Path of Fate (10 page)

“Urdzina?” asked Roheline, bringing Reisil back to the conversation.

“You call the river Sadelema,” explained Glevs with a deprecating little wave.

“We of Patverseme call it Urdzina. It means little rivulet,” said Kebonsat in a bored tone that said the river was hardly worthy of being called such. Reisil bristled.

“How dull. Sadelema means ‘sparkle.’ I think its preferable, don’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, she picked up her pack and slung it over her shoulder. “I should be going now. May the Lady smile upon you all,” she said, flashing an apologetic look at Roheline, whose paint-spattered hand covered her smile, and set off across the plaza.

She had gone halfway when there was a clattering of hooves and a galloping horse burst in the plaza in front of her. Its rider pulled up. The dappled gray gelding snorted and pawed at the ground, its neck arching as it sidled side to side.

“Kaval!” Reisil exclaimed with glad surprise.

“Bless the Lady for my luck! I’ve found you first thing.” He jumped to the ground and swept Reisil up into an exuberant hug.

“I’ve missed you sorely, my own tark,” he said in an aching voice against her ear as he set her down. He went to his saddlebags and fumbled inside, returning with a small roll of cloth. He handed it to her. “I cannot wait any longer to give this to you. It’s been burning a hole in my bag for weeks.”

Reisil smiled and unrolled it carefully. It was a silk scarf. It had been dyed in soft shades of twilight, then painted with brilliant wildflowers. Reisil shook it out. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “I can’t believe it’s for me.”

Kaval took and draped the scarf around her shoulders. “Everything’s for you,” he said. “I thought I made you understand that before I left.”

Reisil blushed, dropping her eyes to the ground.

“Who are they?” Kaval’s voice turned suddenly hard and suspicious, his hands crushing the silk scarf. Reisil followed his gaze over her shoulder. Varitsema herded the two knights toward them.

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Too much to explain it all now,” she said. “There is to be peace with Patverseme and these knights are part of the ambassadorial entourage. The rest of the party arrives tomorrow. If we fail to welcome them properly, the Iisand Samir has promised severe retribution.
Severe,
Kaval,” she said, squeezing his arm warningly. It was all the explanation she had time for before Varitsema descended on them.

“Bright day, young Kaval. I hope the Blessed Lady smiled on your journey. Your father is well?” Varitsema clasped Kaval’s hand jovially, though his eyes remained watchful and stern in his narrow face.

“Very well. He is seeing to the unloading of the wagons.” Kaval eyed the two knights with belligerent antipathy.

“But you could not wait, I see.” Varitsema smiled at Reisil, but that measuring expression never left his eyes, and he kept them fixed on Kaval. “I would introduce you to Sirs Glevs and Kebonsat. They are in service to the Dure Vadonis, who arrives tomorrow.”

“Welcome to Kallas,” Kaval said in a slow, unwilling tone as he reached out to clasp each man’s arm in greeting. Gone was the jubilant, carefree man who’d galloped in search of Reisil. In his place was a stiff, guarded stranger, aloof and wary.

“You’ve just returned to Kallas?” inquired Kebonsat, his face equally hostile.

“Yes. We’ve been to Koduteel. The roads are dry. Your journey there should be an easy one,” he said tightly.

“It is our hope.” Kebonsat’s gaze flickered to Reisil, who stood frozen in place. His scrutinized her as if seeing her for the first time. Perhaps he was. She doubted he’d bothered to look before.

She knew what he saw—a masculine-looking woman with a face of flat planes and bold features. Beautiful she could never be called, but attractive enough. She was no match for either man in height, but neither was she tiny at a full seven inches over five feet. She was slender but strong: a woman made for work, not pleasure.

Kebonsat’s gaze shifted back to Kaval and Reisil bristled, feeling like a goat at auction. Kaval stepped closer and slid a possessive arm about her shoulders. She just barely resisted the urge to shake it off and slap them both. They were making her a trophy in some sort of rivalry that had sprung up the instant they laid eyes on one another. Glad as she was to see Kaval, as good as it felt to be in his arms and feel the warmth of his smile, she would not put up with this sort of posturing.

“I’m afraid I must desert you,” she said to Kaval, disentangling herself. “There’s much to be done yet. Thank you for the scarf.”

