“I always thought maybe. . .” Emmie’s lip trembled. “Nobody wanted me.”
“Pretty lady. Pretty name, too: Kaiteen.”
Emmie slowly treasured the name. Kaiteen. . . Kaiteen. . . MOM. . ..
“Maybe Alixa’s age. Probably how old she was when. . .” Renn swallowed. “You could practically be twins, you look so similar. Joker like you, too. Tried to trick me. See if I could tell, because you even share some mannerisms, like the little tongue thing you do. Pretty hair. Beautiful eyes. You’ve got her eyes for sure. She’s incredible, Em. Just, so like you.”
Emmie’s ears turned strawberry-red the moment she caught what Renn didn’t seem to realize he was conveying, describing all their similarities.
She wasn’t sure what she was going to say but she was going to say it.
Or maybe not. She didn’t know.
Her heart was pounding, giddy with nauseous excitement. Renn could never bring himself to start this conversation. Besides, she had basically told him not to, that night in the rain. Seemed so long ago. . .
“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Renn couldn’t help but return her goofy grin.
Emmie giggled, covered her mouth, waffling for what to say.
“Hey!” Alixa strode purposefully towards them. “Enjoying ourselves, are we?”
They went stiff as statues, then mechanically turned away from each other. Their huge anticipatory smiles faded.
They were finally going to talk. These emotionally repressed. . . Dangit!
“I’m interrupting.” Alixa backed away, hands out. “Keep talking. See, I’m leaving. Feet moving. Out of earshot in no time.”
Neither looked up. Emmie shrugged, shaking her head.
“Or. . . I’ll stay.” Alixa reversed course. “Don’t mind me—talk.”
“He has stuff to tell us, doesn’t he?” Renn looked far up the beach. “Back to reality?”
Alixa followed his gaze. Yes, Setticus undoubtedly would dump more unwanted weight on them. And once they were back on the road. . .
Alixa snapped her fingers and pointed. “Sheep, sit. Goat-boy, that log. Straight across from her.” She sat rigidly on a stone between the two. “You need to do this. They can wait.”
They obediently slid into their assigned places.
“Do what, Alixa?” Renn asked.
“Oh, please. You’re really going to make me do all the work?” A vein throbbed along Alixa’s temple. She quietly lowered her hands, pushed out a long exhale. “So, Sheep, tell me. What was your relationship with the goat-boy, when you left Drennich?
“We barely knew each other, really.”
“Officially.”
“Um, officially?” Emmie picked at her fingers, looking away.
“Alixa, let her alone. We should go—”
Alixa silenced him with a furious look.
“Stop playing dumb, Emmidawn. Spit it out.”
“Right. Well, we didn’t know yet, but Brie and our dads had, well, begun the whole arranging, courting deal for. . . us.” Emmie shrugged. “I’m not sure what that’s supposed to look like or even quite what it means.”
“Fair enough. Renn, enlighten us.” Renn balked, and Alixa’s stare bore down on him. “And, yes, you will.”
“K. Uh, means Brie and our dads arranged for us to, um, get to know each other better?”
“Get to know each other? That’s it?” Alixa threw her hands up. “Come on!”
“It’s the first step in exploring a possible marriage,” Renn mumbled. “Very first step; nothing’s official. Our families and the mediator—Brie—can squelch it any time.”
“And your Brie sent you on the road, forcing you two bashfuls to ‘get to know each other.’ This woman’s motives are clear.”
Renn had never quite seen it that way but, yes, that sounded like Brie.
Emmie smirked at her toes, seemingly enthralled with the dirt beneath them.
“And. . .” Alixa motioned for Renn to continue. When neither spoke, Alixa’s tone strained. “And, Rennwinn, what have you discovered? You like this girl? No, don’t look away. And, no, not at me. Look at her, for crying out loud! That cute little thing sitting right there—talk to her! Now!”
Alixa wrung her hands through her hair. Rats, she was losing that battle with her exasperation. Renn looked up and smiled dumbly. He rubbed his scars, now deep purple, and opened his mouth.
“No,” Emmie said abruptly.
“No?” Renn’s mouth hung open pathetically.
