Riven Earth, page 42
“Aye.” Otto toasted with his cup of tea.
They chatted a while. Mostly Qaaid doing the chatting. Otto grunted and nodded along. Lots of memories to run through. Fun ones. Sad ones. Lots of thoughtful silences too. The kind of talk done by soldiers grown old. Comes a point where a man’s best days are behind him. Nothing to do then but reminisce.
“How many you got?” Otto nodded to the girl, who was back with another cup of wine for Qaaid. She gave him a smile all shy-like, stooped to grab the cup Qaaid had tossed in the flowerbeds, then hurried inside.
“How many what?” The man was pink with drink now.
“Kids.”
“Oh.” A shadow passed over his eyes. “One girl, two boys.” He sat up. “Tell me, what’s become of Oakheart? With all these followers…”
“Heard talk in town,” Otto said. “Heard one of your boys is suntouched.”
“Lies!” Qaaid got proper pissed proper fast. “Rumours and gossip! This town is full of it!”
Otto met his gaze and kept it until the man looked away. Qaaid coughed to clear his throat. “So, as I was saying. Oakheart. What’s it like now?”
Still, Otto didn’t say anything. Just watched him. Silence stretched. Qaaid squirmed, stared at his fingers, scratched under his nails. He finally looked up at Otto and sighed.
“Third one. Never thought it’d happen to us, but there you go.” He slumped forward, massaged his temple, bit his lip, shook his head. “I didn’t want it. Told my wife to leave it in the forest. Give it to Astea like the old way. She heard nothing of it. Broke her heart to think it, broke her to pieces. The woman is soft as putty. So we kept him. And we raised him. And we give him the best life we can. Under the circumstances.”
“Heard you beat the boy,” Otto said. “Heard you keep him locked up.”
Anger flashed across Qaaid’s face. He looked ready to kill Otto. Wouldn’t have taken much to do it either. “Who told you such lies? Am I the kind of man that would beat a child?”
“Are you?” Otto said.
He stared for a moment, spat, sat back stewing with arms crossed. “The damn thing is no child. It’s a fucking monster. Ruined my reputation, it did. I keep it in the shade so it can’t use its magic on me or mine. Keep it in the shade and quiet it when it cries. Ashes, what else am I to do?”
Silence then, and Otto let it stew awhile. He spotted a pair of golden eyes watching him from the shadows across the yard. Soot. Good. His throat hurt, and when he spoke, he couldn’t do much more than whisper.
“Not my place to come to your home and tell you how to raise your own,” he said. “But my king’s wife was black. And his child too. My men died for their freedom.”
“You have no right to judge me!” Qaaid spat. “You don’t know what it’s like when your own is born cursed!”
“Aye,” Otto said. “I’m no father. But you are.” He pressed his stick into the ground. Took a real effort to lift himself to his shaky feet. He turned and met the man’s eyes. Qaaid looked away, red as murder.
“Going to Sun’s Fall,” Otto said. “Heard of a black woman. Lives there with a bunch of black kids. Trying to make their own village.” Damn his throat was hurting now. Pain, not just itch from all the talking. “If you don’t want him, I’ll take your boy there.”
He took a step away. Qaaid hurried to his feet and grabbed Otto’s arm. He didn’t speak a word, just helped him to the gate.
Otto paused there for a moment. “What does it mean to be a father?”
Qaaid stared at him. Red in his eyes. “I dunno,” he mumbled.
“Me neither,” Otto said. “Maybe you just gotta try your best for them.”
Qaaid nodded.
“I’ll be back tomorrow. Talk to your wife. Make a decision.”
The next day, Otto left Bouro with one more kid to look after.
Chapter twenty-three
The boy is a disaster. Stubborn as a byut and dumb as a mule. I must bring him to the real world, or he will drive us into the ground with his childish fantasies.
Reflections by King Isaiah
One Year Ago:
Snow smothered blooming spring flowers in a veil of shifting white. The powder settled on grass but didn’t stick. It swelled a trickling stream, pirouetted around evergreens, and glinted in the light of the low sun. Fat flakes stuck to Ruby’s vines, melting into little dollops of shimmering water.
