A Hollow Mountain (The Brightest Shadow Book 2), page 35
Yet she didn't have a choice. Gradually she convinced herself that it was only pride standing in her way. The simple truth was that she had to succeed in this assignment and she couldn't do so alone. She needed to use every tool she possessed.
Celivia tucked the voidlink away and dropped from her perch, catching a branch on the way down so as not to land too heavily. Instead she caught Ghasfik's gaze and jerked her head to indicate that he should follow. When they stepped a short distance from camp, she turned to him.
"If the band enters combat like this, they'll kill themselves. They need to finish basic training first."
"I understand, Kaen, but..."
"We're returning to Sotfaal. Once there, I intend to pay some of the fort's sein trainers to force them to focus. But I'll need your help too, Ghasfik. Whether it's meditation or the Fist of Caor, you need to force their teeth to the grindstone. Do you understand?"
"I'll do the best I can, Kaen." He saluted respectfully, and she knew that he would. Unfortunately, one's best was often not enough.
Though she remained alongside them as they returned, ready for any raider ambushes, Celivia drifted along at the edges of the band without interacting. When they finally came within a day's travel of Sotfaal, she felt only relief and made the training arrangements quickly. She explained to Ghasfik that she was going to find reinforcements while they trained, then snapped her voidlink.
On the other end of the twisting path, she found herself standing in the familiar chamber. When she emerged, she saw a portly Voidwalker behind a desk give her an odd look. He would do as well as any of them.
"Excuse me, but I need to speak to Voidwalker Unila."
"She's out, so you'll have to wait. Possibly forever, unless you have permission for this."
"My name is Celivia. I should be in your records."
The Voidwalker leaned to examine a board beneath his desk, peering at a strip of paper with spidery text. "Hmm, yes. Band leader Celivia? It seems she did say that you could contact her, so we will make the connection when possible."
"Thank you, Naen. I-"
"There is actually a message waiting for you, Naena. A Lieutenant Jeraeli said that if you came here, you were to be invited to dinner. Unless you have other arrangements...?"
Celivia found herself smiling. That solved the problem of where she would stay while waiting, but more importantly it made her feel welcomed in a way she hadn't in days. She left a simple message for Unila, outlining where she hoped to go, then followed the directions she was given.
Those led her outside the town itself, to a vast staging ground. Since it was mostly empty, her gaze was immediately drawn to the neat set of tents on one side. That must be Jeraeli's company, eighty men or perhaps a full 81 if she wasn't counted among them. When she approached the men looked up in surprise, but one of them hurried to a tent that was far larger and more elaborate than the others.
When Jeraeli emerged from her tent, all the nearby soldiers dropped into a kneeling salute. She was draped in clothing that resembled combat robes in the way a palace resembled a dilapidated shack. Though not as ornate as the clothing she usually wore, and showing little skin, they had been so closely tailored to her that it didn't matter. Her armored belt was made from silver and adorned her waist more than it protected her body. As she swept forward, clearly superior to everyone in the camp, Celivia understood why her soldiers acted so deferential.
"Celivia!" Jeraeli greeted her warmly, immediately clasping her arm and leading her away from the camp. "I'm so glad that you caught me. As long as our preparations take, we might have been gone if you'd come just a few days later."
"Where are you assigned?" Celivia glanced back at the camp as they walked away from it, but could not determine anything except that they were ready to march.
"That's the strangest thing: I've been reassigned. We never even made it to my previous assignment!" Jeraeli shook her head with a strange smile. "The key to advancement here is politics. You've heard it before, but you don't understand how true it is. I've accomplished only a little, but by making friends with the right people, I've received an... unofficial promotion, shall we say."
"Unofficial?"
"Though I'm still a lieutenant, my company is no longer stationed within the cohort of that dull captain. Instead we operate independently... much like your band, yes? The two of us are on the same path again!"
Looking back at the well-organized company, the soldiers worshiping the ground Jeraeli trod, Celivia felt as though they could not be further apart. But Jeraeli rising in the ranks could only be beneficial to Wahleen, so she managed an honest smile as she listened to the other woman.
"More importantly, I've received proper support. Each company is supposed to have a healer, but we didn't have one until now. And even though many don't have a Catai, one was reassigned to us!" Jeraeli let out an exaggerated sigh. "He's a dumb brute, but it always intimidates the humans to see someone smash their armor with his fists."
"I'm glad for you, but I still don't know where you're being reassigned."
"That is actually something of a secret, but I feel confident in telling you." Jeraeli squeezed her arm to pull her closer, whispering theatrically despite their distance from anyone else. "There have been rumors of a hero along the Oestiid River. We're being sent to the border of Wahleen to investigate the situation."
Celivia frowned, struggling to remember the maps she had seen. "Wouldn't that put all of Portant in between you and the rumors?"
"Yes, but it's a narrow country, and with all the confusion on the border... we might just be able to slip past. Perhaps the assignment will prove a complete waste of time, but the Zeitai seems very interested in this human hero. If we do discover something, I would be a strong candidate for a true promotion... and more importantly, step much closer to the Zeitai himself."
