“You are my adai. Hence, I sought you.”
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming a curse at him. That would not make the situation better. “You must stop,” I hissed at him, in G’mai. “I cannot bear it. I will not bear it.”
He said nothing, then, looking down at his boots against the hard-packed dirt of the road.
I tasted blood, shook him free of the reins. “I will scout ahead.”
“Kaia—” he began, and the kindness in his voice was enough to stab me to the heart.
I touched my heels to the gray gelding’s sides. The horse sprang forward, eager to show his paces. A trot lengthened into a canter, I rode to the top of the next rise. Pulled the horse to a stop and gazed at the vista presenting itself.
The road ribboned along the rises, following a belt of solid ground between the shifting marsh and the equally shifting forest. Twould follow this course until Vulfentown, and in Vulfentown I would make a clearer plan. One that hopefully involved me free of this increasingly untenable conversation with a G’mai princeling.
What truly angers you, Kaia? This man, or your shoddy hunger for a bit of G’mai magic, no matter what it costs you?
Like all uncomfortable questions, it had no answer I was willing to voice.
I waited, the gelding stamping and blowing as I watched the world fill with sunlight. The storm had passed, and the weather would hold for another two days or so. Like as not, we would be in Vulfentown when the next rainstorm moved in. Twas the season for swift changes, though; soon the trees would begin dyeing their leaves for the harvest festivals. We were lucky to be traveling during harvest, food would not be so scarce.
Darik and the barbarian finally caught up, and Darik caught at the gelding’s bridle. “I would speak with you,” he said formally, in G’mai.
I shrugged, patting the horse’s mane. “Speak, if it pleases you so much,” I replied in commontongue. “I do as I please, Dragaemir.” Most of the time. Or I do what I must, and no more.
“That is very well.” Still in G’mai. The barbarian said nothing, watching us both. His green eyes were glimmering with something like amusement. I suppressed the urge to dismount and offer to teach him why it was not wise to look at me so. “You should not seek to leave me behind. You could kill me, adai, and that would not be comfortable for either of us.”
“I am not truly your twin, despite your idiotic oath.” Clearly, in commontongue, enunciating each syllable. “Twas a moment of weakness. You know this. And yet you persist.”
“It makes no difference. I have sworn my oath to you, you are my adai. Do not seek to leave me behind. Tis dangerous.” His jaw was set, and his black eyes glittered.
I shrugged again. I felt like a child, being taken to task by the Yada’Adais. Except she had never taken me to task, only silently shown me why I could never be a part of the G’mai—why I could never be a true adai.
Why I could never have him, or anything else from the Blessed Land. Not even a taste, or a touch.
“Please,” he said. Faultlessly polite, and pleading. Why had he chosen to inflict this on me? What had I ever done to him?
I ground my teeth together, searching for something to say and failing completely. Stared down into his black G’mai eyes, my hands sweating and my stomach roiling uneasily.
The silence stretched, broken only by the low, faraway song of the sea.
“Pretend,” he said, finally. “Can you do that much, Kaia’li? Can you pretend you are my adai, to help me?”
I found my voice. “I do not like to pretend. But until we find your adai—”
“No.” He shook his head, and I did not imagine the flash of anger in his Dragaemir eyes. I had pushed him into losing his temper.
Good.
“You are my adai, Kaia’li. And if you wish to dispute that, we shall come to the dueling ground, you and I. I am more than happy to teach you not to dismiss me.” His voice dropped, so soft it was almost a courting-tone. If the steel underneath the softness had not flashed, an onlooker might have thought he had just complimented me.
“Do you challenge me, then?” I tried not notice the way my heart fell into my feet. He was better-trained, even if I was faster, and I had already seen his skill. I would meet him on the dueling-ground if I had to—honor required nothing less—but I would also avoid it, if I could.
I have killed men aplenty in my time. But to kill a Dragaemir s’tarei trained by the finest warmasters of the Blessed Land was another matter.
