01 - The Compass Rose

by Gail Dayton

  Stone grinned. “Why do you think I stopped him way over here?”

  Kallista dismounted, tossing her reins to Torchay. “Aisse, see if we can get our room again. And order a bath.”

  “I’ll order two,” Aisse said, sliding haphazardly from her horse. “He’s more than dirty.”

  They left the animals for the inn’s stable hands to manage as Kallista led the way back to the large room they’d just vacated. She marveled that she felt so calm. They’d stumbled over yet another godmarked companion, another stranger to take in as ilias, and she felt no more than resigned. Maybe she had used up all her supply of shock and outrage. So many outrageous things had happened over the past two months, one more thing was just…one more.

  Inside the room, she stripped off her gloves and turned to wait. Obed stumbled through the door and across the gap to collapse on the chair nearest her, head in his hands.

  “What’s wrong?” Kallista set her hand on his shoulder after only the briefest hesitation. He didn’t deserve her stupid skittishness.

  “Couldn’t keep up with you.” He touched her hand lightly and straightened, recovering from his near collapse. “A blind man with a bad leg cannot climb stairs quickly. I had to leave them behind.”

  Not that she questioned the wisdom of the One, but how could a man with those handicaps be anything but a hindrance to their quest? Already he was creating problems—and pushing her to blame him for things that were her own fault. She should have waited for Obed. Kallista looked up as Torchay and Stone escorted Fox through the door, Aisse behind them. “You’re sure he’s marked?”

  “You only have to touch him to know.” Stone eased his filthy friend into a chair.

  Fox struggled to rise. Only Torchay’s hands on his shoulders kept him in place.

  Kallista rubbed her hands on her tunic against the sudden attack of nerves. “Back away, Stone. If you’re not touching him, maybe you won’t get caught in it this time.”

  “I don’t mind.” He gave her his wicked grin, but she could see his heart wasn’t in it. He was more concerned about his friend.

  “It won’t hurt him,” she said, her voice softer with the acknowledgment of his churning emotions. “You know that. Back away. Torchay, you too.”

  Reluctantly, Stone did as he was bid. Torchay ignored her, returning her gaze with a bland, know-nothing stare. “When you touch him,” he said finally, “I’ll let go.”

  Kallista sighed. “At the same time. I don’t want you caught in it.”

  He shrugged. “If it’s what they say, I doubt I’ll mind it either.”

  “Don’t fight me on this, Sergeant.” She spoke crisply, making it an order. After another minute’s stare, he inclined his head, accepting it.

  Again she dried her hands on her tunic. Would it happen again, like with the other two, that wild rush of near-orgasmic magic? At least this time, it wouldn’t be so much like having sex in public. Just in private—semiprivate. Somehow that made her even more uncomfortable.

  She’d put it off long enough. With a deep breath, Kallista went down to her knees in front of Fox and clasped his grimy hand in hers.

  The magic slammed into her with the same erotic rush as before, but with a difference. It felt familiar, like coming home. The magic raged, sweeping through all the hidden recesses of her soul, making this stranger part of her, except…He was already there.

  She knew him. Not his face or his touch, but him. The magic snatched away the knowledge, erupting with its expected violence. Kallista rode the pleasure, drawing it out as long as she could, clinging to the familiar taste of this unknown man until their bodies were stretched taut with it. They could not hold it—should not hold such magic, such pleasure, but she did nevertheless. Until the magic itself shuddered.

  They screamed, their bodies convulsing in a simultaneous physical release, though only their hands touched. And the magic slipped away, taking consciousness with it.

  “Kallista. Kallista.”

  The name was familiar. And the voice. Because the name was her own and the voice was Torchay’s. She wanted to weep, alone inside her skin once more, lying on the floor in a tangle of limbs. “I’m—” She had to reassure him, them, but what to say? “I’m unhurt.” That much was true.

  “Will you no’ open your eyes?” He touched her cheek and she flinched away.

  “Don’t.” And she had to open her eyes, turn her head to see if she’d hurt him. “Not yet. Don’t touch us yet. It’s still too…”

  His face wasn’t quite blank, as if he tried to understand.

