Rosemarked

by Livia Blackburne

  “Is this a common thing for healers to do?”

  My heart jumps at the familiar voice. Dineas stands behind me, peering warily at the burlap sack.

  “Dineas! I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. You’re looking well.” The army has issued him new clothes, and his hair has been freshly trimmed. Plus, a few days under the sun seems to have given him his color back.

  He grins. “There’s not much for me to do these early days. I thought I’d come and see how things are. And”—he takes a small basket out from behind his back—“to ensure I’m still your favorite patient.”

  The basket’s filled with candied rose petals and nuts. The sight makes my mouth water.

  “My friends lent me some money until the scribes get around to paying me. I’m trying to make my way through everything in the markets, and these are my favorite so far. Try a petal.”

  I don’t need to be told twice. The fragrance drifts up my nose as the flower melts on my tongue. “Well, it’s decided. Nursing you back to health was a worthwhile effort.”

  “And here I thought you saved me for the pleasure of my company. Or perhaps my vast knowledge of the world.”

  “No. It’s definitely the presents.” I tuck the basket under the crook of my arm. “But tell me how your first days have been.”

  He brushes off his new livery. “I’ve settled in well. Arxa has me doing exercises with the third battalion so far, but I’ll try out for Neju’s Guard next week.”

  “Neju’s Guard?” Was that the name of the battalion that fell ill?

  “That’s Arxa’s elite unit. There’s a trial for it next week, and they’re open to all. They’re expanding their ranks.”

  Yes, that’s it, then. Arxa’s special unit. Beyond my own experience with them, most of what I’ve heard about these warriors has been through fearful whispers back at Dara—rumors of villages destroyed, families slaughtered. And now Dineas says they’re expanding their ranks. My spine prickles. “Dineas, do you have time for a treatment today? Since you’re here, we might as well take advantage of it.”

  He blinks. “I suppose so.”

  In a short while, I have him settled in my room. If he thinks it strange that I bolt the door, he doesn’t mention it.

  “Are they feeding you well in the palace?” I ask as he drinks the potion.

  “Well enough. I’m not—” He stops talking and his gaze goes distant. Once again, his eyes go back and forth, and he sits rapt as the memories come back. Gradually, the lines of his face harden, and a shiver of recognition runs through me. The Dineas I’d traveled to Ampara with has returned. It’s the same person, the same face, but the difference is striking. He looks older, more tired.

  I hesitate a moment before I speak, and when I finally do, I keep my voice low. “Have you had trouble with the army?”

  He looks down, shakes off the effects of the potion, and then meets my eyes. “No,” he says, his voice gruff. “I settled in just fine.”

  “I’m glad,” I say. “But I’m troubled by the news of Neju’s Guard.”

  Those words finally snap him out of his fog. “As am I,” he says. “They had tryouts a few months ago to replace the ones lost in the outbreak, and now they’re recruiting again. And they’re not the only unit that’s expanding. Others are as well, both the elite units and the regular battalions. I hear the most calls for skilled soldiers who can fight on hard terrain—mountains, forests, and such.”

  Even I can understand the significance of this. Hard terrain means that the emperor wants to go after the rebels who have retreated into the corners of Ampara, the last holdouts. “Have you heard anything about how they became ill?”

  “Neju’s Guard was stationed at Khaygal outpost before they came to Monyar. They arrived at Monyar thirteen days before the outbreak of the illness.”

  I do the figures in my head. “They were in Monyar when the first soldier became infected.”

  He nods grimly. “It’s all rumors and speculation, but plenty think that my people infected them, or yours.”

  “But it couldn’t have been us. They didn’t get to Dara until…” I trail off. The battalion was out of Dara’s reach the day they were infected, but very likely in Shidadi territory….

  A spasm of irritation crosses Dineas’s face. “It wasn’t ­Shidadi,” he says. “We fight our enemies face-to-face. Gatha would have told me if she’d done something so underhanded.”

  “How well do you know Gatha?”

  “I’d die for her,” he says flatly.

  It’s clearly useless to press him further. “It does seem like you might learn more if you were a member of Neju’s Guard. Do you think you can make it in?”

  Dineas shrugs. “It’s a challenge. I like challenges.”

  “Will that be enough?” I wonder how motivated the other Dineas would be to do well in the trials.

  He looks at me as if I have no hope of ever understanding. “I’ll do my best. Trust me.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m beginning to prefer his company to yours.”

  I don’t have to explain who I’m talking about. Dineas snorts. “Give him some time. He’ll get on your nerves soon enough.” But a flash of uncertainty crosses his face, and I know how he feels. It’s unsettling enough for me, relating in two different ways to what should be the same person. I can only imagine what it’s like for him.

  In the remaining time we have, Dineas scribbles an update to Gatha. I warm a stone in the fireplace for him, and he passes it over both sides of the parchments to weaken any rose plague essence before he ties duplicate messages to Slicewing and Scrawny.

  Dineas starts to drift away after the birds leave. He takes longer to respond when I speak with him, and I have him lie down and close his eyes to make the transition easier. Gradually the lines of his face smooth out.

