The first thing Kane noticed was the noise. After the tranquility and quietude of the forest, broken only by wildlife and quiet conversation, Dathanna was an assault on the senses. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the weeks of quiet but it seemed louder than the South Town and Woodedge combined. Every single person Kane passed seemed to be shouting about something, or laughing, or conversing animatedly at volumes he was not accustomed to. The people of Dathanna were Aurian by culture, and their brightly coloured robes and veils stood in stark contrast to the muted off-white robes Sophia had worn as part of her disguise. The streets were thronged with people, shopping and trading at stalls selling everything from produce to trinkets. Something was cooking nearby, and the smell of spicy meat reminded Kane’s stomach of his now ever-present hunger.
“It appears to be market day,” Sampson called over the din.
“It certainly does,” Kane replied, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face now he had grown accustomed to the noise. “Since we’re here, we might as well scout out some supplies. Sampson, you arrange passage on a barge to get us as close to Auris as possible. Terrell, fill up those panniers and don’t eat it all before you get back. Have a look around, try not to get into any fights or break anything you can’t afford, and we’ll rendezvous at the lakeside docks in two hours.”
“Are you forgetting about our other supply shortages, Brother-Corporal?” Sampson said pointedly.
Kane bent to speak quietly to him, lowering his voice. “I can’t imagine they will have the Elixir on sale at a market, but it can’t hurt to look once our passage onwards is arranged. I will leave it to you to be discreet, Terrell is a good soldier but subtlety is not his strong point.”
Sampson nodded, and disappeared off into the crowd. Kane whispered a fervent prayer he was right about the scarcity of the Elixir Innocentiae in a place like Dathanna. The rest of the group drifted away, Terrell in pursuit of food and Davena and Cahaya to find somewhere quieter to enjoy being back in civilisation. Eder hung around after the others had left, awkwardly toying with the straps on his pack until Kane gave him a nod and they set off into the market.
The respect their uniforms had garnered in the South Town proved to be a regional peculiarity, as the citizens of Dathanna couldn’t care less if they were shoving a Brother-Corporal of the Child Guard out of their way as long as they got to their intended stall first. After being jostled and bumped repeatedly, and for a brief moment losing sight of each other completely, Eder muttered something under his breath and took hold of Kane’s hand. His palm was cold against Kane’s hot, sweaty skin.
Kane half-expected there to be some shout, some hue and cry of heresy, but aside from a couple of traders looking askance at Eder, nothing untoward occurred. Kane elbowed his way to a fruit stall and attempted to buy a bunch of sweet purple grapes, when the trader, a large man with the thickest, darkest beard Kane had ever seen, asked him something he was sure he’d misheard.
“That friend of yours, he’s a thief, no?”
“No, not at all.”
“Looks like a thief-mark to me, that thing on his neck.”
“He’s not a thief,” Kane said firmly. “It’s a mark from the Temple, if you must know.”
The man let out a sharp bark of a laugh. “I forget, you Cruachans and your precious Temple. I’ve never seen a scar for a blasphemy before.”
“Well now you have,” Kane said, turning away from the stall and dragging Eder along with him. “Come on, let’s find something else to eat.”
It took them a while to find a trader who was less suspicious of Eder’s brand, but eventually Kane managed to buy a couple of sweet, ripe figs and they ate them in the shade which had become more abundant as the afternoon progressed.
There was a winsome girl in a bright turquoise headscarf, her face covered in dark freckles, selling trinkets at the edge of the market, mainly carved wood on leather cord. There were some of polished crystal, and Kane saw out of the corner of his eye that Eder was shyly captivated by them. He could, however, tell when he was being led, and tried to pull away as Kane approached the trader.
“What’s the matter? It’s only browsing.”
“I can’t, Kane, you know I can’t,” Eder backed away, and Kane followed him a short distance away to a nearby fountain, careful not to relinquish his hold on Eder’s hand.
“They’re only good luck charms, there’s plenty of people wearing them about the market.”
