The Gods of Men

by Barbara Kloss

  “Please,” she urged, giving his arm a good squeeze. “This is Tallyn. He’s the reason you’re alive.”

  Jos’s eyes narrowed, his muscles coiled. His gaze shot back to Tallyn, who, to Sable’s surprise, didn’t appear frightened in the slightest. He merely regarded Jos with curiosity and something else Sable couldn’t place.

  “He’s a Silent,” Jos hissed the word.

  “Was,” Sable corrected.

  Jos didn’t relent. The poker pushed against Tallyn’s neck, creasing skin.

  “Jos.” Sable repeated, digging her nails into his bicep. “Trust me.”

  The moment held, tense and uncertain. Jos blinked hard, as if blinking away haze. His jaw clenched, unclenched, and his gaze darted from Sable to the Silent. And then—finally—he lowered the poker.

  He gave Sable a hard look, then stalked away and tossed the poker on the hearth, where it clattered. He gripped the mantle, his back to them, and his tight shoulders expanded with a slow, deep breath.

  Sable felt as though something very important had just happened.

  “Have I come at a bad time?”

  At the sound of Tallyn’s voice, Jos glared over his shoulders, first at Tallyn, then Sable.

  “Yes, he can talk,” Sable said.

  Jos rolled his eyes back to the fire.

  Sable approached Jos, explaining what Tallyn had shared about his past. She explained how Tallyn had found them at the ruins, and when she finished, Jos stood quiet, hands squeezing the mantel, eyes fixed on the flames. Sable and Tallyn exchanged an uncertain glance.

  Tallyn interrupted the silence. “I have news that might interest Jos.” When Jos didn’t respond, he continued, “A giant of a fellow, who goes by the name of Braddok, is lodging in White Rock.”

  At this, Jos’s head whipped around, and his gaze pinned on Tallyn.

  Any other man would’ve flinched beneath that stare. Tallyn simply continued. “Sable asked me to inquire whether any Provincials had wandered into White Rock recently.” As Tallyn said this, Jos’s gaze slid to Sable. “I discovered six,” Tallyn continued, “but out of those, I assumed the gentleman with the strongest disposition to be the man you’re hoping to find.” A pause. “I see I assumed correctly. ”

  Jos’s composure faltered. It was the briefest of moments, but Sable noticed.

  “Is he all right?” Jos asked sharply, despite the emotion swelling in his eyes.

  “As far as I can tell,” Tallyn continued. “I only inquired briefly so as not to draw unwanted attention to your friend, however, I understand that he’s staying at Gaventry Inn. My contact spotted him at the tavern. Apparently, he likes ale.”

  Jos grunted and turned back to the hearth. He released the mantel and dragged a hand over his face.

  Thank you, Sable mouthed to Tallyn.

  Tallyn looked only at Jos as he nodded, then picked up the cloth bag he’d dropped and presented it to Sable.

  “Clothes,” he said to her unasked question.

  “Thank you.” She hesitated, then added, “Jos and I should be ready to leave tomorrow morning.” She hadn’t told him she’d decided to leave with Jos, and, honestly, she hadn’t made up her mind till right then.

  Tallyn regarded her a quiet moment, and by the look in his eyes, Sable thought he’d probably expected her answer, but he tucked his personal opinions out of sight.

  “Of course. And if you don’t mind, I’m going to retire for the evening. I have some tasks that require my attention.” He dipped his head. “Goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  Tallyn cast one last glance at Jos and disappeared into his room. The moment Tallyn’s door closed, Jos turned around to face Sable squarely.

  “You told him about Brad.” His tone wasn’t scolding, but it wasn’t quite friendly either.

  “I did,” she admitted. “I wanted to make sure he wasn’t in trouble. Death is a difficult thing to carry, and you’re carrying enough of it.”

  Jos just stared at her.

  Sable walked toward him and held out the bag.

  He glanced down at it.

  “Tallyn purchased a new tunic for you,” Sable said.

  “What’s wrong with the one I have?” He glanced about the room, looking for it.

