“They came to Gorent, and we don’t have a connection to the agan there. They wanted slaves.”
“They’ll look for slaves where they know there’s people. They don’t know you’re here.”
“Not yet.”
“Ailat, you can do this. I’ve got—things are happening back south that will ensure your safety. Focus on rebuilding. If I find more Gorenten, I’ll send them this way.” He smiled. “Our marriage wasn’t technically dissolved, so you’ll have some authority. As a chief’s brother’s wife, you can get them to listen to you.”
She took a deep breath. “What you’re asking me, Ke-if…”
“I know. It won’t be easy.”
Her eyes flashed. “After all I’ve been through, this is the last thing I want to do. You want me to watch over our people like they were my own children? What makes you think I want to do that at all?”
“Your responsibility to your people…”
Her hand reached out to slap him. “You’re one to talk about responsibility,” she spat.
Kefier rubbed his cheek. “I wasn’t exactly in a position to return, Ailat. You know that. But now I have a chance to do something…”
She shook her head. “You have some nerve, showing up after all these years. Where were you three years ago? Half a year? Two months? You could’ve been there before my children died. You—”
“I’m sorry, Ailat.”
“It is too late for apologies. Go back to your life, Kefier, and leave me be.”
“Commander!”
Caiso glanced at Kefier the way he always did whenever they see a Hafed soldier. There was no established custom for Boarshind soldiers when greeting a superior: some of them bowed, some of them saluted, but there was always a half-hearted air about them, like a part of them still thought that if they had wanted to join the army or the guard, they would have. Even after their attempts to instill some sort of formality in their affairs, there was still a sense of nostalgia—particularly from the veterans—for times when they worked under contracts, fulfilling work on their own terms.
Kefier was just as uncomfortable with the decorum as most of the older recruits, but it was a necessary evil. The formality allowed them get on better with the Hafed than during the years that Baeddan was in charge. Still, he was sure the discomfort showed on his face, and he was sure it was why Caiso would always—always—look at him like that, a smirk on one lip and all shades of amusement in his eyes. One of these days, he had to find a way to dock it out of his pay.
He returned the salute. A moment later, so did Caiso. “We’ve been told to look out for you,” the soldier said, ushering them through the gates. “We were told you failed to show up at Tilarthan.”
“There was a complication with the Dageians,” Kefier said.
The soldier’s eyes shot up. “Does this mean…?”
“No, nothing of that sort. I wouldn’t worry about it.” He accepted a fresh cloak from another soldier, shedding his rain-drenched one. If only the soldiers further inland were as friendly as the border patrol, he’d probably enjoy this life. As it were, only familiarity made them accommodating. He had been sent across the northern Hafed border too many times over the past three years not to have formed an understanding with the soldiers, who began to feel, for the first time in years, that they were contributing to a bigger cause.
“Well, we’re glad to see you back, sir,” the soldier said, performing another salute. “Do you need escort to the city? We could send word ahead.”
“We could use horses,” Kefier said, glancing at Caiso. He wouldn’t have minded walking—anything to delay returning to face Yn Garr—but he was sure Caiso wouldn’t share his sentiments. “If you could spare them,” he added. Caiso rolled his eyes.
“We’ve got the horse you liked last time, and something for Captain Caiso, I’m sure.” The soldier bellowed orders to another, who took off running towards the outpost.
“How’re things down south?” Kefier asked.
The soldier grimaced. “Agartes, I can never tell. I heard Lady Isobel Dahrias showed up at court two days ago and has done nothing but cause trouble since then. Duke Iorwin, for his part, has...but maybe I’ll let you find out yourself.”
“Looking forward to it,” Kefier grumbled. “I was to meet with her a few days ago.”
“I hope it’s not about another arranged marriage. Agartes knows, that woman has climbed her way into all sorts of beds…” A soldier behind him cleared his throat, and the first soldier snorted. “Like half of the kingdom doesn’t know already? I’d be careful with that one, Commander.”
