The Nightblade Epic Volume Two: A Book of Underrealm, page 26
Though his eyes were still grave, that forced a chuckle from him. “As though that is why I would regret it.” His frown returned. “Are you certain you are all right? What did you dream of?”
Loren felt her smile grow strained. “I do not remember,” she said. A sick feeling grew in the pit of her stomach at the lie. “Mayhap it was the battle of the Seat. That was no happy memory.”
He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he would answer. But he only shook his head, and turned away to lie upon his side.
Soon he was asleep once more. But Loren lay awake all the rest of the night, until the silver of moonslight gave way to the pink blush of dawn. And she felt that eyes watched her in the darkness, the eyes of every enemy she had left behind her between the paths of the Birchwood and the palace of the High King.
AS THEY ATE WITH GEM the next morning, Loren could sense Chet’s concern for her. It fairly radiated from him, like heat from a flame. When she tried to reach for more food, he would offer to fetch it for her, and he kept asking her if she would like any more water to drink. She avoided his gaze all the while, and spoke lightly of small matters, but his worry remained—until a thought seemed to strike him, and he cocked his head.
“Where is Xain?” he said.
Loren glanced towards the wizard’s room. “Sleeping, I imagine.”
“Normally he rises earlier than any of us,” said Chet.
Loren and Gem gave each other a dark look. That had not always been Xain’s way, and had only begun after his battles with magestone sickness. Sometimes Loren wondered if the wizard slept at all any more. But now her thoughts were drawn to the night before, and her dream.
A chill went through her. She had recently consumed magestones—once, in Dorsea, when the Elves had forced her to do it, and then once again here upon the Seat when she sought an agent of the Shades. The fact that she had them, and had eaten them, was unknown to anyone but Chet, and even he only knew of the first time.
Could the magestones be linked to her nightmare? She could only find out by asking Xain, and that was not something she could do carelessly. If the wizard found out she possessed magestones—indeed, if anyone other than Chet learned of it—her very life might be in danger, for it was a dark crime under the King’s law.
She shook off such thoughts and rose, going to Xain’s room. Cautiously she tapped on the door, and when she heard no reply within, she pushed it open. Xain’s bed was empty, the covers tousled, and his clothing from yesterday lay upon the floor.
“Gone,” she said, shrugging. “Off on some business as the new dean, no doubt.”
But she proved to be wrong, for Xain returned to them before they had finished eating. He stepped through the door wearing something that looked utterly foreign upon him: a full and beaming smile.
“What under the sky are you grinning about?” said Loren.
“I have a surprise for you,” said Xain. “Or rather, the Lord Prince has arranged it, and he has allowed me to present it. Come with me.”
Loren glanced at Chet, but he only shrugged. They rose, along with Gem, and followed Xain out into the hallway.
The wizard led them to a part of the palace they had rarely visited, where many of the High King’s guards were stationed, as well as a great number of Mystics. Soldiers watched them pass with great interest. Loren’s cheeks flushed as she realized that many of them were looking at her. She fought the urge to raise her hood and instead held her head high. As the Nightblade, she would have to grow used to this, she supposed.
Xain stopped at a heavy door, pausing before he opened it to ensure they were gathered behind him. He pushed it open to reveal a sort of barracks, with beds along the walls, each with a small chest at the foot. In the center of the room was a long wooden table, and around it sat several Mystics, their red hoods cast back from their faces. Loren stood in the doorway, wondering why Xain would bring her here. Then the Mystics looked up at her, and stood from their places at the table. A smile broke out on her face, wide enough to match Xain’s, and she laughed.
“Weath! Jormund!” she cried.
The Mystics came forwards to embrace her, laughing—even large Jormund, who had hardly ever said a word to her. They had met her in Brekkur when Loren was fleeing east across Underrealm, and Kal had sent them to the Seat to help deliver his message to the High King. Now they clapped her on the back and shook Chet’s hand, and Jormund even picked up little Gem, who squealed like a pup. But as she released Weath’s wrist, Loren looked past her to the other Mystics at the table. They studied her with interest, but they had not risen, and she did not recognize their faces.
