Daughter of the Flames (7 page)

I frowned. Lords held absolute power in the lands they ruled. The only person more powerful than a Sedorne lord was …
the
Sedorne lord. Their king, Abheron. I looked at Sorin Mesgao. Was he implying that his own king had ordered him killed? Why?

“They had very expensive swords for penniless outlaws,” I ventured, dipping my spoon into the sesame sauce and drizzling it over the rice. “And it seems odd that they intended to set fire to your carriage. A very indirect method of murdering someone.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. Who knows?”

You do, I thought. You know all right. You just don’t intend to tell me.

I shrugged and concentrated on my meal, listening to the wind chimes again. I had just scraped up the last of my rice when the lord’s men arrived. There were five of them, all Sedorne, and dressed in much finer clothes than the lord himself. They rode down the hill on tall slender Sedorne horses – very different from the stout furry ponies the Rua favoured – looking around in appalled silence at the devastation on the road, the tied-up outlaws and the crowds of people patiently waiting for the next act of this entertaining play. Finally their horrified eyes found Sorin and me, seated together on the decking under the blue canopy. They dismounted in a hurried clattering of stirrups and bridles and rushed over to their injured master, bombarding him with concern.

“Ioana, my lord! What happened?”

“Your leg? How bad is it? Do you need a healer?”

“Are these the men who attacked you? They’re Sedorne!”

I tensed in anticipation of the interrogation I was sure would be coming my way – I was singularly out of place in the midst of these pale foreigners. But the men didn’t address a single word to me, and after a moment I realized gratefully that I was being ignored. The lord gave a highly abbreviated account of events to his men before instructing them in what to do next. I noticed with some amusement that despite his fulsome thanks to me, I was not referred to as a rescuer, only as a kind bystander who had bandaged his leg.

Strange, I thought as he muttered to one of his men in the guttural Sedorne tongue. He couldn’t be a particularly vain man – his servants wore nicer hair ornaments and clothes than he did. Still, what did I know of men? Especially Sedorne men…

The servants hurried off to their different tasks, leaving Sorin and me alone.

“Well,” I began, “I don’t think you need my company any more. I’ll just—” I started to rise but he caught my arm. This time, despite my instinctive recoil, he held on.

“Don’t leave yet,” he said gravely. “There are three more things to be dealt with.”

I frowned, looking down at his hand; the contrast of pale gold fingers gripping my brown forearm gave me a funny feeling in my stomach. I didn’t resist as he pulled me back down onto the cushion. He promptly released me and I sighed in relief.

“Three more things?” I asked warily.

“Yes. The first is a warning. Many people saw what happened here today, and I’m sure the story will travel quickly, but if anyone asks you about it I pray you will deny all involvement. I told you that those men serve a powerful master; I don’t wish you to suffer because you have foiled his plans. Hopefully the stories will die down in a few days, if you do not confirm them.”

“You need not worry,” I assured him drily. “I’m hardly likely to boast about it.”

“I didn’t think so. The second thing is this. You gave me aid here today, risking your own life to save mine. I owe you. No.” He gestured sharply when I opened my mouth to disagree. “This is not about gold. It is, as you said, about honour. Believe it or not, we Sedorne value our honour. I owe you my life and I will not forget it. If ever you need anything from me, no matter what it is, or why, you will come to me, understand? I want no arguments. Promise me.”

I remained silent. I didn’t want to make any vows to this man. It seemed to me that he was an opportunist, and that he would find a way to turn any bond between us to his advantage.

“I won’t let you go until you promise,” he said with a touch of grimness. “I mean it, Zahira.”

I believed him. I sighed. “Then I promise. But I doubt I’ll ever need anything enough to come to you.”

“Perhaps not. I hope not.” He relaxed, the intensity replaced with an easy smile.

“The third thing?”

“Costin is returning with it now,” he said looking over my shoulder.

I turned to see one of his men coming towards us, carrying a small wooden box with some ceremony. He reached us and gave it to Sorin.

Sorin held the box out to me.

