Diplomats and Fugitives (The Emperor's Edge Book 9) (25 page)

“Basilard agrees,” Amaranthe said, and Ashara realized she had missed his signs.

“What?”

“You were invited along to help research the blight.” Even though Amaranthe’s tone did not change, Basilard’s face had grown rather bland. Still, he did not sign anything accusatory as he continued. “He says, ‘It is not right to ask you to confront your own people.’”

Basilard’s expression changed, growing more troubled as he continued to sign.

“He says he regrets that you were in a position yesterday where you had to shoot Kendorians.”

“They were attacking
me
too,” Ashara said, her response almost a growl. If Tladik had explained who she was and that there might even be a reward for her death, then it didn’t surprise her. If he hadn’t, then it irked her that those people hadn’t hesitated to attack her. True, her pale hair did not automatically mean she was a Kendorian, and she had been traveling with Basilard’s party, but the utter lack of hesitation in that tomahawk man… It bothered her, knowing her people would kill their own kind for this mission.

“Nonetheless, you shouldn’t be put in a position where you might battle them. Not again, not if Basilard has any say in it.”

Basilard nodded firmly as Amaranthe gave the translation.

Even though Ashara did not know if she should believe everything he said—after all, he was a diplomat, and diplomats had their own agendas, the same as spies—she found that she wanted to do so. He seemed more honest than other political figures she had known.

“He is sending Mahliki on to the Mangdorian meeting place,” Amaranthe continued to translate. “And she needs someone to go with her who knows the woods and can find his people. They may not show themselves openly to strangers right now. Also, Mahliki has said that you may have some talent that could assist her in coming up with a cure for the blight.”

Mahliki had said that? Ashara struggled to keep a grimace off her face. She was certain she had denied having any abilities that would let her help. At least, she had been trying to deny it when the Kendorians had attacked.

“She may be overly optimistic about my abilities. I know about plants and trees, a little about their insides, but I doubt my understanding can be mixed with Turgonian science to create a solution. Usually, dealing with a blight means trying to contain it, at least where I’m from, or choosing to cultivate species that have resistance to it. That’s a long-term solution, not a short-term one, of course, since it takes years for fruit trees to start producing fruit, and decades for something like an oak to reach maturity.” Ashara shrugged, hoping they couldn’t tell that, even though she was telling the truth, she was underplaying her abilities. “But if you’re asking if I’ll go with Mahliki to help her find your people and get their input while you and your comrades go talk to my—to the Kendorians, then, yes. I can do that.”

Shukura wouldn’t like it, but he wasn’t here. Maybe he would never find out that Ashara had assisted with the blight instead of getting in the way. Or, if Mahliki couldn’t find a solution that didn’t require a practitioner’s help, then maybe Ashara would keep her mouth shut, say she lacked the ability to assist, and let her fail.

Ashara lifted her gaze to the leaves above Basilard’s head. Most were green and healthy, but she spotted an oak behind their camp with brown leaves. Wasn’t it a crime not to do something to help nature if she could do it? Her mother would have said so. What would her children say? Children she had only spoken to a couple of times in the last three years. What were they being told about their mother? That she was a criminal? A murderer? That she had poisoned their father? She closed her eyes. She just wanted to have them with her again, to ensure they grew up believing what she believed. To ensure they knew she wasn’t a horrible person.

She opened her eyes, eyes still turned toward those brown leaves. She
wasn’t
a horrible person, damn it.

“What did Shukura offer you?” Amaranthe asked.

Startled, Ashara turned toward her. Had Basilard signed that when Ashara wasn’t paying attention? Or was Amaranthe entering into the conversation with her own voice?

Basilard’s face was calm, his head tilted in inquiry. That didn’t answer Ashara’s question.

She looked at Amaranthe, expecting judgment or wariness. Was the question meant to suss out whether it was safe for them to send Mahliki with Ashara? Ashara wanted to resent the implication that it would be, but could she blame them all for wondering?

