Children of Ambros

by Katy Winter

  "I'll do it, Sar. If I work hard, will that make you proud of me?"

  "I'm proud of my little brother as he is," said Sarehl softly, looking deeply into the very blue eyes that reminded him so strongly of a dead merchant. "Brue love, you haven't had a normal childhood, have you?" The blue eyes never wavered from the black ones. "You've been constantly on the move since you were very small; now you're offered a chance to stay mostly in one place, certainly for a while, where you no longer need to keep moving. The Sushi won't travel at the speed I do. They'll move slowly and camps will be set for weeks at a time, even longer - with me, it's often only for a matter of days. We all need, at some stage of our lives, security and a routine we can identify with, lad, just to let us breathe and grow. You need that time, little brother, and you're crying out for it right now. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" Brue took a deep breath and answered gruffly.

  "Yes, Sarda, I think so." Sarehl ruffled the copper curls.

  "The captain will look after you. He's promised to be a father to you."

  "He's tough, he is, I reckon," came the response to that. Sarehl smiled tenderly into the upturned face.

  "No tougher than he needs to be, lad," he said, adding in an amused tone, "I wouldn't run counter to a man such as that."

  "Will I see you again?" came wistfully. Sarehl caught Brue up in his arms and cradled him.

  "Silly boy," he whispered fiercely into the copper head. "Of course you will. I told you, I'll never leave you again. We may be apart, but I'll be in constant touch."

  "Where will you be?" asked the small boy, nestling closer into Sarehl's chest.

  "Travelling north, advising and planning as I've been doing for so many cycles now." Sarehl paused. "I seem to have done nothing else." He ran a hand over his beard.

  "When will I see you after you leave, Sar?"

  "If all goes as we would hope, Brue, the Sushi - and that means you, too - will join up with Ensore's army and all move forward towards the Kyaran kingdom. That's where I'll be. You'll meet Ensore before you see me again, and I know you'll like him. You'll have another brother around as well. I promise to come to you as soon as I can, little brother."

