“I invited her,” Persephone said.
“That’s fine, but it’s gonna take a while,” Padera explained. “Any chance you could help Persephone discover why Sackett, Adler, and Hegner tried to kill her yesterday?”
Persephone looked at Suri. “Can you do that?”
“I’d need bones,” the mystic said.
“Got a dead chicken right here.” Padera pointed at the bird Roan held. “Or do you need to kill it in some ritual?”
“Bird die today?”
“Wrung its neck an hour ago.”
“Should be fine.” The mystic pulled a loop around with two fingers and grinned to herself.
Raithe finished dumping the water, set the gourds down near the door, then turned and surveyed the interior, looking for a place to sit. “You’re certain it’s all right, us staying here tonight?” Raithe asked. “Might be a bit cramped.”
“We’ll make room,” Persephone said, then put a hand to her forehead. “Oh, I’m sorry, Roan.”
Roan, who was still only halfway done with the chicken, paused. “What for?”
“For being rude. This is your place, not mine. I shouldn’t have spoken on your behalf.”
Roan tilted her head, then looked to Moya.
“Forget it, Seph,” Moya said, shaking her head with a sympathetic frown. “I’m still trying to convince her it’s okay to sleep in the bed. Every night she curls up on the floor mat.”
“The floor mat?” Persephone looked over at a thin sheet of reeds that, being daytime, was rolled up and out of the way. “Why?”
Moya looked to Roan.
Roan rolled her shoulders. “It’s Iver’s bed.”
“Iver’s dead,” Persephone said. “You understand that, right? It’s your bed now.”
Roan offered only an embarrassed grimace.
“See?” Moya sighed in resignation.
Roan let the half-plucked chicken droop so that the bird’s neck brushed the ground. “I’ve always slept on the floor.”
“But you own this place now…everything, including the bed, is yours,” Persephone said. “You could at least sleep in one of these hanging chairs. These are very comfortable, by the way.”
Roan stared at her, breathing faster, her eyes tense, her hands wringing the chicken’s legs.
“Relax,” Padera told her. “Calm down and give me that bird before you ruin it.” Padera took the chicken back from Roan. The old woman finished plucking the second half of the bird in a pair of minutes. Once stripped, she chopped off both feet and pulled the crop and gizzard out of its severed neck.
“Roan,” the old woman said. “Go to my house and bring back a bag to collect these feathers. You can save them and make a nice pillow. You’ll find a couple in the back next to dear old Melvin’s clothes box.”
Roan nodded once more with fierce conviction, the welling panic forgotten in light of the new task. She headed for the door but halted abruptly before stepping out. “Whoa!”
They all looked over and saw that Roan had nearly run into the giant who had arrived with the Fhrey. He was standing in front of the roundhouse, blocking the entrance as he bent down and peered in.
Persephone scrambled to her feet, and Raithe moved to her side. The giant didn’t say a word. Didn’t look at the rest of them. His eyes were fixed on Padera, who worked at removing the chicken’s viscera.
The old woman peered up through her left eye, a hefty scowl on her collapsed mouth. “You’re blocking my light.”
The giant glanced down at his shadow and shuffled over a step.
“It’s easier for you.” The giant’s voice surprised Persephone. She expected a loud booming roar, but his words were soft. “Your hands are small. There aren’t birds big enough for me to clean that way.”
Again Padera looked up, this time focusing on the giant’s hands. “You need a hook.” She glanced toward Roan. “My Melvin’s hands were too big for delicate work, too. Roan can make one that even your paws could manage. Can’t you, Roan?”
Roan, who’d been looking at the giant with as much wonder as the rest, narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow. She wound a lock of hair, put the strands in her mouth, and chewed. Then she shocked everyone by walking up to the towering brute and grabbing hold of his right hand. Tilting it up to catch the sunlight coming in through the door, she studied it and placed her own hand against his palm. The difference was striking; Roan’s looked like a doll’s. The giant said nothing. Roan muttered to herself, nodded, and then scurried to the back of her house, where Iver’s workbench was buried beneath a pile of assorted sediment.
