"Whatever you desire, we will give it to you," Felsa said. "Please, Lord Para, take us back. We are your people." She lifted her hand, imploringly.
"Perhaps. For now, tell me your plan."
14
The Truth Bringers
Naatos knew he needed rest, but he could not sleep. There was no peace to be found. Not for him this night. After an annoying encounter with a few Talbokians, Naatos retired to his chambers. The single torch hung on the wall, providing enough light for him to see, bathing it all in a dull gold glow.
The dresses he had had prepared for Amelia sat on the table. The black tunic she had worn was off to the side. She'd folded it somewhat loosely, the left side slightly undone and one of the sleeves dripping out. How strange his tunic had looked on her. The strips of cloth she'd used to tie up the sleeves had made them bunch up ridiculously, and it had looked more like an awkward dress.
Naatos stacked the dresses and moved them into the wardrobe. If only he could put Amelia from his mind as easily. He massaged his temples, his frustration increasing. The room was cold.
"This was not how I intended to spend the night," he muttered. He picked up the tunic. It unfolded as he lifted it. There was so much he could have done better if she had been more reasonable, or if that vulnerable moment in her mind had lasted. His brothers were right. If he did not find a way to make this work, he would be alone.
The wardrobe door clicked shut. Naatos didn't bother to undress for the night or even remove his boots. He just stretched out on the bed and covered his eyes.
A chirping growl sounded from the window. Naatos lifted his hand. There in the windowsill perched the silver puma. Its tail lashed back and forth. It leaped inside, padding toward him on thick soft paws.
"What do you want?" Naatos demanded.
The large cat jumped up on the bed, purring. It shoved its head against his.
"No. Get off." Naatos thrust it aside. He massaged his forehead, focusing on the stress points both within his temples and between his eyes. Apparently the Bealorn magic worked wonders. How unfortunate that the same couldn't be used on Amelia.
The puma paced around the bed before it began rubbing its silver jaw against the bed posts, its purrs even louder and more insistent.
Normally, the sound would not have bothered him, but it bristled across Naatos's raw nerves. The purring formed a throbbing bass line to the track of memories racing through his mind each time he closed his eyes. All of the if onlys crowded in. The greatest of them all was that he had not known her. That was what had caused everything to fall apart. If he had known who Amelia was before Valne's Peak, but preferably before she even met Shon. Before he had thrown her in with the spiders. Before so much. And now…
Naatos pressed his palms tight to his head and released a long, painful sigh. The locking had concluded, and its effect on him was all but established. These longings, these desires, they would only worsen.
The bed dipped and creaked as the puma leaped up beside him. It rubbed its cheek against his arm.
"Get off." Naatos shoved it with a pillow, but the puma pushed back against it, continuing to purr. "When I said I didn't want to spend the night alone, I didn't mean for you to join me."
The puma yawned and lay down, ducking its head beneath the pressure of the pillow. Its eyes slid shut.
What did it matter? Naatos cast the pillow aside. There was no sleep for him. Rising from the bed, he poured water into the clay basin and splashed it onto his face. Dawn had nearly arrived. The deep shades of indigo and velvet black were fading into the lighter pastels. Already the morning song birds sang.
Down below, the Talbokian guards changed, and preparations were underway for the day. Naatos walked along the back halls to avoid encountering anyone. All was going as it was supposed to. At least so far as the Talbokians were concerned. It was only with Amelia that things had become derailed.
He made his way to the common room, passing no one. When he pressed back the door, he saw AaQar sitting at the table. Though he had changed from his pale-blue robes to pale green, he still had dirt on his cheeks and hands. "Shouldn't you be resting?" Naatos asked.
AaQar lifted his head from the thick book he had been poring over. He dipped his quill in the inkwell and made a note on the pad of paper at his side. "It doesn't look like either of us will be getting much of that."
True enough. Naatos shut the door. The air was close in here, but he preferred it that way. At least for now. Dozens of candles lit the shelves and table, casting their deep golden light throughout the room. It was soothing in its closeness.
