by Jackie Dana
“Aye?” Marcan prompted, just as Plunchek walked with heavy feet across the floor again, and then tossed a sack of grain onto the floor and dragged it back towards the window.
She swallowed hard before she continued. “Well, from what he said, the Vosira is convinced that Nyvas killed his father, and won’t back down because of that. And that’s why he sentenced him to—” she closed her eyes, unable to say the words, “—you know.”
“How did they find out who he was?” Fantion demanded.
The question surprised her. “Is it true, then?” she asked. “Is he really that boy they say killed the Vosira?”
Fantion nodded a single time. “Aye, he was once called Stavan—that much is true, but there is nothing to the rest of it. He had nothing to do with Parmon’s murder.”
Kate sighed in relief. “I thought so. I knew he couldn’t have done it.”
“Never mind that now,” Lysander said, impatient to hear more about his friend. “Tell us, how do they know who he is? He’d never have told them himself—not even under duress.”
“He didn’t,” she confirmed. “After he was captured, the castellan recognized him, and then he claimed that Nyvas had confessed, though I don’t think he actually did. Just like you say, Nyvas wasn’t in any mood to cooperate with them. I mean, even after everything they had done to him, he was more focused on trying to make a mess of the Vosira’s chamber than answer their questions.”
Fantion smiled, and Marcan and Kels nodded, and Plunchek bit back a laugh. Lysander, however, just rubbed his hands together, as if to warm them against a sudden chill. “I feared as much,” he remarked with a frown, his eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to maintain his composure. She just now noticed his face was haggard, and new wrinkles had appeared at his eyes and beside his mouth. Had he slept at all, or eaten, since Nyvas had been captured? “That crazy lad. His stubbornness will have made things harder for him. I pray that the gods, at least, have been gentle with him, since Bedoric has not.” He slipped from the bench and walked back to the window. Without turning his attention back to the table, he asked, “Fantion, we don’t have much time. Do you think this will work?”
The fhaoli leader addressed her in response. “We have an important question for you. Do you think Bedoric will be willing to trade your man down there,” he said, pointing with his thumb to the floor, “for our Nyvas?”
“And Arric,” she added.
“Ah, well,” Fantion hedged. “Not this time around.”
It was a shock. “What do you mean? You can’t leave him behind!”
“My lady,” Marcan spoke up. “If we do nothing, Nyvas will die, today. From what you have told us, Arric is not in any immediate danger.”
She nodded slowly. “That’s true, as far as I know. But—”
Fantion leaned his elbows against the table. “Listen, Kate, we have just one chance. After talking about it, we decided that Bedoric might trade a ‘worthless’ fhaoli such as Nyvas—” and with this comment he winked at Lysander, who turned away and therefore missed the gesture, “for his Aldrish. Add the Dosedra into the trade, though, and I just don’t feel it will work. Bedoric won’t give up his brother to us so easily. Plus, if fhaoli make the demand for both, it will just twist Arric up more in this crazy conspiracy Bedoric has invented. So you see, this is our best chance to save Nyvas. You have my word on it—we will not give up on Arric either. We just cannot save him today.”
She listened to what he said, but the dizziness returned. It didn’t seem right—but, she realized, with a growing ache in her stomach, they didn’t have many options. Nyvas had run out of time—they had to do something, and they had to do it now. After all, it had been her greatest fear that he would die without anyone even trying to save him. “Okay. So what’s the plan?”
Fantion quickly explained what they had in mind: she would be taken back to the keep, and would present the fhaoli’s proposal for a swap to Vosira Bedoric. Rynar would serve as a hostage until Nyvas’s release.
“You are certain you can get an audience with the Vosira?” Kels asked, a bit skeptical.
“I think so,” she nodded. “The Vosira seemed to like me at first, but now—” she flexed her left hand, none the worse for wear. “Well, he did. He’s not such a fan now. Even so, I’m pretty sure he’d see me if it had to do with Rynar.” She nervously rubbed her palms against her skirt. “But what if he doesn’t believe me?”
