“Kylor’s bloody eyes I will,” Milani said, her hand drifting back to the dagger.
Mariyah shot her a look that silenced her instantly. “Surely there’s something we can do to avoid this. I have gold.”
“I’m sure you do,” the bouncer said. “And as no one was killed, likely that will be all that’s needed. But the law is the law. And she has to see the magistrate.”
“And how soon can we have this resolved?”
“Three days,” he replied. “Four at most.”
Mariyah’s heart sank. “I see. I need to speak with her before you take her in.”
The other players began filing out, backs pressed to the wall so as not to get too close to the knife-wielding woman. The man Milani had injured was being helped to the bar, where he could clean and dress his wound.
“I guess you know what this means,” Mariyah said, stepping inside the door.
Milani nodded. “I’m sorry. Really. I just can’t seem to stay out of trouble.”
Lady Camdon would terminate Milani’s employment over this. Being ill-mannered was one thing, but Mariyah could not wait four days. Which meant she would arrive back home alone. Dereliction of duty could not be ignored.
“I’ll leave enough coin to take care of the charges and the damage,” Mariyah said.
“Don’t bother about me,” she said. “I can take care of it.”
This was a lie, and Mariyah knew it. Milani gambled away most of her earnings as quickly as she was paid and probably didn’t have more than a silver or two—barely enough to cover the broken chair and doorframe. The fine for injuring the patron and threatening the bouncer with a dagger would be more than she had, and guaranteed her some time in jail.
“I’ll talk to Lady Camdon on your behalf,” Mariyah said.
Milani smiled and managed a playful shrug of the shoulders. “I’d rather you talked to Bram for me. Let him know I’ll be thinking about him.”
In spite of what was an unexpected and possibly permanent farewell, Mariyah laughed. “I promise.”
Milani tipped her head to the bouncer. “Come on, then, big fella. I won’t hurt you.”
After she was disarmed, Milani was led from the tavern. Mariyah would miss her company. But there were no tears; only urgency to return and speak to Loria.
“Interesting choice of guards.”
Landon was standing behind her and had placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I’ll miss her.”
“Would you like me to see what I can do to help?”
Landon took her hand, making her keenly aware of the familiar way in which he was behaving. But at that moment, she didn’t mind. It was comforting. Landon was a friend. Whether she trusted him didn’t matter. She trusted him not to do something to which she would object.
“No. There isn’t time. I need to get home as quickly as possible.”
“I see. Then you will at least allow me to take her place as your protector.”
Mariyah laughed, pulling him back to the table. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. You have business.”
Landon leaned in and locked eyes with Mariyah. “I will not permit you to travel alone.”
She couldn’t suppress her amusement at his attempt at gallantry. “I can take care of myself, thank you. I need no protector.”
“Everyone needs protection from time to time, my dear lady. Even I.”
“And yet you are alone,” she pointed out, with a sweep of her arm. “Unless one of these fine people is your personal guard.”
“I did not mean to suggest—”
“That I am some weak and helpless damsel in need of a big strong man—such as yourself—to chase away the monsters?”
He pursed his lips and blew a breath through his nose. “That is not what I meant.”
Mariyah cracked a smile. “I know. I just enjoy watching you squirm.”
“And you, Mariyah, are the only one who can do that to me.”
They both broke into laughter. It felt good. Different than with Milani. As if she could allow some of her burden to rest elsewhere for a time.
“I meant what I said about coming with you,” he said, over the lip of his glass. “My business is concluded, and I was preparing to return home. And as you seem to have an extra seat in your carriage available…”
The notion was pleasing, she found; more than she’d have thought. “You are certainly welcome. But how did you get here? Not alone, I trust.”
“I rode with a merchant caravan. Guards would have drawn attention. I was intending to return the same way.”
“Then it is I who am glad to be of service to you.”
Landon lifted his glass. “With you as my rescuer, I am more than willing to be the damsel.”
With anyone else, she would have taken his words and devilish grin to be inappropriate and forward. But not with Landon. “It occurs to me that this is the first time we’ve shared each other’s company away from the manor.”
“And I have often regretted it,” he said, then held up a hand, realizing that he might have insinuated something unintended. “That is to say, I often lack for friendly company with whom I can have intelligent conversation.”
“So none of your many admirers stimulate your intellect?”
Landon rolled his eyes. “That lot? Their topics are limited to what holiday their wealthy parents are sending them on or how many servants are in their household.”
“They want to impress you so that you might consider a marriage.”
Landon shuddered. “Never say that again. I’d sooner wed a horse.”
“Don’t you want a family?” she asked. These were very personal questions one did not typically put upon a noble. But here, in the tavern, at that moment, he was not Lord Valmore. He was just Landon.
“I’ve thought about it,” he admitted. “Perhaps one day. But one does not need to be wed for that.”
Mariyah frowned. Children out of wedlock within Ubanian nobility were not well thought of. Even among the common folk, it was discouraged—this due to the Archbishop’s strong stance against it. In Ralmarstad itself, it was far worse. Bastards were relegated to the lowest rung of society. Mariyah had fumed for three days when she learned about this.
“A mistress, then?”
