Zusia quickly sprang to fill his cup, followed closely by Phillip, who wasn’t sure what else to do. She filled the goblet and waited silently, head down as the man drained the cup and belched loudly. He held out the cup again, allowing her to refill it, before waving her away.
When her own container had been emptied, she traded it for the full one toted by Phillip, and continued to fill cups, making her way nearer and nearer the door on the opposite side of the room all the while.
When, at last, both jars had been thoroughly depleted, Zusia exited through the door that led down a short passage before opening onto a massive kitchen. Inside, it was exceptionally hot and loud, with slaves bustling busily about loading trays with fresh bread, cakes, olives, fruit of every kind, and mountains of lamb, all of it piled high on large platters.
Phillip’s mouth began to water, and his stomach let out a loud growl at smells so sumptuous, they threatened to drive him mad.
“Stay close,” Zusia said unnecessarily, as Phillip was almost attached to her side, he followed her so closely.
She strode with purposeful steps towards another door on her left.
“Zusia! Where are you off to? Your father wants you serving!” said a stout woman towering over the pair. Sweat dripped down her ample face as she spoke. “Can’t serve air, you old harridan. Now get out of my way. If I get a beating for being too slow in bringing the wine, you can expect a similar thank you from me. Something to help you sleep, maybe?”
The slave huffed and returned to her work and Zusia shoved Phillip roughly through the door.
Phillip was beginning to wonder if there would ever be an end to this maze, when Zusia turned one last corner and opened yet another door. The glaring sunshine that greeted them momentarily blinded him, prompting him to blink rapidly and rub his eyes with the heels of his hands. When his eyes finally adjusted, he realized they’d emerged in the Breken stables.
Giant casks of wine, delivered that morning, had been temporarily stored there until they could make their way to the cool, inner chamber that would be their more permanent home. They were so huge and heavy, it seemed such a waste of energy to have to haul them all over the place, seeing as the wedding guests were depleting them so quickly. It was much easier to let the servers, who were almost all children, run back and forth between the kitchen and the stables to fill their jugs.
Zusia cast aside her empty jar and indicated that Phillip should do the same. She reached inside her tunic and withdrew two scrolls, both of which carried the seal of House Falco. “Here,” she said, “carry this. Everyone will think you’re a courier. If they see the seal, which they will, they won’t dare to stop you.”
“What do they say?” Phillip asked holding his scroll up to one eye and attempting to peer inside.
“They don’t say anything. I can’t write; second daughter, remember? They carry Falco’s seal, that’s all that matters. Come on.”
As they worked their way steadily through the streets of Darak, Phillip was pleased to see that Zuzu had been right: people gave way before them as they hurried to do the bidding of the great House Falco.
Once, a large Breken warrior had bumped into Phillip, and he thought the man was going to strike him, but when he saw the seal, he practically tripped over his own feet in his haste to give way and wound up falling into a horse trough with a splash. Phillip was tempted to stay a moment and laugh with the rest of the Breken as the warrior tried to extricate himself from his straw-filled bath, but Zusia’s sharp tug on his sleeve kept him moving.
When they reached the gate, Zusia’s steady trot slowed to a walk. “Let us pass,” she said to the guards. “We have a message for the Etrafarians from House Falco.”
The guards exchanged a quick glance and stepped aside, and, as simply as that, Phillip was free of the Breken city.
***
Royce felt Reo’s growl, a kind of deep rumbling that made the hair on his arms stand on end, an instant before he heard it. Before the boy could stop him, Reo had shot to his feet and ran out of the tent. Royce followed closely behind him and dropped to his knees beside the bristling animal when he’d stopped. Royce had to put an arm around him to keep him from springing at the two strangers who stood before him. Though the wolf had already reached his adult size, he would continue to fill out a bit more as he added more muscle. Without Royce’s mother here to feed the wolf choice scraps, he had lost the last of his puppy fat and grown lean and hard.
