∞
Korbin was gone, free, away from all the madness in Vol. Guilt wracked his mind, but he pushed it aside. He had to look out for himself, as Eliam should have done. Octavia was a grown woman and a competent one. She could take care of herself. He had to hope that since he left Vol, the dark conduit wouldn’t target him again.
That evening when he arrived in Arcciosca, he’d spoken to the contact Eliam had given him about a job at sea. He’d been hired without question, based on the weight of Eliam’s recommendation. Of course, Korbin hadn’t told them that Eliam was dead. They’d know soon enough, and when they told him, he’d act surprised. Letting his horror show wouldn’t be difficult.
But being free didn’t feel liberating. Especially not when he couldn’t stop thinking about Octavia. He didn’t know what he felt for her. It wasn’t lust exactly, although she was beautiful and he couldn’t help but fleetingly wonder what it would be like to hold her. He had trouble imagining such an encounter, though. On the other hand, mere friendly affection didn’t quite cover what he felt, either. Over the strange days they’d spent together, they’d forged some kind of bond. Beyond that, the nature of their relationship was difficult to pinpoint.
At the moment, he sat at a table, pretending to listen to local gossip with a couple of the sailors he’d be working with on their next journey. Then all of a sudden, it was like Octavia was there, standing next to him. He looked up and actually felt surprised when he didn’t see her. He sensed her so clearly, he would swear he could smell the familiar aroma of the soap she used.
At first, the experience had been a warm one. He was so happy for that fraction of a moment. But then, without warning, he imagined her feelings of betrayal when she realized he was gone. It hit him so hard that he caught his breath. Although he felt ashamed at having run, that wasn’t the worst part. The worst was the understanding that although she would be deeply hurt, she wouldn’t be surprised. By running, he’d simply confirmed what she’d always believed about him, deep inside.
“What’s wrong?” one of the sailors asked. His thick Northern accent made it come out like Wot’s wrang?
Korbin sat in silence for a moment, and the sailor repeated the question, this time sounding more concerned.
“I have to go,” Korbin said softly.
“Aye,” the sailor said. “Good fer ye, mate. Need to get an early start a’ the morn.”
Korbin nodded, but he had no intention of showing up in the morning. He couldn’t do this. What was eating at him wasn’t that Octavia needed him, but he suddenly realized that he desperately needed her, and not just to stop the person who had attacked his father and later him.
She was his one remaining connection in this world, now that Eliam was gone and his father had changed into someone he didn’t recognize. What had he been thinking?
Luck smiled on him for once, and he managed to find a merchant who was making the overnight journey to the city. A few coins secured him a spot on one of the wagons. It took almost twice as long as it would have on horseback, but when he left Vol, he couldn’t risk taking his horse from the stable where it was housed with the Talmor Riders, so he’d begged a ride.
The merchant made a stop before heading into the city, so he dropped Korbin at an inn off the main road. Korbin didn’t want to bang on Navetta’s door before dawn. The innkeeper wasn’t thrilled at having to get up at this hour, but the coins Korbin put in his hand assuaged his anger. The cook was already awake and baking, and before long, Korbin had a hot drink, some freshly baked rolls, and a plate of ham and sausages.
Within an hour, early rising guests started to appear, and Korbin worried one of them would recognize him. But as the room filled with people, the chatter turned to the events of the previous day. The deaths of two of Vol’s prominent legislators trumped a mere wanted criminal. The talk pained Korbin and he tried not to picture Eliam’s face as he burned. The image had haunted his every hour since it happened.
That was the moment when Korbin realized more than one of the travelers was wearing a pin with Braetin’s symbol on it. Were they true believers or just hoping it would protect them from the Red Manus? That told him it was time to go. It wasn’t worth the risk to find out which camp they supported. He rose from his table, but a voice caught his ear, and he hesitated.
“They say Dul Seba has been declared the head of the Council of Eight.”
“Seba?” Korbin asked without thinking. A couple of heads swiveled in his direction.
