by Gail Dayton
“Right th—” She turned to point, but their new ilias wasn't just behind her, where he'd been all morning. She lurched toward the door, to go back inside and look.
Torchay stopped her. “He's no’ inside. No’ in the meeting room.” He looked at the others who'd gathered round at the top of the steps. “Did anyone see him go inside with us?"
“No.” Aisse frowned. “How can he not be with us?"
“The link's formed.” Kallista bit her lip. “Already."
“Then—where is he?” Viyelle asked. “Can't you sense him through the link?"
Kallista was afraid to look with her magic falling apart like this. Were the links still there? What was going on?
"Kallista." Obed's voice held the same urgency she felt. “Is he out in that?” He pointed.
The streets seethed with activity, their Adaran troop a lone pool of relative stillness. The soldiers stood in a half-circle facing out, the horses behind them, held by a few of the men. They held their carbine pistols pointing up at the sky, a visible threat against the rising hostility of the people in the street being harangued by shaved-bald Samerics.
Fighting back her fears, Kallista reached, not for magic but for her links. If the links were there, maybe the magic would be too. Carefully, as if reaching for a skittish animal, Kallista slipped her fingers around the links. Relief flooded her as she embraced them, counted them. All eight were here, humming with life. And magic. Would it answer her call?
She would try later. For now—quickly she separated out the link that bound her to Padrey. “There.” She pointed at the building they'd just left.
“Inside?” Viyelle shook her head. “But didn't Torchay say—"
“Not inside. Past the building. Somewhere on the other side. We'll have to go round.” Kallista shooed them ahead of her down the steps. “Hurry."
“Where's he going, for the One's sake?” Joh asked. “What's he doing?"
“I don't know.” Once more, Kallista swung onto her horse. “But whatever it is, he thinks it's important."
“If it's so important, why didn't he tell anyone?” Leyja complained. “Why didn't he ask for help?"
“I don't know.” Kallista couldn't keep the temper out of her voice. Why hadn't he? How dare he risk himself alone on these streets? Yes, he'd done it a dozen, a thousand times before. He'd lived on the streets, his life forfeit if he was recognized. But he hadn't been marked then. He hadn't been married. He hadn't been so desperately needed.
“He's only been married to us for a day,” Fox said. “He was alone for years before that. It's hard to learn new ways."
“He needs to learn faster.” Kallista wanted to ride faster, but the soldiers had to force a way through the crowds, using the strength of their horses and the threat of their carbines.
“But he wasn't alone, not completely,” Aisse said. “He did have his sedil. And her children."
“He was alone protecting them,” Fox said. “As much as an escaped slave and a thief could."
“Maybe that's where he went,” Joh suggested. “To Penthili House to get her. He'd know it—he escaped from there, didn't he?"
“I don't know,” Kallista said yet again. She was getting tired of having to say it. “But if he's gone off on some half-cocked rescue mission without telling us, I'm going to beat him. Or something."
Ahead, Kallista could see the crowd thin out. The Samerics apparently couldn't stir up tempers quickly enough to keep pace, even at the Adaran's forced slow pace. "Hurry."
* * * *
Padrey slipped through the alley behind Penthili House, feeling conspicuous in his sharp-looking rust red tunic and black trousers. He didn't blend into the sand-colored wall any more. He felt more than a twinge of guilt for coming away like this, but close as Penthili House was to the Seat, he could be in and out again with Nanda and her kids before his new iliasti noticed he was gone.
True, his sedil would be freed when all the slaves were freed, but he couldn't wait any longer. He'd waited too long already—since his escape—and the Penthili was just an older version of the new Head of Habadra. She would destroy a thing rather than let someone else have it. If word got out that Kallista had freed Habadra's slaves—No, Padrey couldn't wait.
He found the place where the plaster over the stone wall had been broken and poorly repaired, and the shallow handholds improved upon by a certain thief. Padrey checked to be sure the alley was empty, and swarmed up and over the wall, dropping into the Penthili pigsty to the squeal of disturbed piglets. Damn. Maybe the boots weren't quite totally ruined. They should have let him wear the old ones.