  "I'll do it, Sar, for you." Brue flung his arms about his brother's neck and hugged him hard.

  ~~~

  Sarehl's discussion with Maren the following morning was briefer and held in the early hours, long before Brue was awake. The captain was out of uniform - Brue would've found him far less quelling and formidable. When Sarehl was announced by a palace servant, Maren leaned against the mantelpiece and looked down at the empty grate, then, when Sarehl limped unhurriedly, Maren looked up with a smile and came forward with his hand extended.

  "Strategos."

  "Captain," responded Sarehl, gripping the hand for a moment. The captain was a tall man, but even he had to lift his head to meet Sarehl's eyes. Sarehl had a twinkle in his. "I thank you for coming at such an ungodly hour, but I have a meeting with several Oms very soon. I wished to settle Brue's future which is, frankly, of more importance to me."

  "Not at all," replied Maren, stepping back and adding with a laugh, "We're usually up and about at this hour, Strategos."

  "Poor Brue," grinned Sarehl, stretching gracefully at his ease in a chair.

  "Hot at hand, is he?" asked the captain, with an expression of sympathy mixed with understanding. He selected a chair, pulled it forward and settled himself comfortably.

  "Damnably at times," admitted Sarehl. He paused, then added, "It's not the boy's fault, Captain. As I explained, circumstances have made his growing up erratic and his world volatile - it won't do for such a highly-strung boy. I think, considering the life he's been forced to endure, Brue's done very well." The captain grinned.

  "I agree. But as you say, he needs stability. And yes, there's nothing in that lad of yours that can't be quickly put to rights, Strategos. He's a very likable boy, that one. He's also a well-built boy, unlike yourself, with a lot of potential strength in him. He could almost be southern."

  "He takes after his father," explained Sarehl absently. Then he saw the captain look very hard at him. "We have different fathers, Captain. Mine was very tall and well-built, but Brue's father was a huge man - very tall and large-framed. I always felt a mere boy beside him."

  "I see." Maren was thoughtful as Sarehl sighed faintly.

  "Brue doesn't enjoy his books, is always active, needs constant attention, and even more, he needs discipline." The captain lounged back, a smile coming to his eyes.

  "Oh, he'll get that," he promised with a low chuckle. "And he'll learn to mind his books and all. I've no ignorant lads in my troop." Sarehl began to laugh and nodded. "Strategos," began Maren tentatively. Sarehl inclined his head. "I spoke to my wife last night, about the boy." Sarehl's look was keen and enquiring.

  "And?" he asked quietly.

  "Our two lads are grown now, Strategos. She's more than willing to give the lad a home while we're still here and when we move she says the boy would stay with us and we'd raise him in your absence. It would mean the boy wouldn't have to sleep in the stables." Sarehl would've spoken, but Maren went on, "She may spoil him a little, but she can handle even the toughest lads. I've seen her do it too."

  "I've no doubt of that." Sarehl rose and so did the captain, the latter aware of the penetrating look he received from black eyes. "Are you quite sure you're comfortable with this arrangement, Captain? Please be frank with me."

  "I'm more than happy to have the boy, Strategos. I've taken a very strong liking to that lad. He has a lot of spirit and properly handled could shape into a very fine officer. If," Maren hesitated, "you think the arrangement acceptable?" Sarehl limped over at once and held out his hand.

  "I answer to Sarehl, Captain; Strategos is purely a courtesy title. It's me who's deeply in your debt. You offer Brue everything, security, a home and someone who can be a mother to him. I can't offer this." He wrung the captain's hand then stood still a moment. "I know I couldn't have placed him in better hands. I thank you."

  "Then," said Maren, with a delighted smile, "I'll leave you to bring the lad to us and we can all work to settle him down before you leave to go north. We'll be ready for him whenever you are. My wife was speaking about setting one of our lad's rooms aside for Brue before I left." Sarehl burst out laughing and accepting the proffered arm, limped from the room with the captain.

  Brue was taken to his new home the following day where Ceda, Maren's wife, promptly took the boy under her wing and settled him in a room set aside for him. Ceda was a homely woman, with kindly hazel eyes and a capacious bosom and she was obviously of equally generous disposition. Sarehl suspected Brue would be very mothered.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  With Brue's future so clearly settled, Sarehl could concentrate on his discussions with the Sushi. He knew his time in Taki had been usefully spent and had no doubts about the Sushi joining the war effort against the warlord. Already the south-eastern cities of the dukedom were emptying, as people were encouraged to withdraw in an orderly way, taking what they could with them.

  It was a continuing logistical nightmare for Sarehl. He struggled to make arrangements for the thousands of non-fighting citizens, from all states, who had to be absorbed into the train of the northern army because there was simply nowhere else for them to go. Some resented the abrupt change in their status, were initially unwilling to co-operate and only patient encouragement and explanation served to make those people accept their current situation. What Sarehl essentially had was a huge mobile city that had to be organised and controlled. He hoped, desperately, that the King of Kyaran would allow permanent camps of refugees, at least until the warlord was pushed back as far as Samar lands. But Sarehl had no illusions and no false hopes either, realising meanwhile that he would just have to cope with each problem that arose.

  And always lurking at the back of the Strategos' mind was the knowledge of Bethel that Brue brought him and what he learned from Ensore, who wrote t
o tell him of the young dark-haired warrior astride a magnificent chestnut stallion as part of warrior trials. He didn't know whether to rejoice or to grieve, because his heart misgave him when he thought of what Bethel was being forced to become. Again he thought constantly of the gentle boy, with the dreamy expression and big eyes, who trotted after him so many cycles ago. He was haunted again by the soft, desperate voice that called pleadingly to him from the slave pen. Sarehl often crossed to a window and stared out until threatening emotions passed.

  His hopes for his little brother rested on what Sasqua increasingly told him of Bethel's life since his captivity. It warmed Sarehl that Bethel still lived entirely for his music and he wondered if it was the boy's music that helped him through the agonies of the last nearly six cycles. Sarehl wished, that just once, he could communicate with Bethel, so the boy could know he wasn't forgotten. He never spoke of his fears for Bethel or Luton, but Kaleb saw it in the Strategos' eyes. The healer knew he could offer no comfort.

  ~~~

  It was during his stay in Taki, that Sarehl learned Kaleb was no ordinary healer. He'd not heard specifically of reader-seekers, though Ensore told him the Yazd were mostly omniscient, often fey or touched, and that some could read minds far distant. Mostly the Marshal had spoken of the Yazd talent in healing.

