The First Binding, page 89
“They warn of downed trees or flooded roads ahead, banditry and other troubles, or whether you’re open to meeting with more of the family for a night or two. Sometimes caravans join. Other times, we need our privacy. Or we spread messages of lost loved ones so the family can unite to mourn them proper.”
I stepped back, looking at it like a system of words now. All dots and lines. Easy to overlook, but just as simple to quickly cobble together new messages to send when need arose.
A secret way to tell stories. Secret stories. And there was nothing I liked so much as that.
“Will you teach me this?”
His mouth pressed firm against the stem and I could see his jaw working, as if he’d taken to chewing on the pot and pipe. “Not something people often ask on, truthfully.” But he hadn’t said no.
I didn’t push, knowing it to be a private decision, but I did the next best thing. I worked to make my eyes appear bigger, staring in silence and with all the hope and pleading a young half-starved-looking boy could muster. It might have helped that I looked poorly after enduring the beating I had.
“Well…” The tinker chewed on the pipe again, speaking around the stem. “Suppose it’s possible, but I’m not in the business of giving things freely, you know?” He raised a hand, rubbing a thumb and forefinger together.
I grinned, reversing my wounded look from before. “I can live with that.”
He guffawed, letting out a larger plume of smoke than before. “Don’t rightly know how I’ll find the time and how to teach you, but we can settle that after business. So, boy, treasures or tales?”
“The latter.” I moved away from the wagon side and came closer to where the tinker sat. “Anything good—anything new?”
The ox close to me snorted and shook in what could have been discontent.
“Bathum seems bothered by something.” I patted the beast, hoping to calm it.
“What’s that?” The tinker pulled the pipe from his mouth and stared at me. “What’d you call him?”
I blinked. “His name?”
“Never told you his name, and it’s nowhere near that. I call all my bulls, ‘Bird,’ on account of them being my wings.” He motioned with a hand like flapping wings. “I can’t fly, and it’s by their backs and bodies I get around, so seemed fitting.”
I nodded, not actually seeing his logic, but I’d antagonized enough people for the day. Sometimes a man needs to set a smaller quota when it comes to being a bother. “I’m not sure where I heard it then, though I could have sworn it came from you.”
The tinker shook his head. “No. And it’s a wonder you want me teaching you my tongue when you can already grab a piece of it yourself.”
That left me speechless.
“‘Bathum’ means ‘stubborn,’ and it’s not Brahmthi or Brahmki. Though, it’s certainly fitting for that one. Even after two years with me and being well gentled, he’s still got more mule in him some days than I know what to do with.”
The bull I’d taken to think of as Bathum snorted at the tinker’s comment.
“See what I mean? Thinks he’s clever too.” The man shot the ox a sideways glare before rounding back on me. “So, to business.”
I inclined my head, wanting the moment’s oddity to be ignored and out of my mind.
The kitten decided that now, of all possible times, was the perfect moment to let out a whine as it peeked its head through the folds of my robes.
“Oh, what’s this then?” The tinker leaned forward. “Picked up a stray?”
I shook my head. “He’s not mine. I just found him is all.”
The tinker reached out a hand, wiggling an index finger at the creature.
I removed the cat from my clothing and brought it closer to the man so he could touch it.
“Ow! Little bastard nipped me.” He pulled his finger back, shaking it, though for all his words, he held no anger in them. “Rescued a little flame, have we? Teach me to touch a thing like that.” He put the digit in his mouth and sucked the tip before pulling it free again. “You’ll do well to make a proper home for that thing.”
“He’s. Not. Mine.” I stressed each word again, hoping that would drive the point home. Everyone had been treating the cat as if I’d taken him in already. “What of the stories, Tinker? What have you heard?” I pulled the kitten back and eased him into my robes again where he seemed content to gnaw at my clothing instead of men’s fingers.
“Hm—oh, that. Ah, so, I noticed your face when last we spoke. Saw the way your eyes popped like when a young lad’s learned a girl fancies him. And though for the pretty thing you had on your arm, you didn’t seem half as interested in her as you did what I had to say.”
That much might have been true, but hearing it aloud sent a pang to my chest that didn’t come from the bruises. Had I really ignored Estra’s interest and feelings that much?
“By the way, where is your lady friend?” His smile grew to something wily and mischievous. “Boy your age ought to be having as much fun with that sort as he does keeping his noses in books. Too much of one isn’t good for you. A man needs balance.”
