03 - The Eternal Rose (18 page)

Their way cleared as if by magic, champions and populace melting away in the face of the soldiers’ resolve. The rest of the Adaran troop formed ranks, leading their mounts, and followed behind those on horseback. Padrey had to stand on his toes and stretch to see those who came behind the soldiers.

Bareheaded, queues unbound so that their hair spilled over their shoulders and down their backs, the men and women Padrey had seen yesterday in their glittering finery trudged through the gate and into the public courtyard. They carried a burden that seemed to weigh more than they could bear. Padrey squeezed through to the front again. He had to know what they carried.

Four of them, one in plain unadorned clothing, bore a stretcher. The body on the stretcher was covered, face and all, with an ornate overrobe, jewels glinting in the torchlight. The black-clad bodyguard Leyja was one of the bearers, her face stark with her grief, so much that Padrey's own eyes filled with tears. Two women, walking with upright solemn dignity despite the way they clung to each other, followed the stretcher. Behind them walked the Reinine, with two more men at each of her shoulders. Everything and everyone was smeared, streaked and soaked with the dark coppery-smelling stain of blood.

Ilian,
Padrey thought. All of them together were an ilian, like the five parents he could never speak of. And one of the Reinine's mates was dead.

Whispers buzzed through the crowd. Murder in Habadra House. No, it was a duel. No, the Adarans had attacked and lost one of their own men. No—

“People of Mestada!” A voice boomed from behind him, from the open courtyard.

Padrey was caught between the need to follow the Adarans and to stay and hear this news. He stayed, but on the edge of the crowd where he could see the slowly retreating backs of the Adarans in the ghostly light of the full moon.

“Murder was done this night in the House of Habadra Line.” The Voice of Habadra had a fine carrying baritone. He stood next to a woman who was not the Habadra, but who looked very much like her, repeating the woman's words.

“The Habadra Khori and one of the Godmarked of Adara, a guest in this House, were murdered this night most cruelly. The murderer has confessed and has been tried by the laws of both Daryath and Adara. Witness now her execution."

A screaming servant woman was forced to her knees on the bloodstained paving. The woman who had given the Voice his words—the new Habadra?—raised a long, heavy, very broad scimitar.

Padrey turned his head. He didn't have to look, but he couldn't help hearing, and it sickened him.

He shoved his way through the crowd, trying to hurry after the Adaran Reinine, ignoring a purse that practically slapped him in the face. How could the Reinine have turned that woman over to such cruelty? What kind of people were these?

Padrey knew too well what the Daryathi were, but had clung to memories and to hope that the Adarans were different. Were they truly?

Chapter Eleven

Dawn slid stealthily into Mestada, bringing light where none had been. Keldrey stood in the draperies dividing courtyard from building, armed not quite to the teeth, but to both arms and legs and every other place he could easily carry a weapon. The doorways faced west, so the sun did not enter, but enough of its light did that Keldrey could see the sleepers inside.

They lay sprawled in every direction, some with their faces buried in pillows, others on their backs with arms and legs spread wide. One had even spun completely round in his sleep so that his head lay on his piled-up blanket and he'd pulled the bottom sheet loose to serve as cover. His children.

“I thought you would be here.” Aisse slid her arm around Keldrey's waist, and he pulled her in close.

“And you were right.” He bent to press a kiss to the top of her head. To hell with the servants. He didn't care who saw. “Lissta get you up?"

He marveled that one of this mob was actually his, that Aisse would have chosen to give him such a gift.

Aisse shook her head. “You did. I knew you'd be brooding."

“I don't brood."

Aisse merely looked at him.

“I don't.” He couldn't stand up to that look. “I might worry a bit, but I don't brood."

Her snort was almost laughter. “Whatever you say. But you're ‘worrying a bit’ about the visit later this morning."

“A bit.” Keldrey could admit that much.

He wasn't bad with this bunch, his own kids. He'd been around them since they were born, or not long after. They were used to him, to the way he looked and talked and did things. He tended to scare other children. He didn't mean to. He just did.

Problem was, he didn't know any other way to be, and he sure as hell couldn't do anything about his looks. He could only hope that Fox could pave the way for him with Stone's boy.

