The Orphans' Promise (4 page)

This memory snapped him out of his reverie completely. He had the impression of reliving it. His despair, his powerlessness… and then his sudden rage; his fierce desire to save her, as if every morsel of his being existed only for this reason. And he had succeeded. That had happened only nine decidays ago. Not even a full day. His Will was still just as strong. Concealed, sleeping, but supreme. He knew he would never be the same, and yet not knowing what this meant, he still rejoiced in it.

Corenn had said that something had been triggered in him. That they would need to have a long conversation soon, that she would help him understand. He could barely wait.

Since the day before, they hadn’t had any time for it. After escaping the trap sprung by the Züu on Ji, they had returned to
Berce to collect their horses. Grigán chased away two thieves who were posted near their horses without even drawing an arrow. Bowbaq and Rey, who had been on foot until then, had stolen two horses from the assassins. Then the little group distanced itself from the dangerous village.

Choosing their itinerary had been a long discussion. Grigán grudgingly resigned himself to staying with Rey’s so-called friend, someone whom the actor presented as being reliable and generous, a man of rare integrity. But the debate between the warrior and Mother Corenn surrounding their destination afterward had been long, very long.

Once again it was Rey who came up with the idea. Lorelia was his hometown, and he knew it like the inside of his pocket. The Small Palace market was among those places he had come to know particularly well.

In the Small Palace all trade was unregulated, as long as the Crown was guaranteed a large commission on any deals and no one posed a threat to it. In this market, the heirs would be able to meet the Züu on neutral grounds. And perhaps barter for their safety.

As an accomplished diplomat, Corenn didn’t want to overlook any bloodless opportunity to escape their sentence. Grigán absolutely refused to do business with the assassins and thought it would be less dangerous to jump directly onto an open blade than to meet with the Züu. For him, this idea was a complete folly.

For once, Rey kept himself from intervening in the discussion between the group’s two leaders. Corenn had the last word, and the warrior spent the rest of the day brooding. He couldn’t understand how the Mother could always get her way without even raising her voice.

The heirs were going to appear before the Züu. Yan’s last thought before falling asleep was to wonder if that was really a good idea.

Léti opened her eyes slowly, surprised for a moment that she couldn’t see the bright sun, before remembering that they were underground. Even though it was almost pitch-black—the only light source, an oil lamp, was blocked by the curtain—she could tell that the day had begun.

She stood and stretched languorously. Corenn was not yet awake. Léti skirted around her sleeping body, quickly slipped on some clothes, and ventured out from behind the hanging curtain. After barely more than four steps, Grigán shot up from his bed, blade in hand. She signaled to him that it was she, and the warrior lay back down with a surly grumble.

She approached Yan on her tiptoes. He was still sleeping, like Corenn. She remembered the faintness that had taken over his body, after his intense effort to save her. His rest was more than merited. Léti sat next to him and watched him with a tender, pensive face. Yan hadn’t asked for her Promise, which meant he didn’t love her. But he was still her friend, and she owed him her life. Even if she had to marry someone else now—Rey’s image furtively caressed her mind—Yan would always be her best friend.

Leisurely, Léti lay next to him and let herself be soothed by comforting images of the future. Her and Rey, Yan and a woman of his choosing, happily discussing their children’s personalities, and those of the other heirs.

She couldn’t help but remember the reality of their situation, and it blighted her dreaming. This future, the Züu wanted to take it from them. They had already taken so many dreams, from her,
her friends, and from all the other heirs. Unconsciously, her fists clenched and her body stiffened. She wouldn’t let them. Never again.

Falling back asleep, she dreamed of three jeering and menacing warriors. One would lose a hand, the other an eye, and the last would fall into the abyss with her.

The nightmares that came after this one seemed almost pleasant.

Raji the Ferryman had a very bad night. The sun had risen and the rain had calmed before he managed to fall asleep. He finally succumbed to fatigue, only to wake up in the middle of the third deciday, too late, much too late in the day! He ran over to the warehouse without even taking the time to dress himself. The fact that the strangers’ horses were still there wasn’t enough to calm his worries. Any smart thief would have preferred to leave their horse and reach Lorelia underground with his treasure!

After removing the moist straw covering from the trapdoor, he pulled on the ring that would open the door. It didn’t budge an inch. He tried one more time, pulling with both hands, but with no more success than the first time. He knelt and pounded on the wood, calling for Rey with his strongest voice, already convinced that the cellar was empty.

Against all his expectations, he heard someone rapping on the door in response, and the door opened. Raji dove down the stairs faster than a startled animal running from its prey.

“Why did you lock it?” Raji screamed at the actor.

A blade appeared at his throat just as an iron grip pinned his arm behind his back. The smuggler didn’t make a move, settling for a frightened glance at the young blond man in front of him.

Rey pretended to be annoyed, looking at the shadow that had slipped behind Raji.