"Be careful, Jeraeli. If the Hero is really there... he can make things difficult."
"Oh, that's right." Jeraeli finally let go of her arm, instead turning to face her and clasping her hands. "You have so much experience with this... why don't you leave your assignment and join us?"
"Leave my assignment?" Celivia drew back slightly, though the other woman had her hands clasped too tightly to pull free. "Is that possible?"
"It's all too frequent, when the Zeitai gives unfair assignments. Yes, it would not be the best for you, but imagine if you could play a key role in this hero affair! That would completely erase any shame, and both of us could advance together!"
"Perhaps that could work."
Though Celivia smiled, she knew that the option was no longer available to her. She had already snapped her voidlink, effectively betting everything on finding a way to accomplish her assignment quickly. Even if she did assist Jeraeli, all her wasted time would reflect too poorly on her. The only way forward was victory over the Coldsteps.
For now, that meant taking Jeraeli's arm and waiting for the Voidwalkers.
Chapter 26
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"To prevent over-hunting, the killing of animals for their pelts will now be severely restricted, on the order of the Zeitai. Fur manufacturers will now be required to demonstrate that their furs originate with licensed hunters. Fringes and collars will not be managed beyond this, but garments using whole foxes, wolves, and predatory feline pelts will now be subject to a tax at the point of purchase."
- proclamation from Castle Wahles
-
Though Natala pretended to be awed by the world around her, it required minimal pretending, as her intellectual awareness of features such as deserts and rivers had surprisingly little to do with her personal experience of them. She had seen mountain streams, some of them quite large, but the fact that she'd accurately predicted how much wider and more powerful a river would be did little to prepare her for the experience of sailing along it.
How was she supposed to behave, encountering so many new things? She began with the reactions of the Bloodskin warriors to determine what should be most notable to her, then modulated her responses accordingly. Where they reacted with fear or suspicion, she adopted an expression of wonder.
All that required was shifting her response from true fascination, which she knew would attract a negative reaction, to simulated awe. She adapted many of her reactions from Laeri, who regularly expressed wonder over mundane objects they encountered. When they had encountered a merchant who sold a particular food loaf that Laeri enjoyed, she had nearly been in tears. Natala chose not to use that reaction.
For most of their journey, she stood near the edge of their ship, out of the way of the workers, and observed the world. What had once been her world was now only a thin line of mountains behind her. That realization should not have impacted her, yet she found it returning to her thoughts frequently.
Simply reaching the edge of the mountains had expanded her experiences considerably, and now she gazed out over endless expanses. In some places only a thin green line of plants huddled near the water, while in others they extended much further before giving way to the rocky sands of the Sotunn Desert. She had asked about the limits of the growth, but no one had been able to explain the exact rules the plants followed.
Beyond that, she found the desert itself more fascinating. Rocks gave way to rolling dunes that formed patterns that Slaten had suggested were caused by wind. According to the others, a few nomads made their way through the desert, and particularly brave raiders even attempted to attack merchant ships traveling up the river with fresh supplies. The idea of trying to coordinate such a journey fascinated her.
"Isn't this horribly dull?" Laeri flopped down against the side of the ship and stared out blankly. "There's just sand, and sand, and sand..."
"Yes, it's so tedious." Natala shifted beside her, carefully ensuring their arms just touched. "When I left the Bloodskin village, I had expected to see more... wonder, I suppose."
"Oh, but you will!" Laeri abruptly turned to her, clasping her arm. "There are so many wonderful things to see, just in the parts of the world I've already experienced! I'm sure that once we leave the desert, you'll see many wonders!"
"Thank you, Laeri." Natala pulled the other woman close, but when one of the men ambled past, she pulled back. Laeri noted her hesitance around them, which helped cover over any slight discrepancies between roles. Though astonishingly naive, Laeri was not a stupid woman.
"Just... just keep moving forward." Laeri patted her hand encouragingly, but her eyes made it obvious that she needed the encouragement herself.
When they had left most Bloodskin women behind in the village, Laeri had held out hope that Melal would look toward her again. It had required no great insight for Natala to discover this: the other woman had explicitly told her, uninvited, multiple times. The fact that he instead seemed to drift into apathy left her crushed again, which Natala didn't understand well enough to assist in any way.
As she stepped away from the rail, Natala realized that Patule had approached without her knowledge and noted his scowl, several degrees beyond its customary position. "Look how happy you are, leaving your people behind."
"Isn't that what you're doing too?" She slowed the speed of her response and kept her expression neutral, only walking near the edge of any emotion. Patule was unlikely to harm her, but he was no fool and needed to be treated carefully.
"Chief Bufogu permitted this expedition!"
"But he wasn't happy about it, was he?" Natala presented him with a slightly mischievous smile, not mocking him, just enough to make him think her a silly girl. "I think he's going to care more about how many of his warriors follow the Hero than about if I have a bit of fun."
Patule grunted. "Maybe we're better off without you." He pushed past her, heading down the ship, leaving her free with her previous smile fixed on her face.
