“How long has she been gone?” he asked impatiently.
Shura raised an eyebrow at him. “Not more than two hours.”
“Mmf,” he grunted and went back to pacing.
“Sit down and rest, Vaida, or you will reopen your wound, since you haven’t yet let me stitch it closed.”
“It’s fine,” he grumbled, even as he settled himself on the fallen tree again.
That wasn’t exactly a lie. It hurt… a lot. But it had only bled a little since he’d jarred it getting on the horse that morning and then again when they’d stopped. He’d probably be in more pain if he let Shura wield the needle on him than if he just left it to heal on its own, anyway.
Feeling the weight of someone’s stare, he glanced up to find Ravi studying him with concern. Even shadowed by his hood and obscured by the stringy strands of tangled auburn hair he hid behind, those gorgeous amber eyes caught the afternoon sunlight like jewels before the man quickly averted his gaze.
Liquid gold like brook-cooled ale after a hot summer day working in the fields back home.
Ugh. Dear gods, it’s come to this.
He was waxing poetic over a crabby little man’s eyes. Next, he’d be carrying a harp and skipping through the wildflowers.
“Shur, give me something to do,” he whined.
“Hush,” she hissed, and he was on the verge of growling at her when he realized she wasn’t looking at him and her body had tensed.
He followed her gaze, searching the trees until he finally spotted movement across the clearing. After a few tense moments, he recognized a familiar blond head and gray cloak and confirmed that she was alone.
Shura stood by his side practically vibrating like a coiled spring until he said, “Go on. We’ll wait here.”
Despite his recent concerns, she didn’t go running blindly toward Fara like some lovesick virgin. She swung in a wide arc from their location, moving silently but quickly through the undergrowth. Daks sometimes wondered if her people didn’t have some sort of innate magic, the way they could move with such deadly grace and stealth through even the roughest terrain, but he’d never sensed it if they did.
From their hiding place, mostly shielded from the clearing, he watched Shura approach Fara cautiously. Eventually, she must have decided all was safe, because she stepped out of the shadows and into the sunlight, startling the other woman and her horse. Daks grinned. She loved doing that to people.
The women exchanged a few words before Shura led the way back to their hiding place in a far more direct line than she’d taken out.
“Any success?” Daks called when they were within easy earshot.
“Yes and no,” Fara answered, blowing out a breath as she allowed Shura to take the reins of her mare and lead it to the others. “Reyan is not a large town,” she continued, closing the last few yards between them. “Not like Urmat. And having two members of the Thirty-Six in their midst has made everyone edgy. But I’m afraid we don’t only have them worry about. The people I talked to said the brothers have been given their own small contingent of soldiers, and they’re questioning anyone coming down from the North as well as patrolling the two riverbanks near town. I don’t think we’ll be able to get anywhere near a boat without being spotted and questioned.”
“And if we make a dash for it, the pain priests will likely be sent for,” Daks finished for her, frowning.
“So exactly what part of that is success?” Ravi squawked.
Shura narrowed her eyes at him, and Daks took a step forward, blocking their view of each other.
Despite Ravi’s tone, Fara’s grim expression lightened a little as she answered, “I’ve found Maran’s family. They are well-known and liked in the community… a great deal more than the soldiers and brothers at the moment. Their farm isn’t far up the Kun. We can keep to the forest until we find a safe place to cross. We might get a little wet again, but we should be given a safe place to rest and dry off on the other side.”
Daks pursed his lips. “You think they’ll be sympathetic?”
“Any time Maran has spoken of her family, it has been with pride,” she answered somewhat defensively. “I heard nothing in town that would make me think otherwise.”
“I’m sure they’re good people,” Shura gently interjected. “And they may dislike what is going on as much as the rest of us. I think what he’s asking is, do you believe they’ll be willing to take the risk of helping us? Because it is a risk. They have to live here once we’re gone.”
“They know what happened to Maran’s boy. They’ll help,” she replied confidently.