Amaranthe’s expression was no more judgmental than Basilard’s, and Ashara found herself wanting to tell them, wanting to confess everything. She wasn’t even sure why. Amaranthe was a stranger to her. And Basilard was… someone who had been a stranger a few days ago too. She didn’t know why his good opinion should matter. Because he had a child he couldn’t see, the same as she did?

“I only ask,” Amaranthe said, “because we may be able to offer an equal reward. Or equal assistance with your life or whatever it is that brought you to Turgonia, if that’s what he offered.”

“It’s less about what he offered, and more about what he threatened to take away.” Ashara wrapped her hand around her arrow shaft, clenching it tight.

Something to do with your children?
Basilard signed.

Ashara flinched, then mentally kicked herself for doing so, knowing the gesture had given away far too much. “May I ask
you
something, Basilard?”

Basilard nodded solemnly.

“Are you allowed to see your daughter?”

He hesitated, then rocked his hand back and forth. With Amaranthe translating, he signed,
It’s not forbidden, but there must be supervision.
This time, he looked away, his eyes pained as he gazed toward the lake behind Ashara.
Because I have fought to stay alive—because I have killed in combat—some of my people believe I might be dangerous to my daughter. To children. To all of them, perhaps. As if I’m some crazed…
He broke off, lowering his hands and shaking his head.
It was made clear that my people would prefer if I not rejoin the community. The chief of my clan talked to other clan heads, and they decided being the Turgonian ambassador would be a good job for me. I could come visit, but then I would leave again, residing in Turgonia most of the time. My people wouldn’t need to worry about me being dangerous. Or, as is more likely the case, they wouldn’t have to deal with my presence making them uncomfortable.

Basilard took a deep breath and looked down at his scarred hands for a moment before continuing.
I accepted, because I believe the alternative would have been them telling me to stay away forever. This way, I thought in time… In time, they would realize I was not a threat. And that I would prefer peaceful solutions to militant ones, whenever given the chance. If nothing else, as I get old and gray—
he touched his shaven head and smiled quickly, though it seemed forced
—they will surely cease to think of me as a threat. Old men are never threatening, after all. Perhaps, when my daughter is a woman, and has the freedom to make her own decisions, she will be interested in speaking with me, having a relationship with her old man. It is painful to me that I am not allowed to be a part of raising her, especially since my wife died years ago, in the same raid where I was captured.
His expression turned bitter again. That must have been difficult, surviving when his wife had not.

Again, Ashara found herself empathizing. Wasn’t she alive today, when Elstark was dead? At least Basilard had not been accused of being his wife’s murderer.

It has crossed my mind
, Basilard continued,
to sneak into the village in the night and to steal her away. But I only recently had the freedom to leave Turgonia and think of that as an option. Perhaps, if I could have done so right away, in that first year or two, I might have, because it has always seemed cowardly of me to not try everything in my power to be a father to her. Even if I did not have a choice, I feel as if I abandoned her.
He blinked his eyes a few times, pausing for Amaranthe to translate, or maybe just pausing because he needed time to recover.

Ashara felt a lump in her throat, his emotion, his words, so similar to thoughts she’d had over the last three years. She had chosen to leave her children with her mother-in-law in order to hunt for Elstark’s murderer. At the time, the quest had seemed noble, but bringing about that jealous woman’s death hadn’t filled any of the holes in Ashara’s heart. Nor had it resulted in her own name being cleared, as she had hoped it would.

Several years have passed now
, Basilard signed.
She was six when I was taken and her mother was killed. She is eleven now. I know from my last meeting with her, the first after my long absence, that she remembers me, but only a little. I had not been a part of her life for so long. She is almost a woman now, especially by my people’s standards. A few more years, and she will think of boys and marrying
. Basilard smiled wistfully.
She has been taken in by my wife’s family, and my grandmother is still alive and helps with the child-raising too. Even though it has been painful for me not to be there, when I came back this past winter, I saw that she was well cared for and thriving. She has surrogate parents. For me to take her away from that, it would serve my needs, not hers.

