Tarkio waved. “Hey, Birot, where’ve you been hiding yourself?”
Birot looked up with a smile and strolled over. “You’re the one who comes and goes.”
“True. Care for a drink? I’m buying.”
The jailer slid into a seat. “Trading must be good if you’re buying.”
“Can’t complain.” Tarkio filled up the next quarter of an hour asking Birot about his wife, his daughters, and his various aches and pains. Birot always had been terrified about dying of a lingering and painful illness.
“You know blue fever has swept through North Rivash?” Birot said. “I don’t even want to talk to anyone who’s been there lately.” He frowned. “You haven’t been north, have you?”
“My last trip was to Attu and beyond,” Tarkio replied.
“That’s good.” Birot launched into a description of the cough, malaise, and mottled skin suffered by people with blue fever.
Tarkio listened, fixing his eyes on Birot’s oversized nose and chapped lips. He pinched his leg under the table to quell his impatience.
After Birot started his third beer, Tarkio thought it was safe to ask the question he really wanted to ask. “Are you still working at the jail?”
“Yeah.”
“Must be interesting, seeing all the people who come through.”
“Only if you like whiners. Most of them say they don’t deserve to be in jail. Beg, beg, beg for another chance. I’m just the jailer. I don’t make the decisions.” He looked at Tarkio, shaking his head. “Would you believe, they try to offer me bribes to let them out?”
“Bribes?”
“They’ll say ‘I have money,’ or new shoes, or whatever they might have had when they were sentenced.” He smirked. “They don’t know that before they’re put in their cells, or are taken, I search them and go through all their clothes. Whatever they have is mine.”
Tarkio tried to quell his disgust enough to keep the disdain from showing on his face. “I’ll wager you end up with lots of interesting stuff.”
“Never. A few coins, sometimes. Nothing of any value.”
Was he lying, or did he really not find the amulets? Tarkio drained his mug. He decided to take another approach.
“Are a lot of people taken?”
“More than before,” Birot said. “When I first started, we’d have maybe one, two in a year. Now, more like one a month.” He paused to hand his empty mug to the barmaid and take the full one, then turned back to Tarkio. “Younger than before, too.”
“Younger?”
“Two under twenty just this year. That used to never happen. The first was a girl. Pretty, she was. A shame.”
“Yes, a shame. The other?”
“About two weeks ago. Another girl, a young trader.” Birot looked down at his hands.
“A trader? Surely she had something interesting on her.”
“I thought she might, too. I did the usual, had her strip down, and shook out all her clothes. She didn’t have a thing I’d want to waste my time with.”
Tarkio shuddered to think of Tereka undergoing such treatment. “Traders can be cagey, they know how to hide things.”
“After all these years, I know all their tricks. This one stood motionless as a tree, staring at me with these bright blue eyes. Made me nervous. I was glad to see her go.”
Grinding his teeth together, Tarkio tried to stop his anger from coursing into his face. “Anything else you can tell me about her?”
“You know I can’t talk about the taken.” Birot took a long gulp from his beer. His loquaciousness seemed to have dried up like a puddle in the desert.
“Yeah. But I don’t want to talk about all of them.”
Birot narrowed his eyes. “I know you’re asking about your daughter. Well, I treated her well while she was with us.”
By all that made them safe, what did that mean? “And how long was that?”
“Nice try.”
He knew something, Takrio was sure, but he didn’t know how to get it out of him. “This is my daughter we’re talking about.”
“I feel for you,” Birot said. “But you know the rules. And until all my daughters are married off, I can’t afford to break a single one.”
Tarkio drew a careful breath. “How much would you need to break a rule, just one time? For an old friend.”
Birot stared at him. “Probably more than you’re able to pay.”
“Try me.”
“One hundred stones.”
“You’re joking.” One hundred silver coins was more than most people made in a year.
“Rules are rules, Tarkio.” He leaned back on the bench and stared at his beer.
“Fifty.”
“Nope.”
Desperation seeped from Tarkio’s forehead. He was so close to the information. “Seventy-five. I can give you twenty right now, the rest in the morning.”
“Ha. How do I know you’ll pay up?”
“Because it’s me, Birot. Have you ever known me to lie?”
He stared into Birot’s pale brown eyes. The jailer blinked, then looked away.
He’s thinking about it, Tarkio thought. Should he offer more?
“I’ll trust you,” Birot finally said. “If you don’t pay, I’ll find a way for them to take you, understand? And don’t think you’ll be able to take me down with you. I have friends, got it?”
“Understood.” Tarkio pulled the money bag from his belt and poured all the coins into his hand. He picked out the bronze sheaves, leaving the silver stones in his fist. Birot put his open palm on the table. Tarkio released the coins, only withdrawing his hand when Birot’s fingers curled around the money. “Now,” Tarkio said. “How long was Tereka with you?”
“Just a few hours after her sentencing. We held her in the dungeon cell. In the middle of the night, she was shipped out.” He held up a hand. “Don’t ask me where, because I don’t know.”
Tarkio nodded. “Was she searched?”
Birot snorted. “Of course. I already told you. When she was arrested, and then when she was brought back from court.”
