Servants of the Sands, page 62
“Absence makes reflection gentler,” Fimre observed. Dinas nodded.
“Indeed. And so I will stay here for a time, as he knew I would. If you wish, you may rest here safely. I will guard you.”
“Do we have anything to eat?” Fimre muttered. “Gods, I could take a horse apart with my bare hands about now.” Alyea nodded emphatic agreement.
Dinas smiled and handed each of them a small, twisted dark stick: jerky of some sort. “It is not spicy,” he said as Alyea sniffed at it dubiously. “It is food we give to our children when they are hungry during a long day’s work.”
Alyea and Fimre’s expressions soured, but they bit into the jerky without argument. Idisio shook his head and stuffed the jerky into his belt pouch, his stomach presently far too unsettled to accept food.
“Where are we?” Idisio turned to examine the rocky landscape around them. He saw no signs of a road, or any flat spot beyond the bare space upon which he stood.
“The east road.” Dinas pointed. “If you climb that rock, ha’ra’ha, you will see the Wall stair. I have brought you to a spot halfway up, the closest I can safely approach. It is the best I can do to set you close to your destination.”
“How do you know where we’re headed?” Idisio challenged. His tone came out rougher than he’d intended, and Dinas’s eyebrows dipped in a distinct frown.
“Idisio,” Alyea nearly moaned. She waved the stick of jerky at him scoldingly. Annoyed by her condescension, he stared back at her. She rolled her eyes, then dropped her gaze.
Dinas cleared his throat lightly, bringing their attention back to him. “It is not a difficult guess, ha’ra’ha,” he said. “There are few places in the south that would draw both yourself and Lord Peysimun together at this particular time.” Dinas inclined his head to Lord Fimre. “Without intending offense, Lord Sessin, I must assume you are along by accident of oversight.”
Fimre let out a dry bark of laughter. “You’re right on that,” he said. “And hells, I don’t even know where we’re going—how could you have figured it—” He stopped, his head slowly turning. His gaze fastened on Alyea, then on Idisio. “Oh. Oh no. No, please. Not Scratha Fortress?”
“What’s the matter with going to Scratha Fortress?” Idisio demanded, instantly aggrieved. Why did everyone seem to have this enormous bias against Lord Scratha?
Fimre buried his head against his knees again and groaned. “I’m not going to Scratha Fortress,” he declared. He took a quick glance at Idisio, then directed his glare at the sky. “I’ll head down the Wall Stair, thank you, and take ship back to Sessin Fortress. It’s not as though you have any reason to bring me along!”
“No reason not to, either,” Idisio said stubbornly. “What’s the matter with going to Scratha Fortress?” For some reason, he dearly wanted Fimre to admit to his irrational dislike of Lord Scratha.
“Why are you trying to pick a fight with everyone?” Alyea demanded in evident exasperation. Idisio ignored her, even as a small voice in the back of his mind agreed with her question.
They can’t hurt me, he thought. I’m the one with the greatest status here. I won’t take being treated like a child!
Dinas Teyantin let out a tiny chuff. Idisio couldn’t tell whether it was in laughter or offense. His dark face remained entirely expressionless, his emotions tightly closed off.
“Ha’inn,” Fimre said, “No offense, but haven’t you noticed that Lord Scratha isn’t exactly fond of my Family? I haven’t been invited, and I won’t be welcome. You don’t need me, and I have a mess that needs to be cleaned up on my own doorstep. Why would I want to go to Scratha Fortress?”
Idisio blinked, realizing that he had, actually, forgotten that Fimre came from Sessin Family. There was a strange haze over his mind, obscuring peripheral details, ghosting out recent events. He touched his chest, feeling the bumps of bluestone beads, and tried not to look worried.
“He’s right, Idisio,” Alyea said. “Let him go. He’s been through enough.”
“Thank you, Lord Peysimun,” Fimre said heavily, apparently as annoyed by her mothering as Idisio.
