by Anna Logan
She scrubbed the bar of soap across the garment, then stopped. Absentmindedly, she traced her wet fingers over her wrists, where the mysterious stranger had restrained her with a powerful grip. The things he said, the way he acted, it was all so confusing. One moment it might as well have been painted on his forehead that he was an assassin, the next, he seemed nigh on protective. Stopping her from trying to prevent the draft probably was rational…for him, who didn’t have to live with the consequences. What if Seles was right, and Loestin never came back? Why would that be? Surely she wasn’t right. It couldn’t be.
Keeping busy didn’t ease the thoughts and questions that had become her constant companions. In fact, the routine jobs of laundry, making beds, tidying rooms, and sweeping provided the perfect opportunity for contemplation. She had only brief interaction with Ms. Clendser and occasionally the other maids including her mother, so it was just her and her thoughts.
By 7:00 in the evening, when she and Seles went home, her fingers were soft and wrinkly from all the laundry she’d done, her back was stiff from frequent bending and lifting, and her feet ached from so much standing. All of which had become quite familiar in the past week. Seles assured her her body would adjust in a few more days. But it wasn’t her body she was worried about. Because how was she going to adjust, to be the invisible maid of an arrogant lord, to doing nothing but the same dull tasks day after day? This was what it really meant to be a laborer: invisible, base, inconsequential, slave. She’d known this was coming, that eventually she would be a maid…but it had always seemed far away. Now it was here. Now, there were assassins lurking around the village, there was a boy that had her same crazy ability and another somewhere else in the region…and she was mopping floors and hanging laundry.
Getting home was barely a relief. Without her there to do all the chores and cooking after school, it meant it all had to be done in the evening when they got back. Brenly, who finished work earlier than them since her job didn’t allow for extra hours, had already done as much of it as she could.
After getting the more pressing tasks done, the three of them sat at the table which was set with nothing except a fresh loaf of bread and some srenberry preserves. Each took a couple slices and spread some jam on. There was no giving of thanks for the food to Narone. Two weeks ago that habitual prayer vexed Talea and seemed pointless; now, its absence was a constant reminder that her father was gone.
Talea shoved a large bite of bread into her mouth and chewed it slowly. Enough melancholy. Once she’d gulped down the mouthful, she flashed a smile at Brenly. “Rosy give you trouble?”
“She seems quite put out about being cooped up.”
Seles stared at her slice of bread without eating it and spoke quietly. “We’ll have to sell her. We’ve no use for her, with...with Loestin and Naylen gone.”
So much for no more melancholy. She let her own gaze fall downward, squeezing her lower lip between her teeth. These days, it was impossible to avoid.
~♦~
Wylan tugged gently on the reins, pulling his celith to a halt so he could lean over the side and squint at the ground. Those were celith tracks. No one around here owned a celith, except him of course. Which could only mean one thing. He tugged on the reins again, this time to the left. Ash, tossing his head with a snort, trotted that way. Twenty minutes in that direction would bring them to the cave Wylan had made into a temporary shelter.
Temporary, since this couldn’t go on indefinitely. It was time for a decision. The idea of leaving remained among the top options, yet it didn’t have as much appeal as he would have expected. It was the easiest of them. He could just pick up and go back to his normal life, pretend he’d never met Talea, forget about finding the other, try to forget he had a freakish ability and so did she.
Or he could stay. His “normal life” was just wandering from town to town, working when he could, living on his own. Technically, there was nothing to prevent him from staying. Talea’s father had been drafted, and presumably her brother, since Wylan hadn’t seen him among the other miners in the past week. He’d gathered that another village girl was now living with her, meaning it was three women trying to support themselves with the less-than-generous wages of their apathetic lord. They could be starving or forced to sell their haliop in a few months. Unless Wylan worked up some charity and went to their lord, asked to become one of his laborers, and then used the larger paycheck he could make as a male to help out Talea’s family.