  Sarehl found out about Kaleb in an unexpected way. The Strategos, having decided early one morning that he wanted a piece of advice on an issue that was to be discussed in a few hours time with the Oms, went to the healer's quarters. He entered quietly, wondering if perhaps Kaleb was still asleep. He found the healer cross-legged on his bed, with his eyes closed and seemingly also closed to the outside world. Kaleb hadn't actively discouraged Sarehl from visiting him in the early hours; Sarehl just never had.

  Intrigued, Sarehl just sat in a chair and waited. He waited a long time, until Kaleb opened his eyes and looked across at him with a slightly vexed expression. Sarehl raised an eyebrow.

  "Visiting afar, healer?" he enquired. The frown vanished and an amused smile lit the clear eyes.

  "You could say that," agreed Kaleb, rising stiffly. "What can I do for you?" Sarehl rose too and limped across the room to pour wine. He lifted a full goblet that he offered to the healer.

  "Not too early for you to have wine, is it?" he asked with an impish grin. Kaleb ran a hand roughly through his hair before he took the goblet.

  "Not at all, lad. I repeat, what can I do for you?"

  "Where were you?" Sarehl asked bluntly, going to the chair and lounging back, his expression inviting Kaleb to do likewise. Kaleb looked hard at him, then sighed before wandering back to the bed and falling onto the cushions.

  "You won't leave me till you know, will you?" he asked wearily.

  "Probably not," replied Sarehl, sipping at the wine and eying the healer speculatively with inquisitive black eyes.

  "Very well." Kaleb hauled himself up onto his elbows. "I'm a Yazd and a healer, but first and foremost, I'm a reader-seeker. You know that because I looked for Luton."

  "I didn't know you were called reader-seekers."

  "Now you do."

  "What were you doing, when I came in before?"

  "I've been casting a shroud over Taki for some time. It's necessary."

  "Is that because Lodestok's getting closer?"

  "That certainly, but he has someone like me who can read minds. That's the last thing we want to happen here."

  "To us, or to all of Taki?"

  "To us, Sarehl."

  "Do you do this of your own volition, Kaleb?" Kaleb fenced with Sarehl very gently.

  "Does it matter?"

  "Who asked you to do this?" There was a long silence and Sarehl knew he wasn't going to get an answer. He said pensively, "You have power, haven't you?"

