“Sertorius supports his father? I was certain he has sided with Almaric,” Taliesin said. “I know for a fact Sertorius and Duke Peergynt attacked and killed the Volgan lords who were bringing a magical sword called Doomsayer to the king. Magic may be outlawed, but everyone seems to be scrambling to find magical weapons. Now Doomsayer, along with my entire clan, is in the hands of the Wolf Clan. I fear the worst, my lord.”
Octavio slid his fingers along her arm. “As do I,” he said. “I cannot be certain of Sertorius’ intentions, unless I capture him and bring him here. Under torture, perhaps, he would talk. As for Lykus, that one is dangerous, like all wolves. One Draconus is no better than any other, but Almaric sees himself as the Wolf King, and that makes him my enemy.”
“If Almaric is crowned, the Wolf Clan would rise in power, too,” Taliesin said. “That means Lykus could be the next chancellor. Or Arundel, because he certainly won’t sit and let Lykus claim all the glory, when that’s what he wants. I say neither the Wolf nor Eagle Clans should be rewarded for their misdeeds and cruelty, but driven away or imprisoned.”
“What can you do about it? Hmm?”
“Kill Lykus and Arundel, for starters.”
The Shan’s hand slid across her shoulder and neck, until he cupped her chin, and turned her head to whisper in her ear. “Many eyes are watching us, my dear girl,” he said, nibbling at her ear. “It’s known to me Lykus and Arundel have spies in my camp; fear not, for I have spies watching them as well—one must always know what his enemy is doing. And so, one must be careful what is said in public. Besides, holding you on my lap and nuzzling your ear is quite cozy, don’t you think?”
Taliesin gave a little sigh. She knew she should extradite herself from the Shan’s lap. His hands were roaming, making her shiver, and she had the feeling she might dance beneath the sheets in the privacy of his wagon. Octavio suddenly leaned back, allowing her to sit straighter, and as if on cue, both casually glanced at Roland.
“Who is the ruffian you travel with, Taliesin? The one you call Grudge, that is not his real name; no Raven uses their true name. He’s hearty stock. All that meat packed on his bones and skin so pale it easily burns in the sun comes from living in the north. Most Fregians are fishermen or spend the winter cutting blocks of ice to sell on the market. Fregians are no better than Skardans. Men of the north are all barbarians.”
“Grudge isn’t so bad,” Taliesin said.
“How long has he been a Raven?”
A lie was on her lips, ready to be spoken, but the wizard turned and ruined everything; he was honest.
“Oh, that’s Sir Roland of the Order of the White Stag,” Zarnoc said. “Roland took the Service Oath eight months ago, and travels with the Ravens as Taliesin’s protector. He’s a King’s man, but is trustworthy and honorable.”
Octavio released Taliesin’s arm. She slid off his lap, and returned to her seat on the pillows at his feet, aware the Shan regarded Roland with more than simple curiosity. The gypsy girl climbed off the knight’s lap, a frightened look on her face.
“I seem to have lost my hostess,” Roland said, with a belch. “There is room on my lap, Taliesin. Join me, woman.”
“Perhaps the lady prefers me,” Octavio said. “If you have no claim to her, Sir Roland, then Taliesin is free to pick whoever she wants.”
Taliesin felt her temper soar. “I have no intention of bedding either of you. This isn’t some pissing contest where the winner gets the girl.” She felt her heart racing as sweat beads broke out on her brow, signs the baju and weed had taken hold of her.
“I have eight wives,” Octavio said. “If Taliesin were my wife, I would have no need of the others and would send them away. Are you a married man, Sir Roland?”
“No,” Roland said. “I need only a warm, naked girl to take off the chill and drive away all thoughts of snarling wolves.”
Taliesin turned away, not liking the turn of the conversation as the two conceited louts starting naming the women they’d slept with. The Shan had Roland beat. She glanced at the wizard, who had removed the pillow blocking the underside of Roland’s chair and was trying to coax the cat out. Ginger let out a hiss and struck. Zarnoc replaced the pillow and held a finger to a scratch across his face.
“Ginger has not forgiven me for turning her into a dog,” Zarnoc said. “A tiger she doesn’t mind, but cats do not like being turns into canines.”