“No, Sheep?” Alixa suppressed an urge to strangle her. “You seriously—”
“Let me finish, Lix!” Emmie snapped. She smoothed down her breeches and began winding her hair around her fingers. “This isn’t fair to you, Renn. You would’ve done this weeks ago, only I wouldn’t let you. You remember that night, by the stream? I was so ashamed of myself, how awful I was behaving. But that night, you said you’d stick with me no matter what, because you thought I was worth it? That was the most generous, undeserved gift. And then you did it! Even when I was such an ogre to you.”
Emmie’s voice cracked. She flapped both hands at Renn when he started to speak.
“You kept loving me even when I couldn’t love you back.” Emmie beamed through her tears. “Lix, you finally helped me see. . . and Renn? I love you. Ha, Lixa, I said it!” Emmie smacked her, then turned back to Renn, moist eyes pleading. “If you’ll still take me, I’ll try, really hard—”
“There was never any question if I’d take you, Emmie.”
They grinned, dumbstruck, at each other.
“And, Rennwinn, now you say . . .” Alixa prodded him.
“I love you, Emmidawn?” It sounded like a question, but Renn’s look of astonished joy wiped the question mark away.
“There. Was that really so difficult?” Alixa heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I swear you two make me do everything.”
“Oh, it’s true, Lix.” Emmie lunged at her, wrapping her in a hug. “I don’t know how we’d ever make do without you!”
“I’ll not be there, that first night. Wedding night, you know. You’ll have to figure that out yourselves. I can only imagine. . .”
Emmie padded over to Renn, sat next to him, and laid her head on his shoulder, blissfully ignoring Alixa’s gripes and barbs. Alixa’s heart ached with a fullness richer and warmer than she’d dreamed possible. She rolled her eyes and feigned revulsion, managing to turn away from them before she couldn’t contain her happiness any longer.
LXI - Lake Winnepaca
The moment was short-lived, as they knew it had to be. They returned to find Corbiern and the others arrayed around a fire, the rock wall that was the eastern mountains of Winnepaca forming an imposing backdrop to the upcoming discussion.
“We best burn these when we are through.” Setticus waved Emmie’s tarot cards in the air, not wasting time with pleasantries. “Like the statues, they are not to be taken lightly.”
“What were those statues?” Renn asked.
“Dominion holders—an ancient practice of placing someone’s life under the power of another. In your case, Emmidawn, they represented the three people your father saw that night. They claimed your life, and by their beliefs, it gave them the right to do with you as they pleased. Even years later, they held power over you, especially strong under the wrong circumstances.”
“I know,” Emmie whispered. She didn’t elaborate. Renn didn’t her need to, now comprehending what had overcome her in Longardin.
“You are free, child. Do not give them another thought.”
“I’d prefer to not think any more on any of this.” Emmie rubbed her face, feeling she was wilting under the gaze of all these men.
“We must own all aspects of our past; bitter though they may be.”
“Wonderful.” Emmie grimaced.
“Not to be defined by them, but to learn.” Setticus held up one card, leaving the others cast aside next to him. “Studying these types of cards is a foul business. Too muc
h time spent in the study of evil carries little benefit to the student, regardless of intention. We will burn these cards—save this one.”
“Why that one?” Polidan asked, squinting at it.
“First, let us rid ourselves of the others.” He picked a card from the seven-card deck and held it between his fingers. “What do you see?”
“It’s a mountain on fire,” Alixa answered in a heartbeat. “Complete destruction.”
“I see darkness, everywhere,” Omlos volunteered. The usually smiley man looked uncharacteristically somber. “I don’t like it.”
“Pain.” Polidan brooded.
“Yes. All of that. Destruction. Darkness. Pain. We see in it the fear we bring with us. And those Bandu cities, 13 years ago, buckled in darkness and death.” Setticus held the card out. “Omlos, feed the fire.”
The big man obeyed immediately.
“The dominion holders represent the executors of the curse. And these cards, at the apex of this death ritual, were lain on the life of an individual held most dear to the victims, as a final sacrifice.”
All eyes again turned—unwelcome—to Emmie.
“Not me. Never been dear to many people.”
