by Cari Z
Five stories up, Lee turned down a hallway and kept walking until they’d reached the very end of it, finally stopping outside a thick wooden door.
“Your rooms?” Evan guessed as Lee turned the handle.
“A conference room, actually.”
Evan was obscurely disappointed by that, but his tiny upset was assuaged as Lee ushered him inside with his hand brushing the small of Evan’s back. Evan felt his blush surge again. God, he was sad. All it took was a hint of a nonviolent touch and he went shy. He mentally shook himself and focused on the room instead, to take his mind off Lee’s steady, gentle pressure.
The room was fairly typical for the fortress, if a little nicer than the ones Evan was used to seeing, with bigger windows to light it and a rug covering the rough concrete of the floor. A heavy wooden table dominated the center of the room, softened somewhat by the off-white tablecloth laid on top of it, and spread with covered dishes. There was even a coal-burning brazier set a few feet back from the food to keep the place a little warmer, which Evan appreciated. He could handle the cold, but after so many years of sleeping next to Juree’s fire-heated belly, he would always prefer a nice, toasty warmth to the perennial coolness of Forge.
“Please.” Lee pulled back the nearest chair. “Sit down.”
Evan sat, leaning the arrow against the side of the table as he settled himself. Lee sat across from him a moment later and began pulling the tops off the dishes. Stew—not the thin, greasy stuff Evan got from his nearest canteen, but thick and rich with actual chunks of meat in it—and bread that had probably been baked this morning, sprinkled with tiny brown seeds. There was a pot of hot tea and a little jar of real honey to sweeten it with too. Evan couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten so well. “This must have cost you a fortune.”
“The cost was no object.” Well, that was one way of saying that he actually had a fortune. Had Lee been a rider once? “Please, eat.” Lee smiled charmingly, and even though Evan knew the man was buttering him up for something, he couldn’t help smiling back. “Business can wait until after the meal.”
Evan probably took more than half, but he refused to feel guilty about it. Lee ate with the calm, measured pace of someone who wasn’t used to going hungry, so he could handle having a little less.
Still, the silence pressed on Evan like an anvil on his chest. As good as the food was, he was anxious to know the cost of this outing. He might not be paying for it with money, but Lee wanted something from him, and he needed to know what that was.
He finished before Lee and wrapped his hands around the warm earthenware mug of tea to give them something to do. As soon as he caught Lee’s eyes, he took the opening. “So, tell me what this is all about.”
Lee searched his face. “You’re rushing this. You’re . . . You must be uncomfortable with me.” He seemed a little upset at that.
Evan shook his head. “It’s not you.” Lee raised one eyebrow, and Evan actually chuckled. “No, really, it isn’t. I just like to know what’s expected of me. No one feeds a simple soldier like myself a meal like this without expectations, and the food won’t sit well until I know what it is you want.”
“I assure you, the food comes with absolutely no obligation. I can afford it, and I want you to have it for no other reason than the pleasure that comes from sharing a meal.”
He sounded genuine, and Evan felt a little ashamed for rushing through something that seemed to be a ritual for the other man. “I appreciate that.”
Lee nodded. “And I appreciate your candor, so let me oblige you by getting to the point.” He took a sip of his tea, face pensive, before setting the mug down and folding his hands together. “My son, Jason, and I saw you at the Choosing yesterday.”
“Right.” Evan clamped down on his discomfort at the memory. “You were back by the doorway.”
Lee answered his unspoken question. “Jason is an empath, but he’s too young to be a candidate in a Choosing ceremony yet. We went there to see if there was someone among us who would make an adequate trainer for him. If he’s going to be a rider someday, he needs to begin developing his skills now.” Lee frowned. “I’m surprised that this city doesn’t do a better job of training its empaths, honestly. Beginning to learn after you’ve been chosen is very inefficient.”
Well, that was a hell of a confirmation. “You’re not from Forge, then?”
“No. Jason and I came here from Chicago. We’ve only been living here for a month.”
Evan felt his jaw drop, but there was nothing he could do about it. “From Chicago? Really? How the hell did you— Sorry, how the heck did you make it all the way here from Chicago?”
Lee shrugged. “We had assistance getting here.”
“What, like a dragon?” Evan shook his head. “Chicago could spare a dragon to fly you here? They must have a whole stable full.”
“They have five as of now, and yes, a dragon did fly us here. But back to the training.” In other words, stop being a nosy fuck, Evan. “You were the only person at the Choosing ceremony to notice us. You carry a blade at all times, and from the calluses on your fingers, I’d say you don’t just make those arrows. You’re an archer too.”
Evan remembered to nod, surprised at how much Lee had gleaned in the short time they’d seen each other. “I am.”
“And a rider.”
“I . . . well, I used to be.” He shook his head. “Look, if you know anything at all about me, then you know I lost my dragon. I’m no good as a rider, my empathy doesn’t work anymore, so if that’s what you want—”
“I want a tutor for my son,” Lee interjected, cutting through Evan’s self-deprecation with his soft baritone. “I want him to learn from someone who has the skills he needs to know in order to survive. The best riders are archers, and it helps to have a knowledge of smithing, blade work, and hand-to-hand combat.” He extended a hand. “If I could see the arrow, please?”
