Misery found Tae in the dark, dank depths of Béarn’s dungeon, dragging out thoughts better left buried. He refused to further contemplate the son he had alienated, the Renshai who had ruined his life, nor the woman he had loved and lost. Those topics could paralyze him, make him careless and dim-witted at a time when his life and the world depended on his wile and agility, so he banished those concerns.
And suddenly Tae found himself thinking about the maid, Alneezah, which caught him utterly off his guard. He had not realized she meant anything special to him, but he clung to the image of her with a great fondness he had never before recognized. He pictured her demure expression: gentle brown eyes that simultaneously managed to show concern and amusement for his antics, the pink circles of her high-set cheeks, the pert nose and heart-shaped lips. He found himself smiling at the image. As common as she seemed, as unfathomable as most found him, she understood him in a way few others could.
*Marry her.* The words brushed Tae’s mind.
Startled, Tae nearly answered aloud. *What?*
*You should marry that woman. She’s good for you.*
Tae felt his cheeks grow warm. He had not intended to project his thoughts. *How did you know . . . ?*
*How could I not know. You’re splashing her image all over the place.*
*I am?* Tae truly had no idea. He had not even realized that Imorelda still remained silently hidden in the dungeon. *And stop telling me that. I can’t marry her.*
*Why not?*
Why not, indeed? Nothing legal or physical stopped him from marrying anyone he wanted. He could hardly claim that his blood was too royal to mix with commoners. *I don’t love her, Imorelda.* Tae sighed inwardly, wondering how much time the cat might occupy grilling him about human emotion. *People aren’t like cats. Despite the apparent contradiction of my son, we don’t just mate and move on to better things.* He added to forestall insult, *Not that there’s anything wrong with that, if you’re a cat.*
Imorelda let the species differences lie. *Are you sure you’re not in love with her?*
That being the last reply Tae expected, he tried not to let surprise show on his face. No one knew he was having a conversation besides Imorelda. To onlookers, he would appear insane by reacting to absolutely nothing. *I know what love feels like. I loved Kevral.* A pang of regret touched him, and he had to banish a tear forming in his eye. He would miss the little time they had managed to spend together since her marriage.
*And you love me, and you love Subikahn.*
Tae’s chest tightened. He did not want to think about his son right now, could not afford the emotions it would raise. *Of course. But differently.*
*Exactly!*
As Tae had no idea what she meant, he waited for her to explain.
*Love is felt in different ways. Just because something is fast and intense doesn’t make it better. In fact, sometimes that kind of knock-you-on-your-ass love wanes as quickly as it formed.*
Tae could not help contemplating the cat’s words. Like Mior, Imorelda had moments of blinding insight. *You mean—?*
Imorelda did not wait to have her intentions explained to her. *I mean, when you fell for Kevral you were nineteen. Mature love, adult love, doesn’t usually come in a rush of naïve passion. It’s cautious, slow-growing, steady. Full of thought and wonder.*
Tae wondered why he had never thought of such a thing. It certainly explained why he had never married. He was searching for that overwhelming, gut-wrenching fervor he had felt for Kevral.Yet nothing else in his life ever seemed that extreme, no decision so obvious and easy as when he had asked Kevral for her hand. He shook his head to clear it. He had no time for philosophical discussions or idle speculation. *Thank you for the insight, Imorelda, as well as for saving my life. If you would, please, go to Matrinka now. She needs someone to ease her soul over my decision. She needs to know I’m all right here.*
Imorelda made a sneezing sound from the darkness that displayed her displeasure. *Are you all right? I’d hate to lie to a queen.*
Since her only positive form of communication with others was rubbing and purring, Imorelda could hardly be considered a liar. *I’m fine. I promise not to get within reach of either of them again.*
*Or do anything to provoke the guards?*
Tae did not currently intend such a deed, though he could not rule it out if circumstances demanded it. *Or that either,* he promised, not nearly as concerned about telling the truth as putting the cat at ease. She distracted him from a job he wanted finished as swiftly as possible, for his own good as well as Béarn’s.