“Please accept this as a token of my gratitude.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I gave in to curiosity and took it. After all, I could always return it once I’d looked. I lifted the lid and saw, lying on a silk bed and held in place with fine wires, a silver wind chime. The chimes themselves were shaped into graceful curls like the ripples on the surface of a river, with tiny mother-of-pearl fish leaping between them. I gaped at it, speechless, and then looked back up at Sorin.

He was grinning at my surprise, as gleeful as a child.

“How – how did you…?”

“I noticed you listening to them while we ate. Your face changed, as if the sound made you happy. Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” I whispered. I felt awkward. It was as if he had discovered some private thing about me that no one else knew. We stared at each other. I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Finally I attempted a smile. He smiled back.

The man who had brought the wind chime cleared his throat noisily. “My lord? I think Sergiv has the litter ready.”

Sorin sighed. “Thank you.” He leaned forward, braced himself on the table, straightened his good leg, and pushed himself to his feet. While he favoured the wounded leg, it was clear that it could bear his weight.

I glared at him indignantly. “You didn’t need my help to walk at all!” I exclaimed.

“Well, no.” He grinned. “I just wanted to put my arm round you.”

While I was still gasping, he grabbed his servant’s shoulder and stepped down carefully from the decking.

“Don’t forget your promise, Zahira,” he called.

Then he was surrounded by the group of servants, and hustled out of my sight.

“You’re very quiet,” Surya said.

I looked up to see that her eyes were fixed on the shoulders of the ponies pulling our little cart, not on me. Her hands on the reins were as relaxed and easy as always.

I shrugged. It was true. We hadn’t had much to say to each other since we left lower Mesgao yesterday afternoon. I’d just been trying to get Surya out of there as quickly as I could, before the tale of the attack on the Sedorne lord spread that far. I had been stopped three times on my way out of the upper town by people asking if I was the namoa who had saved Sorin Mesgao, and, when I denied it, if I knew her or who she was. I did not want the same thing to happen to Surya.

“Are you still angry with me?”

“What?” I shook off my thoughts and turned to her again. It took me a moment to work out what she meant. “Oh. No. Anyway, I was more shocked than angry.”

“You were more hurt than angry, you mean. And you were angry enough. I’m sorry.”

I shrugged again, uncomfortable. “I expect you had a good reason.”

“A very good reason.” There was a pause. “I can’t tell you.”

I found a smile from somewhere. “You do surprise me.”

We fell silent again as Surya carefully guided the ponies through a narrow rocky gorge overhung with twisted silver-grey trees. We had left the lush greenness of the terraced farmlands behind early this morning. The tumbled rocks on either side of us were almost bare, home only to scrubby, dusty plants that looked half dead. To our left, over the brown shoulder of the hill we were climbing, I could see the highest peak of the Subira range, Emany, its violet and black slopes crowned with drifting clouds.

“
Agni…
”
Surya began. “It was important that Fareed see your face. He will remember you now, and if you ever need to call on the resistance, he’ll help you.”

I frowned, bothered by her tone. “Why would I need his help? Is there something wrong, Surya?”

“Oh, there are a million and one things wrong.” She smiled, her mood lightening suddenly. “There are always a million and one things wrong. Really, life is only a series of interconnected disasters. Each one pushes us forward to the next.”

I wasn’t reassured. “Is there a particular disaster that’s worrying you?”

She sighed. “Only that I cannot live for ever, dearest. Ignore my moods; I’m getting old and cranky.”

“You’re not old,” I disagreed automatically.

“Old enough,
agni
. Very nearly old enough.”

She didn’t say anything else, and I let the silence be.

The rest of the journey home passed in a blur for me. I went over my memories of the attack and the conversation with Sorin, trying to fit them together in some way that made sense. They seemed almost like events that had happened to someone else – but at the same time, they were more clear and vivid than any other memory I had. The sounds of the crash, the attack, my own actions… I wasn’t sure if I was trying to forget, or fix it all in my head for ever. The weight of the box hidden under my robe was the only thing that convinced me I wasn’t imagining it all.

