by Emma Miles
‘That might be an idea.’ Osun nodded.
‘And at least you would stop calling me master at last.’
Osun grinned at him. Kesta had to look away.
‘What should we expect in Arkoom?’ she asked.
‘I’ve never been,’ Jorrun replied.
‘Nor I,’ Milaiya spoke up. No one chastised her.
‘It …’ Osun frowned, searching for the right words. ‘It is the centre of Chem, as though the very best and worst of what we are is squeezed in to one great city. It is both captivatingly beautiful and hideously ugly. The markets are overwhelming, even for a trader, if there is anything in the world you want to buy you can find it there. Anything. And the temple district in the inner ring, it’s a dangerous place, you can almost feel the Gods walking with you; but sometimes they are not Gods but demons.’ He glanced up at Kesta and she quickly turned away. ‘I dread to go there not least because I long to go there. For the weak, for the lost, for the hopeless, and the hedonistic, it’s an addictive place.’
She frowned, wondering if Osun meant to describe himself.
‘Do you have any ideas about how to get into the palace?’ Jorrun asked. ‘Do you have any contacts there?’
‘One.’ Osun seemed reluctant to consider him. ‘In the temple district. He is not a nice man.’
Neither are you! Kesta thought spitefully.
***
As they cleared up their camp for the night and checked on the animals, she couldn’t help but allow a little anxiety to come creeping in. This would be their last night out in the stunning countryside of Chem. How soon might they have to face Dryn Dunham or any of the other coven lords? She took off her head covering and was about to get ready to sleep; she hesitated. She knew it was just an excuse to see him, but she took Azrael’s lantern out to Jorrun who still sat by their dwindling fire. ‘I thought you might like some company tonight; I know Azrael would.’
‘Thank you.’
The way he studied her uncovered face, as though wanting to drink in every detail, made her flush.
‘How will we get Azrael into the palace?’
‘He will have to try to find his own way from whatever inn we stay at.’
She tried to think of something else to say, something to delay her having to go back to the wagon. Her heart was a painful knot that only his presence seemed to ease.
He smiled. ‘We will never be any good at small talk, Kesta.’
She grinned back at him.
Osun walked slowly over to them, her heart sank as her hackles rose and she gritted her teeth. ‘Goodnight.’ She turned and headed to the wagon.
She was glad when she found that Milaiya had already wrapped herself in her blanket and closed her eyes; she didn’t feel much up to telling tales tonight. Selfishly, she didn’t think she could deal with hearing more about life in Chem either. She got annoyed with herself when her thoughts immediately began to drift toward Jorrun. Her feelings had most definitely not changed, and she was sure his hadn’t either, including his resolve that they never act on them. This was hardly the place or the right circumstances for them to get to know each other though.
‘Kesta?’
‘I’m awake.’
‘Would you show me some magic?’
She sat up. ‘Are you sure? I don’t want to frighten you.’
‘Is … is your magic bad then?’
‘No, Milaiya, no it isn’t. I suppose it could be used for bad things, but us fire-walkers live under a strict code. We’re allowed to defend ourselves and our people, but we try to do no harm. We don’t use blood magic like the necromancers here.’ Even as she said it, her hand went to her chest where the small message cylinder containing Jorrun’s blood still hung. She’d used blood magic.
‘Would you show me something then?’
In reply Kesta felt in the dark for a candle. Agitating the air to create heat, she lit it.
Milaiya gasped, shuffling forward to look at the flame. ‘Can you teach me to do that?’
Kesta’s heart clenched as she looked at the slave. ‘I’m so sorry, Milaiya. There has to be something in you, in your blood, for you to be able to perform magic. You said that you were considered here of having poor blood. I imagine that means you would have no magical ability.’
Hope faded from the woman’s eyes, but she watched the steady flame burn. Kesta opened her mouth to speak but stopped herself, Jorrun’s warning still fresh in her mind. She wanted to promise Milaiya that she would get her out of here, but it was a promise she didn’t know if she could keep.