Amelia's tablet lay on the table. Taking a seat, Naatos propped his feet up on the other wooden chair and began to swipe through the many books she had saved here.
The device was not as sophisticated as the ones they had seen on Ecekom. But it was far more powerful than anything here on Reltux. "You're certain you can't recover her journal," Naatos said. "Don't Awdawm girls usually write about how men disappoint them and how others could have done better in this sort of thing? Lynne did that."
"Not every woman is Lynne. And even if we could recover the journal, I doubt it would be much help to you, Naatos," AaQar said. "It's you personally she doesn't like. It would be a better use of your time if you were actually answering her questions."
Naatos shook his head. If he hadn't had to leave her back there, those questions could have been amusing. She had a great deal of gall to ask so much. "What will my standard be for overthrowing a nation's government…" he muttered. The scritch scratch of AaQar's quill on the paper almost soothed him. "I presume you're answering her questions."
"More or less. Not all of them can be answered, and some are only for you," AaQar said. He set the quill aside and leaned back in his chair. "The truth is she isn't going to be satisfied, Naatos. We don't even have all the answers to this."
"She's just going to have to accept that we know best. That's all. If she wants to know more, she can learn to read minds like a regular Neyeb." Naatos massaged his temples. That wouldn't go over well. But what else was there? He didn't like the idea of articulating all his reasons for his choices, even to Amelia. "Don't even waste your time on it, AaQar. Besides, she's not going to be thinking of these matters when Shon has been removed."
AaQar nodded and returned to his work.
Shon's death would come close to destroying her. Naatos knew that. He turned the tablet over and set it down, unable to think. And then she would love him that way. All would be restored to what it should have been from the beginning. Even so, guilt pricked at his soul. It was all right, he reassured himself. He would be with her when the time came. He would comfort her, ease her pain. In time all of this would be fixed.
The door opened again, the draft causing the candle flames to waver. "Looks as if we've all decided to give up sleep. Nasty time-wasting habit indeed." WroOth strode in, his battle club in hand. He set it against the wall and looked over his shoulder. "Well, come along then! What kind of soothsayer are you if you can't keep up? Must I have you all complete an obstacle course and time your speed to determine if you are worthy?"
A thin Machat girl with a tight face, blunt cheekbones, and a thin shock of light brown hair entered the room. She took hesitant steps, her gaze flitting from WroOth to the walls to the floor. She couldn't have been a day over fourteen.
Naatos kept his expression masked, but he wondered what WroOth was doing. He put his feet down and stood slowly. "WroOth…"
"Things have taken a rather unexpected turn." WroOth motioned to the girl. "It seems I have a retinue of sorts. An entourage of Machat who believe that we are indeed best suited to serve. Not only over the Tue-Rahs, but the worlds and the races. This is Felsa."
AaQar set the quill aside. "Is it not unusual for the Machat to turn against their own people?"
"Yes. The last one to propose such a thing was not even a Machat, but this is indeed a Machat." WroOth picked up one of the hard-boiled eggs from the sideboard, ex
amined it, then cast it aside. "In fact, these Truth Bringers are willing to lead us to New Istador and then deliver Kepsalon, Shon, and Amelia into our hands as well as give us all the prophecies, foretellings, and predictions of the Machat, including the Honored Elders."
Naatos frowned. This was far too good to be true. He looked at the Machat girl, searching for some sign of what to expect. She kept her gaze fastened to the ground. "Does this girl understand what that means? Both Kepsalon and Shon will die horrifically."
"They went against the Paras' wishes," Felsa said. Her voice was no more than a breath. "But those two should not be the only ones who are punished."
"And who else would you have us punish?" Naatos asked.
The woman's eyes widened. She picked at her wrist before leaning closer to WroOth and whispering. "Would you tell him?"
WroOth frowned. "Him who? And what?"
"The Para of Eiram." Felsa rubbed the top of her hand. Her knuckles were white. "I don't want to be the one to tell him that his wife is an adulterous whore."
