The World of Samar Box Set 3

by M. L. Hamilton

  “What are you saying?”

  “At the first sign of blood, you and Brodie will leave me on the island and come back here.”

  Jarrett didn’t answer. The look on his face was indecipherable.

  “I don’t want to be infected,” Brodie said. “I know I’m an old man, but that isn’t the way I want to die.”

  “You’re the reason why I believe the early stages aren’t infectious, Brodie. Jax was far gone when you saw him last. You said yourself he told you he was coughing blood, yet you aren’t sick. Granted you didn’t touch the blood as the rest of us did, which brings me to the conclusion that blood must be the mode of transmission.”

  She glanced back at Jarrett. “No one had symptoms in Temeron, until they were exposed to Jax’s blood.”

  Jarrett stared hard at the floor as if he thought it would burst into flames.

  “Jarrett, I don’t want you to come with me. I want you to stay here. In fact, I want you to go back to Temeron and stay with Kerrin. That way he’d have at least one parent if this scheme of mine doesn’t work out.”

  Jarrett lifted his head and their eyes met. She knew he understood now why she had insisted on making the journey herself. She couldn’t stay in Temeron. But he didn’t have to stay here. He’d seen her safely to Kazden. He’d fulfilled his part of the bargain.

  “Do you really think this is a misguided worry for my health?” he snarled at her.

  She gave him a weak shrug. What was she supposed to think? They didn’t know each other anymore.

  “You lied to me about this as well.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “You lied by omission.”

  “But you knew.”

  His eyes closed and he didn’t answer.

  “I had to get to Kazden. I had to get out of Temeron. I knew they’d never let me go without an escort. Even if I snuck away, they’d send warriors after me. As soon as I could, I left Kalas’ house. What more do you want me to say?”

  Jarrett shrugged. “I guess there’s nothing. As always, you take everything into your own hands and damn the consequences.” He nodded at her pack. “What exactly does that contain?”

  “A few changes of clothes, some travel food, a pycantra starter, two blankets, and Stamerian.”

  “So this was the plan all along.”

  “No, I wasn’t sure we’d find Brodie.”

  “But this was the plan if you did?”

  She hesitated a moment and her eyes scanned over Brodie’s face. “This was the plan.”

  Jarrett slapped his hand against his thigh. “Well, we’re wasting the rest of the night.”

  She stared at him without moving. How could such a simple statement fill her with ambivalence? She wanted him with her. No matter how much time stood between them, he brought her calm. But she also didn’t want him in danger and she’d already put him in a great deal of it.

  Brodie covered his face with his hands. “I’ll take you to the island,” he said. “I don’t know how we’re going to get past the soldiers on the docks, but I’ll take you.”

  “Thank you,” Tyla said softly. “I know this is what Jax would have wanted.”

  Brodie nodded without answering and walked toward his make-shift kitchen in a dark corner of the room. He pulled out a sack and thrust a few items into it – a loaf of bread, a tin of something Tyla couldn’t see, and a canteen. As a final thought, he grabbed the lantern resting in the middle of the table, slinging the pack over his shoulder.

  “When we go outside, let Jarrett lead. There may be Nazarien around still and we don’t want to chance anything,” said Tyla.

  Brodie shook his head wearily, but didn’t reply.

  Jarrett gave Tyla a last furious look and went to the door, wrenching it open. He stepped through and Tyla motioned Brodie to follow. They made it to the bottom of the stairs, then Jarrett waited for Brodie to indicate the direction they should go. Brodie motioned to the left. They set off up the street away from the Blue Sturgeon. Jarrett still led, but they tightened up the formation so it didn’t seem unnatural.

  Tyla glanced at the sky and noticed it was beginning to lighten. They didn’t have much time.

  A couple of guards lounged against the façades of buildings, but they encountered few other people. Even the taverns seemed to be closing down for the night. Their footsteps echoed on the cobblestones, ringing back to them from the empty, darkened warehouses on either side. The only light bobbed from Brodie’s lantern.

