Full-Blood Half-Breed (13 page)

Fox the Runt had never been welcomed anywhere, certainly not with the enthusiasm shown by Tinashe and the other Santosians. They listened with sincere interest as he spoke of his life, the ill treatment he had suffered from his family and neighbors in the Nordländer, the perils he had faced during his pilgrimage to the city of opportunity in the Reinos del Oeste, his time as Turd Nanny at Temple Seisakusha. He even told them of the unprovoked attack he suffered while walking to the temple, though he left out the bit about slitting the highborn girl’s throat. Still, he spoke more of himself in those few minutes than he had the entire sixteen years prior, all the while smiling so hard his face ached.

He should have known it was too good a thing to last.

A commotion at the back of the sanctuary startled him. He turned toward it. Several pews had been knocked over by a large Nord dressed in leather and furs. The big man glared at him, his pale face twisted in disgust. Apparently not all Santosians were as capable of the unconditional love Tinashe and the others had shown. The Nord pointed at him, bellowing, “
Du! Komm hier!
Come here!”

Fox the Runt returned the Nord’s angry glare but had no intention of heeding his summons. He relaxed into a defensive stance, convinced the Nord was looking for a fight. Such was the way with his people. Most of his life Nords had abused him because of his size. Always they sought to punish him for something he had no control over. It saddened and angered him that even here, in this sacred place where The One God welcomed him, his fellow Nords would not.

The Nord came straight for him, pushing a path through the Santosians, as determined as a rockslide. He loomed over him, thin lips twisted in distaste. Fox the Runt chose three vulnerable targets on the Nord’s massive body, the throat, the knee, and the groin, and waited. Should the Nord instigate violence, Fox the Runt would incapacitate him. He would try not to
kill the big man, but he would not try too hard. He did not want to offend Pía or the other Santosians by spilling blood in their holy place, but he would be damned before he allowed another Nord to bully him. Not here, now, or anywhere ever. Those days were long behind him.

The towering Nord growled at him in Nordzunge,
“Willkommen, Bruder! Willkommen in der Kirche der ein Gott!”

It had been a few years since Fox the Runt had heard the old language of his people spoken. For a moment he wasn’t sure if he had heard the Nord correctly. And then the Nord’s grim expression changed. The corners of his thin lips twitched and gave way to a smile. The big man laughed and held his arms wide as if to embrace him. “Do you not speak Nordzunge? I said, ‘Welcome, brother! Welcome to the house of The One God, Fearless One!’ ”

Tinashe whispered, “Karl greets all Nords similarly. He thinks it is funny.”

Fox the Runt understood the Nord’s humor on a detached, purely intellectual level, but he took no joy in it, not at first. His mistrust of Nords went too deep. Still, it was hard to be angry with someone so cordial and warm. Karl bubbled over with friendliness. Fox the Runt exhaled the tension from his body and went to shake the Nord’s hand; Karl wrapped him in a hug and yanked him off his feet, laughing. The embrace made his hip wound ache, but he ignored it. He would never show weakness before another Nord. “I am Karl von Whitewolf of Kalterhund’s Line in Kristallspitzen.”

“Zwergfuchs,” Fox the Runt said as Karl lowered him gently to the floor, “Von Hammerhead of Großemänner’s Line. Kalteströme.”

Karl frowned. “Zwergfuchs? Surely this is not your true name. What is your given name?”

“Zwergfuchs is the only name I was given. Though most call me by the Alltongue, Fox the Runt.”

“This is no good!” Karl said, “I will call you Fuchs.
Ja
, by your leave, I will call you Fox. Is good?”

He liked Karl, Nord or no. “
Ja
. It is very good, Karl.”

“It warms my heart to see my fellow Nords accept the Prophet,” Karl said. “The One God’s truth is strong enough to penetrate even our thick skulls,
ja
?”

Fox the Runt laughed, and then mused on how rare it was that he did so. He enjoyed speaking with Karl and the other Santosians, but he had come for Pía, and he wondered what kept her while Karl shared a bit of his history. Fox the Runt paid attention as best he could, but his gaze kept listing to the back of the sanctuary, searching for Pía. He began to worry. Did she not want to see him after all? He fretted as Karl spoke of how he had come to Santuario del Guerrero for the Torneo, and found The One God’s truth the very day he arrived.