“I don’t know if I can claim that title any longer,” she said, glancing up at the nearby cliff wall. Idisio noticed heavy dark circles under her eyes. A moment’s focus told him that she was exhausted, hungry, and more than a little angry about—something—although the source wouldn’t come clear. Just then, she shot him a scowl. He shrugged and looked away, refusing any sign of apology for intruding.
Fimre, halfway to his feet, paused. He shot Idisio a glance, then straightened to his full height, wincing as he tugged the rumpled sling back into place. “Until I’m formally told otherwise, you deserve the grace of the title,” he said soberly.
“Wait,” Idisio interrupted, memory clarifying into an unwisely blurted question: “Lord Oruen said you tried to kill him? Is that what you’re talking about?”
“You did what?” Dinas said, impassivity cracking into incredulity, then burst into unrestrained laughter.
“She went mad for a while,” Fimre cut in. His good hand moved to cup his broken arm. “That’s the easiest way to say it. She was told that if she left the room without the king’s permission, she’d lose all her lands and titles.”
“Oh,” Idisio said, more a long exhalation than a word. “Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“Obviously,” Fimre retorted. “I’m beginning to wonder what you do know, ha’inn.”
Idisio felt his veins ice over. “Don’t presume, desert lord,” he said in the same cold tone he’d used with Lord Evkit.
Alyea spoke up. “What is the matter with you, Idisio? You’re acting like—like Deiq.”
Idisio blinked several times, vision shifting across multiple spectrums, and finally shut his eyes. The small voice in the back of his mind that agreed with Alyea crowed in triumph. He let it gloat for a moment, then shoved it aside. “I know,” he said then, his voice subdued. “I’m beginning to understand—why Deiq acts the way he does.” He glanced at the teyanain. Dinas said nothing, a half-smile on his face that seemed more weary than mocking.
“I’ll take that as my cue to leave,” Fimre said laconically.
“You should rest first,” Alyea answered. Idisio barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. What was it going to take for her to stop being so... so motherly... the haze across his mind swirled, distracting him into looking up at a hawk soaring far overhead.
She’s showing concern, the small voice in his mind pointed out. She obviously likes Fimre. They know each other. He couldn’t help wondering how well they knew one another, given how she was acting; but that was none of his business.
The hawk passed out of sight. Idisio lowered his gaze from the vastness of the sky, feeling calmer, and studied the small plants enthusiastically sprouting from every crevice in the rock, as though trying to escape the mountain’s strangling grip.
You do have an imagination, ha’ra’ha... A ghostly, sharp laugh slid through his mind, mocking, shattering the momentary peace. Idisio looked up and around again, more intently this time, but sensed no presence beyond their own. When he met Dinas’s gaze, the Teyantin shook his head slightly, as though he once more sensed what Idisio was thinking.
“Forgive me for being rude, but I’d sleep easier with some distance between us,” Fimre said, bowing to Dinas. “I still owe you a life debt, Teyantin. Ought we to resolve that before I go?”
Dinas studied Fimre speculatively for a moment, all humor fading from his face. He looked up at the sky, as Idisio had just done; then slowly shook his head. “I release you from that debt, desert lord.”
“That—thank you, Teyantin,” Fimre said, clearly startled and more than slightly suspicious. “May I ask—without offense—why?”
“I don’t need anything from you right now, and I dislike keeping track of outstanding debts.” Dinas looked up towards the Horn ridge high above them, his forehead creasing as though he were listening to a faraway sound. “I should go.”
Idisio squinted at the Teyantin, wary. That had been a distinctly evasive and incomplete answer. “I thought you were going to rest here for a while,” he prodded. “Let Lord Evkit settle down.”
“I changed my mind,” Dinas said. He stood. “Grace to your grace, Lords Peysimun and Sessin, ha’inn. May your gods protect you.” He bowed once, then turned and leapt high in the air.
In mid-leap, the Teyantin caught at a thick, gnarled root that protruded from the cliff face. He swung to stand atop it, grasped another handhold and pulled himself up, then repeated the process, skipping like a four-legged, sticky-footed spider across an impossibly steep surface.
“Holy gods,” Fimre said, staring in astonishment. “I knew they were good climbers, but—gods.”