  “Too much,” Stone said. He crouched on the far side of Fox, a space away from him. “Too sensitive.”

  “Yes.” Kallista let her cheek rest against the age-smoothed planks of the floor—she hadn’t energy for more—and gazed into the dark brown eyes of her new ilias-to-be. They were bound already, the two of them.

  “I know you.” His hand rose to touch her face, and she remembered. He couldn’t see. Those beautiful, melting-brown eyes didn’t function.

  “Yes,” she said again. She caught his hand in both of hers and brought it to rest on her cheek. It was still as dirt-crusted as before, but now she didn’t mind.

  “But how? Who are you? What just happened? How—”

  “Shh.” Kallista pressed her fingers gently over his mouth, interrupting the stream of questions she sensed were dammed up behind his teeth. “I am Kallista. All will be explained.” A smile touched her lips. “But it may take some time. How are you feeling?”

  It was Fox’s turn to smile. “Tolerable well. Though my trousers don’t seem to have fared so well.”

  “Ah—” Her face burned as she recalled that moment when she had felt his climax as her own. She hadn’t thought to consider the physical reality of his experience. “We can remedy that.”

  His hand shifted, exploring her face. “Are you beautiful, Kallista? But then, how could it matter to me?” His thumb passed across her mouth and she allowed it. “At least you have all your teeth.”

  He slipped his hand behind her neck to draw her forward, lips parted as if he meant to kiss her.

  Suddenly panicked, Kallista set her hands against his chest and pushed. “No.”

  Fox froze, then turned his face away, into the floor. Slowly he separated himself from her, drew his legs up into his chest, wrapped his arms around them and tucked his head between his knees, creating a protective shield around his vital parts.

  Damnation. What had happened to him that he would react like this? Bewildered, Kallista looked at Stone as she sat up, accepting Torchay’s help to do so.

  “He has no caste.” Stone’s voice held both anger and sorrow. “Because he can no longer be a warrior, he is nothing. In the eyes of Tibre, he should have died, but since he did not…”

  Kallista stared from Stone to Fox and back again, unwilling to understand what he seemed to hint at. “Are you saying he thinks of himself as dead?”

  “Worse than dead. The dead are honored. Warriors welcomed into the banquet halls of Khralsh. Fox lost that chance when he failed to die. He has no caste.”

  Stone threw himself back onto his heels and stood to pace. He pushed back the hair that had escaped from his queue, then gathered it in his hands and pulled, as if to pull the frustration out. “How can I explain it so you’ll understand? A casteless man is worth nothing—even less than a barren woman, because she at least can give comfort, cook food, create ease.”

  Kallista glanced at Aisse where she waited near the door. The other woman’s face was set, angry, but her anger was apparently not with Stone.

  “Anyone can do anything with him, to him, for any reason at all,” Stone went on, “because he is nothing. Of course he expects abuse. You saw how slowly he drew into himself, because if you wished, you could order him to stretch himself out for your beating, to make himself more vulnerable to the blows. By Khralsh, it’s a wonder he’s alive.”

  Kallista touched the godmark on Fox’s neck, exposed by hi
s position. He flinched, a movement so small, she noticed only because she was touching him. She stroked her fingers lightly across his mark. “The mark kept him alive. It must have. Nothing else could have done it—kept him alive to suffer.”

  “It also brought him here, to you,” Obed said. “I have felt it, the pull, stronger than any man can resist, bringing me to your side. And now, it holds me here. As it holds him.”

  “Aisse, is the bath here?” Kallista set her hand on the mat of filthy tangles that was Fox’s hair.

  “They wait with it outside.”

  “Have it brought in.” She stroked her hand over his head, hoping it would reassure him. “You say you have no caste, Stone, but you did not react like this.”

  “I lost caste when I became a prisoner.” Stone’s voice dropped to a near whisper for Kallista’s ears only, as servants entered with the tin tub and buckets of hot and cold water. “Among the other kingdoms of the northern continent, I would have been treated just as Fox was. But I was lucky. You Adarans don’t have caste. And if I could somehow return to Tibre without this mark and have the language back, I might after a time—if someone didn’t kill me first—be allowed to join Laborers caste.”