“Indeed.” The speaker was a squat man in rich clothing. “Surprising turn of events, isn’t it?”
Korbin shrugged, feigning disinterest. “I never paid any mind to politics,” he said, affecting the accent of the locals in Chelotti Strand. “I just thought Dul Ursin was second after Dul Graiphen.”
The man looked impressed and pleased to have an audience who understood what he was getting at. “Exactly. I thought so too. Everyone did. But it seems Dul Eliam and Dul Tarsten’s deaths shook things up more than we might have expected. Perhaps Dul Ursin didn’t want the job, considering the events of late.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Korbin’s input.
Korbin wouldn’t give any more, no matter how much he wanted to question the merchant for every last bit of information he had. Seba? It didn’t fit. A million questions begged to be asked, but instead, Korbin decided on prudence.
He shrugged and picked up a last morsel of bread on his place and popped it in his mouth. “Who knows what goes through them Duls’ minds.”
Another man piped up. “I heard the emperor is coming,” he said, wiping pig grease off his wobbly chin.
Korbin glanced at him. “Naw. The emperor hasn’t left Durjin in decades. The Council of Eight will sort things out,” he said, not believing for a moment that they would, especially not with Seba at the helm. He tried to picture the Dul, but only had the vaguest image of him.
“The Council of Five, you mean,” the fat man said with a snorting laugh.
The merchant shot him a dark look. “No need for that,” he said. “The Eight will stand as they always have done. No, I agree with our young friend here.” He nodded toward Korbin. “The emperor won’t stir from Durjin. Not yet. Things aren’t quite that bad.”
Korbin wondered what exactly the merchant thought the emperor would leave the capitol for, but he didn’t ask.
The fat man didn’t like the challenge. “It’s the truth. I swear by the Spirits.”
A woman at a nearby table sucked in her breath.
“Sorry, miss,” the man muttered, then turned back to the main conversation. “But I heard it from the innkeeper at Crosswight Pass. He heard it from an imperial messenger who was passing. He said he’s putting on extra staff in case some of the entourage stop there on the way.”
The merchant laughed loudly, looking to the others for support. “You mean Ordinheigh? That man is a fool if he thinks the emperor’s entourage would stop at a place like that.”
“Well maybe not his own people, like, but he has lots of servants, right? And they have to sleep somewhere if they’re travelling, right?”
“Yes,” the merchant said with a roll of his eyes. “They have to sleep somewhere, but I’d wager a hundred declani they wouldn’t in a thousand turns of the sun stay at Crosswight Pass.” No one seemed inclined to take that bet.
The conversation continued as Korbin made his way out of the dining room. He hitched his bag onto his back, stepped onto the road, and began to walk. Within an hour, the sun would be up and he’d be in Vol, just in time to meet up with the early morning flood of incoming travelers and farmers heading to market.
His thoughts turned back to Octavia. Through the night, he’d pondered whether or not what he’d sensed the previous evening had been real. He would have sworn he simply imagined it, but on the other hand, he didn’t underestimate her abilities. It would make sense that she’d search for him once it was clear he wasn’t merely gone for a few hours as originally planned. And she’d have heard
about Eliam.
The more he thought, the faster he walked. He had no idea how far her abilities extended, but he had to get to Navetta’s house before she left, if she hadn’t gone already. If she went into hiding, it was possible he’d never see her again. With everything in him, he knew that wasn’t what he wanted. Shame burned through him, and his fast walk turned into a trot.
“In a hurry?” a voice said, and Korbin turned to see a farmer’s cart. A weatherbeaten face looked down on him, the sun shining from behind him in a way that made it difficult to make out the features.
Korbin nodded. “Aye. First day of work and I’m gonna be late,” he said.
“Hop in the back,” the farmer said, shaking his head. “I could tell by looking at you, son. Got that air of a man with something to lose if he don’t get where he’s going.”