A few problems with that. First, it didn’t exactly suit him. There was a reason he hadn’t asked to be accepted as a laborer in some village yet. Second, some of the lord’s men had chased him recently, so if they recognized him, there went his chances at that. With Kaydor’s new laws about immigrants, he couldn’t even try the lie that he was an Irlaish immigrant. Irlaish, but not an immigrant. Third, those tracks were proof enough that Yhkon and Grrake were nearby. Why they hadn’t already made an attempt on his life, Talea’s, or both, Wylan didn’t know, but that didn’t mean he was going to rely on the possibility that they wouldn’t any time soon.
But most of all…rumor had been spreading in the last months that the new king, Kaydor, intended to bring back the Eradication. If that happened, it was far safer for him to be a wandering loner than to have citizenship in a village or town.
Several birds flew up from the underbrush in a frenzy of flapping wings and squawks, sending Ash into an alarmed sidestep. Wylan put a hand on the stallion’s sleek neck.
He only had Ash trotting forward again for a few seconds when the celith spooked again, more severely. He whinnied shrilly and half reared. Wylan brought him back down, simultaneously twisting his neck back to scan the forest behind him. Ash continued to swivel his ears, stamping a hoof now and again, clearly agitated.
It was exactly how he’d behaved last time Yhkon and Grrake had been in close range.
Wylan’s knuckles became white as he tightened his grip on the reins. He watched Ash’s ears, noting every movement. Pinned back. Flick forward and right. Back. Twitch to the right. Back.
Right. They were to the right. He scrutinized every tree, every bush. Nothing, nothing, nothing…movement. A glint of dark iron. Wylan drew hot energy into his hand, raised it, focused on a point in the sky above where he’d seen the movement, and directed the energy there. It took the form of a lightning bolt that struck the ground with a zap. Without waiting to see the results, he turned Ash away and kicked him into a gallop. Additional hoofbeats echoed after him.
Low branches slapped his face. Ash leaped over a fallen tree, stumbling as he landed. He squealed as he stepped into a thorny bush. Clenching his jaw, Wylan slowed the celith to a canter. The forest was too thick and riddled with hazards to gallop in. His pursuers must have been cantering too, because only now did they begin to catch up. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed what he already knew to be true: it was Yhkon and Grrake, recognizable in their hoods and masks, with dark iron pauldrons and gauntlets, astride powerful celiths of their own. More powerful than Ash; no doubt theirs were given the best food, the best treatment, strategic exercise. They were gaining.
He wouldn’t be able to get Ash into open fields before they caught him. It was time for offensive measures. Wylan twisted his torso to get the best possible view of the two riders, firing another lightning bolt. Between his aim being off and them veering their celiths to dodge it, it missed. So did the next one. This was a scenario he’d been in before. Best to just deal with it the only way that would work.
Jerking Ash to a stop and spinning to face them, he lifted both hands. They glowed blue, with energy crackling between them in brilliant aqua strands. Yhkon and Grrake stopped as well, a stone’s throw away. For a moment, they just looked at him and he at them. This, too, was a scenario they’d been in before.
“Wylan,” Grrake called, distinguishable by his soft voice, Sanonyan accent, and the small mare he rode that was astonishingly strong, “we just want to talk. Give us the chance to
—”
To kill me too? He exerted more energy into his hands, increasing the glow until it was nearly blinding. They knew what that meant—it was a warning. If they didn’t leave, he would attack. Not moving and at this range, it was highly unlikely they’d both be able to escape the onslaught of lightning.
Yhkon muttered something to Grrake that Wylan couldn’t hear. “Fine,” he called, his Sanonyan accent less distinct than Grrake’s. “We’ll just keep doing this, over and over again, for another four years. Suit yourself.” He drew his celith into reverse a few steps, turned him, and rode away at a lope. Grrake hesitated, his mount partially rotated to go. Finally he followed his comrade.
