Well of the Damned (20 page)

“Oh
lord, here it comes,” Cirang said. “The pristine
high-born shows us all how perfect she is.”

“You
told me you can’t sing,” Gavin said, ignoring Cirang’s
comment.

“I
never said that.”

“Sing
us a song.”

“No,” Daia said.

“Thank
King Arek’s ghost,” Cirang breathed.

“Awright,
Brawna, you’re next.” The young battler blushed, warming
Gavin’s heart. She was so pure and good, as he imagined a
younger sister would be. Ever since her brother, Domach, died
defending Gavin, he felt a need to look after her, even though she
was a decent fighter, from what he’d observed in the training
yard.

“Well,
um, I still have the doll my brother made for me after our parents
were killed.”

Everyone
was respectfully quiet, knowing how Domach had died. Everyone except
Cirang. “Aw, that’s so sweet it makes me want to vomit.”

“If
you don’t shut up,” Daia said, “I’m going to
gag you.”

“I
kept it under my pillow,” Brawna said. “I’m lucky
Cirang didn’t find it after she named me a traitor. It was
still there when I returned to the Sisterhood.”

“Tell
us something about Vandra,” Gavin said.

“She
has a memory unlike anyone else I’ve ever known. She never
forgets a face, and she can recite a book from memory weeks after she
reads it.”

“What
a handy skill,” Gavin said. “Wish I could do that.”

“Don’t
we all?” Daia asked.

“But
on payday,” Cirang said, “she can’t remember who
she borrowed money from.”

“I
paid you back every pielar, and you know it,” Vandra said.

Cirang
snickered. “My turn.”

“No
one wants to hear about you, mutton breath.”

“King
Gavin does, don’t you? He wants to know who’s been
forging warrant tags and using them to swindle people.”

“Your
friend Toren Meobryn was wearing one of them,” Daia said, “so
we already know who was at the heart of it.”

Cirang’s
eyes widened innocently. “Oh, it wasn’t me. I’ve
been in gaol, remember, and dead before that, but I know which one of
King Gavin’s longtime friends it is.”

“Who?”
Gavin asked.

Cirang
smirked. “If I tell you, you’ll have to give me something
in return. Something to be named at a later date.”

Gavin
was well aware of Sithral Tyr’s habit of changing the terms of
negotiations, and he wouldn’t fall victim to a practiced
manipulator. “Tell me, and I’ll execute you quickly when
your time comes.”

“When
my time comes to die, Gavin Kinshield, you’ll be cold in your
grave.”

Chapter 23

The
first farm they came to outside of Saliria was well drained and gave
Gavin hope the problem wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. The
soil was saturated, but the rainwater mostly ran towards the creek
beds.

“Why
don’t you four go to the Rusty Duck tavern and rest. I got some
business to attend to.”

“I’ll
come with you,” Daia said.

“You
can’t. This I got to do alone. Put on your ring, though. I’ll
need you in a little while.”

The
town of Saliria was small enough that, though the streets were
narrow, they were sparsely populated. A large, armed man on a horse
drew little attention. He found space between two buildings on an
alley where he could work without being seen. Nicholia had said
Rogan’s last visit was about noon on the first day of Junis,
and so Gavin, with his fingers curled around the rune of time, held
that day and time in his mind. He relaxed his normal vision and, with
Daia’s help, used his hidden eye to see the vortex. It cycled
through the colors of the rainbow in the same order every time,
making it easy to anticipate when it would turn blue. “Taendat,”
he said, and then stepped into it.

The
loopy feeling in his belly caught him off balance, but a hand against
the wall steadied him. Everything looked the same as it had only a
moment ago. He wasn’t sure he’d traveled back in time.
There was one way to find out.

Gavin
waited on the street not far from where the road branched off to go
towards Rogan’s house. If it was close to noon on the first day
of Junis, and if Nicholia had been telling the truth, Rogan would be
delivering his last payment soon.

Gavin
paced while he waited, wondering what he would say. Rogan didn’t
know he’d be dead within a month. He didn’t know how
little time he had left. Liera and their sons missed Rogan deeply,
which helped to intensify the guilt he was feeling. He had the power
to come back and see his brother anytime he wanted, and yet, he’d
waited three months to do it. If Liera had this power, she wouldn’t
have waited, nor would Rogan’s boys. Of course, they hadn’t
been the reason Rogan was dead, either.

There
he was, approaching from the north on his brown gelding. Gavin hid
around the corner of the building and waited for Rogan to ride past.
Gavin’s palms grew sweaty and his eyes burned. All the grief,
guilt, longing and sadness threatened to overpower him. He was
chastising himself for becoming foolishly emotional when he realized
Rogan was getting away. He broke into a run, desperate not to lose
sight of the brother he’d already lost once. He followed Rogan
through the narrow streets of Saliria. Soon, Rogan dismounted in
front of a cottage.

Gavin’s
chest heaved from the run, and he stopped in the street, watching as
Rogan placed a bundle underneath a rock on the stoop, just as
Nicholia had claimed he did. It was true, then. Rogan Kinshield was
the father of her child. By the time Rogan climbed back into the
saddle and started back the way he’d come, Gavin was standing
in the middle of the street with his arms crossed.

“Little
Brother? What are you doing here?” Rogan asked. He looked
around nervously, as though he’d been caught doing something he
shouldn’t have.

“We
need to talk,” Gavin said quietly.

Rogan
dismounted and walked up to embrace his brother. Gavin hugged him
fiercely, reluctant to let go. He felt his eyes burning as if he
might weep, and he held Rogan even tighter. Rogan patted his back and
started to pull away, but Gavin held a moment longer.