“Then Nyvas will die,” Fantion said matter-of-factly. “Though at least we’ll be slitting Rynar’s throat to even things out.”
“No,” she exclaimed, shocked by the suggestion. Although a bit worried, she was all in favor of the plan until that. “You’re not going to hurt him?”
“My lady, do you mean the Aldrish?” Plunchek asked from his post at the door, and then he dropped the grain sack again. “You know that man down there is as guilty as they come. He might as well be holding Nyvas prisoner personally. Surely you don’t care what happens to him?”
“What if I do?” Her gaze fell to each man in turn, and she realized none of them held any sympathy for her position. She knew they were fhaoli, and had no love for the Vosira himself, but they seemed to be honorable men. Why harm Rynar? He might be the right hand of the Vosira, but he had shown her nothing but kindness, and his ability to heal suggested there was more to him than these men would understand. “Please,” she gasped, exasperated, “you have to promise that you’ll let him go.”
“Let him go?” Lysander, whose temper had been smoldering since she had been brought into the room, now marched from the window back to the table. With a thud he slammed his elbow on the surface, and pointed his finger at her. “You must be joking. After everything he has done? Kate, I thought better of you than that. Nay, that man deserves to die—and he shall, either way, I promise you that. He’ll not have the privilege of walking out of this house.”
“No!” she shouted, suddenly afraid of these men, people she had considered her friends. These men were indeed outlaws, and would do whatever it took to survive. They were fiercely loyal to one another, and it appeared that the fate of someone outside their circle was trivial. She forgot to keep her voice down, but now she didn’t care. “You can’t do that!”
“I can’t?” Lysander shook his head, and his untied hair scattered over his shoulders. “You must understand, I’ll stop at nothing to save Nyvas.” He said it again for emphasis. “Nothing.” He took a deep breath, sucking in the air through his teeth, his sides trembling. “If I can personally cut the throat of the man who made Nyvas suffer all this time, it will scarcely serve as sufficient payment for his misdeeds.” The words were toxic. “Then there’s Arric. I’ve known him nearly his entire life. Don’t think I wouldn’t sacrifice you—and everyone in here as well—to save him, if that’s what it took.” He made a fist with each hand. “You know I have half a mind to go downstairs and finish off that blasted Aldrish right here and now.”
Her eyes were wide. “You’re a healer, Sander. You wouldn’t do that!”
“Nay, such is no longer true. Thanks to that bastard down there, I am no healer. Not officially—not anymore.” He stood up and wrapped his long arms around his chest, grasping his shoulders, as if trying to restrain himself. “Do you not understand what we’re telling you?” He swung an arm free, and pointed to the floor. “He is Aldrish,” he said, pronouncing the title with great repulsion. “The Vosira’s chief advisor. Knowing Bedoric as I do—and Kate, I know him better than anyone else here—that man downstairs has made every single important decision for Sarducia since he was named to the position. So don’t you dare think that man is innocent where Nyvas or Arric are concerned. Believe me, the Aldrish deserves to die, and the gods know I would have already slit his throat if Fantion had not held me back when he was brought in.”
“No, I swear.” Desperate to change his opinion, she added, “it’s not true. Rynar would have saved Nyvas if he could have. He told me he didn’t want any of that to happen. It
’s just that the Vosira—”
“Nay, Kate.” Still leaning on the table, Fantion swung his head loosely from his shoulders. “I cannot believe what you’re suggesting.” He closed his eyes and snorted, and raised himself from the table. “Trust me, if it had suited him, he’d have cleared Nyvas’s name a long time ago, and it would never have come to this. The fact is, doing that doesn’t suit his purposes at all.”
She put her head between her hands. How could she have gotten herself into this mess? She might be able to save Nyvas, but in doing so, she would condemn another man in his place? No matter what her personal feelings were towards Rynar, she could not let them kill him.
“You know what I’m saying is true,” Fantion added. “I suspect you tried to convince him to save Nyvas as well.”
