by K J Taylor
“Not me,” Arenadd muttered under his breath.
“’Course we will,” said the first man. “The King’ll lead us there. He’d never let the sun worshippers go.”
“I dunno,” said someone else. “If we were goin’ to invade the South, wouldn’t we have done it by now?”
“Well, obviously the King’s had other stuff on his mind,” the first said defensively. “Ye don’t build a Kingdom overnight, do ye?”
“I heard he’s gonna make more trade deals with Amoran,” said someone else.
The others made disgusted noises.
“I don’t believe that,” said the first speaker. “He wouldn’t do somethin’ like that.”
Arenadd groaned to himself. Gods, listen to them whine. They all think they can read my mind.
He was interrupted in his listening at that point by something nudging his elbow. He started, reaching automatically for his knife, but it was only the barmaid.
She pushed a tankard toward him. “That’ll be four oblong.”
“I didn’t order that,” Arenadd snapped.
She gave him a condescending look. “No-one stays in ’ere unless they buy a drink. Four oblong.”
He growled and fished in his money-bag. She took the oblong and walked off.
Arenadd picked up the tankard and sniffed its contents. Beer. Well, maybe just one drink would do him some good. It would certainly be better than listening to this poor fool brag about joining the army to march off to a war that wasn’t going to happen.
He carefully lifted the cloth away from his mouth and sipped at his drink. It wasn’t bad, especially considering he didn’t like beer much.
The conversation around him continued, but it was fairly noisy in the tavern, and he let it wash over him without much effort, drinking his beer while he soaked in the atmosphere. Gods but it felt good to be surrounded by people who didn’t know who he was and didn’t stare at him. True, he attracted a few curious glances because of his shrouded face, but the regular drinkers at the Blue Moon were used to him by now-and all of them knew that he wasn’t a person to be interfered with.
It had taken him a while to establish himself at first-the owner had found his appearance unsettling and started to ask suspicious questions, but a bag of money and a few threats had made it clear to the man that this drinker preferred to be left alone. And at least the Lone Wolf (as people had started calling him) always paid for his drinks and never got into fights. It was enough to keep them quiet.
Normally, he enjoyed being here, but listening to the conversation and the barmaid’s sneering attitude had left him feeling out of sorts, and he decided to move on. There were other haunts he could visit.
He downed the last of his drink and pulled the cloth back into place before quietly slipping out of his seat and making for the door.
As he crossed the threshold, a sick, dizzy feeling hit him, and he staggered and nearly fell.
He clutched at his head. “Oooh. .”
The dizziness increased sharply. He blinked several times to try and dispel it, but that only made grey spots flash in front of his eyes.
His stomach roiled.
“Ugh, what is wrong with me?” he mumbled, leaning against a wall as he tried to recover himself.
The sick and disoriented feeling only got worse, and frighteningly quickly. It made him feel something he hadn’t experienced for as long as he could remember: fear.
Oh, holy gods, he thought suddenly, as the world spun around him. I’ve been drugged!
His first instinct was to go back into the tavern and confront the barmaid, but he quickly realised that would be the worst thing he could do. He couldn’t possibly fight like this-even walking would probably be very hard.
Realising that, and now very aware of how much danger he could be in, he struck out toward the Eyrie as fast as he could. He had to get back to safety-had to get somewhere protected, where he could sleep off the drug. In the morning, he could return to the Blue Moon-or better still, send the city guard.
But even that plan began to look impossible as he weaved back and forth along the street, staggering hopelessly this way and that. He couldn’t tell which way was which. His vision was turning grey and hazy. He felt so tired, he wanted to lie down and sleep in the middle of the road.
He forced his eyes to stay open and took deep breaths to clear his head.
Find a guard, he told himself. Find one and tell him who you are-it doesn’t matter that they’ll ask questions tomorrow-you’ll be safe!
