Talsy wished she knew what warned Chanter when she was in danger. Perhaps it was her fear, and if she could control it, he would not come. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out the pain and stifle her fear. They would not kill her while they needed her. The dagger sliced a burning wound down her chest, severed her jacket's thongs and came to rest over her heart.
Darron whispered, "You've got spirit, girl, I'll give you that."
The blade's point pricked her as he dug it in, making her gasp and open her eyes.
"All I have to do is push, and you're dead," he murmured.
Talsy spat in his face, making him recoil with a grunt. The dagger whipped up to press against her throat, poised over the throbbing artery.
"Don't make me angry, little girl," he said, wiping his cheek.
"Do it, and the Mujar goes free."
"I know."
Talsy swallowed a scream as the dagger dug into her shoulder. The Prince crowed and clapped, urging Darron to cut more. Talsy closed her eyes again, praying that Chanter would not come to her aid this time.
The daltar eagle drifted over the city, pinions rippling and tail steering as he scanned the crowds below for a familiar figure. He had searched all morning, taking on the eagle form for easier flying. He wondered if she was locked up somewhere, but what reason could they have to imprison a young girl? Surely, even if she had transgressed, they would soon release her. He did not like to leave Arrin trapped in the woods for too long.
Folding his wings slightly, Chanter glided down to hover over the houses. In the street below, a kitchen boy threw a bucket of scraps into the gutter. Several stray dogs, a few crows and two vultures descended upon the pile of offal and crusts. The sight of their feasting reminded him of his hunger, and he considered joining them. He lowered his feet to the rooftop – and almost leapt into the air again. The deep clang of Dolana's urgent warning pounded through the roof, coming from the palace. With a mighty downbeat, Chanter sprang into the air, his wings powering him towards the King's domicile. Now that he had heard the warning, he knew whence it came. A pillared sun room came into sight, and he glided down, checked his speed with a backstroke and dropped to the floor.
Talsy shouted, "Get out of here! It's a trap!"
The man who menaced her slapped her. "Shut up!"
The wind whipped the advisors’ black robes as Chanter transformed. He glanced around at the regal audience, his eyes settling upon Talsy and her tormentor. As he was about to invoke Crayash, Yusan stepped forward.
"Use the Powers, and she dies."
Chanter hesitated, considering the situation. The blade pressed to Talsy's throat would kill her with one cut, and the man who held it looked tough and determined, as did the soldiers who gripped her arms. His powers would not intimidate them, since they knew he would not want to harm them, and he did not doubt the advisor's threat. Deciding that the risk was too great, he relaxed, his eyes flicking to the King and Prince. He recognised the boy he had saved from the brink of death, and wondered why he was now summoned here in this hostile fashion.
Garsh smiled. "So, Mujar, we meet again. A neat trick, hey? We have you trapped."
Chanter inclined his head, puzzled. "You do, it would seem."
"Now you will pay for the insult you offered me. Did you think you would escape punishment for your acts?"
"I offered no insult. I saved your son."
Garsh's hard smile vanished, replaced by a scowl of pure hatred. "You put the price of a common soldier's freedom as sufficient to pay for my son's life! Then you spurn my offer of comforts as though my roof is not good enough for you to sup under." Foam flecked the King's lips. "What do you think you are? Better than me? Better than a king? You condescended to heal my son only because you wanted something, or else you would have let him die. Your insults will not go unpunished, Mujar scum! You forced me to obey you or lose my only son!"
Chanter glanced at Talsy, who stood rigid, the green-eyed man’s hand clamped over her mouth, then turned to the King. "I did not force you to do anything. Without my aid, your son would be dead now. What does it matter why I saved him? My request was a small favour for you to grant, and I was forced to leave because my clan was in danger."
"I don't care why you left! You could have demanded a mountain of jewels for my son's life, and I'd have paid it. That, I would have understood and respected, but you damned Mujar bastards revel in your power, don't you?"
Garsh almost frothed at the mouth, his face reddening as he worked himself into a fury. "You treat us like fools and incompetents, taking every opportunity to make us feel inferior, beholden, granting wishes like you're some sort of god. I am a king, and I will not allow the likes of you to best me. I will have retribution! You will surrender, or she dies!"
