by Cindy Dees
Justin took her by the arm and led her a little way away from the others. “Once, a long time ago, you offered to run away with me. To make a child and marry me. I have long regretted not taking you up on that offer.”
She smiled up at him sadly. “Once upon a time, I wished for nothing more than that with you. I would still love to settle down and have a family and be … normal. But my fate has not led me in that direction, and neither, it seems, has yours. Mayhap we will still find a way to be together and make that dream come true. But for now, both of us have other work to do. Go with Kadir and know you have my blessing.”
Justin let out what she interpreted as a sigh of relief. He said, “We’re both young yet. We have plenty of time to settle down and have that family we talked about. Know you take my heart with you wherever you go. If you ever have need of me, you have but to call me.”
“How will I go about doing that?”
“If you’re willing, Kadir can put a mark on you. A small one. A simple rune you can activate to summon me. The mark will act as a homing beacon I can follow to wherever you are.”
As hesitant as she was to wear any mark from a Mage of Alchizzadon—even if he was a former mage—she nodded in agreement. She could only hope the mark wouldn’t give Kadir some other power over her. It was a calculated risk, but if it meant keeping in touch with Justin, she was willing to take it.
“Where will you go, Raina?” he asked as the two of them strolled back toward the others.
“I need to find a zinnzari,” she replied. “They’re a type of elf widely thought to be extinct, but I’m sincerely hoping they’re not.”
Callisia commented casually, “The zinnzari are not extinct. They are bound to a tree.”
Raina was shocked. Carefully, hiding her eagerness lest she put off the dryad, she asked, “Do you know where to find them?”
“Of course. At their tree.”
“Where is their tree?”
“In the desert.”
Raina frowned. “I did not know trees grew in deserts.”
“Tetrakis trees form their own oases and can grow anywhere,” Callisia explained impatiently as if every child knew that. “And there are places, even in deserts, with water that nourishes other types of trees.”
“Are the zinnzari bound to their tree in the same way you’re bound to yours?” Raina asked. Not that she understood how dryads were bound to their trees either.
“No, silly human. The zinnzari were bound by Hemlocke.”
“Hemlocke?” she echoed.
“The green dragon.” A shrug from the dryad. “The zinnzari must return to their tree to resurrect.”
“Ah.” She made a sound as if she understood, but she didn’t at all. Dragons? Trees that could resurrect elves? And since when did any spirit have no choice in where it resurrected? Aloud, she asked, “Is it a tetrakis tree?”
This sent all the dryads into gales of laughter. Eventually, Callisia calmed enough to giggle, “No, silly. It’s a wake tree, of course.”
“A wake tree?”
Lakanos murmured, “They’re trees tied to the spirit realm. Near a wake tree, a person can sometimes see or hear a departed loved one and speak across the Veil with him or her. Hence the name wake tree.”
Ah. Wake as in a vigil for a loved one recently dead. She asked the dryads in general, “Where is this wake tree and its zinnzari?”
Callisia answered solemnly, “They abide in the bosom of the Wust.”
She knew dryads gloried in speaking in riddles, but this was getting annoying. Patiently, Raina asked, “The who?”
“I will speak no more of it. Terrible and fearsome is the Wust, and anger it I would not.”
Raina frowned and would have pressed further, but Lakanos caught her eye over Callisia’s shoulder and gave Raina a small shake of his head. Respecting his judgment, she bowed her head and said respectfully, “I thank you for your help and hospitality, Lady Callisia. You have done me and my friends a great honor.”
A trilling giggle. “I have, haven’t I?”
* * *
Their first night aboard the Karolus passed uneventfully, and morning dawned warm and sunny. Better, Will’s seasickness had abated.
As the sun rose in the sky, reflecting off the blessedly smooth sea, he shed first his cloak and then his armor, tabard, and outer shirt. The Merr crew stripped down to their bare chests, which glittered brightly in the sunshine. Whereas Sha’Li’s fine scales had a bit of raised texture to them, the Merr’s were larger and lay flat, more like fish scales.
