Reawakening (22 page)

“I think she’s brave,” Zeki said, suddenly very fierce. He was staring across at Esen with an all-too-familiar look in his eyes. He couldn’t have been more than a year older than her, Tarn realized, and she was pretty, brave, and vulnerable. A dangerous combination for any boy’s heart.

“At least she makes us look more like casual travelers,” Cayl said, with a sigh. “If the worst happens, we’ve still got some friendly trade contacts in the capital, and we can slip her some sleeping draught and leave her with them while we go after the Shadow.”

“That’s horrible,” Zeki protested.

Raif rolled his eyes. “We’ll do the same with you, if you don’t learn some sense between here and there.”

“You can try,” Zeki retorted, throwing his shoulders back and glaring. He then glanced over his shoulder toward Esen, who had bowed her head and was listening as Gard expostulated. She didn’t seem in the least aware of Zeki’s attention.

“Just remember that her current father figure can flay the flesh from your bones just by wishing for a wind,” Aline said cheerfully. “And he’s very protective.”

Zeki shot a second, slightly more cautious, look at Gard and Esen. Then she lifted her head, just as the last of the sun slanted down through the gap in the storm, golden and soft, and lit her face. Her tears shimmered, blue lights showed in her smooth hair, and even the stubborn set of her chin looked proud and strong until the light slid away again.

Zeki sighed.

“I tried my best,” Aline muttered and motioned Tarn and Cayl away. “Help me unload her bags. Let’s hope she brought a bedroll. Looks like I’ll be playing chaperone.”

“I can see that she’s shy of men at the moment, but we’re virtually all sparkly here, and only the boys are young enough to be interested,” Cayl pointed out, once they were out of Zeki’s hearing. “She could stay with Gard and feel perfectly safe.”

No
, Tarn thought, fiercely and resentfully, and then reminded himself quietly that he was not the child in the party.

“Aye, and if young Zeki loses his head and starts singing love songs outside her tent, Gard will flay him, whereas I won’t do anything worse than give him a sore ear if he’s too vulgar. We need Namik and his boys when we get to Tiallat, and I’ve handled adolescent idiots before.” Aline chuckled, low and amused. “Gard’s too much of a civilian.”

“And how will you persuade him of that?” Tarn asked.

She grinned at him. “I’ll just tell him it’s Myrtilis’s rule. He respects her judgment.”

S
URE
ENOUGH
,
Gard came crawling into Tarn’s tent that night, looking weary and disgruntled. He scowled as Tarn sat up and smiled at him by the light of the small lantern by his pillow. “Don’t look so hopeful. Namik and Cayl have been talking about medieval poetry for the last hour and I’m so bored I could sleep anywhere. I thought Sethan was the book trader.”

“Cayl’s his partner,” Tarn said, moving aside obligingly, as Gard kicked his shoes off and punched his thin pillow into shape. “I’m sure he takes some interest. Do we need to take over a guard shift from them later?”

“The storm will stand,” Gard said, flopping down. “I’ve anchored it to the rock below us.”

“You’re tired,” Tarn murmured, sliding back down into his own bedding. Gard looked older than usual, as if he wore a body that actually was old enough to be Esen’s father.

“The storm doesn’t like to be leashed,” Gard admitted, rubbing his face against his pillow. He groped blindly for his blanket.

Tarn found it and brought it up around him, tucking it around his shoulders. “Do you want me to lend you power?”

“It’s not power,” Gard said, his shoulders relaxing. “It’s concentration, to carry it with us and stop it from engulfing us. It’s easy when we stop, but as we ride, the winds come in and… and the terrain changes and the sun….”

Tarn leaned over and kissed his cheek, very gently. “Go to sleep.”

“Don’t be nice to me. I’m too tired.”

“That just makes me want to be nice,” Tarn told him, amused.

“Too tired to argue with you,” Gard managed, and then his mouth went lax as his breathing slowed.

Tarn watched him for a while, by lamplight. It was so rare to see him still, and he wanted to savor the chance and study him, in case they never came home to the desert again. He almost reached out to trace the broad curve of Gard’s lip with his fingertip, nearly touched his high cheekbones, but didn’t want to wake him.

“I can feel you watching me,” Gard commented, voice slow. “Stop it and go to sleep.”

