Brisson and a dozen other men stood between Samsin and the crowd of onlookers, backs to the crowd. Unlike at the trial, a low murmur of conversation already ran through the assembled watchers. Gavin could almost feel the pulses of smoldering anger surging through the crowd.
The people spread out in a wide semicircle around Samsin and the men before him, like a small section of the moon when it was shrinking. Gavin noticed Evrouin standing near the front of the group on the side opposite him, standing a head or so above most of the others. Brisson turned to face the crowd, and Gavin noticed the thick, fist-sized stone in his left hand. Conversations died.
“Justice will be served!” Brisson shouted, and then turned back around to face Samsin. “Ready!”
Thirteen arms raised, stones poised to throw. Gavin’s eyes flickered to Samsin’s face. The massive Orinai looked at his assailants with calm, unafraid eyes. Samsin even smiled.
“Throw!”
Gavin shifted his gaze to the red-orange horizon before the rocks struck. He heard the meaty smack of stone on flesh and the clatter of rocks as they struck one another in midair. Gavin felt a collective movement from the crowd, half a wince, half an involuntary motion of satisfaction and justice. Chins lifted, but shoulders remained slumped. A few backs straightened, though others looked away entirely. Gavin kept his own reaction in check, fixing his gaze on a distant mountain peak jutting into the skies. But slowly, as if drawn by a great weight, his eyes drifted downward toward Samsin, knowing what he would see wouldn’t be any worse than the deaths he’d already seen in the Sharani Desert.
His eyes found Brisson instead, standing where Samsin had been, looking down over the edge of the cliff. Half a dozen rocks lay on the ground, several wet with blood. Brisson turned, and it seemed as if the motion were the movement of the stars across the sky. Gavin half expected him to raise his hands into the air and scream victory to the wind, but instead he simply nodded, expression grim and face set in hard lines. For a moment, Brisson looked far older than Gavin had initially thought him to be. Then the crowd started cheering.
* * *
Gavin strolled through the streets with long, purposeful strides, one hand resting on the hilt of his greatsword. Gavin had come to the firm conclusion that he wasn’t overly fond of the weapon, even with its supposed history and power. He heard his grandmother’s voice admonishing him inside his mind, but didn’t give it much heed.
Gavin was searching for Evrouin and Cobb. He had a meeting scheduled with Brisson to go over the work details to which the Rahuli would be assigned. He needed both men in agreement with his plan before then.
The sounds of men and women at work were a pleasant backdrop as Gavin walked. Small children in bright clothing scampered across the streets, bounding from building to building or else taking part in a sprawling, massive game of touch-me-not. Their youthful voices mingled with the sharp clang of metal against metal and the rasp of wood against wood as smiths and carpenters worked their wares. The craftsmans’ shops sat intermingled with the smaller houses, sometimes even attached to them, and filled the air with warm, foreign smells. Gavin couldn’t even begin to name them all, but he found them all pleasant. A communal eating building, called a dining hall, rested near the center of the valley, large enough for Gavin to be almost awed by its size, from which a mixture of the various scents and smells wafted and made a heady amalgam of sorts that left Gavin’s mouth watering, but his head spinning.
Gavin found it all a disconcertingly bright counterpoint to the darkness of the morning’s execution.
“Oi, Gavin!” a voice called.
Gavin turned to see Darryn hurrying toward him, carefully avoiding a group of small children kicking a bundle of tied rags across the ground. Several of the kids paused their game long enough to exchange a word or two with the man. Darryn smiled at each of them, but declined to participate in the game and pressed on toward Gavin.
Gavin silently cursed himself for not having spoken to the man before now. Darryn had been among those Lhaurel had broken—Gavin still shuddered at the thought of her powers being used that way—but, outside of Alyson, he hadn’t spoken to any of the mystics yet. He made a mental note to rectify that situation moving forward. The mystics were a vital part of his plan.
