Elyon's Ghost, page 10
The nint grabbed for the coin, and Ailith tucked it into her palm “Ye’ll get this when ya come back with th’ Commander, not before.”
The boy wiped his nose on the back of his hand and scrunched up his brows as he tried to remember what she’d said. “I’m t’ fie t’ th’ Temple and squawk t’ th’ Blade what’s guardin’ th’ gate that….” He looked at her questioningly.
“Ailith.”
“Ailith wants th’ Command’a to fie t’ th’ docks.”
Ailith knew that that was the best she’d get out of the lad, and she nodded and pocketed the coin. “Like I said, ya get this when ya return with th’ Commander.” The lad nodded and ran off.
Octavia had made it to the last of the six ships, and she was making her way back now, arguing with the captains a second time. Most of them turned and walked up their gangplanks before she arrived, and the two times she stepped foot on the base of the plank to follow them onboard, the captains ordered their swabbies to pull it up into the ship while she was still balancing on the wobbling end.
After the last captain threatened to throw her to the sharks, Ailith tried again. “Milady, th’ sun will be down soon, and these docks get dangerous after dark. At least come back to th’ Market Square where we can find some Blades to protect ya. I’ll protect ya all I can, and I’m gonna stay with ya until I can get ya somewhere safe. But ya need to come with me.”
The wide dock bisected the six sailing ships, three on each side, and Octavia walked to the end and stared out over the sea.
Ailith accompanied her, trying to persuade her to return to the Temple. She rolled her eyes when the tears started again. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with tears. The Goddess only knew how many soldiers she’d held while they cried out their loss and grief. But she didn’t like this woman and was finding it difficult to care about her one way or another. Despite that, Ailith chanced a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Milady, it’ll be okay. Why don’t —”
Octavia spun and slapped her arm away, glaring at her like she would a bug swimming in her Chiaretto wine. “Don’t you dare touch me. You’re nothing but a filthy gutter rat. I could have you put to death in my country, and when my husband sends for me, his people will kill you for putting your grimy hands anywhere near my dress.”
Ailith held her hands up. “Fine. I won’t touch. But look around. There’s sailors and trib runners starin’ at ya, just waitin’ for me to leave. And don’t think they’ll be gentle, neither. They won’t treat ya like a lady. They’ll hike up yer dress and put their prick in yer—”
Octavia backhanded Ailith across the cheek hard enough to send spittle flying.
A cheer arose around the dock, and one nob shouted, “Gi’ us some more of that. Ye’ll get me prick standin’ at attention an’ I’ll be sure t’ thank ya wit’ it.” He grabbed the front of his trews and made lewd gestures at the women.
That was the first time Octavia realized there actually were hungry-looking men leering at her. The tears, which hadn’t stopped, ran off her chin and onto her dress. “Tell your Commander that this is on her. This is all her fault.” With those final words, she ran forward and plunged into the sea.
“What the fowk!” Ailith tore off her sword belt and tossed it to a swabbie she recognized from previous visits to the dock.
He caught it in midair. “I’ll keep it safe for ya, shiv.”
Ailith leapt into the water after the floundering Octavia. Because her mountain village had been close to a waterfall and fast-flowing river, all of the children had been taught to swim almost as soon as they could walk. A panicking Octavia tried to grab for her, but Ailith swam backward and away, circling the woman to try to come in from behind.
The drunken men and their lollies crowded to the edge of the dock, cheering and waving half-empty bottles as they placed bets on whether the two crazy pidges would make it back alive.
When Ailith couldn’t convince Octavia to quit grabbing for her whenever she swam close, she dove beneath the water, swam behind the flailing woman, and grabbed her around the shoulders. Using her powerful legs, she managed to drag her beneath the dock and up onto the rocky shoreline.
Octavia sputtered and gasped for air and then crumpled into a ball next to one of the pilings.
The cold water, combined with the chilly night air, made Ailith’s teeth chatter. Glaring down at the woman shivering and crying hysterically on the rocks, she grudgingly pulled off her tunic and laid it across Octavia’s shoulders. As she started for the dock, the woman’s screeching howl brought her up short. “Get this filthy rag off of me!”
