Reign of Shadows (13 page)

Caelan
had grown up exploring ice caves of all kinds. He’d fallen into the lures of
the singing caves and barely made it out. Once he’d almost been attacked by a
lurker. He’d had many narrow escapes, including cave-ins, not that any of them
had stopped him from going back. But with Lea it was different. Protectiveness
filled him.

“Ice
caves are not safe,” he said sternly. “You must be careful, little one.”

“I
always am,” she said without concern for his warning. “Since you’re so clever,
can you guess which ice cave?”

He
had to laugh at her sauciness. “There are hundreds.”

She
nodded. “But only one where the emeralds are.”

“Will
you show me?”

“Yes,
tomorrow. I want you to find as many emeralds as I have, and if you don’t, then
I will share mine with you.”

“You
are a generous lady,” he said, bowing to her. His love for this sweet child
welled up again. Little did she know how much her offer meant to him, and his
future.

Smoothing
his hand across the lid of the box, he handed it back to her and watched as she
hid it beneath her dolls. It was madness to suppose them safe in such a place,
yet he wasn’t about to take them away and lock them in Beva’s strongbox.

By
law, all precious stones gathered had to be tithed to the emperor’s tax collector,
just as all income was tithed. Caelan wasn’t about to tell his little sister
she had to give up part of her treasure to the emperor—a man at the other end
of the earth whom they didn’t know and would never see. If Beva learned of the
emeralds, he would obey the law and tithe without question. Better to leave
them here in the child’s hands. Lea wouldn’t lose them.

“You’re
wise to keep them a secret,” Caelan said. “You’ve got quite a dowry for
yourself now, little sister.”

“Yes,
I have,” she said, sounding almost grown up for a moment. “Which is a good
thing because Father spares no attention for such matters.”

Caelan
grinned. “Now I know you’ve been listening to grown-up talk. Who said such a
thing? Anya?”

Lea
nodded. “She tells me much, even when she doesn’t mean to. She says women have
to stick together in this hold of feeble old men.”

“She’s
right.”

“Only
you aren’t old, and you’ve come back. I missed you terribly.”

“I
missed you just as much,” he said, stroking her curls.

Her
hand stole into his and gripped it hard. “It was a bad place, your school. Wasn’t
it?”

He
nodded.

She
sighed. “I knew it. Every night I think about you before I go to sleep. And
sometimes I’ve dreamed about you running and running. There were creatures
flying through the darkness after you, and men with big sticks trying to hurt
you—”

“Hush,”
he said, catching her close in a hug. “Hush, little one. Don’t talk about that.”

“But
I was so afraid for you—”

“I’m
all right,” he said to soothe her, feeling her tremble in his arms.

They
had always been closer than thought. Females were not expected to possess
talents, and they were never trained. Still, Caelan knew Lea was gifted. She
could  frequently guess what he meant to say before he spoke. If she wished for
something hard enough, very often it did come to pass. And sometimes, she could
pronounce the future. He had warned her to hide what she could do. Although Lea
was only sunshine and good, her gifts were the kind that might be misunderstood
by superstitious strangers. It was important she learn to be careful from an
early age. Besides, in a year or two, she would be expected to put away her
dolls and wear a shawl. She would start her training in the domestic arts. Then
would come betrothal, and eventually marriage.

Caelan
found himself praying she would be bonded to a decent man who would let her
sing and laugh, who would see her gifts for what they were and not use her
harshly. Worry added to his sense of protectiveness. He knew he should stay
here and see to it himself. His father might not take enough care.

Lea
struggled against him and pushed away. “You’re hugging too tight,” she told him
breathlessly.

“Sorry,”
he said.

“What
are you thinking?” she asked. “You’ve come home different, and I cannot tell
what is in your heart.”

“That’s
just as well,” he said, trying to make his voice light.

“Why
are you closed to me? I could always read you before. Now you are all tight and
guarded, like Father.”

The
last thing he wanted was to be told he resembled Beva in anything. Caelan
shifted angrily and crawled out of the tent.

She
followed anxiously. “Caelan, what’s wrong? What did I say?”

“Nothing.”

Her
eyes widened. “You have quarreled with Father. Don’t, Caelan. You mustn’t.”

His
mouth twisted into a bitter little smile. “Too late. I already have.”

She
flung her arms around his waist. “Please don’t sound like that. I don’t want
you to fight with him.” Tears streaked her face. “I don’t want you to leave.
Please!”

“I
won’t leave you, sweetness,” he said, hugging her. But even as he said the
words, he felt horrible for lying to her. His throat closed up into a knot. “In
my heart I will never leave you.”

She
lifted her huge, tear-drenched eyes to his. “I don’t want you to go”

“I
haven’t left yet—”

“Caelan!”

He
sighed, trying to find an explanation, and couldn’t. “You’d better get in bed.”

She
frowned and stamped her foot. “Don’t treat me like a baby! You’re keeping
things from me. I don’t like it.”

He
scooped her up and tucked her into her bed, smoothing the feather-filled coverlet.

She
kicked at it. “I can make you stay. I can, if I wish it hard enough.”

“Go
to sleep.”

