The princes protege the.., p.12
The Prince's Protege--The Five Kingdoms #3, page 12
Rustam nodded.
With her heart jumping erratically, Risada slithered down Greylegs’ side, clinging onto her saddle, all the while wondering if her legs would hold her when she hit ground.
Mercifully, they did. She stood immobile for a moment, collecting herself. Tears sprang to her eyes, which she still found alarming after spending most of her life almost completely divorced from her emotions. Dashing the irritating droplets away, she pushed herself into motion and marched the few steps to the remains of Hal’s murderer. She aimed a hefty kick, scattering the few bones not yet scavenged by local predators.
“I expected more.”
Rustam’s words beside her shoulder made her jump. She hadn’t noticed him dismount.
“Nippers don’t leave much,” he said, placing a careful hand on her shoulder.
Risada allowed her head to drop forward, the better to disguise the slight blush she felt creeping across her cheeks. It was too late for her and Rustam, too much had happened in the intervening years, and yet she cherished the comfort of his touch. Remaining mute, she placed her hand over his.
Why? She flung the accusing word at the goddess. Why did my life turn out this way? I’m tired of Your manipulations; I’ve played Your game and lost, even if it got You what You wanted. Isn’t it time You left us alone?
RUSTAM JUMPED WHEN Risada’s fingers curled over his. He’d intended the gesture as one of support, but suffered a disquieting flashback when their bare skin touched. The Risada of old would likely have removed his hand with a dagger, or at least threatened to do so. This new woman who stood beside him accepting his comfort was a conundrum. He didn’t know what to expect from her.
His father had worked some sort of magic, turning Risada from the bitter, untrusting assassin into a passionate, caring woman he ached to hold in his arms, but knew he never would. It was obvious to him that Risada had loved his father deeply, and for that he was grateful. At least one of them had achieved some measure of happiness, even if all too brief.
Pushing the unsettling, chaotic emotions aside, Rustam focussed his mind on what to do next. They stood where Risada’s child had been taken by Chayla. He had a vague memory of the event, but the overpowering agony of being impaled by a vicious spear overrode any details.
Assuming Chayla had seized her chance to escape from Tylocian captivity during the ensuing fracas, where would she have gone? Rustam scanned the rockface at the rear of the grassy enclosure. There were only two exits, one leading back into the Aeron mountain range where the Tylocians held sway, the other heading away, travelling along the base of the ridge into the Middle Mountains. Provided Chayla had not attempted to cross the mountain range—and who knew, for the woman was more than a little insane—she should have exited the foothills back into Tyr-en somewhere to the north-west of where they now stood.
But where?
“We won’t find her by standing here,” Risada observed.
“True. We should follow the trail and see if there’s an obvious exit point.”
Dissatisfied with the vagueness of their plan, Rustam nevertheless remounted and led the way. Fleetfoot hopped up onto the level rock platform with ease, and the clatter of Greylegs arrival reassured him Risada was close behind. He sent a swift prayer winging its way toward the goddess. Please, Chel, let this route be wide enough for the horses; Risada won’t manage on foot. He eased his back by bending forward for a few steps. Come to that, I’m not sure I would either!
To his concern, they hadn’t gone far before their knees began to scrape along the high rock walls of the gulley, and they were forced to clamber back down from their saddles.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t get any narrower,” he said as he stepped in front of Fleetfoot and gathered the reins in one hand, ready to lead.
Risada snorted. “Feels like we’ve been here before, although that time we were underground, and we only had a pack pony.”
Memories flooded back, and Rustam smiled. “And a suspicious werecat. Don’t forget him.”
“As if I could! All those muscles on display, and an extreme reluctance to wear clothes. In the end, though, he turned into an excellent ally.”
“He did that.”
They continued in a companionable hush, broken only by the clatter of horseshoes on rock as the sun moved overhead and passed from their line of site. The temperature at the bottom of the narrow defile dropped enough for Rustam to pause to drag his jacket from where it was lashed to his saddle, and shrug into it. To his relief, not long after, the channel widened, spilling out onto a heavily forested hillside. The rocky footing gave way to a thick carpet of pine needles.
