The Outworlder

by S. K. Valenzuela

  “Maybe he was discovered,” Rafe suggested. “And executed.”

  Jared nodded and stood slowly, stiff from long hours sitting cross-legged on the stone floor.

  “Well, we’ll just have to go with what we do have, then.” Jared lined the books up in order and went back to the table to study the illustrations. “Why is it so bloody dark in here?” he asked.

  “Because it’s nearly sundown,” answered a new voice.

  Jared and Rafe both spun toward the doorway, and Jared’s hand hovered over the books, ready to slam them shut if need be.

  “You missed dinner, both of you. Arnauld was concerned.” Brytnoth sauntered into the dim vault of the library and grinned at them. “So I came to investigate.” He looked them up and down. “Been dusting the shelves with your shirts and faces, have you?”

  “Thanks, Brytnoth,” said Rafe. “For your information, we’ve been working very, very hard.”

  “So I see.” Brytnoth leaned across the table. “What’s kept you in here so long?” he asked. “Did you find something useful that could help us save Sahara?”

  “Us?” Rafe said, glancing at Jared.

  “Maybe,” said Jared. “And maybe not.”

  “Are you still worried that I’m a spy?” Brytnoth asked.

  Rafe swung around to face Jared. “What’s he mean, a spy? Who’s spying?”

  “Childir.”

  Rafe gaped at him and sputtered wordlessly for a moment. “You’re not serious. You can’t possibly be serious.” When Jared said nothing, he blurted, “But…but how? And what could have possibly led you to that conclusion?”

  “Think about it, Rafe. He was the only one who knew our plans for the attack,” said Jared. “Not even Arnauld knew the whole strategy. It failed so miserably because our enemy was ready for us. Sahara and I couldn’t figure out how plans made with such safeguards of secrecy could have been so easily discovered. I’ve been suspecting a traitor in our midst since the battle, but I didn’t have the chance to investigate…until today.”

  “Jared suspects that Childir might have leaked the information to the Dragon-Lords,” Brytnoth added.

  Rafe glanced at him and then turned back to Jared. “He really does have a knack for stating the obvious, doesn’t he? Listen, Jared, I understand you’re upset about the attack and what happened to Sahara. But suspecting Childir of collaborating with the Dragon-Lords is hardly reasonable, is it?”

  Jared shrugged. “I think it’s perfectly reasonable. Who else has the knowledge and the skill necessary to communicate with them?”

  “But surely we need more proof of his guilt than a mere suspicion!” persisted Rafe. “It’s hardly just to condemn him on a guess!”

  Jared’s eyes narrowed. “No, perhaps not. But I’m not going to wait around for absolute proof. There’s too much at stake.”

  Rafe subsided with a sigh. “You have me there,” he said. “And what proof would we find, anyway? There are just herbs and books and birds in his study.”

  Jared suddenly straightened up. “I can’t believe I’m really that blind!” he breathed. “It’s been there all the time!”

  “Sorry, what has?” Brytnoth asked, then added to Rafe in a lower voice, “He was doing this to me earlier—making cognitive leaps and leaving me on the other side of the chasm.”

  “The birds! The birds, of course!”

  Rafe stared at Jared as if he were mad. “What are you talking about?”

  Jared scowled. “The birds in Childir’s study! I always thought he kept them because they were cheery…and for cutting open for prophecies and such. But they must be trained to carry messages. He could send one out with a note and we’d think it had been used for augury!”

  Understanding dawned on Rafe’s face, and he leaned back in his chair. “And he was the one who chose the day of the attack.”

  “Yes, he was. I asked his advice myself.”

  “So he pretended to use that bird to foresee the outcome of the day’s events, when actually he sent it fluttering to the Dragon-Lords with a message that we were on our way.”

  Jared nodded. “That must be it. That must be exactly what happened.”

  There was a long moment of silence.

  “Well,” said Rafe. “I guess we won’t be asking him any more questions, then, will we?”

  “No, we won’t.” Jared rubbed his hand through his hair and swore softly.

  Rafe jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair in the process. “You haven’t gone to him again, have you?”

