“There were many women after her, all Renshai. Those, I didn’t marry.”
Kevral tensed, scarcely daring to believe he had admitted such a thing to her. Had her own parents confessed to such behavior, it could not have surprised her more. “You slept with women who weren’t your wife?”
“They weren’t anyone else’s wives either, of course.” Colbey inserted that bit of morality hastily, almost defensively. “I’m not particularly proud about that part of my life. I was human, Kevral. In fact, I still consider myself human. I made a lot of mistakes, and I’ll make many more.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “The gods wouldn’t want it bandied about, but perfection doesn’t exist. Morality is not a constant. Right depends too heavily on personality and perspective.”
“Didn’t those women worry about the . . . consequences?” Kevral felt her own moral foundation shaking.
“What consequences?” Colbey glanced over Kevral’s head at Ra-khir whose honor and manners would not allow him to violate their privacy. “I was safe. Sterile.”
Kevral saw other reason for the Renshai women’s incaution, one Colbey would never admit even if his modesty allowed him to consider it. The one who bore his child got to marry him, an honor Kevral might have violated her own premarital ethics to attain. She did not bother with the issue of reputation. Colbey, she suspected, would never reveal his partners, even hundreds of years after their deaths. “Did you ever get your child?” History told her that he had not; but, if she had learned nothing else from this encounter, she now knew human chronicling had its failings.
“Two sons whom I loved equally.”
Again, Kevral read pain on his features.
“Episte could not have seemed more mine had he sprung from my seed. But his mother hated me and became too obsessed with emphasizing the blood relationship over ours. Others called Episte’s Renshai father a hero who died in glory. Episte knew him only as a corpse who abandoned his only child before his birth. I tried to overcome the bitterness his mother instilled; but, in the end, it destroyed him.” Colbey’s eyes grew moist, and he stared at the distant horizon as if he had forgotten she stood there listening.
Kevral watched him, her heart pounding as another myth was dispelled. So many times, she had held back tears, believing Colbey never cried. Now she wanted nothing more than to seize the opportunity to hold him in her arms and comfort him. But her limbs would not obey her; so she remained in place, driven by longing yet paralyzed by fear of rejection.
Colbey rescued her from the dilemma by recovering his composure and wiping his eyes clean with a hand. “My son in marriage, Raska, our Ravn. He’s only a year older than you.”
Kevral smiled, glad the story ended happily. “I’m sorry about Episte but happy you got your children.” Only then, she realized her problem still confronted her. “How do you feel about Renshai marrying outside the tribe?”
“I never considered it for myself.” Colbey laughed. “And yet, in the end, I did it. I think you need to make your own decision. And I think I need to go.”
“Wait!” Kevral shouted, immediately embarrassed by her audacity. “Please, just tell me this. Are the quotations attributed to you really yours?”
“Most of them,” Colbey admitted.
“Did you say that the Knights of Erythane reduced honor to a rigid bunch of arbitrary rules?”
Colbey cringed. “Not in those precise words. I did once disdain them for expecting enemies to follow the same honor as themselves. I believed it cheapened their honor.”
Kevral appreciated the knowledge. At least she had a basis on which to formulate a decision. Colbey’s opinion mattered too much to ignore, and he clearly did not think knights fit among Renshai.
“Come here,” Colbey said softly. He waved boldly over Kevral’s shoulder to indicate Ra-khir should join them. Kevral turned to watch the knight-in-training dismount and lead both horses over to them.
Discomfort jangled through Kevral as Ra-khir joined them. First, she did not wish him to overhear a discussion on coupling and marriage, especially since he played a pivotal role in her choice. And the presence of two men she cared for so near one another made her as anxious as she had felt prior to dedicating herself to sword work and challenges.
Colbey did not lead them far. Just beyond a stand of trees, a white charger cropped quietly at the grass, a pair of long swords in a belt thrust through the wrappings of a pack on its back. “Do you know what this is?” He patted the horse’s flank, removed the swords absently, and strapped them around his waist.
