“Are you waiting for an invitation?” his father asked, exasperation prickling his aura.
Sherakai opened his mouth, but had no idea what to let out of it.
Tameko shook his head, waved his son out of his hiding place, and went to sit on the edge of his desk, arms folded. “I thought I taught you better than to spy. You are lucky there are spells on that wall to keep those with magical talents from knowing you are there. Bairith may have suspected anyway.”
“Y-yes, sir.” He dusted himself off as best he could before stepping into the cleanliness of the office. Cobwebs trailed from him anyway. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I was on my way past—”
“Just strolling through secret passageways,” Tameko nodded.
“Well… no. This was just the quickest way to the kitchens.” His belly backed him up with a rumble of hunger. “I heard what he said about Mimeru—Are you going to send me to him? Them?”
“Do you think it is a sound plan?”
Rain pattered on the window, dismal and gray. Five days of intermittent wet weather, Sherakai reflected, would make for poor riding. He’d have gone anyway, given half the chance… Mouth pursed and forehead creased, he eased into a chair near the desk. “I dislike what he said about Mimeru, and what she’s told me about him.”
“You feel defensive.”
He nodded. It was not enough to base an important decision on. “His magic—Is he so Gifted? Is he as strong or good as you?”
Tameko managed a brief, amused smile. “Stronger, yes. He is guarded. Reserved. Good? I would like to believe so. He is, after all, married to my daughter.”
“I would like to be close to home,” he confessed, “but at the college I would meet many different people. See new places. Learn so much…”
The older man snorted softly. “Coming around on the idea, are you?”
“Well, yes.” He colored. “Proctor Omuri was excited and hopeful.”
“Did he try to convince you to go, then? Use magic on you?” Suspicion colored his aura.
“No, he was quite kind.” Sherakai picked at a groove in the wooden arm. “I don’t think he used magic. I don’t suppose I’d have known if he did. Would I?”
“Probably not.” He gave Sherakai a rueful look, brows lowered. “I should have insisted on sitting in.”
“You had your hands full. And you won’t always be able to sit in.” The knowledge made his heart flutter in apprehension.
Tameko shifted and put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Omuri’s reputation is solid. I didn’t spend as much time with him as you, but I liked him.”
“I did—do—too. So where shall I go, Papa?”
“To Hizuka. We are sending you to your uncle’s in the capital first, and from there to the college. Have you any objections?”
Testing, always testing…
“Yes, but they don’t matter. Not really.”
“You’re a good son.” He gave him a little shake, then straightened to stand. “I’ve something to tend to. Your mother is packing for you. You should go help her.”
“What?” Surprise stole his composure. “Now?”
“You’ll be leaving in the morning. This rain we’ve got will make good cover. After what happened to—After what happened, your mother, Nayuri, and I have decided it would be wise to take precautions for your journey. I do not imagine you will like them, but we are… a little desperate. We want you to live. More than anything, we want you to live,” he murmured, his voice strained.
“I will, Papa.” Emotion clogged his throat. He’d have said anything at that moment, done anything to reassure his father and give him what little comfort he might.
Tameko nodded. Stepping around the desk, he rubbed his face unobtrusively. “Go on with you. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
“Yes, Papa.” Halfway out the door, he turned back. “How did you know I was in the secret passage if there is magic protecting the wall?”
“I saw your beady little eye.”
Chapter 25
A steady rain drizzled from a sky dark as slate, the air chill with the whispers of oncoming winter. The storm had begun days ago, and a glance up at the clouds would only earn one a wet face and no sign of clearing. Six men on horseback made their way from the rain-drenched gates of Tanoshi Keep. Oiled leather covered their heads. Water streamed from their cloaks, their weapons, their mounts. It was a miserable time to go out on patrol; a miserable time for being outdoors at all, but misery plagued the people of Tanoshi these days and hung like a punishment around the neck of their lord. Rain did not keep the patrols from their duty, and this group in particular would not be stayed by anything so trivial as poor weather. Too much had gone into the preparations for their departure.
