The Sapphire Flute: Book 1 of The Wolfchild Saga
Page 25
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bless you, Joyson. Your help has been invaluable,” Kayla said to the boy as he dropped her trunk in the middle of the cellar.
“T’was no problem at all, miss,” he replied, winded. “The other servants had all your things packed afore I even knocked on the door.”
Kayla nodded at him, not really paying much attention as she knelt in front of her trunk and unbuckled the leather latches. She raised the lid and let it fall back with a muted thump on the dusty stone, pulling the hovering magelight closer.
“Yes, it looks like it’s all here,” she mumbled and smoothed the top gown, a vivid blue with lace cuffs at wrist and neck. By the depth of the dresses, it looked as if the servants had packed three or four of her best, as well as socks, underthings, and two more pair of good, heeled boots. She buckled the leather straps and stood.
“I hope you’ll be having a pleasant mornin’.” The boy bowed awkwardly and turned to leave.
“Joyson, thank you,” she said. “You’re an asset to this household and bring honor to your family.”
“No trouble, miss,” he said. “Happy to help.” He nodded his head to her once more and headed up the stairs in that long-legged stride of his. He was a kind soul. Brant was lucky to have him.
T’Kato chose that moment to enter from the far reaches of the back rooms. In the faint blue glow of the magelight, Kayla was surprised at his changed appearance. The apron had been replaced with trousers so loose they were almost a skirt, and he wore a cream tunic caught at the waist with a wide purple sash. It was not a color she would have imagined for this intense hulk of a man. His boots were knee-high leather that rippled with his muscles.
“Did you get your things?” his deep voice rumbled quietly at her, eyes flicking up and down to appraise her dress. He shook his head slightly in dismay. Kayla was not sure what to make of that. She had thought her new dress would be perfectly acceptable.
T’Kato rubbed his temples, then dragged his hand down his face, the sound of his whiskers scratching loud in the stillness of the room. “Did anyone see you come down?” He sounded tired and a little exasperated.
“Just Joyson. He brought my trunk.”
“Joyson can be trusted,” T’Kato said in that gravelly voice of his that sounded as if it boomed from the depths of a cave. “He won’t speak, I’m sure of it.”
Sarali stepped lightly down the stairs and joined them. “’Tis nearly dawn, Kato. I’ve brought a bit of food for the journey. Would you like me to divide the stores between us?” She held a bulging sack in her right hand.
T’Kato nodded, then turned his attention back to Kayla. “Have you got anything useful in that trunk of yours?”
“That depends on what you consider useful. I’ve got two pair of good boots, several dresses and underthings, some books, a knife . . . what is so funny?” she demanded of the snickering Sarali, who got herself outwardly under control, though her eyes still sparkled. T’Kato glared, dismissing his wife with a sharp gesture of his head.
“Does she have issues with me?” Kayla asked, surprised by the change in the servant girl she had liked so well the day before. It was interesting to note how uncomfortable she was having Sarali treat her as an equal instead of a superior.
T’Kato ignored the question.
“Would you please open your trunk so we can see these ‘good boots’ of yours?” he asked politely, though Kayla had the feeling he would not accept no for an answer.
She knelt before the chest and threw back the lid. She was almost embarrassed by her finery and unsure how to deal with the emotion. T’Kato bent in half to reach inside her trunk with his huge hands. He pulled out her boots, snorted, and tossed them in the corner.
“Hey! What are you doing?” Kayla started toward the outcast boots, but T’Kato grabbed her arm and forced her to stay at his side without offering a single word. The feelings that washed over her then were overwhelming. She felt helpless and a little scared and definitely angry, standing next to this gorilla of a man she did not know and had to trust. What did she really know about him, anyway? Was she making a mistake? She couldn’t answer that, but felt she had to take the chance.
T’Kato pulled her dresses out one by one and tossed them into the corner with her boots. He sorted through her books and set two aside. The rest joined the growing pile. He tossed all the frilly underthings but one. When he had emptied her trunk, he took the knife from its jewel-encrusted sheath and examined its edge with his thumb.
He snorted. “This thing wouldn’t cut butter, lass. You ever use it?”