***
When she left the wagon the next morning she found Jorrun and Osun attempting to disguise themselves for their entry to Arkoom. Osun had trimmed his beard, tied his wild hair back in a neat queue and put on some expensive looking and well-fitted clothing. She grudgingly admitted that it changed his appearance for the better, although it made him more obviously Dunham. She realised with a jolt that Osun was deliberately taking attention to himself and putting his own safety on the line for Jorrun.
Jorrun himself had dressed in some undyed linin trousers and had just finished buttoning up a shirt. He paused at the top button, shaking his head with his back to her.
‘No, this is still too fine. Do you have anything plainer?’
‘Just this.’ Osun lifted a couple of shirts that hung over his arm and pulled out a white cotton one.
Jorrun pulled the shirt he was wearing up over his head. A rush of warmth flowed through Kesta’s muscles and she bit her lower lip; then gasped. His back was covered in scars. Very old and small, but they criss-crossed like the lash of a whip. She held onto the wagon, feeling light headed. He had only been eight when he’d left Chem, hadn’t he? Surely, they would not have beaten such a young child and one who was the son of a coven Lord? Or had he received those scars in Elden?
She jumped as Milaiya climbed down from the wagon. The men heard her and turned toward them, Jorrun quickly pulling the white shirt over his head. With a smile beneath her veil, Milaiya went off to see to her bulls. Kesta quickly put her own head covering on and went to help with the morning chores. Kesta caught Milaiya looking at Jorrun with a dubious look in her brown eyes.
‘What is it?’
Milaiya appeared embarrassed. ‘He still looks like a master.’
Kesta followed her gaze. She was right. ‘Come on.’ She placed a hand on the reluctant woman’s back. ‘Jorrun, your disguise doesn’t work. Milaiya?’
Jorrun looked at the Chemman slave and she blushed scarlet, but she found her courage and spoke her thoughts. ‘Master, you do not move or look like a servant. It is in your eyes. Your eyes tell that you have power. You move like you have power. A slave is born already broken.’ She hesitated and looked at Kesta for support. ‘They learn not to hope. A servant still hopes, they covet what little power they have and guard it, but they have a little. Do I make sense?’
‘Yes.’ Kesta couldn’t bear the look in his eyes. He knew exactly what she meant. ‘I understand. Thank you, Milaiya,’
She gave a bow. ‘Master.’
***
They met their first patrol after only an hour on the road. Jorrun had gone from riding beside Osun to riding behind the wagon. The patrol’s captain stopped to speak to Osun, but the trader was easily able to convince him that they were harmless. They passed several lone men and were overtaken by one riding swiftly as though his life depended on it. They caught up to a larger caravan of traders who politely gave way to let them by.
As they reached the summit of a hill Kesta caught her first sight of Arkoom. Mountains stood as its dramatic backdrop, still crowned with snow, the highest peaks above the low-lying cloud. It stood upon a hill, two rivers coming about its feet to merge and cut a wide valley through the soft bedrock. An evergreen forest spread between them and the city and smoke rose above it despite the hour and the warmth of spring. It was the largest settlement Kesta had ever seen and could have swallowed Taurmaline. Jorrun pulled up alongsi
de the wagon and despite her full veil, he found her eyes.
The road plunged downward and wove through the shadows of the tall pines. Another patrol overtook them, heading towards the city, not giving them much more than a glance. Kesta felt her courage begin to falter and excusing herself she crawled back into the wagon. What in the spirit’s name was she doing? She liked to think that she was clever and strong, but the reality was she’d fought in few real battles. Borrow raiders were one thing, but this was a whole city full of men who would kill her as soon as look at her, and not just the sorcerers. She tried to pull herself together.
‘Azra, how are you doing?’
‘Kessta! Azra wishes he hadn’t come. But Azra will be needed. Sssoon the other drakes will come, and we will fight the blood magic. You are scared?’
‘Yes.’
‘Me too! We have to try though! For the spiritss, for the walkers, for Jorrun.’
She clasped her hands under her chin and leant forward, elbows on her legs. ‘And for Milaiya.’
