“Kill the bastard,” he tried to say past his aching throat, but what came out didn’t sound like words so much as it did a gravelly, unintelligible wheeze.
The moment passed then, and the man didn’t hesitate. He slapped the sword aside and rushed in, punching Adina in the stomach. The air left her in a gasp, and the sword clattered to the wooden floor as she fell to her knees. The man took a step forward, and Adina cried out in pain and surprise as he grabbed a handful of her hair and gave it a pull, jerking her head up and bringing the knife to her throat.
Through his bond with Co, Aaron could feel as well as see Adina’s fear. In a split second moment of clarity, he knew it, understood it. Understood, too, the cruelty in the man’s heart, knew that, if he thought it would benefit him, he would kill her with no more thought than he would give to swatting an annoying fly. And with understanding came anger, an anger greater than anything he’d ever known, and not just anger but fury. Rage.
It swept through him like a wave of fire, scouring all other thought from his mind. In that instant, there was no Belgarin, no Darrell or Leomin, not even an Adina. There was only the rage, the wrath that demanded release and that wrath’s focus standing there in front of him. “No,” Aaron said, and the Virtue spoke with him with a fury to match his own, the two feeding each other until there was nothing in the world but that burning fire. The word was quiet as it issued from his injured throat, but it carried power and desire with in, and the man spun to look at Aaron, his eyes wide with fear, that single word, coupled with the bond, communicating something of the rage Aaron felt to him. He pulled Adina up, putting her between him and Aaron and held the knife at her neck. “D-don’t,” he said, “don’t come one step closer, or I swear to the gods I’ll carve up her fucking throat.”
Aaron stood watching him, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body shaking with anger and the need to make this man suffer. He should not have touched her—he should have known better. But he would learn. The man watched him with wide eyes, the hand holding the knife shaking with tremors. “J-just wait,” the man said and there was real fear in his voice now, “Just hold on a minute. We can work this out. Look, I’ll let her go, okay? You can both go on about your day, and I’ll forget I ever saw you, alright? What do I give a shit about whether Belgarin catches you or not? It doesn’t make any difference to me.”
Aaron stretched his neck and bared his teeth in a grin, “You’re not leaving this room alive,” he said, and they were not his words, but the words of the fire burning within him. “No, you will not leave alive,” he said, and again three voices spoke as one. Aaron, Co, and wrath and the last the greatest of the three. “It’s too late for that. Far too late.”
The man recoiled from him and suddenly he was pushing Adina toward Aaron, scrambling for the door. Aaron, smiling now, dodged out of the way, and the man had the door about halfway open before he was on him. He grabbed the man by the back of his head and slammed his face into the door frame, shattering his nose. The man screamed, and Aaron’s grin widened as he reveled in that sound. Then he threw the man to the ground. The next moments came in flashes. Once, he was standing over the man, then he was straddling him, the woman’s stiletto in his hand—though he didn’t remember grabbing it.
The man whimpered and cried and that was good, was as it should be. He relished those cries, those whimpers, for they were his due. He plunged the steel in, and the man wasn’t whimpering or crying then, but screaming and that, too, was good. The rage demanded its way and had its way, the blade going in and out, carving its due from the man’s flesh.
When Aaron came to, he was panting hard, exhausted. He glanced around, confused, and saw that he was standing over the man—or what had been the man—blood coating his hands and bare chest. The stiletto still dangled from his right hand, and he stared at it with the bewildered expression of a man waking from a dream in a place he had not expected. He noted dully that the tip of the blade had broken off, its sides nicked and dulled. There was hair and blood and worse stuck to the blade, and he dropped it in revulsion.
“What … I don’t understand….” Rational thought was slow in returning as he stared at the man’s mutilated corpse, and he felt bile rise in his throat.
Aaron, Co said, sounding as confused and scared as he felt, what happened?
“I don’t….” he raised his hands, looking at them. Calloused and bloody, several cuts and scratches on them that had not been there before, but they were his hands. Why, then, did they feel as if they belonged to a stranger? Why did he watch them uncertainly, as if at any moment he had no way of knowing what they might do?
