by J. S. Morin
Jinzan studied the man a moment, seeing a warrior born and bred. Tiiba’s father had been a blade-priest, and his grandfather before that. The priests took no wives but fathered children out of duty to the order. Girl children would be raised by the mother’s family; boys fostered with the mother until the age of eight, when they were given to their fathers to train as the next generation of priests. Tiiba had been fairly young for the Freedom War but he might have served, Jinzan reasoned.
“Where were you, during the war?” Jinzan asked. It was a common pleasantry among those who had lived long enough to see Megrenn throw off Kadrin rule. Most veterans of the war loved nothing better than to brag of their exploits.
“My father left me behind in Safschan when he sailed for Zorren,” Tiiba began. “But he never forbade me. I found myself passage on a stripe-cat vessel, bringing cavalry for the war. I fought in three nameless battles before earning my blade in the Battle of Boots.”
Jinzan knew of the battle, though he had been closer to the main fighting around the capital. The Battle of Boots was a nighttime ambush by Kadrin forces desperate not to be responsible for letting Megrenn slip from the Empire. They had stalked barefoot into a Megrenn campsite after their sorcerers killed the sentries without raising the alarm. There had been few survivors, but the Megrenn force had prevailed. Upon tracking back to the Kadrin camp, many of the men had taken the unused boots of the Kadrin soldiers as trophies.
That was the sort of man he was sending to his death: a hero. Jinzan hated command at times.
Chapter 23 - Choosing Teams
Brannis awoke to a swaying sensation that reminded him instantly that he was on a ship. A warm, heavy pressure on his chest turned out to be Soria using him for a pillow. It was such a strange feeling, an echo of Veydrus following him; Kyrus had found Juliana in much the same way when she shared his bed.
The captain’s quarters had windows facing out the rear of the ship, and two port-holes to either side, covered with glass. Pale light streamed through, but it was plenty bright enough to see by. Brannis turned as best he could without disturbing Soria’s sleep, and looked outside. The sky was flat grey; a ceiling of clouds hung over the Katamic. It might have foretold a coming storm or it might have just been a cloudy day, Brannis could not say. Either way, he was neither sailor nor sorcerer; there was naught he could do to help even if it was to be a storm. He settled back in and waited until his love awakened.
After a time, she stirred. By the time she came fully awake, Soria found Brannis’s arms wrapped tight around her. She relaxed and just allowed him to hold her for a time. Despite the very strange reality that she had only just met him the day before, Soria felt as if she had known Brannis all her life. Through Juliana’s memories, she nearly had.
“Good morning,” Brannis spoke softly, brushing a lock of hair away from her face.
“Mmm,” she cooed back. “Good morning, Kyrus,” she made a point of remembering the name that he used in Tellurak.
“You do not have to call me that outside of the crew’s hearing. Once we are rid of them, you may as well just call me Brannis from now on. Kyrus Hinterdale is a wanted criminal,” Brannis said. “I still find it odd calling you Soria, Juliana.”
She stretched, one limb, one joint, one muscle at a time, squirming about in Brannis’s embrace as she worked herself awake for what seemed to be a conversation steering its way clear of insipid pillow chatter. “Think of it as playacting. You are who you are, whatever you are called. The difference between Kyrus and Brannis is only as wide as you make it out to be. You are Kyrus, Brannis.”
“You of all people should know better than that. You have met us both now, though Kyrus is doing much more playacting than I am. You can see the differences,” Brannis argued.
Soria worked her way free of Brannis’s grasp, and propped herself up on an elbow, looking down at him. “I know better than better than that, actually. You are fit and strong, and Kyrus looks like a strong wind would carry him off; that’s superficial. If he spent years in the practice yard working with sword-masters, traipsing about in armor, and generally living like a knight, he would look just like you.”
“Yes, but no amount of study can make my Source anything like his,” Brannis countered.
“Well, that is one key difference with twinborn. Your Sources might be like the sun and moon—a new moon at that—but they are your own, at least. The two parts of the split Source seem to be what bind a set of twins together, from what I have been told, at least. It is in here that is the same, though.” She tapped Brannis on the forehead.
