“What is?”
“Loyalty from people, even when they’re frustrated with our actions.” Kalas gave a negligent shrug. “It’s always baffled me.”
Amaroq fell silent, surveying the landscape. They’d found their way back to the river, headed toward Erjen’s house. The old Nazarien intended to part with them there. He had no desire to go back to Tirsbor, even after all these years.
“So, this is your first time out of Tirsbor?” asked Kalas.
“Yes.”
“I figure you’re a couple of years at most younger than I am.”
“I believe it’s nearly two.”
“That’s a long time to stay in Tirsbor. What did you do with yourself all that time?”
“Studied. I’m well versed in all languages, history, mathematics, and the ways of nature.”
“Do you have a woman?”
“I’ve participated in many Procreation Ceremonies, if that’s your question.”
“Procreation Ceremonies? Jarrett Trauner outlawed them.”
Amaroq shot him a look. “They are voluntary now. Women are not forced to participate, but many do. I never want for partners.”
Kalas gave a bark of laughter. “I’ll bet you don’t.”
Amaroq frowned at him.
“You look like our father. Clearly he never wanted for partners either,” answered Kalas, holding up a hand. “Do you have children?”
“No, not yet. But you have a daughter?”
Kalas’ smile softened the lines in his face. “Esme. She’s one.”
“She brings you happiness when you think of her.”
Kalas looked over at him, studied him intently. “That’s part of the reason you never left Tirsbor, isn’t it? People’s emotions, they wash over you, inundate you until you feel like you’re going mad.”
Amaroq refused to meet his gaze. “It’s better now, away from Duard’s homestead. That place reeked with misery.”
Kalas leaned forward in the saddle. “Wolf, our sister can help you. She can teach you to block those emotions. She learned herself. It was just as bad for her, crippling, but she mastered it. She can teach you.”
Amaroq glanced at him. “I need to find Naia first.”
Kalas nodded. “Of course, but after – when this is over…”
“We’ll talk of this later,” said Amaroq, dismissing him. He wasn’t completely sure what Kalas wanted him to do, but he clearly wanted him to leave Tirsbor. Amaroq hadn’t allowed himself to think much about that. He hadn’t thought much about returning, but he knew Tovan would never let him out of sight again if he did. But did he want to stay in Tirsbor? He just didn’t know anymore.
They stopped at Erjen’s cabin for a meal. The Nazarien prepared cured veal on the rough peasant bread they’d taken from Duard’s homestead, then he packed up supplies for them. Amaroq was anxious to pick up the trail again, so they bid Erjen goodbye and left, riding across the meadow and into the trees, finally winding their way down to the Ethicon River.
Deliberately, he positioned himself at the back of the group, riding beside Nakoda. He wanted to talk to his brother some more, but Kalas confused him, made him long for things that he’d never known he wanted. Actually, that had been happening since he left Tirsbor. His world had been simpler before. He had the people he needed in his life and he’d never wanted for more, but talking to Shandar and Kalas about his father made him regret not knowing the man. Knowing he had another sister made him want to meet her. And worst of all, the thought of staying within the confining walls of Tirsbor suddenly felt claustrophobic.
Late in the afternoon, they came upon the spot on the map where Elvert said the King of Dorland and his sister had gone into the river. Shandar called a halt and sat astride his horse, studying the map.
Amaroq swung out of the saddle and wandered the bank, searching it for as far as he could see. Had his sister made her escape here? Had she survived? Had she returned to Tirsbor for help? The sun had crossed the sky and dipped behind the mountains, casting shadows on everything.
Amaroq paused, his gaze catching on something in the middle of the stream. Without thinking, he waded into the river. Nakoda and Shandar shouted at him to come back, but he waded out to the middle where it was deeper. A piece of fabric had snagged on a bit of flotsam. He untangled it and carried it back to the shore where his companions waited.
“What is it?” demanded Shandar.
“Cloth, torn from someone’s clothing.”
“That’s not Nazarien make,” said Shandar, taking the piece and turning it.
