Leisurely, Léti lay next to him and let herself be soothed by comforting images of the future. Her and Rey, Yan and a woman of his choosing, happily discussing their children’s personalities, and those of the other heirs.
She couldn’t help but remember the reality of their situation, and it blighted her dreaming. This future, the Züu wanted to take it from them. They had already taken so many dreams, from her, her friends, and from all the other heirs. Unconsciously, her fists clenched and her body stiffened. She wouldn’t let them. Never again.
Falling back asleep, she dreamed of three jeering and menacing warriors. One would lose a hand, the other an eye, and the last would fall into the abyss with her.
The nightmares that came after this one seemed almost pleasant.
Raji the Ferryman had a very bad night. The sun had risen and the rain had calmed before he managed to fall asleep. He finally succumbed to fatigue, only to wake up in the middle of the third deciday, too late, much too late in the day! He ran over to the warehouse without even taking the time to dress himself. The fact that the strangers’ horses were still there wasn’t enough to calm his worries. Any smart thief would have preferred to leave their horse and reach Lorelia underground with his treasure!
After removing the moist straw covering from the trapdoor, he pulled on the ring that would open the door. It didn’t budge an inch. He tried one more time, pulling with both hands, but with no more success than the first time. He knelt and pounded on the wood, calling for Rey with his strongest voice, already convinced that the cellar was empty.
Against all his expectations, he heard someone rapping on the door in response, and the door opened. Raji dove down the stairs faster than a startled animal running from its prey.
“Why did you lock it?” Raji screamed at the actor.
A blade appeared at his throat just as an iron grip pinned his arm behind his back. The smuggler didn’t make a move, settling for a frightened glance at the young blond man in front of him.
Rey pretended to be annoyed, looking at the shadow that had slipped behind Raji.
“Grigán, what will our host think? That we are thieves? I only borrowed a few bottles, and that was only to staunch a truly inhuman thirst. Raji, you wouldn’t hold that against us, would you?”
“No, of course not.”
“Quit playing,” Grigán ordered. “Go and take a look around upstairs to make sure everything’s all right.”
Rey quietly climbed up the stairs, smiling at Raji’s sloppy attire. The smuggler was only wearing a simple cloth wrapped around his waist, of questionable freshness, but that was the least of Raji’s worries compared to the cold steel he could feel on his throat.
Attempting to jest as he opened the door, Rey cried out, “Grigán, wait! Don’t let him go, we’re surrounded by a gang of ducks armed to the teeth.”
Grigán let out a resigned sigh and freed Raji, who quickly put a respectable distance between himself and the warrior. All of his “guests” were now staring at him from the doorway to the second room. Two women were among them. The smuggler had never felt so uncomfortable.
“It’s beautiful weather,” Rey announced, returning from his inspection. “It’s going to be a beautiful day.”
“So much the better, so much the better,” Raji mumbled awkwardly. “You will make good time, so…”
Rey interrupted him, putting his arm around his shoulder, “Come now, old friend, you’re not going to throw us out already!? Our companion over there is hurt and needs his rest.”
“Ow!” Bowbaq moaned in poor parody of someone suffering from stomach pains. Then he folded over, the pain from his wound truly awakened this time. Corenn helped him to his bed.
“Wouldn’t that be against all the fraternal laws of the Guild?” Rey asked.
“Um, as a matter of fact, I have a feeling the Guild wouldn’t be too happy to know that we’re friends.”
“What? You mean to tell me that you are scared of those little hoodlums, a famous crook like you?”
Rey grabbed him by the towel covering his body and shook him firmly, as if they were two old accomplices. Raji did his best to keep himself covered in front of the young woman, who found all of this very amusing.
“All right! All right!” He finally gave in, mortified. “Stay as long as you want, I don’t care! Only, it will cost you five terces per person per day. And I don’t want to see you rummaging through the merchandise!”