But he couldn’t see any guards, or indeed see much at all. The entire world was turning dark. His feet felt like a pair of granite blocks. When he thrust out a hand to try and support himself, he half-expected it to touch the sky. Meanwhile, people around him were bumping into him, sometimes painfully. He wanted to ask them for help, but his head was in a whirl, and none of them seemed to stay long enough to speak to. Finally, one of them ran into him hard enough to send him staggering sideways and into a wall. He hit it, and then groped his way along it until he found a corner, and peered around it. It looked dark, and he could see another wall, but he couldn’t tell whether it was another street, or even if it was an open doorway.
A hand grabbed him by the arm. He resisted, but the hand didn’t let go, and he stumbled after it until it released him and something shoved him violently in the chest, sending him to the ground, which he hit with a bone-jarring thud.
An instant later, something heavy pinned him down and he saw a face looking into his, wavering sickeningly through the haze. It looked small, but the mouth was twisted and horrible, the eyes staring.
Arenadd groaned and mumbled something.
The stranger reached down and took hold of the cloth wrapped around his face. “Now let’s see who’s behind the mask,” a voice rasped.
The cloth came away, and Arenadd felt air on his face. “Let go of me,” he managed. “I. . order you. .”
The stranger’s leer widened, turning his face into a hideous mask. “At last,” he breathed, and his voice was a strange lisping thing. “At last, I’ve found you.”
Arenadd shoved at him, but all his strength had gone. “Leave me alone. I swear, if you don’t let me up and call the guard, I’ll make you suffer.”
A laugh. “Too late!” the voice almost screamed. “Too late!”
And then something hit him.
It felt as if he’d been punched in the chest. But only for a moment.
The stranger rose, breathing harshly. “This time, no-one will be there to take it out,” he said. “Not this time. In Gryphus’ name, die.”
Arenadd’s breath came in short gasps, and he reached up and clutched feebly at the dagger embedded in his chest. Blood bubbled up between his teeth, and he coughed and moaned. If he could only take it out. .
But he didn’t have the strength, and he could feel it sapping his energy, shutting down his senses. The last of his vision faded to black, and his ears filled with a roaring sound that blotted out all else.
He felt his attacker roll him onto his front and tie his hands behind his back. His ankles were tied, too, and after that, something was stuffed into his mouth. The blood welling up in his throat had nowhere to go now, and he choked on it, gagging and retching. It was filling his lungs. .
Above the roaring in his ears, he heard the stranger say something.
“For Gryphus. For Lord Erian. For justice.”
After that, he fell into the void.
11
Learning
Laela had had a long day. The morning had been spent with Yorath, as usual, learning to write her first words. He had also taught her several more Northern phrases-she was learning how to ask for food and how to say “I am the King’s companion.” Yorath had told her she had very good pronunciation, which surprised her.
Once the lesson was over, Yorath began to excuse himself as he usually did.
“Wait,” said Laela.
He stopped. “Yes?”
Sh
e resisted the urge to stare at her boots. “I’m goin’ for lunch now, an’ I was wonderin’ if. . er, if yeh’d like to come an’ have it with me, like.”
Yorath looked uncertain. “I dunno. .”
“Yeh don’t have to come if yeh don’t want,” Laela said in a rush. “I just. . sorta. . thought I’d ask.”
“Oh, I want t’come,” Yorath said, just as quickly. “It’s just that. .”
“Why? Yeh got somewhere else to be?”
“Well, no, but-”
“Come, then,” said Laela. “I’ll be eatin’ on me own otherwise.”
Yorath scratched the back of his neck. “Well. .”
“The King won’t mind,” said Laela. “He really won’t. He told me I could do whatever I wanted.” This wasn’t actually true, but she said it anyway.
“I thought he’d be eatin’ with ye,” said Yorath.
“No, he never does,” said Laela. “C’mon, hurry up-I’m hungry.”
He paused a moment longer, and then smiled. “All right. I’ll be glad to.”
Laela smiled back, and they left the library together, side by side. Up in the dining hall, food had been laid out for her as always, and the serving-woman, seeing Yorath, silently left to bring a plate for him.
