“What’s a Damas wife?” asked Maru.
“Damas is the capital city of the Damas region,” explained Ariana. “Confusing, I know. The women there stay always in their houses and are never seen by any man other than husbands or fathers.”
“Why? Don’t they love their mates and children?”
“What? No, the men don’t allow them out, from what I understand.”
Maru looked as if she’d explained water ran uphill.
“A moment, both of you.” Tamaryl had given up trying to hide his amusement. He turned to Ariana. “Your armies are predominantly male. That was one reason we first thought you barbarians, using males in defense. Don’t argue, I understand better now. For our part, we have two hosts. The males are deployed exclusively for battles of conquest.”
“On the surface, that does not sound so different.”
“Ah, but we have also the host of females. It is they who defend us from invasion or attack.”
“I see.” Ariana considered. “And why is this? Is it to keep your women only for more desperate need?”
“I suppose it might be.” Tamaryl smiled. “But there are two better reasons. The first is that, as in most species, the female is a greater defender.”
Ariana nodded. “A wolf should face the boar before the sow with her piglets. And the second reason?”
Tamaryl ran his thumb along his cheekbone. “As a general rule, our females are larger and stronger. This happens in your world, too, as in birds of prey? There are exceptions, of course, but we keep our fiercer force for our own defense.”
“Stronger, you say?”
“Your father is no doubt a match for most Ryuven males. Only a few of the sho could challenge him seriously. But even the White Mage would be hard pressed by our rika.”
Ariana bristled. “Surely you exaggerate.”
Tamaryl chuckled. “Not intentionally, but I confess we learn early to respect our females. As children, we see them defend us from other clans—Maru and I watched our mothers repel a palace attack—and then as inexperienced warrior initiates, we go to battle another clan’s defending host, where we are thoroughly blooded by their females. It leaves an indelible impression.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly, smiling.
“That’s intriguing.” Ariana watched distant Ryuven in the sky. “Are they really so fierce?”
“It is why we raid your world,” Tamaryl said carefully. “We would rather face your barbarian armies with their brutal muscles than another clan’s defensive force.”
“And the blight isn’t only here in Ai lands,” Maru added. “It’s more profitable to raid where there’s a harvest.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, the words hanging in the air.
“Look.” Tamaryl pointed to a group of young Ryuven diving over a field. “That’s what tag looks like here.”
“Oh, how fun!” Ariana yawned. “I’m sorry! I’m not bored, I promise. I’m always tired. I’m sorry.”
She sat still, watching the city and the tiny Ryuven in the sky, and a warm hand crept over hers in the grass. “I’m glad you could see this,” Tamaryl said quietly. “I wanted to show you my world before you go home.”
The word quickened her pulse. “When?”
“In a few days, when you’re stronger. Do you remember the between-worlds? You should be whole. In a few days.” He squeezed her hand. “I promised your father I’d take care of you. I’ll see you safely home.”
Chapter 52
Shianan shed his cloak, grateful for the thin warmth of the office. The day was cold, and in the night he had dreamed of slaves wailing in the courtyard. He hung the cloak over its peg and leaned against the wall, tired not in body but in mind.
If only Hazelrig had a way to contact the Ryuven world. If only they knew whether Ariana could return at all….
Shianan closed his eyes. When the White Mage had pierced all his words and found the heart of his willingness to steal the Shard—a motivation Shianan had hardly admitted to himself—he had wanted to run, to deny all and flee. It was worse than stupid to want the White Mage’s daughter. Such a prize could not come to the bastard.
From long ago, it was accepted practice for bastards of the Laguna line to be gelded, eunuchs to prevent further illegitimate shoots off the royal family tree. As far as Shianan had been able to learn, he was the first openly known by-blow in several generations, and while the custom had been neglected, he did not wish to tempt fate.
No, Shianan Becknam would not be permitted to marry. And Ariana Hazelrig, Black Mage of the Great Circle, would go to someone more worthy.
