He walked out to the street and caught a glimpse of Rosha’s red dress disappearing around the alley. Biting back the retort bubbling inside his throat, he gave chase.
Interlude
Uncle Igrahz likes chickens too much. The neighbours consider it an eccentricity, one stemming from his Jinsein roots. One cannot deny, however, that his little hobby has kept him alive all these years. Cockfights have been a growing sport in southeastern Gaspar, much to the shamans’ chagrin. They think it a debased activity, one An-albaht would not condone. If the k’ans’ families did not find them entertaining, cockfights would have been long abolished.
The only opinion Sapphire can offer on the subject involves wrinkling her nose. The chickens make her uncle’s tiny home smell like a barn. It is one of those things she has not missed, living here, though she must have been fond of the accursed things once. She still remembers chasing the little chicks around the yard with Moon. The chirping always brought the mother hen running to the rescue, and then the tables would turn and it would be the hen chasing them.
She pulls back, wringing her wet hands over the sink. Sume takes the clean plates from her to put on the shelf above them. She watches the other woman wipe them with a rag first before arranging them, one by one.
“So Uncle Igrahz…” Sume begins. “He’s related to you?”
“My mother’s stepbrother,” Sapphire says. She folds her legs to sit in the corner of the kitchen and looks around. It has shrunk compared to the memory of it. Seeing the dilapidated shutters and half-rotting wooden walls is less appealing than her recollections suggested.
It is not, of course, that she does not hold fond sentiments for the place. She still remembers the low, rickety wooden table that once stood in the middle of the kitchen. She and Moon played under it while their mother shelled beans or removed bits of dirt and sand from their rice. She doesn’t remember if she herself threw it out the last time she was here or if Igrahz did.
She doesn’t remember a lot of things, which is occasionally disconcerting. She thinks perhaps it is due to age, although she is not as old as Enosh thinks she is. Details falling by the wayside in the face of bigger things. She finds no shame in it. Moon would have, probably, but the years have progressed to a point where she has stopped thinking about all the things Moon might have said.
It is both a blessing and a sorrow, though she tries not to dwell on the sorrow aspect of things. She figures it is a frivolity that she is not—and has never—been entitled to. Unlike most illegitimate children, she grew up with food and education, and most days she thinks this is enough. One can easily get too engrossed into thinking about all the things one is deserved.
Sume finishes with the dishes. Because they lived in the same house for three years, Sapphire finds herself automatically pointing to a cupboard and saying, “He usually keeps the tea there.”
Sume walks over and finds a jar of it. “Smells good,” she says, opening the lid. “Jasmine.” She sets it on a flat corner of the ground, kneels down, and begins the process of lighting the stove. After the firewood crackles and spits, she picks up a tea kettle and fills it from the faucet on the other corner of the wall. The water splutters before turning into a thin trickle.
“It may need more from the pump,” Sume murmurs.
“I think we’ve got enough,” Sapphire replies.
Sume peers into the tea kettle before putting it on the stove. She leans against the wall while waiting, her fingers drumming on the edge of the cracked red finish.
“Do you think he would make a good father?” Sume asks.
The question catches Sapphire off guard. She opens her mouth and then quickly closes it. Sume gives her an amused grin. “That came out wrong. I apologize—I know you don’t like this sort of conversation. There’s just not a lot of people I’d trust to talk to about this.”
Sapphire blinks. “You trust me?”
It is Sume’s turn to be surprised. “Why shouldn’t I? You’ve been helping us all these years.”
“I have my own reasons for participating. I am not exactly doing them for you.”
“I know that. Sakku, forget I even spoke.” She turns around and busies herself with scooping out tea leaves.
Sapphire sighs, looking down at the cracked—by Dorsin’s shiny beard, what wasn’t falling apart in this damnable house?—earthen floor. After a moment, she finds herself saying, “I’m not in the position to comment about what a good father entails. The extents of my knowledge do not go beyond the several weeks that mine spent bringing me and my sister to Eheldeth. I can say only as much as this: I think he will be competent, at least. I’m sure he won’t leave her in a street corner to starve to death.”
Sume smiled. “Thank you for your thoughts, Sapphire.”
Sapphire tugged at her spectacles. “I don’t understand if you’re being sarcastic or not.”
“I’m—I’m not. I think you’ve got a fair grasp on his basic personality.” The kettle begins to whistle. She removes it from the stove and pours enough for two cups. She hands one to Sapphire. “You were sure, for example, that we had enough water for the tea. Enosh hates the stuff.”
“Detests it,” Sapphire agrees, taking a sip.
“They both do, actually,” Sume says, after a moment of silence.
“I’m sorry?”
“Kefier. He hates tea, too.”
Sapphire looks up at the ceiling, remembering Enosh’s warning to her—made several years ago, when they all started living together—not to reveal his background to Sume. For some reason, she remained unaware that he and Kefier were brothers—a feat in itself, but Sapphire has learned over the years that people could be frightfully clueless at times. Did Sume’s familiarity with both blind her to the truth? Sapphire couldn’t even hazard a guess.
