Quintana of Charyn (20 page)

Lucian thanked him and placed the wine in his pack.

‘I’ll walk you to your horse,’ Lady Zarah said. She held a hand to his sleeve and Lucian instantly felt every pair of eyes in the palace village on them.

‘Will you always live in your dark little cottage?’ she asked as they reached his mount. ‘It’s sweetly quaint.’

‘It suits me,’ he said. ‘And I love my
yata
, but I wouldn’t want to be living with her and the aunts in the big house.’ He chuckled at the thought.

Lady Zarah laughed too, but it seemed forced. She was a pretty girl and he could grow to love her. He knew that. She was a Lumateran and he could grow to love any Lumateran girl. But he was already imagining himself trapped inside his cottage with no room to breathe and having to stand so close just to hear her voice. Sweet as it was.

He saw Finnikin with Perri at the tannery and took Zarah’s hand.

‘I see my cousin,’ he said, kissing her hand gently because the Mont girls had taught him that a lady liked to have her hand kissed. ‘I’ll come visit the next time I’m in the village.’

‘I’ll look forward to that, Lucian,’ she said.

Not Lu-cien.

‘Sweet, sweet girl,’ Finnikin said politely when Lucian reached him. They watched as Zarah walked away, whispering to her father.

‘Oh yes, the sweetest.’

‘Yes, yes. Very sweet. I say it all the time. What a sweet girl.’

‘Hmm.’

And then the discussion of Zarah was complete because there wasn’t much else to say and Finnikin mentioned a hunt and Lucian was relieved to speak of something that had his heart racing. Close by, Perri was saddling a horse that wasn’t his own.

‘He’s been strangely wounded in spirit since we returned,’ Finnikin said quietly about the guard. ‘First this thing with Froi, and then returning to find out about Tesadora’s estrangement from Isaboe. Why didn’t you put a stop to it, Lucian?’

Lucian couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

‘There were daggers, Finn. Women with daggers. Not just any women. Your wife. Tesadora.’

They watched Perri walk the horse towards them, stopping to speak to the Priestess of the Lagrami novices. Through his ties with Tesadora, Perri had a friendship with the novices and the Priestess and it was known he visited both cloisters in the village and forest on occasion. It was strange to think of Perri sitting and drinking tea and eating cake with such women, as though he was civilised. But Perri had always been difficult to work out.

‘He’s on his way to the valley to see Tesadora, so finish your business and go with him,’ Finnikin whispered quickly as Perri approached. ‘It will be good for him not to be on his own.’

As much as Lucian enjoyed Perri’s company, he had wanted serenity on his journey home. He desired nothing more than silence as a companion and truly hoped Perri wanted the same. Trips home to the mountain were long and there was nothing worse than someone chewing at his ears with words.

‘… and then, not only am I dealing with the fact that she feigned her own death,’ he said to Perri as they passed the inn of Balconio hours later, ‘I also find out that she discusses our marriage with
her companions. Our spousal bed. And do you want to know the truth, Perri? Without going into infinite detail about what took place between us those nights … two nights … did I mention that it was only two times? Have you seen how small she is? She reaches here …’ Lucian said, pointing to his chest. ‘What was I to do? The first time she cried, and the second time, I know I hurt her. No woman had ever wept in my bed so I spent some nights at
Yata
’s to relieve her of the fear and now I discover that she believed I was lying with one of the Mont girls …’

When they reached the mountain, all seemed calm among the Monts, so Lucian decided to accompany Perri down to the valley.

‘No, you stay. It’s fine,’ Perri said and Lucian heard weariness in his voice.

‘No, no. I’ll travel with you. It’s a good thing, because you seem quite drowsy.’

‘Pity … because I believe you’re needed on this mountain, Lucian,’ Perri said. ‘Here comes Potts.’

‘Ignore him.’

They took the path down to the valley.

