Light of Eidon (Legends of the Guardian-King, Book 1) (54 page)

“Nothing.” He swallowed and looked up at the red cliffs, frowning more
deeply than ever. “Nothing.”

“Life isn’t fair.”

“No.”

She let her gaze wander over the soldiers’ tents pitched in the wadis to
either side of them, the purple pennants of the Black Moon hanging limply
from their standards. Most of the merchants whose booths would normally
fill those dry washes had packed up and headed upland to beat the rains.
Once the winds came and the clouds broke, all roads in or out would be
transformed to churning rivers, and whoever was in Jarnek would be trapped
for at least a month and maybe two.

The soldiers figured to be here that long, regardless.

Beyond them the terraced rock walls loomed under the mist, their curving organic lines merging gracefully with the sharper, more angular aspects of
the villas built among them, even carved from the rock itself. Stairways and
water channels wound between them, and she knew the cliffs themselves
were riddled with narrow, mysterious canyons, laced with more channels and
dams and cisterns, all part of the original builders’ sophisticated hydrologic
system. Abramm would’ve loved this place.”

“Aye, he would’ve.”

“He’d have run you ragged and given Gillard fits.”

Cooper snorted softly, and suddenly, beneath her veil, Carissa was weeping again. It often happened like this-a word, a thought, and all unexpected
the grief took her.

Not long after that, Philip bounced up the stairs from the wadi, Newbold
in tow, and hurried over to them, his eyes bright, face flushed with excitement. He had been wandering the city, listening to the gossip, and now he
fairly overflowed with it-how the Dorsaddi Deliverer had come and awakened the Heart, how there was a hole in the mist over Hur, a good six leagues
in diameter. “They say it’s the White Pretender,” he bubbled, “but I’m sure
it’s the Infidel”

She listened halfheartedly, wishing he wasn’t so wretchedly enthusiastic.
Sometimes it rubbed her so raw she could hardly bear to be in his presence,
and it took all her willpower not to snarl at him to shut up. `And why do you
think that?” she asked.

“Because it’s Terstan power. It has to be. Do you realize every time they’ve put out the flames in that Temple of Khrell, they’ve left behind the
symbol of a Terstan shield?”

“The shield is a Dorsaddi symbol, too,” Cooper said.

“Yes. I think there must be a connection.”

Carissa felt a sudden rush of pity for him. He was so excited, so full of
hope and confidence. How long before the curd started to fill his eyes and
twist his bones? How long before the evil his parents had inflicted upon him
moved into his mind and turned him mad? Life was not fair. No more for him
than her. He just didn’t know it yet.

She sighed.

“Milady, I have something for you.” He had turned to her and was thrusting a small leather pouch into her hands, looking suddenly nervous and half
embarrassed.

She fingered it open and dumped a pale gray pebble set on a gold chain
into her palm. The setting was no more than a delicate gold claw holding the
stone, which looked like an ordinary round river rock. Why would anyone
want to put it into a setting and wear it around her neck? Worse, why would
Philip think she might appreciate it?

He was watching her eagerly. “Do you like it?”

She stared at it in chagrin, glad again for the veil that hid her face. “Oh,
well, yes, it’s um-“

“Where did you get that?” Cooper demanded of the boy, as if he were
unaware she had been speaking. “Did you steal it?”

“Of course not!”

“I thought you didn’t have any money.” The retainer’s expression had
gone stern and dark.

“I had some.”

“Enough for a stone like that?” For some reason Cooper sounded incredulous.

Carissa looked at the stone again but could see no reason for Cooper to
be so suspicious. It still looked like a common pebble, and she wondered now
if the boy might have found it and merely had it set onto the necklace
because he wanted to do something for her and it was all he could afford.

“I didn’t steal it, Master Cooper,” Philip said quietly.

“I’m sure you didn’t, Philip,” Carissa said before Cooper could reply. `And
it was very sweet of you to think of me.”

Philip turned to her in renewed eagerness. “It’s to help ward the staffid.
You were having so much trouble with them-“

“It wards staffid?” She picked up the chain and let the stone dangle before
her, eyeing it with considerably more interest.

“So they say. And not just staffid, but other things, too. Evil spells and the
like.”

