“I see…” Marcuset murmured, and he relaxed.
The strain in the room loosened, and Raimie allowed his tensed shoulders to lower.
“Capturing the perpetrators would have been preferable, Your Majesty,” Marcuset continued. “Then, we could have held a tribunal, allowed law to decide their punishment rather than solely you.”
“If we’d proceeded down that path, we never could have dispensed justice,” Eledis interrupted with a grimace, “and no matter how much I may have disliked the victim, he deserved justice.”
“How can you say that?!” Marcuset asked. “You’ve always told me the law is fair. That a tribunal composed of fellow soldiers would always find-”
“The victim wasn’t technically part of our military structure,” Eledis interrupted.
“A civilian? What was a civy doing fighting our battle?”
“There’s also prejudices to consider.”
Marcuset’s lips pursed, and he waved for the report. His eyes quickly scanned the page, and all color drained from his face.
“Shit,” he murmured.
“What is it?” Aramar demanded. “What am I missing?”
“The victim was Kheled,” Raimie informed his father.
He hoped his discomfort with misleading these men would translate as grief. Please, please, let it be so because his family would easily detect any feigned emotions on his part.
“Oh, Alouin! Son…”
Aramar tried to touch his arm, but Raimie quickly stepped away.
“Of course, I wasn’t solely contemplating justice when I killed those men,” he said. “They decided to murder Khel because he is- was a primeancer. I couldn’t very well allow such a decision to go unchecked, considering how it would impinge upon my own safety. If I hadn’t exacted swift and vicious retribution, my lack of action would have been interpreted as weakness. I’d have opened myself to attack from those who hate primeancers. I already face the threat of assassination from Doldimar and his followers. I wasn’t planning to add another group to the list of those who want me dead.”
“Very… sensible of you, Your Majesty.” Marcuset’s face had creased with concern.
He waited for someone else to speak, but the others only watched him, judging what they saw. What would grief-stricken Raimie do now?
“If we’ve nothing else to discuss, I’d like to find Ren now.”
Sooner would be better than later. Preferably before the news reached her.
“I’ve a question regarding your decision to keep an Overseer alive,” Eledis remarked. “Seems a needless risk.”
“Really, Eledis?” Aramar hissed. “Is this necessary?”
“I think so,” Eledis replied. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Raimie almost laughed aloud. He’d inherited his lack of social graces from somewhere. Eledis would make the perfect candidate as the donor. If he must deal with this now, however, might as well get it over with-
Oswin quietly coughed behind him, and he twisted toward the bodyguard. “What?”
“Use me, sir,” he whispered so quietly even Raimie barely heard him.
‘Thank you,’ Raimie mouthed.
“Oswin will answer any and all further questions,” he informed the others without facing them. “He was with me throughout the assault after Khel-” Raimie pointedly cleared his throat. “After Khel and I opened the gate. If you’ll excuse me.”
The door thumped closed behind him, but he’d almost escaped the house by that point.
How had Ren’s relationship to Kheled so thoroughly slipped his mind? If she heard the news and believed her brother dead for even a second…
He shouldn’t have delayed meeting with his family.
His first stop was to her home, but no one answered his knock. Her absence wasn’t that surprising. Ren was always busy with something.
Raimie wasn’t quite sure of what her role in Tiro consisted, but he knew it involved many meetings with people shrouded in cloth as well as forays into the woods outside. Her free time was few and far between, and he’d claimed much of it recently.
He tried the tavern next. Pipe smoke and rowdy conversation hit Raimie as soon as he stepped inside.
For an instant, the past asserted its hold on his sense of time, and Ren, her body relaxed from drink, leaned over the chair in which he lounged. The constant current of unease which lingered when he was near her had long since dissipated into alcohol's haze. Her hair fell like a curtain to either side of his face, and right before her lips met his, she danced away, laughing and then happily screeching when he’d given chase.
