Veera grinned. “You’re so sure you could offer it?”
I shrugged with a smirk on my face.
Veera grabbed Lox’s arm as he turned back from his other side. “Malatos, it seems Cyric has royal tastes,” she said. “He’s noticed Amalia above all the other ladies.”
Lox’s brows went up. I felt my cheeks get hot.
“I could have expected as much from you,” he said. His tone made me think we were thinking of the same person—not Amalia. All the same he tipped his head over towards her. “Do me a favor, Cyric, and while you’re at it, charm her into scowling at me a little less. She’s ruining my appetite.”
He gave a full-bodied laugh. I looked at the woman in question, trying to figure out what Veera had meant by royal tastes, and to see if she really was scowling at Lox.
When Veera joined in Lox’s laughter it drew the attention of Amalia. The look she gave them was tortured, but it quickly grew violent. Lox glanced her direction as his laughter died out and this seemed to be at once more than Amalia could bear. She pushed up from the table, making an uncomfortable amount of noise with her chair that drew the attention of all the nearest banqueters.
Without hesitating she started walking towards the head of the table. I glanced at Veera and Lox, but their eyes were on Amalia. When she turned she revealed a long ivory braid going down the length of her back. To my surprise she didn’t stop until she had reached the arm of the king’s seat. She knelt before it and waited with her head bowed until he finished his conversation with a nearby lady and turned his attention to her.
I couldn’t hear what Amalia was saying, but her face was full of torture while she spoke—just as his was full of annoyance. With a wave of his hand, he said something casual. This made her mouth twist. She rose to her full height then started speaking louder. She threw a finger out towards Lox, who from his seat was laughing a little while other banqueters looked on in shock. She jutted her chin out as angry tears filled her eyes; it couldn’t help but remind me of Ellia. I wasn’t able to find the whole scene as humorous as Lox did.
The king stood up and shouted: “Learn your place, woman!”
“I cannot remain quiet,” she argued, sparing no consideration for the crowd. She’d fully gained there attention as the band ceased its playing. “I have sat by and done nothing while my son has received no justice. How could you do nothing, Molec?...”
“I have not done nothing. There was a trial. There were procedures.”
“It was all a farce,” she cried.
The king clamped his jaw.
She leaned in, putting her hand on her chest. “My own flesh and blood, Molec. Own flesh and blood. How can you just—”
Molec’s face turned pale. “His death was his own fault, Amalia. He caused it. He attacked a commander…”
“You believe the lies of that wretched dog?” Amalia shouted. “Tobias was no traitor. He was loyal to Akadia. He was loyal to you.”
“I am done speaking to you, woman,” the king hissed. “If you value your life you will go back to your seat and finish your meal in silence.”
Amalia recoiled. Even from my position I could see her eyes shaking. Her wrinkled jaw set, so that she looked a little grotesque. She spoke slowly, growing steadily louder. “You think I will sit here and eat and pretend to enjoy myself any longer while I am forced to share a table with the man who killed my son?!” Though the king’s face went red with anger, she turned from him. Her fiery glare fell directly on Lox. “I know you murdered him,” she said. “I know you murdered my son, and you will pay.” For the first time her tears spilled down her cheeks. Then she turned and strode from the room without a glance back.
The king’s fists were tight with rage.
Everyone at the table was deadly quiet, many of them looking at Lox.
If the king was going to say anything I’d never know, Lox spoke first. Rising from his seat, he wore a wry smile. “Well, I’ll certainly be more careful of who I offend in the future,” he said. A few members of the banquet chuckled. Lox bowed to Molec. “My king if it would suit you why not send in the dancer’s early?... I imagine everyone’s eyes could use a rest.”
This really did get a lot of laughs. The king waved his hand distractedly, then plopped into his seat. The band resumed its playing, everyone went back to eating. A handful of girls came in from the other room, ascended the steps behind the head of the table, and began to dance.
