by E. J. Godwin
Telai checked Eiveya’s hooves and tightened her saddle, doing her best to act normal. She set a leisurely pace, heading north instead of back east along the cart trail. Though the narrower street kept her in shadow, it was all she could do to keep from glancing behind her or urging the horse into a trot.
A shout echoed between the buildings. “Hold on there!”
Telai’s heart skipped. “Tst, tst,” she whispered, digging in her heels, and Eiveya sprang forward.
It was difficult to hear anything with those big hooves pounding the street, so she twisted in the saddle. The soldier raced after her on a small piebald horse, gaining fast.
Telai panicked. Eiveya was far too big to outrun him, and she searched the street ahead, desperate for a way to escape.
She spotted a narrow alley to the right and instantly hauled back on the reins. Eiveya whinnied in protest. Telai steered her into the dark opening, a squeeze for the big animal amongst all the barrels and abandoned crates. Eventually the alley cleared, then angled sharply to the left.
Eiveya jolted to a stop. A wooden gate barred the way, too high for any horse to jump. Telai looked around in vain for an escape, her pulse throbbing in her ears as she realized her predicament.
A rough voice from behind twisted her stomach in a knot. “There’s no way out. Just get off your horse—slowly!—and you won’t get hurt.”
She turned in the saddle. The horseman glared at her from beneath a tangle of thick, dark hair, one hand gripping the hilt of a notched and tarnished Fetra. By the stains on his trousers and a tattered, gray shirt sticking out from under his jacket, he must have spent months in the wilderness.
“Why are you chasing me?” she snapped.
“We’re under orders to hold any Adaian we find in Trethrealm for questioning.” He waved his sword. “Get down.”
Telai gulped air in quick, shallow breaths, her forehead beaded with sweat.
“I said, get down!”
She grasped the pommel and lowered herself against Eiveya’s flank. She considered pulling out her knife, but it was no match for a sword.
Her captor dropped down and pulled out a short length of twine from inside his jacket. “What are you going to do?” she said, tensing.
He approached, his grin contrasting against the stubble of a beard. “Just in case you take it into your pretty little head to run off.”
Terror and fury took hold. “No!”
She grabbed Eiveya’s lead rope and whipped it across his face. He gasped, stumbled backwards over a crate, then with a vicious yell snapped to his feet again.
Telai spun around to leap for the top of the gate. But the rope looped across her foot and sent her headlong to the ground, bashing her scalp against a wooden post.
She flipped over to defend herself, eyes spinning. A deafening whinny filled her ears. Then a sharp crack like a branch breaking, a ring of steel—followed by a heavy, sickening crunch from somewhere down the alley.
Telai rose to her elbows with a groan. She heard Eiveya snorting and stamping, and crates or trash falling as the other horse ran whinnying back toward the street. She blinked and blinked until her sight cleared, then struggled to a stand.
Eiveya breathed one last snort, her legs twitching. Telai took a few hesitant steps behind her, and stopped.
Her enemy lay in the corner, upside-down over a barrel, his stout legs twisted against the wall. A thick, pink mass oozed out of a gaping cleft in his scalp. His sword, bent so badly as to be useless, lay spattered on the ground under his head.
She turned and walked away, her throat tightening. Eiveya nuzzled her wide nostrils against her shoulder; Telai managed a faint smile and rubbed her velvet ears.
The gate still stood in the way. Telai looped the lead rope around the rails, tied both ends to the pommel, and coaxed Eiveya back until the gate splintered and crashed to the ground. Cringing at the noise, she quickly untied the rope and lifted herself into the saddle.
The alley turned east again, and after only a short distance opened up onto a large field of picked corn. Telai stopped to look up and down a narrow path running along its edge, then dismounted and led Eiveya between the tall rows.