“Thanks.” Korbin hoisted himself onto the rear of the cart. For once, something was going his way, even if it only meant getting there in twenty minutes instead of an hour. As far as he was concerned, every moment counted.
Chapter 20
Imperial soldiers patrolled the streets alongside the city watch, forcing Korbin to travel cautiously. It made him wonder if the fat man at the inn was right. In all his years, Korbin couldn’t remember such a strong military presence. On the upside, if the emperor was coming to Vol, the soldiers wouldn’t be as interested in arresting someone for “criminal heresy” as they would be in maintaining the peace. He hoped so.
He moved through the various districts toward Navetta’s house, surprised to find the number of imperial soldiers even greater in the immigrant district. Every street he turned on, there were three more. If they’d come because of Eliam’s death, so many couldn’t have travelled from the capitol in so short a time, so they must have been dispatched from the surrounding provinces. On the other hand, perhaps someone had informed the emperor of the goings-on in Vol some time ago.
Pondering the possibilities, Korbin nearly ran into a group of three rounding a corner at the same time he approached.
“What is your business?” a guardsman asked.
“Talmor Rider,” he said.
“Token?” The man was slightly shorter than Korbin, but twice as broad and wearing armor with a heavy sword hanging from his waist.
“I left it at home. That’s why I’m coming back,” he said, trying to look abashed. His heart was racing, but his experience as a rider kept him calm. Proving his identity was a routine he’d gone through a thousand times.
“Where’s home?” a second guard asked, a thick-necked woman who looked like she’d never laughed in her life.
“Up the way.” Korbin nodded in the direction of Navetta’s house. It was a dangerous gamble, but he had little choice.
“Let’s go.” The three parted and let him pass between them toward the house.
Korbin walked slowly. He didn’t know what would happen when Brigid or Navetta opened the door and saw him approaching with three imperial soldiers.
“Pick up the pace,” the first guard said. “We have things to do.”
“Aye, all right,” Korbin replied, and broke into a quick trot, something they seemed to find as annoying as him dragging his feet. He cursed himself for antagonizing them.
When he arrived at the door, he hesitated a moment. It felt awkward to barge in, but he had said this was his place. He whispered a prayer to the Spirit Pang that Octavia would be there and that Navetta and Brigid would support his claim.
“Not sure which house is yours?” the guard asked.
Korbin rolled his eyes. “No, just not sure the reception I’ll get.” That much was true. The shutters were closed, and he hoped that Navetta and Brigid wouldn’t be home. But if the house was empty, that meant no Octavia. And she likely still had his token, which would compound his worries.
He opened the door and peered into the darkened room. “Octavia?” he called quietly.
She flew at him from out of nowhere, and he felt a sharp stinging slap across his face before he could register what happened.
“You left without a word,” she said. “Gone all night!”
“I’m sorry, love,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t slap him again upon hearing the pet name. The soldiers laughed in unison.
Octavia looked tired, her hair disheveled and her clothes rumpled. When she saw the guards, her eyes widened in fear.
“It’s nothing,” he said softly. “I’m not in trouble. I just need my token. Do you know where I left it?”
Fumbling and rendered mute, Octavia nodded. She staggered away from the door and retreated into the house. Korbin turned to the guards. “Sorry. She’s a bit nervous about soldiers. Bad time during the wars back home.”
She returned before they could make any reply. She handed Korbin his riders’ token, keeping him between her and the guardsmen. He glanced down at it. The badge was dirty and stained brown from her blood. With a sigh, he held it up for them to see.
“That’s disgusting,” the female guard said. “What is that?”
“Mud,” he said. “I dropped it and haven’t had a chance to clean it.”
She grimaced. “Take the time.” With a nod toward Octavia, she said to him, “You’d do well to start paying attention to details.”
“That’s good advice, I’m sure.” He gave a nod and hoped they’d take the hint and go without asking any more questions.
The female locked gazes with Octavia. “If you need help, the imperial guard will aid all, not only Talmoran citizens. We’re here for your protection.”