“Unfortunately, working as the King’s hired men means we have to socialize with his entire court. I think Captain Caiso likes it better than I do.”
“The canapes make it worth it,” Caiso said.
“King Elrend finds it all terribly amusing, I’m sure. I think it goes without saying that I have no control over what Knight-Commander Dowan thinks of His Majesty’s arrangement with you, or how the soldiers feel about it. As far as the border patrol is concerned, you’ve been good to us, Commander Kefier, and we appreciate it.” A soldier arrived with the horses, handing the reins of a blue roan to Kefier. The mare nickered, recognizing him.
They mounted and said their goodbyes under the drizzling rain.
“A certain lady on your mind?” Caiso offered as they cantered down the first paved road they had seen in days.
“Not what you think,” Kefier said. “I’m worried about what to say to Rosha.”
“Tell her what you told the guard.”
“You trying to get my head on the chopping block? That girl’s too smart. She’d rip my argument apart like a starving dog with a rabbit. I’m sure I already have a lecture from Yn Garr planned for the rest of the week—the last thing I want is another from her. I love that child, but hell if she could be an imp if she put her mind to it. Sometimes, this life…” He rubbed the rain from his eyes. “Fancy working on a Jin-Sayeng fishing boat instead, Caiso?”
“Only if I’m the captain and I get to dangle your pay in front of you while giving you no choice but to participate in my stupid schemes.”
He laughed, staring out into the mist. “Deal.”
They arrived at Tilarthan two hours from the road. Seeing the enormous city looming in the distance was still unsettling for Kefier, even after all these years. Tilarthan dwarfed such places as Cael and Port Greenleaf and was easily three times the size of Shirrokaru. By most standards, Hafod was a small nation—only a little larger than Baidh—but the size of Tilarthan more than made up for it. Kefier always had the impression that you could get lost in it and never find your way out.
An enormous wall, outfitted with no less than fifteen towers, protected the entire northern side of the city. They ran along the vast, jagged cliffs that sheltered most of Tilarthan, all the way up to the base of the mountains to the east. It was this defensive bottleneck that allowed the Hafed to protect the rest of their lands from Dageian invasion. Here, Kefier and Caiso dismounted, turning their horses over to the guard. Although Kefier was a familiar sight to the northern city guard by now, they were checked to make sure they were who they claimed to be. Hafod had seen enough Dageian charm in the past to be sure.
An hour later, they were allowed access to the city. Kefier took Caiso to The Wrinkled Shrew, where they had a wonderful onion and beef broth topped with melted cheese, thick beer the colour of honey, and dark rye bread. After the meal, Kefier paid for Caiso’s foot rub.
“I’m walking back to the keep,” Kefier said, patting Caiso’s shoulders just as a thin, young man untied his shoelaces. There was a look of terror on his face, as if he wasn’t sure what sort of feet Caiso’s muddied boots contained.
“I’ll meet you there,” Caiso said. “If we ever get started. Look at this fellow. As if I don’t maintain good hygiene, even after five days in the wilderness. One must remember such a thing,” he added, glancing at Kefier, “to survive with a boss like you.
”
Kefier snorted, leaving the young man to his fate.
The Boarshind castle was another hour’s walk along the harbour in the rain. Faster, if you hired a coach, but Kefier never really settled into some of the comforts of city living. He liked having the time to think. He wasn’t the sort of person who could think while being assaulted by demands for information from all corners.
He thought about Rosha and what he could offer her to appease the inevitable tongue-lashing he was bound to receive. She had a way of being blunt, unlike her mother who made him guess at things, and he wasn’t sure, most days, which was better. He wasn’t ready to offer her the gift she would truly appreciate—her grandfather’s journals, which contained information about a father she didn’t know, a man he wasn’t ready to talk about. Another dog then, perhaps? Some other type of animal? It was becoming a fashion to own colourful talking birds from Herey. Perhaps Jarche could advise him.