Ailith turned just in time to see the malicious sneer on the woman’s face as she balled the tunic around a good-sized stone and threw it back into the ocean. Sprinting across the uneven rocks to retrieve it, Ailith stopped short when one of the bottlenose ocean jokesters hooked it around its pointed snout and swam out to the open sea. “Bring that back, ya ró múgromin bastard! I only got two tunics, ya skut-nosed, slimy-skinned asshole! Bring it back!” She waded knee-deep into the water and watched the jokester turn onto his back with a laughing glint in his eyes. He flipped over again and swam away, dragging her tunic even further out to sea. “Fowk.” She retraced her steps and glared at Octavia as she walked past.
“Serves you right for trying to put that filthy thing on me.”
Ignoring the woman’s snide remark, Ailith trudged back up the rocky shoreline to the dock, where the crowd was laughing at the jokester’s antics. She stepped behind the swabbie holding her sword and tapped him on the shoulder.
The man jumped and turned, and when he saw Ailith, a big grin spread across his face. “That were fine swimming that were. If ya ever want to quit the Blades an’ come sailing with me, yer more than welcome.”
Taking her sword from the man, she nodded her thanks.
Glancing down at her nipples, which had responded as any would after a dip in a freezing ocean and emerging into the chill night air, he chuckled and pulled off his light, linen overtunic and held it out to her. “Here. Ya don’t wanna go pokin’ any of us in th’ eyes wit’ those now, do ya?”
One of the younger bystanders called out, “She can poke me with ‘em anytime!”
The swabbie glared at th’ man. Even though he’d just made a joke at her expense, he apparently didn’t allow for it from any of his men. “Here now, she’s wit’ th’ Temple and ye’ll treat her wit’ th’ proper respect, or ye’ll take me fists up yer nose.”
The young drunkard glanced down and pulled his forelock, “Aye, Mister Bardin. Sorry. Me mouth goes off on me after I’ve had a bit ‘a drink.”
Ailith eyed her new friend. She hadn’t realized he held rank on one of the ships, and as she gratefully accepted his offering, she grinned at the drunk. “So does mine. No offense taken.”
Since most of the fun was over, the people in the crowd either returned to their ships or resumed whatever they’d been doing before the night’s entertainment began.
Before her friend could leave, she touched his arm, “Where do ya want me t’ return yer togs?”
He pointed to a three-masted ship at the far end of the pier. “I’m second-mate on th’ Truncheon. If I’m not about, tell the swabbie mannin’ th’ plank to make sure it gets t’ Mister Bardin.”
“I’ll do that. And thank ya.” Ailith stepped to the side of the pier where she could keep an eye on the Tuvistian. She was confident the poxy noble hadn’t thrown herself into the sea again because the wind carried her wailing all the way up to where she stood buttoning up the overtunic.
Rolling her eyes, Ailith made her way back down to the piling where Octavia had curled up into a ball and was rocking back and forth, bemoaning her fate. With a resigned sigh, she lowered herself to one of the rocks to wait for the Commander’s arrival.
CHAPTER 11
In Sábria’s office in the Citadel, Jenx had just finished reporting to the Commander and Sábria that Ailith hadn’t yet returned from her run. The gates had been closed for half a candlemark, and if the scowl on the Commander’s face was any indication, her shiv was in for an unpleasant time of it.
Shirin rose and started for the door. “Do you have any idea where she was running tonight?”
“No, Commander. All I know is that she was late going out for her run. Before I came up to notify you, I asked around to see if anyone had seen her. Emlyn had decided to run with her this evening, but Ailith overslept, so Emlyn and Killian went out on their own.”
A fourth woman in the room rose as well. “Would you mind if I came with you, Commander? I’ve spent most of the last eight turns inside the palace walls learning to be a page, a squire, and finally, a Knight. I’ve never really gotten to know the more remote districts of Sarlogne, and since I’m going to be living here for the next turn, I’d like to familiarize myself with the parts of the city not open to me during my childhood.” The woman’s alto voice was rich with the dulcet undertones of the northern Cibían borderlands where her parents had a second home.
