by K.N. Lee
She’d been asked to sit at Aton’s side, as his son’s wife-to-be had been? Why? Gilly did some quick counting. Aton could be anywhere from forty summers old or more. And if he had a son, he must have a wife. Where would she sit?
“Is your wife here?” She looked around the table.
“My wife died many years ago. It was a sad time for our people. She was well loved.”
Gilly received a picture of a beautiful woman in green flowing skirts and matching top. The image was accompanied with such love and loss, her heart squeezed in sympathy. “Your son must miss her.”
“Jarrod was but a boy when she departed our world, but you are correct. Every day, his eyes reflect the same sorrow I see in your gaze.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Anna asked from down the table.
Gilly hadn’t realized her sister was following their conversation.
“Have you never wondered about your Gilly’s past?” he asked her sister.
“Of course not,” her sister said, not batting an eye at his phrasing of, “your Gilly.”
Gilly’s pulse, however, shot up. Was Aton aware of her connection to Anna? That seemed the most likely reason for saying her name like that. These people could share thoughts. Had he read hers? And if so, she didn’t want him spilling her secrets, not in front of everyone. Especially not in front of Talus, who was a King’s Warrior. Besides, she wanted to be the one to tell Anna that she was her sister.
Desperate to change the subject, Gilly said, “Where is your son?”
“Jarrod is researching a recent event in the Makakala Range. Erovians are the historians of Ryca. We record all major events. As my successor, my son is training in all aspects of the art.”
“How do you manage that?” Cullen asked, seated beside
Talus. “Why have I never heard of your people’s travels? As a minstrel, reciting history is also my pastime.”
“You have an inquisitive mind, Cullen. I have your name correct, I hope?” Aton’s tone put grave doubt about Cullen’s name. Seeing the minstrel squirm caused her doubts to firm into certainty. The children were correct, something about Cullen was not right.
The minstrel offered one of his spectacular smiles, which immediately made her wonder why she’d doubted him.
“What you do, Cullen,” Aton’s lips twisted as if the minstrel’s name left a bad taste in his mouth, “is tell stories. What we do is record the truth. Is it any wonder our paths never crossed?”
Gilly held her breath. Aton had just accused the minstrel of being a liar.
Cullen chuckled. “What is truth but a fabrication from different minds?”
“Truth is love,” Aton said. “Separate the two and you lose the integrity of both.”
“Then you must be a dreamer,” Cullen said. “You would make a good minstrel.”
The discussion wandered off onto a definition of love and truth and Gilly’s breath began to go in and out of her chest with fewer impediments. She was relieved to hear genuine laughter among her companions.
Then Cullen spoke. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but how is it that your city of tents was surrounding us when we awoke this morning?”
A question obviously on everyone’s mind, except for Gilly’s. In the excitement of meeting Aton and his fascinating people, she’d completely forgotten the amazing manner in which they’d been transported here. This city had not merely landed on them; they had been removed from their sleeping places and brought into the middle of the desert.
“The experience stinks of magic,” Cullen added.
The room grew silent.
Chapter 5
Marton’s arm went around Anna protectively. If trouble broke out, Anna would be looked out for. Gilly loved Marton’s protective instincts. Anna couldn’t have chosen a better husband.
“We deeply appreciate the hospitality you’ve shown us,” Marton said. “I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation for what happened.”
Yes, High Magic, had also been Gilly’s first thought, mirroring Cullen’s recent declaration. But she had been too polite and weary to speak up.
“This far from Tibor,” Talus finally tore his gaze from his voluptuous server with what appeared to be great difficulty, “you might not be aware that there is a ban against magical arts. King Ywen views such practices with grave distrust.”
“We are aware of Ywen’s views, Sir Talus,” Aton said. “But I appreciate the reminder.”
Gilly was surprised to hear him refer to the king as simply “Ywen.” It seemed such a familiar way of speaking about their king. She’d assumed the Erovians were conscious of titles, since he referred to her as “Lady” and addressed Talus as “Sir.”
