City of Blaze (The Fireblade Array) (16 page)

Her eyes widened a little. Of course, she would not yet know that she greatly outranked him in terms of experience and birth, many times over. It seemed utterly ridiculous to have a hero of legend call him ‘my lord,’ though he would have to be careful not to treat her
too
differently. Morghiad continued, “Why are all the fireplaces empty when it is so cold here?”

Artemi looked longingly at her own grating. “No one can afford to buy firewood and, even if they could, the chimneys were filled many years ago.”

Morghiad nodded and considered the problem. Firewood was cheap enough to obtain, but unblocking the chimneys would be more of a challenge. The flues from a network like this could extend for mile upon mile. He would have to consider a more inventive solution to this… inhuman situation. He rubbed at the stubble forming under his chin. He probably should have shaved before coming to see her. “I have come here to ask that you commence your duties with me as soon as possible. You must come to my rooms tomorrow. I have an afternoon free.”

Artemi’s eyebrows rose as her eyeballs bulged from her head. She struggled to keep her speech to a whisper, “Do you want everyone here to think that we are lovers? Either keep your voice down or choose your language more wisely. Captain.” She chewed her lip for a moment. “And as for visiting the cellars like this, it is something your men stopped doing very recently. I haven’t slept so well in months! Do you think this is a good example to set them?”

The kahr was taken somewhat aback by her, albeit restrained, outburst. He had not considered any of this; he was always terrible at social situations with women. It just had not occurred to him at all. “It may serve you better if they think you are... if we...” He cleared his throat. “I’d rather they thought I was... with you.”

She folded her arms in frustration. “And how this reflects upon me - did you consider that? I suppose I don’t have the right to any self-respect after your... discovery.”

Morghiad kept his voice low. “I’m sorry, Artemi. I was concerned about your absence and marched down here without a second thought. There is no reason for my concern, I trust?”

Her face softened visibly, though she kept her arms folded. “I made a commitment to help clear through the laundry from Gialdin Day. It’s taken longer than expected. It was not a commitment I could easily escape from. No one has... troubled me.”

“And what of Silar?” Morghiad felt a touch of guilt asking that question, but it had to be asked.

Artemi blinked in surprise, and it was possible her cheeks reddened slightly. It was hard to tell in the low light. “He approached me at the feast day. I spoke to him for a minute or two. There was nothing more.”

“There must not be anything more. He is a good friend and otherwise intelligent, but he is an utter fool around women.” Especially pretty ones, he thought. Perhaps if she tied her hair back it would be less noticeable, hide some of her beauty. Though doing that would only reveal more of her blasted, handsome face. Morghiad stayed as calm as he could, given his internal conflict. “You will find other passions in your life. I am sure of that, Artemi.” He hoped that sounded reassuring; it was what he had promised himself, after all.

She gave him a weak smile and huddled against the wall.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head. “I fear what is to come.” She
was
shivering.

“That is a feeling I know well. Here.” He unhooked his black cloak and put it around her shoulders. “You can give it back to me when the cellars have heating once more.”

“You think you can fix this?” Artemi pulled the thick fabric around her, savouring its warmth.

The kahr immediately felt the cold air of the underground seep through the thin fabric of his summer coat. He ought to head back to his rooms before he regretted giving away items of his clothing. “I will do what I can, my lady. It may take some time,” he warned. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded in response. Morghiad rose, gave her a bow and made his goodbyes. He was fairly sure he had memorised the route through the cellars accurately. Perhaps Artemi would come and rescue him if he wasn’t in his chambers tomorrow, or perhaps not…

Artemi’s eyes flickered open in the dim sunlight that oozed from the ceiling well. She looked down at the cloak that covered her shoulders. It was incredibly warm - made to fend off the winters of the highest Kemeni mountains. The kahr had shown appreciable kindness for a man seemingly carved from the very masonry of the castle. She ran her fingers through the soft fur lining and over the rich, green embroidery at the edge. She could not quite establish what the outer fabric was; it was incredibly light and very tough. Artemi fought off the urge to remain wrapped in its warmth and sat up on the bedroll. She folded the cloak inside her red blanket in the hope that it would be concealed from covetous eyes, and began to dress herself.

She wondered if her neighbours were gossiping about her, or if Caala suspected that she had gone against her word. It wasn’t something she could lie about, but then... how was she supposed to explain their relationship? Perhaps
friends
would suffice: a shared interest in reading had brought them together. Given the kahr’s manner and complete absence of interest in women, it was believable.

She was getting better at lacing her own bodice when Caala was not there; it was almost as tight as the other woman could tie it! One just needed to hold one’s breath for a little longer… She knotted the cords at the base of her spine, perhaps too many times, and ran a comb roughly through her hair.

Her walk through the cellars came with only half the chagrin she had imagined. A couple of the other linen girls gave her a sly wink but most kept their eyes to themselves. He had not been in her chamber long enough for them to assume much had happened, she supposed. Perhaps the gossip would not be so troublesome as she had feared. There was some time left to tackle the remains of Gialdin Day washing before her impending appointment, and she intended to do her best with it. Besides, she needed to bathe, and jumping into a spent washing barrel would be just the thing.

***

Artemi’s arms had turned pink from the sting of the soap. Of course, the skin would recover within a few seconds, but it was irritating nonetheless. She could tell from the darkening light wells in the linen room that the sun had passed its zenith at least an hour ago. It was time to attend to Kahr Morghiad. She shook the fine silk underskirt, still soaking from the water, and placed it on the drying rack. Some very fine clothing had passed through her hands today. A part of her enjoyed handling the silks and gossamer dresses, imagining how it would be if she could wear them. Earlier she had jumped into a large vat of soapy water with a couple of the other girls, chatting excitedly about the finest clothes. Her hair was just about dry from that now.

