She cleared her throat loudly to catch his attention. “I spoke up back there because they wanted to know what we stood for. You answered them, too.”
Galenos shook his head. “I didn’t go into specifics. I said that I wanted to improve the city, which sounds good, but I didn’t say how I was going to spend their money.” He held up a hand and rubbed his fingers together. “Coin is the one thing that they all care about. If I say I want to invest in improvements, then they all see the opportunity for their special interest groups to get that money, but I didn’t make promises to any one of them. If you say you want to give money to people who need it, then they see their profits taken away to feed someone else.”
She stared up at him. “But isn’t that what we need to do to make the city better?”
He nodded. “Yes, but it’s all in how you present it to them. If you wanted to speak up, I could have told you how to phrase things better ahead of time.” He looked away, his face heavy as if he were ashamed. “I’m sorry. I tried to warn you.”
Korinna caught herself feeling sorry for him. “If you say so.”
“You trusted in me to put forth our petition, and now we have to wait and see what happens.” Galenos pointed up ahead. “Have you ever been to the markets here before? There are many street vendors who offer ready-made food.”
She strained on tiptoe to see over the heads of the other pedestrians—the street they had turned onto was crowded. “I’ve never been to the city before, but I’ve been to other markets—“
“Not like this one.” Galenos looked down at her with a smile and turned into an open-air courtyard where several streets met.
Unlike the quiet, businesslike air of the Government District’s central area, the Market was a wild bustle of more people and goods than she had ever seen together in a single place. Storefronts lined the edges with their wares spread out before them, and stalls ranged in long rows up and down the courtyard.
And everything was so different. Stocky, bronze-skinned Seirenians mingled with the slender, pale Kaldonians from the north and the huge, dark Khazeem from across the sea to the west. Most cried their wares in Meresto in a variety of regional accents, but she also heard the trading argot that she barely understood, and when they passed a pocket of Kaldonians she heard another language, lilting and liquid, spoken so fast that one word seemed to blend into another. Their clothing was just as strange: elaborately folded kattars over slim-fitting clothes, sleeves puffed and slashed and tucked in every conceivable manner, dresses made of cloth in colors and textures she couldn’t identify.
She had met Kaldonians before, passing south through the farmland on their way to trade in the city, but she had seen never a Khazeem before Galenos, and she found herself staring at them most of all. All of them were men, tall and broad-shouldered like Galenos, and their skin was so dark it was almost black. Most wore turbans wrapped around their heads so she couldn’t see their hair, but she noted that none of them had beards, unlike most men in Seirenia. They wore long, loose tunics and pants, all white in stark contrast to their skin, belted at the waist with brightly colored sashes.
Korinna turned and looked at Galenos, in Seirenian clothes, speaking Meresto to a stall keeper. He did not approach any of the Khazeem on the other side of the market. She wondered if he had any relatives in Kyratia besides his brother, or if they came to visit him on trading ships. When had he left his homeland? Did he miss it?
She had been so busy staring at the people that she hadn’t noticed any of the wares for sale or that Galenos was bartering for food until he put something in her hands.
Korinna looked down suspiciously, but she recognize the food right away. Strips of grilled lamb and vegetables wrapped in a piece of flatbread. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten since early morning. She tore into it eagerly. Heat exploded in her mouth, causing her to gasp for breath.
“Sorry!” Galenos said, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his laugh. “I should have warned you that it’s probably spicier than you’re used to.”
She managed to swallow the food in between coughs. “Water! Do you—” She looked around wildly for a well or a pitcher.
Galenos chuckled. “Water won’t help.” He handed her a wooden cup.
She sniffed at the cup and recognized yogurt, along with some kind of fruit, and took an experimental sip. To her relief, it soothed the burning sensation on her tongue and left her with a faint sweetness.
Korinna glared up at Galenos and thrust the wrap back into his hands. “How can you possibly eat this?”
The street vendor, watching them, laughed too. “I have chicken, my lady, made with a much milder spice blend. Your friend has played a cruel joke on you.”
The vendor made her another wrap quickly. He had all of the ingredients already laid out in different dishes at his stall, so it was simple for him to ladle it all onto another piece of bread. He poured a little yogurt sauce over the top before he folded it closed and handed it to her, promising that it would temper the spices further.
Galenos paid the vendor and watched her with sparkling eyes as she took a bite of the new wrap.
Korinna sniffed it experimentally and took a much smaller bite this time. She found that it had a hint of the same burning flavor, but this was mingled with other spices, and the yogurt sauce continued to temper the heat. She thanked the man.
Galenos led her away from the stall to a stone bench on one side where they could sit and eat. He ate the spicy lamb without reacting and finished the yogurt drink.
Korinna watched him out of the corner of her eye as she ate her own food. When she finished, she asked, “What did he mean, that you were playing a joke on me? What have I done to deserve this?”
His smile faded, and his face turned back to the stern expression she was used to seeing on him. “This was no joke. I only meant to show you that there are things outside of your experience. You keep insisting that you know everything, so this was a lesson to prove you wrong.”