Kevral could almost feel the solace that accompanied this action. Any Renshai would feel naked without at least one sword.
“That’s an Erythanian Knight’s charger, my lord.” Ra-khir recognized the stallion at once.
“This is Frost Reaver. He’s my horse.”
“I’m sorry, my lord. He looks just like one.”
Colbey smiled. “He is one. The mount of Sir Colbey Calistinsson, Knight to the Erythanian and Béarnian kings.” He executed a bow befitting a knight.
“You?” The incredulous expletive slipped out before Kevral could stop it or Ra-khir could say something more suitable. “A Knight of Erythane? Don’t you have to be Erythanian?”
“No,” Ra-khir explained for Colbey. “Not if you defeat a knight in fair combat. And you’re willing to take and stand by the knight’s vow.”
Colbey leaped onto the horse’s bare back. Drawing a bridle from the pack, he fitted it over the animal’s head. The ease of a maneuver Kevral had never seen anyone attempt before suggested horse and rider had grown accustomed to it.
“And you were willing to do these things?” Kevral wished she could drop the skepticism from her voice, but it seemed stuck to her tongue.
“I have no quibble with the actual honor of the knights, only with their interpretation of it and the way most expect enemies to abide by the same rules. Read the vow sometime. It may surprise you.”
Kevral determined that she would do so, but curiosity would drive her to question Ra-khir about it first.
“But I didn’t come to discuss any of the things we’ve talked about today.”
Kevral wondered if she would ever receive her share of surprises. She had felt so certain Colbey had arrived to chastise her for her behavior, it never occurred to her he might have a higher purpose. Yet surely he must. She had done too many stupid things in her short life without drawing the attention of gods to believe this one thing had brought him.
Colbey patted Frost Reaver’s neck as the horse patiently awaited his command without snorting or pawing. History claimed Colbey shared no closeness with animals, never even bothering to name his mounts; but the bond between these two was obvious, proving another fallacy. “As I mentioned, your quest is god-sanctioned. But you will not find the one you seek in Santagithi. Enemies have captured and taken him elsewhere.”
“Where?” Kevral and Ra-khir asked, nearly simultaneously.
“I can tell you only that it’s a place of this world, though not on any human map. You have an item in your possession. It belongs to one of your enemies and is as sacred to him as your sword arm is to you. It will guide you to him if you let it.”
“What is it? How does it work?” Kevral asked.
Colbey’s mount started away, without any visible cues from its rider. “Study it carefully. The owner shifts between Béarn and his home. Don’t let it lead you to the wrong place.” Then he was gone. If he heard Kevral’s pleas to stop, he disregarded them.
Kevral slammed her fist against a tree, shaking a spray of moisture down onto their heads. “I don’t believe it! He chats with me forever, then gives us only half the clues to perform a mission he calls god-sanctioned.”
Ra-khir stared after the retreating figure, still a topic behind. “Colbey Calistinsson a Knight of Erythane. Who’d have believed it?”
Kevral wished Ra-khir had not drawn her back to the choices she had, thus far, avoided. “Who indeed?”
Chapter 38
The Truth Dawns
Scars are a warrior’s badge of honor.
—Colbey Calistinsson
Kevral’s mind felt as swollen as the fullest water skin, and the hopelessness of sorting ideas brought a nervous despair. As she and Ra-khir headed back toward camp, she only half-listened to his attempts at conversation, returning monosyllabic replies intended more to protect her pounding head than to appease him. Overwhelmed by thought and emotion, she did not notice the quiet stillness of the forest, the background harmony of night insects, nor the animal noises that broke melodically through the hush at intervals.
