Nameless (12 page)

The sound of crunching gravel made Zo grab Tess’ arm and wrench her into the bushes on the side of the road. A small group of men and women walked past laughing. Luckily they were too caught up in each other to notice Zo and Tess.

Gabe was as good as a big brother to Tess. When she was only four, she used to beg Zo to kiss him so he would always be there to give her horsey rides. The memory made Zo smile despite the circumstances. Tess would discover the lie as soon as Gabe climbed the platform. At least tonight she could sleep without nightmares. If only Zo could claim the same ignorance.

“That’s where I thought you went,” Tess whispered once the Ram were out of sight. “Freeing the Wolf. I wanted to help. I can be very useful, if you’d only let me.”

“No.” Zo started walking back to the barracks with her sister in tow.

“Please, Zo. I’m so little no one will even see me.”

“Absolutely not.” They walked through the woods, parallel the road, to avoid detection. Tess stopped when they reached the barn-like structure that served as their barracks.

Zo turned around, impatient to lie down in her bunk. “Come inside, Tess.”

The moon made Tess’ face even more pale than usual. “You’re not the only one who gets to be angry, Zo. They were my parents, too,” her little voice trembled.

Gryphon marched into the main part of the city to request an audience with the chief for the second time that day. The first time he came, the sun was just peeking over the distant mountain. Chief Barnabas had still been asleep and Gryphon was all but thrown out of the building. By midday, Gryphon’s nightlong craze had subsided into something more practical. He approached the line of guards who blocked the entrance to Barnabas’ home with wet palms. “I want to speak to the chief. Will he see me?”

A guard Gryphon knew by reputation eyed him for a moment before saying, “You can’t just show up and demand a private audience with Barnabas. If he needs you, he’ll send for you.”

Gryphon cleared his throat. “It’s regarding the Wolf prisoner. I am Gryphon, son of Troy.”

This time the guard straightened. He raised an eyebrow at the men at his side, and they nodded. “I’ll let him know you’re here.” The guard tugged on the ram horn door handle and ran into the ornate building to deliver the message.

Gryphon exhaled.

One of the remaining guards, the youngest, from what Gryphon could tell, stepped forward. “Is it true what they say about you? Did you really fly off a cliff to capture the Wolf?”

Curse Gryphon’s mess and their exaggerating tongues. “No.”

The guard opened his mouth to respond just as the two metal-framed doors opened. Gryphon filled his lungs to calm his hyper nerves and marched into the chief’s private home.

“You can wait in here.” The guard said, before turning on his heels to leave.

The candlelit waiting room smelled like stale bread. The walls were lined with shelves filled with dusty scrolls. Ancient swords and spears hung above every doorframe in the room. Shields were respectfully absent, likely buried with their owner, as they should be. Gryphon’s cheeks burned as he once again thought of his father’s shield hanging shamefully in his family’s front room.

He’d worked too hard to fix his family’s broken honor to let senseless mercy get in the way. Mercy for a Nameless, of all things. He scratched the back of his head and looked at the door. He shouldn’t have come. The clan deserved to know the truth about the healer. It was his duty to disclose everything.
Right?

Just as Gryphon turned to leave, an old woman wearing a long sage-colored dress entered the room. Deep wrinkles lined her face and thin, white hair created what seemed to be a halo around her head and neck. She rested her cane in front of her, the sound of wood striking the stone floor echoed off the room’s four walls. She nodded to the scrolls stacked orderly on the shelves. “Find anything that interests you?” Her lips barely moved as she spoke.

Gryphon didn’t think he’d ever seen someone so old. “Those scribblings mean nothing to me.” He gestured to the weapons above the door. “Action always speaks louder than words.”

One of the woman’s tufty, white brows rose so high it became lost in the cloud of her hair. “You don’t read?”

Gryphon shrugged. “What is the point of it?”

The old woman’s deep laugh turned into a cough that rattled her frail chest. Gryphon crossed the room and helped her sit in a lone chair in the corner.

“You’re laughing at me.” He couldn’t see what was so amusing.

It took her a moment to collect her breath. “You mock yourself, soldier. I’m just enjoying the entertainment.” She lifted his chin with the tip of her cane to get a better look at him. “I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Your father, Troy, was just as foolish in the beginning.”

“You knew my father?”

Layers of translucent wrinkles lifted with her smile. “I knew him better than most.”

The last thing Gryphon wanted was to discuss his fallen father. “Who are you? What sort of place do you have in the chief’s home?”

Her eyes twinkled, and for just a moment, Gryphon thought he could see the young soul trapped in her aged body. “Before I passed on the responsibility to the woman you call the “Seer,” I kept records for the Ram during the reign of the last two chiefs. Now I fill a more docile role.” She sagged in her chair, clearly exhausted from the conversation. “Your father used to call me the Historian.”

Again with Gryphon’s father. It seemed he could never escape him.

A guard entered and looked between Gryphon and the old scroll keeper. “The chief is ready for you.”

“I’d like to chat with you sometime about these scrolls and the past,” the old woman said.

Gryphon nodded. He didn’t know if he wanted to talk to the woman, especially if she planned to discuss his father. “Enjoy your words.” He dipped his head in respect.

“Enjoy your ignorance,” the Historian mumbled as she looked down at her wrinkled hands.

Gryphon followed the guard through a series of doors and winding halls until the walls opened to a great room that smelled of lavender and fish oil.

