Kallista’s Fox wasn’t visible outside the alehouse. At one of the wide doors, opening the front of the building to the plaza, Joh glanced back and saw Obed with his drover’s hat pulled low, the hip-length drover’s cloak thrown back to expose his bare arms. He was watching. Joh had abandoned his drover’s disguise for the night, though with his Filornish accent, he doubted it would matter.
Are you never going inside?
Joh hid his reaction to Kallista’s whisper in his plunge through the door. The enormous windowless room—the better to cut down on glass replacement costs—thronged with people, but the bright gold of Fox’s short-cropped hair caught Joh’s eye instantly.
His hair
, Kallista keened through his mind.
He cut his hair. Why?
He had done it today, in the time since Joh had last seen him. Then, Fox’s curls had tumbled to his shoulders. Now, it was shorter than Joh had seen on any man who could grow hair, cut so close on the sides that his scalp showed through, and no more than the length of a finger-joint on top. The longer hair still curled.
Can you see what you need to?
Joh hoped she could hear him. He felt exposed standing near the door.
Though the late-day sun slanted in through the openings, it was dark farther inside. His eyes finally adjusted to the dim smoky light and he edged through the crowd in the general direction of the central bar.
I can’t tell
.
No startling this time. Maybe he
was
getting used to it.
Can you get closer?
Was there an edge of desperation to her whisper? Joh hoped Torchay was holding her tight.
He paused at the bar for a pint. Why else would a lone man enter an alehouse? Then he began working his way across to the area where Fox sat, the same woman draped possessively over him. She was attractive—brown waves of hair falling past her shoulders, pale Adaran skin, full lips in a natural pout, generous curves. She didn’t compare to Kallista, of course, but he could see how some would be caught by her.
The tavern was crowded, but not with the young soldiers the wandering girls were looking for. These men, slightly outnumbering the women present, were older. Harder. Many of them, both men and women, wore the brown, scarlet-lined cloaks of the middle levels of Barinirab. They made Joh nervous.
He sat at an empty spot at the end of the table where Fox’s woman held court and took a long draft of his ale. She was the focus, not Fox. Her words garnered rapt attention. Her quips brought on boisterous laughter. Her smiles reaped preening satisfaction at her approval. She had to be high—very high—in the rebel organization. Joh took the opportunity to study Fox, trying to see whatever Kallista sought.
“I know you.”
The words floated past Joh as he drank again, until he realized that the table’s occupants had gone silent and everyone was looking at him.
Carefully, he swallowed, licked the foam from his upper lip and set down the tankard. “Are you speaking to me?”
“Yeah.” The burly Rejuvenate, hair cropped as short as Fox’s, stared fixedly at Joh. “But how do I know you?” A frown appeared and grew, sealing his eyebrows into a single unit. “You’re in the army.”
“I was.” Keep to the truth as much as possible. Fewer lies to remember that way. “I’m not anymore.”
“That’s it.” The man stabbed a finger at Joh. “You’re that lieutenant, the one that blew up the palace last year. I want to shake your hand.”
He leaned across the intervening drinkers, extending his meaty, callused hand. Joh took it, squeezed and released. All the attention made him decidedly uncomfortable, especially since he’d once been one of them. A Barb.
“Didn’t they send you to Katreinet?”
“I got out.” Joh took refuge in his ale again.
Kallista
, he thought desperately.
Do you have what you need?
“Just over a month ago.”
“I thought you’d been sentenced to a life term.” The woman beside Fox spoke.
“I was.” He shrugged. “They pulled a lot of the guards after the assassinations. It was easy to get out.”
The woman’s smile made Joh’s skin crawl. “The Night of Justice changed many things.” She extended a hand, whether intending him to shake it or kiss it, Joh couldn’t tell. He gave it a brief squeeze.
“I am Oskina,” she said. “And you are Joh Suteny, Hero of Truth.”
He hid his wince. He was no hero—of truth or anything else. He certainly didn’t deserve the title for nearly killing three who were now his iliasti, who meant more to him than anyone in this world. He looked again at Fox. “And who is this?”