“That’s even more heresy,” Eder hissed under his breath. “You know we’re not supposed to have trinkets like that, particularly good luck charms. It’s an affront to the gods.”
“I’m buying one,” Kane said, leaning in to be heard over the hubbub of trade and the splashing of the fountain. “We survived the Borderlands, I want something to commemorate it. You stay here, if you like.”
Without waiting for an answer, he strode over to the stall.
“Good day to you, sir, can I interest you in a talisman?” the girl smiled at him.
“I’m not really the superstitious kind,” Kane said, looking over the charms on display.
“Something for a lady then?” she grinned and winked at him. “Token of your affection, that sort of thing?”
“What’s that one?” he asked, pointing to a wooden pendant of a bird, long-necked and graceful, strung on a green cord which had for some inexplicable reason caught his eye. It reminded him of Cahaya’s love token, made for her by the ill-fated Piaras, and as he thought of Eder he felt even more compelled to purchase it.
“Oh,” she said, “this must be a special lady of yours. That goose will always bring you home to her, no matter how far you go. Quite fitting for a young soldier.”
“How much?”
“We-ell,” she said, looking him up and down in a calculating fashion. “Usually I’d say six copper pennies, but for you, four.”
Kane handed over the money without hesitation, and secreted the charm in his pocket before returning to where Eder sat, relaxing in the cool spray from the fountain.
“All done?” Eder asked, and received a nod in response. He looked like he wanted to ask another question, but it didn’t make it out, and he rose to his feet, brushing his damp hair away from his face. Wet from the spray, his messy curls stuck to the side of his neck, partially covering the X-shaped scar with dark blond tendrils, but he didn’t notice.
Davena and Cahaya returned in short order, the latter holding a small posy of lavender flowers which she would occasionally raise to her face and deeply inhale the scent. Terrell was next, leading the pony through the slowly thinning crowd, laden with goods from the market. Sampson was the last to join them, his face downcast.
“Never have I been so manhandled in my life,” he grumbled as he reached them. “It is as though an Immaculatus’ sacred robes mean nothing to these people.”
“Be fair, Sampson, they’re all wearing bright colours, perhaps they mistook you for a local,” Kane said, and Sampson shot him a dirty look.
“There is a barge which leaves at sunset; you are to provide a guard for the merchant’s goods and his family, and in return he will carry us down to the Tirim Bridge, on the road between Carmia and Auris,” Sampson said. “It took a considerable amount of time to find anyone willing to carry us, this man is himself a retired Child Guard after he lost his arm in a skirmish. Do not shame the uniform.”
Kane nodded, and led them to the lakeside docks. True to Sampson’s word, there was a barge waiting for them, a flat, wide boat with enormous sails, which sat low in the water. The merchant, a great bear of a man, with fair hair and beard bleached by the hot sun, and a bronzed, weather-beaten face, waved at them with his lone left arm. Three young girls in brightly coloured dresses and headscarves who had been scuttling about the deck stopped to watch them as they approached.
“Permission to come aboard?” Kane asked, feeling it wouldn’t be appropriate to just stroll up the gangplank.
“By all means, come on up,” the m
erchant called. “Welcome to the Fiorella. I am Gunnar One-Hand, formerly of the Twelfth Battalion.”
“Brother-Corporal Kane, Ninth Battalion, these are my men Terrell and Eder, Immaculatii Davena and Sampson, and Miss Cahaya.”
“Ninth, eh?” Gunnar scratched at his beard. “The mighty General Cathan’s boys, it is my honour. These are my daughters, Anfisa, Helene and Zita. My wife, who this lovely vessel is named after, is belowdecks at the moment but I’m sure she’ll be about soon enough.”
Anfisa, the eldest of the girls, gave them a haughty nod and went back about her business. The youngest, Zita, had hidden behind her father and showed little willingness to emerge. It was the middle girl, Helene, who watched them a little longer than Kane was comfortable with, her gaze bold and penetrating.
