by Wilson Harp
Siande returned with the cloaks.
“We must go now,” Tal said.
“Wait,” said Maldrophe. “Did you say Mira was among those you saw?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must take Janu. If he is found, they will kill him.”
Tal nodded. “Bring him, but tell him to be quiet.”
“I’ll tell him it’s a game you play with him. Boys love games where they get to act serious.”
Siande put her cloak on and pulled her hair back with a strip of leather. She had her hood up by the time Tal fastened his cloak. Maldrophe came back with Janu in her arms.
“Here is a skin of milk with some herbs. Make sure he drinks this when you get safe. If he still coughs tomorrow, he will need someone who can treat him.”
“Thank you,” said Tal. “I am in your debt.”
Daelcor returned from the entrance. Tal hadn’t seen him leave.
“There are ten soldiers at this entrance, Tal. They won’t come in, but they wait and search any who leave.”
“There is a place where supplies are brought from the docks,” Maldrophe said. “It’s just a window, really, but you can crawl out.”
“Lead us,” Tal said.
Maldrophe led them deep into the temple to a room which was locked. She pulled a heavy key from her skirts and let them in. It was a dank store room full of barrels and crates. High on the far wall was a window twice as wide as a man and half his height.
“That will work,” Tal said as he stacked heavy crates up to reach it. He opened the wooden window and looked out. The window looked out onto a street at the same height as the bed of a wagon. The street was crowded with people who all moved toward the docks.
“We can leave from here, there are no guards,” Tal said. Siande moved up to see out as well and Tal dropped down in the street. He was almost pushed along with the press of people, but used his size and strength to plant himself in place. Siande handed Janu to him and then scrambled out herself.
She held her hood in place and looked around. “Do we head to the docks?” she asked.
“We need to get out of the city,” Tal said. “And I fear they will search the ships.”
The rain started falling and many other travelers pulled their hoods up. Tal said a silent prayer to Hondre, for he felt of any of the gods, it would be the one he served in battle who would most likely help him.
The crowds pressed down on Tal and Siande and they moved toward the docks with no recourse. Tal held Janu in his arms while Siande carried the small bag Daelcor’s mother had prepared for them.
“I’m scared,” Janu said.
“Don’t you worry,” Tal said. “Uncle Taldirun will keep you safe.”
“I want Mother.”
Tears formed in Tal’s eyes as they made their way toward the docks. Four large trading ships were in harbor with dozens of smaller fishing boats. Tal could see some of the fishing crews row toward shore because of the unexpected rain, but those further out would just let the storm pass and cast their nets again when it was over.
“The crowds on the dock,” Siande said. “It looks like people are trying to get onto any boat they can find.”
“There will be a riot,” said Tal. “The guards should be in control, but they aren’t. They were pulled away for the palace.”
“Don’t think on it,” she said. “Don’t let me think on it. Once we are away from here, we can grieve.”
“If we aren’t pushed into the ocean by the crowds, first,” he said.
A wild ribbon of excitement ran through the crowd behind them and Tal looked back. A chariot barreled down the center of the street.
Tal grabbed Siande and pushed her as far to the side of the road as he could. The heavy wheels of the chariot missed his shoulder by a finger’s width as the chariot cleared the way for a column of spearman.
People who had been trampled by the horses, or struck by the chariot itself, lay in the street. The soldiers stepped over the dead and helped the wounded to the side of the road with swift kicks.
Tal counted thirty spearmen, more than enough to restore order on the docks.
“Come,” he said to Siande, “We can go back into the city. The crowds won’t be as insistent to head to the docks now.”
He was correct. Most of the crowd didn’t move much at all as they made their way back up the street. There were injured to be seen to, and the sudden dead to mourn and grieve over.
It took them half an hour to make it back to the palace gate, a short walk on a normal day of a few minutes. But the crowds had packed the city for the chance to see the High King. Those same crowds now tried to find a place in this unknown collection of buildings and narrow alleys to hide from the rain, the abusive soldiers, and the terrible rumors which said the king had been killed by assassins.
Tal and Siande found themselves headed toward the north gate. It was just a day earlier they had worn cloaks and joined a crowd to sneak into the city. Now they left under more desperate circumstances. Tal wondered if he would ever walk the streets which were his home again.
It was too late to leave the flow of people when they noticed the crowds were being searched by the soldiers as they left.
“We are caught,” Siande said.
Tal clenched his jaw and held her tight against himself.
When they reached the gate, two spear men blocked their way as an officer pulled back Tal’s hood. Tal recognized him, it was Yelsit, the young merchant’s son Tal had left behind when he went to battle. Yelsit hesitated and pulled Tal’s hood back over his head.
“Let them pass, we aren’t looking for a family with a child,” he said.
The spearmen motioned Tal and Siande to squeeze past.
“He knew you,” Siande said.
Tal nodded. “He did, he was one of my men.”
“He still is,” said Siande. “He’s loyal to you, not my father.”
“Where are we going?” asked Janu.
“We’re going to see a friend,” Tal said. “You’ll like him.”
“Does he have birds?”
Tal smiled at the little boy. “No, but you can tell him of all the birds you have. He’ll be amazed at how many colors they are.”