“Five terces! But we could just rent a princely inn at that pri—”
Grigán cut Rey short, “We will pay, and you won’t have any trouble… as long you don’t give us any.”
Raji observed the serious face of the Ramgrith warrior, agreed, and climbed the stairway as fast and dignified as he could. He promised himself to not give any offerings to Dona for several dékades.
The Small Palace market took place on the seventh day of each dékade. It was only the fifth of the dékade of the Bird. The meeting was only two days away. Nevertheless, “since everyone seemed determined to go through with this crazy plan,” Grigán wanted to get a look at the place and study it before the crowds invaded. Thus, an excursion to Lorelia was on the agenda for the day.
Of course, this didn’t involve everyone. Bowbaq had to rest and would spend the day in bed. Corenn would stay at his side, even though the only one who had much knowledge in the art of healing was the veteran, Grigán. Corenn asked Yan to stay behind with them too. The young man understood that they were going to have their big conversation. He accepted, wondering why he suddenly had a pit in his stomach.
In fact, for the safety of his companions, Grigán didn’t want to bring anyone along. Léti and Rey launched into a memorable chain of protests and arguments that were hardly convincing. The warrior eventually conceded to the actor’s point that he might need a guide in the largest city of the known world. But Grigán knew better, that despite Rey’s lack of respect for authority, he could indeed prove useful. Grigán knew Rey to be rebellious enough to accompany him anyway, regardless of what he decided.
But he didn’t give in to Léti, and the tone of the conversation was on the verge of escalating at any moment. Finally, the warrior settled it by promising Léti a first combat lesson in the near future. Léti pretended to think about it for a moment, but accepted without the slightest objection. The warrior avoided meeting Corenn’s disapproving eyes and left to prepare.
It was out of the question to walk around Lorelia with their everyday clothing. Naturally, for a disguise Grigán planned to simply cover himself in a large black cape of light fabric. Rey promised he would make himself unrecognizable, grabbed his pack, and slipped behind Corenn’s improvised curtain.
He hadn’t yet reappeared when Raji made another appearance in the warehouse. This time the little man was decently dressed and an authentic Goranese broadsword hung from his belt.
Grigán could tell by experience that the little smuggler wasn’t used to carrying a weapon. His blade’s poorly laced sheath shifted around uncomfortably, and Raji repeatedly had to reposition it upright. He even managed to trip over it, barely catching his fall by clinging to a basket full of Wastille pears, ending his stumble in an amusing posture.
The little man pretended to ignore the presence of the strangers and proceeded to take his usual inventory of goods that were to be “ferried” that day. After consulting one or another of his crooked record books that he kept in pristine condition, he placed this or that basket, chest, barrel, or other eccentric container in the middle of the first cellar. When he judged the pile sufficient, he went to the stable and came back pulling a donkey by the reins, dragging the poor animal down the stairs. Although he had certainly managed the maneuver hundreds of times, it now felt like a challenge.
At that precise moment, Rey decided to unveil his disguise. Or at least the person who must have been Rey, since he had after all disappeared behind the curtain a full centiday before. His companions experienced a moment of hesitation. Grigán’s
reflexes took hold faster than his reason, and he assumed a combat position before recognizing him as their friend.
The actor had disguised himself as a Zü with a red tunic, a thick rope as a belt, and laced shoes. A partially open novice’s robe covered the whole outfit. And most notably, the sinister dagger, the hati, easily recognizable in its crimson sheath.
All of the red killers they had ever encountered were bald, but Rey had no desire to take the costume that far. He had simply pulled back his thick blond locks in a ponytail and pulled up the hood of the novice’s robe. Even his face disappeared in the shadow.
The effect was striking. Just the sight of the costume gave Léti a ferocious, even animal desire for savagery.
“Where did you get that?” asked Corenn.
“Off a Zü’s back. The one who was waiting for me at Mess’s house, to be exact. Obviously, I sort of had to kill him before he let me take it.”