“No, but then the slaver said Aiden Cerik went into the river with Naia,” answered Amaroq. He shifted and surveyed the area. “If they made it out of the river, Naia would know she had to cross in order to reach Tirsbor. I think we should cross here.”
His companions agreed. Amaroq kept his thoughts to himself, but he’d felt the current as he waded for the bit of cloth. Not far from the bank it grew swift, deep, and cold. He shivered even now in his wet clothes. Had Naia escaped the slavers, there was no guarantee she and Aiden had made it out of the river again.
As if he read his thoughts, Kalas clamped a hand on his shoulder. “She made it out, Wolf,” he said, then he handed him a cloak from his pack. “You’re shivering.”
Amaroq ducked his head in gratitude and took the offered garment, sliding it around his shoulders. Then they climbed onto the horses, crossed the stream, and picked up the trail on the other side.
Amaroq insisted they press on until dusk began to give way to night. Stars appeared overhead and frogs began croaking. They found a dry bit of beach and made camp. Nakoda went in search of dry wood for a fire and Shandar laid out their meal – more of the veal and bread Erjen had given them.
They ate in silence, Amaroq staring pensively at the river, then they banked the fire and crawled into their bedrolls. Weariness pressed on the Nazarien, but his thoughts kept going back to Naia. He tried to draw comfort in the idea that she was free of the slavers, but that didn’t help. If she’d gotten free, only to drown, how would he make sense of that?
“Shandar,” came Kalas’ voice from the other side of the fire. “How did you come to live in Tirsbor? Become the mate of Amaroq’s mother?”
Amaroq looked over, interested. He knew most of this story, but in light of the rest, he found himself wanting to hear it again.
Shandar adjusted his head on his pack and sighed. “That has more to do with you than you might know.”
“Tell it,” said Kalas.
“After your father’s death, I wandered around Sarkisian and Adishian, hoping from some sign from you. I was prepared to challenge Rarick for your freedom, but a few years passed and you never sent word for me.”
“I couldn’t. Tyla…”
“I know the reason now, kid. Don’t get defensive.”
Kalas gave a grunt and settled in his bedroll.
“Eventually I wound up in Kazden again. I guess I just wanted to be close to your father. I was in the general store when this boy runs in and steals a stick of licorice, but this child wasn’t like any child I’d ever seen before. Blue eyes, black hair, perfect features, he was obviously Stravad and more obviously Talar’s get.” Shandar smiled at Amaroq. “The shopkeeper had gotten wise to this particular miscreant, so he caught him and was going to give him the whipping of a life when I intervened.”
* * *
Kaelene hitched the baby up on her hip and looked around. Eldon’s bloody star, where had the boy gotten to now? She felt a moment of panic, then her eyes lighted on the general store. The imp! Whenever she brought him to town for her errands, he snuck away from her and went into the store. He always came out eating something sweet, telling her the shopkeeper had given him a treat, but she was beginning to suspect otherwise.
The baby laid her head on her shoulder, twining a chubby hand in her mother’s hair. Kaelene pressed a kiss to the dark head and snuggled her closer. The child never cried, never fussed, never made an
y complaint whatsoever. In fact, she’d never heard the baby make a sound. Dryden said she was defective, but Kaelene ignored him for the most part.
If he didn’t want to claim his daughter, that was fine with her, but she had no intention of spending another Procreation Ceremony in his bed either. The Kazden Cult had offered her safe haven, but that was it. She owed them nothing more of herself.
Picking up her shopping basket, she headed for the store, climbing up on the boardwalk and pushing the door open. Her eyes lighted first on Amaroq struggling to escape the hold of the shopkeeper. In his other hand, the shopkeeper held a paddle. A piece of licorice dangled from Amaroq’s mouth and he was complaining... loudly.
Naia might not make a sound, but Amaroq made up for both of them with his noise. The boy had more spirit than a pack of wild dogs, forever annoying Dryden with his antics. Unfortunately, the other Cult members encouraged him.
