by Cat Bruno
Beside him sat Nicoline, as lovely as she had been when he and Crispin had first encountered her. Even lovelier, he suddenly thought as her golden hair shined bright and her blue eyes fell across him. For nearly an hour, the two had discussed what had happened when Bronwen, or Caryss, as he forced himself to remember, had arrived at the farm. With each word that Nicoline spoke, he found himself more surprised, and more uncertain about what Caryss intended.
“Nicoline, why would she want the boy?”
He watched as the color disappeared from her face, and hurriedly added, “You have nothing to fear! She is healer-trained, one of the best the Academy has seen, and she has vows that she will not break. The boy is in safe hands, especially with the Islander to instruct him.”
Dropping her eyes, she shook her head and whispered, “She promised me that Jarek would be safe.”
Before he could reply, Nicoline’s fingers grabbed his hand, squeezing him, and she cried loudly, “Have I made a mistake, Willem?”
“What choice did you have?” he told her, letting her continue to hold his hand. “It seems that the boy approached her first, the day in the palace. And she was right that Jarek was of an age where he needed to see more than just this farmstead. She will not let him be harmed, and he is with one of the best sword masters that the world has seen, or so I have heard tell. My cousin will not be pleased to hear that Caryss has him, though. And that is where she faltered.”
Soon after he arrived, Willem had learned that Caryss had been there nearly two moons prior. And, he realized, she had not told Nicoline of what had occurred in the King’s City. Had she, the boy would not have been permitted to go, he suspected.
“What will Crispin do? He has not seen Jarek in nearly ten moon years, Willem. Why would he care about my son now?”
“Nicoline,” he pleaded, placing his hand on top of hers, “Crispin has long loved the boy, but the King’s City was not the place for him. Not yet. Delwin gains more power each day, just as Herrin loses it. We all have more to fear from Delwin than from the King, as it was even when you were there. He controls the Royal Army.”
“What are you saying?” she gasped.
“Caryss is no fool, even as sheltered as she had been at the Academy. Jarek is like a shield to her. Crispin will not strike nor will he tell his brother of her once he knows that she has the boy. She is learning how to play the game.”
“And using my son as a pawn,” Nicoline whispered, pulling her hand free and placing it against her open mouth.
“He is not meant for life here, Nicoline. You have known that since he was born.”
Above, the skies darkened. With a voice as gray as the sky, Nicoline warned, “He is my son, and I will do all that I can to keep him safe. Even if I must search for him and steal him from her.”
“You are a woman, and I would not expect you to understand,” he countered. “The boy is my kin and has warrior blood in him. Better to die with a sword in hand than to die having never touched one.”
“You sound like the Islander. And I will tell you what I told him. Who needs sword when you have sky?”
Smiling at her words, he answered, “He is your son, my dear, but he is Rexterran as well.”
When Nicoline looked at him, there was something in her eyes that he had never seen before, as if the years had done more than aged her.
“He could be king.”
Nearly breathless, Willem mumbled, “Treasonous words, Nicoline. Sheltered here, you are far enough from the crown to speak them. I would advise against repeating them, however.”
She did not reply, but Willem understood well. And knew that more than ever, he needed to find Caryss. She played a deadly game and might not even know how dangerous it could be. A dark mage, a master of swords, and a child were all that she had between her and the Rexterran Royal Army. Three against tens of thousands.
“On the morrow, I will depart, Nicoline. I will find your son, and I will stay with him until I am no longer needed. For now, none will know where he is or whom he is with. Not even Crispin.”
Willem had known when he left the Academy that he would not return. While Delwin still lived, he would not be able to pass through the Rexterran gates and into the city. If he managed to slip through, once discovered, he would be jailed or worse, such was his cousin’s hatred for him. Not even Crispin had been able to convince Delwin to rescind the order of exile. And, now, with the King missing, Delwin would wield even more control, which meant that the gates were nearly impassable.
“Your father is from the North, is he not?” she asked, rising from the blanket.
Nodding, Willem asked, “They are in Eirrannia, you believe?”
Turning away from him, she replied, “Last night, Jarek visited me. He told me that he was well, and he looked it, even though I was unable to embrace him. The boy can do more than I even knew possible, Willem.”
“Tell me all that you know.”
“He did not seem worried or afraid,” she sighed, waving a sun-dotted arm. “Like any boy his age, he was rather boastful about all of his new skills.”
“Did he say they were in Eirrannia?”
After a moment, she told him, “No. He said they were in the home of a great High Lord. I thought it to be your kin, for I know your father has a home there.”
On shaking legs, Willem rose, trying to hide his eyes. When Nicoline began walking back to the house, he followed, and, with each step, his legs shook less.
He knew where she had gone, and did not speak again until they were seated at the table, both holding goblets of wine.
“There is a peace to you that I had not expected, Nicoline.”
Sipping at the light-colored wine, she said, “My son has become more than I hoped. His path is one that even I dared not imagine for him.”
“Do you trust the healer, Willem?” she asked suddenly.