  Jared and Brytnoth exchanged glances and Brytnoth nodded.

  “Jared has this theory…” he began.

  Rafe slapped his forehead. “And you shared it with Childir? After you suspected him of being a spy?”

  “No, no!” Jared said. “I didn’t put the pieces together until after I told him my little theory. And as soon as I suspected something, I tried to put him off the subject. We got away as soon as we could.”

  Brytnoth sniffed. “We can’t change what’s past, anyway,” he said. “So what about the future? What about Sahara?” He gestured to the books on the table. “What’s all this?”

  “We’re going to stage a rescue. Somehow. That’s what the books are for.” Jared rubbed a hand through his hair so that part of it stood on end. “But didn’t you mention food? I’m starving! Let’s talk about this over some ale and a supper.”

  A short time later, the three men slid into a secluded booth at the tavern and Rafe summoned one of the barmaids. She was a sweet-looking young woman just the shy side of twenty, and her whole face lit up in a smile when she saw Rafe. She looked vaguely familiar to Jared, but he couldn’t place her.

  She wiped her hands on her crisp square apron as she threaded her way through the tables and patrons.

  “What’s your pleasure?” she asked, hovering next to Rafe and flashing him another bright smile.

  “All business tonight, sweet Emma,” he replied, returning her smile. “Three of those meat pastries this place is supposedly famous for and a bottle of red wine. Quick as you can, now—we’re starving!”

  The girl glanced around the table, her shimmering dark eyes resting on each of them in turn. “Hello, Jared,” she said softly, and he nodded to her in greeting. Then she turned to Brytnoth. “And who might you be?” she asked. “I’ve not seen you here before.”

  Brytnoth opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He flushed, stammered, and finally managed to blurt out his name. When Emma laughed a rich, delicate, intoxicating laugh, he flushed to the roots of his hair.

  “I’ll tell cook to be double quick,” she said, ruffling Rafe’s hair as she left.

  Brytnoth swore softly under his breath and ran a hand through his hair. Rafe grinned at him and slapped him on the back.

  “Well, Rafe?” Jared asked, watching her push through the swinging doors into the kitchen. “I’ve only seen her once before, and not in the tavern.”

  “Who is she?” asked Brytnoth.

  “She’s Thormund’s daughter,” Rafe said. When Brytnoth looked at him blankly, he continued, “Right. You don’t know Thormund.”

  “Thormund is Arnauld’s chief advisor. He used to be our ambassador to the Great City…when there was a Great City,” Jared explained. Then he turned his attention back to Rafe. “I find it hard to believe that Thormund would let his daughter wait tables in the tavern.”

  Rafe lowered his voice. “It’s not something he’s pleased about. But she was determined to make her own way, and he didn’t have the heart to fight over it. So here she is.”

  “Why would the daughter of a lord want to be a barmaid?” Brytnoth asked with a frown.

  Rafe grinned. “She wanted a little adventure, I suppose.”

  “Adventure? She thought being a barmaid would give her adventure?”

  “Look,” said Rafe, “you’re not the youngest daughter of a lord. Adventure is anything that gets you outside the confines of your chambers.”

  Bryt
noth turned to gaze at the bar. Emma was there again, leaning against the counter and chatting with two young men who were drinking pints. He gave a single shake of his head and sighed.

  “Anything that lets you see and be seen, I guess,” he muttered. “What a shame.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rafe laughed. “You appreciate seeing her, don’t you? Business has improved for old Appledore since she joined the staff, I’ll tell you that much!”

  “Well….”

  “Well? What are you complaining about?”

  Brytnoth raised his head and looked Rafe straight in the eyes. “I just think it’s sad for a woman to think she needs to sell herself at a bar to feel like she’s free.”

  Rafe gaped at him and Jared, silent in his corner of the booth, allowed himself a smile.

  “What do you mean by that? Are you saying she’s nothing but a common…a common…” Rafe spluttered, unable to bring himself to finish.

  “Don’t misunderstand me,” Brytnoth answered. “It’s just that I’ve seen what happens to women who flirt on the margins of the old dance.”

