Page 60 of Court of Talons
Caleb grins at me. “Not one fight but two!” he announces. “Did you even see the marauders you all were after? I heard they went to ground almost immediately, but they smuggled out a stash of gold from one of the richest tents in the camp. Did you see any of them, anywhere? I can’t believe we were all so close!”
I let his words wash over me without responding, and as usual, Caleb leaps in to fill the gap. “But forget all that—you did so well in your fight today! That first hit took everyone by surprise where we were standing. Apparently, no one has ever gotten so close to Kheris’s Divh before.”
“For good reason. Its skin is toxic.” I hold my arms out, but there’s no trace of the poison on me as Nazar works to reattach the sleeves of my tunic. On my left arm, the tattoo remains fixed into the skin, but other than appearing darker to me, it’s unchanged. “Don’t ever let it touch you. You can tell that to everyone you know too.”
“But you got in close and threw it down, exposing its belly. There were some who thought you’d win at that point, but the serpent Divh is one of the most difficult to defeat in single combat. Most didn’t think you had a chance.”
I smile grimly. “Well, then at least I didn’t cost the bettors too much money.” My eyelids are suddenly heavy, and I fight to keep awake. But there’s something—something I want to know. Something I’d asked Nazar already, but it’s already slipped my mind…
“Show her what you found in your pockets, Caleb.”
“Oh!” Caleb says with such force that my eyes flare open. “These—here.”
He sticks his hands in the pockets of his breeches and pulls forth a fistful of flower petals, the deep midnight and white of the mountain flowers Gent showed me. “Nazar says they were at your feet as well, but I couldn’t see, and he told me to stop asking about them almost as soon as I started.” He looks down at the petals, then strides over and dumps them beside me on the pallet. “They just appeared.”
“When?” I pick up a delicate petal and turn it over in my hand. It’s dark blue from the tip to almost the base, with a burst of white leading down to the stem. Others are white with a burst of blue, and I paw through the small pile absently, wondering at their silken touch against my fingers.
“At the end, when you and Gent reached for each other. I felt something brush against my legs, and I swiped at my pockets out of habit, thinking they were being picked. Instead, these were there.”
“They appeared in my belted pouch as well,” Nazar says. He’s retired to the other side of the room, his long pipe now glowing in the dim light. Smoke wafts around him, thick and redolent. “Not too many. A handful.”
“The boy…” I murmur sleepily. “The boy in the stands. He had them too.”
“Well, no one else did,” Caleb says emphatically. “Otherwise, there would have been a stampede. That’s some kind ofmagic.”
“Well, obviously.” I quirk a brow at him. “The Divh are magic.”
“But that’s magic we know. This…” He points to the flower petals. “This is something else. Something different.”
I smile a bit, thinking of the picture in Gent’s mind, in my mind, of the flowers silhouetted against the sun-brightened sea. “I think they were intended to make me feel better, is all. Gent will heal, but he was surprised I was hurt.”
“Rest, Merritt.” Nazar stands abruptly, as if eager to be away. “There is a victory feast for Kheris tonight, and we should be present to do him honor. No one will expect you to make an appearance so soon.” He gestures. “Drink the water before you become thirsty. You’ll heal more quickly.”
“I’m really?—”
“Rest.” Then he and Caleb are gone.
I drift for several hours, and when I wake, it’s full dark outside. I’m still alone in the barracks. The courtyard of the First House isn’t silent, though, as the sound of high-pitched laughter carries to me on the breeze. I sit up, testing my balance, and find my head clear. Even my shoulder no longer aches, for which I give up a prayer of thanks to the Light.
Sitting in the darkened room, my mind immediately returns to the marauder attack, the wounded woman, the well. What was beneath that well, that she wanted—that all of them wanted to escape there? Some sort of ancient, unused aqueduct, heading out into the marsh? And there were four—no, six women in that one place alone, coming out of the encampment. Was their entire group female? How had they survived without being found out?
With a wry smile, I recognize the irony of this last question, given that I am masquerading as a warrior in a far more public arena. But I can’t stay focused on the mysterious women for long. I stand and pull on one of Nazar’s long robes, belting it in place to keep it from dragging the ground. The idea of fresh air and the sound of laughter tugs at me, and I move down the silent corridor, all the cubbies empty of warrior knights and their retainers. When I enter the courtyard, I glance up at the lit-up windows of the First House. I can hear the music filtering through them, but the laughter I heard was much closer, and I swing around to see where it came from.
Women stand at a small well with large stone jars. One by one, they lower the jars into the well. These are the house servants, tasked with replenishing the carafes and jugs throughout the castle, and they don’t notice me as I sidle closer. Their laughter heals a part of me I’d not thought injured. How long has it been since I’ve eavesdropped on the casual conversation of my peers? It feels like forever.
And these womenaremy peers, as much as the nobles are above. Far more so, even, given the life I’ve led. Certainly more so than the fierce women I encountered on the edge of Trilion, at least for the moment.
For the moment…but not for long, I resolve.
I edge closer to where the servants have shed their outer wraps in the warm night air. Within the castle, they will always be hidden in those hooded wraps, their hair tucked back from their faces, their bodies covered from their necks to their toes. The wraps aren’t shapeless sacks, but they’re modest and distinctive, patterned in bold gold and black, with a fringe of delicate gold chains falling from the crowns of their deep hoods. Beneath them, the women wear long kirtles over their shifts, their sleeves rolled up to free their hands for their work.
“He was sweet and shy, he was,” insists one of them now. “Stumbled all over himself, shocked I was there to bathe him.”
Another snorts. “I’ll take him next, then. The Third House warriors took my presence as their due, and they’re all bigger’n the monsters they’re banded to, you ask me. Twice as rude too.”
That brings more laughter, and the talk runs round the group—most all of it about the men. Who’s handsome, who’s not, who’s cruel or frightening. As I’m beginning to fear I’ll be discussed next, one woman pokes her mate. “The Lord Protector had you in his chambers for longer than any of us, this morning. Are you hurt?”
The woman shrugs. She’s older, her face lined in the moonlight, her mouth thin. “It was nothing as bad as you’re thinking. He wanted me to take on the care of the beast below.”