Songs of the Earth (67 page)

One
. White light ran down the sword-blade as Gair swung on his heel.
Two
. Steel on steel, spitting sparks into the dirt.
Step into the space, roll wrists
. More sparks.
Three. Shift weight, balance, reverse the thrust
. Sorchal danced away with inches to spare.
Turn again. Two-handed grip to meet Arlin’s lunge
. Cross-guards locked, the two blades framed the Tylan’s face. Momentum powered Gair’s arms up, sending Arlin’s sword skittering away.
Turn
. The sword hammered down overarm and broke Sorchal’s grip. Gair took two quick steps to face Arlin again.
Charging in. Sloppy
. He met the Tylan with his shoulder, pinned his arm and twisted the sword out of his hand. It thudded into the dust.
And done
.

Arlin scowled and shoved him away. Gair grabbed his wrist, whipped the Tylan over his shoulder and sent him crashing onto the ground on his back.

‘Nicely done,’ said Sorchal, wiping his arm across his sweaty brow.

Gair shook his head. ‘Still too slow.’ There was too long between each blow and counter-blow, too much time in which everything could change. A heartbeat was an eternity between two swords. He had to be faster. ‘One more time?’

Sorchal sighed. ‘One more time.’

Panting, Arlin rolled onto his elbow and sat up. His sweat-damp whites were caked in dust. Gair offered a hand to help him up. The Tylan glowered at it, lip curled.

‘Why do you do this?’ He spat dust from his mouth, the spittle just missing Gair’s bare feet. ‘Ask me here every day?’

‘You’re the best sword at Chapterhouse,’ Gair said, arm still outstretched. Finally Arlin took it and Gair pulled him to his feet. He retrieved his sword, wiping the dusty blade on the leg of his whites.

‘You know I don’t like you, Leahn.’

‘You don’t have to like me. Just fight me. Ready?’

Arlin snarled. ‘Always.’

‘Goddess, I’m getting too old to be matching blades with bucks like him.’ Haral mopped his face with the towel slung round his neck and dropped onto the bench next to Alderan.

Alderan grunted, but did not look round from watching the yard below. Three swordsmen clashed, whirled, broke and clashed again. Sunlight sparked off their blades as steel rang on steel in the still spring air.

‘How long today?’ he asked.

‘Three, three and a half hours. About the same as yesterday.’

And the day before, and the one before that, every day since the funeral. A worm of worry gnawed its way a little deeper into Alderan’s heart.

‘He makes it look like dancing.’

‘He does at that. Not the best I’ve ever seen, but, sweet saints, he’s close. More than a match for anyone here.’

‘He needs rest. Time to grieve.’

‘Maybe this is how he chooses to deal with it.’

‘Maybe.’
I wish he’d weep, or howl, or drink himself insensible. Do something human, anything but this relentless focus
.

Haral’s hand clapped his shoulder. ‘We all find our own way
through loss, Alderan,’ he said gruffly. ‘You had your way, I had mine, when it was my turn. Gair has his.’

He stood, and Alderan looked up at the stocky Syfrian.

‘You know what he’s doing, don’t you?’
Turning himself into a weapon, honing himself like steel on a stone. A weapon with only one purpose
.

‘Aye, I know.’

‘It’s dangerous.’

‘He’s young, Alderan, young and hurt.’

‘I don’t like it.’

‘He’ll survive.’ Haral shaded his eyes, watching the Leahn move between his opponents, and murmured, ‘Though I pity whoever gets kissed by that sword.’

‘He’s not healed yet. Savin will kill him without batting an eye.’

‘You don’t know that for sure. You told me what Gair did with the shield, how he took it all on by himself. He can stand toe to toe with that bastard, don’t you worry.’

But I am worried, more than I’ve been for him since the reiving
.

As Haral walked away, Alderan turned back to the duel in the yard below and worried a little bit more.

The carter handed Tanith down onto the cobbled wharf, then blushed like a sunset under his scruffy felt hat when she kissed him on each cheek. He chirruped up his mules and clattered back into Pencruik, waving over his shoulder. She waved back until he was out of sight.

And so it was over. Her last contact with Chapterhouse vanished into the bustle of the dockside and she could put off her departure no longer. She’d waited as long as she could, but the
Morning Star
had to be away on the tide, and so did she. Stevedores bustled past her, hefting bales and rolling barrels to the stores tender moored further along the dock, their feet slapping on the
cobbles. Only a few water-casks remained; one more trip and the
Star
would be fully provisioned and ready to go. Even as she watched, a launch pushed off from the sea-elf ship out in the bay and began rowing in, oars rising and falling like the legs of some water-beetle.

