Cezar imagined Zaraki’s threat would now cover any of the Tahaerin queen’s agents and so, he urged caution. “No, I say send riders to the villages. They sit on your land and shouldn’t help Eamon or his whore queen. But neither should we invite her attention right now. Royals tend to defend royals.”
***
Eamon and Jan stayed in Ostrava for two days to rest their mounts and purchase supplies before heading into the mountain. Because the communities in the mountains kept to themselves, Eamon worried they might not always find places to eat or sleep.
“What are we riding into?” Jan asked as they climbed in their saddles.
For most of the trip, Eamon had dreaded this question. He did not want to go back to his former home, did not want to talk about it or think about it. Though no one could lay blame for his parents’ indiscretions at his feet, he still remembered the shame he felt when people pointed fingers and whispered behind his back. “I’m from a village south of here, but I lived briefly in Hont. It’s decent sized, but like most of the hamlets in those mountains, they keep to themselves. They’re reserved with outsiders, they don’t trust them. Not all of the villages are as—” he paused, wanting suddenly to say “narrow-minded,” but feeling disloyal for criticizing his former home. “As provincial, I suppose.”
If Jan noticed his discomfort, he kept to himself. “Perhaps we should start with those hamlets then?”
“I would suggest that, yes.”
Riding northeast, they left the forests and grassy plains surrounding Ostrava and headed into the foothills, Eamon’s discomfort rising the higher they climbed. At the first crossroad they came to, he hesitated. Turning left would take them around a large mountain to a secluded valley dotted with small towns, including the village his father hailed from.
He debated going towards Hont because he felt no one there would be willing to help, but he also worried he was making excuses to avoid returning to his former home. Staying away because he did not want to revisit old wounds definitely violated his oaths. On the other hand, going to Hont might be a colossal waste of time. The road to the right would likely take them to friendlier hamlets, but they were miniscule in size, sometimes no more than four or five families huddled together.
“You said there were lots of villages up there. There’s no need to go any place with bad memories,” Jan said kindly.
Sighing, Eamon reflected that someone who took no oaths to loyalty could easily say something like that. “No, we’ll turn towards Hont. There are more people in that direction and in the valley it sits in.”
They skirted several collections of cottages travelers might charitably call hamlets before they came to Pasca. Eamon remembered the residents as friendly and welcoming, but when he asked to meet with the village leaders they were rebuffed without explanation.
The same happened in the next five villages they passed. Some places they were met with silence, in others nervous, apologetic smiles appeared on faces that politely told them to keep moving. Everywhere people snubbed them.
Discouraged and a bit embarrassed, Eamon suggested they find a place to spend the night. “I don’t understand,” he said as Jan got a fire started. “I don’t remember these places being so hostile to, well, everyone.” They ate from the supplies they purchased in Ostrava and spent a chilly night sleeping on the ground.
The next morning, they followed the road north into the Hana Valley. It looked just as Eamon remembered it, even though he had not returned here in fifteen years. Wide and impossibly long, the valley stretched out of sight, eventually crossing the Streza border into the Wilds. Though slavers from the loose confederation of tribes in the north might occasionally venture onto the plains of Streza in search of new captives, for some reason, they left the mind readers of these mountains alone.
Dombrad, the first settlement of any significance, came into view as they rode through the dense forest growing at the entrance to the valley. It seemed like a good place to stop, and Eamon sincerely hoped they would find help here. If they did, he could turn them around and leave the valley without ever seeing his former home or anyone he knew. Before this trip, he would not have guessed how much shame he still carried.
“Let’s stop here, then. It’s larger, and maybe we can find someone to talk to us.”
As they rode closer, Jan could not help but chuckle at what Eamon called a larger settlement. Here, at least, the buildings sitting around the green commons were made of stone with tiled roofs. Many of the houses, though, were constructed of wood and stacked stones with thatched roofs.
“Let’s wander through the square,” Jan suggested. “We can listen as we walk. I’d like to find something for my wife, too.” With so little traffic, they rode their horses to the edge of the communal green before dismounting and tying them up. Two short blocks to the north they found the main square with small stalls ringing it. Merchants sold a small variety of goods. Nothing more exotic than silk ribbons from Meszdra and bolts of wool cloth from Embriel.
As Eamon remembered, traders did come up into the mountains, but rarely. He strolled past the stalls, stopping to ask appropriate questions, and tried not to stand out. The people here did seem more open and friendly than in the other villages they passed through. Perhaps this would be a good place to start their hunt.
Eamon noticed the young woman following him after only a few minutes in the little market. She had dark hair pulled into two braids beginning above her ears and continuing behind her head, becoming one long single strand that ran down her back. Her dark skin and high cheekbones marked her ancestors as Trillanese, who fled here a hundred years ago.
He watched her casting curious glances at him and then talking to the older man who walked beside her. Keeping her distance, she continued to follow him as he moved from stall to stall. It annoyed him, more than it should, but he felt jumpy and nervous already and wanted this to stop. Eamon waited until he saw her turn to her companion and then slipped between a stall selling cloth and another selling fruit pies.
In only a few moments, he heard her voice approaching. “Where did he go? I don’t want to lose him, Oszkar.”