Behind Darryn, the children whooped as someone managed to get the bundle of rags into a wooden bin laid on its side.
“Darryn,” Gavin said with a small nod as the man approached. “What can I do for you?”
Gavin wasn’t tall, only average in height and girth among the Rahuli, but Darryn stood just over a head shorter than him. To his credit though, Darryn was stocky and well-muscled, something that Gavin had a suspicion was a common trait among his kind.
“Farah won’t let me have one of the aevians,” Darryn said, bluntly, fixing Gavin with hard grey eyes.
Gavin blinked. “Why do you want an aevian?”
Darryn’s thick, square-jawed face hardened, making it appear as stone. “I have business to be about.”
“What sort of business requires the use of an aevian?”
“My business.”
Gavin narrowed his eyes. “Well, you won’t get me to intercede with Farah on your behalf if I don’t know what you’re going to do.”
“Intercede? What in the seven hells does that even mean?”
“Talk to Farah on your behalf. Convince her to let you use one of the aevians,” Gavin explained, fighting to keep down one corner of his mouth that was threatening to turn upward.
“Convince?” Darryn said, arching one eyebrow. “You’re in charge. Tell her.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Gavin noticed the set of Darryn’s jaw, the hard ridge of muscle standing out on the side of his neck, and the whiteness around his knuckles. Darryn had been an important part of their escape from the Sharani Desert, so where was the belligerence coming from now?
“Tell me what you want to do and I’ll consider it.”
A small splotch of color blossomed on Darryn’s brown face, highlighting the splashes of grey in his hair. He didn’t say anything for a long moment and silence stretched between him and Gavin for the space of several breaths. Behind Darryn, the children cheered as someone else got the rags into the bin.
“Fine then,” Darryn said. “I’ll figure it out on my own. Thanks for nothing.”
Gavin half raised a hand, but then let it fall as Darryn spun on a booted heel and strode off back the way he had come. Children dodged out of his way and then resumed their game as if he had never really been there to begin with.
Gavin made another mental note to talk to Farah about the experience later and have Cobb look into the matter. Someone had to know what Darryn was up to. He couldn’t afford to have someone off on their own agenda when he was in the middle of testing the limits of his own authority with Brisson and his people. Running a hand through his hair, and giving it a firm shake, Gavin resumed his search for Cobb.
Gavin found Cobb exactly where he thought he would, at a long wooden table in the dining hall. Cobb was just tucking into a large serving of meat, bread, and a number of small, round, white objects with yellowish centers when Gavin sat down next to him. The rest of the table was unoccupied, but there were perhaps two score other people present, sitting at various tables throughout the hall or else serving up the food at long counters along one wall. Cobb looked over at him and grunted, then pushed a large wooden tankard over to him.
“Have a drink, boy,” Cobb muttered through a mouthful of food. “I think you’ll need it with that expression on your face.”
“What expression?”
Cobb snorted and shoved one of the round, white objects whole into his mouth and chewed. Gavin picked up the tankard by the handle and peered down into its depths, studying the dark liquid inside.
“Where’s your wife?”
Cobb swallowed and grunted before taking a bite of some meat he’d placed between two halves of bread. He chewed slowly and
then swallowed, making a satisfied sound as he glanced over at Gavin, both elbows propped up on the table and his bread and meat held loosely in one hand.
“What do you need, boy?”
“Am I really that obvious?”
“To this lot?” Cobb gestured around at the other people in the room with the hand holding the bread and meat. “No. To me, well, I’ve been around long enough to know when someone’s been thinking and pondering and scheming. I’m too old for all this. I’m tired. Leave me be.”
Gavin was taken aback by the stark frankness in Cobb’s tone. The old warrior had always been a bit on the gruff side, a little blunt even, but this was something else entirely.
“Is everything alright?” Gavin asked, putting the tankard back onto the table with a heavy thunk.