In the chief’s living quarters, Barnabas lay stomach down on a padded table. A beautiful woman massaged his naked backside while he ungracefully ate a messy plate of trout with his fingers. One of the old yellow scrolls lay open at his side. He didn’t bother looking up from the page.

The guard who escorted Gryphon dropped to one knee and whispered a message into his master’s ear. Barnabas grunted and dismissed the guard. “It seems you’ve met my grandmother.”

“I didn’t realize she was your family, sir.”

The chief frowned and went back to his reading and trout, leaving Gryphon to stand waiting in the middle of the room.

When the chief finished his meal, he snapped his fingers and a new servant appeared to retrieve the fishy plate. “Did you know Linus the Mighty was barely five and a half feet tall? Doesn’t sound all that ‘mighty’ to me!” He wiped his mouth on a silk cloth.

“Who are we talking about, sir?”

The chief waved him off. “I’m talking about the past, son. You and the past have a great deal in common.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean we are not as original as we think we are. These scrolls will tell you as much. My father and grandfather studied them day and night. Histories of ancient empires and military structures that changed the world.”

Gryphon shifted his feet, anxious for the chance to discuss his reason for coming.

“Where other great empires failed, we will prevail. Do you know why, young Striker?”

Gryphon shook his head. “Why, sir?”

The chief held up a preaching finger. “Because we have managed to pick the weeds in our society, getting rid of imperfection and making room for the healthy to thrive. There has never been a more pure race in history.”

The woman massaging his back rolled her eyes. Gryphon fought a smile. How many times had this girl heard the chief’s ranting? The more Gryphon watched the girl, the more he thought she looked like Zo.

Like a Wolf.

If that were true, then the chief was disobeying his own order. When Gryphon was still a boy, Barnabas had ordered the killing of all the Nameless Wolves inside the Gate. It had been a source of contention since Wolf women were highly favored among ranking officials.

Just thinking of all the Nameless killings made Gryphon nauseous.

“Sir, if I may be so bold, I’d like to visit the Wolf prisoner.”

Barnabas propped up onto his elbows. “Why do you want to see him?”

“I’d like to question him.”

Barnabas snorted. “And what makes you think he’ll talk to you?”

Gryphon shrugged. “He might not.”

Barnabas grumbled and went back to his reading. “I suggest you concentrate on your spear throwing and leave interrogations to the experts.” He sank back onto the table and looked away. A clear dismissal.

Gryphon turned to leave, but ground his teeth together. “He’s the bravest enemy I’ve ever faced, sir,” he blurted. “I brought him in. I believe I’ve earned the right to face him.”

Barnabas slowly raised his head. Painful silence filled the space between them.

Gryphon cleared his throat. “If nothing else, I’d like to look him in the eyes before his execution.”

Barnabas’ mood shifted like a match struck in total darkness. He pounded his fist on the table and laughed. “You sound like a woman.” His deep chuckle turned his face red. When Gryphon didn’t join in, the chief sobered and frowned. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I think he’ll speak to me. I might be able to learn something about our enemy.”

Barnabas harrumphed and sunk back into the cushions. He waved his hand. “Your heroics have earned you the right, I suppose. Only prepare yourself for disappointment. The Wolf hasn’t muttered a word since he came here. Even my interrogators have failed, and we both know how persuasive they can be.”

Gryphon could only imagine. “Thank you, sir.”

“I want you to keep this pressed firmly against the wound. Understand?”

The little girl pinched her eyes shut and nodded. Zo frowned at her effort not to cry. Even little girls had to be brave inside the Gate. Thankfully the weighted training weapons children used were blunted.

“What’s your name?” Zo squatted down to meet the girl’s eyes.

“Iris,” she whispered.

“Iris, the next Ram Chieftain? I’ve heard of you.”

The little girl opened her eyes and giggled. “I’m not a going to be a chief.”

“Oh, no.” Zo put her hand to her mouth in mock surprise. “I guess I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

The girl giggled again until the door flew open. It banged against the wall, making both Zo and the child jump. On sheer reflex, Zo turned to shield the child from danger with her own body. She didn’t have time to analyze her own reaction. The girl was young, but she was a Ram in blood. Zo’s instinctive concern surprised her.

“I need you to come with me, healer.” Gryphon looked down at the cowering girls and frowned. “I … I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Zo tried to remain calm for the child’s sake. “Should I finish with Iris before we go? I’m almost done.”

Gryphon moved to the corner of the room and leaned against the wall. “Of course.”

Zo reached for a strip of cloth but accidentally knocked the whole basket to the floor. Her stomach rolled as she hurried to pick up the mess.

“Re-remember what I told you, Iris. Keep this bandage on for two days. Don’t get it wet if you can avoid it. If it falls off before then, come back and I’ll refit one for you.” Zo glanced at Gryphon as she grabbed another strip of cloth. His bulky arms were folded across his broad chest, his chin down, his eye appraising under a hood of thick brows.

“Uh, if I’m not here,” Zo’s hands slipped as she tightened the wrap, “someone else will help you.”

Iris slid off the bed and gave Zo an easy hug before running out the door. Thankfully, it wasn’t too hard to care for these Ram children. Especially when they were as young as Iris. Zo couldn’t blame them for the pain the Ram had caused the other clans over the years. She looked over to Gryphon’s towering form and rose to her feet, hugging the basket of cloth to her chest. Gryphon and others like him were not so innocent.