Escaping the pen just ahead of angry mama pig, Padrey scraped off the worst of the muck and started for the laundry where his sedil worked in the mending room. There, she could keep her oh-so-valuable children away from the dangers of laundry tubs and kitchen fires.
In his new clothes with his face fresh-shaved, he couldn't duck his head and play “slave on an errand” as he always had before, the few times he'd dared to come visit. He put on an arrogant swagger to walk as if he owned the place. He was—oh Goddess, he was Padrey Reinas. He might not own this place, but—He would think about that later. After he got Nanda out.
He strode down the corridor to the mending room, ignoring the few people he passed. They were beneath the notice of—whoever he was supposed to be. Bold as a new-marked dedicat, he entered the room, closing the door behind him.
Startled, his sedil cried out, spread her arms, and her flock of children scurried to huddle under them.
“Saints, Nanda.” Padrey tried to count. “You're only twenty-five. How'd you get so many kids?"
“Padrey!” She sprang from her chair to hug him. She'd gone plump and soft, her apron mounding over yet another pregnancy. At least the bastards let their slaves wear clothes when they were pregnant. Otherwise, they wore only the short, white kilts.
“They're not all mine,” Nanda said when she let him go. “I watch the little ones, from when they're weaned till they're big enough to work. What are you doing here? It's too dangerous for you. You have to leave—but where did you get such fine clothes?"
“I got married.” Padrey felt the blush burn his cheeks and didn't know why. It wasn't like he had run out on his marriage. He wouldn't be here long. “I'll tell you everything later. I've come to fetch you.” He stopped her protest with a wave. “You and your brats. You know I wouldn't leave ‘em."
“Penna's not here—my oldest.” Nanda's eyes were wide with beginning panic. “She works in the house, weeding courtyards."
"Saints." Padrey drew his hand down over his mouth, thinking. “All right. I'll get her. You get everything ready here. I'll be right back."
“Padrey—” Nanda's soft voice called him back. “I'm happy for you."
He frowned. What was she talking about?
“Your marriage?” Nanda gave him a shy smile. “I wanted you to know—in case? I'm happy you found someone."
“Nine someones, actually,” he muttered, then stabbed a finger at her. “There's no ‘in case.’ I am getting you out. Now, today. Be ready."
She blinked, then her smile widened and she nodded. “All right."
Padrey hadn't been much in the family sections of Penthili House, but he found the courtyards easily enough. He just followed the sound of water. Unfortunately, like all other Houses in Mestada, it had a multitude of courtyards scattered through the maze of the House. The first two were empty. The third held Penthili men gathering with friends for lunch. Padrey gave that one a wide berth. No slaves would be there unless they were serving, and Penna was too little for that.
Just how many courtyards did this House have, and how many would he have to search before he found the child? At least he didn't have to worry about searching the same courtyard twice. Each one had a distinctive fountain or pool.
“Can I be of assistance, sir?"
Padrey spun around to see the person he hated most in the world, the housekeeper who had made his s
lave's life miserable with her callous cruelty, an echo of her mistress. Now, Zatha-ti stood with head bowed, hands clasped at her waist, the picture of obsequious humility.
Thinking frantically, Padrey drew himself up, copying dignity from Obed Reinas. Wait—hadn't Kall—the Reini—Kallista come to a partything at Penthili House before the trial? He didn't have to pretend the impossible. He could be Adaran.
“Adara's Reinine sent me. She lost something—a necklace—and thought it might have been lost here. At the party. The guard at the gate said I could come in and look.” Would she believe that enormous lie, especially since the guard hadn't come along? Could Padrey get rid of Zatha-ti and find Penna at the same time? “Can someone help me search? Who tends the courtyards?"
The horrid old woman clapped her hands sharply and a flame-haired, kilt-clad slave boy scurried to answer. “Find the weed girl,” she said. “Bring her to me."
The boy bowed without speaking and rushed off. Zatha-ti preferred silence from “her” slaves, and enforced that preference viciously. Padrey remembered all too well.
“What sort of necklace is it, sir?” Zatha-ti joined him in the search, fortunately at the next garden bed, so he had some distance from her.
