Nature's Servant (49 page)

“I dunno exactly,” Gaspi responded, screwing up his face in frustration. “It’s just a feeling I’ve got, that’s all. Something’s not right.”

“Well you know him best mate,” Taurnil said.

“Will you keep an eye on him?” Gaspi asked. Taurnil saw a lot more of Jonn than he did and was far more likely to observe anything out of place.

“Sure,” Taurnil said. “But you shouldn’t worry so much. Jonn can look after himself.”

“You’re probably right,” Gaspi said, but in his heart of hearts he didn’t really believe it.

Lydia leant into Taurnil as they drifted lazily down the river. It was his rostered day off, so they’d borrowed one of the city’s old rowboats and taken it out on the river. He smiled indulgently. Being a guard had its perks. Lydia murmured contentedly, snuggling in a bit closer and Taurnil’s smile broadened. They drifted out from under the shadow of a stand of trees and warm sunlight fell across his face. Spring had been nibbling at winter’s edges for the last couple of weeks, and this was the first truly mild day of the year. It was a lovely morning, and he was out enjoying the sunshine with his beautiful girlfriend while his fellow guards manned the walls. Life didn’t get much better than this!

As they drifted, Taurnil reflected on how things had been with Lydia since the night he’d confronted her, and they’d agreed to wait for marriage before having sex. It
wasn’t easy for Lydia to change her outlook, and there had been intimate moments since that night when things had got a bit heated, and she forgot her good intentions. In those moments, he sometimes struggled to remember why it was so important to him to wait, but he’d just about managed to stand his ground. A couple of times, that had led to an argument, but those conflicts were just a shadow of their previous misunderstanding, and were easily resolved in the cold light of day. When he was being honest with himself, Taurnil had to admit that it was no longer just Lydia’s willingness to stick to their agreement that was the problem – it was also his own. As time passed he came to love her more and more, and the reasons for holding back were becoming less clear.

Taurnil glanced at the city, trying to gauge how far they’d drifted.
Lydia had brought a basket of food, and they were planning on staying out all day, but he didn’t want to go too far downriver. Every effortless yard downstream was a much more arduous yard upstream on the return journey. The water was eddying lazily against its banks, but even at this slow pace he figured they should only allow the current to carry them downstream for half an hour or so.

The river curved up ahead, beginning another of its long, lazy loops through the plain, and just where it began to turn, it had cut deeply into the bank, creating a natural overhang. Trees laden with their first spring growth hung heavily over the water, their roots twisting out from the bank and snaking down into the water. Taurnil thought it would make a great spot to stop for lunch. Gently separating himself from Lydia, he picked up the oars and steered them into the tangle of protruding roots with long, slow strokes. Picking up the loose end of the painter, he tied it to one of the stronger roots and shipped the oars, long rivulets of cool river water running down the coarse wood and over his hands.

“Why’re we stopping?” Lydia asked, pushing her long, dark hair out of her eyes and back over her shoulders.

“I don’t want to go too far downstream,” he said. “Besides, it’s a good place to stop for a bit. Look at the view.”

Lydia sat up to take in the scene. On the far bank of the river there was a gentle beach. Wading birds strode through the shallows, lifting their long, awkward legs one at a time and planting them again, digging into the sand with beaks designed for winkling out the tiny creatures that lived there. Taurnil thought they looked like old treasure hunters panning for gold. Beyond the beach the plain stretched away towards the city, dotted with grazing sheep and goats, and slow-moving herds of cattle. The city itself looked magnificent in the distance, the rounded, terracotta rooftops of the lower city glowing warmly in the sun. The upper city was encircled by the Wall, a thin creamy line that separated the relative sanity of the lower city from the utter madness of the College of Collective Magicks. Above it, all manner of extraordinary structures shouted for attention, from the stately magnificence of the tower to the lunacy of billowing, multi-coloured, and top-heavy buildings built and supported by magic, without which they would probably collapse in an instant.

“You’re right,” Lydia said. “It’s a great view. Let’s stay for a while.”

