Quintana of Charyn (15 page)

Gargarin took it and studied the drawing. ‘You have a gift,’ he acknowledged.

‘But I am not gods’ touched,’ the young man said. ‘Sir, my talents lie in drawing bridges and ditches. I’ve heard of your work. Take me to the palace with you and I’ll create the greatest …’

‘And who says I’m going to the palace?’ Gargarin interrupted.

The young men and women exchanged looks.

‘Simeon says there’s no one better than Arjuro’s brother to guide the future King,’ Marte said. ‘We look forward to living in a world beyond these cave walls.’

There were sounds of agreement and for the first time, Froi saw a beauty in their hopeful, pale faces.

‘How can one draw without having seen the true shadings of the land?’ Corris argued. ‘See this,’ he added, pointing to one of his sketches. ‘I’m not good with light and colour because I’ve not had a chance to truly study it. But I want to see it. They say the colours over Paladozza will take my breath away. That the light illuminating the north inspires awe.’

Corris glanced at Lirah. ‘Can I draw you?’ he asked, his cheeks reddening. ‘Your face seems to have been sculpted by the gods.’

‘Yes, well, I should thank them for that when I see them,’ she said coolly. ‘Because such a gift has afforded me so much joy in my life.’

But somehow the passion of these scholars had softened both Gargarin and Lirah.

‘Can you draw him?’ Lirah asked, pointing at Froi.

The young man looked taken aback, then studied Froi’s face. Froi didn’t enjoy the attention. If it wasn’t his wounds being examined, it was now his face, as if they hadn’t noticed it before.

‘Your eyes have a touch of Serker,’ one of the girls said to Froi.

‘According to the chronicles of Trist, the seed of Serker has been scattered far and wide in the land,’ Marte said.

‘Even in Lumatere?’ one asked.

‘Especially in Lumatere. They were our neighbours … are our neighbours.’

Corris continued to study Froi. ‘The Lumateran has the sort of face that only a mother could love,’ he joked.

‘Draw him,’ Lirah ordered.

Gargarin was quiet that night after the
collegiati
left.

‘What are your thoughts?’ he finally asked Froi.

‘What are yours?’ Froi asked in return.

Froi heard a sound of irritation come from Gargarin. He wondered if it was weariness, but sensed it was something more.

‘We’re too close to Sebastabol city to walk away,’ Gargarin said. ‘I say we listen to what the Provincari have to suggest. If they combine an army to search for Quintana, then they may have a chance to return her and the babe to the palace.’

‘Will you speak for the Priests?’ Froi asked.

Gargarin hesitated.

‘A man losing his grandson doesn’t make him a man you can trust,’ he said. ‘But he does have a point. The godshouse needs to exist and that won’t be the priority of the Provincari once things have settled. The Priests can’t afford to be left behind in talks of the new Charyn.’

‘Then why your doubt?’ Froi asked.

‘Because I don’t trust them,’ Gargarin said flatly. ‘There is no
denying that the people loved the godshouse before the curse. If Charyn begins again and the Priests finds themselves an Oracle from the gods know where, then the Priests may take control.’

‘And how is that any worse than the Provincari?’

‘At least the Provincari keep each other honest to a certain degree,’ Gargarin said. ‘Remember, it was the Priests who sent out Rafuel in search of a king killer. Who is to say that they don’t have an entire army hiding somewhere? I don’t want Simeon’s people finding Quintana first. I don’t want any of them finding Quintana, except for a combined army. There must be a balance of power, Froi. For Charyn to survive, there must.’

 

 

I
t rained for days and days and Phaedra could have endured the damp if it wasn’t for the company of the other women. Strange that she had liked them well enough in the Charynite camp, but confinement had turned them into bitter cellmates.

In their boredom they spoke of every person with ugly words, judgement in each breath. Jorja and her daughter had learnt to gossip with the nobility of Nebia. Cora never ever had anything good to say about anyone but her brother, and Ginny had praise for no one but men. By the third day of rain they had covered every camp dweller’s life and had no choice but to start on the Lumaterans, beginning with Tesadora. Ginny believed she was a witch and the others half-agreed.

