“My brother loved it, then.” She had to struggle not to cry, saying that. She was still so young when she last saw him, but she could still remember how restless Oji had been in Akki. Dai, she thought, had the same sort of spirit—the kind that would turn a blanket over and over again, even though it had just the two sides.
“He loved it,” Aden said. “But not enough. I mean, he still made those preparations to come home. He wouldn’t have done that if he liked the life that much.”
“Preparations.” She blinked and pulled her horse closer to him. “What do you mean?”
Aden opened his mouth. “You didn’t know? He was all set to come home. I thought he must’ve written to you before he died.”
“He did. He said there was a surprise.” And now she knew. Don’t cry, she told herself. Don’t let these men see you cry. He had never wanted to go home before, not in all the seven years he had been gone. She had asked, of course. Hana had pleaded. The reply was always the same...there’s not enough money. They won’t let me. Just a few more months, and then...
He was coming home. To them; to his father, his sister, his wife, and his son. That changed things. Hana had been so convinced that he just stopped caring about them. Even when she had learned about his death, she had been unsympathetic, because he had stopped sending them money months before he’d stopped writing and that meant to her that he was spending it elsewhere. Another family, another woman, himself—it didn’t matter. But now... He was coming home, Hana. He was saving money to come home to us. Oh, we were so wrong, and now it’s too late.
Sume turned to Aden. “You told me he died from a work accident. There must be more to it than that.”
“I don’t really think this is the place or time.”
“Isn’t it? I think I’ve held out long enough. He was my brother, Aden. Is, still. Some things death don’t change.”
Aden glanced at Ranias, who shrugged. “All right,” he said. “One of the contracts you sign in the faction demands you finish one last job before they can release whatever funds you have remaining. Oji and Kefier were sent off to the mountains. That’s as far as we know. Kefier came back and killed one of the officers. He got away, but not before some of our other friends were killed defending him.
“Gaven caught him. In Fuyyu—so I suppose you did meet him there. Gaven told me later on that he thinks Kefier killed Oji and was just trying to cover up his tracks. That upset him so much. Gaven was close with Oji—they used to bid on the same jobs before Kefier came into the picture. He wanted to hear the confession straight from Kefier’s lips. I don’t know what happened after. Right after I heard of his capture, we were sent to Ni’in for another job before being given this one.” He shrugged, as if he was almost sorry he didn’t have better news for her.
She didn’t know if she believed it. I’m sorry, he’d told her. For that? There must have been a reason why there was so much sorrow in his eyes when he looked at her. She knew she was supposed to be angry, even more so than Oji’s friends, but she couldn’t find it in herself.
Aden shook his head. “I’ve upset you. We don’t know that, little girl. We don’t know. So don’t worry your pretty head over it. We’re heading to Al-ir now, see? Whatever happened in Kago...that’s ages ago, now. There’s nothing we can do about it anymore.”
He lingered around her for some time, but she had fallen eerily silent and that must have made him uncomfortable. He fell back with the rest of the men and didn’t bother her again. That night, when they set up camp under the vast darkness, she found herself staring into a fire, the weight of so many years threatening to crush her heart.
“You didn’t cook tonight,” she heard Ylir’s honeyed voice behind her.
She tugged at her bare feet. “Burg insisted.” She turned her head as he dropped to the ground beside her. He was holding a bowl of turnip soup casually with one hand. “Shouldn’t you be in your golden pavilion?” she asked.
He laughed. “That’s just a rumour. I have a perfectly standard tent like the rest of you. Why?” He paused, a rare playful glint appearing in his eyes. “Are you curious to see the inside?”
Sume turned to him sharply, but he ignored her as he sipped soup straight from the bowl. It was strange to see him as brazenly uncouth as the rest of them. She remembered Burg telling her that he preferred eating with a knife and fork like the nobles did in Hafed. He had also neglected his grooming habits, because his face, which he normally kept smooth except for the patch of hair under his jaw, was now covered with black stubble.