“I'm glad they were asleep last night when we got back.” Aisse leaned into him.

“Don't make today any easier though.” Keldrey deliberately used the crude grammar he'd grown up with, to tease Aisse. Adaran wasn't her native language, but she wanted to speak it perfectly, and she got annoyed when those around her didn't.

“No, it doesn't.” She didn't rise to his teasing.

A faint cry rose from the next room, where the two youngest slept, announcing the waking of one. And where one was awake, the other would follow shortly. Keldrey followed Aisse, wishing the next few chimes were already behind them.

* * * *

Telling their children about Stone's death went better than Keldrey had expected, and far, far worse. Because the children were so young, only the very oldest had any real understanding of what death was, and even then it was fuzzy. Rozite's twin Lorynda, and Niona, just a few months younger, gathered around Rozite, hugging her, patting her, holding her hand. Aisse and Joh's five-year-old son joined them for a moment, though he had less comprehension than his year-older sedili. All they knew was that Rozite's Papi was gone and wouldn't be coming back.

The older children cried because they understood their loss. The little ones cried because their big sedili were. The adults cried because they couldn't keep from it, even Keldrey who never cried. It hurt too much to see their children hurting. His own Lissta, just over a year old, stopped her crying for a moment as he held her, to stare in wonder at the tears on her Papi's face. She touched her little hand to his cheek and he had to choke back worse, which started her off again.

It was a good thing the new Habadra had said “Not
before
the first bell” for Fox and Keldrey to come. It took them nearly to the second bell to calm the children and eliminate the evidence of the morning's grief-festival.

The sun was already too hot on Keldrey's shaved head when he and Fox presented themselves at the barricaded gap in the Habadra House wall.

Fox announced their purpose and the cart was wheeled out of the way to admit them. They were left cooling their heels in the unrelieved heat of the outer courtyard. A bit of shade leaned over from the inner wall in the form of a young tree and Keldrey led the way to its shelter. The stones had been scrubbed clean, he saw. Fresh sand filled the gaps between them.

Keldrey deliberately turned his thoughts away from the sand and the reason for it. He'd seen death before, had lost his first ilian in battle against demons. Life still went on. Fox knew this as well, warrior that he was. They had a job to do, a task for their lost ilias. They had to pull away from the grief and concentrate on what had to be done. On almost anything but what had happened last night in this place.

They waited. Keldrey was used to waiting. He was a bodyguard. He'd spent much of his life doing little else. After a time, he rocked back on his heels. “Wouldn't a gate work better than a cart to block that gap?"

“Mmm,” Fox agreed. “Probably why they had one yesterday. Fancy iron-barred thing."

“What happened to it?"

“Kallista."

“Ah.” Keldrey nodded. “That would explain it."

Another space of time passed before he spoke again. “Blasted it off its hinges, did she?"

“Not at all.” Fox shifted his weight to his other foot. Fidgety, he was. “She blew it to bits. Less than bits. Nothing left but dust. Habadra'll have to have a whole new gate made."

“Huh.” Keldrey considered that a moment. “I take it our K'lista was a trifle upset."

Fox took his turn to consider. “You might say that, yes."

“So when she said she'd destroy the house brick by brick if Stone's boy is hurt, there's a good chance this Habadra woman'll take her serious-like."

“I think there's a very good chance, yes.” Fox went alert, his whole body focused. “Someone's coming. I think it's them."

After six years, Keldrey was mostly used to Fox's ability to
know
without seeing. It had been a while since the talent had been put to more serious use than hide-and-seek with the kids.

“They're going to make us do this out here?” Keldrey didn't know enough about Daryathi customs to know if it was an insult.

“Apparently.” Fox turned toward the inner gate. “I think Habadra Chani is afraid of our Kallista's magic."

“She should be. But Kallista's not here."

“I am. And I'm one of her Godmarked."

“Don't remind me."

Keldrey didn't actually know whether he was envious or not. Sometimes he felt left out, not being marked, especially during one of their whole-ilian-together times. When Kallista called the magic for pure pleasure. But they made extra efforts to make him feel included, which he appreciated
very
much.