“What now?” Hugh asked, hearing Reo’s incessant growls. He exited his tent, to take in the scene before him. Royce was struggling to control the wolf who was less than pleased with their uninvited guests. They appeared to be two Breken children, standing about ten feet away from the animal, obviously halted in their progress by Reo’s fierce snarls.
“Reo, down!” Hugh spoke with calm authority, and Reo lay down in the sand, but did not completely cease his growling.
Hugh eyed the children appraisingly. The little girl was probably younger than she seemed, her height giving her the look of someone older. The other was covered with a hood and a dirty rag that could just barely pass as a cloak, if you loosened the definition of the word enough. There was something about the way the child stood, though, something about the way his hands twitched nervously at his sides. Something—
“Father?” The word came out in a hoarse whisper, and the child lunged forward.
“Pip!” Hugh ran toward his son, embracing him tightly when they collided. He pulled the cowl from his son’s head, and lay his large hands, one on each side of the boy’s face.
Father and son stared at each another, tears running unchecked down both of their faces.
Hugh’s hands stroked Phillip’s face, ran over his slim shoulders, and down his arms. He lifted his hands, gently examining every finger, in much the same way he had the first time he held him as a newborn, exploring the life before him, not quite able to believe he was really there. How many times had he dreamed of this moment?
Hugh’s smile lit his whole face, and he swept the boy into a mighty hug, lifting him from the ground, spinning him in circles, until he was dizzy with giddy joy, and Phillip’s laughter filled the air. When Reo barked loudly, Hugh remembered himself and where he was and lowered Phillip to his feet, keeping one hand on the child’s shoulder, as if to completely release him might make him disappear.
Pip beamed at his father, held out his hand, and beckoned his friend forward. “Father,” he said, “this is Zuzu. She pretty much saved me. Well, not pretty much—she did save me, and more than once at that.”
“It’s Zusia, actually,” she said, scowling a little bit at Phillip for using the nickname she’d grown to hate so much.
Hugh could see the filthy child was clearly Breken. She had the same black eyes and haughty manner. Where she fit into things he couldn’t say, but if Phillip credited her with saving his life, then it must be true. He was here, after all. How else could he have escaped if he didn’t have her help? “Come here, child,” Hugh said gently, for though the girl wore a proud look and held her head high, he could see she was trembling, nevertheless.
Zusia hesitated for an instant before stepping boldly forward and planting herself squarely before the Lord of Maj. She took another step forward and looked him dead in the eye, as if daring him to do his worst to her. Phillip had spoken for her, but there were no guarantees it would mean anything to the strange man before her, and he might just as easily kill her as reward her. While it was true Pip had been kind to her, and he had told her such wonderful stories of his island home, there was always the chance they might be no more than that: stories, the wishful imaginings of a child.
“Well, Zuzu, it seems I owe you my thanks, but I think I should also know a little more about you. Who are you, my dear?”
“It’s Zusia, not Zuzu.” Zusia squinted menacingly once more at Phillip, and then turned her gaze back to Hugh, trying to ignore the obviously amused expression on the little boy’s face. “I am the seco
nd daughter of House Falco, so I guess the answer to your question is that I am pretty much no one. If someone gets up the courage to do what should have been done when she was a baby and finally kills Mili, then I might be someone, but right now…” Zusia shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her feet, pushing the toe of her shoe nervously into the sand.
Hugh did not miss the marks that covered the girl before him. She was young, certainly no more than a year older than his own son. She was tall, and too thin, and her hair had been cropped haphazardly into a shaggy mop. Hugh looked past the dirt and the rags she wore, and he could see she was actually a pretty little thing. The fact that she could endure years of this life and still have a spark in her eye and a fire that gave her the strength to go on spoke to her courage and determination. There was something about her that whispered and hinted at more than what could be seen on the surface.
“How did you get free? Will your father be looking for you and Phillip? Do we need to get away from here, or is there still time?” He asked these questions in rapid succession, but gently, so as to not alarm her.