“Well, then, let me put it on at once!” she cried. “I wouldn’t want to fall
sway to any evil spells!” At least it’s not an onion!

The staffid bites seemed to itch even more than usual as she fastened it
around her neck, but it was worth it for the pleasure her actions clearly gave
the boy. For a moment he looked ready to speak, but then he glanced again
at Cooper and closed his mouth, the ghost of a frown creasing his brow.

`Ah,” said Cooper. “Here comes Danarin. It’s about time.”

Carissa glanced toward the tents in the wadi below and saw the familiar
form of their companion weaving his way among them, his dusky red tunic
making subtle contrast with the military grays surrounding him.

Danarin had spent the afternoon in the south sector, visiting the gambling
houses, hoping to resupply Carissa’s depleted funds. She did not approve, but
the trip here had cost so much in tolls and bribes, she’d had nothing left to
pay the outrageous room fees demanded by local hostelers. If she didn’t want
to sleep in the wadi with the soldiers tonight, she had no choice but to rely
upon Danarin’s skills with the Bones and Dice and accept his charity.

His willingness to give it did not make acceptance easier. She trusted him
no more now than in Qarkeshan, though her attraction to him continued
unabated. He had, if anything, grown more handsome with their renewed
association.

They had reached Jarnek solely because of him. At each checkpoint he’d
contrived to get them through uninspected, playing the part of the young,
wealthy Brogai lord. Though travelers all around were being forced to disrobe, the women escorted off to visit the commanding officers, no one ever
lifted Carissa’s veil or even contested his claims to immunity. She thought he
looked far too pale of skin to pass for true Brogai, but no one else seemed
able to see past the rings on his fingers and the gold round his neck.

She owed much to the Thilosian. It would be nice if she could feel unreservedly grateful.

Danarin bounded up the stairs and slid into the seat across from her, the gold threads woven throughout the fabric of his tunic gleaming and glimmering with his movement.

“Did you have a successful afternoon, Master Danarin?” Cooper asked
dryly.

Danarin grinned and patted the bulging coin purse at his waist. “Indeed I
did, Master Cooper.” He flashed the grin at Carissa. `All soldiers’ gold, my
lady, have no fear.”

She frowned at him, but as usual, her signs of disapproval had no impact.
He merely smiled wider and dropped her a courtly nod. “I have also solved
the problem of our night’s lodging. My gaming partner was so pleased with
our play that he has invited us to stay with him.”

“I am not staying in another brothel,” Carissa declared.

The Thilosian shook his head. “My lady, please. You know we had no
choice.”

“I’d rather sleep in the wadi with the soldiers.”

“Well, fortunately, you’ll not have to make that choice.” He turned and
pointed to one of the structures sprawling across the steep, terraced slopes
overlooking the main wadi from the south. “That is his villa there, at the top
of the face. He says you can see the amphitheater from his garden.”

Her gaze went from the villa to the man. “You’re serious?”

His grin widened. “I made him a lot of money today, and he’s grateful.
He all but insisted we come.”

`All of us? Even Eber and Peri and the dog?” She glanced toward the two
servants sitting with the baggage on a bench outside the restaurant’s railed
patio.

“It’s one of the largest villas in Jarnek, my lady. The man has plenty of
room. He’s expecting us as we speak.”

“Well, I suppose we mustn’t disappoint him, then.”

The villa’s servants were indeed waiting to take their bags and wash their
feet when they arrived, and the odor of roasting fowl ignited Carissa’s hunger
all at once. As they slipped into soft leather house slippers and their servants-plus Newbold-were ushered away to the appropriate area, their host
strode in to welcome them. One of the wealthiest merchants in Jarnek,
Ormah Fah’lon was middle-aged and balding, with a slight paunch and a dark
goatee. Jewels glittered on his fingers and in his ears-ruby studs alongside the gold rings that betrayed a fighting past-and contrasted elegantly with his
black knee-length tunic of fine wool.

He greeted Danarin warmly as Lord Than, then turned to Carissa and
seemed to start. His dark eyes flicked back to Danarin. “Your wife is kaziym?”

The servants had taken the outer mantle and full face-veil she was
required to wear in public, leaving only the sheer half veil, which did little to
hide her pale skin and blue eyes.

“Yes,” Danarin said smoothly. “I bought her in Qarkeshan last year.”

