by R. Moses
Chapter Eighteen
After a day of grueling work under the hot sun, the last tent was packed, and the last horse was fed.
The carnival was ready to travel on.
Kara liked traveling between shows as she got to see many unique sights, far more than she had ever seen around her father's estates. The carnival wagons moved so slowly that she could take her time exploring, striking out to look at interesting ruins or geological features.
She tightened her satchel straps and smiled at Icari. He had started to train her while they were waiting for the carnival to hit the road. He was a gentle and patient teacher, as she knew he would be.
They began to walk when one of the roadies bellowed for the procession to start. The sun warmed her head. It was going to be a scorcher today, which meant a lot of delays involving cranky animals. The road smelled like hot dirt and fresh manure.
Icari said, “You will be a fine knife thrower. I think you will draw large crowds.”
“Why?”
He smiled and looked at the King's Posts that lined the King's Way. “I have never heard of a female knife throwing act. Have you?”
“I've never heard of knife throwing acts until I joined the carnival. The estate I grew up on was a bit secluded. My father never took me to the carnival, so it is all new to me.”
He laughed. He had quite a bounce in his step today and she wondered why. Was it just because he enjoyed traveling, liked getting away from pleasing crowds of strangers? He asked, “Who is going to be your assistant?”
“Assistant?”
“Traditional knife throwing acts usually involve throwing knives at an assistant. Usually a comely young woman.”
She thought back to the old act. “Yes. I remember now. What was her name, the assistant to the dead guy? Catre? How about her?”
“Rumor is she left when John died.”
“Oh.” She realized she had not even known his first name. John, the dead knife thrower. She swatted at a bee that drifted too close. She leaned in and whispered, “I wouldn't mind throwing a few knives at Naomi right now.”
They burst out laughing. She had told him everything about Naomi and Vayne. She did not mean to influence his relationship with them, but she needed him to be alert to thefts and a rhone addict. Vayne could be a serious threat if he went on a rampage.
She frowned. Should she spread the word that he was likely to explode? It was a thorny code of honor the carnival had. People's safety was at risk if he was temporarily insane and stronger than usual. But if she was seen as a snitch...
She took her mind off the problem by asking, “Do you think I ought to ask Lyla to share my tent?”
“I think you should.”
He glanced at the nearest King's Post lining the road. “Those posts make me uncomfortable. As if I am itching under my skin.”
“Lots of people have strange reactions around them.” She followed his glance and saw the squat ugly things. They were just plain iron markers with no decoration, thick as her arm, standing about two feet tall. She added quietly, “They keep us safer.”
“Yes,” he said as they passed another one. “But at what cost? The King uses dark and light magic to keep the way. It is dangerous to mix the two.”
“There aren't enough light mages to keep the horrors away. He was forced to work with dark mages.”
She looked at the posts and remembered her mother telling her about them. How she must never, ever, touch them lest she get pulled into the eldritch mists. Her mother had explained how the magic in the poles kept terrible beasts at bay. Horrible things that would like nothing better than to reave the flesh of little girls. They crept from the ruined lands, misshapen eyes gleaming with unspeakable hungers...
The monsters had roamed the ruined lands since time out of mind. Legends said that the Goddess banished them there, but she was too weak to do much else, like destroy them. Kara wondered what the ruined lands looked like beyond the mists, and how far they stretched. Did man's kingdoms only occupy a tiny bit of the world?
She shivered despite the heat of the day. She whispered, “Look. You can just see the cloaking mists beyond those trees.”
He nodded. “They seem a different color now. More yellow.”
She squinted and watched. They billowed up and back, over and over again, never creeping too close to the poles, their depths the color of dried bile. But she knew they wanted to expand. Only the King's strength kept them at bay.
Or so the masses were told. She looked away and said with false cheer, “I know I'm breaking the rules and talking about my past again. But I have a problem and I would like your opinion.”
He gave her a conspiratorial wink. He had very long eyelashes, she noted as he pulled out a plain navy scarf to wipe the sweat off his face. “I am listening.”