“Lord Falco probably hasn’t noticed we’re gone yet, what with the wedding and all. We should have until morning for sure. He won’t really be looking for me. I used to take off for a week or more all the time. Sometimes he noticed, and I took my beating, and sometimes he didn’t. Besides, he’s got his new toys to play with, so we’ll be fine. For a while, anyway.”
Hugh cringed a bit when Zusia mentioned Falco’s new toys, but he let it pass. He also noted the way she’d said “Lord Falco” and not “my father” and he added that bit of information as a point in the girl’s favor. There was certainly no love or loyalty between them that he could tell. He lowered himself to one knee and looked his son in the eye meaningfully. “Phillip,” he said, “I know you say that this girl is your friend, but how can I know if she is to be trusted? Perhaps she just got you out as some sort of trick? This might all be a trap of some kind.” Hugh ignored the girl as she stiffened noticeably.
“Oh, no, Father! Zuzu’s been my friend almost from the very beginning. If it weren’t for her, I probably would have starved, or been poisoned, or something else, a long time ago.”
Hugh looked at Zusia in appraisal, and then back to Phillip.
“She has, father! Look. Here! I wrote it all down, all the stuff she’s done for me. Everything that’s happened.” Phillip lifted the edge of the garment he wore, and unwound the cord that tied his journal tightly to his chest.
The pile of dirty pages were curved from being pressed to Pip’s body and a little sweat stained, but that wasn’t what caught Hugh’s attention. There were dozens of pages there. He could not fathom how the child had gotten hold of so much valuable paper out here where trees were scarce, or how he must have labored to keep it all secret. Hugh took the pages and flipped through them slowly, catching words and phrases as he scanned over his son’s tidy script. Zusia’s name appeared before his eyes again and again. He looked up at the girl, watching in surprise as a pink blush colored her cheeks in a most un-Breken like way.
“We can trust her, Father. She’s already saved Carly and Daniel, besides. Why would she do that if she wasn’t really on our side?”
“What? What did you say?” Hugh stopped his examination of the journal and stared at his son expectantly.
“She did. She got them out yesterday. I figured they would be here.”
“Is this true, Zusia? Are Daniel and Carly free?”
“I expect so. Unless that red-headed one did something stupid, they should be fine. I had them hide with the bodies to be taken out and dumped in the desert…Lord Hugh.” The words were said cautiously, as if trying them out on her tongue. Hugh knew it was a great leap for her to call someone “lord” other than her father.
Hugh eyed the girl as she watched him warily. “Royce,” Hugh boomed. Zusia jumped a little, but to her credit, held her ground.
Royce trotted closer, Reo clinging closely to his side. “Yes, Lord Hugh?”
“Get Aesri.”
“Yes, sir!” he said before bolting away.
“Lord Hugh?” Zusia’s bold expression had been replaced by a look of fear.
“Yes, child?”
“What…what are you going to do with me?” she almost whispered.
“She can come with us, can’t she, Father? I told her she could. I promised we would take her with us. We can’t leave her here. They would kill her, and she…she’s my friend, Father. I promised.”
Hugh looked from his son, his eyes bright with expectation, to the Breken child whose own expression was quite different as it flittered from hope to fear and then back again.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll be fine. I always am.” Hugh thought she sounded more confident than she looked, and that she was probably trying to convince herself of the validity of her statement.
“No,” Hugh said firmly. “You won’t be fine, but it’s your decision. Phillip says he promised, and the Maj are men of honor. We keep our word, but you must consider if this what you really want, Zusia. Life on Maj isn’t always easy. If you leave here, it is likely you will never be able to return.”
“So if I go with you, I can never, ever come back?”
“I can’t see how,” Hugh said seriously.
“That’s all I need to hear,” Zusia said, her voice firm. “When do we leave?”