Taurnil wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her sun-warmed hair. She leaned back into him and they stayed like that for a while, watching the birds search patiently for food in the shallows. They were close enough to the city that Taurnil could see the sunlight winking off the guards’ helmets, and his sense of satisfaction at the perfection of the day deepened. There was nowhere he’d rather be than here. He tightened his arms around Lydia, holding her even more closely, and after long moments, Lydia extricated herself from his embrace and turned round to face him.

The boat rocked alarmingly as she manoeuvred herself. Shuffling to the edge of the bench, she placed a hand on either side of Taurnil’s face and leant in to kiss him. There was a kind of fierceness in her gaze, a danger sign that she was feeling passionate, but this time it matched the intensity he was also feeling, and he let it happen. As she leant in to kiss him, her lips opened a fraction and her finger tips trailed tenderly down his cheeks.

Taurnil thrilled in the intimacy, in the sweetness of her breath and the depth of her passion. Once again he was staggered that such an amazing, intoxicating girl would love him. He was bewitched by her, body and soul, and as she kissed him, he felt something stir in him that was equally potent. This was normally the point where he put a stop to things, but in the heat of the moment, he couldn’t find the strength of will to resist. Their kissing became more passionate, the gentle hands touching his face tightening possessively, just as his own locked around her waist and drew her nearer.

She pulled back, gasping for breath, her eyes aflame but conflicted. “Taurnil, stop,” she said.

“Why?” he asked, breathing heavily.

“Because you know where this is leading, and we
’ve worked far too hard at this to give in now,” she said.

“I don’t know what to think,” he responded, confused and frustrated. “This feels right.”

“Of course it feels right,” she said. “The man in you is waking up and wants what he wants, but I don’t want this unless it’s clear-headed.”

“But…” he began, but didn’t know what to say.

“I really like what you say about honouring me,” Lydia said in a quiet voice. “It means a lot to me.”

Taurnil felt some of his ardour fading. Maybe she was right. He was
getting ahead of himself, letting his feelings control him.

“Taurnil
, let me tell you something,” she said in earnest. “I’ve never explained this to you fully, and it’ll help you understand me better.”

“Okay,” he said.

She looked away into the distance before starting, ordering her thoughts. “I once told you that gypsy girls give themselves to their boyfriends at about my age,” she started, and Taurnil nodded, not wanting to interrupt. Lydia didn’t often go into a lot of personal detail, and she was obviously trying to tell him something important.

“What I didn’t tell you is that gypsies rarely marry. We believe that few people ever find their true soul mate, but when they do they pair up for life. Like my Ma and Da. That’s why they lead our family. They are soul-bound, and among our people that is something very special. Most gypsies have a number of partners throughout their lives. One at a time of course, and those partnerships can last for several years, but when a couple want to commit to each other for life, they become soul-bound, and it is a cause of great celebration. Do you understand?” she asked, looking at him intently.

“I think so,” Taurnil said, shaking his head at the ideas she was putting forward. “But what about having children? Surely that means that gypsy children don’t have a family.”

“No it doesn’t!” Lydia answered vehemently. “Gypsies get accused of being poor parents all the time because of it, but that’s not fair at all!”

“Sorry Lyd! I don’t want to upset you,” Taurnil said. “It’s just hard to understand.”

“I know,” she said more calmly. “I’ll try not to get angry, but maybe just listen for a moment and you’ll understand better.” Taurnil nodded, not daring to say anything else.

“Gypsy couples have children like everyone else, but because partners don’t stay together for long, they aren’t brought up in the same way as other children. They aren’t raised by their parents, but by the whole family. So in a way they get many parents, and even more brothers and sisters. That’s why we call a gypsy caravan a family, even if there are thirty or more members - because most of them are family in one way or another.”

“Oh,” Taurnil said, dumbfounded by the revelation. “What about you? If your Ma and Da are…soul-bound, then that means you are…”

“…actually their child,” Lydia finished for them. “I’m the exception. I live in their wagon and we’re the only ones in the entire family that have anything like the kind of set-up you think of as normal.”

