Rite of Exile: The Silent Tempest, Book 1 (3 page)

“Soren, please lower your swords,” said Telai. “You outnumber him five to one.”

No change softened the Master Raén’s hard exterior. Patience had rewarded Telai’s efforts many times, however, and she waited until the old man nodded at his companions. They lowered their swords, yet left them unsheathed except for Soren, who slapped his own weapon home and stepped forward.

He barked out his name, touching his chest as Telai had done. “Caleb Stenger,” the stranger answered clearly, copying Soren’s gesture.

The old Raén exchanged stares with Telai. “Does that mean his name is Caleb, or Stenger?”

“How should I know?” she whispered. “Maybe it’s both.”

Soren humphed. “Must be insufferably proud of himself to have two names.”

She introduced herself again. “Telai,” the stranger repeated.

The boy still clung to his father. Telai, forestalling Soren before he could frighten the child with his gruff ways, crouched down in front of him.

Curiosity brightened the young face. “Warren!” he shouted cheerfully, and stuck a thumb to his chest.

Telai could not help but smile. Then her jaw dropped as the boy left his father’s side and hugged her around the shoulders.

Such a strange smell! Not a disagreeable one, yet it didn’t seem to belong, an odor even the far-reaching mariners of Trethrealm might not recognize. But it didn’t really matter. An irresistible warmth, haunted by an echo of longing, stole into her heart.

Telai stood. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Soren.”

“That will be for the Overseer and the Council to decide, not us.”

“I know that. Just remember that many villagers would have seen his ship fall from the sky. There’s no telling how they’ll react.”

“I know what my duties are, Loremaster. No harm will come to them before we reach Ekendoré.” Telai pressed her lips in annoyance, nodded, and walked off to find Eiveya.

The mare soon responded to her call, and Telai smiled as Eiveya followed leaderless at her side, nuzzling her with those huge nostrils. All was forgiven. Yet by the time she returned, Soren, his gestures more animated with each effort, was having considerable difficulty convincing the stranger that his son would have to ride with someone else.

Caleb Stenger, his face clouded with anger, walked over and mounted Telai’s horse with ease, ending their doubts about his horsemanship. Warren followed, using his father’s arm to hoist himself into the saddle.

Telai’s cheeks burned at the man’s presumption. Soren only cracked a faint smile. But she knew better than to challenge a father’s protective instincts, and Eiveya was a docile creature, tame to any experienced hand. Soren offered to let Telai ride double with him, and she reluctantly agreed.

At last they departed. Soren headed northeast, back the way they had come, taking advantage of the light while it lasted. Telai wrapped her arms firmly around her rider, doing her best to ignore the chill of fear creeping back into her bones.

The first stars were emerging. She glanced at Warren, then stared ahead, the ruby ring chafing her fingers as if in mockery.

3

Ekendoré

Each dawn that gleams in Wsaytchen’s silver towers

is proof my work is not in vain.

- Garda, 18
th
and 20
th
Overseer of Ada

A GENTLE BREEZE
stirred the curtains of Caleb Stenger’s small room at the inn. He sat up in bed, his sleeping gown and brown tousle of hair dampened from sweat, and waited for the sun’s power to erase the cruel memories that had invaded his dreams.

Warren slept in a small bed by the other window, his slow breathing faint from across the room. The face beneath his tousled locks was as serene as an angel’s.

To Caleb, it was a lie.

He rose from his bed and sat in a chair by the north window, hoping to find distraction in the grand view outside their third-story room. The city of Ekendoré was still asleep; the only person within sight hurried over the cobblestone streets, his arms wrapped tightly against the chill. Caleb saw himself down there, a stranger lost, seeking shelter and comfort in an alien world.

Warren stirred and mumbled something incomprehensible. He had seldom spoken during the long months since the crash, and only in toddler-like bursts of wonder or surprise. Yet sometimes he spoke more fluently during sleep, and Caleb had often stayed up late at night to listen for any word or phrase that escaped the child’s dreams.