Aaron, Co said, her voice still weak and afraid, what … what did we do?
I don’t know.
He stood there, trembling, feeling lost, a ship come unmoored in the night with no idea where land might lay. Memory came in flashes, blood spurting, the knife going in, twisting and turning, and hands, his hands, stained crimson. Bile rose up in Aaron’s throat again as the visions came faster, battering him, and he retched, bending over and gagging out spittle and blood—he’d bitten his tongue at some point, though he did not remember it.
He crouched there for some time, his hands on his knees, and then his thoughts drifted to Adina, and he jerked upright, spinning to look around the room, his heart hammering a thundering beat in his chest. He saw her then, lying on the ground unmoving, a slumped figure in the darkness, and he rushed to her, his fear for her making him forget the blood, pushing to the back of his mind what he’d done. He fell to his knees beside her and saw in the dim light that her eyes were closed. “Please no.” He pulled her to his chest with shaky arms, staining her clothes red where he touched them.
He sat there in silence for a moment, then another, then he felt the rise and fall of her chest, felt the fluttering, whisper-like touch of her breath on his neck, and he released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, felt warm tears gliding down his cheeks, mixing with the blood on his face and falling onto her in crimson droplets. “Adina,” he said, “Adina, are you okay?”
There was nothing at first, then she stirred slightly beneath him, and her eyes opened slowly, reluctantly, as if burdened by some great weight. “Aaron?” She said, her eyes narrowing to see him in the near-darkness of the room, “Is that you? What … what happened? The last thing I remember, that man threw me, and I fell. I think … I think my head must have hit the wall.”
Aaron let out a slow breath that carried relief not just that she was okay, but that she had not seen what he had done, what they had done. What is happening to us, Co? He thought. What are we becoming?
I don’t know, the Virtue said, and Aaron was so used to her sounding so certain, so sure, that the childlike confusion in her voice sent a shiver of fear down his spine. Still, there would be time for that later. He forced his fear down, the way he’d learned to do when he was a child living on the streets. There were things that must be done. “Listen,” he said, “we have to get out of here. Someone will have heard”—the screams, the screams how could they not?—“the fighting. Someone will come looking to see what’s happened. Can you get up?”
“Yes,” she said, and he helped pull her to her feet. He hesitated for a moment, her hands in his, then he glanced down at them, at those hands capable of such terrible, evil things, and let her hands drop. He walked to where his clothes lay by the doorway that he only just realized was open. Orange, ruddy light sliced into the room through the doorway, and he used it to find his clothes, bending to grab his shirt, cloak, and sword, and he heard Adina gasp behind him.
“Oh, gods be good, Aaron, you’re covered in blood.” She rushed to him, looking him over, “where are you hurt?”
“I don’t ….” It’s not my blood. At least not most of it. “Your arm and your poor hands,” Adina said, looking him over, “wait just a moment, and I’ll grab something to bandage them.”
“Adina,” he said, “there’s no….” he cut off as she was already moving to
ward the bed, ripping strips from the thin linen sheets. My poor hands, he thought as he watched her, wondering at that well of goodness and kindness that was in her, at that well of darkness and hate that was within himself. How far did her well go? How far did his?
“Alright,” she said, her tone perfunctory and business-like, “stand still.” She proceeded to clean what blood she could off of him—not all of it, of course, never all of it—then she bandaged his forearm and wrapped tight, thin strips around his hands. As she worked, it was all he could do to keep from screaming at her, to keep from grabbing her and shouting, Can’t you see? Can’t you see that I’m a monster? But he was too afraid of what she might think, too much a coward, and so he stood in silence as she went about her task.
“I don’t know what happened here,” she said as she worked, “but don’t think that we’re not going to talk about it—particularly about the half-dressed woman lying in the bed unconscious.”
He almost laughed at that. As if that was the biggest problem they had. A princess and a monster, he thought, it’s the beginning of some children’s tale. But this tale has no fairies and no sun, and it is not a tale for children at all. “Okay,” he said, “we’ll talk about it.”