Laela sat down, gesturing at him to sit beside her.
He did, looking around at the room. “I’ve never been up here before, ye know.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, usually only the King an’ his officials use it,” said Yorath. “Teacher’s apprentices like me’d never come up here. Not without an invitation, anyway.”
“I gave yeh one,” said Laela. “Want some beer? It’s not bad.”
“Thanks.”
They drank together in companionable silence.
Laela’s heart was pounding. I wonder what’s goin’ on in his head. What does he really think about me? I’d never get him to tell me. .
She paused, holding her cup. Well, be damned with that.
“Yorath?”
“Yeah?”
Laela put her cup down and looked him in the face. “What do yeh think of me?”
The question obviously caught him off guard. “What do I think of ye?”
“Yeah,” said Laela. “I mean, yeh got yerself a good job tutorin’ me-probably got yeh some favour with the King an’ all-an’ yer nice to me, but that’s probably just ’cause of me livin’ up ’ere with the King. So I was wonderin’-what do yeh actually think of me?”
“Look, Laela-”
“C’mon,” she said more softly. “I ain’t gonna bite yer head off. I’m just. . curious.”
He brightened slightly as he looked her in the face. “Ye’re direct, ain’t ye?”
“Er-”
“I like that,” he added. “I always liked that about ye, Laela, since the first day we met.”
Laela smiled. “Me dad always said that the best way to get somethin’ off someone is to stop foolin’ around an’ just ask for it, ’cause it’s amazing what people’ll do if yeh put them on the spot.”
Yorath took a sip from his cup. “That’s very true. I’m curious myself, though.”
“About what?”
“Everyone’s curious,” said Yorath. “About ye. Where ye really came from. Seems ye just appeared in the Eyrie one day, an’ no-one ever saw ye come in or knows how ye got into the King’s favour so fast.”
“Oh.” She had a feeling he had wanted to ask her about it for some time.
“Ye don’t have to tell me,” Yorath added. “I just thought I’d ask.”
The rest of the food arrived at this point, and Laela had a few moments to think while they ate. Well, why not just tell him the truth? She couldn’t think of anything else to tell him, anyway, and she didn’t want to be rude to him.
“I came ’ere from the South,” she said eventually, and braced herself for the reaction.
He started. “The South? Where in the South?”
“Nowhere special,” said Laela. “Little village not far from the Northgates. Sturrick, it was called.”
Yorath was looking at her with a new interest. “I thought yer accent sounded. . different. But if ye were born in the South, how did ye get here? An’ why did ye come?”
“I bribed the men at Guard’s Post,” said Laela, as casually as she could.
Yorath stared at her, and then laughed. “Ye gods! An’ then ye came to Malvern, eh?”
“Yeah.”
“Why, though? I mean, why come North if ye had a home?”
“I didn’t,” said Laela. “I grew up there with my dad. . well, he was me foster father, really. Never knew me mother. Then he died, so I sold our house an’ came North.”
“Shadows, that’s rough,” said Yorath.
Laela shrugged. “These things happen. I ain’t got it so bad.”
“So why did ye come North?”
Laela tried to smile. “’Cause I’m a darkwoman, that’s why. An’ where else can a darkwoman go?”
“True.” Yorath smiled again. “How did ye end up in the Eyrie, then?”
“I got into some trouble in the city,” said Laela. “An’ the King rescued me.”
“What? The King?”
“Yeah. He was passin’ an’ saw me.”
Yorath looked surprised but not overly so. “Didn’t know he’d been down into the city. He doesn’t do that much any more.”
Laela tore a piece of bread in half. “He brought me back here, anyway. We talked a bit, an’ he asked me a bunch of questions about what’s goin’ on in the South, an’ I told him what I knew, an’ afterward he said I could stay here.”
“That’s all?”
“More or less,” said Laela. “He just took a likin’ to me.”
“Huh.” Yorath rubbed his chin. “Well, he’s got eccentric over the years, no-one’d argue with that. I guess maybe he was impressed about how ye’d come all this way just t’live in his Kingdom.”