  “I thought you said you’d lived your whole life on that passenger ship, Brytnoth,” interrupted Jared.

  “Where do you think I saw these things?” Brytnoth gave a short laugh, full of heartbreak, and gazed back in Emma’s direction. “My first love was just like her. Innocent, full of life, in love with being desirable and being desired. She was assigned to the late shift in the ship’s bar.”

  “What happened to her?” Rafe asked.

  Brytnoth studied him quietly. “When I got there, it was too late. Some of the men were getting claustrophobic—we’d been shut up on that damned ship and floating aimlessly through the void of space for years. They drank to forget why they were drinking, and by the time they were drunk enough to forget that, they’d forgotten everything else too. There were three of them that night.” He took a deep breath. “I got there too late. She was already dead.” He paused for a moment, and then added fiercely, “And since I couldn’t save her, I killed them all instead.”

  Rafe’s mouth dropped open. Brytnoth dropped his head into his hands with a shuddering sigh.

  “You can’t understand,” he said softly. “It’s like a living hell…no way out, no way through. Death is a blessed comfort. If we hadn’t crashed in the desert, we’d have torn each other to shreds.”

  “I swear on my life that I will never let our people be herded onto some ship like that,” Rafe gritted, fastening his eyes on Emma’s laughing face. “It would be better for us all to be slaughtered here in our own city fighting for our freedom than to become animals like that.”

  Brytnoth shuddered again and raised his head. “There’s still hope for Albadir,” he said. “We have to do everything in our power to preserve it.”

  Emma returned to the table a few minutes later, bearing their food and drinks on a large tray. She set the steaming pies in front of them and poured their wine into generous flagons.

  “Will there be anything else?” she asked. She turned her sparkling eyes on each of them in turn. She gasped in surprise when Brytnoth caught her by the hand, his face still awash with tortured anguish.

  “Please,” he mumbled. “Please don’t do this to yourself.”

  Emma looked at Rafe, something like fear replacing the flirtatious teasing in her eyes, but Rafe was focused on Brytnoth. She tugged at her hand and gave a little laugh.

  “I’m sure I don’t understand.”

  Brytnoth powered through the catch in his voice. “Please go back to your father’s house and never come here again. I know you don’t understand…” His voice rose a little and he gripped her hand tightly, urgently. “Sweet girl, this life can destroy you. It may seem a game to you, but it’s not. It’s not a game at all.”

  Emma snatched her hand out of Brytnoth’s. “What’s the matter with you?” she whispered.

  Rafe stirred himself and managed a comforting smile. “He’s trying to protect you, sweetheart,” he said. “That’s all.”

  Emma tossed her head like a spirited horse. “Is that what this is? Well, I’m old enough to take care of myself, thank you very much, outworlder.”

  “Do you know how to defend yourself in a fight?” asked Brytnoth, his voice low. “If three of these men surprised you in a dark alley on your way home tonight, could you see yourself safely away?”

  Emma sank down on the bench next to Rafe. “Why are you asking me these questions?” she murmured.

  “Because I lost the woman I loved,” he answered, staring at the table, “to men who respected nothing.”

  Emma stared at Brytnoth for a moment, then impulsively reached out and covered his hand with one of her own. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “So very, very sorry.”

  Brytnoth stared at her small hand on his own and then up into her eyes. Two diamond tears were glimmering on her lower lashes. “Thank you,” he said.

  Emma withdrew her hand and turned to Rafe. “Will you be here long?” she asked.

  “We’ll be here for a good while, I’m sure,” he said. “Why?”

  Emma flushed and twisted her fingers together in her lap. “I was just hoping that perhaps…perhaps you might see me home?”

  Rafe’s stern face melted into a smile, and he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. “Of course I will.”

  Chapter 18

  “I never imagined you taking up with someone like her, Rafe,” Jared said as Emma hurried back to the kitchen.

  Rafe jabbed his fork into his meat pie. “Well, I never imagined you taking up with an outworlder, either,” he said. He flashed Jared a wicked grin before he stuffed his mouth with the flaky pastry laden with meat and juices.