“Where are Erik and Gwenyth?” said Loren.
The room fell silent. Jormund looked at her solemnly, and Weath cast her gaze to the floor. Loren’s breath caught in her throat.
“In the battle?”
“On the eastern docks,” said Weath quietly. “We pursued the armies of Dulmun there, and pressed the assault as they tried to board their ships and escape. Erik fought like a madman and killed three of them on his own. But an archer, darkness take them, fired from the stern of a ship as it fled, and the arrow pierced his heart. Gwenyth fell later, as we tried to clear the Shades from the palace.”
Loren bowed her head, blinking hard. “I wish I had been there.”
Weath put her hand on Loren’s shoulder. “Do not be sorry. From what we have heard, you were more sorely needed in the palace, and the nine kingdoms are grateful for your actions.”
She forced a smile. The other Mystics stood from the table—three of them, and none looked alike. One by one they came forwards to be introduced. First was a short, slim woman of middle years, whose narrow eyes were quick and unsmiling. She was called Shiun. There was a tall, broad youth named Uzo, whose shaved head was darker even than Annis’. He squeezed Loren’s wrist harder than he needed to, and she fought away a grimace as she tried to do the same. He smiled at that and clapped her shoulder. Gem gaped at Uzo, his mouth hanging open, and did not seem to hear when the young man offered him a hand to clasp.
The last Mystic was called Niya. Though she was only a finger or two taller than Loren, she was far more heavily muscled, so that Loren felt minuscule in her presence. Beneath a shirt of chain she had a leather jerkin with a high collar that covered her neck, but its sleeves were short, so that her thick arms were on display. She wore a secretive smirk as she approached Loren and held forth her hand. When their wrists clasped, her skin was smooth and warm, and the hairs on the back of Loren’s neck tingled.
“The Nightblade,” said Niya. “I suppose this is meant to be an honor. The High King holds you in high esteem. That is impressive indeed, for such a young woman.”
Loren’s cheeks flushed. “Not so young,” she said.
“Not too young, I suppose,” said Niya.
“Niya has been appointed the captain of our squadron,” said Weath. “She fought beside the former lord chancellor at the eastern gate, and took a wound in the battle.”
“It sounds as if you are a hero,” said Loren.
“Mayhap,” said Niya. “It was only a small cut, and it was not the High King who raised my station for it, unlike you.”
Loren realized that they had not released each other’s wrists. She did so at last, though her hand seemed reluctant to obey. “There is time yet.”
Chet eyed the woman as they shook hands. “I did not see you in the fighting,” he remarked.
The smirk she had worn for Loren vanished, and Niya raised her eyebrows. “And did you take count of every Mystic before the gate? You have a cool head for battle, it seems. What is your position, by the by? Other than bedfellow of the Nightblade, I mean.”
His jaw clenching, Chet opened his mouth to reply, but Loren barked a laugh despite herself. He turned his glare on her and held his tongue.
“Oh, come, Chet,” she chided him. “Do not be so serious. It was a joke.”
Niya grinned at Loren, and Chet forced a smile as well. “Well met, then,” he said.
“Indeed,” said Niya, and returned to her table. Gem stood there looking crestfallen, his hand still outstretched to clasp hers, but she acted as though he was not there.
The other Mystics told Loren something of themselves. Uzo was a spearman, though he was quick to explain his spear was likely not similar to the ones Loren was used to; it was short and flexible, and he used it half as a staff. Shiun was a scout, and skilled with a bow, but when she heard that Loren had been learning the Calentin style of shooting, her brows lifted, and she extracted a promise that the two of them would trade advice the next time they were in the training yard. After a time, Xain put his hand on Loren’s shoulder and gave her a smile.
“I am glad to see you reunited,” he said, “but that is not the end of the news I have for you. I did not bring you to see your friends only so you could have a happy reunion. Ammon is in need of reinforcements, and these five will come with you on the journey there.”
