Sanctuary's Assassin (The Complete Part 1)

by Loren Elias

CHAPTER 8

  Jabari had only ever known the life of an E’epan. He understood nothing else. From his wooden crib, he would hear say his mother; his father would teach him the skills he would need when he would finally take on his place in the E’epan line. His first memories as a tot were of learning to mix herbs, grind root, steep tea. An injured dog on the street became a golden opportunity for Jabari to learn to mend bone both in the traditional sense with a stick and cloth and in the more E’epan way.

  Jabari had often wondered why his father always showed him two ways to heal an ailment. One always seemed to work much better than the other and should you not just do something in the most effective way first.

  “Bari,” his father would explain as he displayed a method of healing, “The most important thing you must do as an E’epan is not to heal but to impart that knowledge to others. Those you will teach will not be able to do things the E’epan way so you must meet them where they are. You must learn to heal the way they do.”

  Growing up, Jabari did not care for any way but the E’epan way. Patience, one of the Five Virtues of the E’epan Creed, was the Virtue his father said he lacked. Jabari had worked every day while his father still lived to prove to him that he had learned the lesson well. That lesson being that the true value in what he was what he could teach others. That “Patience,” above all else, he must strive for.

  But how long? How long would he have to wait to see a day when E’epans could walk about freely in the land of Aletheia? How many had to die by Ruric’s command? How many, until the people would rise up? Would he see it in his lifetime? How many had to die while trying to stop the Healer from doing what it was a Healer must do, Teach and Heal?

  Why? Why should a Healer have to surround himself with trained killers? In what twisted reality would a Healer have to make the choice that Jabari hated most? Choosing one life over another. Killing those who, by order of King Ruric, would seek to stop his E’epan mission, to kill him if they could, so that he might not continue is his quest to teach and heal an embattled land. All life is sacred. Is that not what he learned as a young apprentice? It seemed such an easy value to uphold unlike Patience, a Virtue he feared would eventually run out.

  “We mustn’t worry over things we cannot change.” A tender voice woke him from restless thoughts.

  He looked down the dark Jagged corridor with the light of Greater Sun upon his back as he ducked past the cave entrance. Down, as the familiar flicker of torches greeted him at last, replacing the brilliance of a late day sky. Down, down he strode before lifting weary eyes to see her face and he knew he was home.

  He smiled as she approached him, dressed in her usual elaborate vestment, a long full dress swiping her ankles, brown hair pulled up perfectly away from her neck and shoulders to hide away so seductively beneath a large hat, tilted so slightly to one side giving her face an asymmetry he had never been able to resist. “Gwen.” The feelings he had for her snaked through the contours of a cracking voice. An uncontrollable smile widened weathered cheeks.

  Rising up upon the toes of her fine slippers, she threw her arms around his neck. “Welcome home, My Darling.” She nuzzled a cheek to his, releasing a gentle coo before pulling away from him to look into dark eyes.

  A million Haerfests could have passed them by as he gazed upon her soft features: the rouge of her cheeks, the arch of her brow, the curve of pink, silken lips; the line of her neck arcing up to her chin that her eyes might meet his in a look that told him that glimmer in her pale blue eyes she held for him alone. In a moment spent with her he could forget the peril that embraced the world outside; he could just live in the now.

  She broke the stare. “And where might your five minstrels be?”

  Jabari turned, looking back toward the cave opening, toward the abusive rays of light sailing in. He turned back to her with a chuckle in rising cheeks. “They took the round-about entrance. Closer to the dining hall. I do believe my minstrels came back famished. Making sweet music can empty a belly faster than any task I know.”

  A gentle laugh spun from her parted lips.

  He did not find it odd that she should refer to his guards as minstrels as if their swords and spears be lyres and lutes. An easier thought it had become than knowing at any moment one of his Guard might return to the Jagged, accompanied only by the word of his demise. He had never known Gwendoline to revel in delusion, but this one fantasy which they beheld only one to the other he knew the gods could forgive. He could not see her thoughts but he knew well her greatest fear. The joy with which she welcomed him after a journey beyond the safety of the Jagged’s cavernous depths bared her thoughts. He could no more bear the thought of losing her, but at least if he had to venture out, he could hold as truth that his bride most cherished remained safe in the Jagged.

  He extended an arm to his wife.

  She wrapped her own in his as they started forward, down the hallway of rock and more rock, past the hundreds of torches that lined it.

  Soon the smell of simmering spice met his nose and Jabari realized his own state of hunger that had previously been concealed by that undeniable desire to see Gwendoline upon first returning to the Jagged. The scent wafted across the great dining hall, past rows and rows of wooden tables at which there were seated nearly six hundred hungry faces already eagerly spooning soup.

