Farlander (34 page)

Every Foolsday they were given a day off, and were free to do as they pleased. On such days, when the others would team up in groups of two or three, Nico would leave them to their bantering and their small complicities and take himself off for a hike into the surrounding mountains, to spend some cherished hours by himself in their high clean splendour. It was like nourishment to him, to be this alone with his thoughts, which on those particular days, after a long enough walk, were mostly a form of no-thought, the same as when he had been a boy, and he had ventured into the foothills near their cottage for an afternoon just with Boon; times of peace, a way of finding quietness.

The routine of it all carved its own particular grooves in him. For a time, Nico looked neither backwards nor ahead.

*

One morning, before breakfast, Nico spotted a girl crossing the courtyard, and was startled enough to drop his pail of water to the ground. It was not simply that she was female that gave Nico such a start and set his heart hammering. Neither was it her appearance: a simple black robe which matched the hair that swept long and straight down her back, framing a sun-kissed face of sharp angles and large eyes. Rather, it was the way she walked, long-limbed and confident, with a swinging grace evident beneath her robe that captivated his male eyes starved of such a sight for so long. Nico forgot his bucket as he darted after her, watching her enter the door leading into the north wing. He thought quickly of some excuse to follow and discover who she might be.

Nico hurried through the door, and glanced to his left and right. She was gone. He even wondered for a moment if he had imagined her.

*

Over the next few days he saw her several times again. But each time it was merely a passing glimpse, and always he was engaged in training or on his way to training, and could not linger. It was frustrating, and he soon found that his eyes kept darting constantly from here to there, looking out for her.

‘Who is she?’ he demanded of Aléas, one evening at supper.

‘Who?’ inquired Aléas, betraying himself with a feigned tone of innocence.

‘You know who! The girl I keep seeing about the place.’

Aléas flashed him a wolfish grin. ‘That is not just a
girl
, Nico. That is my master’s daughter, and you would be best to keep your eyes off her – let alone your hands. My master is fearfully protective.’

‘Baracha’s daughter?’ Nico was stunned at such a thought.

‘Nico, your liking or disliking of a fellow hardly affects his abilities to sire children.’

‘Well, what is her name?’

‘Serèse.’

It was a Mercian name, and he said as much.

‘Yes,’ agreed Aléas. ‘Her mother was Mercian. Why all these questions, or need I ask?’

‘What questions?’ he said, glancing away. But then he asked, ‘How long is she staying?’

Aléas sighed. ‘You sly, sly dog. Let me repeat myself, at the risk of sounding a bore. She is the daughter of Baracha and she is here for a few weeks visiting her father. When she is done, she will return to Q’os, since she works for us there. If, during her stay, she has been molested or accosted in any way – and by molested, I mean talked to, looked at, thought about while fumbling with yourself beneath the blankets – if any of these things have occurred between you and she in that time, then be assured, my master will take a knife to your balls. Look at him yonder. He watches us even now. He will have words with me later for even talking to you.’

Nico leaned back warily in his chair. He did not doubt Aléas’s warning.

Even so, after Aléas had returned his attention to his broth, Nico scanned the dining hall to catch another glimpse of her, and felt disappointment when he did not gain one.

*

The next morning their paths finally crossed, and he instantly knew they were fated to have met. Nico believed in such things.

It was a Foolsday, therefore his day off, and he was entering the laundry room to wash some clothes before setting off on his customary hike across the valley.

There, in the steamy atmosphere of the cavernous room, she stood wringing out the last of her own washing. Nico halted in the doorway, unsure of whether to enter or leave.

‘Hello,’ she said casually, after a glance over her shoulder.

Her tone drew him into the room. He closed the door behind him, and crossed the floor. He dumped his clothes next to the metal tub of water bubbling over the fire, then nodded again to her, and smiled.

She finished folding a wet tunic and placed it on the pile of clothes already in her basket. The sleeves of her robe were rolled up, and her black hair tied back from her face, which was flushed pink from the heat and exertion. He realized that she was around the same age as himself.

‘What?’ she asked with a quick smile, aware of his scrutiny.

He shook his head. ‘Nothing. I’m Nico, Master Ash’s apprentice.’

He saw the swift change in her at that information – a reappraisal of who she spoke to. Her dark eyes took in his features, seeming to linger. It was the kind of glance, he realized, that always made him look away with a blush – and turned him into a quivering idiot inside.