For a moment Fah’lon seemed inexplicably dismayed. Then the expression vanished, and once more he was warm and cordial. “Quite a prize it
would seem, too.”

It dawned on Carissa what they were talking about, and though Fah’lon
went on to say something about his own wife unfortunately being absent, she
hardly heard him past the outrage that rang in her ears. Wife? Danarin had
told this man she was his wife? She glared at the Thilosian in a fury, not caring
that her expression would be clear to their host as well. Wife? How dare he?

He ignored her, as usual, and said something about her beauty being balanced by a temperamental nature-which only raked her ire hotter. Then the
men were turning away, moving down the tile-floored hall together, expecting Carissa to follow, as was the custom.

And just what is my role in this little charade, I wonder?” Cooper murmured from just behind her.

She glanced back at him. “Chief retainer, it would seem, seeing as you
didn’t even warrant an introduction.” She glared after the men as they disappeared through the doorway at the hall’s end. “He will hear of this, mark
me on it.”

“I’m sure he will. Shall I stay here, then?” Cooper gestured around the
spacious anteroom.

“That would probably be best.”

Angry enough to spit, Carissa followed her “husband,” promising herself
that once they were out of Esurh, the relationship with Danarin would be
severed, no matter how little money they had. Unless he irked her further.
Then it would be severed tonight.

The spacious dining room, one long wall of which was an arcade of arched
openings overlooking the city, held a low rectangular table flanked by the
usual pillows. To Carissa’s surprise, it was set for three-the men’s places at one end, her own apparently at the other. Usually women ate separately, if
not in different rooms, at least at different tables. This was a pleasing development, even if she was still a little too angry to appreciate it.

“I had not heard of the plague in Vedel,” Fah’lon was remarking to Danarin as they settled onto the pillows. “This is of concern.”

“I’m just grateful it has not reached Jarnek yet.”

“Pray it never does? And that it does not reach Ybal, where my wife has
gone. May the rains come quickly?”

As Carissa settled unremarked and apparently unnoticed, a gaggle of serving girls trooped in bearing platters of chicken, bowls of curried quail with
rice, steamed onions and garlic, pickled baby beets, olive oil, flatbread, and
grapes.

Carissa was served last and was feeling quite defiant when she refused to
accept any of the onions. As she contemplated how she might eat without
getting food all over her veil, Danarin came to her rescue.

“I noticed, Serr Fah’lon, that none of your women cover their faces.”

Fah’lon shook his head. “We do not follow the Way of the Veil in this
house. Nor any of the other dictates of Khrell. I hope this does not offend
you.”

“Not at all. We, too, serve other gods.” Danarin paused. “I presume it will
not offend you, then, if my wife-“

“Certainly not.”

Danarin nodded at her, and she nearly forgave him the wife blunder, so
pleased was she to dispense with the half veil. But as she dropped it from her
face, Fah’lon’s smiling interest gave way to a sharp, startled look, and he drew
back in obvious surprise.

“Something troubles you, sir?” Danarin asked.

The man recovered his poise swiftly, the easy practiced smile returning to
reassure. “Not at all. It is just …” He chuckled softly. “I guess all northerners
tend to look alike to me. It’s the blue eyes and the golden hair. They are so
startling, it is all I see at first.”

`Ah. Yes.” Danarin’s voice sounded strangely flat to her, odd somehow,
like a courtier keeping his tone carefully neutral so as not to give himself
away. But what could there be to give away here?

“You are wise to keep her covered. She is a prize indeed. And Kiriathan
women are especially coveted these days, what with these cat-and-mouse games the Pretender is playing. The soldiers would love to take their frustration out on her.”

“The Pretender?” Danarin drew back on his pillows, brows arched, a
slight smile on his lips. “But he’s dead, sir. I saw the body myself, impaled at
the entry gate of Xorofin.”

Ormah Fah’lon laughed. “How do you know for sure it was his body?”

“The man was obviously Kiriathan.”

“So is your wife. We have no shortage of pale-haired slaves in the southland.” He leaned forward to scoop rice and quail into his mouth. “The
Pretender and his infidel always performed painted and wigged,” he said
around the mouthful. “Few knew their real faces. The man you saw could
have been anyone.”