled his thumbs, circling them around each other in a jagged not-rhythm.
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if perhaps... you'd like to meet my parents.”
“Why not.” Christian shrugged. It was thanks to Daniel's father that they were even here. The least he could do was meet the man.
Daniel blinked in surprise.
“Wow. All right.”
“Is everything all right?” Christian asked.
“I didn't think you'd want to.” Daniel bit his lower lip. "I mean. You. I."
Christian privately wished that the boy would spare him this babbling, but he kept silent. He didn't want to be any ruder than he had to be.
"I'm happy to meet your parents," he said. "They're helping us just as much as you are."
If not more so, he thought. Besides, he was curious to meet Daniel's mother. What kind of woman would become a blacksmith?
"If you're sure..." Daniel's entire face seemed to light up. It was like watching dawn come over a mountain-first his eyes, then his lips, then the rest of his face filled with joy and excitement. "I'll tell them, then. We'll make you the best couscous this side of Adharel."
"Thank you." Christian mustered all the grace he could. "It's kind of you to help us."
“It's no trouble! I mean you're helping us too, right?”
The wind was growing weaker. Their makeshift tent had stopped trying to blow away as they talked, and now even the sound of the wind had died down. The desert returned to its usual, eerie silence.
Daniel lifted the edge of the cloth, peering out.
"Storm's over. Let's go! The caravan's going to leave us behind."
They hurried to join the procession of men and camels. Christian's face wouldn't cool, but he bit his lip and cleared his mind.
★★★
The caravan continued moving as night crept in, pressing farther into the desert. Christian's feet felt heavy as lead, and the cold air nipped at his fingers. The great pale band of the Way of Saint James stretched over his head. It seemed bigger and closer than he'd ever seen it before, scattering stars into the sky.
They were supposed to follow the Way until they got to a certain point. Then they were to strike off into the desert, during the day, and follow the sun. He was a little frightened to travel by night-who knew what could be lurking in the shadows-but Daniel had said it was safer than traveling by day.
He saw something skittering across the rocks at his feet, claws clicking. For a moment, he wondered if it was a scorpion, or something worse.
His hand moved to the hilt of his sword.
"Christian!" It was only Miriet. He felt foolish, and let his hand fall.
"What is it?" He bent down, picking her up. She was as cold as the desert itself, and he shivered.
"Look up there." She gestured, lazily, with a claw.
Christian glanced at the star-scattered sky. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be seeing. They were stars, nothing more. They did
seem brighter and closer than he'd ever seen them before, but he thought that that was because the sky was cloudless.
"What am I looking at?" he asked.
Miriet moved sluggishly, flipping herself over. She gestured with one of her forelegs, at a star cluster near the midpoint of the sky.
"Do you see those?" Her claws dug into his arm, and he stifled a curse.
"Yes?" Christian clenched his teeth.
"That's Aspora....I think I can find my home system from here."
Christian tilted Miriet, moving her so her claws wouldn't dig into his arm.
"System?"
"My homeworld. The... place I'm from." Her whiskers twitched, and she sounded nostalgic. Christian wondered if maybe she was homesick, and felt a twinge of sympathy.
They walked a little ways, in silence. He bit his lip, thinking.
"It's hard to believe," he finally said.
"What is?" Miriet sounded curious. Her scales turned to the purply-gray color of the sky behind the Way of Saint James.
"When I was young, I was told that the sky was a great, dark glass dome around the Earth. The stars were heaven's light shining through."
Christian kicked a pebble, and it skittered off, disappearing into the darkness.
"Now I'm told that the stars are other worlds and people like you live there. I can't put any faith in that."
"I'm not asking you to have faith in me," Miriet said.
"You're not?" Christian asked, lips quirking despite himself. “Then what are you doing, Miriet?”
"'Faith is believing in what ain't so.'" She intoned the words in the manner of a quote from Scripture.
"Really." He frowned.
"I'm trying to prove that what I'm saying is true. There's a difference." She was beginning to feel less like a block of ice on his shoulder, a bit more like a living thing. “If I'm not proof enough, I don't know what is.”
"Well, the best proof would be seeing your... 'homeworld'," he said. He tried to imagine what the place Miriet was from would even look like, and his mind boggled.
"Maybe we can go there sometime," she said, laughing. "It's not really worth it, though."
"Is it dangerous?" Christian asked. Despite his reservations-the only proof he had that Miriet wasn't a demon was her deeds-he was curious what other worlds would look like.
"Oh, I wish." She made a noise like a rueful chuckle. "It'd be a little more interesting that way. As is, it's boring as all get-out.”
Christian didn't question the reference.
"That's why I left. Nothing there for me," she said. He got the feeling that she was trying to put a good face on it-trying to seem happier and less homesick than she really was.
"What about your family?" Christian asked, and felt a pang of guilt. What about his own family? He was an utter hypocrite. Here he was, thinking he could leave the world and leave Linna behind, and then asking Miriet about her.
"What about them?" Miriet laughed again. It was almost, but not quite, bitter laughter.
"Do you miss them?"
“Well...”
She paused for a long moment, tail twitching against his shoulder.
"Of course," she finally said. "But I wanted to see the worlds."
"And that's more important to you than your family?"
Christian was horrified, and yet, somehow, intrigued. They said that blood was thicker than water, because family trumped all other ties, even those made to the Church in the waters of baptism. A desire stronger than loyalty to one's family-he could barely imagine that.
The image of Mercadier, beckoning him close, appeared in his mind's eye. The apparition wore a seductive smile, and not much else.