Wylan waited until they were well out of sight and hearing, so that even Ash stopped perking his ears the direction they’d gone. Only then did he resume his ride to his cave. There he dismounted and set to work, jaw still clenched so tightly it was beginning to ache. He tied Ash to a tree nearest the cave entrance. Next he gathered small, dry twigs and branches, scattering them all around Ash and the entrance. It would take a healthy dose of skill and luck to get over them without making one snap. Finally he took a leather bag full of gravel that he’d borrowed from the village and dumped it in the mouth of the cave. That way, even if they got past the twigs without making enough noise to wake him, they would certainly announce their presence if they tried to enter the cave.
Finished, he unsaddled Ash, brought all his gear into the cave, ate some dried meat, and settled in for the night. The decision was made. He would talk to Talea tomorrow and try to persuade her.
~♦~
Talea collapsed onto Naylen’s bed, now Brenly’s, relaxing every sore muscle and releasing the air in her lungs as if she was deflating.
The bed was made, unlike it had always been when Naylen was using it. They’d washed the sheets, tidied up the things he’d left strewn about, and now it was Brenly’s. It seemed to make the fact that he would be gone—really gone—more official. She wondered about him. Locked up in some cell? She didn’t know of an actual prison in Vissler’s mansion, but even as a maid that worked there, she knew there were places she hadn’t seen. There was more than one locked door. Hopefully, the Kaydorians were at least treating him and the other men decently. Not likely, considering they were in there because they had rebelled.
What if she did something about it?
No. No, no, no, and no. It was silly. Sure, she had an ability. That didn’t mean she could break into the mansion and free her brother against a dozen soldiers. Even if she could, what then? They would go home...and more soldiers would just come get them. Maybe even kill them.
She rubbed her eyes. It had been a long day. It had been a long week, really, and the day wasn’t over yet, either. Since Brenly was required to work late tonight because Lord Vissler needed her to run some specific errands, Talea had come home at 5:00 instead of 7:00 so she could do some of the chores and make supper. Though she never thought the day would come…she missed doing school. And she rather missed Rando, only occasionally seeing him in passing.
Well, she could only waste time reminiscing for so long. Sitting in Naylen’s room only served to make her nostalgic, and a little angry.
Outside, it was just beginning to cool off for the evening. Inside the shed that held their yuley, however, it was suffocating. “Lamara’s glory, been this hot in here all day?” she went to the stall and gave Rosy’s muscular shoulder a pat. It was damp with sweat. “Sorry girl. Wanna get out for a while?” Some exercise would probably do the yuley good. She was used to working all day every day but had been idle and cooped up for a week now. Yuleys were the preferred work animal. They were the strongest that could be domesticated, though they still weren’t the most docile of creatures. Bulls could rarely be used for anything other than breeding due to their volatile tempers. The only competition was a coliye, but those weren’t as strong, and they were more expensive, since they were primarily used for riding. Talea didn’t know of any laborer who could afford anything more than a yuley.
She retrieved the halter from a peg on the wall and fitted it over Rosy’s large head, opened the stall, and led her out of the shed. The old cow must have been pleased with the fresh air, giving a rumbling bark from deep in her throat that sounded rather like a chuckle. She pulled against Talea’s grip on her halter. “Hey, easy now! If I let you roam I’ll never get you back in that shed. And who knows if you’d roam clear to the other side of the village like you did that one time? Nuh-uh, I don’t think so.”
Rosy pulled harder. Weighing at least a ton, mostly of muscle, she was winning. Talea planted her feet, only to have them dragged across the grass a few inches. “Rosy! Is this any way to repay my generosity in letting you out?”
The yuley pulled harder.
“Fine. You know what? Fine. You leave me no choice.” She reached out and grabbed one of Rosy’s long ears and yanked. Rosy howled like she’d been mortally wounded, flinging her head back so hard it pulled the halter right out of Talea’s hands. With a surprisingly amount of unhappiness etched into her yuley-features, the cow snorted and pawed the ground with her front foot.
