“Why the hell do you ever visit that nightmare in the desert when you have Adishian to call home, Your Majesty?” remarked Attis.
Kalas was surprised at how much the Cult member complained. He wasn’t fond of the Chernow Nazarien, but at least they didn’t speak. “It’s hard to maintain a kingdom if you don’t visit it regularly.”
“Couldn’t you appoint someone to oversee it?”
“I don’t remember asking for your advice.”
Dolan gave him a surprised look. Kalas ran a hand through his damp hair. He didn’t mean to sound surly, but something was making him edgy tonight. He surveyed the campsite again.
“You all right?” asked Dolan.
Kalas nodded. “Tired, I guess. I think I’ll go to bed. Thank you for the bath.” He curled his fingers in the towel and turned toward his pavilion. He didn’t often flaunt his status before his men, but tonight he’d wanted to wash away the trail dust. Dolan had sensed his restlessness and responded with this rare treat in a land where water was life.
Kalas suspected his edginess was guilt. He shouldn’t have indulged in such a kingly privilege when his men had to go to bed dirty. Even still, he would be delighted not to sleep in sand.
He ducked under the tent opening. The interior was darker than outside. He could discern the outline of his cot and the trunk that held his clothes. To his right was a chair and table. He swung the towel off his shoulders and dropped it on the chair.
As he did so, a shadow detached itself from his cot and he whipped around to face it. Kalas felt every muscle tense and his heart kicked against his ribs. Then the shadow launched at him.
The impact knocked him back into the table, sending it and the chair sprawling against the side of the canvas. Hands closed on his shoulders and he grabbed for his attacker’s wrists, encircling them and trying to throw the weight off. An ankle hooked around his and yanked forward, knocking him off balance. He landed on his back, the air knocked out of him as the shadow straddle him and pinned his arms next to his head.
While he gasped for breath, the figure shook back a wild mane of hair and leaned over him. “And just like that you are dead,” whispered a voice.
Kalas blinked in surprise. The voice was feminine with a strange accent. He squinted in the darkness and realized the figure straddling him was slight, the mass of hair framing a delicate face.
He let his body go slack, forcing his attacker to ease her grip, then he moved, wrenching up and unseating her. He flipped her to her back and slammed her hands down beside her head, changing their position.
“An effective assassin refrains from telling his target his plans. Amateur,” he hissed.
She struggled to free her wrists, but he had weight on his side. A moment later the tent flap flew up and armed men streamed inside.
Kalas released her and pushed himself to his feet. So much for his bath. Sand stuck to his damp hair and trickled down his back into the waistband of his trousers.
Dolan was suddenly at his side. “Where are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” he said, letting his advisor turn him and inspect him for wounds.
“Are you sure?”
Kalas gripped Dolan’s elbow. “Dolan, I’m sure. She apparently doesn’t have a weapon. Not much of an assassin after all.”
Two guards grabbed her by the arms and hauled her to her feet. She shook back her hair and tried to break their hold. “I never intended to kill you. It was a warning, no more. However, the next time it may not be.”
“Who the hell is she?” demanded Attis.
“I have no idea,” said Kalas, taking a step closer to her. “Someone bring a light.”
A guard hurried out of the tent.
She was but a shadow in the darkness, but Kalas knew she was glaring at him.
“How did you get in here?”
“I will never reveal my secrets.”
“What were you trying to warn me about?”
She yanked at the guard on her left, but he held his ground. “I will tell you in private. I will not talk with these animals here.”
“She sounds Nazarien,” commented Attis.
The guard returned with the lamp and lifted it toward her face. Kalas forced himself to show no reaction. Her blue eyes gave her away, but it was the cast of her Stravad features that arrested him. Her lips were full, her nose upturned and arrogant, her forehead wide and intelligent. She was nearly as tall as he was, slender and wiry. Around her shoulders cascaded a wild mane of light brown hair. Her clothing was black, her boots soft-soled, silent.
“I knew it. Chernow Nazarien,” spat Attis.
Kalas looked her over. He suspected Attis was right, but something bothered him about that. “Since when do the Chernow Nazarien have female assassins?”
“Since I became one.”
“My understanding of the Nazarien is a bit different, apparently. To my knowledge women are commodities, nothing else.”
“Which is why I could have killed you. You would never have suspected a female assassin.”
“Yes, well, your qualifications are a bit suspect. You didn’t even have a weapon.”
“Because I did not want you dead.”
“Do your handlers know that? Am I supposed to be dead?”
She narrowed her eyes on him. “I will discuss this with you in private. No others around.”
Kalas sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew he should be more concerned about her ability to sneak past his guards, but he was tired…and dirty again. “I don’t negotiate with assassins,” he remarked coolly.
Her eyes widened in fury. “What are you going to do with me?”
“Lock you up for now. We’ll try you later. After all, you did threaten me. That’s enough to get you locked up for the rest of your life.” He motioned at the guards. “Get her out of my tent.”
The guards obeyed, but she pulled back, dragging her feet in the sand. “More will come. They will not stop. You need to speak with me in private for your own good.”
Kalas turned his back on her as they dragged her out of the tent. Attis shook his head in amusement, but Dolan looked concerned.