He grimaced, and she suddenly realized she was staring too much and turned away. “Burg can’t cook at all. What on earth possessed you to let him take over?” He dumped the rest of the soup on the ground and wrapped his hands together. “That’s one thing to look forward to in Al-ir, at least. Mhagaza is known for throwing good parties and Lord Barun promises to bring his best cooks, whatever that means. Also, Mhagaza’s palace—what passes for a palace in this blasted country, anyway—is right next to a lake—rare in these parts, don’t you know? I hear you can get the servants to take a tub of water right to your room. What’s the matter with you, now? I’ve been talking and you still haven’t gotten a word in edgewise. If any of the men are bothering you—”
“That’s not it at all,” she said, rather too quickly. He lifted an eyebrow and she sighed. “Just...don’t jump to conclusions.”
“Don’t, you tell me. You’re supposed to be my servant.” He sounded amused. “Well, if it’s not one of the men, what is it?”
“I was just thinking about—about my family. How much taller Dai has gotten since I’ve been away.”
“Dai,” he murmured. “Ah. That thieving rascal.” She shot him a look. He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what else to call him. His actions have brought you thus far. Clearly you enjoy this ride about as little as I do.”
“He didn’t beg me to save his skin, you know,” she murmured. “I volunteered. He’s a good boy. His father left before he was born and sometimes he thinks the weight of the world is on his shoulders.”
“Don’t make excuses for him. If he’s old enough to make decisions on his own, he’s old enough to be held accountable for them. You raise a boy the way you doting women did, and look what happens. You—”
She got up and dumped her bowl, steaming soup and all, on his lap. His face remained placid as she stalked away from him, but she had only gone a few steps when he said, in a sharp voice, “Sume, stop.”
She stopped. She didn’t know why. That frightened her, because in her mind she was still walking away from him; she could still picture herself making for her own tent and curling up in the corner. She felt a sensation, as if a bead of ice-cold water was making its way down her naked spine.
“You stop it,” she said in a low voice. “I know what you’re doing.”
His eyes flickered. A faint smile played across his lips. “Oh?”
“In Sutan, I saw what you did at that building. You’re a witch. I’m not ignorant about these Kag magery—I know what I saw.”
“Witches are women, Sume,” he said, almost kindly.
She bristled at him. “A mage, then. An enchanter. That was a business meeting, wasn’t it? You were using enchantments to influence those men.”
“A bold accusation.” His dark golden eyes flickered, and she realized too late that she shouldn’t have even brought it up. It was difficult enough to tell what Ylir was thinking when he was in a good mood. To confront him further might very well be suicide. But then he flicked his fingers, and said, “Sit.”
“No!” she screamed, loud enough that some of the men, sitting around their own campfires, looked up. She covered her mouth and collapsed to the ground on her knees.
Ylir looked at her. “You just might be the most vexing woman I have met in my life. What have I done to earn your wrath?”
“You wanted to chop off my nephew’s hands, remember?”
“Apart from that.”
She gl
ared at him. Was he really just trying to infuriate her? He wasn’t even laughing, so she couldn’t gauge if this was simply his idea of a joke. Before she could offer a biting remark in return, Burg appeared. He looked at them and hesitated.
“You want to join us, Burg?” Ylir asked. “I’m sorry I didn’t send you an invitation. The cuisine, as you can see, is less than ideal.”
“Oh, piss off. That was my mother’s recipe.” Burg crossed the slope leading to their fire. “You need to see this.”
“Need to see what? I was just getting comfortable.” He glanced at Sume, who felt her cheeks colour in spite of herself. Mage, she thought, and regretted not taking that beaded necklace Hana had tried to give her back in Akki, the one she said warded against evil spirits and spells.
Burg’s face grew serious. “It’s best if you come. You wouldn’t believe me otherwise.”
Chapter Nine
They crossed the ridge that marked the boundary of their camp and started climbing the hill. They didn’t have to go very far. Eventually, Burg stopped, panting, and pointed. Ylir gazed out at the distance and saw smoke trailing above the flat trees. He could also see what appeared to be light from several campfires.