Caleb had visited nearly every doctor in Ekendoré by now, the best Ada had to offer. But in time he realized he was only torturing himself, and stopped subjecting his frightened child to all their prodding and poking and bloodletting. If there was any chance of saving Warren, Caleb would have to find it himself.

He rose from his chair for a stretch. “Time to get up, son.” They washed and dressed; afterward a servant arrived at the door with their breakfast, and set it on a small table by the east window.

After they finished eating, Warren occupied himself with a wooden puzzle, while Caleb remained in his seat to enjoy the soft breeze drifting through the open window.

He had no heart for another lesson. He wanted to escape the mind-numbing chore of learning their history, and take Warren on a long journey of exploration in the vast, soul-stirring prospect outside his window—one last chance of reliving those happier days with his adventuresome little friend.

Across the street a narrow lake mirrored the dawn, its waters held in place by a dam that marked the limit of Ekendoré’s cultural and political district. Beyond lay only farms and villages; massive, cloud-crowned peaks rose on either side, guarding a long, swiftly widening valley that soon lost itself in the rising sun. Tall against the pine-clad foothills to the left rose a palace of white stone; the new sunlight gleamed fiercely in its windows and silver crowns, and brought the towers and buttresses into sharp relief.

Perhaps this was nothing more than an enchanted dream, Caleb mused, and he and Warren were still passing the countless stars in a chemically induced, near-death sleep. But this world was too real, too full of sight and sound and smell and touch, and too vivid a contrast to a world far away, both in time and place.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, surrendering himself to a few minutes of sleep before his instructor knocked on the door.

♦

Telai negotiated the steep streets and familiar turns as though wearied by a long journey. The pallor of a restless night still held sway beneath the dark blue hood of her cloak, and the prospect of another day of mind-numbing instruction almost turned her back home. Yet when she lifted her bleary stare to the east, she managed a smile. The poise and glory of Ada’s most beloved city never lost its charm.

She still remembered the awe on Caleb Stenger’s face when he first glimpsed Ekendoré, miles away where it looked more like a crown than anything people had a right to live in. It was her first glimpse into this man who fell from the sky.

Almost an entire winter and following spring had passed since she had been ordered to teach Caleb Stenger their history and culture. The previous instructor who had taught him their language was more than capable of this, but the rulers of Ada saw things differently. The Council’s excuse—that he might come from a powerful nation, and they needed to give him every opportunity to become a citizen of Ada—sounded so politically trite and petty to her now. The Council still hadn’t decided the day of his Judgment. What were they waiting for?

People greeted her in passing as she threaded a way along the busier thoroughfares, and she made an effort to return each courtesy. But her thoughts kept drifting. When she finally reached the inn she could not remember one person she had spoken to.

Telai opened one of the double doors, then cursed as she stumbled near the threshold. That old dog always picked the most inconvenient spot to sleep! But she crouched down to rub his big, soft ears, a penance she had observed a dozen times by now.

She headed up the stairs to the top floor. The
Falling Man
, they kept calling him—some in mockery, others simply out of habit. She smiled at the memory of their first meeting. How her heart had pounded! But he was no god, or a demon, only an ordinary man. Yet no matter how well she knew him by now he was still from a strange place, with a son who had suffered from their strange devices.

Telai walked down the hallway to the north side and knocked on the last door on the right.

Her student yanked the door open. “Come in, come in—you’ve got to hear this!”

She threw back her cowl and brushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear as she crossed the room. “Peace, Caleb Stenger. I didn’t sleep well last night.” She dropped her satchel on the table. “Where’s Warren?”

“Oh, yes. He’s found a new friend. He’ll be back soon. Don’t you want to know what I just heard from the Council of Nine?”

“Don’t tell me—”

“Yes! They’ve scheduled the Judgment for tomorrow.”

She sank into a chair. “At last! I wonder what finally changed their minds?”

“I have no idea. I’ll just be glad to get out of this prison they keep calling an inn.”

“Not the most flattering thing I’ve heard. But I can’t say I blame you.”

His expression darkened. “Do you think they’ll have any qualms about accepting us as citizens?”

“No. I don’t even remember the last time the Council turned anyone down.”