He also thought about Ailat and the people he had left in his home in the peninsula. If somehow, he was able to take Rosha away from Yn Garr, would they accept her? She was of Soshain’s blood, after all. Did that sort of thing still matter in the world they were in? She would make an excellent chief if it came to it. Strong, intelligent, and capable. Even if he wasn’t in a position to be biased, he would come to the same conclusion.
He didn’t think about Sume. Some things were better left untouched.
The castle was a relic, carved out above the cliff side on a patch of unclaimed land south of Tilarthan. They called it Thunder’s-Mouth, from the sound the waves make when they hit the cliffs—a long, low rumble that made it seem like the whole cliff was going to tumble into the sea, castle and all. It was probably why the castle went abandoned for as long as it did, or so King Elrend claimed—triple suicide-murders and sloppy assassinations had nothing to do with it.
The king had allowed the Boarshind to situate their Hafed base at Thunder’s-Mouth for as long as they were of service to the crown. It was a generous gesture, at least at first glance. They soon found that the rocky, unkempt road leading up to the castle made it difficult to deliver supplies. Wagons have to be abandoned at the main road and goods brought in by horse or foot. Also, the place was probably haunted; none of the kitchen staff lasted too long.
Kefier strode up to the closed wooden gates and looked up at the tower. A few moments passed, and then he heard it being unbolted from the inside. The gates swung open, which was good—at least Yn Garr hadn’t deposed him in his absence. He couldn’t tell with a man like that, especially considering how his predecessor had fared. Most nights, he still slept with a dagger under his pillow.
“Welcome back, Commander,” the guard said, giving him that half-hearted salute he had come to expect. “The meeting’s about to start.”
Kefier paused from wringing water out of his cloak. “What meeting?”
“Uh, in the war room? I thought you—”
“Nevermind that,” he said. He glanced at the courtyard, but the hitching posts were empty—all the horses must’ve been brought to the stables because of the rain. “Who came in this morning?”
“Most of them, sir. Captain Aden, Captain Robaz, Captain Dasten, Captain Sevlor, Thiri Anu-Sthura…”
“Sthura’s here?” Kefier grumbled. “Shit.”
The guard grinned. “Yes, and she’s already been on our case about keeping shoes off the foyer because we’re supposed to be wearing them all the time because we’re not in backwater Jin-Sayeng anymore or something like that. What a bitch.”
“I wouldn’t let anyone else hear that. I guess I’ll get changed first before joining them. Keep up the good work.”
“We’ve got a game of Hafed Monkey-Hands up at the tower if you want to join us after. Give you a chance to earn your money back.”
“With Sthura around? No, thank you. I don’t want to join you bastards at the stockade.”
He tapped the guard’s shoulder before going up to the main keep. His chambers were in the west wing, a setup that would normally be too extravagant for him—his bedroom was in the second floor, above his own sitting room and library. But the bedroom had double doors that opened up to a balcony overlooking the ocean, which helped make the arrangement tolerable.
He stripped from his shirt and walked over to his closet for a dry one. When he turned around, there was a woman sitting on his bed.
“Lady Isobel,” he tried to say calmly, while putting the new shirt on as fast as he could. “What a—actually, it shouldn’t be. I was warned about you.”
Lady Isobel gave a wolfish grin. Kefier had met her twice before, and his initial impressions of her had been that of an opinionated woman in her early thirties, unused to taking orders from men. She was the eldest daughter and sole living heir of a lord from an eastern province, bordering the wilderness close to Kiel.
She crossed her legs. “You’ve been avoiding me, Commander.”
He had, but he wasn’t about to admit it. “I’ve been busy. I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression.”
She got up and approached him. Kefier’s eyes darted to the window, and he wondered if he would survive the drop. Probably not, but he was still seriously considering it. He realized that in the time he was thinking, she had crossed the room and was standing next to him. She ran her thumb up his bare arm.
“I stand by what I’ve said before,” Kefier said, trying to remain polite. “Right now, I don’t have the men to spare for your cause. I’m also concerned about what King Elrend will think about us helping instigate a civil war within his lands.”