Her head throbbed. She lifted her hand, and felt blood oozing from a lump at her hairline. She rode after that, keeping her distance from the cart trail by the river. Hours seemed to pass as she struggled through the fields and hedges, and she had to stop a few times to let another wave of dizziness subside. Yet the sun had barely cleared the mountains when she spotted the old barn and its collapsed roof. Rather than risk revealing herself to anyone on the trail, she tied Eiveya to a short tree on the north side and squeezed in through one of several gaps in the planking.
She found Soren sleeping on a makeshift bed of old straw. He stirred at her touch and sat up, blinking.
“Your head’s bleeding. Did you run into any trouble?’
“You could say that. A man dressed as a Raén chased after me. He must have been a Hodyn spy, the way he threatened me.” Soren’s brows lifted in surprise as she described the incident.
“Come closer,” he said, and with his knife cut a strip from the bottom of her cloak. He grinned as he tied it around her head. “Eiveya would make a good war horse. Too bad the other one ran off. Did you get the medicine?”
She handed him the bottle of spiced wine Efan had sold her. “The store I stopped at didn’t have any. Apparently waliwah is a myth to scam foreigners.”
“The storekeeper told you that? You’re the one who’s been scammed, Telai.”
“What!”
“I’ve seen waliwah work with my own eyes. He probably sold you that bottle for the same price,” he snapped, then fell to coughing.
Telai gritted her teeth. She wished she could go back and humiliate that pitiful excuse of a man with a well-aimed knee.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered at last.
“Forget it,” Soren croaked, still recovering from his coughing fit. “Trethan merchants are notoriously clever. I should have warned you.”
“But what do we do now? It’s full daylight, and this hair of mine is going to draw Hodyn like a magnet. Maybe I should pull my hood down or something.”
“The Hodyn are too clever for that. Makes it look like you’re hiding something—which of course you are!”
“What, then?
He hefted the bottle in the dim light. “Let’s see what we’ve got here first.” He drew his knife, spent a minute prying the cork out, and sniffed the opening. Shrugging, he tilted it to his lips.
Telai jumped back as he gagged and sprayed a mouthful across the floor. “Great galloping Grondolos!”
“That foul little thief!” Telai hissed. But Soren upended the bottle again and emptied half its contents in one long draught.
He gasped, tears streaming. “If that doesn’t kill this bug, nothing will.”
“Unbelievable,” said Telai with a shake of her head. “You might have just poisoned yourself!”
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime we still need those supplies, and especially horses.”
“The storekeeper mentioned a rancher or farmer north of town who might sell us a few.”
“No. Even if I trusted him, it’s too risky. Once the Hodyn find their dead comrade they’ll have spies staked out all over the place. There’s only one way to get what we need without being captured—and you’re not going to like it.”
Telai’s jaw dropped. “No, Soren!”
“Stealing is no crime when lives are at stake! Besides, I’d think you’d be eager for a little payback. You’re not the first Adaian to be cheated by the Treth.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she cried. “I could bring myself to steal food, as long as it was from someone rich enough to afford it. But horses? I’d put an arrow in the back of anyone who tried to steal Eiveya!”
“How? You don’t even own a bow,” he said, and Telai snorted in exasperation. “If there’s one thing you don’t understand a
bout being a soldier, it’s that sometimes there aren’t any right choices.” He pointed behind with his thumb. “Right now Caleb Stenger and his son are probably eating the last of the food you left them. They’re citizens of Ada, and I’ll be damned if I let a few scruples stand in the way of my duty.”
She tried to jump to her feet, but the old Raén grabbed her by the wrist. “Listen to me!” he snapped. “If helping your fellow Adaiani means walking through a swamp for ten miles and smelling like a pigsty, then by Etrenga that’s what you’re going to do!”
Telai struggled to free herself, seething at his domineering tone. “Soren!—”
“I’m not finished! You left Ekendoré and your station as Grand Loremaster to be with this man. Fair enough! I won’t damn anyone for honoring their personal version of the Oath. But any chance of a relationship involves Caleb Stenger accepting his exile or else answering for his choices before the Council. If he is cast out from the Raéni no one will welcome him, and he’ll be forced to leave Ada anyway. But if they forgive him, you’ll be facing a hard choice—one far more challenging than stealing a few horses!”