"Let her go," Chanter murmured.
"When I have you, not before."
The Mujar glanced at Talsy again, his heart filled with sorrow. The situation was unprecedented and confusing. Garsh was blackmailing him, yet there was no way out of the predicament. If he refused, Talsy would die and he would have failed her Wish of protection. By doing that, he would be guilty of her death, which he could not allow. If not for her Wish, he could have allowed her to die, since clan bond did not include protection. Strangely, it all hinged on the words Talsy had spoken months ago, which were burnt into his memory. Once again, he regretted that he had not allowed her Wish to be fulfilled on a prior occasion, and wondered why he had not. The ways of Mujar were complicated and little understood by Truemen, but, in this instance, he must allow Garsh to blackmail him in order to save Talsy's life. This was a singular event, one that would never be repeated.
Chanter met Talsy's eyes and intoned the ritual words that released him from his obligation and made her useless to the King for future demands. "Wish fulfilled."
Talsy jerked free of her tormentor’s hand. "No! Fly! Don't -"
The man slapped her, then grabbed her again, and the blade sliced into her neck. She writhed in the guards' grip as the torturer's hold on her face muffled her scream.
The Mujar stepped towards her. "Don't harm her."
Garsh laughed. "How touching! As if a Mujar could care for a Trueman. Now you're mine, so don't try to resist!"
Chanter bowed his head as Yusan approached, pulling his hands from the pockets of his robe. In each, he held a golden bracelet, and Chanter took an instinctive backward step at the sight of the dreaded metal.
"You'll wear them, Mujar," the King snarled, "or she dies."
Talsy shared Chanter’s fear of the bracelets, hating the way in which the Wish she had made so long ago had trapped him. They would bind him with gold and throw him in a Pit, and she would never see him again. He would suffer a living death in the bowels of the earth, trapped by the overwhelming power of Dolana. The thought of his impending doom filled her with a terrible anguish and a desperate need to save him at any cost. She could not let him suffer because of her stupidity and ignorance, nor could she allow him to sacrifice himself to save her.
Ignoring the pain, she gave a mighty heave and freed her mouth from Darron's hand. "Chanter, I release you! I don't want the Wish fulfilled! Go!"
Yusan laughed, and Chanter shook his head. "You cannot. I granted it, and I must fulfil it."
His soft, resigned words tore her heart, and tears of anguish spilt down her cheeks. Her last hope of saving him died with those words. His fate was sealed because he would not abandon her. Darron chuckled in her ear, his sour breath fanning her cheek. He only kept the dagger pressed to her neck, since nothing she said would change the situation now.
Yusan stepped closer to the Mujar. "Hold out your hands."
"No, Chanter!" Talsy wailed. "Don't let them take you to a Pit! Fly free! I would rather die!"
He stared at her. "You would die for me?"
Talsy nodded, sobs choking her. "Yes."
"Stupid bitch," Darron snarled, his face twisted with contempt. "Mujar lover."
"Hold out your hands!" Yusan barked.
Chanter raised his hands, looking puzzled, as if something important had just occurred to him, but he was not sure what it was. Talsy met his eyes with a pleading look, silently begging him not to give up his freedom for her sake, her throat too clogged to speak. Yusan snapped a golden bracelet around Chanter's wrist, and he shivered, looking away.
The sight of the gold locked around his wrist jerked Talsy from her anguish and filled her with a frantic need to find another way to free him. She turned to the King. "No! Don't do it! You doom your people!"
Yusan snapped on the second bracelet, and Chanter's head drooped as if he was deathly tired. The advisor smiled. "My theory works, Sire. Put gold around their necks, and they become complete zombies, but around the wrist they merely lose their Powers."
The King rose and approached the Mujar to gaze down at the slender unman's bowed head. "How ironic. He gives up his precious freedom for the sake of a Trueman slut, just because of some silly Wish he granted. Yet he would have let my son die had he not wanted that boy released to fulfil the Wish of some other Trueman. He could have earned riches and respect, if only he had not insisted on turning the tables and making me the one who had to obey his orders to earn his favour."
