Blood Storm: The Books of Blood and Iron (4 page)

In her own room with Kalessa, Aisa quickly changed out of her chilly clothes while Kalessa worked her way out of her woven armor. She sponged away the stench of squid, donned dry clothes, and settled her nerves by fussing with the potted plants on the room’s little balcony. The plants didn’t need tending, but touching and pruning and plucking calmed her, made her feel at home in ways she hadn’t
realized were possible. Back when she was a slave in Farek’s house in northern Balsia, gardening had been a terrible chore done to benefit someone else. Now that she was a free woman, living in the world’s largest city and able to grow what she liked, she found she enjoyed it.

When she planted seeds or started a cutting, she could almost see the plant that would emerge. When it finally did, it often produced a surprise or two—a diverging stem or flowers of a different color or faster growth—but still the plant remained true to its nature. Marigold still cured thrush and helped when a woman’s cycle became irregular. Vervain relieved fierce, light-sensitive headaches. Ginger eased morning sickness. It didn’t matter if the plant had one stem or two, green flowers or red—it always followed its inner self. How admirable.

One of the echinacea plants was nearing its bloom. The head, however, had two nascent flowers instead of the usual one. Both tiny buds were beautiful, but already Aisa could see that the plant had barely enough resources to bring out one flower. With two buds, neither could bloom. Aisa held out her scissors, then hesitated. Perhaps the echinacea could manage with both.

But no. The greater plan would be served by sacrificing the errant bloom. Without further thought, she snipped it off.

As it fell, the other plants stirred in a passing breeze. For a moment, Aisa thought the leaves formed a tired face. The breeze even made the face nod. Then it was gone. Aisa shook her head. A trick of light and shadow.

“Excuse me, sister.” Kalessa edged around Aisa with her armor, which was woven together from strips of wyrm-skin leather fashioned into a supple but strong creation that
both protected her from blades and granted mobility. She hung it over the balcony rail.

“Don’t let that drip into the pots,” Aisa cautioned. “Tannin is bad for the plants.”

“It is damp, not dripping.” Kalessa checked to make sure nothing would tumble over the edge to the street three stories below. Finding this rooming house had been a small miracle. The rent was affordable, the landlady had accepted two humans, an elf, an orc, and a half troll without blinking, and the rooms had decent-sized balconies that opened out onto the street. Mrs. Farley was also willing to keep their presence a secret, something that seemed to come out of both a sense of awe and a sense of self-preservation. If word got out that Danr was living here, regular crowds would no doubt gather outside on a regular basis, and if their previous experiences were any indication, more than a few people would barge right in.

Kalessa leaned on the balcony rail. A busy, smelly street clambered down the gentle slope below. “Now I must tell you something, my sister,” she said. “Before our walk home provided us with other concerns, Danr asked me for a favor.”

“He did? What favor?”

“He asked me to intercede on his behalf.” Kalessa flicked her auburn braid over one shoulder. “I am to ask you, as a sister, to go and talk to him.”

“I talk to him all the time,” Aisa replied too casually.

“He wants to discuss the two of you because something is wrong, but he says every time he tries to bring it up, you avoid him. Is that true, sister?”

The pointed question—the only kind Kalessa asked—caught Aisa off guard. “Somewhat, I suppose.”

“Why?” Another pointed question.

“Because I . . . have not wished to discuss it.”

“Huh. That seems foolish. How will he know what you want if you will not say?”

Aisa wanted to say that he should already know, that he should be perfectly aware of what she wanted after all this time. But her practical side would not allow such foolishness. “He cannot.”

“Then it is settled.” Kalessa strode for the door. “I will tell him.”

“What?” Aisa turned for her. “I never said—”

But Kalessa already had the door open. Danr was standing in it, filling the doorway with his bulk. He must have been standing outside it. And for how long?

“She is ready to talk now,” Kalessa reported. “I will ask Mrs. Farley to fetch strong drink.”

“I really don’t want anything,” Danr said.

“For me,” Kalessa clarified, and left.

Danr blinked at the closed door, then turned to Aisa. “Hello.”

“She is blunt as a boulder,” Aisa complained, dropping to the bed.

“It’s why we love her,” Danr agreed. “Uh . . . should I leave anyway?”