“Jealous?” Oskina’s leering flirtation made Joh nauseous. She ran her hand along Fox’s bare arm, making a point of feeling his muscle. “He’s my little pet. A casteless Tibran.”
Tibran
. Yes, he knew that. Fox was a Tibran name. Joh was too nervous to think properly. He’d never been much good at spying.
“The casteless ones are so delicious,” Oskina purred. “They know what they’re worth. They don’t protest anything.”
“I thought all Tibrans were casteless these days.” Joh kept his voice mild and hopefully inoffensive.
She tipped her head, granting the truth of his words. “But this one is special. He’s blind. He lost his caste before the Destruction.”
Blind?
Why didn’t you tell me?
He hurled the thought at Kallista, not expecting her to catch it.
I forgot
. She did hear him.
Are you sure we didn’t?
Joh couldn’t swear that she hadn’t, so he ignored her question.
How could you forget a thing like blindness?
Because he doesn’t act blind. He moves like one who can see. He can see, after a fashion
.
Fox reached tentatively for the tankard set in front of him, sliding his hand across the tabletop till he touched it, then fumbling for the handle. Just as he found it, one of the rebels snatched it from his grasp and moved it a small distance away, forcing him to grope for it again.
He can?
Joh put all his skepticism in the thought, hiding his anger at the cruel game behind his own tankard.
Kallista’s worry flooded down the link between them.
Something’s wrong. He’s not like that. Or he wasn’t before
.
Demons?
I don’t know. I can’t see
. The worry crescendoed into fear before it was cut off, sucked back through the link.
I can only see what you see
.
And I can’t see demons
. Joh watched as Fox found a tankard—his own, as it happened—and wrapped both hands around it. He pulled it back in front of himself, not bothering with the handle as he drank from it.
I’m coming down there
. Determination rang through Kallista’s thought.
Don’t
. He wanted to scream at her, to warn Torchay, and all he could do was sit and smile at the small woman running her hands over his ilias.
Please. Don’t. It’s under control. We’re fine, as long as you don’t turn up and create a scene
.
He could sense motion through the link. Scuffling? He felt the sensual pull of magic and tried to stop it, but feared a backlash.
Kallista, stop. You’re not helping matters
.
That’s what Torchay says
. She sounded out of breath, even in his mind.
Torchay is right. Listen to him
.
Get out of there
. Major Varyl was giving orders now.
I’ve seen enough. We’ll regroup and be ready tomorrow
.
More than ready to obey this command, Joh drained his tankard and stood.
“Ready for more?” Oskina looked up from her fondling and shoved her tankard toward him. “Good. Bring drinks all round.”
Joh lifted it and gathered more mugs in both hands. It was needful to tread with light steps. “Gladly” he lied. “But then I must go. Others wait for me.”
“Who?” Oskina pouted. It wasn’t pretty. “You just left prison last month. Or have you found entertainment here already?”
“My ilian.” That much was truth. Now he had to assemble a few lies to go with it. “My parents found it for me when I went home to Filorne.” He shrugged. “Why not marry? They can hide me if the Reinine comes looking for me. They’re waiting for me.”
Anger flitted across Oskina’s face. No, not anger. Rage. Dark, ugly rage. At his modest defiance? Then it was gone, her face as beautiful as before. “I don’t want you to go. Stay. Send word to your ilian. Invite them to join us. I’d like to meet them.”
A shudder crawled down Joh’s spine. He didn’t want his ilian anywhere near this woman.
Kallista?
He needed help. How could he avoid this?
“They’re camped outside the city tonight.” Joh scrambled for plausible excuses. “I doubt a messenger could find them—without myself along as escort, at any rate.”
“Stay with us tonight. I insist.” She would not allow any escape. Her attitude was as clear as it was implacable. She would give him no choice.
Kallista, are you there?
Joh screamed it into silence, but she had left him. He had no way to communicate the situation to her. He bowed. “Thank you for the courtesy.”
He could only hope she would honor the bands he wore round his ankles. If she decided against it, he was afraid to object. This Oskina would not take his resistance well, and he feared what she might do in reaction. He hefted the tankards in his hands and headed for the bar, trying to think past his panic.