Thick mud squelched up around hooves as the horses picked their way down the road. Two more animals, their backs laden with supplies, plodded at the rear. At the turn that would take them from view of the keep, the second rider turned to look back. Rivulets of water ran like tears down the stone walls. Above the curving tiled roof of the gathering hall, the House banner drooped from its pole. Equally sodden were the two saffron streamers mounted below, one for each of the two dead sons returned to House Tanoshi.
“Keep your eyes forward.” The quiet order came from Nayuri, though no one would guess his identity now. Dressed in unadorned rain gear, he blended in with the rest of the company.
“I thought I might see her…”
“Your lady mother cannot watch at the window to wave off a common patrol, and that is what we must be.” Nayuri was uncompromising, though not unkind. “She trusts you.”
Sherakai had little to do: play the part of a guardsman and follow Captain Nayuri’s orders as though his life depended on it—as it might. At the end of the day, a second patrol would join them, doubling their numbers and the safety of Tameko’s last son. They still had hope that Imitoru lived. No news was good news.
The main road to Kelamara was a broad highway, and to stay on it begged disaster. While the highway was faster, it put the company out in plain sight and risked confrontation. Their route led instead through the sparsely populated countryside and along the back roads. By the following midday, they would reach the Indimi-o per’la Tojitu. Mounted on those magnificent, swift horses, they would fly. Once within the safety of Kelamara’s walls, Sherakai would go to his uncle. Under the protection of additional guards supplied by his uncle, he would travel to Hizuka City in Kesurechi.
One would think him a prince.
There had been no messages between Tanoshi and Kelamara for fear they'd be intercepted. There was no reason to believe his uncle would deny the request. Tameko had confided in him when he'd been to the capital and, as a precaution, Sherakai carried letters to him as well as the Council. The gods willing, their foe would never even see them pass.
“I will fail neither my mother nor my father.” The patter of rain muffled his words.
Nayuri looked at the youth for the space of a few moments, then an unreadable half smile touched his thin mouth. “Of course not.”
“Do you doubt me?” Sherakai challenged, feeling his heart thump in his breast. The captain’s skepticism did nothing to ease the fear that this was the last time he’d ever see his home.
“Not at all.” He seemed to have no difficulty dropping the accustomed forms of address. It was unsettling. “And should your task ever become difficult, you will have a dozen good men to call upon for aid.”
“That is what you are here for,” Sherakai replied stiffly.
“Indeed.”
Which was worse? To be thought incapable of the task his parents had set him, or to be well and truly afraid for his life? He is just a boy! he remembered his mother protesting, her fine features strained.
He is fifteen springs. Old enough to accept a man’s responsibilities, his father replied. He’s already done a man’s work these last months.
Please do not take him from me, his mother had said, her back straight and her chin up. No tears
for the proud jansu-sa. If she wept, she did so in private. This summer I have lost two of my children and I fear for a third. I cannot lose Sherakai, too.
Would you keep Sherakai here, Imarasu, where he is in certain danger? Or will you send him to the place that gives him the greatest chance of life?
It had broken Sherakai’s heart to see her tremble. His father had been no less distressed.
Let me stay, he’d argued. I can help you find the person doing this to us.
Tameko embraced him, then stood back with both hands on Sherakai’s shoulders. One of these days, by the grace of the Creator, you will love your own children. I pray they are as strong and as loyal as you are, son. And that you grow many, many potatoes. His smile did not disguise the worry in him.
What if something goes wrong on the journey?
Do not invite trouble, his mother said, coming to stand beside them. She was fierce, even in her grief. Never forget who you are.
Generous in her preparations for him, she'd packed good clothing suitable for life in the city, fine boots, a thick quilted tunic to keep him warm in the coming winter, books the two of them had treasured together, a few pieces of jewelry. And then Tameko told her that their son could take with him only the things he could carry on his horse, the things necessary for his survival.