Turning to gaze at the dancers, Taliesin listened to Roland, Octavio, and Zarnoc discussing their sex lives, and when she heard Zarnoc say ‘five hundred’ she wondered how an old man had slept with so many women; he had to be older than he let on, unless he’d been very active in his youth. When the men’s laughter faded away, she felt the Shan’s boot tip prod her backside again. She spun around, about to say something nasty, but held her tongue when she noticed his dark eyes had hardened; his anger was directed at Roland. She was amazed the Fregian knight and the wizard were oblivious to the change in their host’s attitude.
“I have heard the name ‘Sir Roland’ before,” the Shan said, his tone cold and hard. “Your face looks familiar, but you pale northerners all look the same to me. However, I am sure one of my sons remembers meeting you.” He scanned the crowd and stood up. “Tamal! Come here! I would speak to you, son!”
“The Shan’s eldest,” Zarnoc whispered.
A young man with small, dark eyes, a crooked nose, and curly black hair sat on Taliesin’s far left. Hearing his name, Tamal stood and walked toward the Shan’s chair. His jacket was pale green and peacock feathers were stitched into the sleeves. Taliesin tensed as Tamal approached his father, who pointed out Roland. The young man immediately drew a curved dagger, launched himself at the knight, and knocked him out of his chair, all the while shouting like a maniac. The music stopped, and the dancers fled from the fireside as Roland and Tamal rolled across the ground toward the roaring fire. Roland was drunk and in no condition to defend himself, and Tamal managed to straddle him and pressed the knife against the knight’s throat.
Taliesin was on her knees, her hand on her sword. She felt a large hand fall onto her shoulder as the Shan held her back.
“You will pay for shaming me, Fregian,” Tamal shouted. “With your death, I shall earn the respect of my tribe and my honor.”
Taliesin reacted without thinking, knocked away Octavio’s hand, and ran toward the two men. She grabbed Tamal’s arm and pulled the knife away from Roland. The gypsy swung his held arm and knocked her off her feet. The men started to laugh and cheer as Taliesin threw her arms around Tamal’s thick body and yanked him away from Roland. Tamal jerked free and struck her across the face. She hit back and flattened his nose with one punch. In an instant, she yanked the knife out of his hand and held it to his genitals. The young man froze, breathing hard, and she watched a lump slide down his throat.
Roland was on his feet, staggering slightly, and had a hand to his throat. He’d been cut, though only slightly, and blood appeared between his fingers. He tore the scarf off his head and bound it around his neck.
“If you want your eldest son to rule after you, Shan Octavio, then you’d best explain why he was going to kill Sir Roland,” Taliesin shouted.
“Taliesin,” Roland said, mortified. “Let the boy go. This is a matter between men.”
“They drugged us with baju and weed, Roland. They made us feel at home, and then tried to kill you,” she replied, looking toward the Shan. She pressed the tip against Tamal’s crotch, and he whimpered. “Shall it be Nash or Tamal who takes your place one day, great Shan? Why not let a daughter rule instead? A woman can produce more heirs, but a gelded man can do nothing but live on his carnal memories.”
Men stood with weapons drawn, but the Shan waved his hands, silencing his warriors, and stepped away from his large chair.
“Daughter of the Raven Master,” the Shan said, “I ask you hear me out before you turn my son into a eunuch. Men, lower your weapons. We, Ghajar, value honesty above all else. Put away the
knife, Taliesin, and we will hear both men speak. The truth should be known before you take justice into your own hands.”
Taliesin removed the dagger and Tamal scrambled away from her. Quickly standing, she threw the knife into the fire, placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, and stood beside Roland. She knew Roland was horrified by her behavior, as much as the Shan, but she cared not. Her gaze remained on Octavio as he approached, aware everyone was staring, but she felt wild and dangerous, heedless to the danger she’d placed herself in. For a second, she pictured every single Ghajar lying on the ground, dead, and buzzards circling overhead. Where her rage came from she did not know, but she heard Ginger purring, the sound loud in her ears, as the yellow cat jumped onto the Shan’s chair and commenced licking between its legs. It struck her as humorous and she started to laugh. The tension in the air immediately dissipated, and the Shan and his men laughed with her.