Loren’s eyes shot wide, and she looked at the Mystics anew. Her expression must have shown her shock, for Weath smiled, and Jormund loosed his huge, booming laugh. Shiun and Uzo gave her a polite smile—but Loren looked past them, to the table where Niya sat. The Mystic woman had not taken her eyes from Loren, and for a moment they locked gazes. Loren’s stomach did a pleasant turn, and she swallowed hard before turning away.
Her gaze met Xain’s, who still smiled at her in delight of his surprise. A grin stole across her face to match his—but then she realized that this was his parting gift. A replacement, though a shoddy one, for his own company upon the road. That thought seemed to throw a dark cloud over her joy, and her smile faltered.
Xain saw it, and his own smile grew sad in response. “There is time yet before that bitter parting,” he said quietly. “And I mean to fill it with happiness where I can. Tonight, you must let me take you out upon the Seat. We will eat and drink our fill, and pretend for a little while longer that no darkness waits beyond an ever-nearing dawn.”
LOREN RETURNED TO HER QUARTERS, along with Chet and Gem, and there Xain left them for the rest of the day. But he returned at dusk, bringing them fine clothes to wear. He handed the boys their outfits, but when he came to Loren he paused.
“I did not know which you would rather wear,” he said. “I have brought you trousers of dyed black leather, to wear with a blouse and a vest, if you wish it. That is the sort of clothing I have always seen you in. But I also have here a dress. I am not sure if it is quite your size, and I had the clothier choose the cut. I am no expert in these things you understand, and—”
“Oh, sky above, Xain,” she said, laughing at his sudden awkwardness. “Let me look at the thing.”
Xain lifted it from his arm. Loren went still at the sight of it, her breath escaping in a soft sigh. Hesitantly she reached out and took it, marveling at the feeling of the cloth between her fingertips. It was as blue as the ocean, and worked through with thin threads of sea-green in delicate patterns like tree leaves. She had never seen a fabric that shimmered just so, reflecting the torchlight when she turned it over in her hands. Its sleeves ran all the way to the wrists, where they closed with small buttons of some cream-colored stone she had never seen before.
“It is a silly thing, I know,” he said at once, looking embarrassed as he pursed his lips at it. “Most likely you do not—”
“I do not often wear dresses,” said Loren. “The last one I owned was made by my mother, and she intended for me to wear it to a dance, the very night you and I met.” She pressed the dress to herself, smiling softly at him. “I ground dirt into that dress with my heel and spat on it, for I hated her. But this one I will keep. It is beautiful.” Then she frowned. “Though I hope you do not expect me to wear it often. I could not possibly mount a horse in this thing.”
He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Of course not. And you will find little occasion for dresses in Ammon, I assure you. But I am glad you like it, regardless.”
When Chet saw her in the dress, he could not stop staring, and in the end she had to force him to continue getting dressed himself. Once they were ready, and Loren had donned her black cloak, Xain led them out of the palace and into the streets of the city, heading southwest.
Lamps burned from the corners of many buildings along the way, lending the city a cheery look despite the cut of the frigid air. The island was full of people about their business, and if there were more soldiers among the crowds than there had been a few weeks ago, still the mood was cheerful and boisterous, with much laughter, and songs that poured from nearly every tavern they passed. The rebuilding of the Seat had raised the mood of all upon it, and there was a sense in those who dwelt there that the war, if indeed it ever came, would be a short and simple affair, and no source of great trouble or worry.
Xain stopped before a tavern, and over its door Loren saw a stag painted in silver. Inside, a fire burned in the wide hearth, and the lamps along the walls strengthened its warm glow. Xain introduced them briefly to the matron, Canda, and she showed them to a table where they found well-cushioned chairs with intricate designs carved into the wood. When the food came, they found that it tasted nearly as delightful as the place looked. Seldom had Loren tasted any meat so finely spiced, even in the palace, and there were sweet roasted fruits the likes of which she had never seen before. The wine, too, was uncommonly good, and she wondered how much Xain had paid for it all. When she asked him, he shushed her with a wave of his hand.