  A short while later, his eyes blink open. He groans and pushes himself to sitting.

  I give him my most reassuring smile. “How do you feel?”

  “Drowsy,” he says. It’s hard to put into words, but it’s obvious to me that his memories are once again gone. Something in the way he holds himself, the openness in his expression.

  “Do you remember anything from the treatment?”

  He furrows his eyebrows. “I remember we were talking. But I don’t remember what about.”

  “You’re probably remembering the few moments before you fell asleep,” I lie. “You napped through the entire treatment.”

  “Did I snore?”

  “A little.”

  I walk with him back down the stairs. It’s strange. Even when we’re simply walking, being with him feels different. We’re relaxed around each other, and it makes me realize how much I’m on my guard every time I’m with the old Dineas.

  When we reach the courtyard, Dineas opens his mouth as if to say something, then stops.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  He chuckles, and runs a hand through his dark hair. “I…well, you may think this is silly, but I thought perhaps you could give me a charm. My friend Naudar…a girl at the market gave him a lock of her hair for good luck in the trials. And you’re the only woman I know.”

  I cross my arms. “I can’t say that’s the most flattering request I’ve ever received.”

  “That’s not what I meant!” He puts his hands up in protest. “I mean…you are the only woman I know, but…” He stops when he sees that I’m smiling. “You know I’m glad to know you, Zivah.”

  A pleasant warmth settles in my chest. Next to us is a small plot of land I’ve started working into an herb garden. I pluck a puzta flower and hand it to him. “I may have been able to do better with more warning, but why don’t you take this. It’s a puzta flower, and it’s both useful and pleasing to look at. It’ll crumble when it dries, but the scent stays for days. It also helps close up wounds, if you sprinkle the dried blossoms on the bleeding. I’ll feel better if you have one on you during your trials, but don’t lose it. I don’t have much to spare.” />
  He holds the bud to his nose. “This is the first thing you’ve given me that doesn’t smell like something died on it.”

  “You sure know how to flatter the maidens, don’t you?”

  He flashes me one last grin. “You won’t regret this. Someday, when I’ve made Neju’s Guard, and women everywhere are begging me to accept their trinkets, I’ll tell them no, because the lovely Zivah has believed in me from the beginning.” He pauses. “Actually, I’d probably still take their gifts. But I promise I’ll keep yours closest to my heart.”

  I push him toward the door. “Off with you.”

  He looks quite pleased with himself as he leaves.

  I stare at the empty entryway long after he’s gone. It’s still striking to me how different this Dineas is, the way he jokes, the way he smiles. It makes me wonder what experiences made the real Dineas what he is, and the thought saddens me.

  I hear the door of the house open and close behind me.

  “He’s fond of you,” says Mehtap, coming to stand next to me. “Are you fond of him?”

  “He’s my first patient to recover completely. That’s something special.”

  Mehtap gives me a sly look out the corner of her eye. “That’s not what I meant.”

  I give her my best impression of Leora’s big-sister glance. “He’s my patient,” I say.

  “If only all patients were so pleasing to the eye. You’d think the umbermarks would mar his face, but they don’t.”

  I kneel down in the herb patch, partly because I see some weeds that need pulling, and partly to avoid Mehtap’s inquiries. Truth is, the new Dineas does seem to be getting fond of me, but it seems harmless so far. Besides, it’s better for our mission if he comes to visit often.

  “You know, some people do fall in love in here,” Mehtap says.

  I’m so lost in my own thoughts that it takes me a while to realize Mehtap has spoken. “What do you mean?”

  “People fall in love in this compound. They meet here, they’re drawn to each other, and they enjoy what time they have left.” She speaks lightly, but behind her tone is a hollowness that’s painful to hear. I feel that hollow in my own gut, and the old familiar questions come rushing back. Is there a life left for us after the rosemarks? Do we dare for happiness, or is it just asking for more pain? Is it even right to love, when you know you must leave your lover behind?

  “Did you have anyone special before you came here?” asks Mehtap.

  I dust off my hands. It seems pointless to continue with the weeds. “No, I was too caught up in my studies really. You?”

  She shakes her head. “I kissed a general’s son at a festival once. He told funny jokes, and he wasn’t bad looking. But there wasn’t much point in taking anything too seriously, since I would probably have been married off.” She smiles sadly. “You know, I used to be so resentful of that prospect. My father and my mother barely speak, and she had no interest in raising me, even before I was rosemarked. I didn’t want to live my life like that. But now, I would take that opportunity gladly. At least then I would have done some good, made some alliance to help Father, perhaps.”

  I’ve heard that well-bred Amparan women like Mehtap don’t have many duties or responsibilities. Their servants take care of everyday considerations, and their husbands and fathers take on the politics. I’d assumed these women would be content to sit back and enjoy life as it passes by, but I suppose everybody wants to feel useful. I feel the same pull, the need to leave a legacy before the disease claims me. I guess in the end, it was stronger than my desire to be with my family. Why else would I be here on this mad quest?

  Mehtap tugs at one of her neatly pinned braids. “Why do you think the gods make rose plague this way? Why make a disease that leaves us in this halfway place?”