Her eyes narrowed. “A lesson in what? I didn’t ask for a tutor to correct me.”
He swept his hand out to indicate the bustling market. “What do you think all of this is?”
“Where traders come to exchange their goods.” Korinna folded her arms. “There’s a market in every village. They’re smaller, but they work the same.”
Galenos shook his head. “If they look the same to you, then you’re not paying attention.”
Korinna sighed and rolled her eyes. “And feeding me spicy food from your homeland is supposed to show me how different it is?”
“From my homeland?” He pointed to a nearby stall. “Those peppers hanging there are what makes the food so spicy. Do you even know where they’re from?”
The so-called peppers looked like dried red seed pods. She’d never seen them before, but the answer was obvious. “Somewhere in Khazeem. I don’t know your country’s geography, I’m sorry.”
“They’re from the Holy Empire of Damia,” Galenos corrected her, naming the country at the southern end of Seirenia. “The street vendor is from Korinthos, and he was feeding you the food of his homeland, one of your own distant neighbors.”
She shrugged. “So? Korinthos is still far away, and there are many nations between Kyratia and the Holy Empire. I don’t need to know what they eat there. I know about my people, and they live here.”
“You still don’t understand.” Galenos stood up and gestured for her to stand. When she stood up, he picked her up by the waist and placed her on top of the bench.
On the higher step, she could see better across the crowded marketplace. Galenos pointed again. “That man is from Korinthos, and the family there is from Lygena in Vouli, and many of these traders come from Sympaia and the Melusine Islands. But now they are all Kyratians. They live here and work here, and they all have different things that they need from their government.” He pointed back to himself. “I am Kyratian. This is my home, too.”
From
her perch on the bench, Korinna’s head was a little higher than his, and she could look him in the eyes without craning her neck. He spoke Meresto so clearly, and his clothes were familiar, but up close he looked so very foreign. “You live here now, but you’re not from here,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s not the same.”
His dark eyes stared back at her. “I grew up in Mezzarion, just north of here. I helped your father conquer that city and now it’s part of Kyratia.”
“Yes, but where are you from?”
“That’s not the point.”
With his face just inches from hers, she saw something else in his expression besides the arrogance of his lectures. Pain flickered through his eyes, and wistfulness at some old memory. For just a moment, she imagined what it must be like to grow up in a country where everyone looked different from herself, wanting to belong but always the stranger.
Yet he was a renowned warlord, and perhaps in a few days he would be the duke. She could hardly pity his position. She suddenly felt very uncomfortable being so close.
Korinna turned away and hopped down from the bench. “I’m certain you will be more skilled than I at handling foreign relations for our city. In the end, though, they’re all people, and they have the same basic needs.” She fanned herself with her hand; the day was growing hotter and the press of bodies around her made the market square stuffy. “Can we go back now?”
Galenos frowned, but he offered her his arm to escort her again. “I have other business to attend to, but I will take you to your chambers.”
Korinna spent the heat of the afternoon in the military complex cooped up in the guest rooms of Galenos’s house. Unaccustomed to being idle during the day, she sat and fidgeted by the window. Servants came and offered her refreshment, but when she refused, they left her alone, as if they were unsure of how to handle her.
It was the first break in the flurry of activity that allowed her to stop and think about what was happening. The sheer size of the city was overwhelming; looking out her window, she saw only the bustle of soldiers as they went about their business and practiced drills in the fields, but she knew that beyond were only more people. She could pray at the temple, or go to look at the shops and markets on her own, or walk down to the harbor and watch the ships come in, but the thought was exhausting. And she had brought no money of her own, having left it in Myron’s care back at the estate.
She wished that there were somewhere she could go outside. Would she be permitted past the main gates, or would Galenos want to keep her close in case the Council summoned them again? The thought of asking Galenos’s permission made her want to run away. The man was so arrogant, so quick to judge and lecture her on the things that she did not know. She determined to avoid him at all costs, even if that meant staying put.
The guest rooms were small, and felt smaller when she began to pace back and forth. Just that morning the servants had measured her and brought an assortment of ready-made clothing in something approximating her size, and now the clothes lay scattered about on the bed and chairs. She thought about going to look for needle and thread so she could make alterations for her size—most of the dresses needed hemming at the very least to keep from dragging on the floor, as they were made for taller women—but she discarded this idea as well. After all, her wardrobe was a present from Galenos, and reminded her of the things that she’d had to leave behind at Anoberesovo. Let his servants adjust them if he wanted her dressed well.
She did put the clothing away, hanging the best dresses in the wardrobe, and folding the rest to put them in a chest at the end of the bed. The activity gave her something to do and worked out some of her nervous energy.
Then she wandered downstairs and found the library where she’d met with Galenos earlier in the day. Korinna wasn’t an avid reader, not having much time for leisure activities, but she was curious about what books the Warlord would have in his collection. Would they simply be popular tomes on display as part of his wealth, meant to impress visitors?