“Oh, um, she’s back at the Ashram.”
The excitement seeped from the man’s face and his shoulders slumped a little. “Ah, well, I suppose that sort of thing happens too around that age.” He didn’t bother explaining the meaning behind the comment. “Right then, the story. Like I was saying.” He cleared his throat, coughing harder than necessary, and I realized some of the smoke had taken its toll on him. “Ackh. That’s better. So, you seemed proper interested in what rumors there are about like what happened down south—hm?”
I gave him a silent look that made my answer obvious.
“Most won’t peddle in those stories, you know?” His voice changed, and his eyes moved side to side as if he feared being overheard. “Not good things to talk about. It’s one thing when far off in the Cradle so south and to nobles, you know? But even then, they’re not good tales to be telling.”
I nodded more to help him feel like I understood than to agree with his point.
“Something just as strange happened off past the mountain wall.” He hooked his thumb over a shoulder, pointing to the snowcaps and stone the Ashram sat against. “Little village called Ampur is having the sort of trouble no one wants to go look in on. But, then, not too many places in Sathvan get much in the way of visitors. That province might as well not be part of the kingdom. People there keep to themselves more than anywhere I’ve seen, but this is dark news. Enough you think someone would send some kind of help.”
“What’s happened?”
“Quiet, boy! I’m getting to that, aren’t I? Brahm’s blood, you need patience. There’s an order and way to telling a tale.”
I gritted my teeth and busied my hands with comforting the now sleeping kitten.
“So, there I was, trading bits of precious and news a few villages over, and that’s when another trader—fisherman—came from upriver. Man all but ran and shoved people aside, telling me and everyone who’d listen of what was going on up in Ampur. Houses burned, folks killed—gruesome thing. Don’t know what sort of men it takes to do a horrible thing like that. Don’t much know what they used to burn the place either, but all the smoke coming from the place was told to be red. Red as flame.
“Half the time I wonder how anyone’s supposed to keep a fire going in that place, though. All cold and snow-touched.” The tinker wrapped his arms tight around himself as if suppressing a shiver. “And then the rains.” He shook his head. “Bad enough the place gets ice all the time, but freezing rain at this time of year? Hard place to live, and the folks may be just as hard, but still, can’t see anyone enjoying living there like that.”
My mouth dried. The Ashura had struck again, and this time so close I could almost picture ribbons of red smoke coming from over the mountains. “How far?”
“What?”
“How far to Ampur?”
He looked at me like I’d gone mad and asked him instead for the price of his own blood. “S’pose not more than a solid day and a half of travel. But you’re talking riding morning and night, boy. And this ain’t a place to do that with horses. You’ll need something slow, sturdy, better sure-footed than those things.” He reached out and patted Bathum.
“Can you take me?”
His eyes practically ballooned and I nearly expected them to burst. “What? I just got into Ghal. You’re wanting me to turn around and go back where I came? That’s bad business—”
I let my cane fall from my hand as I reached for my purse. My fingers brushed against a few coins and I plucked them up without discrimination. Three doles sat pinched in my grip.
A price many a man or woman would do a great deal of things for.
His eyes locked to the coins.
“How’s that? How much is your trade worth against this? Is it enough?”
“Brahm’s ashes, I swear.” He shook his head as if he’d refuse. “You don’t make things easy, do you, boy?”
I grinned. “I’ve heard that a lot. And, no, I don’t. So, Tinker, do we have a deal?”
His hand blurred and pulled the coins from my grip. A roll of the wrist, a flash of his other hand, and a scarf across my vision that I had never seen him pull. The second went by and I lost sight of the silver doles as if they’d never been there at all. “We do. I’ll need a third of a candlemark to get ready. Meet me in the square and we’ll set off. Good?”
“Good.” I turned and ran, not caring for the aches my body warned me of as I went up the stairs to the Ashram.
The Ashura were nearly a day from me. And I’d find them finally.
And I would confront Koli after all this time.
EIGHTY
FRIENDS
Enthusiasm can do wonders for pain and limitations. Couple that with the promise of satisfying curiosity, and maybe dreams of revenge? Then you have a recipe to push away all the things holding you back. My legs burned and I paid them little mind as I finished the journey up the Ashram’s stairs. Someone had turned my lungs into thin sheets of rubber, wrung hard and left to dry. I endured the stinging through my chest with every breath, looking around the main courtyard to reorient myself.
