“See what?” asked Halas. “A burning ship that still smells of the corpses of men we knew and lived with? No, I would not see that again.”
“Then let us steer clear of it,” said Desmond.
The episode with the children put an end to their leisurely rides, so Halas took to watching Aeon, wandering about the garden or the house in a daze. Having found a temporarily safe haven, all humor seemed to have left the boy, and now he was just trying to cope. Though Jaden tried to cheer him up, Aeon never seemed to warm to the man. He spoke in depth only of the mission, telling Jaden very little personal information of himself or Tormod. Halas volunteered nothing more than Aeon had, and let him be.
Garek and Des seemed no worse for wear; in fact, Garek seemed to be happier than Halas had seen him in a long time. He and Jaden were getting along wonderfully. Garek followed Harves around like a lost puppy, eating up every story, every word with never a second thought. Jaden, to his credit, seemed to enjoy the attention.
Desmond occupied a happy middle ground. Halas had the impression that his friend liked being in Earlsfort. Des spent much of his time just wandering the city, taking in the sights. “I think I like the air the most,” he said one day. “It’s fresher than that at home.”
Halas just laughed. “What a strange thing to pick up on,” he said. Des grinned.
“What about you? Our lovely traveling companions are at either end of the spectrum, I’d say. Where does Halas see himself?”
“I’m not sure,” Halas said. “Earlsfort certainly is a peaceful place, and Jaden is a wonderful host…but I don’t think it compares to home.”
“What makes you say that?”
Halas shrugged. He’d thought the answer was obvious. “Well, Cailin’s there.”
Desmond rolled his eyes. “Oh, grow up.”
“I can’t tell you how much I miss her.”
“But not for lack of trying, right?”
Halas pushed him. Desmond knocked the hand away and lunged. Laughing, they spilled over the porch, into the yard. Halas wrapped his arm around Desmond’s neck and held him there. Desmond tried to pry free, but Halas pushed him away and sat against a lemon tree, holding his hands out in submission.
They sat like that for a moment, the sun beating down heavily. Desmond tried to shield his eyes from it with a hand, but finally had to turn so that he sat next to Halas. “She’s a great girl,” he said. “You’re lucky to have her.”
“She is,” Halas said. “You know I never got to say a proper goodbye? On the sixteenth, when we found out we weren’t to leave yet—I never spoke to her after that. I went around Cordalis that night trying to find her, but I could not.”
“I remember. Her father set the dogs on you?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Write her a letter. Ask Jaden to send it.”
Halas started. The thought of writing her a letter had not occurred to him. It’s so simple! How had he not thought of it?
“Don’t kick yourself. You’ll see her again, when we’re finished with this whole Temple business. I promise.”
“And what makes you say that? This is…, Desmond, this is dangerous. We’ll undoubtedly see Raazoi again, if even we survive the journey itself.”
“We will. And if we see Raazoi, we’ll kill her. Then we’ll be legendary heroes and become rich. You’ll return home in a parade and Cailin will fall instantly into your arms. Possibly naked, depending on how large the parade is. Pun most certainly intended.”
Halas laughed. “I wish I had your confidence, Des. How are you so certain?”
“Because,” Desmond said, “Nothing’s going to happen to you, or Garek. I won’t allow it.”
Halas didn’t know how to acknowledge that. Words seemed too little. Any thank you or a response in kind seemed petty and insincere. Halas nodded, clapped Desmond on the shoulder. Petty or not, he had to say something. “Desmond, you know I’ll do the same for you.” He instantly regretted speaking. The words were bitter in his ears.
“I know.”
A bird called sharply from down the coast. Halas tried to sit there, enjoying an afternoon in the sun with Desmond, but he could not bear it. After only a few minutes, he rushed into the house and sat down with a quill and paper, scribbling like a madman. Halas was used to writing with a simple pencil, so the quill was difficult to use, but after twice spilling the ink he decided to take it slow. Cailin wasn’t going anywhere. He dipped the quill carefully into the inkwell and began anew, on a fresh scrap of paper.