“Bide a moment. I must return to help my father anyway. I shall walk with you.”

Kaval nodded to the two knights and Varitsema and collected up the reins of his horse. He put his hand on the small of Reisil’s back as they walked away.

They had not gone four steps before Kaval began grilling Reisil on the events of the last two weeks.

“How could Iisand Samir agree to this!” he exclaimed. “If you could see what it’s like in the rest of Kodu Riik. People are starving, and worse. Men without hands, without eyes, without feet. The Patversemese have no honor; they cannot be trusted to keep any treaty. And what about Mysane Kosk? Can we just forget that? We still don’t know all that happened there. Those wizards left no one alive to tell the tale, and no one who goes there now comes out alive.”

His bitter vehemence shocked Reisil and she eyed him askance. Her entire acquaintance with Kaval had been one of gentleness and comfort. As a child, she’d followed him about like a lost puppy. Older than she by two years, he’d always been patient and kind, always defending her against Juhrnus, always ready with a joke or a sweet. Grown into a man, he topped her by six inches. Broad-shouldered and athletic, with shortcropped brown hair and blunt features, he always had a ready smile, a contagious laugh. Upon her return to Kallas, he’d welcomed her with a warm embrace and flattering admiration. They were together in every spare moment they could manage.

The ruthless fury on his normally handsome face made him look ugly, and Reisil hardly recognized him. He’d never spoken so of Mysane Kosk to her, had never spoken of it at all.

“To threaten
us
—Iisand Samir must be insane! And for what? For a treaty that those soulless bastards will break as soon as they have the chance. They should all be put to the blade.”

Before Reisil could reply, a shadow swooped down at them. She felt the rush of air across her head and flinched away. Saljane’s strident
kek-kek-kek-kek
echoed down the street.

“What was that?”

Once again, Reisil’s reply was cut off. Pori ran into the street from his shop.

“Kaval!” The excited coopersmith grasped Kaval’s hand and began pumping it up and down. “Congratulations, my boy. Knew it had to be you. And here you’re back and she comes right for you. Saw the whole thing. Dived right out of the sky like she was going after a rabbit. Magnificent! Never saw anything so wonderful.”

“Pori! Pori! Stop. What are you talking about?” A bewildered Kaval pulled his hand out of the other man’s grasp.

“Why, the goshawk. She’s
ahalad-kaaslane,
come in search. Been here nearly two weeks and hasn’t made a choice.” Pori had begun to look confused. “Didn’t she choose you?”

Kaval shook his head. “If so, she didn’t tell me about it.”

“Why . . . but why not? Why hasn’t she made her choice?” Pori’s face had fallen and he looked forlorn. It might have been funny if Reisil didn’t know the truth. Because of her, this good man was humiliating himself.

“I don’t know.” Kaval shrugged regretfully and grasped the other man’s shoulder. “Thank you, old friend, for the kind wishes and hopes. It would be a great honor to be chosen by such a bird. I am flattered you would think I could be
ahalad-kaaslane
.”

Hearing the reverence in his voice, Reisil bit her cheeks and studied the ground. They left Pori shaking his head and muttering. Reisil was too caught up in her own worries to hear much of Kaval’s continuing tirade against the Iisand and the Patversemese. She left him when they reached the wide courtyard hubbing Kaval’s father’s warehouses.

“I had better be on my way.”

He smiled at her, that same lopsided grin that always made her heart race. “I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I?”

“I’m going to be helping Raim with the preparations for the feast.”

“Oh, right, the feast.” His voice hardened again.

“Will you be there?”

“I expect so. If only to see you.” He waved at the bustle of activity within the courtyard. “There is much to do here and my father intends me for another trip at the end of the month. He is so pleased with the success of my journey that he has agreed at last to let me take on more of the business. It means a lot more time here, so I won’t be able to come visit you very soon.” He gave a diffident shrug. “So if you will be at the feast, then there is where I must be as well.”

Reisil nodded, feeling a thrill of tingling pleasure and sharp disappointment at his words. Pleasure, disappointment—and relief. Much as she wanted to touch him, to snuggle in his arms, she did not want him to visit her in her cottage. Not with Saljane hanging around.

“Thank you for the scarf,” she murmured, stroking it with soft fingers. “It’s lovely.”