“Kate, after all you’ve been through, if you still think that man is honorable,” Lysander added, his voice shaking, “then there is only one explanation. He has enchanted you.”
She lifted her head. “Oh come on, Sander, I’m not enchanted. I know he’s not perfect, but I swear he’s not the evil man you think he is.”
Lysander raised himself up, and threw his hands over his head. “You can’t be that naïve. Don’t you see what has happened to you?”
“Nothing has happened to me!”
“Blast it all. For reasons I don’t pretend to understand, the Aldrish has you so deeply dependent on him that you cannot see past the lies he feeds you. Somehow in this short time he has manipulated things to the point where he has even convinced Bedoric to lock up men you care about—and yet you defend him! Can you not see it?” Lysander placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’re free of Rynar now.”
“But that isn’t what I want!” She caught herself. Being free was, in fact, exactly what she wanted. “I mean, I just don’t want you to kill him—or anyone.”
Lysander stood up and crossed his arms in front of him again. In a voice that belied his desperation, he pleaded, “oh Kate, please see him for what he is!”
Fantion put his arm over his friend’s shoulder, whispering to him. Then Lysander retreated again to his window while Marcan slid from the bench, making room for Fantion to sit beside her. “Listen to me,” he began. “Think back to when we traveled together. I may be speaking out of turn here, but it seemed to me that we began to trust one another. Do you feel that way as well?”
“Of course.”
“Then let me ask you this. If it came down to choosing between Arric and Rynar, who would you choose?”
She folded her fingers together in a tight ball and leaned her chin against them. “I can’t make a choice like that. I won’t choose who lives and who dies.”
“You do not have that luxury. If you had to decide, who would it be? Arric or the Aldrish?”
That made her shake her head. “Look, I want to help you, and I will. This is all about saving Arric and Nyvas, and I swear I’ll do whatever I can to help them both. Can’t we just leave it at that?” Why couldn’t he understand that things were not so simple, that it wasn’t a matter of black and white, of choosing one person over another? That no one needed to die?
Marcan tapped Fantion on the shoulder. “Let her be. We need Nyvas, not Rynar. If she wants to be with Rynar afterwards, it isn’t our concern. If we get the boy back, we can just let the Aldrish go.”
Fantion shrugged and stood up. “I don’t like it. That bastard would just make our lives difficult later.”
“What could he do, Fantion?” Marcan challenged. “Send troops into the forest? Burn our families’ homes? Attack our women and children and steal our belongings? Those things are already happening as it is. What else can he do?”
“Aye, perhaps you’re right, though I still blame him for all of the fhaoli named under Bedoric, and a whole lot of other things.” He rubbed his beard. “What do you say, Sander?”
He glared at the rest of them.
“Sander, please?” she begged him. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do, gladly. Just don’t hurt him.”
“Ah, fine, then,” Lysander sighed, and gazed at her with red-rimmed eyes. “I just want Nyvas back.” He took a deep breath and centered himself. “Kate, I haven’t forgotten what you did for me when I was injured, so I will grant you this favor. I’ll agree to spare the Aldrish—but only if you succeed. If anything happens to Nyvas, then—” he stopped with that.
“Just convince Bedoric to make the exchange,” Fantion said in his place.
“I can do it,” she said, though it was false confidence. If Vosira Bedoric suspected she was a part of the plan, everyone would die. These men, however, were counting on her, and although Nyvas and Rynar didn’t know it, both of them would have to count on her as well. Oh god, how could she pull this off, knowing two men’s lives were hanging in the balance? Then she reminded herself that at least there was a plan, as preposterous as it sounded. Finally there was something she could do. So she would try, and do the very best she could. It was more than she could have hoped for just a day ago, and she felt like she owed them all her best effort, even at some risk to herself.
They had spent too long talking about Rynar, though. Turning to more practical matters, she looked down at her dress. “Well, if you want people to think I’m telling the truth, then I’ll have to look the part. You’re going to have to rough me up.”
“Rough you up, my lady?” Kels asked, horrified. “We do not wish you to be harmed.”