“If you want,” Tarn murmured and blew out the lantern before he settled onto his own pillow, listening to the slow rise and fall of Gard’s breathing in the dark.

W
HEN
T
ARN
woke to the silver glow of dawn through the tent walls, Gard was tangled in his arms, his face tucked into Tarn’s neck. Outside, the sand was still roaring steadily, a sound that had crept through Tarn’s dreams as avalanches and lions stalking through the desert. Their legs were so entwined that Tarn couldn’t guess how they’d knotted together like this without waking. It was so warm and relaxed that Tarn couldn’t bring himself to move. Instead he closed his eyes again, pressing his lips against Gard’s ear, and fell asleep, dreaming that he was loved.

When he woke again, Gard was gone, and he could hear voices outside the tent.

I
T
WASN
’
T
the last time Tarn woke in Gard’s arms. He came to treasure those mornings, because they were the only time he got Gard to himself.

The plodding camels dictated their speed, and it was hard to keep track of time. The sand hid the rest of the desert from them, and Tarn found himself yearning for the canyons and strange arches and pillars of rock he had barely noticed on the ride south to Istel.

As they rode each day, they tended to split into two groups. Esen clung to Gard’s side, scowling at Tarn when he ventured too close. Zeki rode with them, and usually Namik as well. Gard seemed to know them all well, and he chattered away lightly, although he sat lower in his saddle every day. Aline and Cayl rode with Tarn, and Raif drifted between the two groups. He was a better language teacher than his brother but insisted that Tarn learn Latai, the language of Tiallat, before he started on Selar. Aline and Cayl, who both spoke it, although neither fluently, joined in coaching him with great glee whenever he stumbled.

Within a day or two, he had surpassed them both, which left Cayl vaguely irritated and Aline resigned. “Dragons,” she said, with a mocking sigh. “What can you do?”

Ten days after they left the Court of Shells, they began to climb onto higher ground again. As they picked their way up a narrow, sloping canyon, Gard shifted the storm so it raged above them, roofing them in but never filling the canyon. No matter how tightly Gard controlled the storm, the air had been rough with sand, and it was good to breathe freely and wipe their faces clean.

They were all wind sore and weary, and Tarn nodded in agreement when Cayl said, “Is there anywhere we can rest up for a day? We can afford the time, and we need to be fresh when we cross the border.”

“We’re heading into the Alagard side of the Illiat Mountains,” Gard said. He looked worse than the rest of them, shadows under his eyes and lines around his mouth. Tarn, who knew how much power and focus it took to bind a storm, slipped his arm under Gard’s, taking some of his weight. He only got a mild glare, which worried him.

Namik spoke quickly, with Raif translating. “He says there’s an old Zoraia tower half a mile off the highest point of the pass. It’s not been inhabited for a while, but the walls still stand and there is a roof. If we can throw the dead off our trail, we could stop safely.”

“The dead aren’t anywhere near our trail,” Gard said, his voice heavy. “I can promise you that.”

“What does that mean?” Cayl asked, but Gard was already pulling himself into the saddle.

He turned to look down at them. “The summit of the pass is another day’s ride. I’m rather looking forward to a roof and a place to sleep where I’m not being constantly woken by Tarn’s elbows poking my ribs.”

“It’s not my elbows that poke you hardest,” Tarn said in the most stony voice he could manage, in the hope that he could make Gard laugh.

But Gard was already straining forward into the storm, and all they could do was follow.

Chapter 23: Resting

T
HEY
REACHED
the tower at sunset, emerging from the cloud of sand to skies stained pink and gold. The worn red stones of the tower gleamed warmly as it rose above them. There were carved lions at its foot, guarding the door, but their faces were dulled and softened by time, making their snarls gentler than their sculptor must have intended.

The floors and internal stairs were intact, though all there was for furnishing was a few rough shelves stacked on rocks. There was a boulder that could be rolled across the door, though, to keep the camels in and the dead out, and space enough to spread out their bedrolls across three rooms. There was a fair-sized hearth on the second floor, and the boys had collected enough wood and kindling as they rode to build a sizable fire. The ground floor contained a pump that still pulled fresh water up from some deeply buried spring.