He went through the office to his sleeping quarters. Clothing hung where he’d left it to dry and muddy tracks marked the floor. Shianan frowned. He had not noticed how much he’d come to leave to Luca.
With a start, he noticed Luca on the low mattress. “Luca?” There were muddy boots at the foot of the mattress. “How are you here already? I did not expect you until tomorrow.”
Luca missed Shianan’s gesture to remain where he was. He blinked red-rimmed eyes and surreptitiously braced a hand against the wall behind him as he stood. “I hurried. I ran as much as I could, and walked when I was too winded.” He sounded faintly proud of himself.
“There was no need for that.”
Luca swallowed. “I met a company of soldiers who said the Shard had been stolen. I knew my master would face many demands and would stand most in need of service.”
The answer had come too glibly through his exhaustion. It was an answer rehearsed over miles. “You unwrapped the—”
“Oh, no! Not against your order. No, I buried your package safely as you instructed. Even if you suspect your majordomo of misplacing funds, your coin will be safe there, and if you find the accounting is correct after all, it can easily be retrieved.”
Shianan stared. This slave could hang him in a moment’s work, but he would not. “Right,” he said. “Well done, Luca. Thank you.” He swallowed. “Later you can explain exactly where it is. Meanwhile, take a few hours and sleep. I’ll want you this evening for another merchant.”
“Thank you, Master Shianan.” Luca slid to the mattress again.
“New, then?”
The recruit made a face. “I’d rather be counting profit in the granary than wearing down my heels in drills. But they said one of us had to go in the army, and I pulled the short straw.”
The soldiers laughed. “Well, put some of that straw in your boots, rookie.”
“Boots?” said another. “I’d say rather to pad your limbs. It’s weapons where you’ll feel it first, with the commander.”
“The commander?”
“Commander Becknam. Er, he’s a count now, too, but here he’s just the commander.”
“Not just! He’s a demon, he is. You ever had him demonstrate a pass on your skin?”
“‘Soats, it was me and Ald together he took on at once. Knocked us both down and wasn’t even winded.”
“Like I said, he’s the demon commander.”
“You’re all full of it. He’s the bastard, sure, but he leaks to the front and dumps to the rear, same as anyone.”
“And were you leaking and dumping yourself in Stir Valley?” demanded a gruff voice. “That was a hide of hell, to be sure, and what of us made it out never want to go in again. But if ever I have to face such again, I’d want to be right behind Commander Becknam.”
“On your feet,” called a sergeant’s booming voice. “Form up with wasters.”
They arranged themselves, clutching wooden swords, and the commander appeared. He motioned a soldier out of the line. “We’ll start with what ended yesterday. Here’s the parry, half-time. Come over my left shoulder.” He nodded for the soldier’s attack and negated it neatly. “Now show me what you remember.”
He moved among them, making a few corrections, and then called a halt. “Now we’ll add another counter.” Shianan gestured to another soldier. “Slowly—as I step forward….” He brought his sword t
oward the soldier, who parried correctly and responded. Shianan countered and laid his sword against the man’s padded chest. “You see? Try that.”
Shianan walked through the drilling partners, observing and occasionally commenting. At last he called for them to put away their equipment and end the session.
Returning from training, Shianan opened the door into Luca, who yelped and skipped back with the broom. Shianan looked around at the swept floor, clean of mud, and the made bed. His dried clothing had vanished. “Luca, I don’t deserve you. Weren’t you sleeping?”
“I thought it should be done.”
“We have as much as an hour before the merchant comes,” he said. “I’m going to change and rest for a few minutes. You could do the same.”
Luca nodded. “After I finish this floor.”
Shianan found a clean shirt and tunic and then propped his feet against the wall, enjoying the delicious stretch in his calves and hamstrings. He let his head fall against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, just for a few minutes. He heard Luca go to his mattress. Just a few minutes.