"They're stupid, Majesty," Yusan asserted.
"You bastards," Talsy snarled. "You'll burn in Hell for this! In Hell! The Hashon Jahar will wipe you out! You'll regret this day, I swear it!"
Darron slapped her again, making her eyes water. "Shut up, or I'll slice you good!"
The King looked at her and nodded. "Don't let his sacrifice be for nothing, girl. I'll let you live if you don't make trouble."
Talsy bit her lip, blinking away her tears. Chanter raised his head and gazed at her with an expression of profound forgiveness, gentle affection and resignation. His gaze flicked to Garsh, and the gentleness in his expression drained away, leaving his eyes cold and empty.
"Don't harm her," he begged.
Garsh laughed. "It's not her I want to harm, scum. She's just a silly girl you led astray. I want to hurt you!"
The King drove his fist into Chanter's gut, making the Mujar double over with a groan. Garsh punched him again, harder. Chanter sank to his knees, clasping his belly, and Garsh kicked him in the face, sending him sprawling.
"Get up!" the King shouted. "Show some spine, damn you!"
Chanter gasped, grimacing. Blood oozed from his nose. Talsy sobbed, longing to scream abuse at the King, but mindful of his threat. She had promised Chanter that she would save him from the Pit. Garsh kicked Chanter again, grunting with annoyance when the Mujar only flinched.
“ Hold him up!” the King ordered the guards, who dragged Chanter upright. Garsh punched him again and again, crushed his nose and split his lips and brows. Blood ran down his face and dripped onto his chest. The King gripped Chanter's hair and lifted his head to batter his face further, laughing.
"Not so wonderful now, is he, girl?"
Talsy bit back hot words and looked away, her stomach heaving. Chanter's face was a bloody ruin by the time the King stopped, his royal trappings splattered with blood. When Garsh released him, the Mujar's head sagged forward again. The King wiped his hand with a handkerchief and addressed the guards.
"Take him to the barracks and let anyone who wants to have a go. Break every bone in his body. When they're done, put the gold collar on him and toss him in the sea."
Talsy looked up, dismayed. With a gold collar on, he would lie forever on the ocean floor, and how could she save him from the depths? The soldiers dragged Chanter out, and servants appeared to mop up the blood.
Darron turned to the King. "What do you want to do with her, Sire?"
Garsh shrugged. "Throw her out."
Darron put away his dagger, gripped Talsy's jacket, and marched her to the front gate, where he kicked her into the street. She lay on the cobbles, wept and scratched at the stone in a frenzy of sorrow and anguish. Chanter’s gentle ways, revelations and soft-spoken teachings had altered the way she thought forever. How would she survive without him, in a harsh world of Trueman manufacture, hating them for their envy, hatred and savagery? She knew she was more Mujar now than Trueman, and, worst of all, she had been the bait that had led to his downfall. She had condemned him to a living death beneath the waves. Uncaring of the people who walked past, some staring, she wept with wild abandon.
In the woods, the ice wall melted away with unnatural swiftness, and Arrin sprang up in confusion. When no one appeared, he fell into a quandary. To return to the barracks was suicide. His unwilling career in King Garsh's army was over, thanks to the Mujar his father had sent. He was free, but faced a long journey through hostile lands. He cursed and walked into the forest.
Chapter Twelve
Talsy held up a crystal vase and inspected it. With a nod, she handed it to her buyer, a short, balding man with a podgy face and a good eye for wares. He went off to finalise the deal, and she stared blindly at the book in front of her. The figures danced on the page, defying her to read them, and she rubbed her eyes. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the dusty windows of her office in a modest shop on Windall Street, an area between the poor quarter and the middle-class district. Damaged merchandise, papers and oddments cluttered the cramped room, whose walls were yellowed with age and neglect, its furnishing worn and drab. Two chairs faced her polished yew desk, a sagging bookshelf covered one wall and coarse curtains framed a window with a view of the busy street.