Of course, the ship was too small for anyone to have much space, so Natala needed to weave her way around other men to reach the door to the hold. She noted that Melal lay just beside the entrance, his arms behind his head as he stared skyward. Pretending not to see, she attempted to walk past him, but she underestimated the required speed.
"Not bad." When she was several steps into the hold, Melal reached out and grabbed her thigh. She feigned a surprised gasp and flinched, enough to escape his grasp. He didn't seem to care, watching her hungrily. "Without all those cloths all over you, I can understand what Slaten sees in you. You should wear even fewer."
"Oh, don't say that, you flatterer! It's too hot for so many clothes." Natala shook her head in a show of regret fueled by some of the real thing. The lowlands were more comfortable, but only in certain ways.
"Is that where you're going now? Slaten is moping down there, isn't he?"
Natala raised a finger to her lips, but smiled as if she couldn't help it. "Ssh, don't tell!"
Melal only laughed and leaned back again. Natala kept the smile on her face until she stepped below, the shadows indicating that no one could see her face. Then she dropped all expression.
When she'd first seen the ship, she had predicted the hold would be be much larger, but as she had learned from one of the sailors, even the largest ships capable of sailing a river struggled with space. This hold didn't have enough height to stand, and much of the floor was filled with the vessel's supplies. Amid the filth and stink, Slaten sat against several crates, eyes closed, breathing evenly.
He opened his eyes, saw her expression, and didn't flinch. Simply watched. Natala crouched forward until she could sit down beside him.
"Melal saw me enter, so we may have some privacy."
"Or the opposite." Slaten glanced upward. "We need to be quiet in case anyone tries to watch."
"You can be alleviating my fears." Natala slid a bit closer to lean her head against his shoulder; it would have sold the deception better to sit in his lap, but she recognized the same hunger in him that she saw in other men. She noted his frustration and did what she could not to exacerbate it. "How goes your training?"
"Not well." He lifted one hand and tightened it into a fist, observing it with a scrutiny she found almost familiar. "As much as I have learned about the Bloodskin arts, something eludes me. I even risked speaking to some of the other warriors, but I don't think they fully understand their own technique. Not consciously."
Natala thought that his self-evaluation was too modest, or at least evaluating by the wrong standard. He had comprehended the arts nearly as quickly as she had, and his practice of them had surpassed hers. By her judgment, his body was currently the equal of most of the village's men, his muscles were simply leaner, devoted toward his own practices of swordplay.
The speed at which his strength had surpassed hers gave her slight pause. After she had learned to apply her mind to sein, she had expected it to fall into place with the ease of everything else. Instead she discovered that it was not as similar as applying general strategic observations from Neyet to Yenith. Instead, the sein or bodily arts were a wholly separate discipline against which her mind could find only limited purchase.
Her thoughts passed in a fraction of a heartbeat, yet Slaten noticed the pause, his gaze turning toward her. Best to change the subject. "I know that a woman's mind is liable to collapse if it faces any complexity, but what did you men decide at the meeting last night?" For once, it had not been possible to eavesdrop, as the close quarters created a crowd of listeners.
"Melal thinks that we need to leave the river long before it travels west into Espal. The sailors argued over several different destinations, but Melal liked the sound of a town called Torgaadi. Apparently it lies some distance east of the river, in Portant."
"And he simply liked the name? The way he didn't like Thenno?"
"I'm not convinced that it's random." Slaten leaned back and closed his eyes. "You recall that ship we passed yesterday?"
"That's an unnecessary question."
"I suppose it is, sorry. But when the sailors traded news, they heard some rumors that the Deathspawn were searching the western side of the continent. It seems they're focusing on the largest cities, asking for news of the Hero. So it's possible that they already had someone waiting in Thenno who might have noticed us."
"And there won't be anyone in this Torgaadi?"
Slaten shrugged the way he often did when it came to Melal. "One can hope."
Though given ample observation time aboard the ship, Natala had yet to reach a definitive conclusion on Melal. At many times, he seemed like an unremarkable man, less cunning than Chief Bufogu, lacking in many notable qualities, and only somewhat prone to violence.
In other moments, he stared over the horizon with his eyes bright and his voice changed. Though Natala applied herself to every individual detail of his appearance, expression, stance, and tone, she failed to identify anything precisely that had changed. But in those moments, he seemed beyond her in a way that she could not articulate.
According to Slaten, many were drawn to him at those times. Natala consistently recoiled.
The relationship between Slaten and the Hero still eluded her grasp. She noted hints of fear in Slaten, but his fear was old and weary. When other men saw Melal, they seemed to feel inspiration, or anger if he worked against them. At those times, Slaten stood blank, emptier than she had ever been. He was not like the Bloodskin men, pulled along with no choice, yet he seemed driven to follow by something within him.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked. Natala displayed a lazy shrug.
"I'm trying to imagine how the Bloodskin men will cope when we reach Portant. Do you think Melal can keep them under control?"
"I'm not sure." As Slaten answered, however, she could see that he didn't fully believe her. It hadn't been technically a lie, since part of her mind was considering it, but... no, it had been deception.
