Dragonoak (39 page)

Tales of
Kondo-Kana were best saved until we were alone.

Distracted by dragons and our destination alike, Claire
stared straight ahead as she went, and I thought it best to let her
focus. I wasn't certain whether offering my arm out to her would've
been a slight, and so I kept my hands buried in my pockets,
settling on enjoying her company for a distance of a few inches. A
building emptied just in time for us to pass it, and children
poured out, running into their guardians' arms on the other side of
the street. The resistance had set up schools, it seemed, and one
child almost ran straight into Claire's legs.

I
grabbed him by his shoulders, gently easing him to the side, and
when he looked up at Claire, he let out a startled cry. Claire
blinked at him, and the boy's father ran over, apologetically
taking the child into his arms.

“There,
there. It's only Marshal Ightham, lad. She keeps us safe,” the man
said, patting his son's head. “Awfully sorry about that. You know
how kids get.”

Claire
nodded sharply, walking faster past the school.

“... I
don't often leave the tower,” she said dryly.

“I know
how that feels. When I started glowing, I couldn't go out for
almost a month,” I said, “I thought I'd be inside
forever.”

“And yet
you seem perfectly capable of controlling it now and wandering
unnoticed whenever you please,” Claire said, words rushing out of
her. Hearing her speak so bluntly caused my shoulders to rise to my
ears, and after a moment, she said, “... I apologise. I am merely
bitter. I know nothing of what you've been through.”

“No, no.
I shouldn't have compared our situations,” I said, doing my best to
smile.

It had
unfolded and been resolved within a minute, but I found Claire's
gaze wandering as we went, as though this part of Orinhal was new
to her, as well. The number of cabins thinned, replaced by
storehouses, and at the very end of the street, by a gate leading
out of Orinhal, stood a stable.

“Go
ahead,” Claire said, sweeping a hand out towards it.

I
remained where I was, hoping she'd give me another hint, but all I
got was an expectant look. Cautiously stepping away from her, I
went on ahead and into the stable, and peered at the mostly empty
pens. The soldiers' horses were stabled elsewhere, outside of the
city itself, and when Claire didn't catch up to me immediately, I
said, “Er—hello?” and felt foolish for doing so.

No
sooner was the word out of my mouth than I heard a familiar
whinny.

Spinning
around, I caught sight of Charley in the back of the stable,
stomping his front hooves against the floor. Narrowly avoiding a
wooden pillar on my way over, I flung myself against the front of
his pen, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. He continued to
whinny and neigh, seemingly trying to knock the door open, and I
buried my face in the side of his neck, laughing fondly.

“Charley! Oh, I missed you so much,” I said, mussing his
mane. “I didn't think I'd see you again!”

I leant
back and he knocked his head against my chest, ears twitching when
I scratched behind them.

“Claire
brought you all the way here, did she?” I asked as I heard her
slow, heavy footsteps behind me.

“You'll
have to thank Kidira for that, actually,” Claire said, making her
way over to us. She patted the side of Charley's head and he
stepped back, rushing forward to nudge his nose against me,
thinking Claire had somehow failed to realise I was there. “She
took the first horse she came across, when it became clear that the
castle couldn't be held. I kept Charley with me, thinking you would
want that.”

“I'm
glad you had each other,” I assured her, fussing endlessly over
him.

I turned
to her, smiling as brightly as I wish I had when I found her in the
tower. If I only knew where I stood, I would've kissed her. But I
couldn't risk it. I didn't know where the lines had been drawn and
whether or not I was allowed to cross them.

He
hadn't changed, hadn't been lost without me. All he knew was that
I'd been gone and it'd taken a while for me to return; for once, I
didn't have to strain to make sense of the situation. I was nothing
short of happy, and he was the same, endlessly nuzzling me,
shuffling on the spot in surprise.

I
could've stayed there all day with him, but I saw Claire grimace
from the corner of my eye and knew she'd been on her feet for too
long.

“I'll be back in a bit, alright?” I said to Charley, and he
whinnied indignantly. “Oh,
shush.
I'll bring carrots with me. You'll have nothing
to whine about then.”

“It's
fine,” Claire said. “I can make my way back on my own.”

“I know that,” I said, offering out my arm. “But I'd like to
walk with you. I know, I know, I'm probably saying too much, and
there's so much I'm probably
not
saying, but honestly, I just want to talk to you,
Claire. Please. Please put up with me a little more.”

Claire
glanced down at my arm, weighing her options, and with a flicker of
a smile said, “You needn't make it sound like a chore.”

We went
back through the town arm in arm, and while I didn't act as a
support for her, I was there, in case she needed me. Pain was
running up and down her leg, running into the rivets left behind by
breaks, and without a word, without looking at her, I drew it out
of her, feeling a sickly reflection of it settle beneath my shin
and thigh for half a moment. She raised her brow, said nothing of
it, and pulled me a little closer.

Our
journey back to the tower wasn't a swift one by any stretch of the
imagination, but the moment we were stood before it, I wanted to
turn back, to keep walking in another direction. I was selfish;
Claire had already put more strain on her leg than she should've,
but I wanted to keep her by my side.

“It
would appear my break was far too long,” Claire said, sighing. A
queue had formed around the tower, made up of soldiers and citizens
alike, some of them impatiently trying to peer through windows. “If
it isn't Agados and Rylan then it's a missing sack of potatoes; it
never ends.”

“Sorry,”
I said, letting her reclaim her arm. “Sort of. I'm glad I got to
see you.”

At the
sight of Claire, those standing closest to the tower door
straightened, clearing their throats and silently mouthing whatever
requests they'd built up the courage to make.