A knock at the door woke him, and Shianan jumped in his chair as his feet dropped. The knock came again at the office door outside, and he glanced toward Luca, scrambling from his mattress. Shianan looked at the cheeses and bread, uncut and waiting to be assembled onto a serving tray. “Take care of that. I’ll let him in.”
“Yes, master.” Shianan distantly noted the subservient address—Luca worried over his lapse—and went into the office, closing the door behind him. He unlatched the office door and pulled it open.
“Good evening, your lordship!” Jarrick Roald made a small, friendly bow. “I bring wine, as promised.” He presented a dark bottle.
“Come in, please.” Shianan beckoned him inside. “I’ll take your cloak. My servant is preparing a tray for us. Please sit down, and I’ll take this to him.” He took the wine and returned to the living quarters.
Luca was making quick, efficient cuts through the cheese. “One moment, and then it will be ready. I’m sorry—”
“Leave off, Luca, it’s fine.” Shianan glanced toward the door. “This one isn’t such a stuffed shirt. I think he has a soul somewhere inside.” He grinned.
Luca relaxed and gave him a smile in return. Shianan went back to the office, letting the door swing shut behind him. “Thank you, Roald.” He took a seat across from the merchant. “So, tell me why you can supply grain at a better price than anyone else.”
“Not only a better price—better grain.” Roald smiled, self-deprecating. He knew his seller’s song was not new to his listener. “But it’s true. We can bring you Tyrgian grain directly by ship, delivered to Alham as quickly as anyone else can bring harvest from nearer fields overland. Your own supply trains can distribute it from the capital. And you know of course Tyrgian wheat is considered the finest.”
“By ship? Then you—”
There was a flash of motion at the door and then a terrific crash. Shianan turned to the door, hanging half-open and vacant. There was no sign of Luca. He glanced at Roald, puzzled but too polite to comment. “Excuse me,” Shianan said with a quick, uneasy smile.
“Of course.” Roald nodded.
Shianan rose and went to the other room. Bread and cheese were scattered across the floor. Luca sprawled against the wall, his fingers on the empty tray, puddled with wine.
Shianan’s first thought was that he was ill, but Luca stared suddenly up at him with wide white eyes. He made a grasping motion toward the door, reaching and yet recoiling, and Shianan pushed it closed. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.
Luca’s mouth worked without sound. His face was very pale—perhaps he was ill after all. But by his position against the wall, Luca had whirled away from the door and dropped the tray. Shianan crouched to look at him levelly. “Luca, what is it?”
Luca gulped. “My—my brother.”
The words registered slowly. Luca’s brother….
He sold me into slavery and my brother just watched me dragged away.
Luca dropped his eyes to the fallen tray and shook his head slowly. “Please—I can’t go out there—please, master, I beg you, don’t—not out there….” His head moved faster and faster. “Master, please….”
“Quiet,” Shianan said. “We can manage without you.” He took a breath. “Where is the wine the other one brought? In the chest?”
Luca blinked at him, uncomprehending, and Shianan left him and opened the largest chest. The bottle of wine was indeed there. He took it and the cups that lay beside the dropped bread.
Luca was frozen against the wall, his eyes wide and unseeing. Shianan was not sure he was breathing. He crouched again to meet Luca’s eyes, which blinked and focused on him in fresh panic. Shianan gestured with the cups to the splattered floor. “Clean this?”
Luca nodded dully.
“Good,” Shianan answered with a tight smile. “We’ll talk when this is finished.” He rose, straightened his shoulders, and passed through the door.
Roald gave him a politely curious look. “Is everything well?”
Shianan saw him as if for the first time—medium height, dark hair, a familiar outline to the face. Now he could see the resemblance. It was the confident, friendly smile, so foreign to Luca, which had set them apart.
Shianan had not yet answered the question. “My servant is ill. Nothing catching—I’d sent him out of the city with a message and he ran the entire route. Nearly killed himself, the diligent fool.” He set the cups firmly on the table. “I’m afraid the wine you brought was lost in the crash. Was it an especially good vintage?”
