She looked out at the ocean. “My future is as tenuous as yours. The King of Eastern Nevaisser will have to marry a Human to keep his people happy. He will have no choice.”
“I wouldn’t be sure about that. Kalas dances to his own drummer.”
She frowned at him. “I have never seen him with a drummer.”
“No, I mean…” Jarrett stopped. Some things would never change with the Nazarien. They would always be so damn literal minded. “Kalas does as he pleases.”
She agreed with that, based on her expression. “That he does. It is aggravating.”
“And yet you care about him.”
She met his eyes. “I care about him more than I should.”
Jarrett smiled. “The Eldralins have a way of garnering devout loyalty from people.”
“Even those you would not expect.” She nodded over Jarrett’s shoulder where Attis stood guard at Kalas’ back. “They command undying loyalty in everyone who aligns themselves with them.”
Jarrett studied the Cult member. It was odd to see a member of the Kazden Cult so singularly focused on something other than his own desires.
“I have a solution for you,” she said.
He looked back at her. “For what?”
“Being Nazar.”
“I’m listening.”
“Make Attis your arm.”
“My what?”
“Your arm. Give him the capacity to act on your orders. He is loyal above all else to Kalas and will do anything to protect both him and the order. He will act for you, giving you leave to return to Temeron. You will remain Nazar, but he will do the actual governing.”
“How?”
“He will do exactly as Kalas says and Kalas listens to me.”
Jarrett narrowed his eyes on her. “In other words, make you Nazar and let Attis be your proxy.”
“Do you doubt how I would run the order?”
Jarrett considered that for a moment. There was something so profoundly poetic about Ellette becoming the de facto Nazar and he didn’t doubt she would keep a tight rein on things through Kalas and ultimately through Attis. “I would expect bi-annual reports.”
“Of course.”
“And no more Procreation Ceremonies.”
She gave him an arch look.
“If there’s trouble, I must know immediately.”
“There will not be trouble.”
Jarrett chuckled. “I gotta admit I like it.”
“There are many things to figure out and we have to talk to Attis, but…”
“But it is a very good plan, Ellette, a very good plan.”
* * *
The return voyage was uneventful. They arrived back in Kazden in the late afternoon. A number of carriages awaited them, having been stationed at the docks each day. Kalas’ army had secured the entire area and no ships were allowed in or out without express orders from the military.
After making arrangements to have cases of the Delure rocks delivered to the hospitals in Kazden, Kalas and company climbed into the carriages, anxious to return to the manor house and a well-deserved rest.
Tyla and Jarrett were the most anxious. The promise of real beds and pillows, not to mention food that didn’t jiggle when lifted to one’s mouth seemed a luxury unlike any others. And although they both remarked that they would miss the Wryn’s falling water closet, the privacy afforded by doors and locks was also enticing.
As soon as the King’s carriage moved onto the streets, Allistar’s Stravad took up positions all around it, and beyond them rode a great number of the King’s military force. Kalas relaxed back against the cushions, reaching out to take Ellette’s hand. She wasn’t so relaxed and sat rigid near the window, staring out.
Jarrett watched her, wondering what she would do if Kalas decided he wanted to make her his Queen rather than take a Human woman of noble birth as his wife. Would she accept his offer or would it be too great a change for her?
Tyla leaned her head against his shoulder. He kissed the top of it and sighed. Things couldn’t have worked out any better if he had arranged it himself. As soon as they returned, he intended to have a talk with Kalas about his plan for the Nazarien, then he and Tyla would begin the journey home to their son.
Just as he allowed himself to close his eyes, the carriage came to an abrupt halt, throwing them forward in their seats. Jarrett’s eyes snapped open and he met Kalas’ startled gaze.
“What the hell…” began the King.
Allistar appeared in the window, pulling open the carriage door. “The road is blocked. Your men are trying to clear it.”
“Blocked? By what?”
“A wagon overturned. It was filled with baskets of produce and they’ve spilled out onto the street.”
Kalas nodded and Allistar disappeared. Sitting in the tense silence within the carriage, they could hear people shouting and arguing at some distance from them. A few moments later, Parish strode to the window.
“What’s happening, Baron?” asked the King.
“The road is blocked. We’re going to turn the entire entourage around and go a different way.”
“Fine. Let’s get to it, then.”
“Patience, Your Majesty,” said Parish with a half-smile as he turned to leave.
Sitting directly to Kalas’ right, Dolan frowned. “I don’t like this.”
“We’ll be on our way shortly,” said the King.
Jarrett and Tyla exchanged a glance. At her throat, the emerald was glowing a muted green. Jarrett nodded at it and she looked down, lifting her hand to cover it.
“I don’t think this is just an accident,” she told her brother.
Kalas shifted in the seat, but as he moved, the carriage suddenly lurched forward and came to another halt. Catching himself on the door, he leaned around Ellette trying to peer out. She shoved him back.
“What do you think you are doing?”
“Something’s going on,” he said, reaching for the handle.
Jarrett caught his hand. “Don’t go out there.”
He met Jarrett’s gaze, then eased back in the seat.
“Nazar!”
The voice carried over the sounds of horse and men surrounding them.