Naatos raised an eyebrow and exchanged glances with WroOth. "Perhaps you shouldn't be the one to tell the Para of Eiram that because it is not true. And only a fool would speak such untruths."
Felsa turned to look at him, her mouth falling open. A hint of red suffused her cheeks and then vanished. She stammered. "Y-yes, it is." She opened the outer fold of her robe, revealing a long-lined slate blue dress. "I mean no offense. I swear it, Lord Paras. But the Third Nalenth is treacherous, and she will betray the Para's heart. She already has." She removed several pieces of parchment, folded over and over again. "This Third Nalenth will betray you if you do not deal with her harshly and the Awdawm even more harshly when you find him. Your wife must be punished severely if she is to give you the respect you deserve, and if you are to maintain your reputation."
These words sounded strange coming from one so young and terrified. The timbre of her voice and the gaping expression of her face did not match her statements. Her hands still trembling, she held out the parchment.
Naatos snatched it away. What was this girl playing at? He unfolded the pages. His eyes widened, and his stomach tightened with rage. "Who did these?"
Two of the images depicted Shon and Amelia together, and the other showed him and Amelia with one another. The pictures were done in water colors, pen, and ink. "These are not prophecies," Naatos growled.
"We did not have access to glass," Felsa said. "But the adulteress's offense could not be hidden. The first two are of what will be, and the final one is what will be if you eliminate the Ayamin paramour."
"How many of these are there?" The emotions rose within Naatos, threatening to destroy his control.
"Enough to ensure everyone knows the truth about her," Felsa said.
"There are more of these." Naatos lifted his head, his fingers crumpling the edges of the parchment. Those words stabbed through him. How could they have done such a thing?
"She must recognize the error of her ways. She is the one who is truly the problem. She and the Machat elders are the true evil in this world. Similar pictures have been distributed elsewhere."
Naatos slammed the parchments on the table. For a moment, he stood there, his jaw working. He hoped Amelia had not seen these. She had endured enough without this shame as well. He pressed his fingers against the wood, his trimmed nails cutting in. "Let me make one thing clear," he growled. "This so-called alliance that you desire hinges on many things, but if you wish to end it and find yourself and your companions cast into pits of spiders or disemboweled on the walls of New Istador, then you will have nothing to do with Amelia."
Felsa flinched, but Naatos stepped closer, his intensity growing. "She is my wife. My viskaro. It is not your place to punish, humiliate, or harm her. Nor is it your place to lecture me on how to handle my wife. And if you or your fellow Truth Bringers so much as scratch her, I will kill you all. This lapse of judgment makes it difficult for me to even consider trusting you. Now get her out of here so we can discuss this."
Felsa's eyes widened. As WroOth opened the door and called for the guard, she turned to him. "My offer is for the Para of Reltux," she whispered, her hand cupped to her mouth as if that kept the words from spreading in the silence. "Surely your decision is the one that matters most."
"An amateur choice. Don't ever try to divide my brothers and me," WroOth said. He pushed Felsa out the door and to the guard, giving clear instructions that she was to be taken to a separate room but not to be harmed in any way.
Naatos braced himself, searching for some clarity within the rage of his thoughts. These images were false.
Of course he had told Amelia that she was free to seek other men if she so chose, but she had to accept that there would be consequences for these other lovers. Yet she had sworn she wouldn't. She had told him that. And her eyes had confirmed the truthfulness of her statement. But how long could he expect her to keep that promise? She did love Shon. Those desires would be there. How long could she resist them? Had she succeeded at all?
Naatos pressed his hand to his forehead, leaning over the parchments. He paused. The Machat were truthful, but the Machat were also patient, ethereal, and loyal to their own. He turned the pieces of parchment over. Perhaps Awdawms had made these and the Truth Bringers pretended they were prophecies. He did not know enough about Machat artistic techniques to tell.