When we arrived back at the temple, Surya tried to talk to me again. For the first time in my life I avoided her, heading to my cell instead. The tiny room, with its three-day coating of dust and neatly made pallet, seemed so utterly normal that I felt as if I were waking from a strange dream. I took the box from the inside pocket of my robe and opened it. The room was dim, but the wind chime seemed to have a silver and pearl glow all its own.

Not a dream.

I removed the amber God charm that dangled in my window and hung the chime in its place, my fingers wrapped around the metal curls so that they would not ring. When the little loop was placed on the hook, I stepped back, opening my fingers.

The chimes rippled gently, sending out a spray of silvery notes like a sigh; the fish bobbed among their shining waves. I sat down on my pallet and watched the tiny ocean dance.

It was night-time in the palace when Lord Tiede received the message, and went to find the king in his indoor garden.

The glass roof should have flooded the room with frosty starlight, but the light had to trickle down through layers of foliage before it reached the path, and the way was swathed in shadows. The darkness whispered mysteriously as Tiede passed, making him start, and walk quickly.

He was relieved when he located the king at the centre of the garden, despite the tidings he had to impart. King Abheron was seated at his work table in the clearing, repotting a large spiny plant by candlelight. His hair glowed red gold, but his face was hidden in shadow.

Lord Tiede stood nervously among the trees for a moment, examining the king for signs of mood. Abheron’s hands, hidden in leather gardening gloves, moved with slow competence as he gently patted the soil down around the roots of the plant and added water. The adviser took the calmness with which his king performed these actions as a good omen. He knew from experience that on the rare occasions when the king lost his temper, he moved very quickly indeed.

“Yes, Tiede?”

The lord jumped, then hurried forward. “I didn’t want to disturb you, Your Highness.”

“I’m surprised you came then,” the king said, reaching for a rag to wipe the dirt from his gloves.

Not sure how to take the comment, Tiede risked a small chuckle. “Indeed. But I … ah … have some news from Mesgao, Your Highness.”

“I take it the news is not good?”

“Well. Apparently Mesgao was injured. We’re not sure how badly.”

“He is alive?”

“Yes.”

“How disappointing. You hand-picked those men, Tiede. You assured me they could easily complete the task. What happened?”

“I – I can only apologize, sire. I assure you the men will be suffering most unpleasantly in Mesgao’s dungeons, for they know nothing that could appease his torturers—”

“Sorin doesn’t keep torturers, Tiede. Just tell me what happened.”

“Well. It seems there was … interference.”

“Intriguing. From whom?”

“We’re not entirely sure. But,” he rushed on as the king stirred restlessly, “most agree that it was a Rua woman. One of those holy people – what do they call them?”

“Namoa.”

“Yes, one of those. She was highly skilled, apparently. She dispatched two of my – er – of the men herself, and then saw to Mesgao’s wounds.”

“She was travelling with him?”

“Well. I’m not sure. The reports are sketchy.”

“Are they? How distressing for them.”

Tiede hesitated. “Indeed, Your Highness.”

The king sighed. “Never mind. Tiede, that resistance worker we’ve been keeping an eye on – he is in Mesgao, is he not?”

“Hiding with a cloth merchant, yes.” Tiede paused, thoughtful. “Actually, there was a report that two of these namoa people visited a cloth merchant a few hours before the attack was foiled.”

“And later a namoa saved Sorin’s life. Wheels within wheels, Tiede. Could it be that the Order of the Holy Mother and the Rua resistance are connected to our troublesome cousin Sorin in some way? I had no idea such a link existed. This interests me. I’d like some more information. Bend your mind to the task of getting a spy into his household, Tiede. You’ve let that matter slide for too long. And…” The king’s voice trailed off into silence. After a moment, he picked up a tiny pair of shears and carefully began pruning the twisted branches of the plant.

Tiede shuffled anxiously. “Your Highness?”

Without looking up, the king gave Tiede a series of instructions, his voice confident and crisp. Tiede hesitated, torn between shock and admiration, then nodded, deciding to be admiring. It was safer.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Tiede – have your men do things cleanly. If there are children…”

“Let them go, sire?” Tiede said doubtfully.

“If at all possible. I like children, you know. I don’t like them to suffer.”