“There’s no village there,” Burg explained.
“I’m aware of that.” He was beginning to feel anger stirring inside him. “Could it be a hunting party?”
Burg shrugged. “Could be. Or something much worse.”
“Mhagaza told me he would hold off until we’ve had a talk. I am disappointed to see he has decided to break his word.”
“We don’t know that yet. Don’t jump to conclusions.”
“What’s happening?”
Ylir drew a sharp breath and glanced behind him. The girl had followed them. He almost yelled at her, but he suddenly felt too weary to bother. It was Burg who spoke first. The man already seemed to be infatuated with her and jumped at the chance to show off. “Over beyond that forest is where the refinery is. Or would be, if we can set things right. And sitting on it is several hundred thousand ril worth of equipment, building materials, blasting powder, and raw ore. We’ve got a handful of guards there but not enough for that number of fires. And that’s worrying.”
“Is that so?” Sume straightened her dress and glanced towards Ylir matter-of-factly. “Then we should ride there, shouldn’t we?”
“We?” Ylir asked.
“We.” She said that firmly. He suddenly recalled the conversation from earlier and had to stop himself from laughing out loud. She was still intent on that, was she? A mage, indeed. He knew he should have done something that night when he caught a glimpse of her spying on him over the roof, but he had figured her for harmless—a little too curious for her own good, perhaps, but nothing more than that.
This wasn’t good; he was beginning to doubt his ability to judge people. She still looked like she wasn’t going to cause him any trouble, but he wouldn’t know that for sure. It was probably best to keep an eye on her from now on. The last thing he needed, after all this, was some wisp of a girl planting doubt in the men’s heads. They knew of course that he dabbled in the agan—it was something he hadn’t tried to hide from them. But if she started making them think he was some sort of trained enchanter, that he was probably capable of more than parlour tricks, it would be harder to influence them if the time came. Not impossible, but he strongly believed in not giving himself more than he could handle.
He nodded slowly. Burg looked confused, but he had been Ylir’s man too long to question him, and immediately set off into the darkness. He glanced back at the girl and noticed that her hands were shaking. Without really thinking about it, he unlatched his cloak and draped it over her shoulders.
She turned to him and managed an awkward, “Thank you.”
“Keep behind me when we get there. I don’t know what’s going to get into these Gasparians’ heads when we show up. I’m sure it’s probably a misunderstanding, but in case things get heated, turn back to camp and call alarm. Tell the men to arm themselves and be ready.”
Burg arrived with their horses at the foot of the hill. Ranias was also with them, rubbing his eyes and yawning like a cat. Ylir had to pause a moment for that—Ranias seemed like a trustworthy fellow, but he was hardly the pick of the faction litter and not the kind of man Ylir wanted near him in a bind. Burg, always one to show off, was probably considering the girl’s feelings, as Ranias was one of the few men there she seemed to like. He frowned. He needed to talk with Burg about that. Operations came first, even if you had to step all over someone to get it done. What happened to the girl was unfortunate, but she ought to have seen it coming when she made the decision to come with him.
They set off along the valley. Ylir had seen the plans for the project, but he had never been here before and had to rely on Burg to lead. He couldn’t help but notice that the location was further east than he anticipated. No wonder it took them too long to transport supplies; he remembered fuming about it, cursing Burg through the seeing mirror until even the normally placid man looked uncomfortable. Yn Garr had assured him that this was the best location to connect the tunnels to the Hartmur mines, but seeing the terrain—the granite cliffs, the fact that the closest body of water was the river where they had camped—he began to wonder. This was supposed to be a façade, a way for them to continue working without trouble from the Gasparian lords. How were they supposed to take investors up here if it required a rough ride at a downhill angle so sharp he felt like his balls were running up his neck?
