Scar Felice (The Fourth Age of Shanakan Book 3) (8 page)

Felice looked up to see Ella walking beside her. She seemed genuinely curious.

“That is where I live,” she replied. “We were trading in Yasu, on the coast. I have followed Karnack from there.”

“It is a long journey. I have never travelled so far.” There was a hint of wistfulness in her voice, a spark in her eyes. “Was it a good voyage?”

Felice took a deep breath and began to recount her tale. She tried to make it sound plain and workaday, but even to her own ears it began to resemble the fabrication of a considerable imagination. Ella listened without interruption, but after a while Felice began to feel dizzy and out of breath. She staggered slightly, knocking against her companion and reaching out for support.

“You are not well,” Ella said. She took Felice’s arm and guided her to the side of the road, helped her to sit on a convenient low wall. “Forgive me,” she said. “Your adventures quite took my mind off the present.” She turned to her soldier. “Kane, do you have water?”

The big man produced a leather bottle and handed it to Ella, who helped Felice to drink. The liquid was warm, but she could feel it working its magic. She drank a second mouthful.

“I will be well in a moment,” she said. “It is just that I am a little weak. I should have stayed longer in Pek.” She closer her eyes and tried to breathe deeply. There was a sick taste in her mouth, but after a while she felt a little restored.

“It’s not far now,” Ella said.

She stood again. Ella insisted on helping her, and they walked slowly on.

“Tell me about you,” Felice asked.

“Me? You mean the position? It sounds grand, does it not? I assure you that I did nothing to deserve it. I’m a trader’s daughter, like you. My father is Tarlyn Saine, head of the oldest and greatest trading house in Samara,” she spoke with pride. “He is a clever man, and wise, mostly. Anyway, there was some trouble between the King and the guild. It was in the days before the fall of the Faer Karan, and everything was a mess here. So my father did a deal with Tarnell, and I was fostered with the king while Calaine lived in our house. She certainly got the better end of the deal,” Ella grinned. “The food, the beds – terrible.”

“You met the King?”

“Hard to avoid it,” Ella said. “He’s just a man, you know. I liked Calaine, though. She’s a couple of years older than me, but we get on well enough.”

It was confusing for Felice. She had always believed in her heart that noble people were different, somehow, and here was this girl, a trader’s daughter like her, who moved among the mightiest of all, The King of Samara, the heir to the throne, the King’s council, and they were just people to her. There was no awe in her voice when she spoke.

“And the Mage Lord?” she asked.

“Serhan,” she pursed her lips. “He’s different.”

“How so?”

“He is a closed book, a book full of secrets. He keeps much to himself, but he does not seem a happy man, in spite of all that power. I like him though. He cares.”

“How many times have you met him?”

“Five. He suggested that I be on the council. My father trusts me to be sensible, and the King knew me, so he accepted the proposal. I was just in the right places at the right times – or the wrong ones,” she grinned again. “It’s not much fun.”

Felice saw for a moment the girl that must have existed before great events propelled her to her position of influence; bright, distracted, interested in the things that other girls of her age were interested in. Like her. Like her just one short month ago. She was almost overwhelmed by a sense of fellow feeling, but she quickly pushed it back. By any normal measure Ella had gained, and she had lost. The similarity was not even superficial.

The reached the House of Law. It was not impressive. Felice guessed that it had once been four or five ordinary houses. There was no grand entrance, just a door. What had clearly been other doors had been bricked up. Apart from that it had all been given a coat of white paint and someone had painted two words over the entrance. “One Law” it said.

“What does it mean?” she asked.

“Just what it says: that there is always one law: one law for the rich and poor, one for bandits and widows, one for friends and enemies.”

Felice understood. All who faced the law were equal, at least in theory.

The inside of the building was equally unimpressive. What had probably once been someone’s living room had acquired a counter and a few seats. A man stood, or rather slouched behind the counter. He appeared to be eating his breakfast. When he saw Ella he deftly tucked the plate under the counter and stood up in an approximation of upright. He did not look like a guardsman, or even a soldier. He wore a loose tunic, his hair was unkempt, and he was noticeably unfit.

“Karana,” he said. “How may we serve you today?”

“Good day, Ulric,” she greeted him in a friendly manner. “Is Sam about?”

“Just came in,” Ulric said. “Just go through.” He opened a gate in the counter and all of them passed through into a back room. This room, at least, was tidy. It was mostly occupied by a large desk on which various papers were slotted into trays, and the walls were lined with charts and lists, all pinned neatly in rows and columns.

A man sat behind the desk, and he looked up as they entered.

“Ella,” he said. He smiled a tired smile.

“Sam, I hope the day finds you well.”

“As much as I could hope.”

Felice studied him. He was thin, and looked as though he had seen better times. She saw all the signs of hardship in his face, but also a hint of the clear eyed honesty that she had known in Todric. In his turn the man studied his collection of visitors. There was a nod for Kane, a cool appraisal of the guardsmen, and a curious look in her direction.

“We have a warrant for you, Sam; from Yasu.”

“Yasu! Are you bringing me every crime in the world now? Don’t we have enough of our own?” He covered his face with a hand for a moment, and then looked up at Felice. “I apologise, Ima,” he said. “May I see the paper?”

She drew it out and placed it on the desk before him. He read it carefully. His concentration seemed complete, and he appeared to read every word. When he put it down Felice felt that there was some hope for justice after all.

“He is here?”

“I am not certain,” Felice said. “But he came in on a ship about two weeks ago, at a guess. It left Yasu bound for here with no ports of call.”