“Well, that is where you are wrong,” Brannis quickly replied. “We do not think alike or act alike. Kyrus is playing at being me, and probably only getting by at it because they are all so confused about the sudden change in him.”
“You two boys don’t think alike, huh?” Soria asked sarcastically, looking meaningfully at the two of them in bed together. “Kyrus had not met Juliana before a few days ago, but certainly remembered her well enough to betray Iridan’s trust to have her. There are prettier girls in the Empire, I figure; so why me?”
Brannis had no ready answer for that one. Soria pressed her advantage while he struggled to find one.
“And how about you and me? You know I am not Juliana, at least not the way you thought of Juliana, but I am close enough. I know all the words to convince you I am. I remember little details neither of us would have told from when you tried courting me years ago. You were so adorably chivalrous about it, treating me like your lady when you were barely old enough to grow fuzz on your face, and call it a beard.”
“But it is not like that with me and Kyrus,” Brannis protested. It was not much—not anything really—but it was all he could think of.
“It will be. Soria and Juliana have been aware of each other since I was a little girl,” Soria explained, hurting Brannis’s brain by referring to herself in the third person by two different names in the same sentence. “It takes some getting used to. You have been aware of Kyrus for how long, a season, perhaps two? When we were searching for you, I found out your trial had been held on the fourteenth of Gladewatch, which was about a season ago. How long had you known by then?”
“Oh, maybe a week or so, I guess, truly. Thinking back on it of late, I think I had a vague awareness for years that I had just never paid much attention to.” Brannis suspected that talking to Soria and Juliana was going to be confusing if she insisted on mixing months with seasons or other similar misuses of Telluraki and Veydran standards.
“Give it time. Someday when you talk about Kyrus, you will find yourself referring to him as ‘I,’ even in your own head.” Soria smiled down at him. “Whether you choose to call me Soria or Juliana, or any other name you like, you will think of me as Juliana. That’s fine. It’s all the same to me.” Her smile turned mischievous as she continued. “And I think Juliana has had just about enough talking for now.” She leaned down and kissed him.
To her faint surprise, she found herself being lifted gently but firmly into the air and off of Brannis as their kiss concluded. She was a fair bit heavier than Juliana, with actual honest-to-goodness muscle on her frame, but Brannis still hoisted her up as if she was filled with straw.
“Kyrus has not,” Brannis joked. “There will be time enough for that later, and plenty of it, mind you. There is nothing in this world to keep us apart. You work where and when you choose. I am a fugitive, if anyone ever makes the connection between me and Kyrus, at least; even at that, I think we ought to be able to keep at bay any trouble from that front. For now, though, things are going on that need attention.”
“Well, if I had any doubts about you being Brannis, you certainly have shattered them.” Soria sighed. She twisted in his arms, breaking his careful hold on her, and collapsing faceup into the crook of his arm. “If you insist on being all practical, go ahead.”
“I need to know about these companions of yours. If I am going to be trusting them with secrets of two wo
rlds, there are things I will need to know,” Brannis began.
“What sort of things?” Soria asked with an irritated huff. Brannis surmised that she hoped they would be short things and few of them.
“Well, you gave me the ‘we are surrounded by pirates’ version last night, but I would like to know who they each are, in both worlds. What is their story, how long have you known them, what is it they do, how well do they fight? That sort of thing,” Brannis said.
Soria turned to look Brannis in the eye, and when she saw no hint that the conversation could be forestalled, she took a deep breath and began. “Well, you know Zellisan is Varnus, so he ought to be easy enough to explain. I met him as a girl in Veydrus, and as a fifteen-year-old here. He has been nearly as much a father to me as Shador Archon has been. There may be no blood relation, but he was always there, and my father rarely was. He guarded me for a shift each day of my young life until I went to the Academy, and any time I was home after that. Merciful One, he was the one who found me in hysterics, and called for a midwife to calm me down after my first moonflow scared me witless. Around here, he spent some time in the Acardian army before leaving for better coin as a mercenary. He tried the ‘noble blade’ routine for a while, but there wasn’t enough work in it, so he got himself mixed up settling scores for one group of scum against another. It wasn’t exactly knightly stuff, but it was keeping the wolves fighting amongst themselves at least. Eventually he gathered up a little group of fighters who were twinborn, and they were able to make some real coin at it.