However, viewing the library for a second time, she realized that her initial impression had been wrong. The library furnishings were well-made, but hardly extravagant, and the books were all worn. Skimming through the shelves, she found that they were arranged by subject. Two shelves of military histories—many of these were old and written by hand. A shelf of religious treatises, many of them newly printed, and she realized that they were written from several viewpoints: traditional Deyonist texts sat beside reformation Varulan theories; books from the Holy Empire of Damia beside ones from the cult of Lygeia from Vouli; and even a collection of translated works from the Sisterhood in Sannata Ilnaota. And there were more books of history, medical texts, research tomes from the mage academies, economic theories, and bestiaries.
The last collection made her stop short. One slim volume was labeled Marewings by Kyriakos, an author she’d never heard of. She picked this up and dropped into a chair to begin studying.
The book was old and copied in a cramped hand, with a few crude illustrations sewn into the binding. It began with the legends that she was already familiar with: marewings were said to be descended from the horses of the Kaldonian Empire, either from interbreeding demons or simply warped by the Wild when the gods had chosen to let magic run rampant over Seirenia. They were not well understood because of their extremely dangerous nature, and little was known of their behavior or habitats away from humans, since they avoided developed areas. She read, “Many heroes attempted to capture the monsters before the goddess Kylara gave the secret of their taming to one of the oldest mercenary companies, her Scions, in the sixth century.” They could only be captured and tamed, because all marewings were female, so they couldn’t be bred and domesticated like sheep or cows; no one knew how they bred in the wild, and no one had seen a young marewing before.
Korinna frowned and flipped back and forth through the rest of the book. Kyriakos went on to describe how marewings were used in battle and referred to historical wars where the presence of marewing riders had influenced the outcome. No other mention was made of how they were captured or tamed.
What was the secret that the goddess Kylara had given to the mercenaries? Her mild curiosity increased at the vague references. She thought back to the fruit that Galenos had given her to offer his marewing, the instructions he’d given on introducing herself to the monster to permit her to ride. The mysterious fruit seemed to have some kind of magical properties. Perhaps that was the key.
Korinna replaced the book on the shelf and went outside to the military’s training fields. Somewhere nearby they kept their marewings, and if she went to watch there, she might see more clues about how riders interacted with their mounts. She told herself that she wasn’t interested in seeing Galenos out there. After all, there were many riders she could observe, and the Warlord had specifically said that he had other things to do.
4
Galenos II
Galenos wouldn’t admit it, but dealing with the girl was almost as frustrating as meeting with the Council. He needed a break from the pressure. When he’d finished with the rest of his duties for the day, he stalled for time before he had to go back for supper and face the blasted duke’s daughter at his table.
There was one place he went when he needed to calm down: to see Nightshade. The black marewing had been his companion for years, and her grudging affection always managed to soothe his jangled nerves. Shedding his formal kattar for a casual uniform, Galenos went out to the paddock and found her grazing with the other marewings.
Nightshade didn’t cry out or rush toward him eagerly like some of the other monsters did when their riders came. She flicked an ear in his direction, but didn’t bother to lift her head at first, pretending to ignore him.
Galenos waited on the edge of the field. He leaned against a wooden fence, placed there to keep nosy privates out rather than keep the marewings in; the winged monsters could easily fly over the city walls if they chose to leave. No stables coul
d be built to hold them, no rope made strong enough to trap them. The bond between marewing and rider was all that kept the monsters from returning to the wild, a bond that only death could sever. He waited patiently, knowing that Nightshade would come to him. There was no sense in walking out in the field, anyways, since the other marewings would still attack him if he came too close. They were very selective in their loyalties.
At last Nightshade lifted her head and wandered over to the fence in a roundabout manner, as if she had thought of the idea herself. She came to a stop a few feet away from Galenos and looked at him sidelong out of one eye.
He held his hand out, palm up to show that it was empty. She came over and sniffed it, then nosed him idly, just to be sure that he wasn’t hiding a treat somewhere. When she had finished with her search, she lowered her head with a sigh and permitted him to scratch her favorite spot, right behind her ear.
He smiled and scratched away, watching her eyes glaze over in pleasure and her rigid posture relax. She might try to hide it, but he knew how much she loved him.
He’d taken time to care for her that morning after their flight back from Anoberesovo, but Nightshade was always happy for more attention. He brought out her brushes and combs and she raised her head again, ears pricked forward, no longer hiding her eagerness.
They settled into a familiar rhythm: Galenos brushing over every inch of her black coat, Nightshade closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. Through their connection, he felt her pure pleasure for the grooming, and it eased the tension in his own shoulders. He lost himself in the physical exertion and failed to notice anything else that was going around him.
Other riders came by the paddock and called up their own mounts to check on them for the evening. They nodded to their Warlord, and a few saluted him formally, but they saw that he was occupied and left him alone.
A Flight of Marewings Page 4