  There were among them four hundred guards and fighters who aspired to one day be guards. Among the remaining two hundred, the hunters and trappers, gardeners and gatherers, cooks and seamstresses, chambermaids and weavers, butchers and tanners, forgers and fletchers, apothecaries and potters and nannies and young children. An underground city of which the Healer and his wife might as well have been King and Queen.

  Bowls rattled and tables shook as they stood to welcome the new arrivals, the Healer and his wife. An unnecessary formality for the Healer, but he knew Gwendoline delighted in the recognition having spent her childhood in the court of her High Councilor uncle before she had to be hidden away so he bowed to them in return as he pulled Gwendoline along at his side.

  Gwendoline stopped, pulling him a step back. Blue eyes went wide as a sudden realization shifted her expression.

  He knew why before she spoke. How could he forget something so important?

  “Someone new has joined us.” Pale blue eyes met his then her glance fell away.

  In a crowd of six hundred he knew she could not know of the new one’s location. Could he even find her? “Would you like to meet her?” Jabari scanned the room until he saw Nakali’s golden ribbons. Ren’ai and her sister sat to her right. “I’ll take you to her.” He started forward.

  “No.” She grabbed his firm arm tighter, pulling him back. “After dinner. You’re hungry.” She loosened her grip and gave his arm a reassuring pat. A tranquil smile caressed her lips as she started forward again.

  Dinner in the Jagged Dining Hall after a long journey fell upon the tongue beyond compare. As Jabari drew a sip to his mouth, he watched the many around them. He listened to the low drone of conversation, the clattering of spoons, the squeaking of chairs to and from the table. Clammer and merriment echoed up to the ceiling far above them. He turned to his wife. Calm embraced pink cheeks as she took a delicate bite. Home. He could take each bite and relax. He was back in the cool, the safety, the comfort of the Jagged.

  As servers carried the last dishes from the table Jabari rose into a long stretch. Only then did the exhaustion overtake him. Turning in early sounded like a great idea but he still had work to do. Gwendoline had to meet someone. He could only lay blame upon a momentary bout of madness. Only such a spell could have caused him to let someone into their safe haven without first introducing her to his wife.

  “Welcome to our home, Ren’ai.” Gwendoline met the newcomer with a smile as Jabari introduced them. Pale blue eyes scanned the girl’s features from the tip of her unruly hair down to her heels. She looked her over once and again as if painting a masterpiece in her mind that she might
call upon later should she need to recall the position of a wrinkle in the child’s sleeve or a freckle on her cheek.

  “I’m very glad to be here.” An awkward curtsy curved her knees. What else could she do?

  Gwendoline responded in turn with a bit more grace. “I hear you want to train with us? Serve the Healer?”

  Ren’ai stood for a moment as if in thought.

  Jabari watched his lovely wife lift her left hand to grasp her right wrist and an already pummeling heart rose into his throat. He held back a gasp.

  Gwendoline turned to face him, calming his fears with only a look.

  Finally Ren’ai spoke. “I wish to serve the Healer.”

  “That is good very, very good.” Gwendoline pat the young girl on the shoulder and took a step back. “Well, My Dear. I suppose you are all tired after your journey. Nakali will take you to the sleeping chambers."

  Nakali pulled Ren’ai’s hand up tenderly to one gold-clad side and led her away.

  Jabari sighed a relief. “What do you think?”

  Gwendoline waited until Nakali’s golden ribbons were well out of view. “We should go somewhere to talk.” With the tone of her voice Gwendoline answered question both spoken and quite concealed. The quickness of her step past the many chambers further suggested the urgency of what she must say. Delicate slippers traipsed across hay-strewn stone as a flowing gown sailed behind her ankles as if to coax her back, away from the purpose that drove her steps. Those who walked the halls stepped to the right and to the left, making way for her next forward step as Jabari stepped close beside her.

  As Gwendoline rushed past the threshold where lay a sleeping quarters for two, Jabari pulled a heavy wooden door closed. How he hated to defile their bedroom with discussion of such dire importance but it seemed the only place in the Jagged that they might find a moment alone.

  Gwendoline found a seat upon their plush bed dragging perfectly shaped nails across a soft quilt. Jabari sat down beside her. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to hold but he knew her mind lay elsewhere. “Well, she lives.” He said suddenly as if nothing more needed to be said.

  Gwendoline’s left hand met her right wrist and she pulled free the knife so well hidden there beneath the frill of lace. “So she does.” She leaned forward and to the side, setting it upon a near table.