“Female assassin,” muttered Attis, “asinine.”
Kalas ignored him. “What is it?” he asked Dolan.
“I think you should have listened to her.”
“I will. I just want it to be on my terms. Have you ever heard of the Nazarien having female assassins, Dolan?”
Dolan started to respond, but Attis interrupted him. “No one has. It’s unheard of, but think how dangerous such a woman could be?”
“Attis is right,” added Dolan. “No one would suspect her. She’s not someone to be trifled with, I believe.”
Kalas ran a hand through his sandy hair. “I agree, but I find it strange. Would Jarrett train women as killers? I can’t believe he would condone it no matter what I think of him.”
Dolan’s face grew grim. “Who knows what he might condone? No one knows him anymore, Your Majesty.”
CHAPTER 6
Jarrett watched Tyla as she said goodbye to her grandfather. Kendrick and Thalandar stood behind them, waiting their turn. Tyne moved up on Jarrett’s left side. He rocked on his heels, but his hands were clasped behind him in typical Nazarien fashion.
“Enjoy your time here, Tyne,” Jarrett said, his eyes still on the scene before him. “Learn as much from the Stravad as you can.”
“As you order, Nazar,” he answered.
Jarrett turned to regard him, giving him a narrow look.
“Jarrett,” the boy amended. “I hope you have a safe journey.”
“So do I.” Jarrett tried a smile, but it had been so long, he suspected it was more of a grimace. “Keep an eye on Kerrin for me.”
“Of course.”
“And I wouldn’t show him any more weaponry if I were you. His mother doesn’t like it.”
Tyne frowned, but he would never contradict an order. Nor would he speak ill of Tyla. His eyes shifted bey
ond Jarrett and fixed on her. “She doesn’t really want to go, does she?”
“I don’t think so, but she feels it’s her duty. One of the healers has developed the disease. She’s bed-ridden now and they don’t think she’ll make it. An epidemic like this could wipe out an entire population.”
Tyne nodded. “Take care of yourself, Jarrett. I will miss you.”
“Same here.” He grasped his brother’s shoulder, then released him.
“Jarrett?”
He turned and found Kerrin standing behind him. He dropped to one knee, bringing himself to his son’s height.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t say goodbye.”
Jarrett was stunned by the little boy’s admission, but he guessed it wasn’t an unfounded fear. “I would never have left without seeing you, Kerrin.”
The boy held out his hand, his fingers curled against his palm. Jarrett held out his own hand and the boy placed a rock in it. The rock was a brilliant blue color and glowed with an inner light. Pycantra.
“This is for you. To remind you of me. It’s the same color as our eyes.”
Jarrett’s fingers closed around the rock and he felt his throat constrict. “Thank you. I will keep it with me wherever I go.”
Kerrin’s face twisted. He started to say something, then stopped.
“What is it?”
“When you find the cure for this disease, will you come back here?”
Jarrett looked down at the rock. “Hopefully. Maybe not right away, but as soon as I can. Nothing will keep me away from you, Kerrin.”
The boy pondered that for a moment, then he launched himself at his father, wrapping his arms around Jarrett’s neck. Jarrett hugged him in return. Gods, if only he hadn’t been robbed of the last ten years. If only…
Gradually, Kerrin pulled back, releasing him. “Goodbye, Jarrett,” he said, then turned and dashed over to his mother.
Tyla wrapped her arm around his shoulders and drew him into her side as she gave last minute instructions to Kendrick.
Jarrett turned the blue rock over in his hands, studying its unblemished surface. It was the color of their eyes.
“We’ll never make any ground at this rate,” came Allistar’s voice behind him.
Jarrett turned toward his friend. “I can speed things along if you want.”
“No, let her have her goodbyes.” His gaze dropped to the stone. “Little things like that make the rest of parenthood worth it.” He reached into the neck of his uniform and pulled out a necklace made of brightly colored beads.
“It must be hard to leave your children for a mission that has no clear objective.”
“It’s never easy to leave one’s children,” said Allistar. “Or one’s wife.”
Jarrett knew he wasn’t speaking about himself, but he didn’t want to discuss Tyla with Allistar. “Zia is an understanding woman.”
“She is, but it’s more than that. When Tyla says something, Temeron listens. Zia would never doubt her, especially on something like this.”
Jarrett didn’t respond. He heard the chastisement in Allistar’s words. He didn’t doubt her, he just wasn’t sure how they were going to accomplish the impossible.
He heard footsteps on the gravel. “We say goodbye again,” said Kendrick.
Jarrett turned and accepted his hand, but Kendrick pulled him into an awkward embrace. He didn’t seem to care that Jarrett stiffened.
With a laugh, he released him. “Once more our paths have intersected, crossed, and now we stand on opposite sides again.”
“We’ve never been on opposite sides,” said Jarrett, stung by Kendrick’s assessment.
“No, I guess we haven’t, but I wish…” His voice trailed away. He eyed Jarrett closely, then shrugged.
“You wish what?”
Kendrick shook his head. “It does no good to wish. The past is just that.”