  Before they went much farther, Brodie reached out and grabbed Jarrett’s arm. He pointed to an opening across the street and a few blocks down from their current location. A barricade had been set up across the opening and three guards stood at it, talking quietly to themselves.

  “That’s it. If we go any farther, they’ll see us.”

  Jarrett motioned to some crates lined up along the street and they eased behind them, sliding down as far as they could until they could see a few boats, bobbing against the current.

  “How far in is your boat?” Jarrett asked.

  “About halfway.”

  Tyla surveyed the situation. She could try to control the guards, but that meant releasing Brodie completely and even then, she wasn’t sure she had the energy to handle so many minds at once.

  Jarrett chewed on his lower lip. Tyla wondered if he knew he was showing so much emotion. “We need a distraction,” he said.

  Tyla looked around also. Beyond a bunch of dark warehouses and piles of discarded crates arranged at the openings of the alleyways, she couldn’t see anything that would cause enough of a stir to draw the guards away.

  Brodie was trembling, the lantern knocking against the crates. Tyla hated that he was so afraid, but she didn’t know how to comfort him. They needed him to do this no matter what he felt.

  Jarrett’s attention riveted on the lantern and Tyla feared he was going to yell at the old man for making noise, but instead, he reached for it. “Let me have that,” he said.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked as Brodie handed it over.

  Jarrett curled his fingers around the handle and turned away, staring out at the street. “Just be ready to run,” he answered, then darted away.

  With his Nazarien training and his natural quickness, he was a shadow in the night, gliding across the street and disappearing between the crates on the other side. Tyla exchanged a bewildered look with Brodie, but a moment later, she gasped.

  A flame shot up from the middle of the crates, then died off. A few moments later, others followed it, then Jarrett was streaking back across the street, no lantern in his hand. He made it to the center of the street when the crate suddenly exploded violently.

  Tyla and Brodie ducked behind their own barricade, but she caught a glimpse of the soldiers, dropping to the ground. Jarrett stumbled, then looked back as another explosion shook the cobblestones beneath their feet.

  A second later, Jarrett was sprinting for their location and he skidded to a halt behind the barricade, panting, his eyes wild.

  “What did you do?”

  “I set a fire. I thought the crates were empty.”

  They all ducked as another explosion tore into the night, raining debris down on them. Tyla peeked out at the guards. They left the barricade and began running toward the fire before the warehouses.

  Jarrett pushed Tyla and Brodie. “Go! Go!” he ordered. “Stay low and try to keep the crates between you and the street.”

  They ran for the docks, skidding when another explosion curled through the crates and sent the guards diving for cover.

  They scrambled over the barricade at the entrance to the dock and Tyla paused once to look back. The soldiers were milling about the fire, afraid to approach. Another explosion sent them pitching backward, tripping over each other and sprawling into the street.

  “What the hell,” muttered Jarrett in her ear.

  She glanced up at him. “Obviously the crates were filled with pycantra.”

  “W
ho would leave that in the middle of the street like that?”

  “They probably didn’t want to risk an explosion that would ignite the entire warehouse district,” she remarked wryly.

  Jarrett made a pained face. “We needed a distraction.”

  “Oh, we got it,” she said, then turned and pushed him in the stomach. “Brodie might need help.”

  They edged down the dock, searching the dark boats for the fisherman. Without the lantern, the night closed about them. Even though the sky lightened overhead, the docks and the masts of the boats held the light at bay.

  Tyla stretched forth her sense and found him. The boat was smaller than the ones around it, but still very capable of carrying four or five people. A small cabin sat in the middle and Brodie was at the helm, unfurling the sail.

  He glanced up as they approached and motioned them onboard. Jarrett automatically reached for her elbow to steady her, but she pulled away, giving him a warning look. He held his arms out to the side and allowed her to climb into the sailboat on her own. She stashed the pack by the tiller and moved to Brodie’s side.