Nico kept his mouth shut, fearing that whatever came out of it next would be stammered or stupid or, even worse, both.

‘I’m Serèse,’ she told him, in a voice that was deep and husky. It sent a thrill up his thighs.

‘I know,’ he replied, and instantly regretted it.

She seemed pleased by that – the fact that he knew her name or his sudden condition of embarrassment, he didn’t know which.

‘You must be Mercian then,’ he ventured, trying to recover his composure. ‘Serèse. It means “sharp” in the old tongue.’

‘Ah, I thought I recognized your accent.’

‘Yes. I’m from Bar-Khos.’

‘Ah.’ Impressed again.

A bell rang outside, calling the hour.

‘Well, it’s all yours,’ she said, gesturing to the bubbling water as she arranged the last of the clean garments.

‘Wait,’ he blurted, even as he recalled the stark warning of Aléas. But his pulse had quickened at the sudden thought of asking this girl to spend his free day with him. He pictured them hiking across the valley together, talking, laughing, getting to know one another. ‘It’s my day off,’ he explained. ‘I’m going on a hike after I’ve finished this. Why don’t you join me?’

She seemed to consider it, at least for a few heartbeats. But then she shook her head. ‘My father will be waiting for me, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh,’ Nico said, defeated; though a small part of him was relieved.

‘But another time,’ she said, brightening up. As she stooped to pick up her basket, he could not help but admire her shape from behind.

‘Here,’ he said suddenly. ‘Let me help you with that.’

‘It’s fine. I can manage.’

He pretended not to hear and snatched the load up anyway. It was heavier than he was expecting, and he barely suppressed a groan.

Serèse followed him outside where, in the brighter light of the corridor their faces shone with perspiration, and their hair clung in rat tails from the steam. They stopped, exchanged looks. His heart was still racing.

He wanted to touch her.

‘Serèse?’

Baracha stood in the open doorway that lead out into the courtyard.

The girl rolled her eyes. ‘Goodbye,’ she murmured smiling an apology. She went to join her father, looking back just the once.

Baracha glowered at Nico, his expression dark.

*

It was a slow Firstday afternoon, and Nico and the other apprentices were sweating through their cali manoeuvres as usual. The training ground was crowded with assembled R
shun all working their skills to a finer degree, the open space barely large enough to hold them all, while up in his tower, Osh
could be seen watching from the window overlooking the courtyard.

The apprentices were confined to a far corner, panting heavily from the drawing strokes they had already been rehearsing, and now moving through some simple in-stroke, out-stroke combinations, as Baracha barked them through the drills.

He seemed his usual short-tempered self that day, no better or worse than normal, and his hand had clapped more than a few of them moving too sluggishly for his mood. At one point he yelled into the face of Aléas, for not paying attention to what he was doing, not unusual that, for he always pushed his young apprentice harder than the rest of them, but it disturbed Nico to see it, and the others too. They knew Aléas to be the best of them, and that he did not deserve such treatment.

It was in the midst of this tirade that a sudden hush fell upon the training ground. Baracha stopped in mid-flow, his angry eyes flashing about to locate the source of this new distraction.

There, striding on to the dust, Ash had appeared, with a sheathed sword in his hand, coming out to train with the others for once, rather than performing dawn exercises on his own.

The assembled R
shun quickly got back to business, but the apprentices now found their concentration less focused. Many watched from the corners of their eyes as the old man in his black robe practised along with the rest of them, his naked blade flashing and glittering in the sunlight, through a series of moves too fast for most of them to follow. The distraction only served to worsen Baracha’s mood, and he slapped a few of them back into order, until they returned in proper earnest to their exercises.

After a while he allowed them to break for water and to take a breath.

‘I see the old man plays with the rest of us today,’ he called out to Ash, loud enough for all nearby to hear. Ash met his eyes for the briefest moment, then continued with his routine. He henceforth ignored the big Alhazii, and Nico could see how this lack of response stung the big man’s pride.

During the break several of the other apprentices gathered around and asked Nico what his master was like in action. Nico waited for their eager questioning to descend into an expectant silence, then proclaimed in a hush: ‘He is like the calm centre of a storm,’ and the other boys nodded, seeing it in their own imaginations. And Aléas chuckled.

*

The next morning, Nico encountered Baracha again on his way to archery practice. The Alhazii was just leaving the armoury, and stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted Nico walking towards him.

‘You!’ he barked.

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you. Come with me.’