Aisa sighed. “No, my love. Stay. Kalessa has pointed out that I have been unfair to you and she is right.”

Looking both relieved and apprehensive, Danr sat tailor-fashion on the floor next to the bed. This brought his head on a level with hers. His feet were bare, as was his habit. He would probably never grow accustomed to shoes. She liked that about him.

“What is it, Aisa?” he asked in his husky voice. “You say you love me, but sometimes I think Ranadar and Talfi are closer than we are. What are we doing?”

“I do love you,” she said quickly. “Forever. It is just . . . complicated.”

“I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks, you know. I can follow what you talk about.”

“Only a fool would think you are stupid.” Aisa smoothed his coarse hair. “I am not sure you want to hear this, but I will say it.” She paused for a long moment, gathering herself as if to jump off a cliff. “Our relationship has been difficult. The fame you bring to it has created an obstacle.”

“You’re backing away because of everyone else?” Danr said incredulously. “That’s not—”

“If you want me to speak, you may not interrupt,” she admonished. “And you may not jump to conclusions or get angry until I have finished.”

“I’ll try.” A dubious note entered his voice.

She sighed. “It is unnerving the way everyone treats you, yes. It will make many things difficult. People want . . . pieces of you. Of your story, of your time, even of your clothes. You refuse to let Kalessa and Ranadar guard you—”

“It feels wrong,” he interrupted, ignoring her earlier admonition. “I’m a farmer. Guards and servants are wrong for someone like me.”

“And that is one reason why they love you so much,” she said. “You are one of them. But you are also not. They look at you and see a half-blood.”

“Yeah, Danr the Stane.” He spread his hands and looked down at them. “Half the crowd today wanted to hear a story. The other half was ready to throw shit.
Did
throw shit. I’m always caught between.” Something seemed to occur to him. “You’re not unhappy because I’m part Stane, are you?”

“Certainly not!” she said. “That is who you are. Everyone
else
has the problem with half-bloods.”

“Everyone else,” he repeated softly. “Yeah.”

“At any rate, I am trying to say that you attract attention wherever you go, and it has caused us problems. Delays, mostly, and for that I am . . .” She took a breath. “I am angry. I love you, but I am angry.”

This caught him by surprise. “Angry? What for?”

“Why have we come to Balsia?” she countered. “The city, not the country.”

“Lots of reasons,” he replied, puzzled. “We wanted to see if we could blend in here, and wanted to see if it was a good place to live, and . . .” He trailed off as he caught sight of the temper rising in her face. “Oh.”

“Yes.” The word was clipped. “Oh.”

“The merfolk,” he was forced to finish. “Like we said in the cave. Maybe I am stupid.”

Despite his admission, her temper was getting away from her like a galloping horse, and she fought to keep it under control. “Ever since the merfolk boarded my ship when I was first sold as a slave, I have wanted—yearned—to swim with them, or just
touch
one. I cannot explain why or what it is. They call to me, so free and so fine. The desire was muted when I became addicted to the Fae. But after I killed the elven king, the merfolk came back to me. In thoughts. In dreams.”

“Is it another addiction?” Danr asked, looking more than a little alarmed.

“Nothing like!” she almost snapped. “I . . . long for them the way a sky yearns for a rainbow, or the way a willow tree leans toward a river. But when I ran away from my owner in Balsia, I did not go to the ocean. I followed you under the mountain, and outwitted giants with you, and helped you find the Iron Axe, and more. Afterward, you said we would look for merfolk. Those words thrilled me like a new butterfly realizing it has wings! Except it has been more than a year, and we have only just now arrived
in a place on the ocean. Not only that, we arrived just when the threat of storms prevents us from venturing out. For this, I am . . . angry.”

“It’s not my fault,” Danr protested. “How was I supposed to know word would spread about us? Everywhere we went, people stopped us.”

“They stopped
you
,” Aisa corrected pointedly. “They do not know who I am.”

“Do you want them to?”

“That is not what we are discussing.”

“And then Death had those other quests for us,” Danr said. “Were we supposed to say no?”

“I am angry, Danr,” Aisa said evenly. “Ever since we went under the mountain, I have lived my life for you. I have done what you wished, gone where you needed, fulfilled your quests.”