They settled on the boat comfortably, sharing a space in the hold with a cargo of timber from the forest. The pony rested in a makeshift stall at the prow, happily munching on hay. Gunnar had apologised for the state of the quarters but Kane assured him they were used to far worse and simply to be inside a structure was luxury enough. They ate an enjoyable meal with Gunnar and his family, and the boat cast off, as promised, as the sun slipped below the horizon. Gunnar had provided them with hot water to make the Elixir in the privacy of the hold, and Kane saw Sampson’s heartbroken expression as they drank plain, warm water from the sacred goblets.
After a few false starts at getting into hammocks, Kane left his squad to contented slumber, and assumed his post as watchman on deck. The barge sailed close enough to the edge of the lake for Gunnar to be wary of the western forests, and he was glad of a swordsman to set his mind at rest.
Kane made pleasant enough conversation with the man, mostly talking about their shared experience of the Citadel, which from the sound of it had not changed in the slightest since Gunnar’s retirement. At first Kane was hesitant to ask about the injury which had invalided him out, but Gunnar was not in the least shy about it.
“Got caught unlucky by a Changeling’s flint axe just below the elbow,” he said, rolling up his empty sleeve to show Kane the puckered skin at the end of the truncated limb. “Healers did their best, but it was hanging on by a thread and it was less risky to cut the thread than try to reattach. I’m just thankful it didn’t fester.”
“Was it hard?” Kane asked. “Retirement, I mean.”
“At first, yes,” Gunnar said, thoughtfully. “When they stopped my dose of the Elixir, it’s like all the time that had been held back came rushing up to meet me, it was distinctly unpleasant. But the actual retirement? That wasn’t so bad. They gave me a fair price for the arm, apprenticed me off to a fisherman, and I did far better at that than they probably expected. Then I met Fiorella and that was that. We’ve been on the barge since Anfisa was born, there’s always some kind of cargo to be moved around and I like it on the water.”
“Is your wife… was she a Guard too?”
“No, Fiorella was raised in Auris by her parents. When you factor in the years I spent taking the Elixir I’m probably about twice her age in years but in experience of life out in the world she had me beaten fair and square. She’s a fine woman,” Gunnar sighed deeply, then chuckled at Kane’s awkwardly polite expression. “All of this means nothing to you, of course, I remember what it’s like; you wouldn’t know a fair woman from a homely one and that’s as it should be. I’ve had too many guards making eyes at my daughters; it’s nice to have a break from watching after their virtue. Well, Anfisa can look after herself and she does, but I do worry about Helene, she’s of an age where- well, never mind. I should get back to my lovely wife, I’ll send Anfisa up to man the tiller, just hold her steady like so until she gets here.”
He showed Kane how to steer the ship straight, letting her glide through the water, breaking the reflection of the waning moon into shards of light. True to his word, his eldest daughter strode purposefully onto the deck a few minutes later, and took over from Kane without so much as a word.
They sat in awkward silence for a while, Kane unsure what to say to this prickly young woman who obviously viewed him and his squad as inconveniences at best. Eventually, he gave up, and bade her goodnight, advising her another of the squad would be along to stand guard momentarily. She barely looked at him, but nodded her acknowledgement.
The journey to the hold was not a complicated one, but with the lanterns mostly out Kane had to resort to feeling his way along the narrow passageways. He was almost at the hold, he was sure, when he was interrupted in his journey.
It was Gunnar’s middle daughter, Helene, out of bed and wandering the boat, dressed in nothing but a thin shift, through which Kane could see the outline of her body. Once he realised this fact, he immediately stopped looking, heat rising in his face. The headscarf she had worn earlier was gone, and her dark hair coiled in a shining braid over her shoulder. She leaned against the wall, making it impossible for Kane to pass her in the narrow confines of the space without making contact.
“Good evening,” Kane said politely.
Her full lips curved into a smile. “Good evening, Corporal Kane, was it?”
“Brother-Corporal Kane, actually, but you can just call me Kane, most people do,” he replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to wake another watchman to accompany your sister.”
Helene rolled her eyes, the curious little smile never leaving her face. “She won’t thank you for that, you know, she doesn’t like it when Daddy brings men aboard. I don’t mind, though.” She peeled herself away from the wall and took a step towards Kane. His heart hammered, and he took a step backwards.