The giant watched her for a second and then turned his attention back to Padera and the chicken. “Stuffing?” he asked, struggling to see.
Padera nodded and raised the chicken up in the air. “Filling her with bread and thyme.”
“Garlic?”
“Of course.”
“Butter?”
Padera scowled.
“Okay, stupid question. I don’t always have access to any. What about pepper?”
Padera did her one-eyed glare, this time sucking in both her lips. “Do I look like a Dherg queen to you? Do you think Drome bestows great riches upon me? And before you ask, I won’t be adding saffron, gold, or emeralds, either.”
The giant lifted his shirt. Beneath was a line of pouches on a long string. He opened one, pinched some of the contents, and held out his hand.
Padera waddled forward, and the giant sprinkled a dash into her palm. One brow went way up.
The giant grinned.
“What’s your name?” Padera asked.
“Grygor.”
“Grygor, would you care to stay for supper?” Padera asked. Looking back, she added, “I think we’re going to need more chickens.”
—
The wall of Dahl Rhen was twenty feet thick, framed with wood, and filled with dirt. Grass grew on the top, but the constant traffic from men patrolling the wall had created a worn path that circled the entire dahl. After the evening meal, Raithe had walked the course from one side of the gate to the other, watching the sunset. The height gave him a nice view of the surrounding landscape. The expanse of the forest loomed to the west as a black outline with jagged edges. The eastern side of the dahl was gentle rolling hills of green. Even in the fading light, he could see the north–south road cutting through the fields.
Raithe walked with his leigh mor tied over one shoulder. The evening wasn’t cold. Spring had let go of winter’s hand and was reaching out toward summer. The transition was most evident in the sounds of crickets and the oscillating din of tree frogs, which was even louder on the forest side.
Traveling will be easier now.
Hearing the ladder’s creak, Raithe turned and was surprised to see Persephone climbing up. Trotting over, he extended his hand to help her up. The act was instinctive, but after feeling her fingers, the intimacy of the moment struck him. Hands could be such expressive things; hers were incredibly warm.
“Malcolm said you were up here. He thought I should let you know I was heading over to speak to Konniger,” Persephone said as she reached the top. “But honestly, I don’t think there will be any trouble.”
Persephone faced him with hands folded, still wearing her black mourning dress. Her head tilted down as her eyes looked up; that tilt made up his mind.
“Nice up here on a night like this,” she said. “I’ve walked this circle hundreds of times.”
“Not many places where you can see so far.”
“You haven’t been to the top of the tower in Alon Rhist then, have you?”
He shook his head.
“But you’ve seen it, right? The tower?”
He nodded. “Dahl Dureya is near Grandford. The tower is hard to miss, but it’s not like the Fhrey give tours.”
She looked north as if trying to see the great spire. “Did you have family in Dureya?”
“No,” he said, “not anymore. I used to have three brothers and a sister. He
im and Hegel died together in the High Spear Valley, fighting the Gula-Rhunes. They’re buried there in a mass grave.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. I didn’t like my brothers. Not even Didan, who was the nicest and closest to me in age. Even he was a bastard. Stabbed me in the hand once because I was playing with his new dagger. Held me down and put the point right into my palm and said, ‘So you want to know what the blade feels like, do you?’ ”
She grimaced as if Didan’s stab had just occurred. “How old were you?”
“Six,” he told her. “So yeah, I had some pretty awful brothers, but my sister and mum were terrific. Luckily for us, my father and brothers weren’t around much. When they were gone, we’d stay up late, singing songs and telling stories. Kaylin, she was my sister, had an incredible imagination. Almost every tale had a ghost or dragon and a hero who rescued a beautiful girl. We’d be in the house around the fire with the winter gales shaking the walls, listening to her go on. She helped us forget how low we were on dung bricks and how cold the night would be. Kaylin could do that sort of thing with her stories, take you someplace else, someplace warm, someplace wonderful. Best times we had were when everyone else was off to war and it was just the three of us.”