Radi and Aram crossed a path near one of the still-blooming trees.
I willed myself to run just a bit more and make it over to them, calling out their names when I was within a reasonable distance.
Both turned to face me, first breaking into smiles, then mixed looks of apprehension and concern as they likely took in my bedraggled looks. Aram raced over first, putting her hands on my shoulders to steady me.
“Blood and ashes, Ari. What happened to you? You look like someone threw you down the stairs. What are you holding? Why are your—”
The kitten decided to cut all her questions short with an indignant mrowl that drew my friend to silence.
Aram gazed at my chest and arched a brow. “What’s under your robes? Brahm’s blood, I never thought I’d be asking you that question.”
Radi let out a bark of laughter as he came within earshot. “Well, why stop there now that you’ve come to—”
The cat let out another sound of irritation, probably from having been woken from the slumber it had fallen into while I climbed the steps.
“Um, I guess I’ll have to side with Aram here and ask why there are sounds coming from under your clothes, Ari.”
I gave them a weak smile and figured I’d answer all of their questions in one go of it. “Got into a fight with Nitham and his assflies.”
Aram mouthed the word “assflies” to Radi, clearly making a question out of it.
“Because they’re like horseflies, only they don’t stick to a steed, but a jackass instead.” Radi rolled his eyes. “Really, Ari. You can do better.”
I ignored that and jabbed a finger at my face. “Thanks for the concern. The fight went sour, and I paid for it with a hellish beating, but thanks.”
Aram sighed. “You picked it. We’ve warned you not to stir trouble with him.”
I parted my robes just enough so the two of them could peek into the folds. A shock of orange, still slick with some snow. “They were trying to hurt this.”
My friends peered at the cat, then back at me. “Ari, please tell me you didn’t adopt a kitten.” Aram looked around as if she expected trouble to swoop down on us any moment.
I shook my head. “I didn’t. I just stopped Nitham from hurting it. It’s not mine, and I don’t know what to do with it. But I need you to keep it safe for me until I get back and can figure it out.”
Aram’s mouth hung slack and Radi grew ashen. “What?” both said in unison.
I pulled the cat free of my clothing and handed it to Aram. “Just keep it secret. Keep it safe. No one needs to know.”
Aram handled the kitten like a hot coal, shifting it from hand to hand like it would burn her. She eased the cat into her robes much like I had done and then whipped her head around, searching for a trouble that she should have known wouldn’t come. The majority of students simply didn’t care for anything beyond what was in front of them. “What am I supposed to do?” She kept her voice now to a low and sharp hiss.
“It’s just for a few days. I’m heading over to Ampur with a tinker.”
The pair of them looked at me like I’d gone mad.
Radi licked his lips and glanced at Aram. “I think he’s serious. Maybe touched in the head, but also serious. He’s really going to leave right in the middle of a set. And before apprenticeship exams.”
I had forgotten about those. “I’ll be fine.” It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. I’d have to catch up when I returned.
Radi clapped a hand to my shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re going to make us miss all that. Take good notes, Aram.” Radi flashed her a wink.
Aram groaned and shook her head. “Yeah.” She sounded like someone miserably accepting grim news that she’d expected.
I looked at them both, confused. “What the hell are you two on about?”
Radi gave me a gentle shove and readjusted the mandolin over his back. “I’m going with you, so you don’t die in whatever scheme you’ve got in that cracked coconut of yours.” He rapped a set of knuckles against my skull.
I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off.
“Do you want to argue, because we know as sharp as your tongue can be, mine’s the quicker of us three. There’s not a thing I can’t say faster, lines I can’t spin better and leave your tongues trip-tumbling behind as you try to catch up to me. That’s as plain a thing for anyone to see. So why bother with it? Let’s go on, unless you’d rather be stuck here from now until it’s too late to go, and what’ll—”
“Fine-fine!” I put my hands to his chest, hoping to stay the verbal cascade that even I struggled to keep up with. “And … thank you, Radi.”
He grinned something too roguish and smug, even for himself. It was a thing better suited to Aram.
We said our goodbyes, with Radi promising to have me home safe and sound. And if not, he’d at least come up with a marvel of a song over my death. Women would weep, and they would fall into his arms, all to console him of course.
Either way, he said he would come out a winner.
What are friends for?