Evan handed it over, but couldn’t let it go without an explanation. “It’s . . . probably not what you’re used to, back in Chicago, but those materials are the best I can afford.”
“If they work well, then the price makes no difference.” Lee inspected the heavy, ugly arrowhead with something like satisfaction on his face. “There’s no need to be self-deprecating. War isn’t a thing of beauty, and it shouldn’t be treated that way, but it’s clear that despite the humble origins of your equipment, you take pride in your work. That is a sentiment I would like to see instilled in my son. Pride, and a sense of responsibility. A rider must have both. And of course, I’d compensate you for your time.”
It was a tempting beginning to a negotiation, but Evan knew better than to get his hopes up. “Why me?” It had to be asked. “I’m not a very renowned figure in Forge. There are better archers”—not many though—“and more skillful smiths. If you made the right offer to Susan or Jack—they ride the big dragons, in case you don’t know them yet—I bet they’d make some time for you.” He smiled crookedly. “Not to mention, if you want your son to learn about confidence, he’d be better off with someone else.”
“Why? Because you lost your dragon?” There was such a swell of compassion in Lee’s voice, Evan couldn’t look at him. He shut his eyes and nodded tightly.
“The fact that you survived, and stayed sane, tell me more about you than anyone who’s never ridden a dragon would understand. It tells me that you have immense strength of will. It tells me that you’re worthy of respect, not contempt.”
There was something in the knowing tone of his voice that drew Evan out of his self-imposed darkness. “You too?” Evan had never met another rider who’d survived the loss of their dragon.
Suddenly, Lee and his son being here made a lot more sense. How could he stay in Chicago, surrounded by reminders of everything he’d lost? And he’d have friends among the riders there, of course, who would probably have been happy to fly him to a new home, a fresh start. If that was true, though . . . “But you could teach him yourself, could
n’t you?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Lee’s lips pressed together tightly. “Part of the price of our acceptance here by the governor means that he gets to direct most of my time and energy. I have other skills that prove me a valuable asset, and he makes the most of them despite my wishes. My son is left alone for much of the day, and the more time he spends in solitude, the more worried I become for his preparedness.”
Evan could picture it: an energetic, lonely child turning to mischief as boredom got the better of him. Still . . . “I don’t know how good a job I’d do tutoring. The archery, yeah, I can teach that, and some rough fighting skills, but that’s where my education ends. I came from a small town, and we didn’t have much use for— I can’t—” He struggled to get it out. “I don’t read well. History, research, anything that requires the use of the library, I won’t be much help with.” Not that they’d ever let me touch the books, the way my hands look most of the time.
“My son can already read,” Lee said, surprising Evan. “He knows how to use the library. What he needs is a guiding hand, someone to keep his attention on interesting tasks when I can’t. Someone who knows from experience what he needs to do in order to be the best rider he can be. Someone who he wants to work with, and please believe that I wouldn’t have asked for this meeting if my son hadn’t already expressed an interest in working with you.” Lee smiled. “Like I said before, you were the only one to see us at the Choosing. You’re the only person in this entire city to notice him since we arrived.”
“What about friends his age?”
“Jason is . . . shy.” Lee sounded frustrated. “And clinging, especially after our move here. I took him away from everything he grew up with, and while that was the best move for me, it’s been much harder on him. He needs more attention than I can give him, and I need it to be with someone I can rely on.”
“How do you know I’m that person?” Evan bunched his hands against his thighs. “I should have— If I was truly reliable, really reliable, I would have saved Juree. Or gone down with her, like a rider should. Instead I’m here but I’m not, not really, and I feel the emptiness all the damn time. My empathy—it broke when I lost her. That’s what I am now. Broken.”
“You and I both know that a rider would do anything to save his dragon,” Lee said, his eyes strangely bright and intense on Evan’s face. “But the same can be said of a dragon for their rider. If you’re still here, still alive, it’s because your dragon did their best to ensure you would be. They loved you enough to place your safety over all else. That’s all the recommendation I need, really. You’re alive, and you’re skilled, and you were kind to a small boy who needed a gesture of kindness. I couldn’t ask for anyone better to be Jason’s tutor.” He unfolded his hands and sat back. “Will you meet him at least, before you decide one way or the other?”
The smart thing to do would be to say no. To keep his head down. If Lee really was as valuable as he insinuated, then he kept company with powerful people who Evan preferred not notice him, in case they started making demands he just couldn’t meet. But Lee was the first person to voluntarily reach out to him since his background got out, and odds were he’d never find anyone else who understood him so well. Plus, the kid didn’t deserve to suffer just because the governor was taking up all of his father’s time.
“Sure. I’ll meet him.”
Chapter Four
“Can we shoot now?”
“Arm guard,” Evan reminded Jason for the third time that morning. The boy turned and pawed through the duffel bag he’d brought with him, rummaging for and finally emerging with a thick leather guard for his left forearm. Evan tied it on as Jason bounced in place, unable to contain all his excitement.