  But not Fox. His injuries made it impossible for him to ever fight as a warrior again, to even work as a laborer. How cruel their society was.

  “Fox.” Should she be harsh? Gentle? How would he respond best? Somewhere in between? “You must get up now and bathe.”

  He unwrapped himself. “As you require, woman.”

  Aisse held back Torchay’s angry response. “He means no insult. It is all he knows. It is her rank. Woman.”

  “Her rank is captain,” Torchay said, jaw tight. “Or naitan.”

  “Address me as Kallista.” She took Fox’s hand to steady him as he stood.

  “As you require, Kallista.”

  Stone took Fox’s other hand to lead him to where the tub had been set up before the hearth. It was summer, so no fire was laid, but it was still the largest open space in the furniture-crowded room.

  When they halted, Fox could feel the steamy warmth of the promised bath rising to caress his face. He pushed a foot forward until it bumped against the tub, then drew it back, reassured now he knew its location. He reached over his head and pulled off the rag that had once been a shirt.

  “I’ll go down and see the baggage is unloaded.” That was the man with the roughness in his voice, the one who’d been angry when Fox failed to give Kallista her proper rank. How could a woman be a captain? And what was a naitan?

  “There’s likely something of mine that’ll fit him better,” the same man said. “He’s no’ quite as tall as Obed.”

  “Aisse, go with Torchay,” Kallista said close beside him.

  So Torchay was the rough-voiced man and Aisse was…the other woman? The one who had explained away his unintended offense?

  “See if they have a second tub for the second bath,” Kallista went on. “That way he can just step from one to the other.”

  “Yes, I will,” the other woman said, confirming Fox’s guess.

  Fox shoved his ruined trousers down his flanks, wobbling when he bent to push them off. A strong arm caught him, kept him from succumbing to the damn weakness in his half-healed leg. “Sorry. The leg doesn’t hold like it used to.”

  “No wonder, with half of it missing.” This man sounded so familiar, Fox found himself fighting tears. He didn’t dare expose any weakness.

  “Careful—if you fall and hit your head,” the man went on in that cursed, much-missed voice, “you’re like to scramble your brains too and we’ll both us be in the suds.”

  Fox went very still. It couldn’t be, could it? He had dreamed Stone so many times before, but never had it been real. Now, his mind seemed clear of confusion. Could this be real now? He was afraid to believe it. He wanted to reach out, to speak, but wouldn’t. Not until he knew what they wanted of him. Not even then. Not until he knew the rules.

  “You’re very quiet.” Kallista’s voice held a warmth he didn’t dare trust. “I’m sure there must be a hundred questions bubbling around in that clever brain.”

  Why would she say that? No one called him clever. Save for one. A dead man. One who haunted his waking hours now, as well as his dreams.

  “He doesn’t have permission to speak,” that damn voice said.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake—” Now she sounded angry. Fox shivered, despite his struggle not to.

  “In the tub with you.” The man took hold of his arm, offering too-welcome support. “Step high. The water’s hot, but you can stand it. There’s a lot of dirt to soak off. Khralsh, you smell worse than you did after that pig dragged you through all the pens at the market when we were twelve.”

  How could he know that, if he were not in truth…?

  “Step down now. Get in. Gods, don’t tell me you’ve lost your wits as well as your sight.”

  He did as he was told, sinking his feet one by one into the hot water, his mind as unsteady as his balance. Perhaps he was dead. Though Fox had never heard tales of the casteless being ushered into death with the tooth-rattling explosion of the most powerful sexual climax a man could ever know. He forgot to hide his smile as he lowered his bony arse into the water.

  “Fox.” That was Kallista. Only now did he think to wonder how she knew his name. “Not only do I give you permission to speak, I require it of you. Whether it is a question or a silly comment, I expect you to say it. Beginning with what made you smile just now.”