Kaido ran a hand through his damp hair. The cold wetness had unfurled a few of his locks. He brushed them aside and squinted against the white wind. Dandelions huddled together underfoot, an expanse of yellow across the field. Daffodils bowed in the wind, cheerful petals doused with a thin layer of frost. A row of earthstones glowed green at the base of the fence to his left. They bordered an acreage of tilled earth. Sporadic shoots poked out, defiant against the late snow.
Ahead, the grassy field rolled down a hill to a pond. Atop the hill on the other side, hovel homes pulsed with the green light of earthstones.
The village of Malderry.
And in front of the village stood a vast contingent of armed men on lomers. Kaido stared at the banner that flew proud at their head. Green and gold, with a solid oak tree in the center. Bold of them to fly an unregistered mark. Illegal too. He glanced up at his own red flag, annoyed it was so small.
“Should’ve brought more men.” General Otto pulled his lomer up beside Ruby.
Kaido ignored him. The old soldier had harried him daily to bring a greater force to this parley. “Showing up with an entire army is no gesture of good faith,” Kaido had said.
“Got no good faith for this bastard,” Otto had replied.
Sure enough, now that Kaido was here, he felt uneasy. That was an awful lot of men on the other side of the hill. At least twice as many as he’d brought. So much for good faith.
“I’ve a bad feeling about this.” Galtus shouldered his pony up to Kaido’s other side. The beast was comically small under his girth. “We should have done this on our terms, not theirs.”
“You worry too much.” Kaido nodded across the field. Two riders had broken free from the group and were trotting down the hill. “That must be Caedric.”
“Put an arrow in the green shit and be done with it,” Otto muttered. He turned to signal the kingsguard. “Men, follow us down…”
“I’m going alone.” Kaido heeled Ruby, and she started down the hill.
“Wait!” Galtus called.
Kaido turned to glare at him. “Don’t follow.”
Galtus flushed red. Otto narrowed his eyes. Neither followed. The kingsguards bristled. Raia’s lomer stepped out from their ranks and trailed after him. Kaido sat tall and kept his eyes on the opposing men.
The first was short and unremarkable. A mop of brown hair, white with tangled snow, curled about his round face. His skin was so pale it shone under a thin layer of snowmelt. The man behind him was a stocky, low-browed type. He held the handle of a great hammer hoisted across his shoulder, and he swayed gently with his lomer’s slowing steps.
They stopped on the far side of the pond, separated from Kaido and Raia by little waves of rippling gray water.
“Well well, if it isn’t the August Majesty himself, King Kaido, Warden of Heartsong. Here to visit us humble folk of Malderry.” It was the smaller man who spoke. His voice carried easily – slow and sardonic, thick with the eastern accent. “We are oh so honoured by his royal presence.”
The man beside him chuckled.
“You must be Caedric,” Kaido said.
“Certainly some people call me that.”
“And I suppose you’ll tell me what else they call you?”
He cocked his head. “Why should I?”
Kaido frowned. The stocky man shifted his hammer and rolled his neck. Caedric kept his eyes on Kaido. Mismatched eyes – blue and green.
“Well,” Kaido said. “What do you want?”
Caedric raised his eyebrows. “What do I want? Sir, you’re the one that came to my home.”
“Enough,” Kaido said. “I grow tired of your games. Be thankful I didn’t set my army on you. Tell me what you want, and we can negotiate.”
Caedric looked up and closed his eyes against the snow before loosing a long, dramatic sigh. “So uptight, these Heartsong folk.” He shook his head, and his lips turned in a sly smile. “Never did see eye to eye with the capital types, eh Thoman?”
“Aye, thas right,” said the large man.
Kaido’s lip twitched. He didn’t let anger taint his voice. “Do you want to negotiate or not?”
“My dear friend,” Caedric said, “there is nothing to negotiate. Hurry off now. Go back to Heartsong and do your kingly works. Leave us be. We mean no harm.”
“Leave you be? So you can burn more villages and spread false worship?”