“If you’ll please excuse me, Miss, I have my duties to attend to.”
She batted her lashes, taking a good look at the dark blush suffusing his face, and moved nominally out of the way. “Of course,” she said. “Off you go.”
Kane was forced to squeeze awkwardly past her, flattening his shoulders against the wall to avoid her. He could have sworn she leaned forward in response, and he felt the whole of her body flush against his for a brief, terrifying moment. He managed to pass by unscathed, but he felt her eyes on him the whole way to the door of the hold.
Once inside, he took a moment to catch his breath and cool the heat that had risen in his blood. Gunnar had been wrong; Kane, or at least Kane’s traitorous body, knew a fair girl when he saw one, but he also knew trouble when he saw it, and after his conversation with Gunnar he determined to stay well away from Helene. After he had recovered sufficiently, he woke Eder, warned him of the girl in the hallway in a few brief words, and climbed into his own hammock.
17. Shaky Ground
“He who spits at the sun will only feel the rain.”
Aurian proverb
The next day passed quietly enough aboard the Fiorella. Eder reported to Kane in hushed tones over breakfast that Helene had done nothing in the corridor other than give him a long, calculating look before retiring to her cabin, and she had not been waiting for him when he came to hand over to Terrell. In a way, Kane felt relieved Eder had not been subjected to the same ordeal, but at the same time Helene’s targeting of him specifically was worrying. When Helene emerged from her cabin, she did not approach Kane or mention the incident, but throughout the day he felt her eyes on him frequently, usually when Gunnar’s attention was diverted.
He didn’t have the nerve to face her again, and put Terrell on first watch, leaving him engrossed in a lesson on fishing from Gunnar, who patiently waited throughout what seemed to be repeated endeavours by Terrell to tangle himself up permanently. Kane traipsed to the hold with the rest of the squad, feeling safe in their midst, and settled down in his hammock after only one misjudged attempt.
He was woken in the middle of the night as Terrell returned to the hold by way of falling through the door, stomping about in a way Kane hadn’t heard him do in ages. Over the sound of the heavy bootfalls, he could swear he heard raucous, distant giggling, until the door to the hold slid closed.
“Your watc
h,” Terrell shook him roughly. He seemed to be having some difficulty with his belt, but as Kane slid gracelessly from the hammock Terrell tidied himself and swung quickly into his own.
“Is that girl out there?” Kane whispered. “That Helene? I want to know if I should take a shield.”
“She’s in her bed,” Terrell’s voice was oddly bitter. “She’s a menace, though, you’re right about that.”
“Oh, gods, don’t tell me she went for you too.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Terrell said, his eyes closed in feigned sleep.
“That’s fair,” Kane shrugged, and left the hold stealthily. Helene was not waiting to ambush him, and he went to sit with the silent Anfisa with relief.
“You took your time,” she said, which was about the longest sentence she’d spoken to him thus far.
“I’m sorry, Miss, I was only awakened a few minutes ago.”
“Then your man must have got lost.”
“It’s not easy in the dark.”
She didn’t reply, and they spent the rest of their time together in uncomfortable silence. Before she left, after handing the tiller over, she turned back to him, from halfway down the steps into the barge.
“Tell your men to watch out for my silly sister,” she said. “I know you Child Guard aren’t interested, but I don’t think that will stop her trying.”
Kane fixed a carefully blank expression onto his face. “Miss?”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Anfisa said, after fixing him with the longest, most probing look Kane had seen outside of the Citadel. With that, she turned and retreated down into the darkness of the barge.
Her replacement, Kane was relieved to find out, was her mother, Fiorella. He hadn’t spoken to her as much as Gunnar, who seemed to be chatty where his wife was quiet. She was a handsome woman, with dark, sparkling eyes and a full mouth that was quick to smile at Gunnar’s bad jokes. Her daughters took after her rather than their father, in looks if not in temperament, their dark skin and hair the mirror of hers.
The Child Guard Page 18