EIGHTY-ONE
THINGS TO REMEMBER
By the time I’d reached the bottom stair, my knees had given up and wanted to buckle. Radi, being the friend that he was, offered me support.
“When I said I’d look out for you, I didn’t think I’d have to carry you.” He had actually made no move to help me physically at all. Something I pointed out.
“You’re really not. Give me a hand?”
He removed his mandolin and cradled it, running one hand along its curve. “I can’t, mine are otherwise occupied. It’s sad when that happens.” He grinned as I glowered at him. “Is that the fellow?” Radi tilted his head toward the tinker.
I doubled over, resting my hands on my thighs until my body found a hint of relief. Once I had that, I reached the tinker and introduced Radi to him.
The man didn’t buck at all at the idea of carrying one more person to Ampur. Then again, no sane man would say a thing after being paid three pieces of silver for the job. He welcomed us aboard and Radi, being the creature of comfort that he was, decided that he would much rather crawl into the wagon and avail himself of the bedding there while we rode.
I let him have it, finding enough comfort in the padded seat beside the tinker. He never bothered to get Radi’s name, but did do me the kindness of telling me his.
Pathar. It meant stone. Of mind, of heart, and dedication.
I decided it fit the tinker and his life.
At first, we shared few words as we trundled over Ghal’s frosted terrain. Every odd bump or jostle sent aches through my already bruised body, and I slightly wished I’d seen Master Mender before leaving.
But I knew had I done that and lost any time, I could have missed the Ashura altogether, and I would never have forgiven myself for that.
Eventually, the doldrums of the first leg of our journey brought out Pathar’s more talkative side. He told me the history of his people, and how they’d come about from the Ruma, who’d grown too restless to stay in place, even if for a night, to trade and tell stories. The tinkers came from a split where they could never sit still. So they took to wagons and roaming the world, the stars and skies their blankets. Grass their beds when they couldn’t find enough room in their wagons.
The life held an odd romanticism for me, though at the time, I couldn’t say why. Maybe it was because I’d never had a place of my own for too long where I felt I belonged. So I relished the idea of everywhere being my home.
Casteless, as far as the Empire was concerned, the tinkers kept to their ways then, choosing to make their fortunes through methods no one would lay singular claim to.
After a while, we finally got to the heart of the matter I wanted to address.
* * *
“And the horizontal lines are words?” I craned my neck to look at the side of the wagon, earning a sharp cuff to the back of my head.
I stepped back, looking at it like a system of words now. All dots and lines. Easy to overlook, but just as simple to quickly cobble together new messages to send when need arose.
A secret way to tell stories. Secret stories. And there was nothing I liked so much as that.
“Will you teach me this?”
His mouth pressed firm against the stem and I could see his jaw working, as if he’d taken to chewing on the pot and pipe. “Not something people often ask on, truthfully.” But he hadn’t said no.
I didn’t push, knowing it to be a private decision, but I did the next best thing. I worked to make my eyes appear bigger, staring in silence and with all the hope and pleading a young half-starved-looking boy could muster. It might have helped that I looked poorly after enduring the beating I had.
“Well…” The tinker chewed on the pipe again, speaking around the stem. “Suppose it’s possible, but I’m not in the business of giving things freely, you know?” He raised a hand, rubbing a thumb and forefinger together.
I grinned, reversing my wounded look from before. “I can live with that.”
He guffawed, letting out a larger plume of smoke than before. “Don’t rightly know how I’ll find the time and how to teach you, but we can settle that after business. So, boy, treasures or tales?”
“The latter.” I moved away from the wagon side and came closer to where the tinker sat. “Anything good—anything new?”
The ox close to me snorted and shook in what could have been discontent.
“Bathum seems bothered by something.” I patted the beast, hoping to calm it.
“What’s that?” The tinker pulled the pipe from his mouth and stared at me. “What’d you call him?”
I blinked. “His name?”
“Never told you his name, and it’s nowhere near that. I call all my bulls, ‘Bird,’ on account of them being my wings.” He motioned with a hand like flapping wings. “I can’t fly, and it’s by their backs and bodies I get around, so seemed fitting.”
I nodded, not actually seeing his logic, but I’d antagonized enough people for the day. Sometimes a man needs to set a smaller quota when it comes to being a bother. “I’m not sure where I heard it then, though I could have sworn it came from you.”
The tinker shook his head. “No. And it’s a wonder you want me teaching you my tongue when you can already grab a piece of it yourself.”
That left me speechless.