Hurrying forward, Kaelene snatched her son from the shopkeeper, placing herself between them. The shopkeeper waggled a finger in her face. “He needs a whippin’. Lemme at him. He keeps stealing from me whenever you come to town.”
Kaelene shot a horrified look at the boy. “Is this true?”
Amaroq rolled his eyes. “No, who’d want to steal his moldy candy anyway?”
Kaelene glared at him. “What’s in your hand?”
Amaroq looked at the hand that she held with her own. It was empty. “Nuthin’.”
“The other hand!”
He glanced over at that. “Now how’d that get there?”
She let out a breath. “I should let him whip you.”
Big blue eyes rose to hers, his mouth drawing into a pout. She knew he deserved punishment, but when he looked at her like that her heart melted.
“The candy’s on me,” came a voice behind the shopkeeper.
Kaelene glanced up. A large man with pale hair and a hooked nose watched the exchange, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. Kaelene felt her heart pick up speed and she looked around the store.
“Shandar?” she asked.
“One and the same.”
She glanced around again.
“He’s not here,” he answered, his expression sobering.
Kaelene moved around the shopkeeper, dragging the boy with her. Shandar reached out a hand to Naia and the baby wrapped her own small fist around a huge finger. He smiled at her.
“Where is he?” Kaelene asked.
“Who?” demanded Amaroq, tugging on her hand.
“Shh,” she scolded and turned back to Shandar.
Shandar’s expression fell and he dropped his gaze. Kaelene felt her heart sink. There was no way Shandar would be here without him. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” she whispered.
“Who? Who’s dead?” insisted Amaroq.
“He needs a good whipping, he does,” said the shopkeeper, going behind the counter and settling the paddle on its surface. “A good, sound whipping.”
“Shandar?”
He touched her elbow. “Let me pay and we’ll go somewhere to talk.” He turned his back to her and paid the shopkeeper, also purchasing the licorice Amaroq had stolen.
Kaelene wandered toward the door, her mind spinning, trying to process what all of this meant. Of course, she’d heard rumors. The Cult whispered things, but women weren’t told anything directly. She’d dared to hope, to pray that the rumors were wrong – in fact, she’d convinced herself they had to be. She realized now that Dryden had been shielding her from the real information.
Shandar returned to her side, slinging his pack over his shoulder, and took her elbow. “Let me buy you supper.”
She nodded absently and allowed him to lead her outside. Once in the open, Amaroq demanded she released him, but she couldn’t. She clung to his hand as tightly as she could, holding on to the last part of him she still had. The boy sensed her upset and settled, pressing against her side as they walked down the street.
Shandar led her to a cafe and got them a table near the window. Kaelene shifted the baby to her lap and pulled Amaroq close, resting her chin on his head. She wanted to cry, but she knew what that would do to her son. It frightened him whenever she became emotional.
Shandar reached over and touched the baby’s fist. She latched onto him, giving him a watery smile. Kaelene was distracted by her reaction. Naia rarely showed much interest in anyone other than her mother or her brother. She never once responded to Dryden when he tried to get a reaction out of her.
“She sure don’t fuss much, does she?”
Kaelene lifted her eyes to his face. He smiled at her. “She can’t hear. At least that’s what I’ve discovered. She doesn’t cry, doesn’t fuss. Usually, she doesn’t acknowledge people at all.”
Suddenly the baby held out her arms for Shandar. He took her without hesitation and settled her on his lap. Kaelene frowned at that. Never had Naia gone with anyone else for even a short time.
“Shame, but she sure is a pretty gal,” he said, bouncing her.
Naia’s face lit up and her little mouth opened in a silent laugh. Kaelene and Amaroq laughed with her.
“She likes you,” said Amaroq.
Shandar nodded, settling the baby into the crook of his arm. “Tell me your name, little man.”
“Amaroq.”
“Amawhat?”
“Amaroq. Means wolf in your tongue.”
“You’re a cheeky one, aren’t you? Just like your father.” His eyes lifted and met Kaelene’s.
“How did he die?”
“No one told you?”