Rosana also shed her outer layers of clothing, stripping down to a white linen camisole held up by thin straps. Will tried to keep his gaze off her shoulders, but failed. Her rose tattoos were prominent against her winter-pale skin, each of the four roses so delicately etched as to appear real. One was white, one red, one black, and the last, newest one was green. Rosana swore the green rose had just appeared on her skin when she’d touched a magical staff Aurelius had handed her. But Will had a hard time crediting that, and his grandfather refused to speak of it.
Will studied the mark as Rosana closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the sun. He’d never seen skin ink so finely drawn and could not imagine any artist being capable of such realistic detail.
They’d been soaking up the sun’s rays for a lazy hour when one of the other passengers, a shifty-looking man of middling age wearing a lot of jewelry and carrying a wicked, sharp-looking dagger in his belt, strolled past.
He stopped abruptly, staring at Rosana’s left shoulder.
Will reached for his staff, gathering a fistful of magic. “Move along, sir,” he said sternly.
“Don’t get your breeches in a wad,” the man said casually. “I was just looking at the roses. I haven’t seen the like in a long time.”
Will’s scowl deepened, and he came lightly to his feet, silently announcing his fitness and skill in combat.
Rosana pulled her long-sleeved blouse on as she stood up, too. “Where have you seen such roses before, sir?”
“Ah. You’re gypsy, then?” the man asked, sounding startled.
“Aye. And thee also?” she responded cautiously.
The man swept his hat off and made a grand bow to her, nose nearly at his knee. “My name is Luka, and I am a wandering gypsy soul. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
“I’m Sister Rosana of the Dupree Heart, and this is my good friend Will Cobb. Our other friends are lurking around here somewhere.”
He wished she would call him her beau or, better, her fiancé. That would back the flirtatious gypsy scoundrel off. Good friend sounded so … platonic. Cursing under his breath, he spied Rynn and gestured the paxan to come over. Sha’Li sidled closer, as well, although she stayed tucked behind a pile of barrels, mostly out of sight.
“Tell me where you’ve seen similar roses to mine,” Rosana asked eagerly.
“To answer that question properly, Sister Rosana of the fair cheeks and raven locks, I must introduce you to my traveling companion. Will you wait here while I fetch her?”
Her? Luka had a female companion? That was more like it. Will relaxed his death grip on his staff. The gypsy hurried away, and Will pulled on his shirt and buttoned it up.
Rosana was bubbly. “I’ve never met anyone with a marking like mine. A few people have heard of spontaneous roses, but this is so exciting! Maybe they can tell me which clan of gypsies I might belong to.”
“You know nothing of your origin at all?” They’d never talked about her family, or lack thereof, and he’d never given it much thought. She was simply his Rosana.
“Nothing. I came to the Heart as an infant after the first Night of Green Fires. I always guessed my parents were killed by the Boki in the raids of that incursion. And I know I’m gypsy. That’s all I have of my past.”
As alone in the world as he might feel now, at least he knew who his parents had been. That they’d loved him unconditionally. What their faces looked like and their voic
es sounded like. He had a mental treasure chest of tiny memories that added up to a complete picture.
For Rosana’s sake, he pasted a smile on his face when he spied Luka coming back toward them. But the smile slipped as Will spied Luka’s companion. The woman had to be approaching a hundred years old. She looked like a fully dehydrated version of a human beneath that multihued scarf enveloping her head and upper body. A faint jingle of coins around the old woman’s waist declared her to be gypsy as well. Her eyes were dark and hard as if she’d seen the worst that life had to offer, yet had survived.
“Sister Rosana, Will Cobb, this is Baba Razlet, my traveling companion.”
“Well met,” Will mumbled as Rosana dipped into a deep curtsy.
For her part, the old lady chuckled. “Gor, don’t go bowing to me, child. I’m lucky I’m not in slavery or prison. I’m not of high enough station to merit being curtsied to.”
Rosana smiled up at the woman, her young eyes sparkling. “It is rare that I meet an elder of my own kind. Please forgive my enthusiasm.”