Caedric shrugged nonchalantly. “Eastern business is eastern business.”
“Aye,” Thoman said.
“No.” Kaido’s voice was hard. “It’s my business when you kill my people.”
“Your people?” Caedric said. “You own them? Are they enslaved?”
Kaido glared at the man. “I am king—”
“Why is that?”
The question caught him off guard. His response tangled itself into a choked, wordless stutter.
“I never chose you as my king,” Caedric continued. “In fact, no one asked me. Did anyone ask you, Thoman?”
“Nay, they didn’t.”
“Aye, well. It’s a capital thing, I think. See, these Heartsong folk think their city is the whole world. They never thought to ask anyone else what should be done about ruling and all that.” He waved his hand dismissively at Kaido. “Go back to your city, great benevolent king. We’ll keep on doing as we please. None the worse for it.”
“Show respect!” Raia moved towards the man with a hand on her sword. Kaido stopped her with an outstretched arm.
“I am King of Heartsong, son Isaiah, and ruler of the Sunset Forest. You disrespect me. You disrespect our law. And you disrespect my father. He would’ve had your head. But I’m—”
“You’re weak,” Caedric drawled. “What a sweet child, eh Thoman? Oh, don’t give me that look, King Kaido. Go home. Go back to your galas and parties. Enjoy your life, worry not about small folk like us.”
“Let me skin him,” Raia hissed.
“No,” Kaido growled. He would not allow the bastard to goad him. The situation was too delicate. It was too easy to make a martyr of the man. He breathed deeply and calmed his fury. “I give you one more chance. What will it take for you to stop your violence and worship? Do you want money? Land?”
Caedric burst out laughing, a sickening sound that drifted with the wind and snow. “You are such an arrogant fuck. Why don’t you understand? We of the east are not interested in your little kingdom. You’ve lost the right to rule us. You and your father tossed aside the mother of all life, trampled our ancient traditions, and banished the worship that made us who we are. Astea lives on in us. We continue our devotion to her. Keep living in your ignorance if you please. But do not dare push it on us.”
He narrowed his mismatched eyes. “I have no quarrel with you. But I will not let you keep my people from the Mother. You have no right to tell a man what he can or cannot believe.”
“Worship is outlawed,” Kaido snarled. “The dryads used it to enslave us. I will not let you do the same. Enough of this self-righteous act. It’s clear to me what you’re after. Power, is it? You think you can fool these people into following you with nostalgia and false promises? I will not allow it.”
He sat up straight and put the Crown’s authority in his voice. “You continue this, I will break you. There will be no worship in my kingdom.”
For a long moment, Caedric looked at Kaido with an amused twinkle in his eye. He finally raised his eyebrows and turned to his guard. “Hear that Thoman? The little king is going to break us.” Thoman laughed. “How about this? You can send your armies, and when we put them in the mud, you can come running back, and we’ll sign your surrender. The east will be its own kingdom. We will be Asteastan.”
“That’s a shit name,” Kaido spat.
“Better than being named after a black whore.”
Kaido’s sword flew out of its sheath. Raia’s blade blazed alight. Behind them, atop the hill, men shouted and armour jangled. Lomers prepared to charge.
Calmly, Caedric looked up at his own force. “I have more men than you.”
“You’ll be dead before they take a step,” Raia said.
Caedric nodded at Kaido. “Him too. I’ve got archers.”
Raia narrowed her eyes. A tense silence held.
Finally, Kaido sighed and put away his sword. Raia’s blade fizzled out, and the sudden darkness was blinding. Kaido turned Ruby around. He would be goaded no farther. Not to violence, not to useless words.
“One more thing,” Caedric called. “I know you have them.”
“What?”
The easterner held a smug, punchable smile on his face. “The last dryads. A mother and child. I know you have them.”
Kaido’s heart stopped.
“Oh yes,” Caedric said. “We’ll be taking them. They are daughters of Astea. They belong in our kingdom.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t pretend, King Kaido. Hand them over, and we can negotiate a peace. Give us the dryads and let us worship freely. We needn’t fight.”