Dearest Cailin,
I am so sorry that it took you so long to hear from me. I feel stupid. I’ve been missing you so dearly I cannot stand it. Finally, Desmond told me to write to you. How could I have missed such an obvious answer? It seems silly! I don’t even know where to begin, Cailin. So much has happened. I should start by saying that I am all right, though I once again am so sorry you haven’t heard from me. Our ship was attacked by Queen Anaua. Apparently, Prince Aeon himself was onboard. He’s on a mission, you see. Someone seeks to destroy Aeon the Great’s Temple of Immortals. Garek, Des and I managed to get the prince clear and we’re living with one of my father’s friends in Earlsfort. We’re outlaws!
I know I told you I would be back in six months, but this may not be the case. Aeon’s mission is to protect the Temple, and I’m going along with him. I miss you and I want nothing more than to be with you right now, but I have to go. I cannot turn my back on something so important. I pray you understand, and you know I don’t pray often.
You’re going to start hearing rumors soon, if you haven’t already. It would not be wise to reply to this letter. Can you tell father and Conroy that we’re all right? I suppose Desmond’s family would like to know as well. Don’t believe the rumors. They’re lies. We have not kidnapped the prince. We are not murderers, or traitors, or spies. I do not know what they’re saying about us, but I’m sure it is colorful. It is fun to make up stories about people. Do you remember?
That’s all I can say for that subject. I miss you, Cailin, so much. I love you more than anything in the world and I cannot wait to be back in your arms. Every day we are apart is a day ruined. I will come home as soon as this business is resolved. I love you.
Forever Yours, Halas
He slipped the letter into an envelope and went downstairs. Jaden sat in the room with all the red sofas, deep into a book. Halas sat across from him.
“Hello, Halas.” Jaden spoke without looking up.
“Hello.”
“Something I can help you with?”
“I’d like to send a letter home. I think things are going to start getting bad there if this whole situation should come to light. I want my family to know I am safe.”
Jaden laid his book down in his lap. Try as he might, Halas could not read the man’s expression. “Halas, do you know how dangerous that could be?”
Halas nodded. “Yes. But I want her to know I’m all right.” Jaden’s face immediately changed, brightened, into a smile. “Her?”
“Yes, her.”
“Can you trust her?”
“I can.”
“All right. I know the pains of young love. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re not running hell-bent for Cordalis instead of continuing with this mission of yours. Your father would be proud.”
Halas shrugged. He wanted to go back to Cailin, certainly, but this Temple business seemed so very important. The thought of her thinking Halas was dead, or worse, chilled him. She deserved to know, and Halas knew she would keep it a secret.
“But we cannot trust a normal messenger with this, not when you’re so highly sought after by the authorities.”
Halas had an answer for that as well, but he was hesitant to bring it up. He could see Harves being angry at the suggestion. Still, there was nothing for it. Cailin had to know. Anything less was unacceptable. “Would Tom go?”
Jaden’s smile faded. He lowered his head and sighed. “I was thinking the same thing. He would if I asked him, and I’ve been lookin
g for a reason to get him away from the house should this whole mess come crashing down on my head. I suppose it would be for the best.”
Relief filled Halas, who had expected an argument. He looked at Jaden, who did not seem to mirror the feeling. No, the man appeared to have gained five years in the time it had taken him to decide to send his friend away. Halas looked at his knees, ashamed, but it wasn’t his decision to make. It was Jaden’s.
“Yes, I’ll send him out. He’s loyal; he’ll get it there no matter what. Can you go find somewhere to be, Halas? I’d like to continue reading, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.”
Halas left the room. He tried to put himself in Jaden’s position, but found he could not. The only gnome Halas had any close proximity with was Conroy’s, and that gnome was an unpleasant, bitter creature. He could not imagine trusting one with such an important thing as Cailin’s letter, nor could he imagine such bitter remorse at the idea of separation.