“Gold, with a red stone.” Padrey described the necklace he had stolen, reduced in size. “Small. Of more sentimental value to my Reinine than its worth in coin.” Goddess, what if Zatha-ti decided one of the slaves had stolen it, decided to punish them till they gave it up? “And she is not certain she lost it here. It might have fallen in the street on the way, or even at the embassy, earlier. But she did ask that I come look."
“Of course, sir.” The housekeeper straightened as the slap of bare running feet on pavement neared.
The slave boy bowed. He reached behind him to grab a smaller child's arm—she was seven, Padrey knew—and haul her forward. The boy, who looked a few years older, bowed again and held the position. The girl bowed too. Padrey grimaced, his back aching in sympathy as he recalled how long Zatha-ti could make them stay like that.
“So, girl.” Padrey made his voice overly cheerful. “Have you seen a necklace in your cleaning? Small, gold, red stone. Stand up straight. Look at me. Both of you, now."
Zatha-ti clapped once, as if she couldn't allow Padrey to usurp any of the authority she'd claimed. The children straightened. The girl child looked up at him. Her face brightened—oh hell, she recognized him.
Padrey frowned, shook his head, tilted it a fraction toward the awful woman and Penna's expression blanked. The boy shifted his eyes from one to the other of them, but kept silent. Of course. Zatha-ti noticed nothing. He hoped.
“Well?” Padrey strode in a circle round the children.
Penna shook her head, staring up at him. As if she trusted him to know what he was doing.
He had no idea. How in blazes was he supposed to take Penna away now Zatha-ti had latched onto him? Could he even get back to Nanda now and get her out?
“Are you sure? Could it have fallen under some plant? Into some spot that didn't need cleaning?"
Penna shrugged, looking a bit worried as she slanted a glance toward the frowning housekeeper.
“Speak up, girl. I can't hear you think.” Padrey folded his arms, tried to look fierce.
With another glance at Zatha-ti, Penna said, “Some of the flower beds don't grow many weeds. I don't have to tend them so often. Maybe—"
“Let's go look, shall we?” He took her hand and started to walk away. Another courtyard, away from Zatha-ti, and they might be able to sneak off.
“I know you,” the housekeeper muttered. She said it louder. “I know you.” She pointed a long-nailed finger at him. “You're no envoy. You're a slave. A runaway. Guards!"
“Run!” Padrey grabbed the children and flung them ahead of him.
“Champions! Guards! Help.” Zatha-ti hiked up her dress and ran after them, shrieking for help, but she couldn't match their panic-driven speed. “Runaways!” she shouted. “Thieves!"
“This way, this way—” Padrey plunged back into the depths of the House. He couldn't leave Nanda behind. He'd promised her. “Don't wait,” he told the children. “Run to the pigsty. You can get over the wall in the corner. When you get out, find the Adaran embassy. Tell them Padrey sent you. Tell them you're kin. Understand me?"
The children's eyes were wide with fear as they ran with him, but they nodded.
Padrey could hear the clatter of weapons and nailed boots. The champions were coming. He shoved the children into an empty courtyard. “Go! I'll get your mother. You go."
“My mother too?” the boy paused to ask.
“Yes. Yes, somehow. Now run.” Padrey slammed the window-door and dashed across the broad chamber, slowing just enough to let his pursuers see him before darting through the doorway, to be sure they followed him.
He stumbled as a vast strangeness rippled through his body. Magic. He'd felt it before but not like this. “Kallista—” His lips formed her name.
The magic pulsed, pure pleasure, and he stumbled again, almost fell. A Penthili champion caught him, slammed him against the wall. Padrey's head bounced and he cried out, choked it off as the edge of a blade pressed against his throat.
“Kill him!” Zatha-ti hobbled into the room, breathing hard.
The champion nodded.
Oh shite. Padrey managed one more thought before the blade sliced into his neck. Kallista, I'm sorry.
* * *
Chapter Thirty-One
“No!"