Someone let out a scream of terror, and the heirs turned toward Raji. The smuggler was attempting to flee but found the stairway blocked by the donkey. The poor animal had no choice but to leap down the stairs four steps at a time to avoid falling.
Soon Raji was out of view, and they could only hear his frightful screams becoming more distant. Grigán sighed before dashing off in pursuit, like a cat chasing a mouse, showing his exasperation with a few choice obscenities. Yan would not have liked to be in the little man’s place.
They waited a few moments for the warrior’s return. Rey tried, unsuccessfully, to get a laugh out of his companions with a series of cruel, bloodthirsty scowls. He changed register and squeezed a grin out of Léti as he mimicked a stupid-looking Zü drooling like a toad.
Grigán returned soon after, prodding Raji forward with one hand while holding his broadsword in the other. The little smuggler was so pale that they could almost see his tongue through his cheeks. “I suggest we either lock him up or get out of here,” the warrior shouted. “I’ve had enough of this.”
“Go ahead and leave, please…” murmured Raji.
“Confining our host is not an option,” Corenn asserted. “My lord, Raji was just surprised by Reyan’s disguise, isn’t that right?”
“Well… the Züu are quite ruthless, you know? I wouldn’t want them to come sticking their noses around here…”
“That won’t happen,” Grigán declared, handing him back his broadsword. “So long as you hold your tongue.”
“It’s true,” Corenn added. “At this point you would be considered our accomplice if they came to find out where we are…”
“Oh, my… oh my…”
The little man took his head in his hands and paced around aimlessly. The calm universe he had built for himself had just come tumbling down.
“Fortunately, we will be gone from here before the eighth day of the dékade. You’ve saved our life, my lord Raji.”
Raji stared at the Mother, shrugged his shoulders, and with a dispirited air began loading the donkey with his pile of goods.
Yan admired the way Corenn had just assured Raji’s loyalty. The art of diplomacy could really be more effective than force. He had been convinced of it for some time, but it was always nice to see it in action.
All attention fell back on Rey. He had prepared an army of arguments to convince Grigán that his disguise had merits, but he didn’t have to use them. The warrior made no comment. This visit to Lorelia, to their enemies, was surely dangerous. So if the outfit could help keep bystanders at a distance, it would be perfect. Of course it would be a completely different matter if they were to end up face-to-face with the genuine red killers. Such an encounter was destined to end in a fight.
When Raji finally grasped that the strangers planned to accompany him in the underground tunnel, he only emitted a weak protest, more like a whine. Then he set off into the tunnel, pulling his donkey by the reins and sadly shaking his head. Rey grabbed a torch and followed after him, while Grigán brought up the rear.
With each step the actor felt the wicked dagger pounding against his thigh. The red tunic rustled constantly, and the heavy novice’s robe quickly induced a sweat. He was dressed like a Zü killer, and he could be heading right for them. A face painted with a skull came to haunt his thoughts and reminded him of the nearly fatal assault to his throat. He owed his survival to mere chance. Despite his swagger, the actor was full of apprehension. As Yan closed the gate behind them, he wondered if the infallible Grigán was in the same state of mind or if the warrior truly was crazy enough to not fear anything.
He couldn’t decide which bothered him more.
Bowbaq wanted to get up and wish his friends good luck before they left, but as he stood, the pain promptly assaulted him, taking all his strength to hold back a cry. The worst wasn’t the pain, it was wondering if he was going to live. He had taken a dagger in his stomach. He’d suffered much more dangerous wounds before, some of them stemming from his occasionally brutal games with Mir. The lion had broken his wrist, two fingers, and almost gashed his throat open during a particularly savage battle, when the beast had nearly forgotten whom he was fighting.
But this new wound had been made with a poisoned blade. Though Corenn was perfectly confident he would heal, Bowbaq could see the end coming. He asked himself what had brought him here. So far from his children, so far from Ispen, his beloved wife, threatened as much by the Züu as he was, just like Prad and Iulane, and all his friends too. And the heirs still had no idea why, or how to fix it.