“Are you competing?” Fox the Runt asked.

Karl shook his head. “
Nein
. I cannot. My
bruder
, Jürgen, is a Red Cloak. Red Cloak kin are forbidden to compete. Conflicting interests.”

Fox the Runt nodded. “I suppose it would be hard to be impartial toward your family.”

The Red Cloaks were respected Healers. During Torneo, one from each kingdom was chosen to treat injuries and keep fatalities to a minimum. They also acted as judges, officials, and referees, settling any disputes amongst Torneo competitors.

“And you, Fox?” Karl said. “Will you compete this year?”

He nodded.

Karl smiled and looked him over. “Ashi-Kobushi trained?”

“Ja.”

Karl laughed. “This is good! Because we are big, we Nords often underestimate little bushi. I have seen many little bushi knock big Nords on their
arsches
.”

Fox the Runt laughed. Karl was funny, good-natured, and surprisingly clever for a Nord. He had not judged Fox the Runt because of his size, but actually embraced him as a brother. He could not recall the last time he had so enjoyed the company of a Nord.

Then he saw Pía.

She seemed to float toward him, dressed in the white robes and scarlet sash of an Adept on the verge of being raised to full Santosian priestess. She did not smile nor meet his gaze. Her eyes flitted here and there as if she were nervous, embarrassed that he had come asking for her. But that could not be. She had invited him. Had she not believed he would answer her invitation?

Karl said something, but Fox the Runt was too captivated by Pía to hear it. Karl laughed. “We will talk later, Fox. I think you have important things to discuss with the fräulein.”

Karl and the other Santosians left him alone with Pía. She took his hands into her own. “Welcome, Señor Zwergfuchs.
Adanedi nihi galvquodi-adanvdo gvdodi Adelohosgi
.”

The words came easily to his lips, and a surge of joy accompanied them, “
Ayv galvquodi-adanvdo udotsali Adelohosgi
, Pía. I give my soul to the Prophet.”

She embraced him, but it was hesitant, clumsy, and uncertain. Though he knew the hug was only of fellowship and welcome, he held her tight, not bothering to disguise his passion for her, his want.

Pía pulled away, still holding him by the shoulders, but keeping him at arm’s length. “I am so happy you decided to come here, Señor Zwergfuchs.”

“As am I, Sister.”

“You will learn much of The One God’s truth tonight, and tomorrow the Prophet himself will speak. You may attend as my guest. I promise you, when you hear his words, you will be changed forever.”

“I am already changed. I have found my soul’s home amongst the Santos Creadorians.”

Their eyes met for a moment, but then she looked away. “I feel as if I too have found something precious, Zwergfuchs.”

They stood silently until it became awkward. Pía stared at the floor. He searched his mind for words that might end the excruciating quiet, but found none. Still, he could not take his eyes off her. By The One God, she was beautiful. Pía met his gaze again and the color in her dark cheeks deepened.

He suddenly felt foolish. His leering was making her uncomfortable. She no doubt had plenty of handsome, rich, highborn suitors. What would she ever want of him, an ugly, moneyless little runt from no House? Pía stirred his heart and body as no woman ever had, but he could not deny the truth. She was above him. He may have only just met her, but there was something about her that stirred his heart. He wanted her to care for him as a lover would, but if she only offered friendship, then he would settle for that. She had brought him to the light of The One God. She was a paragon, and he was a rogue for making her so uneasy with his lusty eyes.

“
Perdóname
, Sister Pía. My manners …”

“Why do you ask my pardon, señor?”

“I have unsettled you with my staring. It is just that—well, you are very beautiful.”

Pía drew back as if affronted. He was horrified. His clumsy words had made things worse.

“No, señor,” she said. “No, Zwergfuchs. You have done nothing to be pardoned.”

His next words came hard. He could not look her in the eye and speak them, but they had to be said. “Still, I must apologize, Sister. I have been foolish. I mistook your interest in my undying soul for interest in, well, me.”