“Those twinborn would be Tanner and Rakashi. I never did get the story of how those two met, but it somehow involved a duel as far as I could gather.” Soria paused for a moment as if trying to remember something. “Anyway, Zell took over as their leader, and in addition to earning coin, they looked for magic stuff. It seems that twinborn have been polluting Tellurak with magic for centuries, at least, and some of the stuff is still floating around here and there. They figured if they armed themselves with enough magic, they could carve themselves out a little fiefdom somewhere, and live like royalty.”
“So how did that work out?” Brannis asked.
“It’s still working out. None of us is ready to hang up our blades yet, but we could buy a bit of land in any kingdom we wanted. I have enough trade bars on me now to buy this ship,” Soria bragged, and then giggled as Brannis made an exaggerated search of her for them. “Well, with me, I meant. Anyway, we have a fair bit of magic among us as well, enough that we do not get pushed around by anyone without some connection to Veydrus and the ability to fight back with magic of their own.”
“Are there many of you—of us—around?” Brannis asked.
“Enough, I guess. I mean, we are still a tiny minority, but there are enough that you need to watch yourself letting slip details of Veydrus around here, and of Tellurak back there. You should always be more careful around sorcerers. Zell is the exception; one of every pair usually has magical ability. For you, it is Kyrus.”
“I guess you are the opposite side of exceptions?” Brannis guessed.
“Yeah, Juliana’s fingers get a lot more practice at spells, but I could manage most of what she does. I concentrate on silent casting, since anything overt might cause trouble if I got found out. You saw how that goes, with the whole witch trial,” Soria said, once again fluidly mixing Brannis up with Kyrus.
“Is that why you did so poorly in the Academy? You had all the talent you ever needed. You could have been Fourth Circle by now if you ever tried,” Brannis prodded. Juliana could have been a top student if she had shown the interest that Brannis had.
“I guess so. I never really thought about it like that at the time. I was just suspicious in general. Getting held back a year was embarrassing, so I tried a bit more after that, but I never really cared to devote my whole life to the Imperial Circle. I just sort of got carried along,” Soria mused. Brannis wondered how often she fell to introspection. He would have brooded for years over his own failings if that had been his path through the Academy. In fact, he had brooded over his failings, insomuch as being devoid of talent was a failing.
“What about the others?” Brannis knew Juliana always hated getting caught up talking about herself, so he did her the favor of changing the subject. He would learn about Soria’s past when she was ready to tell it. It was not her that he was worried about.
“Well, Tanner is Tanner, I suppose. It is his Kadrin surname he uses: Tanner. First name is Elmin but he hates it, so he just goes by Tanner,” Soria said. “I suppose he has to answer to it in the army, so he had to keep that bit at least.”
“What is his name in Tellurak?” Brannis asked. He felt like a pest, interrupting her to pick at details, but one day he might have to make inquiries about the man, and knowing his given name could prove useful.
“Dunno,” Soria admitted. “I only got the ‘Elmin’ bit out of him betting on the outcome of a street brawl in Khesh. I tried to get his Acardian name out of him over a game of dice, but I didn’t win that time.”
“What was your stake?” Brannis asked, teasing her.
“A kiss,” she admitted. “Only one he’s ever gotten, and I stopped trying to weasel his name out of him after that. I only gamble for coin now, not secrets. You’re welcome to try him, though. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of secrets to barter.”
“I can do better than that. I’m his senior officer in Kadrin, remember?” Brannis chuckled. “I can get him the post of his dreams, or make his life miserable. If I decide I want to know, I have plenty of leverage.”
“Just promise me I can be there to watch if you try the ‘miserable’ route.” Soria grinned. “Even if it’s a bluff, the look on his face ought to be worth it.”