She did a quick double check to ensure no one was near enough to overhear, then said, “You know about my family situation. You know I now have the diamonds to buy my mother's freedom.”
He nodded.
“There is a slight complication. I can't step foot on my father's property because he spurned me.”
“Spurned?” He cocked his head. “Is that a ritual?”
Sometime she forgot he was foreign. He was so soft spoken it was easy to ignore his accent. She tried to explain it as well as she could. “It's a really long story. I was spurned because I took my father's last name, which made him and Lady Brahm very angry with me. When I was spurned, it meant I was banished from my father's estates.”
“That is a considerable problem.”
“It is. But I know how to get into the manor's secret passages and tunnels. All old manors have them. The nobles who built the manors were afraid their slaves would rise up against them, so they built lots of ways to escape if that happened.”
“They should be afraid. It is a grievous sin to chain a person by law and coin.”
“It is.” She lowered her voice a few more notches. “I'll tell you why taking my father's name got me spurned if you keep it quiet.”
He drifted closer to her and waited patiently.
She whispered, “I am the oldest daughter of Lord Brahm. He freed me on my eighteenth birthday because his wife, Lady Brahm, wanted me gone from the estate. She actually wanted me sold to another household as a slave. I am no threat to her or her daughter as another person's property. But as a free woman, I can cause her trouble. Still following?”
“Yes.”
“My father, who usually caves in to whatever Lady Brahm wants, did not sell me. He freed me. Papers were drawn up, a copy for him, a copy for the record keepers of the King, and a copy for me.” She absently touched the satchel on her back. Those papers were difficult to replace, and yet so easily lost, damaged, or stolen. Traveling to the capital to get new papers drawn up was a trial she hoped she never had to face. “When I was freed and had to fill out the papers, I had to choose a last name. I chose my father's last name.”
Icari glanced at her. “Is that what made this Lady Brahm so angry with you?”
“Yes. Most freed slaves make up a name or take on the name of their slave parent. I took up my father's last name of Brahm. An old name of a proud house. I come from a line of nobles that has lasted thousands of years. Since I dared to take his last name, by the King's Law, I am a Brahm. I am a bastard, but with that last name, as a free woman, I could inherit the estate and titles if Anna died or was disinherited. And if no new heirs were born.”
She drew up and struck an imaginary pose, pretending to pull the train of an ornate gown. With a deep curtsy, she said, “Lady Brahm at your service.”
He was giving her a very thoughtful look and did not react to her joke. “Fine,” she said. “So I'll never be a proper lady. I thought it was funny.”
He smiled. “It was funny. I am just lost, trying to understand the ways of your people.”
“They are strange. We have so many laws and bylaws and local laws and power grabs with the noble class that no one ev
en really knows what is legal or illegal. Probably me wearing these pants isn't legal.”
“Some kingdoms do prohibit women from wearing pants.”
She blinked. “Really?”
“Really.” He stroked his chin with a long finger. “So if I am understanding this, you taking your father's last name puts your sister's claim to the estate in jeopardy?”
“Yes. Of course, her being disinherited would cause a furor with Lady Brahm's family. It could even incite a battle between their houses. Bastards rarely inherit the family name and lands due to these types of complications.”
“But it does happen?”
“Yes. The last case I heard was a Lord Buckstin. It happened about three years ago. He had daughters nobly born and a bastard son. He disinherited all three of his daughters and passed the lordship to his bastard. My father mentioned that the King got quite a bit of amusement from all the fighting and chaos this caused Lady Buckstin's family. Apparently they burned down four or five villages before the issue was resolved.”
Icari asked, “Have you ever met the King?”
She burst out laughing. “Me? No. On occasion my father had to travel to the capital for a Lord's Council. He has never taken me.”
“Why did you do this? You made your father's wife furious and you are spurned from the estates. Did you risk all this to have a slight chance at inheriting?”
She shook her head as they resumed walking. Her throat was coated with dust and her eyes burned. She rubbed them. “I...”
She stopped and looked around. “I have a good reason to at least try to inherit the estate.”
He raised his eyebrow.
She whispered, “It is because my half-sister Anna is...well, she is evil.”