“You
awright, Little Brother?” Rogan asked.

Gavin
released him but kept an arm around Rogan’s shoulder. “I
ain’t here to judge you. I just need to know the truth.”

Rogan’s
forehead wrinkled. “The truth about what? What’s wrong?”

“I
met a girl. She said her name is Keturah Kinshield, and she said I’m
her father. Is that where she lives?”

Rogan’s
eyes flew wide. He turned away, perhaps in shame, with his head hung
low. “You’re not,” he said. “You don’t
need to worry. I’m taking care of her, though I wish I could do
more.”

“Liera doesn’t know?”

Rogan
shook his head. “She’d never forgive me for that, and I
couldn’t live seein’ disgust or disrespect in her eyes
every day. That’s why I had to lie. I’m sorry, Little
Brother. I never meant to hurt you. You don’t spend much time
in Saliria, and people don’t know you here. I didn’t
think this would come back to you.”

Gavin
put a hand on Rogan’s shoulder and squeezed it. He knew he had
to be careful what he said because he couldn’t attempt to alter
the future. He also had to let Rogan know his secret was safe. “I
understand. I ain’t asking you to change anything. I just
needed to know the truth, and I didn’t know whether I could
trust the word o’the woman Nicholia. I needed to hear it from
you.”

“It
didn’t mean anything, Gavin,” Rogan said. “You got
to believe me. I love my wife. I love my family, but I also got a
duty to this girl. It wasn’t her fault I lost my honor. She
shouldn’t have to pay for my mistakes.”

Gavin
nodded. “I know. You’re doing the right thing. That’s
proof enough you didn’t lose your honor. You still got it.”

Rogan
didn’t say anything, nor did he meet his brother’s eyes.
“I’ll never stop regretting what I did, but I got to make
sure all my children get what they need.”

“It
was a mistake, no doubt, but there’s no other choice. If Liera
ever hears about this, it’ll break her heart. You keep doing
what you’re doing. You hear me, Rogan?” Gavin pulled on
Rogan’s shoulder to turn him around. “Look at me. You
don’t change a thing, awright? Don’t tell her you’re
not Gavin Kinshield. If anyone asks me, I’ll acknowledge her as
my daughter.”

Rogan
put an arm around Gavin. “Thanks, Little Brother. I owe you
big.”

Gavin
nearly broke down and wept. Rogan would be dead in a matter of weeks
because of Gavin, and now he felt he owed a debt. That was just
wrong. “No, you don’t owe me anything. Just… Go
home to your family, and let them know you love them. Do that for me,
will you?”

Rogan
looked him in the eye. “You sure everything’s awright?
You ain’t sick, are you?”

Gavin
snorted regretfully. “No, I’m fine. I got some business
to attend, but I’ll stop by for a visit in a little while.”

The
brothers bid each other a fond farewell with a hearty embrace. Again,
Gavin held Rogan for just a moment longer, relishing the warmth of
his body, and the beating of his heart against his own. Knowing he
could return and visit Rogan anytime was both bitter and sweet.

He
stroked the horse’s muzzle while Rogan climbed into the saddle.
“We won’t speak o’this again,” Gavin said.
“If you bring it up, I’ll pretend I don’t know what
you’re talking about.”

Rogan
nodded. “I understand.”

“Your
boys love you,” Gavin said. His voice caught in his throat, and
he coughed to clear it. “Jaesh isn’t sure you know that.”

“O’course
I know it. Why would he doubt it?” Rogan asked, looking down
with a scowl.

Gavin
shrugged. “Ask him.”

Rogan
reached down and gripped Gavin’s shoulder. “Stop by afore
you leave town. Liera’ll want to feed you.” He waved as
he headed back to his home.

Gavin
watched him ride away, hesitant to take his eyes off his brother’s
living form. “I love you too, Rogan,” he said quietly.

Chapter 24

For
four days, Cirang rode facing backwards with her wrists shackled and
her mount’s lead tied to Vandra’s saddle, and a longer
second rope around Cirang’s waist like the leash on a dog, with
Brawna holding the other end.

It
wasn’t Cirang’s horse they’d given her, the one
she’d left at the cottage where Ravenkind had died, but a pack
mule that didn’t seem happy about having a human rider,
especially one seated the wrong way. The beast periodically stopped
on the road and brayed when the slack came out of its lead rope.
Brawna, riding behind, had to tap its rump with a branch to get it to
start walking again. She occasionally let the ends of the branch
brush Cirang’s leg or hands.

The
worst part of the journey was having to look at Brawna’s
perpetually bewildered expression. She looked like a dull-witted
buffoon and stuck her tongue out or smirked from time to time,
probably for the spitting and taunting incident a few months ago. Of
course, Tyr had instructed Toren Meobryn to stab her a few times in
the thigh and once in the belly, and so Brawna had reason to dislike
Cirang. Once they reached the farmhouse, Cirang would watch the
little trollop closely, in case she tried to get upscores.

She’d
hoped for a chance to escape, but they kept a close eye on her, even
through the nights. Though they spent each night at an inn, they
shackled one wrist to Brawna and the other to Vandra, and she had to
lie still between them, which gave her aching back no respite. The
one time Brawna had caught her sifting quietly through Vandra’s
pack, searching for the shackle key as they prepared to leave the
second morning, they’d bound her hands behind her back, and she
had to ride like that for the remainder of the day. Mounting the mule
that way was next to impossible without Kinshield lifting her
inelegantly into the saddle, and so they acquiesced and moved her
wrists to the front on her promise not to try to escape again. She
would’ve promised to swallow all the water in the Quirjan Sea
if they’d taken the shackles off. They were rubbing her skin
raw.