“Fine. Deal,” Brannis agreed.
“When we thought we were still chasing Kyrus around, Tanner mentioned something about wanting to duel him. He may still have some thought of it. We dissuaded him by pointing out that it wouldn’t be a fair match, since Kyrus was … you know … sort of a weak, skinny, bookish sort,” Soria managed with barely suppressed laughter as she teased Brannis. He glared at her, but since they were both more or less looking up at the cabin ceiling, it lacked the intended effect. “Since you’re not Kyrus, he may still want to try you.”
“Do I need to worry?” Brannis wondered. He knew he was not the greatest technical swordsman, but he held his own well enough.
“Use Avalanche and you should be fine, so long as you’re well armored. That suit you have with you will be plenty,” Soria joked.
“That good, is he?” Brannis asked.
“Yeah,” she replied. “He and Rakashi used to spar more often, years ago. It was something to see. Rakashi really knows how to use that half-spear of his, but Tanner would still win almost every time. If you ever see Rakashi without his shirt on, you’ll see dozens of little scars; they used to duel to first blood.”
“What about Rakashi, then? What is his story? The rest of you, I can see how you got mixed up together, but how does a Takalish warrior fall in with Acardian coinblades?”
“Rakashi fights for the sake of fighting. He won’t brawl like some drunk but he’ll cross blades with anyone who’ll have at him. Tanner used to be like that in a way, too. With Tanner, he was just an arrogant kid who was great with a blade. I thought he had mostly grown out of it, but the way he’s been going on about that new pistol of his, and how that’s what warriors will be in a few years, I wonder whether that’s true anymore. For Rakashi, the fighting is some sort of spiritual thing. He doesn’t get mad when he fights, he just does the best he can, to test himself.”
Brannis said nothing. It confirmed something he had been worried about since they had first introduced him to Rakashi. He had been privy to every bit of information the Kadrin Empire had about Megrenn and their allies. He had studied the Megrenn Rebellion and the tactics they had used. Rakashi had to have been trained as a blade-priest.
“He doesn’t talk much about himself,” So
ria continued. “He thinks a lot. He likes to look at nature when he thinks, saying it helps him keep his perspective about his own problems. He likes to look at the sea or the mountains, to show himself how small he really is. I know what he’s trying to say but I don’t quite understand it. I was raised in a Tezuan temple; they taught us that there is more within us than outside us. You can explore the whole of the world if you lived long enough, but if you lived a thousand years, you could never finish exploring your own mind.”
“I should ask Illiardra about that one. She might be able to settle it for you,” Brannis joked. “She is over ten thousand summers old.”
Soria turned over, and pushed herself up to look Brannis in the eye. “She worries me,” Soria said. “When she sent me though Rashan’s wards to see you, it was so easy. It was like no magic I had ever felt … I actually didn’t feel it at all. She was reading this book, too. It was filled with prophecies—dark, evil stuff, mostly.”
“I would like to see that book,” Brannis told her, trying hard to keep it from sounding like he was giving her an order, though that was just what he was doing. “But can you please stop talking about Juliana and Kyrus as if they were us? It is confusing.”
“I remember all that happening. You remember it too. What’s the difference?”
Brannis frowned. Soria smiled, and settled back in next to him.
“One other thing about Rakashi …” Brannis said.
“Yes?”
“You mentioned that Tanner was a match for him. What about you?” Brannis asked. “Have you ever dueled with him?”
“He said he wouldn’t hit a woman,” Soria answered. “I agreed, he wouldn’t. It was one of the first times I really ever saw him laugh but we didn’t fight. If it ever came down to it, though, he wouldn’t stand a chance. I am a Tezuan master, in the way they never believed possible. They talk about aether and Source in their own terms, but they don’t understand them like we Kadrins do. I am the closest thing they’ve seen to a warlock.” Soria chuckled, shaking her head at something she just thought of. “You know, for as much as I loathe my oathfather, I understand what it is like having free rein to do what you want because no one can tell you otherwise.”