Accidental Sorceress (Hardstorm Saga Book 2) (33 page)

“Here come the emissaries,” Tomron said.

They stopped at a fair distance and remained on their horses, which pranced anyway, since the wind blew from the camp and they could smell Marga.

The men gave short bows and introduced themselves with names that were a combination of sounds and snorts. Luckily, the one who spoke next—the youngest of them—used the merchant tongue. “Greetings from the Merchant League of Muzarat.”

They looked between myself and Tomron, trying to judge which one of us they should address.

Tomron solved this problem by saying, “The High Sorceress, Tera, accepts your greetings, merchants. I am her general, Tomron. We are on our way to the port city of Uramit. Our army will camp here until we can find enough barges to take us down the river.”

He simply informed them of our plans, did not ask for permission or an opinion.

“Were you hired to defend Uramit?” another merchant asked, the one in the turban.

“We were not,” Tomron said.

They smiled at that and slipped from their horses to the ground at last, stepped closer and bowed again.

“The Merchant League of Muzarat would hire the sorceress’s army. Would you come into our city to discuss terms, my lady?” a man with a silver beard asked.

“The army is not for hire,” Tomron informed him.

The emissaries looked at each other with frowns. They were merchants. Perhaps they did not trust that which was not for sale.

“Do you know of a merchant by the name of Graho?” I inquired.

Since they showed no recognition of the name, I added, “He traveled to Muzarat with the caravan from Ker, transporting nine little beggars.”

The merchants murmured amongst themselves, then the young one mounted his horse and rode back toward the city.

“We will enquire,” silver beard told me, then asked, “Why risk the spring river? Why not wait a mooncrossing here? Ice floes come from the northern mountains and sink barges this time of year. We would provide you with tents, food, and women for the men. And male pleasure slaves for you, my lady,” he added hurriedly.

I nearly choked on my own spittle at the thought. I did not return his smile. “We hurry to Uramit.”

The merchants looked at each other. Then the turbaned one said, “The Emperor Drakhar’s main force is marching on the port city.”

My very reason for wanting to reach the seaport in a hurry. “How soon will the enemy troops reach the port, do you think?”

“Five days at most,” the oldest of the merchants said in a trembling voice, so many folds of skin above his eyes, he could barely keep them open. “They will sack Uramit in no time. Then they shall march on us.”

“Can we reach Uramit in five days?” I asked.

Again they looked at each other. None would speak. A few gave noncommittal shrugs. They did not want us to leave.

“If we face and defeat the enemy at Uramit, they will never reach this far,” Tomron put in.

This brightened them up. No battle anywhere near their city meant they need not lose a single man, a single home, a single possession.

The turbaned one was just about rubbing his hands together. “How many barges would you need, my lady?”

And so it happened that the Merchant League of Muzarat put their barges at our disposal. After a night of rest, our army began floating down the Silver River. The turbaned leader of the merchant league volunteered to travel with us and help us on the way.

By the time the barges pushed away from shore, I had word about Graho. He had been in Muzarat, but he had not sold his little beggars. Only a few days earlier, he had hired a barge to take him and the children to Uramit.

Why was he going there?

I pondered that question more than a few times during the five full days we spent on the barges, moving closer and closer to the sea. Few ice floes bothered our progress, none large enough to sink us. For this, I gave thanks to the spirits.

Once our barges reached Uramit’s port, we disembarked and marched to the city gate. Unlike Muzarat, sprawling at the edge of the desert, the port city was well fortified with thick walls and guard towers.

As we had an emissary with us from Muzarat who was well known to Uramit’s city fathers, we were allowed in without delay. Indeed, once I told the city fathers that we had come to help them, we were celebrated.

I was escorted to the Blue Palace of the leader of the city council, Mizrem, while the other city fathers assigned lodging to my army, adding them to their own defensive forces.

I was to be housed at the Blue Palace with Orz and Marga, as they would not leave me. Tomron was also offered chambers, but he wished to stay with the soldiers.

