The Adorned (34 page)

“Leaving? Leaving the city? I thought it was sealed.”

“My lady has her ways.” She turned away. “And she knows it is no longer safe for us here.”

Tallisk laughed humorlessly. “If anyone’s safe, it’s the Count and his kin, behind those gates. Or doesn’t he have enough bloodguards to stop the rabble?”

Isadel looked up at him over her glass. Her eyes were flat and cold. “Roberd...the Count is dead.”

In the sudden silence of the parlor I could hear the distant echoes of the city. There were shouts, hoofbeats. In here, there was Isadel’s breath, soft and rapid as she held back her tears.

“How?” I barely dared to whisper it.

“It was one of his bloodguards. He had—he had received word that his family had starved.” One corner of Isadel’s mouth lifted in the twisted echo of a grin. “His Grace was a good man, I think, but he was never
kind.
Perhaps he should have learned the trick of it.”

I let out a breath I had not been aware of holding. Lord Loren had been right—change had come, one way or another. But at least it had not come sweet as a kiss, as a candied lemon.

“So.” Tallisk’s voice was soft. “What happens now?”

Isadel shifted in her chair. “The Council was already starting to come apart—nobles of Blood fleeing to their furthest holdings, Sword-nobles whispering sedition. When the news gets out...we cannot afford to wait to see what happens now. Not with—” she swallowed and raised her head, hands crossed over her belly. “Not with my condition.”

“Your condition?”

She smiled now, and it almost brought light back to her eyes. “I am to bear His Grace’s child.”

“His child!” Tallisk sat back, thunderstruck.

“The gift of Blood,” I murmured, and she shot a glance in my direction, as did Tallisk. I made a sign to him; I would explain later. “When did it happen, Isadel?”

She held my gaze. “After Master Tallisk sold my bond to the Countess.”

Tallisk shook his head. “Then you are merely guessing you are with child. You could not know, not this soon...”

“My lady,” she said, “has her ways. We
know.
And now that I am sealed into my lady’s family, I have been granted a boon.”

“A boon?”

She was still looking at me, though it was Tallisk who had spoken. “Etan,
you
are my boon. Come with us. We will find a place for you, one way or another. When this chaos passes, you can return to the city if you want.”

“Me? I—” I looked at Tallisk. “What about—?”

She shook her head. “I can only offer one place. I am sorry, sir,” she said, turning toward Tallisk. “But Etan is the nearest I have to a friend. To a brother.”

“Of course.” His voice was hollow and distant.

“So it is only Etan I can take.” She looked hard at Tallisk. “If you will let him go.”

He did not meet my eyes but stood, very slowly, and walked toward the curtained window. He stared at it as if he could see through the fabric. “He is already free to leave, should he wish it. I would not hold him here in a time such as this.”

“Thank you,” she said, with feeling. “Truly, sir, thank you. Etan, you have to prepare now, there is not much time.”

I shook my head. “No.”

“No?”

“I’m sorry, Isadel.” I kneeled beside her chair. “I will miss you, and you
are
a sister to me, but I cannot come with you.”

She lifted her hands to her face. They were trembling—just a little, but enough for me to see. It startled me, like seeing lightning flash across a blue sky. “Etan, don’t
do
this. Do you think anyone will want a pretty boy to parade now, with half the city starving and the other half cowering behind locked doors? Leave with me now, while you still have a chance!”

I took her hands in mine. “Isadel, I can’t.”

“What could possibly keep you here?”

“The same thing that is letting you leave.” I closed my eyes. “Love, Isadel.”

She looked at Tallisk. “For
him?
”

His shoulders hunched, but he stood still, still as stone.

“Yes. I love him, and he loves me.”

She shook me off, went to Tallisk at the window. “Is this true?”

He waited a long time before answering. “Yes.”

She slapped him then, full in the face. He did not flinch. “You should have waited.” Her voice shook with tears. “You should have
waited
, then he would have come. If he dies it is on your hands, Roberd. On your hands.”

“Isadel.” I stood up. “I would not have come. I would not have left him.”