A small mountain creek crossed their path, the clear water bouncing over miniature rapids where it rushed downhill. Beyond the stream, the track split. One branch stretched away ahead of them while the other angled downward, dropping rapidly out of sight into the dense forest. An idea stirred in Rustam’s mind.
He halted. “Decision time.”
Risada’s head swivelled between the two options. “It could be either. We have no idea where she’s going.” Her voice sounded strained. “If she’s harmed him...”
Rustam attempted to reassure her. “Why would she? Chayla’s nothing to gain by harming your son, and everything by keeping him safe. She’s probably angling for a pardon. After all, her husband was the traitor, not her.”
Risada treated him to a scathing look. “She knew exactly what Ranjit was about, and did nothing. That makes her every bit as much a traitor as him. When we find her, I’m going to kill her.”
That sounded like the Risada of old. “First,” said Rustam, “we have to find her. Once we’ve recovered your babe, we can decide what to do with her.”
Risada’s eyebrows lifted. “What, you don’t think she deserves to die? She kidnapped my son!”
“It wasn’t quite like that, Risada. She may have taken him to safety. Goddess knows, there weren’t any other options at the time.”
“Rustam Chalice, are you defending the woman?”
He rubbed his chin. “I don’t know about that. What I do know is, the simplest solution isn’t always the best one.”
“We’ll agree to differ on that for now. The important thing is, how are we going to find her?”
“Well, I think we might need some help on that. I have an idea, but it’s probably not one you want to witness.”
Risada sighed. “Rusty, I think you’ll find my prejudices have dwindled a fair bit since we last rode together. If you’re going to perform magic, don’t mind me, I’ll cope.”
It was Rustam’s turn to raise his eyebrows. Without question, much had changed in his absence. “I have no idea if this will work,” he said, “but it can’t hurt to try.”
14. DIRECTION
RISADA WATCHED RUSTAM drop his bay stallion’s reins and walk a little way along the path to the edge of the bubbling mountain stream. He hopped nimbly onto a jutting boulder that parted the flow, and balanced there like a heroic statue bathed in the afternoon sunshine. Risada’s throat tightened, and despite a pang of guilt, she couldn’t help herself from admiring the figure he cut.
Forgive me, Hal, but your son is unfairly handsome.
She ran her right hand down the length of her distorted left arm. As ever, the legacy of her injury disgusted her. If only someone had been allowed to treat it at the time, she might not have been left mutilated, and unfit for the job that had been her life before the coup. She regarded Rustam with a tinge of jealousy. It was so unjust his facial scar only made him more desirable.
She gave herself a mental shake. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Even if I wasn’t a useless cripple, I could never expect him to forgive me for choosing his father over him.
Resolutely, Risada turned her back on the unattainable, and set about making the horses comfortable. She now appreciated the contentment such simple tasks could bring, long past her youthful disdain for manual work. So much had changed in the last few years, not least her opinion of herself. Oftentimes she liked herself better now; something Hal had encouraged.
But Hal’s not here anymore.
Tears welled up. Her husband, her friend, gone.
Does this ever get easier?
A flash of light startled her. Greylegs snorted and pranced a few steps, dragging her back up the track away from the stream.
“Woah, silly! There’s nothing to get excited about.”
I hope.
Untangling her hand from her reins, she admonished herself for wrapping them around her fist—something only a novice rider would do—and hoped Rustam hadn’t noticed. She couldn’t bear the prospect of his wordless rebuke. She knew it was a stupid thing to do, asking to get dragged and possibly far worse, but the skills of horsemanship didn’t come naturally to her. She turned Greylegs back around and retraced the few steps to the riverbank. She was relieved to see Rustam’s eyes were shut, so he hadn’t witnessed her transgression.
Hovering in front of him, the source of Greylegs’ anxiety became all too obvious: two miniature golden dragons, their tiny wings fluttering so fast as to be almost invisible.