After meeting Shura’s questioning gaze, he gave her a small shrug, letting her know he’d accept her decision. Anything was better than sitting around doing nothing, and honestly, they didn’t have a lot of options. They could send Fara back to town for supplies and simply go around in hopes of finding better luck farther north. But that was about the only other option left to them if the waterways were being closely watched. He sure as hells didn’t want to risk a night crossing with pain priests nearby. Just the thought made him shudder and his stomach clench.
“Lead the way, Fara,” Shura said with a soft smile.
Daks shot a quick glance to Ravi. The man was worrying his lower lip, and a deep V had formed between his pretty eyes, but he didn’t say anything. He merely fell into line behind them as they moved to gather the horses and followed Fara upriver.
Crossing the Kun was not particularly pleasant. At least the river was still shallow and slow-moving, despite the icy snowmelt, so he only got wet up to his waist leading Horse over the rocky bottom. His chest tightened and his hands clutched convulsively on the reins the higher the water climbed, but luckily Shura was the only one who seemed to notice—because she was the only one craning her neck to check on him every five seconds. They were all shivering by the time they reached the far side, but the lure of solid ground and the possibility of a good, hot meal and a roof to sleep under tonight egged him on.
The family’s house and barns weren’t difficult to spot, once they reached the edge of the trees. The large stone-and-wood structures perched on a hill far enough from the river to be safe from floods, but close enough for easy access to the water for their crops. Despite Fara’s obvious faith in Maran’s family, she didn’t argue when Daks recommended she approach them on her own while they kept hidden. They were far enough from Reyan that there shouldn’t be any guard presence, but given their luck so far, he wasn’t taking any chances.
The woman was all smiles when she finally returned, easing the last of the tightness in Daks’s muscles that he hadn’t been able to work out through pacing the riverbank.
“They’ll help,” she said brightly, her cheeks flushed. “They recommend we wait until after dark and the extra laborers they’ve brought on for planting season have gone home. They’ll put us up in the house to avoid being seen by anyone outside the family. We’ll have plenty of hot food, beds, and warm water to wash in.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious. He found himself smiling along with Shura. He cut a glance to Ravi, who seemed oddly silent, but the man had his hood pulled forward and his head bent, so Daks couldn’t see any part of his face.
“I guess we wait, then,” Daks said into the silence, his smile fading a little.
AS FAR as they were from town, they still heard when the temple bell rang at sunset for evening prayers. Even in this overly-pious kingdom, farmers and other workers weren’t expected to travel to the temple at dawn and dusk, but they did have to stop whatever they were doing and sing one of the hundreds of interminable hymns the Brotherhood had concocted.
Daks hadn’t noticed much in the way of prayer from Fara before, probably because they’d been a bit preoccupied with running, but he saw her draw a little away from the rest of them now. He shot a glance at Ravi, but the man remained still and silent where he’d propped himself against a tree to wait.
Finally, Fara rejoined them, her face alight and smiling agai
n. “We should be able to go now. The workers will probably have headed home before the bells to sing with their families.”
Daks didn’t need to be told twice. He hopped to his feet and went to gather Horse’s reins while Shura and Fara collected the other two. The women had almost crossed the dirt road outside the tree line when Daks realized Ravi wasn’t with them. He swung around to find Ravi still sitting at the foot of the tree.
“Ravi, what are you waiting for? Let’s go,” he called.
“I can’t,” came the muffled reply.
“What’s wrong?” Shura said, coming back to him.
“I don’t know.”
He handed the reins to Shura and walked back to stand over Ravi’s huddled form. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Then what?” he asked, losing patience.
“You know what,” Ravi said with equal harshness, seeming to fold in on himself even more. “People? A house full of people I’ve never met? What do think is going to happen when I get near them? In case you’ve forgotten, there’s two pain priests only a few miles away. If something happens, do you want to take the chance they won’t find out?”