Kayla didn’t trust herself to speak, so only shook her head.
“A gift, by the look of it,” he questioned her with brows raised.
“My father,” she spat, still fuming over his dismissal of her best clothes.
“And his name would be . . .” he waited.
She considered not answering. What business was it of his, anyway? She wasn’t comfortable talking about her father with people she knew, so why should she talk about it with this stranger who alternately terrified and soothed her? In the end, his silence won out.
“Felandian,” she answered, barely giving him what he asked for.
T’Kato’s eyes showed surprise. “Felandian the evahn? Of the Kingdom Fashan?”
Kayla was startled. “You know my father?”
T’Kato’s eyes showed new respect. “I do,” he said, moving to the pile of clothes he had tossed in the corner, gathering them up in one arm and dropping them back into the trunk. He closed and latched it quickly before Kayla thought to object to the mess he was making of her dresses. She’d be forever ironing when she returned.
“What’s Felandian doing, fathering a human child? That’s not like him.” His words cut sharply into Kayla’s heart, and she had to blink back tears she would not allow herself to shed.
“I don’t know, and frankly don’t care. He left when I was young. I barely remember him.”
“And you’re how old? Seventeen? Eighteen? That would have been about the time his grandfather died. It was hard for him. They were very close. I hadn’t known he’d taken up with a human, though. Interesting.”
Kayla wasn’t sure whether to spurn the man for his insensitivity, or thank him for the knowledge. She had known nothing of her father but his name and race. She had a few scraps of memory. He never seemed happy, and now she knew some of the why. Kayla only wished he had involved himself with her rather than leaving her behind like worn-out rags or dirty laundry. She turned her back on T’Kato so he would not see how much his words pained her.
She could hear him rummaging about, then the soft scrape of metal on stone. She looked over her shoulder to see what he was doing. He had her small knife and was honing its edge on a dark whetstone.
He licked his finger and slid it across the blade, making a rasping sound as his calluses caught at the sharpened steel. “If this thing is evahn-forged, it should hold its edge once sharpened. At least he left you a gift to show you some kind of favor, though I’m sure that’s pennies to your heart with the ache he must have caused.”
Kayla turned her head again to stare at the slits, brightening with the rising sun. How keenly this man knew her, and she knew him not at all. Sarali’s soft footsteps startled her out of her reverie.
“I didn’t know me da either, Kayla. He left when I was but a wee babe, and it breaks me heart still these thirty years later to think on it. Never did know what became of him.” She gave Kayla a moment to collect herself, then thrust an armful of clothes at her. “Here. These ought to fit yer needs a bit more rightly than those dresses of yours. A dress is fine for the dances and such, but when it comes to traipsing through the forest, they do nothin’ but slow ye down, and I can promise ye, the dresses wouldn’t be fine for long.”
Kayla took the clothes gratefully. She was not sure what to expect from T’Kato’s wife. It unsettled her. The woman noticed and laughed. “Ah, don’t mind me, miss. I’m a bit put out that I have to l
eave this place when I just came to like it. Been here longer than most, and Dragonmeer feels a lot like home.”
Sarali took Kayla by the arm, leading her into the small room where she had spent the night on an uncomfortable straw mattress.
“It’s goin’ to be an adjustment for ye, but we’ll do our best to lead ye along and find that player of yours, miss.”
“I don’t understand why the king would make me guardian of the flute and yet I’m not its player. I’m having difficulty with that.” Kayla tugged at the laces on her corset.
“I wouldn’t know much about that, only what me husband has seen fit to share. We’ll help ye find some answers somewhere, and T’Kato can keep ye safe if anyone can. The man’s a beast with a sword, he is.” With that, she turned and left Kayla to dress herself.
There was only one problem.
“Sarali?” she called before the woman could leave. “Could I trouble you for some help? I’ve got this darn corset on . . .” she waved her hands helplessly, and Sarali laughed.
“Sure, sure. Never could fathom why a woman would want to wear one o’ them things meself. Nothin’ but misery, pure misery.”