She nodded, making a satisfied sound in her throat as she pulled the last bandage tight and tied it off. “Okay, what now?”
He went about the room, digging through the pockets of the woman and those others and taking their coins. “The way the day is going, we’ll need all the coin we can get,” he said, feeling the need to defend his actions despite the fact that she’d voiced no complaint. Then he grabbed the woman’s shirt where it lay on the ground and tossed it to Adina, “Better put that on.”
Adina frowned down, only now realizing that her own shirt was covered in blood then glancing up at Aaron, her eyebrows raised.
Nodding, Aaron turned and put his back to her. A moment passed and she spoke, “Okay, you can turn around.” Adina frowned, “It’s too tight. What, did the woman never eat?”
Aaron swallowed, staring at the shirt, much more attractive on Adina than it had ever been on the thin woman, tighter around her chest, too. “What now?” She asked.
“Hmm?” Aaron said, still looking at the shirt, the way it fit.
Adina cleared her throat, and he managed to pull his eyes away to see her scowling, “I said what now?”
“Right,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. He strapped his sword on his back and pulled his cloak over him, bringing the hood of it down to obscure as much of his face as he could. “Let’s go.”
They made their way down the steps and were walking past the bar toward the tavern’s door, when the innkeeper gave a shout, “Hey there, stranger! Leavin’ us so soon?”
Several of those seated in the common room turned to look, and Aaron bit back a curse as he turned toward the barman. “She’s resting,” he said, nodding his head toward the stairs, “I wouldn’t disturb her just yet.”
The barman grunted, glancing at Adina and leaning close, “You want my opinion, I wouldn’t be steppin’ out on such a one as you got here. Not many men so lucky as that, and they ain’t a woman ever set foot in this bar good enough to speak to this one, you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”
Aaron glanced at Adina who smiled, “Thank you, Nathan, it’s sweet of you to say so.”
The ex-street thug blushed at that, rubbing at his scruffy chin, “Aw, just the truth as I see it, ma’am.”
Aaron sighed, “You’re right, of course,” Not that it’s any of your damned business, “I’ll try my best to be better in the future.”
The barman grunted, his eyes not leaving Adina’s, “You just let me know if he don’t straighten up, mistress. When I was young, I once hit an ornery horse and knocked ‘em out. I’m older now, grayer and fatter too, but I don’t think I’d have too much problem knockin’ out a horse’s ass, anyway.”
Adina laughed at that, and those few men in the inn who weren’t already staring turned at the melodic sound. The barkeeper slapped Aaron on the back, quite a bit harder than he thought was strictly necessary then the big man seemed to remember something. “Oh, stranger, I don’t guess you’ve seen Janum anywhere around here have ya?”
“No,” Aaron said, remembering the scowling youth, “why, is there something wrong?”
The barkeep rolled his eyes, “Wrong with my head, maybe, agreein’ to look after the brat.” He waived his hand dismissively, “Ah, I wouldn’t worry about it none—the lad has a way of disappearin’ sometimes, particularly when there’s chores need doin’. I’m sure he’ll turn up, as full of piss and vinegar as always.”
Aaron nodded, not wanting to linger another moment in the inn. His cloak did much to hide the blood covering him, but its concealment would fail under close scrutiny. “Alright then,” he said, turning, “I wish you luck with him.”
CHAPTER
TEN
The sun was just coming up as Aaron and Adina walked the streets, but it was a weak, pale thing, doing more to accentuate the shadows that clogged the alleyways than to banish them.
“Where are we going?” Adina asked.
Aaron frowned. He’d been considering that same thing and the truth was, he wasn’t sure. When he’d been alone, the answer had been easy enough. He’d go from tavern to tavern in the poor district until he found out something about Leomin. Then, once he found Leomin, he would question the Parnen captain about everything he’d learned regarding Darrell and his imprisonment. It had been a simple enough plan, really.