“Only if you force me, Kaia’li.” Did I imagine the sudden comprehension on his face? Perhaps I did. He ducked his head, his hair falling down to hide his face, and when he looked up, the expression was gone.
I shrugged and looked ahead, over the Road. “The sunlight wanes, prince. With your permission, I would like to reach Vulfentown in this Cycle.” I made the little half-bow that was all I could do on horseback. “If it pleases you.”
“What would please me is a little consideration from my adai.” His teeth were clenched no less tightly than mine. “If that does not please you, I crave your pardon, but I can do nothing to ease that.”
“Do not make yourself my enemy. You will not survive such a trick.” This is a mead dream or a mad witching laid on me. I am not having this conversation with you. The gods have a strange sense of humor, saddling me with a mad G’mai man.
“I might not anyway,” he shot back, almost as soon as I finished. “You could kill me with a careless word, child. Perhaps you were never taught how to treat a s’tarei.”
Twas a low blow, and I at least had the satisfaction of watching him turn pale as soon as he realized what he said. I let my faint smile widen, looking down at him. An angry man made mistakes. I had provoked enough angry men to know.
I chose commontongue, and made my tone as dismissive as possible. “Come. Sunlight wanes.” I flicked the reins. The grey gelding walked forward, so Darik had to follow, let go or be dragged along. We picked our way down the gentle rise. Yet I could not rest until I had the last word. Tis one of my failings. “If I am not the adai you wish for, why do you not leave, and find another?”
He looked up at me, smiling, and I bit furiously at the inside of my cheek again. “Of course not, Kaia’li. You are all I could have wished for.”
What does he mean by that? I shook my head, my braids shivering as salt-laden wind touched them, and cursed my own stupidity. Why had I prodded at him, engaging in an empty battle of words? I was not behaving like myself.
You are all I could have wished for. A pretty sentiment.
He did not mean it. He could not mean it.
Still, I turned it over and over inside my head as we continued on, polishing the sentence like a jewel. At least I would have the memory of it, no matter what happened.
Chapter 19
An Unflawed Jewel
Twas a pleasure to have a proper camp at night, and we made good time to Vulfentown. There was no trouble, though we did catch sight of a few figures in the woods, mayhap bandits eyeing us, wondering at their chances. The barbarian did not fall asleep on watch again.
I managed to avoid another show of petty temper by reducing my words to single syllables or barbarian grunts. Darik did not speak again beyond giving information or mentioning food.
Twas highly satisfactory.
The sky was clouding ominously by the time we rode through the South Gate and into the walled freetown. Vulfentown harbor was a furnace of gold, the Sun sinking into the sea and Sun-gilded ships bobbing on the waves. We rode into a crush of people and horses, waggons straining and people cursing.
The horses—and the barbarian—gave us fractionally better time through the mess, and we turned off on Inn Street, slightly less crowded since it did not lead directly to the Great Market, where ships would dock and spill the wares from their holds, trade coursing like hot blood through the town. Darik cuffed a pickpocket and I caught his shoulder, leaning down from the horse, tossing a kiyan to the dazed
and scrawny boy who had tried to separate the princeling from his purse. “Be a little gentler.” My tone was not gentle. “He is in my profession, after all.”
The boy scooped the kiyan out of the air and stared at me with huge owlish dark eyes, his tangled dirty hair falling forward over his forehead. He wore an indeterminate-color rag passing for a shirt and a pair of frayed leggings, and was barefoot. A twin to every other street urchin in any other freetown in the wide, wide world.
“As you like, Kaia’li,” the G’mai said between clenched teeth, and I smiled. Not even the pet name he had adopted for me or his practice of sleeping next to me every night could dampen my glee at the fact that he would, almost without exception, do what I told him, when I spoke at all.
It was, after all, a s’tarei’s duty to do so.
I had not used this novel and utterly delightful power irresponsibly. I barely used it at all. It was not for lack of opportunity—I simply had not found the best way to use it to rid myself of my two problems.
The urchin rolled the kiyan in his fingers and stared at me, his jaw agape and eyes aglow. I nodded to him and moved on, the gray’s hooves clopping comfortingly against paving-stones.