She stepped up next to Shirin and spoke to Sábria, who’d remained seated. “In fact, My Lady, that’s the main reason for my visit tonight. I just returned from a turn away doing brave Knight deeds,” her white teeth flashed in a self-deprecating grin, “and I’d like a chance to spend time with your Blades, getting to know the city and its people.” She shook her head. “I’ll go crazy if I have to stay locked up in that musty castle listening to the other Knights and courtiers posturing for a position close to Emperor Aloric.”
Sábria rose as well. “Of course, you’re welcome, Lady Farryn, and I think I’ll join you. Our shivs aren’t allowed outside the Temple walls after dark without their handlers,” she laid a hand on Jenx’s shoulder, “and I’m interested to know where Ailith has gotten to, myself.”
Shirin stopped and turned. “There’s no need for you to go. I’ll bring her up when I get her back here.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Shirin called out, “Come.”
One of the gate guards, Larkin, opened the door and stepped inside. She came to attention and saluted. “There’s a lad at the gate, Commander. He says Ailith told him to bring you to the docks.”
Shirin’s brow furrowed. “She told him to bring me…?” She turned to Sábria, “Only Ailith would have the temerity to order the Commander about when she’s out after dark without her handler.”
Sábria rubbed her temple and sighed. “This had better be good, or she’s going to be very sore for the remainder of her shift.” She looked over at the Lady Knight. “I know your lady mother suggested you stop by to visit with me, Lady Farryn, but perhaps you’d prefer to come another time. I’m afraid if you join us now, you might see a darker side to serving the Goddess Elyon. She’s not an easy mistress and takes the obedience of her Blades very seriously.”
“Call me Ryn, please. And if you’re referring to the severity of your punishments, over the past eight turns, I received quite a few myself at the hands of our trainers and my Knight Master. I guarantee you I won’t be shocked. And, I almost forgot, my mother asked to be remembered to you and wanted me to say she’d be honored to have you for tea sometime soon.”
Sábria, who’d taken a liking to the young Knight the moment she’d walked through the door flashing her friendly smile, held out her hand, palm up, indicating the Knight should precede her. “Tell her I’ll look forward to seeing her again. Shall we go?”
Ryn moved with the confident assurance of one used to both power and prestige, but she stepped back and held out her own hand. “After you, My lady, of course.” She gave a slight bow and waited for Sábria to take the lead.
Although it wasn’t overt, and neither was it directed at her, Sábria noted a definite sensuality about the woman, an unconscious way of carrying herself that many of her Blades would find alluring. She filed that thought away as she accepted the respect Lady Farryn was offering and led the way down the stairs to the Citadel’s gardens.
Larkin showed the three women to the gate, where she introduced them to the young nint who’d brought the message. Not knowing the boy’s name, she simply said, “This is the lad.” She turned to the three women. “This is the Arch Priestess, Sábria, Commander Shirin, and Lady Knight Farryn.”
The nint looked up at the Commander and wiped his nose. “You be th’ Command’a th’ shiv were squawkin’ ‘bout?”
“I am, and you bow when you’re introduced to the Arch Priestess of the Daughters of Elyon.”
The nint lifted one side of his lip and stepped back. “I don’t bow t’ no pidges.” He indicated Sábria with a lift of his chin. “And ‘sides, yer th’ pidge what sells th’ lollies an’ pidges t’ th’ mines, ain’t ya? I’ll no be bowin’ t’ no pounit what does ‘at.
Shirin’s eyes flashed dangerously as she lunged for the boy. Before she managed to grab him, he ducked away and made a run for it.
As Shirin started after him, Sábria said, “Leave it. We know that’s been going around the lower quarter, and we’ll deal with it as we can. Beating a nint because he disrespected me isn’t going to help anything, now, is it?”
Fixing the lad’s face solidly in her mind, Shirin growled and started for the docks. Remembering herself at the last moment, she turned and waved Sábria on. “I’m sorry. My temper’s a bit frazzled by the day I’ve had.”
Sábria patted her on the back when she passed and led the way to the port. When they arrived at the docks, Shirin approached the first group of sailors she saw. “I’m looking for a Blade, well, a shiv, really. Have you seen one around here?”
The swabbies, who were busy shooting dice, ignored her.