The night before, he found himself standing in a cave on a small isle in the Median Sea, and he was shown a portal to another world. A magical portal. The secret of Ji.
That night, while sleeping, it all became clear to him. He realized he must be the only one of his companions to have any idea what this other world could be.
He tried to forget it, but couldn’t. If he survived his wound, his life would never be the same. There would be a before Ji. All that he would learn and know now would be after.
His wound shot such pain through his stomach that he thought he would never sleep. While his body needed rest, his mind was too stimulated; it needed relief too.
He suddenly had an urge to talk to someone. He wanted to talk about his possibly pending death, his family, his existence. To discuss the Züu—their enemy—and the mysteries of the island. He wanted to share, one more time, this experience with someone. A friend. One of the heirs.
He opened his eyes to see the torches’ dancing lights on the cellar ceiling. Léti was crouching next to him and gave him a kind smile. The giant breathed a thankful sigh, cleared his voice, and began to tell his story.
From the moment Grigán and Rey left, Corenn had been directing her gaze toward Yan, her intelligent eyes gleaming into his for a long time. The young man immediately felt uncomfortable. Or rather in awe.
Throughout his childhood, the Mother had been nothing more to him than one of Léti’s few relatives who occasionally came for a visit to Eza. He later learned that Corenn wasn’t really the young girl’s aunt, but a cousin of Norine, Léti’s mother. Later still, once he was grown up enough to understand in broad terms the organization of power in the Matriarchy, he realized that Corenn was one of the most important people in the country.
He couldn’t remember his impression of her from before, but from that day on, he saw her as more stern, more serious, and more responsible than anyone he’d ever known. Intimidated, he had more or less fled during her visits. Corenn only stayed in Eza for short stints, anyhow. Every three years, she would take Norine and Léti to Lorelia for a few days. Yan had never asked why because he knew Léti would keep her secret.
Well, now he knew. Over the past two dékades, he had gotten to know Corenn and learned to appreciate her. The Mother’s numerous qualities, her intelligence just one of them, made her likable to anyone. If he were asked who was the most fit to lead the group, Yan would not have suggested Grigán. Despite the warrior’s experience in traveling and fighting, he was too stubborn and with
drawn. Yan would have answered Corenn, without hesitation.
The young man thought he knew more or less everything there was to know about Corenn, but now the Mother of Kaul’s Permanent Council was staring at him with an odd, scheming look that gave him the chills. She had promised him a long conversation. The moment had come. Yan understood without her having to say a word. He looked around to make sure he wouldn’t forget anything, unsure why he was acting this way. Then he shrugged his shoulders and followed the Mother to the stable.
He felt just as nervous as the night before, when they saw the other world.
The memory of the lush sun-laden valley made him sad, just as he felt when the portal closed, sealing off its secret. He now understood that he would never be the same.
“What about Bowbaq?” he mumbled timidly, as if he were talking to a stranger.
“He’ll be fine. Léti is keeping an eye on him. I changed his bandages earlier; his wound is very clean, and I don’t think we have to worry about the poison anymore.”
The harmless tone in her voice relaxed him some, but the Mother’s pensive expression made him feel anxious again. They left the stable and walked in silence. The sun was already high above the horizon, and the Lorelien countryside rejoiced. The songs of vorvans and vulturous blackbirds fused together in the air. The hoarse cry of a marine pheasant echoed nearby, and wild boar answered promptly with a groan. The fauna sensed the approaching season of the earth and intended to make the most of the respite the sun now offered.
Yan enjoyed imagining how scared to death Raji would be, knowing that his guests were outside in the open, easily seen and acknowledged by any passerby. He wasn’t completely comfortable with the danger they imposed on the little man, but he knew that Grigán would rather die than cause an innocent man trouble. Besides, the smuggler would surely be handsomely compensated.
The Orphans' Promise Page 3