Cobb snorted and dropped the bread and meat onto his platter of food. The bread broke apart and part of it rolled across the table and onto the floor.
“No,” Cobb snapped, jabbing a thick, gnarled finger at Gavin. “We’ve been run out of our home—which has been destroyed, mind you—and we’re stuck here with this bloodthirsty lot of idiots and farmers. We’re a dead people, boy. Dead.”
“Not yet, we’re not.” Gavin felt blood pounding in his ears.
“You’re a fool.”
“Will you just be quiet and listen to what I have to say?” Gavin hissed, temper flaring. “I have a plan, but I need your help to accomplish it.”
“Of course you do. You always need my help. I’m tired, boy. Find someone else.”
For half a second, Gavin was at a loss for words, his mind and emotions halfway between surprise and anger. Then he found himself talking.
“Fine. I’ll talk to Evrouin, then.”
Gavin got to his feet, noticing the stares from several of the other people in the room. He’d made no effort to control his voice, nor had Cobb, and their argument was far from a private conversation now. The people looked away as soon as they noticed Gavin watching them.
Cobb reached out and grabbed Gavin around the wrist, his grip like iron. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, boy,” Cobb said, eyes hard behind a curtain of grizzled hair that fell over them. “You think if you replace me with someone I hate, I’ll get upset enough to just go along with whatever it is you’re planning. You’re wrong.”
Gavin looked down at the hand at his wrist and then back up to Cobb, meeting his eyes.
“No,” Gavin said, twisting his wrist free. “I’m not. I can see it in your eyes. You wouldn’t have stopped me if it wasn’t working. I need you, Cobb, or the plan I have in mind won’t work. We are a proud and strong people. Don’t let us die. Fight for us. Be the warrior I’ve come to admire more than any other.”
Cobb’s brows came together over his eyes, which narrowed as they regarded Gavin.
“Fine,” Cobb said after a long moment. “Speak. I’ll listen. But that’s all I can promise.”
Gavin nodded, keeping his expression firm, though inside he revelled. “That’s all I need.”
* * *
About half an hour later, Gavin strode out of the dining hall with a measured, confident step. Cobb still sat at the table where Gavin had found him, not fully convinced of Gavin’s plan or the people Gavin intended to make a part of it, but at least he’d agreed to think about it. That left Gavin with the task of finding Evrouin and convincing him to participate. Despite what Cobb had said to the contrary, Gavin had complete confidence that Cobb’s pride wouldn’t allow him to sit by and let Evrouin act without him. Gavin still debated with himself about the sanity of his choice to include Evrouin, but—in the end—logic and the need to solidify all factions within the Rahuli people assured him the choice was already made for him anyway. If he wanted his plan to work, Evrouin would be a part of it.
Gavin wasn’t entirely sure where to find Evrouin, but he figured the man would either be with the other Rahuli in their section of the narrow valley, or else close to where he could be privy to the most information. That meant the man would be close to Brisson’s headquarters.
Trusting that instinct, Gavin headed down the main street toward the center of the valley. By this time in the morning, the air was fresh and crisp, the smell of chill still clinging to the air, though with a hint of warming earth. Gavin breathed in a deep lungful, ignoring an odd tickle in the back of his throat. Few people were in the streets now, all having gone about their daily tasks, or else remaining inside their small homes. Gavin didn’t mind. It would make finding Evrouin that much easier.
The sun cast long spears of light across the sky as Gavin strode down the narrow streets between houses. The squat, little huts held an odd mystery to Gavin as well, though it was only now, striding among them, that he realized what it was. Having lived his entire life either out on the sands or within caverns of various shapes and sizes while within the Sharani Desert, the idea of building a home was somewhat foreign to him. True, there had been several times when he’d lived in various types of tents or in the back of the wide-wheeled wagon-carts of the outcasts, but these buildings of Brisson’s people were different. With walls made of stone and a roof of clay tiles that slanted almost to the ground in the back, they were as far from tents as Gavin could imagine. And the other buildings—Gavin wondered how they could remain standing with so few inner walls to keep the ceiling up. The larger buildings made Gavin uneasy, though he would never admit that to anyone.