It was evening when they reached the gates of the city. They were huge, whole tree trunks bound together by strips of iron. Kesta counted thirty guardsmen before she slipped back inside the wagon. Azrael was nervously circling his lantern, making himself as small as he could. She found herself searching for her dagger. She slipped it into the long boots she still wore under her Chemman dress. The wagon moved forward, and she caught her breath. They were entering the city. She wished she could hold Azrael’s hand.
It felt like an eternity until they came to a stop at an inn. She barely breathed until Jorrun opened the canvas to indicate that she should step out.
‘Do you require a safe cell?’ A servant of the inn regarded her and Milaiya.
‘No need.’ Osun gave a flick of his fingers. ‘I require a suite with a servant’s cot.’
‘Yes, master.’ The servant bowed. ‘Follow me.’
They were taken up to the top floor, and the servant gave Osun a quick tour while the rest of them waited just inside the doorway.
‘Yes, this is adequate,’ Osun said in a bored tone. ‘Send up some food and then leave me in peace.’
The servant bowed and backed out of the room. Whatever else he was, Kesta had to admit that Osun was a brilliant actor.
As soon as the door closed they all drooped in relief.
‘We should eat and then go on to the temples,’ Osun said to Jorrun.
Jorrun glanced at Kesta before nodding.
Kesta could feel that something was wrong. ‘What?’ she demanded, looking from Osun to Jorrun. ‘What are you up to?’
Jorrun’s eyes were sad as he regarded her, she didn’t like the farewell in them. It was Osun who was brave enough to reply.
‘We have to go into the temple district to get to the palace. The … the only reason to take a woman into the temple district is to sell them or … or to gift them to the Gods.’ She was shocked when Osun knelt on one knee in front of her. ‘Lady, I know you hate me. I don’t want to, but I will have to sell Milaiya before we go through the temples.’
Her mouth fell open, and she stared at him in shock, glancing up at Jorrun.
‘No, mistress!’ Milaiya threw herself to the floor, grabbing Kesta’s arm. Osun scrambled back, turning to Jorrun.
Mistress. Never had such a word been used in Chem, not for hundreds of years.
Kesta’s breathing became more rapid as Osun pleaded with his dark-blue eyes for her to understand. ‘I am just trying to do what is best for her. If I leave her here and something happens to both me and Jorrun, then what will be done to her will be a hundred times worse than anything … than anything I might have done. I cannot leave her to the temples and the Gods know I don’t want you to see what is there. If I sell her in the market, I can at least try to find her someone who won’t hurt her.’
Kesta held Jorrun’s eyes as she shook her head in denial, her anger and grief choking her. No.
‘No!’ She shook Milaiya off and drew herself up straight, although forcing the word hurt her throat. ‘No.’ She stepped forward to stand nose to nose with Jorrun, her fists clenched. ‘Not one more. Not one while I live and breathe and can do something about it!’ She spun around to face Milaiya. ‘We are going to try to get into the palace to kill Dryn Dunham. We will probably die. If you want to live, then … then you must let Osun sell you. We could just let you go, or wait here, but as Osun said, we might not come back. It is your choice.’
‘My choice?’ Milaiya stared at her wide-eyed. ‘My choice?’
‘Yes,’ Osun said so quietly it was less than a whisper. ‘You are owed at least that much.’
Jorrun closed his eyes and turned away.
Milaiya stood and took slow steps toward Kesta. ‘My choice is that I go with you, fire-mistress. My choice is that I give myself hope. I think I know that my mistress will go to fight the Dunham lord. I am not afraid to go to the temple district if you’re there. I would rather die trying to do something meaningful, than be sold again like I am nothing.’
Kesta sucked in a sharp breath, overwhelmed despite having closed off her knowing. She didn’t see the tear that tracked down Jorrun’s face. She nodded, struggling to find her voice.
‘That is your choice.’ She bowed. ‘We will all go to the temples.’
Jorrun didn’t speak to her as they picked at their food and then prepared themselves to leave the inn. Osun handed Milaiya a full headdress and Kesta realised, that just as Jorrun had done for her, Osun was offering Milaiya the only protection he could give her. She still couldn’t bring herself to forgive him, to her what he’d done was beyond redemption.