His gold-rimmed eyes met hers, and, for a moment, he did not mask himself. He did not doubt that his answer would affect what it was that Nicoline might do next. Even though he doubted that she would be able to find Caryss, he dared not risk it. Nor did he want to stoke her motherly fires.
With thought, he told her, “Jarek will be safe, and she will see to it. Otherwise, she would not have let him go. I have met none like her, Nicoline. Under different circumstances, you two would be fast friends, I think.”
“You are in love with her.”
His silence was not a denial, which both he and Nicoline understood, yet both knew how little it mattered.
*****
With nothing else to do, Caryss explored the quiet hallways that seemed without end. Into each empty room, her gaze fell, searching for the woman whom Conri mentioned.
Conri’s home was much larger than she had first suspected, and, soon, she was near the kitchen, a large area that seemed unusual in the home of a Tribesman. The room itself was unoccupied, yet, as she looked about, Caryss noticed that it was as well-equipped as the one at the Academy. As she neared the large sink, she saw several plates and two large cooking pots, and pushed at them with her hand, laughing aloud as she realized that even Tribesmen must eat.
“What last did I eat?” she murmured into the emptiness.
A quick search turned up a wheel of cheese twice the size of her hand and, in a large basket, she found a rounded loaf of bread. She squeezed at the bread, and although it was not as fresh as what Sheva would serve at the Academy, it still made her stomach rumble with hunger. Grabbing at the bread and with the cheese tucked under her arm, Caryss turned to leave the kitchen, hoping to be able to find her way back to the room she was sharing with the others.
Forgetting to grab a knife for the cheese, she hurriedly stepped back into the kitchen, setting both bread and cheese onto a wooden shelf. As she flitted about the room, opening and closing drawers and doors, Caryss did not hear anyone enter. Yet, as she turned, a woman appeared.
Full lips parted in surprise and her soft brown eyes shining, the woman called to her,
words dancing as if in song.
“I would recognize that hair anywhere.”
Startled for a moment, Caryss knocked a large plate to the ground, where it clanged and shattered, sending pieces of lightly painted clay across the stone floor. Neither woman moved, the broken plate between them.
“Nahla!” she cried, rushing to the woman and embracing her quickly.
As they separated, the Islander told her, “I am with child. I thought you a fool, but it seems as if I am more the fool than you.”
Caryss laughed, although it seemed as if she had not done so for moons and the sound was strained.
“You are thick with the babe, Caryss!” Nahla teased as she eyed her.
Looking down at the too-snug robe, Caryss answered, “And I have nothing that fits because of it.”
“Is that why you have come?” Nahla asked.
There was no easy reply, and Caryss shook her head as she walked back to where she had stored the bread and cheese. After she tore a chunk of bread loose, she faced Nahla again.
“I had not planned on coming here, but there seemed little other haven after what happened,” she explained between bites.
With concern growing, Nahla asked, “Is the Rexterran Army near? It was only so long before the princes learned about the King.”
“I know not where they are. We sailed for the Cove with ease, found the diauxie, and made our way back to Cordisia. Yet we stayed far removed from Rexterra. It was on our way through Eirrannia that death found us.”
“What do you mean?” Nahla gasped, her hand resting on her neck.
When Caryss looked to her, she noticed Nahla’s newly rounded face and swollen breasts.
“We were attacked by a band of Crows. Although we were able to be rid of them, it became clear that a new foe had been roused.”
“What of Otieno?”
“None of us was injured. Not even the boy, although I think it was his first time witnessing death.”
Again Nahla’s softened face showed concern and confusion.
Before she could ask, Caryss explained, “Jarek is nearly ten moon years old, although he has seen little of Cordisia. His mother comes from a line of mages far from here. His father is King’s Heir.”
Her words trailed off, but Caryss noticed Nahla’s eyes sharpen with unasked questions.
After a moment, Nahla told her, “Crispin visited me the day after you departed. I told him little, but he is no fool. He set men to watch me, although Conall was able to help me escape. His cheek will scar, no doubt.”
A curved smile crossed Nahla’s face.
“How long before the King’s Heir learns that you have his son?”
“He abandoned the boy long ago,” Caryss laughed, although there was no joy in her words.
She would have said more, but voices could be heard approaching. Neither moved, but, within moments, Conall and two other Tribesmen entered the room. When he saw both women, he dismissed the men and joined them.
When he looked at her, his eyes were dark with threat.
“A lesser man than my brother would have you killed for what you did,” he harshly scolded, his lips pulled tight over sharp, straight teeth.
The last time she saw Conall, it had been pleasant enough, yet, now, her life pulse raced fast and her throat tightened at his words.
Trying to recover her breath, she cried, “He still lives, while both my parents lie dead! Do not try to scare me, Conall. If he kills me, he kills this Tribe. You think I do not know what the girl will mean for all of you?”
He was upon faster than she could blink.
So close that she could feel his life pulse against her cheek, he growled, “The babe will be here in a few moons. You might not, Caryss. What then? The babe will be Tribe, and you will be gone. Have you thought on that?”
She was shaking now and backed away from him, looking to Nahla for aid. The Islander gazed at the floor, as if she did not want to play sides.
Bumping hard into a shelf, Caryss half-yelled, “I no longer have the dagger!”