“‘Bathum’ means ‘stubborn,’ and it’s not Brahmthi or Brahmki. Though, it’s certainly fitting for that one. Even after two years with me and being well gentled, he’s still got more mule in him some days than I know what to do with.”
The bull I’d taken to think of as Bathum snorted at the tinker’s comment.
“See what I mean? Thinks he’s clever too.” The man shot the ox a sideways glare before rounding back on me. “So, to business.”
I inclined my head, wanting the moment’s oddity to be ignored and out of my mind.
The kitten decided that now, of all possible times, was the perfect moment to let out a whine as it peeked its head through the folds of my robes.
“Oh, what’s this then?” The tinker leaned forward. “Picked up a stray?”
I shook my head. “He’s not mine. I just found him is all.”
The tinker reached out a hand, wiggling an index finger at the creature.
I removed the cat from my clothing and brought it closer to the man so he could touch it.
“Ow! Little bastard nipped me.” He pulled his finger back, shaking it, though for all his words, he held no anger in them. “Rescued a little flame, have we? Teach me to touch a thing like that.” He put the digit in his mouth and sucked the tip before pulling it free again. “You’ll do well to make a proper home for that thing.”
“He’s. Not. Mine.” I stressed each word again, hoping that would drive the point home. Everyone had been treating the cat as if I’d taken him in already. “What of the stories, Tinker? What have you heard?” I pulled the kitten back and eased him into my robes again where he seemed content to gnaw at my clothing instead of men’s fingers.
“Hm—oh, that. Ah, so, I noticed your face when last we spoke. Saw the way your eyes popped like when a young lad’s learned a girl fancies him. And though for the pretty thing you had on your arm, you didn’t seem half as interested in her as you did what I had to say.”
That much might have been true, but hearing it aloud sent a pang to my chest that didn’t come from the bruises. Had I really ignored Estra’s interest and feelings that much?
“By the way, where is your lady friend?” His smile grew to something wily and mischievous. “Boy your age ought to be having as much fun with that sort as he does keeping his noses in books. Too much of one isn’t good for you. A man needs balance.”
“Oh, um, she’s back at the Ashram.”
The excitement seeped from the man’s face and his shoulders slumped a little. “Ah, well, I suppose that sort of thing happens too around that age.” He didn’t bother explaining the meaning behind the comment. “Right then, the story. Like I was saying.” He cleared his throat, coughing harder than necessary, and I realized some of the smoke had taken its toll on him. “Ackh. That’s better. So, you seemed proper interested in what rumors there are about like what happened down south—hm?”
I gave him a silent look that made my answer obvious.
“Most won’t peddle in those stories, you know?” His voice changed, and his eyes moved side to side as if he feared being overheard. “Not good things to talk about. It’s one thing when far off in the Cradle so south and to nobles, you know? But even then, they’re not good tales to be telling.”
I nodded more to help him feel like I understood than to agree with his point.
“Something just as strange happened off past the mountain wall.” He hooked his thumb over a shoulder, pointing to the snowcaps and stone the Ashram sat against. “Little village called Ampur is having the sort of trouble no one wants to go look in on. But, then, not too many places in Sathvan get much in the way of visitors. That province might as well not be part of the kingdom. People there keep to themselves more than anywhere I’ve seen, but this is dark news. Enough you think someone would send some kind of help.”
“What’s happened?”
“Quiet, boy! I’m getting to that, aren’t I? Brahm’s blood, you need patience. There’s an order and way to telling a tale.”
I gritted my teeth and busied my hands with comforting the now sleeping kitten.
“So, there I was, trading bits of precious and news a few villages over, and that’s when another trader—fisherman—came from upriver. Man all but ran and shoved people aside, telling me and everyone who’d listen of what was going on up in Ampur. Houses burned, folks killed—gruesome thing. Don’t know what sort of men it takes to do a horrible thing like that. Don’t much know what they used to burn the place either, but all the smoke coming from the place was told to be red. Red as flame.
“Half the time I wonder how anyone’s supposed to keep a fire going in that place, though. All cold and snow-touched.” The tinker wrapped his arms tight around himself as if suppressing a shiver. “And then the rains.” He shook his head. “Bad enough the place gets ice all the time, but freezing rain at this time of year? Hard place to live, and the folks may be just as hard, but still, can’t see anyone enjoying living there like that.”