“I have no dryads! And I have nothing more to say to you!” Kaido dug his heels into Ruby. She hissed and charged up the hill.
Caedric laughed behind him – shrill, loud, and echoing in his ears. Kaido grit his teeth. His heart had found its beat again, a frantic pounding. He felt the heat in his cheeks, the strain in his lungs. How had the bastard found out? Did he know where Esula and Willow were? Kaido would not let them come to harm. He would not let Caedric have his way.
Galtus and Otto waited at the top of the hill. He charged past them, and they hurried after.
“What now?” Galtus said.
“War,” Kaido growled. “We crush the little shit.”
Sunlight. A shaft of the damn stuff snuck through the curtains and widened as it landed squarely on Kaido’s face. He groaned and shifted, burying his head in the rancid pillow to escape it. Everything ached. The skin on his sides smouldered at a touch. A rash smarted his neck. Hidden beneath a scraggly beard, it itched almost as much as his unruly hair. His own stench filled his nose, unencumbered by the incense sticks Jaswyn burned on the bedside table.
He felt weak and listless. Appropriate punishment for a week spent languishing in bed, bathing in his own sweat and stink.
The sun pierced through every gap in his pillow, scathing his eyes with its brightness. Jaswyn had done this to him. She’d arranged the curtains just so. It was her revenge for his infirmity, her punishment for the hurtful words he’d thrown at her. He regretted them. But what else was he to do when she never stopped whining and pushing him to get up, urging him to bathe and shave, prodding him to change his clothes and exercise? Couldn’t she see the bed was where he belonged? Where he wanted to be?
He felt her watching him. Always watching him. Over by the fire, pretending to read. It was so annoying. Could she not find the decency to give him the room? No, such courtesy wasn’t like her. She was too clingy. Too overbearing.
He turned his back to the sun and winced as fire ran up his swollen side. A second pillow on his face blocked the light but left the air musty and stale with his breath. It was unbearable. He gave up, tossed the pillow aside, and scrunched his eyes shut instead.
Damn the sun.
He remembered his father’s burns and shivered. What would he have said if he saw Kaido now? The thought left a tangle of thorns in his gut. The Firebringer. The Freedom Gift. At any moment, a dozen bards would be singing his praises across the kingdom. It pissed Kaido off.
The anger was at himself. He was self-aware enough to know that. How had he given up so easily? Why couldn’t he muster the strength to stand and fight against impossible odds like his father had?
He knew that’s what he should be doing. That he should be helping Raia enact her plans. Worse, he knew he’d feel better if he did. He’d feel better if he lost himself in work and study – just as Jaswyn said he should.
But knowing what he should do only made him feel worse when he didn’t do it.
His desk was just a few steps away. It may as well have been on the other side of the kingdom. The Book of Astea lay open there, collecting dust. He should be studying it, should be looking for answers. But he wasn’t. He was lying in bed, like he had for a week. Like he may well do every day until the rising sun turned his useless body to ash.
He deserved no better. What was he but a child playing at king?
Raia stumbled, half falling into her father’s garden. Her feet sought a bench near the statue of ever-running water, and her aching thighs wobbled in relief when she dropped onto it. She tried to relax and stretch her cramped toes curled within the tight confines of her boots. Lifting one hand, she massaged the ache behind her eyes, rubbing her temples as oily, dishevelled hair fell across her face.”
She needed a bath. And a long night of sleep.
But the leaves were turning green. Eager young students hurried down the street, making for the Center of Learning, chattering like morning birds. They seemed oblivious to the plague that’d brought the infirmary to its knees. A jolt of worry shot through Raia’s fatigue. Would there be mass panic when word of the illness spread? Would they see riots, looting, and anarchy?
It seemed more plausible than ever. There were so many reasons for panic.
She’d spent the night on her feet, doing what she could for Katel. Back and forth, she’d run across the city. Her first stop was Robard Umfray’s house. She’d woken the Master of Heartsong Planning with a gracious apology before recruiting his help to rally the night shift of the city guard. Those men had been sent to lend their bodies to the surgeons.
