by Chris Reher
Aletha freed herself from his embrace. “I'm sorry, Delann. It was thoughtless of me not to send another message. I've been ill. This is Chor and Galen. They helped me escape. What have you heard?”
Delann glanced nervously around the hall and then motioned them to follow into an adjoining room without taking time for the ritual of offering dry clothing to his guests. He continued to hold both of her hands in his as they sat on a low, armless couch. Chor remained standing by the door; Galen flung himself into a nearby chair.
This house was a welcome change from the dilapidated buildings along the waterfront. Expensive, with furniture elaborately carved from the dark, fine-grained wood of the jungle, the well-maintained estate bespoke the owner’s standing in the community. Woven and dyed grass mats covered stone floors worn to a rich gloss over many years, and above them high ceilings and open archways helped to channel the humid breeze. Expertly carved sailing ships and stone sculpture were displayed before tapestries telling of past legends and heroes. Like many of the oldest houses here in Phrar, the doorways of this building were strangely oversized, harking back to a time when its occupants had been taller.
One entire wall of this large sitting room was open to the gardens. The well-worn flagstones, friezes and blunt sculpture seemed as if they’d always been here and always would be. Water dripping from the fluted roof tiles outside struck a trough of rounded stones, plants, and metal objects designed to create a tranquil display of moving water and soothing sounds. The moss on stone and columns and even the green patina on copper edgings seemed to grow in patterns most pleasing to the eye. Twin statues in the shape of some mythical beast flanked the terrace, one of them currently a perch for a large yellow lizard. Unmoving, it surveyed the mist-veiled garden, like everything else here unaware of the passage of time.
Although he had seen a sword rack in the hallway, there were no visible weapons in this room and when Galen cast his thoughts about the rambling building he found no unseen guards either. Three people in the kitchen near the front door, two more out back, someone was sleeping upstairs. There was nothing unsettling here; the house and its inhabitants were at peace. Aletha’s friend was the exception.
Delann's voice was a nervous whisper when he spoke. “I heard only that Owl and Jora were found dead in Shep's warehouse. They said Owl and Shep attacked some intruders and Jora got in the middle of it. Shep got away. His boys are safe, too. When I heard you and Parran had been taken I feared the worst. We all feared sooner or later you'd be betrayed, or you'd betray yourself. This is all so sad. I wasn’t able to attend, but I heard that they sent Owl and Jora on their way on the same pyre, like they would have wanted.”
Aletha sighed. “I saw them kill Owl but after that don’t remember much. They were emissaries, I’m sure of that. I don’t know how I ended with the slaver. Any word about Parran?”
“Taken to the enclave for purging.”
She closed her eyes.
“What does that mean?”
Aletha shifted on the bench to answer Galen’s question. “It means he’s dead or soon will be. Usually, when a Descendant is captured, he or she is sent to Anhkar, near the delta, where they are kept by the emissaries. Enslaved, although the emissaries say they are there to take instruction and discover the true meaning of Dazai’s decree and so give up their magic-using ways. Most of the people who are sent away aren’t even Descendants. Parran is a friend who was with me that day in the warehouse. I was teaching him how to help Owl with his bad back. Parran has some talent, as you call it, and he’ll not be allowed to live.” Her lower lip twitched and she bit down on it. “They… they may question him about me. About the others. We’ve all heard stories about that. After they… I mean when they…”
Galen raised his hand to spare her the recital of ghastly details. “Do you know where they keep him? Perhaps there is a way to get to him.”
“You can’t!” Delann said at once. “Don’t even consider it. They’ll purge the whole quarter.”
“All right, just a thought.” Galen nodded to Althea who looked as shocked by his suggestion as Delann had. “We have to leave here. Soon.”
She turned back to their host. “We need a boat.”
“Where are you going?”
She dropped her eyes. “Down the coast a bit. Then inland.”
Delann made as if to protest but then nodded. “That's probably best. I'll get you passage on one of the ships. I've got a frigate going south in a few days.”