Ellette’s panicked face turned to him. “It’s Quinn Laurel.”
“Are you sure?” demanded Kalas.
Ellette’s complexion had lost all color. “I will never forget that voice.”
“Nazar!”
Jarrett looked toward the door, but Tyla placed her hand on his arm, stopping him.
“Tell the King of Eastern Nevaisser that if he doesn’t hand you over, I will start killing his people.”
Kalas’ head lifted.
“Tell him that I start with the children.”
Kalas reached for the door handle, but Jarrett and Dolan wrestled him back.
“You can’t go out there,” Jarrett hissed at him.
“I can’t let him kill my people!”
Jarrett’s jaw clenched. This wasn’t Kalas’ battle, it was his. He’d made the decision to end the Procreation ceremonies, he made the changes to the Nazarien, and he had to be the one to end the threat Quinn Laurel represented to his people.
“This is my fight.”
“No!” Tyla’s fingers tightened on his arm.
He shifted toward her. “I don’t have a choice. I started this and I have to end it.”
“I’m not letting you go out there.”
He curved his hand over her cheek. “I have to. We’ll never have peace unless I end this. You’ve got to trust me.”
“Jarrett…”
“Nazar!” came Quinn’s voice through the carriage. “I start with the girl!”
“I have to go. Please trust me.”
Tears filled Tyla’s eyes. “Don’t do this. Please!”
“I have to or I’ll never be able to live with myself. You’ve got to promise me you won’t interfere, no matter what. Promise me, Tyla.”
“I can’t do that.�
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“You can and you will. Please promise me.”
The tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks.
Jarrett wiped them away. “Trust me,” he whispered and kissed her, then he reached for the door handle and threw it open, stepping out.
Parish and Allistar both moved to block him, but not before he took in the scene. A wagon had been overturned, blocking the narrow roadway. Behind it, he could see smoke rising from a fire that had been set. Spectators stood on the sidewalks, watching with horrified expressions and in front of the wagon stood Quinn Laurel with a young girl held clasped before him.
Allistar’s Stravad had drawn on him with their bows and Kalas’ soldiers were standing in formation, but none of them moved, watching the scene unfold before them. The girl was sobbing as Quinn held a knife pressed under her jaw. Behind the Nazarien outcast were a line of his Nazarien followers, their weapons drawn and ready for assault.
Jarrett focused on Laurel, ignoring the motion behind him. He knew Tyla and Kalas would never wait inside the carriage, but he hoped Tyla understood how important it was for him to fight this battle himself. He sent the thought to her, hoping she would receive it as she had in the past.
If he didn’t end the threat of Quinn Laurel today, he would never be free to make his home in Temeron with her and Kerrin. Men like Laurel would hunt them for the rest of their lives. He had to make an example of him and he had to do it on his own.
“Let the girl go,” he said, moving beyond Parish and Allistar.
“Jarrett…” came Allistar’s warning.
Jarrett waved him off, never breaking eye contact with his enemy. “Let her go, Laurel. This is between you and me.”
“Is it? I thought you were too busy hiding behind female skirts to face me.”
“I’m here now.” He held his hands out to either side, his fingers flexing. “Just you and me, Laurel, a Nazarien duel. Victory or an honorable death. No interference, nobody else but us.”
Quinn frowned as he considered it. The girl was trembling violently, her eyes squeezed shut.
“Isn’t this what you’ve wanted all along? This is your chance to prove you are better able to lead. Defeat me and the Nazarien are yours.”
Quinn’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “You’re almost twice my age, Nazar. Hardly a fair battle.”
“It’s what I offer you…” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes on the other man. “But perhaps you’re afraid? Maybe you fear you aren’t a match after all?”
Quinn gave a snarl, but he didn’t answer. The girl let out a whimper of pain or fear, Jarrett wasn’t sure.
“Maybe that’s all you can do.” He nodded at the girl. “Pray on women and children. Rape and murder innocents. That’s why you’re not Nazarien. You’re afraid to face your superiors.”
Quinn threw the girl from him. She fell into the street, but the moment he released her, she scrambled up and darted into the crowd of spectators. Sheathing his knife, Laurel drew his sword and advanced on Jarrett.
Jarrett waited, letting his opponent expend the effort to close with him. It gave him a few precious seconds to mark his movements, his speed, his agility, and to catalog any weaknesses.
However, Laurel wasn’t a normal adversary. He was Nazarien trained and his quickness was unmistakable. He didn’t make a sloppy assault. He came directly at him, but at the last minute, he swung away, whirling with the blade slicing the air just before Jarrett’s face. Jarrett reared back at the last moment, but he could feel the parting of the air as the blade streaked by him.
Without missing a step, Laurel feinted the other direction, circling around his back. Jarrett drew and countered the strike, but he felt a sharp slice of the blade against his upper thigh. It wasn’t deep, but it stung.
Before he could recover, Laurel spun around him again. Jarrett parried the strike, but just barely. Quinn Laurel was fast, faster than most Nazarien Jarrett had met. Each time he struck, it was as if Jarrett was reacting to his shadow because he was no longer there.