‘Anyway, what I was saying,’ Lucian continued, ‘is that this business with Lord Tascan’s family has now become an issue because when I started seeing his daughter Zarah, I believed that my wife was dead and now she’s not, and although I know that all I need to do is see my cousin Isaboe to speak of the marriage with the Charynite … do you notice how I say that now? How I don’t refer to her by her name? Well, I know that Cousin Isaboe can sever this marriage based on the grounds of our separation and the fact that the union brought no peace between our kingdoms.’

‘Then why don’t you do that?’ Perri finally spoke, bluntly.

‘Do what?’

‘Have the marriage severed?’

Lucian stared at him, stunned. ‘With …’

‘With the Charynite,’ Perri said. ‘Have the marriage with the Charynite severed.’

‘Phaedra?’

‘I’d hate to refer to her by name, Lucian. Isn’t that what you want?’

Lucian bristled. ‘I think you should keep silent now, Perri. You’ve said too much.’

Lucian didn’t speak for the rest of the journey into the valley until they saw Tesadora’s tent in the hollow and he thought it wise to warn Perri.

‘She’s angry and she’s hurt,’ he said. ‘She’ll be very frosty in her response to you because of your duty to the Queen and you might just find yourself back up that mountain, because when Tesadora’s furious, you have to give her space.’

Perri stared at Lucian, impassively.

‘Yes, we’ve actually become friends … almost,’ Lucian continued, ‘and I think she’s beginning to trust me. She’s not going to want to talk about what happened with the Queen and she’s especially not going to like the fact that you’ve come down this mountain with not so much as a note from Isaboe. So let me do the talking, Perri. This may not end well for you if you act too prematurely.’

Lucian watched as Tesadora stepped out of her tent, having heard their horses. Perri leapt off his horse and a moment later she was in his arms and they were kissing in a way that had even the horses tossing their manes in surprise.

‘Where’s Beast?’ she asked, staring at the strange horse.

‘A very long story,’ Perri said.

They walked into the tent, perhaps to talk about the Queen or where Beast was.

Lucian thought it best not to follow.

 

 

S
erker was a wasteland. Cracked earth, dead stumps of trees and not a speck of fertile land as far north as the eye could see. Worse still were the piercing shrieks that sliced at Froi’s ears.

‘Can you hear that?’ he shouted to Gargarin, who rode with him that day. Lirah was riding ahead on Beast. It was only fitting that she entered her province on a Serkan horse.

‘The wind has a bite in these parts,’ Gargarin said.

‘It’s not the wind I hear.’

Froi dismounted, his knees buckling, fatigued by the sounds of the damned that called to him. He took in his surrounds, unable to fathom the horror of what had taken place in Serker nineteen years past. Low ruins of cottages burnt to the ground. Other dwellings so intact: an even crueller reminder that a people once existed here. Skeletal remains lay where people had been slaughtered. The once-thriving town void of breath. Even the air seemed to have stilled to nothing.

‘The land is so flat,’ Froi said, looking up at Gargarin. ‘How can an army possibly be hiding here?’

‘You know better than to ask that when you’ve spent so much time living as a trog these past months,’ Gargarin said.

But there was doubt even in Gargarin’s voice. What were the chances of an army and their horses hiding in this strange place? The only army Froi knew of was the one he had glimpsed in a valley between Sebastabol and Serker earlier that morning. He hadn’t told Gargarin and Lirah. He saw no reason to alarm them.

‘How could they not have seen the King’s army coming?’ Froi asked.

Gargarin didn’t respond, and Froi could see he was watching Lirah up ahead as she followed the road to the colossal theatre they had glimpsed the moment they entered Serker.

‘The Serker army was too busy attacking up north,’ Gargarin said. ‘They were lied to and misinformed by a spy that the northern province of Desantos was set to invade. That was Serker’s weakness. They’d fly into any skirmish at a moment’s notice, always to prove their power. Later, when the people saw the horses approaching from the north, they believed them to be their own returning soldiers. They didn’t realise it was the King’s men who had circled the province. And by the time the real Serkan army returned home, they didn’t realise they were walking into a trap and that most of their people were already slaughtered.’