When the present scooted the past to the side, he crossed those same sticky planks to the bar at a minutely slower pace. The barkeep greeted Raimie with a nod, hands busily serving drinks and cleaning glasses.
“Ho, Raimie! Howe was yur little baettle?” His thick accent made the question near unintelligible.
“Successful, Sigemond. Have you seen Ren?”
“Su abrupt, friend! Must haeve been gud if first thing asked fur is woeman. I’ve not seen. Perhaps try atop gaete?”
Raimie tapped the bar appreciatively. “I’ll do that. Thank you.”
The barkeep slid a tumbler of brandy to him. “Fur yu, before yu go. Heard about friend. Su sorry. Bring glass baeck when dune.”
“Thanks.”
As he left, Raimie handed the brandy to a patron. Sigemond had heard. Ren must know too. Gods, how would he approach her to ensure she didn’t kill him before he could say his piece? That woman was terrifying when angry!
Calm down.
A barkeep’s job was to know a town or city’s gossip before anyone else. Just because he’d heard didn’t mean Ren had. Raimie still a chance to find her first, but it wouldn’t last long if he stood around dawdling.
Raimie flew down Tiro’s streets, a streak of flesh and light. People cursed him in his wake, but he couldn’t care less. The gate stole his focus.
He sprinted up the gatehouse’s stairs. Pulleys and winches to leverage the stone doors open flashed by, and before long, he’d reached the top.
Stumbling, Raimie collided with Keltheryl before he could come to a stop. His friend rocked at the impact but otherwise, didn’t move. Panic claimed his features, mitigated only somewhat by relief at Raimie’s arrival.
“Help,” he croaked.
Raimie stepped around his friend, and his stomach dropped. Ren sat atop one of the doors, her legs dangling over its side. A point on the horizon claimed her attention, and sunset’s gold caressed her flawless skin, shining on her dark mane. Tear marks lined her cheeks, and she raised a flask to her lips, drinking deeply. She wobbled, returning the flask to her lap, and Keltheryl gasped, but that seeming imbalance didn’t concern Raimie. He’d seen her drunk before, and no matter how unsteady she might seem, she never fell.
“I’ll lead, but you’re coming right behind me,” Raimie informed his friend.
Without waiting for a reply, he walked the balance beam of stone. When he reached her side, Ren raised her face to him, tears threatening to fall from her eyes once more.
“Is it true? Is he dead?”
“There was an… incident, but-” Raimie began.
Ren burst into tears. “I knew I should have gone with you! He needs someone to watch him. He can be- was so oblivious sometimes,” she sobbed. “Why did you ask me to stay? I can fight!”
“I don’t trust Dury. I needed someone he loves and whom I trust to watch him, but Ren, Khel is-”
“Did you kill the bastards who murdered him?” she demanded. “You’d better say yes, Raimie.”
“Yes. Ren-”
“Good. I hope they died screaming. I hope their souls never-”
“REN!” Raimie shouted. “This is Keltheryl.”
Short and sweet. Otherwise, she’d never allow him a word in edgewise.
“I’m not up to meeting strangers right now, Raimie. Send him away.”
“No, he-”
“All right, I’ll
go,” Keltheryl said.
What was with this family and interrupting him? And what did his friend think he was doing? If Keltheryl abandoned him with Ren…
His friend stepped off the door’s edge, and Raimie’s heart stopped. Keltheryl fell for two seconds, and in that time, every possible outcome flashed through Raimie’s head. Broken legs, a snapped spine, internal damage from organs jarring loose.
White light flashed, and Keltheryl landed with a soft roll. He quickly scanned for witnesses and finding none below, waved at the two above.
“You found another primeancer,” Ren said. “Bully for you.”
She took another swig.
“Ren, that’s Keltheryl. Keltheryl,” Raimie told her.
She smacked her lips, head tilted in contemplation, and when realization hit, she leaped to her feet.
“That’s Khel? My brother?” she pointed at Keltheryl.
His friend waved once more.
