by Janet Woods
‘When you begin to believe in yourself you’ll create your own happy ending to the tale, Danea, dreamer of dreams.’
‘I will tell you the ending while we forage for breakfast,’ Jon said. ‘It will be better than anything Tighe can dream up, and will involve both of us. Isn’t that right, Tighe?’
‘As you say.’ Tighe stood aside, still searching his mind for the elusive sense of caution that eluded him.
When Danea got back to the camp she found a basket full of fruit and vegetables, and several fish, already cleaned, wrapped in bark, and ready to place in the coals. Fish! Where did that come from when the ocean was so far away? Certainly not from Esbel who was still fast asleep in the little cradle she’d made for herself in the tree above, for the watcher in her was nocturnal and it was natural for her to sleep during the day.
There was a slab of crumbly goat’s cheese and a bowl of nuts – enough food to last them all day. She broke a piece of the cheese off and allowed it to melt deliciously on her tongue.
‘Tighe must have got us this. He’s very talented.’ Jon looked wretched and her heart melted as she encouraged him with; ‘You should take a wife, Jon.’
The camp began to stir as she kneaded air into the bread dough to encourage it to rise, and added the seeds and spices. Her bread rarely turned out to be very energetic, for it usually went soggy in the middle.
As she turned the bread out to cool and slid the fish into the ashes, she looked up and saw Jon watching her.
‘I dreamed I kissed you last night,’ he blurted out.
Her fingers went to her mouth, remembering the tenderness of his kiss in her dream. Had it been a dream?
His smile curved like the first part of moon when it was newly emerged from its slumber, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘I’m a clumsy clump of a man.’
At least Jon could laugh at himself. A soft giggle escaped her. It was as if they shared a secret between them. She hugged it inside her and felt an unfamiliar lightness, so she could hardly stop herself from smiling. She felt as comfortable with Jon as she did in the company of her brother, Laek. As for Tighe, he was an enigma, and she was totally in awe of him.
For the first time in her life everything went right. Even her bread was perfectly cooked. And when she checked her hair in the mirror she thought she was looking at someone else, because her cheeks had a delicate pink blush to them and her eyes sparkled.
A thought entered her head, one she’d normally thrust away. Perhaps she should open her mind to possibilities of making a match. She wondered; did Jon really care for her?
She was not long in getting an answer. He approached when she smiled encouragingly at him. ‘Danea, I have something to say to you. You are fair.’
‘You must have poor eyesight,’ she muttered.
He gently tugged at her braid. ‘Not so ... I am in good health and can see to the horizon. I want to ask you something.’
‘So you said. What is it?’
She could see his heart beating against his tunic and the panic in his eyes. ‘Would you ... consider becoming my wife?’
She made a face at such a notion then grinned at the worried expression that appeared on his face. All this time she’d denied taking any man for her husband. It now seemed like the right time in the right place with the right man. Did she love Jon? She liked him more than any other man she’d ever known. The little star that hung against her heart gently fluttered.
‘I know I’m not good enough for you,’ he said, insuring himself from a refusal.
Not good enough? How ridiculous to be so unsure of himself. Perhaps she might allow herself to grow fond of him, she thought.
‘You certainly are good enough. I might as well wed you as anyone. Be careful that fish doesn’t burn.’
His eyes widened, then a smile nearly split his face in half. ‘You said yes.’
‘I know what I said. Cut that fruit up and carry it through to the bench before I change my mind.’
She watched him go about his task, smiling to herself as she thought; Yes ... she was more fond of Jon than she’d admitted to herself in the past. Perhaps she would learn to love him.
Halfway to the waiting company Jon turned to gaze at her. A wide smile split his face. Hooting loudly, he did a summersault and the fruit he was carrying, scattered everywhere.
Chapter Eleven
Emrys reached Karshal without finding any sign of his young brother and sister, though the roads seemed to be more crowded than usual. They seemed to have disappeared from sight, he thought, as he passed through the unguarded gate with some relief.