Kayla grimaced. “I would agree, but unfortunately this particular society demands them, and I’ve had to spend most of my life living by their rules. I didn’t have much choice.”
“There ye be wrong, Kayla. Ye always have a choice. Ye just need the courage to take the chances when they come.” Sarali punctuated her words with sharp pulls at Kayla’s laces until she was free and able to breathe deeply. It felt good. Really good.
Kayla stepped out of the dress and turned to the heap of clothes Sarali had given her, not sure where to begin. They were all so foreign. The sash she could figure out, but the blouse and trousers had no buttons—just flaps and small laces that seemed to criss and cross endlessly. Sarali laid the individual pieces out on the straw bed.
“Here. This is what we use for bindin’ ourselves up, instead o’ the corsets yer women wear.“ She handed Kayla a cloth that looked like two thick circles joined together, with straps that went around and tied together in the back. It was fairly comfortable compared to the corset she was accustomed to wearing, though she felt almost naked. It would definitely take some getting used to.
The pants fit snugly around the ankles, were extremely baggy, and much too long in the leg, but Sarali showed her the trick to them by rolling the top down several times, then securing the inside flap with a lace that traveled through loops and tied in the front.
Sarali pulled the laces running down the outside of the leg, knitting them in a series of ‘x’s. It was actually quite pretty to look at by the time she was done, and the pants fit as though they had been made for her. Sarali tied the ends around Kayla’s ankle. After the pants, the blouse was easy. A wide sapphire sash, wrapped around her waist twice and tied in the back, ends tucked inside the sash itself, finished her attire. It was mind-boggling how at ease Kayla felt in such strange clothing, and not just physically but emotionally, almost as if she were born for these clothes.
T’Kato knocked on the partially closed door and entered the room with a large leather backpack, Kayla’s knife, and tall, black boots. He had added to his outfit since she’d left him, and now wore a leather breastplate, with metal guards on his forearms. He tossed the backpack on the bed and dropped the boots at her feet.
“Here’s your knife. I gave it a new sheath. The other one was just begging for stealing.” He held the knife out for her to take. “I’ll teach you how to use it later. It would be a good fighting knife, and not likely to break.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Kayla objected, putting her hands behind her back.
“Oh, yes, you will,” T’Kato said in much the same tone. He knelt and tied the knife to the x’s on the right side of her pants. Kayla watched his nimble fingers, impressed by his dexterity despite the size of his hands.
“Is that too tight?” he asked, looking up. Kayla bent at the knee and leaned forward, flexing her thigh. She could feel the knife, but it was not uncomfortable.
“No, it’s fine, but what I’ll ever use it for besides cutting fruit . . .” She trailed off at the look on his face.
“It never hurts to be safe, Kayla. I’ll teach you a bit about using that thing when we’re out on the road, and I hope you’ll never need it. Now, I took measurements from your other boots and shrunk a pair of mine down for you. Try them on and see how they feel, and we’ll adjust them as needed.”
T’Kato knelt, and Kayla slid her foot into the boot. She balanced on her left foot and slid the other into the buttery leather, stamping down once to settle her foot.
“How’s that feel?” he asked as she stomped around the room in one boot.
“Pretty good. There’s a slight chafe in the heel, and it’s a little too wide, but overall they’re great. How do you shrink down a pair of boots?” He didn’t answer at first, just prodded at her foot to find the spots she mentioned. Kayla looked at the embroidery around the upper edge of her boot. Blue again. She was afraid blue was going to be known as her signature color, now that she was becoming known as the guardian of the flute, but she didn’t really mind. It was one of her favorite colors, though it would be nice to have a little variety.
“Well, we can fix that easily enough, though Sarali’s touch is a bit softer than mine in the details.” The big man folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching as his wife knelt at Kayla’s feet and prodded with deft fingers.
“Yes, I feel the air where it shouldn’t be. We’ll fix that right and proper. Just hold still for a bit, would ye, lass? That’s it now.” Kayla felt a surge somewhere in her soul. The boot tightened slightly on the sides and flared at the heel to fit her snugly, like a second skin. It was incredible. A practical use for magic! She’d never thought much of the application other than for keeping her room warm or cool, or for exchanging notes like she had with T’Kato.