A wild look came into her eyes and she pressed both trembling hands to her breast.
It’s better this way, Tameko said. Faster. When we get word he’s arrived, we’ll send his things on to him.
Imarasu’s gaze rested on the packed trunks. Can he wear my pendant? she asked at last, barely more than a whisper.
Sherakai crossed the space between them to touch her arm. I will.
She gave him the necklace her father had given to her when she was a child, a simple thing of gold worked into the shape of a protective rune. She always wore it. Tucking it beneath his tunic, she discovered it was not the only one.
I gave him Tasan’s passage necklace, Tameko said, his voice rough. Tasan would never wear it again. A simple leather cord held symbols representing the rites he’d passed through. There was also a tiny leaf for each of his three children. His father had added a black-stained wooden replica of a feather.
The pair exchanged a long, unhappy look. Fazare’s necklace was only a thing, like Tasan's, but it should have been returned to them.
Sherakai took his mother’s hands and kissed each. Thank you, Mama.
Imarasu’s lips trembled, and she forced a smile. Treasure them, she whispered. They are memories and promises of the love that is yours.
Mama…
We will see him again in a few months, Tameko reassured her.
My boy. Of a height with her son, Imarasu looked long into eyes that mirrored the green of her own, then gently kissed his cheeks. When he returned the affection, he tasted the salt of her tears. I want you to have this, she said, pressing a letter into his hands. Her perfume scented it. Read it later, and whenever you are tired, discouraged, or afraid.
He carried it beneath his tunic, next to his skin.
As they rode through the rain, Sherakai said little to Nayuri or to the others. It was uncanny that they showed him no particular deference though that had been the plan all along. Hide in plain sight. Such a thing could not be done if his companions continually danced attendance on him. The change in status was temporary, he reminded himself, and would not hurt him. These men were here to protect him, not wait on him.
Wet and cold, irritated for reasons he didn’t understand, Sherakai kept exactly to the position Nayuri assigned him. When they dismounted for the midday meal, he checked his mount's feet and gear. He wished he had Aishe, but the stallion would have stood out. This first leg of the journey they rode common stock as common soldiers did.
“Let’s go,” Nayuri announced as soon as he’d finished his own meal. The men immediately left their scant shelter beneath the trees to mount up again. One held a sausage in his teeth while he swung up into the saddle.
“We’re not finished,” Sherakai pointed out.
The captain gave him a stony gaze. “Eat in the saddle.”
“I beg your pardon?” Cheese hung suspended from his fingers halfway to his mouth.
One brow hooked upward like a question mark, Nayuri tipped his head toward Sherakai’s mount.
Follow every order the captain gives you… Gritting his teeth, Sherakai gathered the remains of his meal.
Suwa, a man with weather-creased features, held the mare’s reins. “I didn’t think we’d be stopping at all,” he offered. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”
“Of course.” Rain drenched the last of his bread before he got it under cover. Lips pursed, he nodded tersely. “Thank you.”
Suwa smiled and shrugged.
Still pulling his cloak into place, the motion of his horse made Sherakai sway. Wet saddle. Wet food. He wished he was home in front of the hearth, with a cup of steaming tea and the is’fidri board to drive him crazy. Such foolish desires would get him nowhere. He had no company but these men for another fortnight, and he might as well make the best of it. Jaw set, he fell into place behind Nayuri.
Chapter 26
All the time he’d spent riding did not prepare Sherakai for the rigor of pressing through an entire day in the saddle. Nayuri had the men walk for several miles while the mounts rested from carrying their burdens. It eased his seat, but hurt his feet, and for the first time in his life he learned what it was like to march in armor. Thankfully, it was not full plate mail, but it still seemed forever until they mounted up again.
Night came early beneath the thick cover of clouds. The party moved on in darkness while the relentless rain pattered.
