Talyn lightly touched his shoulder. “He did, otherwise he would have killed you.”
“Well, as it turned out, the old devil changed my life for the better. With a crippled leg I got a lot more serious about horses. Now, here I am Chief. Funny how life finds a path for you even when it seems darkest.”
Talyn left the stable hearing those words settle deep inside her. They were words of hope that were not what she was used to, but the old chief could be right. Things felt very dark at the moment, no end in sight, so perhaps it was a sign.
The masque would start with the full moon the next day, but there were other festivities that the Caisah insisted she accompany him to. Luckily only the masque would require her to dress appropriately.
Today it was the battle games, the letting of blood to appease the lust of the Caisah. She would have to sit at his shoulder and watch, something that always turned her stomach. Her battles were for the freedom of the Vaerli. These sports were for baser reasons.
Returning to her quarters, Talyn read several Rutilian Guard reports and tried not to think much on the upcoming few days. Trouble was brewing in the east again. Rebellions were as common as sunrise out there, but the reports showed that the rebels were being smarter this time, gathering their forces in secret. It was a forgone conclusion that there would be bloodshed on the coast before the month was out.
Midday arrived. Talyn washed and strapped on her mother's sword. The honor-guards were waiting at the Gates in formation around the Caisah's palanquin. Kelanim was preening on the steps, dressed in a swath of emerald green to match her eyes with her hair piled up in auburn waves. She didn't even nod at Talyn, but her lips tightened fractionally.
It wasn't a good day for the Mistress; there were rumors that her position was not as secure as it had once been. Lately the courtesan Nanthrian had been taking the Caisah's eye and there lingered the possibility that she might also take Kelanim's place. Talyn couldn't decide how she felt about that. At least she knew the current favorite's ways.
With Kelanim being chosen to ride to the games with the Caisah, it seemed her place was safe—at least for now.
The crowd of courtiers arrived, a noisy whirlwind of people and dogs, with the quiet center of the Caisah. Talyn waited on the fringes, neither moving forward nor shying away. He was arrayed in blood-red robes studded with gold, and his hair was oiled so that every curl gleamed. He was beautiful like the sun. Such beauty would move any woman, while the cloak of power he wore only made him more desirable.
The Caisah turned and looked straight at her, as if he had heard her thoughts. It was not impossible.
Talyn dropped her eyes before he did and thought on what that dangerous man had done to her people. It calmed her nerves.
With a slight smile the Caisah held out his hand to Kelanim. As always he spared no compliments. It should be enough for her that she was in his presence. They were about to get in the palanquin, when he turned as if it was almost an afterthought. Holding out his other hand, he spoke softly. “The hawk will ride with the master.”
Talyn felt as though she was rooted to the spot. She could think of nowhere she would less like to be than trapped in a confined space with the Caisah and his calculating mistress. As always, she could not refuse.
His fingers locked tightly around hers and pulled her into the shadows of the palanquin. Kelanim could not contain her rage. Her face went white and her full lips disappeared into a tight line. She sat next to the Caisah glaring with fiery eyes at Talyn. He liked it that way. He moved everything in his world to conflict—from warring tribes to bickering women.
It might be amusing in someone who was not so powerful. Talyn let her fingertips rest lightly on the pommel of her sword. This day she'd had too many misgivings to leave it behind.
Outside, beyond the ring of protective guards, she could hear the cheering of the people. Today was a good day to be one of the Caisah's citizens. They would have games, and there would be largess given at the Gates, beer and bread for all of those who had need of it.
“Do you wish it was you going into the arena, my Hunter?” The Caisah leaned forward, the light from outside outlining his face in stark and beautiful planes.
The question was sudden and took her by surprise. The before-time never told her anything about him.
“If I did, my lord, you would soon run out of gladiators.”
He chuckled at that. “Yes indeed, for none stands above my hawk.” Stroking Kelanim's arm distractedly, he went on in a softer tone. “I hear from my lady that she has found a suitable dress for you.”