Tae did not hear Imorelda leave, but he felt certain she had done so. With a sigh, he curled up on the cold, hard floor of his cell and pretended to sleep.
CHAPTER 23
It’s the horrific things in life that make a man careful, wiser.
—King Tae Kahn of Stalmize
ON HIS SIXTH DAY in the Béarnian dungeon, Tae found himself trundled roughly into a thick-walled interrogation room no larger than his cell. Shoved inside, he stumbled. He could have caught his balance but did not bother, instead easing his tumble onto the solid stone floor. The guards did not need to know the full range of his dexterity, nor did he need to risk tearing muscles or ligaments. A few more bruises added to the mass seemed a much smaller price to pay.
The door slammed shut, leaving Tae in utter darkness. He lowered his head, reveling in the sudden peace and quiet, the chance to drop his guard and fully assess his person. He stank. Bruises stamped his body, the worst at his throat where the pirate had attempted to strangle him. His hair hung in tangles, and filth covered every part of him. Though once his natural state, it bothered him now. He had not felt so disgustingly vile for the latter half of his life. I’m getting too old for this.
The door winched open, admitting a beam of light. Tae remained in place, taking his cues from whoever opened the door.
Several moments passed in silence until Tae finally raised his head to see who had joined him. A tall, broad figure in a blue cloak played lantern light across him, then closed the door. “Oh, Tae,” she said.
Recognizing the voice, Tae leaped to his feet and tried to look happily animated. “Matrinka. What in the name of all gods are you doing here?”
Carefully setting down the lantern, Matrinka caught Tae into a fierce embrace. “Oh, Tae,” she repeated. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, but you don’t want to touch me.” Tae added with a smile, “I reek.”
Tae’s words did not put Matrinka off, though she did finally release him. “A good bath will take care of that.” She ran her fingers into his hair, though they barely penetrated. “Then a combing—”
“No, Matrinka. No.” Tae untwined her from the no-longer-silky black strands. “I can’t come back from a torture session groomed and perfumed.”
She hugged him again, speaking wistfully and with clear personal pain. “Must you go back?”
“Yes.” Tae’s answer left no room for argument. He had not accomplished nearly as much as he had hoped. “One thing I wouldn’t mind, though, is getting out of small, enclosed places.”
“Of course.” Matrinka let go. She swished off her cloak and placed it lovingly over Tae. While he adjusted the sleeves and hood to hide his features, Matrinka scooped up the lantern and opened the door.
Swiftly, they walked down a corridor that did not take them past any prisoners, out of the dungeon proper, and into the torchlight of the main castle passages. Something brushed against Tae’s leg, then twisted to twine along the other one, stealing his equilibrium. Tae hopped, stumbled, and barely caught his balance.
Matrinka steadied him. “Are you all right?”
Tae looked down to see Imorelda purring up at him. *Watch your feet, you oaf.You nearly crushed me,* she accused.
Tae responded to both of them, “Imorelda tried to break my legs.”
*I did not!*
“She can talk,” Tae added conspiratorially to the only person who knew it.
“You’d think she’d warn me before doing something stupid.”
*I shouldn’t have to warn you. And claiming you is my right, not ‘something stupid.’*
“Mior used to do that, too,” Matrinka said wistfully. “I miss that.”
“You miss having your legs broken?” Tae shook a head lost beneath the folds and hood of his cloak. “The day I miss that, you have permission to kill me.”
Matrinka snorted. “Killing you would be easy. It’s keeping you alive that drives us near to madness.” She ushered him into one of the first-floor meeting rooms.
Tae stepped around her and into an enormous room filled with plush chairs and a single large table with smaller, harder seats around it. King Griff rose to face the door, his bodyguards, Rantire and Bard Darris, at attention beside him. The room’s only other occupants were the ubiquitous silent page in one corner and a couple of cats lounging in the most comfortable chairs.
What caught Tae’s attention, though, was a steaming plate of food on the table. The aromas of real meat, baked bread, and freshly cooked vegetables twined across the room, overwhelming even his own stench; and Tae found himself walking toward it before he could think to practice the decorum a king’s presence demanded.