“They were your quests, too.” Danr was growing heated now. “You killed the elven king and cured your hunger for him. Now
everyone
knows how to cure elven hunger, and the elves don’t take humans for slaves anymore. Should we have turned back? Do you want to be hungry again?”

“So I did not spend a year following you around,” Aisa snapped. “I did not find the haft for the Iron Axe for you, or save Talfi’s life when he lost his leg.”

“He didn’t need saving, it turned out,” Danr shot back.

“This is why I did not wish to talk to you.” Aisa folded her arms hard. “I knew it would hurt your feelings and you would become angry.”

The scream echoed in her head again.
Liar
, whispered a small inner voice. Aisa tried to ignore it.

Danr made a visible effort to calm down, though his hands were still tense. “So that’s why you’ve been pulling away from me. I’m famous, and we haven’t been able to look for the merfolk fast enough.”

“It is how I feel,” she said.

Liar. Tell him the rest.
But Aisa folded her lips. There were times when she
wanted
to talk about it, when the words swirled around inside her in a bloody storm of emotion that demanded release. But years of slavery had locked up Aisa’s ability to share. Danr couldn’t help but tell the truth. Aisa couldn’t help but hide it. They made the perfect pair.

“And me being half troll isn’t part of the problem?” he asked.

The exasperation started again. “I have already said—I love you whether you are half troll, half dwarf, or half tree. But I would be a liar if I said your birth never made things difficult. A lot of people think you a monster, no matter what you have done. When we marry, they will think me a monster, too, I suppose.”

“A monster,” he repeated sadly, and Aisa was instantly sorry for her choice of words. Danr had been called a monster all his life, and Aisa had only barely managed to convince him that he was not one in time to stop him from cracking the world in two during the Battle of the Twist.

“You are not a monster,” she said. “I have never thought so.”

“I know.” He touched her small, callused hand with his large, hairy one. “But you’re right—other people will think differently, and that will make life hard for . . . well, for both of us. When we’re married.”

She seized on the change of subject. “Married. Hmm. Is that a proposal, then?”

“I don’t know,” he said, and coming from him, that had to be the truth. “I didn’t think of it as one.”

Her face grew warm. “It is the first time you have used the word
marriage
with me.”

“Is it?” His own face had the most peculiar look. “I . . .
I guess I didn’t think. I mean . . . I always just assumed you and I would . . .”

“A woman needs to be asked, you know,” she said tartly. “In the right way.”

“Oh. Sure. Er . . .” He shifted again and started to get to one knee. “Aisa, will you—”

“Not now!” she interrupted. “We are fighting!”

He sat back down, confused. “I thought the fight was over. You told me why you were angry, and I agreed with you. Are you still angry?”

She looked away. “I don’t know. It’s all so complicated.”

The scream returned.
Liar,
said her inner voice again.

It is not a lie. It is true.

You are not telling the whole truth. That makes it a lie.

“All right.” Danr got to his feet. “Aisa, I’m really sorry we delayed after everything you did for me—for us. We couldn’t have done any of it without you. All I can do is promise you that the day storm season ends, we’ll go look for merfolk, and when I promise, you know it’s the truth.” He tapped his left eye. “I love you forever, yeah?”

A great deal of the tension went out of the room. “And I love you,” she said. “But now I should gather my things and head down to the Docks.”

“The Docks?” Danr cocked his head. “What for?”

“The slaves.”

“Oh. Right.” He was still standing at the door. “Can you put it off? We were supposed to visit Death after we killed the squid. This is sort of important.”

“How can you think
this
is unimportant?” Aisa’s temper flared all of a sudden. “Death is not going anywhere. Those people are in
pain
!”

“All right, sure.” He held up his hands. “I don’t want to fight again.”

She closed her eyes. What was wrong with her? But the
screams in her head answered that question. “I don’t, either. I’m just tired.”

“Then don’t go. Let’s do something together. Just you and me. It’s been . . . I don’t know how long.”

“I would love to, but after I get back.” She rose, caught up a pack, and rummaged through it. “Tell Mrs. Farley not to wait supper on me. And . . . I await your proposal.”