The other times, when she used the magic for its more proper purposes, he didn't feel left out at all. He was rather grateful not to be included. What little he could perceive on those very rare occasions when he did sense something frankly scared the piss out of him. Magic was more than he wanted to deal with.

The inner gate rattled, and thumped. Seemed the Habadra had added extra security since last night. Keldrey hid his smile. Not that any added locks or bars would keep Kallista out if she wanted in. They hadn't kept her out last night. Nor had they kept death out. They'd harbored the murderer inside their locks.

Finally the gate opened and a very large champion came through, wearing a fancy painted kilt and leathers, bristling with as many weapons as Keldrey and Fox. He had his hand clamped on the shoulder of a very small boy in a white servant's kilt. The champion looked around the courtyard and the two Adarans stepped out from the minimal shade into the sun, making themselves visible. Black was entirely too hot for this climate, Keldrey thought, and he and Fox both wore bodyguard's uniform today.

The champion marched toward them with the boy till he was some ten paces away, then he stopped and shoved the boy onward with a hand between his shoulders. That was when Keldrey saw the leather collar around the child's neck and the chain leading from collar to the champion's meaty fist.

“Is this how the Habadra honors her word?” Keldrey said, fists working his anger.

“The boy is not harmed.” The bass rumble of the champion's voice seemed to come from the vicinity of the paving stones. “He is a servant of the Habadra. You will not steal him."

“
Coward
. You and your Habadra."

“Merely prudent.” The champion wouldn't be taunted into moving.

Fox touched Keldrey's arm. “Peace. You're scaring the boy."

Damnation.
Keldrey managed to look past the collar and chain at the child himself. He was terrified, trembling. Keldrey dropped to one knee, to make himself smaller.

Was
this Stone's son? He seemed frail, almost delicate, his ribs clearly visible through the golden-ivory of his skin. His hair was bleached almost white over a warm brown underlayer, and his eyes were blue. He was not Daryathi, that was certain. He stood balanced on his toes as if ready to run, poised halfway between the man who held his chain and the two who were waiting.

Bent over to put his face nearer the boy's, Fox eased a step toward him. The boy jumped, but held where he was.

“My name is Fox.” Another careful step. “Fox im-Varyl. This is my friend, Keldrey im-Borr. We've come to visit you, but my eyes don't work. I have to use my hands to see. Will you let me touch you, so I can look at you with my hands?"

Hesitantly, still fearful, the boy nodded.

Keldrey cleared his throat and made him jump again.
Damn it.
“You have to say it out loud. Fox can't see you nod your head.” Fox could
tell
it, but they weren't giving away secrets.

“May I?” Fox had eased several steps closer while the child's attention was focused on Keldrey.

“Yes.” The boy cringed as Fox reached out, then relaxed gradually under the gentle touch on his face and shoulders.

“Will you come let my friend look at you? He's a healer. He can see how big and strong you are. He won't hurt you."

The boy looked skeptical, but he took Fox's hand and allowed him to lead him to Keldrey, the chain rattling along the pavement as the massive champion paid it out.

“What is your name?” Fox asked as Keldrey began his examination.

“Boy. Sometimes they call me Ti-Boy, or Useless Boy.” The child scuffed a toe in the ground. “I'm not very big."

Keldrey had to clear his throat. “You're plenty big for five years old."

The boy's eyes went wide and he stared at Keldrey. “How do you know how old I am? Did Zyan-sa tell you?"

“We know how old you are,” Fox said, “and we know that ‘Boy’ is not your name. Your name is Sky. You are Sky im-Kyndir and you are my
brodir's
son. Stone im-Varyl is your father."

Now Sky shifted his stare to Fox. “My father is dead. So is my mother. They told me. I didn't see her."

“No.” Fox curved a hand over the child's head, his hair the same flyaway fluff as Stone's had been. “I didn't see her either. But I believe them."

Keldrey finished his examination, but pretended to continue so they could have more time. He tried to think of something to say. He wanted the boy to be used to him for the next meeting.

Sky's forehead wrinkled. “They said my mother was bad. She killed the Great Lady.” His little pointed chin crumpled and tears welled from his eyes. “My mother said my father didn't want me. She said he did mean things. Bad things. That's why she was mad at me so much, because I'm bad like him."