Here, the entry to the city with its row of gibbets and grisly remains was a stark reminder of what could happen if you broke the rules and came under scrutiny of the government. The air stank.
Emrys shuddered. He’d heard that Servish had trained the bats into eating live meat rather than dead. He couldn’t help but wonder if Remy and Jynx would end up there, slit from chest to stomach while the bats ate their innards, and while they still lived.
Having been raised on tales of the defeat of Karshal, the beautiful city that was situated to the south, not only was he shocked by the state of the place he was also disgusted by the dirt in the roads and alleyways, and the lack of self-discipline of the citizens.
It was about time Cynan visited Karshal and saw for himself the rack and ruin of it under Servish’s command, he thought.
Most of the troopers appeared to be inebriated, including those under Servish’s command. Emry sidestepped the rubbish and made his way to the palace, a building fashioned from created white granite. The gardens, which once had been the pride of the city, he’d heard, had been left to nature. The result was a jumble of roots strangling the former order of the place. The granite was crumbling into powder and the ornamental lakes contained a brownish sludge that released toxic bubbles. The body of a gibber monkey was decomposing in one.
Gibber monkeys had taken up residence on the roofs, and goats and wild turkeys roamed the streets. The monkeys had quickly learned that thievery was a better option than foraging on the plain for food and they operated in groups, swarming over people. No matter that they were hung by their tails and were used for target practice by the troopers before being butchered for the dogs.
Emrys was not challenged as he made his way through the rooms. It was nearly sundown and the noise of laughter attracted him. He was detained by a trooper. The man was little more than a youth, but he was strongly muscled. He had the empty eyes and mirthless smile of one who’d killed mindlessly, and often. Emrys was sure he hadn’t been through the training required by people entering Cynan’s service, just trained to kill on command.
The man adjusted his crotch as he stood. ‘Name?’
‘Emrys ... son of Yegan Colban.’
The guard should be standing to attention.
‘Rank?’
‘Senior Commander. I’m here to see Sergeant Servish.’
That pronouncement should have brought some semblance of respect attached to the reaction. Instead, the trooper yawned. He had a cruel face. ‘The sergeant doesn’t want to be disturbed. What do you want with him?’
Emrys backhanded him, sending him sprawling on his back. The guard scrambled to withdraw his sword. When it emerged, stained with dried blood and rusting, Emrys kicked it from his hand. The weapon spun off across the marble hall.
Kneeling on the man’s chest, Emrys placed a knife to his throat and gazed into his eyes. ‘I’m going to allow you to rise. When I do you’ll stand to attention. I will then tell you to announce me. One false move and I’ll break your neck. Do you understand?
Eyes wary, the man nodded.
‘I didn’t hear you, Trooper.’
‘Yes, Senior Commander.’
Emrys stood back with caution, and the man scrambled to his feet. Reluctantly he straightened up and saluted.
Servish looked up when he was announced, a frown on his face. The guard took up position behind Emrys. A
lthough he didn’t like the thought of having him standing at his back, Emrys could deal with any threatening move the man might make.
Servish had run to fat over the past eighteen seasons, and his face bore the signs of gluttony and excess in all things.
‘Ah, Emrys? You have grown somewhat since I last saw you. Have you come as an envoy from our esteemed leader, Lord Cynan? How odd, when I’d heard that your father and mother were out of favor, and also on their way to Karshal ... a diplomatic visit designed to discover what I’ve been up to, I imagine.’ His glance slewed past him to where the trooper stood.
Emrys gave a faint smile and the nerves in his back quivered as he heard the stealthy scrape of a blade being drawn from its sheath. ‘That’s news to me, Servish.’ He turned and in one fluid motion chopped the trooper across the throat. There was a crack, and the man dropped to the floor like a stone, the dagger spinning away.
Servish’s eyes widened. ‘He was one of my best assassins.’
‘He’d been warned. From what I’ve seen the Karshal troopers are ill-trained and they have no sense of pride or discipline.’