“Yeah, they are red and blue and gold.”
Tal kept Janu talking about his birds for the next hour. The steady stream of people thinned as the rains grew harder. Every stand of trees attracted the soaked travelers and tempted Tal to stop, though he knew they had to find help. Siande looked through the bag Maldrophe gave them and found some cheese and dried meat along with the skin of herbed milk for Janu.
“She really is a nice woman,” Siande said.
“Who?”
“Daelcor’s mother.”
“Maldrophe? Yes, she is.”
“Did you ever have her visit you?”
Tal shook his head. “No, I think once she became my father’s favorite, she only went to him.”
“How many favorites did he have?”
“I don’t know, how many before her, but as far back as I can remember, I don’t know of another serene he took.”
“We’re going to Jubaas, aren’t we?” she asked.
Tal shook his head at the change of subject. “Yes. He’s the only one I can trust right now. I hope he can hide us for a while until we can go further.”
They turned off the road when they saw the shack by the Walnut tree. The fields were freshly turned and the rains had made them muddy. They were covered in mud up to their knees as they approached the small building.
“Hello,” Tal shouted. “Hello, is someone there?”
Smoke flowed out from the straw roof and swam down the side of the wood-framed house. It swirled in a mist along the muddy ground. The door opened and Jubaas stood with a bowl of stew.
“Tal? Is that you?”
Tal pulled his hood back and Jubaas motioned them inside.
“What are you doing out here? Get in and get dry. This is my mother, Shala,
and my sisters, Lema and Fera.”
Tal set Janu down and took off his cloak. A woman with a touch of grey in her hair helped Siande with her cloak, as two girls, one a few years younger than Siande, the other a few years older than Janu, stared at the strange visitors.
The older girl’s eyes widened as Siande’s dark hair was revealed, but the younger screamed when she saw Tal take off his cloak.
“Mama, he has blood all over him,” she screamed. She ran to her mother and wrapped herself in the woman’s dress.
“Tal, what happened?” asked Jubaas.
Tal looked at the small house and knew they would have every ear in the house turned toward their conversation. “Outside. I’ll tell you outside,” Tal said.
Jubaas nodded and stepped out.
“Don’t waste words,” he said when Tal joined him and shut the door.
“Praset killed my father and my brothers and sisters.”
“Gods help us.”
“All but Bator. But I believe Praset did so under my mother’s direction.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know. The High Queen and the princess were killed as well, along with a good number of their courtiers.”
“Tal, this means war in one way or another. And I don’t mean a skirmish in the Valley of Kerosh, I mean a real war. Here. In Atlantis.”
“I know. I just don’t know what Praset and my mother are playing at. It doesn’t make sense, and I still don’t believe it.”
“We need to get you away from here. Today. Now.”
“We can go no further, not with the child. We need time to start our grieving. We just need a place to hide for a few days.”
“Folsit, but we leave now. My mother will look after the child tonight and join us there tomorrow.” Jubaas looked at the house and tilted his head. “Who is he? Why do you have a child with you? That was to be my first question before I saw the blood.”
“He is Prince Janu, son of Princess Mira, who is dead.”
Jubaas nodded. “You haven’t even had time to name the dead, much less mourn them. But we must leave this very hour. If Praset discovers you’ve left the city, he’ll search every house within a day’s walk. We can hide you in Folsit, at least for a few days.”
“And what then?” asked Tal.
“A question for tomorrow.”
Jubaas and Tal went back in the small house. The girls had brought dry clothes for Siande, and they offered some to Tal.
“Thank you,” he said. “But we have to leave.”
“Where?” Siande asked.
“Folsit. Tonight.”
She looked at Janu. He sat at a small table and ate porridge with his hand.
“He’ll come tomorrow,” Tal said.
Jubaas whispered to his mother and the woman’s face grew pale. “Girls, eat and then gather your things, we will leave in the morning. Tonight we’ll play games with Janu. Your brother and his friends must leave and make a place ready for us.”
She offered Tal and Siande a few bites of porridge before they left, but neither had the stomach for food. They said their goodbyes and stepped back into the rain. The winds had died down, but the heavy blanket of clouds dropped a steady barrage of rain as they trudged through the muddy fields toward the bridge.
It was a dark and dreadful day, and the weather matched it as they walked.
Chapter 16
Tal smelled Folsit before he saw it. The smell of smoke and refuse reached his nose several minutes before the gate appeared through the rain-shrouded darkness. The gate stood closed, and Jubaas had to bang repeatedly to have a face appear at the top of the wall.
“You should have come sooner,” he said. “I’m not opening it for you.”
“We need shelter, Toli. Or maybe we can trade words tomorrow morning, when I’m soaked and angry.”
“Jubaas. Of course, I’ll be down.”
The bar behind the gate was lifted and the large wooden door eased open enough for the travelers to step through. Jubaas helped the gatekeeper place the heavy wooden bar back in place as Tal and Siande huddled against the wall to stay out of the wind.
Jubaas and the man he called Toli hugged and slapped each other on the arm.
“Why are you out?” Toli asked.
“A story for tomorrow. Is there room for us at Natro’s?”