Froi continued to walk alongside Gargarin in silence. He tried to remember Arjuro’s song calling the dead so he could sing it in his heart and perhaps stop the shrieks of the spirits that only he could hear, but it would not come to mind. And then finally they reached the place once called
Il Centro
: an open-air stage surrounded by tiered steps reaching so high that they disappeared beneath the low, filthy clouds. It was as if Serker had built a way to touch the gods.

‘I’ve never seen anything so mighty before,’ Froi said.

‘As young men, Arjuro, De Lancey and I travelled here to listen to great lectures about the planets and the philosophy of the ancients,’ Gargarin said. ‘It wasn’t rare to meet a Lumateran here, and if you ask your Priestking and the Priestesses of your cloisters, you’ll find they’ll all have visited Serker in their day.’

Froi wondered if Tesadora’s mother, Seranonna, had come to this place and lain with a Serkan.

‘It’s where most of the people of this province died,’ Gargarin said.

‘How did they all come to be there?’ Froi asked.

Gargarin put a finger to his lips as they approached Lirah and Beast. She had slowed down and seemed in her own world.

‘The census,’ Gargarin said quietly. ‘The Provincaro called one, which meant that every Serkan had to travel to
Il Centro
. The seneschal had recorded the name of every soldier who had gone off to fight, so what better time to complete the task of a province-wide reckoning? The people of Serker were all assembled in this great place of learning, waiting to have their names recorded. But it never happened and those names are lost. Almost the entire population was annihilated. It’s been said that those who survived later crawled out from under the bodies of their loved ones and have been hiding ever since.’

They listened to Lirah crooning to Beast.

‘Nineteen years ago we had children and babes in Charyn,’ Gargarin said.

Froi wanted to smash his head with a fist to keep the images from entering his mind.

‘It’s what happened in Sarnak to the river people of Lumatere,’ he said quietly.

‘We heard the stories of the Sarnak slaughter,’ Gargarin said. ‘Is it true that your queen bore witness and demands that the Sarnak King arrest the men responsible?’

Froi nodded. ‘Those riverfolk belonged to Trevanion. He and Lady Abian are the last of their village. Only now have the Queen and Finnikin allowed others to live in Tressor. The land is too fertile to waste, but there is a signpost with the name of every man, woman and child who ever lived there. When Princess Jasmina was born, the Queen and Finnikin had her blessed and titled Jasmina of the River in honour of her
pardu
. Her grandfather.’

But Gargarin’s attention was again drawn ahead to Lirah. ‘See to her, Froi,’ he said, his voice low.

‘She’ll not want me there.’

Lirah was weeping. It twisted Froi up inside to see Lirah the strong, Lirah the fierce and cold and unbreakable, weeping.

‘Go,’ Gargarin said.

Froi hurried to catch up with her, but the moment she saw him, Lirah wiped her tears fiercely, her attention on the bridle of Beast. Froi didn’t know what to say. He glanced around, trying to think of something. Everything was dead. Or so it seemed at first. But what he had come to understand in his travels with the Lumaterans and Charynites was that nature chose to defy man’s will to destroy. Close by, wild pink and purple flowers peppered the landscape on the road beside them.

‘Let me up,’ he said.

Lirah made room and Froi climbed onto Beast behind her. He pointed over her shoulder. ‘
Bronshoi.
’

She looked up and then nodded. Then she pointed to another. ‘
Sajarai.
’

And Froi understood Lirah’s passion for her prison garden. She had planted the Serker that she couldn’t forget.

They continued riding through the province, mostly in silence. Froi couldn’t help but think of Lumatere. It was less than a day’s ride from Isaboe’s palace to Lucian’s mountain. Here, it was
more than a day’s ride from one end of Serker to the other.

Lumatere had never seemed so vulnerable.

When they reached another barren settlement of half-standing cottages, a murder of crows swooped close by. Froi dismounted and walked towards whatever had drawn them to the ground.

‘What is it?’ Gargarin asked, pulling up beside Lirah’s horse.

‘Someone’s here,’ Froi said. ‘Those birds would have nothing else to scavenge otherwise.’

Gargarin looked around and then struggled off his horse.