  “Need any help?”

  Brodie shook his head. “Sit down and prepare to go.” In the distance, they could hear the boom of the explosions from the warehouse. “As soon as that stops, they’re going to be looking for the culprit.” He cast a sour look at Jarrett as he nimbly sprang into the boat.

  Jarrett gave him a hard look in return.

  Tyla moved back toward the cabin and found a bench running along the side of the boat. She sank onto it and realized she was exhausted. Jarrett stood by the tiller with his arms crossed as Brodie fussed with the sail.

  Finally Brodie turned and nodded at the dock. “Unhook her,” he ordered.

  Jarrett climbed back out and untied the boat from the dock. Brodie moved to the tiller and gripped it as Jarrett sprang back into the boat, sending it rocking against the dock. A moment later, Tyla felt the vessel shift beneath her and they were pulling away, leaving Kazden behind.

  * * *

  Jarrett leaned against the cabin and studied Tyla’s profile. She was staring out at the sea, watching the first rays of dawn brighten on the water. It made Jarrett nervous to look out. So much water and no land in sight. The only thing between them and death was a few planks of wood and the skill of the man behind the tiller.

  He chanced a glance up and lowered it again. With every pitch of the waves, he felt his stomach heave beneath his ribs. Closing his eyes, he tried to forget how nauseous he felt.

  “Relax and don’t fight it, roll with the waves like you do the rhythm of the horse,” came Tyla’s voice. “You can’t do battle with the ocean, so try to blend.”

  He tried to relax his knees. He realized the muscles in his legs were knotted uncomfortably and his shoulders were closer to his ears than he remembered. He drew in a deep breath and held it, then exhaled. It was the one meditation of the Nazarien that he didn’t find annoying.

  “Did you come to hover or lecture? Either way, I guess I owe you that,” she said.

  He drew another breath and held it. Center the universe within one’s body. Draw it in and then, release. He exhaled. Slowly he opened his eyes, trying not to look out at the rolling waves. She was giving him a speculative look.

  “Neither, I guess,” he answered, forcing his hands to unclench. He eased down on the bench beside her and rolled his shoulders, letting his hands dangle against his thighs. He half expected her to slide away from him, but she stayed where she was, although her back was to him.

  “The new and improved Jarrett,” she muttered.

  He tilted his head back and turned it from side to side, trying to stretch the muscles. Inhale, hold, exhale. He took a few more calming breaths, then clasped his hands before him. “I’m trying, Tyla, I really am.”

  “Trying what?”

  “To keep my patience, to not explode at you. I always did it in the past and I realize it never did any good.”

  She was silent, her head bowed. He could no longer see her features.

  He shot a look at the old man. Brodie appeared content, serene. The ocean seemed to soothe him. “I also understand why you felt you had to come.”

  She tilted her head toward him. “You do?”

  “Yeah, you’ve always done what you’ve felt was best for your people, no matter the consequence to yourself. I’m not sure I would have done anything different if I were in your position.”

  She didn’t answer him for a long time, then she looked over her shoulder. “That means a lot, Jarrett.”

  He shrugged.

  “I really didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

  A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Are you kidding? Who else has such adventures? Take the most mad, outrageous plan and add an Eldralin – you’ll get pure mayhem every time. People would pay for this.”

  Tyla laughed. “Be careful, you almost sound like you have a sense of humor. That can’t be very Nazarien.”

  He did smile at her. “You’re right,” he answered.

  * * *

  Kalas settled his cup of tea on the saucer and looked up as Parish entered the dining room with a strange man in tow. Dolan followed them. Attis moved away from his position guarding the door and studied the man. Across the table from Kalas, Ellette shifted and gave the man a severe look, her hand moving down to the knife she had stashed in her belt.

  Dolan frowned at Ellette. Kalas knew he didn’t approve of his King sharing a meal with a would-be assassin, but Kalas really saw little harm in it. She amused him and she needed to eat, not that she ate much when in his presence.