“More fool you.” She wiped her eyes. “The Council fights only themselves now. The people are seizing the law with both hands, and they are not gentle with it. When the walls come down—and they will—there will be no one to protect you. I said my lady had her ways, but they are ways that cost us dear. You won’t be able to use them if you do not come now.”

I shook my head again. “I am sorry, Isadel.”

“As am I.” She kissed me softly on the forehead. “The Lord of Stars keep you safe, Etan. Though how much he can do when you do not help yourself, I do not know.”

“Go.” I laid a hand against her cheek. “Keep your little one safe. Don’t—don’t let them take her away from you.”

She touched her belly. “My child will be Blooded, and will carry my blood into the future. I have no fear.”

I held her one last time.

“You are sure?” she whispered in my ear. “Truly sure of your love?”

“I am.” I met her eyes. “Are
you?
”

She conceded my point, smiling. Tallisk had not moved from his place by the window.

“Sir.” Isadel spoke to him from across the room. “I am sorry for what I said.”

“There is no need.” He turned to look at her and nearly smiled. “All the luck, Isadel writ-Tallisk.”

She bowed. “And you.”

With a last look at me and a shake of her head, she was gone. Artor Lukan had dismounted his grey mare, and he helped her into the carriage. With a whipcrack, the driver sent the horses into a near gallop. Lukan and the Northmen followed. Moments later they had vanished around the corner, and Nightwell Street was empty again.

“You should have gone.”

Tallisk was behind me, his arms around me. He held me as if he feared I’d run after, shouting I’d changed my mind.

I shook my head. “No. I couldn’t have.”

“What will we do when the food runs out?”

“We have enough to last a while. We’ll make do.”

He kissed the top of my head, breathing in. “Just stay alive, Etan. That’s all I ask of you.”

“I will,” I said, turning my face against his chest, “as long as you promise to do the same.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

After Isadel had left, we finished packing and went through the house room by room, locking all the doors.

We left the atelier for the last. It was strange, to see it dark and near to empty—Tallisk had set screens up against the windows and tucked all of his tools away. I felt an odd pang at the sight of the tattooing chair, deeper black against the shadowy background. Would I ever lie upon it again? I had not asked if he still meant to see me completed.

The key slid in the lock and clicked. I let out a breath.

“Well,” Tallisk said. “That is that.”

I sagged against him. “Should we go, then?”

“We should, yes.” He smiled down at me, almost wistful, and sighed. “I am going to miss our home.”

Our home.
It was a drop of sweetness in the sorrow of having to leave it. “As am I.”

“What about a last meal, first?” he said. “And a last drink—a farewell drink. I know that we should go, but...”

“It sounds wonderful,” I said. I thought this house deserved a proper goodbye; after all, we weren’t sure when we would come back to it again.

So Tallisk cooked for the both of us. It was the first time I’d seen him attempt it, and he was as lost in the kitchen as a soldier in unfamiliar territory. For a while he blundered around, swearing. Finally, he took some pork chops from the icebox—our last gifts from the Count—and fried them in a heavy-bottomed pan. I watched him, leaning on the edge of the table. When I offered my help, he brandished the pan at me and I withdrew, laughing.

It was good to know we could still laugh.

After a while, he ladled the scorched chops onto plates, scrutinizing them as if they were one of his sketches, then cut a few slices of bread and buttered them. He had not bothered with vegetables. We took our plates to the parlor; it was smaller, and the fire was already burning there. The kitchen seemed too empty. The whole house seemed too empty with only us there to fill it.

Tallisk cut his meat and chewed thoughtfully. “Gods, I miss Doiran,” he said. “This is a sorry excuse for food.”

I smiled down at my plate; I could not quite contradict him.

He laid his fork down a moment. “This will all pass, Etan. A few months of lying low, and we will have our home back.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“Until then, though, you’ll have to contend with my cooking.”

“There are worse things.”

He laughed softly. That sound—I thought I would never tire of it. “Still—”

There was a loud, sudden thump, and I started, nearly dropping the plate from my lap. Something soft and wet had hit the window.

Tallisk’s eyes went narrow and cold. He rose from his chair and twitched the curtain aside, just for a moment. A chorus of jeers rose up from the street. I couldn’t make out the words, but the intent was clear enough. Another soft, wet sound against the window: mud, I thought, or worse.