Even if he had not intended it, could not have known, Basilard’s words hit Ashara in the stomach like an arrow. She hadn’t even considered that Jiana and Khanrin might be better off
without
her. She believed she had been a good mother, as Elstark had been a good father, but she had questioned herself numerous times when she had left to find his killer. At the time, she had stood accused, so it wasn’t as if she’d had a choice in the matter. She’d slipped free of jail and hidden from the law while she’d hunted for that woman. But the result had been the same, nonetheless. Her children had gone to live with her husband’s family, been adopted into it and had come to see cousins as siblings. After three years, how would they feel if they were yanked from their family and their homeland to come live with her in Turgonia? They were still young enough that she could have an influence on them, care for them and show them that she loved them. Wasn’t that important enough to make up for any discomfort they might experience by being moved? And if she was able to start a successful business in Turgonia, even if that wasn’t truly where her heart lay, wouldn’t they be well cared for? As well cared for as they would be at home?

When my daughter was little
, Basilard signed, perhaps not realizing all manner of thoughts were racing through Ashara’s head—perhaps lost in his own story telling,
I always carried her around on my shoulders. She was strong and agile for such a young girl, and she would play a game where she pulled herself up onto the roofs of the huts, because they were just about this high.
He gestured to his shoulder.
She would duck down and hide, and I would pretend to not know where she had gone. That seemed to delight her to no end, to get the best of her father.
He smiled.
When I was at the presidential residence a while ago—only a few days ago, I suppose—I saw Sespian carrying his adopted daughter around on his shoulders. She seemed to be taking advantage of the situation and trying to bury a crayon in his ear. It reminded me of my daughter. It’s painful, feeling that loss. But when I was back home and saw her, and touched my shoulders, she smiled and seemed like she remembered that.

Basilard lifted his head, glancing toward the sky, which had brightened to full morning while they had been talking.
I’m sorry. I answered far more than you asked.

“No,” Ashara said. “It was what I wanted to hear.” Well, maybe not what she had
wanted
to hear, but what she had
needed
to hear. She wasn’t ready to make any brash decisions, but she had things to ponder on the day’s walk. “I don’t know if it’s worth much to you, especially since I can’t answer your other question right now, but you have my word that I will keep an eye out for Mahliki and help her find your people.” She couldn’t promise about the blight yet. She had to think about that. She almost hoped that there wasn’t a way for her to help, so she didn’t have to worry about betraying Shukura or her people—or the ramifications of doing so.

Basilard stood up, stepped forward, and clasped Ashara’s hands, gazing earnestly into her eyes and nodding solemnly. Usually, she would pull away from such an intimate grip, but she found she didn’t mind the warmth of his hands. She even missed it a little when he let go to sign,
Thank you
.

Uncomfortable with the gratitude—she hadn’t done anything to deserve it yet—she changed the subject. “Perhaps in helping your people with this problem, they’ll come to see you as more than a dangerous fighter, and they’ll be more open to letting you have a relationship with your daughter sooner rather than later.”

Perhaps
, Basilard signed, though his expression wasn’t optimistic.

Sicarius walked over and nodded to Basilard. “You wish to train before the next phase of the mission?”

Train?
Basilard signed.

Behind Sicarius’s back, Maldynado was shaking his head and waving his hands vehemently.

“Have you been practicing at hand-to-hand combat and blade work lately?” Sicarius asked.

No, but it’s probably too late to work on honing rusty skills.

“It’s never too late. Maldynado also informs me he requires training.”

“No, I didn’t,” Maldynado called, dropping his hands when Sicarius looked back, though he did not stop shaking his head. “All I said was that I hadn’t been in the rings for a while.”

“Precisely.”

Amaranthe wore an unsurprised half smile as she watched the conversation.

Perhaps it was a good time to leave. As Mahliki cinched up her pack, she looked over at Ashara. She must have already been told what the plan was.

Ashara put away her arrows and pushed herself to her feet, the nerves jangling in her stomach again. She shouldn’t feel nervous about going to find some Mangdorians—it wasn’t as if they would threaten her with violence when she arrived—but the idea of walking into one of their villages without an escort aside from another foreigner did make her uneasy. Perhaps because they would ask her why her people were destroying their forests. And what would she say to that question?