She shook her head. “I think they were trying to protect me. I heard rumors, but I didn’t want to believe them.”
“He died in battle.”
“Who? Who died?” demanded the boy.
“My brother.” Shandar hesitated, smoothing down Naia’s wild hair. “Your father.”
Amaroq tilted up his head. Kaelene laid her hand on his hair, stroking it. That hadn’t been the way she would have told him. She drew a breath, her chest so tight it ached. Amaroq leaned back into her, sensing her pain.
Shandar studied the boy. “You look just like him,” he said.
“I wanted to tell him. I wanted him to know he had a son, but Dryden said…”
“Dryden said?”
“He wouldn’t protect me if I told. The Sarkisian army were after me and I had to make a decision. Dryden promised to provide for me, protect me. I couldn’t run from place to place when I was pregnant. I had to make a choice and I chose the child.” She realized she was leaning forward in her earnestness.
“You did the right thing,” said Shandar. “I’m not faulting you for that. He’s a fine boy.”
A server appeared, an older woman with grey hair pulled back in a bun. “What can I get you?”
Amaroq eyed Shandar suspiciously, then he looked up at the server. “A steak and mashed potatoes. I want lots of gravy and pie. Two kinds of pie.”
Kaelene gasped, but Shandar laughed.
“Stop it!” she hissed at him.
“He can have whatever he wants,” Shandar told the server. “Do you want cream on the pie?”
Amaroq’s eyes gleamed. “Yes, cream. Lots of it.”
Shandar smiled. “What about you?”
Kaelene shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t know how to respond. Shandar brought up so many memories for her, memories of a time when she was happy. The realization that Talar was gone suddenly seemed too much and she burst into tears.
The server patted her on the shoulder, muttering words of comfort, while Shandar shifted uneasily. Amaroq wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her breast. “It’s all right, Ma. I won’t have the cream.”
Kaelene blindly reached for the napkin and wiped her eyes, hugging her boy with one arm. “No, it’s not the cream.”
“Give us a moment,” Shandar told the server and the older woman went away. Shandar took Kaelene’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. I should have been more sensitive.”
Kaelene shook her head, hugging the boy tighter. She couldn’t speak, afraid if she did so, she would scare Naia as well. She just couldn’t process her loss, all that might have been, all that would never be. She’d loved him so and he was gone. Some part of her had always believed he’d come back – realize he loved her and want to spend the rest of his life with her and his son. Now that was gone.
“Do something!” urged Amaroq to Shandar.
Shandar opened his mouth but nothing came out. Amaroq glared at him. Suddenly Kaelene burst out laughing. The entire situation was so absurd, there was nothing left for her to do. Shandar and Amaroq gave her a concerned look, but she grabbed her son’s head and kissed the top of it.
“Tell me all about your adventures, Shandar,” she said, folding her arms around Amaroq’s shoulders and resting her chin on the top of his head. “Tell me everything that’s happened since you left Kazden. I know you found Terra Antiguo.”
Shandar slumped in the chair, still holding Naia, a look of relief on his face. “Well, after we left you, we went to Marsino where we met a one-legged knife juggler.”
Amaroq’s eyes grew big and he leaned forward, caught up in the tale. Kaelene smiled at Shandar as she watched him entertain her children, his gestures awkward and expansive, his voice booming. And for the first time in ages, she felt at home.
CHAPTER 22
Adison slammed the book shut and raked his hands through his disheveled brown hair. “This isn’t what I asked you to do.”
“You asked me to teach you to read,” said Alasdair, easing back from him. He always kept his eyes turned away.
Adison grabbed the edge of the table and hoisted it up. Books, papers, and quills fell off, scattering on the ground. Alasdair hurried around the table and began gathering them, cradling the books as if they were children.
Fury raced through Adison and he banged his fist on the table. “I said teach me to read, not show me a bunch of gibberish!”
Alasdair ducked his head, rounding his shoulders. Usually the submission would suit Adison’s mood, but not now. Damn him, he was a son of Alton Cerik. He ought to have more backbone than this.
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 124