“It will suffice.” Talyn made a show of looking out at the waving and cheering throng.
“You will be spectacular in white, Talyn, and all will see that my hawk is not only deadly with her sword but with her beauty too.”
She could not tell if Kelanim had mentioned the color to him. The Caisah had many ways of knowing things, but she was positive he dropped such hints in their conversations to unnerve her.
He was looking at her with such an expression that for a moment she quite forgot who he was. “I am not beautiful. I do not need to be,” Talyn whispered back.
Abruptly Kelanim lurched out of her quietness. “Why don't you just bed her and be done with it!” she screamed with such venom that even the nearest guards outside turned and looked.
The air inside the palanquin grew suddenly hot and seemed to buzz with energy. But the Caisah did not deign to use his power. Instead, he backhanded his mistress so hard that her head banged loudly against the paneling. Talyn waited for him to dole out some to her as well, but he did not move in her direction. He made no words of reproach or explanation for his behavior. It was as if Kelanim were of no more consequence than an irritating fly. He waved to the masses instead.
Talyn shared a look with the mistress who was rubbing her cheek, eyes full of tears. Kelanim might feel sorry for herself, but the Hunter knew she wouldn't complain. Her lust for power was too strong. She would not retaliate as was right.
No Vaerli man would have done such a thing. The Gift of Knowing would have made him share the pain and anger along with his victim. The Caisah had no such concerns.
Talyn wondered how she would react if he ever did such a thing to her. She had the dire suspicion that she would accept it just like Kelanim. They were as bad as each other.
They spent the rest of the ride to the arena in silence; he watching Talyn, she staring back, and Kelanim glaring at them both.
Once they reached their destination and stepped down, the Caisah and his mistress smiled and waved. The sun was high and beating down fiercely, but the people gathered at the arena gate seemed unconcerned. Only the glazed eyes behind the guards' helmets told of their discomfort.
The Caisah and Kelanim went quickly into the shade of the entrance while Talyn trailed in their wake. People's eyes skidded off her. They had no wish to see the dark Hunter on this day of celebration.
In the days of her people this had been the edge of Chaos, a marshy area filled with birds and beautiful flowering plants. The first thing the Caisah had done was to drain the area and build this great hulking edifice. Where he had got the idea was impossible to judge, but there was nothing as huge as this sunken arena in the rest of Conhaero. Wide cut steps surrounded the circular front area and were packed to capacity with excited people. Interest was so high that guards had to be brought in to keep those unlucky latecomers out—and it was not just the townsfolk, either. As Talyn followed the Caisah's procession down to their seats, she could see every nation and tribe of Conhaero represented in the crowd. They were surrounded by the murmur of different languages and dialects.
Street sellers of all descriptions were running back and forth selling warm nuts, hot spicy breads, and tawdry foldout broadsheets on the games. Even those who could not read could at least enjoy the lurid images and take them home to show those not lucky enough to get in.
The area set aside for the Caisah's entourage was sheltered f
rom the beating sun by a huge draping of Imperial scarlet, and the Court settled under it with much chatter. Talyn took a seat to his left and just a little behind. The beaming Kelanim took hers to his right, his attack apparently already forgotten. The Rutilian Guard took their places around the Caisah and his guests and then snapped to attention with their bright spears.
The Caisah sat quietly. His eyes fixed on the empty sand arena. It was smooth and clean—for the moment. About him the Court was excited with the prospect of blood.
Talyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat and examined the crowd. Better to look there than try to be entertained by the Court. Ordinary people fascinated her. She had little contact with them apart from when she was hunting, and they shied from her at other times. Yet here she was—literally within feet of them. She could smell their food, hear their conversations, and almost sense their normality.
A little family was seated just below the Caisah's area, and she found herself straining to hear the flow of everyday family life. The child was fractious in the heat so the parents were distractedly trying to calm its frazzled nerves. The mother was dawdling it on her knee, while the father chuckled the chubby chin.