“That’s amazing!” Kayla blurted, bringing chuckles to husband and wife. She reddened, but continued. “I’ve never had a more comfortable pair of boots in my life.”
“Good. Ye’ll be doin’ a lot of walkin’ in them, so they’d best be comfortable,” Sarali said, helping Kayla into the other boot and repeating the process.
“Walking? We’re not taking horses?” Kayla was dismayed. She thought of her new creamcolored mare while balancing on her other foot. The duke’s gift had been a dream to ride, almost like flying, and the thought of not being able to ride made her very aware of the reality of her banishment. It felt like she was being punished for something she hadn’t meant to do. Her stomach was sick with the thought.
T’Kato chuckled. “No, lass. Can you imagine a horse that would fit me? We’ll find mounts for the three of us elsewhere, but I had planned on following water wherever we can. Perhaps a boat would serve us better.”
He looked down at his wife, and something passed between them, though Kayla wasn’t sure what it was. There was some special significance to his words, she was sure of it, but she shrugged and let it go. They’d tell her or they wouldn’t.
“We’d best be headin’ out, T’Kato. It’s nearly full light. Both flutes are packed in the bag, lass, along with the pretty sheath you can use for barter, one change o’ clothes, and a bit o’ food. Do ye have any money?” Sarali asked, walking through the doorway and shrugging herself into a hooded cape.
“A little,” Kayla responded, wary. After all, she hardly knew these two and had only their word as to the truth of the flute. A shiver of fear went through her. What if it wasn’t true? What if they were taking her to the slave traders? Or were going to ransom her to her father? Her thoughts must have been apparent on her face because Sarali snorted at her.
“We aren’t going to rob ye, girl. We’ve got a bit o’ money, but it won’t be enough to get far. If ye’ve got some to pitch in, let us know, or we’ll have to work for food, more than not.” She stepped through the curtain and donned her backpack.
Kayla dug in the waistline of her underthings and untied the money belt she had hidden there, then moved through the doorway and offered the money bag to T’Kato. He froze in mid-shrug and stared at her, surprise registering on his heavy, hair-free features. He slowly shook his head, a soft smile tickling the corner of his mouth.
“I don’t need you to give it to me, Kayla—we just needed to know if you had any. I’ll trust you just as you trust us, though we‘ll have need of that, I’m sure.” He settled the backpack on his shoulders, adjusting the straps, then came forward and held Kayla’s shoulders in his great hands.
“Thank you for trusting us. We’ll not lead you astray.” The tattooed man looked around the room. Kayla’s eyes followed his glance toward the trunk standing in the corner. She had one final twinge of regret for her dresses, but the comfort of her new clothing made it easier to leave the old things behind.
“Let’s go.”
T’Kato moved forward into the dark, pausing only long enough to let their eyes adjust as they went deeper into the bowels of the cellar. He took the lead and walked with measured steps tailored to the shorter stature of the women, though he still moved quickly through the darkened rooms.
“There’s a passage down here that tunnels under the moat and emerges at an abandoned cottage outside of Dragonmeer. We’ll exit there and make our way across the fields toward the forest,” T’Kato said over his shoulder.
Kayla blinked. A hidden passage? She wondered if Brant knew of its existence. She wouldn’t be able to ask him now—not until she returned. Her heart ached at the thought of her fiancé. She was going to miss Brant and hoped he truly would wait for her, but she was surprised to realize that of all the people she was leaving behind, it was hardest to say goodbye to her mother.
Kayla had asked Brant to deliver a note to Lady Kalandra before the sun began to kiss the eastern peaks. She only hoped her mother would understand, and Brant had promised he would explain things to her. He had also reassured Kayla that the king promised that her title would be waiting for her when she came back. It would not be rescinded, despite her mistake with the flute, and for that she was extremely grateful. Her mother would be cared for, no matter what happened.
The sound of dripping water got louder, and at last T’Kato led Kayla and Sarali into the farthest room. There was a large mirror in the wall—so large that as children, no matter how Kayla and Brant had tried, they could not get it to move. They’d always thought it strange to have something as frivolous as a mirror in this forsaken corner of the cellar, but nobody could answer their questions, and after a while it no longer mattered.