Lox sat back down.
I looked across the table; he was wearing a half-smile. “I suppose you’ll have to choose another for tonight, Cyric” he told me.
Veera was grinning, wider than I had seen her the whole night—though her eyes seemed a little distant. I wanted to smile like they were; I made myself smile.
Then I reached for my cup and took a long drink as I watched the dancers.
~ ~ ~
CHAPTER FOUR
ELLIA:
*
“These three added in with the latter
Keep pressing hard until it goes flatter.
Slit open and stuffed with two ounces of meat,
Thrown over a fire, on medium heat.”
*
Minstrel paused in his self-composed poem on how to cook his mother’s travelling pies in order to glance about our surroundings. This was understandable. The sky was blocked out and dark; the ground and cavern walls were pale grey, even the air was smoky. We were in the pass that led through the mountains. It was the last step of our journey before reaching Loone. Other than our footsteps and the occasionally drop of a stone from high above us there were no sounds, which was why Minstrel had taken to singing.
“Go on,” I told him nervously. I had my hood up. With the towering walls around us and the cold atmosphere, I felt about as tall as Minstrel.
He cleared his throat.
*
“When it is finished the edges turn brown
The center is golden, its shape is a frown
Take it out of the pan and set it to chill
Make a sauce with the leftover spice if you will
*
Oh traveller’s pies, so crunchy, so salty
Mom’s traveler’s pies, all who taste thee, love thee”
*
“…D- don’t you think, lady Ellia, that the sky is quite dark for midday?” he asked.
“Yes, Minstrel,” I agreed. Our steps were very slow; I hadn’t even the mind to compliment him on his song. “But it is the mountains, isn’t it?” I asked. “Perhaps it’s just an over-cropping,” I suggested.
“Yes. Or it could be a storm. What did your map say it was called again?”
We heard a scuffle to our left and turned in unison, but there was nothing through the mist and it could as much as anything have been a small animal. We resumed walking.
“It’s someone’s name,” I answered. “Like the pass of Ban Etters or something.”
Minstrel tried to make himself laugh. “I suppose that’s not very menacing.”
“Well, neither was the name for the place I met you,” I said, “but we both know what that was like.”
Minstrel hesitated. I could almost swear I could hear the subtle sound of drumming in the rocks.
“You mean the Hills of Arachnids?” he asked.
My brow dipped; I looked at him.
“I thought that was a rather foreshadowing one,” he went on.
“The what?” I asked.
“The hills where we met.”
“What did you call them?”
“The Hills of Arachnids,” he answered.
I pulled out my map and opened it. Though I didn’t need to re-read it to remember that the place he called the Hills of Arachnids had been titled… “Erik Nidz,” I said aloud.
“Yes, that’s right,” Minstrel affirmed.
I slapped my hand against my forehead. “How could I have been so foolish? Of course it’s Arachnids. Erik Nidz. Arachnids. They’re the same.”
Minstrel was co
nsidering me doubtfully. I realized to him it probably sounded like I was repeating the same word. “Look,” I told him, pointing to the name on the map.
He read it carefully, then he gasped. “Such terrible spelling. This cartographer could never become a minstrel.”
I nodded in agreement. Then, in unison we looked back at the title for the pass we were in now. It read, The Pass of Boan Eetorz.
“Boan Eetorz,” Minstrel said.
We faced each other, both of our eyes wide. “As in…”
“Ah!” Minstrel cried out. “Tis the Chupacabra!”
“The what?”
“Furless beasts with dog-like faces. Hid in smoke and rocky places. Sky turns grey and best beware, Chupacabra do live there. Travellers, leave these fiends alone, for they feast on human bones.”
“Are you serious?”
“Quick!” Minstrel shouted. “We must leave before we hear the…”
There was a pound. The rocks around us shook. Loose pebbles danced on the ground. They’d barely settled before there was another pound. Then we saw figures drifting through the smoke. As the pounding continued, we heard the sound of chanting, low at first, then growing louder.