“Think on what the High Lord’s death would mean for your daughter,” he warned without repenting. “She will have one less ally. And from what I hear, you are adept at making enemies.”
When she said nothing, he continued, “You think Eirrannia will shelter her? You have twice-over committed acts of treason. And you seek to bring war to the door of Eirrannia when she is ill-equipped to fight it. There is nowhere safe for you to go now, without one of your foes finding you. Make peace with him, Caryss, or perish with your vengeance.”
“And so I am trapped?”
“By your own doing, yes, it seems that you are.”
A reddish haze flickered behind her eyes, and, closing the distance between them, Caryss hissed into Conall’s face, “I will be no prisoner, to god or man.”
His eyes were nearly black, but his words were calm. “Then leave now while the High Lord is recovering. I will escort you as far as our scouts think it safe, and let Conri know that you chose to leave. Your friends’ deaths will be on your watch.”
Her cheeks burned and her lips parted to answer. Strong hands pulled at her, until she was steps from the Tribesman. Nahla stood just behind Conall, across the room. Otieno’s braids tickled at her neck as he held her tightly. In her fury, she had not seen the Islander enter.
Trying to shake him off, she screamed, “I will not raise my daughter among Tribesmen! If I must stay here until she is born, then such it will be. After, I will run from here. Far and fast, and with the babe.”
When she felt Otieno’s hands loosen, she twisted herself free. He followed her from the room, silent and accusing, his boots strangely quiet against the hard, slate floors.
*****
23
Within a quarter-moon Aldric had recovered enough to walk about the complex that housed a number of the Wolf Tribe. For two days, he had slept without waking, much like the King, and their cots lay next to one another, with Caryss and Sharron tending to both. Knowing that she had little choice but to stay, Caryss had reminded herself of why she had left the Academy, and, to that end, she focused her attention on Herrin.
“At times I feel as if I have forgotten much since I left Litusia,” she mentioned to Sharron.
Otieno and Jarek spent most of their time in the central courtyard, while Aldric alternated between watching them and exploring the complex. The women were often left alone, and not even Conri entered when they were with the King.
Herrin’s hand, the skin nearly translucent and marked with pocked scars, rested beneath Caryss’s as she gently rubbed her fingers against it. Without looking up, she called, “I had hoped that it was the poppy milk causing much of his sleepiness, but he has been without it for long enough that it cannot be so. And still he spends most of the day abed. The poison should long be from him by now, yet his skin is colored as if his bowels are not working. We must start over, as if he were at the clinic.”
Sharron neared, standing just behind. “It would do us both good to forget where we are and remember where we once were. We must think on what could cause harm long after it has gone, just as we must start mixing tonics, trying the standard ones first. As long as we can continue to get him to drink goat milk, we should have at least a moon to work.”
Dropping the King’s hand, Caryss sighed. Without Sharron to remind her of the Academy, Caryss feared that she would forget the girl Bronwen once was.
“You are right of course,” she agreed readily.
Sharron had offered advice and kindness after she had learned of the attack on Conri. Aldric, too, understood, but Otieno and Nahla had not. None spoke of it, and Caryss herself tried to forget what she had done. Yet she knew from the wary glances that she received that the peace that now existed was unstable, which only caused her to want to depart sooner. It was Sharron who had finally convinced her to stay until the babe was born.
“Once healed, you hope the King will grant you protection?” the other healer as
ked, as Caryss rose.
“It seems impossible to think that Herrin would shelter a child of the Tribe, but I cannot stay here,” Caryss answered, withholding nothing from Sharron. “The Tribe is quickly becoming divided, and, by killing the Crows that attacked us, I have chosen a side. Or one has been chosen for me. I still know not how they found us that day.”
“The North will shelter us,” Sharron hummed, the words Eirrannian.
Shaking her head, Caryss told her, “I will not bring this fight to their doors. In peace they have lived for more moon years than we can count, and in peace they should stay.”
“Silent and dormant. Until it is time.”
Again the other woman’s words were spoken in the chimes of the North.
A half-smile swept across Caryss’s freckled face, but she said nothing. Sharron was like a sister to her, kin where she had none, friend where she had few. It was not until they had departed from the Academy that the two had become close, yet Sharron had come to be just what Caryss needed.
Working together, they undressed the King until only a light blanket covered his skin. Despite Sharron’s care, his legs were still too weak to support him, even if he did wake.
After several moments, Caryss said, “We must start a small garden. Nothing like we had at the Academy of course. Our supplies will not last many more moons if we stay here. I have become spoiled by the clime of the south, Sharron, and will rely on you to teach me the plants that thrive in the North.”
“Would it not be easier to ask Conri or his kin for what we need?”
“They have little need for healing as we use it,” Caryss explained.
Once she had finished prodding the bottom of Herrin’s feet with a thin knife, Caryss walked across the room to where her riding bags had been placed. Over her shoulder, she called, “I had thought to start with thrice daily administrations of licorice root and cayenne, which I hope will cleanse anything else left in his stomach and will also improve his circulation, which is poor, as evident from the lines that mark his lower legs.”