“Oh barbsit tails. Thanks a lot Ithor.” Looks like the god of strife has taken over our yuley… “Putting me on Jaskol’s list.” And the god of death will soon be my friend. Time to go! Just as Rosy charged, Talea bolted for the shed. She made it inside just in time, Rosy giving up her pursuit to avoid entering the building. Oh, but you’re not getting off so easy, you old cow. Grabbing a rope from the wall, Talea quickly made a lasso with it, and cautiously went back outside. Rosy had abandoned her wrath, now peacefully grazing. Sneaking closer until she was in range, she set the lasso twirling above her head, waited until the yuley raised her head…and launched. The loop settled around Rosy’s thick neck and tightened with a quick tug. Talea pulled as hard as she could and sprinted toward the nearest tree at the outskirts of the meadow, Rosy barreling after her with another irritated snort. She ducked behind the tree and let the yuley skid past, while she hastily tied the rope around the trunk, and retreated. “Ha! Take that.” With a triumphant smirk, she strode back to the haliop.
~♦~
Yhkon let out a low whistle as soon as Talea was inside the haliop, out of earshot. “She is insane.”
Grrake simpered. “She’s your ward, isn’t she? Think she realizes she held an entire conversation with a yuley?”
“Ha.” Yhkon quirked an eyebrow at the older warrior. “We both know that you talk to your celith more than just about anyone else. Or maybe a certain Shanteya, in your head...”
Grrake stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I do not talk to her in my head. Why did I ever tell you about her?” He frowned, with a good-natured glint in his eyes. “If I do talk to her, it’s only because you’re hardly fun to talk to.”
Yhkon chuckled. “I still can’t believe you’re in love with the married queen of Sanonyn.”
“Oh please,” he flushed and looked away in embarrassment. It was rare to see Grrake flustered. “We courted, decades ago, before she was married…And exchanged some letters after. That’s it.”
“Mm-hmm.” He smirked; one eyebrow raised.
“Yhkon!” Grrake sighed, exasperated. “I never should have told you.”
He clapped the man on the shoulder. “Well I’m glad you did; I take great enjoyment from it. Now. On to the matter at hand…” Yhkon crossed his arms, facing toward the meadow and the cozy haliop it held. “Since he didn’t visit her while she was working, safe to assume Wylan will try to talk to her tonight, I should think.”
“Probably.”
“And either make plans then or make plans to make plans another time.”
“Quite likely.”
“So, should we hang around?”
Grrake squinted one eye, thinking, before shaking his head. “Too great a chance Wylan would notice us.”
“True, and he’s hard enough to deal with without adding Talea on.” He paused. “Settled, then. We�
�ll let them make their plans, and figure them out some other time. So long as they decide sooner or later to go for the twins, we can make it work.”
6
Revealed
S traw rustled against fabric as Talea shifted positions on the mattress for the umpteenth time, leaving her staring at the wall instead of at the ceiling. At first she’d been worried that all her moving about would wake Brenly, sleeping in the other half of the room. It quickly became clear that Brenly was not to be so easily awoken; she hadn’t so much as stirred in the hour since they’d gone to bed. Brenly had fallen asleep and stayed asleep. Why couldn’t Talea? She should have been tired. Even if she’d left work two hours earlier than usual, it had only been to do the chores at home. Wrangling Rosy back into the shed later in the evening had proved quite the task.
Yet here she lay, unable to sleep.
She could just make out the sound of rustling from the other bedroom. Seles must have been restless too.
Rolling onto her back to once more face the ceiling, she shut her eyes and kept them that way. Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep…Not only would it be unpleasant to be extra tired tomorrow, all this time awake with no distraction gave the endless questions and worries a chance to gather. She imagined her father’s simple, calm face. Where was he now? Or is he even alive? Not knowing almost seemed worse than knowing he wasn’t. Because what could she do about it? Nothing. A good Xanyte would pray to Narone. A good Irlaish would pray to Ema, goddess of mercy, or perhaps to Jaskol, god of death, for him to show some of Ema’s mercy.
And what was she? Not a good Xanyte—she did follow the rules well enough, probably, but she had no faith in Narone, and didn’t see any sense in praying to Him. Nor was she a good Irlaish, being only a quarter of that origin, though having a wide knowledge of the culture because of Seles’ influence. Since she believed in the Irlaish gods even less than she believed in Narone, though, that didn’t seem consequential.