“Does that mean you disregard the king’s injunction?” Cullen asked with dogged determination.
The minstrel was determined to get a confession of wrongdoing from Aton. So far from the king’s power, why would he be so set on this course? And toward his host? Perhaps Aton’s earlier hint about Cullen being a liar had stung.
“Erov is a wandering city,” Aton said. “We shift with the change in weather and seasons. Our animals need water and fresh fodder. There is precious little within the desert. The Kocheya basin can be a harsh mistress but bountiful to those who support and respect her ways.”
He looked around the table until he held everyone’s attention. “We are a people who are accustomed to moving quietly and quickly when the need arises. Our labors have become so habitual that we did not notice your presence until this morning. Why you did not notice our coming, is up to you to discover within yourselves.”
As an explanation, it left much unsaid. Cullen, too, seemed dissatisfied with this answer.
Aton didn’t wait for his response. He turned to Gilly. “How long will you grace us with your presence, my lady?”
“We have to leave come morning,” Anna said before Gilly could answer. She gave Gilly a stern look as if to warn her to behave herself. “We’re on our way to Perm. A long distance to travel, so, not much time to socialize.”
“That is a pity,” Aton said. “There is much I must speak about with Lady Saira-Gilly.”
“Such as?” Cullen asked, then laughed out loud. “Unless it is of a private nature. In which case, I sincerely apologize for the intrusion.”
“It could hardly be private, Cullen,” Gilly said, the tips of her ears burning. “We’ve all just met.”
First her sister insinuated she was about to misbehave and now Cullen suggested that Aton had designs on her person? All because he treated her with respect? It was probably Aton’s normal manner toward women in general.
“While you remain here, you are all welcome to wander about the city at will,” Aton said. “My people will answer your questions and assist you in any way they can.”
Sensing a dismissal, everyone rose.
Gilly, too, tried to rise but Aton laid a restraining hand on her arm, holding her in place. “I would be honored to show you a little of my city, Lady Saira-Gilly.”
The offer was touching. She agreed and reminded him to call her Gilly. Let the others think what they would. She was curious about Erov. And like Cullen, she did not quite believe Aton’s explanation of Erov’s wandering capabilities without the use of magic. It was rare indeed to come across a whole city enshrouded by High Magic.
Down the table, Tom stood and swayed.
“I must see to my friend first, sir,” she said to Aton and stood. “To ensure he is cared for. He is still recovering.”
“You are a caring child,” Aton said also getting to his feet. “But have no fear. One of our healers already has him in his sights.”
Indeed, a man intercepted Tom and gently guided him out of the supper tent. Still she wanted to see to Tom herself. “I’d like to check his progress. I won’t be long.”
“I will await your presence in the alcove by the entrance.”
She smiled at his courtly words and followed Tom from the room as quick as she could.
&nb
sp; The healer was laying Tom on a cot when Gilly entered. Tom’s weary brown gaze flicked in her direction and then closed.
“I am Nader,” the healer said. “You have taken good care of your friend. His wounds have sealed. You have a healer’s touch, my lady.”
“Please, call me Gilly,” she replied, unable to correct him that it was Anna who was the real healer in the family.
They spent a few minutes quietly discussing various medicines that Gilly knew and others she’d never heard of. She watched over his shoulder as he gently explored each of Tom’s wounds and discussed the next stage in the healing process.
“Hate to interrupt,” Tom said, his voice gruff and eyes angry. “I realize that Lord Aton is waiting for you. Don’t let us keep you from that enjoyment.”
“I want to know that you’re going to be well, Tom.” She touched his forehead to see if his fever had returned. His skin was cool and smooth and…
He caught her hand. “You don’t want to keep your new beau waiting.”
She snatched her hand back, her cheeks heating as Nader’s speculative gaze flicked between her and Tom. She hadn’t blushed so much in all her life.