“A minor spat between two landowners is hardly civil war,” Isobel said brightly. “And the King is aware that you are mere mercenaries. Where there’s coin involved…”
“But there isn’t,” he said.
Her eyes darkened. “I told you. Once we’ve recovered what’s rightfully mine, and that usurper Rohn Beeching is out of my lands…”
“All well and good, once it’s all done,” Kefier said. “But even if ah—despite your best efforts…” She was still stroking his arm. He cleared his throat. “Even if I were to agree, I would still need approval from my captains. And I’m telling you, that this—whatever you’re doing—won’t work with at least one of them.”
She smiled. He was suddenly, acutely aware that the woman was too used to getting her own way. He had looked into her request before and had learned, early on, that Lord Beeching’s family had been in their lands for well over three hundred years. Isobel Dahrias’ claim was for something older than the Kingdom of Hafod itself.
There was a knock on the door downstairs. Kefier pulled away from her. “I’ve got this meeting,” he said.
“Do you? They didn’t say. Maybe I should sit on it. I am Hafed nobility, you know.”
“It’s a Boarshind thing. Stuff about food supplies, and our men’s...latrines.” The knock came again. “I’ll talk to you later. In the meantime, perhaps you can get acquainted with our operations. Meet some of the men?” He gave a quick nod, and then, knowing he was breaking about half a dozen Hafed rules of courtesy, jumped down from the stairs and opened the door.
“The Lady Dahrias is paying us a visit,” he told the confused-looking soldier. “Someone forgot to tell me. Make sure she gets an appropriate tour and a chaperone, for her own safety.” He ducked out of the hallway before the woman could protest.
The war room was a door away from Kefier’s chambers. He strode past a giant, half-rusted chandelier and into an enormous room with a table at its center. The four captains and Sthura looked up as he entered. “Better late than never, I suppose,” Sthura said. From across the giant table, her eyes looked like thin lines.
“Lady Isobel is out there, stalking our halls,” Kefier said.
Aden cleared his throat. “She’s been here since this morning. Came in looking for you and wouldn’t believe me when I said you’ve been gone several days.”
“You talked to her?” Robaz asked. “Doesn’t that woman
know anything about seniority?”
“Now, now,” Dasten said, clicking his tongue. Dasten was a thin, middle-aged man who had been an officer under Baeddan’s command, even before Algat. His efforts in the Boarshind in those years had been so unremarkable that Kefier couldn’t remember him from then. He flexed his fingers, tapping them against the table. “We’re down to five singulars. Do we really want to start fighting amongst ourselves now?”
“I’ve got no interest in fighting. I’m only pointing out that young, untried captains, newly appointed…”
“The Commander,” Aden pointed out, “is younger than I am.” He winked at Kefier. “No offense.”
“None taken. I understand what Captain Robaz is trying to say.” Kefier crossed his arms. “I take it you’re fit to entertain her later?”
“What?” Robaz choked. “That’s not what I’m…”
“I did not travel all the way out here in this rain to listen to this frivolity,” Sthura hissed, her Xiaran accent getting thicker the angrier she got.
“Maybe we should give Robaz a chance to finish saying something first,” Sevlor pointed out. She shot him a look, and he fell silent.
“I’ll ask about your trip later,” Aden grinned while speaking from the corner of his mouth. He pulled out a seat for Kefier.
Sthura cleared her throat and pulled out a parchment from the pile on the table. “As I was saying…”
There was a loud pop as a portal appeared in one corner of the room. A moment later, Jarche emerged. She was followed by the thick scent of lavender-tinged smoke. “Goodness,” she said, shaking her ears. “All that rain made this too hard. Doesn’t help that there’s barely any connections around here and...why, hello, everyone,” she added, looking up. “Am I late?”
“The meeting started half an hour ago,” Sthura droned.
Jarche smiled. “I must have underestimated the time.” She turned to Kefier. “Oh, my dear,” she said. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”
“I just came in,” he said.
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