by Rosie Scott
“Sure. Thanks,” I said, watching as he put the pot on a hook over the flame in the fireplace. “You do not drink ale,” I said, as he waited for the water in the pot to boil.
Cerin did not move his eyes from the pot. “No,” he agreed.
“Is there a reason for that?”
His gaze did not stir. “Alcohol is what killed my father.”
I was silent for a moment. It was true Cerin's father Lucius had become an alcoholic after his wife's murder, but it had been a knock out punch from the tavern keeper which had truly killed him. Because of Cerin's vagueness, I wasn't sure if he knew those details or not. I also would feel awkward bringing up the distinction now.
“It is the ultimate betrayer,” Cerin went on, after a moment. “People turn to it when they are in need, but it only further depresses and changes them. It is like taking poison instead of medicine for a sickness.”
I thought about the many times I'd gotten drunk after talks with Sirius throughout my teen and young adult years. Ale had never fixed anything for me. It had only let me bask in denial of my problems, like I wanted to be ignorant to finding solutions instead of doing the hard thing and being proactive.
“My father was a good man. Not nearly as smart as my mother, but that didn't matter, because he was good at his job and treated us both right. The alcohol changed him. He got drunk once, when I was really young. It made him cocky and brash. My mother fought with him and locked him out of the house for the night.” Cerin chuckled dryly despite himself. “He woke up the next morning in the mud outside the door. He was so ashamed and made my mother a feast of a dinner that night. Then, they told me to go out and fish by the ocean so they could have adult time.” His smile slowly faded, and the water in the pot before him started to rumble with its boiling. “And I obliged, because they were in love, and I wanted them to be in love.”
“Did he drink again, after that?” I asked him, watching as he took the pot off of its hook and brought it back to the table, where he started to pour it into two cups.
“Sparingly, and never without my mother. And never again did he get drunk, until after her murder. I'm a little resentful of that, to be honest.” With the two cups full of swirling pink tea, he glanced over at me and asked, “Sugar?”
“Yes, please.” I watched as he added sugar cane to both cups, before stirring them gently with a small disposable stick. “You resent him drinking after her death?”
“Yes. Because it would have broken her heart.” The soft tone of his voice made it clear he still loved his parents immensely, and he sounded particularly fond of his mother.
Cerin handed me my own cup of tea, before heading past me and pushing the red drape aside. Holding it out of the way and nodding toward the balcony, he said, “We might as well use it while we have it.”
We. His word choice made me all giddy inside, before I pushed the juvenile thought away and reminded myself of why we were here. I headed out onto the balcony with him. It was large enough for us both to stand comfortably, though small enough to make it feel cozy and romantic. A wall which came up to our stomachs kept us from falling over, and we both leaned against it, letting our cups sit upon the wall. Steam rose from the fresh tea, wafting upward and off into the early evening sky. Somewhere in the streets below, the relaxing sounds of the desert music from earlier flowed upward to my ears, softly muted with distance.
“I hope you don't take my drinking as an offense,” I mused, my eyes looking out at the view. Our rooms were on the third floor of the inn, so the balcony hung over the roof of a building below. Ahead, buildings were placed close to each other around mostly thin streets and alleyways, sitting in clumps ahead of us like blocks of stone. From here, I could see the top of the coliseum, sitting along the edge of the city. Beyond it was limitless desert and sky, before a sun that appeared much larger here than it ever had in Chairel, its yellow-orange glow sinking slowly into the sands. The skies were a myriad of colors not normally found in nature. Pinks, bright oranges, and gorgeous corals accompanied the sun most closely, before becoming friendly with lavenders and light blues directly up above us. The sky slowly crawling in from behind us was a darker purple which promised to reveal the hiding places of thousands of timid stars.
“I do not,” Cerin finally replied, before I heard him take a sip of his tea. “I make my choices. You make yours.”
“Without Sirius around, I doubt I will have much need of getting drunk,” I admitted, which was true enough. There were still things to fret about in Nahara, but I was becoming better at dealing with problems as they came to me. Perhaps it was all part of growing up.
“We have more pressing matters to think about than Sirius,” Cerin said, mimicking my own thoughts aloud.
“...yes,” I agreed, so softly it was barely a whisper. “Did you notice anything about Gavriel?”
“All of the obvious things. He's immensely strong, and he remains undefeated. But don't forget—he called Anto the Invincible.” Cerin hesitated. “Has Jakan said anything that would give us a clue as to whether Anto is Vhiri, like himself?”
I thought for a moment. “No,” I admitted. “Only that he is muscular. Perhaps he is human, since this is his homeland.”
“There were races of all types in that coliseum today, Kai. There was not a single human. I doubt one would survive very long.”
Not a single human. I thought back to the earlier fight. “What was Therault, if not human?”
“He was Celdic,” Cerin replied. “I heard someone in the crowd talking about him, before the fight even started. They said something about how he was one of the Knights of Celendar, and they argued about whether he'd lost his way from the army and had been captured, or if he was renegade.” He hesitated, noting my silence. “Did Silas ever tell you of the knights?”