He glanced at the dark mountains in the distance. Lake Enji sat somewhere between the river and those mountains. Yn Garr had assured him that particular situation was under control, but he was starting to doubt the man meant exactly that. He wasn’t still trying to attack Bannal and his mages, was he? He’d tried that years ago; Ylir had been younger, more inexperienced, and barely got out alive. The incident had happened on a mere road—how was he supposed to fare against Bannal’s fortress, with its ancient spells and more mages than he knew how to deal with? He was one man. Surely Yn Garr couldn’t be so daft?
They reached the end of the corridor, where an opening had been blasted through the rocks. Burg snorted. “Welcome to your domain, my lord.”
“Some domain,” Ylir grumbled, urging his horse into the crack. He tried to let his eyes adjust in the dark.
Burg slid past him with the torch. “The stuff’s still there,” he said, indicating the enormous stack of boxes, steel rods, and other material wrapped up in cloth. A low wooden roof had been set up over most of them, though some of the material was sticking out, unsheltered. Off to the far right was another shelter, enclosed with canvas, which Ylir figured was the workers’ facility. It was larger than he anticipated.
“How many men are supposed to be guarding this area?” he asked Burg.
Burg scratched his jaw. “I left, what, maybe five?”
Ylir drew a deep breath. “There’s more than that here right now. Much more.” He ran his hand along his sword. A familiar heat surged up his right arm. “Which way to their tents, Burg?”
Burg hesitated. “Perhaps we should go back to camp and get more men.”
He drew his sword impatiently. “If you want to do that. I’d like to talk to them now.”
“All right. Just—just don’t do anything brash.” Burg started down a path that wound around the site. In the greyish moonlight, Ylir caught a glimpse of a giant excavation that was not supposed to be there until he himself had given the signal to proceed. The impatience turned to a sick sensation in the pit of his gut. It was a feeling he had not known in years.
“Who goes there?”
Burg started forward, but Ylir cut him off. He jumped off his horse and very quickly walked towards the man the way Sume had once seen a mountain lion stalk its prey. She could feel his muscles tensing and for a moment she had a glimpse of the contained fury that roiled inside the man. She suddenly remembered that night, back in the ship. Not the details surroun
ding it—those she had tried to set aside—but the expression on Ylir’s face when he pulled that trick of making the head explode. It was the look of a man used to control and found, to his dismay, that it was slipping.
This time, though, his arm remained still. “I should be asking you the same thing,” he said in a low voice.
The man grunted. “Who the fuck—” he started.
Burg might have possibly saved his life. He rushed the man and wrapped an arm around him. “Ah, Dorn!” Burg exclaimed, while glancing at Ylir. “You’ve grown fat, you stupid dog! Here, let me introduce Sir Ylir, Sir Yn Garr’s right hand man. Sir, this is Dorn. He don’t look like much but he’s the foreman I left behind when I last came here.” He smacked Dorn again, for good measure. The man stumbled forward and was smart enough to make sure he collapsed on his knees.
“My lord!” he said, when he was done coughing. “It’s a delight to finally meet you!”
“Enough with the pleasantries,” Ylir said. “Burg tells me he only left five men behind. You have at least a dozen tents here and more up that hill.”
“Sir?” Dorn looked confused. “Sir Yn Garr didn’t tell you, sir?”
“Tell me what?”
“We got a missive weeks ago. Sir Yn Garr sent more men, sir. He wanted the excavations to begin as soon as possible.”
“Without a builder to inspect the operation?” Sume saw him clench his fists. “Is the Lord of Al-ir aware of this? He was very adamant that construction not continue until we’ve talked. I thought by now he’d have seized and held everything until I arrive.” He paused. “Don’t tell me. He was here.”
“He sent men, yes. About a week or so ago.” Dorn’s face was starting to turn white.
“And you used force.”
“They—” He glanced helplessly at Burg. “We had no choice. They came up with their swords and they didn’t really try to talk to us and the only word we ever got from you guys was Yn Garr sending those men and...” He collapsed to the ground once again. Sume thought it sounded like he was sobbing.
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