Frowning, Eamon waited until the last minute before stepping out in front of her. She jumped back in surprise. “You were looking for me?” he asked.
“You scared me,” she yelped as her hand went to her chest.
The old man standing next to her grabbed at her elbow. “Come on, Sarika. Let’s not bother this gentleman. He’s not who you think he is.”
Sarika shot the man a kind but annoyed look. “I’m going to ask, uncle. I am. If I’m wrong, so what?” She turned back to Eamon. “This might sound stupid, but I swear I know you.”
“You don’t,” Eamon said stiffly, reinforcing his words with images of Ostrava and cities in Embriel they passed through on their way here. Anything but the small little village his father lived in.
“That just gave you away,” she said, smiling happily at him. “You are one of us. And I think I remember your name is Eamon.”
He wanted to deny it and started backing away, shaking his head. No good could come of digging up the grave of his former life. Years living amongst people who could not read his thoughts had replaced old habits with new ones, such as lying. Training with Father perfected that one, and he started to tell her a tale of growing up along the border with Embriel. Then he remembered she already knew and lying would buy him nothing. Eamon stopped moving and sighed in resignation.
“Yes,” he said cautiously. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you.”
Turning to Oszkar, she grinned. “I told you.” When she looked back at him, the warm smile stayed on her lips, reaching her eyes. “I’m Sarika. I lived one village over in Batonya and I was friends with your cousin. You saved me from drowning one summer when I slipped into the river. That’s how I know you.”
“Yes, well, I’m sorry, but I do have business here, so I should be about it. It was lovely seeing you, Sarika. Please don’t mention to
anyone you saw me. I’m only here for a short while.”
Cocking her head to one side, Sarika gave him an odd look. “Eamon, what are you doing here? It’s been years. Are you one of the ones the rider from Ostrava told us not to talk to?”
The old man standing quietly next to her looked horrified and tugged at the sleeve of her green gown. “Sarika, no. We don’t want trouble.”
Scowling, she said, “Uncle, it was ridiculous. Edik doesn’t own us or these mountains.”
Eamon groaned and ran his hands over his face. What seemed like such a simple job when they crossed the Vinca now looked far more complicated. He needed to hear about this, and so he ended his attempt to escape. Looking across the square, he caught Jan’s eye and waved his companion over. “Lord Edik told people not to talk to us?”
“Yes,” Sarika said, sounding annoyed and defiant. “The rider came two days ago. He met with people in Navsi, where we live. He said there would be Tahaerin agents coming through here and forbade us from talking to them or helping them.”
That they worked for Leisha should have been his secret to tell. Edik and Cezar had no right to divulge it, and they had always promised to keep their students’ secrets. This breach bothered Eamon more than Edik’s orders not to help them. If the oath givers did not live up to their promises, what did it mean for him?
“Jan, we have a problem,” he said as the other man came close. “This is Sarika and her uncle, Oszkar. I know Sarika from before, and it appears Edik does not want us here.”
“What are you here for, Eamon?” Sarika asked, looking from one man to the other. “All the way from Tahaerin?”
Eamon cast about, looking for any private place in the little square. Then he remembered mind readers surrounded them. Keeping secrets seemed impossible. He knew they kept their minds shuttered most of the time because otherwise they would be overwhelmed by the cacophony, but strangers huddling together in corners would certainly arouse suspicion. “Is there someplace we can talk? Away from prying ears?”
“Of course. There’s a green on the other side of the square.” Sarika nodded her head, indicating where the village’s common green lay.
“We’ll buy you both lunch if you’re willing to talk with us.”
The old man next to Sarika shifted uncomfortably but said nothing as she agreed. Together, they walked through the stalls before deciding on meat pies and mugs of a stout beer. They took their lunch to a quiet corner of the common where they could speak privately.
Sitting in the grass, Eamon told them everything Aniska had given him permission to share. How the Tahaerin queen was a mind reader, like them, but she knew no others. How the invaders used an army of mind readers to slaughter their way across Tahaerin lands. “So, she needs help. She needs to understand more about what she can do, what other mind readers can do. We’re here to find someone who can help. And she’s willing to pay for that help.”
With wide eyes, Sarika faced her uncle. “This is exactly what I’ve been talking about, Oszkar. Here’s a chance to do something other than cower in these mountains. A mind reader who is queen and who needs us.”
The old man glanced at his niece, clearly unhappy with this. An eerie stillness fell over them and it took Jan a moment to realize they communed with each other. They sat still, not needing to change their expressions or gesture with their hands. He found it unnerving, even after all these years spent living with and working for another of their kind.
“Why do we keep ourselves prisoners here?” Sarika’s words shattered the silence and she threw her hands into the air. Around the small market, heads turned to look at her. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. I’m not angry with you, Uncle. But I think it’s cowardice to sit here and refuse to help because we don’t want to remind the other kingdoms we still exist.” She pushed herself to her feet and walked away.
Seeing the unwanted attention directed their way, Eamon hurried after Sarika. Under his breath he said, “I’m going to walk next to you for a bit. We’ll pretend this is just a disagreement between friends.”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I just get frustrated with people here. It’s not their fault. They’ve been raised with all this fear, but nothing will ever change for us if we insist on hiding ourselves.”