“Tonight we are not concerned with such things,” he said. “Tonight we think only of having one last happy memory together, at least until the next time we meet.”
“Speaking of meetings,” said Gem, who had snuck himself a cup of wine when Loren was not looking, “I have had a thought recently. How in all the skeins of time did the two of you meet each other? I have never heard the tale.”
Loren blinked. She had told Chet the story, of course, but then they had spent far more time together since their reunion in Northwood. But she had never thought to tell Gem, for their journey together had consisted of one flight from danger after another.
So she settled back in her chair and told the story now, of how she had caught Xain running through the Birchwood and had begged him to take her with him. She skipped briefly over the description of her father and the reasons she wished to flee, and Gem did not press her for more details. But when she reached the part of the tale where they slept that first night on the riverbank, she scowled at Xain in mock fury and brandished her wine cup at him.
“And then this buffoon, darkness take him, abandoned me on the riverbank.”
Xain’s cheeks burned red, and he had to force a smile.
“I did. Though in my defense, I thought it would be safer for you.”
“Oh, yes, very safe,” said Loren, leaning over to Gem and muttering conspiratorially. “It only landed the constables hot on my heels, and then dropped me in the lap of Damaris of the family Yerrin, who, you will remember, has tried to kill me more than once.”
The wizard barked a laugh. “And do you think I planned for that?”
They argued over that for a bit, and then Loren went on with the story, and by the time she had come to the part where Gem entered into it, the boy was so tired that he had nearly fallen asleep in his food. He perked up at the mention of his own name, but almost immediately his head began to sag again.
Loren looked towards the door, wondering what time it was. The common room was not so full as it had been when they entered, but there were more than enough patrons to keep it open for some hours more. Her heart sank at the thought of ending their night so soon, and she looked reluctantly at Xain. He gave her a sad smile.
Then Chet stood from his chair. “It grows late, and our urchin is almost asleep where he sits. I will see him safely to the palace and leave you two be.”
Loren blinked at him. “You need not do that. I can come with you.”
“Stay,” said Chet, smiling and putting a hand on her shoulder. “You and I have all the coming journey together, and many days after that as well. But your time with Xain is nowhere near so plentiful, and should be savored. And besides, it would be a crime if you did not spend as much time in that dress as you possibly can, for I do not know when you shall get to wear it again.”
Her sight grew misty, and she wondered if she had had too much wine. “Thank you,” she murmured. Chet smiled and forced a grumbling Gem to his feet, and then walked the boy out into the night.
“He is worth more than his weight in gold, that one,” said Xain quietly. “Do not forget it.”
“I will not,” said Loren. “All our lives he has cared for me, and some time ago that care grew into a love unlike any I have seen before. I only worry that it is too much, for if his feelings for me ever caused him harm, I could not bear it.”
Xain cocked his head. “You speak as though you regret his feelings for you.”
Loren shook her head quickly. “No, of course not. How could I, when I love him as well? Only sometimes I think he sees me as more than I am.”
“Mayhap,” said Xain. “Or mayhap you see yourself as less than you are.”
She did not know what to say to that, and so they sat for a while in comfortable silence. Loren finished her cup of wine, and Xain refilled it with the rest of the bottle. They sipped gingerly, and Loren could sense the same hesitance in the wizard that she herself felt—a reluctance to move on, to see this night end and the next step in their journey begin.
It was Xain who broke the silence. “Loren, I must ask you something. Do you still carry your dagger?”
She tensed. “Yes.”
“You mean to bring it with you?” he said, studying her.
“I do. What else would I do with it?”
His eyes grew far away, staring over her shoulder. “I do not know. Once you asked me if you should throw it into the Great Bay. Mayhap you should do that now. I fear what might happen if Kal should learn that you have it. Jordel was worried enough about it, and he was a much more forgiving man. I wish I were going with you.”