‘I take what I can get. The troops Cynan left here took what they could from the city, and then they fled into the forest and desert. We’re gradually hunting them down and bringing them to justice.’
‘When is my family due to arrive? I must find them accommodation.’
‘I’ll make accommodation available if I decide to allow them to enter the city. It’s not as though Yegan is an emissary for Cynan, since he lost favor. I’ve heard they’re bringing Helise with them. Cynan thinks she will make me a good wife.’
That was all news to Emrys. ‘I thought my sister was set to wed Laek.’
Servish spit sideways on to the floor. ‘Cynan has spoiled her for Laek, and the girl has turned out to be a trollop, I’ve heard. Cynan insults me by thinking I’ll take her for a wife. He uses Karshal as a dumping ground for the lawless, rather than deal with them as he used to. It’s widely believed that the Karshal Princess enchanted him.’ Servish leaned forward, cracking a thin, provocative smile. ‘I imagine my troopers will make good use of your sister before I send her head back to him on a platter.’
‘I rather think not, Commander Servish. I would take it as an insult, as would my father.’
‘So why have you come to Karshal, Emrys, to spy on me for Cynan? You wouldn’t be the first, or the last.’
The news of his family’s fall from grace had come as a bitter blow to Emrys. His father had been a loyal advisor to Cynan over a number of years, even though he didn’t always agree with the Lord of Arles.
Emrys had never imagined he’d get this sort of reception in Karshal, but he managed to keep his anger under control. ‘I’m no spy. I’m tracking Remy and Jynx on behalf of our parents.’
‘Who are they?’
‘My younger sister and brother. They’ve absconded.’
A couple of troopers came in and they dragged the body of the fallen trooper away. Servish indicated a seat. ‘Why did they abscond?’
Emrys wasn’t about to tell Servish they were about to be euthanized for having leanings towards the forbidden world of magic and mystics. The followers only did good with their healing, and it didn’t threaten anyone. As it was, the man’s conversation bordered on treasonable.
‘My mother was arranging a marriage for Jynx, one she objected to. Remy helped her escape and went with her. They are twinned.’
‘How old are they?’
‘Nineteen seasons.’
Servish smiled. ‘Is the girl still untouched?’
Emrys hesitated as the thought of Jynx’s wide innocent eyes and mischievous smile. ‘I would imagine so. Jynx dresses and acts like a lad, and lacks any sign of feminine display.’
‘It would be a shame to waste her on a bunch of dried-up old do-gooders. I’ve got a good mind to route them out of their holes and ban them from operating in Karshal. Perhaps I’ll take the girl as my wife instead of Helise. When you find her bring her to me so I can take a look at her. Bring the lad as well.’ He gave a twisted smile. ‘We could do with a martyr ... a stoning perhaps. We haven’t had one for some time, and they’re very popular.’
Cautiously, Emrys thought it would be a mistake to remind this brute that he outranked him. Sergeant Servish had been ignored, his progression up the ranks overlooked. He had a grievance, a legitimate one – but one that had been festering for twenty seasons. The man no longer had any pride or loyalty to anyone except himself.
If Emrys did find his siblings in Karshal he’d get them out of the city fast. He’d intercept his parents too, and let them know what was going on. If Yegan took the news back to Cynan it might appease him. He could then plead for Remy and Jynx to be pardoned. If they refused, his father or mother could carry out their own dirty work. He was a tracker, not a professional assassin.
He remembered that Cynan had given over the control of Karshal to Servish. Although that power seemed to have gone to the man’s head, there were protocols to observe because of it.
‘I’m sorry I needed to dispose your trooper, but he was set to cut into my jugular vein. I don’t like being attacked from behind, and for no reason. Do I have your permission to search the city for my siblings?’
‘It’s possible they may have slipped in and be hiding somewhere. You have my permission to search. Take a trooper with you if you wish.’
‘My work is carried out by stealth, not by announcing my intentions in advance. I work best alone.’
Servish’s eyes glinted, and he nodded before reaching out for an earthenware jug. ‘Don’t forget I want to look at the pair when you find them. I would hate to have to make an example of you, Cynan’s most talented tracker.’