T’Kato pressed the bricks to the left and right of the mirror in what seemed a random pattern. When he pressed the last one and stepped back, the mirror and part of the wall sank inward and slid aside.
The secret passage.
A thrill of fear and excitement shivered through Kayla. She’d never been down a hidden passage before, but the adventure soon wore off when she realized that it was a hall like any other, except it was much wetter.
The puddles rose to mid-calf and higher—dirty water that stank of unspeakable things, debris floating across the top. She was reluctant to take a close look. Rats paddled by, nibbled at the legs of her boots, then left upon finding she was not edible, though she still jumped every time one bumped against her.
The tunnel seemed to go on forever, but eventually sloped upward, leaving the smelly water behind. They reached a rickety wooden ladder. T’Kato gestured for Kayla to go first. The wood looked half-rotten with age and ready to collapse at the slightest bit of pressure, but when Kayla put her hand on it and gave a testing pull, it held. She climbed quickly to the top, stepping onto a landing and near the back side of another hidden door.
T’Kato placed his eye to a small hole in the wall. He scanned left and right, then pressed his ear to the wood. Evidently satisfied, he pulled a latch to his left. The panel slid open to reveal a dusty bedroom with moldy blankets and a ceiling full of cobwebs. The windows were boarded up, but still the light beamed into the dust-filled room, motes dancing in the rays. Kayla coughed as the dust stirred. She looked around to get her bearings, and everything clicked into place. She knew where she was.
The haunted cottage.
Children always avoided this place except on a dare, and though Kayla had never entered it, she now knew why the youngsters thought it haunted. The place was old and creaky. The wind howled through the tunnel and sounded very ghostly to a childish imagination.
T’Kato led the two women through the bedroom and pried the boards from one of the empty window frames, then helped Kayla and Sarali into the open air. He didn’t attempt to board the window back up, and somehow that bothered Kayla, though she knew it was silly.
The sun was now fully up, and the field stretched out before them, a long distance from the trees. T’Kato looked over his shoulder at the two of them, checked their backpacks, and motioned with his head that it was time to go. He took off at a slow jog and picked up speed quickly, Sarali and Kayla following.
There was no way Kayla could keep up with his long-legged sprint for the trees, and she fell farther and farther behind. Sarali stayed with her for a while until Kayla waved her on, and the serving girl took off in a lope that was astounding. No one should be able to run that fast.
Just before she reached the tree line, Kayla had to stop and suck in some air before she fell over. She was not used to such physical exertion, and she had to learn how to breathe all over again.
She gulped in and out, trying to slow her pounding heart. Eventually it began to work. She knelt on the ground a few minutes longer, enjoying the smell of the morning dew evaporating from the field, then stood, filled with excitement and fear. It was a new beginning—a change that both thrilled and terrified her. She had a feeling the flute was either going to bring her great success or terrible pain. Of course she hoped it would be the first, but even the threat of the latter held a kind of thrill. She was no longer held by the rigid rules society had forced on her. She was her own woman, sacrificing comfort and success to save her small world. It helped to think that.
Kayla looked over the tall grass, trying to spot her guides. She caught a glimpse of Sarali standing just inside the line of trees, T’Kato at her side. They beckoned, impatience and fear obvious in their near frantic waving. Kayla gathered her breath and stretched against the pull of the pack. She was about to run and join the others when she caught a sound she could not quite identify—snapping, like the wind-filled piñons high on the keep walls, but lower, deeper. Or footsteps snapping rotted wood, or the banging of water inside a trough. Kayla looked up, but saw nothing. Clouds had settled so low in the sky, she couldn’t pinpoint the sound’s origin.
There was no one near, but the sound continued. Chills traveled up and down her spine, an eerie tap dance of ghosts upon her soul. Something bad was coming. She could feel it in her very bones. The dread she felt was so strong, it gave her the energy she needed to finish the run. With a burst of speed, she took off for the trees and the new friends she could see waving to her from the forest’s edge.