Talyn felt a familiar clench within her, a deep longing that most women would have been easily able to identify. By rights there should have been children in her life, perhaps a daughter to raise in the tradition of music-magic. But the Harrowing made that impossible. No child had ever been born of a union with a non-Vaerli and to try anything else was suicide.
That was numbered among her many burdens. Every day was a hundred bitter losses, but this was perhaps the greatest. Talyn shot a look across at the Caisah, worried that he had heard that too, but for once he did not glance her way. It was strange how they shared so many things: immortality, people's fear, and the lack of children.
When she looked back to the crowd someone else caught her attention. It was the man from outside the Gates, the one who had stared at her the other day, and there he was staring again. This time there was no odd sensation apart from the gaze itself.
Most people gawped at the Caisah, yet all of his attention was fixed on Talyn while the hint of a smile played about his mouth.
He was handsome, yet not in the Caisah's overbearing way. Something about his expression implied great kindness. His red-gold hair was longer than most wore it at Court and the wind whipped it around his eyes, which were the most incredible shade of blue, like a peerless day in the Chaoslands.
If she had met him there she would have smiled and offered him more than that, too. However, this was V'nae Rae and that look was verging on the over-familiar.
The gladiators entered the arena and the crowd leapt to its feet with a roar of delight. People waved colored flags and screamed the name of their favored fighter. By the time they had subsided into their seats once more, the man was gone.
No time remained to search him out, for the Caisah was accepting the gladiatorial salute and the games began.
It had been many years since Talyn had been to the arena, and she found herself not having to feign interest. These were the best of the fighters from schools throughout the Caisah's world, so there were no easily completed matches between old hand and doomed new recruit. She watched with a discerning eye.
The Caisah, for once disdaining his cool and calm demeanor, yelled with the crowd, and dispensed justice when it was asked for. Kelanim also bounced up and down in her seat. If she was feigning interest for her lover's sake then it was masterfully done. The guard about the Caisah took their cue from their master, cheering and slapping each other on the back if their preferred fighter triumphed.
She had only a moment's warning. Talyn looked up, feeling a slight chill in the air. The faintest of dark clouds had appeared in what had been a perfect blue sky. The Blood Witch dropped among them like an ill-wind and panic erupted.
She was small, of a same height as Talyn, wearing a cloak of shadows with dark skin and eyes that gleamed red even in the heat of midday. Strangely, she also seemed very young, but she was obviously not without power. Those eyes narrowed and everyone suddenly felt it too.
The wave of fear she spun about her hit even the Caisah's guards. Talyn sensed the edge of spell-made terror, but it washed past her. Apparently the Vaerli immunity still held. The area under the awning was abruptly full of screaming people scrambling to get away from thousands of personal terrors and demons. The guards dropped their spears and ran with the crowd—heedless of honor or training.
Strangely, Kelanim was not one of the stampeding hordes. The mistress was huddled at the base of a pillar with her expensive dress bundled in her hand. Though her face was terrified, she had not left her master. Talyn couldn't help feeling a moment of admiration for the woman. Bravery was a rare thing among the courtesans.
Still, it was the Hunter alone who stood in the way of the Phaerkorn; she was the only thing between the creature and the Caisah. Drawing her sword, she let the screams and the chaos fade away.
She had faced weavers of magic before. The people who had come through the White Void had brought many with them, but she had never faced a Phaerkorn before. Though Talyn had no experience with a Blood Witch, she did not make the mistake of underestimating the girl. They were few in number, yet their powers were legendary. Rumor had it they felt no pain or fear and were capable of physical marvels.
Talyn glanced behind her but saw the Caisah had not moved, nor was the air any warmer than normal. He smiled and spread his hands, as if to make obvious how vulnerable he was. He was watching her, not using his own power, sitting back to observe his hawk and see if she defended him. He probably thought it fit right in with the other gladiatorial combat of the day.