Sapphire realizes that she has been quiet for far too long and that perhaps this might raise a suspicion with the other, normally more perceptive woman. “He ah…raised the girl as his own, didn’t he?”
“A complication, I know.”
“It explains why he’s been trying to kill us now.”
Sume takes a sip. “We don’t know that.”
Sapphire glares at her. “I do. The man had the gall to stick a knife into me. That’s not something I can easily forgive.”
“He must have thought he needed to do it for Rosha. All of this, this is Yn Garr’s doing. We’re all just caught up in it.”
“Speak for yourself,” Sapphire grumbles. She watches Sume staring at her cup and wonders if, perhaps, she is a little too hard. Would she not have done the same in his position? “Whatever happened, it’s too late to change them. But I have a feeling this conversation isn’t about that, is it?”
“Maybe not,” Sume says.
“I assume you had a relationship with the other one, too.”
She hesitates for a moment. “Is my personal life an open book, now?”
“Some personal lives tend to be. It’s why I don’t have one myself. If you must know, Enosh doesn’t believe it—he thinks you’ve done nothing in the past few years than fan yourself waiting and thinking about him.”
Sume laughs. “He would, too. I think I’m more surprised that he would say such things to you.”
“Occasionally, he gets bored, and I’m a little more responsive than a wall.” She taps her fingers against the faded flower pattern on her cup. “So, indulge me, since we’ve already made the fatal error of being two women with nothing better to do than talk about that man. What’s on your mind? Living arrangements?”
“Maybe something a little more important than that.”
“Who’s better in bed?”
Sume coughs, spitting out tea. “What? Sapphire!”
She pulls back from her own cup. “Is that offensive? I don’t know.”
Sume sets her tea aside, her cheeks red. “I don’t believe it’s a thing I’ve ever thought about.”
“And why not? I would have thought it would be the first thing on
your mind.”
“I’m not entertaining the thought of comparisons.”
“But now that I’ve brought it up, are you tempted to?”
Sume gives her a weak smile. “This is why you don’t talk much, do you? Once it all comes rushing out…”
Sapphire tips her head towards her. “I’m glad you appreciate my faint attempts at humour.”
“That was one? Oh, thank Sakku. I wasn’t sure how to handle it as a serious question.” She folds her tunic and takes a seat on the floor beside Sapphire. “No matter which way you look at it, Enosh is Rosha’s father. He did not take the idea of being a father or being involved with me seriously for all these years, but now that he’s seen her, I feel like something’s changing. I can’t explain it.”
“No, I get it. The man’s got a one-track mind.”
“Enosh? No, if anything, there’s too much on his mind. All these grandiose dreams and ideas. They’re interesting to listen to at times, when he doesn’t let himself get carried away with them. He’s charming—”
“Never let him hear that!”
“—at least, when he wants to be. Of course, I haven’t forgotten that he’s capable of enchanting himself to seem more charming. Maybe he hasn’t done it as often as he used to. You seem immune to them.”
“The fabrication is only partly supported by the agan. I’m not sure if you want me to get into the specifics right now.”
Sume shakes her head. “No, probably not.”
“So what I’m gathering from this is that you’re madly in love with him.”
“I…was,” Sume says. She looks confused as soon as the words leave her mouth, as if they somehow sounded different in her head. “Parts of me still think I am.”
“I will not ask which parts.”
“Oh, Sapphire!” She grins for a moment, but her face returns to its usual, thoughtful expression. “I can’t help but wish it had been like this from the beginning. His faults I can forgive, I think. But all those years between us…I can’t get the image of Kefier holding Rosha when she was an infant out of my mind. The way he would take her from me when I’ve had enough, or how we both watched her take her first steps on the street outside our home in Shirrokaru. So many memories overlapping what could have been.”
“Kefier was the girl’s father when Enosh was doing his part in ignoring the situation. I can understand why you’d feel conflicted. But is that where it ends? Kefier took Enosh’s place when he wasn’t there, so of course you’d feel obligated?”
“You’ve got an answer for me if I said yes, don’t you?”
Sapphire nods.
Sume looks away. “I am always on guard with Enosh,” she says. “Even back when I first loved him. I always feel the need to prove that what I’m saying has merit, that to keep up with him I have to be just as intelligent and witty. It was not the same with Kefier. Kefier and I—we argued all the time, but I always thought that it meant because he was listening to me, even when I’m barely coherent. It bothered him when things bothered me. And he was passionate. There was only a thin layer between him and his emotions.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Sapphire says. “I’m not sure I want to.”
“I’m not sure I understand myself, either,” Sume murmurs. “I know I wish I didn’t leave things the way I did with him. That I miss him. That’s an awful thing to say, isn’t it? Considering how things are going with Enosh? It’s not like I’m being given new choices here. Kefier and I—that’s done. It’s over. It would be selfish of me to drag him into this any deeper than I already have. Rosha is safe with me and her real father, as it should be.”
“Sounds easy enough, if everyone agreed with you,” Sapphire replies. “Your heart, included.”
“What about my heart? That whole idea that it’s about what I really want and nothing else?”
“Mmm,” Sapphire says, returning to her tea.
Sume snorts. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be talking to you about it.”
“To hard questions,” Sapphire says, holding out her cup.