  Her question brings back that familiar heavy feeling. I rub the back of my neck to ease the tightness. “Perhaps it means we still have something to accomplish in this world,” I say. It’s hard not to wince at the triteness of my words.

  Mehtap looks at me with her large eyes, and she speaks as if she’s explaining something to a child. “But how do I do anything, for anyone, if I can’t even leave these walls?”

  Trials for Neju’s Guard start at dawn. Naudar and I climb out of bed before sunrise and march, bleary-eyed, to the training fields.

  “Nervous?” he asks.

  “I don’t know enough to be nervous. People don’t actually die in these, do they?”

  Naudar purses his lips. “Not often,” he says.

  Not the most comforting reply, but the threat of danger feels right, somehow, like an old friend. I wonder if it’s normal to feel this way. “So why did you decide to try out?” I ask him. “Walgash convince you too?”

  “I’ve been watching Neju’s Guard march out of the city since before I could grow a beard. I’ve always wanted to wear their colors, serve the empire as best I can.”

  I’m starting to see why the others tease Naudar so mercilessly. With his idealism and unrelentingly immaculate appearance, it’s hard not to. “You really are insufferable, aren’t you?”

  His grin is unrepentant. “You’re just jealous. Don’t feel bad. Everybody is.”

  There are scribes seated at a table out front, and we take our place in line.

  “Dineas, no family name,” I tell the scribe.

  “Neju’s Guard, Dineas?” I jump. I hadn’t realized Arxa was also sitting at the table.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You understand that the trials are hard?” he says matter-of-factly. “We make no allowance for the recently ill. Many healthy men who have been training for months do not make it through.”

  I square my shoulders. “I understand, sir. I want to learn my limits.”

  Arxa holds my eyes for a second, and then motions toward the training fields.

  I take my place among the soldiers on the well-trampled grass as we wait for everyone to drift in. The hundred current soldiers of Neju’s Guard are lined up at the front, facing us, wearing the black-and-silver sashes of their unit. I see a few familiar faces—Walgash, Masista, Cas. I reach into the pocket of my tunic and pick up the flower Zivah gave me. It’s dried by now, and I take care not to crush it. I’m already looking forward to the next time I can make it back to the rosemarked compound. Walgash and company are friendly, but nobody listens quite as well as Zivah. I can let my guard down around her without worrying about saying some stupid amnesic remark that the guys won’t let me live down for days.

  Also, she smells better. Though some of her potions could rival Walgash’s post-training musk. I make a silent resolution that the next time I see her, I’ll tell her that her gift brought me victory.

  One of Neju’s Guard steps forward. “Commander Arxa of the Amparan Empire,” he calls.

  The slap of sandals hitting dirt echoes across the field as three hundred soldiers snap to attention. Then there’s only the sound of Arxa’s footsteps as he walks to the front.

  “Swear fealty to the emperor,” he commands.

  We salute a portrait of an older man with a silver crown, purple robes, graying hair, and a long gray beard. “Long live Emperor Kurosh,” we say with one voice. I look at the emperor’s face with interest. So this is the man we all serve. I wonder if he deserves it.

  Arxa sweeps his gaze over us, and we all stand a little straighter. “There are one hundred men in Neju’s Guard. We will take fifty more with this trial. You may drop out of the testing at any time and return to your current posts without shame. Every soldier in Ampara is a priest of Neju, and every soldier carries the pride of the empire. But if you decide to put up your sword to be tested, then do your best at the tasks set before you. Neju will be watching, as will I.”

  We answer his words with a stomp and a shout. Then one of Neju’s Guard takes Arxa’s place. “We will divide you into units, and you will complete the task at each station.”

  We disperse then. Naudar mouths “Good luck” to me as he goes off with
another group. I’m in a set of sixty men, all strangers to me, and we’re led to a corner of the training field.

  A lanky soldier barks directions at us. “This is a footrace around the border of the field. You will don your armor and carry your sword and shield. Races will be run in groups of ten.”

  A knot of worry forms in my stomach. I don’t need Zivah to tell me that I’m still weak from my illness. I shuffle forward, and we watch the first group take off. My gear is heavy, and I’m already sweating underneath it. I’m glad we drew this station first instead of later when the sun’s higher in the sky.

  Then they call my group to the starting line, and we’re off. Three of the men shoot out at a speed I can’t possibly match, but everybody else takes it slower. There are four sides of the field, and I manage to stay with the pack as we round the corner. My lungs burn though. My feet feel like stone, and by the second turn I start to lag behind. I’m dead last at the third corner, and still flagging. I urge my legs to move faster, but they don’t respond.

  Scars, I can do better than this, can’t I? I sense someone watching me, and I glance up to see Cas looking on from the side, smug in his Neju’s Guard sash. I don’t look at him long, but I can feel him smirking. It’s enough to give me a burst of strength. I shoot forward, passing one man and then two. I overtake a third as I round the last corner, and I see him lift his head in surprise. I fix my eyes on the men in front of me and give one last burst of speed, overtaking a few more before I fall across the finish line. Four men stand panting on the other side. I’d come in fifth. Right in the middle.