“Best let him rest, my lady,” Nader said, in a compassionate voice.
As the curtains slid closed behind her, tears of frustration stung. In the space of a few hours, the whole world had turned upside down. When had she gone from being Gimpy-Gilly, the Madwoman of Nadym whom everyone liked to avoid into Lady Saira-Gilly, the center of everyone’s attention? She didn’t belong in this world.
She hurried away looking for the alcove Aton mentioned to let him know that she had changed her mind about that walk. He was mistaken in whom he took her to be. Time she let him know that.
Within a few steps, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her sideways. Gilly found herself in a secluded alcove, but not with Aton. Anna’s angry face was the last one she wanted to see right now, but it was the one that was presented.
“We have things to discuss,” her sister whispered.
Behind a tent flap at her sister’s back, children’s laughter erupted. “Have Skye and Bevan settled down?”
“Never mind my children. What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” She meant Aton, of course. Everyone meant Aton.
“I’m speaking about your relationship with the ruler of this city.”
“Chief Councilor,” Gilly said. And far above my reach. Not that she’d ever contemplated reaching. If she had, it would have been for Tom. Except now he seemed to be disappointed with her. Her heart ached at the thought, even more than Anna despising her. At least the latter emotional pit was a familiar one.
“You’re fooling yourself and making the rest of us look bad with your flirting,” Anna said. “What must these people think to see you throwing yourself at him?”
Gilly shut her eyes at the unfairness of that accusation. She counted goats, a trick her mother taught her to help control her temper. It didn’t work now, any more than it had when she was ten. “See to your family, Anna, and let me see to myself.”
“I’m only trying to help.”
“You’re interfering. This is unusual since I never thought I mattered enough for you to care.”
“Fine.” Anna folded her arms. “Don’t say I haven’t warned you. You are supposed to be our servant.”
Gilly hesitated, seeing the hurt in her sister’s gaze behind the brash words. How could she have forgotten that even if she had never dreamed of being a noble lady, Anna probably had. She’d seen her act out the role in every village play, in every attempt to outdo her friends, in every slight she’d thrown at Gilly to make herself seem superior.
Anna isn’t embarrassed by my behavior, she’s envious of the attention Aton is lavishing on me.
Her heart softened for this abandoned child who had never felt truly loved. “Why don’t you, Marton and the children come with me?”
The excited light in Anna’s gaze was answer enough. About to warn her sister to hurry, a shout drowned her out.
That sounded like Tom. It came again and Gilly left Anna behind as she raced toward him.
It was Tom, and he was staggering backwards when she reached him.
“Tom!” Gilly said, rubbing her aching left leg, “what are you doing out of bed?”
“Where did you get that bloody dagger?” Anna asked, breathless from her sprint to catch up to her.
Gilly’s heart lurched at the sight of the blood-streaked blade in Tom’s hand. He looked confused, shocked, devastated. The same emotions raged through her. Oh Tom! I should never have left you.
Time crawled as the three of them stood before the alcove, none willing to push the curtain aside and look in. To see whose blood was still dripping off the dagger Tom clenched.
Behind that curtain was where she had agreed to meet Aton.
Suppressing dread that rose like a serpent about to strike, Gilly stepped around Tom and toward the partition. She lifted the flap. Aton laid on the ground, motionless.
There was a scream. Hers? Anna’s?
Gilly’s knees buckled and she dropped to the floor beside the body. She braced herself with one hand and warm blood wet her fingertips, soaked into her sleeve and dampened her skirts. The sight caused a wave of nausea. Mustn’t faint. He could be alive.
Aton’s gentle brown eyes were open and glazed, his expression one of shock. Her heart ached for the man who named her Lady Saira-Gilly. Be alive! His chest was motionless. Still, she had to hold her fingers beneath his nose. No hint of breath caressed her skin. “He’s gone.”
“I didn’t do it,” Tom said in a shaky voice from behind her. “I was looking for you to apologize for my bad manners. Instead, I found him. The blade was in his chest. I pulled it out and tried to stop the bleeding. But he was dead.”