Sume takes hers and clinks them together. “And even harder answers.”
“Let’s pretend we never had this conversation.”
“I agree. If Enosh asks, tell him we were arguing about how to organize the dish rags.”
Sapphire cracks a smile. “Intelligent as that man is, I think he might actually believe that.”
Chapter Twelve
Enosh caught up with Rosha by the pier near Aret-ni’s log stockpile, some distance away from the market. He slowed down once she realized there was nowhere else to go and turned to him. “We talked about this, Rosha,” Enosh said. “You’re putting all our lives at risk. And for what?”
Her eyes blazed. “They wouldn’t be at risk if you would just let me go.”
“That bucket with the water…you were talking to them? I should’ve figured. You’re going back with me now. This ends here.”
“My father needs my help.”
“This is bigger than your feelings, Rosha. This is bigger than all our feelings.” He reached out, almost expecting her to run again or lash out at him, but she stood still, allowing him to grab her shoulder. Her jaw was quivering.
“Why can’t you just understand?” Enosh asked.
“Why can’t you?”
Enosh tightened his grip around her for a moment, before letting her go. “Back to the house, now, if we can remember where it is,” he said. “I expect we must leave by tonight after what you’ve done. Rosha, I don’t enjoy doing this, but you’ll have to learn that I don’t miss things.”
Rosha didn’t reply, which he took to mean as an assent—if not a full agreement—that she wasn’t going to try anything else. They left the pier, walking past the log boom. Back on the shore, Enosh removed his cloak to put it around her.
She stood, frozen, while he did this. “I’m not trying to be your enemy,” Enosh said. He got up to gather his bearings. Sapphire’s house had been near the marketplace, so if they just traced their way back, perhaps he would remember the exact street. As he considered their surroundings, he noticed two men stepping out of the shadows and approaching him.
“Oh, this is lovely,” he said, pushing Rosha behind him. He held one hand out. “Gentlemen, let’s be civil about this. Everyone has a price, and I’m sure both of you are no exception. You, there, maybe you’ve always wanted to buy your sweetheart a nice engagement ring? Today’s your lucky day.”
The men ignored him. As they got closer, Enosh realized they weren’t Boarshind—their darker skin and eyes marked them as Gasparian. The colour of their sashes and their sword-hilts marked them as Barun’s men.
“Shit,” Enosh said. He drew his sword.
He found, to his regret, that Barun’s men possessed the height advantage and enough combat training to shame him in open ground. He felt an elbow smash into his back, sending him falling forwards. He tried to roll over, but the other man stepped on his sword hand, grinding it into the dirt. “Are you going to continue talking?” the man asked, the darkness accentuating his harsh accent.
“No,” Enosh said.
The man hit him again. “Better?”
Enosh nodded.
“You are coming with us,” he said. He pointed at his companion. “Take the girl.”
“I can walk,” Enosh said.
The man kicked him. “We were told not to trust you. Be silent and cooperative, so you’ve a clear head when you meet the lady. Come, Ferral.” He dragged Enosh to his feet and tied a rope around his hands and feet before swinging him up his shoulders.
The men took them away from town, taking a different route around the cliffs. The boardwalk led to a trail on top of the cliffs and into a forest. Enosh couldn’t see much from his position, but he could still hear the sea smashing against the cliffs in the distance. They reached a small camp with four others. From the disarray, they must’ve been there for several weeks at least.
Still bound, Enosh was strapped onto a
horse and was made to ride between two other men. The moon was high in the sky as they found their way through the forest and onto a road that Enosh recognized.
The riders took them past the city of Kalthekar, heading north on the road, and off into a stretch of wilderness. After for what felt like forever—made worse by the exhaustion of trying to balance himself on a horse without the use of his limbs—Enosh saw the crumbling mansion where Reema had been residing for the past few years.
It was his mansion, actually. Makin had explained that Lady Reema—unbeknownst to her father—had used Ferral’s name as leverage in obtaining the property from K’an Omo. It was unused, anyway—a family heirloom built in times of prosperity. It was too far away from pastures to be of much use, otherwise.
Reema’s actions had infuriated Azchai to the point that he had disowned her. Enosh still wasn’t sure what that meant in Gasparian society. He already had a hard time keeping up with Jin-Sayeng politics as it was…all the different warlords he had to remember. K’ans in Gaspar were not so different, although their power was dwarfed by the Holy King’s immense army.
The clear awareness that he was being used as a pawn in Southern Gaspar’s political games did not sit well with him. They did not even try to hide it. Haven’t I been punished enough for Sume and Mhagaza? he thought as they pulled him off the horse and, convinced that he would not run away now, not with hours of wilderness between them and the next town, finally untied him. He flexed his wrists and turned to check up on Rosha. A rider was helping her down from the horse, handling her more gently than they treated him.
At least this took us further away from Yn Garr’s men. It was, if he was pressed to admit it, a small comfort. He wasn’t sure if he would rather deal with Yn Garr than Reema right now. He caught sight of a figure waiting for them by the gates. From the height of him, he recognized Makin.
Makin strode up to him and struck him with a fist.
An Elegy of Heroes Page 111