Emrys nodded. He wouldn’t forget. And he wouldn’t forget that, despite him refusing the services of a trooper, Servish would have him followed.
* * * *
Jynx was bored with chopping up herbs and helping Sybilla to make salves and unctions. She couldn’t rid her hands of the smell and was sick of being indoors.
‘You’re restless today, child,’ Sybilla said when she walked over to the window and gazed out.
‘I heard the wind call my name and wondered where it would take me.’
‘And you wanted to follow it to find out?’
Jynx turned and smiled at her. ‘It’s a lovely day. The sun has left molten splashes on the floor like golden footprints for me to follow, and it freckles the glass in the windows, which tantalize me with a glimpse of the world beyond. And there on the wall the shadow of the thorny windflower shrub beckons to me with its bony finger. Yet I can find no way out of the tower.’
‘You yearn to find a cave where the water rushes over the rocks and rainbows arch through the air. There you will be alone with your thoughts, and you can dangle your feet in the water, watch the dragonflies swoop and daydream of the warrior who holds your heart in his hands.’
Jynx gazed at her in surprise, for mostly she dreamed of dear, kind Hal, who had gone to find himself and had not come back. Sometimes she dreamed of Laek, who’d offered to wed her to save her life.
But sometimes her dreams were dominated by the shadow of a stranger to her, yet familiar, tall, elegant and mysterious. She wondered who he was and why she was drawn to him in a way that was more yearning than friendship. He’d reached out once, touched her brow, and spoken her name, and she had since heard it whispered in the little drafts that found their way into the tower and crept under the doors, and she had felt his kiss against her mouth in her sleep and sought something deeper and giving.’
‘The one who calls me on the wind ... is he a warrior? He seems so gentle a messenger, yet bears no message?’
‘Have you thought that he might be the message. I was young once, and had the same yearning for a man I had yet to meet. Listen to your instincts as well as your heart, Jynx, and don’t give yours away lightly.’
‘Can you show me his face?’
‘N
ot if he doesn’t want it to be known. I can help give you a little of what you yearn for, but although it will seem real it must be an illusion of your own making. Be careful your imagination doesn’t run away with you and accept it as a truth. I’ll mind join with you so you’ll come to no harm.’
* * * *
They went through a door in the hall, and into a courtyard paved with exotic looking tiles. The air shimmered and shifted, and as Jynx watched Sybilla’s imagination at work she clung to her mentor.
Wulf’s hair bristled and he growled deep in his throat, but it was not a growl of warning ... but as though he’d been there before. Jynx placed a hand on his neck, all the while experiencing the breathless excitement quivering through her, as though something momentous was about to happen. ‘Hush, my Wulf.’
Ahead of them a set of steps wound down into a cavern.
‘You lead and I’ll follow,’ Sybilla said, and they started down, Wulf going on ahead.
When they reached the bottom Sybilla seated herself on a stone bench and began to meditate. Jynx could still feel the pull of her, as if threads were woven between them, keeping her joined.
Jynx wouldn’t dare to interrupt Sybilla’s meditation but the threads were irksome. When she tried to break free of them they just grew tighter. Sybilla was letting her know she wasn’t going to be allowed to run free. She didn’t know quite what to do, but she remembered that this was a chimera world, and it would be what her imagination made it. Sybilla was allowing her to discover it for herself.
Eventually, Jynx wandered over to the fountain in the middle of a temple and trailed her hand through the water ... something she was familiar with. The thought that Sybilla might be an observer to her deepest desires was slightly uncomfortable.
When the water cleared she saw Laek. He was seated under a tree with Jon and Iago. They were sharpening their weapons. Beyond, Lady Azarine stood, with Esbel. They seemed to be camped in the forest.
‘Laek,’ she called softly, but he didn’t turn. The fountain wasn’t a thought conductor then. Laek needed water, as well, for them to converse, she realized. She had however, learned that she could snatch a moment of vision of her loved ones.