Raithe stopped talking and gritted his teeth, feeling his throat tighten. He squeezed his left hand, the one Didan had stabbed.
“We tell stories here, too, but most aren’t so pleasant. The heroes are usually lost in the forest and either eaten or sucked away into the spirit world forever. We tell them to keep children out of the forest, but it makes winter nights bleak. I think I would have liked your sister’s stories better.” Persephone brushed back her hair and looked out at the fading light. “Malcolm says the two of you are leaving in the morning.”
“Yeah,” Raithe replied. “At least I’m going. Can’t speak for Malcolm.”
“Why are you leaving?”
Raithe looked to the north again. “I don’t think it’s safe having the God Killer here, well, in any village, really. Best if I find a little out-of-the-way place of my own.”
“But I was hoping you’d—”
“Yeah, I remember what you were hoping, but I’m not keenig material.”
“You’re a great warrior, and you have tremendous courage.”
“No. I’m just a stubborn Dureyan, which I guess is another way of saying stupid. You don’t want a stupid keenig.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid. You’re brave, kind, and decent.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know you fought for me at the cascade and against the wolves. You stood up against Konniger and faced the gods when no one else dared.”
“Whose point are you trying to prove?” He smiled.
She smiled back and was prettier for it, younger looking.
“Listen,” he said. “I sort of made a promise to myself. I come from a family of warriors. All my father and brothers ever did was fight, one battle after another. It’s all they knew, so that’s what they did, kill and burn. They were good at it, good at destroying things, but they died fighting. None of them ever accomplished anything…well, positive…or lasting. They never built something or made a difference. I want my life to amount to more than years of bloodshed.”
“But being keenig is—”
“Is just more killing. Don’t you see? You want me to be like my father. You want me to lead people into battle, to kill and destroy. I want something else.”
“What do you mean by else?”
“Better.”
“Better?” Persephone chuckled. “What could be better than being the leader of our entire race?”
“To live somewhere safe and raise a family. To teach my sons to do the same. That would be good and lasting.” Raithe allowed himself to look directly into her eyes. He always did this with men; anything less was disrespectful, even cowardly. But with a woman, the same action felt indecent somehow. Maybe because he enjoyed it. He couldn’t hold his gaze and still say what he planned, so he looked back out at the hills.
“I was thinking…hoping…you might consider coming with me.”
“With you?”
He kept looking over the wall. “I don’t see how you can stay. Your chieftain is siding with Hegner, and he’ll have to administer justice. If you stay, he’ll punish you. What do they do to killers here?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He wanted to get it all out. “Whatever it is, be hard to do if you’re not around. Besides, you’re like I am: You don’t have a family, not anymore. You don’t even have a home to call your own.” He let his eyes return from their exile and look back into hers. “I’ve enjoyed your company, and it sounds like you’ve done a lot of traveling and know your way around. It’d be nice having you along. I’m thinking we can find someplace where we could both start over.”
Her brows were up and her mouth open even before she spoke. “Are you asking me to run away with you?”
Her tone sounded just short of laughter.
Raithe’s heart sank, and he sucked a breath in through his teeth. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Persephone’s eyes weren’t so bright now, and Raithe shifted his focus to the grass at their feet. He felt a burning desire to be anywhere else than where he was. His face was hot, and he felt a prickly heat where leather covered skin. He took a couple of steps away.
“Wait.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I’m flattered. I am, but…don’t you think I’m a little old for you?”
“Obviously not or I wouldn’t have asked.” He didn’t like the sound of his voice. It came out with a bite. That wasn’t the way he wanted to leave things, but—
I should get away before I say something to make this worse.
Instead, he blurted out, “Is it because of Nyphron?”
Persephone looked puzzled. “Nyphron? Why are you bringing him up?”
“He’s interested in you, right?”
“Interested in me? A Rhune?” She looked at him, amazed.