WroOth returned to the table. "I doubt the sanity of these Truth Bringers," he said. "But I do not doubt their sincerity. They will be able to take us to New Istador, and they will give us Amelia, Kepsalon, and Shon."
"Are these Machat or Awdawm?" Naatos pointed to the parchment.
WroOth peered over Naatos's shoulder. "That looks like a Vawtrian position to me. The sea gull, I believe. Not that I would recommend attempting this with your viskaro right away. Mara and I used to—"
"WroOth." Naatos glared at him.
WroOth half-smiled. "You think it's another position? What would you know of this?"
"Is the artwork Machat or Awdawm?" Naatos asked sternly.
"The style is Machat, but the Machat don't do art like this. It's forbidden to portray anything so…personal. But as we've seen with these Truth Bringers, they care very little for what is permitted and forbidden in their culture."
"It matters little." AaQar picked up the fallen book and then pointed to the parchment. He motioned toward each image in turn. "These are not prophecies nor are they foretellings. These are from the minds of the artists who depicted them."
A hint of relief passed through Naatos, but he remained rigid. He was going to have to retract his offer to Amelia. He didn't like even the thought of her being intimate with another. Being able to kill the offender would only soothe his soul so much. The thought of another caressing her, holding her…just the sight made his veins tighten and his thoughts burn. "How can you tell?" he asked.
"She isn't scarred. Those spider bites and stings…" AaQar returned to his seat. "The salve I put on them will be vanishing in the next few hours, and then she'll see the effects if she hasn't already. Nothing can make those vanish. Not even your healing. And as you can see there, she isn't scarred at all, but did the Truth Bringers know of this? Apparently not. We have a group of Machat who are determined to make us think in line with them, and they are not afraid to alter the evidence to make it more likely that we agree with them. Something which I, in truth, find to be quite troubling. But for now, we are agreed as to the fate of the Awdawm."
"So long as they lead us to New Istador, it does not matter," WroOth said. "They clearly have no concept of what it means to be Machat. Their decision to turn their backs on their people will have grave reprisals. Already it would appear their ability to predict and foretell are highly limited. Obviously what they want is for us to eliminate the majority of their people. In fact, they were quite determined that all of their elders and all the Machat were to be executed upon capture with the exception of the Truth Bringers and some whom they de
em worthy."
"Then you don't trust them," AaQar said.
WroOth scoffed. "Of course not."
"Even so," AaQar said, opening another red leather book. "These Machat can be useful."
"They can be quite useful. But not for an extended period." WroOth removed his puzzle box. He shifted the tines back and forth. "And we should not rely on them."
"No. It's best to keep them away from Amelia as well." AaQar dipped his quill in the ink and continued writing. "I'm not entirely certain how she would respond upon seeing those pictures…I doubt it would be favorable."
"True." WroOth leaned back against the wall. "I never thought her the type to enjoy something like the sea gull. Perhaps the locust. Almost certainly the besred. Perhaps even the serpentine macaw."
AaQar motioned for him to be silent, his stern older-brother glare making WroOth grin all the more.
"WroOth." Naatos groaned and rubbed his eyes. This was all becoming increasingly complicated. The blood pulsed, painful in its pressure within his chest. "We use these so-called Truth Bringers, and we get Amelia back. We'll start preparing the armies. We march as soon as they are prepared. Bring the Machat woman here. We'll finalize this now." He crumbled the parchments. He was going to get his wife back.
15
Leonas
The hairs on the back of Amelia's neck, and even those on her arms and beneath the bandages, prickled. Her elmis stung and tingled, though she pressed her palms to her chest. She could feel the messenger staring at her, but she did not turn.
Stay calm, she thought. Fear and awe coursed through her, both painful and invigorating. "Please," she whispered, her eyes closed. "Please, righteous messenger, I must speak with Elonumato. Please don't be angry with me."
A gentle wind blew against her. Though no words were spoken, Amelia understood she was to turn. She obeyed, slowly, opening her eyes.
Enemy Known Page 12