They had hot food for the first time in days, a rough stew made from dried lamb, chickpeas, and spices. It was filling and warming, though Aline grimaced a little at the heat and washed every third mouthful down with water. She grinned at Tarn when she saw him watching, mopping her eyes, and said, “Ten centuries in the desert, and I still have the palate of a hill girl.”

“Shameful,” Gard remarked, helping himself to seconds. “You should strive to be more cosmopolitan.”

“Says the spirit who gets bored of towns after a week,” Aline retorted, and Gard laughed and shrugged.

“The wind calls me,” he said. “Why sit in one place when you could be everywhere?”

“A thousand years old with the concentration of a toddler,” Aline said, shaking her head sadly.

Gard grinned at her, his smile bright with affection. “Well, when I am as old as Tarn, I shall be just as staid and responsible. Until then, I shall be young at heart.”

“Staid?” Tarn protested.

“Can you deny it?”

Tarn smiled slowly, showing his teeth before he wet his lips deliberately. “Would you like a demonstration of how far from staid I am?”

“Not in front of the children, boys,” Aline said, and turned to Raif, who was blushing faintly. “Can you ask your father what the views are like from here? One guard on the roof or two?”

“One,” Namik himself said after Raif had posed the question. He held up his hand to show the number, and then turned to Raif to say something more complex.

“My father says that from here you can understand why the Zoraia princes thought they ruled the world,” Raif explained, his face solemn and bright. “There is eternity at our feet.”

“Well, that will give whoever is on watch something to contemplate,” Gard muttered and pouted as Aline flicked his ear. “Ow.”

“Show some respect,” she said and rose to her feet. “Zeki, you and I have the washing up tonight. Raif, you and Esen settle the horses. Cayl, you good for first watch?”

“I’ll wake you for the second,” Cayl said and headed up the stairs, calling back, “Put my bedding in the room beside hers so I don’t have to stumble too far.”

“We’ll set it up,” Gard said and rolled to his feet, his movements a little weary. “Quick, quick, Tarn.”

“So, I am helping you?” Tarn inquired, without moving. “May I finish my dinner first?”

Gard sat down beside him, slumping a little against Tarn’s shoulder. “I cannot abide slow eaters. Do you chew this slowly when you’re eating entire goats? How did you ever have time to fight a war?”

“If you want me to eat stop starting conversations.”

“Stop answering me,” Gard retorted but went quiet.

That was startling enough that Tarn did rush the end of his meal. Stacking his bowl with the others, he stood and pulled Gard up. “We’ll do your bedding first, and then you can sleep.”

Gard grumbled, of course, but let Tarn heave the bedding rolls up the stairs. The sleeping rooms were narrow and windowless, packed tightly around the staircase, with angled doorways that offered some privacy (and were also, Tarn noted but did not say aloud, designed for right-handed swordsmen to have a clean strike at anyone coming up the stairs). They were stuffy, but warm, and Tarn suspected they would stay that way through the chill of the night.

Gard crawled into his pile of blankets as soon as he’d put them down, barely hesitating to kick off his boots and shrug away his shirt, leaving the clothes scattered across the floor. Tarn tidied them into the corner, ignoring the snorted, sleepy comment before he went to set up the other rooms, taking the lamp with him.

He went downstairs long enough to let Aline know which rooms he’d assigned to everyone and offer to take the fourth watch before heading back up to Gard. He left the lamp on the steps to show the others the way to their beds and let a little flame slip free to hover over his hand so he could see his way across their dark room.

Gard was breathing slowly, curled under the blankets, so Tarn let the dim light float by his chin as he peeled his clothes off lazily. He crawled into the blankets next to Gard, tugging them free enough that he could get his fair share rather than burn against the cold all night—Gard, he had learned during the last week and a half, was a shameless blanket thief.

The move left him pressed comfortably along Gard’s back, and he propped himself up on one elbow to study Gard’s face. He looked very small and innocent curled against his pillow, so Tarn gave in to the affection curling in his gut and dropped a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Molesting me in my sleep, lizard?” Gard muttered, but he was smiling.

Tarn grumbled at him wordlessly and called the hovering flame back into himself. The faintest light shone through the doorway, but otherwise they were surrounded by warm and comforting darkness. He slung an arm around Gard’s waist and nuzzled up against the back of his neck, enjoying the quiet granted by thick stone walls and ready to sleep.