by Patty Jansen
Chapter 24
* * *
CARRO STARED at the hunk of meat in his hand. The yellow light from the fire glistened in fat dripping down the bone over his hand and down his arm.
He had taken a few bites of the leg from the animal Nolan had shot, but was no longer hungry. This life sickened him. The way Jeito and Nolan had held up a family of refugees and confiscated their van and their food, and shot the father when he protested too much, the way Nolan enjoyed stealing from others on the road.
Why couldn’t they even leave refugees in peace?
The whisper of voices in the back of his mind had almost become constant, an itch he couldn’t scratch. It had whispered at him while they ran back to the van after having been disturbed, and during the mad ride through the forest, and the lonely drive on the dark and deserted road and the hours no one had said anything in the cabin. Farey drove like an idiot, and now that the sky was turning blue in the east, they had finally stopped.
Jeito and Farey sat on the other side of the fire, casting him occasional glances. If they hadn’t known about the fire in the house and how Carro had ignored the two people fleeing from it, they knew now. Nolan had settled between them and Carro, as if he couldn’t make up his mind who to support.
No one told any jokes now.
“So . . . straight to Tiverius from here?” Nolan asked into the silence that had lasted too long.
“No point hanging around here now they’re all on alert,” Jeito said, with a sharp glance at Carro. “Remembering that both of them can use icefire, and if the barrier has really broken, they’ll burn us to ashes if we try again.”
“We almost did it,” Farey said, staring into the fire.
Again, Jeito glanced at Carro. Carro shivered in a breeze of cool air. So that had been the secret. Jeito was a woman, or could be, if he wanted to. Or maybe he was one of those confusing people who were born both.
“Clumsy pup,” Farey snarled. “Stepping on a piece of wood. Why did we ever agree to take you?”
“It’s not fair,” Nolan said. “Carro has never been here before. He doesn’t know how there are branches on the ground that can break and how much noise it makes when they do—”
“Oh, just shut up,” Farey said. “We had our chance. We’ve blown it, thanks to him, deliberate or not.”
The haunted grey eyes met Carro’s. Carro looked away.
And the strange thing was: he didn’t feel sorry. He hadn’t intended to do it, but Carro could still see it before him, a dead piece of gnarled wood. He could feel himself lifting his foot, and stomping down on the twig.
Crack. Deliberately, as far as he had ever done anything deliberate. Which, admittedly, wasn’t often.
Why?
To make up for the fact that he had betrayed Isandor? Because he still called Jevaithi his queen no matter what his father said? Because the merchant had despised her and therefore Carro must adore her?
Because Isandor was my friend.
Isandor and Jevaithi weren’t doing anyone harm. They were fleeing with the old man, fleeing something that they, with their southern blood, didn’t need to flee. They could have taken the old man’s farm, and they didn’t. They were helping him and his flock of noisy animals. And the old man, a Chevakian as there ever was one, seemed to care about them.
Care. That was the key word. Had he ever cared about anyone? Not his stepfather, certainly not his stepmother or his stepsister. Not Korinne. Not the Knight Apprentices, not even the man who had claimed to be his real father. And here, Farey scared him shitless, Jeito scared him more if that was possible, and Nolan was just an innocent bumbling idiot who happened to be good with a blowpipe and dagger. Carro found his proclaimed love increasingly wearying.
Could he care for anyone or had this horrid abnormality of his mind robbed him of that, too?
He’d watched Isandor and the old man from a distance, talking to each other, laughing, smiling. A pat on the shoulder, a hand getting out of the truck. Caring for each other, even though they were not related, total strangers as little as a moon ago.
By the skylights, Carro, you’re jealous.
Carro threw the bone and remaining meat in the fire and rose to go into the forest for a piss. To clear his mind and consider what to do now.
“Yeah, that’s right, walk away when things get hard, that’s how you live, isn’t it?” Jeito shouted.
Carro froze, met Jeito’s eyes and felt cold at the naked fury in them.
“You’re a coward. You need some balls. Come on, tell me why did you do it?”
“I did nothing,” Carro said.
“Too right you didn’t. You’ve been nothing but a burden to us ever since we let you come.” When angry, Jeito looked more female.
“I had to stay behind. We all agreed on that. They would have recognised me.”
“So instead, you betrayed us.” Jeito rose. The firelight glinted on the boning knife in her hand. Yes, her arms were thinner than his, but corded with muscle.
“Whoa, Jeito.” Nolan stepped between them. “Calm down. It was an accident.”
“You know nothing about accidents. Get out of the way, oaf. I’ll kill him!” Jeito pushed Nolan aside with far too much ease, grabbed Carro by the collar of his shirt and drew him up. Muscles quivered. The firelight shone through Jeito’s thin blouse. She had breasts. But muscles, and a face with angles and planes like a man.
Carro tried to pull his shirt loose, but Jeito’s grip tightened; he could barely breathe.