Salamanders!
The last time he’d summoned elementals had earned him the death sentence, before Hal commuted it to exile.
The sentence Annasala now decreed reinstated.
How are we going to work our way around that one? We must find a way. I couldn’t bear it if he’s forced to leave Tyr-en again. I have to find a way to change Sala’s mind.
She watched Rustam’s cheeks puff out. Next moment the dragonets were tumbling through the air, blown away by his sharp exhalation. In quick succession, they blinked out of existence.
Rustam wriggled his shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked across the water towards Risada. “I have no idea if that worked, we’ll have to wait and see.”
Curious, and feeling safer now the elementals were gone, Risada approached the stream. “What did you do? Where did they go?”
Rustam hopped back onto the bank beside her before lowering himself to sit on a flat patch of ground. He peered up at her. She noted with concern the tightness around his eyes, the pinched look of his cheeks. She could only guess at the energy drain such magic demanded, and although he hid it well, she knew he wasn’t fully recovered from his recent ordeal.
“I’ve never tried sending them anywhere specific before,” he said. “I don’t even know if it’s possible, but I thought it worth a try. If they went where I suggested, then any mo—”
A loud pop spun Risada around. Her mind put together what Rustam had been about to say before her body acknowledged it was safe to relax from battle readiness.
“Hello, Nessa. Thank you for coming,” said Rustam.
Risada felt her eyebrows disappearing upward as she inspected their visitor.
A short, split skirt revealed a pair of long, tanned legs. Criss-crossed thongs laced the girl’s calves above open sandals. Around her waist and lower torso rested a girdle studded with cat’s eye gemstones, and a collar of matching stones hugged her throat. All the jewels perfectly matched her unusual striped eyes—the mark of the legendary gemeyes.
Nessa smiled. “Your request came in such an unusual manner. How could I refuse?”
The last time they’d been together, Nessa had been gaunt to the point of starvation. Now, while still slender, her skin radiated a healthy glow, and her figure was sleekly muscular. Her hair continued to sport the striking silver stripe placed there by the goddess as a mark of Her favour, but where before Nessa’s straight brown locks had flowed long and plentiful in the manner of a young girl, now they were cropped until they barely brushed her shoulders.
Quickly grasping the incongruities in Nessa’s appearance in comparison to how she’d appeared a scant few days before, Risada asked, “How long has it been for you, Nessa? Does the time difference in your valley work randomly, like Shiva, or is it more predictable?”
Nessa shrugged. “I’m still working that out, Lady Risada. I think it’s fairly constant in being faster than this world, but I haven’t been there long enough yet to be sure, and the others are so vague about it. Once you’ve lived there for a while, that sort of thing ceases to matter.”
“That’s how it is for the elves,” Rustam put in. “Remember how Elwaes struggled with the concept of time?”
“I do,” Risada confirmed. “Nessa, you look well. Are you content in your new life?”
A shy smile reminded Risada how young Nessa really was, despite her air of self-confidence.
“I am, my lady, and I’m Cat now, not Nessa.”
Of course, gemeyes are named for their jewels.
“Well and good then, Cat. Please call me Risada; we have no need for formalities between us.”
“Thank you, Risada. It’s an honour.”
A tiny salamander flashed into existence beside Cat, and vanished again. “Yes, of course,” she said, and Risada was under no illusions the words were for either her or Rustam.
Cat glanced from Rustam to Risada and back again. “You summoned a gemeye for a reason. How may I be of service?”
“My son...” Risada’s throat tightened, stopping her words.
Cat’s hands flew up to her face. “Of course! My lady—Risada—it was all my fault! I should have recovered him at the time. I should have followed Chayla, but she promised; she swore she would keep him safe when she took him. The look in her eyes—I believed her, and then...”
“And then you were too busy saving my life,” cut in Rustam. “There was nothing you could have done, except leave me to die, and I’m extremely grateful you didn’t.”