*
Tika tonu mai
Tika tonu mai
Ki ahau e noho nei
Tika tonu mai I a hei ha!
*
“It’s too late,” Minstrel whispered. The rocks drummed even louder. The voices that sang were scratched and airy.
“What are they saying?” I asked.
Minstrel wrung his hands. “It’s a warning of our fate. They say, ‘Come forth this way, towards me, to this place where I now stand. Come straight this way. Come straight this way.’”
“I don’t want to go towards them.”
Minstrel shook his head. “Once you hear their song, consider your life gone.”
“Did you just make that up?”
He pointed a finger towards the smoke. “They’re coming.”
I looked in that direction. They hadn’t stopped chanting. I certainly saw the figures growing darker, nearer maybe, but if so they were awfully slow.
“We’ll outrun them!” I said.
Minstrel gaped at me. “What?”
“It’s not that much further through the pass, come on.” I tugged his arm. We headed for the thin trail we’d been following, but immediately Minstrel tripped into the rocks. There was a loud howl behind us, in the direction that the chanting was coming from, and the chanting grew fiercer.
*
Tika tonu mai
Tika tonu mai
*
I bent down and scooped Minstrel up into my arms, then started running again. I heard scrapes and howls behind me. Minstrel looked over my shoulder and wailed.
“Are they coming?” I asked.
“Just keep running!” he shouted.
I got a better hold of his small form and sped down the trail. Through my panting I managed to shout. “If we live through this, Minstrel, remind me to throw away my map.”
“Agreed,” he cried, and then he started to scream again.
It was my first experience carrying someone else from danger.
#
Loone ended up being the most disappointing city Minstrel or I had ever frequented. Admitted, it wasn’t brimmed with Akadians or even Katellian officers and for that I was grateful. But if Cathum had been akin to a pig pen, I could only compare this to a troop of boys with fishing poles at a pond. The only thing the men seemed interested in was either catching fish or talking about catching fish. They didn’t even go out on boats. They stood at the sides of mountainous stone boardwalks that rose a hundred feet or two above the water. Of course they had to for the waves were so huge that when they broke against the rock they splashed at least that high up. I understood now what Minstrel had meant by it being the wrong season to travel the ocean.
Where there weren’t boardwalks, there were high cliffs that guarded the land from submersion, but buildings of the city were still not far from the water. Walking down the main street, Minstrel and I were soaked within minutes. We got directions to all the best, most well-known captains and crews. When we went to see them, we were either scoffed at or regarded as insane. The few crews that even considered it—and these men made it clear that there were no other crews in Karatel that would—went completely mad with laughter when we told them our destination was Yanartas.
We wound up sitting at the bar of the local tavern, drowning our sorrows with two cups of warm milk.
“Ah foresooth,” cried Minstrel. “We were of stout heart, but the way is closed to us. Two pilgrims thwarted at the precipice of our most glorious mission.”
I could do little to argue with him. My wet hair was dripping; I fell to twirling it between my fingers and thinking of the days when it was braided into wondrous designs when I was first awoken.
“I shall never see adventure now,” he continued. “Never return to my lands a true minstrel. All I have yet to write about are the Chupacabra. The only word I can think to rhyme them with is candelabra.” His brows tightened. “And there’s not really a connection between the two.”
While I considered him with a frown, an arm suddenly slid onto the counter at my side.
I looked over to see a bearded face inches from mine. “You the one needing a boat?” he asked. He smelt less than wonderful and he was as wet as Minstrel or I. I coughed as I answered.
“We need an expert crew and captain, yes.”
“You’ll need to talk to Larke,” he said, throat thick.
Any hope I had gained—which hadn’t been very much—was dashed. “We’ve already been to see Captain Larke. He wouldn’t help us.”