Christian pushed the treacherous thought aside.
"Yeah,” Miriet finally said. “I mean, I still talk to my family. We're kind of on a weak branch right now, but it's not like I'm aret or anything.”
"Aret?" He wondered if that was a real word, or something from Miriet's strange language.
"...It means outcast. The concept's a bit more complicated, it's from a root that means 'to hold'... uh... I guess you humans would say 'disowned'?" Miriet laughed, nervously. "One of my parents didn't want me going away, but we talked it over, and, well, they both were really good about it, you know?"
Christian didn't. He'd never dared to go against his father's wishes, when he still lived. Even now that he was dead, Christian still was wary of doing something that would anger him. His heart felt heavy within him, just thinking about it.
He decided to change the subject.
"That's why I can't leave," he said. "After all this is over."
"Why not?" Miriet tilted her head to one side.
"I have a duty. My family needs me." Christian swallowed hard. Linna was the only living member of his family, of course. But in his mind's eye, he could see a whole line of Arundel ancestors, staring at him, daring him to put a toe out of line.
"Well, it's your call." Miriet rolled over, lazily. "...Oh! I almost forgot."
"What?"
"Sara-I mean the Captain-they wanted to talk to you."
"Why?" Christian frowned.
Miriet curled up on his shoulder
"Something about what I told you both. With Excom." She laughed, and then yawned, catlike. "I gotta sleep, but..."
"All right." Christian resolved to talk to her when they next made camp, in the cold of the night or the heat of the day.
★★★
The coldest part of the night came soon enough. The air seemed blue around them. The stars were bright, and the moon gave almost as much light as the mid-morning sun, but the air was chill.
The members of the caravan had busied themselves with putting up tents, making fires, and cooking meals. Now, they sat, in groups of three, or seven, or ten, around the fires, talking to each other in their foreign tongue. Daniel, and a group of other men, were nearest the tents. He could hear drunken laughter and what sounded like an argument breaking out.
Christian walked towards the edge of the camp, and sat at a small fire, trying to ignore the others. He couldn't find Sara, but that was probably for the best.
He kept getting distracted from important things. His thoughts were spinning with new, strange ideas-worlds without number in the stars, creatures that were neither men nor demons, places where—
No, he told himself, don't think about that.
As often as he tried to get himself back to what mattered, his mind raced away again. He felt the urge to go out there, and see all of it for himself. The life he'd planned suddenly seemed stifling.
When he had been a boy, he longed to go out into the world, and seek his fortune, like the heroes of the tales he so loved. Now, even after years of burying it for the good of others, his wanderlust stirred.
A knight never refuses an adventure. He wasn't sure where that thought had come from-it was part of the code Sir Lionel, the hero of so many of those old tales he'd loved, had lived by. He hadn't thought of those stories in years, but the words wouldn't leave his head, no matter how hard he tried to push them out.
He kicked at the dust, scattering it through the firelight. Where it hit the fire, the flames sputtered and spat.
“You're going to put that out." Daniel's voice came from the darkness beyond the fire.
"I don't care." Christian scuffed his foot again, but kept the sand away from the flames.
"All right, but you'll have to start it again if you do." Daniel approached him. He'd shed some of the layers of robes, wearing just a simple white tunic and trousers. His feet were bare and bandaged to the toes, almost like a beggar's, but they didn't seem sore. Christian wondered why he didn't simply wear shoes.
"I came to ask you where you were planning to eat tonight," he added. "With your men, or...?"
He was hesitant, and he wasn't looking Christian straight on-a bad sign.
"Or with your family?" Christian hazarded.
"Yes." Daniel swallowed, adam's apple bobbing up and down in h
is thin throat. "If you don't think now's the time, then feel free to eat with your kin, but... They're anxious to meet you."
Christian considered. There was no real reason for him to eat with the crew-after all, he was only traveling with them out of convenience. The same could be said for Daniel's tribe, to be fair.
"I think ..." he began. "It might be best if I..."
There had to be some hidden motive here, he thought. Food and water were scarce out in the Sahel, and the caravan and crew alike were rationing them. Why in the world would Daniel be so eager to feed him, if food was so valuable? Could it be that he was trying to poison him?
That makes no sense, he told himself, sternly. But he knew something wasn't right, though just what it was lingered at the edge of his mind.
"We should wait to eat together," he finished. "Until we've gotten to your City."
It was too short of a time to really be sure, but at least with a bit of a wait, he could figure out what Daniel really wanted.
"Oh. I guess that makes sense..." Daniel drooped. "We ought to help everyone else before... yes."
Christian frowned.
"If you like, you could eat with me, here," he said.
"What?" Daniel's eyes widened. "No! I. I couldn't do that."
"Why not?" He was beginning to realize that Daniel was almost as strange as Miriet, if not stranger. After all, you almost expected a six-legged lizard to not be like a human, even if she could talk. A human, just like him in form and features, that didn't think like him? Well, that was stranger still.
"Only clan members can eat together. Unless it's arranged, or you're going to join the clan later on." Daniel scuffed his foot at the sand. "It's... it's a thing. It's like how you don't want to be naked in front of a stranger."
Christian frowned. This was foreign to him... but, if he thought about it, it wasn't too different from the Families at home. You certainly didn't go and eat with members of another Family, alone, unless you were looking for trouble.
"I see. Go eat with your clansmen, then."
Daniel got up and began to walk away. He turned, and waved to Christian.
"I'll see you after dinner. “
Christian watched him go, frowning, but said nothing.
The Court Of Stars (The Commonwealth Quartet Book 1) Page 15