Daks grimaced and dragged a hand down his face. Ravi was right. He’d been so focused on a hot, hearty meal—with maybe some blessed ale to wash it down—a soft bed to sleep in, and the chance to clean up that he’d forgotten all about Ravi’s little Vision problem.
“Daks?” Shura called from where he’d left her.
“It’s fine,” he replied. “We’re just going to have to alter the plan a little.”
He dropped to one knee, grimacing at the pull on his wound. When Ravi finally met his gaze in the fading light, Daks murmured, “We won’t go in the house. We’ll keep clear.”
Ravi shook his head. “There’s no reason you all can’t. I can wait outside, in the barn maybe. You need to get that taken care of,” he said, nodding to Daks’s ribs. “I’ll be fine on my own.”
Daks’s lips curved. “What happened to not letting me out of your sight until you’re safely out of Rassa?”
Ravi rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. “I doubt you could sneak away on me. I’ll stick with the horses to make sure, though.”
“Come on,” Daks said, only wincing slightly as he rose to his feet again. “We’ll figure it out once we get closer. I’ll scope out one of the buildings farthest from the house and leave you there while we talk to the family. We’re all cold and damp. I think we can risk getting a little closer than this.”
He returned to Shura and took Horse’s reins.
“Let’s get going. I’ll explain on the way.”
This time, Ravi followed them as they trudged upward around a newly planted field toward the farm. When they neared the outbuildings, Daks kept his senses opened for any tingle of magic from Ravi—or from anyone else for that matter—but luckily nothing surfaced. Perhaps the gods were finally going to give them a break, though he didn’t dare say it out loud.
He’d explained the situation to the two women as they walked, while Ravi remained mute behind them. Shura had quickly agreed keeping Ravi away from others was the safer course, and Fara had only given Ravi an uneasy glance before nodding her acceptance as well. The woman was going to have to get over her obvious distaste for all things magical before she reached Scholoveld, or at least learn to school her expressions better. Her face showed way too much of what she was feeling, and the High Council would eat her alive.
Not my business, he reminded himself again.
RAVI COLLAPSED on the first bale of hay he found in the small barn Daks led him into, wrapping his cloak tightly around himself and hunkering down. He was so tired, he’d probably sleep for a week when they finally reached Samebar… if they ever reached it.
He’d assumed living in near-constant fear of his Visions for the last ten years and scratching out a meager existence on the streets of Rassat would have hardened him enough to make this journey, but he’d been so very wrong. He missed his found family. He missed the familiar places and people that made up his second home, such as it was. He even missed the smell of the city, which he never would have thought possible.
The others were talking quietly amongst themselves, but he didn’t bother to listen. They were the ones who’d deal with the family. He was so far out of his depth his input wouldn’t be of much use anyway. And right now he was the most problematic; best to just keep his head down.
“We’re going in to talk to the family, before they come in search of us.”
Daks’s voice coming from right above him shook him out of his thoughts enough to nod in acknowledgment before curling up and closing his eyes again. He probably shouldn’t risk sleep, but he could rest quietly until hopefully someone brought him something to eat. He had a long, lonely night ahead of him.
“Ravi?”
He jolted awake, his heart racing. A large shadow loomed over him, backlit by flickering lamplight. He blinked, and Daks’s scarred face came into focus. His normally shaggy hair was wet and combed flat against his head, making him look a little less disreputable than usual. Although that impression was probably sweetened by the bowl of steaming stew the man held out to him.
Ravi took the bowl and greedily shoveled a heaping spoonful into this mouth, mumbling a quick “Thank you” around chunks of potato, meat, and carrots in a thick, delicious gravy. He should take his time and savor the meal. He hadn’t eaten anything this good in a long time. But he couldn’t seem to stop cramming more in.
“You keep eating that fast, you’re going to get a stomachache,” Daks warned as he settled on the bale next to his.