“No more so than you,” he replied, taking her hand in his warm grasp and kissing her. “I will see you tomorrow.”

Reisil watched him walk away, his stride purposeful, as if he forgot her as soon as he turned away. He approached his father, who was marking figures on a list as the wagons were unloaded. Kaval grasped Rikutud’s arm and drew him aside, his hands chopping at the air. She knew he brought the news of the treaty. Rikutud had heard already, of course. He had returned from a short trading trip days after the meeting at Raim’s. He grasped Kaval’s arm and handed his list to one of his men before drawing his son into the rear of his home. Reisil sighed. All her words to the contrary, she wasn’t so sure that the treaty was a good idea either, but the war being over, that was very good. If it meant hosting the Patversemese for a night, then so be it.

She thought about Iisand Samir’s threats. Reisil didn’t doubt that he would make good on the confiscation of everyone’s property, turning the townspeople out. Including her. She’d lose her cottage and become a wandering tark after all.

But no one would be so stupid and reckless as to chance that, she comforted herself. Kaval and Rikutud might be angry now. But it was often said that Rikutud would rather have kohv with the Demonlord than put a penny in the poor plate. No, he would never risk his business. Kallas would do the right thing, and the Dure Vadonis would be duly impressed by the town’s hospitality, and then he would travel on to Koduteel and sign the treaty.

 

As usual, Saljane awaited Reisil at home, perching on the eave above the door. Silhouetted in the shadows, she looked like a malevolent wraith.

Reisil scowled up at her, shivering as the ember eye sparked in the depths of the bird’s ebon form. She made a sound like a growl and strode onto her porch, shoving her door open with a bang.

Reisil had taken to closing her shutters during the day so that the bird could not enter while she wasn’t home. It made the cottage stuffy and hot. She thrust each of them open, muttering as she banged her forehead on the window’s edge.

She lit the lamps and gently draped the scarf Kaval had given her over her bed, caressing the fabric with soft fingers. Then she set about preparing her supper. Behind her she heard a flapping of wings and a thump. Turning, she found Saljane clutching the back of a chair, wings raised for balance. She eyed Reisil defiantly, beak open in a soundless cry.

“This pestering isn’t going to work, you know,” Reisil said, leaning back against the counter as she peeled a potato, her fingers trembling slightly. “I am what I am and that’s just the way it is.”

~
Belong. With. You.

Reisil started, not expecting the communication, and jabbed herself with the knife.

“No.”

Saljane said nothing more, but merely stared. She watched as Reisil ate her hearty supper, as she washed the supper dishes, as she set the cottage to rights, as she took a hip bath, as she crawled into bed, blowing out the lamp and pulling the covers tight around her neck.

Despite her calm demeanor, Reisil did not fall asleep quickly. She could almost taste Saljane’s voice, metallic and bitter. Who would want such a bonding? There were songs about the love between the
ahalad-kaaslane
. She couldn’t imagine it. She wanted the love of a flesh-and-blood man. Kaval.

Her fingers touched the scarf and she coiled her fingers in its length, her lips curling into a smile.

 

Reisil woke the next morning with gritty eyes and a gummy mouth. She groaned as she lumbered up out of bed and stretched, her spine cracking. Her head felt thick and her stomach grumbled.

She stirred the fire to life, adding wood until it popped merrily. While she waited for her tea to boil, she combed out her hair and rebraided it. She dressed herself in soft cotton trousers the color of faded violets. The full legs tapered down her leg to a twoinch cuff of a rich, dark purple that she’d embroidered with leaves and flowers. The overtunic was of the same purple as the trouser’s cuffs and came down to her knees, with splits up the sides to allow free movement. She tied a ribbon about her neck to match the faded violet color of her trousers, then laced on her sandals. When she was through, she glanced down at herself, pleased. She’d made the dye for the outfit herself by boiling the shells of tiny freshwater clams. It had taken her several years of experimenting before she’d hit on the shells as a source of the pigment, then another year to figure out a proper mordant.

Reisil had thought to bring a gift back to Kallas to repay the town for its care of her. She’d not yet shown anyone the fruits of her labor and smiled to think of Roheline’s excitement at obtaining the pigment for her paints. Nor would she be the only one eager to make use of Reisil’s discovery.