“I won’t pretend to understand,” Eamon said as they strolled together down a narrow lane between two stone houses. Looking through one of the windows thrown open on this lovely sunny day, he saw a home full of things that reminded him of his father and wondered if the man still lived in Hont. “I’ll say no one cares anymore. They barely remember our people. Your people,” he corrected himself.
“I know. That’s what frustrates me. Let’s go back and talk to Oszkar. I think we can help, but we need him to agree.”
***
Jan watched as Eamon and Sarika walked away from the square, disappearing around the corner of a stone building.
“Forgive me, Oszkar. Do you mind me asking what’s going on?”
The old man grimaced. “How much do you know about the killings that happened?” he asked, looking to Jan.
“I’ve heard some stories.”
“Our histories tell us it was a time of brutality. Men, women, the young and old. Whole families hunted down and wiped out because one member could read minds. Our ancestors fled Tahaerin ahead of the violence, but it followed them into Embriel and Streza until finally they huddled in these mountains and waited for it to find them here. When the killings stopped, people here just wanted to be left alone. They feared the outside world. Some of the communities adopted strict rules about outsiders, others who kept contact with Ostrava and Streza remained welcoming.
“Sarika has argued for years we should break our silence and re-enter the world outside our mountains. Several times a year she goes into Ostrava and she says things are different. She says we can’t hope to change what people think about us as long as we hide away here. I’m coming around to her way of thinking, but it’s hard to put aside the fear we’re all raised with.”
Jan saw the pair walking up one of the small side streets leading to the square. “Here they are now.”
Together, Sarika and Eamon wandered back towards where Jan and the old man waited. Eamon could see people in the market had lost all interest in them and returned to their shopping. As they strolled up, Oszkar touched his niece’s arm.
“I’m sorry, Sarika. You’ve argued your case well, and I agree we should help.”
She looked relieved. “I’m sorry I shouted, Uncle, but thank you. I do think helping is the right thing to do.”
Oszkar patted her hand. “Gentlemen, I’m an archivist for Navsi and some of the other villages. My job is to preserve our records. When our people fled here, they grabbed what they could, including old, old scrolls. Some of these are documents far older than the killings, and some are written in a language no one can read. If what you say about your queen being able to read old Tahaerin is correct, perhaps she can read these.”
“And you’d just give them to us?” Jan asked, sounding suspicious.
“Well, no.” Sarika looked at her uncle, communing with him for a few moments. After a minute, he nodded his head, looking sad but resigned.
Continuing, Sarika said, “They won’t let us borrow them. We’ll have to steal them, and people in Navsi will know it was either Oszkar or me. We’re the only two with keys to the building where the scrolls are kept.”
“What does that mean?” Eamon asked.
“It means you’re going to help me and then you’re taking me with you.”
Opportunities
The army moved south and swung east towards the border with Embriel to pass near the holdings of Lords Florian and Ambroz to collect levied supplies and troops. As they neared the two noblemen’s castles, captains rode out to discuss the handover of men and goods. Surprisingly, since the relationship between Ambroz and Leisha had remained frosty since she took the throne, his troops came well-armed and well supplied. It was a pleasant chang
e from the responses of some of the other lords.
Leisha smiled as Andelko showed her the lines of soldiers snaking towards them. Two companies of foot soldiers from Florian joined Ambroz’s companies of pikemen and mounted cavalry. She thought once again about the example set at Vaja. When news came of how Rickard died, she felt remorse. Even though he died a traitor, Tahaerin blood flowed in his veins, as it did in hers. They were countrymen. However, just as Andelko predicted, as news of the slaughter traveled south the lords flocked to her cause, ready to fight the Deojrin and avoid Rickard’s fate. Ultimately, they were all Tahaerin, fighting a common enemy. Surely now they would all come together.
Scouts riding ahead noticed the presence of Embriel forces on the east side of the Vinca River. Most gathered in small camps of soldiers while the main body lay south of Lord Ambroz’s lands. Ani sent spies over and they reported seeing flags for King Andrzej flying.
Andelko called a halt for the evening so they could discuss this new development and decide how to respond to it. “Andrzej is there with the army, but it doesn’t look like he’s brought enough men for an invasion,” he said as they all sat together.
Meaning he had not come to take advantage while the Deojrin held her attention. “Should we detour there and see what he’s up to?” Leisha asked. “It’s not like him to venture in this direction. Perhaps he’d be willing to share some of his troops.” When Andrzej demanded her as a hostage, to ensure Davos’s good behavior, the move bought him two decades of peace along their shared border. And, despite a strained relationship with Andrzej as she grew up, Leisha did have some affection for the other kingdom. Since becoming queen, the two monarchs generally left each other alone.
Now, she hoped the trend was not coming to an end.
Andelko considered it before saying, “If you want to go meet with him, let’s send the bulk of the army on its way to Prem. We can hold back some of the Horse and Guard to escort us to the river and back. There’s no danger to us here yet.”
As Dragons from Sleep (The Tahaerin Chronicles Book 2) Page 15