She shook her head. “We can’t wait that long. If I’m found out, you’re found out. I’m hoping to get out tomorrow. I want something small. A dinghy will do. We’ll stay in the tributaries and then head east to Tandalay.”
“Not much there,” he said doubtfully. “Although you’ll be less conspicuous,” he added, meaning the dark-skinned twins.
“It'll do. Can you help us?”
“Of course I can help you! But stay here tonight,” he looked up to include the twins in his request. “We'll have dinner, some friends, music. Who knows when we’ll see you again. What do you say?”
Aletha turned to Galen.
He held his hands up in acceptance. “From the looks of this place I'd say your cooks are probably a little more accomplished than those at the inn.”
Preparations were made, messengers sent, and the new guests shown to comfortable quarters. Although Delann’s home was spacious, Galen and Chor elected to share a room. The upper story was as opulent as the main floor, but these private rooms were enclosed to protect the rich fabrics, wooden floors and collections of books and maps from Thali’s humidity. Aletha took advantage of a well-appointed bathhouse and then accompanied Galen, Chor and Delann to some of the stores that her friend supplied with trade goods.
There, Delann allowed them to choose clothes and other supplies for their journey. Aletha assembled camping gear, bedding, tarps, some fishing tackle and a few extra weapons, expertly appraising the merchandise to sort the practical from the frivolous. The current traveling fashion seemed to consist of voluminous trousers, tight at the ankle, and loosely woven blouses held at the waist by a wide sash wrapped several times about the body. This was then covered either by simple tunic or an open vest reaching to the knees. Women dressed the same, in more elaborately decorated fabrics. Although most comfortable in sandals or barefoot, Aletha added boots and warmer items for the last leg of their journey, which would take them into higher elevations. Delann’s servants were sent to take their new gear to a ship waiting at the docks. A store of food would be purchased at the wharf when they were ready to sail.
Galen tried to pay for their choices but Delann refused at once.
“I am trying to ease my conscience,” he said to Galen, but his eyes were on Aletha across the room. She was trying to persuade Chor to try on a broad straw rain hat without much success. “I should be taking her away rather than let her rely on strangers. I mean no offense to you, of course. She won’t take money from me. Let me give you these things to make up for my weaknesses.”
“Weaknesses?” Galen said.
Delann smiled ruefully and shrugged. “I am a coward. It’s that simple. I've loved Aletha since she arrived in Phrar. I don’t even know if she knows this. But she is dangerous. There are those who fear her for her strangeness and those who hate her for her gifts. I have much to lose if I took a stand by her side. May the Gods forgive me, these soulless, meaningless things I amass by the day mean more to me than this woman or the happiness we could have.”
“You risk all of it by your hospitality. Her friends lost their lives when they tried to protect her and the same can happen to you. You call that cowardice?”
Delann observed Aletha with great fondness. “She is so very special. More than we'll ever know, I'm sure. She deserves a friend who's not afraid.”
“Of her?” Galen said quietly.
Delann held his gaze. “Of her,” he said at last.
* * *
The guests arrived as the sun disapp
eared behind the bulk of the Homeworld. With them came musicians, acrobats and storytellers. Soon more than a hundred people were scattered throughout the ground floor rooms and the gardens of Delann's home, brightly chatting and gossiping, tasting the exotic foods arranged on heavily laden tables, and trying to catch a glimpse of the rarely-seen Aletha and the remarkable set of twins accompanying her. But Galen and Chor had disappeared.
“Aletha!” Delann found her in the crowd. He was in high spirits; already several bowls of wine had gone to work on him. He looked dashing in a colorful tunic reaching to his bare feet and she smiled at him with great fondness. “What a wonderful get-together! Find your friends. I told some people they traded near the mountains and they want news from there.”