  Brytnoth glanced at Jared, a smile on his own face. “What? Is there something between you and Sahara, then?”

  “No.”

  The answer came like a knife stroke. When Rafe opened his mouth to counter his friend, Jared shot him such a murderous look that Rafe raised his brows and filled his mouth with wine instead of words.

  Brytnoth studied Rafe for a moment, then turned back to Jared. “But Rafe said—”

  “Rafe’s an ass and doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Jared grumbled, swirling the wine in his flagon.

  Rafe grinned. “Mark you, Brytnoth,” he said, his tone full of high seriousness, “he called me an ass.”

  Brytnoth looked from one to the other and then burst out laughing. “You two are half crazy.”

  “Or something like that,” Jared said. “Now, are we going to discuss our plans or just banter all night?”

  Rafe’s face became suddenly serious. “To business,” he said. “When will they bring Sahara back to Silesia?”

  Two days from now.

  Jared jumped and his fork clattered onto the stone floor.

  “What’s the matter with you?” asked Brytnoth, but his voice seemed to come from far away.

  The room swam before Jared’s eyes and was suddenly replaced by a completely different scene. A squalid hovel next to the landing platform on K’ilenfir. A mangy three-headed dog chained to the wall. Rain falling, making soft puddles of oozy green and gray mud. A window with a single light. Inside, a ramshackle cot with a dirty blanket. A table with a flask of old wine and a few hard biscuits. A candle guttering in a tarnished bowl.

  Sahara sat at the table, staring straight at him with a focused, almost pained expression in her eyes.

  Jared. It was her voice now, in his head.

  Sahara! he answered, not a little surprised that he could. Can you see me?

  Yes. And you can see me?

  Jared nodded and drank in the sight of her as a wretchedly dehydrated man drinks water, not realizing the extent of his thirst until he starts to quench it. He could see a large bruise on her right cheek, her wrists and ankles weighed down with chains. She was wearing a simple dress of coarse gray cloth that seemed too big for her. When she turned her head, he could see mud caked in her red cur
ls.

  What have they done to you? he asked.

  Sahara smiled wanly then, and Jared felt as though his heart would burst out of his chest with its pounding.

  Nothing much…yet. But I know their plans. I’m to be a sacrifice…a blood offering.

  We know. There was so much to say, and he didn’t know how long he had before the vision ended. Sahara, we know. We’re trying to make a plan to rescue you. When are they bringing you back to Silesia?

  In two days. She shook her head. They’ll take me to the old fortress. I’ll be held in the north tower until the full moon.

  But that’s only a week away!

  Sahara smiled at him again, but this time with a little of her old spunk. Yes, so think fast.

  Jared’s vision began to swim and a splitting pain throbbed in his head. No, don’t go. Don’t go. He reached out a hand to her. Sahara….

  Jared! Her voice was urgent, and though he could no longer see her, he heard her for a moment longer. Jared, please come for me! Don’t leave me….

  With a gasp, Jared came back to himself. He was sweating all over and his head hurt so badly that he could barely keep his eyes open.

  “Jared,” Rafe gasped. “Are you alright?”

  Jared held up a shaking hand and gulped down the rest of his wine. Breathing raggedly, he struggled to restore his inner calm. After a minute or two, the pain in his head lessened and he opened his eyes.

  “What happened?” Brytnoth asked. “What just happened to you?”

  Jared laughed weakly. “It’s…a bit hard to explain. And it’s going to sound insane.”

  “Try us,” said Rafe.

  “Sahara and I have the ability to communicate mind-to-mind,” Jared began.

  “You said that before,” Rafe said. “But that power doesn’t really exist, Jared. It’s all a myth!”

  “It’s not a myth. I just saw her…spoke with her. She’s in the guard’s quarters just beside the landing pad on K’ilenfir. They’re bringing her back to Silesia in two days, and she’ll be kept in the north tower of the old fortress until the full moon. That’s when they’ll perform the ritual sacrifice.”

  Jared took a breath and poured himself more wine. Rafe and Brytnoth were both staring at him as though he’d lost his mind.