Luckily for Tae, he was also a king and among friends who did not require formality. Darris bowed low; Rantire afforded him a respectful, though grudging, nod. King Griff merely smiled in happy welcome. Either from her usual concern, or to cover his rudeness, Matrinka ushered Tae swiftly to the table. “Eat, eat!”
Tae took his place at the head of the table, seizing a fork and shoving the first piece into his mouth without bothering to identify it. It was a tuber, buttered and seasoned, and the taste seemed to explode as he bit into it. Flavor washed through his mouth, so intense it overwhelmed his other senses. He chewed happily as the rest of the world faded in comparison.
Griff sat at the opposite end of the table, while his guards took the chairs on either side of him. Matrinka placed herself beside Darris, at Tae’s right hand. Only the seat across from her remained vacant, at least until Imorelda claimed it as a stepping stone to the table and Tae’s feast.
* Gimme, gimme, gimme!*
Lost in his personal heaven, Tae could not have stopped Imorelda from taking whatever she wished. The cat hooked a piece of meat, pulled it toward her, and grabbed it with her teeth.
Tae finally swallowed. “Wow, this is good.” He watched Imorelda worry her piece of meat, growling softly. “Sorry about the animal on the table.”
Griff waved off the apology. “Believe me, we’re used to it.” He turned Matrinka a loving smile, and her cheeks gained a pinkish hue.
Tae savored a few more bites of tuber, lamb, and greens before putting down his fork. As good as it tasted, he knew better than to eat too much. Gaining weight on prison food would look mighty suspicious, and he knew the others waited eagerly for any news he might have. “They’re definitely from far elsewhere. Not only is their language completely foreign, but their gestures as well.”
“Outworlders?” Griff suggested. “Or from across the sea?”
“Yes.” Tae suspected Griff wanted to know which, but the Easterner had no certain answers. “The Outworlders we’ve faced or heard of always have some sort of magical abilities. Gods, elves, dwarves. Spirit spiders and other creatures. These pirates seem human. At least, I would have used magic, if I had it, in their situation.”
Griff nodded guardedly.
Tae suspected the King of Béarn was hiding disappointment. Tae had promised miracles and, so far, delivered very little. “They don’t talk to one another nearly as much as I’d like or expect, and the ways I have to goad them usually don’t work out well for me.” His hand went instinctively to the bruises at his throat. “But I have managed to learn the basic rules of their language and enough individual words to make crude conversation, if I had to.”
Griff ’s next nod held out more hope.
“All I really know so far is that they hold us in complete contempt. They look at us . . .” Tae paused to regroup and make the proper point. “. . . all of us, not just the other prisoners, as animals to slaughter at their whim. They don’t seem to differentiate at all: soldiers, guards, men, women, children.”
Matrinka shivered. Griff ’s expression turned sour. Darris leaned in to listen, but Rantire seemed more interested in watching the door. The page simply recorded everything, as custom dictated. He could not share one word of what he witnessed with anyone except the Sage who guarded Béarn’s history and secrets with the spirit and ferocity of an eagle.
Tae wished he had divined more, though he had not intended to tell everything. It all needed refinement that could only come with time. “As far as I can tell, the two you captured are foot soldiers.They refer to their commanders as the Kjempemagiska.” Tae assumed the accent of the pirates as he spoke the word. “And they seem to hold them in great awe.”
Tae looked down at his plate. He had to take just a couple more mouthfuls before he went back to the hell of Béarn’s dungeon. He stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth, chewed, savored, and swallowed.
Griff clamped his lips shut and waited for Tae to finish. Only after the bread completely disappeared did he speak. “Tae, do you really think you can learn more from these . . . pirates?”
“I’m sure I can.” Tae harbored no doubts. “I just need more time.”
“Don’t go back.” Matrinka spoke so softly, Tae could barely hear her. “Please don’t.”