Gavin heard a shout through his thoughts an instant before something vaguely squishy slammed into his stomach. Gavin gasped more out of reflex than the force of the blow, and reached for his powers and his greatsword in the same breath, feeling for the strands of energy around him. A small boy, perhaps ten or eleven years old, rushed up to him, face a mixture of guilt and excitement, but pulled up short as the energy rushed up Gavin’s arms for a split second and then vanished almost as quickly as it had come. Half a dozen other youths scampered around a corner followed by Evrouin—of all people—just as the energy in Gavin’s hands faded.
“What in the seven hells?” the boy swore.
Gavin sucked in a breath and pushed any remnant of his powers away before they could do any more damage. He also released his grip on his sword. The group of boys stared at him with wide eyes, clumping together in a group around Evrouin. A bundle of rags tied with leather cords—the object that had hit Gavin—lay forgotten in the middle of the street.
“Boys,” Evrouin said, his tone cheerful, “this is Gavin, the leader of my people.”
One of the boys in the group, a short, stocky fellow with a scar that ran down his left cheek in a jagged line, narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose in Gavin’s direction.
“He don’t look very special, do he?”
Evrouin chuckled and the tension in the group seemed to melt away as the rest of the boys slowly joined in, their laughs a higher pitched version of Evrouin’s.
“That he doesn’t, Jakob. Not at all, in fact.” Evrouin grinned at Gavin, though his eyes held a sharpness to them that didn’t match his light tone.
Gavin shrugged and held his hands up in a helpless gesture. “I should at least watch where I’m going, shouldn’t I, Evrouin?” He had no idea what Evrouin was doing with this particular group of children, but he sensed that the answer he gave was an appropriate one. At least, it seemed it was the response Evrouin was looking for, even if it set a bad precedent with Evrouin to let the man think he could insult Gavin in that way. No one would respect him if his own people didn’t.
“That you should,” one of the other boys said. “If you’re not careful, you’ll run into something.”
“Or get hit by a ball,” another boy chuckled.
“Maybe someone will throw out a bucket of dirty water and it will hit you in the face.”
“Or you’ll fall down a well.”
“Or off a cliff.”
The boys all laughed at this one and Gavin shook his head, smiling despite himself. His childhood hadn’t included anything r
esembling the level of play these boys had. Part of him longed to join them in their game. Duty, however, reminded him of his current course.
“What was that you were doing, just now?” Jakob asked after the laughter had died down. “You was using magic, weren’t you?”
The silence grew in the wake of the question.
Evrouin answered before Gavin had the chance. “Him. Nah, he’s just good for making decisions and eating food while the rest of us work.” Evrouin flashed Gavin such a pointed look that Gavin swallowed his retort, though kept his expression hard.
“I know what I saw,” Jakob protested, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“You’re just sore because your team is losing,” Evrouin said, then looked around at the other boys. “Come on then, now—back to it. I’ll play on the losing team next time, alright?”
The boys hesitated for a moment, then one of them dashed for the bundle of rags, kicking it off down the street. Moments later, the other boys were after him in a roiling, shouting mass of flesh. Even Jakob. Evrouin remained behind as the group of boys vanished between two nearby huts, though the sounds of their game lingered for a few moments longer.
Evrouin rounded on Gavin the moment the boys were out of sight.
“What were you thinking?” Evrouin hissed. “Your mind is as empty as a genesauri’s nest, boy!”
Gavin dropped a hand to the hilt of his greatsword and locked his gaze with Evrouin’s.
“I was acting as I saw fit at the time,” Gavin said. “And you will not insult me like that again. Not in front of others and not when it’s just you and me.”
Sharani series Box Set Page 71