“You’re not related to the rest of the family?” Taurnil asked.

“No, not by blood. My parents met when they were young, and they’ve only ever had one child. It’s a source of great sadness to them, but they’re very proud of me.”

Taurnil sat in silence for a long while, absorbing what Lydia had told him. It was a totally foreign world to him, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be comfortable with it, but what mattered most was what it implied about his relationship with Lydia. Did they even want the same things?

“So what do you want for us?” he asked, asking the question that scared him witless. He heard the vulnerability in his voice and felt utterly exposed. If Lydia said she didn’t want to commit to him it would break him, but he had to know. There was no going back now. “I mean, if being soul-bound is such a rare thing, do you feel that way about me? Because Lydia, I can’t just be with you for a year or two and then watch you move on to someone else.”

“I know that,” she said intensely. “I’m not playing with you Taurnil. I love you in a way I never could have dreamed of. Everything in me tells me I want to be with you forever. I wanted to speak with my Da about it before having this conversation, but it’s too late for that now.” She leaned forward and placed her hands gently on his chest. “My love, I believe we are soul-bound.”

Taurnil felt a huge rush of relief, the tension flowing from his entire body. He sagged forward, feeling like a giant jelly. “I’m not built for this,” he said wearily, drained of all energy.

Lydia kissed him warmly, embracing him for long moments. “If we are soul-bound, my darling, then wouldn’t it be better to wait before we bed each other?”

“You’re probably right,” Taurnil said, pulling out of the embrace. “But seriously, let’s make this as easy as possible. When does your Da arrive?” he asked.

Lydia frowned. “I don’t know. I expected them several months ago, but gypsies don’t follow a fixed schedule. Hopefully they’ll be here in the next couple of months,” she said.

“Hopefully,” Taurnil responded, and lay back against the gunwale, feeling like he’d been forced to run uphill in full armour. “And when he finally gets here, I’ll ask for his blessing.”

Jonn left the barracks nursing a dozen aches and pains from a hard day’s sparring with the other guards. It had been like this for weeks now, ever since he started drinking heavily again. His heart just wasn’t in it and his reflexes were compromised. Today, he’d taken an embarrassing battering from a guard he used to beat hands down every time, and he was just glad it was over. Sabu had asked if he wanted to go for a drink once they were off-duty, but Jonn had sensed the concern in his friend’s enquiry, and just couldn’t summon the energy to pretend everything was okay. So he slunk out under the cover of darkness and made his way to the Stag’s Bellow.

It was particularly full that night, crammed with more than the usual number of its disreputable clientele. He frowned in displeasure. He came here for the anonymity, and people normally left him alone in the corner, but such a big crowd meant he would be jostled and bothered all night. He was too desperate for a drink to look for a different tavern, so he passed by the bar, picked up a bottle of whisky and retreated to an unoccupied seat against the wall. He downed the first two glasses and settled back to wait for the warm liquid slide to set him loose from his morbid moorings. It wasn’t long before the whisky took the edge off his physical and emotional aches, but even in that numbed state he still felt tense. He just couldn’t shake it. Downing another glass of whisky, he willed the pain away, but it was no good. He could feel himself spiralling downwards, losing control of everything that made him a good man. The deepest pit was opening beneath him, and try as he might, he couldn’t stop himself from falling into it.

He looked around in desperation. He needed something, anything to distract him from what he was feeling. His eyes fell on a trio near the doorway, and even in his desperate state, his instincts cried out that something was very wrong. All three of them were heavily cloaked, but two of them had their hoods pulled back and the other, more slight figure had it pulled down over their head. Though the hood concealed their features entirely, Jonn was sure the hooded figure was a woman. The hooded figure started to wriggle, making what was clearly a female noise of protest, and one of the men grabbed her roughly by the neck, speaking harshly in her ear. She kept trying to get away, and as she continued to resist, the two men stood up and pushed her out the door. Jonn sprang to his feet, filled with sudden fury. He was not about to watch a woman be accosted and dragged off like that. Leaving the whisky bottle behind, he strode across the room, barging into several people on his way out.