Pía said, “It is true I serve The One God through His Mortal Voice, the Prophet, and it is my duty to bring people to the church, to bring souls to The One God—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “And again, I ask your forgiveness—”

She silenced him with a finger over his lips. The sweet female smell of her made him dizzy. “I told you, Señor Zwergfuchs, you have done nothing to be forgiven. I have. And I have spent most of the day praying to The One God, asking His forgiveness for my sin. For I have been selfish, Zwergfuchs. It is my charge to bring souls to the church. The One God’s greatest jubilation comes when a new soul accepts His light. But I did not ask you here for The One God’s pleasure. I asked you here for mine.”

Jambiax the Phantom filled the doorway like the shade of a scarecrow bent against a pole. Only his large brown eyes were visible beneath the collision of shadows veiling his hooded face. A large white raven perched on his bony shoulder. The bird, Mbarika, was Jambiax’s Familiar and constant companion. The arrival of the old elemancer and his Familiar was a life-saving breath of air to Paladin, who had been suffocating under the weighty condemnation of his parents. Jambiax’s gaze moved from Paladin to Rebelde to Walküre, sparkling with gladness. His grin was wolfish. “Greetings, family.
Habari?
”

Paladin and his parents gaped, too surprised at the old elemancer’s appearance to speak. Jambiax spent most of his time in the Nchi ya Kusini, specifically the city of Mji a Dhahabu in Kavunchi. His journey to Prosperidad would have been one of many weeks, yet he had sent no word of his coming. His arrival was unheralded and unexpected, though not unwelcome, certainly not for Paladin.

Rebelde crossed the length of the room in three long strides and wrapped his father in an embrace. “
Nzuri, Baba
. It is good to see you.”

An old woman’s voice, thick with a Shimabito accent, came from the doorway behind them. “Stand aside and let me enter, you ill-mannered desert dog! Would you have me wait in the street all night?”

“That would be my preference,” Jambiax muttered. He stepped to one side, pulling Rebelde with him, and the silver-haired Shimabito woman entered.

“Obaasan?”
Paladin’s head swiveled from side to side, gawking at his father’s father and mother’s mother, the two most quarrelsome people in the Thirteen Kingdoms. Seeing them together was like watching a strutting stray dog and a haughty house cat strolling companionably together after years of animosity. Suki Skullbender of Mayumi’s Line lived in the Higashi Shima, the islands in the East. Her journey would have been twice as long and arduous as
Jambiax’s travel from the South, her visit even more unexpected. How in Muumba’s name did the two of them end up traveling together?

Jambiax noticed the incredulous expressions and sighed heavily. Nodding toward Suki, he said, “Our paths crossed on the road from Playa Blanca. I could think of no tactful way not to escort her here.”

“And a more obnoxious traveling companion I have never known,” Suki complained, glaring at Jambiax with dark eyes. “I have met spitting snakes with better manners than this old conjurer and his nattering witch-bird!”

“Crone,” Jambiax growled.

“Mountebank!” Suki screamed into his face.

“Hag!”

Paladin threw himself at the two of them, wrapping his arms around both. His firm hug ended the quarrel, at least temporarily. Suki twisted her body as she took Paladin into her arms, elbowing Jambiax in the gut and knocking the wind from his lungs. Jambiax released his hold on Paladin and stumbled backward, anger flashing in his eyes. He smiled it away with forced courtesy.

While Jambiax exchanged greetings with Rebelde and Walküre by the hearth, Paladin closed his eyes and lost himself in his obaasan’s embrace. She smelled of salt and sweat and travel and many, many years, but the love he found in her wiry arms was a welcome respite from the turmoil of moments before. When he opened his eyes again, both Rebelde and Walküre shot wrathful glances at him, promises of punishments to come.

Suki adjusted the pack on her back, and then grabbed his chin, turning his face toward hers. She purred, “
Otanjoubi omedetou gozaimasu—
happy birthday! How is my
magomusuko
, then? I assume you will be competing in the youngling trials?”