“Plenty. I’m there, and Sivros and Fench, of course, but they are away tonight.”
Jubaas motioned for Tal and Siande. “Come, we’ll be dry and warm soon.”
They followed Jubaas down the street which led from the gate. What dim light there was faded to none as they crossed deep shadows cast from the close buildings. But it was only a few minutes when Jubaas turned down a small alley and opened a door.
“In. I’ll find a lamp,” he said.
Tal entered the house and took a deep breath of the warm, smoky air. He stripped off his cloak, and heard Siande’s wet garment hit the ground behind him.
“We can rest now,” she said.
Tal closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He was too tired to be angry, and too angry to be tired. The one night sleep he had since the trip to the Prophet hadn’t given him the rest he needed to flee the city in a storm which drenched him to his bones.
Jubaas returned with a lamp and lit it with a piece of straw he poked into the smoldering fireplace.
“I’ll bring dry clothes and blankets,” he said. “Then I’ll see if they have any food here.”
Tal sat down on a stool next to the wall and let his head fall back against the crude plaster.
“Tal,” Siande said. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t,” said Tal. He took hold of her hand and looked up at her. “You don’t have to say anything. We can mourn in silence.”
Jubaas returned with fresh clothes and a stack of well used blankets. He changed into a dry tunic and then searched the house for anything to eat. By the time he returned with two hard loaves of bread, Tal and Siande were wrapped in blankets in front of the fire. He set more wood on, and sat back, chewed the bread, and kept watch as they slept.
The next morning Tal woke on a straw-strewn dirt floor with an odorous blanket wrapped around him. His body convulsed as the memories of the day before assaulted his mind. He closed his eyes and wished to return to sleep, where he didn’t have to see the dead stare at him in his mind. At least he hadn’t dreamed of them. He considered why he didn’t have nightmares, he was sure he would have, but he had been so tired, he didn’t dream at all.
His stomach betrayed his need to sleep, though, and growled for attention. He sniffed and beyond the sour smell of the blankets and thick smoke from the fire, he could smell meat. He sat up and looked around the room.
“I told you once the juices hit the coals he would be up. A fat duck roasting always wakes a man,” a voice said.
Tal saw a tall, wiry man with wet hair and a mud-streaked cloaked pulled around him. He sat huddled by the far wall and spoke to Siande, who sat bundled up in blankets nearby.
“Who are you?” Tal asked. The man looked familiar, but he didn’t know him.
“My name is Tolibrit,” he said. “But everyone calls me Toli. My lord.” He added the last words in a rush.
Tal sat up and stretched his sore back. “Where is Jubaas?”
“He left a bit after dawn,” Siande said. “He said he would be back by noon.”
“He asked me to keep an eye on you,” Toli added. “Told me to make sure you didn’t leave.”
Tal rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Why would I leave? I have no place to go any more. Nobody who would take me.”
“We could go to Ampheres,” Siande said. “We could return Janu to his grandparents.”
Tal looked at the duck and pulled himself out of the blankets. “That duck smells good,” he said.
Siande frowned and leaned back. Tal knew she felt like he had ignored her, but he didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to do anything.
Toli handed Tal a
bowl and a knife as the prince looked around for some way to eat the duck. Tal cut off a leg and sat back down.
“We can hide here for a few days,” he said. “I need to think.”
He felt Siande sit beside him as he ate. She leaned against him and sang a song which mothers sing to their children when they are scared. Tal felt the tears form in his eyes. His mother had never sung that song to him. His mother had betrayed him and turned his world end over end.
Tal set the bowl down and stared at the coals. The hours pushed by as he alternated between thoughts he tried not to think about.
The door to the little house opened just after noon and Janu ran over and hugged Tal.
“Hello, Janu. Did you have a good time?” Tal asked the boy.
“I did, but I want to go home. I want mother.”
Tal looked at Jubaas and his mother as they entered the house. “How did you tell him?” Tal asked her.
Shala looked at Tal with sad eyes. “It’s best to do it quick. The sadness will be too much otherwise.”
Tal pulled Janu into his lap and looked at him. “You can’t go home; you can’t see your mother again.”
Tears welled up in Janu’s eyes. “Why? Why won’t you let me go to her.”
“She’s gone away,” Shala said. “She loves you very much, but where she goes, you can’t follow.”
Janu hugged Tal and cried on his chest. Shala and Siande both moved to take the boy, but Tal shook his head and cried with his nephew. This was the last family he had. The last one who hadn’t betrayed him.
He closed his eyes and saw a flash of amber light. In the flash he saw a wolf cub, orphaned in the woods, now part of his pack, and more wolves which cautiously made their way toward him. Tal pushed the images away, and just cried.
Tal woke in the night and saw Jubaas sat where Toli had. He watched Tal and motioned his head to a bowl on the floor. Bread, cheese, and a cold piece of meat lay there. Tal ate because his stomach growled, but he didn’t feel hungry. He didn’t feel anything. He closed his eyes and let sleep take him once more.
The next morning, Siande woke Tal. “You need to get up,” she said. “You have a visitor.”
“I don’t want to see anyone,” Tal said.