“Sadly, no. If I could choose a spouse from among the common folk, I doubt I would be in the dilemma I find myself. And there are plenty of children in need of adoption.”
“But they wouldn’t be able to inherit. Unless I’m misunderstanding church law.”
Landon wagged a finger. “Now, now. Don’t underestimate your dear friend Landon. Church law regarding succession may be strict, but a few well-placed coins and you’d be surprised the documents that appear. An orphan child can quickly be transformed into a long-lost cousin.”
Mariyah regarded him as he sipped his wine. How was it this man was a Ubanian? Essentially Ralmarstad. “Do you believe in Kylor?” The words flew from her mouth before she could stop them.
Landon halted mid-sip, then placed his glass on the table. “Being away from Ubania has made you quite bold.”
“I’m sorry. I should not have—”
“Don’t apologize,” he said, cutting her short. “It’s a valid question. One I have wanted to ask many people over the years. And the answer is yes. And no.”
“That’s not an answer. You either do or you don’t.”
“It’s the best I can do. If you want to know whether I believe there is a Kylor, then I would say yes. But do I believe what is said about him? That’s another issue entirely.”
“So you don’t believe what the church says?”
He steepled his hands to his chin, elbows on the table. “The church. The light from which all knowledge flows. Or so we are told. But have you read the Book of Kylor?”
“Once.”
“Which book?”
“The Ralmarstad book.”
“So you haven’t seen the one endorsed by the High Cleric?”
; “Loria … Lady Camdon told me it was too dangerous to keep one.”
Landon nodded. “She’s right. Which is why you are the only person I can speak about this with.” He broke his severe expression with a smile. “You’re a heretic in the eyes of the church, after all.”
“Officially I’m a convert,” she corrected. “But yes.” It had been necessary to register herself as a convert in order to freely move about Ubania without constant harassment from church authorities. She knew it was unwise to say this to Landon, but was confident he would keep it to himself.
“I’ve read the High Cleric’s book. The one we are forbidden to so much as touch. Would you like to know what I found?”
“Of course.”
“Nothing. And in abundance.” Seeing her confusion, he added, “Half the book is missing from the other version.”
“Missing? You mean…”
“I mean not there. Gone. It was as if half of it had never been written.”
“What was left out?”
“It would take days to tell you. And honestly, I doubt I can remember it all. But once we’re back in Ubania, you can come to my home and see for yourself.”
Mariyah covered her mouth, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You kept it?” Immediately she felt foolish. Outside Ubania, no one cared about such things.
Landon chuckled. “It’s difficult to remember that we’re in what amounts to a different world.”
“Was the rest of the book the same?”
“Not entirely. The differences were small. But small words can change the meaning of a sentence in a big way.”
“So you think the High Cleric’s version is wrong?”
Landon leaned in close. “What I think would see me brought before the Hedran. And all my wealth and influence would not save me.”
Mariyah understood him clearly without further explanation. Even not being in Ubania, some things were better left unspoken.
Glancing up, Landon broke the mood with an abrupt departure from the table. The bouncer had returned, and Landon called the man into the corner near the door. Mariyah thought to stop him from what she knew he was doing, but chose otherwise. Let him show courtesy if he insisted. He certainly had enough gold.
After a few moments, he pressed something into the man’s hand and returned to the table, plopping down with a satisfied smirk. “Now I feel better.”
“I assume you paid Milani’s fine?”
“You know me too well. And before you object, if I’m to be under your protection for the journey home, I insist I pay for the privilege. As you would doubtless refuse any offer of payment, I was left with no other option.”
Mariyah contrived an annoyed groan. “Then I will buy the next bottle.”
Landon bowed. “As you wish.”
They talked and drank until late into the evening. She enjoyed Landon’s formal, more eloquent way of speaking, though it was not stodgy or pretentious. Conversations with Milani were peppered with curses and crude phrases. While amusing at times, Mariyah found that her own speech suffered—often to the point she sounded little more refined than a field hand on her parent’s vineyard. Within the first hour, her troubles seemed distant. She had not been so at ease since her ordeal in Lamoria began. It felt like a lifetime ago since leaving Vylari with Shemi. She had often feared she’d changed beyond recognition, that the cynical views driven into her by cruel circumstances had robbed her of youth entirely. Every interaction had a purpose; each word was carefully chosen for a specific impact relating to a desired outcome. The closest she came to anything resembling casual conversation was with Gertrude.
But speaking with Landon was immeasurably more rewarding. Unlike many nobles, he was quite well educated in a wide variety of subjects, rather than the narrow interests of commerce and politics that were typical. And while she had known this about him, in an informal setting if felt as if this was the most natural thing in the world to do—two friends, chatting happily, enjoying each other’s company. Mostly Landon spoke of his childhood and upbringing. Life as a youth had been more challenging for the young lord than she’d have guessed. He’d been in a constant struggle to fend off his brothers and uncle, who had designs on the family fortune. He’d survived six assassination attempts and four times had been dragged before the courts, accused of incompetence. Mariyah had expected the tale to conclude much as Loria’s had with her brother. But Landon had not had them killed. Instead he’d tricked them into a move to Ralmarstad, where they were promised the ownership of three copper mines. A cleverly crafted lie, naturally. In their absence, Landon was free to form alliances and bribe officials without their knowledge. By the time the deception was discovered, Landon had not only solidified his own position but had his brothers and uncle stripped of their wealth and titles. Currently they were in Gothmora, living in a small house just outside the city proper, their survival dependent on an allowance Landon sent each month. Surprisingly, he did not sound pleased with himself for outmaneuvering his rivals. Rather saddened that he had been forced into doing so by people who he thought were supposed to love him.
