by T J Muir
She sighed, but decided it wasn’t that important. “And how are things back home?” she asked. This was a more important question, even if it wasn't the one she cared about most. And it was one that Trey would be more willing to answer.
“Well, as you can imagine, there was quite an uproar after your disappearance. Hak'kar was outraged and has led his own search, to see you 'restored to your family,' I believe his words were. The city was turned upside down, the city watch was on full alert against reports of your possible abduction. He was never named, but it's a safe bet that he presumed you may have actually run off with Jay, Jedda.” he shook his head. “I can't get used to calling him Jedda.”
Nothing new there, she sighed. “I know. He's Jay. In my mind that’s how I think of him. Not as Jedda..” she agreed. “I really miss him. I wish I had been able to go with him.”
Trey nodded sympathetically. “I do also. I didn’t appreciate how much I relied on him until he wasn’t there anymore. He’ll turn up. Be patient. Your family has been searching also.” Trey paused, sipping his wine and then looked at her candidly. “And if I understand correctly, they are aware of where you are?”
Diya nodded, watching Trey. As their conversation shifted, she noticed something different in his manner. He was more like her father, speaking as the so'har. Not Trey, her longtime friend. Da’har Zo’Trey. But when she looked at him, the bright eyes and impish grin, it was hard to think of Trey as Da'har Zo'Trey of House Zayam.
“The city watch has been doubled, and laws that have often been overlooked are being enforced. It's beginning to cause some unrest, especially down on the waterfront. I think they are trying to put a stop to the latest round of priests and zealots. This has been a busy season for the doomsayers,” he laughed as he said that.
“But that's always been going on. It seems any time anything happens, a priest starts shouting about doom and portents.” She much preferred the four deities, wise guiding figures that watched over and protected them.
“True, it seems there is a new batch every few years. But this latest round feels different. More organized. Calling themselves Children of the Red God.”
“Catchy name,” she snickered.
“Can you get a message to my family?” she asked, changing the subject.
Trey stared down at his brandy, chewing his lip. “I'm not sure. I'm not sure I could contrive some reason to communicate with them, not that wouldn't raise suspicion.”
Diya looked down at the floor, thinking. “Could you get a message to our flier, Marrick? I know he has a house in the city and a wife. But he's completely loyal, so that anything he got would go directly to my father.”
Trey considered it for a few moments. “Perhaps. The guilded fliers maintain a strict code, don' t they?”
Diya nodded vigorously. “Absolute. If I understand correctly, being guilded is an honor and betraying their codes of discretion and loyalty can result in losing guild status. If that happens, well, other fliers tend to stay away from those with a black mark on their names.”
Trey swirled his brandy, staring down into the depths, looking thoughtful. Diya was beginning to wonder if that was a trait that went with rulership.
Trey looked up, wearing his old lopsided grin. “Perhaps there should be a similar law among the rulers of the city.”
Diya laughed. “I fear there would be far more black-marked people than otherwise.”
Trey snorted a laugh. “You're probably right, there. But it is an interesting concept. I may have to find a flier of my own.”
“You'd probably help yourself to his rig and go out on midnight capers.”
Another half-laugh, followed by a sigh. “I would, with you and Jay right there by m side,” he said, then sighed. “I miss it.”
“What?”
“All of it. Before I had to be Zo'Trey.”
“Oh.”
“It isn't all parties and excitement. In fact, a lot of it is boring and tedious. And then there is the matter of purging the House of spies and informants-- far trickier than first imagined. Thank the gods for uncle. As much as I detest him and distrust him, he has a canny knack for the politics, so long as I remind him of his place. He would have made a better da’har than me.”
“I think you are just what the region needs. A fresh voice and perspective,” she said forgetting for the moment how young Trey’s father had been compared to Pavan. “It sounds like you need some time with just-Trey.” She smiled, remembering the free-spirited person he had been just a year ago. “But it probably wouldn't do to swim the harbor.”
“Or steal the statue.”
“Was that you?” She remembered the incident, and the city guard on double duty trying to track down the thief. Who steals a statue? She had always wondered.
In answer, Trey raised his glass. Then his expression grew serious and he leaned forward, looking closely at Diya. “Is there anything I can do for you? In either capacity?”
“Can you make Hak'kar disappear?”
“That would solve so many problems, now, wouldn't it?”