“Well done, Ginger,” Zarnoc said. He stood beside the chair, holding his staff, his pipe in his mouth. “Allow the Raven Mistress to sit, Shan Octavio, before she faints. You have plied her with too much baju and valley weed. I warned you she was not to be trifled with.”
Taliesin felt her head spinning as she walked toward the chair. As she approached the Shan, two large hands settled onto her shoulders, and he suddenly pulled her into his arms. His kiss was sudden, hard, demanding. She responded, aware the men laughed even harder, but with effort, pushed him aside, aware he was breathing as hard as she was.
“I am bewitched,” Octavio said, raising a hand to his lips. “Her kiss burns.”
“She’s a witch,” the men said.
Roland stared at Taliesin, shaken out of his drunkenness, a look of jealousy and anger hanging upon his rugged face. The tall man with gray eyes she’d admired for his fighting skills stood between Roland and Tamal. Zarnoc motioned Taliesin to come forward, and picked up Ginger. Taliesin sat in the large chair, and the cat was placed in her lap. This time the cat did not hiss, and seemed content to curl up and purr. The Shan walked over and stood on her left side, while Zarnoc puffed on his pipe and leaned against the right side of the chair.
Everything stilled around Taliesin. Not a man moved. The wind stopped blowing and the fire ceased both crackling and flickering. Taliesin caught her breath, and placed her hand on the Shan’s arm. He didn’t move or look at her. Roland stared at her, but did not stir. She turned to Zarnoc and found him grinning.
“All will be well, Raven Mistress,” Zarnoc said. “The Shan will allow you to hold court. This has never been done before. No woman has ever ruled over the gypsies, but you will do so now. They believe you are a witch, and so you are. Take control of the situation. The man with gray eyes is Charon, the Shan’s second-in-command. Tamal is brother to Jaelle, the girl who whisked away Wren, and they are the children of his first wife. Use this knowledge to your advantage. Demand to know what the problem is and resolve this matter before there is more bloodshed. Your heart will know which man speaks the truth.”
Before she could question Zarnoc and find out what had happened in the past, the wizard blew a smoke ring into the air, and all at once, everything returned to normal. The men whispered. The Shan shifted his weight and placed his hands on his hips. Roland held his head higher and looked proud and arrogant, while Tamal stewed and glowered.
“Charon,” Taliesin said, speaking firmly, “bring Sir Roland and Tamal forward. I am the Raven Mistress, your honored guest, and blood has been drawn. Since my man has been injured, it is my right to preside over this matter. I demand to know what happened.”
“Tamal claims he was wronged by Sir Roland in the past,” Octavio said.
“The accused shall speak first,” Taliesin said, loudly. “It is our way. The Raven way.”
She cleared her throat. “Sir Roland will speak first and tell his story, and then Tamal will respond. I will know which one speaks the truth, and what punishment is required, if deemed necessary.”
Octavio nodded. “Raven blood has been drawn. It is the Raven’s Mistress’s right to make such a demand, and we will respect her decision,” he said in a loud and commanding voice. No one argued or offered any negative comments, obeying their lord.
“I am Sir Roland Brisbane of the Knights of the White Stag.” Roland offered a courtly bow and stood tall as a low murmur of voices could be heard among the gypsies. “It was in Fregia, three years ago, outside a tavern, that I came upon Tamal in the process of raping a local farmer’s daughter. My order requires its knights to uphold the law, and no rapist is to go unpunished. I had the right to take this man’s life, but the girl’s father asked for leniency so I gave him the thrashing he deserved and let him go.”
“He’s lying,” Tamal snarled. “That isn’t what happened. I want revenge. Is it not the law, Father? I have been wronged by this man, and yet you allow this woman to sit in your chair and act as my judge.”
“You will show the Raven Mistress your respect,” Octavio said. “Do not shame me further by speaking in this manner, Tamal.”
Taliesin thought of Osprey, and what he would have done. The accused always spoke first and then the accuser. Tamal stared at the ground, while Roland met her gaze; a clear indication of who lied and who spoke the truth.