But if Jaden felt he could trust Tom, then Halas could too. He felt comforted that Cailin would know what was happening, but he wondered what would happen next. Soon they were to leave, abandoning all feelings of safety and security with Jaden Harves. But after his conversation with Des, Halas was beginning to think that wasn’t entirely true.
There was little planning that could be done. Jaden searched for caravans, but so few moved about this late in the year. Halas couldn’t hope to assist him with that work; it was entirely local and relied on Jaden’s own friends and connections. This left the four friends with precious little to do. They sparred, they explored, they talked. Every so often Garek would force them into a game of riddling, something he was getting increasingly good at; he’d been learning new riddles from Jaden. Contrary to what he’d said earlier, Halas found he wanted to go down to the docks. He wanted to see the aftermath of their battle, and news had spread across the city that it was indeed a battle.
It frustrated Halas to know that Jaden knew more than he was letting on. He wanted to spare the boys any anguish they might feel, but Halas craved knowledge on the situation more than anything else, almost even Cailin. Were there survivors? Had they been taken prisoner? What was the status on the manhunt? His only word was from passersby on the street, and those folk were considerably unhelpful. Rumors had taken deep root, and many were still convinced that the bloody Western Islanders were invading.
Halas sat with Garek and Desmond on Jaden’s lawn. The heat was too oppressive to be anywhere but in the shade. None of the three had donned shirts that morning, and their trousers all ended just before the knee. Halas felt thankful that Jaden’s home was on the coast; he imagined it to be hell further into the city, even wearing as little clothing as possible. Tom approached, carrying several glasses. “I thought you might like some lemonade,” he said.
“Thank you, Tom!” Garek said happily. He helped Tom set the glasses down. Desmond smiled politely. Halas watched the gnome walk away.
“Does anyone else think it odd how Jaden treats the gnome?” he asked.
“How do you mean?” Garek said.
Halas drank from his glass. It was delicious. “Gnomes are made to be servants, are they not? Yet Jaden treats his like a friend. I don’t really understand it.”
“What did they teach you in Cordalis?”
“More than they taught you,” Desmond chimed in.
“Shut up,” Garek said. “Gnomes deserve all that we do. What makes them so different from us? Mister Harves met Tom on auction. He bought him, set him free. Tom’s lived here ever since, of his own accord. He’s not a slave, as you would like him to be.”
Halas raised a hand, more than alarmed at the sudden outburst. He didn’t know Garek had it in him. He saw where his brother was coming from, but at the same time, likening a gnome to a human was similar to doing the same to a dog. They were loyal servants, and could be fun on occasion, but friends? Before Tom, he’d never known a gnome to be anything more than background decoration.
“I’m sorry. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about.”
“Gnomes have always been lowly beings, in Cordalis and everywhere else,” Desmond interjected. “They’re painted as lesser creatures, existing purely for our benefit. But when I learned to cook, it was mostly gnomes who did the teaching. My father brought me to the house of Chef Merzio. Merzio was something of a bastard, but his staff was kind. My father had his heart set on my becoming a chef, and the gnomes helped me with that. I suppose I see your point, Garek. Halas, you’re an insensitive prick.”
“Hey! Let’s not all turn on me, here. I was just making a statement.”
Desmond was laughing. Garek, however, did not appear to be nearly as amused. “Tell me, would you stop and aid if you saw a gnome in need?”
“Of course I would, but that is different.”
“It’s prejudice, Halas,” Desmond said, “and prejudice is wrong.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I think I am.”
“Shut up, Desmond!” Garek said. “I’m trying to make a point here. Go away, go inside.”
“Your point has been made,” Halas said. “Can I drink my lemonade, please?”
“It was made with slave labor, and…”
Garek cut him off. “Desmond, if you don’t go inside this instant I’m going to hit you in the mouth.”
“Fair enough.” Desmond rose and walked inside, taking his glass and Halas’ with him. Halas hadn’t been finished with his, but he let it pass. Clearly Garek had something on his mind.