Tallisk rose and straightened his clothes. “Wait here.”

I put a hand on his wrist and shook my head. “No.”

“No?”

“Whatever it is, it isn’t good news. Let’s—let’s just stay in here, until it passes.”

His nostrils flared. “They are fouling my
house
, Etan. I can’t just let that pass.” His eyes spat fire; it was as if mud had been slung in his face, rather than at his windows.

I got up. “Then I’m coming with you. After all, it is my house as well.” If nothing else, I thought, my presence might calm him—keep him from making some terrible blunder.

He lowered his head like a bull. “I won’t have you in danger.”

“But you will put yourself in it without question?” I laughed. “Sir, the only place I want to be is at your side. Please...don’t leave me now.”

He looked at me a moment, eyes unreadable. Then he nodded and placed his hand over mine. “Then come. But by death’s river, stay behind me.”

I nodded; he had me by the hand now, and he dragged me up to his room. On a hook behind the door hung an old sword; old enough to be antique, I thought. The leather wrapping the hilt was peeling away and the scabbard was shabby, but when he unsheathed it, the blade was sharp and clean.

I looked sideways at him. He read my glance and shrugged. “An old heirloom.”

“Do you know how to
use
it?”

His smile did not entirely soothe me. He looked at his reflection, blurred in the blade. “This end goes in my enemies.”

I swallowed. “Roberd—”

He kissed me, hard and brief, and went downstairs. I followed close behind him.

The jeers stopped when he opened the door. The rioters were carrying torches; the light made their faces waver, but I saw they were young, younger than I was. Their clothes were dirty; their eyes dark and gold with firelight.

“Come on out,” one of them shouted, and the jeering started again; they laughed and thrust their torches at us. “Come on out, Blood-pets, and play with us!”

“Gods above, you’re all just
children.
” Tallisk did not shout, but his voice carried over them all. “I should clout you all with the flat of my blade.”

“You sound tough, Blood-pet, but come out here and I will show you different,” the ringleader said. There was something darker than jeers in his voice. “Haven’t you heard? Your sweet lord is dead and gone; no one’s coming to save you.”

So the news had spread. I sucked in a breath.
I
am sorry
,
Your Grace
, I thought. It was the closest I could come to a prayer.

“I don’t need anyone to save me,” Tallisk said, flat-voiced. “Though
you
might, soon. Go home. Go home to your mothers.”

I put my hand on the small of his back. “You said it yourself: they’re just children. Let’s go back inside.”

One of the others caught sight of me and pointed. “Look at that, a Blood-whore! Why don’t you send him out to play, old man? Scared we’ll be too rough?”

“
Leave!
”

They went silent, then, stepping back a little. They did not like what they saw in his eyes.

“Come on, Symön,” one of them said, tugging on their ringleader’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

Symön gave Tallisk a mocking bow, his torch sweeping a red-gold arc in the darkness. The rioters began to move as one, shuffling backward into the shadows across the street, until all that could be seen of them were flickers of fire.

Tallisk turned back inside and slammed the door shut, then slid the bolt across. He still held the sword. I could see the blade shake slightly in his hand.

“We’ll leave tomorrow,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “Right after dawn. I don’t want us on the streets tonight.” He shook his head. “We shouldn’t have stayed. Gods, Etan...I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have had our damned
farewell.
”

“What’s done is done,” I said softly. “I chose to stay as well, remember?”

He nodded, then laid a hand on the back of my neck. “You remember where Meret lives, don’t you?”

I laughed unsteadily. “Yes. But—we’re not going there, are we? We’re meeting Yana. You’ll be with me, won’t you?”

“This is—just in case. If you have to, you go to Master Meret. If you can’t, then...the temples. They’ll still be safe, I hope.”

I touched the fist clenched on his sword. He pulled me close; I breathed in the warmth of him.

There was the sound of shattering glass and shrieks of laughter. Tallisk pulled away and thrust me backward, sword hand ready. There was another shattering sound. The glass above the door broke, and a torch streamed into the hallway like a meteor. It fell on the carpet. Tallisk moved to stamp out the flames; too quick, they took hold.