‘I saw her once,’ Phaedra said, her cheeks flushed. ‘With her scarred lover.’

‘You saw them?’ Cora asked.

‘I saw them.’

Cora looked annoyed. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Phaedra. I’m sure many people have seen them. It’s no secret she has a lover.’

‘No,’ Phaedra said, feeling her face become even warmer. ‘I saw them.’ She put her hands together. ‘Together. Naked. No … not naked. I don’t think they even took the time to remove their clothing. It was out in the woods. I heard them first …’

She regretted the words the moment she spoke them.

Enough, Phaedra.

‘And then you
saw
them,’ Ginny mocked, looking for the others to join in, but no one in the cave was interested in Ginny. Phaedra didn’t care to elaborate and hoped that very soon one of the women would find the next victim to scrutinise.

‘Swiving,’ Quintana finally announced. She never joined in, not having known the camp dwellers. She just watched with disdain. ‘That’s what she means.’

Ginny choked out a laugh and the others flinched to hear the word. It was the second time Phaedra had heard the Princess use it. She had only heard the word spoken by one of her father’s guards once, never out of the mouth of a woman. Matters of the body and the mysteries of what men and women did behind closed doors were not spoken about in such crude terms.

‘You saw them mating?’ Cora asked.

Phaedra looked away, nodding. She caught Quintana’s stare. It was almost curious. She heard an ugly laugh from Ginny.

‘You’re not still intact, are you, Phaedra?’ she mocked. When Phaedra didn’t respond, Ginny snorted. ‘But you are!’

The women were suddenly interested in what Ginny had to say. They waited for Phaedra’s response.

Phaedra’s face was burning now. ‘Of course I’m not,’ she mumbled. ‘I was married.’

‘Well, I heard …’ Ginny shrugged and Phaedra saw spite in her face. ‘I heard the Mont sent you back because you didn’t satisfy him.’

Quintana stared at Phaedra with an I-told-you-so look in her
eyes. She was the last person Phaedra wanted commiserating with her about spousal life.

‘I’ve seen the Mont,’ Ginny continued, relishing the attention of an audience. ‘If he was sharing my bed …’ She shrugged. ‘There would be no sending me back.’

‘You’re an idiot of a girl,’ Cora said.

‘There’s nothing wrong with enjoying it,’ Ginny snapped. ‘There’s nothing wrong with bringing a man pleasure.’

Florenza looked at her mother. ‘Is that true?’

Jorja looked pensive and then brushed a lock of hair from Florenza’s pretty face.

‘Of course, my princess. Don’t let anyone ever convince you otherwise. But we have to find you the right man first.’

‘See,’ Ginny said spitefully to Cora. ‘Even Lady Muck of the Sewers agrees.’

There was an exchange between them all and the words
hag
and
slut
bounced off the cave walls. Quintana was strangely quiet and Phaedra caught her staring at Jorja.

‘She’s not a princess,’ Quintana said, her voice cold. ‘Your daughter. Why is it that so many girls in this land presume to be one?’

‘It’s just a word of endearment, Princess,’ Jorja said disdainfully.

‘Funny that when you use it to address me, it’s not endearing at all, Jorja of Nebia. And it’s Your Majesty, if you please. I was married to King Tariq. The title of Queen is mine.’

The mood in the cave changed and Jorja had the good sense to look fearful. Quintana was a mystery to them still. They had no idea who she was aligned to, or what lay behind the madness. Was it a façade? Worse still, they had no idea what she was capable of. But people like Jorja knew exactly what Quintana’s father had been capable of. Harker, Jorja and their daughter had escaped a
province aligned with the dead King. They had heard stories from the surviving Serkers. As much as Phaedra didn’t like the air of superiority enjoyed by Jorja and Florenza, she understood that they had a strong sense of right and wrong. They had given up everything for it. A place in the Nebian Provincaro’s court. Land. Privilege. Everything Harker and Jorja had worked for all their lives. As hard as life in the valley seemed, Jorja was there because she had two weaknesses. Her husband and her daughter.