The man nodded. “It will take time to discover if he is still in the city. You can stay in the area for a couple of days?”

“Yes.”

“If you let Ulric know where you are staying I will arrange for you to be informed when we have news. May I keep the document?”

Felice hesitated. He seemed to sense her reluctance.

“I will have it copied and you can have the original back when you sign the copy,” he said.

“Yes, as you wish.” She was reluctant, but this man represented the law in Samara, and Ella trusted him. Really she had no choice unless she intended to track down and punish Karnack on her own – an impossible thing.

“These two,” the man said, pointing at the guardsmen, “will stay behind and help us solve the mystery.”

Outside again, it seemed as though a small part of the burden had been lifted from her. For a day or two at least she could put aside her pursuit and worry about nothing but herself.

“Where are you staying?”

“On the ship.” She answered before she could think about it, and wished that she hadn’t. It was a poor answer.

“Clever,” said Ella. “No need to waste time looking for an inn, but it must be small and uncomfortable. Why don’t you stay with us? We have plenty of room in the house, and I’m sure father would like to meet you. He has a great interest in foreign lands and new tales.”

Felice was taken aback. “That is very kind,” she said.

“Not at all. It will be a change to have somebody to talk to other than my brother.” She grinned again. “I’ll have somebody pick up your bags from the ship. Which one was it?”

“The Bright Star.”

So it was agreed, and Felice found herself walking up the hill to Morningside, past grander and grander houses until they arrived at the very top where the Saine house looked out over the whole city, its gates guarded by a private militia, surrounded by gardens and orchards in much the same way that Jem’s house had been, but this being Samara it was bigger in every way.

*              *              *              *

The next two days were easy. Felice allowed them to take care of her, and this they did with style. She ate more than she knew was possible, and there were many things on the table in the Saine house that she had never seen before, so even eating was an education. She gained weight, and strength returned quickly. It seemed yet again that she had landed in a lucky place.

She found the family quite charming, but their easy manner reminder her of her own house, and her own family, and so she felt melancholy, and often she would sit alone in the gardens, thinking of East Scar, remembering Todric. At such times she was usually disturbed by Ella, who would seek her out and insist that she come and see some new thing, try some new drink or food. It was as though the girl had an instinct for unhappiness and its relief.

On one occasion they talked about Kane. Felice was curious as to how such a powerful soldier had come to be her servant.

“Bondsman,” Ella corrected. “He is a bondsman, which is similar to a slave, I suppose, but it is a sentence for a crime.”

“What crime?”

“It is a long story, but he endangered Calaine, and as a result the King gave his life to me. I accepted. It is an ancient law. I can release him at any time, or I can kill him,” and she grinned as she said this, “legally, anyway.”

“So you own him?”

“Sort of. I think of it as a mutually beneficial arrangement. If Kane asked me to release him, I probably would, but he does not.”

As at Jem’s house she found a favoured spot in the garden, and borrowed books, wilfully ignoring her host’s reluctance to lend them. She would sit beneath a nut tree in a shady corner and read the words of long departed wise men. Some of the books were very old, but mostly she read volumes that were copies of copies of copies; words that had bequeathed themselves through generations of careful scribes within this very house. She began to believe that Tarlyn Saine was the possessor of the greatest library in the world, and all saved by him and his forebears. There were books here that she had never heard of, great works from before the Faer Karan. In a way she wished that word would never come from the house of law so that she would have time to read them all, but on the third day word did come, and it came in the person of Sam Hekman, the very man that they had spoken to on the first day.

“Felice?”

She was reading again, and recognised Ella’s voice. She sensed a tension in the single word.

“What is it?” she asked, putting down her book.

“Sam’s here. He has news.”

She felt a shiver run through her. Would it be now? Would she see him again? She stood and walked back into the house with Ella, passing through a great white arch and up broad stairs onto a balcony where they ate breakfast. Sam Hekman was there, looking even thinner and smaller in these opulent surroundings. He held a single sheet of paper which he gripped with both hands. He looked nervous.

“Ima,” he said when he saw her. “We have completed our investigations.”

It was obvious at once that the news was not good, not what she wanted to hear. Hekman did not meet her gaze.

“And?”

“We are certain that he left the city several days before you arrived. He answered the call.”

“What does that mean?”

“The call. The call from White Rock for candidates to attend the village of Woodside.”

“Candidates for what?”

Ells stepped in. “You were ill for a week in Pek. I think it happened then, but I am still surprised that people did not mention it to you. Maybe they thought that you already knew.”

“What?” Felice felt frustration rising again, like anger.

“The Lord Serhan has asked for those who imagine themselves suitable to present themselves at the village of Woodside in White Rock’s domains. Those who are deemed most acceptable will be trained as Mages.”

“Karnack has gone to White Rock?”

“Yes, Ima. We found witnesses who had seen him on wagons heading that way seven days ago. His friends confirm that he talked about it and expressed a desire to go. By now he is half way there, unless something has befallen him. It is a dangerous road, and bandits often strike at wagons from the fringes of the Great River Marsh.”

“I must leave at once.” Urgency was reborn. Yet again justice was slipping away, this time to the north, and she was determined not to let Karnack escape.

“There is no hurry, Felice,” Ella said. “The choosing will take more than a month. So many have gone, and nothing will be decided until the end, so you have weeks in which to get there; plenty of time. Besides which, you are still weak, and a few days more rest and good food will fortify you for the journey.”

“You are sure about the time? A month?”