“There was an incident,” Raimie explained. “People tried to kill him, and they almost succeeded. To keep him safe, we thought it best if Kheled, the primeancer, died, at least for a time. Your brother shape changed. He’s Keltheryl, the human, for now.”
“Why didn’t you say something?!” Ren shrieked.
“I tried! You kept interrupting mpf.”
Her lips were soft and warm and surprising, as was her body clinging to his. A rush of queasiness and prickling skin quickly faded once the initial shock of her attack diminished. When he revealed the deception, Raimie had expected a smack but not one like this. He melted, encircling her waist in his arms. Her mouth opened, and the kiss deepened, her hands brushing up his back to tangle in his hair. The moment stretched, full of warmth, comfort, and some small part passion.
Someone cleared his throat behind Raimie, and they broke apart. Ren reached around him to swat at Keltheryl.
“You made me worry, jerk!”
Keltheryl rubbed his chest where her hand had landed. “I see how it is. He gets kissed while the brother you thought dead gets assaulted. Seems fair.”
Ren blushed. “I’m glad you’re alive,” she mumbled.
“Let’s get off the gate so you two can properly greet one another,” Raimie suggested. “I’d rather not be stuck in between when that happens.”
“Agreed.”
The three of them took the long way down, and when the narrow staircase opened into the landing at the gatehouse’s base, Raimie stepped to the side while Ren and Keltheryl folded one another in an embrace. They held a quiet conversation out of Raimie’s earshot which ended with Ren sniffling and swiping at her eyes.
“Drinks?” she asked her brother and him.
“Drinks,” they confirmed.
* * *
Sigemond slid another round to Raimie, and he carefully balanced them to the table the three had claimed.
“One ale, one whiskey, and one brandy.” He distributed the drinks with little fanfare.
As usual, he was the least drunk of his companions, or at least, that’s how it appeared.
Manically giggling at some private joke, Ren almost fell from her chair when she reached for her ale. Keltheryl laughed alongside his sister, occasionally making deprecating comments not only at Raimie and Ren’s expense but Creation’s as well, regardless of who might hear.
Brief moments surfaced, however, where Keltheryl betrayed he might not be as intoxicated as he seemed. When a thoroughly drunk patron stalked over to make trouble and a single, burning glare from Keltheryl sent him scurrying. When Ren knocked her drink over and he righted the glass before a single drop was spilled.
He certainly seemed drunk as he pounded Raimie’s back, lauding his friend’s accomplishments.
“Then he picked the lock!” Keltheryl roared with laughter, though why his friend found this funny Raimie would never know. “Don’t know when he learned to do- to do that, but it saved our asses!”
Raimie took a sip of his drink. It burned going down, but the fire pleasantly warmed his belly once there. This brandy was only his second drink versus their four or was it five? Fuzz only now collected in his thoughts. He might have kept up with the siblings’ voracious appetite if every form of alcohol he’d ever tasted hadn’t left an awful sensation on his tongue. Not that their celebration was a contest!
“Keltheryl! Keep your voice down!” Raimie hissed.
Kheled, not Keltheryl, had been the one to guard him while he picked the lock on Da’kul’s gate. Hopefully, no one would notice his friend’s mistake.
“You see?” Keltheryl waved a hand at him. “He looks out for me even now.”
One of Ren’s cloth-enclosed minions stepped into the tavern, wrapped head turning back and forth. Raimie groaned, but he raised a hand, shaking it to get the person’s attention. Even drunk as she was, Ren would rather hear whatever her minion had to say, and she’d be furious with him if he deliberately ignored the interruption.
The cloth-wrapped figure stalked across the tavern, leaning to whisper in Ren’s ear. She snorted and violently coughed, face growing red from the attempt to clear her throat. Shooting to her feet, she darted from the tavern.
“What did you tell her?!” Raimie asked, but the minion refused to respond.
“Pay the tab,” he snapped at Keltheryl.
“With what money?” his friend asked, but Raimie had already departed in a flash of light.