At that moment Warren ran through the door, and with a hop and a shout landed on his feet in front of Telai. “Hello, Warren!” He kept staring at her, eyes full of eager expectation, and she said, “Of course! I promised you a boat ride on the lake today.” She had used a child’s picture book yesterday in hopes of teaching him a few words.

“A boat ride?” his father queried. “I thought we were going to have a picnic
by
the lake. And it’s early yet.”

“Well, I skipped breakfast, and it’s a much better view from the dam. We’ll bring enough for lunch—unless of course you’d rather stay here for the rest of the day—alone!”

His cheeks colored a little. “Hardly. Don’t worry, I’ll manage.”

“Manage what?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

She rose and walked to the east window. “A beautiful day for it, too.”

“I suppose another bite or two wouldn’t hurt,” Caleb Stenger said, and gave his son a friendly punch on the shoulder. “This bag of energy is
always
hungry.”

“I noticed. Wait here, I’ll get something from the kitchen. We’ll sit on top of the dam and talk about anything you like—except lessons!”

♦

Telai passed quite close as she walked to the door, and Caleb swore he caught a gleam of amusement in her eyes. He lost himself for a moment in the lingering fragrance of her hair. More than once during the lessons he had caught himself in a similar trance, mesmerized by her beauty. But an inevitable guilt always followed these impulses, an ache that stretched across uncounted parsecs of space.

She returned, cradling a basket filled with fruit, cheese, freshly baked rolls, and a small skin of wine. Caleb offered to carry the wine, and Telai led her guests down the stairs and out the doors to the main thoroughfare. Paved with close-fitting flagstones, it ran south from the palace along a tree-shaded park by the lake. Several people passed by, some on foot, others driving a horse-drawn cart or carriage, but none gave the strangers more notice than a friendly greeting or curious glance. Along with his son, Caleb had long since changed into native attire, and with beards even rarer than dark hair among the Adaiani, he was careful to shave each day.

Telai grasped Warren’s hand as they crossed the street. Caleb smiled, but a bittersweet longing took hold. He wondered if he would ever know a day when no sight or sound or smell flooded him with memories.

Entering the park, they followed a well-groomed footpath through the trees until it ended at the lake. Several round boats like coracles floated against a small wooden pier, each with one long scull attached. There was just enough room in one for the three of them. They boarded the nearest, Telai entering last after she handed the basket to Caleb. She unfastened the painter, and with oar in hand deftly propelled the boat out across the lake.

A fine breeze blew up the valley. Warren was all sunshine and smiles, dangling his arm over the edge to trace bright rivulets with his fingers. His father seized the gunwale like death. On a horse, in space, on a precipice he was at home, but this little ungainly craft rode too low for his liking.

He glanced left and right, then back at Telai. She smiled. “Nothing to worry about, Caleb Stenger. This is the Tarn of Ekendoré, and the water’s nearly always calm. I was the envy of my friends when we held races here during my apprenticeship at Gerentesk. We name this craft the
relleté
, from the ancient Urmanayan speech,” she added with an air of importance.

Caleb blinked in the scintillating glare of reflected sunshine. “What does it mean?”

She shrugged. “Round boat.”

He only nodded, in no mood for jokes. After a moment he stared back again, hoping to slow his navigator with a bolder look. It was one look too many.

A glint of battle rose in her eyes. She crouched down, seized the oar with both hands, and began churning the water behind the boat. Her boast about racing was not an empty one. The craft accelerated, foam boiling at the bow. Warren laughed with delight, then shouted when a brief gust of wind lifted a fine spray over his head.

Caleb’s knuckles turned white. “This isn’t funny, Telai!”

She grinned devilishly. Caleb fumed but kept his peace, holding on tight until they neared the dam.

Telai let the relleté drift to a stop. On the inner side of the dam lay a wide shelf of masonry, and when the craft bumped she tied it to an iron ring, one of many recessed in the stone. Basket in hand, Telai stepped out and climbed the few short ledges to the top, where she paused to enjoy the view.

Caleb stepped onto the ledge, careful not to drop the wineskin. Warren rose to follow, but stopped when his father turned and pointed back into the boat.