“Don’t watch.” Alyea tore her own gaze away. “It’s rude.”
Fimre shook his head, as though rousing himself from a daze. “Yes. Of course.” He shook his head again, then bowed to Alyea and Idisio. “I’ll be on my way. Forgive me for not thanking either of you for your company.” The sour cast returned to his mouth.
“Forgiven,” Alyea said quietly. “But I’ll thank you, Fimre. You’ve done more than your duty.”
“Don’t remind me,” Fimre muttered. “Seriously—don’t ever remind me.” He scrambled over the rocks in the direction of the trail, grunting in audible pain, and was soon gone from sight.
Alyea turned to Idisio. “This is the closest to privacy I think we’re going to get from this point on,” she said. “So will you please tell me what the hells is going on?”
A pain stitched through his side. Briefly, he wondered if the Teyantin had been shielding him in some way, but the thought muddied and dissipated before he could think about the implications. It served to remind him of the urgency, so he said, “Let me summarize to save time. Lord Scratha needs my help. That means something big has gone wrong. I wanted someone to help me. Tank was my first choice, but he refused and told me to get you. You know the rest.”
Her face mottled with incredulous fury, her voice rock-rattling loud as she bellowed, “You destroyed my entire fucking life for Cafad Scratha?”
Chapter 74
Deiq didn’t need to sleep, as Teilo had pointed out, but he enjoyed the drifting loss of responsibility, the endless space for still, slow contemplation. In the moments when he roused to check on his surroundings, he could tell that for all her protests, Teilo was also taking advantage of the time to rest. He hoped it would sweeten her temper.
Morning dawned cold and windy. Deiq lay quiet, looking up at the ceiling, listening to the rattling shutters and tracking temperature shifts throughout the room. It always amused him to watch cooler air encountering his skin. A finger’s breadth away from contact, it nearly sizzled as it veered aside to seek easier prey. Between his own body heat and Teilo’s filling the room, the chill breeze was reduced to fussing with curtains and flowing out through the gap under the door to annoy the humans.
He’d never been able to show that clarity of vision to Alyea, although he’d tried. She was sharp, for a human, but still limited in her ability to see the world. He wondered if Idisio had managed to master the necessary focus yet; veered away from the thought as sharply as the air veered from his skin. It wasn’t safe to think about Idisio. The next time he saw Idisio, he was duty-bound to kill the younger ha’ra’ha.
Not that Deiq had followed duty particularly well over the years. Still, Idisio’s choices hit at one of the rawest spots among ha’reye and ha’ra’hain. Killing another ha’ra’ha by feeding from her mandated an inflexible death sentence.
Deiq sat up, rubbing a hand over his face, and redirected his thoughts to more immediate matters. Teilo stirred, sighed, then rose from her bed. “That wasn’t unpleasant,” she conceded.
“Breakfast,” Deiq said succinctly, and began rebraiding his loosened hair.
“Wasteful,” she told him, stroking one hand over her hair. It braided itself into a tidy bundle under her fingers, locked into shape by her will alone. He shrugged, finished his hand-braiding, and secured the tail with a small tie.
He turned his head at a small sound, focusing: Ah. The servant by their door had just left to warn the innkeep that his honored guests were awake and interested in food. He smiled, smoothing wrinkles out of his clothes with contented smugness.
The small dining room they’d sat in the night before was once again empty of occupants when they arrived. Not surprising, as Deiq had made his preference for solitude well known over the years. The sideboard was laden with sweet and savory pastries, a fresh pot of tea, and an assortment of fruit.
Teilo shook her head at the luxury and refused everything except a cup of tea and a small biscuit. Deiq sampled a bit of everything, taking his time, paying attention to both tangible and intangible sensations. A spicy meat pastry carried the impression of the cook’s laughter, while a sliced sunfruit bore the sense of a young girl laboring diligently at a new task.
Eventually, Teilo said, “This tea isn’t unpleasant.” She took another sip. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anything quite like this.”
“It’s made from locally grown herbs,” Deiq said. “It is unique.”
“Bold claim,” Teilo returned dryly.