“Bloody stinking town,” Redfist muttered behind me. “An’ crowded.”
“Tis.” I would have liked more time in the quiet of the forest, too. Time to sort out the problems fast closing in on me, time to think of a solution, time to perhaps find some way to stop my heart's half-guilty leap inside my ribs each time I looked at Darik. “But we shall be able to catch a caravan from here to Shaituh. Safety in tribes, my barbarian friend. I have gossip to sell, and gossip to buy as well. We shall stay for two days and find a caravan going out onto the Road by then.”
“Aye, lass,” Redfist said. “An’ what will I be doing during this time?”
I twisted in my saddle to grin at him, my mood lightening. “You will find a corner in a tavern I know and keep your ears open for me. I wish to know a few things, and you are the perfect man to find them for me. I give you a bit of what I earn when I sell the information, understand?”
“Of course I understand. Ye be the captain of our crew, and a finer one I canna remember. What of D’rik?”
What of him? “Darikaan will stay in his room like a nice little princeling. We do not wish any G’mai paying attention to him—or finding him here in the company of a woman who appears to be G’mai. Tis valuable information, and I wish it to stay valuable. And what, pray answer, is the most valuable information?” I tossed one of my braids back over my shoulder.
“Th’ information nobody else knows, aye?” Redfist surprised me by chuckling. “Oh, aye, lass.”
“I cannot stay in a room if you go traveling, Kaia.” Darik had been silent for far too long.
I looked down at him. “You will do what I ask of you, s’tarei.” I did not bother to smooth the jagged edge from my voice. “Unless you wish to be shipped back to the Blessed Land in the company of the G’mai sent to drag you back to the palace for a reason you have not told me of yet.”
He shook his dark head, setting his jaw, and I wondered if these were the signs of trouble coming. Traveling with a man will show you the measure of his temper, and I suspected I had severely strained his. As it was, I turned off Inn Street
into a familiar little avenue, and was greeted by a long trilling whistle.
I whistled back, three short blasts, and Jettero appeared out of an alley to my right. “Ha-ya, woman, seen any of the Guard yet?” he called.
I had to laugh, twas an old joke between us. Seen any of the Guard yet? Why no, unless you count the one right behind you.
I pulled the gelding to a stop and waited while he stepped up to meet me. I caught his hand. We squeezed, twice, in the manner of the Thieves Guild, then he went back to smoothing the gelding’s neck. “Not even the one behind you, Jett. How is business?”
“Cha, much less interesting since you left, Iron Flower, but you leaving means more for the rest of us.” Jettero was a lean dark thief, a long face and a shock of greasy red-black hair. He had the uneasy complexion of a single Pesh ancestor among the Hain of his family, and a little bit too much height to be pure Hain. He wore loose dark clothes, the dusty attire of a sellsword or a thief, and the sword riding at his side was no more than a rapier. He made his living by thieving, not fighting, and I had never seen him draw the rapier. Instead, he used knives. He sewed the sheaths into his clothes and was a cool, vicious opponent, since the only fighting he did was for position in the Guild or quiet knifings in alleys. The rapier seemed for appearances only.
Still, it was wise not to count the rapier merely for show. Those who underestimated Jett rarely did not regret the occasion.
“You never have any trouble finding business. I am bound for Kesa’s.”
He nodded. “Cha! Thought so. She has a few rooms. Care to grant me a sundog? You are gossip nowadays, Iron Flower, and some of it interesting.”
I dug in my pouch and held up a kiyan. “Dinner tonight? I have trade, and I wish to know what so interests you. Worth a moonwheel, cha?”
Jettero’s eyes fastened on the silver coin. Half his mouth curled up into a smile. “Be careful, Kaia. Some of your kith and kind have appeared. They ask after a prince of theirs, but a pair of them came through yesterday and spoke of the Iron Flower. Teyo Keynat’s-kin gave them a bellyful of song, and they left next morning.” Jett shrugged his thin shoulders, interest printed over his lean dark face. “Ah, and I see you travel with company. When did this happen?”