“Fair.” Roald peered at the bottle Shianan brought. “Ah! But this is an improvement. Perhaps we should thank your diligent fool. Shall I pour for us?”
“If you would.” Shianan took his seat again. “Tell me about your ships.”
“We have exclusive contracts on half of our ships and own another third.” Roald dispensed dark wine into Shianan’s cup. “The remainder are open contracts. They are speedy ships, for the most part, sloops that can take the sea faster than your wagon caravans travel overland.”
Shianan made himself think of ships. “And during the stormy season?”
“They need come only from Tyrg, your lordship. The storms are not so severe.” Roald tasted the wine. “They have been very reliable for us.”
“In your country?”
“And others. Our house contracts all around the sea.”
“Which is why you can broker the best rates.” Shianan stared at the bottom of his cup, wondering how it had emptied.
“It does help.” Roald grinned. “I spent a quarter of last year in Tyrg myself and another two months in Damas. We’ve managed to secure prime contracts in every major port.”
“How excellent for you.” Shianan toyed with his empty cup, afraid to refill it just yet. The first had disappeared too quickly.
Roald glanced about the office. “A little sparse, is it?”
“Austere,” corrected Shianan. “I am a military commander before a count.”
“Forgive me, I meant no offense. I only meant to say it is eerily efficient. There’s nothing of the man in this office; it is an office that could belong to anyone.” Roald smiled. “So your private treasures are in your living quarters rather than here. A clever defense, your lordship. I cannot comment favorably on any of them. You give me little to work upon in winning your trust.”
Shianan liked the smile in spite of the way it sat unfittingly on what was faintly Luca’s face. He liked the easy charm with which Roald gently mocked his profession and the mission they both knew had been assigned to him. And he disliked how he liked them.
“Tell me about your family,” Shianan said with deliberate lightness, pouring wine into Roald’s cup. “Your father created your mercantile house, I know, and he’s obviously done well. Have you any siblings?”
“I do,” Roald answered with a nod to acknowledge the wine. “I have an elder broth
er, heir to our father’s house. Thir is his name. Then I have a sister, Sara, who is engaged to wed shortly.”
“A marriage.” Shianan smiled and gave a little half-bow in his chair. “My compliments to your sister, then.”
“I thank you on her behalf.”
“No others?”
“No others.” Roald looked into his cup. “This is excellent wine, your lordship.”
“A high compliment from so expert a traveler.” Shianan clenched his fingers beneath the table where Roald could not see. “No other family, then?” His voice sounded sharp.
Roald looked up, startled. “No….” He swallowed. “You seem to disbelieve me.”
Shianan shrugged jerkily. “I only asked.”
“I—I did have another brother, a younger brother. But we lost him a few years ago.”
“You lost him,” Shianan repeated gruffly. “How sad.” He flexed his fingers on the wine. “I should ask how he died, but I was led to believe he had been misplaced rather than lost.”
Roald’s mouth opened soundlessly. After a moment he managed, “But you….” He blew out his breath nervously. “It’s obvious your lordship has done more research into our house than we expected. Yes, I confess, I had another brother. But as your lordship must understand, if you know that story, it is not one we like to tell.”
Shianan crossed his arms. “We are seeking new suppliers due to fraud. You must understand we are leery of merchants who do not tell the whole truth.”
“Then I will tell you the truth,” Roald said heavily, “and you may compare my story with the one your agents brought you.” He rubbed his face. “It is to our shame, all of it. Some years ago our house was heavily in debt. That is another thing we are not proud of, and we do not like to say we were ever in such a position, but to understand what happened you have to know we were in danger. You see that? In desperation my father had negotiated credit with our primary rival, who had been very careful to buy up our debt, and if we defaulted we could have lost everything.”
“Go on.”
“The ship we desperately needed was late. We’d lost two that year and thought her lost as well. We were near defaulting, and my father went to negotiate for an extension. Remember, he had found credit only with Sandis—oh, I have said his name, and I should not have told you.”
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