Did he dare ask? He had to know. He clasped his shaking hands together under the table. “Was anything unusual found on her?”
“Like what? She didn’t have anything, other than a money bag and a latchkey. She have something of yours?”
With an effort, Tarkio kept his face neutral. He placed his hands on the edge of the table and leaned on it, trying to keep from sagging. “No, nothing like that. I just wondered if she’d bought the things I’d asked her to get in the market before she was arrested.”
“You’re an odd one, Tarkio. If it was one of my girls, the last thing I’d be worried about was if she’d done the shopping.”
Now, for his most important question. Would Birot tell him? “Do all the people who are taken go to the mines?”
“Some of them— ” He glared at Tarkio. “They are all taken. And never heard from again.” Birot took a gulp and frowned at Tarkio. “What do you know about the mines? Who told you that?”
“I’ve heard things in the market. You know, people talk.”
“That kind of talk is dangerous.”
“You’re right. I usually just listen.”
“If you’re smart, you’ll know that listening can be dangerous, too. Don’t let the wrong people catch you at it.”
Nodding, Tarkio stood up and dropped some bronze sheaves on the table. “Noted. I’ll find you in the morning. Safety and fairness to you, friend.”
He walked out of the tavern, trying to not turn and look back. From the way the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, he had a feeling their conversation had not gone unnoticed. He stifled the urge to vomit as he walked down the street. From what Birot had told him, Tereka had been shipped off to be executed somewhere. The only hopeful note was they hadn’t found the amulets. At least there would be no repercussions for the Riskers.
Small comfort. He’d failed Tereka. Most likely, she was dead. He ran a han
d over his eyes. He had no choice. He had to tell her family. A moan escaped his throat. He’d rather be taken himself.
37
Two days later Tarkio stood outside the door of Osip’s house. He bit his lip, raised his hand, and dropped it. He sucked in a breath and rapped on the wood. A heartbeat later, Cillia flung it open and gave him a broad smile.
“Tarkio! We weren’t expecting you until next week.” She gave him a warm embrace and ushered him to a seat at her kitchen table. “Hungry?”
He looked at the bread, butter, and cheese laid out on the table. “No, thank you. Is Osip around?”
“Due back any moment.” She wrinkled her forehead. “Why so serious?”
Not sure where to start, Tarkio pulled at the collar of his tunic, trying to relieve the sense of being choked. To his relief, the door opened to admit Cillia’s husband. It would be hard enough to share his news once, let alone twice.
Osip joined Tarkio at the table. “You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders, my boy. Care to share the burden?”
“I wish I didn’t have to.” Tarkio chewed on the inside of his cheek. “There’s no easy way to say this.” He stared at his hands. “Tereka was framed for falsifying documents. She was sentenced to be taken. She’s gone.” He hung his head to avoid looking at Cillia. “I’m so sorry.”
Silence in the room caused him to look up. Both Osip and Cillia were staring at him, mouths hanging open. Cillia shook her head. “No, it can’t be.”
“It is.” He told them what he’d learned from Juquila. He felt a surge of hot anger rising as he spoke. “Tereka wouldn’t do that. She set Tereka up. And the proof is that Juquila had some fake documents related to my trades. I know I didn’t skim any profits. And I’m sure Tereka didn’t, either.”
“Did you talk with Tirk?”
“Yes, he admits it. Claims Juquila manipulated him into lying, told him Tereka would get off with only a fine, or would fail her probation.” Tarkio rubbed his chin. “He seemed truly horrified by what happened.”
Osip put an arm around Cillia. “What happens to people when they’re taken?” he asked.
“No one knows. That’s the worst of it. From what I could find out, I think they’re taken out of town and killed. Or sent to work in the mines.” He swallowed hard. “Either way, Tereka’s gone.” He couldn’t bring himself to use any other word.
Cillia bit her lip. “We can’t be certain.” She turned to her husband, who nodded.
“I’m not so sure that Tereka would be easy to kill,” he said. He picked up a knife to shave off a slice of cheese.
“How so?”
“She’s got three amulets, one of them an amulet of power. That’s some powerful protection.”
Tarkio snorted. “Those dragonfly trinkets haven’t helped.”
Osip set his knife down. “Not the amulet itself, but the power behind it.”
“All right, the sky-god, then. It seems he was asleep, letting Tereka be taken.”
“None of us know the ways of the sky-god. But if Tereka is the Desired One, then I think it’s safe to say she’ll be protected.”
Tarkio studied Osip’s face. He’d seen the power of the amulets before. Could they really help Tereka now?
“We don’t know the end of the tale yet.” Osip patted Tarkio’s arm.
“Even if there is some power that can save her,” Tarkio said. “I’m not so sure Tereka still has the amulets.”
“Why not?”
“I talked to the jailer. They search all the prisoners and take everything of value.”
“Did he find the amulets?”
“No, he didn’t. So I figured Tereka had lost them or left them somewhere.”
Osip placed his cheese on a piece of bread and took a bite. “Well, my boy, the amulets are strange things. Almost like they have minds of their own. They have the power to conceal themselves from some people and to reveal themselves to others. Maybe the amulets didn’t want that jailer to see them.”