Anna grabbed Gilly’s hand and tugged. “We have to leave. That scream would have raised the alarm. People will come.”
“We can’t leave,” Gilly said. “We have to tell them what we saw.”
“Which is what?” Anna asked. “That one of our party killed their Village Chief?”
“Chief Councilor,” Gilly replied automatically. “And Tom said he didn’t do it.”
“Yes, of course,” Anna said. “He looks perfectly innocent standing here with that bloody knife.”
Too late to argue. People approached, whispering. What’s happened? Did he stab someone? Who? Why?
Then Mayla was there. White as a sheet.
Tom dropped the weapon.
It thumped beside Gilly.
In a cold hard voice, Mayla ordered Tom be taken to his quarters and guarded, while Gilly’s party remain in their tents, under guard. Then she picked up the dagger and set to arranging for the removal of Aton’s body.
Gilly insisted on accompanying Tom to ensure no one harmed him. One Erovian escorted Anna to her family’s quarters while three others went with Gilly and Tom. Once at Tom’s room, two men stood guard outside while the third followed them inside.
Gilly helped Tom lay back on his cot. In his ear, she whispered, “Don’t worry.”
He caught her forearm. “I swear I didn’t do it.”
“I believe you and I promise I won’t let them hurt you.”
She pulled away and he tugged her back. “No! You can’t keep saving me. It’s too dangerous for you to stay in this magical tent city. Their spell casting is sure to draw the horsemen here. You must leave. That’s what I wanted to warn you about before. I’ll deal with this and then follow you.”
This time he released her and shut his eyes. He was letting her go, not just from here, but also sending her away from him.
As she left, his vow lingered. I’ll follow you.
Did he mean it? There was certainly no love lost between him and Anna. So, to want to follow her party meant that he must care for her. His declaration was more comforting than he might realize. Cherishing that tiny spark in her cold heart, Gilly sought out Anna. She must convince her sister t
hat, no matter how it looked, Tom couldn’t have committed this murder. Else her sister’s loose tongue might cause him irreparable harm.
Gilly entered Anna and Marton’s tent and Skye ran up to hug her. The child was shaking.
“We’re going to be fine, Skye,” she said in a firm, reassuring tone to her niece.
The child’s tight grip didn’t slacken. Bevan was nowhere in sight. If Skye was frightened, he was probably terrified. Gilly wanted to squat and search under all the beds and cubby-holes for the boy but Anna’s glare said that her sister was already furious. Best not antagonize her further until after she talked Anna out of publicly accusing Tom of murder.
“You can save your words,” Anna said. “He murdered Vyan at Nadym and he’s done it again here. He’ll probably try to kill King Ywen when we get to Tibor, if we ever do.”
“Anna, that’s enough,” Marton said.
“No, it’s not,” his wife said. “I told her it was a bad idea to bring him but she wouldn’t listen. We should have left him at the cowherd’s shack. Better yet, we should never have rescued him. Then your precious Lord Aton might still be alive. And why did he call you a lady? That makes no sense. I told him you were our servant.”
It was a question that confused Gilly as well, so she had no answer.
“This isn’t helping,” Marton said. “First of all, Gilly isn’t our servant, she’s a friend, and Lord Aton probably guessed that. These Erovians seem very good at reading people. And second, I saw Lord Aton’s courtesy toward her as good manners.”
Gilly was impressed by Marton’s insight into the Erovians. Her sister, however, seemed to take her husband’s censure to heart for her lips trembled. Gilly’s heart squeezed in sympathy. Anna might talk harsh but underneath that hard exterior, she was vulnerable to criticism. She wanted to hug her but Marton was there first.
He pulled his wife close and tenderly kissed her forehead. “I know this has been difficult for you, Anna, but it doesn’t help to tear into the people who have been trying to help us. What we must do instead is decide our next step.”