“What’s the matter?”
Halas looked at his brother. Garek’s skin, already tanned from a summer hard at work, had gained some hard color, and Halas figured his was much the same, deciding to check the looking glass when next he saw it. Halas also thought that his younger brother had grown quite a bit, though he was still shorter than Halas, and he had thinned out considerably.
“I like it here,” Garek said quietly.
“So do I.”
“A shame we have to leave.”
“Yeah.” He looked at Garek, knowing that silence would be the best tool here. His brother would feel the need to speak if Halas did not. Garek stared into his lemonade, swished a finger across the surface.
Finally he gave in. “I can’t do it, Halas.”
“What?”
Halas stood and rounded on his brother. Garek spread his arms apologetically. “I can’t go with you. I can’t do this.”
“Of course you can!”
“No, Halas, I can’t. I’ve been talking with Mister Harves, and he said it was all right for me to stay, for me to live here, with him.” Halas’ confusion increased tenfold. “Live?”
“I’m not going back to Cordalis, to Father. I can’t do that either. He probably doesn’t even want me back. He hates me.” Garek choked out his words.
“He doesn’t hate you, Garek! He just—I don’t know—he doesn’t hate you.”
“Yes he does. You know it as well as I do. But Mister Harves…he is everything I have wished for. He treats me with respect. He appreciates my conversation. He is patient. He likes me, and that is far more than I can say for Father.”
Halas’ mind was clouded. He felt betrayed. “You’ll just abandon this, all of this, me, for no reason? Why? Please Garek, tell me why, because it doesn’t make a bit of sense!”
“Halas, please…”
“No! Don’t try to calm me down. You’re not going with us, and you’re not going home. They will find you! They will find you and throw you in jail. Did you think of that? It isn’t safe here!”
“Yes. Jaden has many places for me to hide, and a lot of money, should it come to that. We are both prepared.”
“Well,” said Halas, “that’s just wonderful. I’m so glad that you’ll…” But there were no words Halas could find. He nearly screamed. He wanted to hit something, so he hit the table, putting a small hole in it and bloodying his fist. Pain shot through his hand. Halas swore. Nothing good coul
d be salvaged from any of this. Garek was stubborn. Halas knew that he would not see reason. He rose and stormed off into the house. He didn’t want to look at his little brother any longer. Why can’t he see how incredibly unsafe it is to stay in one place? And here! They’ll be combing the city for us!
“You won’t be safe either,” Garek said quietly to his back.
But Halas said nothing, and kept walking. The next morning, Jaden Harves found them a caravan.
Sub Chapter Seven
Nolan hurried down the street, trying to be fast and still inconspicuous. In the end, he gave that up and ran, darting through the back streets and alleys, pushing his way through throngs of people and ducking under doorways, running through buildings, losing anyone who may have been in pursuit.
He stopped at a favorite spot of his, a nook between two buildings with only one way out, concealed by crates, baskets, and a tarpaulin. He was hungry. Hiding in the dark, he retrieved a small box from one of the baskets and devoured the food inside. Poking his head out, he jumped; he was face to face with a beautiful woman. She had sleek black hair, prominent features, and yellow eyes that seemed to strip Nolan bare, revealing even his darkest secrets. He’d seen her before. He could tell this woman anything.
He settled on hello.
“Hello,” she said. “My name is Raazoi. You are the one.” She said it like it was a question but not.
“That depends,” Nolan answered. The girl giggled. She was a year or two younger than him, he saw.
“You will accompany me.”
“I will?”
“Yes. You just don’t know it yet.”
Nolan grinned. “And just where are we going?”
“Have you ever heard of the Frigid Peaks?”
“Who hasn’t? Why would you want to go to the bloody mountains?”
“There is something I have to do. Would you accompany me?”
He thought about it for a minute. Less than that. “I would,” he said. “I’d be delighted to.”
Chapter Eight
Three Days Out Of Busby
The Temple Page 20