Shirin tapped one nob’s leg with the toe of her boot, probably a bit harder than she should have. “I asked you a question.”
The nob leapt to his feet and grabbed the hilt of his belt knife. Before it had even cleared its sheath, Shirin clamped one hand around his wrist and held her knife to his throat with the other. “You might want to reconsider.”
All of the men looked up, and when they saw Sábria standing with two Blades and a Lady Knight, they jumped to their feet and bowed. The nob with a knife to his throat stared wide-eyed at Shirin. “Me apologies, Milady. I been drinkin’ and didn’t realize who ya were. I got all th’ respect in th’ world fer th’ Temple, and I wouldn’t ‘a stuck ya once I seen yer togs.” He carefully shoved his knife back down into its sheath, and when Shirin released his wrist and stepped back, he raised both hands, indicating his surrender.
“I’ll ask you again. Have you seen a shiv on the docks tonight?”
They all nodded and pointed to where the bank angled down to the water.
Shirin stepped to where they pointed and called out, “Ailith.”
Ailith, who hadn’t yet dried off, climbed up and stood in front of the Commander. She’d been listening to Octavia’s insulting comments about her bloodlines and her “disgusting peasant accent” for close to a candlemark now, and her temper had risen past the boiling point. She glared up at Shirin, oblivious to the other three women standing behind her.
Shirin, whose temper was also up, put her fists on her hips, leaned down, and spoke with a deceptively mild tone. “I’ll give you one chance to explain yourself, Ailith, before I take you into one of these warehouses and strip the skin from your back.” The pressures of dealing with the slaves, specifically her fellow Tuvistian, Octavia, and the nint, had been more than enough to push her over the edge.
Now, seeing Ailith standing in front of her with her arms crossed, glaring up into her face sent the pitch of her voice louder with each word until, by the end of her questions, she was practically shouting into Ailith’s face. “Why are you out of uniform and away from the Temple after the gates are closed? And why in the name of the Goddess did you tell some snot-nosed nint to come order me to the docks like I’m your own Gods damned servant girl?”
Not really caring whom she was talking to anymore, Ailith answered in kind, “Explain meself? I’ll explain meself. I followed yer poxy Tuvistian witch through the Codpiece all th’ way down here because I saw her walking alone like th’ stupid, moronic cow she is. She jumped in th’ fowkin’ ocean, the skizzy freezin’ fowkin’ ocean, and I had to jump in after her ‘cuz th’ bitch can’t swim. I drug her back to th’ fowkin’ rocks, and because she were shivering like a bowl of fowkin’ jellyfish, I gave her me tunic, which she fowkin’ threw in th’ fowkin’ ocean.” By this time, she’d worked herself up into such a rage that she was poking the Commander in the chest.
Sábria realized Ailith’s mouth was going to get her into serious trouble yet again, and she stepped forward, hoping to stop her before the Commander had time to get over her shock and go after her. No shiv, no Blade for that matter, in their right mind would speak to any of their superiors in that way.
Oblivious to Sábria’s approach, Ailith pulled in a breath and continued, “I only got two fowkin’ tunics an’ a Goddess damned jokester grabbed th’ one yer friend, th’ bitch, threw in th’ ocean an’ took it with ‘im.” She pointed to the end of the dock and saw the jokester sticking his head above water, laughing at her as he balanced her tunic on the top of his snout. Growling, she ripped off the borrowed linen jacket, stripped off her sword belt, and threw them both into Shirin’s chest before taking off running and diving off the dock after the jokester.
Staring after Ailith in shock, both Sábria and Shirin turned when they heard a burst of rich, throaty laughter behind them.
Farryn covered her mouth with one hand and held up the other, “I’m sorry.” She turned away as she wiped the telltale signs of tears forming in her eyes.
Making a valiant effort not to laugh, Jenx was pinching her lips together so hard they’d nearly disappeared into her mouth.
When Sábria turned to Shirin and began to chuckle, the Commander put her head in her hands, grabbed her hair in two tight fists, and growled. Sábria put her hand on her shoulder. “Breathe.” She led her to the end of the pier, where they watched Ailith grab the jokester’s fin as it ducked beneath the waves.