  "All power, my friend, is relative," responded Kaleb calmly and Sarehl couldn't get anything else from him. Accepting defeat, he went on to speak of the matter due to be discussed by the Oms. He didn't see the smile Kaleb gave him as he left the chamber.

  ~~~

  Sarehl also learned very much more of Dahkilan society through his contact with Kasan, Ensore's young sister. Kasan had been away from her home for nearly eight of her nineteen cycles and was an honoured guest, with her own entourage, of Duke Nakron of Sushi. She was treated with respect and deference by the court.

  She was quiet and reflective, more like her elder brother than Eli, Sarehl thought, once he got to know her. She was drawn to him because she'd already heard so much about him from Ensore. She was chestnut-haired; her mane, long and thickly luxuriant, hung loose. Her eyes, set in an oval face, were the usual Dahkilan gray, but they were most often pensive and invariably thoughtful when they encountered Sarehl's. She gave the appearance of being older than her cycles; though she was young, she wasn't girlish.

  Sarehl would frequently find her standing in the courtyard outside her rooms, her gaze far distant. When asked if she was homesick, she smiled sadly and said she'd forgotten much about Elibera. She seldom spoke of her home or her people until Sarehl arrived, but now she blossomed, waiting for him to come to her with the latest letter or bulletin from Ensore. She listened to the deep voice reading to her, sitting back contentedly. Sarehl always felt at ease with her and sought her out for companionship.

  If he was asked about Kasan, Sarehl would probably have answered that he found her pleasant and conversable and he'd have admitted developing fraternal affection for the little sister of someone dear to him. He remained indifferent to the women of any court he found himself in, though it was inevitable he'd be seen as eligible and attractive and few knew of Alicia or his children, Saren and Chlo. Sarehl didn't enlighten anyone. Kaleb doubted Sarehl would ever mate a second time.

  He enjoyed being with Kasan because she had an enquiring and alert mind, encouraged him to talk on all matters, military or political, and was quite prepared to argue with him if she didn't agree. She had a ready laugh and a quick wit. Sarehl liked her very much, but thought a little sadly that she wasn't that much older than Myme Chlo who'd now be sixteen cycles.

  It was Kalor who spoke out about Kasan one evening. The Duke was throwing one of his interminable receptions, this time for an envoy from one of the Elban princedoms. Eating had finished and dancing was under way, both Kalor and Kaleb hastily retreating before their hands could be claimed. Kalor was especially popular because of his devil-may-care attitude, but he was also a rake who played the court ladies for all their worth, discarding women he said rudely had no soul. When Kaleb remonstrated with him, Kalor chuckled.

  "Kaleb, we play a game. The court women have as little affection for me as I have for them. I give them pleasure in the southern way that titillates them. It gives them something to talk about."

  "One day, my friend," warned Kaleb direfully, "you'll fall very hard for a woman."

  "I await the day," came the roguish, laughing response.

  Kalor turned his attention to Kasan who'd just been led from the dance floor and was being seated by her partner. The Cyrenic watched her turn her head to look over at Sarehl across the hall. He gave an inaudible whistle.

  "Our Dakhilan princess is become a beauty, isn't she, Kaleb? I wonder if Ensore would recognise the elegant and gracious woman she's become." Kaleb looked up at Kalor with a twinkle.

  "Are you smitten?" he asked, his lips curling into a grin.

  "Not me, my friend," observed Kalor, the healer's smile mirrored in his eyes. He nodded at Kasan, so Kaleb obligingly turned to face her.

  "Aye, my friend," he replied, puzzled. "She's grown lovely - so?"

  "Watch where her eyes wander," instructed Kalor lazily. Kaleb did. Again, Kasan gave Sarehl a quick look, not enough to be obvious to a casual observer. Sarehl was flanked by some of Nakron's highest military advisers and talked then laughed infectiously, a hand going up to his beard every so often.

  He looked very much younger these days, Kaleb thought, studying the tall figure. Despite the facial scar and the permanent lim
p, Sarehl was a highly attractive man. The healer gave a quiet smile of satisfaction, thinking how astonished and gratified Ensore would be when he saw his friend again. Kaleb glanced back at Kasan. He saw a smile tremble on her lips when she looked at Sarehl for a third time. Kaleb looked up at Kalor, who tilted his head questioningly.

  "Oh dear," murmured the healer ruefully. "Is he conscious of it, my friend?" Kalor turned and looked across at Sarehl who happened to look back at them. An affectionate smile crossing his face, he excused himself from the Sushi and came over to them, unaware of gray eyes that followed him.

  Kalor said very quietly, "He has no suspicion of it at all, has he?"

  "Quite unselfconscious," agreed Kaleb, pursing his lips.

  "I wonder," muttered Kalor mischievously, "how Ensore would react to this?"

  "With surprised amusement, I imagine," said Kaleb. His eyes dwelled thoughtfully on the young woman with wistful gray eyes that rested on the approaching figure. Kalor started to laugh. "And with much satisfaction," added Kaleb.

  "Aye," responded Kalor, his voice low. "But what about the Dakhilan Curule?" Kaleb frowned at him, but Kalor's eyes danced irrepressibly.

  "They'll have to adapt as every other society has to do. I imagine Ensore will change much. Stop laughing!" Kaleb turned from Kalor to greet Sarehl who paused a few steps away.

  "What are you two hatching?" he asked suspiciously, his eyes going from one to the other.

  "Nothing, my friend, nothing," responded Kalor still laughing. When he saw Sarehl's dark questioning eyes, he laughed even more.

  ~~~

  Sarehl's contact with Kasan didn't lessen because Kasan adopted Sasqua and was one person, other than Sarehl, the Churchik girl implicitly trusted. She was still nervous of Kaleb, having had it imbued in her from infancy that the Yazd were something unhealthy, but did gratefully accept his ministrations. She was pitifully delighted to know that Sarehl was Bethel's eldest brother and came to treat him as if he was indeed her own, older brother. She and Kasan became very close, both refugees, and the latter supporting Sasqua in every way. So Kasan and Sarehl spent much time together because that was now inevitable.