Setticus’s gaze flickered at Alixa. Though subtle, it was again obvious he knew, or thought he knew, who she was. Alixa ignored him, resolutely watching Omlos shuck each card into the flames. The old mystic held aloft the one card he’d exempted.
“Why that one?” Renn asked. “It’s no better than the others.”
“Excellent question, my friend. This was the final card of the curse. However. . .” Setticus passed it to Corbiern. “Hold it to the fire. Close as you can without burning it. But it must feel the heat.”
Corbiern hesitated, then held the card so close it singed his arm hairs. He angled it slowly one way, then the other, heating the entire card evenly.
“I don’t pretend to understand everything about these cards. What I do understand. . .” Setticus paused, a gleam in his eye. “Is a power greater, more ancient and final—”
“Look!” Emmie burst out. “It’s gone beautiful!”
The card Corbiern was holding had portrayed a grasping skeletal hand. Now—seared with heat—it became a golden tree reaching into a purple sky.
“What was meant as a curse transforms into a promise,” Setticus said reverently.
“Really?” Polidan pulled on his wispy beard.
“Promise of what?” Alixa gestured north. “Kaisson and Baiweer were destroyed. Everyone slaughtered. That was my home. Your home too, Emmie.”
“The card has two images,” Corbiern said after a few moments of silence. “Sadly, Alixa, the first image remains.”
“Oh! It’s me.” Emmie sat up straight, grasping her leggings. “I lost everything—you too, Lix—but the story doesn’t end there. Death doesn’t have the final word.” Emmie licked her lips, watching the two images on the card intermingle as it cooled. “A broken Khuulie man turns up somewhere he has no place being. Acts with a courage he didn’t believe he had. He couldn’t bring back my parents or my home but. . . no matter how bleak, hope cannot be contained.”
Emmie glanced skyway, practically sure she would see the sky purpling—Lyda’s hope against hope—but it was too early in the day. Then Emmie’s energetic burst faded into an abashed smile as she took in all the faces, intently listening to what, for her, was maybe an intensely personal revelation.
“Well, I mean, I’m not saying it’s actually about me,” she stammered. Emmie faked a smile. “So, moving on. What do you all see?”
Corbiern chewed his lip, deep in thought. Polidan stroked his wispy beard, studying her over-intently. Worst of all for Emmie, Setticus’s eyes were fixed on her as though he were considering her anew. She elbowed Renn.
“What? I don’t have anything good as yours, Emmie.”
Emmie pulled Renn to his feet. She flashed an embarrassed grin at the others and laughed nervously as she addressed Setticus. “Renn needs a walk, k? Overdue to, uh, stretch his legs.”
“I do?” Renn replied as Emmie pulled him up the coast.
“Some betrothed you’re turning out to be,” Emmie muttered once they were out of earshot. “Bail me out.”
“I thought what you said was kind of beautiful.” Renn patted her hand.
“Thanks, I suppose. The way the old guy was considering me, though. Makes me feel this isn’t anywhere near over.”
Those seated around the fire circle quietly watched them leave.
“Alixa.” Setticus leaned back, hands clasped before him. “Tell me about Emmidawn.”
“Blonde hair, grey eyes. 5’2, maybe shorter.” Alixa didn’t know what he was after but had become too protective of Emmie to be cooperative. “Sixteen years old, possibly, but acts much younger.”
“Smart aleck. You know that’s not what he means,” Corbiern shot back. “Teacher, what are you looking for?”
“Mmm.” Hardly an answer. “She exudes a natural charm. An infectious sort of—”
“What are you getting at?” Alixa touched her hand to her sword.
“Polidan?” Setticus stared after Renn and Emmie ambling down the beach. He ignored Alixa’s inquiry. Which rankled her to no end. “What do you think of that girl?”
“She. . .” Polidan searched for words. “There’s certainly something, isn’t there?”
“Emmie is kind. And funny.” Omlos smiled. “Good heart.”
The old man said nothing. Corbiern and Alixa exchanged looks of mutual confusion.
“Collect our things.” Setticus abruptly stood. “Quickly, please. We’re returning home.”
“I’ll run ahead.” Polidan nodded. “Tell them you’re coming.”
“Corbiern, Omlos, clean up our mess and see our friends off.” Setticus walked slowly down the beach. “We must show Winnepaca our respect.”