At length, Ra-khir gave up on speaking. He lowered his head in weary surrender, and his straight, solid features disappeared beneath a fiery curtain of hair. Even sorrow could not hide his beauty. His locks fell in a wild cascade that any woman would envy, and the sweeping curves of muscles trained to combat drew her eye after his gentle attempts at conversation failed. Kevral believed Colbey had revealed his knighthood to open her mind rather than directly sway her decision. His insistence that she had to make her own choices seemed far more substantial in her memory. Ra-khir, Tae, or neither. Looking upon Ra-khir, it seemed simple now. If they courted, and eventually married, every girl in Erythane would covet her prize. His grace, his manners, and his gentleness would sell them on his charm even without the casual handsomeness he did not even seem to notice. When Kevral looked deep inside herself, she knew she loved him; but she also realized she needed time to make certain, to consider.
Not wishing to drive Ra-khir away, Kevral shifted her horse nearer and took his hand. Ra-khir’s head jerked up. Keen green eyes found Kevral’s face. She smiled at him, and he returned the smile. His hand closed over her fingers, firm yet gentle. A flush of passion swept through Kevral, though whether as a result of Ra-khir’s attention or a remnant from her meeting with the object of a lifelong crush, she did not try to surmise. For now, it just felt good to be with Ra-khir.
No further words passed between them during the short ride back to camp. Ra-khir sensed her need for nonverbal solace, and he did not speak again. Kevral left her thoughts knotted in place. She had learned long ago how to handle complex katas, and she would use the same techniques on her mind. Taken as a whole, any Renshai maneuver seemed impossible. Broken into manageable pieces, the process became learnable. She would work on her problems and ideas in the same fashion, beginning tonight, until sleep wrested the burden from her, then during her morning practice. Perhaps, when she dedicated her sword work to Colbey, he would bring her the inspiration she needed to make sense of his discussion.
Kevral freed her hand as she and Ra-khir reached the camp. Until she committed herself to a definitive decision, she would not allow circumstance to make it for her.
Kevral and Ra-khir pulled up to a dinner of snared rabbits and bread packed from Pudar. Darris lay propped against a deadfall, strumming his mandolin and humming at the stars. Matrinka leaned against him, eyes half-closed. She opened them the moment the horses entered the clearing, dragging the food farther from the warmth of the fire. Kevral missed Tae completely until she had dismounted and he appeared to assist her with the tack.
“Here, let me do that. You eat.” Tae pointed at the food Matrinka had salvaged.
“Thank you.” Emotionally battered, Kevral seized the opportunity to loop the reins over her gelding’s head and hand them to Tae. She glanced at Ra-khir who had as much right to relax and eat as she did.
“Here.” Tae substituted halter for bridle in two deft movements, then offered generously. “You go eat. I’ll take care of yours, too.”
“Thank you, no.” Ra-khir ignored Tae’s proffered hand. “It’s part of my training.”
“Oh.” Tae shrugged as he hefted and set aside Kevral’s saddle. “Part of your training as what? A stable groom?”
Apparently, Ra-khir had learned to accept Tae’s sarcasm, which had gentled greatly since Pudar. “Knight chargers are rare, bought by the kings and trained by the world’s best horsemen. They’re irreplaceable, and we don’t take chances with them.” He slipped on a halter, pulled off the bridle, then unbuckled the saddle. “Not that you wouldn’t do a good job,” Ra-khir added hastily as he apparently realized his words could be taken as insult. “It’s just a good habit to get into. For when I have a Knight charger, I mean.”
Kevral sat and ate methodically, content with the tough, overcooked meat and warm bread dried to choking consistency by the fire. Many thoughts clamored for attention, and the need to concentrate on nothing wore on her. Pain ached through her thigh, and she examined the wound Colbey had left for the first time since the spar. Superficial, it had clotted without any ministration, yet she hoped it would scar. She had no other physical memento of an experience that had begun to seem more like a dream than reality.
Kevral had eaten and launched into her nightly practice by the time Tae and Ra-khir finished with the horses. Sword work proved invigorating, clearing her mind of all thought while she mastered a technique that had defied her for months. It clarified none of the issues confronting her; yet when Kevral finished and joined her companions beneath blankets near the fire, she came to one swift conclusion. Finding the heir of Béarn took precedence over the personal decision that had plagued her. The dangers of their mission might make the choice for her. Any or all of them might die, and she seemed the most likely first candidate. She needed to focus on the item Colbey had mentioned, the one owned by an enemy.