Aletha began to look around, stopping often to chat with Delann's guests, many of whom she knew. All had wondered what happened after the tragedy in the warehouse although only few suspected that she was, indeed, a Descendant. Yala had been instructed to create gossip about the slaver, an easily accepted story. Both Owl and Aletha would fetch handsome prices on any market. Aletha avoided conversation about the matter, deftly turning aside some of the more direct questions that greeted her in one room after another on her quest to find Galen and Chor. When she searched for them upstairs, the twins' bedroom was empty. The overheated kitchen was a lively confusion of harried household staff and a few guests intent on lending a hand but the twins were not among them. She quizzed the stable boy and then checked the rain-soaked gardens before finally entering the mansion's bathhouse.
The steam-filled rooms were silent except for the drip of water on tile. The fire under the main bathing basin was well banked, the water inside clear. Playful, somewhat suggestive murals decorated the walls, and the stone benches were well stocked with linens, dishes of soaps, lotions and herbs as well as wine and platters of food. No doubt some of Delann’s guests were expected to find their way out here before the night’s carousing was done.
Passing under some stone arches that mimicked the grand entrance to Phrar Thali’s council hall, she found the twins in the dressing room. One lounged on a bench, his eyes closed, a large sheet wrapped around his waist. The other stood nearby, his hands in his hair. As usual, they did not speak, apparently content to share a comfortable silence.
Although she was motionless, both twins abruptly turned to look at her.
Aletha blushed. “I didn't mean to disturb you. I’m sorry.”
“We don't have these bathhouses on the Homeworld,” he said and sat up to put his feet on the floor. “I think I'll build one when we get home. I wonder if I can find tile work like this. It's very beautiful, don't you think?”
“Which one are you?”
His eyes shifted to study a competently rendered mural of some nudes engaged in activities other than bathing. “Galen,” he replied. “You could make an effort to tell us apart.”
“It's easier when you've got clothes on.” The comment was meant as a joke but she felt silly for having said it. She found it difficult not to stare at the long-limbed, muscled body displayed in front of her but looking at the decorated walls instead did nothing to ease her embarrassment. The honey shade of his skin was not confined to areas he normally exposed to the elements and she found herself wondering if it felt as supple as it looked. His broad chest was hairless and she saw a long, badly healed scar twist across his left side. “That must have been some accident,” she blurted.
He moved his arm to look at the scar but did not comment.
“Maybe I could tell you apart if you two always wore something special to tell who’s who.”
“Maybe we could tattoo our names on our foreheads.”
She frowned. “You make no effort to make it easier for people to tell you apart. You wore that earlier today,” she pointed at Chor’s copper belt buckle. “No wonder people get confused.”
“Well, it doesn't really matter who's who, does it?” Galen said.
“Of course it matters!”
He came to his feet, seeming to unfold himself endlessly until he towered over her. “Why?”
She backed away a little, feeling herself blush again. He seemed possessed by some odd mood, preoccupied with something that had nothing to do with grooming. His fingers were tapping nervously against his thigh as he spoke to her with a sharpness she had not heard him use before. Chor, in contrast, seemed more withdrawn than usual, eyes distant, head tipped as if he was straining to hear the fragments of music drifting through the open doors from the main house. As so often, the conversation around him failed to capture his interest. “Anyway,” she said, flustered. “Delann wondered where you were. He wanted you to join us.”
“I'll be along in a while. I don't like crowds much.”
It sounded like a dismissal. “What about you, Chor? Are you coming?”
“In a while,” Chor said pointedly, apparently aware after all. “Those are your friends, Aletha. Say your good-byes. We'll be along.” He lobbed a leather wristband toward his brother. Galen seemed to know this and reached up to catch it without glancing in Chor’s direction. Aletha turned and fled.