  “I used it to start a fire.”

  His gaze shot back to hers, and he regarded her as if she were made of pieces he couldn’t comprehend.

  “I had to cut if off,” she explained, gesturing at his wound. “It’s a token better left behind, anyway.” She strode to a small door in the back of the room and opened it.

  “Where are you going?” Jos asked after her.

  “To ready your bath. You smell terrible.”

  Sable was sitting before the fire when Jos called her name from the washroom.

  She’d left the door ajar, anticipating that he might need her help. She took a deep breath and stood, then walked to the washroom and pushed the door in.

  Jos sat in the wooden basin, arms resting upon the rim. The water was high enough to conceal anything private; she’d made sure of it. A small voice ridiculed her caution. She’d seen lots of a naked bodies, and she’d already been naked with him.

  But this felt… different.

  Upon her entry, Jos dropped his arms from the basin and sat forward. Water sloshed around him. “I need you to…” His brow furrowed, he looked at her. “Would you cut my hair? Please.”

  She hadn’t expected his question, and she suspected there was more to the cutting than the tangles.

  “Sure,” Sable said, stepping into the room.

  Jos presented a dagger, hilt first.

  She eyed it, then him. “Do they just sprout from your body?”

  A smile grazed his lips, and he pressed the dagger closer.

  Sable took it from his hands, set it on the stool, then moved behind him and touched his hair. He stiffened at the contact, then—slowly—relaxed as Sable combed her fingers through the tangles.

  “All of it?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She grabbed the dagger and systematically began cutting his hair, letting the wet clumps fall at her feet. Jos sat still and quiet, his eyes closed while she worked. It surprised her that Jos would entrust her with something that made him so vulnerable, but then, if she’d intended to kill him, she’d already had plenty of opportunities.

  Once she’d cut away the bulk of it, she slowed her pace, meticulously trimming the hair close to his scalp. The top she left a little longer, blending it into the sides. He had such beautiful hair, she couldn’t bring herself to sheer it off completely. Still, she had to admit that the short hair fit him.

  “Where do you learn these pieces?” he asked quietly. His eyes had opened a sliver.

  Sable paused, confused, and then she realized she’d been singing quietly. She abruptly pressed her lips together and focused on trimming Jos’s hair.

  “I didn’t mean to stop you.” His dark lashes brushed his cheekbone, as if he were trying to see her in his periphery. “I hear musicians often, and I’ve never heard the pieces you sing.” He hesitated. “You sang to me while I slept.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was asking or thanking her. “Yes, well, your nightmares kept me awake, and it was the only thing that calmed you down.”

  His shoulders expanded with breath, and he unfolded his hands upon the tub’s rim.

  “All right.” She set the dagger on the stool. “Is that enough?”

  Jos ran his hands over the top and sides. “Yes. Thank you.”

  “I’ll be back with a broom.” She left and returned to find Jos standing beside the tub, wrapped only in a towel.

  Her cheeks warmed at the sight of him, so she set to work at once, sweeping up his hair. But just as she began, Jos wrapped a firm hand around the broom, stopping her. Her eyes met his.

  “Let me do this,” he said quietly.

  The heat of him warmed the space between them, and the scents of lavender and soap filled her head.

/>   Sable abruptly let go of the broom and hurried out of the washroom. A few seconds later, Jos resumed sweeping the washroom floor.

  He eventually emerged, fully dressed (thank the wards), and carrying a cloth bundle full of what Sable assumed was his hair. He crouched beside her, whispered something beneath his breath, and tossed the bundle on the flames. The cloth sizzled, consumed by fire, and the scent of burnt hair tinged the air. He abruptly stood and scooped her blanket off of the floor.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “You’ll sleep on the pallet tonight.” He sat on the wooden chair.

  His words caught her off guard. “Jos, I’m fine on the—”

  “Take it.” He cast her a sharp glance. “I know you haven’t slept.”

  “You can’t sleep in that chair.”

  “I’ve been sleeping for four days. I don’t need any more sleep.” He stretched his legs and arranged the blanket over them.