The breathing of Kevral’s companions became a distracting cacophony, and she tried to concentrate on the more regular rhythm of the insects. Four times, her thoughts circled the problem, and each time she returned to the same conclusion. Tae had searched the bodies of the men they had killed. If anyone knew the device to which Colbey referred, Tae would. Yet Kevral kept searching for another route to the answer. She cherished control of herself and her circumstances too much to toss the problem into another’s hands. And she questioned her motives as well. Was it possible she just wanted some time alone with Tae after having shared quiet moments with Ra-khir? The possibility shamed her.
Kevral rolled, telling herself she needed sleep too much to worry about the matter any longer. But the realization that someone had crept up on her made her eyes shoot open to meet earnest brown ones in a face attractive only for its familiarity.
“Sorry,” Tae whispered. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you knew I was there.”
“I never know where the hell you are,” she returned, equally surprised at having her considerations brought so abruptly to life by Tae’s sudden, unexpected presence.
“That’s my best feature.” Smiling, Tae gave back as good as he got. “Kevral, can we talk?”
“Sure.” Kevral rose, barely missing the sleep she would not have gotten anyway.
Tae scrambled backward, out of Kevral’s way. His eyes widened, and his mouth formed a small oval.
“Sorry.” Kevral repeated Tae’s apology. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s just that I’ve been trying to talk to you since Pudar,” he hissed. “And you’ve avoided me every time. This was just too damned easy.”
Kevral inclined her head to indicate an area away from their sleeping companions where they could talk without awakening anyone but remain near enough for Tae to continue his watch. Kevral wrapped her blanket tightly around her as they moved beyond the warmth of the fire and into the coldness of forest night. Despite the covering, her hands and feet felt as if they turned instantly to ice, and her shoulders bunched into an aching knot. Tae wore only his regular clothing, seeming to take no notice of the cold.
“Aren’t you freezing?” Kevral asked, still keeping her voice low.
Tae shrugged. “I’ve lived through winter nights with less. A full belly and a nearby campfire make a huge difference.”
“And I’ve had my hand ripped open, but that doesn’t mean I slice my fingers because it doesn’t hurt as much.” Kevral re
alized she had not addressed Tae’s question, and he deserved an answer. “Look, I’m really sorry. I’ve been acting like a monster.”
Tae gave Kevral no leeway. “Yes, you have.”
Kevral accepted the words graciously. “I’m not going to argue. I deserve worse.”
“And I’m sure you have a good reason.”
The moment has come. Kevral drew breath to explain. Anything less than the truth would require the flirting she had promised to avoid.
Tae did not give her the opening to speak. “And I hope you’ll tell me sometime. But first, I have some things I’ve been wanting to give you.”
Kevral loosed a long breath, reprieved. “For me?”
Tae pulled a narrow book from beneath his cloak and handed it to Kevral.
She accepted it, studying the cover, running a reverent hand over the binding. Books were rare, usually reserved for nobility; and she could scarcely believe he had brought her such an expensive present. The title The Deathseeker, Colbey Calistinsson: His Time as Pudar’s General, only made the gift more valuable. She looked at Tae. “Thank you.” The words did not seem nearly enough to express her appreciation. “Where did you . . .” she started, then answered her own thought. “It’s probably better if I don’t know.”
Tae dodged the half-asked question. “This goes with it.” He balanced a painted wooden figure of a man on horseback on the book in her hands. Though the crafted features did not match recent experience, and the horse was a bay, Kevral knew the artisan intended to depict Colbey. The stance did capture his inhuman confidence, and she could imagine his cold, blue-gray eyes looking out at her. “Thank you,” Kevral said again, hoping her tone conveyed the gratitude she could not verbalize. “This is too generous. Thank you.” She lowered her head, ashamed. “I really don’t deserve these.”
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