Prisoner (28 page)

Sol hung back, both to avoid the argument he could already hear mounting and to guard the rear. He doubted they were being followed, or that they would encounter anyone—especially if the weather continued to worsen, as Dieter and Iah seemed sure it would.

Once they reached Illussor, everything was out of his hands. His plans ran as far as getting Iah and Beraht to Illussor.

He was still amazed it had all worked with only a few minor problems. It would have been much preferable if Burkhard had not died. What would happen after they reached Illussor?

Sol had always imagined he would hand the Breaker over and then vanish to the hills of Illussor to settle somewhere and leave his soldiering life behind for good. In reality, he knew, it would never be that simple. There was still much work to do.

There was also still the matter of Tawn. Sol realized he'd not thought about his brother-in-law for some time. He doubted Tawn had forgotten him, however, not after the way Sol had broken his nose.
That
had felt good. Perhaps that was how the Krians often felt when accomplishing something. It was completely different from the fading of arcen as spell after spell was cast, leaving only pain and irritability when the rush was gone.

However, there was an end to the road he was on, both with spying and arcen, and it was getting close enough to see. What surprised him about that end was Iah. Unconsciously, his arm tightened around Iah's waist.

"What are you thinking about?" Iah asked. "Does your mind ever stop?"

"No," Sol replied with a laugh. "I don't think it does. I was dwelling on what will happen after we reach Illussor. My plans only stretched to reaching it."

Iah laughed. "I'm not surprised. Our arrival is easy enough to predict: my sister will attack me and then proceed not to let me out of her sight; Matti and Kalan will harass me. Matti will probably declare you some sort of hero, and Kalan will try to drag you into his own schemes. You know, it didn't even occur to me until now that the two of you are a bit alike in that. Always plotting. It's why he'll be Minister of Finances someday."

A thought struck Sol. "When you say Matti—"

"Prince Matthias," Iah said. "We grew up together. Kalan is the Duke of Ferra. His lands border mine in the southern plains of Illussor. Well, they used to be my lands." Iah shook his head. "I bet Esta will try to make me take the title back. So will Matti, since he's still scheming to make her his queen. But—" He shrugged, and Sol could see his head fall. "I'm not exactly fit for leading anymore, am I?"

Sol curved his arm around Iah's waist, fingers splaying to stroke his side through the layers of cloth and fur. "Nonsense. Eyesight does not a leader make. The three who lead the Brotherhood of the Seven Star cannot even leave their seats without great effort. But their minds, for all that they are filled with the need for arcen, are dangerously sharp." He laughed suddenly. "Besides, who would dare disobey the brother of a future queen?"

"There is that," Iah said, and Sol was relieved to hear the smile in his voice. "And—I'll have you—"

"Yes," Sol said after a moment, still surprised by what he was finding with Iah. "You will."

"Good."

*~*~*

Beraht shivered. Would the cold never stop? The nastiest Salharan winter looked like spring next to this abysmal weather. Stars, he would give anything to be warm right then. Instead, the world was drowning in white. Too much like his first journey through it. At least he wasn't riding with the bastard this time.

Though, he had to admit, that had been a lot warmer. He could just see von Adolwulf ahead of him, through the snow, a dark massive shape. If he was suffering at all, it didn't show.

Stars, what had he been thinking? Why had he done it? He frowned over his own behavior. He'd been watching von Adolwulf fight—if one could call it that. It had looked as von Adolwulf had not even been trying, really. Even with that one soldier; Beraht wondered what that had been about.

After that fight, he'd only meant to run and leave von Adolwulf to the stars. Who stayed around for twenty years working for the man who killed his parents? An idiot, that was who.

Clearly the arcen had been warping his brain in all new ways, if he'd thought giving von Adolwulf his damned sword back had been a good idea. All it had done was make him more insufferable, and now Beraht was stuck with him!