“Indeed,” she said, pausing. “Sen is in the habit of bringing
me dinner each night at eight o'clock, and she's yet to adjust to
human portions. I expect to be working late tonight, but should you
wish to join me some other time...”

“I'll be
there!” I told her, beaming.

“Only if
you wish to. Don't feel you're obligated to keep me
company.”

“Stop
making it sound like a chore,” I said. “I'll be there! Eight
o'clock, tomorrow night.”

Claire
left with a nod of her head, and I watched her make her way back to
the tower. People rushed to hold the door open for her, greeting
her warmly; they respected her, trusted her. The citizens of
Orinhal knew who was keeping them safe, knew she had been fighting
for Kastelir in her own way, as the rebels once had.

Not
forgetting my promise to Charley, I went out in search of a market.
There were still a few coins in my pocket, given to me by Atthis
for the journey to Orinhal. Certainly more than enough for a sack
of apology-carrots. I didn't have to go far: there was no
designated area where market was to be held. Instead, the
Orinhalians had taken it upon themselves to sell their wares down
residential streets, and anywhere they could set down a stall and
raise their voice.

A group
of children running errands for their parents queued in front of
me, holding an empty sack between them. This was all par for the
course of an average day, and the woman selling vegetables seemed
to be on a first-name basis with all those who came to barter with
her. The children ran off with their turnips and well-wishes for
their parents, and the woman stared up at me from her low stall,
trying to place my face.

“I'm
new,” I said, smiling. I held out a handful of coins and said, “I
only need a few carrots.”

The
woman scowled at the silver pieces, shaking her head.

“That
ain't gonna be much use to us here. Not got anything worth trading
for?” she asked, and I shook my head apologetically. “... say.
Didn't I see you walking around with the Marshal a little while
ago?”

“You
did! That was me,” I hurried to reassure her. “We were friends
before... before everything.”

The
woman hummed in understanding.

“Back
from the dead, eh?”

“Something like that.”

The
woman held her hand out, gesturing for me to drop the coins into
her palm.

“There's
a bunch of fools who sometimes go sneaking off to the cities that
haven't been burnt to a crisp. Suppose this'll help them out some.
Here, take what you need,” the woman said, tilting her head towards
the carrots. I grabbed half a dozen by the stems, and the woman
said firmly, but not unkindly, “You'd best be finding a way to make
yourself useful. Though the Marshal will be finding you something
to do, no doubt.”

“I want
to work on the farm. On one of the farms, anyway. Do you know who I
should talk to?”

“Head
out into one of the fields and talk to whoever looks like they know
what they're doing. Can always do with more hands down there.
Plenty of mouths to feed, and all.”

I
thanked her for her help, and not wanting to hold the queue up any
more, hurried off. I spent the next few hours with Charley, feeding
him carrots that wouldn't make up for a two year absence but were
certainly a start, telling him more than I'd been able to tell
Claire. He listened intently, knowing he'd be rewarded for his
patience, and I leant back on a hay bale, mulling over how much I
already had to tell Kouris.

If she
was moving alone, it wouldn't take her much more than another week
to get here. I'd have a better grasp on things, by then.

Bidding
Charley goodbye, I left for the fields a little before dusk.
Hundreds of people were out there, all hard at work, and after
being asked if I was just going to stand there gawking, I had the
chance to explain that I wanted to help out. I told an important
looking man that I'd grown up on a farm and knew what I was doing,
and he said that if I came back at sunrise tomorrow, he'd find me
some work that wasn't too hopelessly mind-numbing.

Feeling
better for knowing I could make myself useful, I headed back to
Goblin and Ghost's, smiling at the prospect of getting to see
Claire tomorrow. She'd been right; so long as we didn't force
ourselves to say too much too quickly, it'd all work
out.

Akela
was nowhere to be found, but she'd built one of the beds. I assumed
it was mine, for my bag had been placed neatly atop the make-shift
mattress, and I fell onto it, knowing I'd have to take Claire's
things to her tomorrow. I'd have to explain that I thought I had
some right to not only collect her things, but to go through them,
to decide what I'd take along with me as though they were
mine.

Groaning, I scrubbed at my face, willing myself to focus on
far more pressing things, like the fact that hunger was gnawing
within me. I got as far as the bedroom door, fingers around the
handle, when I heard the front door slam shut, raised voices
filling the corridor.

“It's not the fact that we have
guests
that's the problem, Galal.
Surely you know I've no problem with the Commander staying with us.
It's just...” Ghost muttered, followed by two thuds as he kicked
his boots off.

“This again? Really, now? She
saved
you, you must realise that,”
Goblin objected.

“I didn't
ask
anyone to take me away from... from...” Ghost trailed off,
drawing in a deep breath. “Some days I feel as though what I saw in
the Forest Within was better than all this, and I can't even
remember
it without
straining my mind. It isn't right. Being taken from all that, being
made to feel as though...”

“You don't
mean
that,” Goblin said sternly, “You aren't the only one who
feels as you do, and it has nothing to do with the fact that you
were brought back. All of us are doing our best to get through each
day with a smile, because it's all we
can
do in a world like
this.”

I backed
away from the door, not wanting to hear any more. I'd already taken
in far more than I ought to have, and I fell back on the bed,
hunger forgotten. This wasn't my village, but it wasn't Canth,
either; once more, I had to hide what I was, and far too many
people already knew the truth.

As I
laid there, staring at the ceiling, I moved a hand beneath my
shirt, fingers pressing to all the ridges Katja had left across me,
had made a part of me, and wondered why I always had to bring out
the worst in people.