  She could see by his expression that there would be no arguing with him, and honestly, a night on the soft pallet sounded blissful. Her spine ached from Tallyn’s unforgiving floor. She crawled to the pallet where Jos had spent the past four days. His gaze followed her there, and once he was satisfied she intended to stay put, he looked back to the fire. The flames reflected in his eyes, and they were the last thing Sable remembered before falling asleep.

  20

  Snowflakes drifted lazily from a gray sky, dusting the horse’s mane and Sable’s cloak, but she wasn’t cold. Jos sat before her upon the horse they shared, and his broad shoulders blocked much of the intermittent wind. They’d purchased the horse in Craven, thanks to Tallyn’s unexpected and generous donation. Of course, Sable had mostly hidden outside of the city while Jos conducted business within. His short hair disguised him, as well as the stubble now shadowing his face, though his height still garnered a few second glances.

  They trotted steadily toward Riverwood with good weather, stopping only to hide Sable when they heard other travelers approaching, which wasn’t often. Most travelers had gone to Skanden for Belfast or hunkered down for the impending winter, and Sable silently praised their good fortune. It was almost as if some greater power held the weather at bay, helping her escape.

  “Do shades only attack humans?” Jos asked while they rode.

  “Not always, but they prefer humans,” Sable answered, swaying with him. “They can’t make more of themselves out of rabbits.”

  Jos glanced back enough that she could see his profile. “You have rabbits? And here I thought all you grew in The Wilds were demons.”

  Sable grinned. “The animals have learned to survive like we have, but if they’re caught out at night, the shades get ’em. It’s never a pleasant sight.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Shades tear their victims to pieces. Flesh, blood, intestines… everywhere.” She shuddered, picturing the carnage she’d found during a recent outing. “Sometimes I’ll come across the mess while scavenging for herbs.”

  Jos swayed with the horse, quiet, and Sable swayed with him.

  “What about Gerald?” he asked.

  He wanted to know why the shades hadn’t ripped him to shreds.

  “I’m not sure,” she answered. “Shades will leave victims whole in order to make more of themselves. But…”

  “A Silent got to Gerald before those shades arrived,” Jos answered for her.

  “Yes,” she said, then added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Ventus found Gerald dying and healed him just enough to then change him. To get back at you for killing his Silent. It’s something he would do.”

  A bluebird zipped passed, singing a bright and cheerful melody, then perched upon a mound of snow. As Sable regarded it, she realized it wasn’t a mound of snow, but a roadside cairn, mostly buried. Bits of gray stone peeked through, and the tip of a red banner lashed at the wind.

  She’d been searching for it for the past thirty minutes.

  “There,” Sable said, pointing to the marker.

  A second later, Jos spotted it. “A village marker?”

  “Yes. They’re a mile outside of every village, and someone’s usually tasked with keeping them visible.”

  “That someone isn’t doing their job very well.”

  “This is a land of criminals,” Sable said. “By definition, they don’t follow rules.”

  “Point taken,” he said with a smile to his voice.

  A few miles later, the great Riverwood wall came into view, and Jos slowed their horse to a complete stop. “You’re going to climb that.”

  They’d discussed their plans while traveling. Jos would proceed through the main gate, survey the situation, and clear the path for Sable while she climbed the wall’s eastern corner and slipped into the village, unseen. Of course, Jos hadn’t seen the wall when he’d agreed to the plan, and now that he was looking at the impressive palisade, he was clearly having second thoughts.

  “Have a little faith,” Sable said dryly.

  “Don’t confuse faith with folly,” he said. “I’ll find another way. Wait for me over… Sable?”

  Sable slid off the horse and landed in the snow. “You have twenty minutes before I start climbing.” Before the sun slept and the shades emerged.

  “Good?” she asked.

  His blue eyes pierced from within the shadows of his cowl, but she couldn’t read the expression there. He looked back to the wall, and a slow cloud of breath rose from his lips.

  Sable started walking away.