“It does my heart good, child, to see a young gypsy face. Our kind keep their heads low these days and rarely go abroad or congregate.” Baba Razlet eased down onto a burlap bag filled with some grain-like substance, and Rosana leaped forward to take Baba’s right arm as Luka eased her down by the left. Once the elderly woman was situated, Rosana sank down at her feet like an excited child. Will couldn’t fault her. This was the first time Rosana had likely even seen a grandmotherly figure of her own race, let alone gotten to sit and talk with one.
“Show me your roses, child,” Baba rasped.
Rosana pulled back the collar of her blouse to expose the four roses.
“Four?” Baba Razlet exclaimed.
Luka spoke up apologetically. “I thought you would accuse me of lying if I told you there were four.”
“I would have, you scoundrel.” She shook a crooked, bony finger at him reprovingly. Using that same finger, she reached out and touched Rosana’s red rose lightly.
Rosana lurched as the rose abruptly glowed a little, a faint red aura that made the mark seem more three-dimensional than two. The woman touched the white rose next, and a faint white aura glowed for a moment. Hesitantly, the woman touched the green rose, and a bright green aura rose from Rosana’s skin.
“So beautiful,” Baba Razlet breathed. “Never have I seen the green rose come to life.” Almost as an afterthought, the woman touched the final rose, the black one.
It, too, came to life, but with a dark energy that traced the black petals across Rosana’s skin.
Baba Razlet yanked her finger back hard. “It’s like that, then, is it? Where did you get the black rose, and how did you wake it?”
Rosana stared up at the woman. If Will wasn’t mistaken, that was fear glinting in her eyes. “I’ve always had it. As long as I can remember. As for waking it up, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Will’s brows twitched toward one another. That sounded like deception in Rosana’s voice. The old woman harrumphed as if she didn’t believe Rosana’s answer either.
“Where do you know the roses from?” Rosana asked.
“Certain members of the gypsy race bear them as marks. Among our kind, they are known as the old ones and are thought to have the purest gypsy blood. There are precious few of you left.”
Luka piped up. “I haven’t seen the roses since my brother’s wife died, and that was nearly twenty years ago.”
Baba Razlet asked Rosana, “How old are you, child?”
“I’m twenty summers old.”
Luka interjected, “That would have made you a babe during the first Night of Green Fires.”
Rosana nodded. “That’s correct. My parents were killed, and I was given to the Heart to raise.”
Will noted that a strange look passed across Luka’s face, and the gypsy man tilted his head, staring intently at Rosana. Will edged a little closer to her side.
Baba scowled at Rosana’s tabard. “You should have been raised by your own kind. Them Heart types know nothing about being gypsy. They couldn’t teach you all you need to know.”
“Like what?” Rosana asked.
“Like the importance of family. The name of your clan. Your place in the world.”
Will suspected Rosana’s place in the world was considerably better as a Heart member than as a gypsy, but he refrained from saying so aloud.
“Do you know your exact day of birth?” Luka asked abruptly.
“The high matriarch told me I was born in March.”
“On the tenth day of the month, perchance?” Luka asked.
Will started along with Rosana, who said, “That’s correct! How did you guess?”
“My brother had a daughter born on that date. His wife and baby daughter were said to have died in the first Boki Insurrection. And you are the living image of his wife.”
Will stared. This man knew Rosana’s mother? And furthermore was brother to Rosana’s father?
“Who?” Rosana choked. “Who were my parents?”
“You have to understand,” Luka said cautiously. “Certain people would love to find me and send me to an Imperial prison. I must be careful to whom I reveal my identity.”
Will blurted, “For the love of the Lady, tell the girl who she is. If you are, indeed, family, she will certainly not turn you over to the Empire.”
“What about the rest of you?” Luka challenged.
Rynn spoke up soberly. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we have no great love for the Empire.”
“How am I to believe you?” Luka asked suspiciously.