“You just fucked up my chance at getting back to the City of Glass with the Knights. I’ve been waiting for this for years, and you little creep comes along . . . and you fuck it all up. You hear that? You fuck it up!” She screamed in his face and shook his collar. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! That’s what you are, a little fuck! I’m going to kill you.”
“Stop it!” called Farey.
Jeito froze. Licked her lips and gave him a sideways glace. Farey was the only one who had any kind of influence over her, even if only because he was much taller. Maybe he fucked her, but Carro had no doubt that was only because Jeito let him.
“Calm down,” Farey said. “There’s no point in fighting over what has already happened. The damage is done, and we won’t get a second chance. It’s not our task to deal with Carro’s stupidity. If we do, we’ll only be punished. Remember who he is. Let his father take care of it.”
He looked at Carro, his dark eyes full of hatred
A chill made Carro shiver. His father. His father who wanted him to kill the only friend he’d ever had.
Maybe he should just . . . vanish, become a foreign spy in another country, like Farey. Run away.
That’s how you live your life, isn’t it?
“Yeah, you’re right.” Jeito chuckled and let Carro’s collar go. “I think I like that. Let his father take care of it.”
“All right, so if we’ve decided that, let’s quit fooling around with this stupid van, take the eagles and go to Tiverius,” Farey said.
Nolan raised his eyebrows. “You know something we don’t?”
“There was a bird. We’ve been ordered to join up with the other Knights either in the west or Tiverius. Tiverius is closer.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Carro was glad Nolan turned his anger on Farey.
Farey flicked his eyebrows. “Why should I tell you anything that you might let slip out while you’re fucking the traitor?”
Nolan’s eyes grew wide with indignation. “Hey, have I ever betrayed you in all the time I’ve been with you?”
Neither Farey nor Jeito spoke.
“Come on, really?”
Farey rose, leaving Nolan standing there, still without an answer. Ca
rro didn’t know where to look. Because of him, people got into trouble. Because of him, people died. Maybe he would be better off dead, too.
Farey let out a long whistle.
Jeito walked to the fire. While whooshing wingbeats of the approaching eagles disturbed the pre-dawn silence, she pulled out a log that burned on one end. Carro realised what she was going to do just before she threw it, trailed by a stream of embers, into the truck. The canopy burst into flames almost immediately.
“There,” she said, rubbing her hands. “Never liked that Chevakian devilry anyway.” She wiped her hands on her trousers—a very female gesture now Carro knew the secret—and scratched her eagle’s neck. The bird bent down and rubbed itself against her shoulder, to which she responded by ruffling its feathers. The bird stretched out its head at a weird angle, presenting more of its white-feathered neck to her.
“Oh, you stupid bird,” she muttered, and scratched, sending a cloud of down into the air.
Even Jeito—murderous, evil, two-faced Jeito—cared about something.
One jump, and she sat on the bird’s back, face aglow with the light from the burning truck.
“Come up, pups, hurry up. I’m not waiting for the Chevakian army to turn up to investigate the fire.”
Carro lifted the harness over his bird’s head. It snapped at the straps and hissed while he attached his bedroll.
Yes, I know you hate me, too.
Then they were off into the pre-dawn. Farey knew of an abandoned shed where they’d sleep until dark, and from there on, it was straight to Tiverius.
Even Nolan was giving him looks that said, Don’t you dare trying to sneak off. And where would he go anyway?
He had no home.
* * *
Tiverius was bigger than the biggest city Carro had ever seen. Even in the dark, and from a distance, the spread of lights dazzled him. There were no tall buildings, like in the City of Glass, but there were so many of them. Street after street with neatly-planted trees and regular street lights. He’d read of Chevakia, of course, but had not appreciated just how many people would live there, and how impressive and peaceful it would look.
Farey had made the hunters wait until dark before approaching the city, so no one would see them. He even knew where to go. Farey had probably been here before. He had not shown the note he was said to have received to anyone, but somehow, neither Jeito or Nolan questioned the order. When Carro asked Nolan about it, he said something about Farey having skill with tampering with the Chevakian telegraph whatever that might mean. It seemed the hunters did have a post deep in Chevakia, and had a base in Tiverius. Maybe they’d always had it, but none of the hunters was answering Carro’s questions anymore.
After skirting the city’s outer edges, they flew over hilly terrain where the ground was dark with trees and dotted with lights from the occasional farm.
It was in such a farm that the eagles landed, a low arch-shaped building of the type he had also seen near the border. The open end of the arch was blocked with a number of open sheds. The courtyard was bare and it was here that the eagles landed.
A young stable boy came out of the nearest shed to take the eagle’s reins. Now Carro saw that there were more eagles under the canopy, at least ten birds, none of them familiar.
Under the balustrade that surrounded the courtyard, a senior Knight waited, also someone Carro hadn’t seen before. He greeted Farey with a single nod of his head, and a hand-sign that Carro didn’t recognise. Farey mumbled something.
“The eastern road, he told me,” the senior Knight said.
“What, now?” Farey spoke in a low voice.
“Immediately.”