Talsy had found a thriving market here for trinkets from the far north, cities like Prenath and Gardellin, which made pretty things from cheap materials, like the vase she had just bought. It looked expensive, but the crystal was inferior. For denizens of the poor quarter, however, such things were previously unaffordable luxuries. Now, poor labourer husbands could buy their wives pretty vases, pots and crockery, and trade was good. She rented the shop from an ageing, retired merchant who had no son to inherit his business. It had improved since Talsy had taken over, and she had given the shop a fresh coat of whitewash three months ago.
Six months had passed since King Garsh's men had flung Chanter into the sea. It seemed like an eternity of grinding misery and constant sorrow. For days, she had scaled the barracks' walls in her desperate attempts to free him. Two guards had stood over the motionless, bleeding Mujar night and day, making her task impossible. Twice, the guards who patrolled the walls had caught and beaten her.
Then that terrible day had come, when he had been thrown into a cart and driven to the docks. People had spat on his torn and bloody form, jeered and shouted insults. The ship had set sail at sunset, foiling Talsy's longing to find out where they dumped him. Not that it would have done any good, for the currents would sweep him away, and the sea was too deep to rescue him.
Two weeks later, cold and hungry from living on the streets as a beggar, Talsy had taken Chanter’s ruby to a reputable dealer. The jeweller had paid her handsomely for it, and she had purchased the modest business, which provided a living and a distraction. She lived alone in a rented house, and had turned nineteen a month ago, but had not celebrated it.
The business' profit provided her with good clothes and fine food, but no amount of luxuries could ever blot out Chanter's memory. She missed him as much now as she had on the day he had been bound in gold, and often woke from dreams of him to weep until dawn. Though it seemed hopeless, she never stopped trying to think of ways to save him, refusing to accept his loss.
Several times, she had hired a boat and braved her fear of the sea to voyage out in a vain hope that she might find him drifting like wrack on the waves. The sight of the ocean that would one day become his grave moved her to tears, and she would spend hours weeping alone before returning to shore. She had no friends, but those who knew her thought her a little touched in the head. Every morning, she walked the beaches on either side of the harbour, hoping that Chanter would be washed ashore. All she had found was a scrap of frayed black leather, which she kept in a box beside her bed. Her
unrelenting grief had aged her, thinned her face and figure and made her eyes sink into their sockets. She did not care; nothing mattered without Chanter.
Talsy was dragged from her reverie as her buyer, Tarn, re-entered her office, looking pale and sick.
She eyed him. "What is it?"
Tarn pulled up a chair and sat, frowning. "Bad news, I'm afraid, Miss Talsy. The man who brought the crystal came from Jishan, and he brought news of a rumour that the Black Riders are heading there."
She experienced a twinge of triumph and hid a smile. "Oh, dear."
Tarn nodded, as if she had said something far more appropriate. "I reckon it's time to move on."
"Of course. I'll pay you a good severance, so you'll have something to live on for a while. Where will you go?"
"North, I reckon. It'll take them Riders a long while to march all the way around the Narrow Sea, so we'll have a good head start."
Talsy opened her desk drawer and took out a bag of silver. "Would you like your pay now?"
Tarn nodded, and she counted out the coins. She was tempted to give him the whole bag, for it meant nothing to her now. Her life in Rashkar would soon be over. She counted out most of it, until Tarn's eyes bulged, then put the remainder back in the drawer. He stood up and gathered it into his purse, filling his pockets as well.
"You're welcome to join us, Miss Talsy. The wife and kids like you well enough, and you've always been generous with us."
Talsy rose and wandered over to the window to stare into the street, where life continued as usual. Once word got out, people would try to flee as they had in Horran, but she was sure that Garsh would also force his people to fight. Becoming aware of Tarn's words, she turned to smile at him.
"Thank you, Tarn, but no, I shall stay here."
"That's certain death, Miss Talsy."
She longed to point out that no one would escape the Hashon Jahar in the end, but shook her head instead. "I'll be all right."
Tarn grunted, and left the office jingling with bounty. She wished him luck silently, for he was a nice man.
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