“If we convince you we are enemies of the Empire, will you tell Rosana who her parents are?” Rynn countered.
“Aye.”
To Will’s shock, Rynn reached up and removed his headband, revealing his third eye. Baba Razlet and Luka both sucked in their breath. Obviously, they understood the implications of it.
“Very well, then,” Luka said, his voice pitched low to carry only a few feet. “My name is Luka Beltane, and my brother was Landsgrave Gregor Beltane. He and his wife, Lillianna, were your parents.”
Rynn snapped his fingers. “That’s it! I knew I had seen Rosana’s face before.” The paxan turned to her. “I met Gregor and Lillianna once, just after they were married. Luka is correct. You are the very image of her.”
Rosana threw her arms around Rynn’s neck in a hug, and jealousy flared in Will’s gut like a gout of acid. Cursed paxan had better not try to steal her from him, or blood would spill.
Rynn gently set Rosana away from him, which mollified Will only slightly. “This explains a great deal.”
“Like what?” Will asked suspiciously.
“Like why my mentor told me to protect Rosana’s life at all costs.”
Luka demanded, “Who is this mentor?”
Rynn replied smoothly, “No enemy of yours. He told me it was of utmost importance to protect Rosana’s blood. Now I understand what he meant.” Rynn turned to Rosana. “You hail from one of the oldest known gypsy bloodlines.”
Baba Razlet added, “And one of the purest.”
Suddenly, Rosana looked stricken. “All those years, my father was alive. If only I had known…” Her voice trailed off, thick with tears.
Will said gently, “At least you knew him a little, if only from a distance.”
“Gregor was a fine man. The best in our family,” Luka said sadly.
Will murmured, “When we get home, you should speak with my grandfather. He knew your father—and mother, for that matter—very well. He will tell you all you wish to know about them.”
Rosana dashed tears off her cheeks. “It is not the same as knowing them myself.”
“It’s better than nothing. I take comfort in hearing stories of my parents from him.”
“You knew your parents!” Rosana snapped.
Stung, he moved away from her to lean over the rail and stare into the black waters of the sea. It wasn�
��t his fault his parents had died. He’d tried to get them to run away with him, but they’d refused. They’d insisted he continue their quest, and that waking the Sleeping King was more important than their lives. It was the only reason he continued this madness and didn’t walk away from it this minute. He had sworn a vow not to let their deaths be in vain, and he would not go back on it.
CHAPTER
21
Startled to be awake and seemingly back in control of his body, Number One blinked. A voice whispered in his mind, Those whom you seek flee from you. Follow them, warrior.
Of course he would follow his quarry. It made perfect sense to do so. He gripped his white-bladed sword more tightly and strode out of the woods into the village, his two companions in tow.
He shook his head to clear it of the cobwebby feeling. Where was he? It looked like the worst sort of frontier town, rife with smugglers, mercenaries, and just enough Imperials to cause trouble.
“Where are we?” Three murmured fuzzily.
For a moment, it struck him as odd that they weren’t sure where they were. But then the uncertainty evaporated, replaced by that whisper urging him to move with haste and not let his prey slip away.
He looked down at Three and mumbled, “Do you know who I am?”
“Of course I do. You’re our leader.”
“And me?” Two mumbled. “Who am I?”
“You’re my biggest pain in the neck,” Three quipped.
“Where are we?” Two echoed.
“You tell me. You’re the scout,” One replied.
It was actually Three who piped up. “Yon massive body of water looks like the Estarran Sea. The sun is going down, and it’s behind us, which means we’re on the west coast.”
“How did we get there?” One exclaimed.
Two was frowning. “Forgive me if I sound mad, but I could swear I heard a voice tell me to follow someone.”
One matched her frown. “I thought I heard something similar a moment ago.”
“Me, as well,” Three added. “Let’s have a look around.”
It didn’t take Two’s outstanding scouting skills or Three’s equally outstanding tracking skills to spot the docks, or for One to be sure that whoever they were supposed to be following had left these selfsame docks by boat very recently. Now why would he be so sure of that?