Korbin cast Octavia a worried glance. She didn’t speak, but merely nodded. The soldier must have taken Octavia’s fear of them as fear of him. He felt even worse than before and had to stop himself from explaining. He just wanted them gone.
“Thanks,” he said and stepped back to shut the door but hesitated. He didn’t want to seem too desperate to get rid of them.
“Curfew at dusk. Orders of the emperor,” the broad-shouldered guard said. “Movements are restricted between districts. Carry your identity token with you if you want to pass freely.”
Korbin couldn’t hide his surprise. “Is the emperor coming here?”
The female guard shrugged. “We only have orders to maintain the peace.” The guards turned to go, disinterested now that he’d shown proper identification.
“Thanks,” he said again and slowly shut the door, plunging the room into darkness. He went to the window in the main room and opened the shutter. “It’s cold,” he said. “Where are Navetta and Brigid?”
“I sent them to her mother’s yesterday after…” her voice trailed off.
“That was good thinking.”
He went to the stove, shoveled some coal in, and lit the fire. He could feel Octavia watching him. When he finished, he stood and faced her, hardly able to meet her eyes. He dusted off his hands while he waited for her to speak.
“I didn’t think you’d come back,” she said finally.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be here when I returned. I am glad you are, though.” He wanted to tell her a million things, how much he needed her, but the words evaporated on his tongue.
She stood in silence for a moment. “I’m sorry about Eliam. I was shocked to hear of his death. Were you there?”
“Yes,” he said, unable to keep his voice from cracking as tears welled. The images of his friends’ gruesome end flashed in front of his eyes again.
Suddenly, Octavia reached out and pulled him into an embrace. He knew she was still angry with him, but he accepted her comfort. It had been a long time since anyone had made such a gesture to him.
“Everything will be all right,” she whispered.
He pulled back a fraction to meet her gaze. “Will it?”
“Of course,” she said. “Events will turn out as they must.”
He didn’t understand what she meant, but even if the words were insincere, spoken only to comfort him, he appreciated them. He noticed, however, that she said they would turn out
as they must, not as anyone hoped. Reluctant to let her go, he embraced her again and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t answer at first but after a moment, she stepped back. “It took a lot of courage to return. I saw you by the sea. You were free. And yet you came back. Why?”
The words echoed in his thoughts: Because I need you. Because you’re my only friend. Instead he said, “It was the right thing to do.”
She knitted her eyebrows and considered his answer but didn’t press for more. Even though she looked as though she had more to say, she simply nodded.
“What do we do now?” he asked.
“We can stay here for the moment. I told Brigid to stay with her mother for at least three days.”
“If the emperor has declared martial law, they will likely be longer than that,” Korbin commented.
“Agreed, but to be cautious, I think we shouldn’t stay more than a day or so.”
“So, what do we do now?” he repeated, still running over the previous day’s events in his head. “I am at a loss. Why Eliam?”
He sat down, putting his head in his hands. He was struggling to keep the tears from flowing. He feared that once they started, they wouldn’t stop.
“I am surprised, too,” she said. “I didn’t think the Red Manus had grown so powerful that they would act so boldly or publicly against two such powerful men. The streets were in chaos for much of the day and night.”
“If my father was trying to impress anyone by killing two senators, he went too far. He’s drawn the eye of the emperor.”
“It’s a strange and careless mistake for a man of his experience to make,” Octavia said, leaning on the chair opposite him.
Korbin shrugged. “There was a time I would have thought it uncharacteristic, but my father has lost touch with his sanity. He murdered twenty people only a few days ago. Are two more deaths really such a shock?”
“Perhaps you’re right.” She looked unconvinced. She opened her mouth to speak, but a loud rapping sounded at the door, interrupting her.
Korbin went to the window, peering beyond the curtain. “Curse the Shadows,” he muttered. Four red priests had gathered out on the street, two of them making their way to the back. At least none of them were carrying torches.
Spirits of Light and Shadow (The Gods of Talmor) Page 20