  Oh damn. He startled as something plunged into the water behind him.

  “I’m just wetting the soap,” she said. “Would you rather I wash you, or one of the men?”

  She expected him to speak, but did the men? What was their caste, their rank? Who gave the orders? Fox opened his mouth but couldn’t force out any sound.

  “Kallista is the captain,” the man said, his voice gentle. “She commands us all. I know it’s impossible to believe, but it’s true.”

  “I can wash myself,” Fox said very quietly. He did not know what would give least offense.

  “I know.” Kallista used a cloth to splash water onto his shoulders. “But can you tell when all the dirt is gone?”

  He could only hunch his shoulders at her teasing truth and submit to her washing. What did she want of him? What use could he be to her?

  “Stone, dip some water to pour over his head. Let’s rinse as much of the dirt as we can before we use the soap on his hair.”

  Fox caught his breath. “Am I dead?”

  The man laughed. “No more than I, brodir.” He poured the water over Fox’s head.

  When he shook it away, Fox spoke. “If it is you, Stone, then I must be dead. We’re both dead. But—” Nothing made sense. If he could see, maybe it would help. “Where are we?”

  “Not dead, Fox. I swear it.” The man gripped his forearm exactly the way Stone would have, making one of his everlasting oaths. “Do I feel like one of the dead? We’re deep inside Adara. You spoke to me on the street. Don’t you remember?” He let go and poured more water over Fox.

  “I thought I dreamed it,” Fox admitted. “The last weeks, since I left the camp, it’s all been like a dream.”

  “No more dreaming. No nightmares. This is the reality. We lived, Fox, you and I. Just as we asked of Khralsh. We’re the only two who lived, out of all the Tibrans inside the city when the dark magic struck, out of all those in the breach, out of all those on the battlefield below. We lived.”

  Kallista scrubbed a cloth down Fox’s back hard enough to make him wince. Her bare hand followed it, smoothing away the pain with a caress. Did she mean it as one?

  “You swore an oath?” She dipped the cloth in the water and squeezed it out over his back, then scrubbed again.

  “Yes.” Stone answered for them both. “We swore to Khralsh and gave our lives into his hands.”

  “And so, when all the others died, the One accepted the lives you offered and bound us toge
ther for Her purposes.” Kallista tipped Fox’s chin up and washed his neck. “And that is how you lived.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “What use can I be to any purpose, as I am?” Fox struggled to keep his voice level and matter-of-fact, but even he could hear the despair in it.

  “You’re godmarked. You carry magic inside you,” Kallista said. “Magic that I as a godstruck naitan can use.”

  There was that word again. “Naitan—what is that?”

  They told him. While Kallista washed his face, ears and arms, Stone told of his own capture and journey to the Adaran capital. While she washed his feet and legs, Stone told of his introduction to Kallista.

  “Here.” Kallista draped the washing cloth over Fox’s hand and placed the soap in his other. “Wash the rest. I’ll go see what’s become of that other bath.”

  After wrapping the soap in the cloth to have one hand free for balance, Fox stood to do as he’d been told.

  Stone took Fox’s elbow to steady him. “What laid your leg open like that?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t remember.” Fox dropped the soap in the tub and began to carefully wash the half-healed wound. “They must have thought I’d die of it, so it didn’t get stitched. It’s healed badly.”

  “And lamed you in the process.” Stone paused.

  Fox could almost feel Stone’s discomfort like a tangible thing. Why?

  “Did it also—”

  Fox moved on to wash other tender parts. When Stone didn’t finish his question, he prodded. “Also what?”

  “Stars, Fox. If I had a woman washing me like you just did, I’d be standing straight up ready for action. I am just from watching her. Did it—Can you still—”

  The laughter bubbled up from nowhere, demanding Fox throw his head back and let it fly. He laughed so hard, he lost his balance and fell, slipping through two sets of masculine arms to splash half the cooling water out of the tub.

  “Are you hurt?” Kallista called from across the room. “What happened?”

  “I laughed too hard.” Fox struggled to get his feet under him again. “I’m fine.”