“Tell him to go fuck himself,” Farey snarled. “They won’t arrive until daytime. I haven’t slept for days. These soft Chevakians don’t do anything at night.”
“Then send one of your sissy-boys—aaah!”
Jeito stood very close to the senior Knight. Carro couldn’t see much by the soft dawn light, but if he wasn’t mistaken, Jeito had the man by the balls.
“See what these sissy-boys can do?” she said, her voice menacing.
The man’s face glistened with sweat. “Go. Do whatever. But don’t come to me when he gets angry.”
“The fuck he won’t. Come, let’s find a bed,” Farey said and stomped off. Jeito followed—the senior Knight took a step back—and then Nolan, but when Carro walked past, the senior Knight held him back. “No, not you.”
What? Carro stared after the hunters’ retreating backs, his heart thudding.
“Your father wants to see you.”
Oh, by the skylights. “He’s here?”
“Not right now, but I’ve been ordered to give you some work that you’re said to be good at. Something he needs done urgently.”
Carro wanted to say, It’s all a lie, I’m not good at anything, but he only nodded, so the Knight preceded him into the building.
* * *
Carro sees his mittened hands atop a wall. Isandor stands behind him in the alley.
Can you see anything yet?
Carro peers between the limpets ahead, pointed roofs half-hidden in thick roiling smoke. The breeze blows some of it his way. He coughs and shakes his head.
Must be a warehouse on fire.
He hopes it’s his father’s. He hopes his father is inside the building and that the door is locked—
* * *
The house was a dark affair with high stone halls in which all noise echoed relentlessly. There was a room with long tables where a few Knights sat to eat. Carro didn’t recognise anyone in this room. Several Knights sported injuries, especially faces and hands.
“What exactly happened in the City of Glass?” he asked.
“What, you don’t know? Where have you been?”
Carro opened his mouth and then remembered that hunters never spoke of their missions.
“Just came in from regular patrols in the countryside.”
The senior Knight chuckled. “Those hunters are quite fearsome, aren’t they?”
Carro almost reminded the man that the fact that he still had his balls had nothing to do with his senior Knight rank, but he didn’t. “Wherever I was, it wasn’t in the City of Glass.”
The Knight let a pause lapse. Then he said, “No one knows what caused it, but there was a huge explosion under the palace. The entire city has been destroyed. Many died. The people were talking about huge ghosts made out of steam.”
Another senior Knight walking behind them broke in, “I reckon the sorcerers did it. Those evil ones in black.”
“There have always been Brothers of the Light in the Outer City,” Carro said. “They’re idiots, with all their formulae and calculations.”
That earned him a lot of harsh glances.
Carro was going to say that the Brothers never hurt anyone, and that no one would have as much knowledge of the old King without the Brothers having preserved some of the books, but he didn’t think these men would appreciate that. So he just kept walking.
Visions niggled at the edges of his mind. Snow-covered plains and sleds made from pieces of rubble they found in the back alleys of the Outer City.
A man, shouting at him, probably for coming into his yard to filch bits of rope or pieces of dried fish.
The constant fear of running foul of the merchant. Knowing that whatever he did and whatever time he came home and whatever the state of his clothing, the merchant would be angry anyway. Seeing Isandor being led away by his mother, her arm on his skinny shoulders.
. . . and all of a sudden, they arrived in a large room where old furniture had been shifted to the side to make place for a couple of dining tables of varying h
eight shoved together and surrounded by a mis-matched lot of chairs. An ornate, high-backed chair stood at the head of the table. Heavy curtains covered the windows, faded and frayed, and the room was lit only by smoking oil lamps on the walls.
For some reason, Carro thought of that black stone room in the palace where he had first met Rider Cornatan.
Another, less-senior Knight came from somewhere at the back of the room, frowning at Carro.
“I’m supposed to do some work for Rider Cornatan,” Carro said.
“Your name?”
“Carro.”
Eyebrows shot up. Another glance up and down his dirty uniform.
Carro was sweating under his shirt. Any moment now and he was going to be challenged about the veracity of his name, about his mission, about the state of his clothes—
“So, you’re the famous boy, ey?”
Carro cringed.
“Your father’s not in, but he left you some work to do. Sit here.”
Carro sat. He clutched the medallion through his clothes. Maybe he should just give the damn thing back. Sure Rider Cornatan had other sons.
“Here you go.” The man had returned with a pile of books.
Books? “What am I supposed to do with them?”
“Check them. The Supreme Rider tells me you’re really good at that.”
Carro took the top book off the pile and opened it.
It was a ledger.
What? They were kidding, right?
“You might wonder why we worry about finances while there’s a war going on?”
“Uhm—yeah.” His mouth had gone dry. He fought the visions clawing at his awareness. Of his father carrying a big pile of books. Of his hands aching with cold. Of his father dousing the flames in the hearth, Heat is for soft boys. Of lines and lines of numbers dancing before his eyes.
“Well, money in Chevakia is important, and we need money to buy things so that we can survive here. The caretaker of this house has run off, leaving the books in a mess.”
Chapter 25