  “Baron, good morning to you,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

  Parish executed a bow and then gave Ellette a look from beneath raised brows. “Your Majesty.”

  “To what do I owe this early morning visit?”

  Parish focused on Kalas. “This man presented himself at the gate this morning demanding an audience with you. He states he received a visit from the past Queen of Adishian, who told him to present himself here this morning.”

  Kalas settled the napkin beside his plate and frowned. “What?”

  “Apparently, your sister was wandering around Kazden last night.”

  “My sister is upstairs asleep.”

  Parish looked down.

  Kalas met Dolan’s gaze. “Dolan?”

  “The guards on duty last night report that she and the Nazar left, stating they were going to the hospital to check on the plague victims.”

  Kalas clenched his jaw. Damn Tyla. He should have known she would do something like this. She always had to react opposite to what he anticipated. “And she never returned?”

  “Not as of this morning.”

  Kalas tried to control his temper. It was a fault he hated about himself, but he forever found himself pushed beyond his limit. “Why am I just now hearing about it?”

  “We just found out ourselves,” answered Parish, “when this man began inquiring at the gate.”

  Kalas pushed himself to his feet and moved around the table. The strange man took a step back and Attis retreated to his position by the door. “What’s your name?”

  “Samfir, Your Majesty,” he answered, ducking his head. He held a scrap of paper in his hands and twisted it.

  “Samfir, you met my sister last night?”

  “I did, Your Majesty. She came into my tavern with one of them.” He cast a venomous look at Dolan.

  “What did she want?”

  “She was looking for someone named Brodie, said he was an old sailor.”

  Kalas exhaled wearily. Damn Tyla. He could imagine all sorts of trouble coming from this. “Do you know Brodie?”

  “No, Your Majesty, I’ve never met him. She said he’d be with a Stravad. Don’t remember him either.”

  “So she left?”

  “Yes. I didn’t want the Nazarien in my tavern. I’d had enough of Nazarien, if you pardon me saying so.”

  Kalas was confused.
“Why?”

  “They came in before she did. They busted up the place looking for this Brodie character. I don’t ask for trouble, Your Majesty, and I don’t want it. Those Nazarien had no right to take my place apart.”

  Kalas lifted a hand and rubbed his wounded shoulder. “Do you know where she went after she left your tavern?”

  “I sent her to the Blue Sturgeon. A lot of the older sailors eat there. Thought maybe they might know this Brodie character.” He twisted the scrap of paper again. “She asked me to come here in the morning and give you this. She made a special point of saying I had to wait until morning.” As he held out the paper, his hand shook. “I didn’t ask her to write this. She did it on her own. I swear.”

  Kalas took the smudged and stained scrap. It was hard to read because Samfir had wrinkled it so badly. He moved to the table and placed it on the surface, smoothing the wrinkles with his good hand. Tyla’s writing stared up at him. He read the note twice, then picked it up and handed it to Parish. The Baron read it and passed it to Dolan.

  Kalas didn’t know what to say, what to feel. He should have known Tyla would do something like this, but he’d never been able to predict how she’d respond. He felt everyone staring at him, but he had no answers.

  Rubbing his shoulder again, he faced Samfir. “I’ll have one of my ministers contact you within the next two days to repair the damages to your tavern as my sister promised.”

  Samfir’s eyes filled with tears and he bowed deeply, sweeping the hat off his balding head. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you.”

  Kalas nodded. “Attis, see Samfir out please.”

  Attis moved to obey and Samfir bowed his way out of the dining room.

  Kalas turned to Parish. “I want to question the guards who let her leave. I want to know why they didn’t report it immediately, although I think I can guess.”

  “She used her power on them?”

  “Most likely. Then find out where the Blue Sturgeon is.”

  “Do you want me to bring the owners in for questioning?”

  “No. If she went there, it will be quickest to trace her steps ourselves.”