‘We’re out here in the open,’ Gargarin said. ‘If they want me dead, they’d have killed me by now. Let’s set up camp and wait for whoever it is to politely come calling.’

‘I haven’t exactly been trained to wait for attackers to reveal themselves,’ Froi said, irritated.

‘Wait, I say.’

The three of them found refuge in a half-standing cottage that at least protected them from the wind. Gargarin built a small fire and Froi watched him cover Lirah with the robe he had borrowed from De Lancey and for a short while at least, she slept.

‘You asked before about the sound,’ Gargarin said later. ‘If it’s not the wind, what is it?’

Froi shook his head. He didn’t want to say the words.

‘You’ve got some of my brother’s gifts. That I’m certain of,’ Gargarin said. ‘Do you hear the Serkan dead?’

Froi felt Lirah’s eyes piercing into him.

‘I sense nothing,’ he lied. Because the truth was that he sensed agony and despair and unrest.

Something moved outside the shelter and Froi crept towards the sound. Gargarin gripped his arm, held him back.

‘Wait until he chooses to reveal himself.’

‘No,’ Froi said firmly. ‘We do this my way.’

He stepped outside and stared into the darkness. He could hear the sound of shallow breathing. It was a human sound, unlike the shrill whistle of the dead that he couldn’t block out. Froi knew they weren’t dealing with an army. It was one person, perhaps two. Good at staying concealed, but not good enough. Or perhaps their intruder wanted to be found.

Froi retrieved his dagger. ‘Reveal yourself!’ he called out. There was no response and he called out again.

‘Are you armed?’ came the response.

Froi recognised the voice and sighed with relief, regardless of its hostility.

‘Of course I’m armed,’ he said, irritated.

Gargarin was suddenly at Froi’s side.

‘Get back inside,’ Froi ordered.

‘Perabo?’ Gargarin called out. ‘Is that you?’

Froi heard the sound of something being lit and then a flicker of light appeared as a figure with a large bulk and craggy face and oil lamp in hand crawled out of the shadows.

‘You know each other?’ Froi asked. Perabo ignored him and held out a hand to Gargarin.

‘It’s been a long time,’ the keeper of the caves said, as the two men shook hands.

‘And sad days in between,’ Gargarin responded. ‘Our boy always spoke highly of you.’

Froi was confused. He had never mentioned Perabo at all, but then he realised with a wave of gut-deep envy that Gargarin was referring to Tariq. He felt Perabo’s accusing stare on him. Even after everything that had happened in the Citavita with Quintana’s rescue, Perabo would never forgive him for not getting her out sooner.

‘What are you doing here in Serker, Perabo?’ Gargarin asked. ‘On your own, at that?’

‘Waiting and hoping,’ Perabo said. ‘And here you are.’

Gargarin ushered Perabo into the shelter.

‘Tell me there’s an army here,’ Gargarin said. ‘One gathered in Tariq’s name.’

Perabo shook his head. ‘I’ve found nothing here but old ledgers hidden by a moneylender, and the town gossip’s chronicles.’

‘You have them?’ Lirah spoke up.

Perabo looked beyond Froi and Gargarin and stared at her, his expression showing appreciation at what he was seeing. He retrieved the chronicles from his pack and reached out to give them to her.

‘Lirah of Serker,’ he said, not needing to be told who she was. ‘This must cause you great pain.’

‘What in Charyn doesn’t?’ she said in a flat tone.

Perabo’s attention was back on Froi. ‘I heard it was you who lost her,’ the keeper of the caves said bluntly.

Froi bristled, but didn’t respond.

‘You’re being followed,’ Perabo finally said. Froi nodded, glancing at Lirah and Gargarin with a shrug.

‘I saw something when we rested in the valley of Sebastabol,’ he said.

‘Can you keep us informed of the “somethings”?’ Gargarin said sharply.

‘I reveal information when it needs to be revealed,’ Froi responded.

‘There is no army for us here,’ Perabo said, and Gargarin gave a sound of frustration. ‘But I can take you to one.’

‘Where?’

‘North,’ Perabo answered. ‘Two days’ ride beyond the great lake of Charyn.’