“Do you really think it looks like five men just attacked me?” She tugged hard at the neckline of her dress until it stretched out of shape, and pulled at the waistline until some of the seams popped. With her fingers, she made her hair a more disheveled mess than it must have already been. “Now, come on, someone needs to hit me.”
“Nay, Kate,” Lysander said, more like his usual self. “None of us will do that.”
“Come on, you have to. Just once.” She bravely held out her chin. “You, Fantion, I trust you. Just imagine I was...” she tried to think of a suitable opponent. “Imagine I’m Vosira Bedoric.”
“Ah, no, if I hit you that hard I’d likely kill you,” he said, with a hint of a grin. Still, she angled her chin in his direction. “You really mean it, don’t you?” He sounded dubious.
“Of course I do. I’m not looking forward to it, of course, but it needs to be done, so just get on with it. If I’m supposed to convince the Vosira, you have to help me now.” She turned to look Lysander in the eye. “You can consider it my way of pledging to bring Nyvas back.”
“I cannot do it.” Fantion backed away. “I won’t hit you.”
“Come on, we’re wasting time. Sander? I can hear the anger in your voice. You’ve been ready to punch me since I was carried in. You might as well get it over with.”
As Lysander held out his hands in protest and shook his head vehemently, Fantion approached her again. “Nay, Kate, I would not ask him to do such a thing. He is far too troubled already, and doesn’t need the guilt of this as well. If anyone were to do this, it would have to be me.”
“Well, then?” She again lifted her chin. “It needs to be pretty hard, like you mean it.”
“You’ll forgive me?”
She rolled her eyes. “If you don’t do it right now, I’ll kick you in the balls.”
That was enough for Fantion, and he swung his hand hard, palm open, against her cheek. He didn’t hold back either, from what she could tell. She cried out as she fell to the floor, and clasped her own palm against the burn. For a moment she sat there silently, breathing heavily, until the initial pain subsided. “I think you may have left a mark,” she said, with a sheepish grin, even as her eyes watered. Her bottom lip stung, and as she tested it with her tongue, she tasted blood. “Remind me never to ask you to hit me again.”
“You’d better not ask, because it won’t happen a second time,” he assured her, a frown on his face.
The healer within Lysander surfaced, and he knelt beside her. “May I see it?” he asked, and removed her
hand. “Oh, Kate, it will bruise, and there’s a cut under your eye...”
As he mentioned it, she realized it burned fiercely. “Do you think I’ll have a black eye?” she asked, a bit more cheerfully than she should have felt. “That’d be great!”
“Are you sure?” Lysander said, his concern for her discomfort obvious in his voice. In seconds he had totally transformed. “I can mend the worst of this, make it a little less painful, if you’d like.”
She pulled away from his touch. “No, save it for Nyvas.” Her words came out more harshly than she intended, and as he yanked back his hand, she softened her next words. “I just meant that he’ll likely need every bit of healing you can offer him.”
He put his long healer’s hands on top of his thighs, as he continued to kneel. “I hope he isn’t as bad as that,” he said in a whisper.
“Enough chat,” Plunchek announced from the doorway. “The exchange will take some time to arrange. The girl needs to head back to the keep soon.”
Fantion helped her stand, and wincing, admired his handiwork. “Ah, Kate, you’re stronger than I thought, though I fear you’ll never forgive me.”
“Of course I will. Just one more thing. I need everyone’s word that Rynar will be safe while I’m gone.”
“You mean, we can’t even remove a few teeth, as souvenirs?” Plunchek seemed sincerely disappointed.
“Look, if you want my help, you have to promise this. I’m putting my life on the line here, you know. I need to know he will be okay when I return.”
Begrudgingly, Fantion nodded. In a light tone, he said to the others, “you heard her, men. No harming the merchandise.” Then he turned back to her, adding, “understand, we really can’t release the Aldrish if things go badly. Nyvas has to be here by sundown, or Rynar will have to die. You understand why, don’t you?”
She nodded. “He’ll be here.”