“That’s because you’re talking to the wrong Captain Larke,” he said ominously. “You need Larke the younger.” He raised a finger in the air; I waited with trepidation to see what he’d do with it, but all he did was let it fall to pointing at my warm milk.
With an exasperated sigh I pushed it towards him. He swallowed it down in a messy gulp that made me wonder why he’d even wanted it. He grinned as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Go west along the coast outside the village. You’ll see a small house and dock. You’ll get where you’re going. Larke’s the only one who will take you.”
#
The coast west of Loone was very much like its city. The grass was deep, rich, green. The ocean with all its breaking was beyond a sharp cliff. Everything had a wet look—though the rain had actually stopped half-way through our trek. The only difference was a large river running from the hills towards the ocean. The dock sat on this and in front of it was a small wooden house that looked more like a shack. It rested at the top of a large hill.
The sun began to peek a little through the clouds as Minstrel and I mounted the hill. I thought that we were both too anxious to say anything about the whole idea to one another.
Upon nearing the shack it was obvious that its owner put no stock into cleaning. There were half-empty crates, broken boat pieces, and lines hung with clothes all about the yard. I was just beginning to divine an odd characteristic to the clothes when the door to the shack suddenly opened.
Minstrel and I were twenty or so feet from the place, but I still immediately recognized the girl that walked out. Her black hair blew fast in the wind; her expression was casual, but the moment she saw us her sharp brows arched. I wasn’t sure if she remembered me, but there was no doubt about it that she was the girl I had met in Cathum. The very one who had embarrassed the soldiers and returned my bag of rice.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, tucking a wisp of her hair behind her ear.
I still couldn’t tell if she recognized me. I looked at minstrel, who first shrugged at me then turned to the girl. “We’re looking for Captain Larke,” he said, “The younger.”
The girl blinked impatiently and put one hand on her hip. “Aye?”
Minstrel began to stutter.
“We’d like to speak with hi
m,” I clarified.
She tipped her mouth a little. “Well that might be difficult,” she said.
“Why? Doesn’t he live here?” I asked.
“No,” she said very slowly. “I live here. I am Captain Larke. And I’m not a him.”
*
CYRIC:
*
“You’ve really never been underground before?” Lox asked with a smile. I didn’t answer right away. We were in the tunnels beneath Akadia. About an hour ago Lox had pulled me from training and taken me here alone. We’d passed less and less guards as we’d descended; now the tunnel was tight and torches came every ten feet.
“Shaundakul didn’t have any tunnels,” I explained by way of answer. “I guess they preferred to build up.”
“A wasteful thing not to utilize the earth,” Lox replied. “Reminds me of something the granted keepers would have enacted. Admitted, being underground isn’t the greatest luxury, but there are things to be seen here which cannot be seen anywhere else.”
Granted keepers were the religious leaders that once watched over the granted animals. Lox seemed to be speaking of the old days, when they used to make the laws and their religion was followed and believed by almost everyone. Even in Shaundakul—which was considered one of the most religious countries—keepers had been a thing of the past.
I wondered what Lox meant by things to be seen underground though. Unfortunately I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to find out, because the next tunnel ahead of us was dim and blurry. Lox entered it without pause, which made me sure that it was only too dark for me to see.
In hopes that it would end and that I wouldn’t trip over anything passing through it, I stepped normally into the darkness. I’d barely been enveloped when I heard Lox’s voice.
“I thought you would grab a torch,” he said.
I paused a step; it sounded like he had stopped as well.
“You’ll have trouble with it otherwise, won’t you?” he went on.
I was thankful for the darkness to help conceal my response—but then I realized of course that he would be able to see me just fine. Still it helped me keep my expression straight somehow that I couldn’t see his face. So few people knew about my night-blindness. After the scholars in Shaundakul had told me that it wasn’t ever going to go away, I’d started concealing it. I’d gotten good at it. And I’d never stopped. I didn’t know how to respond to the fact that Lox knew.
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