“Vaguely,” I replied. “One of his brothers was one of the knight generals. All I know is that the Knights are few in number compared to the Celdic archers and mages, because most Celds find melee distasteful.”
“Well, Therault today clearly didn't enjoy himself, but he put up the biggest fight,” Cerin mused, his tone saddened. “Regardless, there were no humans. Beastmen and dwarves and elves and half-breeds of giants, but no humans. If Anto is human, I would be surprised. Like I said, they called him invincible. If you are worried about Anto's chances, perhaps we need to wait to judge them until we meet the man.”
“You say there were no humans today, but you didn't mention anything special about Gavriel,” I noted.
Cerin huffed dryly. “Yes, because I'm trying to figure out what he was.”
“He is a god.”
There was a short silence. Then, “How do you know?”
“Our eyes are the same.” I hesitated. “And his power is immense.”
“All gods have your eyes?” He questioned. I realized then that he hadn't known for sure, given he hadn't been present for when I'd found the answer out for myself a year ago.
“Nanya said as much back in Whispermere. I noticed she had my eyes, and I'd never seen anyone else before her with such a color. She told me on the second day that I had the eyes of a god.” I hesitated. “It is something most people don't realize. I have received compliments on my eyes, but mostly from people who simply think it is exotic or a genetic anomaly. They have no idea it proves my lineage.” I paused. “Only gods, then, can find other gods amongst the races of Arrayis, because we are the only ones supposed to know of this. It is of little wonder how Nanya claimed to know all the gods, despite her admittance that they have bred amongst each other before, even though it is looked down upon for whatever reason. She knows all of them because even if they've never met, she can tell who is a god and who is not.”
“The gods have not been heard from in so long that people base them in myth,” Cerin pointed out. “I don't see how Gavriel has managed to get past this.”
“He masquerades as human,” I said. “I doubt Gavriel is even really his name. Jakan said himself that Gavri
el was new to the gladiatorial scene when he was last here. He probably moves around. Waits millennia for people to forget about his presence before he assumes a new identity and starts the rounds again. You saw him fighting today. He was loving every minute of it. Whichever god Gavriel is, he is not one to be lazy and build a shrine to himself in the sky, like my mother. He wants to use his powers and his anonymity to wage war on the lesser races because it brings him joy and power and fortune.”
“Fortune? But he is a slave,” Cerin pointed out. “His fortune is not his own.”
The creak of a heavy wooden door pulled my attention away from our conversation, for the moment. I glanced back, seeing Cerin's door was still closed.
“That came from Theron's room,” Cerin explained, nodding toward the left wall of his own room.
“Sounds like he is alone,” I muttered, noting the short length of time it took for the door to both open and close.
“Is he not supposed to be?” Cerin questioned.
“Nyx was going to...” I trailed off, thinking it might be better not to explain the situation at all.
“Ah,” Cerin replied, already having found my train of thought. “Well, she wouldn't have had much luck.”
I found Cerin's gaze, confused. “How do you know?”
“Do you remember back when we first met your mother, and she said she sensed only one of us was untied from romance?”
I nodded slowly, taking a sip of my tea. The bold, bright taste of desert fruit slipped over my tongue.
“That shook Theron quite a bit. That second day, when you and Nyx went to see Nanya again, he admitted to me he believed your mother was a god, because no one had been able to tell that about him. And we all knew Nyx was the one exception your mother spoke of.”
On one hand, now I knew something else about Theron I hadn't before. I tried not to be hurt that the ranger had never told me of this, particularly because we had grown to be friends despite our humble beginnings. On the other hand, Cerin had just admitted to being one of us who was tied at the time. I hoped that meant what I wanted it to.
“Did he tell you anything else?” I asked.
“No. Only that he was shaken by it. It was clear it was a subject he did not want to breach.”
Ah. Well, that explained the ranger's secrecy. Theron had always been pretty quiet when it came to his past, particularly the bits which were not tied to his work. I wondered if that would always be the way he would be, or if there was a possibility of cracking his shell.
“What is it about romance that makes people so shy and secretive?” I pondered aloud. It was a question I truly did wonder, though I had to admit my reasons for asking it in front of Cerin were selfish. Since I consistently failed to get over my nerves around him, perhaps I could prod him into making the first move.
Cerin was silent for a few moments, so much so that I wondered if my question worked. I glanced over to the necromancer, finding him admiring me in the moonlight, the sun having ran away completely some minutes before. It was my eye contact which ruined the moment, for Cerin exhaled nervously and laughed dryly, as if to downplay the tension in the air.
He looked off into the distance of the beautiful deserts, and offered me a half-hearted response. “I don't know.”
Eleven
Jakan woke us all at the first morning bell, even while it was still in the midst of ringing, its harsh metallic tones reverberating throughout the morning skies. When Nyx and I hurried out of our shared bed, the soft, early morning light from the windows to my left cast the normally golden room a light blue, since I'd put out all but one sconce the night before. Even as my friend and I hurried to pull on our clothes and armor, I heard Jakan waking the others outside in the hall.
Nyx said little to me as she got dressed, focused on the day's events. She hadn't been in our room when I'd come back from Cerin's the night before, so she must have still been trying to find a partner for the night.