The evening's agenda proceeded from the informal dinner to the entertainment, which included many fanciful stories and some lively music from the other side of the continent that few here had heard before. Aletha enjoyed the talk and laughter around her even though she was well aware of surreptitious glances as people observed her for evidence of aberrant behavior. She was distracted by the twins, who had eventually joined the party. They were the targets of admiring glances from the female and not a few of the male guests and many sought to talk with one or the other. In spite of Galen’s dislike for crowds, the twins seemed amiable and were quick to smile at the ladies.
“What's bothering you, Blossom?” Delann found her in the main commons room and came to sit on the arm of her chair. He lifted her hand to kiss her palm. “You haven't spoken to me all evening. What can possibly be more fascinating than me?”
“The twins.”
“I’m wounded!” He looked across the room. One of the brothers was speaking to Delann's captain, the other sat nearby, silently listening to the chatter of a woman whose fluttering hands seemed to worry him.
She grinned. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I think there is something strange about them. I don't think Galen treats Chor very well.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Look there. I'll bet that's Galen talking to Ferd. He always does all the talking. Chor just shuts up and agrees with everything. Galen never talks to Chor, either. Not once.”
“They must have something to say to each other.”
“No. Never. Not a word. I think maybe they can, you know, talk with their minds.”
Delann squirmed uncomfortably, glancing around the room. No one had heard her. He chuckled nervously. “You don't believe people can do that, do you?”
“We've all heard of it. Don't tell me you haven't. I think they're so close to each other that they don't even have to talk any more. They just know what the other is thinking. Earlier, I saw Chor toss something at Galen and Galen caught it without even looking.”
“I think you're making something out of nothing!” Delann scoffed. “Maybe the other one is just a little simple, or maybe he just doesn’t like to talk. If anything, it sounds to me like maybe those two are spending a little too much time together, if you follow.”
Aletha snickered. “Don’t be crude, Delann. You should have seen it. If I had thrown it at you like that, it would have hit you. Galen just reached up and caught it like he knew it was coming at him.”
Delann threw his hands in the air. “So you want to travel around with these two? I’m not all that happy about you going off alone with them in the first place. I still think you ought to hire on a few more guards. Even if these two are trustworthy, as you seem to think, it’s hardly proper for you to be alone with them out there. Let me hire you a maid to take along with you.”
“I
don’t need a chaperone!”
“Sorry!” he said quickly, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “I’m just worried. You’re a danger with your dagger but it’s not going to help you much if these two brutes don’t turn out to be as polite as they seem. If you have any doubts, maybe you should straighten some things out with them before you find yourself at their mercy out there.”
“I think I'll do that.” Before Delann could say another word, she had crossed the room to stand behind Chor.
He was sitting on the steps leading to a raised dining area, his arms folded on his knees, apparently trapped in a one-sided conversation with one of the dancers Delann had hired. Although the revelry in the room had begun to reach the first stages of immoderation for which Delann’s parties were famous, neither Chor nor Galen had taken up cups. Aletha waited silently as the woman chattered at Chor, who replied only with an occasional nod or some other gesture to show that he was attending. By now, Althea knew enough of Chor’s ways to be amused by anyone, no matter how flirtatious, attempting to draw him into a conversation. But today Chor wasn’t just disinterested. His half-closed eyes were focused on nothing and, although his body was arranged in a casual slouch, she saw that it was tensed, as if ready for flight. A pulse beat rapidly at his throat and his teeth were gripping his lower lip. She leaned forward to peer into his face.
“Are you sure you're well enough to travel tomorrow?” a low voice said behind her.
Aletha drew back, startled by Galen's question. “What? Oh, yes. Sure, I am.” Galen, too, seemed to be anxious about something. The twins had not shaken the odd mood that had possessed them earlier. She turned back to Chor, who was also looking at her now. Something troubled them. “Is there something wrong?”
“Wrong? No. Why do you ask?”
She shrugged. “He looked ill just now.”
“Ill?” He looked at his brother. “Are you ill, Chor?”
Chor came to his feet, undoubtedly to the dismay of the woman by his side. “Right as this never-ending rain. I'm tired.” He turned and left without another word.