Caala had been giving her stern looks all morning, though no words had gone between them. That
had
been awkward. The woman almost glared at her, as she made her leave taking, which was more than a little uncalled-for.

Artemi stepped out of the steam-filled room, and the cave-like tunnels echoed with Artemi’s footsteps as she walked towards the captain’s chambers. The castle had taken on a much quieter nature of late, which was something Artemi relished. She stopped short at the giant moth sculpture in one of the larger corridors. Truly a hideous thing, its artist had even gone to the trouble of depicting the hairs on its back. The granite statue stood at least as tall as she did, its wings spread only partially so as to distinguish it from the beauty of a butterfly. Millennia of servants rushing past had seen the carving sustain a few chips here and there, but it still retained its imposing character.

Artemi moved on quickly, soon reaching Morghiad’s door. She raised her hand to knock, only to have the door opened before she could complete the action.

“You walk like a newly shod horse,” was the welcome from the kahr, “You ought to learn to walk like a Tegran tiger. It would serve you better.” He stood back from the entrance and waited as she proceeded past him.

Whatever was wrong with her walk? It was how she had always walked. How many different ways of putting one’s foot in front of the other could there be? She decided it would be wise to keep her silence rather than balk at his comment. He had allowed her to live, after all.

Morghiad pushed the door shut and took a seat on a desk chair, now positioned opposite the worn armchair. The new item of furniture must have been recently dragged from another area of the room. Artemi hoped he had done it with some subtlety. The kahr was not the sort of man to have visitors.

He motioned for her to sit before him, then studied her for a moment. “There are a few things I must explain to you before we begin training. Some of these things you will have heard from hearsay, some you may have read about. Some of it will be true and some of it will be nonsense.”

Artemi nodded.

“What you wield is not a part of you. It does not come from you, but through you. It will, however, take a considerable amount of your energy in controlling it. You will require a great deal of discipline given the amount of Blaze you have the potential to wield. Until you are twenty you will not be able to do this yourself. You will need me to wield it for you. When we do use Blaze it must be kept within the confines of this room, it must be a small amount and a partition must be set up. The partition will veil your wielding from the senses of any nearby kanaala. Blaze Energy is controlled by means of manipulating its shape, intensity, speed and vibration...” Morghiad continued with his list of instructions for some time. The lack of emotion or emphasis in his voice made it intensely difficult for Artemi to concentrate. She hoped that she had picked up the most important pieces of information from his preamble.

“...And that is why wielders can only bed kanaala and why women generally do not survive the birth of a kanaala,” Morghiad finished.

What had that been? She had missed the last explanation completely, and instead found herself staring instead at a band tied around the upper of his arm. She hoped that a nod and smile would suffice for her response. If he was not such a lump of rock it would be so much easier! No wonder he had never taken a lover, the man appeared utterly incapable of sentiment. That would be something she could teach in return for his lessons.

“Do you have any questions, Artemi?”

She searched the insides of her mind, hoping that what she was about to pull out had not already been explained. His green eyes burned into her, having turned from their usual grass colour to moss in the low light. She could not recall him talking of Achellon - that would do. “And what do you think of Achellon? Do you think The Blazes were really born from there?”

“Achellon may once have existed. Who can say if it still exists? As for Blaze Energy, I can sense elements of it in everything that surrounds us. It is an integral part of this world and you are a portal through which it will flow. If The Blazes came from Achellon then so did the rest of this Earth.”

Artemi felt uncomfortable at the thought of being some sort of gateway. The name ‘wielder’ had implied a far more active role than he had described. Morghiad leaned forward and took her hand, instantly sending fire down her arm, through her body and down toward the ground. The sensation was so powerful she could not control the involuntary intake of breath that resulted. How did Morghiad suppress it?

The sensation did not lessen with time either, but she found she could be carried with it, even enjoy it after a time. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly through the torrent, trying to understand it. When she opened her eyes again, the kahr was studying her face closely. It was now dark outside. How long had she sat like a blazed kefruit for?

Morghiad spoke gently. “You tried to wield your own power through me. Were you aware that you were doing that?”

“I what?I... no. I was trying to work out where I ended and you began. And trying not to get burned like a feast day’s charred carcass at the same time.”

Morghiad’s face did not alter in the slightest. “You have not done anything wrong.”

Could he read her mind when they were doing this?

The kahr continued, “But you are very... closed-off. You must not fear me or your abilities. In your current state of mind I cannot guide your power. You must trust me, relax and give in to the storm blowing through your veins.”

“Give in to it? Are you mad? It feels like it’s about to incinerate me... and you!” And the rest of the city.

“You are safe here. Trust me.”

Surely he was an idiot. An
idiot
kanaala. Artemi took a deep breath and began relaxing each of her muscles from the neck down, even though she had never been so scared of anything before. The torrent of fire in her body felt as if it were building to a great inferno that wanted to rip her limbs from her body and throw them out of the window like bits of flammable paper. She gripped Morghiad’s hand tightly and allowed the flames to consume her. Just as she thought she was about to combust into a billion tiny pieces, she felt him
do
something. He had a sort of hold over her that she could not quite explain. It was a feeling of being simultaneously held in place and let loose across a vast desert, or a mountain... or perhaps the oceans.