“Grigán, what will our host think? That we are thieves? I only borrowed a few bottles, and that was only to staunch a truly inhuman thirst. Raji, you wouldn’t hold that against us, would you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Quit playing,” Grigán ordered. “Go and take a look around upstairs to make sure everything’s all right.”

Rey quietly climbed up the stairs, smiling at Raji’s sloppy attire. The smuggler was only wearing a simple cloth wrapped around his waist, of questionable freshness, but that was the least of Raji’s worries compared to the cold steel he could feel on his throat.

Attempting to jest as he opened the door, Rey cried out, “Grigán, wait! Don’t let him go, we’re surrounded by a gang of ducks armed to the teeth.”

Grigán let out a resigned sigh and freed Raji, who quickly put a respectable distance between himself and the warrior. All of his “guests” were now staring at him from the doorway to the second room. Two women were among them. The smuggler had never felt so uncomfortable.

“It’s beautiful weather,” Rey announced, returning from his inspection. “It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“So much the better, so much the better,” Raji mumbled awkwardly. “You will make good time, so…”

Rey interrupted him, putting his arm around his shoulder, “Come now, old friend, you’re not going to throw us out already!? Our companion over there is hurt and needs his rest.”

“Ow!” Bowbaq moaned in poor parody of someone suffering from stomach pains. Then he folded over, the pain from his wound truly awakened this time. Corenn helped him to his bed.

“Wouldn’t that be against all the fraternal laws of the Guild?” Rey asked.

“Um, as a matter of fact, I have a feeling the Guild wouldn’t be too happy to know that we’re friends.”

“What? You mean to tell me that you are scared of those little hoodlums, a famous crook like you?”

Rey grabbed him by the towel covering his body and shook him firmly, as if they were two old accomplices. Raji did his best to keep himself covered in front of the young woman, who found all of this very amusing.

“All right! All right!” He finally gave in, mortified. “Stay as long as you want, I don’t care! Only, it will cost you five terces per person per day. And I don’t want to see you rummaging through the merchandise!”

“Five terces! But we could just rent a princely inn at that pri—”

Grigán cut Rey short, “We will pay, and you won’t have any trouble… as long you don’t give us any.”

Raji observed the serious face of the Ramgrith warrior, agreed, and climbed the stairway as fast and dignified as he could. He promised himself to not give any offerings to Dona for several dékades.

The Small Palace market took place on the seventh day of each dékade. It was only the fifth of the dékade of the Bird. The meeting was only two days away. Nevertheless, “since everyone seemed determined to go through with this crazy plan,” Grigán wanted to get a look at the place and study it before the crowds invaded. Thus, an excursion to Lorelia was on the agenda for the day.

Of course, this didn’t involve everyone. Bowbaq had to rest and would spend the day in bed. Corenn would stay at his side, even though the only one who had much knowledge in the art of healing was the veteran, Grigán. Corenn asked Yan to stay behind with them too. The young man understood that they were going to have their
big conversation
. He accepted, wondering why he suddenly had a pit in his stomach.

In fact, for the safety of his companions, Grigán didn’t want to bring anyone along. Léti and Rey launched into a memorable chain of protests and arguments that were hardly convincing. The warrior eventually conceded to the actor’s point that he might need a guide in the largest city of the known world. But Grigán knew better, that despite Rey’s lack of respect for authority, he could indeed prove useful. Grigán knew Rey to be rebellious enough to accompany him anyway, regardless of what he decided.

But he didn’t give in to Léti, and the tone of the conversation was on the verge of escalating at any moment. Finally, the warrior settled it by promising Léti a first combat lesson in the near future. Léti pretended to think about it for a moment, but accepted without the slightest objection. The warrior avoided meeting Corenn’s disapproving eyes and left to prepare.

It was out of the question to walk around Lorelia with their everyday clothing. Naturally, for a disguise Grigán planned to simply cover himself in a large black cape of light fabric. Rey promised he would make himself unrecognizable, grabbed his pack, and slipped behind Corenn’s improvised curtain.

He hadn’t yet reappeared when Raji made another appearance in the warehouse. This time the little man was decently dressed and an authentic Goranese broadsword hung from his belt.

Grigán could tell by experience that the little smuggler wasn’t used to carrying a weapon. His blade’s poorly laced sheath shifted around uncomfortably, and Raji repeatedly had to reposition it
upright. He even managed to trip over it, barely catching his fall by clinging to a basket full of Wastille pears, ending his stumble in an amusing posture.

The little man pretended to ignore the presence of the strangers and proceeded to take his usual inventory of goods that were to be “ferried” that day. After consulting one or another of his crooked record books that he kept in pristine condition, he placed this or that basket, chest, barrel, or other eccentric container in the middle of the first cellar. When he judged the pile sufficient, he went to the stable and came back pulling a donkey by the reins, dragging the poor animal down the stairs. Although he had certainly managed the maneuver hundreds of times, it now felt like a challenge.