“Can we shoot now?” he demanded as soon as Evan pulled his hands away. “Please? You said we could start today, finally, so can we please?”
“Yeah, we can,” Evan replied, and Jason whooped and threw both his hands in the air. Evan tried to hide a smile.
It was only the end of their first month working together, but already he felt like he’d known this boy for ages. Going off of what Lee had told him, Evan had expected a child who was withdrawn, who would take effort to coax out of his shell.
Jason had been a little shy at first, but comfort had settled in after the first day together, and now it was all Evan could do to get Jason to slow down long enough to pay attention to the first step before running on to the second one. He was a child in desperate need of friendship, and as weird as it felt being the one to provide it, Evan had to admit that it was kind of nice to be welcomed so freely.
They spent afternoons together five days a week, unless Lee specified otherwise. Mornings were for Jason’s other subjects: reading, writing, numbers, and languages and whatever else his father deemed important for him. At one, Evan picked Jason up at the quarters he shared with his father—rooms Evan had yet to be invited into, but he didn’t mind. From there, they headed down to the workshop or, on this special day, to the archery field.
Their first week together had been spent doing no more than familiarizing the kid with the locations of the things he’d need to use and how to treat them carefully. Lee procured leather gloves, a thick leather apron, and goggles for his young son for use near the forge, but he let Evan take care of providing Jason with a bow. They’d built it together the first week, a simple, short recurve bow that took effort to string and pull, but was a light enough poundage that he wouldn’t exhaust himself too quickly.
Jason was impressed with the entire process, which was gratifying in a way Evan hadn’t expected. He remembered making his first bow with his father, and how good it had felt to finally have something like what he’d seen his dad use. Training with his father and grandfather had been the happiest time in his life—after both of them had died in the same battle when he was fifteen, any semblance of childhood had died with them.
Now, with Jason hanging on his every word, Evan felt the weight of making the boy’s experience more than useful. It needed to be fun too, and fun wasn’t something a lot of the other kids training in Forge got. Ollie from the wall was proof of that. And Jason was still young enough that they could afford to take their time.
He was a funny-looking kid, with his father’s elegant nose sticking awkwardly out of his small face, and wispy hair that constantly stood on end. He was skinny, and on the short side for his age, but Jason’s eyes were the same oddly bright mahogany as his father’s. He was chatty as hell and seemed immune to external perceptions, which was good since the pair of them got more than their share of wondering glances and hard stares whenever they used the public training grounds.
Like today. Time had to be reserved on the archery field for practice, and for the first time since Evan had arrived five years ago, every slot was full. At least half of them were mostly there to be voyeurs, absently firing arrows toward the straw targets as they glanced down at where Evan had staked his and Jason’s claim. Jason ignored them like they weren’t even there as he picked up his little bow and grabbed for an arrow.
“What’s the mantra?” Evan asked, stepping back a bit after he made sure no one was downfield of them.
“Breathe, nock, draw, loose,” Jason repeated, still bouncing back and forth on his feet.
“Right. Settle in.” He put his hands on Jason’s shoulders to help calm him down. “You can take your time on the range, so let’s do at least one breath between each action, okay? With me.” He took a deep inhale and Jason copied him. “Good. Nock and raise the bow like we worked on.” Jason did so, and Evan took a moment to adjust the height of his elbow before moving on. “Deep breath, good, and draw.” Jason’s right arm pulled back, trembling only a little, but Evan didn’t want to push it. “One more breath, keep your eye on the target, and . . . loose!”
Jason let the arrow fly, and it sailed through the air on a slightly wobbly trajectory but landed firmly in the center section of the paper target. “Look!” Jason immediately lost his cool and
started jumping up and down. “Evan, look! Look at how close to the middle it is!”
“Good work,” Evan said, and they shared a grin. The things that still made Evan self-conscious with Lee—his scars, his missing tooth, his shabby clothes—didn’t mean a thing to Jason, but the kid would notice a lack of enthusiasm immediately. “That’s a great start. Let’s get through the rest of the quiver, and when the range master calls a break, we can go and collect the arrows, okay?”
“Okay!”
That first shot ended up being one of the best, another few skipping into the ground or hitting the hay but not hard enough to penetrate. Still, Jason was as pleased as could be, and his joy was catching. “This is so fun,” he said to Evan as they waited for the horn that signaled the shooting break. “Can we do it again?”
“Tomorrow, if you’re not too sore.” The horn blasted and all the shooting ceased, and Evan followed Jason down the field to their target. The arrows were easy to pluck out of the straw—the tips were blunted, a requirement for all shooting on the range—but as soon as the last one was out, the paper target they’d helped pin down was ripped free by a sudden gust of wind. Jason shouted with dismay while Evan tried to grab it as it flew by—
Just in time to hear the faint ring of an arrow being shot, and see the blur of it as it headed straight for them. He instinctively turned and threw his body in front of Jason, and a split second later the arrow sailed past his head and over the bale of straw.
“Evan, what? What’s wrong? Let me see!”