Path of Honor (8 page)

Juhrnus made a face. “That’s something I won’t miss about riding circuit.”

“Don’t tell me you had trouble finding a soft bed every night? And some willing woman to warm it for you?”

Juhrnus averted his face from her amused stare. “Not often enough,” he muttered. “Apparently you’ve had the same trouble.” Her blush was as hot as his, and he grinned. “So you need a bed, and a chair and a table.”

 

Juhrnus walked back to Tirpalema’s with Reisil, wringing from her a promise to meet him for dinner. Not in the Temple, but at a kohv-house in the yellow district.

“The Four Bells,” she repeated obediently. “An hour after sundown.”

Satisfied, he returned to the Temple to retrieve Esper and hunt for Sodur. He snatched a cold meal in the dining commons and then departed for the palace.

He came to the main gate of the palace grounds. It was situated beneath a towering stone barbican riddled with arrow loops and crowned with toothy crenellations. Flanking towers at intervals along the thick walls gave testimony that the castle had once been expected to defend Koduteel against invaders. It served now as its last bastion. The city had long since grown too large for its population to cram inside the palace walls. A massive curtain wall had been erected ninety years ago to protect the populace, but even that had grown too small to hold everyone. Those who could not afford to live inside were relegated to a chancy life in the Fringes, a hodge-podge of tents and ramshackle lean-tos huddled against the north wall of the city.

The guards scanned him over and then waved him inside. Juhrnus nodded his thanks, wandering across the broad expanse of the bailey where skeletal copses of trees and mulched flower beds dotted the winter-killed lawns. He followed the long, spiraling driveway around the hill and toward the palace at the top. More guards passed him, dressed in midnight blue and gold livery over chain mail, red-eyed gryphons splayed on their chests, shining halberds carried stiffly above their heads. Juhrnus smiled greeting to them, suddenly conscious of his scruffy beard and travel-stained cloak.

“Juhrnus! Bright day! Vesil said you’d come. I’ve been expecting you for more than a month. Did you have a good journey?”

Sodur had come over the crest of the hill with several other men. He waved them on, stopping to hail Juhrnus with a welcoming smile and slap on the shoulder. His silver lynx trailed at his side, tufted ears flicking back and forth.

“You look a sight. You got in yesterday?”

“In time for dinner.”

“Are you here for me?” At Juhrnus’s nod, Sodur turned them back down the hill. “Let’s walk. I was going to the Temple. Have to get away from all the stiff-necked posturing.”

As they walked, Sodur questioned Juhrnus closely about his journey. Juhrnus dredged through his memory for the details that Sodur seemed to want, part of his mind worrying the question of Reisil like a dog with a rabbit. But there didn’t seem to be an opening to ask about her.

At the Temple, Sodur yawned and rubbed his stomach. “I’ve not eaten since breakfast. I’ll have someone send something for us to my quarters.”

Soon Juhrnus found himself ensconced in an overstuffed chair, booted feet propped on the andirons, Esper sprawled along his legs. He cradled a mug of mulled wine in one hand, a flaky meat pie in the other, idly noting the cracks and holes in his boots. The fire crackled, and his eyes grew heavy.

“Did you go by Mysane Kosk after Kallas as I suggested?” Sodur asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Juhrnus blinked and shook his head to clear it. “I did. How did the wizards do that? What did they do?”

Sodur gave a little shrug. “What did you see? It’s been more than a year since I’ve been there. Does it continue to expand?”

“That’s what they say. The
ahalad-kaaslane
watching over the place showed me the markers where the borders had moved. They say it’s expanding faster now. Almost fifty yards this year.”

Sodur sat back, tapping the side of his cup as he sipped his wine, watching Juhrnus carefully. “You didn’t try to go inside?”

A frisson ran down Juhrnus’s spine, all hint of sleepiness evaporating. “It’s a foul place. Even without the warning of the
ahalad-kaaslane
guarding it, I wouldn’t have gone near the place.” He paused, licking his lips, tasting cloves and cinnamon and orange. “It’s like there’s something inside watching, waiting. You can feel it. And the place itself . . . I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s beautiful in a terrible way and so very, very
alien
.” Sodur waited as Juhrnus crushed his meat pie in his fist, dropping it onto his plate and wiping his hand on his napkin. “You’ve seen it. You know how it is.”