Jarrett frowned. “I don’t understand…” he began, but Kendrick and Allistar were no longer looking at him. He followed their gaze and saw Tyla kneeling before her son, holding him tightly. He had his face buried in her hair and his arms around her neck. He looked every bit the little boy he was.
Jarrett swallowed hard. And he understood what Kendrick was trying to say. He wished, too, he wished so much, but the past was gone.
* * *
Kalas stood, watching his would-be assassin as she slept in the bed of a wagon. The guards had shackled her wrists and ankles and hooked her to the bench, so she couldn’t escape. The sun was peeking over the horizon, but he could already feel the on-coming heat. It smelt like sand and dust to him.
He took a sip of his tea and cleared his throat. She came awake in an instant, lunging against the shackles, hurling herself against the side of the wagon closest to him. Her eyes were clouded by sleep and her hair covered one eye. She shook it back.
“Will you speak with me now?”
He deliberately took another sip of his tea. “I don’t parley with mediocre assassins.” With that he began walking beyond the wagon.
She lunged after him, her shackles rattling. “Eladrasen, wait, please!”
He halted with his back to her. Slowly he pivoted. Dolan rose from the campfire before his pavilion and watched the unfolding scene, always alert, always ready.
“What did you call me?” Kalas asked.
“Eladrasen, son of Eladra.”
Kalas frowned.
Dolan moved to his side. “The Nazarien called Talar Eladra.”
Kalas gave a nod.
“You must listen to me. Unshackle me. I swear I will not run away,” she pleaded, yanking on the chains.
“I’m not worried about you running away. In fact, I wish you would have, but since you chose a different path, I have no choice in my response.”
Her eyes widened. “You do not mean for me to ride in this thing?”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, listen to me, Eladrasen, I am here to protect you. You must listen to me. You must speak with me in private.”
Kalas didn’t respond. He could feel Dolan’s anxiety though. Dolan thought he ought to give in to her demands.
“Unshackle me, give me a horse and a weapon. I will ride at your side and protect you.”
Kalas laughed. “You must really think I’m stupid. I would never let a mediocre assassin ride at my side. Please, don’t insult me.”
He turned away and headed back toward his pavilion. The rattle of her chains followed him.
“I hope you aren’t making a mistake,” said Dolan.
“I’m not. Trust me.”
“I trust you,” remarked his advisor, “I just don’t trust the Nazarien.”
* * *
Tyla folded the damp cloth across the back of her neck and closed her eyes at the pleasure of the cool fabric against sun burnt skin. Reaching for her cup of tea, she leaned back in the camp chair and brought it to her lips, taking a sip.
Her body ached and she was already trail weary. Around her the Stravad were setting camp and beginning the cook fire. She knew she ought to pitch in, but she was homesick and exhausted. She needed just a few moments to herself. Stretching her legs out before her, she leaned her head back and allowed the soothing flush of Stamerian to seep through her body.
“Are you all right?”
She opened her eyes and met Jarrett’s concerned gaze. She felt the brush of his thoughts against her own and rejected them. She didn’t like the speculative look in his eyes. Jarrett wasn’t a man anyone ought to trifle with, but especially her.
“Fine. I’ll get up in a moment and help with camp.”
“It’s already done.” His eyes shifted to the cup. “Stamerian?”
Her fingers tightened around the handle, but she kept her expression neutral. “I forgot how much it hurts to ride horseback all day when you aren’t used to it.”
His expression softened and he hunkered down across from her. “We probably pushed a bit too hard today.”
“It’s fine. We need to
make good time. There’s too much at stake to dally.” She nodded to the second camp chair. “You don’t have to squat. Take a seat.”
He reached for the chair and opened it, folding his lean frame into it. He studied her across the smoldering campfire, but didn’t speak.
Tyla realized she wasn’t uncomfortable in his silence, but she found it odd. Jarrett had never been the taciturn type before. “I’m sure there’s a lot that needs doing.”
“Allistar runs a tight ship. There really isn’t much. The cook will have dinner shortly. Then we should turn in. We’ll be up at dawn and riding again tomorrow.”
She grimaced and took another sip of her drink. “You know, I’ve been thinking that it’s odd Kalas hasn’t responded. I know Kendrick sent him a message as soon as Jax arrived and then another one a few weeks later.”
“If Jax infected people in Kazden as well, Kalas might have his hands full.”
“Gods, I hope you’re wrong. If that’s true, this could really become an epidemic. I think I should have a rider head toward Zelan and send another message. We can spare a man or two, right?”
“I think it’s a sound idea. Do you want me to tell Allistar?”
“No, I’ll do it in the morning. Right now, I just want to sit and enjoy my quiet moment.”
“I understand.” Jarrett looked into the fire. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where’s Muzik?”
“He returned to Adishian. His father wasn’t doing well and he went to help his mother care for him. He didn’t want me to release him, but I made him agree to retire. I get letters from him regularly.”
“Are his parents doing all right?”
“His father’s better, but he had a heart attack. He’ll never be completely right again.”
“It’s strange to see you without him.”
She gave him a tired smile. “I know. For so many years, Muzik and Kian were permanent fixtures in my life. I could count on them when no one else was around.”
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 61