  “Sable.”

  She glanced back.

  His jaw squared, and his eyes flashed. “Be careful.”

  She raised a brow. “Judging by our short and, if I might add, very exciting history together, I’d say you are the liability here.”

  A grin quirked at the edge of his lips, brightening his eyes. He turned his head away from her and urged the horse onward. He didn’t glance back again.

  Sable watched him go, then moved silently through the forest toward the village. The only potential hitch in their plans, as far as she was concerned, were the guards. One watch tower sat over the main gate, and two smaller posts guarded the eastern and western edges. The eastern post had a vantage for Sable’s climb, and this was where Jos came into play.

  Sable pressed herself to the wall and waited. The forest was a palette of white and gray, untouched and serene, and the cold air shocked her bones, now that she didn’t have Jos’s body to block the wind, which grew stronger with the evening. She waited a few minutes more, until howls echoed from deeper in the woods.

  Time to go. Jos had better be ready.

  Sable faced the wall and climbed. She moved like a spider, clinging to the creases between snow-dusted stumps. Her boots slipped a few times from the snow and ice, but she caught herself, moving steadily up, higher and higher, finding knobs and cracks and holes, until finally, she reached the crest. There, she perched, listening, but the falling snow muted the world. She peered over the edge.

  The walkway lay empty and quiet.

  She threw one leg over the wall, then the other, careful not to knock over the stone wards, then slid silently onto the walkway and stopped in a crouch.

  “Aren’t you full of surprises?” said a smooth, deep voice.

  Sable whipped her head around.

  A few paces away, Jos waited like an assassin in the shadows—cowl drawn, leaning back against the wall, arms folded lazily over his chest.

  Sable stood and dusted herself. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “Obviously.” He peered over the wall, taking in its full height, and then looked back at Sable, quiet.

  Sable surveyed the empty street below. “Where’s the horse?”

  Jos didn’t answer immediately. “The groomsman is keeping him for the night.”

  Sable nodded and rubbed her hands together. They were numb from climbing, and her joints ached with cold. “And the guards?”

  “Mostly concerned with their game of Spades. However, s
ome of our eastern friends required a bit more… creativity.”

  Sable’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do to them?”

  He flashed his teeth.

  She took a step toward him. “Jos, you promised—”

  “Relax, my little altruist. They’re alive. But we might want to hurry before they wake.” His gaze skirted the streets below.

  Satisfied he’d kept his word, Sable slipped a dagger from the folds of her cloak and held it out to him, hilt first.

  Jos stilled. Sable approached and stopped an arm’s length away, dangling his own dagger before him. He plucked it from her hands and eyed it, then her, his gaze as sharp as the knife in his hands.

  “When?” he asked.

  Sable only smiled.

  His eyes narrowed. “I might have needed this.”

  “But you didn’t.” She winked, strode past him, and stopped at the ladder. From her vantage point, Riverwood was a collection of squat gables and chimneys, each twisting and bending, forcing their way through the crowd. Snow dusted the rooftops, piling in corners and on ledges, though the streets were mostly slush. She waited for a passerby to round a corner before climbing down.

  “Are you sure about this?” Jos asked.

  He wanted to know if she trusted Gavet, the smuggler—the man they were going to see. The one who owed her a favor.

  She glanced up at him. “I wasn’t sure about you.”

  His expression tightened.

  She continued her descent. Jos’s cloak whirled as he turned onto the ladder and climbed down after her. The two of them reached Gavet’s storefront with little consequence, ducking only twice as guards wandered past. Sable led Jos through a side alley to Gavet’s backdoor, but he settled into the shadows, angling himself to keep watch.

  Sable rapped three quick times, waited, then rapped twice more.

  No answer.

  She glanced back. Even knowing where Jos stood, she could hardly see him.

  She turned back to the door and rapped again. She was about to knock a third time when someone shuffled inside. A rectangular slat in the door slid open but closed before Sable could get a proper look. A lock clicked, and the door creaked open.

  “Hi, Gavet,” Sable said with a smile.