“Roland has taken the Service Oath and is a Raven,” she said, in a firm voice that surprised even her. The cat purred loudly. “At Raven’s Nest, a man found guilty of rape would be gelded. Shan Octavio, tell me what the Ghajar does to a man found guilty of rape.”
“Such a man would be whipped and branded for his crime,” Octavio said.
A shout in the crowd disrupted the quiet. The men made a path for a blond-haired figure that stumbled forward, drunk, angry, and holding a knife. It was Nash. Charon blocked Nash’s path, grabbed the drunken boy by the arm, and jerked him aside. The men started to laugh, but it ended when the Shan waved them silent.
“You will tell the truth, Tamal,” Shan Octavio said. “Give him baju.”
Four armed men approached Tamal. The young man’s arms were held by two, keeping him from struggling, another held his head, and the fourth picked up a flask and poured baju into his mouth. Tamal sputtered as he gulped large mouthfuls of the sickly-sweet liquor. Released after he’d consumed the majority of the contents in the flask, Tamal sank to his knees and puked the red liquid onto the ground.
“Now, my son,” Octavio said. “Tell the Raven Mistress what happened. Three years ago, you returned home with a story that has never set right with me. Does Sir Roland speak the truth? Did you rape the girl?”
The young man nodded. “Yes, I did, father.”
“Yet, you claimed Sir Roland raped her, and it was you who tried to stop him.” Octavio drew a dagger and stepped forward. “You know the penalty for lying, son.”
“Let him speak, Shan Octavio,” Taliesin said. “Tell us what happened, Tamal. I will decide your fate and not your father. Look at me and tell me what happened.”
“The farm girl flirted with me. She wanted me,” Tamal said. “When I went to kiss her, she pushed me away and called me an animal, so I took what she had offered and then denied to me. Sir Roland came upon us, and we fought. When I returned home, I told everyone the knight had raped the girl, and I had tried to defend her, but I lied.” He lowered his head. “The Knight of the White Stag had every right to kill me, but he let me go. I am ashamed at what I have done.” He looked to Shan Octavio. “Please, forgive me, father.”
Octavio’s eyes glittered angrily. He turned to Taliesin. “The Raven Mistress will decide your fate, not me,” he said, putting way his dagger. “She’s heard both stories. Now, let her decide what will be done with you. Will it be life or death?”
An audible gasp went through the crowd.
The cat ran to Roland, circled his legs, and hissed at Tamal, who cringed from where he sat on the ground. Roland looked grim, while Tamal held hope in his small, beady eyes. Taliesin knew what the Shan and the Raven Master would have done to Tamal for raping a gi
rl and then accusing another falsely. But she was not a man, and did not believe an act of violence was the right punishment. Standing, Taliesin held her head high and gave her verdict.
“From this day forth, Tamal shall be Sir Roland’s squire. In order to regain his honor, Tamal shall do whatever Sir Roland tells him to do. But hear this,” Taliesin commanded, gazing at both men. “I am the Raven Mistress and as such, my word is law. While you are in my company, if you so choose to follow me into the Salayen Desert, both of you will obey my orders without question. If you agree, then swear your loyalty to me.”
Tamal met her gaze. “I swear to be faithful to you, Mistress Taliesin,” he said, but the words came hard. He turned toward Roland, hand over his heart, and sounded no more sincere than he looked. “And I shall do my best to serve as your squire, Sir Roland.”
“Now swear your loyalty to me, Sir Roland,” Taliesin said. “I know you are a King’s man, but while on this quest, you shall belong to me and no other.”
The knight bowed. “I swear to serve the Raven Mistress faithfully,” he said. “For better or worse, our fate is now in your hands.”
* * * * *
Chapter Fifteen
Taliesin and Roland walked through the gypsy camp behind a barefoot boy in ragged pants. A carpet of grass lay beneath their feet, and the branches of ash and birch trees provided a canopy to block the shine of the moon. The Ghajar were settling in for the night. Women bathed their children in large tubs of water, children dressed for bed watched from the steps of their colorful painted wagons, and a few dogs scampered out of the way as Taliesin and Roland walked. This night was different, calm, peaceful, and when Roland took her by the hand, Taliesin didn’t pull away. His callouses were comforting, making her think of how gentle he could be when he touched her.
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