Diya thought about it. She would be able to go home. Jedda could come back. The pieces of her life and world could return to normal. Then she looked over at Trey, even wearing clothes that disguised his identity, she could see the changes in him. It wouldn't be the same. So much had changed. But in her heart, she still longed for home.
Trey paused and looked out the window.
“You should go. It will be getting light soon,” she said, having no idea when she might see Trey again, if ever.
Trey laughed and grinned. “What, you don’t want to get caught with a man sneaking out of your room?”
“Not a married man with a pregnant wife at home. No,” she said, laughing. But she stood up and hugged him tightly. “And Findal knows where to find me.”
Diya felt tears welling up and pushed Trey back and turned him towards the door. “Go on now, before someone sees you.”
Trey gave her a last hug and a kiss on the cheek as he turned the handle. At the last minute, Diya grabbed one of the smaller bags of chocolates and pushed them into Trey’s hand. “For Findal,” she said. “But don’t let her eat too many at once.”
Once he was gone, the tears streamed down her face. She flung herself across the bed and cried out her anguish, feeling alone and lost. Oldfall had lost its appeal and she was ready to go back to the peace and safety of Dunwood.
The next morning she had breakfast and made arrangements to leave. Alvina told Diya that a carriage would be ordered and would pick her up just before lunch. With the rest of the morning to herself, she took a long hot bath and enjoyed the quiet.
Her bags were taken down and she covered her expenses and stepped outside. She had mixed feelings. She missed the luxury and pampering but she wouldn’t trade that for living in fear.
“This way, miss,” a voice called out to her.
A young man stood at the gate. He was dressed in grey pants and a black silk jacket, neatly tailored.
“You must be my driver,” she said, smiling at the man.
“Right over here,” he said, waving his arm towards an unmarked carriage, nicely polished, gleaming wood and shiny brass.
She approved of Minara’s choice of driver. Her ride back to Dunwood would be comfortable and pleasant.
When she got to the carriage, the driver opened the door and helped her in. She climbed up and settled down on the plush seat. She heard the door close behind her, followed by a sharp snick, the sound of the door locking.
She reached over, sure she must be mistaken. The handle wouldn’t turn. She slid across the seat, tried the other door. Also locked. What was going on?
She banged sharply on the wall. “Open the door! Let me out!”
The carriage lurched forward, horses whipped to a run.
She pounded frantically at the door. “You must let me out immediately! Stop! I can pay you!”
In response, she heard the whip crack again. The carriage lu
rched forward and she jolted against the back of the seat. She tried looking out the window to see where they were taking her but she couldn’t see anything significant. She thought the carriage was heading south.
She realized no one was going to miss her for at least a week. That was how much time she had requested. Ashok wouldn’t expect her home this soon. Trey and Findal knew she was leaving, so they wouldn’t be looking for her, either. She began to panic, realizing just how bad her predicament was.
She sat back and forced herself to take ten deep breaths, closing her eyes. When she was done, she opened her eyes and put her hands on her knees, bracing herself. She stared at her hands, feeling sick. Her nausea became dread, realizing the velvet cushions were the unique shade of dark burgundy of House Charam.
Hak’kar had found her at last.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
I began writing In Luck's Shadow almost two years ago. Life delays and story development pushed back the release several times. (sorry:). Then, I realized that part of my difficulty was that Diya's story had grown into two full books. So I decided to split the book into two halves, creating A Change of Luck. All of the events here are leading in to the events that will happen later. In Luck's Shadow, and the book (untitled) that will follow that. So stay tuned, as Diya becomes a serious player in a much larger tapestry of events.
The Chanmyr Chronicles is a large and long epic arc that follows many characters, and their fates weave in and out of each other's paths.
Looking for more great stories from the Chanmyr Universe?
Available on Amazon and KindleUnlimited
On Borrowed Luck
Luck's Pawn
Before Luck Runs Out
Between Luck and Magic
A Change of Luck
In Luck's Shadow (coming Spring 2019)
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More about TJ
TJ’s life experience is broad as well as deep. She has done so many things, from making swords, to training horses, and even a fully initiated practicing shaman. As a writer, she draws on all of her past experiences to create rich and diverse worlds. Her world of Chanmyr blends fantasy, magic, and deeper social issues. And she loves goats!
Visit my website to stay up to date on all things Chanmyr! http://tjmuir.com, for free stories and updates on latest writing- and see pictures of her goats!
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