He tagged Jarrett on his wrist and left shoulder, the tip of the sword slicing through his shirt. None of the wounds were serious, but they were aggravating and he was beginning to feel Tyla’s anxiety as his own.
He forced her from his mind, concentrating on keeping Laurel in front of him. The rogue Nazarien were silent, but Parish’s soldiers were not and they made gasps and groans of dismay each time Laurel did his clever spin around the Nazar.
Jarrett let him dance in and out, tag here, tag there, another few pricks of the blade against the backs of his calves, his forearm, his side. The younger man wasn’t breathing hard, an expression of near mirth on his features. He was toying with him, playing him like a cat with a mouse, but the young fool didn’t understand who he was messing with.
As the battle raged, Laurel’s strokes became bolder, more aggressive – cockier. Jarrett let him gorge on his own hubris, then he struck. While Quinn Laurel was fleet and agile as a housecat, Jarrett was a panther. The moment he sensed that Laurel felt the battle was over, he moved.
He might have been twice Laurel’s age, but he still had his speed, the speed that had saved his life countless times before. His motions blurred as he went on the offensive, throwing Laurel’s pirouettes into a stumbling, halting scramble to defend himself. Laurel’s face twisted first into a look of surprise, then alarm, then terror as he tried to counter the preternatural skill of his Nazar.
Within seconds, Jarrett sent him sprawling, knocking the sword from his hand. He stood over him, the tip of his own blade pressed against the hollow of Quinn Laurel’s throat. A cheer went up from the soldiers, but no one moved to intervene.
“Do it!” hissed the rogue Nazarien. “Give me an honorable death!”
Jarrett fought to regain his breath. “There is no honorable death for a man like you.”
Laurel’s eyes went wide, the white showing around the iris. “This was the bargain you made. Give me an honorable death!”
Jarrett took a step back. “You deserve nothing. You have betrayed the Nazarien faith, you have betrayed your people, and nothing you can do will ever give you back the honor you have destroyed.” He motioned behind him. “I give you your life.”
He heard a cry of protest from Ellette, but he ignored it. He hunkered down beside Laurel and stared him in the eyes. “No matter where you go, you will be hunted by the very men you led. They will seek you out. They will find you, and when they do, mercy be upon your soul, for they will tear you apart.”
Laurel’s chest rose in a frantic pant. He shot a panicked look at his men.
“This is your punishment. This is what you receive for defiling the tenants of our faith. Your emptiness has been cast down before them and they know you for what you are.” He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. “All that you can do now is run!”
At his last word, Laurel scrambled to his feet and bolted toward the edge of the crowd.
“No!” came Ellette’s scream and she threw herself after him.
Jarrett caught her, stopping her from running him down. She collapsed in his arms, great wrenching sobs rising inside of her. Standing in the middle of the street in the dying light of the day, Jarrett clutched Ellette and watched Quinn Laurel disappear into the crowd. When he glanced over his shoulder, he marked that the rogue Nazarien had faded from view without uttering a sound.
* * *
Tyla stepped out of the room, closing the door at her back. Kalas stopped pacing and faced her. Beside him, Jarrett glanced up.
Coming forward, Kalas’ gaze lifted to the chamber door. “What’s going on?”
“I gave her a sedative. She’s calm now.” She touched his arm and offered him a weary smile.
Jarrett looked down. “I’m sorry this happened, Kalas. I should have thought more about how my decision would affect her.”
Kalas shook his head. “You did the right thing. She’ll understand that after the shock wears off.”
“She wants to see you
,” said Tyla.
Kalas nodded and moved past her to the door. “Thank you,” he said, as his fingers curled around the handle. He turned it and pushed the door open.
Ellette lay propped up by pillows on his bed, her brown hair lying around her shoulders. She wore a white nightgown and the covers were pulled up to her waist, her hands clasped on top. She blinked sleepily at him and he could tell the sedative was beginning to work.
Crossing the room, he sank down on the bed beside her. She reached out her hand and clasped his. “You are disappointed in me,” she said. Her voice came out a bit slower than usual.
“Lord no,” he answered, giving her a smile. “How could I be disappointed with you?”
Her expression grew troubled. “I lost my composure in front of your men. No one will respect me now.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. This was what she was worried about?
She frowned at him. “I do not think my disgrace is a thing of humor, Your Majesty.”
“Please stop calling me that. We’re a little beyond using titles with each other, don’t you think?”
She gave him a bewildered look. “I can never understand the things you find important.”
He laughed again. “That’s okay. I’m willing to accept that.” He covered the back of her hand with his free one. “I know you wanted Jarrett to kill Quinn Laurel and I know why.”
“The Nazar makes his own decisions and I should not question them.”
“Yes, well, that doesn’t completely square with reality.”
“I do not follow.”
“You had every right to want Quinn Laurel dead. In fact, you had every right to do it yourself, but…”
She tilted her head. “But?”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it would change who you are, make you something you’re not.”
“A killer?”
“Exactly.”
“He deserves to die.”
“I know.”
“But the Nazar was right in his punishment. He did not deserve an honorable death.”
Kalas brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Is there any way we can put him in our past? To move on without him?”
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 92