by Kat Parrish
“No. No.” she said.
Loic looked at her blankly for a moment and then burst out laughing.
“You are so gullible,” he said. “It’s actually…endearing.” He turned and strode up the corridor.
“Come on,” he said, when he realized she wasn’t following him.
“That’s not the plan?” Mirielle asked, realizing that he’d been teasing her.
“I’m a thief,” he said, “not a pimp.”
Seeing her confusion turn to outrage, he laughed again. “If anyone is going to enjoy your virginity, little daughter, it’s going to be me.”
“Not likely,” Mirielle said hotly and was a surprised to feel disappointment when he did not argue with her.
Blue, she swore inwardly. I’m acting like a wanton.
Chapter Seven
The political pretense that the power in Idrissa is divided equally between church and state and that the balance such a division creates is beneficial to her citizens has protected the status quo for a dozen dozen generations and is rarely subject to debate. In truth, however, the system of dual governance was doomed to failure almost from the moment it was written into law. While the secular authority of the Governor-General sought to widen the country’s sphere of influence through trading and—when necessary—conquest, the policies followed by successive generations of Holy Mothers have kept the country isolated and insular.
The present Holy Mother, in particular, seems determined to eradicate all traces of what she calls “cultural infection” from other nation-states and other faiths. Her open hatred of all things Dairish has led both nations to the brink of open war, and her unapologetically hostile attitude toward overtures of peace suggest she is less interested in the well-being of the citizenry under her governance than she is in promoting some dark plan of her own.
—from a speech by Oryon Zyx, Zoorish Ambassador-at-large to the Idrissan General Assembly shortly before he being expelled from the country.
There were two cadets standing sentry in front of the door to the Governor-General’s study.
“I’m here to see the Governor,” she said boldly, wondering if they would challenge her. Loic had said they would not, and she had pretended to believe him as he left her a place where three corridors meet and headed toward the Governor’s bedchamber.
Belatedly, she wondered how he was so familiar with the layout of the Citadel, but she supposed his mother had the plans for every building in Idrissa.
He was so confident in his plan that she had been swept up in it. But now that she was here at the Governor-General’s door, she found her courage failing. Worse, while she could hear the Tears as she always could, their song was just a low sound in the background and not loud enough to signal their presence was near.
They’re not here, she thought, but it was too late to back away without arousing suspicion.
“I have a message for the Governor-General,” she said, expecting to be challenged.
To her surprise, the cadets looked her over but opened the door to the General’s study without comment.
Taking a deep gulping breath, she walked into the room.
The Governor-General was working at his desk and didn’t seem to notice her at first. Then he did and his eyes widened in recognition.
“I know you,” he said.
Mirielle’s heart nearly stopped. “Yes sir,” she said. “I’ve been on your staff for nearly a twelve-month.
“No,” he said. “I’ve seen you somewhere else.”
Mirielle furrowed her brow in what she hoped was a convincing counterfeit of confusion, then smiled.
“You may have seen my sister Mirielle in the marketplace,” she said. “She’s a Daughter of Light.”
“And what is your name?” he asked.
“Mariel,” she said without hesitating. It was what her grandmother had called her and she didn’t have to think about her answer.
The Governor-General’s face gave nothing away. Mirielle couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. Finally he said, “Sister?”
“My twin,” Mirielle lied, then added. “I’m a little taller. She’s a little heavier.” She hoped a display of sibling rivalry would sound believable and it apparently did.
He dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand.
What do you want?
“I have a message for you,” Mirielle said. “Well, it’s actually my sister’s message,” she said, wishing she’d had more time to rehearse her story.
“As I have said, my sister is a Daughter of Light. And she’s very close to the Holy Mother.” Mirielle put a little extra emphasis on the word “close” because everyone in the Temple knew the stories that went around the taverns, scurrilous rumors about how the Daughters disdained the company of men because they preferred the company of women.
The Governor’s attention sharpened.
“Go on,” he said.
Mirielle hesitated, knowing she had to play the next part just right.
“My sister said something to me, sir, something in confidence but I feel I must pass it along to you.”
She dropped her eyes, sure he could see the lie in her face or hear the pounding of her heart but all he said was, “Continue.”
“The Tears of Idrissa have been stolen, sir. The theft was discovered this morning.”
The Governor did not react but Mirielle was sure he already knew. It was unthinkable that his sources of intelligence were not as accurate as those reporting to the Queen of Thieves.
“There’s no chance they could simply have been…misplaced?” he asked.
“Mirielle says not, sir,” Mirielle said. “They’re kept in only one place, in the rainbow heart of the temple and removed only once a day to create the medicines.”
“And who do they think took the Tears?”
That’s the perplexing part, sir. Mirielle says that the thief scrawled anti-Idrissa messages all over the altar and that the room had been desecrated. The Holy Mother thinks…”
She broke off as if uncertain whether she was saying too much.