He caught up to Ren at the gate. “What’s going on?” he panted.
“Hush, you,” she said, shoving a finger to his lips.
Raimie planned to protest, but before he could, the stone doors cracked open. When they’d split wide, men and women poured inside. A motley collection of various weapons hung from them, and dirt and grime, the unwelcome traveling companions of those long on the road, coated every inch of skin.
A decidedly dejected attitude hovered over the men and women. Feet trudged as they passed Raimie and Ren, and many eyes were downcast, fixed on the dirt. An occasional melancholy smile stole across their faces, as of ones returned to a familiar place after a time of failure.
Ren hadn’t noticed the air of loss. She impatiently hopped from foot to foot, scanning faces as they came into view. As the flood died to a trickle, she nervously twisted her hair around her fingers. One last person stepped through the gate, and Ren lit up like the sun.
The object of her delight also carried the same weight of defeat which dragged on his companions, but resignation intermingled with it as well. His shock of black hair matched Ren’s flying locks, but his blue eyes sharply contrasted her beautiful absence of pigment. Raimie couldn’t help but notice the conspicuous muscles in the other man's arms, muscles he lacked, when Ren was swept into a tight hug and spun round. The stranger kissed the top of her head with eyes closed, breathing her in.
“Care to introduce me?” Raimie asked.
The hostility in his voice was disconcerting. He’d no reason to dislike this man he’d never met, but irrational hatred lurked. The stranger’s eyes snapped open, fixing on him, and Raimie experienced a brief instance of recognition before it faded.
“Mmmm!” Ren said into the man’s chest.
She shoved away, and he reluctantly released her.
“I’m sorry, Raimie! Excitement overruled manners for a moment,” she apologized. “This is my adoptive older brother, Kylorian. Ky, this is Raimie, my… friend.”
Grinning at her blush, Raimie shallowly bowed. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Kylorian said, but his tone told a different tale.
“I missed you!” Ren exclaimed. She hugged her brother from the side.
“And I, you.”
“How did the negotiations go?” Ren asked him.
“Do you think it wise to discuss them in front of him?” Kylorian asked.
It’s all right. He only just met you. Of course, he doesn’t trust you.
“Who, Raimie?” Ren asked. “Don’t worry about him. He’s completely trustworthy!”
“F
orgive me, but we’ve just met. I can’t discuss matters concerning Tiro’s security while he’s here.”
See?
“I can leave-” Raimie started.
“I’ve handled the city’s defenses in your absence, Ky,” Ren chuckled. “I think you can trust my assessment of Raimie.”
“Come on, Ren. Since when have you been a good judge of character?” Kylorian asked. “Or are we forgetting Josenik?”
Ren shrank in on herself, and the expression of hurt on her face made Raimie bristle.
“Good gods, man! Is that any way to speak to your sister?”
Again, Kylorian’s eyes met his, and again, a brief flash of recognition swept over Raimie.
“Gods?” the other man asked. “As in more than one? Do you refute Alouin’s existence?”
Raimie cocked his head. Where had that question come from?
“Of course Alouin is real!” I’ve met him. “He may or may not be a god, but he’s most definitely real, the erratic little bugger. It was only an expression!”
Kylorian stiffened. “An expression only ever employed by primeancers. It’s a reference to their gods of Ele and Daevetch. You’d do well to remove it from your language.
“First of all,” Raimie replied, battling rising anger, “Ele and Daevetch are not gods, merely powerful forces of nature. Second, I’ll speak as the situation requires, thank you, and third, I believe you owe your sister an apology. Did you fail to see the hurt on her face after your remarks on her competency? A quality of hers I’d say more than satisfies expectations.”
Curse those two rounds of brandy! They were making it exceedingly difficult to control his tongue.
Ren gently slid her hand into his, curling her fingers against its back. “Thank you, Raimie,” she murmured. “Ky has nothing to apologize for. Perhaps we should go our separate ways for the evening. Try this again in the morning once alcohol and tempers aren’t so high.”
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