Maybe he'd get himself killed in this damnable snow. Beraht huddled down further into his clothes. Boots, cloak—both lined with fur—his clothes were made with heavy wool trimmed with dark fur, and his leather gloves were lined with fur softer than any he'd ever felt. He was
still
freezing. How did Kria and Illussor endure it?

Beraht thought he knew. It was no wonder emotions ran so high in the palace. How many of those dead prisoners were dirty secrets being gotten rid of? He remembered the way the Kaiser had kept touching him, each touch longer than the one before it. It would seem Kria frowned upon that sort of thing about as much as Salhara did—only in the daylight.

He touched his fingers to his lips, which were half-frozen with cold, but still sore. Bruised. The bastard had better not get too out of line, or Beraht would have no qualms bring up
that
little incident. Who would have thought the bastard even knew how to kiss? He didn't seem the type to attract suitors or pay for whores. Then again, his father had apparently been the king's favorite bedmate, so who knew.

Why was he even thinking about it? Stars, he could not wait to get to Illussor and do whatever it was he had to do there.

Breaker. He was going to destroy the Illussor ability to use magic.

He was half-Illussor. Ridiculous. He couldn't be. Beraht thought on his hair, fine and pale. His eyes had not been terribly dark either before the arcen had taken them over and buried their natural color. How had he wound up in a remote, coastal village nearly as far from the Disputed Lands as was possible?

It was a question that would never be answered. If his parents were alive… well, probably they wouldn't have abandoned him. Beraht turned his thoughts elsewhere.

What would he do in Illussor after he played hero—assuming it didn't kill him? Beraht snorted at the idea of anyone regarding him as a hero. He hunched down further in the saddle, holding tightly as he let the horse lead. Stars knew he had very little grasp of where they were. He could picture maps all day, but it would only go so far.

If all went as everyone was apparently planning, where would he go? He'd always worked for Salhara—of late, for the Brothers. He doubted most of Illussor would be terribly happy with him, so he'd have to go. What would he do if he stayed? His Illussor wasn't bad, but it wasn't great. Illussor was hard to learn, and he'd only managed most of what he knew from reluctant tutors and by carefully sneaking around Illussor camps when he could. It had always been something of a miracle that he'd survived those trips.

Though… was that because he was the Breaker? Sol had said they could sense his uncorrupted magic. Which made no sense, because he'd never
had
Illussor magic. Surely he would have noticed an ability like that?

All he'd ever had was arcen.

It still thrummed in his blood. Beraht knew he was getting dangerously close to the point of no return. He knew it because he didn't care. The arcen was trying to take over. He shuddered, thinking of the three men who led the Seven Star. Did he really want to become that?

But when the arcen was there he didn't feel so— His thoughts were interrupted when his horse came to a rough halt alongside von Adolwulf. "What's going on?"

"We're stopping," von Adolwulf said. He dismounted and led them through the deep snow to what turned out to be a barn.

How the stars did he see all these things? Between the snow and the darkening sky, it was impossible for Beraht to see anything—even seeing his own hands was becoming a feat. He started to make a comment about animals and seeing in the dark, but suddenly felt too tired.

They wasted no time bedding down the horses; Iah stood back with the bags while they worked. Von Adolwulf led them back out into the snow, and they followed him in a tight line, clinging to one another's cloaks, through the snow and wind until they reached a house that Beraht had not noticed until they were practically inside it.

It was dark, cold, and empty. In the entryway, a large sunken area slightly apart from the rest of the house, von Adolwulf shrugged out of his cloak and stamped the snow from his boots. He combed snow from his hair then stepped into the house proper. The others followed suite, Sol assisting Iah as needed.

Beraht gathered up wood stacked by the door and lit a fire with a softly muttered word. He heard von Adolwulf behind him and steeled himself for the insult, knowing he was being sneered at. But von Adolwulf said nothing, merely traveling around the house to light the few lanterns. There were three in total, and with the fire, they managed to fill the large, one-roomed cabin with a warm, friendly light.