“The Holy Mother thinks?” he prompted.
“That the Dairish are responsible; that they are inciting anti-Idrissa feeling because the Holy Mother does not support the idea of an open border.”
The Governor-General scoffed. “It is true that the refugees chafe under the restrictions that have been imposed upon them.” He fell silent for a moment, then said, almost to himself, “And the Holy Mother makes it worse.”
She was surprised to hear the Governor-General echoing Loic’s words from earlier in the day.
But having delivered her message, she wasn’t sure what to do next. Loic had told her she would know when he was finished with his search but he hadn’t told her exactly how she would know.
The Governor was looking at her expectantly.
“Was there anything else Mariel?”
“No sir. I’ll leave you to your studies.”
She backed out of the room and suppressed an urge to run. The sentries on the door nodded pleasantly to her. Without knowing quite where she was going, Mirielle began to walk down the nearest corridor.
And then she smelled the smoke.
“Fire,” she yelled and the two sentries sprang to attention as a babble of voices filled the air. Within moments, confusion had descended as the smoke thickened. Unsure which way to go, Mirielle reached out and put her hand on the stone wall to guide her to the nearest door.
“This way,” Loic hissed, grabbing her wrist and pulling her into another corridor.
Chapter Eight
The goddess gave us seven gifts—hope and healing, joy and compassion, music and laughter. And last, but not least, she gave us love.
—from “The Song of the Rainbow Stones”
“You could have burned the compound to the ground,” she said accusingly when they were they had retrieved their own clothes and were well away from the Citadel.
“Not likely,” he said, “the Citadel is
made of stone and iron. The worst that could happen is that I destroyed some musty and moth-eaten tapestries,” he said. “And they were counterfeits anyway, at least the ones in the Governor’s suite.”
“Counterfeits?”
“The Governor thinks the hangings were made in Eindar four centuries ago but actually they were swapped out for fakes in the last century and have been sold and bartered ever since.” He looked at her. “I know because the real ones hang in my mother’s bedroom.”
“They’re huge,” Mirielle said. “However did the thieves get them out without being caught?”
“Magic,” he said teasingly.
He looked back at the compound where the black smoke was already thinning, giving way to gray and then white smoke.
“See,” he said. “No harm done.”
She shook her head and walked a bit faster as if to distance herself from him and his actions. He caught up with two long strides.
“Did you find the stones?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“But you were only looking for a short time.”
“People always hide things in the same places,” he said. “They want them nearby and they always think they’re being clever.”
“But,” she said, and stopped as she realized he wasn’t listening but had turned toward an eating house.
“I’m starving,” he said, “are you hungry?” Without waiting for an answer, she steered her toward the eating house. Mirielle was annoyed by his high-handed manner but she had to admit that she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten anything since the cheese bun she’d purchased hours before.
The eating house was uncomfortably warm, its shutters fastened wide open to catch what little breeze there was. Mirielle felt sweat trickling down the back of her neck and gathering in pools beneath her breasts. Dismayed, she realized her beautiful new dress was damp beneath her arms.
It’s going to stain, she thought, then chided herself for being so concerned with material things.
Loic ordered bread and chicken and salat greens. “And bring us some of those stewed apples with Zoorish spices and honey, would you?” Loic asked the old woman taking their order, giving her a smile that made her blush like a giddy girl.
When the food came, Mirielle was surprised at how good the bread was and found herself tearing into the warm loaf hungrily, not bothering to spread it with the pale sweet butter.
Across from her, Loic was heaping mashed chickpeas onto a slice and eating just as ravenously.
“Good,” he said to her and she nodded in agreement.
They ate with concentration for a bit until she noticed that Loic had stopped and was sitting with his ear cocked as if listening to something she could not hear.
“What?” she asked.
“You hear stones sing,” he said. “I sense intentions.”
He lifted his chin and indicated a man sitting at a corner table, nursing a mug of ale. “That man plans to follow you out of the pub, drag you into an alley, rape you, steal your purse and then slit your throat.”
Despite herself, Mirielle shuddered. “You can’t possibly know that,” ‘she said.
He turned to look at her then, his moss-green eyes boring into hers. “My father was a seer,” he said, “and I inherited his talent.”
He saw she didn’t quite believe him so he added. “When I was six years old I told him that mother was going to kill him and described exactly how she planned to do it. I described the dagger she would use to carve out his heart, a present he had not yet given her.”
His eyes darkened at the memory.
“He kissed me on the head, told me I was a good boy and then walked out the door into the night. Neither I nor my mother ever saw him again.”
“But you saved his life.”
“Only for a little while,” he said. “He was murdered by a gambler who thought he was cheating at cards because he was such a lucky player.”
“Then your vision of his murder wasn’t true,” she said.