Obed had worked his way inside, leaning his elbows on the bar, nursing a nearly full mug of ale. Joh squeezed in beside him and delivered his load to be filled.
“Kallista’s left me,” he murmured, watching the barkeep at his task.
“Then we should leave this place.”
“I can’t. That woman insists I stay, and she apparently has the power to make me do it.”
Obed swore, long and fluently. Joh didn’t understand the words, but the tone was clear. He would have liked to join in, but didn’t know the barkeep’s loyalties.
“Go back. Tell Kallista, quick as you can. I need her back.” He needed to be able to communicate, but more, he needed her presence in the back of his mind. Kallista might be able to sense him at all times, but he was only aware of her when she drew magic and when she’d been riding his sight. Right now, as Obed drank up and departed, Joh felt very, very alone.
He gathered the mugs, heavier now they were filled. A barmaid took the extras and followed him back to the table. The woman Oskina made a place for him beside her and reluctantly, under the scowls of the displaced, Joh took it. The tankards were handed round and he drank, deeper when he felt Oskina’s hand slide up his thigh.
It curved around to the inside and edged higher, when he broke. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t pretend with a woman who left him so cold. Who frightened him somehow. He stopped her hand. “Please, Aila. I am married.”
“And this matters—why?” She refused to remove her hand, but didn’t push it farther.
“I am a man who prefers to keep his vows. I know this is something the Order values, though I am only a lowly Renunciate.”
“As an Ascendant, I can release you from your vows.” She squeezed. Joh twitched.
Not bloody likely
. He was master of his own vows. What he made, he kept, unless they were broken on the other side, as his Barinirab oath had been. There was no keeping faith with liars.
Joh drank deep to hide his discomfort, thinking. He had to slow down on the ale if he wanted to keep his wits clear.
“Flattered as I am by your attentions, Oskina Aila, I must confess that I prefer—” Goddess, was he mad?
She could have him killed. Could kill him herself, or worse, given where her hand was. And no one here would lift a finger to stop her. Would likely assist her. Especially if they knew the truth of who he was now and his purpose here.
“You prefer men?” She moved abruptly to grope his quiescent privates, startling—
terrifying
—Joh, then withdrew her hand. “Would you rather play with my pet than with me?” She pretended to pout—though Joh was not entirely sure it was all pretense. “Is that why you do not rise?”
Joh pushed his mug aside. He wanted to drink it so badly he didn’t dare. “Aila,” he began. “Great lady—”
“I had not heard that about you, Joh Suteny. That you are a lover of men.”
Could this get him out of betraying his ilian with the awful woman? “As a male commissioned officer in the Adaran army, I had to be absolutely above reproach.” He sought his way as he spoke. “Female officers are often accused of using the regular troops and conscripts as their private hunting preserve. Truth for many of them. I did not dare take the risk.” There. Every word truth, but she could take it as she liked.
“Mmm.” She continued to eye him speculatively. “It is true that I have not heard you are a lover of anyone, man or woman. Are you gelding then?”
She enjoyed taunting him, Joh knew. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she licked those red, pouting lips. He did not want to drive her to rage, but would placating her work any better?
“My ilian knows the truth of that, Aila.” He would try to walk a middle road.
“And how many men to women does your ilian hold, Joh Suteny? Is it my pet you desire?”
“It is a man-heavy ilian, Great Lady.” Possibilities had burst upon him. Opportunity he should have seen earlier, would have seen but for all the ale. Could he separate her from Fox this way? “And your pet is everything I desire in this place.”
Again truth, though he probably should not have qualified the statement. Maybe she wouldn’t pick up on the tiny insult.
“You would break your vows for him, but not for me?” Oskina pretended to pout again. This time the pretense seemed purer.
“Oskina Aila, what can I say?” Joh spread his hands and tried an inoffensive smile. Fox was ilias. They had spoken no vows to each other yet, but the bonds were still there. He would be keeping vows, not breaking them.
“Come. Sit there.” She scooted toward him, making a tiny space on the other side. She pulled Fox into the space to leave the gap on the Tibran’s far side. “I have not tried him with a man yet. It could be…interesting.”