“Find me a match for it, then,” Deiq answered.
Teilo shook her head and began picking apart the biscuit as though expecting it to crumble under her fingers. She tilted her head in visible surprise as it separated into flaky layers.
“Also local,” Deiq noted, smiling at her expression. “I’ve made sure they have good milk cows.”
She took a tentative bite, then rapidly devoured the rest of the biscuit. Deiq carefully minded his own breakfast, keeping his amusement hidden.
“You have put a great deal of effort into the trivial,” Teilo said, wiping crumbs from her lips, tone acerbic in an obvious attempt to regain her dignity.
“It’s kept me amused,” Deiq said lightly. “I’m fond of humans, Teilo. They’re fascinating creatures.” He cleared his throat, nodding at her by way of reminding her of her own origins.
Teilo snorted, her chin lifting. “The people here don’t seem fond of you, for all your gracious help.”
“I haven’t been back this way in many years,” Deiq admitted. “I probably wasn’t overly polite, last time they saw me. I don’t remember.” He shrugged, waving a hand to dismiss the topic. “Are you done eating? I’m ready to move on if you are.”
“You’ve invested far too much of yourself in being human,” Teilo said as they rose to their feet. “That’s what’s put both of us into this nonsensical position. You do realize that?”
She was clearly back at her old game of prodding at him until he lost his temper. More than likely she considered it a dominance test or some such nonsense. She hadn’t been out among humans nearly long enough to abandon the games of the Jungle disciples.
Deiq stopped and turned to study her with narrowed eyes. “If I hadn’t learned to act and think like a human,” he pointed out, “I would long since be as dead as my brothers. So scolding me on that point is the same as saying you wish I was dead. Have you thought of that?”
“No,” she said after a moment. “I—I didn’t see it quite that way. I—” She swallowed, turning her gaze away, closing her eyes briefly. “I won’t do that again.”
“I’m well aware you have many reasons to want me dead.” He kept his tone cold and pragmatic. “But that’s not a good beginning for trust, is it? I want my freedom. You want your freedom. Neither of us particularly wants to die. So wait until we’re back on equal footing to start sniping at me, Teilo, or I’ll kill you here and now and the hells with what happens to me.”
She stared, round-eyed, leaning back as though fighting the urge to retreat, then nodded jerkily. “Yes, ha’inn,” she said. “Let’s move on, then, before the day’s older than I am. It’s a long climb to the top.”
He smiled without humor and steered her from the room.
They walked without speaking, edging through the narrow, crowded streets that gradually rose higher and higher above sea level. Deiq turned away insistent merchants, beggars, and pickpockets, scarcely thinking about it. Teilo seemed lost in her own thoughts and made no sign of noticing the various interruptions.
As the foot of the Wall Stair came into view, a low, rumbling boom came from high above, and the sky darkened under a fast-spreading cloud of dust. Deiq stared, appalled, as a half-mile-wide section of the cliff edge began, majestically, to fall.
Chapter 75
“You’re overreacting,” Idisio muttered.
Alyea cut him a sideways glare as cold as the air and said nothing. A night’s uneasy sleep on the small plateau had done nothing to ease her temper. They’d risen well before dawn by unspoken agreement, and scrambled across the rocks, as Fimre had done, to find the stair.
As they walked, Idisio tried to continue his explanation, telling her that he owed Cafad everything, that he’d promised to help if called. He told her about the stitch in his side every time he delayed. He was polite to the humans they passed going the other way, even when they crowded him aside as though they had right of way.
Nothing made the slightest difference. She still glared as though considering whether to toss him over the edge of the Wall stair.
He had to get Alyea settled down and listening again. There were other things that needed to be discussed before they reached the top of the Wall stair—including the inevitable encounter with a distinctly odd ha’ra’ha. And that meant opening up a conversation about Ellemoa, and what had happened after the kidnapping, and why he’d never come back to Bright Bay.
Idisio didn’t want to have that conversation with her. Ever. But he also knew Alyea well enough to know that if he let her walk into the situation ignorant, she’d be vastly more dangerous than if he explained it all up front.