My mouth dried. The Ashura had struck again, and this time so close I could almost picture ribbons of red smoke coming from over the mountains. “How far?”
“What?”
“How far to Ampur?”
He looked at me like I’d gone mad and asked him instead for the price of his own blood. “S’pose not more than a solid day and a half of travel. But you’re talking riding morning and night, boy. And this ain’t a place to do that with horses. You’ll need something slow, sturdy, better sure-footed than those things.” He reached out and patted Bathum.
“Can you take me?”
His eyes practically ballooned and I nearly expected them to burst. “What? I just got into Ghal. You’re wanting me to turn around and go back where I came? That’s bad business—”
I let my cane fall from my hand as I reached for my purse. My fingers brushed against a few coins and I plucked them up without discrimination. Three doles sat pinched in my grip.
A price many a man or woman would do a great deal of things for.
His eyes locked to the coins.
“How’s that? How much is your trade worth against this? Is it enough?”
“Brahm’s ashes, I swear.” He shook his head as if he’d refuse. “You don’t make things easy, do you, boy?”
I grinned. “I’ve heard that a lot. And, no, I don’t. So, Tinker, do we have a deal?”
His hand blurred and pulled the coins from my grip. A roll of the wrist, a flash of his other hand, and a scarf across my vision that I had never seen him pull. The second went by and I lost sight of the silver doles as if they’d never been there at all. “We do. I’ll need a third of a candlemark to get ready. Meet me in the square and we’ll set off. Good?”
“Good.” I turned and ran, not caring for the aches my body warned me of as I went up the stairs to the Ashram.
The Ashura were nearly a day from me. And I’d find them finally.
And I would confront Koli after all this time.
EIGHTY
FRIENDS
Enthusiasm can do wonders for pain and limitations. Couple that with the promise of satisfying curiosity, and maybe dreams of revenge? Then you have a recipe to push away all the things holding you back. My legs burned and I paid them little mind as I finished the journey up the Ashram’s stairs. Someone had turned my lungs into thin sheets of rubber, wrung hard and left to dry. I endured the stinging through my chest with every breath, looking around the main courtyard to reorient myself.
Radi and Aram crossed a path near one of the still-blooming trees.
I willed myself to run just a bit more and make it over to them, calling out their names when I was within a reasonable distance.
Both turned to face me, first breaking into smiles, then mixed looks of apprehension and concern as they likely took in my bedraggled looks. Aram raced over first, putting her hands on my shoulders to steady me.
“Blood and ashes, Ari. What happened to you? You look like someone threw you down the stairs. What are you holding? Why are your—”
The kitten decided to cut all her questions short with an indignant mrowl that drew my friend to silence.
Aram gazed at my chest and arched a brow. “What’s under your robes? Brahm’s blood, I never thought I’d be asking you that question.”
Radi let out a bark of laughter as he came within earshot. “Well, why stop there now that you’ve come to—”
The cat let out another sound of irritation, probably from having been woken from the slumber it had fallen into while I climbed the steps.
“Um, I guess I’ll have to side with Aram here and ask why there are sounds coming from under your clothes, Ari.”
I gave them a weak smile and figured I’d answer all of their questions in one go of it. “Got into a fight with Nitham and his assflies.”
Aram mouthed the word “assflies” to Radi, clearly making a question out of it.
“Because they’re like horseflies, only they don’t stick to a steed, but a jackass instead.” Radi rolled his eyes. “Really, Ari. You can do better.”
I ignored that and jabbed a finger at my face. “Thanks for the concern. The fight went sour, and I paid for it with a hellish beating, but thanks.”
Aram sighed. “You picked it. We’ve warned you not to stir trouble with him.”
I parted my robes just enough so the two of them could peek into the folds. A shock of orange, still slick with some snow. “They were trying to hurt this.”
My friends peered at the cat, then back at me. “Ari, please tell me you didn’t adopt a kitten.” Aram looked around as if she expected trouble to swoop down on us any moment.
I shook my head. “I didn’t. I just stopped Nitham from hurting it. It’s not mine, and I don’t know what to do with it. But I need you to keep it safe for me until I get back and can figure it out.”
Aram’s mouth hung slack and Radi grew ashen. “What?” both said in unison.
I pulled the cat free of my clothing and handed it to Aram. “Just keep it secret. Keep it safe. No one needs to know.”