Not wanting to satisfy his blood lust, Talyn spoke instead of moving. “Go home, little Witch. You have stumbled in on the wrong party.”
Her lips parted until her pointed teeth could be seen, but made no reply. She moved faster than any other previous opponent, but Talyn dropped into the before-time. Blocking the girl's rush, she twisted her leg about the Witch's and flipped her off course.
Her attacker landed nimbly and sprang again. This time she drew a narrow silver blade. Three times Talyn caught her in the before-time and turned her aside without having to use her sword. She rebelled at spilling blood for the Caisah merely as entertainment. People had a right to hate him, after all.
The Witch would not give up. With a lithe movement she swung around the awning pole and cast something at Talyn. The Hunter could do nothing in the before-time against spells; her master had not given her the song-magics back. The darkness wrapped itself around her eyes.
She took a step back, letting her other senses take over while her eyes were bound. She sheathed her sword and took up the watchful guard position.
The air burst with heat all around and the blackness dissolved with it. Talyn shook her head. The Witch was gone, but dead or not she couldn't tell.
“I dismissed her.” The Caisah, who hadn't even risen from his seat, shook his head in dismay. “I grew tired of it all.”
“Did you arrange this?” Talyn asked in what she hoped was a steady voice.
He stared at her hard while remaining silent. The guards shook off their panic first. Pale with embarrassment, they began to restore order. The Court straggled back, laughing nervously, unsure if the interlude had been part of the games. The Caisah chose not to give them a sign. Instead, he waved for the last of the afternoon's combatants to take the stage.
Only when the gladiators and the crowd had returned to their previous activities did he lean across to her and whisper, “You'd best hope your next bounty is not a Phaerkorn, my hawk. I was not quite sure how that was going to end.”
He still had not answered her question, and left Talyn with the distinct impression she had been tested and found wanting.
Finn wasn't there when the Phaerkorn attacked—he had long ago had his fill of blood and sand—but he was nearly trampled by people fleeing.
He heard the screaming which heralded the approach of the mob, but not from inside the arena. He was wandering in the markets just outside the gate to the arena, and saw the sellers, who had seen this sort of thing before, nimbly leap up onto the stalls. Taking his cue from them, Finn clambered quickly onto a nearby wagon.
The panicked crowd poured out from the gates. They passed around the stalls, the roads surrounding the arena being thankfully wide. Behind could be felt the trailing edge of some magical horror that had caused this whole thing. Only Phaerkorn were trained in such befuddlements. Finn had studied his myths well but had never encountered the actual effect before. It was impressive and definitely terrifying this close up.
For a while it was utter chaos, but then it became apparent that the mob had outrun the source and the effects dissipated quickly. Everyone abruptly stopped running and stood about baffled—like people waking from a terrifying nightmare. Many people were sobbing and plenty of others looked abashed.
Finn hopped down to help with a couple of wounded who had not been as lucky as he. Surprisingly, most avoided serious injury, but a few bruises and cuts were being nursed. An old lady had been pushed into a stack of barrels, and as Finn pulled her out all she could mutter was, “I had a good seat.” Her voice was full of accusation as if he had a part in the whole thing. He dusted her down, and she quickly found her anxious family.
With a few well-placed questions, he was able to ascertain that he had been right. A Phaerkorn had attacked the Caisah himself right in the middle of the arena. The crowd milled around without a purpose until a Rutilian guard appeared on the balcony overlooking the main gate. “The assassin has been dealt with. The Caisah has commanded the games not be disrupted.”
They cheered at that and eagerly turned around to go in once more. The crowd would not miss out on the last of the games.
Finn swallowed his disappointment. The Caisah knew how to entertain his people, and they ate it up. The storyteller would not go with them; instead he found himself an inn. Seated in something once more resembling civilization, he sipped a cider and tried to make sense of the day he'd had.
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