Wouldn’t it be better, Co said, to check in the more … reputable parts of town? It seems to me that they would know more of what was going on in the palace than people who spend their days sleeping and their nights trying to rob, mug, or kill anyone they come across in the hopes of making a profit.
I can see why you’d think that, Aaron said. The Virtue made a satisfied sound, and he continued, you’re wrong, of course. You see, firefly, you are right about one thing—the people that live in places like this are always in search of ways to make a profit. No surprise, really, considering the fact that many of them live in houses that stand a solid chance of falling in on them and don’t know from day to day where their next meal is coming from.
It’s a terrible state of affairs, I’ll admit, Co said, but I don’t see that it has any bearing on our current situation.
Don’t you? Aaron asked, People who are watching their children or loved ones starve will sell just about anything they can, firefly. Their bodies, their values, their services as street thugs. All of these things and more, yet none of them are as profitable as information. Knowledge, firefly, knowing things that other people don’t, that is one of the best ways to—he cut off as a thought struck him, and he stopped in the street, turning to Adina.
“What happened with the ship anyway? Did the soldiers board it? What about the others are they—”
“Everyone’s fine, Aaron,” Adina interrupted, “the ship sailed without issue—I watched it go myself.”
“And should have been on it yourself.”
Adina frowned then, a princess in truth and one who would not be easily balked. “And just who do you think—” she hesitated and took a deep breath. “No, never mind that. I’ve forgiven you for that much, at least. You see, after you left, I sat in my cabin for several minutes, angry with you, so angry that I wanted to strangle….” she paused, glancing at his neck where it was still red and abraded from the rope the man had used, “well, anyway, suffice to say that I was angry. I thought you had made a stupid decision for stupid reasons, and that you were going to get yourself killed for nothing.”
She paused then and Aaron raised an eyebrow, “And now…”
“And now, I still think you made a stupid decision for stupid reasons, but I understand that you did it because you wanted to keep us safe.“
He nodded slowly, “That’s right … but, then, why didn’t you stay on the ship? You could have been away from here, away from yo
ur brother and his men. It would have been the safest thing.”
“But don’t you get it, Aaron?” Adina said, moving up to him and grabbing his arms gently, “if my brother Belgarin has his way, nowhere will be safe. Especially not for me. What, you think that he’ll just say, ‘well, she left, so everything’s okay.’” She shook her head, “Of course not. Whether now or later, my brother will come for me. He has to.”
Aaron frowned at that, mostly because he knew she was right. “Still, later would have been better.”
“Would it? Better that I run and hide in Avarest, a rabbit scurrying into its hole?” She shook her head, meeting his eyes, challenging, “No. I won’t live like that—I won’t die like that. Not for anyone. Not even for you. If I have to die, I want to do it fighting for what I believe in—just like my brother Eladen did.”
Aaron hissed in frustration. He’d lost too many in his life: Owen, his father, his mother. And here Adina was acting as if she was going to jump in front of her brother’s sword. He pulled her close to him, “Sure your brother died a noble death, and what’s the difference in that, princess? Help me here because I’m not understanding. Whether he died fighting or not, your brother is just as dead, and the worms will eat their fill regardless. What matters whether his end was noble or not, so long as it was an end? Who cares whether he died running or died fighting? Not the worms, I can promise you that.”
She stood her ground under his anger and did not look away from him. A moment of silence passed once he’d finished, then another. Finally, she sighed, “Don’t you understand, Aaron? I’ll care. Besides, I believe that we can make a difference—we can help. Belgarin hasn’t won yet.”
“Hasn’t he?” Aaron gestured around them with his hands, “Look around you, princess. The Royal Seven, King Marcus’s children each with their own piece of the kingdom. And how many of you left now? Four?” He shook his head, “If your brother Belgarin hasn’t won yet, he’s damn sure winning. And what difference have we made? We’ve managed to get Darrell captured, and Leomin could be captured and killed for all we know and for what? Belgarin took Eladen’s kingdom anyway. We traveled all the way here, and we did not make a difference.”
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