Telai bowed her head. The Master Raén’s words had cooled her fury in an instant. She understood now that the price of her love might last the rest of her life. For she would either have to leave Ada’s noble cities, its people, all the discoveries of a lifetime, or else honor that foolish law requiring her to become a Raén. She would have to do for Caleb what she refused to do for Tenlar: pick up a sword and stain it with another man’s blood.
Soren released her. “You’re strong, Telai. You’ll know what to do when the time comes. Just like you know what to do right now.”
Telai forced herself to meet his cold stare. Ever since she was a young girl she had longed to call him by that one precious name. Yet whenever she tried he always retreated into his shell of silence. Now she dared not risk it, dared not ruin this one moment when he had finally opened up to her, admiring her as a grown woman yet challenging her to be something more.
She rose, dusted off her trousers, and headed out to prepare Eiveya for another ride. Soren said nothing, but sat drinking the rest of the wine. When she peeked in again, he was already asleep—a gesture of trust that kindled a warm smile.
Telai rode north, keeping to the morning shadows of the fields. She thought of Caleb, and how much he had gambled for the sake of his son. Now she had started down the same path, no matter where it led her, in defiance of the ancient lore and history she had studied all her life.
In defiance of law and tradition.
She laughed suddenly from a thrill of freedom like she had never known—a thief for one day instead of a scholar.
8
The Accused
The eyes of our children are lens.
They magnify our smallest transgressions.
- Gargáed, 9th Overseer of Ada
CALEB KNELT on a flat rock by the stream, utensils clanking as he washed off the remnants of their breakfast. Warren slept curled by the fire again, having wolfed down two entire bowls of porridge—a beautiful sight to a father who only hours before had begun to fear for his son’s life.
Caleb finished up, stretched, and crouched by the fire with his hand against Warren’s forehead. Afterward he rose and walked out into the fog-shrouded morning to gather more fuel, silently thanking Telai for his restored confidence. Even a campfire felt warmer when she was around.
The day wore on, the fog lifted, and the clouds thinned. By evening Caleb and Warren had consumed most of Telai’s provisions, confident of tomorrow’s outcome. But another morning dawned, and Caleb began to worry. It was late in the afternoon before they spotted her, cantering toward them across the rolling miles of faded heather: Telai on her own horse, and two others trailing riderless behind.
Caleb walked up, glancing at the spare horses as Telai dropped wearily from the saddle. “Where’s Soren?”
“Don’t worry, he’s safe,” she said. “But there were no horses in Outway, not for sale at any rate. I found him almost thirty miles to the south, heading for Waystop and near collapse. He stopped to eat, slept for a while, then rode with me the rest of the way.” She smiled and patted her horse’s neck. “Eiveya’s been through a lot lately. But she’s a sturdy old gal. She’ll be fine after a night’s sleep.”
Telai closed her bloodshot eyes and leaned against the saddle. Caleb stepped close to help, and noticed the blood-stained cloth on wrapped around her brow.
“Looks like you’ve been through a lot, too,” he said, brushing her blond locks to one side.
“Had a slight disagreement in Waystop. I’ll tell you about it later.” He wrapped his arm around to steady her, but she waved him off. “I’ll be fine.”
“You will—when you get a night’s sleep. Though you’re a sturdy old gal yourself, of course.” She turned an incredulous stare on him, and he cringed. “Sorry.”
She forced a smile. “Still the charmer. Anyway, we got to Waystop all right, just before dawn. Soren was getting sicker by the hour, so he hid in a barn a few miles out while I went into town to buy some medicine. Hodyn spies were there ahead of me, but I managed to avoid them. Afterward I … um …. searched for supplies and horses, left one with Soren, then rode with the others to find you.”
“Did Soren tell you about our capture in Dernetondé?” At her nod, he added, “Then you know the Hodyn want me for their ‘Bringer of Strength.’ Besides, after Udan what use would I be to the Raéni?”