“How'd it go last night?” I asked her, my voice still rough with fatigue.
She fastened her belt around her hips, before taking her daggers from a table beside the bed and sheathing them. “Meh. Theron said no, if that's what you're asking.”
The conversation between Cerin and I the night before drifted to my head. “Did he say why?”
“He said he enjoyed working with me and considered me a friend. Said he was flattered, but that he could not. That's all.” Nyx's dark hands came up to her hood, where she pulled it over her head of black hair. “So he went off to bed, and my options of men at the bar were limited.”
“Ah. So you actually got sleep last night.” I smiled despite myself. “For once.”
“Yeah, but I'm all jittery with need,” she complained, putting her hands out, where I could see them shake.
“That's a good problem to have,” I mused, walking toward the door of our room. “Considering.”
“Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't complain. Poor Jakan is a wreck.” The latter sentence teetered off in a hushed tone, as we left the room together.
Jakan stood outside with Theron, both men waiting for us by standing against the opposite wall. I was somewhat surprised to find no awkwardness from Theron toward Nyx or even in general, though I was thankful for it. Jakan, however, still was shaken with nerves. He appeared so small and thin standing next to the ranger, and appeared even smaller thanks to his demeanor. My heart went out to him.
I wanted to help comfort him by letting him know Nyx and I fully intended on buying Anto out of this predicament. At the same time, however, I knew it wouldn't be that easy. If Anto was truly at the top of the gladiatorial ranks here, his price was probably far higher than the one thousand gold Jakan had heard about two years before. I couldn't lie to Jakan and tell him everything would be okay, when I was still trying to figure out how to get him and his lover out of this mess.
So instead, I simply stood beside him in the hall as we waited for Cerin, quiet and pensive myself, though giving my presence as support. If anything, Jakan would know he was not alone here. We were all here to help him. After all, we'd planned on getting him through his predicament before even moving on to our own reasons for being in T'ahal.
Cerin emerged from his own room within seconds, and we went downstairs and through the inn together, finding our guide waiting just outside the door for us, as he had promised.
“Let me see the gold,” he said, instead of a greeting. I opened my coin purse before him, letting him see he would be paid.
“It is here,” I told him. “You will not receive it until we are taken to Ali.”
He nodded. “Fine. Then let us head there.”
The group of us followed the man through the waking city, down roads and alleyways, heading back into the richest section. Above the flat roofs of homes and shops, the sky was slowly yawning awake with the light blues of a morning sky, though the tall walls of the various buildings kept the streets mostly blue with shadows left over from the night. Despite the early hour, many people were out on the streets. Some toted goods from the farms and gardens on the outside of the city to the markets, and others were simply setting up shop, putting out their most desirable goods on displays. A few men and women who appeared to be diplomats from various lands walked in groups along the main road, which I knew lead to King Adar's castle from what Jakan had explained to me yesterday.
The mornings were quieter here. People were mostly at work, many children were not yet awake, and those that were also were in the midst of work. It was a little too early for the roosters to start crowing, though I did hear the echoes of laughter from the Naharan hyenas somewhere off to the east, where I supposed the mounts were kept and bred.
Our guide finally took a right off of the wide road we'd been traveling on, following a small sandstone walk up to an iron gate which sat between two high walls. Above it loomed a three story home made entirely out of marble.
Marble. Dealing in the trade and sale of gladiators surely made this man rich, for we wer
e far from the mountains where the resources for this house must have been mined. Marble was an expensive material regardless, but the fact it had to be imported from such a distance and that the house was extravagantly built with pillars and multiple balconies made me think the man was insanely rich.
There were two guards standing within the gates, and one immediately stood up straighter and came closer when he saw our guide.
“I bring potential buyers for Ali's stock,” the man told one of the guards. The word stock stuck out clearly in my mind. These people had no qualms about treating other people like cattle.
The guard nodded, before walking off toward the front door of the home with a jangle of buckles and sheaths. Within moments of a knock at the door, a skinny, bald old man in nothing but robes opened the door, and spoke quickly with the guard. The man in robes appeared friendly enough, and hurried down the steps toward us.
“Ah! You have come to inquire about one of the slaves?” Though the man glanced curiously at Nyx, the promise of gold kept him welcoming. A guard opened the gate between us, and the man bowed before us. “I am Benji. May I know your leader?”
“I am Kai,” I said, in response, bringing the man's attention to me. “I request an audience with Ali.”
“May I know of your intentions, Kai?” Benji asked, his eyes looming larger than normal from behind thick glasses. “You wish to make your fortune in the arenas?”
“I wish to buy a slave for my own reasons,” I replied, evenly.
“Fair enough, fair enough.” Benji glanced back at our guide. “She has been vetted?”
“She has the gold,” our guide replied.
“What is your surname, if I may be so bold?” Benji inquired.
I hesitated, though I decided it would be safe enough to admit. T'ahal would not yet know about my massacre in Sera, or my running from there. “I am Kai Sera,” I replied.
“Truly?” Benji stared at me in awe. It was clear he had heard of me. I wasn't sure how, given only royalty should have had any interest. I supposed it depended on how closely the rich were with royalty here in T'ahal.