‘I want to hear about Phaedra and her Mont,’ Ginny said and Phaedra didn’t know what was worse: the idea of what the Queen of Charyn would do to Jorja, or listening to more talk about her failure with Lucian.

‘There’s nothing to say,’ Phaedra mumbled.

‘Did you at least enjoy it?’ Florenza asked, curious.

Phaedra was silent.

‘She didn’t enjoy it, poor girl,’ Ginny continued. Ginny only came to life when talking about keeping a man happy.

‘You don’t have to be embarrassed, Phaedra,’ Florenza said, all too eager to hear the woes of Phaedra’s life. ‘Tell us more. It’s just certain words that we don’t use.’

Florenza sent a quick look at Quintana.

‘Such as
swiving
?’ Quintana asked bluntly and Phaedra knew she was taunting the girl. She was like a cat Phaedra had once seen, playing with a mouse. Jorja nudged her daughter into silence.

‘Well, if you must know, such things were never spoken about in my home,’ Phaedra said. ‘My father would not have dreamt of mentioning it and my mother … she died when I was ten. So let us say … it was quite a shock.’ Phaedra hoped the discussion was now well and truly over.

‘What was a shock?’ Jorja asked.

Phaedra looked away. ‘It was. We’re no different to animals when you think of it.’

Cora rolled her eyes.

‘Ah …
it
,’ Ginny said.

Phaedra felt Quintana’s scrutiny. The Princess had grown more savage-looking as the days had passed; her face was thinner, the untamed nature of her eyes more prominent. Sometimes when Quintana was consumed by her demons she just sat in the corner of the cave and rocked with fury. There was no warning, not even weeping. Just pure unadulterated fury and pain. The fury was there now, accompanied by clenching of her fists. Phaedra thought it best she take Quintana outside now that the rain was dwindling.

‘We’ll go for a walk, Your Majesty,’ she suggested. ‘You seem to be the only one of us who knows how to hunt and we could do with something to fill our bellies.’

Phaedra held out a hand to Quintana.

And surprisingly, the Princess took it, but by the time they were climbing down the rock face, Phaedra felt the nails of Quintana’s fingers digging into her skin.

‘Did he ask first?’

Phaedra looked confused. ‘Who?’

‘The Mont. Or was it force he used?’

‘No! No, of course not,’ Phaedra said, shuddering at the thought of any man taking a woman by force. ‘It may have been awful and primitive, but there was no force.’

Quintana let go of her hand and raced towards the stream.

‘Where are you going?’ Phaedra called out, catching her on the other side. She grasped her arm. ‘Don’t go too close to the Lumateran camp. It can be seen from the Charynite side.’

‘Tesadora’s moved downstream,’ Quintana said, satisfaction in her voice. ‘For me.’

They reached a small gully and Phaedra smelt the cabbage first and then heard Tesadora’s voice. The novices and Tesadora were scrounging for roots and seeds while one of the
Mont girls was stirring the pot.

Quintana tossed a stone towards them.

‘Don’t!’ Phaedra whispered, gripping her hand and pulling her down.

They waited, concealed behind a fallen log. Then they both peered into the place where Tesadora and her girls were glancing in their direction. Tesadora approached and Phaedra saw a look of satisfaction on Quintana’s face.

‘I hope you’re being careful, my little savage,’ Tesadora said.

Quintana chuckled. Chuckled? All sharp teeth and wolfish smile. Tesadora didn’t seem afraid and held out a hand that Quintana took. Phaedra followed them into the clearing and stopped short, stunned. Lucian was there, his back to them, studying the fetlock of his horse.

Tesadora held out a bowl of hot stew and Quintana sat beside her, eating it up like the piglets Phaedra had seen on Orly of the Mont’s farm.