“I didn’t get the chance to tell you, Caleb, but—the warrant is for your arrest, not Soren’s.”
“Me? Why? And by whom?”
Reluctance emphasized her weariness. “The Overseer.”
Caleb growled. “I knew it! I knew she’d try something like this. Just because I’m attracted to her daughter—”
“Now, wait a minute!” Telai snapped. Eiveya neighed deeply, as if sharing her protest. “You have no right to judge until you hear her reasons.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded curtly.
“She had to consider Ada first, Caleb. The news spread like wildfire. As Overseer she needed to take action, something to calm her people’s fears. Your relationship with me had nothing to do with it.”
Her knees buckled suddenly, and Caleb wrapped his arm around her again. “I said I’m all right!” She barked, then closed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re just exhausted, Telai.”
“Haven’t slept in two days. But I need to see the Medallion of Yrsten first. It’s my duty as a Loremaster.”
Caleb swallowed a lump. “Then what?”
“What do you mean? Do you think I’d betray you, Caleb?”
But the question he so desperately needed answered could only be asked bluntly, without tact or preamble. “Could you love a man who betrayed the Oath to heal his son?”
She looked at Warren. The boy lowered his head and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“I assume Soren told you everything,” Caleb added.
“Everything since you left—including that impostor, Rennor!” she answered, a fiery glint in her eyes. “I wouldn’t let anyone do my research for me like that, much less someone outside of Ada.” Caleb remained silent, still hoping for an answer, and she said, “I’m sorry, Caleb. I’m too worn out right now to make sense of all this. When I’ve had some sleep, we’ll talk. Otherwise we’ll only end up hurting each other.”
Caleb sighed, then nodded. “What’s Soren planning to do?”
“He didn’t want to make a decision about your surrender, at least not without speaking to you first.”
“I appreciate that. But I meant his immediate plans.”
“He’ll meet us tomorrow night near the last peak of the Lorgdir, about twenty-five miles south. Not a long ride, but we’ll need to be on the lookout crossing Westgate in the open.”
Caleb, suddenly contrite about his distrust, stepped close to embrace her again. “We’ll get you something to eat while you
rest. I’ll take care of Eiveya.” She let him guide her to the fire, and sat on his blankets. “Remember the first time I rode her?” he asked.
“Yes, I do! I still haven’t quite forgiven you for that.”
Caleb grinned. He tended to her horse while Warren searched her baggage for some food. They cooked a large meal, for they were all famished, and had plenty of supplies now.
Telai’s eyelids drooped even as she ate. Yet once they finished she insisted on helping Warren clean up. Caleb protested, but she kept giving surreptitious little nods toward the boy. In time he gave up on the mystery and walked off to find more wood. Afterward he crouched near the fire, watching the flames slowly brighten against the sunset as the others finished cleaning up.
He turned to see Warren standing close by. “Feeling all right?”
“Fine, Dad. I, uh, was wondering … would you give me the Medallion for a second? I want to look at it.”
Caleb stared into the flames again. “So does the Grand Loremaster, right? Don’t try to trick me, son.”
Warren stood tense as a bowstring. Caleb, slowly realizing he had committed another verbal sin, kept his attention on the fire.
“Trick you?” Warren shouted. “You tricked me, Dad! You took me away from everything I ever knew!” He started pounding his father’s chest and shoulders, and Caleb reeled back in shock.
Telai leaped forward and fell to her knees to restrain the boy. “Warren, Warren! Be still!” But he continued flailing his arms, while his father scrambled backwards out of reach.
“You killed her! You killed her!”
Telai swung him around and shook him so hard that his teeth rattled. “Stop it!”
Her voice echoed off the trees and faded. Warren stiffened, his face stark in the firelight. Then he collapsed to his knees, sobbing.
Telai loosened her grip and held him close, speaking an occasional soft word to reinforce the comfort of her arms. Slowly the boy calmed, and she looked over at his father.