In spite of the blue skies, the breeze off the harbour was chilly. Drawing her coat more closely round her, she turned towards the sea-ladder to wait for the launch. Next to it stood Gair. Arms folded, Master’s mantle stirring round his boots, he watched her approach, his face as closed as it had been since that terrible day. Then he laid his hand over his heart and bowed deeply enough for his hair to fall forward over his shoulder.

‘My lady Elindorien.’

‘My secret is out, it seems.’

He straightened up. ‘Alderan told me. I had no idea you were a Daughter of the White Court.’

‘That title doesn’t mean anything outside of Astolar, you know. Here on the Isles I’m just a Healer. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. Please don’t bow to me.’

‘Not even when you are Queen?’

‘Especially not then, not unless the whole Court is watching.’
I can’t bear to see you bowing to me
. ‘Promise me you won’t bow.’

His mouth turned up a little at the corners, but there was no smile in his eyes. ‘I promise.’

‘I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, but I couldn’t find you.’ There had been no trace of his colours, not in the library or the refectory, the practice yards, his study. Well guarded or absent, it had made no nevermind; no one had known where to find him, not even Sorchal.

‘I was up and out early today. Sorry.’ Grey eyes flicked away, off over the purple rooftops of Pencruik to the blue-white mountains beyond. They came back to her face, then slipped away again, down to her necklace. He reached out a finger to the delicate glass flowers.

‘That’s pretty.’

‘A farewell gift from my students. There’re earrings to match, see?’ She held her hair away from her ear to show him.

‘They are going to miss you.’

‘I’ll miss them, too. I’ve really enjoyed teaching here.’ She stopped herself. What was she saying? Nothing – stupid, empty words, noise to fill up the space between them, not what needed to be said. Not what she wanted to hear. She touched Gair’s arm. ‘Will you be all right?’

‘Probably.’

‘The shield?’

‘It’s holding.’ He took her hands in his. ‘Don’t worry about me, Tanith. I’ll be fine. You’ve got more important matters to think about now, being High Seat of your House. The White Court.’

Feet clattered on the sea-ladder and K’shaa stuck his head over the edge of the dock. Sea-coloured eyes glanced from one to the other; his expression remained neutral.

‘We leave on the tide, my lady.’

‘Thank you, K’shaa. I won’t be long.’ For a wonder, her voice was steady, but her heart was dancing a reel. She turned back to Gair and he kissed her hands.

‘Good luck and Goddess speed you.’ He made to turn away, but she seized his arm. Spirits, he was tense as a horse about to shy.

‘Wait. Please.’ On an impulse she hugged him. ‘I’ll miss you.’

A second or two passed before he returned the embrace. She was pressed close, close enough to smell his scent of leather and steel, a fresh shirt and the musk of warm skin beneath.
Spirits keep me, I can’t bear this
.

‘Thank you, Tanith. For everything. I know you helped her when—’ He broke off, swallowed hard. ‘When she needed you.’

‘I wish I could have done more. I am so, so sorry.’

He let her go, looking away again, eyes too clouded to read. ‘You did everything you could. Take care,’ he said, and brushed her cheek with a kiss.

Turning her face into it, her lips caught the corner of his mouth. Not much, but enough. It had to be enough. ‘Remember these.’ She touched his colours with her own, rosy and golden as the dawn, beaded with jade.

‘I will.’

A scrape of foot on ladder-rung reminded her K’shaa was still waiting. It was time to go. She took a step towards the sea-ladder, then turned back.

‘What will you do now? Where will you go?’

‘I’ll find him, and then I’ll make him pay for what he did here.’

‘Don’t put yourself in harm’s way, Gair.’

A half-smile quirked his lips. ‘Too late.’

Then he strode away along the dock. She felt him reach for the Song and his shape blurred into a fire-eagle, stroking up into the air. It flared its wings, swooped past her, close enough to stir her hair around her face, then it was gone, vanishing into the bright sky, far out of her reach.

She had to let him go. He was not for her, and never had been. Only time and distance would persuade her stubborn heart otherwise. Tanith turned around and jogged elbows with a man walking past.

‘Oh! Forgive me, sir,’ she said, stepping backwards out of his path.

Swimmy blue eyes met hers and sharpened. Then he smiled and the sharpness was gone. ‘My fault. I’m still skewed from the boat.’ He hitched his bundle up on his shoulder. ‘Can you recommend a good inn here in town?’

‘The Red Dragon is popular.’ She pointed. ‘Up that street and across the square; you can’t miss it.’

The man smiled his thanks and set off up the street.

Tanith swung herself onto the sea-ladder and climbed down to where K’shaa waited in the
Star
’s launch.

‘Time to go home, K’shaa,’ she said. The sea-elf handed her into the boat, and nodded to his coxswain, who whistled the port-side
oarsmen to pole off from the quay. She watched the distant chaser riding the swells at the limit of her anchor-chain, a racehorse tugging at her reins. It was past time to go.