“It’s been a long time. I’m sure a lot has changed. I’d like to know what it’s like now.”

“Like the Demonlord’s fourth hell, if there was one.” Juhrnus swigged the rest of his wine, setting the cup on the table with a clatter.

Sodur nodded, waiting.

Juhrnus glared at the other man. “All right. Have it your way. There’s no color. Not the grass, not the rocks, not the trees, nothing. And yet everything sparkles like glass in the sun. It all looks sculpted, twisted, cursed.” Juhrnus splayed his hands. He didn’t have the words. “There’s a sound to it, like the wind blowing through a field of knives. A sharp, eerie sound that scrapes along your bones and puckers your ass. And the smell—like something rotten, only you can’t place where exactly it’s coming from, because there’s this sweetness to the air, like syrup. It clogs in your throat and makes you want to turn your stomach inside out to be rid of it. Down where the city used to be is a mist. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see. Sparkles like a sea of gemstones. You can’t see anything inside it. The
ahalad-kaaslane
there say it’s growing too, expanding with the borders. Whatever the wizards did there, it’s still thriving. It’s evil, and I don’t know when it will stop.”

Juhrnus filled his cup again and drank deeply. Just laying eyes on the place had frightened him in ways he didn’t want to admit. Nightmares pursued him down from the mountains, and only the thought of Reisil and her magic staved them off. She’d destroyed a hundred wizards in one blow; all the way back to Koduteel he’d imagined how she would wipe Mysane Kosk clean. But now her magic wasn’t working. And something else was going on. . . .

“I saw Reisil today,” he said abruptly, fixing his gaze on Sodur.

“Did you?” Sodur began to eat again.

“She’s found a new place to live.”

Sodur glanced up. “Oh?”

“The old lighthouse. It’s a death trap. We can’t let her stay out there.”

“We can’t force her not to,” Sodur said, a quiet look of satisfaction sliding over his features.

Juhrnus scowled.

“She’s had a hard time of it recently. I don’t know if she told you—”

“Some. That the nobles and other
ahalad-kaaslane
think she’s a traitor like Upsakes because her power isn’t working well. But the townspeople think she’s the Lady’s Chosen. That’s why they wear green tokens on their clothes. They support her and no one is going to change their minds.”

“She told you
that
?”

Juhrnus shook his head. “Not about the green. But it isn’t much of a secret.”

“And the nobles aren’t happy about it either. Supports their theory. I’ve been trying to smooth feathers and give Reisil time to find her power again. It’ll help that she’s out of the city. Out of sight, out of mind.”

Juhrnus frowned. “I don’t think so. She’s hurting. You don’t know her. She’ll wall herself off and lick her wounds alone. Or shrivel up and die.”

“Well, we just won’t let that happen, will we?” Sodur returned with a dismissive wave of his cup.

“We? I don’t get the impression she wants you around.”

“A minor disagreement. She’ll come around.”

“What’s it about?”

Sodur shook his head, leaning back in his chair and shoving away his tray. “Not good form to discuss it with you. I’d rather keep it between Reisil and me. Least said, soonest mended.”

Despite Sodur’s airy words, Juhrnus sensed an underlying current of worry, even grief. As if he were mourning a death. This was no mere disagreement. Reisil wasn’t one to hold a grudge. But whatever had happened between them, Juhrnus got the impression that it burned more unbearably with every passing moment. For both of them.

“Don’t worry. We’ll go see her tomorrow. She’ll need some furniture up in the lighthouse, no doubt. What else? Shall we help her fill her larder?” Sodur’s tone was jovial and unconcerned; he would say no more than he already had.

The conversation soon slipped into Juhrnus’s disgusted evaluation of the lighthouse tower and what the two of them could do to make it safer. They didn’t know how long Reisil would be living there. Juhrnus had a feeling it would be a long time. Longer than Sodur pretended.

Reisil stood on the lantern deck, Saljane clutching her fist. The sky was a murky blue—a break between storms. To the right, the city hunched under a frozen blanket, and to the left, the steel surf rose and fell with a roar.