“Here,” someone said, a hand on the bridle bringing horse and youth to a stop. “Help Araki put up the canvas.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” Nayuri moved away.
“I don’t know how.” The sudden lack of motion felt strange.
“Learn.”
“Got a knife?” Araki asked from beside him, so tall that he hardly had to look up to see Sherakai’s face. “Trim us some poles. Not less than eight feet. There,” he pointed and Sherakai looked that direction, blinking.
“Where?”
Someone snorted. It sounded like laughter.
“Down you get,” Araki instructed, one hand on his hip, an axe in the other. “Moving about will stir your blood. I don’t suppose you can cook?”
“Cook? No.” Conscious of eyes on him, Sherakai swung down to the ground, only to have his knees promptly buckle beneath him. Gracelessly, he caught hold of the saddle and pulled himself up again. The mare turned her head to give him an aggrieved look.
Araki tongued his cheek, then handed over the axe and pointed to the trees. “Saplings for our shelter, Sapling.”
The mild heckling earned grins from Suwa and Beseni. Unperturbed by Sherakai's glower, the man walked off to go clear a place for their tent. Legs and back aching, Sherakai shuffled toward the trees, then stopped, shifting his grip on the axe’s haft. He had strict orders never to go anywhere alone at any time during this trip. “Is it safe in there?”
The captain looked up from where he built a fire pit. Amusement shimmered around him. “If you know how to handle that axe, vanu.” Yes.
Sherakai’s heart skipped a little. “What if we were followed?”
The silence stretched out between them. “Beseni has just come from that way,” Nayuri said carefully. “I had him scout ahead while you slept.”
He’d fallen asleep in the saddle? “Oh.”
Light flared. Nayuri cupped his hand over a short branch, the end of which had been wrapped with cloth soaked in tallow. An instant later, it burned brightly. He held it toward Sherakai. “Take this. Be careful you don’t drop it or it will go out.”
Somehow, stupidly, he’d forgotten the man was a fire mage. Even such a minor ability as Nayuri’s was a useful thing for a soldier to have. Sherakai accepted the
light with relief. “I am not a child.” Anyone knew rain-soaked grass and leaves would probably put out a fire.
“Of course not,” came the mild reply. The captain bent back to his task, digging at the earth as though he hadn’t been interrupted.
Trim saplings… He could do that, surely. The master of weapons had taught him how to use an axe, though he had never chopped down a tree, sapling or otherwise. After the wedding, everything had changed. He didn’t hunt and fish. There were no roughhousing and games. The nights in front of the fire with Imarasu teaching her small tribe how to harmonize seemed long ago.
Jamming the torch into the crook of an the older tree, Sherakai chose his victim. One hand bracing the slender growth, he hacked at the base. Quicker and quicker his blows fell.
“Here! Here, now!”
He spun about, hefting the axe like a weapon.
Araki stepped back, hands lifted to stay an attack. “Easy. It’s just me.”
Sherakai tightened his grip on the handle. “I’m not done.”
“No,” the guardsman allowed. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”
Was his question a trick? A test? “No,” he said shortly.
Araki gestured to the mutilated sapling. “I can show you how.”
“I can do it.”
“Yes.”
The two of them stood there watching each other until finally Sherakai lowered the axe and took a step back. “I can do it,” he repeated.
Araki nodded. “Your way will take longer and dull the axe quicker. Try it like this,” he said, and patiently showed the younger man how to place his blows, how to brace the newly cut length so he wouldn’t cleave off a foot, how to angle the blade to trim the branches. Sherakai followed the instructions implicitly. Before long, the pair of them had a collection of staves, which only meant something more for him to learn. The canvas would not hang itself. “More’s the pity,” Araki grunted, and set about teaching his charge how to lash the poles together, how to spread the canvas, and how to stake the structure so it wouldn’t fall down or blow away.
Blood and Shadow (The Mage's Gift Book 1) Page 17