“All the gamblers in Idrissa work for my mother,” he said. “And the murder weapon was a dagger. I wasn’t wrong. I just got the details a little mixed up.” He gave her a sad smile. “I was only six, after all.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mirielle said.
“The sky is blue,” he said, “it is what it is.” He glanced at the man in the corner. “We should go.”
Mirielle swallowed a last bite of bread as Loic left money on the table for their meal.
They stepped out of the little place together.
Behind them they heard footsteps. Loic tensed and eased himself away from Mirielle.
“Go on ahead,” he said. “I’ll catch up.”
She hesitated and he slapped her on the rump. “Go.”
She retreated into a nearby alley as Loic turned to face the man coming toward them. As he had predicted, it was the man who had sat at the corner table, the one she’d thought so harmless.
“Move on friend,” Loic said, “there’s nothing for you here.”
The man grinned, showing teeth that were yellow and broken.
“You’re wrong,” he said in a rough voice. “There’s sport to be had.”
Loic put his hand on the hilt of his dagger as the other man drew his own weapon and attacked. Loic stepped back and counter attacked over the blade, shoving it into the man’s eye in a move that wasn’t graceful but was brutally effective.
The man fell in the street, dead. It had all happened so fast that no one even noticed.
Looking around to make certain there were no witnesses, Loic dragged the dead man into the alley.
“Is he…?” Mirielle began to ask, and then realized it was a foolish question.
Loic had already turned the man over and was going through his pockets.
He pulled out a leather folder and rifled through it.
“Are you robbing him?” she asked, unable to keep the horror out of her voice.
Loic grimaced. “You do think highly of me,” he said, pulling out a scrap of paper that was marked with a series of symbols in a dark ink.
He studied the note and scowled.
“What is that?”
“A cipher,” he said. “It was foolish of the man to carry it so openly.” Loic stuffed the paper inside his own shirt.
“We have to go.”
“Can you read the message?” she asked.
“I don’t have to,” he said. “I know it’s a Dairish code. He planned to leave it by your body to point suspicion toward some innocent.”
Mirielle was horrified.
“If this man is a spy, his absence will be noted,” Loic said. “We should get away from here and quickly.”
Mirielle nodded numbly, feeling a little sick. She looked at the dead man. “Are we just going to leave him here?”
“Nowhere better,” Loic said, and his voice was so cold she nearly flinched. He met her eyes steadily. “Men who prey upon innocents are no better than wolves. Whatever his business in the city was, it was not benign.” He gave the corpse one last glance. “He has good boots and a warm cloak. They will serve someone well.”
Mirielle could not disagree with what Loic said, so with her own last glance she turned and followed him out of the alley.
Loic paid a silver half to rent a room above an ale shop for the night. The landlord eyed Mirielle and smirked as he asked, “I can see why you want the whole night.” Loic didn’t laugh and the other man lost his smirk. “The privy’s out back,” he said with a jerk of his thumb, and handed Loic a key.
Mirielle was expecting the room to be a hovel but to her surprise it was large and tidy. The sheets smelled of lavender and the water in the pitcher beside the bed was clean and cold.
Mirielle sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling slightly sick from the colliding emotions running through her.
Loic locked the door behind them and looked at her sympathetically.
“You’ve never seen a man die?” he said.
“I�
��ve seen a man die,” she said, “I’ve never seen one killed.”
Loic sighed and sat down on the bed beside her.
“He would have killed you,” he said, “but first he would have done things to you that were so horrible you would have welcomed death.”
She nodded her head. “I know.”
“And he would have killed me and I take that quite personally,” he added.
For some reason, his words made her cry.
He sighed again and got up to fetch his satchel. He fished around inside it and brought out a wineskin which he offered to her.
“Drink,” he said.
She took the skin and gulped a mouthful.
It burned like sweet fire but she managed not to cough.
“Brandywine from…” she guessed.
“Eindar,” he said. “You’ve had it before?” he said, sounding surprised.
“People bring the Holy Mother all sorts of presents,” ‘she said. The cook is not above pilfering a bottle or two when brandywine is involved.
She took another mouthful.
“Better?” he asked.
“Better,” she said and cuddled into him like a sleepy kitten.
“Thank you for saving me, Loic,” she said.
He looked down at her, his expression unreadable, but instead of replying, he simply put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him.
This feels nice, Mirielle thought, and laid her head on his shoulder.
Later, she was aware that he was taking off her muddy shoes and briefly wondered if her feet were dirty. She liked going barefoot in the temple and the Holy Mother was always scolding her for having dirty feet.
That was her last coherent thought before drifting off.
Mirielle woke to find Loic already dressed. She sat up in alarm and the sudden movement made her stomach lurch. “Oh,” she said.
“The privy’s down the steps and to your right,” Loic said with that edge of amusement that always seemed to lurk behind his words.
Fortunately there was no one else around as Mirielle vomited up the meal she had eaten the night before. She returned to the upstairs room to rinse out her mouth.