~I don’t want to argue anymore. This is for me as much as for you,
Reisil said, her face rigid. She was determined not to cry.

~You need me,
Saljane said, an edge of unfamiliar fear rimming her voice.

Traitor tears slipped down Reisil’s cheeks, the wind turning them to ice. She brushed them away, pulling Saljane close.

Reisil’s throat burned. It was true. Saljane had become a wraith of herself. And it
was
Reisil’s fault. She wondered if Sodur had meant it to go this far. She’d thought it was bad before, but now she wasn’t welcome in the Temple at all, and more often than not, crossing paths with another
ahalad-kaaslane
meant insults and recriminations rather than mere snubbing silence. Every day their disgust grew harder to bear, and she couldn’t keep the hurt and anger to herself. She hoped if Saljane left, she’d be able to keep the spreading venom of her thoughts and emotions from further poisoning the goshawk.

Reisil drew a breath, staring into Saljane’s carnelian eyes.
~I need you. I love you. But I’m killing you. No, don’t argue. You know it’s true. If you go, you’ll have a chance to get strong again. Strong for me. And maybe you can find the wizards. Whatever Juhrnus says, I’m going to have to go to them for help. They have the answers we need. I need you strong for that.
What she’d do when she found them, she had no idea. Somehow she’d have to make them tell her what she needed to know. But that bridge could be crossed later. Until then—

~It won’t be long. A few months. By then spring will have set in. If I haven’t learned some control by then, it’ll be time to look for the wizards
. Reisil paused, waiting for more protests, but Saljane only dipped her head and rubbed Reisil’s cheek with her beak. More tears welled, but Reisil blinked them away. Suddenly there was nothing left to do but swing Saljane up into the air and send her away. For a moment Reisil went rigid, everything in her resisting. She stroked Saljane’s head and back, trying to capture the feel of the bird’s crisp feathers, her musty smell, the shine of her eyes. Saljane nipped her fingers.

“Be well. Fly strong,” Reisil whispered, her voice breaking.

Reisil drew her arm back and flung Saljane up. The goshawk leaped from her gauntleted fist and winged upward, flying west toward the Suune Vaale Mountains. Reisil could feel Saljane’s joy in being aloft and in escaping the city. She watched until Saljane disappeared, jagged-edged sobs bunching in her throat. When she could no longer see her
ahalad-kaaslane,
she went inside, latching the door and leaning against it. Her knees gave way, and she slid down the wood, giving in to her racking grief.

The torrent did not last long. Reisil could feel Saljane beginning to falter with growing uncertainty and concern. Viciously she repressed her wild misery, for the first time in their bonding building a mental barrier between them. Methodically she set it in place, willing herself to be strong.

Standing, she took her cloak off, shaking it out and hanging it on a peg. Then she cleaned the small room, sweeping and dusting invisible dirt. She washed her already clean breakfast dishes and put them away, made her unwrinkled bed and added a log to the roaring fire. True to his word, Juhrnus had provided furniture for her. Jurhnus
and
Sodur.

Reisil snarled, hauling her washbucket out to the stone balustrade and emptying the water over the side. Sodur had moved out of the Temple and into the palace and spent most of his days there. Except when he accompanied Juhrnus to see her, at least once a week. Always she had the feeling he was watching her like a spider eyes a fly: measuring, hungry, impatient. He’d made no effort to counter the ongoing rumors, and Reisil had a dreadful feeling that he was weaving more plans—plans that she wasn’t going to like any better than the last. And like that fly, she would find herself tangled helplessly in his schemes before she knew what she was getting into.

She slammed her palm against the table, kicking a chair. There was nothing to do about it but wait. She tried finding her magic, every day she tried. She never told Sodur of her failures, but he knew. He could read it on her face, and that made her more livid, knowing she was doing what he wanted her to do. She was his tool, his weapon, and she was powerless to be anything else. The Lady had given her the power, and if she wanted to help Kodu Riik, Reisil had to find the key to her magic, even if it played right into Sodur’s plots. Nor would avoiding their visits do any good. Juhrnus was content for now to wait until she was ready to explain what had happened between her and Sodur, but that patience would evaporate quickly if she tried to hide.