‘Are they not feeding you?’ Tesadora said, looking at Phaedra with disapproval. ‘She needs to eat more, Phaedra.’

Lucian swung around, his eyes dark and hostile, surprised to hear her name.

‘It’s not safe for us to be out here,’ Phaedra said quietly, looking at everyone but her husband.

‘Then don’t venture out of your cave,’ Tesadora said. ‘For now you’re fine, though. Donashe and his men know Lucian is here checking up on us and they won’t dare cross the stream. Come and eat, Phaedra. You look like the walking dead.’ Tesadora’s tone was one of irritation and Phaedra grieved for the days when they had befriended each other, short as they were.

It was silent. There was much staring at both Quintana and Phaedra. Scowls from the Mont girls. Phaedra opened her mouth to speak a number of times, but had nothing substantial to say.
Then the silence became ridiculous.

‘She saw you swive,’ Quintana said to Tesadora, pointing at Phaedra. ‘With a scarred man.’

Phaedra closed her eyes, wanting the earth to shake and swallow her whole.

‘Swive?’ Constance asked, looking at Lucian. ‘I’ve not heard that word.’

Lucian bluntly interpreted. The girls gasped, giggling. Tesadora’s eyes met Phaedra’s.

‘Did you enjoy yourself?’ Tesadora asked coolly. ‘Watching us … swive?’

Phaedra didn’t respond, the dirty strands of hair covering her face.

‘She said it was quite primitive,’ Quintana continued.

Phaedra could see that Quintana was going to speak again and she shook her head emphatically, with a look of warning. The moment she saw Quintana’s attention turn towards Lucian, Phaedra almost leapt over to gag her.

‘You may not use force, but you rut like an animal,’ Quintana said to Lucian, coldly.

The Mont girls were agog, staring at Phaedra. They’d hate her even more for this. Feigning her death was one thing, but insulting a Mont lad in such a way?

‘Have I not said that over and over again?’ Constance said to anyone who would listen. ‘A few more tender words and a slower pace would work a treat, we Mont girls say.’

‘All true,’ Sandrine reassured Tesadora’s novices, who seemed most interested. ‘If you want to find a Lumateran man who takes the time for pleasantries, then go to the Rock,’ she added, nodding with certainty. ‘And then perhaps the River.’

Tesadora made a rude sound. ‘The men from the Rock are useless.’

‘A man has to pleasure you here, here and here,’ Constance said knowingly, pointing to her head, heart and the place between her thighs. ‘It’s what my
yata
told me. Pity she didn’t tell you, cousin,’ she teased Lucian.

Phaedra wondered for the umpteenth time what she could have possibly done to the gods to deserve the life she was living.

‘Excuse me,’ Lucian said calmly and politely. ‘I have an appointment in the palace village and need to be off.’ He walked away, but then turned back and Phaedra could see his rage. ‘I’m courting … did I mention that? A true Lumateran rose. A lady of discretion!’

Phaedra was stunned. Courting? Another woman? She must have made a sound because suddenly everyone was staring at her.

‘Well, it’s your fault for pretending you were dead and all, Phaedra,’ Constance said. ‘We were all speaking of how hopeful things seemed to be between you and Lucian until you died of plague.’

Phaedra scrambled to her feet, her whole being trembling. Courting another woman.

‘It’s getting dark now,’ she managed to say. ‘It’s best we go. Come, Your Majesty,’ she said briskly. She stared down at Quintana, cursing the awfulness this creature was able to cause merely by opening her mouth. Quintana didn’t take her hand. She wasn’t going anywhere by the look of things. Unable to bear being there another moment, Phaedra brushed down her skirt, to avoid giving the impression that she desperately wanted to cry. But then she could stand it no longer and rushed away, running through the undergrowth, wanting to get far away from them all. Behind her, she heard someone following and suddenly her arm was seized and she knew it wasn’t the Princess.

‘Is that what you do with your people?’ Lucian snapped. ‘Do you sit around and ridicule me? Call me an animal? Tell them I can’t pleasure my own wife?’