“You
and Father have to—”

“All
Father and I want to do right now is eat our supper,” he said, trying to soothe
her. “If you don’t go to sleep, we can’t go look for emeralds tomorrow.”

She
was still frowning, but her eyes were growing heavy. “Tomorrow I’ll learn your
secrets,” she said sleepily. “I’ll make you promise to stay.”

He
kissed her forehead and turned the lamp down low, leaving only a glow burning
beneath the wall disk of the goddess Merit, protector of small children. At the
door he hesitated, filled with regrets, but then he closed the door soundlessly
and left before her will could force him to give in.

Supper
was eaten
in silence, he and his father spooning Anya’s rich stew hungrily by the ruddy
light of the kitchen fire. The kitchen served as the common room. Central to
the whole house, its large hearth never went cold, and there was plenty of
space beyond the long trestle table of worn, well-scrubbed pine for the other
members of the household to gather.

Surva,
Anya’s elderly mother, worked her loom in one corner. The rhythmic clack of the
shuttle was a lulling sound in the general quiet. Old Farns carved wood, the
shavings curling over his big, gnarled hands. Gunder frowned over lists,
grinding herbs to refill the medical supplies. Raul, the groom, had dragged in
a saddle to oil it, and the aromatic scent of the leather mingled with the
smell of stew and hot bread. Anya hovered with her big wooden spoon, ready to
ladle out additional helpings of food, while the young scullion Tisa scrubbed
copper pots with river sand and made them shine.

On
the surface it looked like a content domestic scene, but although Caelan was
dying to ask dozens of questions and catch up on all that had happened at the
hold during his absence, he dared not break the silence. Beva did not permit
chatter at mealtimes, saying it impeded digestion.

When
at last Beva pushed his bowl away and shook his head at Anya’s apple pie and
browly cakes, Gunder was ready to show him the herbal lists for his approval.

Caelan
went on eating although it was rude to continue when his father had left the
table.

“Good,”
Anya whispered, slipping him a third piece of pie. “You’re too thin. You eat
all you want.”

He
grinned at her and munched away. Beva frowned at him, but Caelan pretended not
to notice.

Finally
Beva went out. Everyone seemed to relax. Caelan shoved his plate away with a
feeling of satisfaction and joined Farns.

With
a smile, the old watchman went on with his carving. “It is good to have all our
family home and safe,” he said.

Caelan
longed to pour all his troubles into the old man’s sympathetic ears, but he
couldn’t here in front of everyone. “I need to talk to you,” he said softly.

Old
Farns nodded wisely. “Talk. There is time while the master and Gunder are
making rounds in the infirmary.”

“Not
here. Alone.”

Farns
sighed. “Very well.”

Putting
down his carving knife and the piece of wood, he got up stiffly off his stool
and stretched his low back. He and Caelan left the kitchen, with the curious
eyes of the others following.

As
soon as they were in the passage, safely out of earshot, Caelan gripped Farns’s
sleeve. “The arms room,” he said urgently. “I need the key to it.”

Old
Farns frowned and shook his head. “Now, it’s too late at night for you to start
that nonsense, young master.”

“I
must have the key,” Caelan insisted.

“No
use for it. No Thyzarenes’ll be coming at night for to scorch us in our beds.”

“Please.”

The
old man’s gaze was steady.

Caelan
sighed. “This is important. I need—”

Farns
raised his calloused hand. “No need for any weapons tonight, now, is there,
young master?”

“But—”

“Rules
are rules. I can’t give you the key. Not now.”

Frustration
built inside Caelan. “I want my bow and arrow and another dagger. You said you’d
keep my things safe. I—”

“Aye,”
Old Farns said, glancing away. He frowned. “Not tonight.”

“But
I need them. Once I tell you what happened—”

“It’s
too late tonight, boy. I’m sorry, but I have to enforce the master’s rules
especially when he’s home. You know that.”

“Yes.”

“So
I can’t take you to the arms room now. It’s too dark to be abroad besides.”

“I’m
not asking you to take me,” Caelan said impatiently. “Just give me the key. Father
doesn’t have to know.”

Old
Farns cocked one eyebrow. “Seems like you’ve been in more than enough trouble
lately, young master, without going to look for more. Your father doesn’t want
you messing about there anyway.”

“Of
course he doesn’t,” Caelan said in exasperation. “He never has, but I need my
belongings. I took my dagger to school but I didn’t get a chance to bring it
home with me.”

Old
Farns made a
tsking
sound in his throat and shook his head. “There you are. Careless as
usual.”

“It
wasn’t like that. They expelled me.”

Farns
blinked.

Having
blurted out the confession, Caelan found himself miserably forced to go on. “Yes,
I’ve been disrobed. I can’t go back.”

Sympathy
filled the old man’s face. “That’s bad, young master. That’s an awful disgrace
for the family.”

“I
know, but. . . well, it’s done now. It’s done,” Caelan said with a frown. “Anyway,
now Father’s upset with me. He wants to purify me.”

“Ah,
no!” Farns said, then glanced around and lowered
his voice. “Not for you, my
boy. That’s too harsh a way to deal with the itch of adventure in your blood.”

“I’ve
got to leave before he goes through with it,” Caelan said grimly. “You
understand, don’t you? You do believe me?”