I would have been lucky to have nobody notice. “Ask not. They attach like sha’laia. People keep following me around, and I have to kill them to make them cease.” I gave a sunny, wide smile, and noticed with satisfaction that he paled a little. “Must be my luck.”
“Must be,” he agreed.
Darik had edged behind the horse—probably useless, since Jett had more than likely taken a good long look before whistling to me. Still, I appreciated the effort.
Darik's hand curled around my ankle, I felt the tension in his fingers through my boot. I restrained the urge to kick him. What are you so worried about now, princeling? That I will throw myself in Jett’s arms or suddenly vanish? “Tonight.” My good humor faded a bit. “We shall have a feast. Cha.”
“Cha, Flower.” He used the word that made up half my nickname in commontongue, the word for a cut flower. It was also slang in Vulfentown and Shaituh for young, well-dowried girl seeking a rich husband. The “Iron Flower” business had come about because of a pun made on my name—Kaia was the only name I had ever given, no clan, no town, and they had been forced to play with it. It is not only the G’mai who are addicted to pretty wordplay.
Jettero sauntered back into the dark alley and disappeared. I blew air out between my teeth and looked down at Darik. His black G’mai eyes met mine. “What are you about?” It was hard to keep my tone level.
“Staying out of sight. And should you need Power, I was ready to supply it. As a s’tarei should.”
“Take your hand off me.” I nudged the horse forward.
“Is nae valuable information now,” the barbarian said from behind me. “Or is it?”
I shook my head. “I need a pot of mead and a hot bath to make sense of this. How would anyone know enough to ask about a G’mai prince and my own sweet self?” I sighed. News travels fast, faster than horses. Even the air carries rumors, the freetowners said. “We are almost home, my friends.”
Twas true. If I had a home on the Lan'ai Shairukh coast, twas right around the corner and a few steps inside.
Hamarh Street
cut away from Inn Street
, and I followed, thinking deeply, until we reached Kesamine’s inn—the Swallows Moon, named so because the sign held a picture of three swallows under a full Moon. There was a low open gate on one side, and I rode straight into the courtyard, the gelding’s hooves clicking over the stone paving. I sat and waited for perhaps ten heartbeats before the door s
et in the side of the high white stone building was flung open.
Kesamine Drava’s-kin put her hands to her hips and regarded me, her long blue Clau eyes accentuated with black lines and her curling gold-red hair pulled severely back. Her lips were stained red with kav juice, and she wore gold in her ears and at her throat and wrists, heavy Clau gold that was pure yellow instead of the Shaituh red gold. Despite several tankards of mead and several endless nights—a few spent sharing the same bed whenever I came through Vulfentown—I had never found what brought her so far from the cold islands of her home. She had been taken into the Drava kinhold about ten summers ago, whether by gold or favors nobody knew.
“Alhaia!” Kesa called. “You come back to my door again, Kaia-naa.” It was her private joke, something to do with her native tongue. I did not speak Clau, so I did not know what it meant. “You must be troubled indeed.”
Her commontongue was more song than speech. Somehow the musical nature of Clau language rubbed through. I dismounted and tossed my reins to a small Hain stable boy who appeared out of thin air. “Cha, Kesa-li, tis merely to see your pretty face.” I strode past Darik to meet her in the door.
She held out her arms, I hugged her, and she kissed me—a long, deep, melting kiss, her usual greeting. She smelled, as always, of spice and dusky tradewinds, and the smell of the sea. She was soft, almost as tall as me, and the material of her full colorful skirts wrapped against my trouser-clad legs. “Mmh.” She finished her greeting, and held me at arm’s length. “You are grim-faced and tired and too thin, Kaia-naa. Who are your friends?”
“The tall one answers to Redfist. Skaialan. I did him a good turn, and am punished for it.” I clicked my tongue against my teeth. It smelled of chaabi stew inside, and fresh flatbread. “The dark one is G’mai, and I am punished for that too.”
It was too close to the truth for me to say it lightly.
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