He held out a chunk of bread, dripping in butter, possibly as incentive to heed his words, and Ravi stopped inhaling the stew long enough to accept it with another murmured thanks. Daks was probably right. He might regret eating this much later, but it sure felt like a tiny slice of Quanna’s gardens in the Beyond right now.
“There’s plenty more where that came from. Vasin, Maran’s uncle, has been quite generous. His harvest last year was apparently outstanding, so we needn’t feel bad taking what’s on offer,” Daks said as he eased back against a post and stretched out his legs.
“He’s all right with us here?” Ravi managed between slower bites.
Daks nodded. “Mostly because of Fara. It’s her mission he sympathizes with. But that’s good enough for me. Once you’ve eaten, I have a bucket of warm water and some soap and flannels for you to wash. They’ve agreed to clean and mend your clothes at the house, so they’ve sent along some spares for you to change into.”
He nodded toward a small pile of cloth and a covered wooden bucket on the ground. Ravi eyed it uncertainly as he finished mopping up the last of the stew with his bread, feeling shame heat his cheeks. The clothes weren’t rich or ostentatious, just serviceable linen and wool—probably someone’s hand-me-downs—but their quality far outstripped his own thin, ragged, patched, and stained garments. Maran’s family would likely prefer to burn whatever he gave them, if he agreed. Honestly, his clothes might disintegrate with a strong washing at this point anyway.
“I’ll wash and see to my clothes,” he said. “If they can provide needle and thread, I can tend to my own things.”
Daks sighed and sat up. “They’re not going to steal your clothes, Ravi. They’re mending my torn tunic now. I can tell you, they do good work, and they seem happy to ‘contribute to the cause’ in whatever way they can. You should let them.”
“Do they know what I am?” Ravi asked, deflecting.
“They do. I personally wouldn’t have shared that bit of information unless I had to. But Fara is apparently of high moral fiber so….” He shrugged.
He’d said that last as if the words left a bad taste in his mouth, and Ravi had to fight a small smile. He didn’t always appreciate the man’s pragmatism—and definitely not his partner’s—but it was useful where Mistress Sabin’s blind idealism was not.
When Ravi remained silent, Daks h
uffed and stood up. Ravi didn’t miss the hitch in the man’s breath or the way he favored his side, and he winced in sympathy.
“Look,” Daks continued, “I’m going to leave you the bucket and the rest. Use it however you like while I go get the bedding they offered. I’ll be back in a little while, and you can hand over the clothes or not… up to you.”
Once he’d gone, Ravi finished the last of his meal and then gladly availed himself of the warm water and soap. Such things were a luxury in Arcadia. Ordinarily, they washed in sea water or cold well water if they were willing to risk it, and not at all in winter. The air was still cold enough he was shivering by the time he pulled on the clean borrowed clothes, and he moved closer to the lamp Daks had left, if only for the little bit of warmth it shed. His cloak had several new tears in it and the hem was caked in dirt, further tempting him to hand it off to someone else and hope they could work a miracle on it, especially now that his full stomach was making him sleepy.
The sound of footsteps jerked his attention away from the sorry cloth in his lap in time to see Daks suddenly come to a halt at the edge of the lamplight. The man held an inordinately large stack of brown wool bundles in his thick arms, but it was his expression that caught and held Ravi’s gaze. Daks stood as if frozen, gaping at Ravi like he’d never seen him before. Ravi supposed this might have been the first time the man had seen him fully without his cloak, but that was hardly worthy of the wide-eyed stare he was receiving. The only really noteworthy feature he had were his eyes, and Daks had seen them plenty of times by now.
“What?” Ravi asked, shifting self-consciously.
Daks blinked and cleared his throat. “Uh, I guess I didn’t realize your hair had so much red in it. You, uh, look different.”
Ravi really wanted to ask if “different” meant good, but he bit his tongue. He didn’t care what this man thought about how he looked. He didn’t care what anyone thought as long as they left him alone.
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