Osun led them down through the inn, Jorrun bringing up the rear. They left the market district and followed several long, winding roads, through houses that varied from those barely standing to opulent mansions. By the time they came to the high wall that separated the temple district from the rest of the city Kesta’s feet ached.
At the gate the guards demanded their business. Osun simply nodded toward the two women.
‘On your way, then,’ the guard growled.
They were through.
The first thing that hit her were the sounds, a cacophony of voices and cries both eerie and ecstatic. It was mostly men she heard but the laughter of a woman cut through her nerves like a saw, so alien in this land. The smell of incense was intense and cloying, the cooking meats made her feel nauseous, too close to the smell of burning human flesh. Bright colours assailed her even through the veil, and lanterns blazed below every eave.
Foolishly she called up her knowing, and she recoiled, clutching at her stomach and chest as though hit by a giant fist. It was too much! Despair bled into desire, hunger into hatred, love into jealousy. She could barely draw in breath at the power of the unbridled emotions, her blood roared in her ears.
Vaguely she was aware of Jorrun’s voice, but he sounded so far away, under water. He was standing painfully close, unable to touch her because here, they were both slaves. She wanted him to touch her with every inch of her being, but she couldn’t move. Osun stood staring with his mouth open, useless, scared, confused.
It was Milaiya who put an arm around her with an angry look at the men. With the same gentle coaxing that she used with the bulls she got her to take a step forward.
‘Turn off your knowing, Kesta,’ Jorrun hissed at her.
With a gasp she drew in air and managed to switch off her magic. She staggered, but Milaiya held her up.
‘Come on,’ Osun commanded, playing his role as they drew unwanted attention. ‘Or do I have to whip you?’
Even through the veil she couldn’t bear to look up into Jorrun’s eyes. Osun had been right; this place was hell.
Chapter Twenty-One
Rosa: Kingdom of Elden
‘Kurghan’s ship has been sighted.’
Nip, the young stable boy, came running up to their improvised archery range. Rosa’s muscles relaxed, but she took in a deep breath and clenched her fists. Sh
e hadn’t really taken Kesta’s command that she take over running the hold seriously, instead leaving most of it to Tantony’s chieftain. There were some members of the hold, however, that had insisted on looking to her. The artisans, craftsmen, and women in particular seemed to have taken Kesta’s wish as sacrosanct.
‘Thank you, Nip, you best let your dad know.’ She saw a warrior hurrying toward the keep, no doubt taking the same news to the chieftain. ‘Come on, Catya.’
They dropped their bows and left the ward, Rosa keeping to a dignified fast walk toward the small dock. She’d tried hard not to worry since Kesta had left, but there had been a part of her that thought she would never see her friend again. She didn’t want to go back to Taurmaline and the pettiness of the young court, she wanted the freedom and excitement that her outlandish foreign mistress brought. Most of all she wanted the company of someone who respected and valued her.
As the fishing boat came across the lake toward them, she could see only two people aboard that she recognised, Kurghan himself and Merkis Tantony. There was a woman and two children as well. Happiness flooded through her at the sight of Tantony, at the same time as dread at the absence of Kesta and Jorrun. Could they be returning together in the Thane’s ship? She hoped so.
‘I don’t see Kesta.’ Catya fretted at her side.
‘Let’s not worry until we’re sure.’
Tantony spotted her and a smile instantly lit his face. Her own face flushed with heat.
You’re a bit old for blushes, Rosa, she chastised herself.
The boat bumped up against the narrow landing, Kurghan jumping out at once to tie up. Tantony stopped to help their passengers out before ushering them toward Rosa.
‘Refugees from Taurmouth,’ he told her.
Startled she demanded, ‘Refugees?’
Tantony opened his mouth, looked away and then taking in a breath turned to say, ‘Although Mantu hasn’t fallen, thanks to Kesta, there is apparently a large invasion force on its way to Elden.’ He glanced down at Catya. ‘How are your preparations going?’