Warmth. Beraht thought he could die happy. He stayed by the fire until the sounds of food being brought out drew his attention, and even then he was reluctant to leave the fireside. His stomach grumbled, and finally Beraht moved to join the others. He sat down next to von Adolwulf, directly across from—Beraht frowned, searching for the name.

Iah. That was it. "So you're Illussor?" he said into the silence.

"Yes," Iah said. He turned his head in Beraht's direction. "It is an honor to meet you. I did not think I would live to see the day—"

Beraht grunted. "I don't see what honor has to do with it. So what does 'uncorrupted magic' mean? Sol didn't really explain that."

"It's like—" Iah began to move his head back and forth. Peculiar. Like a bird that didn't know how to hold still. "Arcen blossoms, I guess. That's the easiest way to explain it to you."

"You mean before they're turned into a drug," Beraht said.

"Yes."

"Interesting." Beraht mulled over that as he ate the bread, cheese and dried meat that was probably going to be all they ate for the length of the journey. He tried not to grimace. "I don't suppose our hosts left some form of alcohol for us?"

Sol laughed. "Trying to warm up still?"

"I saw you shivering," Beraht retorted. He stood up and went to explore the meager kitchen and crowed a victory when he found a heavy, earthen jug full of what smelled like a potent, if somewhat crude, wine. "Does anyone want to indulge with me?"

"Why not?" Sol asked. Beside him, Iah agreed.

Beraht eyed von Adolwulf. "What about you, Wolf with the arcen sword?"

"Did you want to wear that wine, Beraht?"

It still made him twitch, the way von Adolwulf said his name. Damn the man, he knew it too. As if— Beraht didn't know what. But he didn't like it. "So is that a no?" he asked, unclenching his teeth.

"I don't drink," von Adolwulf said. He moved to go tend the fire. Probably didn't trust the magic that had started it, Beraht thought resentfully. He slammed down the cups he'd dug out of a cupboard and filled them nearly to the brim.

He downed his in one swallow and watched Sol help Iah as he refilled his cup. "What happened to your eyes?"

Iah stiffened then slowly relaxed.

Sol shot him a warning look. "You need to learn tact."

"My apologies," Beraht muttered into his wine. "It was just a question."

"Tawn happened," Sol said.

Beraht winced.

"I—" Iah frowned, fingers moving restlessly on his cup of wine. "To be honest, I'm surprised it hasn't been done before. It's horrible from my perspective, but from a Salharan or Krian perspective—"

Von Adolwulf startled all of them when he replied, "It has been done before. I beat six of my men nearly to death for doing it. Von Kortig may seem idle, a 'ghost' as most call him, but amongst the soldiers it's well known he has a taste for torture. More than a few of his victims have been blinded Illussor."

"The Salharans, I guess, never thought of it." Sol frowned pensively. "Until Tawn. It was always safer to kill them outright."

Von Adolwulf remained by the fire. "Who is this Tawn?"

"A Brother," Sol said. "As good as I at playing games, but with a taste for more brutal methods. Not unlike von Kortig, I suppose. Do not be surprised if we see him at some point—there are personal matters between he and I that need to be resolved."

Von Adolwulf said nothing.

Beraht raised his brows, but did not ask. He had known that Sol and Tawn were not close friends, but he had not known they were hostile. Something in Sol's face told him his questions would not be taken well. Not that he particularly cared. The Brothers were the real ruling body in Salhara, but that didn't mean they got along. Hostility generally seemed to be the preferred state of things.

He didn't have to worry about it anymore; not until the Seven Star learned they were traitors and came for their stars. He swore he could feel it burning on his back. The mark was passed along when a bearer died; there was no other way. It was given through a spell to whomever the dying Brother chose. Beraht's captain had given him his star. He had thought it would mean he finally had a place to belong, something better than the army.