“When he saw you at the gate, he lost concentration. Nearly got him killed. I guess I could see how you might—”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.”
“There are lots of stories where gods become infatuated with mortal women.”
Looking over her shoulder, she smirked. “They’re not gods, remember? Besides, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. If anyone is likely to catch one of their eyes, it will be Moya.” She put a worried hand to her brow and sighed. “Now that I think about it, I ought to talk to her about staying away from them.”
Raithe drew away again.
“Raithe.” She stepped forward, her face pained. “My husband was killed less than a month ago. We were married for twenty years. I loved him. I still love him. Can you understand?”
In his head, he told her she wasn’t helping. He wanted to explain that loyalty and devotion were virtues he rarely found, and he wanted to be as fortunate as Reglan had been. In his head, he also apologized for intruding on her grief and for presuming someone like him had a chance with someone like her. He was Dureyan, after all. He imagined telling her all these things, but when he finally opened his mouth, all he said was, “Okay.”
The word hung there, heavy and sad. Perhaps she didn’t want that to be the last word between them because she spoke again. “You’re wrong about me not having a family. Padera is like a mother to me, the way she has been to everyone since her children died. Brin is like my daughter or at least a niece because I consider Sarah my sister. Moya is like a troublesome but irresistible cousin, and Gifford…” She reached up and wiped her eyes. “You see? I do have a family, and they’re in trouble, serious trouble. I can’t leave. I’ll be able to convince Konniger of my innocence. I’ve known him for years.”
She performed a more thorough wiping of her face, then stepped forward and hugged him tightly. “I want to thank you for all you’ve done for me and everyone here. You saved my life more than once.
I wish you would stay. You don’t have to be the keenig if you don’t want. You can still help. You’ve already helped so much just by being here. And maybe…maybe you could build a happy life in Dahl Rhen. What do you say?”
She released him and stepped back, hands clasped before her.
Raithe didn’t feel quite so foolish anymore. He was far from happy, but the hug was nice. He’d never wanted much. Dureyans didn’t have dreams the way others did. Food and warmth were all they cared about, and until that moment Raithe’s plan was to be alone in the wilderness. But now he saw how lonely, how empty that would be. He found himself nodding.
“And as for the Fhrey…” Persephone looked over her shoulder at their camp near the well. “Who knows how long they’ll stay. To be honest, they scare me. They scare everyone…except you.”
She was wrong. The Fhrey scared him plenty. Why they hadn’t killed him, he wasn’t sure. The Galantians appeared impressed by the novelty of a Rhune who refused to give in, a Rhune who would fight. Leaving before the novelty wore off was the smart thing to do, but the idea of going without her made his stomach sink.
Perhaps given some time, I’ll be able to convince her to come.
Persephone sighed and looked at the lodge. “Well, I suppose there’s no point in delaying any longer. Best get at it.”
“Be careful in there,” he told her. “I mean it, Persephone. If you have any problem, yell. Yell real loud and then get out of the way. I’ll do the rest.”
“Thanks, but attacking the chieftain probably isn’t the right approach, and I doubt it would help my case.”
“Works in Dureya.” He smiled.
She started back down the ladder and paused. “It’ll be okay; you’ll see. I’ve known Konniger for years. He was my husband’s Shield, after all. I just need to explain my side of things. Oh, and you can call me Seph. You’ve earned that.”
—
“The Galantians said they’ll help us,” Persephone declared, standing before the chairs in the center of the lodge’s Great Hall. Delwin and Tope Highland had come along. The two men stood beside and slightly behind her. Tope’s boots were muddy after a day spent turning soil on the ridge. He wasn’t known as a fighter, but years working in the high fields had made him strong. Delwin held his shepherd’s staff in one hand and a big floppy hat Sarah had made for him in the other. He wasn’t a warrior, either, but as close to a brother as Persephone had. Both men were eager to get home after a long day’s work but had agreed to come with her.
Age of Myth Page 19