As the crowd in the tavern thinned, Mariyah could feel the effects of the wine taking hold. They had finished the second bottle and most of a third. Landon noticed her increasing inebriation and need to turn in for the night without Mariyah having to say a word.
“If it’s not too presumptuous, I would walk you to wherever it is you’re staying.”
“I would like that.”
They strolled arm in arm, Mariyah leaning her head on his shoulder after the first few yards. The evening was cool, though not uncomfortably so. By the time they reached the inn, Mariyah was wearing a contented smile.
“Until tomorrow,” Landon said.
When he bent and kissed her hand, Mariyah had to prevent herself from stepping forward. A reaction. Nothing more. A result of feeling at ease. If Landon noticed, his kind expression did not reflect it.
Mariyah waited until he rounded the corner before entering the inn. She laughed softly at herself. She had felt guilt at her attraction for Landon once before. But this was something different. Not love, as she had for Lem. Friendship. And in times like these, equally valuable.
* * *
Milani tucked her knees to her chin and hugged them tight. As jails went, this wasn’t so bad. The mattress was decent; good as a cheap inn, anyway. And the guard told her that the meals were brought from the inn where she and Mariyah had been staying. Two men were sleeping in the cell across the corridor, or passed out drunk, more like. They had hardly stirred when she was brought in.
Her stomach rumbled. Should’ve eaten before I left the inn. Kylor’s eyes, she needed a rest. This entire ordeal was going to cost her dearly.
The door leading from the cells squeaked open on tired hinges. Milani sat up, hoping that she would be catching the scent of bread. But this hope was dashed when a figure in a dark hood entered, hands tucked within the loose sleeves, moving slowly and deliberately, until reaching her cell, and then turned to face her.
“I see you haven’t changed.”
Milani tried to penetrate the darkness and see who this was speaking to her, but it was useless. The voice was thin and raspy, like someone attempting to mask their identity. But she could make out a feminine quality. “Do we know each other?”
“Indeed we do.”
“I’m in no mood for games,” Milani snapped. “Who the hell are you?”
“Who am I? I suppose that depends on who you ask.”
Milani sniffed derisively. “Then if it’s me you’re asking, I’d say you’re a moron. Nice to meet you.”
“A fine way to speak to your emancipator.” She drew a hand from her sleeve. “But then you never did know when to keep your mouth shut.”
Milani could see that the woman was concealing something in her hand. She placed her feet on the floor, ready to move. “If you think acting dark and mysterious is going to scare me, then you don’t know me.”
“Were
that only true. Sadly, I do. Well enough to have known how to separate you from your charge and have you thrown in jail.”
Milani leapt from the cot. “Mariyah. What have you done to her?”
“Not a thing. She’s with that handsome Ubanian lord. Valmore, I think his name is.”
Milani had thought she had seen him standing with Mariyah, but couldn’t be sure, as he was dressed as a commoner. “Leave her alone, or I swear I’ll—”
“Kill me?” she said, cutting her short. “You always were the violent one. But I think not. Don’t worry about the girl. I wasn’t ordered to harm her. I’m here for you.”
“Me? Who the bloody hell are you?” Trapped in the cell, there was nothing she could do to defend herself. Unless she could draw her close enough to the bars … but whether it was inadvertent or by design, the woman was standing out of reach. If she was telling the truth and had orchestrated the fight and the arrest, the latter was more likely.
“In the morning, your cell will be found empty,” she said, disregarding the question. “And a warrant will be issued for your arrest.”
This made no sense. Why would anyone go through all this trouble? “If you tell me what you want…”
“Escape is a serious offense. So if I may, I suggest fleeing. You don’t seem the type to do well in a prison cell. Perhaps you could go to Ralmarstad.”
Realization struck Milani all at once. “You!”
Milani rushed forward. But in a blur of motion, the woman’s hand shot out, sending a tiny dart into the center of her chest. Milani stumbled, reaching out for the bars, but fell just short, the poison taking instant effect. She glared at the woman with hate-filled eyes, mouthing silent curses, her body paralyzed.
The woman pushed back her hood. “Yes. Me.”
15
HEROES AND BANDITS
Hollow promises and lies: These are the things valued by evil. It is through truth and selflessness that the riches of Kylor can be found.
Book of Kylor, Chapter Two, Verse Eight
“Are you all right?”
Mariyah had not spoken a word in hours, still fuming over Milani’s escape from jail. The magistrate had come close to holding both her and Landon overnight until the matter could be sorted out. Landon had been the one to convince him otherwise. He was well known, albeit by a false identity, and a few gold along with his word that Mariyah had nothing to do with it swayed the magistrate to reconsider.
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