“Do you think Tereka may still have the amulets and they’re keeping her alive?” A tiny bit of the tightness in Tarkio’s throat eased.
“Could be. I can’t say I know the mind of the sky-god, but it could be.”
Tarkio leaned back and drummed his fingers on his thighs. This news, if true, changed everything.
“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” asked Cillia.
“I think I am, now.” He smiled at her then turned to Osip. “What should I do? Try to find her and rescue her?”
“Do you have any idea where she might be?”
“All I know is that some of the people who are taken end up in the Prime Konamei’s mines. The others, I have no idea. No one is allowed to talk about it.” He looked into the older man’s eyes. “I feel so helpless.” He pressed his fist to his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut.
Cillia patted his shoulder. “We all do.”
“I have to do something. I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t.”
Osip took the bowl of soup Cillia offered him and set it on the table. “My boy, I know how you’re feeling. Every day after Xico left, I wanted to go after him, to help him, to keep him and Iskra safe. And every day since I learned of his death, I’ve blamed myself for letting him go. The truth is, sometimes that’s exactly what we have to do.”
“What? You mean give up on Tereka? Leave her to her fate?”
“No. Hear me out. What would happen if anyone got wind of the idea you were planning a rescue?”
“I’d be taken. No question about it.”
“And you’d be in no position to help Tereka.”
Tarkio clenched his jaw. Osip didn’t understand. “Unless I was sent to the same place she was.”
“Please tell me that you are not planning on getting yourself taken.” Osip crossed his arms over his chest.
“It seems like my best chance of finding her.”
“From what you’ve told me, once you’re taken, you have no control of where they send you,” Osip said. “And if I were in charge, I’d make sure a trouble-making father didn’t end up anywhere near his troublemaker of a daughter. Yes?”
Osip was right. Tarkio let his head drop. “Then what do I do?” His insides were hollow like a dead tree.
“Trust the sky-god.” Osip patted Tarkio’s arm. “Keep your head down. Do your best to be above reproach.”
“How is that going to help?”
“Because, first, you want them to think you accept Tereka’s fate. That you’re not going to cause any trouble. That will give you time to listen for information. Someone knows where Tereka was sent. Take your time and try to figure out who that might be.” He picked up his spoon and stirred his soup. “You’ve always been the one to think things through rationally. Except when you decide that you, and only you, are the person to fix the problem.”
Tarkio sighed. Osip knew him too well.
“Play to your strengths, and think.” Osip let go of the spoon to rub his hands together. “Have you considered what you’d do when you find her? You won’t be able to take her back to Trofmose.”
“No.” Tarkio raised his eyebrows and looked at Osip. Was he offering?
“I’m sorry,” Osip frowned and shook his head, “we can’t hide her in a Risker camp. Too dangerous for all of us.”
“Then where?” Tarkio tried to keep the disappointment off his face.
Cillia leaned forward. “Do you remember the day Tikul, Xico, and you went up north, way past Mikkeliad? You saw a ruin in the mountains, far in the distance?”
“Yes, I remember. It was high on a cliff. A tower and a stone wall.”
“You could go there,” she said. “You’d just need some supplies, food and salt, bedding and tools. And a little scouting to find a source of water. “
“What if it’s a bandit stronghold?”
“Not likely,” Cillia said. “It’s too remote, more than a day’s travel from any of the roads. The bandits prefer the lower hills
.”
“I hope you’re right.” Tarkio rubbed his chin.
“I suppose you want me to scout it out, chase away the bandits, and set up housekeeping?” Osip had a hint of laughter in his voice.
“I wouldn’t say it exactly like that,” Tarkio said. “Scout it, see if it’s deserted, and if it is, do what you can to provide a few simple things so we can survive till we can live off the land. Agreed?”
Osip nodded.
“You have my gratitude. I’m hoping if I find Tereka, I’ll find Poales, too.” With a smile of relief on his face, Tarkio reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of coins, the last of his savings after he’d paid off Birot. “Here, you’ll need this.”
“No, I’m doing this for my granddaughter.” Osip brushed the bag away. He pulled his eyebrows together, making a deep furrow between his eyes. “If you make it back, make camp in the woods higher up in the mountains, but south of here. That way if you’re followed, they won’t come after our camp. Then find me. If the tower doesn’t work out, I’ll have something else ready.”
“You don’t have to rush,” Tarkio said. “Finding Tereka could take months.” He shuddered. Who knew what would happen to her in that time. “Thank you. For everything.”
“You’re part of the family, Tarkio,” Osip said with a grin. “You have been ever since the first time your da brought you here. But there is one thing you can do to repay me.”
Tarkio squirmed, feeling like he was twelve years old again, caught in some mischief with Xico. “Anything.”
“Promise me you won’t do anything rash. No sacrificing yourself to get taken, no crazy rescue attempts. Samatale?”
Hearing the Risker word, Tarkio really did feel twelve again. Of course, Osip was right, and knew Tarkio well enough to understand that this promise was necessary.
Flicker of the Flame: A YA Epic Fantasy Page 21