Aram handled the kitten like a hot coal, shifting it from hand to hand like it would burn her. She eased the cat into her robes much like I had done and then whipped her head around, searching for a trouble that she should have known wouldn’t come. The majority of students simply didn’t care for anything beyond what was in front of them. “What am I supposed to do?” She kept her voice now to a low and sharp hiss.
“It’s just for a few days. I’m heading over to Ampur with a tinker.”
The pair of them looked at me like I’d gone mad.
Radi licked his lips and glanced at Aram. “I think he’s serious. Maybe touched in the head, but also serious. He’s really going to leave right in the middle of a set. And before apprenticeship exams.”
I had forgotten about those. “I’ll be fine.” It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. I’d have to catch up when I returned.
Radi clapped a hand to my shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re going to make us miss all that. Take good notes, Aram.” Radi flashed her a wink.
Aram groaned and shook her head. “Yeah.” She sounded like someone miserably accepting grim news that she’d expected.
I looked at them both, confused. “What the hell are you two on about?”
Radi gave me a gentle shove and readjusted the mandolin over his back. “I’m going with you, so you don’t die in whatever scheme you’ve got in that cracked coconut of yours.” He rapped a set of knuckles against my skull.
I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off.
“Do you want to argue, because we know as sharp as your tongue can be, mine’s the quicker of us three. There’s not a thing I can’t say faster, lines I can’t spin better and leave your tongues trip-tumbling behind as you try to catch up to me. That’s as plain a thing for anyone to see. So why bother with it? Let’s go on, unless you’d rather be stuck here from now until it’s too late to go, and what’ll—”
“Fine-fine!” I put my hands to his chest, hoping to stay the verbal cascade that even I struggled to keep up with. “And … thank you, Radi.”
He grinned something too roguish and smug, even for himself. It was a thing better suited to Aram.
We said our goodbyes, with Radi promising to have me home safe and sound. And if not, he’d at least come up with a marvel of a song over my death. Women would weep, and they would fall into his arms, all to console him of course.
Either way, he said he would come out a winner.
What are friends for?
EIGHTY-ONE
THINGS TO REMEMBER
By the time I’d reached the bottom stair, my knees had given up and wanted to buckle. Radi, being the friend that he was, offered me support.
“When I said I’d look out for you, I didn’t think I’d have to carry you.” He had actually made no move to help me physically at all. Something I pointed out.
“You’re really not. Give me a hand?”
He removed his mandolin and cradled it, running one hand along its curve. “I can’t, mine are otherwise occupied. It’s sad when that happens.” He grinned as I glowered at him. “Is that the fellow?” Radi tilted his head toward the tinker.
I doubled over, resting my hands on my thighs until my body found a hint of relief. Once I had that, I reached the tinker and introduced Radi to him.
The man didn’t buck at all at the idea of carrying one more person to Ampur. Then again, no sane man would say a thing after being paid three pieces of silver for the job. He welcomed us aboard and Radi, being the creature of comfort that he was, decided that he would much rather crawl into the wagon and avail himself of the bedding there while we rode.
I let him have it, finding enough comfort in the padded seat beside the tinker. He never bothered to get Radi’s name, but did do me the kindness of telling me his.
Pathar. It meant stone. Of mind, of heart, and dedication.
I decided it fit the tinker and his life.
At first, we shared few words as we trundled over Ghal’s frosted terrain. Every odd bump or jostle sent aches through my already bruised body, and I slightly wished I’d seen Master Mender before leaving.
But I knew had I done that and lost any time, I could have missed the Ashura altogether, and I would never have forgiven myself for that.
Eventually, the doldrums of the first leg of our journey brought out Pathar’s more talkative side. He told me the history of his people, and how they’d come about from the Ruma, who’d grown too restless to stay in place, even if for a night, to trade and tell stories. The tinkers came from a split where they could never sit still. So they took to wagons and roaming the world, the stars and skies their blankets. Grass their beds when they couldn’t find enough room in their wagons.
The life held an odd romanticism for me, though at the time, I couldn’t say why. Maybe it was because I’d never had a place of my own for too long where I felt I belonged. So I relished the idea of everywhere being my home.
Casteless, as far as the Empire was concerned, the tinkers kept to their ways then, choosing to make their fortunes through methods no one would lay singular claim to.
After a while, we finally got to the heart of the matter I wanted to address.
* * *
“And the horizontal lines are words?” I craned my neck to look at the side of the wagon, earning a sharp cuff to the back of my head.