Chapter 49
The door to the dank cell swung wide, letting in the flickering glow of torchlight. Dearra squinted to protect her eyes from the light, having been secluded in almost complete darkness. She sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in her back and legs. She had been made to perform before the crowds of Bandar for the last three days, but thankfully, Phillip had only been used as motivation the first time. She had been alone, separated from Darius since that first day, probably because her Breken jailors worried that the two of them together would be too much of a risk, but without Darius, Dearra had no desire to toy with the idea of escape.
The light increased as the door to her small cell opened further and Lord Falco and two of his guards entered the room. Dearra’s eyes went to the sword that hung at his side. The blade glowed ominously, further intensifying the light in the room.
Lord Falco saw her expression and the thrill of recognition and longing in her eyes. “Now, now, Dearra,” he said. “Don’t wish for things you can’t have. Brin’du Drak’Tir has a new master, now. The sooner both of you realize that, the better off you will both be.”
“Judging by the gloves you wear,” Dearra said pushing herself to her feet, “I would say the new master thing isn’t really working out for you.”
Falco looked at his glove-covered hands and casually brushed away a bit of charred leather hanging from one of the palms. “The best horses take a bit of extra breaking. We’ll get there in the end. I have all the time in the world, whereas you…That’s what I came to talk to you about, actually.
“I cannot deny what you say. The dragon is proving to be a challenge. He seems to be under the delusion that he and you are still bonded. And while I do, indeed, have time, I would prefer to hurry things along a bit. It seems your little performance in the arena has caused a few—not many mind you—but a few people to question my strength. My spies tell me there are rumblings that the time might be right for an attack on my house. I am guessing house Tempestas has something to do with it. They see the sword as theirs. If I can fully claim the blade, then my position will be strengthened.”
“Get to the point, Falco. Why are you even telling me all of this? What are you going to do with me?”
Falco tipped his head back and roared laughter. “I like you, Dearra, I really do. There’s something about you that’s almost Breken in some ways. Too bad you’re only a woman.
“Why am I telling you all of this? I have no idea, honestly, beyond thinking out loud, I suppose. And why not, seeing as it amuses me so.
“As to what I’m going to do with you? Well, you’l
l have to die, I’m afraid. It’s become too much trouble to keep you about.”
Dearra didn’t even flinch at the cold proclamation. It wasn’t much of a surprise, besides. “My father will kill you,” she said. “You know that, don’t you?”
“I’m counting on his trying, darling Dearra. Your father will certainly try to avenge your death, but to do that he will need help. He will have to return to your home to gather support, and that’s precisely what I am relying upon. That and your people’s misguided sense of loyalty to one another.
“While he is back in Maj plotting, planning, and building ships, my people and I will be coming to you. Mirin Tor is much too rich a prize to sit around untouched by my people any longer.
“Can you imagine it? All of the Breken acting as one? And not just Darak, but all of the Breken cities united in a coordinated attack on the Mirin Tor? It’s delicious, is it not? Granted, uniting them may prove to be my biggest challenge yet, but think of the rewards: slaves…gold…power!”
“No!”
“Most definitely yes! With the dragon by my side I will be unstoppable!”
Dearra’s eyes burned pure gold. She lunged at Falco reaching desperately for Brin. A gloved fist flashed out and caught her under the jaw, sending her flying to the stone wall behind her. She shook her head in an effort to remain conscious in spite of the black spots that swam before her eyes.
Falco hissed as the scabbard holding Brin first started to smoke and then disintegrated to ash sending the blade clattering to the floor below. “You will obey!” Falco reached for the sword, but as he touched it, he could feel the heat that threatened incinerate his hand as it had done to the scabbard.
Falco slashed a hand toward Dearra, and one of the guards sprang forward to hold a knife to her exposed throat. “You will obey,” Falco repeated threateningly. Brin’s blade did cool then, just enough to allow Falco to pick it up, and he nodded his approval.
Poor, misguided Brin’du Drak’Tir, Falco thought. Perhaps if I show the female some kindness you will be more disposed to treating your master with the respect he deserves.
The Destiny Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 55