“Wait,” Corbiern objected, turning Setticus with a hand to his shoulder. “I planned to accompany them. I want to.”
The old man’s only response was his raised eyebrows.
“It’s dangerous. Renn is still wounded. I can help them.”
“Of that I am certain,” Setticus replied. “I need to be certain about that which I am not yet certain. We all have our part to play and I require your assistance. Do as you are told and allow me a word with Alixa.”
Corbiern looked set to defy his mentor. At last, he grunted and stormed away.
“Why are you asking about Emmie?” Alixa demanded, going toe-to-toe with the old mystic. “And why do you keep looking at me like you think you know something?”
His mouth twitched in a slight smile.
“Not acceptable. I demand answers.”
“You deserve answers. That is true.” He gave Alixa another of his grave smiles, then began to walk away. “I see who you are, Alixa du Albin. I must warn you the Bandu are not prepared to welcome a back-from-the-dead sovereign. But you must finish this journey to its destination.” He halted, raising a finger. “When and how to reveal yourself? Trust your own wisdom. As for your friend? I need time to think but, Alixa, I will be there when you need me.”
“That’s it?” Alixa glowered.
He merely nodded. With a withering scowl, Alixa clattered her sword and stalked away. Setticus ambled back towards the eastern road toward Paccan lands, leaving a perplexed Corbiern and Omlos to clean up.
“I’m sorry I’m not coming with you, Alixa,” Corbiern said as he gathered their things. “I wanted to help you.”
“What, don’t you trust the old man?”
“I trust him implicitly. Still, I think you’d be better served by me, or Polidan, Omlos and me, accompanying you.”
“I can take care of myself. I’m a big girl.”
“Not what I meant, and you know it.” He extended a hand. Alixa smirked at him, not offering one back. “I’m not looking for an argument. I just. . . take care of those two then. And, please, come back this way. Let me know you’re okay?”
“
You’re a worrywart, you know that, Corbiern?”
“You’re impossible, you know that, Alixa?”
“Thank you.” Alixa grinned and clasped his hand. “I’ve worked hard to become so.”
LXII - Roadways, East and South of Lake Winnepaca
Jes’s Drennich ‘army’ had slogged along the overgrown northern road for days. With few settlements in the region, it made for a lonely, monotonous trek. Which only made this particular day even more of a treat. A crisp sunny afternoon spent in the wide walled lawn of the monastery enjoying its hospitality proved a much-needed tonic for the marchers’ weary feet and mindsets. Berg, leaning against an ancient white oak, observed the disciplined soldiers, rough fishermen, and his own unassuming townsfolk as they interacted. Such dissimilar people yet jelling as one while they journeyed together. It was an unexpected development.
What was not unexpected was the toll the long days were taking on his mother. Jes was neither weak nor in poor health. In the Westerlunds, however, being 53 meant she was approaching the twilight of life. Drained by anxiety and added responsibility, she sat apart from the others trying to collect herself. Berg eased down beside her and gently pulled her in.
“Mom, I’m worried about you. What can I do?”
“Well, haven’t we reversed roles, Bergie?” Jes nudged him. “You taking care of me?”
“Happy to, Mom.” Berg nodded to a monk in plain roughspun cloak as he shuffled past. “And please, your worrying isn’t helping you, or Renn and Emmidawn.”
“Excuse me?” The monk stopped abruptly and about-faced a few feet away.
“Yes, Father?” Jes stood slowly.
The lanky, balding monk glanced about the crowd of townspeople and soldiers, monks and nuns, milling about the yard. His gaze settled on a squat elderly monk, wearing an abbot’s red robe and cap and a strained oily smile.
The lanky monk shuffled back towards them, and asked quietly, “Who, may I ask, are Renn and Emmidawn and what is their trouble?”
“Well, Father—”
“Brother, actually,” he replied with a rueful expression.
“Brother, then. It’s rather murky.” Jes detailed the outlandish basics of their journey. The monk’s gaze drifted to the Khuulie fishermen. “My son, Renn, is 17. His companion, Emmidawn—she’s 15. Or is she 16 now?”
The Silver Claw Page 38