“Yeah, he said that,” said Laela.
“It’s just a bit odd, though,” said Yorath, half to himself. “All the mistresses he’s had before, they were all. . well, high-born. An’ they were. . well. .”
Laela gritted her teeth. “I know. Yeh can’t understand why he’d be wantin’ a peasant girl now. One with filthy Southern blood in her.”
Yorath jerked as if she had slapped him. “Laela-oh, gods, please, I didn’t mean-”
“Well, don’t worry about it,” said Laela, more sharply than she meant to.
Silence.
“Listen,” Yorath said eventually, “I’ll go. I didn’t mean. . I’m sorry. I’ll leave ye.”
Laela grabbed his arm. “No. Stay. Yorath, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at yeh, I’m just. . feelin’ a bit out of sorts, like.”
He looked thoroughly awkward and unhappy to be there. “Gods, what would my dad say? He was over the moon when I told him I’d been asked to be yer tutor. Said it was the best opportunity I’d ever had. Told me a hundred times, ‘Don’t say anythin’ out of turn! Be polite as ye can! If ye put one foot wrong, ye could lose it!’”
To her own surprise, Laela took him by the hand. “Yorath, listen. Yeh’ve got it wrong. I ain’t angry with yeh. I. . well, I like yeh.”
He tried to pull away, but gently. “Laela, don’t. We can’t-”
“Yeah, we can,” she said impulsively. “Look, it’s fine for us to spend time together. The King won’t care.”
“Laela, if I do somethin’ to make him angry-”
“Yeh won’t,” said Laela. “Yorath, it ain’t. . we ain’t sharin’ a bed. The King an’ me ain’t lovers. Actually. .” She looked shyly at the tabletop. “Actually, I ain’t never had a lover. Never. Who’d bed a half-breed?”
Yorath gaped at her. “What? But the King said-”
“He was lyin’,” said Laela. “An’ yeh’ve got to keep it a secret. He told me never to tell anyone else. He said if I wanted to stay ’ere an’ be looked after, I should pretend t’be his mistr
ess, ’cause it would be simpler, an’ everyone would leave me alone. I asked him if he wanted t’make it. . real-like, an’ he said no.”
“I’ll. . I’ll keep quiet,” Yorath promised.
“Thanks.” Laela let go of his hand. “The King an’ me ain’t. . well, we ain’t lovers, an’ we ain’t friends. He just decided he wanted t’take care of me. I dunno why.”
You remind me of myself.
She shut the memory out.
“The King doesn’t have friends,” said Yorath. But he looked less surprised now, and more. .
Laela blinked, puzzled. He looked oddly. . disappointed.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“What? Oh. . nothin’.”
“Yeah, there is,” Laela said firmly. “So tell me. I hate liars.”
“It’s not important,” said Yorath. “I was just thinkin’. .”
“What?”
“The King’s done a lot for ye,” said Yorath. “Ye do know that, don’t ye?”
“Of course I do,” said Laela, more than a little taken aback.
“Do ye?” He looked her in the eye. “Do ye really?”
“Well-”
“He’s never done somethin’ like this before,” said Yorath. “An’ if he’s done it for ye now, without askin’ for anythin’ in return. .”
“What?” said Laela. She felt the same sick, frightened feeling in her stomach that she had felt the night before, by the tomb.
“I dunno,” Yorath said abruptly. “It just seems like. . maybe he is expectin’ somethin’ back from ye. An’ if it’s not yer body, then I dunno what it could be.”
Laela didn’t reply, and the rest of the meal passed awkwardly, with neither one of them seeming to know what to say. She wanted to talk more-about things other than the King-but a strange feeling of guilt and shame had come over her, and it was so powerful, it made her keep her silence.
When the meal was done, they took their leave of each other and began to go their separate ways. But at the last moment Yorath stopped and hurried back.
“Laela!”
She started. “What?”
“I nearly forgot-ye’re supposed to go to the Moon Temple after lunch.”