“Before I have the servants escort you to your quarters, my lady,” said Mizrem, “allow me to show you something.”

He was a pleasant man with a stubby beard and had the lean look of someone who ran around all day. He told me he owned the city’s warehouses and was the type of owner to visit each every day to oversee the work of his men personally.

Mizrem was greatly worried that the enemy would breach the walls and erase all his wealth in a single day. He was most grateful for our timely arrival and promised to repay us for our aid.

He led me atop his tallest tower. Since the Blue Palace sat on the highest point of the city, the view was incomparable.

As we looked east, buffeted by the wind from the water, my throat tightened. The Kerghi hordes were spread out in the distance, a black pestilence that covered the ground as far as the eye could see. They were like a giant funeral shroud the uncaring gods were about to pull over the city.

“They will reach us tonight,” Mizrem said, his voice pinched. “Then they will attack at first light.”

They were a great host for certain, much greater than I had hoped. Fear tingled across my skin. How could we stand against them?

Orz watched them too. I wished he could tell me what he thought.

I turned away from the bleak sight with relief when Mizrem suggested that I should go and rest. I nearly stumbled down the stairs in my misery. Marga held me up, leaning against me.

My quarters were suitable for a queen, a spacious room with a large balcony, an iron tub in an alcove that had its own hearth, smaller rooms for my own servants, of which I had none. Mizrem swiftly offered me a dozen.

“No need,” I assured him. “I will have Orz and Marga with me.”

His eyes widened slightly but in no other way did he betray his surprise. He simply nodded and took leave of me.

Marga lay in the middle of the sumptuous carpet that covered the floor, the weaving depicting a flowering garden. I walked to the balcony.

“We have reached this far,” I said to Orz. “Pray to the spirits to help us beyond this point.”

I could not see over the city walls from here but could see most of the city, myriad houses pressed close, even built on top of each other. Uramit was crowded with people, filled to bursting, the streets barely passable. I suspected it had been so even before we had arrived. Like all other cities, they probably had their share of refugees.

I could see a blue temple—a popular color in Uramit from the looks of it—and in the temple square, the Uramit Gate: giant white stones set up in a circle, with other stones atop them, forming a series of entries to an empty space in the middle.

“It is a working Gate,” I told Orz. “It must have a Guardian. I would wish to talk with him.” My eyes were suddenly burning. “I miss the Guardians.” I sighed. “How is it possible to feel this lonely in the middle of a crowded city?”

Orz moved closer. His presence truly was a comfort to me. I knew that if any danger threatened me, he would be the first one to reach for his sword. He had been willing to lay his life down for me, more than once. He had listened to all my doubts, all my complaining.

He stepped forward until he was in front of me, his head bowed as always. He had definitely filled out his robe, especially in the shoulders. None who saw him could doubt now that he had been a soldier, even a captain, before his affliction.

He reached for me and took my hands, smoothed his scarred thumbs over the tops of my knuckles. We had not been this close since we had been trapped in the hollow tree. His touch seemed to tingle through me.

Such longing swept over me, I swayed on my feet.

“I wish to see your face,” I whispered. Even if his features had been monstrously distorted by the sorcerer, I could not imagine drawing back from him. He had been a true friend to me, a confidant, and even…

He let one of my hands go and reached for the edge of his hood, his jaw working as if he prepared to say something.

I held my breath.

But just then, the door burst open, and Orz’s hand shot to his sword.

“Sorceress!” A familiar voice boomed behind me, and I turned to see Graho stride in, dressed like a prince, surrounded by the children, who were equally well dressed, smiles on every face.

Graho strode to me without hesitation, picked me up, and swirled me around, laughing like a child himself. “I found you then, the gods be praised.” He set me down, keeping me close. “I have thought of you every day.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

(The Unexpected Prince)

The children greeted me with enthusiasm and unrestrained love, hugging me and chattering as we drew into the room. They were so changed from when I had last seen them, I could scarcely believe it.