“As are we all,” Risada agreed, torn by the guilt she hid, placing Rustam’s life ahead of her son’s safety.
I should blame Nessa, but I don’t. She wasn’t choosing one life over the other. My son still lives, I know it. I would feel it if he didn’t. Nessa—Cat—made the only choice she could, and now I have the chance to have both my son and Rusty in my life.
For the first time in a long while, Risada directed a plea to Chel. Please help me discover a way to thwart Sala’s decree. I couldn’t bear it if Rusty’s banished again after all Hal’s plans to bring him home. She acknowledged her own selfish desire, hoping the goddess would understand. I want him to come home.
“We need your help to locate the child,” Rustam said to Cat. “You can do that, can’t you?”
The gemeye bit her lip. “I think so. I’m still not supposed to use my powers outside of the valley, but when your message arrived, my tutors were intrigued enough to let me come.” She raked her fingers through her short hair, and gave a brisk nod. “I’m going to take that as permission.”
Decision made, she positioned herself obliquely to the dividing paths, and settled into the stillness of a hunting wildcat. Risada could barely discern the girl’s breathing, and realised after a moment that she was trying to emulate the shallow respirations. She drew a deep lungful of pine-scented air and shook herself.
It won’t help if I pass out. What does she see, I wonder? How does the world differ, viewed through the magical lens of her gemstones?
Everything around Risada seemed to pause. The wind soughing through the treetops dropped, the bubbling of the brook muted, and the sun remained constant, no clouds marring the steady brightness of the day.
Would Cat find her baby?
Cat’s eyes appeared vacant, staring into the distance, fixed on something only she could see. The moment elongated until Risada wanted to scream.
Dear Chel, please—
A bright flash of argent light wrapped Cat’s body and she cried out. Rustam bolted to his feet and caught the gemeye as she fell, easing her to the ground. Risada dropped to one knee beside her to see if she was conscious, but recoiled from the sightless stare of her eyes, entirely glazed with silver.
“What happened? Who was that?” Risada stood up and stepped back, rocking from foot to foot in anxiety. That distinctive colour meant one of the deities had intervened.
But which one?
By tiny increments the metallic glitter faded from Cat’s eyes. Once the brown stripes of her irises re-emerged, she stirred, endeavouring to untangle her limbs. A few moments later she reached up to grasp Rustam’s proffered arm, allowing him to haul her back up to her feet. She blinked several times and knuckled streaming eyes.
“Goddess! That’s never happened before.” She squinted, obviously struggling to regain focus as she faced Risada. “I truly sorry, but I can’t help you. Or at least, not as much as you’d hoped.” She pointed towards the descending pathway. “Chayla took him that way, but beyond that I can’t see. Either Chel or Charin blocked my sight.”
“We noticed that,” said Rustam. He caught Risada’s gaze. “I didn’t tell you before, but when I was first recovering, both Chel and Charin paid me a visit. They saw fit to inform me neither one of Them is finished with me yet.” He glanced down. “I’m so sorry, it looks like your son is caught up in Their game.”
Coldness enfolded Risada, despite the balmy day. I should have known. Anger replaced fear. How dare You use us like toys? Are our lives worth so little?
Her defiance of the deities bolstered her resolve to find her son, and to deal with the traitor, Chayla. It must surely be the god, Charin, trying to thwart their rescue attempts. He was always behind malicious actions such as the abduction of an innocent babe.
Chayla must be one of His creatures. All the more reason to kill her.
Risada put a foot into her stirrup and mounted Greylegs.
“Cat, thank you for giving us a direction. Rusty, hurry up. It’s time we taught Them we aren’t going to be Their playthings any longer. I’ve had enough of it!”
Risada swung Greylegs around and set him on the downhill path.
“Risada, wait!”
Rustam’s call tugged at her. Huffing with impatience, she reined Greylegs back around in time to see Cat drop to the ground, cross-legged. Ready to burst with frustration, Risada rode back and dismounted. Her damaged stomach twinged in protest.