Tae understood her point. He did not relish returning to living like a beast in a cage, antagonizing deadly neighbors and earning the ire of the guards. Age seemed to compound everything he despised as a youth. The pain hurt worse and lasted longer, his reflexes seemed slower, his demeanor less useful, and his accuracy less lethal. On the other hand, he had gained in wisdom and patience. Those things would see him through the necessary hardships. “Matrinka, pardon me if I sound like I’m using you as a common servant; but, could you get me another piece of that wonderful bread?”
Matrinka grinned and rushed to do so. She had obviously put together the feast to soothe and please him. “I’d love to.” She hurried to the door.
Tae waited only until it clicked closed behind her to climb out of his chair and walk toward Rantire. “Hit me,” he said.
“What?” the word startled from Griff, and he half-rose from his seat.
Tae had eyes only for Rantire. “Hit me, Renshai. I can’t come back looking better than when I left. The guards, and my cell mates, believe I’m getting—”
Rantire moved like a shadow. Tae barely had time to blink before the Renshai’s fist filled his face and agony blasted through his nose. Driven backward, Tae became tangled in the empty chair and toppled to the floor. It scraped his ear and left arm, barked his right shin. Tae scrambled free, only to find his hands, cloak, and tattered shirt covered with blood.
“Damn it!” Tae shouted, catching the flow in his cupped hands. He tried to staunch the bleeding with a fold of the cloak, but it hurt too much to add pressure. “I didn’t mean for you to break my stupid nose!”
Rantire looked at Tae, arms folded across her chest, her lips pursed in a self-satisfied smile. “If you don’t want something done right, don’t ask a Renshai.”
Tae knew he had taken his chances going to Rantire, but he also knew Darris and Griff would not have had the nerve to harm him at all. They might even have stopped Rantire had they known what he planned to do. But he had thought she might show some restraint. At least, as a woman, she might not prove so strong.
The door opened, and Matrinka slipped inside, displaying a fresh piece of bread and a mug of something steaming. Her eyes widened, she let out an outraged scream, and dropped food and drink. The mug bounced, splashing hot liquid across the floor, furniture, and Tae’s ankles. Still focused on the pain in his face, Tae barely noticed the burn.
Matrinka slammed the door and rounded on her husband. “I leave for one moment, and you at
tack him?”
Gingerly, Tae clamped hold of his aching nose.
“We didn’t attack him,” Griff explained. “He asked Rantire to hit him.”
Matrinka’s head swiveled toward the Renshai and her cocksure expression. The queen’s hands balled to fists. For an instant, Tae thought the peaceful Béarnide might actually start a fight; but Matrinka’s hands loosened, and she tended to Tae instead. “You’re an idiot,” she said in exasperation. “You’re both stark raving idiots.”
Under the circumstances, Tae could hardly disagree.
The miles disappeared beneath Silver Warrior’s sure white hooves, now speckled with mud and loam. Wind tangled Ra-khir’s red locks around his knight’s plumed hat, and his cape chased him, snapping as his pace rose and fell in comparison to the wind. The trees sailed past him, on either side of the road, and he admired the leaves, buds, and flowers as if awakening from a long, deep sleep. Each branch seemed crystal clear, the leaves showed spidery veins he had never noticed before, and the rich purples, pinks, and yellows of the petals were bright enough to hurt his eyes. It seemed as if the entire world had changed while he slept, oblivious.
Oblivious. The word seemed to suit him. What am I missing? What did I say? What did I do? The last week had passed in an empty blur. Ra-khir had performed his duties in a blind, deaf trance. He knew he had groomed Silver Warrior, because the horse still whickered at the sight of him, and white hairs clung to every set of clothing. He knew he must have taken in food and water; he was still alive, still breathing. His body had taken over the dull routine without need for mind or spirit.
The agony of his loss had not left him. It still twinged at the slightest memory of his beloved Kevral.Yet she no longer wholly occupied his thoughts. Saviar and Calistin, his sons, had left him in the dark of night, without so much as an explanation or even a “farewell.” He knew his words and wishes had no power to keep them safe; yet he could not help feeling as if the crazy superstitious notion could somehow manage what he had physically failed to do.
Flight of the Renshai Page 36