Once I told them how much I had missed them and hugged them all back, one by one, they went to catch up with Marga, who was impatiently waiting her turn, nudging them from the back with her great head, eliciting peals of giggles.

“My lady,” Graho said in a softer tone, his gaze darkening as he looked me over.

He was freshly shaven, his hair cropped, his clothes well-appointed indeed. He looked at me in such a way…

I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling naked suddenly, my face heating even as my mind scrambled to catch up with what was happening. “You are not a merchant.”

He smiled.

Understanding dawned on me. “The children were no slaves.”

“We do not practice slavery in Landria,” he said, holding my gaze, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter.

“You are Landrian,” I said weakly.

He bowed with the ease of a born courtier. “Grahomir, crown prince of Landria. At your service.”

I gasped, then grabbed on to the first question I could catch flying around in my head. “Why are you here?”

“We arrived two days ago. We have been waiting since for favorable wind to take us to Landria, the Forbidden Islands. I was just in the harbor to see if we could sail out tonight, before the enemy reaches the port, when I heard news of a great sorceress, the sister of tigers, come down from the north to free the world. I wondered if it might yet be you, so I have come to see for myself.”

The crown prince of Landria.
I stared, having trouble comprehending this turn of events.

“And your slave marks?” I remembered suddenly.

He flashed a puzzled look.

“The tattoos on your side.”

He smiled. “The royal house of Landria is marked so at a young age.”

Oh.
“What were you doing on the pirate ship?”

He said nothing for a long spell, then, “That is a story not many know.” He paused. “I shall tell you, but at another time, my lady.” He turned toward the balcony and looked out at the city overrun by my soldiers. “I see you found your army.”

My mind was too stumbling to think. “In truth, they found me.”

He looked at me carefully. “You do draw people.” His lips turned up into a smile as to make maidens swoon. “You are the candle in the night. All things are drawn to light.”

He could sing a sweet song for certain. If he had not been born a prince, he should have been born a bard.

“I believe you are mistaken, my lord,” I told him, not intending to fall under his spell. “Only moths go to the flames. To their detriment, I believe.”

The sound of his laughter filled the room. He took my hands without hesitation and held them. “I knew you had power. Had I known how great, I might not have given up looking for you in Ker. What happened? You disappeared.”

I told him, finishing with, “I am not a true sorceress. That was…accidental.”

I wanted the war to be over so I could go back to the cave on the beach where I had been born and raised, where I had learned healing at my mother’s knees. I wanted the sunshine and the sea, to know the joy of helping those who came to me for healing. I wanted, more than anything, to have the life my mother had. I had never wanted great power, as I wanted no great riches or great beauty.

“People follow you. That makes you a leader,” Graho said. “And when you are a leader, you become what your people need you to be.” He smiled. “Or so the palace philosophers have been telling me from the time I can remember.”

Of course. Because all his life, he had been taught as a prince, trained to be king someday. He knew more about leading than I could ever hope to comprehend.

“Will I ever be my own again?”

He watched me with a gentle gleam in his eyes. “I am afraid not, my lady.” He drew me closer. “It is a service easier for two than for one. Come to Landria with me and be my princess.”

A growl sounded behind me. In the surprise of seeing Graho and the children, I had forgotten about Orz. He still stood on the balcony, his face deep in his hood. I could not tell if he was looking at me or seeing something out in the city.

“I am safe here, Orz.” I told him. “You may go if you wish.”

But he stayed.

“I heard tales of you in the harbor,” Graho said, drawing my attention back to him.

I wanted to ask what tales, but servants came to invite us to a feast. The city fathers wanted to talk with me about the morning’s battle.

Two women were already pouring me a quick bath; another brought a selection of dresses, gifts from the city.

“I must prepare,” I told Graho.

He let me go with a reluctant gleam in his eyes and headed for the door, but stopped and turned back from the doorway. “And the hollow? How is it that it still lives?”