  “But you don’t sound so sure about your decision.” He reached up to her narrow shoulder, massaging out the tension he found there.

  “I’m concerned. That’s all.” She kept her eyes from him as if they might reveal too much. “She is blinded by thoughts of revenge. She is here to learn to fight to get that revenge. She is not here for the right reasons.”

  “She just lost her family by order of Ruric. Give her time. Time will heal.”

  “Time can heal, yes. Or time can solidify the bond that such an emotion can have upon the spirit.”

  “But let me try to help her.”

  “What you do is up to you. You know I never judge you.” Blue eyes met dark in a shapeless stare. “The role of an E’epan is one of difficult decisions. Often right can be pitted against right, but one must prevail. If you believe that she can abandon this destructive force she carries with her, then by all means, work with her. But you know the longer she remains in the Jagged, the harder it will be to do what we must if the time comes. Each choice we make lays the framework for future choices we must make.”

  “But can you see any good in her?”

  “It’s there.”

  “That’s good enough for me.” Jabari crossed firm arms and leaned back so slightly to one side.

  Gwendoline wrinkled her chin and raised one cheek up to a narrowed eye, smiling that little smile that told him she had surrendered. He would do what he would do and not even the words of a Seer could change his mind. In him, she admired this most. He would always find a way. He would not disappoint her.

  He kissed her gently on the cheek before rising from the bed. “I’ll be back soon.” A sudden smile danced across contented cheeks before he lured it away. He had already been away too long and another moment away from her seemed more than he could bear.

  She replied in a tone simple and direct. “I know.”

  With that Jabari pulled the wooden door open again with a long creak and slid a hesitant head out into the hallway then he stepped out as a cold subtle draft bellowed past him through the long corridor. He pulled a burgundy cloak tighter before twisting a bit of dried meat up from a long pocket and chewing it with some ferocity. He turned to his right as he continued to chew, then began in hastened step down the long corridor with rock rising up on each side and hanging torches casting shapes and shadows across sharp features and a rather straight and orderly gifting of thick black hair.

  He listened to the sound of his leather soles clacking against hay-strewn stone soon joined by the rustle of movement as he strolled quickly past several sleeping areas as many bid the day farewell with a mixture of devout meditation, discussion of the day’s happenings and a bit of gossip he had no desire to overhear let alone consider whether it be truth, lie or something in between. On more than one occasion he could add the low sound of a FlameChaser diverted to the bustle and rumble of the night.

  Farther down, he passed one of many training rooms as it was not uncommon to find many of his loyal fighters and guards continuing to hone their speed and skill in mock battles with straw men and each other long into the night. The sounds of yells and taunts, running and tumbling, leaping and falling, losing and winning accosted his ears.

  But despite the many people moving about in the night, to his delight few passed him on his journey down the long corridor. And, of those who did, perhaps they could see that his mind lay elsewhere as none dared more than a quick half bow in greeting. Only to Ivar did he speak as the guard came down the hallway in a half skip half run.

  “Have you seen Lieten?” Jabari asked in calm, quiet tone.

  The question caught Ivar mid-bow. He stood again to full height, before lifting his arms into a stretch. His long torso lanky yet firm twisted to this side and that beneath a loose brown shirt as he answered. “Have not seen him since dinner. But based upon the time, I’d imagine he’s depriving some poor soul of his will to live in the arena, Or…” He put some emphasis and pause on the ‘or’.

  Jabari could not let him finish. He released a quick clearing of the throat as he cut Ivar short. “Fine then. Find him, will you? Tell him to meet me in the Study before he turns in for the night.”

  The yellow bouncing light of many torches accentuated a splattering of dark freckles across clean shaven, pale cheeks as Ivar surrendered a playful half smile. “That might be a while.” He spoke with perhaps an edge of double meaning in his voice.

  “I’m in no hurry.” Jabari did not smile.

  Ivar straightened his cheeks before nodding and then bowed again.

  Jabari returned the gesture then turned from him as his journey began again. He turned another bend and stepped into the study. His stride then fell silent across plush woven rugs and he drew a low sigh as he pulled closed a heavy door, finally alone with his thoughts. He had much to consider. He pulled a heavy bound book down from an upper shelf, riding a strong finger down a frayed edge and sliding it to an intricately carved desk with a thump. He then collapsed into a big wooden chair and pulled himself forward squeaking chair legs across smooth rock before opening the book and flipping through a few hundred neatly transcribed pages. Dark curls and loops of fading ink floated across a bright white background. Finally, his eyes rested on one page before he released another long sigh.