The scream sounded in both his mind and his ears as the champion crumpled to the ground. Padrey slid down the wall, his hands clutching at his throat, trying to stop the blood. He choked on it, fought it for breath. He was breathing?
“Easy, lad.” Torchay's face swam in Padrey's vision. “No, don't lie flat. Here—"
Hands lifted, moved him and Padrey leaned against something firm and warm—no, someone. Someone held him, supported him in his arms.
“Oh God, oh God—” Was that Kallista's voice?
Padrey blinked, trying to see. He could breathe, a bit. The blood didn't choke him so bad now. Wasn't he dying?
He could see Kallista bent over him. Her face was wet. And ... it had blood on it. She swiped at her face with the back of her hand and got more on. Padrey lifted his hand to wipe it away, but his was bloodier. Oh, that's right. They'd killed him.
He coughed, spraying blood everywhere. “Goddess,” he croaked, “Sorry. Watch out—guards."
“No, don't talk. Don't—” Kallista put her fingers over his mouth a moment, then laid her hand on his neck again. “You're not healed yet. And the guards are asleep. Everyone in the House is asleep, except Adarans."
Her voice sounded strange too, sounded—
“'R'you crying?” He couldn't believe it. “Why?"
“Stop talking,” she scolded. “Let me finish before you try to undo what I've done. Why do you think I'm crying, you idiot?"
He didn't know, but he wasn't about to dare words, not after that. He tried to ask with his expression, a feeble shrug.
“You almost died!” The hushed volume of her words only added to their intensity. “A little deeper, a little faster, and I couldn't have brought you back."
Padrey had to clear his throat. It didn't hurt, or only a little. He brought his hand up to feel. The skin was tender, but it was closed. “Right,” he whispered. “You need me."
“Yes. I need you.” She sat back on her heels. “If it hurts to talk, don't. I've never had to heal a voice before."
“Am Ihealed?"Padreyleaned totheside to spit outtheblood in histhroat, then struggled to sit up. Torchay, who'd been supporting him, helped.
“How do you feel?” Kallista took a handkerchief from Aisse and leaned forward to clean his neck.
Padrey thought about taking it from her—he could wash his own neck—but didn't. He lifted his chin for her instead. “Sore,” he said. “Tired."
“That'll be the blood loss,” Torchay said.
“But otherwise?” Kallista turned his face the other way, to get at the other side. “It looks good."
“Yeah, other than that, I feel okay.” Padrey nodded.
Kallista dropped the bloodstained handkerchief and gave him an open-handed smack on the side of his head. “Then what in the name of all that's holy did you think you were doing coming off here alone? Without telling anyone!"
“You were busy. I didn't want to bother you."
Kallista wanted to tear her hair right out of her head. Or his. His would do. “So instead, you came here alone to get yourself killed and it never occurred to you that that might bother me? Never mind that I was hunting demons when you left on your solo expedition!"
“Sorry.” Padrey hunched in on himself with a sheepish expression. “I just—I didn't think anyone would notice. Not before I'd got Nanda and got back."
“You didn't—” Kallista threw herself to her feet and paced a few steps away, trying to get a grip on her violent emotions. Because she hadn't noticed. Not until Torchay had called her attention to his absence.
But she hadn't thought Padrey would do something so colossally idiotic. And she'd been a bit preoccupied by the demons and her amazing, disappearingmagic.Thankthe One ithadanswered hercallwhenshetruly needed it, in time to save Padrey from his folly. From her negligence.
Kallista wiped away the stupid tears. She returned to kneel beside Padrey where Torchay made him stay to regain his strength. She took the hand of her young ilias and held it in both of hers.
“Forgive me,” she said, “for ever making you feel I wouldn't notice if you were gone. I know it's hard, coming to an ilian after being alone so long, joining an ilian that's been together six years without you. But try harder. Please?"
Padrey swallowed hard, past the new-healed scar in his throat, and nodded, his eyes wide.
She couldn't stop there, much as she wanted to. She couldn't be less than honest. She owed him all the truth—and just maybe it would stop him from taking such insane risks. Or at least from taking them alone. “I can't speak for the others, only myself, but please don't ever think I don't care for you."